#i’m stuck on his personality rn

[tatumsversion13]

need someone to write their thoughts about nam-gyu being misogynistic

[tariah23]

One of the main reasons why I used to avoid Isekai’s, and fantasy works in general, like the plague is because of how over saturated they’d become with things that didn’t feel like they even belonged to the genre to begin with… it’s not too hard to find works that stand out but so much of those works have been pushed down and forgotten, it just sucks.

[shaykai]

Yes No do we think Gortash can swim?

[fraberry-stroobcake]

is it gay to be so overwhelmed with emotions by thinking about someone you care about so much you almost want to pick up writing again

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[strawbebyjam]

sometimes i wonder why i have anxiety

other times i remember i exist in THIS household

[hanahaki270]

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ “You Belong to Me” ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

・❥・ Synopsis ・❥・ Having an Uchiha as an ex doesn’t mean anything. Once you’ve managed to make them fall for you, you’re basically stuck with them for eternity.

・❥・ Pairing ・❥・ Sasuke x Fem!reader

・❥・ A/N ・❥・ I finally decided to continue watching shippuden after having it on pause for 5 years.. yeahhh so I’m having a huge obsession with it rn. Also please feel free to send prompt requests for me to write! And I feel like I definitely could have written this out better but I was in a rush and stressed out about Job interviews so mb

♥︎

You finally gathered the courage within you to end your relationship with Sasuke. This wasn’t an easy decision. In fact it was tearing you apart. You still loved him. But the differences between your priorities and his were far too different to the point where they were conflicting with each other.

You might as well have been talking to a wall that day with how blank his expression was after you just announced how you were breaking up with him. The loud silence was killing you inside, does he not care at all?

♥︎

-You wanting to break up with him was like a jab at his ego. The Sasuke Uchiha. The last prodigy of his clan and you wanted to leave him? Though this enraged him, he refused to let you know it. He couldn’t let you have the satisfaction of knowing that this actually affected him.

-After you left the apartment he started to completely trash the place. Everything in it was obliterated into nothingness. But as soon as he went out in public he acted completely fine as if nothing happened.

-Anytime you were around he would make sure you saw him with other girls. He wanted to show you that he could be with anybody he desired without a problem, at any given second. Show you that you weren’t nothing special to him.

-He was lying. Because as soon as you left his vision he treated the girls like shit and pushed them aside after they served their purpose in making you jealous.

-He tried to sleep with random women in the village to further prove that he didn’t need you. (He was really just trying to convince himself) but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. None of them even compared to your beauty. Even the thought of another person lying on the bed you two once shared disgusted him.

-After weeks of this even Sasuke couldn’t believe his own facade. He craved you. He craved your smile, your laughter, Your touch. And is willing to do whatever it takes to remind you that you belong with him.

-He sucked up his pride and begged Naruto to send you two on missions together. So you’d be basically forced to talk to each other . (Naruto uses this against him every now and then)

-During one of the missions, one of your comrades decide to get a little touchy with you. You pay this no mind since you have no interest in the guy, but Sasuke definitely notices it. What’s a worthless ninja doing talking to what’s his?

-A couple of days after that mission, the scenario of another man getting that close to you haunted Sasuke day and night. There’s no way in hell you’d ever willingly decide to be with any other man but him. Right? He needed the reassurance and he needed it now.

-It was 4 am when you opened the door to your apartment after you were awoken by loud desperate banging on the door just to be faced with your ex. He invited himself in, closing the door behind him as he slowly crept towards you.

“Sasuke?”

-He reached for your hand and held it in his, as he focused on you as if there was nothing else in this world. You could tell he developed dark circles since the last time you saw him.

“The day we got together was the day I chose you to be the one I repopulate my clan with. The only one worthy of the surname Uchiha. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

-He noticed how you were at a loss of words so he took this moment to do what he’s been yearning to. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was messy and desperate. He kissed you as if you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And to him, you were.

-Needless to say you were vulnerable to his request and took him back. How could you not?

♥︎

[ctrlchar]

Could you do jake’s reaction to you getting nipple piercing please? x (can be whatever you want <3)

jakexgf getting nipples pierced

a/n:thank you for the request! I decided to add a little smut at the end as well 🤭

jake had been out and about with his friends leaving you in the house to your own devices. that being said an idea popped up into your head.

you’d always wanted to get your nipples pierced,knowing how good jake looked with his. that being said you text jake asking him when he’ll be home to which he replied

jakey<3:i should be getting back within the next hour or so what’s up?

you:oh nothing just wondering😊

jakey<3:right….🤨

jakey<3:i’ll see u when i get home babe

after your exchange you go into your closet finding a tight fitting shirt that shows your nipples poking through the thin fabric.

you change into some of jake’s sweatpants before you get into your car and drive to the nearest piercing shop.

you drive about five minutes until you reach your destination. you get out the car grabbing your purse before entering the shop

you walked up the the piercer at the front desk telling her you wanted to get both of your nipples pierced.

after you had paid you laid down on the table as she stuck the needle through your perky nipple and then through the other.

the pain wasn’t as bad as you had expected,the piercer then put on a silver barbell before getting up and walking towards the front desk where you paid and tipped her.

you grabbed your belongings before heading out to your car to show jake your freshly pierced nipples

hoping he wasn’t around his friends,you sent him a photo of you in your almost skin tight shirt,two barbells seen through the material

you could almost hear the shock through the screen as jake texts you back in an instant

you: *one attachment*

jakey<3:are you shitting me rn

jakey<3:did a guy do it?

jakey<3:i’ll beat his ass

jakey<3:send me another one

you:no baby it was a girl

you: same one i’ve went to for all my piercings

you:and give me one minute i’ll send you another

you laugh at his reaction through the screen,his attitude going from pissed to wanting you to send him another photo

you pull out of the parking lot and into an empty one. you carefully pull up your shirt,trying to not irritate the fresh piercing

you take a photo of your bare breasts and send them to jake

seconds later your phone buzzes and it shows jake calling you.

you quickly pick up the phone and put him on speaker before setting the phone down on the dash

you can hear other cars in the background therefore assuming he’s already in his car headed back home

“i’m so hard right now” he says making you giggle at his bluntness

“are you headed home?” you question as you fix your shirt back over your tits. judging by the acceleration of the gas you tell him “that’s not you’re car is it? you sound like one of those assholes who rev their engine up all the time ” you joke eliciting a chuckle from jake

“what can i say babe,it’s not my fault your tits look that good over the phone,can’t even imagine now good they’ll look in person” he says his hand on the wheel the other attempting to fix the tent in his jeans by adjusting his pants

you pull out the empty driveway deciding to head home yourself so you don’t make jake wait too long “yeah well remember you cant touch them yet we have to wait for them to heal” to which he groans “i know i know, I get it…i can still fuck em’ though right?” he pleas as he turns onto his street

“hmm” you say pretending to think as you drive “i’ll consider it”

jake lets out a fake sigh before informing you he’s almost home,with you doing the same. you tell him bye and that you’ll see him in a minute.

you pull into the driveway,your car right behind his. you park the car grabbing your stuff before heading into the house to be greeted by jake sitting on the couch the large erection still in his pants despite him trying to hide it

he shoots up from the couch,begging you like a child “lemme see lemme see” he begs staring at the metal through the fabric

“geez jake nice to see you too” you say lifting up your shirt “yeah yeah yeah” he mumbles completely enthralled with your breasts. he begins to grope them avoiding your nipple not wanting to cause you any discomfort

“fuck” he mumbles under his breath “these are gonna be the hardest couple months of my life”

“can i fuck em’ please” he begs his voice needier then before.

