#absolutely worth the four hour drive

[traggalicious]

[prismatica-the-strange]

Nope, I'm still crying

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (six)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader; word count: 5.5k requested here; (one); (two); (three); (four); (five)

Being with Rafe was surprisingly easy, like slipping into a routine you didn’t know you’d been craving. It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic; it was just normal—in the way that holding hands and sharing glances in crowded classrooms felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The guy who used to get under your skin, drive you absolutely crazy, and somehow, now, was making you melt with just one look? You didn’t know when your life turned into a rom-com, but you were pretty sure Rafe missed the part where he was supposed to stop being so intense the second the credits rolled. 

But, no. He was always like this now. Kisses in between classes, pulling you into him like he’d forget how to breathe if you stepped too far away. And you were starting to crave it. The constant closeness, the feel of his hands on you.

Today, it was more of the same—Rafe slipping into the seat next to you during a boring afternoon lecture, sliding his arm around you like it was his assigned spot. Like he belonged there. You had barely settled in before he was leaning in close, his mouth brushing your temple in a casual, absentminded kiss.

“Didn’t you just see me twenty minutes ago?” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t bother to look up at the professor as he trailed his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps in their wake.

“And,” you whispered, fighting to keep your smile in check, “maybe we should try to pay attention?”

He glanced down at you, that half-smirk playing on his lips. “You really wanna listen to this guy talk about the English 18th-century economic policies, or do you wanna tell me what you’re doing after class?”

“Rafe—”

“—Because I’m thinking we grab coffee and maybe—”

“Shhh!” you hissed, your cheeks heating when you realized a few people in front of you were turning around to look. You shot him a pointed look, mouthing, You’re going to get us kicked out.

He just grinned wider, completely unbothered, and leaned back in his seat, looking more amused than ever. “Fine, fine,” he whispered. “But only ‘cause you’re cute when you’re pretending to be all serious.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, settling back against him instead. It should have felt weird, being so openly affectionate like this, but somehow, it didn’t. You knew people were watching, whispering even—Is that really Rafe with her? Didn’t they used to, like, hate each other?—but he made it all feel so… normal. 

He still made it impossible to focus, not dropping his touch from your skin.

“Are you even listening?”

“Not even a little.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break free. “You’re going to fail if you keep staring at me.”

He leaned closer, “Worth it. Plus I got a hot tutor to help me out.”

There it was again—that fluttery feeling in your stomach, the one that always seemed to come alive whenever he looked at you like that. You shifted in your seat, your leg brushing against his, and he tightened his grip on you, almost as if he knew what he was doing to you.

“Pay attention, Cameron.”

“Make me,” he shot back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Rafe,” you looked around to make sure no one was watching. But of course, a few heads were already turned in your direction. People had started noticing the two of you—how he was always leaning closer, how his arm would always be slung around your shoulders whenever you sat together.

Just as you were about to elbow him the professor started handing back quizzes—the ones you both knew were worth 50% of your eventual final grade.

You were nervous, but not just for yourself. You knew how much these grades meant to Rafe. He wasn’t one to show it, but you could tell. He used to barely scrape by with D’s before you two started your deal. You’d spent so many nights going over chapters together, sometimes until the early hours of the morning, and you were hoping it all paid off. The professor reached your row, placing the papers face down on the desk in front of you and Rafe. You glanced at yours first—an A, not bad. But when you turned your head to peek at his, you froze.

B.

Rafe had gotten a B.

You almost let out an excited squeal right there in the middle of the lecture hall but stopped yourself just in time. You turned to him, eyes wide, a huge grin spreading across your face. “Rafe, look!”

He was already smirking, casually flipping his paper back over, but you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was. “Yeah, I saw,” he said, all laid-back like it was no big deal. But the spark in his eyes said otherwise.

“B!” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, but you couldn’t help it. “You’ve never gotten a B in this class!”

Last quiz he’d gotten a C, which was better... but a B in the last three quizzes? That was something.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder, “Told you I’d get it together.”

“I told you you’d get it together,” you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was proud of himself. “And I told you I got a pretty good tutor, huh?”

You nudged him playfully. “Pretty good? You mean the best.”

You felt your heart swell at the look on his face. It wasn’t just about the grade—it was about the effort, the late-night study sessions, and the fact that he did care, even if he pretended not to. 

But his touching was even worse between classes.

The second the lecture ended, he was on his feet, gathering his stuff with that effortless, laid-back confidence that made it seem like he wasn’t in a rush, even though you knew he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Ready?” He didn’t bother waiting for you to answer, just slipped his hand into yours and pulled you gently toward the door.

Out in the hallway, he barely gave you a second to find your footing before pulling you in close, his hand lifting to cradle your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your pulse jumped, and you felt the familiar rush of heat rise to your cheeks, even though you should be used to it by now.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, feeling a little sheepish when he finally pulled back.

“What?” He gave you an innocent look that didn’t match the way his eyes were sparkling. “Can’t a guy kiss his soon-to-be- girlfriend after suffering through a lecture?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “You know half the hallway is staring, right?”

“Let them.” He shrugged nonchalantly, lacing his fingers with yours like it was no big deal. Like being with you like this—in front of everyone—wasn’t the huge deal it still felt like to you. 

The moment you paused by your locker, his hands were on your waist, spinning you to face him.

“Finally,” he murmured, dipping his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that was too much tongue and entirely too distracting for a busy hallway.

“Cameron,” you mumbled against his mouth, your fingers curling around his biceps. “We’re gonna be late.”

He hummed, lips not leaving yours. “Worth it,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your back, pressing you closer. “Always worth it.”

Your heart did a little flip, but you pulled back just enough to give him a look. “You said that in class, too.”

He grinned, looking completely unrepentant. “Yeah, and I meant it then, too.”

Your cheeks heated, and you shot him a half-hearted glare, hoping it covered up the way your purse sped up at the way he was looking at you.

The days blended together like that—Rafe’s hand on you somewhere always—whether it was his arm slung around your waist as you walked to class, his thumb brushing little circles on your knee when you were sitting across from each other in the library, or just… holding your hand, like he needed to feel your skin against his.

You were starting to forget what it felt like to not have him touching you. And maybe that should have scared you a little, but it didn’t. It was nice, easy. The way he’d press a kiss to your forehead before slipping into his own class, whisper something low and teasing when he caught you blushing, smirking at the way you tried to hide your smile.

After a long afternoon of half-hearted studying—thanks to Rafe’s wandering hands and that stupidly distracting grin—you found yourself back in your dorm room, tucked against him on your tiny bed, with a movie you weren’t even pretending to watch playing softly in the background.

It was cozy, almost too cozy. You’d ditched your jeans for a pair of shorts and borrowed one of his hoodies that still smelled faintly like him, and Rafe was propped up against the headboard, his legs tangled with yours. The smell of popcorn lingered in the air, but the bowl had been abandoned on your desk, long forgotten as you focused on something infinitely better.

Him.

You were still breathless from the last round of his kisses—his lips trailing down your neck, his thumb grazing against the line of your jaw as if he were memorizing it. And then his mouth had moved lower, his teeth nipping at your collarbone until you’d let out an embarrassingly needy sound that had him pulling back, smirking.

“What?” you’d huffed, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Nothing,” he’d murmured, “Just love seeing you like this.”

Like this?

You didn’t even know what he meant. All you knew was that he hadn’t stopped looking at you like that since, his eyes following every curve of your face, lingering on the way your lips parted as you tried to get your breathing under control.

“Focus,” you’d said, half-laughing, half-gasping. “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“Pretty sure I was learning a lot,” he’d countered as he ran a hand down your side, “Like how you’re really ticklish right here.” 

And then his fingers had dug into your side, making you squirm and giggle, batting his hand away until you’d ended up tangled even closer together, his mouth pressing quick kisses along your cheek until you finally gave in, letting him kiss you again.

That’s how you’d ended up here now—his arm slung around your shoulders, his other hand playing with the ends of your hair as you half-watched whatever movie he’d picked. His chest was warm and solid against your back, and every now and then, he’d press a kiss to your hair.

“You’re gonna miss the whole movie,” he teased lightly, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“You’re the one who distracted me,” you pointed out, turning slightly to give him a look. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Hmm, fair,” he agreed, grinning lazily as his fingers traced random patterns on your thigh. “But I think I’d rather kiss you anyway.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” And there it was again—that look, the one that made your breath hitch and your heart do a funny little backflip.

It was so easy to lose track of time like this—getting lost in him, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, the warmth of his hand against your skin. You didn’t know how long you lay there, just soaking it all in, until he moved a little, turning slightly so he was looking right at you.

“Hey,” he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” you whispered back, blinking up at him. He hesitated for a second and then he took a deep breath, looking way too serious for what you’d expected on a lazy night like this.

“Can I ask you something?” his thumb brushed softly against your cheek.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I, um…” He paused, looking almost… nervous? But that didn’t make sense. This was Rafe Cameron—the guy who never seemed fazed by anything. “I was thinking… I mean, we’ve been… you know.”

You blinked at him, trying to understand where he was going with this. “Rafe, you’re not making any sense.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. 

“Right, sorry.” He looked down for a second, then met your eyes again, “I was just wondering if… if you’d want to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

Rafe? Nervous? Asking if you’d want to be his girlfriend? As if that wasn’t already painfully obvious.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to burst into a cackle as you pretended to think it over. “Hmmm…” you started slowly, watching the way his brow furrowed, like he was already second-guessing himself. “I dunno…”

He blinked, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Wait, unless you don’t want to? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry—like, we don’t have to—”

“Rafe.” You cut him off, watching as his eyes darted between yours, full-on panicking now.

“I just thought… you know, since we’re always hanging out… and the kisses, I mean—unless you think they’re weird? I’m sorry, stop looking at me like that, please.”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in.

“Really? You’re laughing at me now?”

“Cameron,” you said through a chuckle, “I’m already basically your girlfriend. You didn’t have to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. “I’m being a gentleman here, okay? I—I know, okay? I know this isn’t the way people usually do it,” he rambled, suddenly looking adorably flustered. “I was going to do some big, stupid gesture, maybe show up with flowers or whatever, but… I thought about it, and I know you hate surprises, so I didn’t want to make a whole thing out of it and freak you out.” He paused, taking another deep breath, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “But I couldn’t wait anymore,” he admitted. “I just— I want it to be real. I want to be able to call you mine. For real.”

This wasn’t a casual question. This wasn’t some flirty comment in the hallway, something he could brush off if you didn’t react the way he wanted. He was serious. Completely, terrifyingly serious.

 “You really—?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, leaning forward, “I really want this. You and me. No more of this ‘are-they-or-aren’t-they’ crap.”

The smile that spread across your face was blinding, “Okay. I’ll say yes for your sake.”

And then, he was kissing you—hard and fast and completely giddy, like he couldn’t believe it.

“God, you’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face like he couldn’t get close enough. “My girl. You’re actually my girl.”

The second his lips were on yours again, all coherent thoughts went flying out of your head. It was like his mouth had some kind of superpower over you. t made everything else—every little doubt and worry—just… disappear. 

“Oh my God, no. Wait. Tell me,” you said, sitting up a little so you could look at him better. “When did you realize you had feelings for me?”

Rafe’s hand was still brushing against your thigh as he looked down at you. “Like… three weeks into our deal.”

 “Three weeks?!”

“Yeah,” he said it casually, like he hadn’t just dropped that little bomb on you. “We were about three weeks in. You were still going on about Nate, and I was, I don’t know. I started getting annoyed anytime you brought him up.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around that. “So, while I was trying to figure out how to get Nate to like me, you were just… what? Secretly into me?”

He snickered, leaning back against the headboard, looking way too relaxed for someone who’d kept his feelings a secret for months.

“Pretty much.”

“You were such an ass to me back then,” you pointed out, still kind of shocked.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know what the hell to do with how I was feeling,” he admitted, “We acted like we hated each other for years. I didn’t just wake up one day and go, ‘Oh, maybe I like her.’ It took me a minute to figure it out.”

You were still processing. Three weeks in? That was barely when you started realizing he wasn’t the worst person in the world.

“So, what, you just... didn’t say anything?”

Rafe gave you a look, like you should’ve known better. “Of course not. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know we’ve spent most of our lives hating each other, but now I’m kind of into you’?” He shook his head. “Besides, you were still all hung up on Nate.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a second. “Oh my God. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah,” he said, laughing softly as he pulled your hands away from your face. “It’s kinda cute, honestly. You had no idea.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You really waited until I was over my Nate phase to make a move, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I was patient,” he said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I was better for you anyway.”

Rafe was still so close, his lips hovering just above yours like he was waiting for you to make the move. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction—not yet. “You think you’re better for me, huh?”

 “I know I am.”

You didn’t even have time to roll your eyes before he kissed you again, slowly at first, almost teasing, until his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. The way his lips moved against yours, the little rasp he let out when you kissed him back harder—it nearly sent your heart into cardiac arrest.

And then you ruined it. Because then, like always, that stupid little voice crept in. The one that wouldn’t just let you be happy. Yeah, it was perfect now, in your tiny dorm room where it was just the two of you and the outside world didn’t exist. But next week, you’d both be going home for spring break. And that voice kept whispering what you didn’t want to think about.

Back home, it wouldn’t just be the two of you anymore. No more bubble. Just the island. And everyone on it. All the stupid expectations and labels and… baggage.

Because you were you, the pogue girl who worked summers and knew every corner of The Cut like the back of her hand. And he was Rafe Cameron. Kook royalty. The guy who used to make it his personal mission to remind you of that difference every chance he got.

His friends? They were probably still the same assholes who’d laughed about it like you were something beneath them. What if they still did?

And what if—God, what if—he started to see it like that again too? Realize that all this wasn’t worth the hassle? He was always so sure here, like the past didn’t matter, like he wasn’t even that guy anymore, but… what if being back there, where everyone knew who you really were… changed things?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss. He made a low, disappointed sound, eyes opening and immediately locking on yours, his hand still holding your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, “I’m just… I keep thinking about… going home.”

His brows drew together, “What about it?”

“It’s just… things are different there,” you looked away even though his hand was gently turning your face back toward him.

“Different how?” he pressed, like he needed to figure out what was going on in your head.

“You know.” You bit your lip, taking a shaky breath. “You’re Rafe Cameron, Rafe. And I’m… I’m just—”

His jaw clenched, his fingers stilling against your skin. “No. Stop,” he said softly but firmly. “You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

“It’s true, though! I’m still that pogue girl to them. Your friends, your people—Kooks—they’re gonna look at me and see exactly what they used to. And even if they don’t say it, they’re thinking it. I can feel it, Rafe. And you—” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “You can’t pretend that won’t matter.”

Suddenly, he was sitting up, practically towering over you, “Are you kidding me? You think I give a shit what they think?”

You blinked up at him, “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he went on, cutting you off, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid you’d run if he let go. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.” He leaned closer, his eyes blazing as he held your gaze. “I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not… that Rafe.”

“But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he murmured, shaking his head, his thumb brushing over your cheek like he was wiping away an invisible tear. “I’m done pretending. I’m done worrying about who’s watching or what they’re saying. I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to hide you. I’m not ashamed, okay?”

Your chest tightened painfully. “But what if being back there—”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he cut you off, voice soft but so steady, like he was trying to pull you back to him. “No. Don’t do this. I’m not letting you talk yourself out of this.” He leaned in, his forehead gently bumping against yours. “When I say I want you, I mean I want all of you. Here, home, everywhere. I want to show up with you at every party, every stupid get-together, holding your hand and daring anyone to say a word about it.”

Your breath hitched, feeling stupid tears prick at your eyes, “You—You really mean that?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Home changes nothing. We’re still us. You’re still mine.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he brushed it away, his lips hovering over yours.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

You were a goner after that.

Completely lost in the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. Your heart was practically doing somersaults when you pulled him closer, your nails scraping lightly across his bare back.

“Rafe,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a sigh as his hands roamed up under your top, fingertips skimming along the sensitive skin of your ribs. He made a low, satisfied sound against your lips, his grip tightening just enough to make you want to eat him whole. His thumbs brushed the underside of your bra, and you arched into him, chasing the touch like you were starved for it.

“Baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” he practically cooed, his voice all gravelly and wrecked as his mouth traced down the side of your neck, peppering kisses. “So fucking perfect—”

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to make him look up at you again, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. “You know, you’re supposed to be watching the movie,” you teased, breathless, not even pretending to sound convincing.

“Movie’s boring,” he purred, his hands slipping higher, thumb tracing over the lace of your bra. “I’m a lot more interested in you, pretty girl.”

Before you could even think of a comeback, his mouth was on yours again, needier this time. He kissed you like he was desperate, one of his hands sliding back down, gripping your waist as he dragged you onto his lap, and you could feel every lean muscle of his chest, the solid heat of his body pressed up against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he grabbed a handful of your ass, holding you to him like you were the only thing that mattered.

You made a small, breathy sound as he explored your mouth, his hand sliding into your hair, cradling your face as he angled you just right, and you instinctively leaned into him, waiting more. He tilted your chin up slightly, and his tongue slid against yours, slick and probing, your mouths moving together in soft gasps and heavy breaths. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who had been your first kiss just a month ago. You knew—knew—that if you kept this up, if you didn’t stop—

The door burst open.

“I swear, if I ever see that asshole again, I’m going to— Oh. Oh.”

You whipped around to see Ava standing in the doorway, looking like she was ready to throw hands, in all her pissed-off, storming-in glory. She was still wearing her cute little date outfit—red crop top, high-waisted jeans—but her hair was kind of a mess, and her lipstick was smudged, like she’d been fuming the entire walk over. 

Rafe’s lips were swollen, red, a little glossy, and his hair was a mess from your fingers. But did he look embarrassed? Even the slightest bit ashamed that you’d just been caught practically swallowing each other’s faces?

Absolutely not. 

But what made you actually gape was the fact that fact Ava didn’t even blink at the sight of you straddling Rafe, his shirt completely off, your own top halfway up your ribs. Instead, she just waved her hand dismissively, like she couldn’t care less that she’d just walked in on a borderline soft-core porno scene. 

“What happened?” you asked, your voice still breathless as you tried to act like you hadn’t been moments away from letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I was saying—this fucker had the nerve to tell me that he thinks women shouldn’t split the bill because they don’t work as hard. Like, what the actual fuck?”

Rafe let out a loud, frustrated groan against your shoulder, his forehead dropping onto your collarbone as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You smothered a giggle, trying and failing to glare at him while Ava, completely oblivious, kept right on ranting.

“Seriously, I should’ve just walked out then and there, but noooo, I thought, be nice, Ava, don’t make a scene. And what does this prick do?” She threw her hands up, pacing back and forth as you slowly—very awkwardly—slipped off Rafe’s lap, tugging your hoodie back into place.

“Uh… what?” you asked, doing your absolute best to sound normal while Rafe buried his face against your neck, his shoulders shaking as he mumbled, “She’s such a fucking cockblock,” against your skin. You smacked the back of his head lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Shh,” you hissed at him, and he just grumbled something unintelligible, his lips still grazing your shoulder.

“Anyway!” Ava continued, still blissfully unaware. “The asshole pulls out coupons. Like, actual physical coupons. And then he tries to use one to get a free dessert, but surprise, surprise, it’s expired, so what does he do? Blames me. Me! Like I’m the one who asked to go to a place with coupons—”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe sighed, finally lifting his head from your neck, giving her an exasperated look. “Does she ever stop talking?”

“Shut up,” you murmured, swatting his chest even as you tried not to giggle. Ava’s gaze flicked over to the two of you, her expression still murderously angry—but she still didn’t seem even a little fazed by the fact that Rafe was literally shirtless, looking like he’d been in the middle of something much more interesting.

“Anyway, so then he tries to say that he thinks I’m being too sensitive. Like, are you kidding? Sensitive? I should’ve shoved the damn breadsticks up his ass!”

Rafe let out a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a growl, dropping his head back onto your shoulder with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me."

You giggled, shaking your head and patting his hair soothingly. “You’ll survive,” you murmured, still trying to keep a straight face. Ava was still pacing, muttering angrily under her breath.

“I swear to God, next time, I’m just bringing a taser. I’m not playing anymore. You think I’m being sensitive? Here, take 50,000 volts and let’s see how sensitive you feel after that—”

Rafe lifted his head again, looking between you and Ava with an expression that could only be described as done. “Can I kill her?” he asked flatly.

You smacked his shoulder again, laughing. “No, Rafe. Be nice.”

“I am being nice,” he shot back, giving you an incredulous look. “I’m suffering, babe. I’m over here, trying to—” He gestured between the two of you pointedly. “—and she’s giving me a freaking lecture on expired coupons.”

“I know,” you whispered, grinning as he groaned and dropped his head against your chest this time.

“Why do I even try?” he sighed, sounding utterly defeated.

“And then he actually thought he could just—”

Ava abruptly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. Her attention flicked between you and Rafe, lingering on the way you were still nestled against him.

“Wait a second,” she said slowly, “What the hell just happened here?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you shot a look at Rafe, who was now smirking like the cat who got the cream.

“Uh, nothing? Just a little... study break?” you stammered.

Ava crossed her arms, her eyebrow arched in that way that always made you feel like she was reading your mind. “Study break, huh?”

Rafe leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’m a good tutor. A very hands-on tutor.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly serious.

“You better use protection, Cameron,” she warned, pointing a finger at him like a stern teacher. “I swear to God, if you get her pregnant—”

“AVA!” you exclaimed, mortified, covering your face with your hands. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, and it was all you could do to not melt into the floor.

“What?” she said innocently, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Just looking out for my girl here. I mean, have you seen him? He’s trouble.”

Rafe, still unbothered, just laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yup, there she is,” he said, glancing at you with a cheeky glint in his eye. 

You shot him a faux glare, then turned back to Ava, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You groaned, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Can we not talk about my potential future children right now?”

