#i never have to think about this fic again LETS GO

[postracehair]

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

__

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[moonstruckme]

Hey girl 💖 Would love a comfort fic with James or poly!Marauders after r had a really bad day? Just cuddles and comforting words. Sure most of us need it right now 💖

Thanks for requesting my love <3 I did try to make this seem like it could just be about any bad day but for my US babes and anyone else that's going to be affected by the election, I really hope you're doing okay and I hope we're all okay over the next few years. Even if we don't all have a James to comfort us, we can still be there for each other <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 607 words

You’re in bed when James finishes brushing his teeth. He can see your shoulders shaking underneath the covers. 

His chest aches as he goes to you. It’s not the first time you’ve cried today and it probably won’t be the last for a while, all your hurt and anger and grief compounding on you as time goes on. James gets into bed and twines his arms around your middle, pressing his nose into your warm cheek. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. 

Your sobs worsen, and you turn, face to his chest and arms reaching around him with an unthinking neediness. You don’t believe him. 

“It is.” He kisses the top of your head firmly, hugging you closer. You seem like you need a bit of solidity right now. “You’ll be alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” 

James lets you cry. Your sniffles grow thick, James’ chest under your face wet with tears and snot. He wonders if your head hurts from how much you’ve wept today, makes a mental note to get you some water in the morning if he can’t manage it tonight. Your whole body shakes with deep, aching sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a while, words jolting. “I can’t—I keep thinking in circles.” 

“Baby, it’s okay.” James rubs your back. He hates to see you upset, but he wouldn’t begrudge you it. You’ve had a day. As much as he wishes he never had to see you cry, he feels grateful that you’d do it with him. “It’s okay to be sad for a little while.” 

“I know. I know, but—” Another series of sobs jostles their way out of you, painful sounding. Your voice quiets to a tight whisper. “I just can’t stop.” 

James swallows the blockage in his own throat, making big, sweeping circles over your back. “Do you want a little distraction?” he offers. 

You nod into his chest. 

“Okay.” He thinks for a second. “Well, tomorrow, I thought we might go to the bookstore if you’re feeling up to it.” He pauses, waiting to see if this is what you want. When you don’t make a sound he continues. “We could make a day of it. There’s that Thai place you like nearby, so maybe we grab some takeaway, sit and read in the park…” You make a snuffling sound against his chest, and James gives you a squeeze. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is stuffy and sad, but calmer. “That sounds nice.” 

“I glanced at the weather report earlier.” He drops a kiss on your head. It coaxes you into looking up at him. Your eyes are wet and puffy, but James smiles at you, pinching your nose clean gently. “It’s supposed to be nice out. We’ll probably need our coats, but still, not too bad. You could probably break out those new socks you got.” 

You smile wobbily. “It feels like sort of a silly thing to be excited about now,” you say softly, “socks.” 

“That’s what I love about you, though.” James holds your face and gives in to kissing wherever the urge strikes him, your skin warm and tacky. “You’re always finding things to be excited about, that make you happy. I love that. It’s the little things, right?” 

You sniffle. You’re far from happy now, but you’re settling. “I guess.” 

“It’s nice when it’s the big things too, of course,” he concedes, “but for tomorrow I can still get my girl a book and a takeaway. Right? Okay?” 

“Yeah.” You kiss him, salt on both of your lips. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“You’ll be okay,” he promises you again. “I’ve always got you.”

[azsazz]

Cold Shoulder

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: after sprinkles of luck and doubt i cant stop thinking of hockey!az being weird and distant and then comes in figureskater!eris to be readers skating partner and the jealousy that ensues ooooooooo

AKA Part 2 to Sprinkles of Luck and Doubt

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2083

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins Sprinkles of Luck and Doubt

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“Where’s your guard dog?” The boy you’ve been trying to ignore since practice started says. He skids to a halt at your side, his skates spraying shards of ice across the worn ice. It’s due for a Zamboni soon, and glancing at the bright red numbers ticking the time away, you have twenty more minutes of skating until you’re done for the day.

It works perfectly for your schedule because you haven’t been able to focus since Azriel left you with a somber look after sneaking into the women’s locker room before his weekend away with his hockey team.

You don’t know what had gone wrong. Everything seemed fine when he pulled you into his body and you could feel the press of his thick cock in his pants against your stomach. He’d been more than excited to see you, and you’ve never felt more important than in his arms right then. Because he’d snuck into the women’s locker room to say goodbye. He could have easily left you with a text, or nothing at all—you knew his schedule like the back of your hand by now—but he felt inclined enough to break the rules to see you one more time before he left.

You get the saying now, because if he really wanted to, he would.

What you can’t grasp is the sudden change in Azriel’s mood. He’d gone stiff against you like the flip of a switch, and it wasn’t the good kind of stiff that reflected in his jeans. It was the kind of stiffness that you clocked immediately, fed on. When his body locked up, yours did too. When he refused to meet your gaze as he said a soft farewell, you didn’t have the heart to watch his off-putting demeanor.

It's been days since you’ve seen him. An entire week, almost. You’ve seen Cassian and Rhysand in passing, but they haven’t offered anything about Azriel and you hadn’t asked.

You’re not going to be that girl, even if the prolonged no-contact with someone you thought you could fall for is driving you up the wall.

“Practice,” you bite at the boy staring down at you. You wince at your tone. You answered much too quickly and with much to emotion for anyone to believe you, and you see it in the way Eris’ amber eyes soften a touch.

You don’t want his pity. You don’t need it.  All you want right now is to get off this damned ice—because of course it reminds you of Azriel, nearly everything does—and head back to your dorm to ice your throbbing knee.

You’ve known Eris since you transferred to Velaris University. He’s a challenge at the best of times and a menace at the worst, but he’s arguably your first friend outside of your dormmates, and even then, you’re not entirely sure they actually like you or if they just tolerate you because you all live together.

Maybe you need to start being a little friendlier.

“What happened?” Eris asks softly, and your throat grows tight with emotion. He’s the first person to ask, and for the first time since Azriel disappeared on you, you want to break down and let it all out. You want to spill every consuming thought you’ve had while you were overanalyzing and you want someone to feed into your delusion as much as you want someone to talk you off the ledge of crazy.

But you can’t do that, not in the middle of practice, because as soon as you open your mouth to spill, coach is shouting at you and Eris to run through your routine again.

You sigh in frustration, but it does nothing to ease the heaviness in your heart. After finally admitting that the injury you’re recovering from has been bothering you as of late, coach decided that working with a partner would help ease the stress on your knee while also keeping you working towards your goal.

You know you’ve had the option to work with a partner, but you’ve always been solo, and it’s difficult to allow yourself to put this much trust in someone else. The last time you put your trust in someone, he left you feeling like a wet towel abandoned on the shower stall floor.

Eris is well aware of your injury and how your recovery has been going, and he’s been more than happy to gently ease you into the routine. He’s been gentle with you during tricks, and you’re more thankful than you let on. As you get into position to practice one more time before you’re dismissed, you remind yourself to thank him properly by taking him to dinner or a movie or something he enjoys.

Eris counts you off and then you’re gliding across the ice together. His hand is a warm weight against your hip but it feels all wrong. It’s nothing like the hand you want there, the one that’s a brand against your skin.

You startle when Eris’ hand finds your other hip, preparing for your first trick. You wobble on your skate and he rightens you with a frown that you brush off with a head shake, taking a breath and focusing on what you do best.

Two, three, four, jump! Eris lifts you with ease, hauling you above his head. You engage your core and pose for a beat, two, and then he’s lowering you back to the ice with a gentleness that you haven’t experienced in pairs before.

This go-around, you’re mostly practicing lifts. Coach wants you and Eris to accomplish a triple twist lift, but you’re rusty working in pairs, and you need to work up to it. Plus, your knee screams in agony during your next trick, no matter how many times you’ve done a spiral.

Gods, you’re pushing it.

But to be the best, you have to.

You’re focused so intently on ignoring the pain flaring up your leg and the tricks you’ve yet to master to notice the figure across the arena. Hockey practice just let out, and a quick glance to the clock on the wall would have told you that if you’d been keeping an eye on it. Of course, you know the hockey schedule by heart. At first it was because you and Azriel would try to align your practices to get out on time so that you could find a dark place to touch each other, but now it’s because you wanted to escape any chance of seeing the broody hockey player you’ve decided you’re giving the cold shoulder to.

Azriel’s hazel eyes latch onto you and the hand he has wrapped around his hockey bag tightens until his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t know the guy whose hands are all over you, doesn’t like the way he grabs your hips to lift you, doesn’t like how close his face is to yours, how his eyes glitter with amusement when you curse under your breath. He doesn’t like the way your body looks molded to his when you jump or the way that you stare at each other at the end of your routine, both panting so hard that your chests nearly brush with every inhalation.

He definitely doesn’t like the ire flooding his bones like magma, nor the prickling sensations of jealousy that threaten to overtake his body, march him onto the ice, and beat the shit out of the guy that’s touching what’s his.

And he most certainly doesn’t like the way that you favor your uninjured leg as you make your way off of the ice.

Azriel can’t help himself, he’s a fool. A fool for leaving you. A fool for not messaging you that he needed time to figure his own shit out, that things with you were becoming too real. A fool for every doubting whatever you had in the first place.

He fucking missed you. All weekend, all week. He should’ve found you sooner, but with the loss against the Sparrows, coach has been making the team do double practice so they’re prepared for their next game tomorrow night, and with his classwork and personal life stacking up, he hadn’t prioritized you.

He’s realizing now that he should have.

Azriel doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s halfway to where you’ve come off the ice and are listening to your coach. Eris stands too closely to your side as you nod, and it takes you longer than he wants to admit to notice him.

He watches your pretty eyes go wide, drink him in from head-to-toe—which he secretly preens at because you still want him, even after he’s acted like a jackass all week—and then narrow in a glare so harsh his steps falter.

Surely, he knows he fucked up, but he hadn’t gauged just how angry you’d be.

Very, apparently.

Azriel’s still trying to muster up what to say when coach dismisses you. You turn to Eris instead of moving towards Azriel, and the black-haired boy bristles at that fact. He can’t hear what you’re speaking about, but when Eris graces you with a charming smile and an agreement, Azriel knows he doesn’t like that one fucking bit.

You snatch your towel from where it’s hanging over the edge of the bench and wrap it around your neck, following Eris towards the locker rooms. You have to work to keep your face neutral, but your knee is killing you. All you want to do is go home, prop it up and ice it, maybe even devour a pint of ice cream or two, but upon seeing Azriel waiting for you in the walkway off the ice, you hastily invited Eris to grab dinner with you instead.

You want nothing to do with Azriel at the moment.

He’s still glaring at your friend when you try to pass by. Azriel grabs your arm but it’s gentle, and sends a zip of lightning up your spine.

“Hands off, hockey douche,” Eris defends, but Azriel doesn’t pay him a second glance, his intense eyes focused entirely on you.

“Can we talk?”

His voice is so soft, eyes pleading, that you want to cave immediately. Crawling right back into his arms sounds like bliss right now because you know Azriel well enough to know that he’s noticed how badly your knee is bothering you, and he’d be a great caretaker. But that means he’s also noticed how he left you, by the remorse in his eyes, and how upset you are with him.

“I can’t,” you respond, sticking to your guns no matter how painful it is. Azriel’s hand is warm on your arm, and his touch alone is already battering through your weakened defenses. You lift your chin and reprimand yourself all in the same motion. “I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

“I don’t think so,” Eris huffs, hovering by your side. Azriel’s face hardens and you manage to hide your wince when he turns his glare on your partner.

“This conversation doesn’t involve you, firedick.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, and he hates that you’re using his full name. He hates that you sound so upset. “Apologize.”

He sets his jaw, staring down at you. You stare right back, arms crossed fully over your chest. There’s a bead of sweat brimming at your hairline that Azriel wants to brush away, and it’s a struggle not to haul you into his arms and drag you back to the hockey house with him to talk.