“fine” you say “can we at least get to the bed first?” to which he nods eagerly,grabbing your hand and guiding you to your bedroom.

he laid you on the bed as he quickly made use of his hands by taking off his jeans,leaving him in his shirt and boxers. he got onto your lap before taking his hard cock out of his boxers.

you held your tits closer together as he slid right in between them. you made sure you could see the piercing in between your fingers. which was evident to jake as he kept alternating his eyes from the piercing to you back to the piercing

“your so hot mama” he moans out as he fucks in between your tits. he places on of his hands on the back of your head for support as he continues his movements

you see the tip of his cock disappearing between them with each thrust of his hips,especially now,his thrusts getting sloppier as he feels close

“gonna cum” he groans out as he begins to slightly grip your hair eliciting a soft moan from you. you could practically feel his cock twitching from between your tits

and just like that he came,all over your chest right above your tits,some of it going in between them as he fucked himself through his orgasm which was the absolute hottest thing to him.

he then pulled himself up and back into his boxers. he gathered up some of his cum onto his finger before putting it up to your mouth to which you open. you begin to lick a stripe up his fingers,slowly sucking on them in the process.

he slides off your sweatpants,which were actually his, and with his free hand he takes his other out of your mouth and slowly slides it into you

“gonna make you feel good now okay baby?”

[pandapetals]

Tennesse Whiskey

You go over to Xavier's mansion looking for Charles only to be greeted by Logan.

dofp!logan howlett x fem!reader - logan is a bit of an ass, no y/n used, no reader description, cussing, reader has fiery personality inspired by daisy jones, 70s setting, making out, liquor play, sweetheart/gorgeous and good girl pet names used, rough kissing, teasing banter

a/n: AHKJAHSAJKH - this is me rn because i am a bitch in heat. someone asked for a sequel to electric fever and i was like wtf am i supposed to write? then the tiktok gods blessed me with a scene from crashing (thank you jonathan bailey, i love you) and here we are. *takes several deep shaky breaths*

divider credit: @enchanthings

The car’s engine sputtered to silence as you rolled to a stop in front of the ruins of what was once Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sign above the crumbling arch hung crookedly, the paint faded and peeling, like the rest of the mansion. The grass had given way to dirt, and vines snaked up the sides of the building like nature was reclaiming it.

You killed the engine, the sudden quiet making the eerie emptiness of the place feel heavier. For a second, you hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. It had been a few days since you had sex with Logan, and no matter how much you told yourself you didn’t regret it, there was still a weight in your chest. Maybe it was irritation. Or curiosity. Either way, you hated that he lingered in your thoughts.

With a sharp breath, you shoved the door open and stepped out, your knee-high boots crunching against dry dirt where there should have been grass. You squared your shoulders, slung your bag over one arm, and marched up the weathered stairs to the front door, slamming your fist against the wood three times in rapid succession. Each knock echoed into the emptiness like the whole mansion was mocking you.

The door creaked open slowly, the hinges protesting loudly. And there he was. 

Logan filled the doorway like a permanent fixture, wearing a tight white tank that clung to his chest and shoulders like it was painted on. His hair stuck up in its usual wild tufts, and there was that smirk—the same cocky, aggravating one that made your blood boil. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand resting on the edge, the other holding a half-smoked cigar.

“Was wondering when you’d come begging for more,” he drawled. The scent of smoke and whiskey clung to him like an aura.

Your eyes narrowed. “In your dreams, Logan.”

“Pretty sure you’ve been dreamin’ about it, sweetheart,” he shot back, stepping aside as you pushed past him into the mansion.

“Where the fuck is Charles?” you snapped, your boots echoing against the dusty wooden floors as you glanced around. The place was cold and hollow, and the quiet gnawed at your nerves. “I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m not in the mood for your shit. So where is he?”

Logan let the door fall shut behind you with a heavy thud, his smirk only widening as he tucked his cigar between his teeth. “He isn’t here.”

You turned on him, hands on your hips. “Then when will he be back? What about Hank?”

“Gone, too,” he said, shrugging like it was the least of his concerns. “But hey, you’ve got me.”

You glared at him, your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Guess I’ll wait here.”

Logan chuckled, a deep, rough sound that sent heat curling low in your stomach— which you immediately ignored . He sauntered closer, his boots scuffing lazily against the floor as he towered over you, his presence almost suffocating.

“Sure you wanna stay? ‘Cause I can think of at least a dozen ways you could make better use of your time,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. No, definitely slap him.

“Don’t,” you snapped, pointing a finger in his face before he could finish whatever smug remark was brewing. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

Logan leaned in just enough for you to catch the faintest hint of smoke and whiskey. “And you love it,” his voice dropped to that infuriatingly low, gravelly tone that scraped against your nerves.

Your glare burned hotter, but you didn’t flinch. “Keep pushing me, and you’ll find out exactly how much I love punching that smug grin off your face.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he backed away, hands raised like he was surrendering. “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty. I’ll behave...”

He spun on his heel and walked away, his broad shoulders still annoyingly relaxed. “But hey,” he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with amusement, “if you do wanna go another round, you know where to find me.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your fingers itching to throw something at the back of his head. Instead, you dropped your bag with a thud and stalked after him.

“Got any liquor, asshole?” you snapped, catching up to him as he crossed into what used to be the mansion’s formal parlor.

Logan’s chuckle rumbled through the hollow space, and the sound made your teeth clench. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but Charles drank it all,” he said, not even bothering to turn around as he sauntered toward an old end table by the far wall.

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace until you were walking in stride with him. “Since when did Charles turn into a goddamn alcoholic?” you quipped, earning yourself a half-smirk from Logan.

“Apparently, you’ve missed a lot of things,” he replied, his voice dripping with amusement as he reached the end table. He pulled the cigar from his mouth placing it on the table. Sitting on top was a tarnished gold tray, a lone bottle of whiskey, and a single glass. He picked up the glass, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he poured himself a generous splash. The amber liquid caught the faint light streaming through the grimy windows.

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned against the massive wooden table in the center of the room, crossing your arms. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you said, your tone sharp. “You have whiskey? After all that, you’re just gonna pour yourself a glass and pretend I don’t exist?”

Logan turned to face you, glass in hand, and that damn smirk of his widened. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little disappointment?” He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, like he was daring you to argue.

Your lips curled into a scowl, the heat in your chest climbing fast. “Do you have to be so insufferable? Or is that just a natural talent?”

“Natural talent,” he said easily, setting the glass down on the tray before picking up the bottle. He held it up, inspecting the label like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “And besides, there’s not enough here for two.”

You straightened up from the table, your fists planted on your hips. “Like hell, there isn’t.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, turning his full attention to you, the whiskey bottle dangling from his hand. “You that desperate, sweetheart?”

“Desperate?” you repeated with a sharp laugh, stalking toward him now. “I’ve put up with your bullshit long enough, Logan. If there’s one thing that’ll make it even remotely tolerable, it’s a drink. So, stop being an ass and pour me one.”

He didn’t move, though his smirk deepened, his teeth glinting wolfishly. “You want whiskey that bad?” he asked, his voice dropping to that gravelly, infuriating drawl that sent a shiver up your spine, whether you liked it or not.

“Obviously,” you snapped, stopping just short of where he stood.

“Alright then.” He set the bottle back on the tray, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. When he turned back to you, his eyes glinted with something dark, teasing, and far too confident. “C’mere.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, stepping closer, his boots clicking softly against the floorboards. He towered over you now, his body radiating heat, and you could feel his breath, warm and laced with whiskey, as he leaned in. “You want a drink? I’ll give you one.”

“Logan, if this is one of your—”

Before you could finish, his hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly and setting you down on the edge of the wooden table. The rough surface creaked under your weight, and your boots dangled an inch above the floor. You glared at him, heat rising in your cheeks as you pointed a finger at his chest. “You are such a—”

“Open your mouth,” he interrupted his voice a low growl, his hands still resting lightly on your hips.

Your jaw dropped—not from obedience but from sheer disbelief. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

He nodded, his smirk practically feral. “Dead serious, sweetheart. Now, open up.”

For a second, you debated decking him right then and there. But there was something in his eyes—a challenge, an invitation—that made your blood run hotter. Against your better judgment, you rolled your eyes and parted your lips.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and the low rasp in his tone sent a flicker of heat straight to your core.

You barely had time to glare at him before he brought the whiskey glass to his lips and took a slow sip. But instead of swallowing, he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against yours as he tilted his head. The whiskey spilled between your lips, hot and smooth, but before you could react, his tongue followed, sliding past your teeth and deepening the contact.

