#but i want to continue to try to bring it to their attention

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO1

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: S/n, the rookie in Formula 1, challenges sexism in the sport, facing criticism, intense rivalries, and false accusations. Amid fierce disputes with Charles Leclerc and unexpected support, she fights to prove her talent.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ warnings: Heavy sexism, fake news (??), Charles being a complete jerk, and angst. Let me know if I forgot anything.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be a short story, but I got carried away and had to split it into two parts. If you guys like it, I’ll post part two tomorrow! English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, sorry 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part two here! ✨

Formula 1 has always been a male-dominated sport, but who said that would stop rookie S/n from claiming her place? No, giving up was never on her list of options.

You’ve spent your whole life hearing that you would never make it into Formula 1, that you could never compete on equal footing with a man. But when you finally signed a contract with one of the top teams on the grid, you realized the biggest challenge wasn’t on the track—it was the people who wanted to see you fail.

Among those people was Charles Leclerc, one of the most beloved drivers among fans. Charles hated the attention you were getting, convinced that everything you did was just marketing and nothing more. He made sure to make that clear, with interviews filled with sharp remarks and intense on-track battles.

To Charles, S/n was nothing more than a lucky rookie. To S/n, Charles was just another jerk trying to bring her down—like so many before him.

“S/n, are you okay? S/n, if you’re alright, just answer!” Your engineer’s panicked voice echoed through the radio just as your car crashed into the tire barrier.

Everything happened in a blur. You had been fighting for the lead on the final lap against Charles Leclerc, and suddenly, you were struggling against your aching body to get out of your wrecked car.

“I’m fine. Just sore, but I’m fine,” you responded firmly as you stepped out of the cockpit.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins. You kicked the car hard before shrugging it off, trying to calm yourself. The medical team rushed over, but you simply nodded and got into the rescue vehicle, removing your helmet and letting out a long sigh.

Back at the garage, you waved briefly at your trainer and went straight to your private room.

You threw your helmet into a random corner, kicked the couch, and collapsed onto it. The TV in the room replayed the crash. Anger boiled inside you. Without thinking, you got up and stormed back to the garage, determined.

“Do you have any idea what you just did, S/n?! You could have been seriously hurt… or worse!” Your PR manager, Adele, exclaimed as soon as she saw you walk in. Your trainer, Steve, and your public relations assistant, Bree, rushed to you.

You looked down at your race suit, still covered in dust. You brushed it off lightly, but nothing could erase the bitter taste of defeat burning in your throat.

“That clueless idiot is entirely to blame! He threw me into the wall on purpose! Did you see how he closed that corner?! Asshole.” Your voice dripped with indignation.

Steve and Bree immediately agreed, but Adele sighed, running a hand down her face.

“S/n, you can’t afford to lose your head over him. The media is already waiting outside, and I can guarantee they won’t go easy on you,” Bree warned, her voice calm.

You huffed, closing your eyes for a moment before facing them.

“Sorry, guys. But this time, I won’t stay quiet.”

The paddock sweltered under the scorching sun, and the sound of cameras clicking was deafening. You adjusted your team cap, trying to hide the simmering rage.

In front of you, a journalist held out a microphone with a smug smile.

“So, S/n… Do you think that crash was due to incompetence or inexperience?”

Your jaw tightened, but the journalist continued, not even bothering to mask his sarcasm.

“I mean, a lot of people were already questioning your place in Formula 1. Isn’t it obvious now that this sport just isn’t for you?”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your anger in check. But before you could respond, a firm voice cut through the air:

“Excuse me, are you planning to ask serious questions and act like a professional, or are you just going to keep up this ridiculous circus?”

You turned to see Max Verstappen standing beside you, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

The journalist tried to laugh, taken aback, but Max didn’t back down.

“If any other driver had crashed, you’d be analyzing the data, not mocking them. But of course, it’s easier to tear down a woman than admit she has talent.”

A lump formed in your throat—not from weakness, but from gratitude.

“If you want to talk about who deserves to be in Formula 1, start by actually analyzing things properly. But I suppose real journalism is too hard for you,” Max finished, pulling you away from the journalist, who stood speechless.

When the interviews finally ended, you leaned against a wall near the exit.

“Thanks, Max. I don’t think I’ve ever been at a loss for words before.”

He smirked.

“It’s alright, S/n. Look, I know what it’s like to be criticized. Not like you, of course. It must be even harder for you… Society is still so sexist. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this.”

He draped an arm over your shoulder.

“And since I was so nice, how about you buy me an ice cream?”

You laughed, finally feeling some of the pressure and anger fade away.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

( . . . )

Just minutes after you left, the same journalist who had humiliated you was now grinning at Charles—the one responsible for your crash and disqualification. The contrast was brutal.

“Charles, what a race! You mastered the corners brilliantly and proved once again why you’re one of the best on the grid. How does it feel to be such an inspiration to aspiring drivers?”

S/n watched the broadcast while picking up her ice cream. Max had been smiling at you, but as soon as he saw your expression, his own smile faded. Your muscles had already tensed in anger. The way Charles smiled and basked in the praise made your blood boil.

“Well, I think some drivers need to understand track limits better. But… it’s all part of the learning process, right?” Charles spoke modestly, but his tone carried clear provocation.

You felt your entire body tremble. How dare he act like a hero after what he had done?

Max, standing beside you, whispered:

“S/n, don’t do anything. This is exactly what he wants.”

He gripped your arm, worried about what you might do next, and pulled you away from the shop.

You took a deep breath, but every word from that reporter felt like a knife sinking deeper into your skin.

Minutes later, Charles approached you in the corridors, hands in his pockets, wearing a smug grin.

“Are you okay, princess? That was quite the accident… Shame you couldn’t keep the car under control.”

S/n clenched her jaw, fists tightening. Every fiber of her being screamed to punch him right there.

But she held her ground, her voice a cold, sharp blade.

“Careful, Charles. Because when I win, there won’t be any excuses left to save you.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving him speechless.

When you reached your motorhome, Adele was waiting for you, pacing back and forth.

“Hey, Adele! What happened—” Before you could finish speaking, she pulled out her phone and showed you a news article.

“S/n under suspicion: FIA investigates possible data manipulation in the rookie driver’s car.”

Your eyes scanned the words, your heart pounding. A lump formed in your throat. It was a lie. A dirty, planned lie…

You felt your fingers trembling.

Lando came up behind you and read the headline over your shoulder.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Lando said, frowning. You jumped at his sudden presence and immediately turned to face him.

“They want me out of the game,” you murmured, pure anger in your voice.

You walked into the motorhome and threw yourself onto the couch, running a hand over your face, exhausted from all the accusations.

( . . . )

Two weeks had passed since your confrontation with Charles, and finally, it was another race weekend. You smiled as soon as you stepped into the paddock—nothing could shake you here.

Everything was perfect. You were in a great mood, and everything felt in perfect harmony.

As you made your way to your team’s garage, you suddenly felt someone grab your arm before you could step inside.

You stumbled, but someone caught you. Looking up, you saw Lando, his hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Lando! What happened? Why did you drag me here?” you asked, laughing at his reaction.

The worried expression on his face made your heart skip a beat.

“S/n, did you check social media today?” Lando asked, and you shook your head.

“No, why?” You asked, looking at the phone in his hand.

Frowning, you grabbed the phone, your eyes darting over the bold headline on the sports website:

“SCANDAL IN FORMULA 1: S/N INVOLVED IN AFFAIR WITH COMMITTED TEAMMATE”

“Internal team sources reveal that rookie driver S/n isn’t just trying to make a name for herself on the track but also off of it. According to exclusive reports, S/n has allegedly been having an affair with her teammate while he was still in a relationship with his now ex-girlfriend, who is pregnant!

The secret relationship has supposedly caused numerous arguments within the team, with rumors that tensions in the garage became unbearable after a confrontation between the ex-girlfriend and S/n. Some team members, speaking anonymously, claim that the driver’s performance has been questioned because she has allegedly been receiving internal favors to keep her seat.

Moreover, speculation has arisen that her closeness with her teammate may be influencing certain strategic decisions in her favor, raising doubts about the legitimacy of her season results.

The FIA has yet to comment on the matter, but the negative backlash is growing on social media. Has S/n used Formula 1 not only to prove her skills but also to climb the ranks through scandal?”

“WHAT?!” you shouted, and Lando quickly covered your mouth.

You felt your blood boiling in your veins. Your heart was beating so fast it echoed in your ears. You reread every sentence, every disgusting lie, and the anger inside you grew into a suffocating knot in your throat.

“This is absurd,” your best friend said in a low but furious voice. You looked at him in desperation, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body shaking with fear.

“What kind of sick joke is this, Lando?” You stared at the phone in your hand. “Who would have the audacity to make this up?! How the hell am I ‘influencing strategic decisions’ when they barely trust me to change my tires at the pit stop?” Your voice was low, but Lando looked at you worriedly, already knowing you well enough to see that you were on the verge of an outburst.

“Whoever did this wants to destroy you, no matter what. First, that ridiculous accusation about the car’s data, and now this?” Lando leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

“And the worst part is that people are going to believe it!” you said, deadly serious but clearly terrified.

“S/n, I know you want to explode right now, but we need to think about what to do. They want to destabilize you.” Lando spoke, and silence fell over the place. You weren’t just angry anymore—you were sad, upset. You wanted to cry.

You took a deep breath, but it felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Your eyes returned to the phone, where the article was already going viral. In the comments, a flood of toxic messages appeared:

“Knew she wasn’t actually talented.”

“Women in F1 always end up making headlines for the wrong reasons.”

“Of course, it had to be a woman. Getting ahead the easy way.”

“Shame on the sport. Who’s protecting her?”

That was the final straw for you.

Your chest ached. Not from weakness, but from a deep sadness that made your body tremble.

Lando noticed.

“This isn’t just about destabilizing me, Lando! This is a direct attack on my reputation! They’re basically saying I’m only here because I slept with someone?! This is disgusting!” Your voice cracked, and tears started streaming down your face. You had never broken down like this in front of anyone. Your legs gave out, and Lando noticed, rushing toward you and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You can’t let them win, S/n. You’re not alone, okay?” Lando murmured, running a hand through your hair.

“Why, Lando? Why do they hate me so much? I never did anything to these… assholes, I swear! I may be explosive, but what did I ever do to them?” you sobbed, your voice failing. Your best friend was always there for you, and you were grateful for that.

( . . . )

“What the hell is this!?” Max bursts out, furious, as he storms into the meeting room where you, the team leader, and the PR team are gathered.

You still felt the sadness burning inside you when the door swung open forcefully. Your teammate, Max, rushed in, his eyes blazing with indignation. Right behind him, Kelly, his girlfriend, clutched her phone tightly, as if ready to smash it.

“Oh, so you saw the ridiculous nonsense they’re spreading too? Welcome to hell.” You sigh, your tone calm. Everyone stares at you, surprised. They expected you to be angry—or worse.

Max ran a hand through his hair, visibly upset.

“I saw it, and it’s unbelievable! Who has the audacity to make up something like this? I’m still with Kelly, and now they’re trying to turn this into a scandal?” Max says, sitting down beside you. Kelly joins him, and despite her frustration, she offers you a reassuring smile.

“This is so ridiculous it’s actually offensive! As if I would end a relationship over a stupid rumor!” Kelly says, clearly frustrated with the situation. She looks at you, her expression softening when she sees the emptiness in your eyes. “I know you would never do something like this. Just because you’re a woman working in a male-dominated field doesn’t mean you have to sleep with someone to earn your place. Whoever wrote this deserves to be sued.”

An unexpected tightness grips your chest. After everything you had endured that day, hearing Kelly defend you instead of accusing you was a relief you didn’t even know you needed.

You offer a small, tired smile and meet her gaze.

“Thank you for believing in me,” you whisper, and she smiles back.

“The problem was never you, S/n. The problem is people who refuse to accept that a woman can be great at what she does without relying on anyone,” Bree, your PR assistant, speaks up, and you let out a deep sigh.

Max nods in agreement.

“Exactly. They want to destroy S/n’s reputation because they know they can’t beat her on the track,” Max finally says after a long silence. He takes a deep breath, grabs his phone, and starts typing. “I’m shutting this down right now.”

Within seconds, his Instagram post is already going viral:

@maxverstappen: “Just to be clear: the rumors about S/n and me having any kind of romantic involvement are completely false. Kelly and I are together and doing great, and this attack on S/n is just another disgusting attempt to discredit her. Enough with the fake news. Respect the sport.”

Kelly follows suit, posting a story:

@kellypiquet: “Let’s get one thing straight: S/n has NEVER disrespected me or Max in any way. This story is just another example of how women in sports are attacked for no reason. Grow up.”

( . . . )

After the fake news scandal, you expected Charles Leclerc to use it against you, but to your surprise, he remained silent. No provocative comments, no sly remarks in interviews. He just watched you from a distance, as if analyzing your every reaction.

Charles truly didn’t feel comfortable mocking this kind of situation—not after everything he had witnessed.

Then, the day after the media chaos, when you were alone in the garage reviewing race data, he appeared beside you, casually leaning against the table.

“So… what’s it like being the most dangerous woman in Formula 1?” Charles asked sarcastically, but without the malice he once had.

You narrowed your eyes, already expecting a jab. You were used to his teasing.

“Listen, Charles,” you said, stepping closer, “if you’re here to make jokes, you can turn around and leave. I’m not in the mood.”

Charles crossed his arms, but his gaze lacked the arrogance it usually carried.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not here to fight. I just… wanted to see how you were holding up,” Charles said, scratching the back of his head. You hesitated for a moment, confused.

Charles was asking how you were?

“As if you care,” you spat, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

Charles shrugged.

“I’m not going to lie—I enjoy messing with you. But I know what it’s like to have the world call you a fraud.”

Your eyes widened, surprised by his admission.

“You? The media’s golden boy? Ferrari’s prodigy?” you mocked, and he rolled his eyes.

“The media chooses who to attack. Today, it’s you. Tomorrow, it could be anyone,” Charles said before walking away.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel immediate hatred for Leclerc.

( . . . )

After the false news spread, the journalists still hadn’t let go of S/n. Now, more than ever, she was the main target. During a team event, a persistent reporter started pressing her with loaded questions.

“S/n, do you think your involvement with Max could affect your career in the long run?”

The reporter’s words instantly irritated you.

“I’ve already said there was no involvement. That’s a lie.” You responded confidently, keeping your anger in check.

But he just smirked, still trying to provoke you.

“But rumors always have some truth to them, don’t they? Maybe it’s just a matter of admitting it…”

Before you could snap, Charles appeared by your side, resting a casual yet protective hand on your shoulder. You glanced at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. You raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Interesting… you ask very specific questions for someone who has no proof of anything.” Charles stared directly at the reporter. The journalist hesitated, and Charles continued. “Formula 1 is a competitive sport, but it seems like you’d rather turn it into a cheap reality show.”