She just scooted right between you and Rafe, sitting in bed and throwing her legs over the blanket, settling in like she belonged there. You blinked, caught between amused and confused, as she wiggled down, practically cocooning herself.

"What are we watching?" Ava asked, completely ignoring the fact that she had become the ultimate third wheel.

You could see Rafe moving, trying to reclaim some form of contact with you. His arm was awkwardly hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do now that you were out of reach. You turned slightly—he was full-on pouting. His bottom lip stuck out just enough that you had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Uh, nothing now,” Rafe muttered, his voice full of that trademark grumpiness. “Can't even hold my girl.”

Ava just shrugged, completely unfazed, casually throwing an arm over your waist. “Oh, c’mon, you’ll survive one movie without being all over each other.” She glanced between you two like she was the voice of reason, which—let’s be real—she was not.

You shot Rafe a playful look, but he was still sulking, “Gonna start dragging you to my dorm.”

“Shup up Cameron, let me watch the movie.”

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[theemporium]

hi!! i wanted to request an imagine with all the marauders doing stupid shit to try and compete for the new american transfer’s attention, and she’s extremely bold, sarcastic, and unbothered (bc i’m so tired of seeing y/ns who act like they’ve never had a single social interaction before 😭) and they have a like a bet going on to see who can get a yes from her first, oblivious to the fact that she’s dragging it out to watch them embarrass themselves more LMAO thank you so much 🙌🙌

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“You know they are doing all this to impress you, right?” 

You couldn’t help the way your lips twitched in amusement as you tore your eyes away from the sight in front of and instead turned to look at the redhead settled on the bench next to you. 

“Of course I do,” you answered with a playful scoff. “But who said I can’t have my own fun with it?” 

Lily snorted, a bashful but bold sound. “You’re driving them mad, babe.” 

“But it’s so funny to watch,” you said with a faux pout before you turned back to look at the boys. 

The second you walked through the doors of Hogwarts, the boys were absolutely besotted by you. Maybe it was the pretty smile or the gorgeous face or maybe it was the fact you had all but scoffed at some petty, pureblood wizards who tried introducing themselves to you and snorted when another tried to tell you off for breaking some silly little school rule within the first twenty-four hours since you stepped inside the castle. 

But from that second on, you had held the hearts of the school’s beloved marauders in your hand, for better or for worse. 

“What are they even trying to do this time?” Marlene asked as she approached the two of you, her hands braced on the bench as she tilted her head at the scene in front of her, trying to work out just what she was actually looking at. 

It wasn’t unusual for the boys to go out of their way to gain your attention, you had truly seen it all. From James whooshing past you on his broom after he scored in a quidditch match, calling out your name and honouring the goal to you, to Sirius dancing on the table top in the Great Hall to cheer you up as he serenade you with your favourite song, to Remus all but blurting out random little jokes during class to try and gain your attention. 

It was cute and it warmed your heart. Now, though, you were slightly worried their recent antic would end with the three boys in months’ worth of detention.

“I honestly don’t know,” you murmured honestly, your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched the boys zip about. 

“Are those…muggle fireworks?” Lily murmured with a frown. 

“Muggle fireworks? How different are they to ours?” you asked, briefly glancing at the redhead. 

“Very different,” she snorted, shaking her head. “I didn’t think any of them knew how to set them off. It’s not like ours, it’s not a simple spell.” 

You tilted your head. “Is that why Sirius has his lighter?” 

“Probably, but you still have to—“ 

BOOM!

All eyes turned to look at the massive chunk that was now gone from a row of pillars leading out into the courtyard. And just as quickly as people sought out the chaos, their heads twisted around to find the boys standing there, sheepish and flustered at the lacklustre performance they just put on for you. 

“POTTER! BLACK! LUPIN!” 

You snorted as their eyes widened at McGonagall's voice booming through the whispers and hushed voices, all three of them scrambling to fix their mess. For the infamous marauders, they got quite sloppy when they were around you. 

“Better run, boys!” you called out to them, a massive grin on your face. “Wouldn’t want my favourite boys in detention.” 

“Your favourite boys?” Sirius repeated, a grin growing on his face. 

“You heard what I said, Black,” you retorted, watching as the boy only shook his head in amusement. 

“We won’t get detention, darling,” Remus assured you, a flush to his cheeks that made him look a little younger than usual, a lot more carefree too. 

“Good, we have a date on Saturday,” you called out casually. 

All three boys halted in their steps but it was James who spoke. 

“Which one?” he asked, something like a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

But your grin only widened. “Who said anything about only one of you?”

.

[blingblong55]

Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1

Based on a request:

Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.

"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.

The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.

Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.

This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.

"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.

As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.

Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.

Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.

There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.

"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.

After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.

Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.

A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry

Tags: @agasawit

[lovejosephquinn]

Imagine it’s like your third/fourth date with Joe and he decides to have the date at his so he can show off his mega cooking skills. Everything is so cute and fluffy and saccharine and then it’s the first time the two of you have sex. But it’s all adorable and sweet rather than the (wonderful) filth that you usually do!! I feel like I don’t see enough first time fics anymore :(

I GOT YOU. One fluffy fluffed up imagine just for you bestie 🥰

Under 18's DNI. Word Count: 3.5k

There was something different about Joe, the absolute charmer of a man that you had never witnessed before in anybody else. It was something you couldn't quite pin point and if you had one guess it would be that you had never been treated quite like the queen that others had told you that you oh so truly deserved.

It hadn't took long for Joe to break down the walls in which you had held up as much as you could from previous relationships, but he had it all, not just the looks that were an extreme bonus and you felt like you could jump him every time you saw him but also the persona he only really kept for people that was worth it, the whit and the chaotically beautiful and quite frankly funny yet brutally sweet and caring nature of him had shined through by the time your second date had come around.

Basically, to put it bluntly, he was your definition of perfect and it was something you couldn't possibly refuse to let go.

It was proving an impossible task to not fall in love with this human so quickly. It was cringeworthy to admit, but he was the first thing you thought about in a morning and the very last thing you dreamt about at night, it was a puzzle piece in your heart that was missing and he somehow completed it by walking into your life at the time he did.

Not to say you didn't meet the way most courting adults do nowadays, through the wonders of dreaded hooking up dating apps. You had felt like a teenager with a massive crush staying up until 4am the first time that you ever exchanged messages, talking for hours in pointless conversation, sharing memories and exchanging pleasantries and the general chit chat to get to know one another. You just clicked. What seemed too good to be true turned into texting every single day, calling each other when you both had a spare minute, sharing the occasional face time just to be able to say hello at the closest face to face you could finally get a chance to meet; and then it happened.

Date one: a simplistic meal at an authentic Italian restaurant, suited and booted, a grand first impression of a gentleman if any. Your first kiss. Sensual, slow and heartfelt.

Date two: Driving out to a lake which was situated around the lovely grounds of a valley, you held hands pretty much all the way around, giggling, sharing ice cream, feeding the ducks with over priced bread and laughing at Joe nearly falling in the water when he leaned to actually hand feed the duckling, resulting in him almost looking like a drowned rat and being branded an accidental murderer forever.

Date three: Another meal at a fancy five star French restaurant in the heart of London, followed by drinks in bars that Joe insisted he needed to take you to as they did the best martini's you'd ever tasted. He wasn't wrong, you fucking hated martinis until that night, maybe it was just a placebo due to the fact he enjoyed them, so you made yourself like them too, you had to impress him to right? You'd made out in the taxi all the way back to your flat, Joe dropped you off not insinuating that he wanted to take it any further as it was clear you both didn't want to rush something that was going so well and risk it failing over sleeping together too quickly.

Date four was tonight. You had arranged a quieter more casual meet this evening. Joe had shown great determination in getting you to his home to cook for you, vowing to you over and over that he was a way better chef than those of the restaurants you had eaten at together on dates in the past. Even though it was less formal affair, you still made yourself look presentable, sporting an oversized jumper dress with a more relaxed approach to stick to wearing trainers, it wasn't like you would have them on long anyway. Minimal make up and a nice up do, packing your over night bag as you had the bright idea that you would stay over the night so that you didn't have to rush through the time you had together; you could take your time.

You packed pyjamas, why? Because you didn't know how comfortable you would be to sleep in your underwear next to a male who you weren't sure would want to see such a thing. He's a man, of course he fucking would; but you didn't want to come across eager.

It was about a 25 minute drive to where you needed to be, you were still nervous to see Joe after already seeing so much of each other in the last few weeks, it was still fresh to you but you knew as soon as you were together, the comfortability would kick in pretty much when you arrived and shared your first glances.

When you got to the front door, it opened before your fist had even touched the object. You stood there with it mid air, a small wolf whistle followed by the sweetest smile, his sweetest smile, teeth and all. Joe of course was dressed to the nines, shirt and trousers but as you looked down to check the full variety of what you had to stare it, you noticed the cute pink socks sticking out like a sore thumb underneath the foot of his trousers. You couldn't help but snigger a giggle.

"Real men wear pink." Were his first words.

"And you're looking sincerely sexy in those pink socks Joe." You both chortled out a bark of laughter as Joe gestured for you to come through before closing the door behind you.

Once you were no longer in view of the public, you were met by Joe's hand clutching around your waist, bringing you in to close the space between your bodies. You leaned upward to receive a content little peck on the lips, your hands placed on his chest to keep you steady as you brought your feet back down fully to ground level.

"You look beautiful, darling." Joe cooed.

"Oh stop it." You patted his chest as he hummed a chuckle.

"Thank you would be a better answer." He tilted his head to one side, unknowingly surprised with you reaching to share a more intimate kiss this time. As you pulled back, Joe sighed almost peacefully, the way you did when you had butterflies flipping around your stomach. The feeling was definitely most mutual.

"Okay you win, that was a perfect response." Joe took your hand once you had rested them back to your side and brought you into the kitchen/dining area where he pulled out your seat for you. You thanked him as you looked around to see how classy he had set out the cutlery, a small plate, a dinner plate and a wine glass. A jug of water in the middle of the table in case you needed it at any point throughout the meal.

"Smells divine in here." You gazed around the messy kitchen, the sign of a good hearty meal being cooked as well as it could be showed that he was pulling out all of the stops.

"I hope you're hungry, I made a little too much pasta." Joe pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brow and shrugging his shoulders slightly at you.

"I meant you, the food smells good too."

"Oh stop it." Joe mimicked you, covering his hand over his mouth in a pathetic and quite frankly over dramatic attempt to pretend he was embarrassed over your compliment.

Joe poured the wine into your glass, insisting that you taste it to make sure it was the one that you had said you liked beforehand. Great memory. Perfect for the pasta dish that you were about to consume. The indeed heavenly smell of prawn tagliatelle with various vegetables was dished out in front of you. You ate everything, even went in for seconds, it was a good job you didn't eat much today and you had to all intents and purposes starved yourself so that you would be ravenous by the time you had your dinner date.

Was this man ever wrong in his assumptions? Nope. He was a sensational cook, his mum had clearly taught him a lot and he was well trained in the kitchen, perfect as you were up for a dinner date like this every night for the rest of your life if this was the quality of food you would receive.

To top it all off, he had also prepared dessert, an affogato served with home made pistachio ice cream, an eye rolling, taste bud tingling way to finish off your meal indeed. You had polished off the wine too quickly for your liking, the combination of wine heated your cheeks along with the warmth of the house and also being sat across from Joe probably didn't help the matter.

You had retired to the living room after helping him clean up. Joe had insisted that you were his guest and wouldn't lift a finger but after a playful and most valid argument between you, Joe accepted your point of it would get done faster if you did it together. Putting on a movie seemed like the best option to end a solid ten out of ten evening together, a romantic comedy that you had seen at least thirty times in your life. You downed the last of your wine in your glass and set it in front of you on the coffee table, snuggling into Joe's side, he caught the hint pretty quickly and lifted his arm to let you sink into him further. His hand stroked the bare skin of your shoulder where your jumper had faltered a little, sending goose bumps raging their way through your skin.

It wasn't long until the movie was forgotten about, a deeply passionate kiss provoked by Joe himself. He had smoothly managed to push his finger tip toward your jaw, putting enough pressure to make you look up toward him where his free hand came to cup your cheek, bringing you forward to softly connect your lips together. You lifted yourself up with the help of Joe to sit yourself directly on his lap, tongues now involved as begged at your bottom lip for entrance. The kiss became intense, your fingers ran through his untamed curls which were soft and a little frizzy from the humidity of cooking whilst your other hand was wrapped in the chains around his neck, pulling him to be as close to you as possible. The dimmed lighting added to the voluptuousness and your whole body was screaming with desire to be touched in anyway he would dare to.

The kiss broke intermittently as you both panted for just that little bit to regain the oxygen your lungs had lost in the last few minutes.

"Shall we go get a little more comfortable, love?" Joe offered, stroking his thumb over your cheek giving you a smile that could heal the world.

"I'd love to." Joe kept you in his grasp, lifting himself up off of the sofa and you instantly obliged to wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you upstairs and into his bedroom, using his elbow to switch on the light before he slowly set you down on your back onto the foam mattress that you immediately thought was going to be a great nights sleep from the instant comfort you felt. Joe rested himself by the side of you, propped up on one elbow as his hand magnetised itself straight back to your cheek. He examined your features for a moment, staring through into your soul, your eyes following every muscle that worked in the doe eyes that sparkled towards you.

"Just to be clear you do want-" Joe whispered shyly, but before he could finish it was a response you didn't even have to think about.

"I do, I really do." He knew you were on the same page, his lips coming back to join yours in the most gratifying and pleasurable kiss. Electricity was shooting it's way down to your core, followed by anxiety that he may not like what he saw underneath your clothing.

You broke the kiss this time, pushing all doubts out of your mind as you sat up to remove your jumper dress, leaving yourself in your matching underwear, slowly looking up to witness his reaction.

It was very much worth it.

Joe's eyes had grown lustful, extremely excited to see you looking so vulnerable for him. Joe pushed his hands towards the back of your bra, stopping for a second to look at you for reassurance.

"May I?"

You giggled. "You may."

Joe touched you delicately like you were made of porcelain, not wanting to break you but at the same time really wanting to feel every ounce of you. He massaged your breasts in the palm of his hands, lightly pinching your nipples and gaining a whimper from the sensitivity that it caused.

"You like that, baby?" Baby. That was the first time he had called you that and you hoped it would not be the last.

A stifling yes was all you could manage, his touch riling you up good and proper as he laid you down back into an easier position to access so that his mouth could taste where his fingers had just influenced.

Soft moans were making the erection in Joe's trousers twitch as he worked his way down with unhurried yet deliberate little embracing kisses down your body. His hands following where his lips had just caressed until he was knelt down before you, placing your feet at the edge of the bed, reaching upward to slide your panties down and fully off. You were stark naked and his bush baby eyes had never shimmered brighter than they were, his jaw could of fell to the floor the way his mouth gaped open looking down at you.

"You're so fucking beautiful, I am so lucky." There was that sigh again, oh so delightful to observe.

Joe planted more kisses along your thighs before working his way towards your slit, guiding his hands to open it up so that he could start by licking a small stripe down to the base of you with the tip of his tongue. A louder moan escaped you this time.

"Relax darling, I want to make you feel so good."

When he got into a more focussed position, his hands reached for yours, intertwining your fingers together as you both gave a little reassuring squeeze to let each other know it was okay. His muscle massaged against your clit, making the muscles in your legs twinge each time he slipped it over a particular spot. He pressed succulent kisses against you with each taste, humming and breathing in the scent of you.

"That feels so good." You mewled.

"Mmm." Joe answered, he was in too deep for a truly more accurate reply.

His movements got a little faster and heavier against your bud, your body squirming around the sheets, your fingers pressing harder into his knuckles before he let one of your hands go, your instant reaction was to massage your boob and play with yourself a little. Joe surprised you by pushing a finger inside of you, the cold metal of his ring touching your entrance when the entirety of his digit made it's way up. He added another shortly, curling them upwards but keeping the pace gently measured to really make you feel even better than you could have ever imagined.

It all ended too quickly as Joe pushed himself away from you, ridding the contact from his fingers and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth to dry himself off.

"Why did you stop?"

"I can't take it anymore, I need to feel myself inside of you, you feel too good like this, god knows how you'll feel like that." Joe undressed himself and you watched his defined figure unravel before you, gawking from his neck down, not too toned but just right. His cock stood to attention, leaking pre-cum from being so heavily turned on from his time during his little cunninglingus fun. You were impressed with everything he had to offer, why wouldn't you be impressed with the sheer just above average size he was packing.

"You are perfect Quinn." You bit down onto your bottom lip, hypnotising him immediately with the way your eyes clung to his.

"No baby, that's you." BABY. BABY. B A B Y.

Joe lined himself up over you, not letting you move from your previous state, silently insisting that you relax whilst he continued to make you both feel incredible. He rubbed his cock between your slit, gaining some of his own spit and your slick to lube him up for easier access.

"Are you sure-"

"I'm sure, baby." It was your turn to mock him whimsically but he seemed to drink it in as you did, the pet name in particular. Joe pushed himself inside of you slowly, inch by inch filling you, your walls instantaneously clenching around him sending a ferocious groan straight from Joe's mouth.

"Just as I thought." He said.

You giggled a little too suddenly. "What?"

"Heavenly."

Joe began to rock his hips back and fourth into you, the girth alone sent your back arching as he leant down, the muscles in his arms flexing to keep him hovering above you, his chains dangling around your chin as he thrusted back and fourth. Sharp breathes and the heat of passion were strong between the two of you, a rush of new found energy had you both singing each other's names like a prayer. The movements were sloppy yet so eager, fiery yet heartfelt. You looked into each others eyes with promise and sensibility. If you weren't mistaken, the look of love. Too lost in your thoughts, you were brought back down to the present to see Joe's lips moving, your hearing came back into play once you had stopped being so caught in your brain.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Never better."

"Did you hear what I said?" Joe pushed into you a little harder this time making you gasp.

"Evidently not." You breathed out a distorted moan followed by a chuckle.

"Be mine." Joe repeated himself hoping that you heard him loud and clear this time.

"I already am." You smiled as soon as he did, his lips crashed against yours, your heavily beautiful kiss moving in time with that of his hips, stopping sporadically to take a breath or to get out the breathless whimpers you needed to let escape.

The knot snapped inside your stomach when he hit one final thrust, sending you both over the edge together. Your bodies tingling from head to toe, the sensation you wished would last a lifetime and more from the stimulation and pure feeling you were eating up at this very moment.

"That was-" Joe was left stuttering so much that he had to pause.

"Amazing?" You finished.

"Exactly." Joe leaned down to kiss you one last time before pulling out, your orgasms rid to their full potential, it had made it all the more zealous to have reached your peaks together.

You ran to the bathroom to flush out what you needed to, cleaning yourselves up before returning to Joe's bed, the pyjamas long forgotten about that you had packed, a comforting thought that you now would be able to sleep skin to skin, happy and tranquil. Joe rushed downstairs to turn the tv off, not long after returning and making a huge leap towards the bed to which you jumped out of your skin when you realised he was almost about to crush you the same way he could have done the duckling on your second date.

It was all laughter and mind numbing chatter for the rest of the night, you laid in Joe's arms, your ear just resting above his heart which beat steady and relaxed.

"You meant it?" Joe mentioned and you looked up at him dazed and confused in your exhausted state.

"Meant what?" You asked.

"That you were mine." Joe looked deeply into your eyes, looking for the answers before you spoke them.

"Always."

"Perfect." Joe planted a kiss onto your forehead, his fingers making light work stroking up and down the top of your back.

"That's you." You nestled your face into his chest.

"Sweet dreams then, my darling girl."

You laid in the same position until the sun rose and the light dimmed it's way through the corners of Joe's curtains. A new day had never felt so good, especially beginning it in the arms of your man. Perfect.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Tippington Affair

Summary: Y/N and Dean are unaware of just how similar they are.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Angst. Pining. Some making out. Kissing. Fluff.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 5,314

A/N: In February I got a request from a lovely anon asking this:

hiii :)) idk of you're taking requests rn, but i was wondering if you could write something with dean x fem!reader where dean really loves her for a while but hasn't told her and plan on never telling cause he just thinks he's bad for her or that he's "poison", but he sees her getting close to some guy they're working with and starts to get like suuuper jealous, enough to make him forget he's not supposed to be with her. I absolutely love your writing and your stories, I'm pretty sure I've read them all haha :)) thanks!

It took me a while to get to this, but I hope you think it was worth it! Thank you so much for this request, Nonnie. And I hope everyone else who reads it enjoys it too. ❤️

Master List || Dean Winchester One Shots || Tag Lists

Dean shouldered his big green duffle bag, slamming Baby’s trunk and frowning at his phone.

-

-

Dean scowled at the name “Tippington”. Scott Tippington.

What the fuck kinda name is Tippington? Dean thought angrily. Sounds like he should be taking cigars and brandy in the library instead of out hunting with a flannel and a shotgun. 

Sam joined him back at the car, having just checked them in and got their room key from the front desk. He tossed it to Dean. 

“203.” He told him and they bounded up the stairs two at a time to the second floor of the Sleep Eazzz Motel. 

When they’d spotted the motel on the side of the highway and Dean mentioned stopping, Sam told him the name of the motel was too close to “Sleazzz Motel” and they should keep driving. But Dean had already been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight. Sam offered to take over but Dean said he needed to stretch out on a real bed. 

“Plus,” he’d pointed out, “you have a habit of really riding the brakes.”

So, they’d stopped for the night.

As they walked through the orange motel room door, they both gave a relieved sigh. The outside of the motel was hideous, but the room seemed decent. It actually smelled and looked clean, there was a decently modern TV, one from the 21st century anyway, and to Dean’s delight, both beds had magic fingers.