The kiss hit you like a punch—messy, heated, and all-consuming. The whiskey burned down your throat, but it was nothing compared to the fire spreading through your veins. Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and your hands instinctively tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer.

Your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he let out a low growl, his hands sliding up to grip your thighs. The table groaned under the weight of your combined intensity, but neither of you gave a damn. His tongue teased yours, the lingering taste of whiskey making you crave more—of the drink, of him, of everything.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Logan pulled back just enough to look at you. His lips were wet and swollen, a faint sheen of whiskey lingering on them, and the gleam in his eyes—dark, dangerous, hungry—sent a jolt straight to your stomach.

You licked your lips, tasting whiskey and him, and your voice came out more breathless than you intended. “Now are you going to pour me a glass, or what?”

Logan let out a low, gravelly chuckle that made your thighs tighten where his hands still rested. “Are you gonna beg for it?”

Your eyes narrowed, your irritation flaring instantly. “Do I look like a girl who begs?” you snapped, moving to hop off the table. But his hands didn’t let you. His grip tightened on your thighs, rough and unyielding, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he rasped, his smirk widening. “You’re the one who asked for a drink. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

You glared at him, the heat in your chest climbing higher. “I’m not backing out of shit,” you shot back, your fingers darting toward the bottle still sitting on the tray. “If you’re not gonna share, I’ll just help myself.”

You managed to grab the whiskey, the cool glass smooth in your palm, but before you could bring it to your lips, Logan’s hand shot out, covering yours and wrenching the bottle away with infuriating ease.

“Nice try,” he growled, tilting the bottle to his mouth and taking a long, deliberate swig right in front of you. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and when he lowered the bottle, his tongue flicked out to catch the drop sliding down the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a goddamn child,” you bit out, seething. “Can’t even share a drink.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips. “Oh, I’ll share. But I don’t think you really want the whiskey, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer until your knees pressed against his sides. “I think you just wanted an excuse to kiss me.”

You huffed out a laugh, sharp and biting. “You’re full of yourself.”

“And you like it,” he shot back, his voice dipping low as he leaned in. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, and the deep rasp sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Admit it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of rattling you—at least, not yet. “You’re delusional,” you muttered, though your voice faltered when his lips trailed down to your jaw, the scruff of his beard scraping against your skin.

He hummed, the vibration made your breath hitch. “Am I?” he murmured, his mouth skimming down to the curve of your neck. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and you gasped softly, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his tank top. “Because I think I’m in your head, sweetheart. Under your skin. And I think you like it.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but then his lips latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Heat bloomed across your skin, spreading down your chest and pooling low in your stomach as his tongue soothed the spot before he moved lower, biting and kissing a trail along the side of your throat.

“Logan,” you said, his name spilling from your lips half in warning, half desire.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and wild, his hands sliding up from your thighs to grip your hips, firm and possessive. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and fraying at the edges. “Admit it.”

You swallowed hard, your nails digging into his chest. “Admit what?” you asked, your voice shaky but defiant, even as you felt your resolve crumbling.

“That you like how I get under your skin,” he said, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His breath was warm, tinged with whiskey, and it made your pulse race. “That you like the way I make you crazy.”

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look away from him, your breathing uneven as his hands gripped you tighter, his thumbs stroking small, maddening circles against your skin.

Finally, you huffed, rolling your eyes as your cheeks burned. “Fine,” you said, your voice sharp but barely more than a breath. “I like it. You happy now?”

The second the words left your mouth, Logan growled—a deep, guttural sound that made your entire body shiver. “Not yet,” he muttered, and then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, hungrier.

His kiss was fierce, devouring as if your admission had broken whatever thread of control he’d been holding onto. His hands slid up your sides, tugging you closer to the edge of the table, and you wrapped your legs around his waist without even realizing it, your body moving on instinct.

You tugged at his tank top, fisting the fabric in your hands as his lips moved against yours, hot and demanding. When his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

Your fingers slid up into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from him, and the sound sent a thrill racing through you. He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck again, nipping and sucking in a way that had you arching into him, your breath coming fast and uneven.

“ Logan ,” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as his teeth scraped against your collarbone. 

Logan’s lips moved against your neck like he had something to prove, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. His hands were everywhere—rough palms sliding up your waist, fingertips pressing into your ribs like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

Your brain was short-circuiting, every thought scattered to the wind except for more . It was all you could think, all you could feel as the heat of him pressed closer, his broad body trapping you against the table.

“More,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his tank top, pulling him closer, needing him closer. “I need more.”

Logan growled low in his throat. “You sure about that, sweetheart?” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin.

Before you could answer, his hands moved, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and before you knew it, the fabric was sliding up and over your head. He tossed it aside without a second thought, baring you to him in nothing but your bra. His gaze dropped, and the way his eyes darkened made heat flood through you, your entire body flushing under the weight of his stare.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, his hands cupping your waist as he leaned back in, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His hands roamed higher, his thumbs brushing over the edge of your bra, and you let out a soft gasp against his mouth.

Your legs tightened around his hips, and he groaned as your fingers slid under the fabric of his tank top, nails raking lightly against the hard planes of his stomach. Logan��s mouth was everywhere, moving from your lips to your jaw, then down your throat to the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled against your skin, his voice rough and ragged.

“Just hurry up,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair as his teeth scraped against your collarbone.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, the vibration of it making you shiver. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of your bra, and you were about two seconds away from helping him when—

“Ahem.”

The sound cut through the heated fog like a bucket of ice water, and Logan froze. His lips stilled against your skin, his hands halting mid-motion.

Your head snapped up, and there, standing in the threshold was Charles and Hank.

Charles’s expression was between mildly amused and thoroughly exasperated, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. Hank, on the other hand, was wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open slightly like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with what he was seeing.

Logan reacted faster than you, snapping into action like nothing had happened—though the growl rumbling low in his chest told a different story. He grabbed your shirt from where it had been tossed, spinning you away from the two men as he yanked the fabric back over your head with the kind of speed and efficiency that only Logan could manage.

“Don’t look,” he barked over his shoulder, his hands still adjusting your shirt as though shielding you from view would undo the last few seconds. “Turn the fuck around.”

Hank immediately slapped a hand over his face, turning away so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. “I—I didn’t see anything!” he stammered, his voice pitched a little too high.

Charles, however, didn’t move, his lips twitching as though he was suppressing a smile. “Logan,” he said calmly, the faintest hint of dry amusement in his tone. “I see that you’ve been… preoccupied.”

“Not another word,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous as he adjusted your shirt one last time before stepping in front of you, blocking you from view entirely.

You, still catching your breath and absolutely mortified, peeked out from behind Logan’s broad shoulders, glaring at the two intruders. “Now you want to show up?” you snapped, your cheeks burning hotter than they ever had in your life.

“Quite honestly, I didn’t expect to find… this ,” Charles replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “If I had known, I assure you, I would have announced my presence more tactfully.”

Charles cleared his throat, glancing down briefly at the floor before looking back up at Logan with an air of professional detachment. “We’ll give you both a moment to, ah… compose yourselves,” he said, gesturing for Hank to follow him out.

Hank, still not looking at either of you, mumbled something unintelligible and practically bolted for the hallway. Charles followed at a much more measured pace, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. “When you’re done, Logan, I’d appreciate it if you could join us in the study. We have matters to discuss.”

Logan didn’t respond, his glare enough to send Charles out without another word.

The moment they were gone, you let out a sharp exhale, your hands covering your face as you groaned into your palms. “I hate you,” you said, though your words were muffled.

Logan chuckled, turning back to you with a shit-eating grin. “No, you don’t.”

You glared at him through your fingers. “I mean it, Logan. I hate you.”

“That right?” he said, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist again as his smirk softened.

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you shoved at his chest—not that it did much, considering he was built like a goddamn brick wall. “I’m serious. I hate you.” 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he shot back, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before stepping away entirely. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go deal with these two before they pass out from whatever they just walked in on.”