You were surprised. It was the first time Charles had publicly defended you or had any interaction beyond provoking you.

When the journalist finally gave up and walked away, you turned to him, suspicious.

“Okay… what was that?” You asked slowly, still looking at his hand on your shoulder. Charles pulled it away, made a face, and wiped it on his clothes.

He shrugged.

“You already have enough problems. You don’t need an idiot like that making it worse.”

You stared at him, trying to figure him out.

“You hate me. Why are you helping me?”

Charles held your gaze a second longer than necessary before smirking.

“Who said I hate you?” He said and then walked away, leaving you more confused than ever.

( . . . )

After Charles’ unexpected defense, the dynamic between the two of you became dangerous territory. You started noticing how often he was around—sometimes teasing, sometimes protective, but always testing your limits.

Then, during another press conference, Charles defended you again. Lando and Max exchanged glances before looking at you, waiting for your reaction. You stared, mouth slightly open, completely lost. You turned to Lando and murmured:

“What was that?”

Lando just shrugged, looking even more confused than you.

That really sent some intrusive thoughts your way.

At the paddock gym? He was there, running on the treadmill next to you.

In team briefings? He made a point to sit close and throw in snide remarks.

At sponsor events? He joked about how you had to smile for journalists who clearly hated you.

And the worst part? He never crossed a certain line.

One night, after a mandatory team dinner, you were walking back to the hotel when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned abruptly—there he was, hands in his pockets, walking casually as if it was nothing.

“Are you following me now?” You rolled your eyes.

Charles gave you a slow smirk, completely unfazed by the accusation.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not that obsessed with you. We’re just heading to the same place.”

He said it so casually, making sure to emphasize the nickname he had given you, something he always did when you were alone.

You crossed your arms, suspicious.

“Right. And you just happen to always be where I am lately? And what’s with that nickname?”

Your arguments didn’t bother him one bit—unlike you, who desperately wanted answers.

He shrugged.

“Coincidence. Or maybe I just like seeing you get worked up.” He clicked his tongue. “And the nickname? It’s just a fact. You’re really stressed all the time, S/n.”

You narrowed your eyes. You wanted to hate him completely, but something about his calm, teasing demeanor made your blood boil in a different way.

And the nickname? He wasn’t wrong.

So you turned on your heel, walking briskly toward your room.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to be around him.

That was it.

Avoid him. You told yourself.

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

-+-layers-+-

author's note: heyyy, this is my lil try at the event in the supernatural writer's community, my tags will be at the bottom of the page for acknowledgements! <3 also someone please tell me if i did this wrong i have not done events at all i hope this is ok...ALSO i wrote this as dean from preseries all the way to season 1 and 2 in mind, but really you can imagine it to any ofc

summary: falling in love with dean is more than just a couple of flirtatious comments and winks. love takes time and vulnerability. and the more you read into the little moments, the more severely you fall in love with him.

pairings: dean x reader

characters: dean, sam, bobby

word count: 4.8K

warnings: cursing, disgusting fluff

-+-+-+

there was this beautiful change you've noticed over the years with dean. he's still the same person you've been falling in love with, but he becomes more and more human to you, you realized.

before this gradual revelation, you admit, you viewed him as what he presented himself as, which was the "ladies man" or "sex god", as he would refer to himself (and you denied it when he claimed it so, even though all you could think about was putting it to the test). he plays into his tough facade, this macho-man exterior. and you can attest, he is a masculine guy. he's chivalrous, but he still finds ways to be 'a man' about it. he holds doors open for almost any woman he sees, but he makes a bigger deal about it if it's you he's opening it for, of course.

-+-+-+-

"i'm not hating on ac/dc. i like their 'sound', but every song sounds the same." you argued.

"they do not. their 'sound' is consistent. that doesn't mean they sound the exact same. that's like saying to you that every britney spears song sounds the exact same." he rebuttled with a feigned anger.

"i never said 'exact' same-" you tried to finish your thought as your hand reached the gas station door handle before you were roughly pulled away from it, as dean's hand wrapped on your bicep. he had yanked you behind him, not even looking back, as he cut in front of you to open the door and gave you a shit-eating grin as you stepped through the entrance. "jesus christ." you had incredulously eyed him at his aggressive chivalry, to which he just smirked and followed you inside.

-+-+-+-

he gives you jackets anytime you’re cold- more so shoving it over you at the shiver he sees. he pretends to be annoyed at you too, but secretly, he wants to do it. he yearns to. he wants you to ask, but he knows you're also too stubborn to ask for anything.

-+-+-+-

"oh, jesus." you hissed, walking out of the diner as dean held the door open for you, the harsh New England winter breeze licking your skin.

"what?" dean's head turned to you.

"nothing- just almost fell. didn't see the step." you lied. you couldn't tell dean you were cold...he told you to bring a jacket before you left the motel.

a moment passes before dean's gaze falls to your exposed arms that now had goosebumps trailing along them, and you heard him scoff, "i swear- didn't i tell you?" and he was already stripping himself of his leather jacket, hanging it on your shoulders as you both continued to walk.

"dean-" you protested.

"take it."

and he meant to sound as bothered as he did, but behind you, it was getting harder to control the swell in his stomach that he got when he saw you in his clothes.

-+-+-+-

you are simply not allowed to get hungry around him. he won't let it happen. no matter how much you tell him that you're not hungry, or that you'll eat later- he hardly takes no for an answer.

-+-+-+-

"hey." dean tried to get your attention from the motel bed, as you were diligently researching at the table across from him. "yoo-hoo..."

you were zoned in on the lore book you were reading while the rest of the world was dead to you. that was until a pencil almost lobotomized you. it smacked against the wall and bounced onto the page you were reading, causing you to flinch, before you whipped your head to dean. "do you mind?"

"no, not at all." he shakes his head, unbothered by your irritated demeanor. "i'm gonna get food from the Chinese place down the road, what do you want?"

you waved your hand before turning back to the book, "nothing for me, thanks."

he raised a brow at you, standing up from the bed and putting on his shoes, "no Chinese? i can grab a pizza instead..."

"no, go get Chinese. just don't worry about me, i'm still full from lunch."

dean stood up, just looking at you as your attention was still on the book. he's angry, but it's an anger he can't explain or vocalize to you. he can't stand when you don't feed yourself, or don't take care of yourself. and he's well aware he does it too, but that doesn't matter, it's you we're talking about. you need to eat. you need to live. so he leaves with a curt, "fine, i'll be back in a bit."

and about forty-five minutes later, he wordlessly strolled back in the motel room, and plopped a plastic container with your typical take-out order and a side of spring rolls on the table next to your book. you bit your cheek, trying to make eye contact with him, but he knew you would try to give him some excuse not to eat, so he ignored your stare, and sat down on the bed to go to town on his own food.

-+-+-+-

he pays for any of the road snacks he gets you, takes care of your car if it needs oil or repairs, hardly let's you go anywhere alone, and will watch your drink at the bar like a hawk. he's a protector, and a gentleman, and he likes to be viewed as one. it was what he felt he was made for. and he especially loved protecting you. and he didn't think you needed protecting. it made him want to all the more. he knew you could easily take care of yourself- you made that known. you're clearly self-sufficient on hunts, independent, and you hardly ever asked for anything from dean. that's why he loved being the one to protect and be there for you. it was an honor for him.

now...

that doesn't mean he was always "that guy" around you.

you treasured the moments he let go in front of you, or with you. as time went on, and as you fell harder for him, these moments seemed to really stick out to you.

it takes a painfully long time for dean to be comfortable around someone. completely, anyway. he can joke around, and he can express his concern for people, and he'll provide acts of service to those around him. while it all means that he is maintaining connections, it's not the same as being internally comfortable. being truly relaxed in front of people was harder for dean. with you he was, and it meant that he could be his true self. one of those moments was when he realized that he could talk about anything with you, and you would listen- really, listen. he didn't even know how much he appreciated it in the moment, but he knew he felt so connected with you. and you, well... you can't help but just listen to him.

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"...and it was considered a Chevelle at the time, when the Impala was just a Chevrolet. but, it was a B-body, so it was bigger than the Malibu, and way sturdier. anyways, they marketed the Malibu as a family-car back then, even though it's an A-body, and it could've easily sold as a sportier model instead with all the modifications they offered. i mean, the thing was a V8, and they didn't intend to advertise it as something classier than a family-car? with how lean that thing was?"

dean watched a documentary about Chevys in the 60's last night at the motel before going to sleep. he had many opinions on the information that he had caught up on.

"i mean, it's no Camero. which they were talkin’ bout…y’know they built that beast from scratch? the first model of the Camero in ‘66- well, it was a ‘67 but they made it in ‘66… it was from scratch. another reason why Chevy beats Ford any day- because Ford based their F-body on their previous car, the Falcon- then they made Mustangs from that model.”

the two of you were walking back from an interview you conducted about fifteen minutes ago. he had been talking about cars and Chevys and everything in between since he saw a Monte Carlo parked on the street near the interviewees’ residence. it was honestly the most excited you had seen him in a long time… just letting him ramble. and when you asked a question (because you inevitably had to when it started to sound like he was speaking a foreign language), he explained it to you happily, and with no connotations that you weren’t as knowledgeable as he was about the topic. when he explained, he’s really trying to teach you- not like a mechanic who’s telling you how to switch gears…dean wanted you to understand so you could respond with the same level of knowledge. and you couldn’t help but just let him do it. you wouldn’t retain any of this information, in fact, you were still confused, but you just wanted to let him speak about his interest. you don’t even recall hearing him talk about anything this in depth.

you lovingly watched his facial expressions as he chatted with a boyish enthusiasm, and you hadn't even realize you were smiling at him until he matched yours slightly, with a questioning grin, ”what?”

you shook off your starstruck gaze, and recovered quickly, “no, nothing…just, Mustangs aren’t cool anymore?”

he opens his mouth, his face tightening as he finds the right words to convey his opinion, “no, I mean...they’re ok. but,” he scoffs, “they’re just like toy cars, compared to Chevy. they aren’t durable. you run a Mustang over a speed bump too fast and it’ll fold up like a lawn chair, i swear-”

you giggle, soaking in everything he wants to say, and he just gleamed for the first time in a long time as he kept your ears hostage. it was the least you could ever do for him.

-+-+-+-

you had a feeling your connection was mutual after some time, thankfully. there were little mannerisms or hints here and there that you would remind yourself of in case you started to lose hope in a future with him. the chivalry you would write off as just dean being dean, but this comfortability he projected was for you specifically.

he couldn’t leave you alone. not just out of the whole protection thing either, but he just was drawn to your presence. even if you didn’t talk, he wanted to just be next to you.

-+-+-+-

you raised the eyeliner to your waterline in the reflection of the mirror, lightly drawing it on when you heard the motel door open.

“turns out all three victims were on the same community baseball team. the last victim,” he elaborated as he eventually made his way to lean against the bathroom door frame, “was a coach before. this is the third victim with any relation to the team, even though he wasn't actively coaching-" his face twisted into a grimace of concern as his eyes landed on you, "why are you putting a crayon in your eye."

you maintained your focus, proceeding to the other eye, "it's not in my eye. the waterline...is just really...close." your speech broke apart with your focus. you leaned back from the mirror as you fingered through your makeup bag for a couple other small touch-up items. "alright, so when are you taking me out to the ball game, winchester?"

he glances to his watch, "their practice starts in three hours."

"buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks?" you turned to him playfully.

"only if you promise not to care if we ever get back." he pointed a taunting finger in your direction.

you smirked as he completed your reference, and you put the eyeliner back in the bag. "sounds good, but in the meantime, i need to pick up a new formal outfit or two. i figure we're going as reporters? i need to find new blouses...one has this bloodstain from our last hunt and it just won't come out. i was gonna go take a walk down by the goodwill, it's two blocks down."

dean shrugged, "i'll drive you."

you were grateful for the offer and assured him anyway, "i can walk. no point in just driving me two minutes."

"i can just go with you."

you faced dean at his suggestion, and tried to analyze his expression. he didn't seemed annoyed by the prospect of going with you to shop. "you sure? i don't know how long i'll be."

he shrugged again, "as long as we make back for the practice, it doesn't really matter."

you ran your teeth over your bottom lip, trying to bite your growing smile away. "alright, give me ten minutes then."

"'kay." and that would've been dean's cue to go watch the tv, or get the car started...but he stayed leaning against the entrance, putting his hands in his jean pockets, his eyes aimlessly wandering. he inhaled, as he mindlessly watched your makeup routine.

"you wanna sit down?" you offered cheekily, pulling out concealer.

he pursed his lips, as he thought about it and ultimately decided to, but what you didn't expect was him to sit on the closed toilet seat lid and stay in the bathroom with you. you let out a small huff of laughter, that thankfully he didn't pick up on, as he drew a carefully hand into your makeup bag. he was quiet, reading through all the products you used. he went as far as opening some of the bottles, curiously examining your products. he would make comments about the hunt or about something relevant here and there, but really, he was just there to be with you. he finally stopped rummaging through your makeup with a disgruntled shove at the bag, glaring confusedly at it as he muttered, "you really don't need that much."

you chuckled, appreciating his sentiment as zipped up the bag, gesturing for him to follow you as you left the bathroom to head to the impala.

and his need to in your near vicinity didn't end there.

once you were in the goodwill, you had assumed he would find a men's section to look through, but he trailed right behind you like a puppy dog. you had a decency to show him some of the clothing pieces you were looking at, a penny for his thoughts. and while he wouldn't give you true dictations of your fashion choices, he did offer comments along the lines of "that's nice" or "it's okay". but he obviously wasn't here because he wanted to talk fashion with you, although, if you wanted to, you know he would try to his best to keep up.

-+-+-+-

it even got to the point where sam started to pick up on dean's sense of trust and vulnerability around you. which didn't surprise him at all after he got to know you. in fact, he adored you too, as a sibling. he was glad to see dean have a bond with someone at the same level as he was. and sam knew that there was something blossoming, but he would only lightly tease, he didn't want to scare you off with the idea, god forbid it wasn't ready to happen yet. but, he could tell that you loved him. and sam could without a doubt, tell that dean loved you.

there's a psychological tell when it comes to subconscious love. they say when you get tired around certain people, whether you know it or not, you feel safer around them.