After a few terse seconds of silence, you scoff. He’s not going to apologize to you, and he presumably liked you, there’s no way in hell he’s going to apologize to Eris for calling him a crude name.

You manage to sidestep Azriel, though you’re sure you only get away with it because he lets you. He’s a persistent man and usually gets what he wants, but not today.

If he wants anything to do with you, he’s going to work for it.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel says when you’ve taken two steps away from him. You know it isn’t directed at Eris, but at you. Your steps falter and your lip wobbles with emotion. You wonder if Azriel knows what he’s sorry for, or if he’s just saying it to appease you.

You glance at him over your shoulder, cursing your wet eyes for giving you away.

You say thickly, “Yeah, me too,” and continue down the hall to the locker rooms.

Azriel watches you go.

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Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13 @sunny1616

[keikikait]

hiii can i request rafe or jj reacting to the reader getting nipple piercings??

ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ (ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

read my other jj fic here!

pairing: jj maybank x pouge!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 2.9k 

summary: you get nipple piercings and your boyfriend is eager to get his hands on them

warnings: SMUT 18+, smut under the cut, nipple piercings, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, dom!jj & sub!reader, mention of p in v (although no protection is mentioned, it is implied), i've never gotten nipple piercings but i tried to be as accurate as possible, although i do know that touching them or kissing them after is a big no-go, this is a fanfiction lol.

a note: the skin colour in the photo isn't correlated with the reader's skin colour. i just like the picture! and, also, a BIG THANK YOU for 500 followers! i know in the grand scheme of things, 500 isn't a lot, but i never thought i would get this far! thank you all, i love you all so much!!!!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You pull away breathless, lifting your arms as JJ pulls your top off before tossing it aside. He pulls you into his lap, kissing down your neck as he unclips your bra, the black fabric joining the tank top discarded on the floor. JJ kisses down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones as he slowly kisses down your sternum. You squirm in his lap, his hands roaming over your curves as you feel his cock pressing against you through his shorts. 

“Mmm, you're so soft,” JJ murmurs, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. His other hand cups one of your breasts, thumb teasing over the nipple. “You know what would really suit you, baby?” He brings his thumb and pointer finger together and squeezes, tugging at your nipple harshly.

You gasp, your back arching, your chest pressing against his. You whine as he pinches and squeezes again. “What, Jay?”

“Little piercings here,” He pinches your left nipple. “And here,” He pinches your right nipple, grinning at the way you squirm and wiggle. He leans in close, hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “Fuck, it’s making me hard just thinking about it. Two little bars, just begging to be played with,” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, tracing over the sensitive skin of your lower belly. “I bet you'd look fucking stunning if they were gold. Or maybe silver. Fuck.”

“You know,” You breathe heavily as he tugs and twists your nipples again. “I’ve been thinking about getting some.”

“Oh yeah?” JJ chuckles, giving your nipples another sharp pinch before releasing them. His fingers continue their path south, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your panties to stroke over your slick folds. “I'm more than happy to help you pick out the perfect bar.” He rubs his thumb over your clit in slow circles, applying just enough pressure to make you shudder. “Because I gotta say, imagining your cute little nipples adorned with sparkly jewellery while I eat this sweet pussy... fuck, that's even hotter.”

“I’ll get them then,” You pant out in between moans. “Just for you, baby.”

JJ groans low in his throat, hips bucking up as he grinds his cock against you. “For me? Oh, pretty girl, you have no idea how much that turns me on,” He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit that spot that makes your legs tremble, your back arching as a strangled whine escapes your lips. “But don't forget, these pretty tits are all mine too,” His free hand reaches up to pinch and squeeze your nipples. “I want to see those piercings, feel them against my tongue when I suck on your nipples,” He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you faster now, thumb still circling your clit. “Gonna make you cum so hard on my fingers, pretty girl. Then I'm gonna bend you over and fill this tight little cunt with my cock.”

You squeal as he picks you up and flips you over, pinning you underneath his weight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You kept your promise to JJ.

After researching and asking around Kildare, you found your piercing studio; Prickink just across the thoroughfare on the mainland. $175 for both the piercings and the jewellery. You would get simple silver bars for now, but they had the cutest pink heart nipple rings that you wanted for after they’re all healed. Only the best for JJ.

You push the door open, walking into Prickink, greeted by the buzz of tattoo guns and the smell of rubbing alcohol, 80s rock playing softly in the background. The receptionist smiles when she sees you approach the counter, holding your ID and a wad of cash. “Hi, welcome to Prickink! How can I help you?” She's decked out in tattoos, covering her arms and chest, with a cute nose ring with a bat charm on it and large gauged ears. “Piercing or tattoo?”

“Uh, piercing,” You say nervously. “I have an appointment today at 12:30 with Yvette.”

“Alright, lemme see here…” The receptionist types away on her computer. She confirms your name before taking your ID and checking it. “Nipple piercings?”

You nod. “Yeah. Kinda nervous, but it’ll be worth it.”

She hands you your ID back. “Nerves are normal, but everything will be alright. Yvette is one of the best in North Carolina,” She types on the computer before looking back at you. “Alright, it’ll be $175 including the jewellery. We can’t put in the heart rings until your piercings heal, but you’re welcome to take them home. Will it be cash or card?”

“Uhh, cash.” You say, pulling out $175. She takes the cash and recounts it, sliding a consent form over to you to fill out and sign. You check every necessary box and sign your name, handing it back to her.

“Alright. You can go and sit down, Yvette will come get ya when she’s ready.” She gestures over to the seating area where a few other people are waiting. Some have their phones out, some reading a magazine, and some were waiting as couples excited to get their matching tattoos.

You sit on one of the chairs, pulling out your phone and scrolling, trying to calm your nerves. It would hurt, yes, but everything would be okay. JJ would be more than happy to help you clean and take care of them. You wait for almost 10 minutes before Yvette rounds the corner, calling your name. You stand up and follow her through the hallway, shoving your shaky hands into the back pockets of your shorts. 

Yvette leads you through the tattoo shop, passing a few different rooms before arriving in the last one at the end, closing the door behind you. There’s a tattoo chair, a small stool, and a shelving unit built into the wall full of supplies. “Alright, take a seat. I’ll need you to remove your top and bra. You can set them on the stool right there.”

You take off your shirt and your bra, folding them and setting them aside on the stool before sitting down on the chair, leaning back against the seat. You clasp your hands in your lap.

She sits on the small stool at the end of the chair, putting on a pair of nitrile gloves. She grabs a thin black marker and holds it up to your chest, making a small dot at the centre of your left nipple, before marking the right as well. “Alright. Any questions before I get started?”

“How long is the healing process?” You ask. “I just… I have an eager boyfriend, ya know?”

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one plenty of times,” She puts the marker down. “Well, it’ll usually take about six to nine months for you to fully heal. It varies person to person, and a bit if it’s done right but a good guideline.”

You nod, leaning back in the chair. “Okay. Sounds good.”

She scoots forward slightly, the stool rolling smoothly on the wheels. “I’m going to start with the left one. Deep breaths, and try not to move too much.” You nod again as she wipes your nipple with an alcohol prep pad before pulling out a fresh needle, picking up the clamp with her free hand.

It all happens so fast. One second you’re feeling the cooling sensation of the pad, the next second you’re in unbearable pain. You keep still, gripping the armrests so tight your knuckles turn white. You let out a shaky breath as Yvette slides the bar in, twisting the ball bearing closed. “Alright, one down. You need a second?”

“Yeah,” You say breathlessly, your face growing hot. “Holy shit.”

She sets the needle down, giving you a pat on the knee. “Yeah, that’s the worst part. Nerves are in there and it’s super painful. Once I’ve got the second one in the painful part will be over, and you can just sit there and look cute.”

You laugh, even though you didn’t find it particularly funny. Yvette dabs up some of the blood as you shut your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Okay. I’m ready.”

You grip the armrest again and prepare for the second needle. This time it goes a lot smoother. One pinch of the clamp, a quick swipe of the prep pad, a slide of the needle and a twist of the bearing. “And, done,” She says. “How you feeling?”

“Good,” You say. “A little lightheaded. I got cookies in my bag though.”

Yvette smiles as she puts the clamps down. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one either. It’s perfectly normal. Let me just tape some gauze over them before you get dressed again. I would recommend leaving the bra off,” She gets up from the stool and heads to the storage cabinet, picking out two thin strips of gauze with some medical tape before returning to you. She places them over your nipples, then tapes down the edges. “Keep those on until tonight, then you can take them off to shower.”

You sigh. “Alright, cool. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. Now, make sure you don’t play with them while they’re still healing. You’re gonna want to,” She chuckles. “I would also avoid all swimming, even if it's in a pool. There are a lot of bacteria that you don’t want that getting into the piercing,” She hands you a business card from one of the shelves. “Call or come back if you have any questions about healing.”

“Sweet, thank you. Have a good day.” You say, pulling your shirt back over your head. You tuck your bra into your bag before heading out of the piercing studio. You pull out one of the cookies and munch on it while you head back to your car, a small smile on your lips.

JJ is going to love them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You push JJ down to sit on the edge of his bed, running your fingers through his hair. “I got something I wanna show you, baby.”

He smirks, putting his hands on your hips as he sits, fingers dipping under the waistband of your leggings. He leans closer, the smell of your shampoo filling his nostrils, your hair still damp from your shower. “Oh yeah? What is it, pretty girl?”

“Did you wash your hands like I asked?” You ask, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders.

He shrugs nonchalantly, not bothering to remove his hands from your hips despite your question. “Yeah, yeah, course I did. Don't worry about it,” He reaches up to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. “Now, show me what you've got for me.” You roll your eyes, moving your hands from his shoulders to grip the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your new piercings glitter in the lowlight of his room. 

JJ's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of your newly pierced nipples, his gaze fixated on the glinting metal, his cock hardening in his sweatpants. “Holy shit, pretty girl…” He trails a finger over the barbell piercing your left nipple, watching intently as it twitches with the movement. “Look at that. So fucking sexy,” He leans in, taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before switching to the other side to do the same. “Mmm, love the way it feels against my tongue, fuck you’re so fucking sexy,” He releases your nipple with a pop, looking up at you with a hungry grin. “Do you like having them played with?”

You let out such cute, soft little gasps as he rubs his thumbs over them. You nod, grabbing his biceps. “Yeah, Jay. I like it a lot.”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb around them slowly. “Good, baby, I’m glad. You look so fucking sexy, baby. Like a goddess,” He wraps his arms around your waist and spins around, throwing you onto the bed and climbing on top of you, pinning your hips down with his own. “When they’re all healed up, you should get those rings that have the connecting chain. Wanna tug on it and hear your sweet little whimpers.”

You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Only if you promise to play with them often,” You reach down, rubbing your fingers over his hard cock, feeling it strain against his shorts. “Got ‘em just for you, my love.”

JJ groans, hips thrusting into your touch as he grinds his hardness against your palm. “Fuck, you're killing me, baby. I'll play with them every damn day if you want,” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim yours. Breaking away, he pants, “Need you naked, now. Remember what I said last week? I wanna eat you out and watch how you look when you cum with your nipples all pierced.” 

With swift movements, he tugs your leggings down, sending them flying across the room. He yanks down your soaked panties, pocketing them for later. “Christ, you're dripping wet already,” JJ groans, spreading your thighs wide. He buries his face between your legs, lapping at your slit hungrily. “So fucking sweet…”

You squeal, back arching as your thighs clamp down on the sides of his face. Your hands immediately fly to his hair, gripping and tugging on the blond strands. “Fuck, JJ!” He moans loudly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core as he laps at your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the sensitive nub. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he devours your pussy. He pulls back slightly, blowing cool air over your wet heat before diving back in, tongue delving deep to taste your arousal. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, his favourite taste in the world. 