He held out a hand to help you off the table, and though you glared at him for a long moment, you eventually took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You owe me whiskey after this,” you muttered, adjusting your shirt as you brushed past him.

Logan chuckled, following close behind. “Oh, I’ll give you more than whiskey, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “But only if you ask nicely.”

You shot him a scathing look over your shoulder, but the slight curve of your lips gave you away.

[satorusdiary]

“mmm, i think i jus like them a little older.”

Dilf!Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Warnings: Toji and reader have an age gap (reader is 21, Toji’s in his late 30’s,) Toji has Megumi in this, kissing, making out, groping, sexual talk, cursing, fingering, orgasms, squirting, mentions of ‘daddy’ 2 times, idk anything else lmk

Summary: Just you being obsessed with your older boyfriend Toji :)

Toji

Hey baby, where are you? I’m parked at the front.

You

I’m coming out rn, my professor held me n my friend back to talk ab something

Sent 1:48 pm

“Y/n, i understand your boyfriend is ‘smoking hot’. But i didn’t think he was so scary! Also, he’s like twice your age..” Your friend Haruki mumbled out, rubbing her arm with her free hand.

You sighed, it’s the same comment your friends have given you whenever they had a chance to see your boyfriend. They would drool over him, then they would be shocked at how old he was. But you didn’t care, he’s your man. And he loves you.

“mmm, i think i jus like them a little older.” You smirked and pushed open the double doors that led outside. You instantly spotted the black tesla that was parked underneath the trees.

“He’s fucking rich too! You a lucky girl y/n.” Haruki hummed as she pulled out her phone. You laughed in response, adjusting your skirt along with your jacket. “He’s here, i’ll see you next time we come back?”

She nods her head and holds your hand, slightly drifting away as she goes her separate path. “Yup! see you thenn.” She waved and turned her back.

The closer you approached the car the better you were able to see your pretty boyfriend through the window. A grin appears on your face, cheek to cheek as you knocked on the window, signaling him to open the door.

He looked up at your side of the window and watched as you waved at him with one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever come upon on, making him unlock the door and wave back at you.

You opened the door, immediately sitting on your personal seat which no one else was allowed to sit on. Toji, who placed your seatbelt for you leaned over and pressed a sweet, long kiss on your glossy plump lips. Making you snicker when you feel his lips sucking on your bottom one.

“Hey old man.” You snickered once more, making Toji groan as he pulls away and starts the car. “Always givin me shit, the first’ second i see you again. Little brat.”

“—‘m the one whose payin’ your fuckin tuition, be grateful for me sweet girl.” He side eyes you and slithers his hand onto your bare inner thigh. His fingers ghosting over your underwear.

“I know.” You trailed off. “Thank you, daddy” you blurted the name as a joke. Knowing towards Toji, this “joke” was something that could push his buttons. Sexually that is.

Toji smirked and began messing around with the hem of your underwear fabric, pulling the small edges and letting it go just so it could slap agains your wet clit.

“Take off your underwear, baby.” He whispered, continuing to drive away from the college campus. You instantly did as he was told, holding both edges of your underwear and dragging it down to your feet. Toji had his hand out, waiting for you to hand over your underwear.

“Why do’ya need my underwear?” You questioned. Toji chuckled and looked over to you, caressing your soft doughy cheek. “So i can touch my baby, of course.” He mumbled, taking your underwear and stuffing it into his pocket.

“Y’know. Gumi really misses you, been whining about how he’s stuck with me while you go to school.” Toji rubs your clips making you grab onto his arm and take a deep breath in at the sudden contact.

“o-oh really? i miss my Gumi too, ‘m happy i get to see him soon.” You stuttered when Toji began sinking his fingers deep inside of your sobbing pussy, you were full and it wasn’t even because you were right, it was becasuse Toji’s fingers were massive.

The sharp turns Toji makes when he has to drive by a neighborhood to get to your guy’s home has you feeling like your on a roller coaster. But the feeling of his fingers slowly moving inside of you drives you even more crazy.

His pace gets faster, making your breathing get heavier and your moans get louder. Music to Tojis ears, more satisfying than the music playing on his radio. Your juices continue to leak onto Toji’s seats but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“ohh- toji please.. go faster.” You moaned, gripping on his arm trying to convince him to thrust into you faster. “Please who?” Toji questions.

“Please daddy.” You throw your head back more into the head cushion on your seat. A smirk appears on Tojis face, he stops at a red light and goes over to place a few kisses on your lips. Occasionally he would swipe his tongue over yours and massage your breast with his free hand.

He thrusts in faster and deeper inside of you, the small droplets of liquid spilling out of you the more aggressive he plunges his fingers inside your pussy. The coil in your stomach building up as you cry out even more. The man beside you is only grinning, noticing how much your clenching around his two massive fingers.

Even if it wasn’t his cock, his fingers did know how to please you as if he was using his cock. Like, how big it was, how fast he was able to thrust his fingers inside you, and how deep it was able to reach inside of you. Better than you ever expected it.

“You gonna come sweetheart? Cum around my fingers, c’mon make a mess for me darling.” He coo’s. “Godd.. Toji.” You wince as his fingers abuse your g-spot, driving you on edge as you chase your orgasm.

Before you knew it, you had squirted in his hand. You thought it was embarrassing, Toji on the other hand thought it was cute. What he did next left you flabbergasted.

He brought his hand from between your thighs and licked a strip of your juices, making you agap your mouth open and slap him lightly on his arm.

“Oh my gosh, Toji!” You shut your eyes and clenched your sticky wet thighs together. The heat in your cheeks getting hotter as you realize you don’t have your underwear no more.

“What’s wrong? ‘m in the wrong ‘for wanting to taste my sweet, innocent lil girlfriend?” Toji smirks.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him to look out the window. “Let’s jus go home, i wanna’ go to bed already old man.” You abruptly jabber out.

“Ahem— i mean, toji..” You coughed out once you notice the older man’s glare towards you.

“That’s my girl, always so polite.”

Your wobbly legs were not helping you once you tried walking out of Toji’s tesla, that was parked outside of his garage. Luckily, before you could’ve fallen Tojis muscular arm had a hold around your waist, keeping you steady from falling.

“—t’s your fault old man! Your fingers so fucking massive, might as well break me in half huh.” You complained and held onto his other hand that wasn’t around your waist. A snort was let out from the older male beside you as he walked the both of you towards your home.

“I’m supposed to be sorry? fuckin brat. Be happy it wasn’t my dick, shit could’ve been a thousand times messy.” Toji grinned down at you, watching as you don’t meet his eyes and look away embarrassed.

“The silent treatment huh? You’re breaking my heart, sweet girl.” He hums, his hands getting lose as he tries to pull away once you and him make it to the front porch of your home.

“..’m sorry, Toji.” You mumbled and hugged his torso, placing your head on his muscular chest. The thin, tight black shirt that was over his torso just held his figure so well, you couldn’t help but awe over your pretty boyfriend.

“it’s okay, baby. Now let’s go inside? Gumi might still be watching tv.” He kissed your forehead.

You nodded your head and twisted the doorknob leading you inside the house. The first thing you noticed was a little boy sitting on the couch, with a crayon on hand, drawing on a blank piece of paper.

“Gumi?” You called out to the little boy. Toji was behind you locking the door, but still paid attention to when you would interact with his son.

Megumi looked back at the entrance, you could’ve sworn his eyes lit up when he saw you. He jumped out of the seat and ran over to you, his arms wide open as he wants to pull you in a big hug.

“y/n!” The four year old cooed, giving you a big hug making you kneel down. You smiled and nuzzled your face into his hair, massaging his back.

“Hey, megumi. You missed me?” You mumbled to him. It’s been a few days since you’ve been home, staying on campus for the whole week meant not being able to see your loved ones. Which was a pain when you couldn’t see Toji, or Megumi.

“missed you s’much. Dad has been nagging me ever since you left..” He clung onto your arm, signaling that he wants you to carry him on your hip. Which you did.

“no th’fuck i didn’t. He jus wants you to feel bad for him, don’t fall for it.” Toji tsked and made his way towards the kitchen, to grab a drink of water.