-+-+-+-

it was a rather tranquil afternoon in yet another motel room, sam had dragged a chair over to face the tv while you and dean shared a queen bed, even though there were two of them in the room. the hunt from the previous day, or should you say, that morning, had run until about 5am, and you had begged the boys to just lounge until the evening, knowing they wanted to take off into the next hunt soon. they can't say no to you, so they opted to relax for a couple of hours to recuperate. dean lied with his arms folded across his chest, his head dipping lower into the pillows by the minute, as you sat just a bit higher than him, with one knee drawn in.

on the pathetic motel tv, Scream from '96 played as sam was still clacking on his laptop, searching for new hunts. you had been making a few jesting remarks towards the movie, and sam would raise a baffled brow.

"all i'm saying is, if he didn't kill me, and just hauntingly threatened me over the phone, i would be turned on by ghostface."

sam blinked at his computer screen, "you are all kinds of weird." he looked over his shoulder to find you deviously smiling, and did a double-take in your direction as he looked from dean to you, and he dropped his jaw a bit, "did he fall asleep?"

you craned your head down slightly to see dean's eyed now closed, breathing slow and relaxed, and his head even fell closer to where your arm was next to him. you pouted your lips at him slightly, smiling after, "he did."

sam scoffed, shaking his head, "he never takes naps when anyone is with him. he hardly naps when it's just me and him... he won't even with dad, and definitely not other people." he mused.

you blew him off, butterflies frantically flying in your stomach, "oh, i'm sure he's just tired from that hunt. we didn't get in til the early morning."

"yeah, but, dean has run on days without sleep. he could've stayed awake if he wanted to, even if he only got a couple of hours. it's just...funny, i guess." he meant "funny" as in "wow, i can't believe my brother who is always on guard from everyone, can finally let it down around someone".

you glanced to dean with an enamored smile once more, this time lingering a bit, as you listened to his deep breaths, and light snores, "we can leave after he's up. i'd feel horrible waking him now."

sam nodded, turning back to the tv, and he even lowered the volume some. even he felt more relaxed, knowing just how much dean was able to be comfortable around you. he grinned to himself, happy for his brother, and for you. his grin grew into an open smile when he turned around twenty minutes later to find you asleep as well, sunken down completely into the bed, and your head inches away from dean's shoulder. he grabbed a picture on his phone, and made a mental note to show this to you and dean when you both get out of your own heads.

-+-+-+-

while you knew you were definitely a special person in his life, this relationship did confuse you more often than not. he couldn't muster up the words to ask you out, or be his partner, but he had the audacity to be all touchy-feely with you in front of bobby.. and of course, if sam could see through you both, bobby could in a heartbeat. the only difference between sam and bobby, is that bobby wanted to just take dean by the shirt and shake him til he scrambled out the words "i love her". bobby saw their love right in front of them. but he knew better than to intervene, though he was okay with shamelessly hinting it towards you and dean when the other wasn't in ear shot.

-+-+-+-

you and the boys had been dealing with a hunt about two hours west of Sioux Falls, but dean had practically forced you to just help with research, and to stay behind at bobby's while your ankle healed from a recent sprain. bobby was no help in this case, insisting he could use the help around the house, but since it's been the two of you, all he's asked you to do was to go find a two beers in the fridge. and one of them wasn't even for him. he asked you to drink so you would, and quote, "stop wearin' a hole in the floor" and relax while they were gone.

though you did help bobby figure out how to change the hdmi on the tv.

sometime around 11:30pm, your cell had started ringing in your pocket as you woke from the siesta you were taking on the couch. you fumbled for it groggily, opening the flip phone to answer it, "hello?"

"hey," sam winced as he said your name, already knowing that you're not going to like the contents of the call.

"everything ok?" you heard it all in his tone of voice.

"yes and no. i got off easy, but dean's got a concussion. not bad enough for the hospital, but bad enough to where he needs to be on bed rest for a week, at least. just uh, wanted to let you know." sam said distractedly, as you assumed he was the one driving, too.

"oh, shit. is he ok?" you breathed worriedly.

"he's fine, or at least will be fine, soon. but, he is asking for you...i don't know if he remembers that we left you at bobby's." sam mentions, tugging slightly at your heart strings.

"jesus, well- hurry home. i'll help take care of- it." you fumbled for words before the two of you hung up.

bobby had been awake still, and you informed him on the call as you both prepped the couch and sat idle for their return. you didn't think dean would be able to make it to the guest room up the stairs just yet, so for now the living room was dimmed and had water bottles stocked close by, and had a trash can for... well, just in case.

you were outside waiting before you even heard the rumbling engine pull up to the front of the house. the car had barely been in park before you raced to the backseat, where dean had been lying on his back, his eyes squeezed closed a bit, and his breath ragged and shallow, with a large, blood stain that had dripped from his left temple, and wherever gravity had taken it, which had been on a few patchy spots by his ear all the way to his jaw. poor baby. bobby and sam were the ones to lug him out, with a lot of moaning and groaning from all three of them, while you made sure to hold the door open, and bring in some of their duffels from the car.

dean was carefully eased onto the couch, his chest now rising with careful, calculated deep breaths, while blowing air out of his mouth. he had moved painfully slow as he laid down on his right side, his eyes shut tight.

you quietly sat the bags from the car by the entrance, hurriedly making your way to the couch, interrupting sam and dean's hushed conversation.

"stay down, man." sam whispered to his brother, keeping a light hand on dean's shoulder as he fidgeted.

"she wasn't in th'car, sam." dean croaked, eyes still closed as he dug half his head into the pillow.

you stuck your lips out in an exaggerated frown, bending at the knees next to dean, you cooed softly, "hey, crazy...what happened?"

he peered through squinting eyes, groaning slightly before answering, "mmm. hit m'head." aside from his visible pain, he actually looked like he sunk deeper into the couch when you made yourself known.

you run your hand over the blood matted on his hair, and your finger tips came back tinted. dean inhaled sharply at the touch, his eyes pinched shut again.

"sorry...sorry." you moved your hand away, grimacing. you turned to behind you, "bobby, could you-"

"already on it." bobby eyed you two before walking to the kitchen, and returning with a bowl of water and a rag.

sam rubs his forehead, addressing you and bobby, "he threw up on the way here once...but that was about fifteen minutes after the hunt. he's been ok since...just, dizzy, nauseous, and a bit confused."

"if he throws up again tonight, ya might wanna consider takin' him in." bobby exhales, "otherwise, seems like he's all in one piece." bobby deduced.

as sam and bobby conversed, you had moved to sit at the edge of the couch by dean's torso, while you gingerly cleaned his head up. he would mumble incoherently in the pillow when you got close to the opening of the cut, but risked moving himself carefully so you were within is sight. "where were you?" he rasped.

"i was here the whole time, i swear. you know where you are?" you looked to him with care, checking his battered memory.

he opened one eye for a moment before everything started to spin again, "bobby's."

"yeah. good... we're at bobby's." you nodded, and internally sighed of relief.

sam sank into the loveseat a couple feet away, keeping near in case things started to take a turn for the worse, but he was well aware he could leave him with you while he got some rest. you were more than capable of keeping watch over him, and tending to him. it was just for sam's own satisfaction to see that he was alright, after being a bit startled by the initial injury.

you finished with wiping down his hair, brushing your fingers through the dampened spots on his head before pulling your hand away. he moaned at the immediate absence of your touch.

"sorry, i'm done, i promise." you soothed as you set the rag and bowl away from the couch.

"no," dean grumbled, "felt good...yr'hand."

oh.

you hesitantly brought your hand back to his head, just barely brushing the fingertips through his disheveled hair, avoiding his wound. dean sighed heavily, the pained lines in his brows slowly returning back to their resting state.

a sweet tightness wrapped around your heart. you kept up with the motion for an hour or two, even though you knew after a couple of minutes he had already passed out. sam started to crash too, falling asleep in the chair with his head propped up by the heel of his hand.

bobby had treaded in from downstairs after a while, walking over to sam, patting him awake, basically demanding him to go to the guestroom to properly rest. when he walked over to you, he caught on to what you're doing, and shook his head with a slight smile. before he could comment, you defended yourself, "he asked me to do this."

"mhm. how long has he been 'sleep for?" bobby smirked.

you couldn't deny the care for the young man, "a while."

bobby nods his head to the stairs, "why don't you and i take shifts... you go get some hours in, and i'll wake him up in a few to make sure doofus here still remembers he's in love with you."

you reddened at his statement, gaping your mouth slightly at his bluntness, "bobby-"

"get some rest, kiddo. he'll be alright." bobby echoed, warmly.

you sighed, looking to dean one last time for the night. you tried to stand up, but felt a tug on your shirt, accompanied by a pitiful, "no."

dean had curled a fist into your shirt, keeping you sitting next to him, as he kept his eyes closed still. you could hardly tell if he was lucid. you exchanged glances with bobby, before shrugging it off, "i got him, bobby. just make my coffee strong in the morning."

bobby frustratingly teased you before starting back upstairs, "you kids..."

you turned your gaze back down to dean, still holding your shirt in his hand. bravely, you took his hand and unraveled it from the fabric and just held it. dean blinked his eyes open carefully, risking a tender glance at you, "hey," he attempted to smirk.

"hey, you." you casted him concerned smile. "how's your head?"

"mmm...still hurts." he whinged. he gave you a once over, "where's the nurse-maid outfit?"

you rolled your eyes, brushing a thumb against his hand in your grasp. "bobby's trying it on now."

he groaned into the pillow, this time less out of throbbing pain but out of disgust, "this is not the heaven i imagined."

you huffed a quiet laugh, watching him almost squirm uncomfortably at the thought. "yeah, well...you aren't dead yet, mister."

"coulda fooled me...i've got an angel in front of me." he flattered.

you shake your head, turning away from him, but not yet letting go of his hand. "you're delirious."

"this is the most 'with it' i've been all night." he counters, huskily.

and once again, you are left in a buzzed, romantic silence. you couldn’t even find it in you to look at him, otherwise you might’ve just professed your love for him. "you should rest."

dean's eyelids fall closed gently, "staying?"

by then you turn back to him, "i can."

"you should."

your lips turn upwards, as he peeked through one eye, waiting for a response. "i shall." and you felt a squeeze back in your hand.

-+-+-+-

and some days you do think to yourself, "god, is he ever going to tell me he loves me?" some days you wonder if this is all a big game, or test. but it occurs to you in moments like these, that it's exactly what he's doing. he just screamed "i love you" from the top of his lungs, and you heard it. it would mean nothing to a lot of people, but you understand, and it means the world and then some to you. and he got it right back. he understands, too.

-+-+-+-

tags: MOODBOARD BY @ash-muses , @chevroletdean & Supernatural Writer's Community

[alexrosa13]

Valentine's Favourites

Sylus x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warning: 2,4k words, overuse of the word kitten and allusions to cat like behavior

Note: fanfiction for my Valentine's Event

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

← how are Luke & Kieran doing ★ continuation of the evening →

~★~

Any day spent with Sylus was worth remembering, anytime he felt like it he spoiled you with various gifts and dates, indulging every desire of yours. This time he decided to surprise you, how much will you like the gift he prepared for you...

Being kidnapped from your apartment by your boyfriend who didn't want to share any information about where you were going was not on your to-do-list but oh well, here we are.

It's not that you didn't trust him, it was the fact that you were dying to know what came over him to pull a stunt like this, and he refused to acknowledge your questions.

The audacity of that man? But alright, you can try to act like it didn't bother you, looking out of the window of his luxurious car you tried your best to recognize your surroundings, but it seems that he was taking you to a totally unfamiliar place.

"When will you end my torment?" once again you turned your head his way to stare into his very soul, but he didn't act bothered in the slightest, sly smirk tugged on his lips, he didn't even spare a glance your way.

"Soon, sweetie, I promise, you need to be a little more patient than that." his teasing voice made you want to both: kiss him and strangle him. With a loud sigh you turned your attention back to the outside world, the trees passing fast before your eyes made you feel dizzy.

You closed your eyes, promising to open them in a moment, but then a moment became a minute, then two, then fifteen...

Quiet music coming from the speakers soothed you to sleep.

Sylus couldn't help but smile at the sight, his love, cuddled up in her seat, looking so vulnerable and calm, in contrast to her usual storm-like fierce character.

Well, she had the guts to take over the Onychinus one day if needed. But he wouldn't leave her to take care of such a responsibility, of course. The hard and dirty work shall be his, so she can enjoy herself in the world without worries.

Without counting the worries she felt because of his stubborn actions, but that's a story for another day.

Seeing your body starting to lean a little forward, he used his evol to make sure you won't hurt yourself if your head was to drop and hit something. Seeing you all comfy and safe once again he returned his full attention (99% of it) to the road.

He enjoyed your curious questions and bold but empty threats thrown his way. His favourite one was when you said you'll hang him like a pinãta and let the twins have some fun, how did you even come up with that?

He couldn't help but wonder what your reaction for his surprise will be. Will you be happy? Or disappointment? Will you shed some tears of joy or maybe call him a lunatic for driving you to nowhere just to ask one question.

The only thing that matters is your reaction and answer. Hopefully, you won't get disappointed.

It was around two hours later when you arrived at the destination.

"It's time to wake up kitten." his voice and him gently shaking your body woke you up, your eyes slowly opened, like in haze you stared at him while he tried to bring you to a fully conscious state.

"What..." your sleepy voice made him chuckle a little, he saw you closing your eyes again. Yeah, cats needed their sleep more than anything, right?

"Sweetie, we arrived." he kissed your head gently, your eyes opened once again, still looking tired after your nap.

He caressed your thigh for a moment before leaving the car to go and open your door. The moment he got to your side and crouched down you pulled him into a hug. Instantly his arms pulled you closer to him, making sure to keep your posture comfortable, and not let you lean too much down.

After half a minute or so, he gently moved you to sit back, which made you let out a quiet groan of disappointment at his warmth disappearing from you. He reached out for your shoes that you took off before your nap, carefully taking your ankle in his hands, moving it to rest on his thigh and putting your shoe on for you, giving your calf a kiss before following the same steps with your other leg.

After he was done he looked up, noticing your eyes closed again. A smirk tugged on his lips while he shook his head at your attics, before standing up and picking you up from your seat.

You didn't even flinch, already used to him carrying you whenever he finds the occasion to do so.

Closing the car doors with his leg and clicking the button on his keys to lock the vehicle, he started walking with you in his hold, your hands gripped his shirt like a kitten afraid to fall. Your eyes stayed closed, trusting him completely with your well-being. Your relaxed features made his expression soften, his precious kitten all comfortable in his arms.

The sun started shining a little brighter, irritating your eyes even with your eyelids shut closed, you hid your face in his chest, your arms wrapping around him tightly. He laughed at your behaviour once more.

The same woman who acted all cold and harsh with him the first few months he knew you, now completely trusting him to keep you safe. Your relationship started on rocks, but you managed to build a castle from the rumbles. And he couldn't be happier.