They each picked a bed and dropped their bags. Sam sat on the end of his bed and ran a hand down his face before turning to his brother.

“Hey, did you manage to get a hold of Y/N? Is she coming?”

Dean dug into his bag and started taking weapons out to clean them, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “N’ah, she’s werewolf hunting down in North Carolina.”

Sam nodded. “Ah. Too bad, we could use her.”

Dean shrugged. “We got this, it’ll be fine.”

Sam grunted his response and started unlacing his boots. Dean sat back on the bed and laid out a cloth to set the weapons on before starting in on his 1911. 

After a minute Sam kicked off his boots and pushed himself backwards so he was leaning against the pillows on the bed as he picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Dean was quiet until Sam settled on an old episode of The Simpsons and tossed the remote aside.

“Hey, do you know a guy named Scott Tippington? ‘Nother hunter?”

Sam scrunched his forehead thinking. “Out of Utah? Tall guy, blonde?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know him, that’s why I was asking you. What’s he like?”

Sam sat forward a bit to pull off his overly warm flannel. “Well, if it’s the guy I’m thinking of, I only worked with him once, a few years ago.” He darted a look towards Dean. “When you and I were, uh, apart. After Amy.”

It was awkward for a moment before Sam looked back at the TV and continued on. “Anyway, I don’t remember a ton about him, but we ended up on the same Rugaru case and we hunted it together. He was good, I think. If he was bad or stupid, I’d probably remember him more.” He looked at Dean again. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged. “Oh, just Y/N said she’s working with him again. This is like the third or fourth case in a row they’ve worked together, so I was just curious.”

Sam smiled knowingly. “Ah! I get it now.”

Dean scowled at his little brother and then went back to aggressively cleaning the barrel of his pistol. “There’s nothing to ‘get’.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow.“You’re worried Y/N’s getting a bit too close with this guy.”

Dean scoffed. “Whatever. She’s teamed up with him a couple times, and I just wanna make sure he’s not a tool that’s gonna get her killed.”

“Uh huh.” Sam said in tones of disbelief.

Dean shook his head. “Shut up.”

He didn’t bother arguing the point with Sam any further because he knew Sam would see through him - had been seeing through him for the last four years, since the day they’d first had a run in with the former FBI agent.

***

Dean had been immediately blown away by her. She was a power and a force all unto her own, and she was immediately suspicious of them. 

They were working the case of a shifter who was shifting into different parents, and snatching that parent’s kid. They were pretty sure the bastard was selling the kids to other monsters for obviously horrific reasons.

Y/N was only aware of the most recent kid, snatched ten hours earlier. She was on the case, knowing that a twenty-four hour clock was ticking. There were witnesses and CCTV camera footage of the boy’s father picking him up from school, so of course he was their prime suspect. 

But when Sam and Dean came into the local FBI field office and said they’d been instructed to interrogate that suspect, Y/N had just frowned at them and asked to see their badges again. She’d studied them for a worryingly long time before handing them back.

She squinted at them. “You look kind of familiar to me. Have we worked together?”

Both brothers assured her they’d never met and demanded again to speak with the suspect in custody. She’d reluctantly agreed and taken them into the room. But they got little new information out of the incredibly distraught father.

As they were leaving, Y/N caught Dean’s arm and he’d been amazed with how much that little touch had affected him and how badly it made him want to pull her closer, cover her delectable mouth with his and see what she tasted like.

But she’d merely asked him one more time if they’d ever worked together. When Dean denied it again, she shook her head and let him go.

But early the next morning, she’d been outside their motel room, pounding on the door. Dean’s bed was the closest and he stumbled out of it, half asleep, to open the door. He stood there in his black boxers and gray t-shirt and she seemed momentarily surprised, looking him up and down before she pushed past him into the room. 

“Hey!” He protested. He looked over at Sam’s bed, but it was already empty and made up. Probably out running. Dean thought with an internal eye roll as he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on as Y/N spun around to confront him.

“I know why I know you.” When Dean said nothing, she planted her hands on her hips. 

“You're Dean Winchester. And that guy with you,” she pointed at Sam's bed, “is your brother Sam.” When Dean still stayed silent she moved her hands from her hips and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Also, you’re dead.”

She began pacing back and forth in front of him. “After a horrifying and bloody murder spree across several states, you were both killed - ‘decapitated’ the report said. When I called the sheriff who wrote the report, I found out that both he and his daughter, who just happened to be the coroner who processed the bodies, were also missing and presumed dead.”

She turned back to look directly at Dean and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, he found himself once again caught up in how beautiful she was, in the way her eyes flashed as she studied him. And once again he had the impulse to wrench her forward and crush her mouth under his…probably a bad idea, he thought.

Y/N eyeballed him, but he couldn't decipher her expression. Her voice was stern when she spoke. “I should be here to arrest the murderers who faked their own death.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

She stared at him for a minute before she shook her head. “No, because you and your brother aren’t the only weird thing going on with this case. After you left yesterday I dug deeper into the case and stumbled across six other cases, from local municipalities, of missing kids. The cases had been reported to the FBI for consultation, but they all seemed cut and dry, so the locals took care of it themselves.”

She inhaled deeply, frowning at Dean. “The disappearances of all six kids were reported as parental abductions. In every case, there was footage of the parent picking the kid up from school, but every accused parent vehemently denied taking them. Four out of the six suspects arrested, also had ex spouses who refused to believe their former partner had taken the child because they were in very friendly and functional co-parenting situations. Oh, and all six kids were never found, and no body was ever recovered.”

She shook her head. “Now there is a seventh kid missing and it’s exactly the same situation. If you add to that, two fake FBI agents who are actually mass murderers back from the dead, well I gotta think there’s something more going on here that I don’t understand.”

Sam walked through the door just then,  freezing when he saw Y/N standing in the middle of the motel room. 

“Uh…”

Dean waved him in. “Come on in, Sammy. Time to give the talk.”

So, they’d spilled the beans about who they were and the life they lived. She didn’t believe easily, but eventually she admitted that there had been a few other cases in her ten year career that had felt off, that left her with a bad taste in her mouth about what was really going on.

She’d insisted on helping them find the seven year old boy that was missing, and with her help they’d found the shifter and put a silver bullet in his heart in time to save the kid and return him to his real parents.

After that Y/N tried to go back to being an FBI Agent, but eventually she came to see the boys. 

“I can’t go back to pretending that everything is normal. Everytime we’re going after a suspect, I’m wondering whether they’re actually a monster in disguise, or if they’ve got a monster framing them.” She’d shrugged. “So, teach me to be a hunter. I feel like there’s gonna be a lot of career overlap, and hey, the FBI doesn’t pay great either.”

So they’d helped her out, but she was a very quick study and it hadn’t taken long for her to become a great hunter. They often worked cases together.

Or they had until a few months ago when Y/N had met up with Scott Tippington and started working all her cases with him.

Tippington. Dean thought again, dismissively. Definitely a douche.

***

***

“Cheers!” Y/N reached across the table and clinked glasses with Sam and then turned slightly to touch glasses with Dean who was sitting beside her. 

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Cheers.” He said with a nod. 

They all took a big gulp of beer and then clunked their heavy glass mugs back down on the table. 

“So, how have you guys been?” Y/N asked, wiping her hand over mouth to ensure no beer clung to her upper lip. 

Dean grunted non-committedly and she looked to Sam for further explanation.

Sam chuckled. “That’s Dean’s way of saying taking down that nest of vamps we went after, ended up being a bit tougher than we thought it would be. Three of the vamps were friggin’ huge and they didn’t go down easy.”

“Shit!” Y/N said, shaking her head and looking Sam up and down. “They were bigger than you?” 

Dean answered. “Yeah, believe it or not. One of them picked Sam up like he was gonna bench press him and then chucked him clear across the room. Thankfully, I was too quick and agile for him to catch me.”

Sam snorted. “Yes, you were just like a ninja while the one with the beard had you in a headlock choking you out.”

Dean waved him away. “Got out of it didn’t I?”

Y/N chuckled and took another sip of her beer. Sam shifted his gaze from his brother to her and gave her one of his dimpled smiles. “How about you? How’d your last hunt go? Wolves right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, and then a wraith on the way back. They were both pretty quick and clean. We took them out without a problem.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Right you were working with uh…what was his name again?” He asked, as though the name hadn’t been plaguing his nightmares.

“Scott Tippington.”

Dean picked up his cardboard coaster and began shredding it. “Right. You’ve worked with him quite a bit lately. I guess he must be good.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder, smiling fondly at the memory of her most recent partner. “Yeah, he is. I like working with him a lot. He makes me laugh.”

Dean nodded, a little rapidly, she thought. “Oh that’s good. Important that your partner can tickle your funny bone just before a demon smashes your head into a wall.”

Y/N frowned. “He’s a good hunter too.”

“Huh.” Dean grunted. “That’s good.” He nodded. “I mean it’s obviously more important that he’s a good hunter so, you know, he's not gonna get you killed. But it’s great that you get along so well too. Important.” He finished with a mumble.

Y/N looked at him askance. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The table was quiet for a minute until the waitress came by to drop off more pretzels and peanuts for the table.

Dean turned a bright smile her way and Y/N felt her stomach lurch as he moved into flirtation mode. She’d seen it many times before, over the last four years, and it never got easier. It was, in fact, the main reason she’d started hunting with Scott. She’d needed distance from Dean. She couldn’t keep watching him walk out the door with yet another new woman under his arm.

But once again, his charm was in full effect as he addressed their waitress. “Thanks sweetheart.” The waitress had long, dark hair, big boobs and a short skirt. She also had a very sweet smile that she flashed his way, making Y/N wanna scream or scratch her eyes out - maybe both.

The waitress popped a hip out as she stood beside their table. “No trouble, honey. Can I get you anything else? At all?” She asked, her warm brown eyes entirely focused on Dean.

Y/N thought the woman was being a little obvious and forward the way she rested her popped hip against their table and leaned forward so that Dean had a fabulous view of the cleavage revealed by her low cut, scoop neck t-shirt.

Dean didn’t even try to hide his ogling and Y/N gritted her teeth as he leaned his elbows on the table, looking up at the waitress. His green eyes glittered brightly with obviously dirty thoughts and promises. “Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing what time you get off.”

The waitress blushed prettily and bit her lip. “Um, I’m off at midnight.”

Dean gave an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Well, how ‘bout that, midnight is just when I was planning to head home. Maybe we could meet up.”

Y/N was clenching her teeth so hard she thought she might crack one as the waitress giggled and nodded. “Okay, maybe you can give me a ride home.”

Dean stared straight into the woman’s eyes and slowly licked his lips before speaking. “Oh, I can definitely give you a ride, sweetheart.”

“Jesus.” Y/N heard Sam mumble under his breath, but she didn’t spare him a glance. 

She was too intent on staring at the waitress who was practically salivating as she stared at Dean, before she giggled again and bounced away from their table. 

Dean watched her go with his head slightly tilted. 

When he swung his gaze back to her and Sam, he seemed slightly angry and she figured he expected them to bug him about his carousing while they were all just sitting at the table.

She wanted to make sure he knew she didn’t care, so she laughed. “Jesus Dean, why didn’t you just mount her right here on the fucking table.”

Oops, she thought, that sounded a bit more angry than teasing. 

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “What? I wanted a date, I got a date.”

Y/N snorted. “A date? A date implies dinner and a movie, I doubt very much you’ll bother with either. You don’t even know the woman’s name.”

Dean scowled at her. “It’s Cindy.” Y/N raised an eyebrow and he shrugged again. “She had a name tag, and I notice things.”

Y/N snorted. “Yeah, especially when they're pinned to a pair of enormous tits.”

Dean wore half a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He drained his beer in one swallow and stood up. “I’m gonna go ask Cindy for another one.”

He sauntered away and Y/N took her hands off the table and shoved them into her lap so Sam couldn’t see her shaking.

She raised her eyes to his and plastered on what she hoped looked like a real smile. “So, Sam, how is YOUR love life going?”

Sam chuckled. “Non-existent and boring.” He took a sip of beer. “How about you?”

“Non-existent and boring.” Y/N said with a small nod.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So…” Sam cocked his head. “You don’t have anything going on with this uh…Tippington guy you’ve been working with?”

“What? Ew! No.”

Sam frowned in apparent confusion. “Ew? Why ew?”

Y/N shook her head, her face still scrunched. “Because he’s the same age as my Dad!”

Surprise registered on Sam's face followed quickly by confusion. “Scott Tippington? Out of Utah?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, he's from Virginia, or…no West Virginia.”

“Oh.”

Y/N shook her head and then grinned at the idea of dating the grumpy old hunter. “I mean he's pretty good-looking for a 68 year old hunter. But…I think we're just gonna be friends.”

Sam smiled, chagrined. “That's probably a good plan.”

Dean sauntered back towards them and Y/N felt her stomach muscles tighten at his long-limbed, bow legged stride. Dean moved in a way that always made her take notice. When he was hunting, his movements were crisp and efficient, no wasted motions. He was precise and deadly. 

When he wasn’t hunting though, when he was relaxed, he moved his body through the world with a kind of ease, loose and almost carefree. He reclined in chairs, leaned in doorways, and put his feet up on tables. He stretched and relaxed his tall frame into comfortable positions that always made Y/N wanna climb up into his lap and cuddle.

He plunked himself back down beside her with a new mug of beer. Y/N tried to make her grimace look like a grin.

“So, you got your evening all planned out?”

Dean nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, we’re outta here in about fifteen minutes.” He looked at Sam and winked. “Don’t wait up.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Y/N let some of her frustration show. “So, you’re really gonna ditch us after like a half hour. I thought we were supposed to be catching up.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as she looked at his profile. “I figured we were all done catching up. Your wolf hunt went great cause you had your amazing new partner and our vamp hunt went kinda shitty cause we could have used an extra pair of hands.”

Y/N scowled at him. “Seriously? Are you pissed at me for hunting with Scott? I wasn’t aware we’d signed exclusive contracts.”

Dean chuckled darkly. “N’ah, we’re definitely not exclusive. You are under no obligation to us whatsoever. So, you’re good.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Y/N said and Dean turned to look at her. “You’re seriously running off to spend the night with wonder tits over there because you’re pouting?”

“Wow.” Dean said with a head shake. “Whatever happened to the sisterhood? That was pretty rude.”

Y/N scowled at him. “You know, you’re right. I should do my part for the sisterhood by going over to that nice girl and warning her to find another ‘ride’.” She said, using air quotes. “Cause God knows she’s gonna come to regret it when she turns into just another notch on your belt.”

There was no hiding her annoyance now and she didn’t bother.

Dean dropped his jovial pretext too and turned to face her better. “Why the hell are you being so preachy and judgemental? Since when do you give a shit who I fuck?”

“Dean-” Sam started to speak but Y/N spoke over him.

“I don’t.” she denied vehemently. “But I mean, Jesus. Do you ever think with anything other than the dick in your pants? I mean seriously, it’s gross.”

“Y/N-” Sam tried again but Dean leapt to his feet, banging the table and sloshing their beer across the wooden top.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sam mumbled as he jumped up too, trying to avoid the beer streaming towards him.

Dean’s face was furious as he stared down at her. “Well I don’t wanna gross you out, so I guess I’ll just go sit at the bar till I’m ready to go.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, guilt plagued her when she saw the hurt in Dean’s mossy green eyes as she slid out of the bench seat to stand just in front of him.

“Don’t bother. I’m gonna take off, got a lot of driving between here and my next hunt.” She stared up at Dean, hoping against hope that he might tell her that they should both stay.

But he just smiled a tight smile. “Yeah, say hi to Tippington for us.”

Y/N gave a terse nod. “Yeah, whatever.” She glanced at Sam. “Take care, Sam. Hope to see you soon.”

She didn’t bother addressing Dean again, just turning away and walking out the door, wishing she could leave behind her feelings for him just as easily.

***

Dean grabbed a rag from the bar and wiped up the spilled beer before sliding back into the seat across from his brother who was frowning at him.

“Dean, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

Dean glared back. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Why don’t you chase Y/N down and ask what the fuck’s gotten into her lately. She goes months without seeing me, us, I mean, and then storms away just because I had the audacity to make a date for later.”

Sam let out a frustrated growl. “You really think she was just mad you made a date, which, by the way, is a very loose translation for what actually happened with the waitress.”

“No, she was obviously mad and took off because she thinks I’m gross, cause she disapproves of my lifestyle, I guess.” He said, trying not to let the hurt bubble up. 

What the fuck do I care what she thinks of my choices? He thought angrily.

Sam opened his mouth to say something more, but Cindy showed up at the end of their table.

“My boss let me off a bit early.” She smiled bashfully and nodded towards the door, clearly anxious to be underway. “Wanna go?”

Dean smiled at her and stood up, grabbing her hand. “Hell yeah, let’s go.”

***

***

There was a pounding on Y/N’s motel door that would have woken her up if she’d actually been asleep. But she’d just been restlessly tossing and turning, feeling guilty about Dean, but hurt over Dean too. The fact that he hadn’t texted back, clearly meant he was still on his “date”.

The long and short of it was she was in a rotten mood and the pounding on her door at two in the morning wasn’t helping. 

Stupid drunken idiots next door.

When they wouldn’t take the hint and go away, Y/N threw off the covers and stomped to the door, throwing it open, ready to tell them to fuck off. But it wasn’t her neighbors on the other side.

“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, her surprise turning into a frown. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your date?”

“I got your text.” Dean answered, brusquely.

He was staring at her, raking his eyes up and down her form standing in the doorway. Two spots of pink rose in Y/N’s cheeks as she realized she was just wearing a ratty old t-shirt and panties. She tugged self-consciously at the front hem of the shirt trying to ensure she was covered. 

She opened her mouth to ask again what Dean was doing, but before she could get a word out, he’d pushed her backwards into the room with his hands at her waist. In one quick motion he kicked the door shut and spun her so he could slam her up against the wood-paneled wall.

She gasped, her eyes wide and her heart slamming against her ribs. Before she could get a word out, he was crashing his lips onto hers and sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like smooth whiskey and she was quickly drunk on him, her head reeling as his hands moved from her waist to grasp her cheeks and hold her steady.

His mouth ravaged her, pulling shocked and hungry whimpers from her throat. When he finally pulled his mouth away from hers, he simply trailed his silken lips down the length of her throat, while his rough hands strayed down her body to slip under the hem of her shirt and up her ribcage. His hands rested there, and he lifted his thumbs to brush tantalizingly against her rock hard nipples.

Y/N threw her head back, cracking it against the cheap wood paneling and knocking some sense into herself along with the slight pain. 

She shook her head and pushed against his forearms. “Dean! What the hell? What are you doing?”

He pulled his head up, licking his lips and panting heavily. His hands stilled, but they stayed warm against her ribs.

She tried to make sense of what was going on, but his tantalizing lips were still hovering above her and it was everything she could do to not simply ignore her sense of reason and latch on to them again. 

Instead she shook her head again and frowned. “Dean, what's going on? You were supposed to be on a date, remember?” She tried not to let too much vitriol into her voice, but felt like she’d failed. 

Dean’s jaw ticked. “I just drove her straight home.” He paused, still breathing rough. “I don’t want her.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again and he bit his bottom lip. “All I want is you.”

Y/N shook her head, willing herself to wake up and live with the disappointment of this all being a dream. “Dean,” she whispered, “what are you saying? Where is this coming from?”

Dean’s gaze turned sad before he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “Don’t date him.”

Y/N frowned in confusion. “Don’t date who?”

Dean shoved away from her and ran a hand through his hair as he began pacing. “I know I have no right to ask you, I have no right to you, no right to love you, I know I’m poison, I know I’m an asshole for trying to make you connected to me, I know I’ll never deserve you.”

He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “I know Tippington is probably a much better option, but…” He strode three paces back to her and cupped her cheeks in his big hands. “But he can’t possibly love you more, want you more. I know that too.”

All Y/N could do was blink at him and then suddenly his words penetrated her brain and tears flooded her eyes and she begged her mind to just let her keep sleeping, keep living in the dream. 

Dean’s face crumpled and he looked stricken. He pulled her against his chest and she buried her face there. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It doesn't matter. Ignore me. It’s okay, I’ll be okay. You don’t have to say anything back. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t cry.”

His voice sounded choked and he rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back. “I shouldn’t have come here like this. I’m an asshole, just ignore me, okay?” He repeated, and took a shuddery breath. “Date who you want, of course. Don’t cry.” 

Y/N pulled back from the softness of his flannel beneath her cheek, raising an eyebrow as she shook her head. “And what if I wanna date you? Does that declaration of love come with dinner and a movie?”

It was Dean’s turn to stare blankly at her. She reached up and dashed away her tears before wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his lips back to hers. Y/N kissed him for a solid thirty seconds before his brain seemed to kick into gear and understand what she was saying. When he did though, he growled and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her ribs and pressing her close. She reveled in the long, hard feel of him pressed up against her, the way she’d dreamed of him for so many years.

When they were both desperate for oxygen they finally broke the kiss and panted harshly as they looked into each other’s eyes, both of them thrilled when they read the real, solid proof of love in the other’s gaze.

Dean’s beautiful face split into an equally beautiful smile. “So, are you really picking me?”

Y/N smiled back warmly and let her hands rest against his scruffy cheeks. “Dean, I love you, and I choose you completely, over everyone, anyone. But…” She grinned at him mischievously. “Scott Tippington is sixty-eight years old and has never been anything more than a good hunting partner. Just so we’re clear.”

Dean frowned. “But Sam said -” He cut himself short before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “So, I was jealous of nothing.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Were you jealous? Really? Like me with the waitress…Cindy.” She gave a little eye roll.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, we’re a couple of dumbasses.” 

Y/N punched him lightly in the bicep. “Speak for yourself. I wasn’t a dumbass, I was a tragic pining heroine. After all, you gave me no hints you felt this way; how could I have possibly known?”