“Mmm, fuck, you taste amazing, baby,” His voice is mumbled as he sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before releasing with a pop. “Gonna make you cum so hard, pretty girl. Wanna hear you whine and cry for me.” He resumes his relentless assault on your clit, fingers digging into your thighs as he eats you out like a man starved, one hand going up to tweak your right nipple.

Your jaw goes slack, and you throw your head back, thighs trembling against the sides of his face. “Fuck, JJ, please!”

JJ looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, saliva dripping down his chin as he continues to feast on your pussy. His eyes are drawn to the silver studs on your cute little nipples, and his cock throbs as he slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in time with his licks and sucks on your clit. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you need,” He murmurs against you, the words vibrating against your clit and making you shiver. His free hand moves to your left breast, rolling and pinching the nipple roughly. “Wanna hear you scream my name when you cum, wanna feel your little pussy gush, but you gotta ask for permission, baby.” He redoubles his efforts, sucking harder on your clit as he curls his fingers to hit that magic spot inside you. Your body starts to quake, toes curling, as your orgasm builds.

You gasp, trying to find your voice. “Fuck, please JJ, please let me cum! I’ve been good! Please!” You tug on his hair, back arching off of the bed.

JJ smirks against your pussy, blowing more air directly onto your clit. “Alright, alright, baby. You can cum, but only because you asked so nicely,” He sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue as he pumps his fingers fast and deep inside you. At the same moment, his hand moves back up to your right nipple, rolling the stud between his fingers and tugging.

The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as your inner walls clench tightly around his fingers, pulsing with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you. JJ moans in satisfaction, continuing to lap at your spasming pussy, drinking in every drop of your release. Only when your tremors subside does he finally pull away, licking his lips clean of your juices. He gazes up at you, eyes shining with pride and desire. “That's my good girl. Fuck.”

You let out a strangled whimper as he kneels, pulling his shorts down before climbing over you. He pulls his hard cock out, fingers brushing over the tip to gather some pre-cum, spreading it out over his length as he jerks himself off. JJ grips his shaft firmly, stroking it in long, even motions as he hovers above you, his heavy balls slapping against your thigh with each pump. Pre-cum beads at the tip, leaking steadily as he gets closer to the edge.

His chest heaves with ragged breaths, abs clenched tight. “You're so fucking beautiful like this,” he rasps, his gaze roaming over your flushed skin, the glint of metal on your nipples, the messy hair around your face. “Can't wait to bury myself deep in this perfect cunt and fill it up. Fuck.” He leans over you, lining himself up before starting to push in, giving you time to adjust to his size. He pauses for a moment, savouring the feel of your hot, slick walls wrapped around him, before starting to move, one hand going to tug on your new piercings.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

let me know if you want me to do this prompt with rafe!

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join my permanent obx taglist here!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

“Come on, doll,” Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently. 

His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesn’t let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room. 

He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you don’t think you’ll ever be used to that. 

“Sisters,” he declares brightly, “that is what I will call you from now on.” 

He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly. 

“And you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,” he says. 

“Sir,” Kitty moves towards your younger sister. 

“I ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,” Barnes explains. “And we get you all settled where you need to be.” 

Your sisters blink at you then each other. You can’t say it out loud. That makes it real. 

Barnes turns on his heel, “speaking of loose ends, I should go.” 

He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isn’t the same as when you kiss his ring, it isn’t deference, no it is a show of ownership. 

“Have a good night,” you say at last. 

He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, “it’s already spectacular, doll.” 

He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name. 

“What’s going on?” She appears in the doorway. 

You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand. 

“Oh my god, it’s huge.” 

“Stop,” you try to tug your hand back. 

“You’re marrying him?” Kitty’s voice deflates by the last syllable. “Why?” 

You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. “To keep us safe.” 

“Us? We’ll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--” 

“And then what? It’s not enough to last forever,” you argue. “Even if we can find work, we’ll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a week’s experience down at the diner.” 

“We can start now--” 

“We can start now and never reach the finish line,” you insist. “Kitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isn’t a life you walk away from, even if he’s dead.” 

Adrienne sniffles. She’s on the edge of tears again. 

“So, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?” Kitty challenges. 

“He can make sure that neither of you have to--” 

“We don’t need you to be our martyr,” Kitty argues. 

“I’m not--” you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that you’re all trapped for that moment of vengeance. “Kitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?” 

She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men. 

“We could all go. Disappear.” 

“And they wouldn’t find us? How far could we get, really?” 

“Not far,” Adrienne pipes in. “Kitty, would you rather daddy still be here?” 

Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares. 

“I could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldn’t be you. I’m the oldest--” 

“It is me,” you say, “and it could be any one of us but this is how it is. It’s... not the worst.” 

“It’s not?” Kitty says. “That man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didn’t flinch.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“No, you don’t know,” Kitty insists, “you can’t be sure that he isn’t like daddy.” 

She’s right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it can’t erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it. 

“If it keeps you two from men like daddy--” 

“Stop,” Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. “None of us deserve it.” 

“You stop,” you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. “Should I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?” 

She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration. 

“You tell me,” she points her finger at you. You’re almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, she’s gentle, but she has your mother’s quiet strength. “You tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.” 

“Kitty,” you murmur. 

Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all. 

“No, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,” she snarls. “I will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thought—I thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.” She curls her lip and exhales heavily. “So, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you don’t even try to cover it up. One bruise...” she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. “I sound like him.” She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. “I sound like daddy. I’m just so... tired.” 

You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sister’s shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes. 

“You will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesn’t change that,” you say. “We stick together, no matter what.” 

“Oh, we will,” Kitty insists, “I will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.” 

“Kitty, Ade,” you look from one to the other, “no one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.” 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Girl, it's not just an emotional rollercoaster it's a full on emotional CARNIVAL 🤣

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

The line is devastating. It ''bites." It's more than just telling someone that they messed up, it's also kinda catty lol.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

He really bet it all. And I'm in love with the person who said "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." 😂

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

I think it would have been a bigger gut punch to Dean if she didn't stay in the room with him, but I still think that the her turning her back on him and not letting him touch her kinda hit the nail on the head pretty well too.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

It's not weird, I think that it's really fitting! And I also really like writing the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff too lol. But you're absolutely right, Dean really does adopt that mentality after Lisa and Ben and it is really heartbreaking to see him like that.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

As much as I do love the readers who are "tough as nails" and "doesn't cry very often" I love the readers who are strong but are allowed to break. It makes them seem more real. Because as much as I believe that there are people who are completely just insane badasses, they've gotta have some kind of emotion or compassion or else they don't seem human. Also "Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL" I'm DEAD 😂

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

Please never apologize for the angst. I LOVE IT! And I really did also love how emotional this fic made me. It was wonderful lol.

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

GIRL WHAT?! OH MY WORD THAT IS JUST SO MUCH BETTER! Thank you for explaining that to me!

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

No, THANK YOU for writing this wonderful fic/series! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @chernayawidow @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses

[evilslushy]

would you be open to doing bf headcanons for hamzah? they could be sfw and nsfw or just sfw. love ur writing :). <3

BF Headcanons _♡

SFW

i’m a very opinionated person, so asking me about my hamzah headcanons is a FIELD DAY for me

I’ve always said this but I feel like hamzah (in the beginning of the relationship) is very shy? Not in the way of “ignore any possible interaction between you and him” but more of a “ignores eye contact after a kiss” or “blushes when you call him a nickname for the first time”

He acts like he hates when you baby him but behind closed doors… BIGGEST BABY EVERRRR

It took him a while to hold your hand in public, not because he's embarrassed but again because he gets too flustered when you run your thumb up and down against the back of his hand,,, or when you play with his hands in general.

I MENTIONED THIS BEFORE IN FIC BUT HAMZAH IS AN EAR BLUSHER AND HE'S SO CUTE WAA

If you get on his lap and play with his hair while talking about random stuff, and you kiss him out of nowhere HE’LL SMILE THIS BIG SMILE AND COVER HIS EARS IM CRYINGGGGG HES SO CUTE

Speaking of kissing lololol

Hamzah’s kisses are SENSUAL, he takes his time and really makes sure you feel his love

Contrary to popular belief i feel like if you’re with hamzah for long enough his love language becomes physical touch

And i dont say that and mean ONLY kisses but hes such a cuddly person. HE NEEDS THAT TLC HES A BIG BOY

BUT. Big but! He is not the type of person to show affection publicly IM SORRYYY

Holding hands and hugging is fine but i think more intimate things he’d rather do in private…

Not because hes embarrassed as i said, he gets shy at other people perceiving that version of him especially since he isn’t ‘acting’ or ‘joking’

Also he feels like only you deserve to see him like this hehehe

His love language is quality time. Like actually.

His head on your chest, playing stardew valley on his ipad. You watching TV or reading while playing with his curls.

Another form of this is that he’ll ask you to be him and martins cameraman just to have you there with him

Or he’ll ask if you want to try a new coffee shop that opened down the street

He’s a man that likes to be around you 24/7

ALSO ALSO ALSO OMG OMG

HE WOULD SO FORCE YOU TO DO BACKGROUND VOCALS FOR SOME OF HIS MUSIC LIKE THE RAPPERS HE LIKES LMFAO

I dont wanna go on too long with this but one thing is for sure

You’re his princess for REAL treats you like ROYALTY lol

If you guys get into an argument. Even if you’re wrong, he ends up apologizing

“I shouldn’t have let it boil over to this anyway.”

10/10 boyfriend. Totally recommend.

NSFW

SISTA. I HAVE NEVER EVER THOUGHT I’D HAVE THE PLATFORM TO SHARE THESE THOUGHTS BUT I HAVE TO MAKE SURE YALL UNDERSTAND ONE THING!!!!

Hamzah is NAWT a boob or ass guy. HE LIKES BOTH EQUALLY. (He is secretly is ass-leaning tho LMFAO)

This is so funny but he totally is the type to smack your ass randomly when he walks by.

Do you get mad? Yes. Do you tell him to stop it? Yes. Does he stop? No. Do you secretly think it's kinda…? WELL YESSS

TWO WORDS. Boob squeezer.

I think from what we can understand so far. is that Hamzah is the handsy man. HIS HANDS ALWAYS SOMEWHERE LOL

sex drive is for sure high. and when i say high… ITS HIGHHH

Contrary to popular belief AGAIN.

Hamzah doesn’t partake in dirty talk much… not that he doesn't like it—he just wouldn’t in my opinion? It's not that he wouldn’t talk at all, but he is more of a heavy breathing, whimpering, moaning guy—pretty much more noises than actual words

Though as i said, he would talk sometimes, especially if he’s feeling really good, or his stamina is lasting him longer than he thought… he starts getting a little cocky

On the topic of dirty talk, if he does talk, 99.9% of it would be praising, i don't see him enjoying degrading unless you ask him to.. but he’ll be a little awkward about it LMFAOOO

Something like: “fuck, baby you’re taking me so good.”

(Unironically starts actually using good girl after a while of making it a joke btw)

Someone sent a request a few days ago and said “i feel like hamzah has a breeding kink” and why was i gagged?! NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT BUT YES, i feel like hes more into the thought filling u with *** then the thought of impregnating you if that makes any sense

Im talking too much… digital footprint go hard.

(A/N): this isnt proofread, i kinda braindumped but i had fun doing this!! Thank u anon for the request I HOPE U LOVE THIS CUTIE MWAAAAHH

[miss-cincaide]

Off Your Plate 

Summary: Chuuya surprises you by handling the chores on your plate that make you tired, in the process making sure the ‘chore’ you crossed out a couple of days ago returned and settled right back at the top of the list. 

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Boyfriend! Chunya Nakahara Warnings! This fic contains:  18+ content, pressure sex and a hint at dub-con, pet names, fingering, cursing & emotional detachment.

Read at your own risk.  