A couple minutes later he finally reached the place he wanted to show you.

"Sweetie... Open your eyes." slowly you followed his instructions. Meeting his eyes above you, the warm light making his features look more gentle than usual.

Slowly he puts you on your feet, your eyes never leaving each other. You stood up on the rocky path still hugging his side.

"Look." he whispered, his eyes turning to look at something ahead of you. You turned your head around, your eyes catching the grassy field full of white flowers. You tried to tell what kind of flowers they were, but you stood too far away from them "Those are datura flowers." he answered your silent question.

"Datura?" you peeked at his face above yours, him still holding you in the back hug "Aren't those like super poisonous?"

"They are." he kissed your head, unbothered.

"Why did you take me here?" you tried to search your mind for any memories that could somehow be connected to those flowers, but your thoughts were blank.

"There's a legend about those flowers, but it's a tale for another day. They just have a symbolism that matters to me." he pulled some strayed strands of hair behind your ear "I didn't just take you here to stare at the flowers."

"You didn't? Then what for?" you looked at him, your full attention dedicated to him.

"There's another place here that I want to show you." he took your hand in his, pulling you to walk after him.

"How did you even find this place? We're two or three hours away from Linkon, we'll be coming back in the middle of the night." he only chuckled at your question.

"Who said something about coming back tonight?" you looked at him stunned, but he didn't even glance your way.

"What do you mean?" you questioned again.

"I own a house not too far from here." you scoffed at his words.

"Pff of course you do." you continued your walk side by side, you tried to guess where he wanted to take you, but everything around you looked the same, no matter how many meters you walked.

After maybe twenty or so minutes you complained about him taking you to nowhere and making you move around too much when you just wanted to chill in your home. The only thing he said was 'be patient sweetie' just like before in the car.

Soon the sun started to hide behind the horizon, you couldn't help but gaze at the breathtaking sight before you, not noticing how your lover's attentive eyes were watching you, taking in the view of your beautiful face coated with warm orange light.

Too taken by the scene in the sky, you didn't see when you walked up to the place he wanted to show you all along.

You felt him coming to stop, your head instantly turned his way, asking a silent question. He only looked at you, with one corner of his mouth raised.

Confused you started to look around, the sight before you made your eyes widen.

A huge, red tree met your eye. Something about it making you feel like under a spell. In a daze you stared as the leaves swayed slowly with the wind, there were some lights hung on the branches, hidden behind the layer of leaves.

Your daydream got interrupted by Sylus's voice.

"Come back to me sweetie." you turned your head towards him, looking at him, waiting for explanation. Why did he take you here? "This place is also a part of the local legends. I guess you could also say that it has a... personal meaning to me." he looked at nature's creation.

"Personal meaning? May I ask why is that?" you observed his face, his expression not giving you any clue.

"A couple of years ago, that very tree was dying, locals tried their best to save it, but their efforts were not enough to help with its withering state. I paid it no mind at first, until I heard a legend surrounding that tree. It's said that a dragon lived in this village centuries ago, ruling the lands for many years, until..." his eyes turned to you "He sacrificed himself for his lover."

"Why did he have to sacrifice himself for love..." you asked, your tone gentle, Sylus started to look vulnerable, his gaze turned even softer.

"I don't know, there are many tales explaining that, some claim that his lover was the one who killed him, their greed for his richest becoming stronger than their love, some say that people rebelled against him, and he had to sacrifice himself for his lover to run away, others believe that he had to kill himself or else he would have to hurt his lover." your face took a rather sad expression.

"Which one do you believe is true?" his head lowered to kiss your forehead, soft smile gracing his lips.

"If I had to guess." he stopped to think for a moment "None of them." you looked at him confused, he couldn't help but chuckle at your expression "None of them ever made enough sense for me to believe them."

"Does everything need to make sense?" you crooked a smile, looking at him with something hiding in your gaze.

"No." he turned to look at the tree before you.

"What's the real reason you took me here?" you read through him once again.

"When I came here for the first time, this tree was almost dead, but it still clung to the last string connecting it to life, not letting itself leave this world." it reminded me of myself, the last string connecting me to this world being you "I decided to help it and a couple months later it grew larger, healthy and strong. I couldn't help but come back to this place every once in a while, something about it brought me a sense of peace." something only you were really able to achieve.

"It is peaceful here, unlike your usual environment." you giggled, hiding your head in his chest.

"Don't tell me you don't enjoy the thrill in our life sweetheart." our? "I brought you here because I wanted to show you more... Peaceful piece of my life. Something that you deserve more than the usual routine of the N109 Zone."

"I enjoy my days in the N109 Zone, I wouldn't change a thing." you nuzzled you head into his torso, earning yourself a quiet laugh from the man.

"I know sweetheart, seeing you happy in my home makes my heart fill with joy every time." gently he touched your chin, making you raise your head and meet his gaze "That's also part of the reason why I came out with a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" you were confused, what could he possibly talk about?

"Move in with me permanently." your brows raised in shock, was he actually asking you that? But you already talked about it..

"But... We said that we'll do that once we'll be ready to get married and stuff..." you let out a nervous giggle. Of course you wanted to agree, but you thought that it was still too early for him?

To your shock you saw him leaning down.

"What are you doing-" don't panic, don't panic, DON'T PANIC.

He kneeled before you, your palm still resting in his, you felt your heart beating two times faster than normally.

"Marry me." his voice didn't falter, his gaze confident. You wanted to faint on the spot.

"You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Kitten, I'm not."

"Sylus I..." his free hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a red velvet box.

You watched as he swiftly opened it, your eyes falling onto the ring probably worth more than your apartment.

"So? What's your answer?" you saw how his eyes seemed to lighten up every time you looked at them, you couldn't help but think about how he looked like a cat, pretending that he found himself in the same room with his owner totally by accident.

Your eyes left the jewelry, now looking straight into his eyes. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Sylus..." you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The man of your life, the one who treated you like you deserved the world, who saw you at your worst and still reminded you how beautiful you were to him, was proposing to you "Of course I'll marry you."

He smiled, not his usual cocky grin, but a genuine smile. Gently he put the ring onto your finger, the gem adoring your hand perfectly.

He stood up, taking your face into his palms, your hands went up to his elbows.

He watched your glassy eyes shine, felt your happiness like it was his own, and maybe - it was.

His head dipped down to plant a kiss on your lips, deepening it almost instantly, sharing his feelings with you.

He absolutely adores you, and he'll continue to, through every life and story.

[himbo-kuto]

spoilers! this is based of caleb’s story line in abyssal chaos, some dialogue from the game is included.

wavering heart - love and deepspace (if you go into the lads soundtrack playlist, every song after wavering heart also hurts while reading this! :D)

“cut the shit caleb.”

the inkling suspicions that you’ve been having this whole mission have finally bubbled over as you watched him meticulously tap away at the control room’s computer. his expression remained calm as he continued to pull up a bunch of files. 

“are you here as caleb? or as the farspace fleet colonel who must carry out a mission?”

“what do you mean?” he responded, turning his attention toward you. you squinted your eyes in disbelief. there was no way he was trying to play innocent with you right now.

“what do i mean? do you want me to list off every single weird instance that’s happened today?” his expression was neutral, but you could tell that his jaw was clenched. you held up your hand, holding your pinky to begin counting them off.

“first off, that badge you had when you searched the closet that you said you “put there yourself–”

“i wasn’t lying to you–”

“that’s not the fucking point, caleb!” he immediately shut his mouth, surprised by how you were speaking to him. your jaw clenched as you attempted to take in a deep breath to calm down. this man who you claimed to know your whole life felt like a complete stranger inthis moment…maybe you never really knew him at all. 

“you 'luckily' found this elevator down to this basement, you led me into this control room and had the key to it.” you started to spiral. all the thoughts that you pushed aside were now coming to the forefront, and they were all screaming at you. he didn’t join you on this mission as a friend who was worried about you, he joined you as colonel caleb. he knew that you were going on this mission and did his research beforehand. the layout, the offices, the keys, the guard– he was already 10 steps ahead of you and he just played along with your antics. 

you felt your throat beginning to close and the tears stinging the corners of your eyes as the confusion began to take over. you opened your mouth to speak but the words refused to come out. caleb was watching you the whole time and while yes, this was his agenda the whole time, he never took into account that you would find out. he reached out to you but you backed away from him, lightly knocking his arm away.

“please caleb…” your words could barely be heard over the whirring of the computers in the room. he wanted to be swallowed whole. he’s seen you look at other people this way, but never at him. a look of pure confusion and hurt, all on his part. he put out his arms with caution, trying to explain himself.

“my goal has always been the same as yours: to bring peace to this place.”

“yes caleb, but at what expense? going behind my back? lying to me and telling me that you were worried about me–”

“i've never lied about being worried about you.” he was firm in this statement. it may have seemed like something he said in the moment, but caleb was always genuinely worried about you and your safety. 

“caleb.” you took a step towards him, lightly taking his hands. you felt defeated.

“i’m a hunter. this is my job, this is what i do for a living. i choose to do this, willingly.” he got dangerously close to your face as he looked you right in the eye with a solemn expression.

“and it kills me everyday knowing that you did.” you felt your heart sink to your stomach as he backed away from you. he placed his hands on the desk with his head down, trying to control his erratic breathing.

“i can’t protect you like i promised.” 

it’s like the ground was falling from underneath you. caleb was perpetually proud of you and your accomplishments, but it all made sense now. he was always apprehensive about you becoming a hunter, but he pushed it down knowing that’s what you wanted to do with your life. whenever he saw you in your hunter uniform, there was always a tinge of something in his eye that you couldn’t put your finger on. now you know that tinge was his anguish. 

“...and what if i don’t need protection anymore?” a single laugh choked out of caleb’s lips. he felt crazy. he was confident that he was someone that you could rely on and if he didn’t have that, then what did he have? he couldn’t look at you, knowing that you had that expression on your face, but he wanted to see you– he always did. he turned to you, leaning his weight on the desk as he didn’t trust his legs to move. 

“then there was no point in me coming back.” 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 71 ~ Version 2

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,650ish

Summary: You take the cure and deal with the consequences.

Notes: Please send in reactions! Can't believe we're here. At the end. I am literally sobbing. I don't think I can handle this. I've never loved a series like I have this one before. HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE. (new link!)

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Are you sure?” Logan asked. He didn’t want to risk it, but watching you die this way was breaking him.

“I’m exhausted, Lo,” you rasped. “And Laura’s right. I need to at least try.”

You coughed, ash pouring from your mouth and into the water that you were sitting in. Laura held you up and you slipped further into the water. She couldn’t have you drowning before the cure was in you.

“Is there anything we need to know before she takes the cure?” Logan asked Wade.

“No,” Wade shook his head. “They said if she takes it, it should activate her phoenix ability and she should be good as new.”

“I want my bed,” you rasped. “I’m not dying in this pool.”

“I’ll grab a towel,” Laura said, rushing away.

Wade and Logan helped you to your feet before Laura showed up with a few towels. She quickly dried your freezing body with one before wrapping you up in two others. Logan scooped you up into his arms and carried you to your bedroom. Wade and Laura followed. Laura quickly came around to the other side of your bed and held you.

“I need you all to know how grateful I am for you,” you start, knowing that this could very well be the end. “I don’t know where I would be without you in my life.”

“Sad and depressed, my Little Flame. I am your sole provider of happiness,” Wade joked, only to be growled at by Logan. 

You huffed out a laugh. “I owe you a lot, Wade. For finding this cure and for saving Laura and I. Not to mention, bringing Logan into our lives.”

“You can repay me by getting better, Buttercup.”

“I’ll try.” You turned your attention to Laura. “Thank you for being the best daughter.”

Laura shook her head, tears trickling down her cheeks. “No, I had the best mother. You didn’t have to take me in and yet you did. I owe you everything.”

“If this doesn’t work, continue being better than you were made to be.”

“I will, mom, I promise.”

You gave her forehead a light kiss. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you more, mom.”

“Impossible,” you smiled. You finally turned your attention to Logan, who was staring at you with glossy eyes. You reached over and took his hand. “Lo… It’s all going to be okay, no matter what happens.”

He sat down on the bed and gripped your hand a little tighter. “I can’t–  I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes you can, babe. Because this time, no matter what happens, you are not alone. Without me, you still have Wade and Laura. You need them just as they need you. You can’t walk away.”

“Darlin’--”

“No, Logan. You promise me that you won’t walk away. Not from them. Not from your family.”

“I promise, doll.”

“Good.”

“I need you to know that I never thought that I’d love again until I found you.”

“I feel the same… I love you, Lo.”

Logan leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours. He didn’t care who all was in the room, he needed to kiss you. “I love you, too, baby. So much.”

“You all stay together, okay?” You looked around the room at your small found family. “You stick together.”

“Can do, Buttercup,” Wade said. “Anything for our Little Flame.”

“And the cure… it will set off my phoenix ability?”

“That’s what they said.”

“So… it will kill me?”

Wade sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay… let’s get this over with.”

Logan pulled the cure from his pocket and opened it up for you. You noticed how his hand was shaking as he offered it to you. You took it in your weak hand and took a deep breath before throwing the liquid back like a shot. The burning sensation quickly escalated inside of you, causing you to be thrown into a coughing fit. Laura tried to steady you but as soon as her hands hit your skin, they shot off at how hot you were. In the time that Laura had known you, you had never been that hot. The bedding around you began to burn as you screamed out in pain. 

Wade yanked Laura away from you to protect her. Logan stumbled back as the flames grew, completely surrounding you. His heart was breaking at your screams, forcing the tears from his eyes. His claws slipped out of his knuckles as he fought to keep himself from going to you. He couldn’t risk it if this cure was going to work. Logan’s eyes clenched shut as you took a dramatic inhale and completely went limp on the bed.

“Mom!” Laura couldn’t help but cry out, Wade keeping her back. 

The flames grew in temperature and intensity. Wade dragged Laura around the bed and to the door. You were fully covered in flames now, unable to be seen by the others. Logan moved in front of Wade and Laura, to shield them from the flames and the sight. The flames grew a bit bigger for a brief second before completely disappearing, revealing your ashes in their place.

“Mom,” Laura sobbed. Wade turned her around and held her tightly.

Tears streamed down Logan’s face as he stared at the pile of ashes that replaced you. He stepped forward only for Wade’s arm to snap out to stop him.

“You can’t,” Wade said, voice cracking. “If her ashes are disturbed, there’s no hope for her returning.”