“Are you serious?” Dean asked incredulously. “I did everything but climb into your lap and beg.”

Y/N laughed and then felt her body warm as she laid her hands on his broad chest. “I’d be onboard for that.”

Dean’s eyes darkened as he lowered his head and captured her lips in a long, languid, sensual kiss, just dipping his tongue in to taste her and sipping at her lips.

When he pulled out of the kiss to nuzzle the shell of her ear and then suck her earlobe between his plump lips, Y/N gasped and clutched his shirt in her hands.

“Please.” She whimpered.

Dean gave a soft, slightly wicked chuckle against her neck as he skimmed down her skin. “That was supposed to be my line, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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[sirfrogsworth]

The Decision

Taking care of my dad has been challenging but probably the most rewarding thing I've ever done. In the past year I've had to push myself beyond my limits, beyond my illness, and do everything I could to make sure my dad was comfortable as his body slowly failed him.

I hadn't driven in over a decade, but he needed to get to dialysis so I took the entire driving test like a teenager in order to get my license again. I had to move out of my cozy basement command center and upstairs into the light. I hate the light. Much too bright. Since then we have been spending almost every second of every day together. This causes us to get on each others' nerves on occasion. But most of the time we are happy to have each others' company.

My job is mostly supervision and problem solving. I watch him to make sure he doesn't fall. But if he did fall, I needed a way to get him back up. So I found an electric chair lift. I just scoot his butt on and raise him back up. If he had a medical problem, I would figure out which doctor could help him. If his feet were cold, I would find battery-powered heated slippers to keep his toes toasty. Our house is filled with little solutions I found to make him as comfortable and safe as possible.

If he needs help with anything I am always right there to assist. It's usually little things, but for him, sometimes little things can be impossible things.

I was proud to do this and I believe it brought us closer than we have ever been.

Wednesday morning the surgery team came to visit my dad and look at his foot. They told me they cannot save the foot. My dad would need a below-the-knee amputation. This would require two months of grueling, painful rehab. Then another month or two for him to adjust to a prosthetic leg. Which he may not be able to tolerate with his balance issues.

Then the lung doctor came in. He said my dad's breathing could improve, but probably not to a comfortable degree. He explained with my dad's congestive heart failure getting worse, he is probably looking at another six months to a year of life, but only if everything with the amputation goes well.

I asked the lung doctor if this was all worth it. Four months of painful recovery from amputation just to live another two months? He said a reasonable person could decide it is worth it. That some people want to squeeze every second out of life. But another reasonable person might decide that quality of life is more important than length of life.

My dad has been unhappy with his health struggles for a while now. Dialysis is just awful. He sits in a chair for four hours, three times per week, and comes home absolutely wiped out. He sleeps for two to three hours and then feels miserable the rest of the night. Sometimes he will recover from the dialysis and then it is time to get more dialysis. Sundays were his only real day of rest because he had an extra day of recovery time.

He has breathing difficulties and they are getting worse. He can't take deep breaths so his lungs keep filling with CO2. The CO2 exacerbates his delirium and confusion. He has to wear an uncomfortable BiPAP breathing mask for hours to get rid of the CO2. Once the CO2 is blown off, he switches to high flow oxygen in his nose. The CO2 builds up again... back to the BiPAP. It has become a vicious cycle.

He is constantly trying to right his balance when he walks. He has arthritis pain that never stops. And because his circulation is so bad, his extremities are always either tingling or stinging him with neuropathy pain. Those heated slippers were his only refuge.

His depression is obvious. He curses at every little inconvenience. Every dropped pill due to his hands not working. Every time he bumps into the wall with his walker. Every time he fails to stand up, having to try multiple times. Everything frustrates him.

He hates being tethered to oxygen. He feels trapped in a 50 foot radius. He constantly wishes for nothing more than to go outside and take his riding mower for a spin.

I try to entertain him with new movies and TV shows, but he has trouble concentrating on new things. Sometimes he prefers just to watch his NCIS shows that he has seen many times. That way he won't get frustrated if he falls asleep and misses the ending.

And... he lost his wife.

He has had to exist without her for a year now and he sometimes forgets she is gone. He'll call out to her and she won't respond. He'll think she is still lying next to him in bed only to discover it is the pillow supporting his back. I think when she died a part of himself died as well. He lost a huge reason to keep fighting.

And since he has been back in the hospital, his delirium and confusion have returned. He is more lucid in the mornings after sleeping. But the exhaustion from not getting enough sleep, dialysis, his foot infection and pain, the drugs, the constant in-and-out of people checking on him... it's just too much. His brain cannot function without restful sleep. So he ends up hallucinating and losing the ability to communicate.

There just does not seem to be a path forward where he could have a comfortable quality of life.

In the height of his foot pain he has exclaimed many times "I WANT TO DIE." And while I know part of that was due to his misery and frustration and pain in that moment... I think that exclamation contained his unfiltered wishes.

He was lucid Wednesday morning and we had a good conversation. He did not want to endure months of recovery and rehab. He did not want the pain of losing a leg. He did not want to fight for every breath. He did not want to lose access to clear thoughts on a regular basis. And he did not want to continue on without the love of his life.

There is this selfish part of me that wanted to convince him to keep fighting. He is my best friend. He is the greatest father I could ask for. Taking care of him this past year has given me great purpose. It has been an honor to help take care of him--as he had done for me all of my life.

Lately, he has had trouble getting into bed and covering himself up. So I have been tucking him in every night just like he did for me when I was little. First I have to arrange his pillows just right. One between his legs and one for him to hug. I put on his toasty slippers to keep his feet warm. I pull the covers up, give him a hug, tell him I love him, and say goodnight. Then I ask his Alexa speaker to play Billy Joel for him to fall asleep to. And I love doing that for him. I feel happy that we got through another day.

Whenever I am alone in our house, I miss him. I have never been in an empty house. It just feels wrong. And I'm not sure I am ready to adjust to that reality.

I want to watch another season of Cardinal's baseball with him. He loves The Mandalorian so much and I want to watch the new episodes with him. I downloaded every John Wayne movie, and even though I don't always care for those films, I like seeing him smile as he watches The Duke get into trouble.

I don't want to lose both of my parents in the span of a year.

And, well, I also don't want to lose the house. I don't want to live on my own. I don't want to worry about not having enough money to live. These are just things I can't help worrying about. And I feel guilty for worrying about myself during this time.

I have all of these reasons to want him to continue on. And I bet if I asked him to keep trying, he would do that for me. He would continue suffering and struggling for me. Because there has never been a time in his life that he would not do *anything* for his sons.

That's just who he is.

But I know I have to filter those feelings and reasons out. I know I can't ask my father to endure any more pain and misery because I fear being alone. He has always done what is best for me, and now I need to return the favor.

He has lived a long life. He had a wife that he loved. He had two sons that he raised and instilled his values in. He has a beautiful legacy that will live on in us.

He has nothing left to accomplish in this world.

He told me he wanted an out but he didn't know how to go about it. But I did. And I had to fight the urge to keep it to myself. I did not want to tell my father how to end his life. And telling him almost felt like I was personally killing him.

Thursday morning his favorite doctor is going to come speak to us. She is his kidney doctor. She is going to explain the process of stopping dialysis. With palliative care, it can be a relatively painless exit. Over a few weeks his kidneys will fail to filter out toxins. They will build up in his system. And eventually he will fade to black.

My mother had a horrible, painful, lonely death. Her final words were over a telephone because of COVID restrictions. The last time I saw her was across the ICU through a glass window.

Thankfully, my dad will be able to go out on his own terms.

He will be comfortable and surrounded by loved ones.

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 8

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, flashbacks, abuse, blood, violence, getting kicked out, forbidden relationship, swearing, pining

Word Count: 10k (i'm so sorry)

Summary: An insight to the past has you remembering just how hurt you were. You're still refusing to talk to your dad, and he isn't quite sure how to get you to open up. Even after a meeting with Cyclone, you're reminded you still have an entire team ready to back you up. Rooster is ready to apologize and welcome you back, but are you? (Also, can dogfight football really fix everything?)

A/N: Wow, I really didn't mean for it to get this long but here we are. But also I did procrastinate my homework to do this, and I don't regret it. I hope you all enjoy! Comments and reblogs literally make me cry tears of joy, happy reading!

Masterlist

10 years ago

Driving your beat up Toyota Corolla down the streets to your mom’s extravagant home was nothing new to you. The anticipatory anxiety wasn’t new either. You had memorized your mom’s work schedule to know when she would or wouldn’t be home when you got back from school, but lately it’s been a little erratic. Almost as much as she was. So was the real estate market you supposed.

You sigh in relief when you don’t see her car in the driveway. In these moments you thanked her husband for owning three cars and parking them all in the garage. You, of course, get to park on the street, which added a couple extra dents to your car that weren’t there before, but you weren’t one to complain. Disappointed maybe, that your pride and joy you spent your summers working at the local smoothie joint to afford, was a little more rough around the edges than when you purchased it.

You check the mailbox at the curb before going in. Of course it was empty. It became a habit ever since you applied to USNA to check the mailbox daily, hopefully to intercept the good or bad news before anyone else could see it. 

The house is quiet as you enter, all three of your step-siblings must be with their mom. And Bret, your step-dad, doesn’t get home until after 5:00 most days, leaving you to your own devices. Even if you wanted to do something fun with the house to yourself, you never dare. The second your mom comes home she would notice if a single crumb was left in the sink. You have been on the receiving end of her anger at the state of the house too many times to count, even if it was Bret’s kids who made it. But of course, she wasn’t going to get mad at them. It always ended up being your fault somehow.

Still, you grab a snack and try carefully not to drop any of the pretzels as you go to your room. It was homework all the time in your last semester of High School. You were still waiting to hear from the Naval Academy, but you wanted your good grades to follow through to the very end of the year. Hours of taking notes kept your hand cramped, but it would all be worth it in the end. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.  You had spent the last four years working ridiculously hard to maintain your grades, all in the hopes of getting the opportunity your dad and Bradley weren’t afforded. Of course, you’ll never know if Bradley would have been accepted anyway. Which is why you were all too happy to keep this little secret to yourself.

Only a couple short hours later you hear the front door unlock and slam shut. It rattles you out of the Physics textbook you were intently studying, as you straighten up. Whatever she was mad about, it wasn’t good. It was the sound of her heels clacking up the stairs that set you on edge. As they get louder and closer to your room, you turn to face her right as she throws the door wide open. Privacy not a concept she was familiar with. You don’t even notice the bundle of mail in her hand as her eyes glare absolute daggers at you.

“Hi mom, how was work?”, you attempt to start the conversation civilly. It paints you more as a mouse, the way it comes out in a squeak. Her manicured claws squeeze harder around the letters as she throws all but one onto the floor.

“What is this?”, she seethes, holding out the large envelope addressed to you. Your blood runs cold as your shaky hands take it from her and the USNA insignia in the top left corner is revealed.

“I-”, you swallow, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”, she blinks.

“I’m sure it’s some sort of recruiting thing they send to all seniors”, you try to reason. She clicks her tongue, folding her arms.

“Then open it and let’s find out.” There is no room for argument as she raises her brows for you to continue, her eyes still alight with pure rage. Your heart beats faster as your shaky fingers slowly tear open the envelope. They don’t stop as you withdraw the paper. Tears start to form in your eyes as you read the first line of the letter. The excitement you had for any of this is quickly overrun by fear as your mom interrupts you.

“Read it outloud.” Swallowing, you clear your throat without giving her a look and start to read.

“Dear Miss Mitchell, congratulations. We are pleased to offer you an appointment to the United States Naval Academy…”, your voice wavers off toward the end. The moment you had so looked forward to was being tainted as you spoke. You begin to chew on your lip as your eyes slowly make their way back to your mom. Her jaw is set as she stares you down. “Mom-”

“I don’t even know where to start with you”, she seethes. “After years and years of wasting my own life to give you one, this is how you repay me? By throwing it all away, and for what? The chance to be like your father? Or- or Carole’s kid who can’t even be bothered to talk to you anymore?” The use of Carole’s name has you snapping your head back from where it hung in fear.

“Don’t talk about them.” She scoffs at your tiny show of courage.

“I just don’t understand how you could do this to me! You’re not going.” She says with an edge of finality.

“What?”

“You aren’t going. That is final. No daughter of mine will be sucked into this trap.” Staring back down at your lap, you hope to find one last bit of courage sewn within the denim of your jeans.

“Mom, I’m- I’m going”, you manage to stutter out.

“No you’re not”, she bites back. “You know how I feel about your father, about this, and for some reason I just can’t get through to you.” She scoffs again and paces around your room, heels clicking with each step. You stand as she inspects the picture frames on your bookshelf, it wouldn’t be the first time she broke something of yours, and you want to be able to stop it if it happens again. “Do you know how much I gave up to raise you? How hard it was- is to be your mother?” What she says doesn’t hurt as much as it used to when you were younger, but it still stings every time. Like rubbing salt in an old wound that didn’t heal properly.

“I didn’t ask to be brought into this world”, you defend, your voice raising slightly. “And I’m sorry if it was so hard to be my mom, but you’re the one who brought me back after every summer. You could have left me with my dad if I was that much of a burden to you!” Before you’re able to register it, she’s moved closer and has her claws wrapped around your arms, pushing you against your desk. In her heels she’s only a couple inches taller than you, but it feels much bigger as she towers over you.

“Do NOT talk back to me you ungrateful brat!” Her fingers grow tighter as she shakes you. You blink rapidly as you wince in pain. “Your father is my biggest regret in life. I wouldn’t have wasted all those years raising his child just to know you would end up being just like him.” She steps away, gathering her thoughts as she turns her back to you. You thought it was only possible to feel fear when in your mother’s presence, even if you were ever angry it was quickly tamped down by the threat of her own rage. This feeling now is new. The one that has you clenching your fists, gathering the courage from the back of your mind to say something. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s all come down to this one boiling point. And you weren’t about to give up your dreams just to keep the peace one last time.

“Stop blaming me for all your downfalls, when you’re the one who slept with him in the first place!” You don’t see it coming. The backhand you had grown used to smacks across your face, causing you to fall back and slide to the floor. The taste of metal fills your mouth as you bring your hand to cradle where she just hit. The spot on your lip you had been chewing earlier has split from her ring, blood coating your fingers as you bring them away from your mouth. She eyes her ring, taking it off and pocketing it to clean later.

As your face starts to throb as your jaw wobbles, the woman before you crouches and puts her finger in your face while you cower on the floor. “When you leave, don’t even bother coming back. I mean it. Don’t come crying to me when you realize you can’t last a day, because once you exit this house, you are not my daughter anymore.”

You start packing that night. The rooms at the Academy aren’t available until a couple weeks before the school year starts, but you want to be ready when they are.

You go to school the next day, turn in your homework like you always do, and if people ask about your lip, you tell them the same little lie, “I was just playing basketball and it bounced wrong and hit me in the face.” They seem to believe it, even though you don’t have a hoop, or a basketball for that matter.

When you drive home the first thing you notice is all the boxes on the front porch. Your boxes. Scrambling to the front door, you attempt to unlock it with your key, but it doesn’t fit the lock. Your mom’s car sits in the driveway as you knock and knock, eventually pleading with her to let you in. The house remains silent, as if she isn’t in the kitchen nursing a glass of wine.

Realizing there’s nothing you can do, you pack your car with the few possessions you have and start driving. The tears start falling down your face as you look in your rearview mirror and see what little boxes your entire life has been packed into. You find yourself at a local park, one you’ve passed everyday on your way to school. The sun is shining as you pull out your phone and decide to make one last ditch attempt for help. Clicking Bradley’s name, you hold your phone to your ear and beg as it rings that he picks up. Just this once. The robotic voice tells you he’s unable to get to the phone as you hang your head, your split lip pouting until the beep indicates it’s your turn to talk.

“Hey Bradley. I know we haven’t talked in a while”, you sniffle, “but if there’s any chance you’re hearing this, please pick up”, you start to sob. “I really need to talk to you… I don’t know who else to- to call. Just please, please call me back.” You manage in between your cries. “I miss you, and I hope you’re ok.” You click the button to end it before you ramble on too much. Staring back up to the park, you watch the families playing with their kids. A mom chasing her daughter as she hides behind the slide, a dad throwing a baseball with his son. If someone were to look on they’d probably find it creepy, but you don’t care. You stay until it gets dark, and even after you end up staying your first night of many in your car.

-----------------------

Present Day

Cyclone’s office is unarguably the largest on base. The fact that he has his own waiting room and assistant is a testament to that fact. You’re sitting in said waiting room, across from Rooster, who is still sporting a large bruise. It’s starting to turn the slightest shade of green on the outside, but it’s still rather purple.

Your dad- or Captain Mitchell right now, is inside with Cyclone, discussing the potential for you to be punished. At least that’s what you’re assuming since you assaulted an officer. After dinner Saturday, your dad attempted to talk to you but you shut him out and stayed in your room all night. It wasn’t any better yesterday. He gave you your space, but you could hear him pacing downstairs the entire day, just waiting for you to come out. Bob checked in a couple times just to see how you were feeling, but other than that you kept to yourself.

You didn’t leave your room at all, even when your dad eventually came up to bring you food, he left it outside your door. All while letting you know he was going to be on base early tomorrow to talk to Cyclone, allowing you to drive by yourself this morning. You had barely stepped foot on base when you were intersected by Warlock telling you Admiral Simpson wanted to see you in his office. It struck you with panic causing you to start chewing on your lip, and it didn’t bode well that Rooster was also there waiting when you arrived.

Rooster clears his throat and your stern gaze shoots up to him.

“Sorry”, he quickly lets out. Taking a deep breath in, you let your head fall back to the wall and allow the awkward silence to continue. It occurred to you when you sat down how much this felt like being called to the principal’s office. Except in this case, the punishments were far worse than being put in detention.

The door to Cyclone’s office opens and the two of you stand as Maverick walks out. Clearing his throat he greets you, “Lieutenants.”

“Sir”, you let out in unison. He walks past the two of you as Cyclone’s assistant lets you know you can both enter. Straightening your khaki pants, Rooster allows you to walk in first and the two of you stand to attention in front of his desk. He sits in his seat, staring out the window, and turns to look at the two of you fully, doing a slight double take as his gaze washes over Rooster.

“I am going to tell the two of you what I told Captain Mitchell'', he starts, voice as deep and ruling as always, “The U.S. government does not sign my paychecks to be a god damn babysitter. If you cannot get along as a team, then you will not fly as one. I will send one or the other to another squadron faster than you can say ‘Yes Sir’. Am I clear?”

“Yes sir”, the two of you respond.

“Being on this squadron is a privilege, not a right. The two of you are on thin ice. If either of you have a problem, you better let me know now so I can find the next pilot who will gladly fill your spot in a second flat.” His gaze darts between the two of you as your palms grow sweaty. “Understood?”

“Yes sir.” He eyes Rooster’s face once more, and then back to you very briefly.

“Rooster, if there is anything you would like to let me know about I suggest you say it now.” Swallowing, you can see Rooster out of the corner of your eye do the same.

“No, sir. There is not.”

“You won’t mind me asking where you got the shiner from then?” He asks as he eyes you, you’re more thankful than ever your hands are behind your back at the moment.

“Tripped and hit my face on some stairs, sir.” Your breathing slows slightly as Rooster covers for you. It makes you feel the slightest bit guilty for hitting him in the first place.

“Rooster, you are dismissed.” Your heart tightens in your chest as Rooster exits, leaving just you and the fire breathing dragon. He turns his attention to a pile of papers on his desk as he fans them out.

“I have to tell you, I was initially surprised I hadn’t had to call you in here earlier, given your father’s reputation. But, taking another look at your records, I’m surprised you’re in here at all.” You remain still as stone, staring at the wall just above his head. “Top of your class at the Academy, as well as Top Gun, and yet, you’re still in my office.” Raising a brow, he brings his full attention back to you. “Why is that, Lieutenant Mitchell?” You scoff internally at him questioning you instead of Rooster.

“Things got out of hand, sir. It won’t happen again.” Sighing, he stands and faces his window, gazing upon his domain.

“I wasn’t hesitant when Admiral Kazansky suggested you be added to this detachment. Your records speak for themselves. The insistence on having Captain Mitchell in charge however, made me more skeptical. How would that look?” He turns to you once more. “Having a parent and child in the same squadron? Rooster might know your dad, but on paper you have more to gain. And your flying ability doesn’t mean anything when politics are involved. It doesn’t matter what was said.” Setting both hands on his desk, he leans forward, his piercing gaze burning a hole through your facade, “I am going to give you some advice, and it is in your best interest to listen and listen good. What happened last week cannot happen again. Tread lightly, keep your head down, and do what you came here to do. Your job.” Punctuating the last two words with his finger pounding on the desk, he finally takes his seat. “You are dismissed.” 

You hold your breath all the way to the hallway. Once out of sight from anyone, you take in a deep breath and let it out through your nose, collecting yourself before making your way to the women’s locker room. You know he’s right. You let yourself get comfortable, and once you get comfortable things start to crumble. It’s like everything you touch gets ruined and breaks right under your fingertips. This was no exception. You had to be better, do better. Emotions are where you lose control, say things you shouldn’t say, and you get justly punished for them.

You are still before the locker room door, taking in a breath before letting yourself in. Halo is lacing up her boots while Phoenix slips her flight suit on when you get to your locker. They both greet you with a small smile as you start to change uniforms.

“How was your meeting with the air boss?” Phoenix asks, already knowing all about it apparently. “Did he totally lay into Rooster?”

“If he laid into him more than you did, I’d be surprised he’s still standing”, Halo comments.

“Wait, what did you say to him?”, you ask Phoenix as she rolls her eyes.