You snickered and placed Megumi back on the couch, leaving him to continue drawing and watching his cartoons. Toji, who was still in the kitchen was occupied opening a wine bottle.

Your hands snaked around his torso as you buried your head into his back, your cheek being smushed in the process.

“Shower with me, please” You mumbled. Toji stopped using the cork screw and looked back at you with a questionable expression.

“y’want my dick hm? jus couldn’t wait til we made it to the bedroom.” Toji chuckled and ruffled your hair, placing a kiss on your temple.

“maybe.. but i just want to shower for now.” You winked, pressing a kiss on his lips. After, you walk towards the stairs unbuttoning your top.

Right then and there, he’s convinced that he’s inlove. Toji never believed in love, until he met you. A young, innocent soul who was willing to patch him up when he was badly injured after getting into another battle.

If he were to ever talk about love, or the person he cherishes the most. He’d talk about you, and him together. And Megumi of course.

The sounds of the shower running comes into his senses, along with your voice yelling for him to join you. A grin appears on his features.

“yeah, ‘m coming sweetheart hold up.”

A/N: don’t mind errors

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

[notlongtolove]

to get it anyway

a steel case to the face. that's the last thing you remember seeing. spencer’s voice, shouting your name. gunfire in rapid succession. you remember hearing sirens. maybe. you’re not entirely sure. hands, trembling, cupping your cheeks.  then, nothing.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff, hurt comfort

content: slight mentions of stitches and wounds. bau!reader gets hurt during a case and spencer is worried out of his mind—maybe even worried enough to confess his feelings for her???

word count: 2.3k

note: love the linked poem... also need someone to confess their undying love for me rn rn rn (also is this considered fluff? im not too good w tags)

a line: He cradled your head in his hands, shielding your body with his own when the gunfire went down. His world tilted on its axis—Instinct overtaking reason.

the final sour cherry we kept politely pushing onto each other’s plate, saying, No, you. But it’s so good. No, it’s yours. How I finally put an end to it, plucked it from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth. How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart. How good it felt: to want something and pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway. - cristin o’keefe aptowicz

A steel case to the face. That's the last thing you remember seeing. Spencer’s voice, shouting your name. Gunfire in rapid succession. You remember hearing sirens. Maybe. You’re not entirely sure. Hands, trembling, cupping your cheeks. 

Then, nothing.

Spencer’s pacing down the hallway, his hands restless at his sides as he calls out for the doctor who’s only just walked out of your room. Before he can get far, he feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder, firm enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Hey,” Morgan says, his voice low. “Hey!” he says again, louder, forcing Spencer to look at him this time, “You gotta slow down.”

“She—she was hit. In the head!” Spencer twists under his grip, his eyes darting toward the room where you’re lying behind a closed door. “Do you know how fragile the human skull is? She could have a concussion or—or intracranial bleeding, or—I need to—”

“What you need to do—is calm down,” Morgan interrupts. His tone is stern, leaving no room for argument. “You pacing and panicking? That’s not helping her. And it’s not helping you. You’re worried. We all are. I get it.”

But Spencer isn’t just worried. He’s terrified. He’s bone-deep, mind-numbingly terrified. You all get hurt sometimes—Occupational hazard. Duh. Everyone knows that. But it’s rare for any of you to actually end up warded in the hospital, rarer for it still, to be a two-hour wait with no definitive answers. The doctors had been maddeningly vague: We’ll let you know as soon as possible. No reason to worry. But how could he not?

“Don't tell me to calm down, I—” Spencer’s voice cracks. His chest feels tight, constricted. “Even small blows can cause severe brain damage. Nobody knows how fast—how fast neurons can start to—”

“Reid,” Morgan repeats, his grip not letting up. “They checked her. Twice. You saw it yourself. You saw them go in. I promise you—They’re on it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He doesn’t tell Morgan that 3.6% of hospital deaths occur because of medical negligence—A staggering 1.8% of those linked to head injuries. Doesn’t tell him how many journal articles he’s read on misdiagnosed head trauma or the cascading complications that can go unnoticed until it’s too late. The numbers run through his mind unbidden anyway.

“I’m gonna let you go now,” Morgan says carefully, studying Spencer’s face. “But you gotta stay calm, kid. You hear me? Hotch is already looking.” 

Spencer forces himself to look where Morgan’s nod directs him. Hotch is speaking to a local officer at the end of the hallway, eyes already darting warningly towards them. “I’m calm,” Spencer mutters, though his chest feels like it’s caving in and his breaths are shallow and his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it’s a wonder Morgan can’t hear it. Nothing about this feels calm at all. Not even remotely. 

He drags himself to the bench in the hallway reluctantly. As it turns out, sitting does little to settle him. His leg bounces uncontrollably and he bites at his nails, a nervous habit he hasn’t indulged in since childhood. Old habits resurface when the mind is in distress, he recalls. He doesn’t even glance up when Morgan comes by again with a peace offering in the form of a cup of coffee. Not even when Hotch had come to pass on his well wishes, a pressing call waiting for him back at the bureau. 

The minutes crawl by and Spencer counts each one. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. At ninety-three, a doctor finally approaches. Spencer bolts upright, standing so fast that his head spins a little. You’re stable. Visitors are allowed. Two at a time. He barely registers anything else that the doctor says.

You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

The sharp antiseptic smell hits him first. Then it’s you, eyes blinking blearily as you try to grab a cup of water from the overbed table. The motion makes you wince and Spencer is at your bedside in an instant, his knees bumping gently against the frame as he leans down. 

“Stop I—I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” he says softly, scooping up the cup before you can strain yourself any further. 

“Thanks, Spence,” you whisper, your voice hoarse. You take the cup from him with a weak smile and lift it to your lips for a small sip.

Spencer’s gaze flits involuntarily to your temple. Stitches, eight of them, subcuticular running sutures, from what he can see. They start at your hairline, tracing a clean path down just shy of your cheekbone. He tries to tell himself it’s a good sign—clean wound edges, minimal scarring expected. He wants to say something but the sight of you, pale lips, fragile in the oversized hospital gown, usual biting sarcasm and saccharine teasing nowhere to be found, makes his heart ache. 

“How do you feel?” he finally manages. Even he knows it's a stupid question the moment it leaves his lips. 

“Like I got whacked in the face.” Ah, there you are.

Spencer chuckles meekly though ​​his attempt at lightness falls flat when he catches sight of the stitches again.

“S’not as bad as it looks,” You say tiredly, noticing his line of sight. “The nurse told me it was barely a concussion. A mild one at worst.” 

“Oh yeah? Would’ve been nice to know ‘bout two hours ago,” Morgan interjects, cutting into the quiet moment. Spencer startles slightly, having completely forgotten he was there. “Pretty sure our poor boy wore a hole in the tiles from all his pacing.”

The flush creeping up Spencer’s neck is immediate, spreading to his cheeks as he goes a little crimson. Regardless, he’s thankful for the soft laugh it draws from you. Eyes crinkling, lips curved. You look a little more like yourself now, even if the weariness hasn’t fully dissipated. It makes Spencer feel a little fuller, a little lighter. 

Spencer’s liked you since the first day he met you. 248 days ago, to be exact—But it’s definitely not like he’s kept count or anything. 

He thought he’d like you when he read over your application file. You’d cited winning a local checkers tournament at age 11 as one of your ‘greatest accomplishments to date’.

He knew he liked you when he caught you trying to explain the concept of gravity to Henry at his fourth birthday party using a juice box and a cookie.

When you quoted Aristotle in an attempt to convince Hotch to get a new coffee machine for the unit? Spencer was certain he’d fallen in love right then and there. Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work. Doesn’t it, Spence?

“Aw, Spence,” you coo softly, your voice carrying that honey sweet lilt he’s grown so fond of. “M’fine. Really.” 

For a fleeting moment Spencer almost believes you. Because the way his heart flutters when you reach over to squeeze his hand in reassurance makes him think he’s the one who should be hooked up to those machines instead. Your thumb brushes gently over the back of his hand and Spencer feels his breath hitch, swallowing hard. He swears he goes a little dizzy for a moment so he promptly takes a seat in the chair by your bed.