Logan’s stomach sank. He hated this. He didn’t know enough about this ability of yours that made you so different from the other you’s across the multiverse. And the more Logan learned about it, the more he actually began to hate it. But it was now the only hope they had in you returning. So he would make sure nothing prevented that from happening.

~~~

No one was allowed in your room. Logan had locked it. Laura hid away in her room, crying out for you. It was breaking Wade and Logan further to hear that. Wade was trying his best to help her, but Laura was pushing him away. She had begun to refuse to eat until you returned. Logan wasn’t happy about it, though he was only keeping down alcohol at this point and trying not to walk away from it all.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Wade sighed as he slumped into the seat next to Logan at the table. “I’ve tried everything, but Laura won’t eat.”

“It’s been five days,” Logan muttered. “She’s gotta eat something.”

“Yeah, well, so do you.”

“I’m fine.”

Wade scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Logan huffed, pushing himself up and shuffling to Laura’s room.

Logan opened the door and slipped into Laura’s dark room. She was curled up in bed, clutching the dog tags and wearing her old purple sunglasses. Logan shut the door behind him and leaned against the door. He stayed there, silent, as he mulled over what to say.

“I’ve seen her go to flames before,” Laura rasped, breaking the tense silence. “I was so scared… My dad grabbed me and held me back from reaching her. He promised that she would come back and that we just had to wait… Thinking back on it, I’m sure he was saying that more for himself than for me… He would have never been able to live without her… I don’t know if I can.”

“Yeah… me either, kid,” murmured Logan.

“What if she never comes back?”

“Then, I guess, we try to move on.”

Laura turned to face him. “Do you think we can do that?”

Logan sighed. “I really don’t know, kid… But what I do know is that you need to eat.”

“I don’t want to be in a world without her in it.”

Logan understood the feeling. “She wouldn’t want you to suffer like this… Let Wade get you something to eat, okay? Anything. You just need a few bites.”

“Fine…”

Logan pushed himself off of the door and went over to Laura. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head. “We need to stick together, kid. No matter how hard it is… I’ll let Wade know that you’ll eat something. Let me know if you need anything. I’m here for you.”

Logan had to take care of Laura now. She no longer had either of her parents, having watched both go through a similar fate. He would stay for her. He would try, no matter how hard, for your kid. 

~~~

Later that night, Logan let the urge to go into your room win him over and he slipped in when he was sure Laura and Wade were asleep. He collapsed onto his knees on the floor next to the bed.

“Baby…” 

Logan breath shuttered as he breathed in the word. It was a desperate plea in a single word. What his heart longed to say, but couldn’t find the strength to get out. Logan wanted—needed you back. He honestly didn’t know how he, Wade, and Laura were going to make it without you. He had barely known you a year and you had completely turned his world upside down.

Sobs began to tumble out of Logan, causing the man to tremble. He just wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss you one last time. How was he expected to continue in this universe that he didn’t belong in without you? Logan finally felt at home with you, like he belonged, and you were taken from him all too soon. Was he destined to lose every version of you he came across? Was he truly the worst version of The Wolverine? The one who could never keep you--Ember-- safe and happy. He was slipping back into truly believing that he was the worst version of him— in all of the multiverse.

“I’m sorry I failed you,” he sobbed. “I’ll do anything you want… Just come back to us— me, please… I can't take the heartbreak, my love.”

Logan’s head fell into his hands as he curled up and broke into even more heartbreaking sobs. His sobs were the first thing you heard as you gasped back to life. The ashes fell around your body as you sat up, naked and no longer covered in scars. Your eyes fell to the large seemingly indestructible man curled up on your floor, piercing your heart with his sobs. You reached down and lightly touched his arm. His breath hitched as he snapped up, eyes wide and swollen.

“Y/N?” He gasped, taking in the sight of you smiling at him. You no longer had any scars on your skin. You looked healthier and even a bit younger than he’d ever known you to be.

“Hey, Lo,” you whispered.

Logan lunged forward and wrapped his arms around you. You failed to suppress the giggle that bubbled up as he buried his head into your neck. You knew that this was no laughing matter, but you were just relieved to be alive and being held by the man you love.

“You’re here…” He mumbled against your skin. “You're alive… I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Lo,” you told him softly as your hands came up to card through his hair. 

You pressed a kiss to his head as he continued to hold you tightly and mutter things against your skin. Neither of you knew how long you two stayed like that until Logan finally pulled back enough to give you a kiss. You gave him full control, knowing that he was clearly needing to know that you were alive and okay. This was his first time experiencing your phoenix ability and you knew that it wasn’t easy.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” he begged. “I can’t handle it… I can’t continue on without you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, holding him close. “I’m so sorry… I’m here, babe… I’m right here.”

~~~

Logan couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He couldn’t get enough of feeling your warm skin under his rough hands and the feel of your regular heartbeat. He helped you slip into a cozy outfit before leading you to Laura’s room. He knew that he should have given you and Laura your privacy, but he couldn’t let you out of his sight and grasp. His hands remained loosely on your hips and you approached the sleeping young adult. 

“Hey, kiddo,” you whispered.

“Mom?” Laura rasped, waking up.

“Yes, sweetie, it’s me.”

“This isn’t some dream?”

“You’re not alone in that thinking, kid,” Logan chimed in.

“I have something for you,” you smiled. 

Taking a deep breath, you lifted one of your hands, palm up, and formed a flame. Tears sprang to your and Laura’s eyes at the sight. It had been all too long since you had done this, especially without pain. Logan’s hands gripped your waist tighter with nerves at the urge to stop you, though he had never seen you be able to make a flame like that. Laura grinned as she stared at the bright, flickering flame in your palm. When you finally let the flame out, Logan reached over and grabbed your hand, checking for any burns or scars.

“I’m okay, Lo,” you smiled up at him. “I promise.”

He still looked at your palm with a hesitancy that proved he wasn’t fully believing that this was all real. That you were alive and okay with your full strength back, which he had never be able to witness. But you understood that it would take some time for him to adjust. Laura broke the moment when she hugged you and you quickly hugged back.

“I love you so much, mom,” she whispered, growing emotional.

“I love you more, kiddo,” you replied. “So much more.”

~~~

Wade was asleep on the couch in the living room. You immediately knew how to wake him. With the slightest movement of your fingers, you lit Wade on fire. He yelped as he shot up from the couch. As quickly as he was on fire, the flames died out.

“What the fu—Buttercup!” He tugged you from Logan’s grip in a crushing hug that made you laugh. “Oh, how glad I am to see you again! It was getting depressing around here. I even had a dream where Peanut killed you because the cure required it and you never returned. Talk about a mood killer. But it gives me some good inspiration for my next fic!”

“Well, let me know when you’ve finished it and I’d love to read it,” you told him, pulling away.

“Really?! Oh goodie!” He clapped excitedly. “Wait a second!” He looked down at his singed clothes. “You have your powers back! I need to see everything! Can you go up in flames like Johnny or fly? What if we—“

“No,” Logan growled, pulling you back into his chest.

“I’m fine, babe,” you tried to explain, but it was clearly falling on deaf ears.

“No,” he repeated more firmly as his grip around your waist tightened. “You need to rest.”

You cranked your head around to look at him. “But I’ve been—“

“No more powers.”

You could see that he was terrified as you studied his eyes. It was clearly going to take a lot longer than you were initially thinking for Logan to get the hang of you being healthy.

“Okay,” you shot him a smile. “No more powers.” You turned back to Wade. “Sorry, Wade, maybe another time.”

“Why do you got to be a party pooper, Peanut?” Wade teased.

“This isn’t funny,” Logan snapped. “This is her life.”

“Okay, okay,” you broke in calmly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to do anything. I think it’s clear that the three of you need some rest. Why don't we plan to have lunch together tomorrow and everyone goes to get some sleep?”

“I think that’s a great idea, mom,” Laura spoke up, trying to help ease the tension that Logan was causing.

“Fine,” Wade huffed. “Guess I’ll go and make a list of things I want to see our Little Flame do when Mama Bear will let her.”

“Goodnight, Wade,” you told him with a smile.

He leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Goodnight, Buttercup. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Well, we do owe that to you. Thank you for finding the cure.”

“Anything for my favorite hero.” Then he skipped out of the apartment.

Laura pressed a kiss to your other cheek. “I’m heading to bed,” she told you. “Goodnight mom. Night Logan.”

“Night, kiddo,” you responded as Logan let out a grunt.

Laura gave your arm a light squeeze before she slipped into her room. You leaned back into Logan and let yourself just focus on being held by him. His head rested against yours.

“Do you want to go to bed, Lo?” You quietly questioned.

“I just want to hold you,” he mumbled.

“Then we should go change the sheets so we can lay down.”

“Too much work.”

“Then what do you want to do, babe?” 

Logan scooped you up, causing you to squeal, and carried you over to the couch. He laid you down and placed you on top of him. Logan then reached over and pulled a blanket over the two of you before wrapping his arms around you to secure you to him.

“You okay?” You whispered, pressing a kiss under his chin.

“I will be,” he replied. “Just got to remember this isn’t a dream.”

“We’ll get there, Lo. Together.”

~~~

You refrained from using your powers too much for weeks while Logan got used to you being healthy. When he wasn’t at work, Logan’s hands were still all over you. You didn’t mind it. The touch was grounding to you as it was to him. At this point, he had basically moved in, which you didn’t mind. But you could tell that it was weighing on Laura.

“Mom? Can we talk?” She wondered one day while you were getting ready to make dinner.

“Of course, kiddo,” you turned, giving her your undivided attention. “What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m going to move out.”

“What?”

“I made some friends and they have an empty room in the apartment. They asked if I wanted it.”

“And is this the only reason why you want to move out?”

“I just think it’s time and that you and Logan need some space too.”

“Are you sure this is what you want? I will support you in whatever you decide, I just want to make sure that you don’t feel like you have to go.”

“I know and I don’t. I’m just trying to take the next step.”

You pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you and you will always have a room here.”

“Thanks, mom. I love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

~~~

Logan came home from work to you making dinner with soft music playing in the apartment. A soft smile formed on his face as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. He pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Hey, Lo,” you greeted. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” he answered. “How was here?”

“Laura’s moving out.”

You felt him tense. “What? Why?”

“She said it was time. A few friends have a room and asked her if she wanted it.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Bittersweet… I’m proud of her for wanting to take this next step but I don’t want my daughter gone.”

“She’ll be back. You guys can’t be parted for long.”

“You’re right.”

The two of you fell quiet as you continued to work. Logan began swaying the two of you to the music, pressing light kissed to your neck and face. Eventually, he tugged you away from your work and began leading you in a circle in the middle of the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You giggled.

“Dancin’ with my girl,” he mumbled before stealing a kiss.

You melted into him before breaking the kiss and resting your head against his shoulder. The two of you moved in a slow circle until the song was over. Then Logan got to helping you with dinner.

~~~

Once Laura moved out, your wardrobe changed and Logan noticed instantly.

“Are you only wearing my flannel?” Logan questioned one night after work.

You shrugged. “It’s comfy and everything else is making me too hot,” you replied. “Plus it smells like you.”

“Oh, yeah,” he smirked.

“Do you like it on me?”

“I love it, baby.” He came over and tossed you over his shoulder. You laughed. “Let me take you to bed and show you just how much.”

~~~

As Logan got more comfortable with you having your full powers back, you began to tease him more with them. Between lighting and unlighting his cigars to setting his butt on fire for a brief moment. At first, it always caught him off guard and you could see the concern cross his features quickly. But, eventually, it began to cause Logan to smirk and chuckle and tease you back.

It was often when those teasing times led to sexy times. Which led you to where you were currently, naked and cuddled in bed.

“You’re so warm,” Logan commented softly, hands gently moving over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “Am I over heating? I’m still getting use to it all again. I can—“

“No, no, no. Please don’t change anything, baby. It’s just… you were so cold.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“I’m so grateful that you are okay.”

“Me too.”

“I’m still struggling to believe it.”

“That’s okay.” You leaned forward and kissed the shaved part of his chin. “I’m here… you’re here… I’m alive… We’re okay.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you more, Lo.”