Unlocking the front door with a finger, you carefully balanced yourself and the numerous grocery bags in your arms as you wiggled through the heavy, bulletproof door of your boyfriend's luxurious home. You were desperate not to drop or damage precious items for your soon-to-be dinner or else- You paused, a frown graced your lips. The normally silent apartment wasn’t as silent as when you left it: there was an unmistakable faint humm of running tap water and the cling-clang of dishes. 

Your stomach dropped to your feet; dread gnawed at your insides at the prospect of your usual peace disturbed and your comforting routine ruined. Instantly, your gaze sought out the clock- surely, you couldn’t have wasted away all afternoon.

12:36. 

The wave of panic increased: it was far too early for Chuuya to be home. Shouldn’t he be away on some Mafia errand or something about a new diamond mine? Or maybe he was out saving Dazai’s skin again? No, not that. Was it a clean-up job he said he’d be on and would return later than usual? The one where he said he’d be home by midnight?! 

"Oh-Hey babydoll, You're home?” Chuuya’s voice was surprised, then it morphed into a slightly scolding tone as he turned off the tap “ Why didn't you say anything?" 

“I.. didn’t think you were home?” You answered lamely and hoped he mistook your disappointment for surprise. 

His chuckle reassured you that he did, and you felt your shoulders slump in relief as you watched him slowly strut towards you. You noted that his jacket was off, his dress shirt pulled up to the elbows, and his gloves were missing. Unmistakable dishwater dampened his skin while reminiscent of bubbles slowly popped away on his gloveless digits. 

You plastered a smile as he took the grocery bags off your hands and leaned forward, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek. You felt the unmistakable tingle of his ability, the way the hairs raised on your body as if you expected him to levitate you into the air. To your relief (or disappointment?), he refrained. Instead, he moved behind you and helped you remove your jacket before he let you walk to the kitchen first. An unmistakable smirk on his face which made your stomach drop further to your feet

What did you do?

The short walk to the kitchen felt agonizingly long. To your astonishment, the dishes from the morning were done, dinner prepped, and counter wiped. The laundry baskets you abandoned in the living room were nowhere in sight, and the faint hum of the washing machine told you the laundry was well on the go.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, the executive walked past you further into the kitchen and propped the fridge and freezer door open. 

“You’re home early? Was the mission too easy again?” You teased lightly, trying to hide your shock behind the usual banter. But what you really wanted to ask was: You did my chores? Why? 

“Ehh, I send some stuck-up assholes to deal with it instead”, Chuuya muttered, tone nonchalant as he made a motion for the levitated groceries to unpack themselves onto their rightful places while he busied himself with opening a bottle of red.

So he sent his subordinates to their death, no doubt. 

The notion weighed heavily on you, and you readily accepted the drink. Before Chuuya even managed to take his much more moderate sip, you had already downed half of the glass. You stopped yourself from downing the rest as you heard his chuckle. 

Chuuya was watching you with amusement in his blue orbs. 

He looked at you as though you were an exotic animal that never ceased to amaze him, his focus more on you than the glass he absentmindedly twirled between his bare fingers. You paused mid-sip, gaze locked onto his digits and how much smaller they looked without his usual leather gloves. 

Less brutal. 

How many times had you begged him not to wear those soiled gloves around you, not to touch you with the bloodied leather- and how many times did he ignore your request?  

So what changed?

“But we’re not here to talk about me, sweetheart.” 

You choked on the wine, and your attention instantly returned to those icy blues. “W-we aren’t?” You feigned ignorance. “Then what are we talking about?” 

Stop with the games, Chuuya; you’re not Dazai, no matter how much you try. 

“No, sweetheart. We’re talking about you.” Chuuya set the glass on the counter, moved over to you, and grasped your chin with his slightly damp, ice-cold hand. “When were you going to tell me the time the chores took? If I knew they took all day, I’d have…” Chuuya cut himself off with a quiet curse and dropped his head on your shoulder; a heavy sigh escaped his lips. “I’m sorry.” the words were short, curt, accompanied by ‘apologetic’ hot open mouth kisses on your skin. 

Oh.

“Chuu I’ve been out all morning; I’m icky” You shrugged the shoulder he leaned on in a motion ‘off’. The familiar ‘im tired, maybe later’ excuse played on the tip of your tongue. But Chuuya beat you to it. 

“I’ve run us a bath, bubbles and all.” He leaned back and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The barely there sweetness of wine on his breath felt suffocating, almost as suffocating as the look in his eyes. “It’s ready, and I’ll help clean you up; you just lay back and relax, hmm?” 

Just lay back like a good girl and take it, you mean?  

“ I appreciate it, I-” Your voice was cut off as your body grew light; the faint red hue surrounded you and lifted you off the ground. You let out a yelp- the only sound you could manage against his gravity manipulation. Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mouth went dry as he took you to the bathroom. You muffled a scream as his hands practically ripped off your outerwear. Your underwear followed off you even quicker. 

Please Chuuya. Not right now.

You closed your eyes as you heard the unmistakable shift of his clothing. A moment later, he got into the bath first, then lowered you to sit between his legs, and his hands rested firmly on your tense shoulders. His ability faded, but not his fingers, which set onto a slow and sensual massage over your skin, your back, and neck, then moved to dance over your ribcage.

 “I want to make it up to you for all those chores,” Chuuya mumbled, his digits ghosting over your nipples, rolling the hardened buds between his thumb and forefinger. Then he took them in his palms, groping and ‘massaging’ your tits.” For being an ass and not seeing how goddamn many there were, sweets” One of his hands left your tits and shifted lower, skimmed over your stomach and settled on massaging your inner thigh.

 “ Can I show you how much I appreciate what you do, sweetheart-” he purred, trailing kisses from your hair, down the side of your face and to your ear.

-You could do that by getting your hands off - 

“- Also I’ve hired a maid” 

Your head snapped to look at him over your shoulder, mouth opened and closed like a fish as you stared at his self-satisfied grin. The confident kind that said he had it all figured out. “You.. hired a maid?” 

“Don’t look so surprised, babydoll” Chuuya kissed the corner of your lips. “This way, you’ll get time away from the chores and focus on us.” his hand slipped and began massaging your inner thigh. His intentions were so painfully clear, his words so painfully obvious; was it even a ‘choice’ at this point? 

You mean you hired a maid to handle the ‘boring’ chores, so that one chore could return to the top of your list? 

Yet, you bit back your anger and frustration, understood and accepted your position as ‘trapped’ and ‘powerless’ in the unbalanced power dynamic between you owing nothing and your boyfriend owning everything. Understood that the luxury around you- and ultimately your life- relied on one key thing. 

Be smart or you’ll end up like his ‘stuck up’ subordinates.

Reluctantly, you spread your legs for his eager hands and leaned back against his chest as he showered your skin and bites and kisses. Suppressed a shudder at the obscene purr of “I can’t wait to make you feel good puppy, to fill you right up to the brim” and faked a moan as his fingers pushed right in. 

Nakahara may have put ‘sex’ back onto your daily list of chores, and you’d be forced to follow through with it like a ‘good girlfriend.’

For now.

Author note: This fic is a loosely connected continuation to a List Of Chores- and was supposed to come out a lot sooner but life got in the way.. oh well..

For those who didn’t think this fic was dark enough, try viewing the entire situation from Chuuya’s perspective. I dare you. 

Main |Raven|Rules & Requests |Masterlist | Cred & Other 

All fics are unique works by © miss-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. jealousy is a disease !

there's nothing wrong with a little bit of jealousy, right? as long as you're honest about it, surely...

featuring : till

cw : fluff, gn!reader, mentions of death/being killed but nothing too graphic, probably ooc till...

a/n : OMGOMGOMG ALNST FIC ON TUMBLR???? i wasn't expecting to find any, but i find quite a lot!! i was so happy so i decided to make one myself and joined all the other writers>:) i've never watched any theory videos, so i dont really know how till acts. but from the limited videos alone, i can atleast know his personality;)

he really wouldn't have cared at all if you got closer to another human, or even an alien—is what he thought, as if he isn't glaring at you talking to your fans. your smile at those aliens lining up to shake your hands doesn't help. why would you even smile at all the aliens anyways? they all look ugly. he knows that how popular you are is not under your control, and that this is all arranged by your owner. but still, he doesn't like it, not even a single bit.

but he is happy that you're getting the recognition you deserve, after being forc—i mean, working hard for it all. but it still upsets him at how happily you talk to all the aliens, the smile you gave them, the look of adoration that you gave them. you noticed that he's been staring at you the whole time, though. but you made it seem as if you didn't, which annoys him. if he could, he would grab you by the wrist and ran away as fast as he can with you following him. but he won't. he doesn't want or like the risk of the both of you being killed because of that.

so, he endured his jealousy for what felt like an hour, and it all finally ended. "i'm sorry, have i kept you waiting?" you finally turned at him, your face glistening with sweat. even with how messy your makeup and hair has gotten after all those handshake, you still look as ethereal as ever. "till?" you tilt your head curiously when he didn't reply.

"uh—huh, what? sorry. was zonin' out." he noticed that he have been looking at your face the whole time and unintentionally ignored your question. "what did you say again?" he asked, looking away from your face this time in embarrassment. you only chuckled softly at him before finally repeating your question. "no, you didn't, it's alright." he answers quickly, as if trying to hide something, making you raise an eyebrow. "really? i really didn't keep you waiting?"

"no, it's fine. let's get inside the car before the driver leaves us here." the driver really won't leave you both here, since it's literally his job to drive the both of you from place to place. it's just his excuse to leave the place faster so he could make you get away from all your fans. "you seem to be eager of leaving this place, is something wrong?" you come closer to him, concern lacing in your gaze. with how close you are to him, it's hard for him to hide his flustered face.

so, he just turned around and walked towards the exit, making you even more confused and concerned for him. he walks really fast too, while you struggle to follow him behind.

"till, are you alright? do you feel sick? uncomfortable? or is it something else?" you asked him once again, and he avoided your gaze again. it keeps happening over and over to the point that if someone else were to watch you both from afar, they'd thought that the both of you are playing a game of tag. it took a lot of convincing from you, but he finally tells you why. not directly though, he doesn't want you to think that he's too clingy.

"i-i got a little... annoyed, when your fans got closer to you, i guess..." he muttered to himself, which made you unable to hear what he says clearly. you tilt your head to look up at him, then cup his cheeks in your hands, earning a soft gasp from him. "w-what are you—"

"are you perhaps... jealous?" you grin at him, his face growing redder as time pass. "i'm—not! let go of my face!" he grips one of your wrist with his hand, but he didn't even make an attempt to move your hands away from his face. "really? your expression says otherwise." you giggle when he glares at you, although his red face betrays the 'scary look' he's giving you.

"i said i'm not, end of the story. let's get in the car or whatever..." he finally swats your hand away, not too harsh though, and he walks away from you. your giggle only grew louder at how flustered he got just from one single interaction with you. "wait for me, till. you can't leave a celebrity like me behind... you don't want any of my fans catching up to me, do you?"

"ugh, stop talking about that!"