“It’s good to see you awake, pretty girl. You really had us worried there for a minute,” Morgan says. Spencer nods fervently in agreement. After a beat, Morgan just can’t seem to help himself, adding, “Well, some of us more than others.” Spencer’s certain Morgan’s thoroughly amused by how flustered he is—More so that you seem blissfully unaware. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Spencer pretends not to notice the pointed glance and shameless smile Morgan throws his way. “Don’t let this one fuss over you too much, though. He’s got that down to an art form.” The door clicks shut behind Morgan, and the room grows quiet again, save for the faint hum of the machines and the soft rustle of sheets as you shift slightly in bed.

“Do you remember anything? Before? After?” Spencer asks. He’s painfully aware of how your hand hasn’t moved from his. 

“Not much,” you sigh, your eyes downcast. “Lots of shots… shouting.”

Spencer nods grimly, his jaw tight. If he were being honest, he didn’t remember much either. The moment he saw you go down, his mind had gone blank, aside from the fuzzy static screaming in his ears. He’d lunged toward you as your body crumpled to the ground. The scuff on his pants and the sting of his elbow attest to that fact. His knees had scraped against the concrete as he cradled your head in his hands, shielding your body with his own when the gunfire went down.

His world tilted on its axis—Instinct overtaking reason.

FBI protocol was clear: never abandon your weapon, never turn your back during active gunfire. Subsection 28A, paragraph 2, page 36. Spencer knew it by heart. (He knew the entire handbook by heart.)

But Spencer also knew that if it ever came down to it, he’d take a bullet for you without hesitation.

“I remember you,” you admit softly, your voice a little stronger as you glance up at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“M—me?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, “I remember you calling my name. You holding me.” A faint smile tugs at your lips. Your fingers trace gentle circles into his palm as you sigh, “I only remember you, Spence.” ​​It sends a flip through him, right down to his toes—He short circuits. 

“I care about you,” Spencer blurts. His mind feels foggy, his words slipping out before he can overthink them. “Like, really care about you.” He winces internally. Filler words? Really? But with the way you’re looking at him—kind, expectant, devastatingly patient—he can’t seem to summon anything better. 

“I like you,” he tries again, his voice just a tad firmer. “A lot. More than I probably should. I—I really like you,” he adds in a rush. Real smooth, Spencer. 

You tilt your head, biting your lip to suppress a grin, and Spencer hopes you can't feel how sweaty his palms are.

“I know,” you say simply.

“Y—you do?” His voice comes out shakier than he likes.

“I do. Kinda guessed it from the teasing and stuff.”

Silence.

It stretches just long enough for Spencer to start panicking. He’s briefly comforted by the fact that even mild concussions can cause memory lapses and wonders if there’s any other way to make you forget this humiliating confession. 

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, rushing to fill the quiet. “I’m being insensitive. You’re probably overwhelmed enough as it is—I shouldn’t have—”

“I like you too, Spencer,” you say softly, cutting him off. 

“You—you do?”

"I do," you nod unabashedly, utterly unflustered. “I have for a while now, actually.”

His eyes widen. “You have?”

“Yes I have, and I do, I really like you too,” you say with a sheepish smile, laughing. “But if you keep making me repeat myself you’re gonna give me the headache the doctors keep saying I'm lucky not to have.” 

“S’not funny,” Spencer mutters, but he smiles anyway. The brightest smile he’s had today. Maybe even this week. Possibly even this year. “Don’t joke about that. I was really worried.”

“I know,” you reply warmly. “Something about pacing holes into the tiles, if I recall.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, a boyish laugh slipping out. He hadn’t imagined this moment unfolding in a hospital room, of all places. To be honest, he hadn’t imagined this happening at all. 

You’ll probably be out in three days. Maybe two if you’re lucky. He’ll ask you out then. Properly. Dinner at that Thai place you both love. A trip to the library you’d mentioned two months ago but never got around to visiting. He’ll take you to the park where he plays chess every Saturday. He’s going to do it all. The thought makes him absolutely giddy. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, outside, Morgan hasn’t budged. Not an inch. He’s standing by the blinds, peering in through the narrow sliver. The panicked clatter of heels on the tiled floor announces Garcia’s arrival before she’s even turned the corner. Her face is the epitome of panic, teary eyes wide with worry.

“How—how bad is it?” she blurts, her voice shaking. “Oh god, did she make it? Reid called and—”

Morgan silences her with a gentle finger to her lips. “Shhhh. She’s fine.”

“Fine?! But—But Reid said something about brain trauma—and her neurons and—”

“Babygirl, you and I both know how he gets when it comes to her,” Morgan chides, “Nurse said it’s barely a concussion.”

Garcia lets out a deep, shaky breath, her shoulders sagging dramatically as relief washes over her. “Oh, thank god,” she utters, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m gonna kill that boy, d’you know what he told me?! He said—” 

“Hold that thought,” Morgan says, cutting her off with a smirk. “Our boy genius is a little… preoccupied right now.” He steps aside slyly, gesturing toward the blinds. “Take a peek. You’ll thank me later.”

Inside, Spencer has moved his chair closer to your bedside. One of his hands holds yours securely, fingers interlocked now, while the other traces soothing circles along your forearm. His smile is blinding, proud even, as laughter fills your face. When you shift, a strand of hair falls across your face, and Spencer gently brushes it aside, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Garcia visibly melts at the sight. She lets out a soft, adoring sigh as Morgan starts to steer her gently down the hallway.  “You know, when I told you last week that she wouldn’t know Reid liked her even if it hit her in the face, I didn’t mean it literally,” she quips, amused. 

“I know babygirl, I know,” Morgan chuckles, shaking his head as he places a hand on her shoulder. “Now, come on. I think I saw some jello in the cafeteria.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: magnets by niki soft spot by keshi

[ayeyolooo]

let me help you

please excuse me for my grammatical errors🫶🏾

You were currently at your desk tears falling on the paper with a little plop. You had a ten page essay due @ 11:59 and it was currently 8. You knew that it was more than enough time, but you just couldn’t get a thought out of your head for nothing, you struggled writing essays period, they’ve always been your weak spot.

your phone started ringing so you pushed your black framed glasses up and looked into the camera seeing that it was armin calling you. you glanced at your red puffy eyes and pouty lips as you answered the phone and placed it up so that it’ll be facing the ceiling.

“hi my pretty girl, what are you doing.” just hearing his voice alone made you want to cry and just run to him while he comforts you. “Nothing.” you croaked out. “mama why can’t i see your face? what’s wrong?” he spoke softly. you just sniffed and he automatically knew. “why are you crying baby?” you picked the phone up and pouted.

“ihavethisessaydueandidunnohowimgoingtofinishitallbeforethedeadline.” you jumbled out trying to get all of your words out before your throat closed, from crying. “mama slow down and talk to me, now what’s got you so upset? whats wrong?” he tilted his head. he was laying on his stomach with his phone propped up on his bicep meaning he was comfortable in bed with his sweats on and his glasses. “i’m trying to finish this essay and i don’t know where you start..” you sniffed again. “okay, is mrs. l/n home?” you nodded.