“Impossible, darlin’. Completely impossible."

~~~~

Notes: So, here we are my darlings. The final chapter in this series. Thank you for going on this journey with me. This series was so much fun to write and it was all because of how it was interacted with. I couldn't have made this series what it is without you. This series has been the fastest series that I have ever put out. Thank you so much and I hope you stick around to see what's to come. ALSO, there are a few more Everyday Moments one-shots in the works. So we aren't finished seeing Y/N and OG!Hubby!Logan just yet!

[starriisarchives]

── ϧ𝑒 I DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOU

ᝰ.ᐟ jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader | duration 615

description jj comforts you after you wake up from a terrifying nightmare.

content sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ hurt ﾉ comfort ﾉ angsty ﾉ mention of jj getting shot ﾉ character death but not really.

thoughts ahhh, my first jj fanfic!! i’m always so happy to post a new fic. if you want to see more fics from me, you can always send some prompts in w your fave characters, prompt list is link down below!!

mlist 𝜗᭪ previous fic 𝜗᭪ prompts 𝜗᭪ based on this ask

Your heart shatters into pieces as you watch the light drain out of jj’s eyes, holding him close to you, tears spilling from your eyes, heavy sobs leaving your mouth. Wishing that this isn’t real, that he’s going to open his eyes at any moment, saying it's a prank but it never happens as his eyes close and he takes his last breath. “JJ…no no please don’t leave me…!” you scream, hugging him tighter than ever, never wanting to let him go. 

The plan was to come to Morocco for some answers, it isn’t supposed to end up with you clutching your boyfriend to dear end, watching him die in front of you and you couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

Your head hurts from all the crying but you couldn’t seem to calm down, no matter the others trying to get your attention, your eyes stay glued to jj’s lifeless body. All the memories you spent together flashing in your mind; to your first date to your anniversary date where he went out of his way to impress you, knowing that this is the end of your life together.

You wish for a second chance to spend a little more time with him, you always picture a future with him, this wasn’t part of the plan. You didn’t know how you’re going to move past this, what are you supposed to do if you couldn’t see his loving laugh one last time? Who would you run to for whenever you needed to just vent?

He's your safe space and forever will be. “JJ… please I’m begging you to please come back!” you sob, forgetting to breathe, feeling nothing but pain and agony when he doesn’t do what you ask. A blood curdling scream exits your mouth as you continuously shake his body. 

Your eyes snap open letting out a big gasp, tears leaving your eyes, your heart pounding as you look up into jj’s blue eyes. “Baby you’re okay, breathe for me,” he speaks as he watches you inhale and exhale. “Good, keep breathing just like that. Nice and slow, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I…I had a dream that you… died after getting…shot,” you stutter, tears falling down your cheek, his hand cupping your face as his thumbs wipe away the fallen tears, placing your hand on top of his, gripping it tight. 

“You were gone…and I couldn’t do anything to stop it or bring you back. It was like a nightmare I couldn’t escape,” you let go a breath you didn’t know you’re holding, more tears falling down. “Shhh baby…Whatever you saw in there isn't real. I'm real, okay? I'm here.” JJ says, his voice calm as he pulls you closer in his embrace, you place your ear on top of his heart, hearing it beat is what helps soothe you. 

“I…I just don’t want to lose you.” you sniff. “You won’t because I’m not going anywhere,” jj reassures you, rubbing softly up and down on your back. “You promise?” 

“I promise baby.” he kisses your head, breathing in your lovely scent. “How about I make you some hot chocolate while you pick a movie?” he asks as you pull away to look into his eyes. “Can I come with you?” you question and he just nods softly, placing a kiss on your forehead.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, you’re in relief that it was just a nightmare, happy to still be able to breathe in his scent, happy that you get to receive his forehead kisses that you love so much. With how strong your love is with JJ, there’s nothing that can separate him from you.

comments (if you want to be tagged in obx fics, click here) @cherriespopsicle, @anamiad00msday, @ren-ni.

thank you for watching! © starriisarchives 2025. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, repost or translate.

[bellysoupset]

Oooh maybe some house moving planning with Bella and Luke where she thinks she's nervous about the move but actually she's sick from something she ate?

this was supposed to be a mini fic 😭

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

"Come here," Lucas grabbed Bella's wrist, pulling her close and throwing his trench coat around her shoulders, forcing her arms into the arm holes, "there you go..."

"Happy?" Bella pouted, as he tied the belt by her waist, synching it in, "have you sufficiently babied me for the day?"

"Just barely," Luke opened a smile at her frustrated question, grabbing the belt loops of his trench-coat and pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to his wife's curls, "this is me being measured."

The ginger let out a scoff, rolling her eyes, but wrapped an arm around Lucas' waist and waddled with him on the side walk of Welton street. After yesterday... They had barely talked about it, it was too fresh and Bella wasn't any good with the big emotions. All they had done after coming back from the hospital was cuddle in bed, Luke petting her hair as she intermittently cried, shedding a couple tears himself, then they had pushed the matters aside and focused on the house.

Their offer had gone through, the news came during lunch, much to their chagrin. Such weird timing. By dinner Lucas had hoovered uneasily at the bathroom doorway, clearly filled with questions, until Bella had angrily waved him off.

There wasn't much to be talked about, she had decided. They were on the same page, about starting a family, about not wanting a pregnancy now, but one in the future. It was tragic and she was sad and that was it, end of story.

"Hey," Luke nibbled at her ear, "we should shop for our dining room," he gestured to the furniture store and Bella let out a huff, hiding a smile against his shoulder.

"Because we throw so many dinner parties," she said sardonically, "and I cook so well."

"Can you think of a better place to learn than in our ugly yellow kitchen?" Lucas grinned back at her, taking her hand and pulling her inside, "we'll do cooking classes together, baby."

Bella let out an offended noise, "the kitchen isn't ugly!"

"It's hideous," he pulled her further in, "a relic from the fifities."

"It's charming," she smiled as Luke wrapped her up in his arms and they continued to walk around the store. About halfway through of them walking, an attendant stepped forward to ask if they needed help.

She was in her mid thirties and all bright smiles, spine all straight as she looked over Bella's head at Lucas, since he called so much attention with his height.

Bell rolled her eyes as Luke mentioned them looking at dinner tables and got them roped into a full tour of the store. As they passed by the kitchen, though, she spotted cookies and her stomach growled loud enough that both Luke and the attendant heard.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me... Would you like some cookies?" The lady held up her tray and Bella took two for herself, then pushed two in Luke's hand, checking the woman's name tag. Sheila.

Sheila kept dragging them around for twenty more minutes and Bell was amazed on the woman's relentless attitude. Bravo for spotting the most gullible of all her clients, because if it was up to Lucas alone, they'd have taken half the store by now.

"No, I don't like that," Bella took Luke's cookie from his hand, before he could bring it up to his mouth and took a bite herself, "it's too... modern."

"She likes antiques, Victorian stuff," Lucas explained, passing Bella his last cookie and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "think vampire."

Bella rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, more busy devouring her snack than paying any attention to the employee trying to extort her husband. Luke had enough money to burn, if he wanted to buy those dumb armchairs, then so be it.

It was their house, after all, right?

"You didn't like a single thing?" Luke whined as they stepped out of the store, him now holding several papers that made him the proud owner of an ugly as hell armchair, a king sized bed that apparently was non-negotiable no matter what Bella thought about the size and a vintage inspired fridge that she had to admit was quite adorable.

"i liked the fridge," Bell shrugged, intertwining their fingers and guiding him away from the store, "and not that she was flirting with you, Mr. Atwood."

Lucas' opened a huge, smug smile, "she was not!"

"Uh-hum, whatever you say, Mr. Atwood," Bella mocked Sheila's drawl once again, giggling and leaning against his arm, "we gotta buy bubble wrap and boxes before going home. Tape too."

"Whatever you want, Mrs. Atwood," Luke mocked her right back, moving his arm so it was wrapped around her shoulders.

Three hours later they were sitting in the living room of their cramped little rental, boxes all around and trying to sort through the mess. For such a small place, it was surprising how much stuff they could fit in it.

"Here," Luke took the glasses from her hands, "let me bubble wrap it before you break it."

"I'm not an ogre, you know?" Bella pouted, but she didn't really fight him. There was a weird ache in the middle of her stomach and she wasn't sure if it was nerves, now that it all felt real, or something else.

Lucas seemed unbothered and that bothered her.

"Didn't you like this place at all?" Bella asked, fiddling with her pants. She hadn't changed out of her destroyed jeans and was now regretting it, wishing she was in sweatpants, "you seem so happy about moving out."

"I liked this place alright," he shrugged, confused, "I'm just excited about the new house, aren't you?"

Luke one, Bella zero, she thought bitterly. She squinted at him, undoing the buttons of her jeans and kicking them off with a frustrated groan. When he raised a quizzical eyebrow, Bell simply shrugged, "it was squeezing me... Of course I'm excited about the new place, I picked it, you're the one who hurled all over it."

He let out a chuckle at that, rolling his eyes, "just marking the territory, Bells," Lucas placed the glasses inside the box between his legs, "why are you pouting, baby?"

"I don't know," Bella winced, getting up from the ground and pacing the small space, crossing her arms, "I guess I- I'm just worried...?" her stomach squeezed at that and Bell took it as a sign. Yeah, worried was the right word.

"About the house deed?" Lucas frowned now, "if you don't want it to be in both our names, we can put it in just yours... Would it help...?" he sounded wounded and Bella flinched at the idea she was hurting him mere twenty hours after they had just gone through hell together.

"No, it's not that-" she felt clammy and claustrophobic, "it's not that, Luke, I just- I guess it's packing everything and moving and then there's- There's this whole situation-" she gestured at herself, causing Lucas to glare at her.

"Bella-"

"No, stop, before you go on with the it's not your fault speech, I'm not saying that, I just-" Bella fanned herself, feeling nauseous, "I think it's just so much and I don't feel prepared for this at all..."

"Hey," Luke got on his knees, crawling closer and grabbing her hands, "Bell, I know it's a lot, but we've been through worse before, right? We might not be the best adults out there, the smartest and most prepared, but we do alright."

Bella let out a watery chuckle, wrapping an arm around her stomach as a whole new wave of nausea caused her to get covered with cold sweat, "we do alright..." she agreed, planting her hands on her knees and breathing out slowly, until her heart calmed down and her racing thoughts stopped.

Luke was still watching her and he opened a bright smile as she raised her thumbs up and kissed the top of his head, "we're good enough at this, right?"

"Yep," he tilted his head back so she could kiss him upside down, "sit down, you look ready to topple over, Bell."

Instead of helping, at all, with the wrapping of the glasses, Bella sat on the couch for another ten minutes, before deciding she what she really needed was a shower.

immediately Luke's head snapped up and she couldn't help but think of those puppies who cried when separated by a door, "I'm fine," she stressed, although that wasn't exactly true. Her panic had lessened considerably, but the clammy sensation had fully morphed into nausea, "I'm going to take a shower and head to bed, I'm tired."

"I'm just gonna finish up here," he reached up without moving from the ground, squeezing her hand, "don't lock the bathroom door."

"Aye, captain," she rolled her eyes, squeezing his hand back and walking the short distance to the bathroom. Once inside, Bella braced against the sink, pointedly avoiding looking at the toilet.

At least one good thing about everything happening at once, they'd be out of this place soon and she would have no bad memories to avoid in the new house.

Her stomach gurgled, unhappily, and Bella splashed some cold water on her face and her nape, grabbing her long hair and wrapping it around itself on a knot on the base of her neck. A soft burp rolled up, followed by another and another... She spat some acid in the sink and let out a groan, tasting the cookies all over again.

Bella lowered her forehead to the granite of the sink, wrapping an arm around her stomach and taking slow, measured breaths. There was no way she had gotten food poisoning from four measly cookies...

"We need wine glass- Bell!?" Luke had entered the bathroom without knocking and she could hear his panic loud and clear at finding her folded in the middle like that, "baby, baby, baby, what is it?!"

"Shhhh-" Bella groaned, wincing as he touched her face and forced her to straighten up, "I'm fine-"

"You're pale as hell. What's wrong?" Luke was the one to talk, considered he had gone from his normal creamy color straight into bunny-white, "sit down, baby-" he pushed her on the closed toilet and Bella rolled her eyes, pushing his hands off her arm.

"I think the cookies didn't sit well, that's all," she groaned, glaring at him as Luke crouched down between her legs, extremely worried, "stop looking at me like that, Lucas."

"Sorry, I- Cookies? What cookies-"

"From the store?" she grimaced and pressed a fist to her mouth, muffling another wet belch, "they're not sitting well..."

"Jesus Christ, Isabella," he let out a relieved sigh, lowering his head all the way to her lap, "you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Her stomach churned, sending up a splash of acidic sludge and Bella swallowed it, shuddering, "and I'm gonna puke on your hair if you don't move," she warned, her words sticking together and tugging lightly on Luke's hair.

He let out a little hysterical chuckle, pulling back and then jumping as he realized how serious she was when Bella gagged and squeezed her hand over her lips, whole body convulsing.

"Oh shit, okay-" he moved out of the way so Bell could kneel before the toilet and threw the lid up, grabbing her hair just in time as she heaved again and a sludge of chunky brown vomit hit the water.

"Eww..." Bell whined, sniffling and clumsily reaching for the flush, the movement pushing up another wet burp and causing her to freeze, panting over the water. Luke cringed, planting a hand on her forehead to support her head and the next minute her whole body went forward with yet another productive gag.

Bella coughed several times, spitting in the water, "flush..."

He obeyed with an amused huff at the demanding tone, "all out?"

"noOURp-" a sick burp came from the depth of her stomach, but didn't bring anything with it. Bella white knuckled the porcelain, mouth open and drooling over the water.

Lucas bit down on his lip, "Bell?"

She removed a clammy hand from the toilet, pressing it on her stomach and massaging up another heave, this one productive and much more watery, "I-I-...." Bella panted, before she projectile vomited another watery stream and then collapsed to the side, against Luke's chest.

"All done?" he reached in blindly, grabbing a wide of toilet paper and wiping her mouth and chin, "baby?"

"So gross," Bella's voice was several notes too deep, "your little flirt poisoned me."

Luke let out a startled chuckle, pressing a kiss to her clammy forehead and rubbing her arm, throwing the dirty toilet paper inside the bowl and pressing the flush, "don't be silly, with the cookies she offered both of us?"

Bella groaned at the movement, wrapping an arm around her stomach and curling up against Luke, "yeah, an elaborate plan to get rid of me..." she slid down on the bathroom floor in order to press her face to his thigh and Luke let out a groan.

"Bellaaaa, the tiles are cold- C'mon, baby, the bed is not even that far-"

"Do you have no love for your wife?" She groaned, pinching his thigh, "you want me to get up? When I just got sick? When my belly hurts? Lucas?!"

He let out a snort at her tone, "you're such a huge baby," he rolled his eyes, grabbing her arms and forcing her up, picking her up like a toddler, "there we go-"

"No romance. At. All," Bella scoffed, hiding a smile against his shoulder and locking her legs behind his back as he tried to lie her down on the bed, "cuddle me."

"Don't you want me to get you a bin?" Luke asked, falling on top of her and chuckling when the bed jostle caused her to gag and groan, "yeah, that's what I thought, babe."

"Alright, fine..." she unlocked her legs, letting him go, "but hurry back!"

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Reflection of Desire: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Women are being kidnapped and are being posed as Hollywood Starlets after the unsub kills them. Washington DC police have called in your team for help.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Knowing this press conference is going to bring the unsub out of his hole, you have to be driving around town in hopes you'll spot him. You and Spencer are in one car, Rossi and Hotch are in one, and Emily and Detective Croft are in another. The radio is on so you can hear the press conference instead of watching it.

"Penny Hanley went missing two days ago. We have received over three thousand calls. Her family is obviously deeply worried and is looking forward to her prompt and safe return," Pen starts.

"Isn't Penny Hanley yet another victim of the Hill Ripper?" A female reporter asks.

"Right now, all we know is that Penny is missing."