“Something along the lines of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’, ‘why are you being such a dicktroll’, and ‘I can’t even look at you right now’”, Halo lists off for her.

“Dicktroll?”, you laugh, “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah well, when I’m mad the words just start coming out of my mouth.” 

“He’s still your friend”, you mutter. “And I said some regrettable things, too.”

“Mantis. You’re my friend. I don’t even know if I would call him that after this. And yeah, I know you separately and out of whatever mess you’re in now, but I know when someone is being an asshole. And Rooster was being a major asshole. What you said didn’t warrant what he told everyone” She catches your shoulder as you finish zipping up your flight suit, “I’m gonna have your back no matter what, ok? And I guarantee everyone else in that room will, too.” You turn to Halo as she nods in agreement.

“I appreciate it, truly”, you thank them as you begin to tie up your own boots.

“What did Cyclone say to you, though?” Halo asks.

“Um”, you cough, “Basically I’m just happy to even still be here.”

“What does that mean?” Phoenix asks as her brows furrow.

“Doesn’t matter”, you reply, patting her back as the three of you leave the locker room.

Maverick is already at the front of the room, talking with Hondo as you walk in behind Halo and Phoenix. Bob smiles at the two of them, and you think for a second you see it get slightly wider as he spots you behind them. It almost makes you forget that everyone is trying and failing to hide the fact that they’re thinking about what Rooster said.

That fact alone has you crawling in your skin just a little bit. Bob turns to you as you open your notebook to where you were taking notes on Friday. You try your best to ignore the flits of eyes that turn your way, but you can still feel them on you.

“Hey”, he smiles.

“Hey”, you smile right back.

“How’s your hand feelin?”, he whispers.

“Oh that”, looking down at it, you stretch your fingers out and wiggle them, “Definitely feeling a lot better.” Phoenix turns at your own words, eyes widening as she looks at the discoloration on your knuckles.

“Jesus, what happened?” You’re about to tell her the same lie you told Penny, but before you’re able to open your mouth, Hangman whistles from his seat on the other side of the aisle. Everyone’s eyes follow Rooster as he makes the uncomfortable trek to the back of the room. Phoenix’s eyes quickly move from the bruise on his face back to your hand as you tuck it under your opposite one. A slow smile creeps on her face as she realizes how you stood up for yourself. “Nice shot”, she whispers to you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, you whisper back as you pretend to look through your notes.

“Rooster”, Maverick’s voice speaks from the front, “Take a seat up here please”, he asks as he motions to the vacant seat next to you. Your brows furrow as do Rooster’s.

“Mav-”

“Now”, he responds rather sternly. Rooster follows his orders and he sits next to you as you stiffen. The rest of the room is silent as they wait for Mav to start the day.

“It has been brought to my attention that there has been some hostility amongst this team.” If it wasn’t at all obvious he was talking about you and Rooster, the ways his eyes wander to the two of you confirm the fact to everyone. “If you can’t act as a team, it is incredibly hard to fly as a team, and when you don’t fly as a team, people get hurt.” He eyes the room as everyone looks on in anticipation. “That being said, we’re going to start today with a little… exercise.” He says the last word with a hint of a smirk on his face.

“I will ask each of you a question. If you get it wrong you will have to do 10 pushups. If you get it right, however, you can choose anyone in our squad to do those 10 pushups for you.” People start to groan around the room at the prospect of not answering a question correctly.

“Rooster”, your dad starts, “When did the U.S. land on the moon?”

“Um, July 1969”, he responds, no doubt he has the right answer.

“Wrong, the correct answer is July sixteenth, 1969. Drop and give me 10.” Rooster blinks in surprise, but does as he says. Everyone shifts in their seats, realizing how nitpicky he’s being about these answers.

“Phoenix, what year was Top Gun founded?”

“It was 1969, and I believe it was in-”

“Correct”, your dad interrupts her. “Who would you like to give your push ups to?” She smiles slightly and turns to where Rooster has just sat back down after finishing his pushups.

“Rooster”

“You heard her, give me another 10, Rooster.” He does as he’s told, once more dropping to the floor.

“Payback, when was the Declaration of Independence signed?” Payback laughs slightly at the question, before noticing the very serious look on Maverick’s face.

“July 4, 1776, sir.”

“Very good, who gets your pushups?”

“Rooster”, he responds immediately. Payback looks over, sending you a small nod and smile, and you give it right back. Rooster stays down this time, as Hondo, who is all too happy to be doing this, counts his pushups from the back of the room. You watch across the room as everyone’s eyes light up. Maverick continues to go around asking possibly the easiest U.S. History questions, and everytime a member of the squad gets their answer inevitably right, they assign their punishment to Rooster. Your heart warms that every time someone gives their correct answer, they spare you a glance or a nod, subtly acknowledging they’re doing it for you.

Rooster’s starting to sweat and slow down as Maverick finally gets to you. His eyes grow a touch softer as they look at you. He clears his throat, asking his final question, “Mantis, who was the first American woman in space?” A small smile creeps on your face at what seems to everyone else to be a surface-level question.

“Sally Ride”, you answer. The memory of being 8 with dreams of being an astronaut fill your head. One summer at the Bradshaw’s, a documentary about Sally Ride was airing on t.v. and thinking it would be good for you to see a female role model, Carole left it on for you to watch. Turns out, you got a little too obsessed, to the point Carole hand-made a NASA jumpsuit for you to wear on Halloween months later. Bradley even helped you memorize the planets in the solar system that summer, telling you that’s the first thing you needed to know if you were going to be an astronaut. He was 14 at the time, and could have been doing a number of other things than hanging out with an eight year old, but he stayed with you the entire summer. It was one where your dad was deployed the last month, but he stuck by to make sure you never got lonely. You still knew the planet song he made up to help you memorize them like the back of your hand.

“Who gets your pushups?”, he asks, even as a formality now. As you stare at Rooster, who is behind on his last two sets, you’re reminded of that 14-year-old, who stayed with you when you were alone, and taught you how to go after what you wanted. The memory causes a lapse in your anger, and just this once you decide to go easy on him.

“Can I give them to you, sir?” His eyes go a bit wide as he blinks away his surprise. “You are technically a part of this team, are you not?”

“I guess, yeah- I am. Alright Hondo”, he says as he situates himself on the ground, “Count me out.”

Rooster and Maverick finish their pushups almost simultaneously, which leaves the rest of the time in the classroom to go over more flight maneuvers for the following week.

-----------------------

Bob saves you a seat at lunch like he’s been doing it forever, and you are more than happy to sit next to him.

“Do you realize that yesterday was the first day in like 3 weeks we haven’t seen each other in person?” You ask, taking a chip off of his plate.

“Wow”, he remarks, watching you so casually sharing each other's food. “I mean I did notice… It was awfully quiet at my house.” He gives you a small smile as you lightly shove his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

“What were you doing yesterday?”

“Quite literally nothing”, you reply, taking in a deep breath. Bob continues eating as you mull over your next words. “Rooster was at dinner on Saturday.”

“Are you serious?” He asks, almost choking on a chip.

“Yeah”, you nod, “He told me he was sorry, again.”

“How did that go?”, he treads lightly. You sigh, glancing across the mess-hall to see Rooster eating at a table by himself. For once he’s the one who looks lonely, and you can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. But then again, he did this to himself.

“I don’t know, I think he was angry at me for the wrong reasons, which made him feel worse about what he said.”

“He should feel bad about it. It doesn’t matter if they were the wrong reasons, he shouldn’t have said it at all.”, Bob mutters, causing you to look back at him. He blinks a couple times under your gaze as you don’t look away. “What?”

“Thanks for having my back”

“Of course, I’ll always have your back”, his smile gets a little more full, a little more crooked the longer you two look at each other. And you can feel the same happening to your own smile before you look over Bob’s shoulder to see Phoenix heading your way. Dropping her lunch bag on the table has you scooting the slightest bit away from Bob, just to create a little more distance between the two of you.

“Soo”, she draws out, “I know it’s been a wild few days, but are you two still coming to my house this weekend?” Shit, you forgot all about the party she invited you to. “I’m officially uninviting Rooster if that sways you in anyway.” Chuckling slightly, you look over her shoulder and watch Rooster as he picks at his own food.

“It’s fine, Phoenix. Like Mav said, if we can’t work as a team it’s hard to fly as one.” You decide.

“This is a party, Mantis. One in which I would not like to invite losers and assholes into my home, and he fits into both of those categories.”

“So does Hangman”, you reply as she rolls her eyes. “He did apologize to me, and I believe him.”

“Did you forgive him, though?”, Bob chimes in.

“That’s beside the point. Whatever is going on with me and Rooster doesn’t involve the rest of you, and I never should have brought it into work.” Phoenix looks on in contemplation as Bob gives you an earnest look in understanding. “Plus, we have direct orders to be on our best behavior.”

“I’ll think about it”, she trails off. There’s a lull in the conversation as you continue to eat until Phoenix turns to Bob. “Rachel’s friend Emily is gonna be there, too.” You stop eating, trying to glance at Bob’s reaction through the corner of your eye.

“Phoenix-”, he groans, “I’ve already told you I don’t want to be set up on any dates.”

“And why not?”, she probes. “I just wanna see you happy, you’re like my little brother now.”

“I just…”, his eyes move quickly from Phoenix to glance at you once before she moves on.

“It’s not even a date”, she reasons, “Just come to the party and meet her. That’s all I’m asking.” The conversation ends with that as you ponder Phoenix’s words. You don’t view Bob as a brother at all, but you want to see him happy. You’re happy whenever you’re with him, and you hope he’s happy, too. But you know it’s not sufficient. Bob deserves love, something you can’t give him, and something you don’t even know he wants from you. Even if it was a possibility.

-----------------------

The next day, your father takes a strange but familiar route to get the team back in its groove. He lets you know that day before you leave to meet at the Hard Deck instead of on base, and an immediate buzz fills the air. Everyone already knows what’s going down.

“Your dad’s not one for talking is he?” Fanboy asks as you trudge your way through the sand.

“No, no he is not”, you respond while placing your sunglasses over your eyes. Your dad had explicitly stated to you the day before that he got permission this time for an entire beach day. This explanation had come no further than two seconds after you had asked if Cyclone was going to make a surprise appearance this time.

The San Diego sun is as harsh as ever as the sweltering heat threatens to melt the sun screen right off your skin. Following Payback and Fanboy from the parking lot of the Hard Deck, you meet your father and the rest of the squad closer to the water. Everyone else is already shirtless and ready to start, except for Bob of course. Much to your battling emotions of relief and disappointment. You catch his eye, and make your way over to him as he talks to Omaha and Phoenix.

“Are you ready for some team bonding?” Phoenix asks you sarcastically as you roll your eyes.

“So ready. What better way to get over a fight than throwing balls and tackling each other?” You add with a cheery fakeness that has Bob chuckling. Hondo whistles, taking your attention away from the tall WSO as the day commences.

“Alright, listen up!”, your dad starts, “Today’s training is dogfight football. I’m choosing the teams this time.” Rolling your eyes at the notion, you turn to Bob.

“How much you wanna bet he puts me on a team with Rooster and Hangman?”, you whisper through the side of your mouth. Glancing down at you through his tinted prescription lenses, he chuckles slightly.

“I’m not a gambling man, but I’d bet it all on that”, you smile and shake your head, catching sight of Rooster off to the side of everyone. He’s already looking in your direction, causing you to furrow your brows and look back to your dad.

“Starting with team number one, we have Mantis, Rooster, Hangman, Fanboy, Omaha, and Yale.” He announces as you scoff only loud enough for Bob to hear.

The teams move to gather in huddles before the game starts, and as Hangman and Omaha argue over who gets to be the quarterback, you watch as Fanboy and Yale attempt to come up with a solution. You don’t even notice Rooster at first as he stands next to you. He clears his throat, startling you slightly as you look in his direction, then back to the boys fighting.

“I wanted to say thank you for not giving me your push ups yesterday.” You know an olive branch when you see one, having offered him multiple over many years. Still, you don’t look away from the display of toxic masculinity in front of you before answering.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Seriously, I appreciate it.” You don’t respond to him this time, prompting him to fill the silence between the two of you. “Mantis, I really am sorry-”

“What are you doing, Rooster?”, you ask now, turning to face him. He’s taken aback by your abruptness as he stammers for a response.

“I just thought maybe since-”

“Since Cyclone told us to play nice?” You finish for him. “Don’t get it twisted, Rooster. My actions from yesterday are purely so that I can remain on this team. I worked my ass off to get here, and I am not going to let you of all people jeopardize that.” Walking away from him, you tear the football out of Hangman’s hands while he’s distracted. “Do we have a game plan or what?”

-----------------------

Bob is desperately trying to pay attention to Maverick reiterating the rules of dogfight football, but his eyes keep wandering back to you as you stand next to Hangman. You’re wearing a loose tank top and he can see your sports bra through the sides, leaving the tiniest sliver of skin available for his eyes to roam over. You’re trying your best to act interested even though you know this game front and back. He catches your eyes wandering over the squad, and through his sunglasses he sees you widen your eyes in fake agony. He smiles as you continue to roll your eyes, and as he shakes his head in an attempt to hide his laugh, he glances over and finds Rooster staring at him. Squaring his shoulders as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, Bob turns his attention back to Mav.

The game gets ready to start, you and Bob being chosen to snap the footballs. “Get ready to go down, Floyd”, you joke as you bend forward, setting the football on the sand. He mirrors your actions, and as he bends forward, he forgets any response he was about to say. From where he’s bent over, he can see right down your tank top and sports bra, giving him the perfect view of your cleavage. Swallowing, and looking back to your eyes, you don’t seem to notice his miniscule distraction. He barely even hears the whistle before you’re snapping the ball to Hangman and attempting to block the rest of his team. His hands feel a little more clammy than before the game started.

In order to keep your team happy, the decision is made to keep switching positions. You think it’s a good idea at the time, but as you run slightly backwards in order to try to catch the ball, you don’t even see what you’re hitting until the wind is knocked out of you. In an attempt to catch the ball Omaha’s thrown, your arms are stretched out, but you ultimately end up with your arms full of Bob as the two of you hit the sand hard.

Hondo blows his whistle, signaling everyone to stop as Bob groans from beneath you. The vibration of his chest against yours distracts you from the ache in your temple as you sit up to stare down at his face, eyes squinting in pain.

“Oh my god, are you ok?” You ask, assessing for any injuries.

“I’m fine, are you ok?”, he manages to slip out. His face looks fine, but as you quickly sit off to the side of him to assess the rest of his body, his hand moves to his face. “Oh geez”, he mutters. Glancing back up to his eyes as he sits up, a gush of blood pours out of the hand now clutching his nose. The rest of the team has gathered around you, and a couple people wince through their teeth at the amount of liquid pooling in his hand.

“Oh shit”, you let out without really meaning to. “Does anyone have a towel?” The team scrambles at the urgency in your voice, and without having to say anything else, a towel is plopped into your lap. You immediately move to replace Bob’s hand with the beach towel, holding it right beneath his nostrils which are simultaneously releasing blood.

Mav moves to bend down next to the two of you, “Here, let me see.” You take the towel away just for a second to let your dad inspect Bob’s nose as he looks up. There’s blood dripping over his lips and chin, prompting you to place the towel back.

“Is Penny working tonight?”, you ask, glancing back from the Hard Deck just beyond the sand.

“Yeah she should be in.”

“Good, I’m gonna take Bob up there and try to get this to stop bleeding.”

“Yeah, we should probably call it a day”, Mav replies as he places a hand under Bob’s elbow to help him up.

“No, I’m fine really”, Bob’s muffled and now nasally voice replies. “You guys keep playin’, I’ll go and take care of this.”

“You are not doing that by yourself”, you reply, almost amused at the fact he thinks he can get rid of you that easily. There’s no room for argument in your voice as you throw one of his arms over your shoulder to guide him up the sand to the bar. Phoenix steps in front of you before you leave.

“You got him?” She asks, her features twisted in a grimace as she examines his face.

“I’ve got him”, you reassure her as she watches you pass. Your arm is around his waist while his lies across your shoulders, and you’re trying ridiculously hard to focus on the task at hand instead of his warm body encasing yours. Bob on the other hand wants to tell you he can walk perfectly fine, but he doesn’t want to risk you letting him go. His nose is starting to throb, but all he can feel is your bare shoulders against his skin as your smaller hand grips his waist.

Once arriving at the bar, you walk through the glass door until Penny sees the two of you and rushes over.

“What happened?”, she asks as she watches you help Bob into the air conditioned building.

“There was a small crash”, you explain. “Do you have any towels or ice?” It’s still fairly early in the evening, the sun not setting quite yet, but the first patrons who have sat down in the bar look at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Of course”, she blinks as she moves behind the bar. “There’s a couch in my office, you can take him back there and I’ll get you something else to clean him up with.” You do as she says and open the door to her office, gently letting Bob sit down on the small loveseat, taking the seat next to him. He’s still holding the towel to his nose as he tries to lean back.

“Wait, you’re not supposed to tilt your head back”, you tell him. Gingerly placing your hand on the back of his head, you tilt him so he’s leaning forward slightly. With your other you’re lightly pinching his nose to help stop the bleeding while he holds the towel. Bob can’t help but think how you seem to already know every trick and quirk to stop the bleeding. How you must have had to clean up your own nose bleeds. 

Your brows have been in a constant furrow since the collision, and he takes in the way your teeth chew on your lip.

“Hey”, he tries to muffle through the towel. Your gaze shifts from his nose up to his eyes. “I’m ok, really.” You give him a doubtful look as you pinch his nose. Your elbow rests on his shoulder, hand still cradling the back of his head.

“How’s your head?” You ask in earnest.

“Haven’t had any complaints yet”, he responds as soon as you’re done asking. His comment causes you to crack a smile, clearing the furrow out of your brows as you laugh.

“You did not just say that to me”, you laugh. Bob laughs along with you as he tries to breathe through his mouth. Using his shoulder as support, you lean forward and laugh closer to him.

“Ok I’ve got-”, Penny walks in on the two of you, causing her to pause in the doorway, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah everything’s fine”, you wave off her concern

“Good… I’ve got some wet rags and a bag of ice.”

“Thank you”, you reply, still trying to stifle your laugh with Bob. Confusion is written all over her face as you turn back to her.

“Right, well… I’ll just be at the bar if you need anything else.” Your eyes are still crinkled from laughing, and Bob smiles at the notion. Your eyes meet his again through the same tinted lenses, warping the color of his irises. The dust settles from your laughing fit and it’s just the two of you in Penny’s cramped office, perched on the edge of the ratty old sofa she must have got in a garage sale. You’re still cradling the back of his head as your fingers absentmindedly play with the short hair. He sucks in a breath, stopping your movements.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, that’s not- No I’m fine”, you manage to hear him through the towel. Looking at the bright yellow tropical flowers of the cotton now stained in crimson, you slowly remove your fingers from his nose.

“Does it feel like it’s still bleeding?” Bob attempts to sniff through his nose as he takes the towel away from his face.

“No, I think we’re ok.” You wince at the sight of slightly-dried blood that is now smeared from his nostrils down his chin and neck. It’s soaked into the yellow of his t-shirt, leaving a stain you don’t think he’ll be able to get out easily. “That bad, huh?”

“No, not too bad”, you attempt to lie to him. Obviously not doing that great of  a job as he squints his eyes at you. Looking to get away from his playful glare, you eye a box of tissues just behind him. Reaching around him, you grab a few tissues and start to twist them.

“What are you doing?”

“We gotta plug you up.”

“Excuse- plug me up?” He laughs.

“Before we get all the blood off, we just gotta make sure it’s not gonna start bleeding again.” You hand him the first piece of tissue as he delicately places it in one nostril. “Otherwise you’re just gonna have to clean yourself up again.” He glances back up at you, this time with an unreadable gaze. Like he’s trying to study you. “What?”

“Nothing.” You eye him suspiciously as you hand him the other tissue. His eyes move to your fingers stained with his blood, and he looks away again in contemplation as you grab the wet rag.

“Seriously, what is it?” He shrugs.

“Nothing.” Huffing out a breath of frustration, you reach into the pocket of your gym shorts, taking a penny out and placing it in the palm of his hand. He smiles slightly at the notion of you just having this in your pocket, moving the penny to his crimson fingertips. The hint of a smile on his face is quickly replaced with a lopsided frown. “I- I’m sorry you know how to do all of this.” Your shoulders slump as he avoids your gaze. “And I’m sorry you have to do it again.”

“Bob- it’s ok.” You tell him softly, he glances back up, eyebrows twisted.

“It’s not though.. You shouldn’t be an expert at this.” Chewing your lip once more, you stare deeply into his eyes as they gaze back in worry.

“Bobby, I’m ok. I’m ok now and that’s what matters.” Bob is trying his best to believe you, but the image of you crying on the floor of the women’s locker room comes to mind. Then the feeling of your tears soaking his flight suit. You squeeze his hand around the penny once, gaining his attention once more.

“Ok”, he responds just above a whisper. You grant him a small smile in the silence that lingers, reaching back for the wet rag to clean him up with. It’s dried more since you’ve sat down, but you’re still just as gentle with your swipes across his chin. Glancing at his face, you notice there’s a couple specks of blood on the apples of his cheeks, almost underneath his frames.

“May I?” you ask, motioning to his glasses.

“Sure”, he breathes out. Your hands slowly rise and slide the glasses off his face, folding them and placing them gently on the table next to you. The breath is just about knocked out of your lungs as his wide, sky blue eyes blink at you for the first time without a barrier. You’re stuck for a moment in time, just admiring the color and how intently they look at you. You’re broken out of your trance as a drop of water from the rag slides down your hand, dripping on your lap.