“okay, i’m on the way right now princess.” he hung up the phone. 15 minutes later and you heard the door downstairs open. “hey baby, whatcha doin here?” you heard your mom downstairs. “y/n’s upset about something so i just want to cheer her up.” armin responded as your mom placed her hand on her heart. “see young love, this is so sweet. gone ahead baby, she’s in her room.” armin walked up the stairs and into your room.

you looked at the door and seen armin standing there with some yellow roses and a bag of hot puffs. you just pouted and walked up to him. He picked you up by your thighs—koala style as you just sobbed in his shoulder. ( so she’s being a baby rn! i don’t blame her id act the same way if my person was babying me😭.) “awww don’t cry it’s okayy.” he sat on the edge of your bed and rubbed your back. you felt his cold metal rings graze your back as your body reacted from it—receiving chills.

he tucked his head into your neck and just held you, his glasses were pushed up a bit but he didn’t mind. he was comforting you, which was all that mattered to him. “here come and let’s lay down, because i can see that you’re exhausted pretty girl.” you shook your head no. “i can’t , my work has to be finished before 11:59.” armin just nodded. “yeah i know, it’ll be okay.” you just nodded and laid on his chest as the theme to naruto played in the background. he just rubbed your back and played with your hair that poked from up under the bonnet.

he then heard your light snores. he gently moved you over and walked over to your desk. he sat down and looked at your notes feeling bad that you had so much to do. You were a busy person, you were trying to balance your business and school work and both of them couldn’t be done in one day so you eventually became stagnant in your work, only doing it the day before the deadline. armin understood what you were dealing with, so him being the amazing boyfriend he is, he made sure to help you every chance he gets.

for 3 hours armin was circling, highlighting typing and rewriting your notes that seemed to be decorated with your tear drops. “ the meaning behind this book is to only confuse the reader, no one was actually in love with eachother, it was only an illusion.” armin wrote and clicked enter. armin stuck his tongue out just a little bit proof reading what he just wrote. Proud of what he wrote he submitted it in at 11:58 pm. armin then pecked your forehead “i love you so much my love.” that was the last thing armin ever said to you being that he died from a car accident while he was on the way home.

nahhh just kidding lol!

armin headed home safely after praying over his journey! Armin made sure that the both of you had God in the center of your relationship! he loved you dearly and he thanked God everyday for allowing you to be in his life!

AN

i’m sorry i probably gave you an heart attack im so sorry baby💔. i thought yall would’ve liked the jokey joke😓! na just kidding tho im slowly making my way backkkkk yayyy :)

BVOTD!

GALATIANS 1:10

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi 👋🏻 I’m currently very sick rn and I need cuddles and love from either Clark Kent or Simon Riley, you pick. And could it just be fluffy and sorta angsty with a ps!reader who is just super mopey and mad about being sick and others things. You can pick most of the background for this!!

Btw love 💗 all of your writing 💛🦡🙃

.⋆｡Sick Days and Comfy PJs｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

Sick days require your boyfriend to become your live-in nurse, but who are you to complain.

Warnings: sick!reader, fluff, little smidge of angst but not really, general sick warnings, brief nudity WC: 840

A/N: I hope you feel better soon! I’m so glad you find joy in my writing and I hope you get some out of this one 💚

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I’m dying.”

“No you’re not.”

“I feel like I’m dying.” There was a sigh.

“You just have the flu sweets.” 

“I swear it’s the plague.” The bed groaned and the weight of another person settled on top of it but you didn’t move to look at them. A large hand cupped your head over the thick blanket draped on top of you.

“Can you let me take your temperature again?”

You grumbled back. “No. Too cold.” 

There was another sigh and then the blanket was moved aside, sending a wave of cold air into your little cave of sickness. You groaned in annoyance as you attempted to escape the disruption but before you could, your boyfriend’s thick arm wound around your hips and pulled you up. 

“That’s just the fever talking.” His voice was much clearer now as he held you to his chest while he rummaged around the mountain of things on your nightstand. Your head was pounding with a migraine that was only compounded by your clogged sinuses. 

“Clark.” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut against the harsh light bleeding in from the hallway. 

His palm spread out across your back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your shoulder blade as he finally found the thermometer. “Just a couple minutes sweets and then you can go back to sleep.” The cold metal tip prodded your lips for a second before you begrudgingly opened your mouth. “That’s a good girl.” He cooed and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“I hate you.”

He chuckled softly, the vibrations of it rumbling through his chest. “I know sweets.”

“Dumb alien genes.” Clark sighed again.

“I can get sick sweets, just not with anything here on Earth.” You cracked your eyelids open to glare at him again, letting him get a good look at your bloodshot eyes and dark bags from three days of fitful sleep. “Fine. I’m sorry I can’t get sick. How can I make it up to you?”

“Grill me a cheese.” The thermometer beeped and Clark gently pried it from your lips. You gave out a rattling cough. “And lemme wear your pjs.”

He tsked and wiped off the end with a tissue. “Still too high. Alright, how about a nice hot shower and I can throw my clothes and your blanket in the dryer so they’re nice and warm by the time you get out.”

“And a grilled cheese?” He gave you a look.

“I’ll heat up some of that soup mama made. A grilled cheese might be too heavy for your tummy.” You stuck out your bottom lip at him. Clark tugged you up higher on his chest, letting your soft legs wrap around his waist as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. His hands fell to your ass and unable to help himself, he gave the plump cheeks a gentle squeeze.

“But you’re the one that got me sick.” He had taken you out on a little fly around Metropolis four days ago, ignoring your warning that it was too cold for you to be whipping around the clouds with him.

“That’s not- ok fine, I’ll make you a grilled cheese.” You beamed up at him. “But only if you don’t complain about a stomach ache afterwards.” He rose to his feet as gently as he could, keeping you from being jostled too much.

You sighed and clung onto your boyfriend, feeling utterly sorry for yourself. “Don’t like being sick. Hurts so much.”

“I know sweetheart.” Clark kept you wrapped up safely in his arms as he turned on the hot water.

“You won’t leave me?” Steam soon filled the small bathroom, making it a little more bearable when he gently stripped you of the old pyjamas you had on. Clark paused.

His brows furrowed and he looked up at you from where he knelt on the tiled floor, one socked foot in his hand. “I’d never leave you. Where-where’s this coming from sweets?”

You shook your head and roughly wiped away the tears of aggravation. “It’s dumb.”

Clark pulled off your sock and threw it into the laundry basket in the corner before standing up to his full height. “It’s not dumb if it’s making you this upset.” He cupped your full cheek. Your hands curled into his t-shirt and you nodded.

“I’m sorry I’m so annoying, making you take care of me.” 

“Hey. I take care of you because I love you, you aren’t annoying or a burden. You’re mine and that means I take all of you. Ok?” You nodded and he rewarded you with a soft peck to your chapped lips. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared that up. Finish your shower and I’ll get everything ready for you.”

With a gentle pat to your ass, you were bathed in hot water, easing the pressure behind your eyes. “Love you sweets. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

And as the bathroom door shut, you smiled. Sick days with Clark weren’t bad at all.

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[dpspcehntr]

Hello 🤗 I have a question that has crossed my mind from time to time and I would like your (and maybe your followers) opinion on this, if you don't mind.

Thinking realistically, rather than with a romantic notion, do you think the LaDs men have had much, if any, sexual experience that hasn't been with MC?

Would God of the Tides have concubines brought to him, or gone on dates as a land lubber? Or do you think his bond with MC would prevent him from 'engaging' with anyone else?

Did Xavier date anyone before MC joined the guardians (I don't know the name I forget lol)?

I don't know anything about Sylus

Would Zayne have had a prom date or a girlfriend before he met with the current timeline MC? I know he says we are his only experience, but does that include just kissing someone?

I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!! One, I have also been rotating this around in my brain for quite some time and how I feel very lightly colors how I write for them! I haven't read much (if any at all) of the myths so I will just be looking at the present. I love thinking about this cause tbh sometimes the characterizations in game are not as full as I would like. I won’t keep this long but if you want more detail I’m happy to add to this post! Anyway! Here are my thoughts!

Rafayel is literally the reason I had this thought in the first place. I thought it was so silly to think that he as a rich artsy boy had never ONCE hooked up with someone. He absolutely is a FUCKBOY! I will hear nothing else about it. I can't image he's not when so much of his overall characterization just oozes that kind of energy for me. My exception to this is that I don't think he enjoyed himself very much. Used sex kind of like a numbing thing cause he felt the void of your absence hard. He's not like a community dick kind of fuckboy but he has definitely been passed around a few times, if not as a professional then in art school.

Xavier is another one who I feel has some experience before (re)meeting MC. His experience is alot more clumsy and unsure compared to Rafayel. More of a situation like 'I want to be ready when I find her so I'm going to try it with someone else to be good at it. There may only be one person he's had sex with before MC and it was so bad she just had to leave. When that failed he just turned to erotica and p*rn to fill in the gaps. Eventually getting used to using his own imagination and getting off when needed. So when the time comes he's very prepared and VERY horny.