"Who sent that photo in just like the Kelly Landis case?" another asks.

"We'd like to take this opportunity to reach out to the public. Penny was last seen here, leaving Union Station--"

"You mean she was taken by the Hill Ripper?"

"Rumors are that Kelly Landis was found with her lips cut off."

Reporters keep cutting Penelope off, and she's trying her best to keep the focus on Penny.

"We are not prepared to discuss the details of Kelly's case."

"Isn't the mutilation, in fact, what you call a signature?"

Even through the radio, you can feel Penelope's panic. Come on, Pen, you can do this.

"Penny Hanley's name has captured the attention of not only the nation but also the entire world." She holds up the black-and-white picture of Penny. "This photo is the most recent image of Penny. We believe it was taken and sent by the person who took her."

"I want to say something." You recognize the voice of Penny's father. "I want to say something to the sick son of a bitch that has my daughter."

Mr. Hanley, we all want to find your daughter, but you really need to calm down. Mr. Hanley, don't do this," you hear Derek say in the background.

"If I say something, she dies. If I plead for her life, she dies. I don't have any money and my wife passed away two years ago. She is all I have, and if this sick bastard gets away with this--just let me say something."

"What would you like to say to the man who has your daughter? If the Hill Ripper is watching, what would you tell him?" a female reporter asks.

"My little girl right now is in your hands. Maybe she's already with God. Either way, your life will be in my hands."

They pause to process his words.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have just received this." Deek must have handed her the paper Hotch wanted him to hand to her. "The police request that the general public reduce their movements around M street and Georgetown, for the next few hours."

"Do you have a lead in the Hill Ripper case? Agent Garcia, do you have a lead in the ripper case?"

"No, we don't. We have an address."

Just like that, the press conference is over. You're connected to the other agents through the earpieces so you can talk to them while you drive.

"If he's moving, he's moving now," Rossi says.

"Reid, Y/N, where are you?"

"We're headed south down Jackson Street. There's hardly anything moving," Specner answers.

"Except cop cars. We've seen five in the last ten minutes. Hotch, if he's out here, he's got nowhere to go," you say.

You continue driving through the city, looking for anything suspicious. You pull up to a red light and wait for it to turn green. While waiting, you feel something prick at the back of your neck. The unsub is near. Spencer sees the alert look on your face and sits up straighter.

"What is it?"

"I feel him." You take off as soon as the light turns green, and you head to the darker parts of town. You're driving fast because you're following the energy leading right to the unsub. "Hold on." You shove your arm across Spencer's chest as you slam on the brakes right in front of an alley. "He's in there right now with her."

"Call Hotch."

You turn the car around and drive into the alley, shining the headlights onto the car. The unsub panics and hops out of the car before he can finish killing Penny. You put the car into park and jump out, already racing after the unsub.

"Stay with her and get help!" you yell at Spencer.

You can hear Spencer's voice over comms but you're not paying attention to his words. You aim your gun at the unsub and shoot twice, hitting him once in the leg. He nearly trips but he doesn't stop running. Not only is he faster than you, but he had a head start. There is no use in chasing after him. You pant and lightly jog over to Spencer and Penny who are surrounded by paramedics.

"Hotch, he's headed your way. I tried to chase him. I shot him in the leg. He won't be as fast."

"Copy."

Penny is already being loaded into the ambulance by the time you reach her and Spencer.

"Penny, your dad's going to meet you at the hospital," Spencer says.

Just then, Hotch and Rossi show up and get out.

"He got away but you hit him good. We found traces of blood down the alley. K-9 units are on the way."

"Agent Reid?" Penny asks.

"Yes?"

"Please don't leave me," she whimpers.

"Go, Spencer. We've got this," you encourage.

Spencer gets into the ambulance and stays with Penny the whole time. The unsub was forced to leave his car behind which is good for you since you'll be able to ID him from that. You walk to the front and notice a disabled permit hanging from the rearview mirror.

"This car has a disabled permit."

"Registered to who?" Rossi asks.

You take out your phone and call Penelope who is back behind a computer screen. You give her the license plate number and the make and model of the car, and she does her magic.

"The car belongs to May Walden. The unsub is Rhett Walden, her son. I have an address. 1503 Hope Street." She pauses. "Oh, my God."

"What is it?" you ask and look at the others who are staring at you. You put her on speakerphone. "You're on speakerphone."

"May's black-and-white photo looks exactly like Kelly and Penny."

"When was it taken?" Derek asks.

"1956. It's a set photo from a movie called Reflection of Desire. May was nineteen when this was taken."

"She's got to be over seventy by now."

"Yeah. M Street and Rykers Alley are the locations of this film. It was the only movie she ever made, and she was four months pregnant when this picture was taken which ended her career."

"What about the father?" you ask.

"Her co-star. Do you think she made her son do all of this?"

"Penelope, I think she made her son do a lot more than this," Derek answers.

The team heads over to Rhett's house and surrounds it with agents, police officers, and a SWAT team. Detective Croft stands behind one of the police cars and uses a megaphone to talk to Rhett who he knows is inside the house. It's the only place he'd go.

"Rhett Walden, this is the police! We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up!" He repeats it. "This is the police. We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up."

The front door opens and Rhett steps outside with a bloody leg from where you shot him and someone in his arms. The person is frail and small but her hair is covering her face so you're unsure of who it is.

However, you know she's dead.

You gasp when you see the skeleton in his arms and lower your gun in shock. That must be his mother.

"Get down on the ground!" Derek yells.

He does immediately but you think it's because his injured leg can't hold him up any longer.

"I need a medic!" the detective orders.

His mother's hair moves away from her face, and you gasp a second time when you see what's been glued to her face.

"Is that...?"

"Lips," Emily says. "They're Kelly's."

Rhett is taken away probably to a mental health facility because you know he is not sane if he kept his dead mother in his house long enough to play dress up with her. With this case over and done with, you and the team head to the theater to see Penelope in her play. She was apprehensive when you told her that you would be going but you encouraged her to give it her all.

Even JJ decided to come with you.

The play is about a crime that a woman has committed. She was kidnapped, attacked, and raped so she decides to enact revenge on the man by kidnapping him and killing him. She found the man responsible for her trauma and is using his past against him.

She's not the first woman he's beaten and raped.

Penelope is on one side of the stage under a spotlight wearing a black wig. She is staring at herself in the mirror and recites a monologue.

"I believe humanity was born from conflict. Maybe that's why there lives a dark side in all of us. Some of us choose to embrace it. Some have no choice. The rest of us fight it. In the end, it's as natural as the air we breathe. At some point, all of us are forced to face the truth. Ourselves. For me, that day has come. I was eighteen when I faced a man who chose to embrace his dark side, and by doing so, he took my humanity. Every day since I have put on a mask to hide what now suffocates me. The truth. And nothing speaks louder than the truth."

She gets up and faces the man... her revenge.

"Melissa Crane?"

"Get out," he sneers.

"Alison Gardner?"

"Get out before I call the police."

"I called them, and they'll be here but not before I'm done."

"Done? Done with what?"

Penelope raises a prop gun at the man and shoots him once in the chest. He gasps and falls backward on stage. She walks over to him, kneels by his dying body, and makes him look at her.

"Nine girls you raped and you butchered. You took from them what you took from me, but I survived. You should have killed me, Clarence."

The stage goes dark, and everyone stands up to clap for them. Penelope is good. She was born for this sort of thing. The lights turn on and both she and her male costar bow for the audience. She looks at her team, locking eyes with you. You give her two thumbs up, extremely proud of her.

"I believe humanity was born from conflict. Maybe that's why in all of us lives a dark side. Some of us embrace it. Some have no choice. The rest of us fight it. And in the end, it's as natural as the air we breathe. Some point, we're forced to face the truth... ourselves. – Penelope Garcia

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[andoutofharm]

As of today (6/9/24) we are less than a week out from Download festival. Download festival is sponsored by barclaycard, which has directly funded Israel in their assault on Palestine (more info on that here, here, here, and here). Fall Out Boy is currently set to headline this festival, and many other bands are set to perform throughout the weekend. Over the last few months I know many of us have been reaching out to the labels of these bands, particularly fall out boy, and urging them to reconsider their participation in this festival. With no word from any bands on withdrawing their participation, it is very possible they will not - whether due to contracts/prior agreements, not being adequately educated about this issue, or something else altogether. Regardless of the reason, I will be very disappointed in every band involved.

I encourage all of you to send another round of messages this week, not only to Fall Out Boy but to any band on this schedule that you enjoy (a possible template is written out here, as well as contact info for fob’s label/management teams). Some of these bands, such as Pinkshift and the Used, have been vocal in their support of Palestine in the past. Reach out to these bands too. Urge them not to participate in this festival.

Regardless of the outcome, I plan to use the weekend to focus in on sharing ways to give to Palestinians through fundraisers, or highlighting stories of those in Gaza. I will not be blogging about any of the bands sets/music/members/etc or otherwise giving “airtime” to this festival or anyone involved, but instead elevating Palestine and its people and sharing ways to help.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

The fucking audacity of this man to tell me he's never cared about me, then ignore me when I say that it was unfair to lie to me when I've clearly been in love with him for years, only to come back almost 2 months later asking me how work is. I can't do this shit. I'm too stressed as is. Too few spoons for my own day to day.

[zorthania]

A piece about survivors guilt.

This comic isn't perfect. I started it back in October 2023, and every time I picked up my pen, I wept.

I bring this to you today, on 9/11, in hopes that you reflect on this day a little differently than how most Americans would. Let it move you to continue to boycott, protest and challenge your family, friends and colleagues. You have a bigger impact than you would believe.

Thank you for reading this with an open heart.

From the river to the sea...

I'd like to bring to attention the fact that the figures depicted above are a gross undercount of the actual number of deaths. I scoured the internet high and low to source my findings and not a single one could break down the devastation that befell an individual ethnicity. Instead, they lumped a bunch of ethnicities together, provided a general timeline, and called it a day, reinforcing the sheer scale of dehumanization propagated in the west. The only consistency between all the articles I looked up was the 4.5 to 4.7 million figure I've included above, and even then, they were all published by western media news outlets... the very same that have been so unreliable and complicit in the genocide of Palestinians today. So I have to take everything they say with a grain of salt.

We are not just numbers.

All of us have ambitions and desires and lives worth living.

With that said, this is your friendly reminder to:

Donate an e-sim

Donate to PCRF to provide Palestinian children aid

Donate to Pious Projects to provide woman with feminine hygiene kits

Donate to CareForGaza to provide food to displaced families in Gaza either through their Gofundme or their paypal

Donate to any of the vetted gofundme campaigns on GazaFunds to help Palestinians trying to flee Gaza.

And if you or someone you know sees or experiences a hate crime and can afford it, SUE. This is a more effective use of your money than most realise. The reason zionists act with impunity is because of the normalization of white supremacy and oppression of ethnic minorities. Challenging that in any capacity tells them that there are consequences to their actions and makes them think twice before engaging in hate crimes and helps raise all of us up against the systems currently in place that let them get away with it.

If you can't donate or spend any money, you can:

Do your daily clicks.

Boycott targeted companies on the BDS list (if you're like me and you don't want a single dollar to go towards anything supporting Israel right now, you can use Bdnaash to double check what products are okay to buy, but the BDS list is sufficient as it is a strategic attack and proven very effective thus far)

Flood your representatives emails and voicemails with how you won't be voting for them unless their politics align with an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

Attend a protest, be LOUD.

Challenge your circle of friends, family and colleagues with conversations about Palestine. (THIS IS THE MOST UNDERRATED AND MOST EFFECTIVE THING YOU CAN DO)

and if you're really up to, be disruptive in any capacity that you can think of towards major corporations benefiting from this onslaught. (i.e. halting military manufacturers from production + shipments, sticking boycott stickers on products at your market etc)

And finally, if your country wasn't mentioned in the above excerpt, it was no deliberate omission on my part and I encourage you to come forward and tell your story about the suffering of your people so that this may be a learning opportunity for everyone.

You are seen.

You are not alone.

Thank you again if you've read this far.

From the river to the sea...

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI

Bakugou who refuses to believe in concept of sex ban. If there is an issue, talk it out. Simple.

Bakugou who stands at the entryway of your living room, with a hard on tenting his sweats. Bakugou who knows you want him just as much, with the way you are sitting cross-legged on the couch but, you won't give in easily. Especially after the little quarrel you both had in the morning.

Bakugou who knows how to fix this, knows how to get you exactly where he wants.

Bakugou who plops himself down next to you on the couch. With a pair of your used panties.

Bakugou who brings up your panties to his face and takes a big sniff before palming his cock.

"This is disgusting, you know", you feigned disgust, despite the display shooting down a wave of arousal to your core.

"It sure is, babe but I need it" Bakugou mumbled with your panties between his teeth. He continued,"Can't cum without your smell babe, need it to drain all this cum I have for you"

He looked over to you, gaze fixed on the t.v. but he knew your attention was on him. Thighs squeezing together, as you try to relieve your achy little clit. He knew that poor little bud needed more attention then you were giving it.

"lemme rub it babe, c'mon I know that cunt needs more", He said, desperation visible in his tone "you can go back to being mad later just sit on my face for now" he continued.

You huffed and looked over to him. Manspreading on the couch, his cock leaking precum through the sweats. His face deep shade of red, blush spreading on his chest. One of his hand was rubbing his cock, the other pressing you panties on his face.

When Bakugou met your gaze, he sucked on the crotch of panties. The simple act causing you to move over to him and move the panties away. You pressed your lips on his, through a desperate kiss. You could feel him smirk through the kiss.

"I only care about me cumming, asshole", you scowled and pulled away to shimmy out of your shorts.

"and I only care about you cumming too, ma'am", Bakugou chimed before laying across the couch for you to sit on his face.

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.

[ebodebo]

"Si, you owe me a new couch," you half-joke, trying to ease some of the palpable tension in the air, as you sit next to your boyfriend, Simon, on your couch, cleaning the gash on his side with a face cloth.

The poor guy had shown up at your door in the middle of the night with the nastiest gash to his side. It was a superficial cut, so nothing that needed immediate medical attention, but it still bled—a lot

He wouldn't say how he acquired the laceration, but you suspected it couldn't have been good. You kept your assumptions to yourself and have been tending to them for the last five minutes or so.

"I'll buy you any kind you like," he picks his head up from its place on the back of the couch. You catch his eyes boring into the side of your head as you continue cleaning the area, finally looking up to lock eyes with him. The sincerity in his eyes has you letting out a small laugh.

"You don't have to," you murmur as your eyes shift to the gauze to your side. You carefully open a fresh piece, place it on the cut, and secure it with paper tape. You gently press the sides, securing the tape to his skin. "All done. Good boy," you jokingly say, tossing the gauze's empty packaging onto the coffee table in front of you.

You feel his hand grip your chin, pulling you towards his lips. You are slightly taken aback, even making a noise of surprise, but you quickly reciprocate the kiss.

He tasted of Nicorette gum and cigarette smoke with a hint of liquor. You would scowl at him later for the cigarette smell since he had supposedly quit, but right now, you could feel by the way he gripped your face he craved a taste of you.

You raised your hand to grip his jaw, trying to bring him closer. He senses your desire, gripping your hips and swinging you over his legs so you are now straddling him, never once disconnecting his lips from yours.