Continuing where you left off, you dab at what was previously covered by his glasses, moving down beneath his nose and around his chin and mouth. The rag you were using is now stained a light red and you switch it out with the spare one Penny brought. The bar has gotten a little louder now as the day turns to evening, but it’s still muffled through the door and hallway. It’s quiet enough you can still hear Bob breathing so close to you. Your other hand gently nudges his chin upward so as to gain access to his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Once you’ve ensured his neck is clean, you look back on his face, hoping to get the spots you missed.

“You can look down now”, you whisper. You don’t know why you started talking so quietly, maybe to preserve a moment of silence you don’t get to enjoy so much, but as he looks back at you, you understand it’s just to preserve Bob. If you don’t disrupt the bubble you’ve put yourself in, it won’t burst. And you can stay in this moment with him for as long as you decide to. He doesn’t tell you he can clean himself up, even though both of you are thinking it. And you’re glad he doesn’t say anything. Right now it’s just the two of you, in this stolen moment in time where nothing else exists beyond the four walls of the dingy office.

Your hand moves instinctively to cradle his jaw, just to get a better hold on him while you wipe around his lips. With the rag wrapped around your finger, you swipe underneath the plush of his bottom lip, then over the top. Your eyes move slightly up, to check for any more blood, but catch sight of the tissues sticking out of his nose. It catches Bob off guard as you start to chuckle.

“What?” He asks this time. You lean back slightly, both hands now in your lap, to get a full view of his face and start to laugh a little harder. “What is it?” He presses, starting to laugh as well.

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who said I had to ‘plug myself up’”, he mocks, not meaning to laugh at the end of his sentence.

“At least it’s not a tampon up your nose”, you mutter. His brows raise at your comment.

“A what?”, he stammers.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Bradley’s mom shoved a tampon up his nose to get it to stop bleeding?” He chuckles in surprise, but also at the thought of a now adult Bradley with a tampon dangling out of his nose. “That was actually the first time I saw a bloody nose, I thought he was dying”, you smile at the memory.

“What happened?”, Bob asks. Setting the now bloodied rag next to the old one, you grab the bag of ice.

“Back in his old neighborhood he had some really annoying neighbor kids. Brad took me to the park, and these three eleven year olds would not let me swing on the damn swings. Then they started saying some really mean things, and that’s when Bradley stepped in. He told them to apologize to me and share the swings and they refused. He-”, laughing at the image you continue, “he shoved one of them off the swings, picked me up, and started to help me swing.” Shaking your head at the memory, you reach up and gently rest the ice pack against Bob’s nose as he watches your face the entire time. 

“Not five minutes later, all three kids are back, this time with their older brother. Keep in mind, Bradley was only twelve, and their brother was just about to start high school and absolutely huge. Brad tried to calmly explain what happened, but before he could get a word in, this guy decks him. I ran to the house to grab Carole, screaming that this kid was going to kill him. We raced back to the park, and once this guy saw a raging Carole Bradshaw running full speed towards him he sprinted the other way”, you smile.

“Bradley’s nose was bleeding and I just started bawling, thinking that this is it. He’s dying.” Bob laughs with you as you readjust the ice on his face. “We walked him back to the house, and the first thing she did was shove a tampon up his nose, while explaining to me that he was going to be fine.” Your laughing subsides as well as your own smile as you reminisce.

“Carole Bradshaw sounds like a woman that should not be messed with.” Bob comments, bringing your gaze back upon him.

“Yeah”, you sigh. “She was a fierce protector. They both were.” Bob’s hand searches for your own, squeezing softly.

“Mantis-”, whatever Bob is about to say is cut short as someone clears their throat from the door. The two of you look up to find Rooster, only this time Bob’s hand doesn’t stray from your own. It holds your fingers more firmly at the sight of him.

“Sorry”, Rooster interrupts. “Mav wanted me to check in, see how Bob’s doing.” He glances between your connected hands, then back at where you’re icing his nose. You clear your own throat this time as your hand retreats from its place in Bob’s.

“Yeah, he’s good. Blood’s stopped.”

“That’s good”, Rooster offers, trying to and failing to make this small interaction less awkward.

“Was that all?”

“Actually, um, Mav wanted to talk to you. Privately.” He adds on after glancing back at Bob.

“Fine. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.” He taps on the door before leaving the two of you alone again. You turn back to Bob, not looking him in the eyes as you place the ice pack in his hand.

“I guess duty calls.” You start to gather up the rags, but before you’re able to stand, Bob’s large fingers caress the back of your wrist to get your attention. He’s very mindful to not grab a hold of your arm as the hairs on the back of his hand tickle you.

“Hey, thank you.”

“You’re welcome”, you manage to breathe out. “I’m sorry I ran into you.”

“I’m not.”

-----------------------

After running to the bathroom to wash your hands off, there is still a wide smile on your face as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You check for any more blood, but decide it’s all gone as you attempt to squash your smile. The rest of the squad is sitting in the bar, each of them with more clothing on then they had earlier. Your eyes roam the room for your father, but come up empty. Rooster is standing  on the back deck outside, and you begrudgingly walk towards him. The door swings open and shut, muffling the noise from within.

“Where’s Mav?”, you ask, getting straight to the point. Rooster looks over his shoulder at you, setting his drink on a nearby table.

“He took Penny for a bike ride.”

“I thought you said he wanted to talk to me”, you ask, placing your hands on your hips.

“About that”, he scratches the back of his neck, “I meant to say that I needed to talk to you.” Rolling your eyes and giving him a scoff, you turn around, hand stretched toward the doorknob. “Mantis- please. Just give me five minutes.” And for some inexplicable reason. You don’t reach any further. You turn around, fold your arms, and give him the floor. He lets out a sigh of relief as you walk closer to the edge of the deck and watch the golden sunset.

“I want you to know that I’m apologizing because I really am sorry. It’s not just to keep the peace for Cyclone. I failed you.. And I failed my mom.” You turn towards him, and just for a second you don’t see the stone cold eyes that were set upon you just days ago, you see the sandy hair and soft hazel eyes of a brother who would do anything for you.

“It won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again.” He reiterates. Absent-mindedly you start chewing on your lip, and avoiding his eyesight. A part of you wants so deeply to forgive him and go back to how it used to be, but the other part is still hurt by what he did.

“Which is why I need you to listen to me. You can’t go down the path you’re already falling towards.” Your head slowly looks up as confusion clouds your features.

“What does that mean?”

“I know Cyclone chewed you out more after I left. We’re both on pretty thin ice here, and you worked so hard to get to where you are. I don’t want to see you throw it all away for someone else.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your heart rate is steadily climbing, wondering if Rooster is about to go where you think he’s going to.

“I’ve noticed things. I’ve told you to be careful before, and now more than ever I wish you would please just listen to what I’m trying to tell you.” Swallowing, you turn back toward the coastline so he can’t read into what you’re trying to conceal in your face. “I see the way you look at him. The same way you’ve looked at boys you’ve had crushes on since you were little.”

“I am not some little girl, Rooster.” You seethe toward him, your face flushed in anger, embarrassment even at his accusations. “I grew up a long time ago, so whatever version you still have of me in your head, get rid of her. Cause she doesn’t exist anymore.” Shaking your head, you stalk toward the back door, catching a glimpse of Bob with his sunglasses on once again, the tissues since discarded, playing a game of pool with Phoenix and Fanboy. “And I don’t have a crush on him. Bob and I are just friends.”

“I never said his name.” Your blood runs cold at his words. You don’t dare turn back and give him the satisfaction of being right. “So you can keep lying to yourself all you want, but I already know the truth. All I’m trying to say is be careful, and remember why you’re here.”

You let Rooster’s words wash over you as you reach for the doorknob and let yourself back inside. How stupid could you be? Sure, you’ve perhaps come to terms that you maybe have more than friendship feelings for Bob, but you were never going to act on them. But now apparently Rooster can still see right through you. The mix of his and Cyclone’s warnings run through your mind as you get closer to the pool table and stand next to Phoenix.

You can tell she’s already a couple drinks in as her volume is a little louder than normal.

“Tell him, Mantis!”

“Tell him what?” She motions over to Bob as he watches Fanboy take his shot, shaking his head at her while he does so.

“Tell him to go on a date with Rachel’s hot friend!” Your eyes catch Bob smiling and shaking his head at her antics, obviously more amused with her drunken state than her words. His crooked smile makes you want to wrap him up in a hug so it never goes away, but you’re reminded of the warnings from Rooster and Cyclone. Repeating over and over in your head the longer you look at him.

“You should”, you tell him, as much as it pains you to say. He glances up at you, smile falling as his brows furrow the slightest bit. “Give her a chance at least.”

“Oh, ya think?” He asks, the slightest tone of disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah. It can’t hurt, can it?” And even though it is tearing you apart to say it, you do it anyway.

“I guess not.” You give him a slight smile, although it turns into more of a grimace the longer you hold it. He does the same to you, turning back to stare at the pool table with a hardened gaze, eyes not actually following where Fanboy’s ball runs to. Phoenix cheers out in glee at Bob’s acceptance, and you slip out the front door, saying your quick goodbyes. You pass Rooster at the bar, not giving him a second look as you make it to your car. Your heart aches at the thought of telling Bob to find happiness somewhere else, knowing damn well if the circumstances were different you would be first in line to offer it. Your brain reminds you however, you're making the right decision. It's the only decision. Right?

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

@theamuz

@harrysgothicbitch

@mygyn

@luckyladycreator2

@marve2014

@wretchedmo

[autistichalsin]

I love my mom but the lying and guilt tripping gets to be so much sometimes.

IE she overheard me talking about getting my brother a ticket to fly to comic con with us. She got pissed about money (fair enough I guess since he still lives with her and my dad) but then I brought up we were helping, and she got mad at me saying she missed my college graduation because of money so why didn't we help?

I just about lost it. I BEGGED her to come. I offered to pay for all the hotels or plane tickets. She's scared of flying so wouldn't do that, and won't let my dad go anywhere without her, so that was a no. And she said the drive was way too long, she'd be really uncomfortable, and my dad couldn't take that long off work.

She didn't come because she didn't think it was important. Bottom line.

In fact, I even mentioned at one point before the graduation I was grateful, as much as the pandemic sucked, that the graduation would be getting livestreamed because it meant she and my dad would see it no matter what. And she (granted, drinking at the time, but still) said it was horrible for me to celebrate people dying just so I could have a graduation.

EVERY TIME I brought up my graduation, she never showed the slightest interest, nor the slightest bit of sympathy that she was missing it. She went out of her way to blame me, act like I was the one being unreasonable. She continued showing absolutely no interest for my Masters graduation, so that I ended up not even bothering to travel (online program) because I knew no one would be there for me anyway, so why bother.

I didn't even get to go to my high school graduation, because it was an online program on the other side of the state. I had to be held back a year when depression hampered my academic performance, and my older siblings had already dropped out; in desperation, trying to motivate me not to do the same, my dad promised me that if I made it, they would too. So I worked through, got the credits I needed... and nope. My mom screamed that my dad spent too much on getting the car up to pass inspection standards (how does that even make sense) and that we therefore couldn't afford to go. So I didn't get to attend that either.

And you know what? Honestly, I made my peace with it- with the fact that my mom will never care about me the way she cares about my sister, that she just doesn't think my successes are worth celebrating (unless she can brag to someone online to seem like a good parent, I guess) and lacks the empathy to understand why me having my parents with me at major life events is a big deal. I worked through that and made my peace with it and have quietly decided I am not even going to bother inviting them to any future events I have, unless maybe I get married one day, I guess, though I feel she'd still try to find excuses not to go to that if it was more than a four hour drive from her.

I could deal with all that. But she fucking LIED about it to guilt trip me. She lied that she WANTED to come and it was money preventing her. That I never tried to help her get to me. And that's the part that hurts the most. That she wasn't there to celebrate when it mattered, but now has the nerve to lie about it and play victim, as though I'm the reason she wasn't there.

She always does this shit! When I was a senior in undergrad, there was an undergraduate research symposium everyone in my major was required to present at. It was ALSO on Zoom, so no excuse not to make it. I asked her and my dad multiple times if they'd like to see my present my research paper on a Japanese death cult and the effects it had on Japanese culture. They BOTH declined. So I invited my grandma, who was happy to be invited, and my best friend even walked her through setting up Zoom for the first time. AFTER the event, when I was telling my mom and dad on the phone about my grandma loving my presentation, THEN my mom got livid and said she had NEVER been invited, and of COURSE she would have come if she had the chance, why did I invite my grandma and not her?

She doesn't want to share in important things with me but then she gets pissed if I then share them with others instead. I guess she wants to feel so important that her declining would make me refuse entirely instead (as with my Masters degree ceremony?) I don't know.

I'm just tired of this man.

[runningfrom2am]

all i think about is karma

summary: you and rafe take on a mainland bush party where he knows no one, and you know too many people for his liking.

this can be read as a stand-alone but it's technically a part four to getaway car, big reputation, and this is why we can’t have nice things.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

tags/warnings: jealous!rafe, highschool au, (some) nondescript nudity, cursing, mean kook!reader, underage drinking, (i think that’s it??)

a/n: hey y’all!! sorry i haven’t posted anything in a little while, i’ve been busy but now im back home and on my usual schedule so there shouldn’t be any serious interruptions for a little while. i missed y’all and i hope you like this! this is what won my getaway car poll quite some time ago so im so happy to finally get it out!

"No, Y/N/N, I'll be fine. I don't want to dampen your week, you'll have so much fun!" Bella insists, adjusting where her phone is laying in her lap while she lays in bed, surrounded by tissues and snack wrappers. She came down with the flu at the worst possible time: right before you were meant to go on your spring break trip.

"It won't be the same without you! I should just stay home, I can come over and we can have a movie marathon or something. That'll be just as fun." You reply, watching her through the facetime camera while you sit at your vanity.

"No. Absolutely not. You're going- and you'll get to hangout with Rafe! It's worth it for me to get all the juicy details after." Bella giggles, sniffling and quickly wiping her nose.

You roll your eyes, rubbing your forehead. "Okay, yeah, but nothings gonna happen- you know I swore that off."

"Yeah, whatever. The two of you, alone, drunk and sharing a tent? Whatever you say." Your friend teases you. "It's actually worth it for me to stay home so you can come back with tea."

"Okay, fine," You agree, not admitting that the idea is very tempting. "But I'm not sleeping with him again."

"No! Of course not." Bella laughs, shaking her head. "But if you did, at least be safe this time. We don't need a repeat of what happened last time-"

"Okay! Okay! Bye, Bella I'll call you later!" You quickly cut her off, hanging up the phone.

Several long hours after texting Rafe the update that Bella wasn't going to make it, you found yourself in his truck on the mainland, driving into what seems to be the middle of nowhere for a bush party you caught word of from some friends you met playing soccer on a local team. You were excited to see them, and meet some new people, but you're honestly so glad Rafe still wanted to go. You'd rather not go alone if you didn't have to.

Judging by the large space in front of you full of various groups of kids your age putting tents together or starting fires around makeshift campsites at the edge of the water, you assume you're in the right place and get to work setting up your own tent off near the edge of the lake.

It wasn't long before the sun started to set over the abandoned gravel pit, and you just finish up when you crack open your first drink from the cooler. "So like... are we actually going to talk to anyone or just hide over here and be weird all night?" Rafe asks as you bring the can to your lips.

You roll your eyes a little and nod. "Well, duh. My friends are coming. I don't know what your plans are." Rafe looks around at that, seeing if there's anyone he might be able to talk to, but he was counting on hanging out with you.

"Wow, you're ditching me?" He asks, reaching into the cooler as well and grabbing a beer. "Cold."

You go to reply with a matching, somewhat snarky attitude the two of you almost always share when you recognize the purple jeep that's pulling in. "That's them! Good luck making friends!" You call back, jogging over to where they parked.

Rafe flips you off as you turn your full attention to your friends, sighing a little to himself as he lays eyes on a group of local boys who look enough like his friends that he's comfortable talking to them.

By the time that the area is lit only by the orange glow coming from the several cooking fires and the large bonfire everyone is centered around, you're already stumbling over your feet with a half-drank bottle of some liquor you didn't bring, and you're not even sure where you got it.

Rafe has been trying to keep an eye on you from a distance, but now he's lost you. He's drunk himself, so he's not overly concerned, but he would just at least like to know where you were. He looks around frantically, trying to keep his cool as the boys around him are laughing about something he didn't care to pay attention to. His eyes land on some figures out in the lake, and he squints to see if he can make out the shape of your hair in the dark. He takes a few steps away to get a closer look, hearing you laughing and shouting over the music coming from an on shore speaker. He walks down to the shore with a smug look on his face, polishing off his beer when he looks down and notices piles of clothes on the shore. Are you naked?

"Hey, Y/N!" Rafe shouts, waving to you in an attempt to grab your attention.

"Rafe!" You shout back, smile never fading as you push your wet hair out of your face. With the liquor warming you, the water feels amazing and so soft on your skin. "Come out here! Come join us!"

Rafe sighs as he finds your stuff, relieved to find only your shirt, shorts, and bra. At least you weren't fully naked in front of all these strangers. He strips of everything but his boxers and grabs your bra, wading out into the cool lake water to you and your friends as they cheer and laugh.

"Rafe! Where have you been?" You giggle, throwing your arms over his shoulders once he gets close enough for you to reach.

"I've been around- apparently I should have been babysitting you ladies." He chuckles, trying to hide any frustration in his tone as he avoids looking at your friends who are just as well clothed as you are. "Put this on, at least." He adds, pulling away from you and handing you the article of clothing, crossing his arms to watch you put it on despite his better judgement.

"Hey! Girls! Come on in, we're going to play chandelier!" One of the guys Rafe had the pleasure of talking to for the last couple hours shouts, and quickly everyone makes their way in to shore.

"Y/N, hey, we don't want you to get sick. Come warm up." Rafe turns his head as he gets his shirt back on, watching as one of the other guys, Jesse, is quickly wrapping you in a small blanket and guiding you up to the bonfire with a hand on your lower back. He scowls at the two of you behind your back, following as he urges you up the small hill and towards the large fire pit ahead.

You walk side by side with the boy, until you can feel the warmth of the flames on your skin where you stop and stand to dry off both your skin and what little clothing you have on. You don't know you're shivering until Jesse is tugging on the blanket around your shoulders. "Here, let me help you warm up.." He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you from behind and draping the blanket over both of you.

"Oh, thanks, Jesse." You say, teeth chattering from the soft breeze. You lean back into him, swaying from the alcohol still in your system and he steadies you.

"Anytime, sweetheart." He mumbles, pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You are well aware of his hands wandering, fiddling with the waistband of your underwear as you have your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you gaze across the fire and your eyes land on Rafe, who's staring at you intently.

You smile and wave at him, but he just rolls his eyes in response and looks away. Is he upset with you for ditching him? In hindsight it wasn't very nice, even if that is the kind of relationship you normally have. If it was you you'd be upset- he didn't know anyone, and he was left to fend for himself, granted; he was clearly fine.

"Hey, Ashley?" You find yourself calling over to your other friend, but she doesn't hear you as your eyes well up with tears. Why do you feel so bad right now? Does Rafe being upset with you really bother you that much? You've hardly felt like this before.

"Ashley?" You ask again, but she hardly glances at you as she's got another boy draped over her shoulder- one who is definitely not the girls boyfriend.

"You okay?" Jesse asks, leaning his head over your shoulder to get a better look at you.

"Uhm, yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom and I was hoping she would come with me." You explain, watching Rafe again as he buries himself in conversation with the two girls standing next to him.

"I'll take you." Jesse offers. "Come on, I won't watch. Swear." He says, already guiding you away and tossing the blanket back to his friend.

You glance back at Rafe over your shoulder as Jesse walks you off into the dark. Just as you look forward again to try and watch your step, Jesse's hand is smacking your butt playfully, making you jump. You laugh it off and give him a shove, but he's grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of his truck.

The swing of Jesse's arm to where his hand hit your exposed skin drew Rafe's attention again fully, and he furrows his brow as he watches you stumble away. You were sharing a tent with him and you were really about to hook up with that mainland loser? He quickly downs the rest of his beer and storms after you, fists clenched at his sides after discarding the bottle on a nearby pong table.

"Hey!" Rafe shouts, making the two of you turn just as Jesse backs you up against the side of his truck and starts kissing down your neck. You're confused, but not one to turn down an opportunity like this- especially when you never have to see him again. As soon as Jesse turns his head, though, it's snapped back again with the contact of Rafe's fist into his nose.

He groans and quickly brings his hands up to his face, tipping his head back as blood pours from between his fingers. You gasp, reaching out for him but hesitating, not sure what to do.

"You think you can hook up with any girl who accepts a blanket from you when she's cold? She came here with me." Rafe spits, and you feel your features pull into an expression of anger as you quickly step towards him and shove him back. "What?"

"Come on." You mutter, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the now bleeding boy. "What the fuck was that about?" You ask, storming back to where your shared tent was in the corner. "Do you think you have some stupid claim over me just because you drove me here?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, stopping with you next to the tent as you drop his arm and turn to face him. "He was taking advantage of you!"

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms. "No, Rafe. He wasn't. Did you ever consider that maybe I wanted that?"

"Whatever, Y/N- don't act like you weren't eyeing me up for the whole drive here."

"Oh. My. God." You find yourself laughing suddenly, realizing what this is about. "You were jealous."

"What? No I wasn't." Rafe replies defensively.

You smile at him cockily, tilting your head and waiting for him to spiral on it.

"I wasn't! I tried to help. That's what I get, I guess!" Rafe throws his hands up.

"And here I was thinking you were mad at me for ditching you. Turns out you were just horny." You smirk, knowing you were just pushing his buttons this time for fun.

"Oh, fuck off, Y/N, you're just trying to piss me off now for fun."

"You're not denying it." You shrug, looking back over to the fire for a moment, seeing Jesse sitting there with paper towel pressed to his nose and a few girls surrounding him.