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 45!

what a week... i'm greatly enjoying all of the post-8x06 buddie fic (many more recs to come!) and took some time to revisit old favourites, which can be found in previous rec lists. enjoy!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all that we need | not1_2write | 26.4k | M

When Buck buys a Powerball lottery ticket he doesn't think much beyond his need for change to air up his tire. He forgets all about the ticket until word spreads that the winning ticket was sold in LA and hasn't been claimed yet and pretty much dismisses it. After all, there's no way he won the lottery. Turns out no, he really did win the Powerball, to the tune of 295 million dollars and just in time for Christmas. He's going to make sure the 118 has the best Christmas of their lives. And just maybe he'll have a good one too. idk about all of you but i do dream about winning the lottery regularly (way too often for someone who's never bought a ticket, that's for sure). this is such a lovely look at what buck would do with a whole lot of money <3

i take this magnetic force of a man | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 9k | M

Turns out, he isn’t actually afraid of commitment. He’s just afraid of committing to the wrong thing, or the wrong person. Ana, obviously, had been a mistake, because he hadn’t been ready, and he’d put other people’s expectations above his own wants and needs. With Marisol, he’s done the same thing. Moved too fast, doing what he thinks is the right thing according to who? His parents? For Chris’s benefit? Again, pushing past his own comfort, discarding any doubt because it doesn’t fit like… Like Buck. blanket rec for one of my favourite authors who has been posting incredible fics lately!! this one in particular is so beautifully written and so romantic and just so very buddie <3

if i need to rearrange my particules i will for you | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 7.9k | GA

Eddie catches a cold and Buck takes care of him while having a minor, non-platonic emotional crisis. this is definitely influenced by the fact that i've been ill myself but wow truly nothing hits as hard as buddie taking care of each other when one of them isn't feeling well. the bed sharing in this is so good <3

let me | facewithoutheart/@facewithoutheart | 1.6k | T

Eddie doesn't think he needs romance. Buck, respectfully, disagrees. AKA the fic where Buck picks Eddie up and kisses him breathless against a wall. and buck is so right for doing that!! i love it when buck turns eddie to jello <3 so lovely!

second child, restless child | lesbianrobin/@lesbianrobin | 23k and counting| M

how Evan and Maddie make it out of Pennsylvania, and Buck and Maddie build a family. okay so listen these past few weeks i've been doing this thing where i only rec finished fics, and every time i scroll through my ao3 history for these rec lists, i come across this one and go oh i wish i could rec this already. and then i realised wait it's my rec list i can do whatever i want, and so then i did. anyway, mind the tags for this one, but wow are you in for a treat here! i love the character dynamics (chim is brilliant in this!! and maddie!!) and i'm so so excited to see the rest of this fic unfold <3

said that i was fine, said it from my coffin | justhockey/tumblr | 7.3k | T

And it doesn’t matter that he feels like he’s dying. Like the version of himself that he’s always been is suddenly a stranger to him - just a mask he’d spent his entire life hiding behind, without ever even realising he was wearing it. It doesn’t matter that Eddie is…that he’s gay. Because he knows - as surely as he knows that the sun will rise again tomorrow - that the only person he has ever, and will ever, truly love is Buck. And Buck isn’t his to love. another blanket rec for an author who's been posting incredible fics!! this one in particular has such brilliant eddie characterisation and i just devoured it the second i got that little ao3 email hehe

there's no place like home-spun | icewhisper | 4.1k | GA

Buck has spent most of his life trying to find something to settle fidgeting hands and the restless need for a home. He found the key to the latter when he was thirteen. He finds the former in a cozy home on South Bedford Street with two of his favorite people. (AKA the Buck-crochets fic that literally no one asked for.). this fic makes me want to learn how to crochet. i am the least crafty person ever and i have like minus time but just know that if two weeks from now i'm posting about yarn and crochet hooks and whatnot, it's all thanks to this fic. i love buck who crochets so very much <3

you get your dreams for free | llovely/@butchdiaz| 14.9k | T

five times buck and eddie cuddle drunk and one time they cuddle sober. buddie bed sharing my absolute favourite. i read this late at night curled up under three blankets and it hit just right <3

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hii, i just read all and i mean ALL of ur fics, but i saw you wrote for arcane women and was wondering if you could write headcanons abt them with a socially awkward/anxious reader?? If not thats A-Ok 👌 with me

Sure! How is everyone doing after the first three eps? I still haven't seen it but the edits I've seen... oh boy.

"I Got You." | Arcane Ladies Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: How the ladies of Arcane(Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel) act with a socially awkward and/or anxious partner

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Spoiler Free, On The Shorter Side, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX

– At first, Jinx didn't get that you were socially awkward. She was used to people being awkward or even scared around her so she thought it was the same case with you until you two got closer.

– After knowing that your awkwardness was just you and not your fear of her, she observed you in social situations and noted what made you more anxious than normal.

– For example, she noticed you're more anxious and timid in bigger, louder spaces but if a space was quiet and quaint, you would be just fine so she often took you to quiet places for dates.

– If Jinx notices you're anxious in places you typically aren't, without a doubt she's removing you from the situation and taking you home where you can relax. No words, just grabs and tugs.

– She's tried the pep talk route before but it ended up in her rambling and somehow planning a terrorist scheme aloud... (yeah, a few patrons quickly left the area after hearing that), so she decided to scrap that idea altogether.

– At home though she would prepare what she calls, "A Safety Nest". It was a place in your shared space that had all your favorite things and trinkets, and she usually kept the space dimly lit and played your favorite music to calm you down.

– In social interactions where you take the lead in conversation, Jinx would quietly encourage you with big, almost alarming smiles and "gentle" pats on your back. Let's face it, Jinx can be socially awkward herself.

– Once the conversation concludes, she'll jump on you proudly, ruffle up your clothing, and pinch your cheeks endearingly all while calling you weird nicknames and quoting what you said while mimicking your tone and cadence.

––

VI

– Before you've had your first real conversation together, Vi could sense that you were an anxious individual.

– You fidgeted with your body while speaking, didn't hold eye contact long, and used a decent amount of filler words to casualize your sentences.

– She thought it was endearing to watch you act and move as if you thought no one truly cared about what you were saying or were afraid of boring others but you never bored her. She didn't think it was possible.

– You had tells and quips that revealed themselves with each conversation you two had. You showed more and more of your personality the more you got comfortable with her too. Vi loved it.

– When you spoke to her, especially when you went on tangents about things you were interested in, she always showed signs of active listening by nodding and asking follow-up questions. Even days later, she'll bring up the topic again to see if you have any updates.

– She made you feel seen and heard, something you've subconsciously craved. And when you went on your worry rambles, she consoled you and tried her best to stop you from spiraling.

– You thought about a lot of things and oftentimes about things no one else thought about. Vi thought your brain must've been exhausted with all the worries, doubts, and judgments that were usually wrapped up as others' but were truly your own; it was a lot for one person to handle so she strove to let you know that you were not alone.

– Is there a night you can't sleep because of your racing mind? Vi is there, holding you or reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. She can't sleep until you do anyway so why not speed the process along?

– You often had yourself stuck with your head stressing and worrying about multiple things at once and Vi was always there to bring you down to Earth.

__

CAITLYN

– Caitlyn's an encourager and a comforter with you.

– She's patient and silently allows you to take your time when gathering your thoughts midconversation but she'll also be the one to say, "It's okay, take your time," in the sweetest way possible.

– If there's an instance when you two are out and about and you really want something but are too scared to get it, she'll spring into action and get that thing for you. (Even if it was just a napkin).

– The only time she's frazzled socially is when you both are in an unfamiliar area and need to ask for directions. She'll stumble over her words and try to get someone's attention but they're moving too fast to hear her soft words.

– She'll get frustrated and you end up comforting her, but after a few backrubs, she's ready to try again. Her voice is strong and powerful, and people have no problem hearing her.

– You secretly thank whomever you have to for her determination but there was no way in hell you were going to walk up to a stranger and ask for directions like a tourist... which you were.

– Since Caitlyn's job has her socializing with a lot of people, she can get burnt out easily. Especially if work hasn't been going her way lately but even if she's burnt out and tired, if you seem to be more awkward or anxious than her, she's more than happy to step up socially.

– When you both have someplace to attend to or some event that holds significance, Caitlyn will not hesitate to stage a "social rehearsal" with you. She'll make flashcards of topics you could bring up, you'll both dress accordingly for the event in her living room, and she'll pretend to be an assortment of people so you can get used to different personalities all at once.

– It may seem like this is all for you, but honestly it helps her too. Sometimes she misses the personal cues of conversation leading the other to think she's a black-and-white thinking who has no time for pleasanties. Not true! She's very pleasant... sometimes she's just shy.

– Shyness is not a crime!

– After talking with the host and a few others she has to talk to due to her job, her social battery is depleted. She's extremely thankful you're able to recognize this and suggest leaving early. What would you two do without each other?

––

SEVIKA

– Oh, man. This lady found your awkwardness charming as hell.

– Your awkwardness was different than all the nerds and scaly-beings she's forced to be around. You were cute, looked perfect sitting next to her, and your awkwardness, as mentioned before, had a certain charming quality she can't quite place.

– She'll see you in your workplace trying to make casual conversation or small talk but none of your topics seemed to be landing. Your coworkers would give you a thin pressed-lips smile that she wanted to strike off of them to your attempts and then scoff at you behind your back.

– You were authentically yourself and those bastards didn't know what to do with it. They were scared, not her though.

– When you two got closer and comfortable enough with each other that you could tease one another or make playful jabs at the other's expense, no doubt she would tease you about your awkwardness.

– With those gorgeous eyes of yours, you would look everywhere else but her own, prompting her to say, "You know you can look me in the eyes, right? I won't bite", with the stupidest most shit-eating smirk on her face. And then when you look at her, a bit shocked and playfully annoyed, her smirk would only grow. "Unless you want me to."

– Sevika never made your awkwardness seem like a flaw. Your awkwardness came with you and she wanted all of you so she often encouraged your awkwardness.

– If she caught you trying to "reel" it in or realizing that you've talked for a few seconds too long, she'll playfully scold you and tell you to continue or to "let it out". Y'know. As someone who seethes dominance does.

– There would be an instance in which you go to Sevika asking for advice to be "less awkward" and her only response would be, "Why? I like your awkwardness, you don't need to change it. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is a sad loser and don't deserve to be in your life anyways."

– like damnnnn, okay!

– Safe to say you never asked her a question like that again.

--

MEL

– Mel understands your worries about what others think and the awkwardness that can come with it so she likes to help you in any way she can.

– If you're stressed about a council meeting and afraid of what everyone's going to think about the new perspective you'd like to bring to the table, she'll reassure you and tell you she's right by your side.

– If she can't physically with her hand on the small of your back, she give you nods of encouragement, raise her brows proudly, and look at you with that sense of pride and admiration in her golden eyes.

– After the meeting goes well, which she knew would, she'll congratulate you with your favorite drink and a night in doing all your favorite things.

– Even if there were parts in the meeting that were rocky, like the council people asking questions you weren't prepared for or getting rowdy, she'll say you did an excellent job and what you presented will help the people of Piltover.

– Oh, and don't think for a second that she wasn't sending glares and daggers to those who stirred up your anxiety even more. If looks could kill.

– Mel sees that sometimes your awkwardness and anxiety result in people-pleasing and she would shut that down real quick. She's fallen into that dangerous pool before and knows how hard it feels when you disappoint others and how much harder it is to get out of that mindset.

– She can get quite spirited with her encouragement...

– "Well, if they don't like it, that's on them! They don't know something good when they see it." "I've learned that hard way that you can't please everyone. You might as well say what you have to now. They can get over themselves later."

– It's actually quite attractive to see her stand up for you, even if she was standing up for the possibility.

– Always keeping her words in your mind, you find yourself navigating through life easier and you only have her to thank.