Sylus is a bit of a hard one because yes absolutely he is having sex with people before meeting MC. His overall vibe very much eludes to the fact that he has lived a life and I'm sure that is included. I don't think he's slinging it out to anyone who asks but he has been in some kind of relationship before. If anything we can say he is very comfortable having sex and has had sex before meeting MC. I have some more thoughts on this but I will keep it there for now!

Zayne from what I know has said that he isn't experienced and we are his first and I believe that. He very much gives full focus on the task at hand kind of man. Definitely not in high school but in med school I image him having a non serious fling with someone just to say he tried. They broke up soon after and he just never tried again until he and MC reconnected. That being said, he is a bit of a perv and has ALOT of pent up energy so once they start they literally don't stop. Like a weekend stuck in an endless loop of sleep, eat, fuck until he's at work desperate for you once again. The problem for him is learning how to control himself now that has MC.

My ask box is open for further conversations on this cause I genuinely love talking about this! Lets keep the conversation going!

[callsign-rogueone]

under the weather

fourth wing boys* x gn!partner!reader *Aaric, Bodhi, Brennan, Dain, Garrick, Liam, Ridoc, Sawyer, Xaden! y'all seemed to like excuses, excuses, so here’s something in that style because I don’t feel good rn, but I want to write :( and I added Aaric this time too!  words: 645 🏷: no spoilers. just some thoughts on ways our boys would take care of you when you’re sick 🥰 descriptions of sickness (cough, fever, dizziness, etc.) doctors visits, medication. I've been ripping shots of nyquil all day and I’m not all there rn so I really hope these make sense lol 

Aaric lets you rest your head in his lap while he reads to you, either from a textbook (the grind never stops with this one) or whatever fiction novel he’s reading. the words go in one ear and out the other in your soft delirium, but it’s still nice to hear his voice and feel him stroking your hair as he reads. if you fall asleep on him, he won’t move until you wake up, or unless he absolutely has to — but heaven help the person who makes him move.

Bodhi insists on cuddling you back to health, curling up with you and letting you rest your aching body against his while you settle in for a long afternoon nap, because sleep is the best medicine. he completely ignores your protests that you’ll get him sick too (you do, and then it’s your turn to play nurse next week, but he swears it was worth it). 

Brennan spends as much time with you as he can, bringing his paperwork and things to your shared room so that he can be there when you need him, while still tending to his duties as a leader of the revolution. he checks your temperature and pulse etc. every hour, monitoring you carefully, but he’ll make up for it with lots of forehead kisses. 

Dain excuses you from training until you’re better, insisting that you stay in bed and devote all your energy to recovering. he frequently comes to check on you throughout the day, and you better still be in bed when he does, or you’ll be getting a gentle lecture about the importance of your caring for yourself and how much you mean to him — he needs you to be healthy, okay?

Garrick carries you around whenever you need to go somewhere, because he doesn’t want you collapsing after that dizzy spell you had. he doesn’t care if it’s only twenty feet to the showers and back; he’s scooping you up and walking over himself. he also insists on supervising your shower, but no funny business — you’re sick. once you’ve recovered, however…

Liam draws you a warm bath, letting you soothe your aching muscles for a while before washes your hair and your back for you, being incredibly gentle all the while. he’ll dry you off afterward, letting you pick any of his clothes to wear to sleep if you want, and helping you through the steps of your nightly routine — brushing your teeth, etc., before giving you your medicine and letting you fall asleep on his chest.

Ridoc goes with you to the healers, rubbing your back and making soft jokes all the while to distract you from the discomfort — apologizing when your laughs turn into a coughing fit. he also tries to make you feel normal / less gross when you’re stuck in bed, helping you with basic self-care: brushing and braiding your hair, taking your makeup off if you wear it, helping you do your skincare… 

Sawyer does all the things that you can’t do while you’re sick — goes to class and copies an extra set of notes for you, does your laundry, straightens up your room, etc. that way you can focus on recovering, but also, once you’re back on your feet, you won’t have a huge mess to deal with and you won’t be behind on your studies. he’ll help you review what you missed, as well. 

Xaden is protective to a fault, but when you’re sick, it’s a whole new level. he doesn’t leave your side unless absolutely necessary, ignoring any form of protest. follows the healer’s instructions to the letter — antibiotics every four hours? he’s waking you up at two am, glass of water in hand, helping you sit up so you can take them. he’ll also use his shadows to dim the room so you can sleep through the day. 

[leclercdream]

maroon

this is the final part of maroon

✮⋆˙ when carlos breaks reader’s heart, lando is ready to mend it

✮⋆˙ ex carlos sainz x singer!reader | bestfriend lando norris x singer!reader | boyfriend lando norris x singer!reader

✮⋆˙ tofi talks: final part!! not very happy about this one but ive been really busy x

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

f1gossip

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55 and others

f1gossip: After a few weird comments on IG by Lando apparently he did score a date! YN and Lando were spotted today in Monaco having fun with some friends. As many of you have already seen they seemed pretty cozy together 😊 A mutual friend (private acc) posted the last picture on his story.

We don’t have pictures but a trusted source told as she saw them a few nights ago in a VERY expensive restaurant in Monaco.

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

view all 48 comments

user1: this is everything i dreamed of in the last 5 years

user2: they look so happy together :(

user3: wasn’t she dating carlos like 3 months ago?

user4: slut

user5: am i the only one that finds CRAZY that she is suddenly dating lando after ending a 3 year relationship with his best friend? lol

user4: paddock bunny behavior

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

yourusername just posted a story!

landonorris just posted a story!

[good riddance is all yours now]

[yourusername just released an album and it’s a masterpiece. go give it a listen. i love you]

yourusername

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername: thank you thank you thank you for the love on my new album!!! 🧚🏻‍♀️ i worked so hard on it and seeing your reactions, analysis, and just comments in general fills my with joy.

thank you landonorris for your support while writing good riddance, i love you 🤍

view 2739 comments

landonorris: i love being your muse!

oscarpiastri: here he goes…

landonorris: you know i think we should tell people which songs are about me

landonorris: dress, invisible string, new year’s day…yourusername: omg SHUT UP

landonorris: i love you i’m really super proud of you!

user1: lol lando

user2: i love the album so much! love the transition between songs and the story that it tells. amazing job!

yourusername: thank you!!! means a lot 🤍

user3: AOTY

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

yourusername just posted a story!

[go to spotify for a surprise x]

replies:

lilymhe: you are a better person than me lilymhe: i’d be posting nasty pictures to make the psychotic girlies mad yourusername: dw babe it’s coming!!!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, kellypiquet and others

yourusername: got lovestruck

tagged: landonorris

view 2749 comments

landonorris: is best friends to lovers you favorite trope?

lilymhe: yes

landonorris: i’m so lucky to be loved by you. i love you

yourusername: mwaaaaah

alexalbon: FINALLY

oscarpiastri: peace 🤝🏻

lilymhe: i’m crying in my car rn

user1: drops an album, a surprise song and then THIS 🙏🏼

user2: god i’ve seen what you have done for others

user3: I LOVE THIS

user4: she is glowing :(

landonorris

liked by yourusername, lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri and others

landonorris: she wrote a few songs about me and now i’m stuck in a relationship with her ig

(just kidding i cried while listening to her album and had to beg on my knees for a date, you are the love of my life)

tagged: yourusername

view 7294 comments

yourusername: you can have all the love songs you want 🤍

yourusername: pookie I LOVE YOUUUU

landonorris: ill cry again stop

danielricciardo: congrats guys! finally happened 😊

maxverstappen1: Please send me a thank you gift

user1: how is this on you maxverstappen1: I told him to ask her out 😎 landonorris: yeah yeah, thank you max 🙄

user2: i thought that after she broke up with carlos we wouldnt have to see her annoying ass again 🙄

this comment was deleted by author this user was blocked by author

user3: i’m so happy for you guys 🤍

yourusername: forever isn’t so scary with you :)

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