"You're making it difficult not to be when you’re walking around like that.” He replies, smirking as he looks you up and down.

“Don’t be gross, Rafe.” You smile, dropping your arms from they were crossed over your chest.

He takes a step closer at that, delicately placing his hands on your hips. “You love it, Y/N/N, you know you do.”

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie , @whore-4-drewstarkey , @slut4drudy , @winterrrnight , @totalswag , @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron , @urfaveluvr , @chenslucy , @hxnnah-397 , @s-we-e-t-t-ea , @tahliac11 , @ragingsammie , @ietss, @dee127

[callmewrinkles3]

Hi kiddos. Alex here. I know nobody asked for this but goddamn, I just needed to get it out of my chest and out of my head because today has been bad.

Nobody wants another sad story but there it goes. I was never a sports person until my best friend made me sit in front of our TV to watch twenty guys go around in circles driving fast cars. She spent her childhood watching Fernando race, so I just sat there without understanding shit. We were in deep shit in every single possible way, so I didn't complain about it because she was happy to do it.

It was the worst summer of our lives for too many reasons, but we spent those weekends watching YouTube videos about F1 to cheer ourselves up. It was really really really bad, but for a while that made it better. I can even point to the exact two moments I fell in love with Dan during those days. The first episode of DTS when he says he is a mechanic and the McL*ren snacks video where he had the goddamn Let's fuck ring. It was instant love. That was the moment my brain yelled "Yup, that's my guy". I also remember the first time I saw him. It was during the Hungary GP red flag after Valtteri destroyed everything that moved. I saw Dan standing beside the car looking at the damage and I remember thinking “Goddamn” because it was a mess.

I went from not being a sports fan to absolutely getting obsessed with it and with him. I remember Monza weekend like it was yesterday, grabbing my bestie’s hand after the sprint and saying “NO BUT YOU DONT GET IT” because he wasn’t going to start P3 but P2. I used part of our savings to get that pink shirt because it meant the world that weekend. I used part of my salary to buy an old school yellow Renault Dan shirt with my first job after not working for months thanks to covid. We were the most irresponsible people ever and we spent all our savings buying tickets to the race here in Barcelona the next year because it became my dream to actually see Dan racing in front of me. It was worth every single cent because it was a privilege to see him racing not once but twice.

The thing is, that curly Aussie man brought me the biggest smile on the worst days. He put a smile on my face when probably nothing else could. He gave me some of my biggest happy moments and some of the worst headaches and heartbreaks of the last four years. He even got me the motivation to write again after centuries of not doing it even when I love it probably more than anything else. He gave me my friends because I would never have met them if it wasn’t for our mutual love for him.

Dan is magically was the reason why @honeybadgercomeback appeared at the exact time I needed them the most. Heaven knows this needs a special mention because holyshit I love Ciara so much it's ridiculous. They stood by my side and listened to me cry for hours and stayed there when anxiety kicked me in the ass. They decided to write a whole story with me and create an entire world out of it. It's my pride and joy to do it. They even opened the doors of her family and home when I was about to explode and there aren't enough words to thank you. They're really the Blake to my Dan and heaven knows nobody will ever do it like we do. We have planned the whole thing to watch Austin together at my place next month, and even today they stood by my side when I said I couldn't watch it if Dan's not there. If that's not love then I don't know, kids.

It breaks my heart. I can't explain how badly I cried today about all this mess. The way the press and his own teams have treated him over the last couple of years is unfair. To see him leave like this is unfair. I absolutely hate it, but this is so incredibly unfair and wrong that I just reached the point where I found myself actually saying to myself that I just hope he retires and gets home to his family. I just reached the point where I’m exhausted by the sport I love so much and goddamn I’m not even planning to watch the rest of the races if he is not there. To see him crying in the media pen broke my heart, and I can't. Even then I truly hope this is not the last one. I just want to see him in Austin again. I really want him to have the farewell he deserves.

All this to say goddamn, how I love Daniel. I'm thankful for the last four years of love I got from seeing that lanky man on my TV doing what he loves. He means more to me than I could ever say. I love him more than words can express. He'll always be my guy. He'll always be my baby. God, I would go to the end of the world and to war for that man. Whatever happens next I just hope he is at peace after all this mess, because after fourteen years he bloody deserves it.

[instarsandcrime]

Bigger Vent

TW: Gender Dysphoria, Sensory Over-stimulation, Touch-Starvation, CPTSD/Trauma.

Basically read only if you're in the headspace for negative things 😅

So let me recount everything that's happened through July:

Had two weeks' worth of sleep deprivation due to nightly fireworks

During those two weeks, exactly two days in, I learned that I need to move out in September, giving me a little under a month to find an apartment during a housing crisis

Four days in I learn that my therapist is retiring so I have no one to talk to about any of this, and there is a huge shortage of new therapists where I live

Six days in I almost give up on my certificate because getting a certificate in the first place is harder than I thought. Trauma from school is a thing, I have a learning disability, and god forbid any issue be a simple one for me

A week's worth of no sleep and I do not get food stamps or affordable housing because I do not have a job

There are three or four different people who need my help and they've gone through much worse than me at the time so honestly I have no regrets. But I also have no time to process my own changes and problems and no therapist to talk to. None of my friends who are already going through a lot deserve to have intense shit dumped on them all at once. It's not fair to them

I have no time for a nap or a break by this point, I need to find a job like yesterday. I can't find anything, I don't have enough experience. Plus moving to an entirely new location that I can actually "afford" means I would have to drive an hour at least to my workplace where the meager options are. Yay

Two weeks in the fireworks have stopped. I have gotten so overstimulated and have so little coherency that I'm doing everything wrong where I volunteer and it's making me feel like a worthless person, but I can't say anything because I'm here to help and it's important that everyone who works with me at the library feels like they're listened to. Genuinely, unironically. They work their asses off 😤

I delete a lot of posts on my blog that involve venting and calls for more asks because they get, without exaggeration, 0 notes, and it's incredibly embarrassing to be faced with the fact that I very publicly whined to absolutely no one. At this point whatever happens at least I know I'm doing this regardless of that possibility

Yesterday I got mad at my parents and friend. I feel like a monster for even thinking about how I acted because I get one or two days of hugs every three months and it's such a selfish reason for a breaking point. Like what the fuck is wrong with you, one of your friends is stressed because his partner literally had a baby a week ago, this friend that I snapped at just recently came back from a week's visit with an abusive stepmom, and your petty ass is touch-starved? Like, that's it? You're supposed to be an adult

This morning I finally tried to get a full night's sleep. I was woken up at 1 AM because of period cramps, so I look forward to some gender dysphoria today. I am now bordering on four weeks of, drum roll please...less than a week total of sleep total. I can take naps now, though, so that's nice

tl;dr I know things will be better soon but in short:

[fanaticsnail]

They way I screamed "Four!" at the airplane challenge. Literally my fav blond men and like they both have as you said different ways of flirting.

Wdym they won't let me go to the bathroom 😭😭 Sanji probably will, but I'd have to CLIMB over Doflamingo (I like a challenge though, bring it on, Doffy 😤)

Doffy being such a usual rich asshole, tripping the flight attendant, rude. Hope they throw water at his face. Teach that man some manners. Sanji would come to the rescue. I would cheer the flight attendant on. Hell, I'd tell she can use my cup of water for a second splash on the pink-dressed man. 🤣 Doffy, you're my husband but you are also an asshole (I still love you 🩷🦩)

Yeah, 4 for me, I'd be dead from blushing so much as they flirt with me and don't get me started on Doflamingo spreading out to give me a look at his groin and smirking and asking "Like what you see? You can always sit on my lap, fufufu."

And cue Sanji being absolutely insulted and protecting my honour. I think Sanji would not like Doflamingo's way of flirting. Sanji might be a flirt but he's respectful in the end. Doflamingo is just... Doflamingo, you know.

I'd sit on his lap, though. As I said. I like the challenge. Would I die from blood rushing to my face as I blush? Yes. Would I faint as he chuckles in my ear? Yes.

Would it be worth it to sit on Doffy's thigh/lap/knee? Absolutely. Longest flight I had was a 3 hour one coming back from Greece (Gods, I love Greece, highly rec)

Speaking of trips, I'm travelling for vacation today afternoon, 4 hour drive. Ugh 😮‍💨 Good luck to ❤️❤️anon on their flight. Flights are the best.

- @physics-of-one-piece

Literally all of this was my exact train of thought with that decision.

Doflamingo literally perching himself in such a way that makes you and Sanji very uncomfortable all at once. The man is literally all legs and arms. "What's the matter, mi pequeño/pequeñita? Can't fit all the way over there? Move over, rubio," snarling at Sanji, "I'll have 'em comfortable on my lap in no time."

Just AAAAAAAAAA. He's so bad, but he's so good at it 🤌

And then there's Sanji who's going to not only make sure you don't go hungry on the 8 hour flight, but he's also turning the airplane food gormet with his satchel of smuggled spices. With a handful of nuts, a bland chicken sandwich, and some old looking raw carrots, and some rice that's dried out in the atmospheric pressure, he's already making the start on a satay sauce and preparing the rice in his styrofoam cup meant for his coffee. He's got you, don't you worry.

I love them both so much. Both unhinged blondes in their own way.

Airplane challenge

[thiccpettybitch]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write one where you and Miguel aren’t quite in a verbally established relationship yet but you sleep together a lot, and one day he comes over to your place to let out his stress but finds you in the middle of a really bad panic attack and changes modes instantly? I’m talking like super gentle, soothing words and small touches so light you can barely feel them and he just comforts you

Bonus points for gentle lovemaking after you’ve calmed down and he’s sure you’re ok :3

OKAY SO I DO HAVE MIGUEL AS YOUR BOSS STORY IN THE WORKS AS WELL AND THIS REQUEST FIT IT SO WELL SO...

Ehem. I have a lot of WIPs, i know. I'm sorry!

Enjoyed this request, it was super cute and hopefully you think so too! 😊

You've had quite a month, haven't you? Four unfortunate mishaps that made life a tad chaotic. First, there was that unfortunate Friday evening when you misplaced your apartment keys, leaving you stranded outside until your landlord came to the rescue the next day.

The second mishap was quite the fashion faux pas. Wearing an all-white blouse during the morning rush hour and then deciding to grab a coffee on the way to work – not the best combination. Thanks to a sharp turn on the train and a stranger's elbow, you ended up with an unsightly dark brown stain on your chest. The judgmental stares during the meeting were a bit much, but hey, at least your boss didn't seem too bothered by it.

Number three, well, it was a case of multitasking gone wrong. Chatting with colleagues while shredding papers led to an accidental mix-up, and the wrong paperwork got handed in. Thankfully, printing the correct ones saved you from your boss's wrath

And the fourth, oh-so-brilliant (insert sarcasm here) choice you made was having a bit too much to drink during a mandatory happy hour, as a reward for your team's hard work over the last three months. But hey, the drinking itself wasn’t the worst part, well… not exactly. That day, you ended up in bed with none other than your boss! Talk about throwing professionalism out the window. In the moment, you just shrugged it off, face down in his bed, clutching onto the sheets and all. But really, looking back, you couldn't believe it!

It was a mistake, no doubt about it. You both knew it, and you both decided to chalk it up to a drunken night's folly. No biggie, right? But then, to your surprise, it happened again, and this time, you weren't even tipsy. You were bent over his desk at work while he... well, you know the rest. Yeah, it was just another mistake, a huge slip-up; you never saw it coming

The sixth time, however, had been a moment of bad decision-making, with both of you being drunk on a misguided impulse. You ended up pressed against a wall in a random broom closet at work, where you both awkwardly walked back to your work stations – him straightening his tie, and you flattening your hair back down. Was it a mistake? Possibly. Reckless and stupid? Absolutely. The last time you two did it? Absolutely not.

Sex with Miguel was intense; the man had a certain charm and charisma. Despite being a stubborn workaholic during the day, he had a way of making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. The noises he would make when you dropped down on your knees for him weren’t bad either, that and the look he’d give you when you rode him made all the paperwork and late nights worth it, and then some.

Miguel still argued that it was a mistake, and you fully agreed as his mouth practically devoured yours. It was a mistake for sure, but damn did it feel good. Miguel always spoke about it as a stress relief, and so far, you agreed with him. Sure, you did end up speaking more. Sometimes, you ended up having lunch together, and a few times he’d given you a lift home, but it was usually because he stayed over for a few hours to, well… de-stress.

He did however have an unspoken rule of not staying the night, it went both ways and sometimes when you were too polite to agree to him driving you home you regretted it, sitting on a train at 3 am next to party girlies and drunks, your panties in your handbag weren’t your proudest moments.

---

It was a Friday evening, and you had just arrived home from work, slipping your shoes off as you walked over to your answering machine. Pressing play, you listened to the messages while absentmindedly putting away some groceries you had picked up on your way home.

You then walked over to your desk, dropping your work bag on the office chair, and started unloading the paperwork you had brought home. Not that you were thrilled about working over the weekend, but you were a bit behind and needed to catch up. As you placed some folders on your desk, you suddenly stopped. One file in your hand caught your attention – there was a sticky note attached to it. As you read the contents of the sticky note, a chill ran down your spine.

[I know what you’ve been up to, slut!]

What the hell?

You read the note over and over silently to yourself, even saying the words out loud a few times before putting it back down on your desk, frowning. Did someone know? And if they did, did they think you were sleeping with Miguel to get a promotion or something? A knot started forming in your stomach as your anxiety got the best of you.

"Hi y/n, it’s Michelle, one of the managers. I apologize for leaving a message after hours, but if you could come in for a meeting on Monday, that would be great. Don’t bother stopping at your office; just head straight up to my office as you come in to work."

You froze, gripping the folder in your hands tightly. The knot in your stomach grew, and suddenly, it felt harder to breathe, as if a lump was forming in your throat. You dropped the file and stumbled backward onto your bed, your eyes wide as you stared ahead, heaving. You couldn’t lose your job, not now, not when you had worked so hard to get it. With just barely enough to afford rent and necessities, you hadn't been able to save much. This job was stable, but you weren’t being paid enough to afford losing it. The thought of being fired because someone found out about your relationship with your boss terrified you. The company you worked for was your only reference since school, and you couldn’t risk that rumor getting out

Leaning forward, your head against your knees, you remembered what your mom had taught you to do when you were panicking, or more accurately, when you were having panic attacks. You had experienced them since school – nothing to be ashamed of, as it wasn’t uncommon, but they were still awful. Your chest felt tight and painful, and chills ran down your back. Falling backward against the bed, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing – just breathe, count to five, slowly. Just... just breathe.

Suddenly, you heard a noise coming from your hallway and your front door. Your eyes shot open, and you stood up, still heaving and feeling a bit dizzy. You stared out towards the dark hallway, panic rising up your throat. You lived in an okay neighborhood, but that didn't mean that crime never happened here. Had you remembered to lock the door? No... you were so focused on bringing in the groceries and putting away your Ben and Jerry's that now someone might be in your apartment, and you're about to- you-

You can’t breath properly! Oh god… You can’t-

"Hey, sorry about letting myself in, but I knocked, and the door was open. You should really make sure you lock it," Miguel said as he walked through the darkness of your hallway and joined you in your one-room apartment.

He let out a groan, stretching his arms above his head, his eyes screwed shut as he strolled past you and headed straight to your fridge. Pulling out your orange juice, he poured himself a glass. "I swear to God, half the people on our team don't do anything all day. I've had to deal with meetings after meeting after meeting today, while also having to check everyone's paperwork and make corrections," Miguel sighed, finishing the glass. Turning around with a tired smile, he continued, "I hope, for your sake, that you're prepared to stay in bed this weekend. I haven't been able to think about anything else but your-"

As he turned around, he stilled, his eyes going wide as he looked at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In the blink of an eye, his suggestive tone and the smirk on his face were gone, replaced by a look of concern. He walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you to sit back down.

"What's wrong? You look so pale - are... are you crying?" he asked, crouching in front of you, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Someone knows. And they threatened me, and then I got a message, and they told management, and I'm gonna lose my job, and my apartment, and I don't have family, and I'm gonna end up on the street, and then you came in, and I thought it was a stranger in my apartment, and then- and then-" You were gasping, rambling so quickly that Miguel flinched, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what you were saying.

"Oye! Cálmate, cálmate," he said as he reached up and held your cheek, a worried look on his face. "Just breathe, breathhh. Look at me; breathe with me - in and out. Slowly." You leaned into the hand on your cheek; it was so warm, and his voice was so comforting that you could feel yourself slowly beginning to relax.

"There you go, cálmate. Breathe slowly, I got you," Miguel assured, offering you a small, comforting smile. He stood up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you close and laying down with you. For a moment, you were worried he was going to try something, but you practically melted in his arms as he began running gentle circles on your back, whispering softly for you to focus on your breathing, to relax into his touch, assuring you that he was there and that everything was going to be okay. You were safe there in his arms.

You watched as he had gone from: ready to bend you over the nearest surface, to holding you so gently yet so lovingly you almost fell apart right there on the spot. He left featherlight kisses on top of your head, reassuring you how well you were doing as you started to regain control of your breathing.

After about an hour of him holding you and providing comfort, his touch so gentle and warm that you craved it, he moved away slightly to help you sit back up. You finally let out a breath, small tears dried on your cheeks. He sat there quietly, watching you, with one hand on your back and the other wiping away a final escaping tear from your cheek.

"You feel better?" he asked, and you nodded slowly, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Good." The smile on his face made you blush lightly, and you brushed some hair behind your ear as you spoke, "You're really good at that, calming someone down, I mean. Sorry if I made things weird."

Miguel chuckled and shook his head, "No, I might be an asshole sometimes, but I don't hold it against people for having common human emotions," he joked as he stroked your back.

"My little brother, Gabriel, he used to have them when we were kids," he said, shaking his head as if reminiscing on something fondly. "Smartest little shit around town, but he had a knack of letting his anxieties get the best of him. Sometimes it just... becomes too much. So don't worry your head about it, okay?"

This new side of Miguel you were seeing made your chest feel warm, and you couldn't help the small smile that formed on your face as he looked at you fondly. You had expected him to just leave or tell you to calm down or stop being stupid, but instead, he had held you and made you feel safe. There was no hidden agenda, no "okay, u wanna fuck now?" like with some of your exes. He was just there, caring not because he had to or wanted something from you, but because he genuinely cared about you.

You shared everything with him, showing him the sticky note as he took a picture of it with his phone, mumbling that he would look into it, so you didn't need to worry. You also confided in him about your fear of losing your job and, even though it felt embarrassing, you disclosed your financial situation. Throughout the conversation, he attentively listened, offering comfort when needed and simply being there when you needed to express yourself.

By the end of it all, he managed to convince you that there was nothing to worry about. As the manager of your group, he assured you that if anyone had a reason to fire you, he would have been informed. Besides, if anyone had an issue with your relationship, they would have approached him first.

‘’And before you even worry your pretty little head about it, I’m too valuable of an employee to those jackasses to ever be fired over something so small. I don’t intend to lose my job OR let you lose yours, no matter how good you look on my dick, Okay?’’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at his joke, your cheeks still warming a bit at the compliment.

You felt so much better; all the worry and stress just slipped off your shoulders. Instead, you now felt something completely different. Glancing over at Miguel, he tilted his head with a small smile on his face, asking if you wanted to get some takeout, and he’d offer to help you finish some paperwork. Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him, catching him off guard. He kissed you back, placing a hand on your shoulder and slowly pulling back to look at you.

‘’We don’t have to… We can just get something to eat, or if you want some time alone, I could leave and call you tomorrow? You don’t have to-‘’

You playfully jumped on him, and as he fell back, he let out a hearty laugh while you peppered kisses all over his face. Amidst a string of praises and exclamations like, ‘my god, you are so perfect, I'm gonna lose my damn mind!’. You finally stopped and looked down at him, enjoying the sight of his slightly red cheeks and the loving gaze he returned.

‘’Do you…’’ you began, biting your bottom lip, ‘’wanna stay the night?’’ you asked as you looked down at him lustfully.

He gently placed both his hands on each side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulled you down for a lavish kiss. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, and you fully melted against him, kissing him back with equal intensity. That night you ended up doing it in bed, not just doing it but doing it missionary. He had stopped you as you went to bend over the bed, in your underwear, and you looked up at him confused.

‘’I can fuck you any day you want, tonight I’m gonna make love to you, cariño~’’ He purred as he pulled you towards him.

‘’That’s so corny!’’ You laughed, and he held you close, mouth agape as he feigned being heartbroken, with a playful look of betrayal on his face.

‘’Get that fine ass over here then!’’ He said, and you squealed as he pulled you on top of him, playfully swatting at your behind. Both of you laughed, and he pulled you close, kissing you passionately, and you eagerly returned the kiss.

[bloodblanks]

a field of red spider lilies [eyeless jack x reader] — final.

Hanahaki disease. A sickness caused by unrequited love, where the one afflicted with such feelings suffers from flowers blooming in their heart and lungs which are then coughed out, gradually worsening and eventually resulting in death.

inspired by coughing in the bathroom from @whaleofatjme1920! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain darker content, including sickness, death, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- part three

It wasn’t usual that Jack took you around by car. Most of the times, he picked you up on foot. After all, his body was powerful enough to run with you on his back for long distances, so there was no need for it. Plus, it was extra risk, too. He didn’t exactly have a driver’s license, not that it would matter, because if he got stopped by chance, one look at his face would be reason enough for trouble.

However, today was a special day. It was your four-year anniversary.

One of the catches to being with Jack was that you could never really go out anywhere on dates, because of his appearance. So that meant no dinner dates, no movie theatres, no amusement parks, no vacations, either. It was unfortunate, but it was still worth it for you, since you got to be with Jack.

Still, he insisted on doing something for your anniversary celebration.