WC: 1,705

[cherrycolored-punk]

take a bite out of these

just an updated list of all of my favorite creators so far! I’m sure there will be plenty more added 🖤

thank you for sharing your talent and your amazing creations!

this is a little long so all recs are below the cut !

can also follow my tag #el’s fic recs

Eddie -

crash + fall by @trashmouth-richie - an ongoing soulmate AU series about my favorite freak that I’m already so very in love with and is written so beautifully.

she fucking hates me by @littlexdeaths - I’m still foaming at the mouth over this bully!Eddie x reader fic. it’s so fucking hot and I don’t think I’ll be over it any time soon (or ever).

after hours by @hellfire--cult - I am fairly new to the omegaverse and holy fuck what an introduction this was. I love a dominate Eddie and oh my god did Roe deliver.

sailor’s delight by @dr-aculaaa - this fic made me YEARN in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Drac is an amazing writer and I just wanna live in this little world they created.

let's go, don't wait by @carolmunson - the fic that has me questioning why none of my online dates have ever been this good. I fucking love this story so much, just wanna live in a world where teacher!Eddie falls in love with.

daylight by @abibliophobiaa - while I tend to stay away from pregnancy!AUs, this one had me hooked. It's cute, sweet, hot. I need a dad!Eddie stat.

twenty-four hours / coffee shop blues by @ghost-proofbaby - ghost is hands down one of my favorite Eddie writers. She writes him in a way that makes me fall in love time and time again. as a bonus, if you're a fan of astarion, she's written the moon will sing (i love you like the sun) which is just as beautifully written as the rest of her works.

the biology tutor by @mrsjellymunson - I binged this in a day, the premise and the smut were so damn hot that I couldn't get enough.

everlong by @andvys - this was my first introduction to andy's work and it has remained a favorite ever since. has so many amazing stories but there's something about a secret relationship behind Steve's back that gets me.

the yes policy / wish you were here by @pinkrelish - the way I lost sleep reading through both of these fics. I love the worlds that Alyson created and the version of Eddie she gifted us with. I've read them over and over again.

to know you’re mine by @blueywrites - I read through this series in a day, losing sleep may I add, because I was that addicted to it. I will admit, at first, I didn’t think it’d be my jam because of the swinger dynamic but holy shit does Bluey make it both tender and hot at the same time. I almost combusted. I seriously couldn’t get enough. She is an amazing writer and I can’t wait to read more of her work.

for your viewing pleasure / shelter from the storm by @rebelfell - the way Sarah has me absolutely on my knees for Eddie every time I read one of her fics…they genuinely leave me UNWELL (in the best way). like for your viewing pleasure? I was a little unsure at first (would I get jealous over a fictional man having relations with other fictional women?) but then I devoured it. it’s so insanely hot and she is one of the best smut writers on here. and shelter from the storm? pllleeeeasseee Eddie show up on my doorstep to check up on me in a storm. Please offer to get me there.

Steve -

we tried the world / she drives me crazy by @upsidedownwithsteve - if there is an author I equate with a character, it's Emmy with Steve. I was a diehard Eddie girl until I read her stories and fell in love with my favorite dork again and again. All her works are seriously a gift that I always return to.

all i really want is you / colors by @loveshotzz - the first author that made me even consider an older!Steve let alone fall in love with him over and over in every way she writes him. I will never be over either of these fics and re-visit them all the time.

we'll call it love by @superblysubpar - I've said before that this is part of my top ten and still is to this day. I revisit it often, falling back into this world. dreaming of this steve. story is so witty, funny and hot while also remaining tender in many moments. Also, simply the best - the title is pretty self-explanatory because the story is already that…simply the best. It’s ongoing but I am already hooked. I love the Spider-Man!Steve AU and Taylor is an amazing writer so I know it’s only going to keep getting better.

asking for a favor by @wroteclassicaly - this struck me right in all the perfect feels and Kristen has a way of doing that. I have a long to be read list but Kristen is all over it. She's an amazing writer and I love all her angst / smut.

Jonathan -

rise and shine by @eiightysixbaby - I hadn’t read a fic for Jonathan before, or really considered it, but man…this fic managed to convert me. Now I need him in the biblical sense.

Billy -

no charge by @hellfire--cult - oh. my. fuck. what a fast conversion this was to a Billy fan. Jaw on the floor, wondering why I don’t have a hot hot hot Billy knocking on my floor to give me the ultimate striptease plus 8 inches extra.

honey honey by @pastel-pillows - speaking of my fast train to a Billy fan, this is the fic that really started it all. He is so sweet in this, and I just ache for a soft Billy since reading this amazing fic.

@boltedfruit

@selineabanto

@xgumiho

@tubesock86

@stervrucht

@toktopus-art

@donttellunclesam

@littleststarfighter

@tellme-astory

@jemmacdraws

@obligatedart

@strangergraphics (graphics / headers / dividers)

@hugdealer (some of my favorites edited photos of Eddie)

@freckledjoes (photos / gifs)

@werewolfnat (formerly kingofscoops)

@djo

@steveharringtondaily

@batty4steddie

@emziess

most, if not all, of these are Eddie coded

you know I can eat you better than he can

getting hate fucked on your crushes bed by his best friend

post campaign pleasure with your dungeon master

your bully finds out you have a crush on him

[unhingedangstaddict]

Currently working on my own fix-it fic but man this shit is harder than I thought it'd be- I keep crying and then getting distracted reading other fix-it fics. Thought I'd share this snippet to hopefully motivate myself to keep going???

Hen was starting to wonder if maybe Tommy was out for a run when she heard a faint ‘oh shit’ from inside the house. She banged on the door again. “Come on Kinard! I know you’re in there!” She called out. If Tommy’s neighbors thought she was crazy, oh well, too bad. Hen really didn’t care.

Finally the door was opened by Tommy. His hair was a mess- sticking up as though he’d been running his hands through it far too much-, he had deep dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying, and frankly, he looked like shit. “What do you want, Hen?” Tommy rasped. Whether his voice was hoarse due to dehydration or yelling and/or crying was unclear.

“To talk about what happened last night.” Hen crossed her arms.

“You mean you’re here to yell at me for what I did?" Tommy guessed. He hadn't forgotten the thinly veiled shovel talk from Hen and Karen months back at the medal ceremony- he wasn't surprised Hen was here now. “Trust me I hate myself for it enough. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought about myself.”

“No. I’m here to try and understand what even happened. According to Eddie, Buck wasn’t making very much sense last night. Eddie would’ve come himself to check on you but he’s got Buck right now. Eddie’s worried about you and frankly, I am too.”

Tommy sighed deeply and stepped aside to let Hen into the house.

Soon they were sitting at Tommy’s kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna keep having that staring contest with your coffee?” Hen questioned.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Tommy admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Hen said slowly, waiting for Tommy to explain further why he was upset by it. Beyond the obvious matter of Buck leasing his loft apartment and Tommy owning his house, Hen wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“For a split second, I thought about saying yes.” Tommy confessed. “Then I returned to reality and realized I had to end it.”

“But why?” Hen questioned.

“Even if it was only for a second, Hen, I was ready to, what? Sell my house and more than half my stuff to move in with him? I’m not even mad about that part- I’m upset with myself for considering it. I’ve been in Evan’s position before, first gay relationship, lovesick, you think it’s gonna last forever. And I’ve been the first for guys before too. Like I told Evan last night, I know how it ends. And I guess I’d rather break my own heart than wait around for Evan to do it.”

“If you’ve been so sure all this time that it could never work, why did it take until now for you to call things off?” Hen questioned.

“I think from the start I knew I was playing with fire. After the last guy I was a first for, I told myself I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Then I met Evan, and he was just so magnetic, I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to. I couldn't say no to him. I think I always knew my heart would get broken, and I guess I was okay with that all this time, until last night when I realized I love him, and I knew I had to cut myself off before I reached a point of no return.” Tommy explained. “I mean, I’m a fucking a mess right now and I was the one who called it off. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to survive him ending it.”

“Did you really just figure out last night that you love him?” Hen asked.

“I guess I sorta loved him from the start but last night was different, Hen. I’m in love with him, like well and truly love him, in a way I’ve never felt before, about anyone.” Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. “And I’m just his first. And as badly as I want it, I know I don’t get to be his last.”

“What makes you so sure you can’t be his last?” Hen wondered.

“Because I’m not the forever guy." Tommy shrugged slightly as a tear finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "At best I’m the close-to-but-never-quite-enough guy."

[covenha]

Synopsis: Sunoo realizes that his love language is acts of service. Pairings: sunoo x fem!reader Genre: fluff! so much fluff I got cavities from writing this WC: 1356 Warnings: mentions of academic stress and insomnia a/n: I had fun writing this one, really had to destress from all the studying I've been doing these past few days so this fic is a lil self-indulgent whoops. anyway, this is also a work of fiction so don't forget to touch some grass after reading! lmao jk but as always feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated! and requests are open so if you guys want me to write something lmk :))

Sunoo can admit, he always felt like he was pampered.

It’s not like he didn’t like it. Heck, he enjoyed the feeling of his members being attentive to him. The way that Jay cooks meat just the way he likes it. The way that Jake lets him get away with mistakes in his grammar because it’s just “part of his charm.” Or, the way that Jungwon always let him have a few bites of his sweets even though Sunoo definitely said he didn’t want to order one of his own. 

Which is why it was such a refreshing feeling to be with you. He never really knew what his love language was until he met you. So here are the three times that made him realize his love language was acts of service.

It was late at night, midterms were coming up and things were not looking up for you. With so many enzymes to memorize and so many cascades to internalize, if you had to look at one more diagram with arrows one more time, you were simply going to go clinically insane. 

“Why won’t this get in my head?! Who even named these stupid enzymes? Argininosuccinate synthetase? Sounds like something Elon Musk would name his child.” You bonk your head with your notebook, clearly on the brink of insanity. 

“Hey,” Sunoo’s soft voice cuts through your inner monologue. “You doing okay? Is it the krebs cycle again?” You sigh.

“There’s just so much to study for, I don’t think I can cram it all inside my goldfish brain.” You pout at the notes scattered across the desk in the room. 

“Hey, babe, you don’t have a goldfish brain. C’mon, you’re one of the smartest people I know.” Sunoo starts to get up from his lying position on the bed. 

“You don’t have to get up, Sun. I can manage this on my own, just need to whine about it first.” You give him a little smile while shrugging your shoulders. 

Sunoo drags the bean bag chair at the corner of the room and sets it right beside you. 

“Okay, we have a few hours before your exam. We can work with this. We just need to mix some active recall into the review!” Sunoo beams up at you as he lay in the bean bag, notebook in hand. 

And for the rest of the night, and well into the morning, Sunoo helps you study for your godawful Chemistry midterm. The look you had when you got back your results, passing your midterms exams with the brightest smile on your face, he just knew that he had to protect that smile.

One thing that Sunoo learned about you quickly was that you loved to drink matcha. Sure, to him it tastes like grass, but he liked mint chocolate things so who was he to judge? You loved going to this cafe two blocks from your apartment, it was owned by an old Taiwanese couple who immigrated a couple years ago. You were one of their longest regulars. So it was quite upsetting to find out that they were closing up shop for good.

Ever since that cafe closed, you have tried looking around for the next best matcha but, sadly, none have come close to beating their matcha latte. One month into the search and you had all but given up on your matcha latte dreams. That was until one day you woke up to the smell of green tea in your kitchen. 

“Sunoo? What’s that smell?” You nose around the hallway leading to the kitchen. 

And much to your surprise, a glass of green goodness is being served up on the kitchen island. 

“Sunoo? Is this what I think it is?” You ask in surprise at what you see. You go up to him and hug his side. He throws his arms around your waist, hugging your form. 

“Well, I know you’ve been looking for a matcha latte replacement and haven’t found one yet, so I decided to do a little digging. Asked for their recipe and tried to make it myself. I hope it tastes okay.” He mushes his cheek against your head then smiles down at you. 

“Sunoo, you really didn’t have to do this….” You look up at him. You felt all warm and fuzzy. 

“Well, I can’t have my little girlfriend go for too long without her matcha latte. She’s gonna start tweaking.” He teases. You just poke his cheek and decide to taste his drink. 

You knew that whatever it tasted like, you were going to love it anyway. But one sip of the green drink and you felt your heart soar at the familiar taste. 

“Sunoo, this tastes amazing!” You look back at him with a surprised look in your eyes. 

“Really?”

“No, really! Like it tastes just like how they make it. How did you pull this off? I’m actually so impressed right now you don’t even understand.” You keep taking sips of the drink, savoring the green tea goodness. It feels like an old friend has come back from the dead.