While you adjust to the new position, your knee grazes his gash, making him grunt into your mouth. You pull back slightly to speak; both of your chests are heaving. "Am I hurting you?" Your brows furrow in concern as you gently bring your hand to rest in his messy hair.

He knots his hand in your hair, lips brushing against yours. "Only if you stop,” he pants, deepening the kiss.

You smile into his lips, gripping his jaw, feeling his teeth clash against your own. One of his hands lingers over your hip once again, kneading the fat of it. The other lingers from your hair to pull down your shirt on your shoulder, revealing your collarbone.

His lips hover over your clavicle, eyes flicking to take note of a new, very small ‘s’ inked into your flesh. He brings his hand up to brush his fingertips over the tattoo.

“You got this for me?” He enunciates the ‘me,’ like it was just so unable to believe you would ever want to taint your skin for him.

“You like it?” You chew on your bottom lip, giddy with anticipation. He leans back against the back of the chair, shifting his torso a little. You let out a slight moan when you feel how hard he is.

“Do you feel that?” He gruffs, gripping your waist and grinding you against his clothed hard-on. You grip his shoulders with each of your hands tightly, hissing through your teeth, “How could I not?”

He leans forward, lips hovering over the shell of your ear so you can feel his hot breath against your skin. “I fuckin’ love it.”

a/n: a little fic just bc it's been a hot sec<3 divider!

[nochepsicodelica]

You and Toji are sitting at a table at a bar, talking about different things that went on throughout your days over some drinks. Toji tells you about how Shiu's been a real asshole lately, because his marriage is hanging on by a thread and he hasn't gotten laid in almost a month. He gives you a look that you interpret as him saying 'thank fuck that's not us' to which you respond with a little smirk.

When it's your turn, you tell him about how the new hire broke the copy machine, knocked over and broke the water gallon for the water dispenser, and crashed into someone, spilling hot coffee all over their shirt, all in the course of one day.

"That poor fucker's cursed," Toji says, amusement riddling his expression as he brings his glass of whiskey to his lips.

"He looked like he really needed a hug by the end of the day," you add, biting back a smile, before you take a sip of your own drink.

"Tell me you didn't," Toji says, taking in the seemingly telling look on your face. "Ma."

"I'm kidding. It's jokes, baby. I have no interest in hugging someone I haven't spoken a single word to."

Toji flicks your forehead, watching with a grin as you bring a hand up to rub the sting away. "Gotta piss, be right back, doll. Want another drink before I come back?"

"I'll wait for you to finish yours," you say, to which he nods before standing up from his seat.

"Be right back," Toji repeats, affectionately setting a heavy hand on your head, before he heads off in the direction of the restrooms.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your socials while you wait. Altogether, Toji was gone for no longer than four minutes, and yet somehow, that was enough time for a rando to pull a chair up to your little table and start a conversation with you.

"Hey," he starts. "Why are you sitting here looking all lonely?"

You turn your head to face the person with the unfamiliar voice, slightly widening your eyes as if to question if he's talking to you. He looks at you with raised eyebrows, awaiting your response. "Oh, i'm not here alone. My boyfriend is in the bathroom," you respond, with a polite smile, before returning your attention to your phone.

"Ah. What kind of man leaves a pretty thing like you by herself in a place like this?" The stranger says, in a tone that almost seems pitiful towards you.

You look at him again and attempt to keep your expression neutral. "He'll be back any second now. He's just taking a piss, i'll be fine. Unless you're here to make things troubling for me."

The man chuckles, entertained by your quick shift in tone. "With a feisty attitude like that and a pretty mouth to keep up, it seems like you want me to get you in trouble."

You furrow your eyebrows, blatantly offended by his inappropriate insinuation. It's disturbing to see how he turned your warning into something sexual.

"I already told you, I have a boyfriend. Try someone else," you respond, no longer hiding your irritation.

Toji scans the room for the table you're sitting at, locating you and who-the-fuck in three seconds. This man looks awfully cozy with you, leaning in close every time he speaks to you, so he doesn't stand around any longer and quickly makes his way back to you and this new "friend".

"You sure you don't want another drink, doll?" Toji asks, sitting down in front of you, again, his gaze darting between you and this pocket square looking man. There's a difference between your demeanor from before he left and now. You clearly aren't comfortable, anymore.

"That's it? That is your supposed boyfriend?" The man asks, attempting to minimize Toji by referring to him as if he's nothing in comparison to himself. "Oh, princess. You see this watch?" He asks, raising the cuff of his sleeve to fully reveal his golden watch. "Four thousand dollars, and that's chump change."

You look at Toji and pull his hand into your shaky one, giving him a forced smile. Toji keeps his eyes on yours as the stranger continues spewing arrogant sludge about how much money he makes a year and how even the luxury car he has parked outside didn't put the smallest dent in his wallet.

"You would have it so good with me, baby," he continues blabbering. His hand goes to your wrist, a gesture that Toji quickly puts an end to by aggressively shoving the man's hand away, your empty glass clattering on the table from the force. Toji would have snapped the man's wrist and twisted his hand off, but he didn't want to scare you with the bloodshed. He feels like he's buzzing from the anger bubbling inside, and surely it won't be long before he acts out.

"Don't fucking touch her," Toji spits, glaring at the man with an expression that would have put him six feet under, if looks could kill.

Your heartbeat is in your ears and your blood is boiling. This man is disgusting for being persistent towards someone who doesn't want him. It's masochism, at this point, with the amount of times that you've made it clear that you're not interested.

The man snorts, snobbishly. "He brought you here, of all places. Even just glancing at him, you can tell this cheap ass place is all he can afford. He'll never be able to give you everything you want, so just come with me, doll face."

You rip your hand out of Toji's grasp and stand from your chair, delivering a resounding blow to the man's already hideous face. Tables and chairs wobble as he tries to keep his balance, but when you quickly strike him again, hard enough to increase the pain you felt in your knuckles with that first hit, you manage to knock him onto the ground.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole. You don't know shit!" You grit out, dropping down to try and land another hit to the man's bleeding face. By now, Toji is behind you, restraining your arms and pulling you back as a small crowd begins to form to observe the commotion.

"Ma, come on. Let's just go."

"Let me dent his fucking face in, Toji," you mutter, writhing in his grip.

The vile man manages to sit up, dabbing his fingertips against his busted lip. Though there is red blossoming on his face, his lips still form an amused, twisted smile. He laughs as he watches you get reeled back by Toji, seething as you are dragged away like a child having a meltdown in the middle of a store.

"Hey-- Hey, I said let's go," Toji says, his tone sharper when you continue to try to break out of his hold to fight the idiotic sociopath.

You take a deep breath and stop, willingly letting Toji take you away from this chaos you created in his defense. His hand rests on the nape of your neck, as he guides you through the stuffy bar and leads you outside to the car.

"Stop pacing," Toji says, watching as you threaten to make the asphalt beneath your feet waste away with every step you take in your heated state.

"Fucking asshole, dickhead, motherfucker." You groan, loudly, furiously, before covering your face with your hands. "It's fine, it's fine," you mumble to yourself.

"Then, stop pacing," he repeats, watching on as you walk the same steps, over and over, as if you're on autopilot. "Ma, eyes. Eyes." His hands go to your shoulders, manually forcing you to halt your movement. "Listen to me. I said eyes."

"I'm so... I can't stand still," you say, weakly.

"Stop looking around. Right here," Toji instructs, lifting one hand from your shoulder and pointing two fingers at his eyes. You release a shaky puff of air and hold his gaze as best as you can.

"Talk when you're ready," he says, following your eyes whenever they derail from his.

You aren't ready soon enough. You feel like your heart is trying to burst out of your chest and the adrenaline coursing through you isn't helping at all. Your hand hurts. Your knuckles feel bruised and they're bloody. The night might be ruined, but you felt your reaction was the only way to release the pain you felt when that nothing started talking the way he did about Toji. All you can think to do is hug Toji to prevent yourself from crying about your cause for attacking the gross man. It's all so much. You've never felt so strongly for someone, to the point where you hit a stranger for insulting them. It's scary how Toji brings that defensive, yet, offensive side out of you.

Strong, heavy arms reciprocate your embrace, keeping your tense body close. You feel warm and safe, his scent and the pressure of his hold managing to slowly calm your unsteady heartbeat. After a few seconds of quietness, you turn your head and rest the side of your face on him, finally prepared to speak.

"I didn't like how he was talking about you, Toji. He was talking shit even before you came back, and I hated it. I hated it so much, that I felt nauseous and if I hadn't done something, I would have been sick."

Toji sighs, not out of disappointment or feelings of that sort, but because you seeking out danger for his sake, was not something he ever wanted to see.

"Doll, you know how much I love you."

This sounds like a layer of sugar preceding a talking to. You're trying not to be nervous before the scolding even begins, but you feel the need to brace yourself, as well.

"I love you, too," you mumble.

Toji knows it. He's known it all along, and the events that transpired tonight were just another way of you proving your love and showing how much he matters to you.

"Want you to look at me," he says, lowering his arms on your back, allowing you to make the space necessary to give him your attention. He offers you a soft smile. "Don't get all fidgety on me after you just ripped a stranger's face open."

"I feel like you're about to yell at me," you say, lowly.

That makes him want to laugh, but he keeps his amusement to a minimum, since you're clearly anticipating something terrible.

"Nah. When have I ever raised my voice at you?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Never, and I won't start now, but I want you to get this through your pretty head... It's not your job to beat people up for me."

"I know, but-"

Toji shakes his head. "Hold on, mama. Let me finish talking, then it'll be your turn."

Your heart feels like it's in the depths of your stomach, but you nod, and allow him to continue talking.

"I'm not mad at you, i'm not gonna yell at you. Just wanna keep you safe, is all. That guy was already a fuckin' weirdo, harassing you like that and trying to get you to go with him while I was right there. I wouldn't be surprised if he was into hitting women, too, if he's so comfortable with making them uncomfortable."

It's quiet while you think of what to say. You don't want this to escalate into something that turns you against each other, when it started out as an act of love. You could argue about how you did this to defend him, but in the end, you know his own need to protect you, will stomp all over your arguments.

"I'm sorry we had to leave, but i'm not sorry for the reason behind it. I don't regret what I did."

"Ma..."

"No, Toji. He didn't even know you and yet he still said things that aren't fair." Your voice quiets down, the beginnings of stronger emotions threatening to outwardly reveal themselves. "He insulted you. He questioned your abilities as my boyfriend when he saw me alone— even after I told him you just went to the bathroom. He judged you superficially, he said you can't give me everything I want and--" you pause, interrupted by a shaky inhale and the painful lump in your throat. "Sorry," you mumble, when the first set of tears roll down your cheeks.

"No, you're alright," Toji says, in response, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your fleeing tears. There's a small pinch in his brows. Why are you crying? It's something he can't ask you, because he knows that if he makes a big spectacle out of it, you'll end up drowning in your tears and shutting down everything you have to say. He resorts to keeping your cheeks dry and encouraging you to keep talking.

"Go on, mama."

You sniff, before picking up where you left off. "I don't care about all that, Toji. I don't care where we go to spend time together, because we're together. I need you, not for you to buy me things or take me to fancy places. That's not what I'm with you for."

Your heart is beating fast, again, its rhythm no longer controlled by fear or nerves, but instead the focus that Toji has on you. He's good at holding eye contact with you, something that occasionally gets distracting if you become too aware of it. You notice that his expression is softer. Maybe it's your brief flash of tears or the way you are always subconsciously finding a way to indirectly recite some of the reasons for why you love him.

"I love you, Toji. That means I won't just sit around and let someone talk about you like you're worthless. And I know, I know you can handle things like this on your own and you don't need me, but it was hard to listen to that."

You pause, as if to give him a break from your bulldozing heart. Silence takes over the moment, both of you just looking at each other. Toji's speechlessness has you wondering if you spilled too much of your heart out to him. You know some things are better left to be figured out, such as the range of a person's love, and yet you just poured without measure. "You can call me crazy if you want to."

Toji's shit-eating grin is unexpected, but it's definitely a sight that lifts some of the heaviness you feel in your chest.

"You love me," Toji says, still smiling like a doofus. He knows your serious facade will crack if he looks at you like this for long enough. He can already see a shift in the expression of your eyes and the way your lips are pressing together just a little more. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that pushes you even further towards that pretty smile he wants to see. When you finally crack and give into his charm, you do so with a mutter of 'you're so dumb.'

"I'm glad that's what you got out of my rambling," you say, wholeheartedly and in better spirits. Toji pulls you in, this time, his soothing warmth and familiar scent tangling around you, again. His chin rests on top of your head and his arms secure themselves around you, tightly.

"I'm not gonna call you crazy, ma. It's not what I think. Also, don't go saying things that aren't true. I do need you," Toji says, his voice level kept at an intimate volume, as if there are other people there in the parking lot with you. His words are solely meant for you to hear anyway and getting them to you in this manner ensures that you won't go home with your heart feeling heavy, after a talk that was meant to comfort you.

"You know, I don't care what other people think— and that's not to say I don't appreciate you throwing a few punches for my sake. You're a sweetheart and you care so much, but if it's a stranger saying some unimportant, dumb shit, it takes a lot for it to actually get to me. If it really bothered me, they'd be gone."

"Yeah... I know," you mumble, into his shirt, knowing you would do it again and again— countless times. You loosen your arms around Toji and he does the same, his hands dragging towards your waist after you separate.

"How's that hand?" Toji asks, picking your wrist up before you can even respond. He whistles at the sight of the slight swelling and the dry specks of crimson spotted over your knuckles.

"A little tender," you say, feeling a tinge of fear when his other hand lifts off your waist to feel the damage.

"Looks real good on your pretty hand," he says, dragging his index finger over the protruding bones of your hand.

"Does it?" You ask, your barely there smile falling when you wince at the little bit of pressure Toji applies.

"No," he responds, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the sore area. You wince again when his thumb drags over your skin with slightly more pressure than before. "It doesn't. We'll ice it when we get home, alright?" He lets up on the torturous touching, but keeps your hand in his. The words aren't meant to hurt you. He doesn't mean them and he hopes he communicates that with the way he still opts to hold your hand. Your hands will always be pretty to him, he just can't say that to you, right now. Not if it serves as the smallest bit of encouragement for you to repeat what happened earlier, in the future.

"Okay." You nod.

"Gimme a kiss and we can go home or wherever, if you wanna stay out."

You tilt your head up and wait for his lips to meet yours. It's a gentle brush of lips, but the second Toji's hands start slipping under the back of your sweater and your shirt, you know it's going to be more than a single kiss. You can feel the night's cold wind nipping at your skin, as his hands go higher up, his fingertips reaching just below the hooks of your bra. To your surprise, he unhooks the garment, causing you to quickly press your hands to your chest when the cups loosen, to prevent them from fully sliding down.

"Toji," you manage to utter out during the wave of kisses. You turn your head, receiving a kiss that was meant for your lips, on your cheek.

"Yeah... I think we should go home," he murmurs, against your skin. "Maybe we can rock the car a little bit before we go, hm?" Toji smirks when you let out that flustered giggle he's so familiar with. He presses another kiss to your cheek before you turn to face him, again.

"Okay, but let's not blow it all here. We have a nice and comfortable bed at home. Let's add another good night to it."

You don't miss the way Toji's lustfully lidded, green eyes, keep glancing down at your hands on your chest, or how he's mindlessly caressing your bare waist, under your shirt.

"Alright, ma." He pulls out his car keys and with the press of a button, the car unlocks with a beep and the brief, dull sound of flipping locks. "Get inside."