The previous few years had been the same. He would bring home an expensive cut of wagyu steak, along with some fine wine, and the two of you would dine in together at his house. It was more than enough for you, especially considering how Jack was a wonderful chef, and you never once thought to ask for anything more.

Yet this year, Jack insisted that on top of what you already did, the two of you should try something new, something different. And of course you agreed; you didn’t see any issue with it. In all honesty, you were happy with whatever you did with him. All that mattered was that he was there with you to celebrate.

Jack came up with the idea to drive you to the upper parts of the mountains, somewhere he claimed had natural hot springs and a majestic view. You were hesitant at first, unsure if him driving a good idea, as well as being in a public place. But Jack assured you that if you went in the early morning hours, just a while past midnight, there wouldn’t be anyone else there. While the location was good, it wasn’t in a very populated area, the mountain the two of you lived on already being rather rural.

When you asked why he insisted on driving instead of just running with you like he usually did, he explained that the distance was quite far, although the main reason was that it wasn’t very romantic to have to run somewhere. You didn’t necessarily agree with that, but you found it cute for him to do so, and so you happily went along with it.

You shifted the schedule of your usual anniversary dinner to the day before, so that when you’d arrive at the hot springs after midnight, it would be the actual anniversary date.

Everything had gone well. The steak was delicious as always, and the champagne he selected for that day was exquisite. He even went out of his way to make dessert, something you found out he had been secretly practicing for the past few weeks. It was magnificent, much like everything else about Jack.

When twilight rolled around, Jack had everything prepared, including a car he managed to borrow from Brian. And when midnight came and passed, the two of you were in the car, steadily driving upwards on the mountain roads.

You arrived at the hot springs safe and sound. The location was just like how Jack had described it, absolutely enchanting. The two of you took a small hike to the scenic spot that he had promised, and from there, you could gaze at the entire town below, many houses with their lights on surrounding the mountain from high to low, resembling pixie lights wrapped around a Christmas tree. It was nothing short of gorgeous.

From there, you went to the hot springs, dipping your bare bodies into the hot water basins. As the two of you soaked in the perfectly warm water, you were able to gaze up towards the sky, and from there, away from all the light pollution, you could see a sky full of stars, twinkling with an evanescent glow.

“Happy four year anniversary,” Jack whispered into your ear as you leaned against him, your skin flush against his.

“Happy four year anniversary,” you repeated the words back to him with an ecstatic smile.

Jack took you into his arms, pulling you up onto his lap as he snuggled against you, you burying your face in the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his pale grey skin.

He leaned in closer, so that his mouth was right next to your ear, his lips brushing against it ever so slightly, a feathery touch that made you feel ticklish and giggle.

“Y/N,” he whispered, “I look forward to the rest of my life with you.”

His words made you blush, swooning over his undeniable charm.

“Jack,” you tilted your head up, moving in close to his ear, “I feel the same way.”

—

The drive home was rather tranquil. The atmosphere was one of utmost serenity, with Jack driving, and you dozing off in the passenger seat, a blanket so lovingly draped around your shoulders, thanks to Jack having the idea to bring it.

“Did you have fun today?” Jack asked, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

“Mm, yeah,” you mumbled, half-asleep, “everything was perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he responded, and you could hear the smile in his voice. As fatigued as you were, you opened your eyes to meet his, beaming at him with joy, returning his smile.

“Thank you for taking me out,” you thanked him, your voice mumbly from the drowsiness that was to be expected considering how you were still awake at three in the morning, after having had a normal sleep schedule.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, and you nodded, although you didn’t know if he saw it or if he was too focused on driving. You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep, the temptation of unconsciousness too strong for you to remain awake.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, you saw it.

A deer. Staring directly into the headlights, transfixed by the dangerous brilliance.

“Jack!” you shouted the same second he harshly jerked the steering wheel to the right, narrowing avoiding the deer, but instead swerving off the side of the road.

And from there, you fell.

The plummet was so sudden and the speed so fast that you didn’t even realize what was happening, not until the car fiercely slammed into the ground, crushing into the trees below with a thunderous crashing sound.

You had the air forcefully taken out of your chest, something simultaneously entering it, a gasp involuntarily leaving your parted lips.

For a moment, there was total, complete, and utter silence. But as the dust settled around you, your brain seemed to regain control of itself, processing what had just happened the same time you heard a frantic call.

“Y/N!” Jack’s voice resonated through the forest. You could tell he was nearby, but you couldn’t see where. Your eyes were half-lidded, and most of what you could see was blurry and dark.

“Y/N!” Jack shouted your name again, the panic clear in his voice. You heard a loud slamming noise, feeling it concurrently as the car shuddered. You weren’t sure what was going on; all you knew was that you were afraid, shellshocked and stunned into a crushed, unmoving figure.

Your brain raced to put two and two together, understanding that the car had fallen down the side of the road and smashed into some trees, and that you were trapped in the destroyed vehicle. As you understood what was happening, you felt the fear within you continue to rise, freezing your body, though you didn’t feel as if you could move anyway.

“Oh, god—” you heard Jack’s voice, and you were relieved that he was here. Surely he could help you out of wherever you were stuck. Likely he had already freed himself, what with his inhuman strength and all.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Please say something if you can.”

You tried to speak, gasping once more, as you realized something was impaled through your chest, your eyes widening in an unadulterated horror.

“Jack—” you cried out, “I’m here, there’s— there’s something in my chest—”

“Stay still and don’t move,” he instructed. “I’ll help you.”

“Okay,” you whimpered, tears already forming at the corners of your eyes from the sheer fear alone. The adrenaline hadn’t even worn off for you to feel the pain yet, and you were not looking forward to that happening. You tried your best to keep calm, keep your mind at bay, just retain your composure for the meantime and not stress out Jack more than he likely already was.

You heard some rustling, some shuffling, but nothing happened. Instead, everything went completely still, so much so that you could’ve sworn time stopped right then and there.

“No...” Jack’s voice was muted, but it was distinctly audible in the early morning tranquillity. Early morning, you thought. Not even the birds were awake yet.

What were you thinking? That didn’t matter right now. No, right now, you were stuck, crumpled in some horrid car crash. You tried to move one of your limbs, flexing the fingers of your right hand as you tried to tug it back towards yourself, only to realize it was stuck, likely smushed in between two heavy metal objects.

You tried tugging again, and then the pain stuck you. All at once. You could feel the protest of your probably broken arm as you attempted to move it, sharp pains spiking through each nerve. Your head was throbbing, an angry pounding in your skull as if you had just been slammed in the head with a sledgehammer. What actually happened was probably not far off. However, none of that was anything compared to the stabbing pain in your chest, as if you had been speared though—no, you had been speared through—that radiated excruciating pain that pulsated through your veins.

Your first instinct was to scream from the agony that engulfed your very being, but you just barely managed to hold back for Jack. You didn’t want to scare him.

But he already knew what was going on, for you could hear him sob.

“No, no, no, Y/N—” His voice cracked as he enunciated your name, and you could hear just how broken he sounded, his voice filled with a sense of dread and despair so heavy it threatened to further crush you until you were nothing.

“Jack—” you weakly cried out. Tears were freely falling from your eyes, cascading down and painting a perceptible line through your likely bloodied cheeks. Not only were you afraid, frightened out of your mind, but the physical pain was also too much to bear. You had experienced nothing even close to being as gruesome as this.

“It hurts.”

“I know,” Jack replied, and it only struck you then how small his voice was, how lost he sounded, like an abandoned child without their parents.

You knew then, by the tone of his voice, that it was over for you. You were going to die here. As you realized that, you choked on another sob, your composure shattering thin like glass. You could feel yourself quaking within the confinement of the vehicle and the devastation to your limbs. You were trembling, bottom lip quivering as you began to hiccup.

After a long pause, with just the sounds of crying, you could hear Jack say something.

“Y/N,” he called out to you. Somehow, he sounded a lot more calm, all of a sudden. Perhaps you were just delirious; you did feel lightheaded from the blood loss.

“Yes?” Your voice shook.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he stated, his voice firm, unwavering.

“What?” you mumbled, confused. “I’m dying, Jack.”

“No, you’re not.” And he sounded so determined then; you swore you weren’t just imagining things.

“Yes I am. We both know it.” You chuckled bitterly as you spoke, your words laced with spite, the unjustness of this situation just now striking you.

Silence again. You wondered what he was thinking. You felt so dizzy, you swore you could pass out any second now. Desperately, you clutched at the remaining bits of your consciousness, forcing yourself to stay awake. You couldn’t let it end, not yet.

“Listen to me carefully,” he stated, and his words reminded you so much of your original meeting that you let out a pleasant laugh at the memory, despite your body being wracked with pain.

“I’ll give you my life.”

“Huh?” You couldn’t understand what he meant by that. Were you already too far gone? Was it already over for you? You could feel the darkness tugging at your mind. You used every ounce of energy you had to pull away from it, pitifully attempting to reach for a light that wasn’t there.

“There’s no time to explain,” Jack said. “I’m going to break you out of this rubbish.”

You could feel something shake ever so slightly, but then it stilled.

“It’s going to hurt, though,” was the last thing Jack said before you felt something heavy get lifted off of you, sending shockwaves of torment through your battered body as you let out a loud, piercing cry.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be okay soon,” you heard him say, as your vision was finally uncovered, your eyes fluttering a few times to make out his form, standing above you. Quickly, he leaned down, scooping you up into his arms, picking you up as if you weighed nothing, like a feather.

As he was cradling your broken body in his arms, you could instantly see him get smeared with sticky, sanguine fluid. Your blood. There was so much of it, it was glistening on the surface of both his and your skin, soaking through the fabric of both your clothes, staining everything with a poignant, intrusive red.

“Jack,” you whined, “it really hurts.”

“It won’t hurt for much longer.”

You still didn’t know what he was referring to. But then he tilted his head downwards, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. You could taste iron and metal, the flavour making you grimace. Just as you were about to ask what he was doing, you felt the darkness tug at you again, this time gripping your mind hard, digging its talons into your consciousness, refusing to let go.

“Jack—”

“Just let go,” he reassured you. “Everything will be okay.”

And so you did, allowing oblivion to consume you.

—

“Jack?” you murmured, the first word that left your lips as you woke up. Lazily, you slowly lifted your eyelids, only for your eyes to snap wide open as you took in the scenery, the realization of where you were hitting you hard.

It was still dark, with chiseled trees and a ruined vehicle surrounding you. But something was different this time.

You couldn’t figure out what it was right away, but then you noticed you felt no pain. Everything in your body felt okay again. You flexed your fingers. They moved as they were supposed to.

Just what had happened? You didn’t understand at all, but then you looked towards your feet, and horror instantly wrote itself all over your features.

Jack laid there, propped up against the trunk of a tree that had been snapped halfway, and he was covered in blood that continuously oozed out from underneath him, forming a puddle of crimson.

He was pale, far paler than his usual tone of smoke and ash; this time he was nearly white as a sheet. When he saw you looking at him, he returned your gaze, smiling warmly.

“Hey,” he mumbled. You didn’t smile back at him, you only continued gaping at him, terror-stricken.

“You’re okay,” he observed, letting out a sigh of relief that tugged at your heartstrings painfully.

“W-What did you do?” you stuttered, the possibilities of what had occurred racing through your mind, none of which you liked.

“I transferred your injuries over to myself,” Jack explained. “Cool demon powers, huh?”

“No—” you gasped. “No!”

You sunk to your feet, both hands clasped over your mouth as you stared at him in horror, the feeling of fright a tidal wave surging through your entire being. The tears came on so fast that they instantly clouded your vision, before forming individual teardrops that fell to the ground in rapid succession.

“No!” you wailed, your cry reverberating in the sullen atmosphere. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“To save you, of course.” He spoke as if it was common sense, though it was not condescending. He talked like it was just simply the only option for him. The thought of that made your heart swell with another burst of pain.

“But what about you? What are you going to do?” you questioned, praying to whatever god that was out there in hopes that he had a plan of some sort for himself. Something. Anything.

“I’m going to die knowing it was for the girl I loved, I suppose.” Your heart sank down into the depths of the chamber that was your stomach, and you could feel it swallowed whole, devoured by despair as the situation became more and more clear to you with each passing second, to the point where you knew what exactly would happen. Yet, you fervently attempted to fight it, tried to swim against the current, knowing that the only thing that will happen to you was drown..

“No, Jack, please, don’t— don’t leave me—” you blurted out, sobbing all the while.

“Shh, it’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay,” he reassured you, weakly reaching out his hand towards yours. You quickly grasped his hand with both of yours. It was so, so cold.

“No, no— it won’t be okay, how is anything supposed to be okay without you?” you asked.

“Y/N,” he said, “be brave for me, okay? Just this once.”

“No, Jack, please, please don’t go...” You couldn’t hold back the desperate pleas, despite knowing it was futile, despite knowing you didn’t have much time left, you couldn’t help but beg, hoping it would somehow change something.

“Y/N—”

“Please, please, I’m begging you, don’t go, don’t leave me here by myself,” you cut him off with further pleading. You didn’t care if you sounded pathetic, you probably did, but it didn’t matter to you. You just didn’t want him to go.

“Y/N—”

“Please, Jack, I love you so much, I can’t live without you—”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he returned your statement, squeezing your hand as he said so. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Jack—”

“Y/N, I don’t have much time left. I need you to listen to me carefully,” the same dreadful words all over again. They used to be a reminder of a pleasant time, but you hated hearing them now, though you knew you had to listen to them, regardless. “I don’t regret this. I don’t regret this one bit. I don’t regret any of this; every moment I’ve spent with you has been more than worth it to me.” As he spoke, you continued crying, burying your face into his neck, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around him, pulling him close to you, holding him like it was the last time. Holding him because it was the last time.

“Can you promise me something?” he inquired.

“Of course, what is it?”

“Promise you’ll live for me, okay? Promise you’ll live a happy life, even without me.” His words made you break out into another burst of sobs, your tears trickling down your face and onto his neck, mixing with, diluting the blood that was so warm, so red.

“No, Jack, not without you—” you cried out in protest.

“Won’t you grant me my one dying wish?” he spoke with a faltering grin. You chuckled a tiny bit through your cries, though you didn’t feel any better.

“Fine,” you agreed, finally pulling your head away from his shoulder so that you could look him in the eyes. His eyes were starting to glaze over, but you could tell he was trying his best to focus them on you. You could hear his breaths growing shallower, the pool of blood beneath the two of you spreading ever so wide.

“Pinky promise me, you’ll live for me?” His fingers were quivering as he curled them in, holding only his pinky out, unsteadily extending his hand towards you.

“Pinky promise,” you whispered, hooking your pinky around his, interlocking your fingers.

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice was hushed, so quiet that you could barely make out the words. But you still heard it.

“Jack—” Your pinkies were still locked together when you felt his hand go limp.

—

“Y/N—”

“Y/N—” amidst a comforting blanket of fog, you heard a voice call out for you.

The voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on who it was. Everything was shrouded in darkness, the lack of sight combined with the hazy feeling surrounding you with a cozy sensation. You felt as if you had been wrapped in a cocoon, nestled away somewhere where it was safe.

But the voices kept calling out your name, and slowly the mirage of the ephemeral darkness began to fade away, your eyelids opening to reveal light.

You blinked once, then twice, clearing your sight; what was formerly blurry shapes and shadows now sharpening up to distinct figures and faces.

You tried to focus your still dazed mind, somewhat able to recognize Toby crouched down next to you.

You felt something wet splash onto your cheek. A teardrop.

A teardrop followed suit with another and then another; a sempiternal flow of tears emerging from his eyes. Toby was crying. You wondered why.

You didn’t know what was happening, only that you could see Toby turn his head to Tim, who was standing behind him, shouting ‘she’s awake!’ before turning back towards you.

“Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?” Toby questioned, one of his hands placing itself on your shoulder. His hand felt shaky.

You made an incoherent noise to acknowledge his statement, and you could see the tiniest bit of relief break out on his face. You tried to smile at him, reassure him that everything was okay, though you still didn’t fully comprehend what was happening.

You took a quick glance at your surroundings, finally realizing that you were on the floor. Why were you lying here? Just what was going on?

And then you heard a third voice, one that you knew belonged to Brian’s, shout.

“The paramedics are on their way, they’ll be here soon!” Paramedics?

Oh, that was right. The mention of paramedics refreshed your recollection, your memories of what had just happened surging back into your head.

That was right. Toby, Tim, and Brian had come over to your place to check up on you. You were coughing up flowers. Brian called the emergency services. Tim had told you that Jack was dead. And then you passed out.

Now you were awake again, everything that you had just remembered replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Jack was dead.

Jack was dead. He had died the day of your four-year anniversary. You were there when he died. You had watched him die.

Jack was dead, and he wasn’t coming back. Not now, not ever. He was gone. He was truly gone, and no amount of pretending otherwise will ever change that fact. No matter how hard you tried to cope, telling yourself he was still alive, that he had just broken up with you, it wouldn’t change the reality of the situation. And the reality was that Jack was dead, he had died in place of you. He had died because of you.

It was all your fault.

If it wasn’t for you, Jack would still be alive right now. But instead, he chose to die, all so that you could continue to live.

Yet, you had deluded yourself into believing he was still alive, you had deluded yourself into believing he would come back, and consequently fell to the disease, on top of starving yourself to near death. You had taken the life that Jack sacrificed for you and demolished it with your own hands.

As that realization came to you, you felt a tsunami of emotions wash over you. The main ones being guilt and regret. You couldn’t escape from it now, not anymore.

What had you done?

You had promised him that you would live. You had promised him that, and you had broken it. You had failed his one last dying wish.

You had failed not only him, but also yourself.

You felt a crawling sensation in your chest. You could feel the flowers growing, taking root in your heart and filling your lungs to the brim.

You turned yourself over, coughing with anguish. You could feel the flora get pushed up your esophagus, clawing at the back of your wounded throat, and you reached a hand into your mouth, fingers grasping at the petals, trying to pull them out.

As you yanked the flowers out, you could feel a stem, or perhaps another bundle of petals get caught inside your throat, causing you to gag, and then you were heaving up an entire bouquet soaked in your own blood, heaving up saliva and stomach acid all together. You coughed and choked on it as you desperately pulled out mouthfuls and mouthfuls of garnet flowers, complete with lime green stems, beige-brown roots, all the while you continuously spat out your own blood.

The flowers didn’t stop. Each time you felt like you had finally pulled them all out, you could feel new buds blooming in your chest, rapidly stuffing your ribcage and you would repeat the process over and over again, the myriad of flowers relentlessly continuing to clog up your insides.

All the while, you could feel Toby��s hand patting your back, stroking it in a pitiful attempt to ease your suffering, while Tim and Brian were shouting in the background.

“Brian, where the fuck are the paramedics? Didn’t you say they were coming?” Tim yelled, audibly sounding frightened.

“They are! They’ll be here anytime,” Brian replied, and you could tell he was trying to keep his cool, but you could hear in his voice that he was just as petrified as Tim was.

“Y/N, hang in there, please,” Toby was pleading, but you couldn’t reply, your esophagus entirely filled with newborn flowers.

You weren’t coughing as much as you were choking anymore, your windpipe obstructed by ever-blooming flora, cutting off your air supply. You were despairingly suffocating, your arms no longer supporting your weight. Instead, you were lying down with your hands desperately grasping at your neck and chest, flailing like a fish out of water.

The oxygen was no longer reaching your head, and you could see black spots in your bleary sight, much like the time when that man had tried to murder you.

This time, you had done it to yourself.

Through the static and buzzing in your ears, you could hear the wailing sounds of an ambulance somewhere in the distance.

“They’re coming!” Brian hollered.

“They need to come faster,” Toby cried, “she won’t—woo—make it for much longer.”

“God, Y/N, please,”—his voice too, was growing further and further away from you—“please, stay with me—”

You could hear the sound of the void calling out to you, telling you to close your eyes, give in to the darkness that would inevitably devour the last of your consciousness.

The faint sound of an ambulance was present in the background, and you heard voices that you didn’t recognize as well as incoming footsteps, but you paid them no mind.

You coughed weakly, one last time.

You closed your eyes at last, letting yourself fall into the comforting embrace of oblivion, surrendering yourself to its tender hold. Your movements slowed, then came to a halt at last, your body finally motionless.

You laid there, still, surrounded by a field of red spider lilies.

—

“Thank you for everything,” you said, pleasantly smiling at him.

“Of course, it was my pleasure,” Jack replied, returning your expression.

It was morning, a day having passed since you first arrived here. The blizzard had stopped its rage last evening, a few hours past the original incident, but Jack had insisted it wasn’t safe for you to go home by yourself so late at night, and you agreed with that. He had been generous enough to let you sleep in his guest room for the night, and you gratefully took up his offer.

Of course, there was another side to it, being that neither of you really wanted your interaction to be over, at least not quite yet.

Over the course of a mere evening, the two of you had grown quite fond of each other, far more than to be expected out of an accidental encounter such as this. You found it easy to open up to him, and the two of you shared your lives with each other over a delectable dinner that he had made, even sharing some secrets that you wouldn’t have told just anybody else.

So when the morning came, and it was time to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment, a bit of longing. You weren’t sure if he’d want to see you again after this, if this was just a onetime thing of saving your life.

Jack walked you to the door, where you put on your shoes, which had been dried out over the night and were thankfully not bloodied. Opening and holding the door for you as you stood in the doorway, the two of you looked at each other, eyes meeting for a lengthy moment.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said.

“Goodbye, Jack,” you responded.

And with that, you turned around, but just as you were about to step out the door, you felt his hand latch onto your wrist, causing you to turn around in surprise.

“Wait,” he called out. “I’ll see you again, right?” His words brought an earnest smile to your face, and you couldn’t help but feel a weight getting lifted off of your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’ll see you again.”