“Well, I actually found the son of the owners and emailed him asking for the recipe. I really didn’t expect to hear anything back from him but he surprisingly gave in.” He smiled. His heart felt like it could burst from the compliments you gave him. 

“This is too much. You didn’t really have to do all this for some silly drink that I like, noo.” You put down the drink and hug him. 

“But I wanted to. Really, if it means seeing you happy I’d go to Taiwan myself and ask for their recipe.” He kisses your cheek. You sigh at this. 

“You’re just the best.” You hug him tighter. He beams at this and you guys revel in each other’s warmth. 

It was going to be “one of those nights” you feared. Sleep had yet to take over your body despite the many hours of tossing and turning in your shared bed. Sunoo lay beside you, soft snores and even breaths coming from his side of the bed. Deciding that you were not going to be sleeping anytime soon, you get up from the bed and head to the kitchen. 

You trudge towards the kitchen and grab a glass of water. You look up at a clock to check the time, 2:37 AM. You decide to do some cleaning up in the kitchen to pass the time. As you are wiping down a surface in the fridge, Sunoo’s voice startles you.

“y/n? What are you doing up?” You jump a little as Sunoo makes his presence known. He notices this and softly apologizes. 

“Couldn’t really sleep. So I decided on kitchen duty.” You motion to your gloved hand wiping down the fridge shelves. “Sorry if I woke you up. You can go back to bed. I’ll finish up in a bit and try to fall asleep again.” 

He silently walks up to you hugging you from behind. Then he mumbles something into your hair that you don’t quite catch. 

“Noo?” You ask him to repeat himself.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?” 

So that’s how you end up buying ice cream at a convenience store at 3 AM. As you guys walk back to your apartment, Sunoo looks down at you happily snacking on your ice cold treat. Your ruddy cheeks from the cold autumn breeze nipping at them, your tired eyes from the lack of sleep, and your hair haphazardly thrown into a bun. 

“What is it?” You ask him, noticing how silent he is.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. 

“Is there something on my face?” You motion towards your face. 

Sunoo just smiled at himself, telling you that there was nothing on your face. And as the two of you neared the entrance to your apartment he mulled over some thoughts. Even though he was munching on some mint chocolate ice cream, which he could argue was one of life’s best delicacies. He thought that maybe, no surely, he liked being the reason you smile a whole lot more. 

[callsign-dexter]

Spooky Season

Request: Please a (The Rookie) Tim Bradford x adoptive daughter shy!reader? Tim friends wants to scare Tim so they want the shy!reader to scare Tim for fun. So Tim friends dress the reader as M3GAN and shy!reader successfully scared her adopted dad. Happy Halloween 🎃

https://youtu.be/ieXKUL2taLU?si=eishSnM88STWjqVx

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Shy!Adopted!Daughter!Reader

Warnings: fluff, caussing

Masterlist

A/N: Sooooo sorry for the delay of getting this fic out. I had planned for it to come out on Halloween but that failed and then it was supposed to come out the day after but life got in the way.

Spooky season, your favorite time of the year. You always loved October, especially Halloween. Once October 1st hit you were bringing out Halloween decorations and bringing all the fall flavored drinks out despite what your father, Tim Bradford, said. He wouldn't admit it but he loved the season mainly he loved seeing you happy. With the love of the spooky season comes the love of horror movies in and out of season. Tim never understood it but didn't question it and didn't try to make you not watch it, the only time he did was when it was too much for adults and you respected that.

You came into Tim's life unexpectedly but quickly fell in love with you. You had been a baby when you came into his life. You were found in a house where your mother had overdosed in the other room. You were crying and crying which is how John Nolan found you and picked you up. He tried soothing you with the techniques he used on his son but nothing was working. Tim walked in wondering what was going on and seeing the scene. He told Nolan to hand you over and he did instantly you stopped crying and calmed down. When CPS arrived and tried to take you, you cried and fussed it wasn't until Tim took you again and once again you settled down. It was agreed for him to take you until family could be found, none was found, a few days after that discovery and he was adopting you.

Halloween was coming up and you were thinking of what you wanted to be but was having trouble deciding. You wanted to go as a movie you recently saw but none of them were jumping out at you. There was a recent movie called M3GAN that you really wanted to see and the Mid-Wilshire Police Station just so happened to be having movie night showing this particular movie. You were excited to see it and begged your father to let you watch it after some convincing from your godmother, Angela Lopez, he finally agreed to let you watch it when they played it. When you heard that he was going to let you watch it you practically squealed and jumped up hugging him thanking him profusely. They were going to play it the night before Halloween inside the briefing room. Finally, the time for the movie night came around and you were so excited that you were buzzing with excitement and your father could tell. “I take it you're excited about this movie.” He said and you looked up at him from the backseat where you sat.

“Dad.” You said exasperated.

“What?” He asked

“Of course I'm excited to see it! I've been wanting to see when it first came out!” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He just smiled and chuckled even though you tended to be shy around others. You were lively with him and he was glad about that. 

“Oh, I know you have.” He chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot. He had to work that night but there were going to be plenty of people he trusted with you there. He trusted the entire police station and everyone respected the hell out of him and there in turn they respected you and were at your beck and call, not that you would ask for help. But only a certain number of people he 100% trusted you with, Wade Gray, Luna Gray, Lucy Chen, John Nolan, Angela Lopez, Wesley Evers, Nyla Harper, and Jackson West. You could say he trusted Smitty too but it was more like he trusted you watching Smitty. 

“You have to work right?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yea, I do. I'll be in and out but won't be able to watch the full movie with you.” He said and you nodded. You understood it and yes, we're upset but it was his job.

“Ok.” You said a little bit defeated and he hates seeing you like that especially since he worked so hard to get you to open up.

“You'll be with most of everyone else. Mainly Angela, Harper, Nolan, and Wesley.” He said and he could see you light up.

“Ok. Where is Lucy and Jackson going to be?” You said as he pulled into the parking lot of the precinct. 

“They will be on patrol with me but will stop in every now and then.” He said and you nodded. He parked and then got out. He came to the driver's side back door and opened it then he started to help you out. It all went quickly, having you two already having a routine down. Once you were down, he made you stay close as you both made the trip to the building. 

“Good evening, Officer Bradford and Mini Bradford.” The receptionist, Linda Hughes, said and you smiled and waved shyly.

“Good evening.” Tim said as you both made your way to the desk.

“Tim, Sergeant Gray would like a word with you before you start patrol.” She said

“Thank you.” Tim said and then the two of you were heading off to the main portion of the precinct. Along the way people said hi and you both greeted them back. You were shyer than your dad but they just smiled and went on. 

“Y/N!” A voice rang out and you looked up and saw Angela heading your way and you lit up. Tim smiled seeing you light up as your godmother came closer to you.

“Aunt Angie!” You replied back, you were one of the very few and it was very few people that were allowed to call her Angie if it were anyone else, they would be on a receiving end of life ending glare.

“How's my favorite Bradford doing?” She asked 

“Hey!” Tim said and she just smiled and looked at him.

“Oh, come on Timothy you knew when you had this little girl coming around after adopting her, she was going to be the favorite.” She said, they never kept it a secret that you were adopted. When you asked, they told you but it was never a secret. 

“Well can't argue with that, now, can I?” He said and brought you into a side hug “She's my favorite Bradford too.” He said and you smiled and hid into his side. “Hey I need to meet with Gray for a second before starting patrol mind keeping her around you until the movie starts?” He asked.

“You know I would! Come on, My Favorite Bradford.” She said stealing you away from your dad who just rolled his eyes as he let you go to her.

“Before I leave and before the movie starts, I'll say bye to you.” He said and you nodded and he smiled “I love you.” He added.

“I love you too, Dad.” You said and then you were being whisked away by Angela to her desk where Harper, Nolan, and Wesely were at.

“The Better Bradford has arrived!” Angela said and you blushed. You knew it was a joke and you played along with it and Tim did too when he was around. There was only playfulness about it, nothing serious.

“So, Y/N have you thought of a Halloween costume?” Harper asked and you shook your head.

“No, nothing is jumping out at me.” You said with a frown.

“Hey, that's ok.” Wesley said 

“Have you thought of a way to scare your dad?” Nolan asked, each year they tried to scare him but nothing had worked. It was like he was almost immune to it so you decided to help. You've tried to come up with something and so did they but nothing. 

“No, literally nothing can scare that man. It's not worth trying.” You said 

“Ain't that the truth.” Angela said “Come on, let's get the briefing room ready.” She added and you nodded happily. So, the 5 of you went to the briefing room to start getting set up. While doing so, joking and playing around brought laughter out of you. Very soon the room was dark, the snack table was set up in the back, coolers were set up, tables were pushed to the side and stairs were scattered. There was room for people to sit on the ground if they wanted to. Soon people started to file in. Sensing your shyness coming out Nolan brought you closer to him, almost sheltering you. When it looked like most of the room was filled with people and families of the officers, detectives, and others in the room, Gray walked in and to the front.

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the first family movie night. Hopefully we can continue this. I hope everyone enjoys the movie and the snacks in the back of the room.” He said and everyone cheered and then he was leaving. As the movie started Tim walked in, in uniform, he scanned the room and until he found you and smiled, he walked over to you and you looked up to see him.

“Hey.” He whispered

“Hey, Dad.” You said “You about to head out?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yup, I promised I would come to see you before I headed out. Be good for them and I’ll see you when I get off. I love you.” He said and kissed your forehead.

“I love you too. Be safe.” You said and he smiled.

“Always.” He said and then he was leaving just as the opening scenes appeared. While the interaction happened the other three adults smiled, they loved seeing Tim happy and actually smiling. He kissed the top of your head one more time and then he was turning to leave. Not long after the movie began to play. 

As the movie played you became engrossed in the movie. You were so into it that you didn't even know your dad had stopped by several times to check on you and once he saw how into it you became, he didn't want to bother you. The scene where the dancing came out had you captivated, you loved dancing and were quite good at it. You could do that. Once the movie ended everyone stayed around for a few and then started leaving. When most of all people left and it was just the 4 of you Angela turned to you and you looked at her. “I know how to scare your dad.” She said and you gave her a suspicious look.

“How?” You asked wearily.

“Dress up like M3GAN and do the dance she did. You're a terrific dancer. I know you can do it.” She said but you were still unsure.

“It'll be fun and perfect.” Nolan said

“I don't know.” You said hesitantly.

“Please? We've been trying to scare you dad for years and nothing works. Please do this just this one time. We won't ask you to try and scare him again.” Wesley pleaded as you had a battle inside your head.

“Fine. I'll do it. You better get me extra candy.” You said 

“We'll get you anything.” Wesley said as Angela hit him and gave him a look.

“I'll hold you to that.” You replied with a smirk.

“Ok, here is the plan.” Nolan said as he went into the plan and you listened and nodded. You gave some looks but they reassured you and promised you extra candy. Angela would be coming over early to help you get ready.

************************

Halloween finally arrived and Angela and Wesely were over as Tim was getting things ready. As she was getting you ready Lucy, Jackson, and Nolan came over. Once you were ready Angela texted Nolan to go and hit the breaker. The lights went out and you got into the position as you heard your dad start cussing along with Lucy and Jackson. “What the hell?” Tim asked.

“Did you piss off a ghost?” Lucy asked

“No, Lucy. I did not piss off a ghost. I don't know what the hell is going on.” He said as Angela called out.

“Guys! Why did the lights go out?” Angela asked as he nodded at you and made her way to the others. Once you knew she was there you got into character.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked 

“Uh I don’t know I haven’t seen her.” Angela said

“Fuck.” He said “Y/N!” He yelled out and started to move around the house. That was your cue and so you knocked off a vase. He came running and stopped. “Y/N?” He asked and so you started dancing. “What are you doing?” He asked, the look on his face was priceless but you couldn’t break character.  As you were coming up on the flip part you concentrated and did and stuck the landing you did the last part and grabbed the fake knife and started to come towards your dad and he was quickly backing up. As you got to him you broke character as everyone laughed.

“Got you!” Angela said as she, Nolan, and Wesely laughed the others were not. They were truly scared.

“I’m sorry, Dad. They promised me extra candy.” You said as you put the knife down and walked over to him as he was catching his breath.

“You did good, Kid.” He said “Your costume and make-up are great.” He said

“Angela helped me with that.” You said 

“Shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He said and you chuckled.

“I didn’t want to do it at first but hey extra candy.” You said and he chuckled.

“Can’t say no to that.” He said “Alright let’s go get candy.” He said throwing an arm around you bringing you into his side and everyone nodded.

“Alright let’s go!” Jackson said “Nice job by the way.” He added as he passed you.

“Thank you.” You said and Lucy said the same thing and you thanked her. As you headed outside and started your trick or treating you couldn’t help but smile and be thankful that Tim had brought you into his life without him you don’t know where you would be. “Thank you.” You said looking up at your father.

“For what?” He asked as he looked down at you, stopping.

“For taking me, adopting me, calling me yours, and overall being my father.” You said and he smiled.

“It was so worth it and I wouldn’t change it for the world even if you scared the shit out of me.” He said and you chuckled.

“I love you, Dad.” You said

“I love you too, Y/N/N.” He said leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Now go and get your candy.” He said giving you a little push and you chuckled and went to the first house of the night. As he watched you being polite Angela came up to him.

“You raised a great girl.” She said and he looked at her and then looked back at you making you sure you were safe.

“She’s a great girl. She’s changed a lot of our lives, especially mine.” He said 

“She changed all of ours. Brought even more happiness into our lives.” Angela said as she watched you go to the next house. She patted his shoulder as she went and met up with the others as you showed them what you got. Tim smiled watching the interaction and even though you did scare the shit out of him he was so happy to have you in his life. He wouldn’t change it for anything.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

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[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 5: We Stay Silent

All jokes aside, Wade had too much stuff to deal with. Keeping up his mask was way too hard.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, panic attack, mental health issues.

A/N: chapter five is up!!! this one is directly connected to the previous chapter, it's basically the same chapter but from wade's pov, so please make sure you read Part 4 before reading this one!! Please don't be made at me I love wade so much😔✊

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

Wade woke up later than usual, sunlight already creeping through the blinds. His phone buzzed on the nightstand with a few missed notifications, but he didn’t bother checking them right away. He stretched lazily, rubbing his face. The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet. Logan and Y/N had already left for work, probably hours ago. Good. He didn't think he was in the mood for any morning chit-chat for once.

After throwing on his running gear and grabbing a water bottle, Wade slipped out of the apartment and into the cool morning air. He’d hit his usual route— nothing too long today. He wasn’t up for pushing himself too hard.

He never liked running. He always wondered what part of running was actually satisfying for some people. It helped him clear his mind, gave him space to think, or better yet, not think at all. Maybe he had a toxic relationship with running. Maybe it worked like a drug on him. But he knew he would rather run until his legs give out rather than go down the same path he followed years ago. He knew better now.

The streets were familiar, and Wade let his feet carry him through the neighborhood without much thought. His mind wandered, as it often did, from jokes he was working on to what gig he had next to the weird thing Logan had said last night. Everything felt scattered, but that was normal. He was used to living with his thoughts bouncing around like a pinball machine. His mind felt like a computer with thousands of tabs opened.

But then, just as he rounded a corner near the park, Wade froze. Vanessa.

She was standing there, a few meters away, looking just like she used to—like a ghost from a past life. She hadn’t seen him yet, thank god. His heart slammed into his chest, panic rising as he quickly debated turning around and bolting. Too late.

“Wade?”

Her voice caught him mid-step. He turned, awkwardly waving like an idiot.

“Vanessa, hey!” Wade’s voice came out higher than he wanted, and the grin he plastered on his face felt all wrong.

Vanessa smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, looking genuinely happy to see him. “I knew that was you. How’ve you been?”

Wade’s brain scrambled for something, anything to say. How have I been? That was a fucking big question. How do you explain six years of missing someone without falling apart? He ran a hand through his hair, nervously glancing at his shoes.

“Oh, you know… same old, same old.” He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked.

She didn’t seem to notice his internal chaos. “It’s been so long, huh? We should catch up sometime, what do you think?”

He wanted to run. Run so fast he could break his legs and never even feel it. Catch up? What does that even mean? How do you catch up with someone you’ve been in love with since forever even after you both decided that being friends would be better, and bla bla bla, why was he thinking about this again?

He did his best at hiding his internal panic and forced himself to stay still, nodding like an idiot.

“Yeah, totally! That would be great.” He was still smiling like a maniac, but inside, every alarm bell was going off. Abort. Abort. Abort.

Vanessa seemed pleased with that answer, though. “Great! I’ll text you.”

“Yeah! See ya around, V,” Wade blurted before turning on his heel and jogging away as fast as he could without looking completely insane. He could feel her eyes on him as he sprinted, and he didn’t stop until he was several blocks away, breathing hard.

“Good job, Wade. You fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his forehead. His chest felt tight, but it wasn’t from the run. It was that familiar pressure building inside him, the one he tried so hard to ignore. The feeling of not being able to handle any of it.

———

Wade stood outside Blind Al’s door, debating whether to knock or not. He hadn’t seen her in a while, but she had been a constant in his life during the toughest times. Before Logan. Before everything fell apart.

He knocked, and her voice came through the door, as sharp as ever. “Took you long enough to visit, jackass.”

Wade smiled despite himself, pushing the door open. “Miss me, Al?”

“Not in the slightest,” she quipped. Wade knew she couldn’t see, but the way she was standing in front of him made it look like she was staring right through him, “Something’s going on with you. Spill it.”

Wade plopped down on her couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Ran into Vanessa.”

Blind Al didn’t react. She just sat back in her chair. “That so? And you didn’t completely lose your shit?”

Wade snorted. “Define ‘completely.’ I told her we’d catch up, and then I ran away like a coward. Does that count?”

“Yeah, that counts,” Al said, her voice gruff but understanding. “So what now?”

“I don’t know.” Wade rubbed his temples. “She seemed happy, like genuinely happy to see me, and I just… I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Al said bluntly. “She’s part of your past, and that’s fine. Doesn’t mean you have to dive back into that mess.”

“Yeah, but what if…” Wade trailed off, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking.

“Look, you’ve got your life now. You’ve got Logan, and now this new girl, Y/N, right? Stick to what’s real. Don’t go chasing ghosts.” Al’s voice softened slightly, and Wade felt a pang of gratitude for her, "Or go for it. Just, don’t think about it too much. Let things go their own way." she added.

Easier said than done, but duly noted.

Suddenly, she got up from her chair and walked towards her kitchen. Wade watched her come back with a cup of not-at-all full of alcohol coffee and settle back in her chair.

"So, you didn’t tell me about that new roommate…"

He stayed with her for lunch and then they talked all afternoon. He told her everything she had to know about Y/N, and how Logan was doing, too. But still, he couldn’t shake the thought of what had happened that morning. Vanessa. Al was always right, but the pressure in his chest still hadn’t gone away. It wasn’t just Vanessa. It was everything. 

———

By the time Wade got back to the apartment building, the weight in his chest had doubled. He made a turn into an alleyway, the walls suddenly feeling too close. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his hands started to shake.

No no no no no, not now. Not here.

He pressed himself into the corner, knees pulling up to his chest as he tried to get control, but it wasn’t working. He felt like he was drowning, like the air was being sucked out of the alley. Everything was overwhelming.

Breathe, Wade. Just fucking breathe.

He fumbled for his phone and dialed his therapist’s number. He knew she had given him her personal phone number just for emergencies but maybe, maybe this time, it was an emergency. He needed it. Because breathing wasn’t working. After a few agonizing rings, she picked up.

“Wade? What’s going on?”

He could barely get the words out, his voice shaking. “I…I c—can’t »

“Okay, okay,” she said calmly. “You’re going to be fine. You know the drill. Slow your breathing.”

Wade tried, focusing on her voice. After what felt like hours, his breathing steadied, but the tightness in his chest remained.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked and Wade had no idea what to answer. Air was back in his lungs, yes. But that was it.

"I’m losing it. I don’t know what to do." He waited a few seconds for his therapist to answer. When she didn’t, he continued. "I’m lost. I can’t make a choice. I feel like a fuckin’ loser and I don’t know why people are still keeping up with me. And I called you, god, I’m so sorry, I know it’s supposed to be for emergencies only—"

She interrupted him, "Wade, this was an emergency."

Wade shook his head and he watched his free hand for a few seconds, it was shaking like crazy. He didn’t say anything for a while. "Can we have a session soon?"

“Of course, Wade. Can you get to someone, right now? A friend?”

“Logan,” Wade muttered. “I could go see Logan.”

“Good. Do that. You’ve got people, Wade. Lean on them.”

Wade nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll go see Logan.”

He hung up and dragged himself to his feet, wiping at his face. Get it together, Wade.

———

Logan’s classroom was quiet when Wade arrived, a rare moment of calm at the end of a long day. The coffee shop near the center was still open, so Wade grabbed a box of donuts and two coffees before heading over. Showing up unannounced wasn’t unusual for him—Logan never seemed to mind (he did– Wade chose to ignore it). Besides, the guy could use a donut break anyway.

But as Wade neared the door, that familiar tightness crept back into his chest. Logan’s gonna see right through me. He paused, forcing down the rising anxiety, plastering on his usual grin before pushing the door open.

“Hey, I come bearing gifts. You looked like you could use a sugar rush.”

Logan frowned as soon as he saw him. “You okay?”

I hate him so much.

Wade waved him off, doing his best to sound casual. “Me? Of course! I’m always okay. What’re you talking about?”

Logan didn’t press further, but Wade could feel his friend's eyes lingering on him, studying him like he could sense the tension beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Logan to ask again or not. Wade kept talking, cracking jokes, doing his usual routine, but something in Logan’s steady silence made it harder to maintain.

They sat together, sipping coffee and biting into donuts, the atmosphere light but heavy at the same time. He knew Logan saw through him. He always did. But Logan didn’t push, and for that, Wade was grateful.

As they left the center together, Wade kept the conversation rolling, letting his words spill out faster than usual, a habit he’d sharpened over the years. Keep talking, keep things light, and maybe Logan wouldn’t dig deeper.

“...and I swear, man, if this one guy hadn’t backed off, I would’ve–”

“You sure you’re okay?” Logan’s voice cut through Wade’s ramble, and oh my god, was he using a gentle tone on me?

The question sent a jolt of panic through Wade. He felt the familiar tightening in his chest again, the pressure pushing against the cracks. Not now. Not here.

He immediately forced a laugh, one that felt too loud in his ears, like he wasn’t the one laughing . “Of course! Stop worrying about me, peanut. You’ve got your own crap to deal with. Speaking of which,” Wade added quickly, redirecting the conversation towards something he knew Logan wouldn’t press on, “how’s it going with Y/N, huh? Been hanging out together without me, yet?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but Wade didn’t miss the shift in his expression. He knew Logan had caught the distraction, knew the guy could read him like an open book. But Logan didn’t push, not yet.

“She’s our roommate, Wade,” Logan said.

Wade threw him a wink, keeping up the act. “Sure, sure. Got it.”

Logan let it slide, like Wade knew he would. He always did. Pushing Wade for answers never worked. Logan had learned that a long time ago. He’ll ask again later, Wade thought, the weight of it settling somewhere deep inside him. But for now, at least, Logan let it go.

Wade kept talking, kept deflecting, but even as his voice filled the air, he could feel Logan’s gaze on him, steady, waiting. Logan would be there when the time came, ready to listen. Wade knew that. He always knew that.

But right now? Wade wasn’t ready. Not yet. So he smiled, cracked another joke, and pushed the feeling down a little further.

Maybe later.

XXX