#sorry this got long but it’s something i really have Thoughts on

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[voidoffline]

I haven’t lost an eye, tho I did go several months not seeing out of one eye (I kept it closed because in a stroke of stupidity I thought it would help me see better since I have double vision. It just made my eyes and that eye specifically a million times worse-)

And I noticed the neck thing so quickly. Like it was pretty easy for me to adjust (just because I’m good at adjusting to shit Idk) and even though I had no pain then, it was crazy noticing how different things were. Like I walked differently, I always kept to one side of people so I could see them better, I kept bumping my hands into things because of how closing my right eye fucked up my hand eye coordination

And when I finally opened my eye again, after so long of keeping it closed - mostly because at that point my eye had weakened and it was difficult to open it - shit got more colorful. Like I could tell the difference between how much color I was seeing. I doubt a character would go through that - but like if you’re writing a character that’s gotten some surgery done or something and had to wear a patch for a while, well, I think I at least would probably include them realizing things are just a bit more colorful after they take the patch off for the first time

Also rip my neck during the time I closed my eye for months. So much soreness and pain. I am so sorry past neck, I apologize. I was stupid

Also for the last thing ‘thehungwizard’ mentioned - it’s really like that for everything. So when your writing a character with any sort of disability or lack of a sense, keep that in mind. Like I don’t have a sense of smell and people constantly forget that I can’t spell things. I know that’s a lot less drastic and technically a lot less important than a whole eye, but still, the basis is that other ppl forget (no hate on others tho)

I’ve also experienced what op said in #6. It’s wild. And a bit annoying

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[mortalityplays]

Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.

bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.

you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.

with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.

What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:

this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.

This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,

watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,

Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.

Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.

anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky

[hannieehaee]

How about Joshua with a s/o who always wears baggy clothes and doesnt feel attractive because she doesnt wear revealing ones ?

If u want to write it pls do it only if u are ok with it and feel inspired ♡♡

content: bf!joshua, established relationship, some talk about insecurities, fluff, etc.

wc: 605

a/n: so sorry i took so long to write this!!

masterlist

"hey, babe, have you seen my shirt? you know, the grey one with the loose neck? i thought i- oh."

"huh? what was that?", you asked as you took out an earbud, turning to look at the boy who'd been trying to call your attention.

chuckling, he rounded the kitchen island to reach your side, hands practically attaching to your waist like magnets as he aided you in removing the other earbud, placing both on the counter next to you.

"i was just wondering where my band tee went, but i think i have my answer," he chuckled, pressing a sweet peck to your temple.

"oh, fuck. sorry, josh. do you want it? i can go change," you went to disconnect from him, but he wasnt having it, instead nuzzling his head on your shoulder.

"hm. it smells of my cologne still," he said almost to himself, "you don't have to take it off. i like you in my clothes," he reassured.

you could only scoff.

"your clothes are baggy on me. just like all my other clothes. what difference does it really make?"

joshua shrugged, "just like knowing you're wearing something of mine. you're style's cute. you're cute."

"flattery will get you everywhere, hong," you laughed.

it was one of those nice, domestic moments that occurred every so often. you basked in it, enjoying it before the two of you went back to your regular days.

it wasn't until later that you started to think about what you'd said to joshua earlier.

you did have a tendency to wear baggier clothes. hell, there really was no difference between wearing something of his and a piece of your own. it was incredibly rare for you to show skin or any sort of silhouette, and those instances were really reserved for nights too warm to handle in which you had to opt for some shorts and a tank top.

but even then, you went for looser ensembles. clothes that showed your figure were never really your forte.

you couldn't help but wonder if this ever bothered josh. would he have preferred if your style varied more? what if he thought of you as a prude? maybe he-

"what's got you thinking so loud?", the boy in question interrupted your inner turmoil.

you hadn't realized as you sat in front of your vanity, face wash in hand and still unused, that you'd frozen in place as you thought. his presence in the restroom hadn't registered until he spoke.

"just, uh," you pondered as to whether or not to voice your concerns, but his compassionate smile reflecting on the mirror made you decide, "i was thinking that maybe you'd like it better if i dressed differently? you know, maybe show more skin?"

you voiced it as a question, insecurities building in you as you sought a direct expression of his preferences.

"are you kidding? i like how you dress. and it's not really something that bothers me. you're comfortable and you're beautiful. it's a win-win situation for me," he kind of chuckled as he spoke, finding your question very sudden and unnecessary.

"oh."

you felt a bit dumb now.

"has this been worrying you? you know i'm like obsessed with you, right? you could wear a trash bag and i'd still be as obsessed," he joked, closing in on you similarly to how he'd done earlier in the day.

he finished his statement with a kiss pressed to your lips, humming when you kissed back.

"this just gives me free reign of your closet. i hope you know that," you jested.

"baby, i'm rich. take whatever you want."

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[4linos]

breaking the silence

lee know x gn!reader

synopsis: after an argument that involves several tears and hurtful words, your boyfriend gives you the silent treatment.

wc: 2060 (,,> ᴗ <,,)

You had both had a long and tiring day, but it was the silence that had you awake, not the exhaustion. Since the argument earlier in the evening, there had been an unbearable, uncomfortable silence between you and Minho. Really, it had been a dumb approach. It was a small miscommunication that might have been cleared up in a few minutes. Instead, the words had come out of your lips quickly and harshly before you had a chance to think about them, and Minho had snapped, his face tensing in anger. You tried to explain and apologize right away, but he didn't listen. He had turned away without even looking at you, which was an obvious sign that he didn't want to speak with you.

Hours had gone by now, and the tension in the room was intolerable. Your pulse is racing and the knot of anxiety in your chest is getting tighter as you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. Half expecting him to be there, you reached to his side of the bed, but the room was cold and empty. He was still on the couch. After a moment of hesitation during which you bit your lip, you got up and walked quietly into the living room. With his back to you, Minho sat on the couch and watched the TV without paying much attention. The distance between you two felt like an entire ocean, and his shoulders were stiff.

"Minho," you said softly, your voice tentative. “Please… can we talk?” He didn't answer. The ensuing silence was suffocating. As you waited with your heart pounding faster, he stayed motionless with his back to you and refusing to acknowledge you. In an attempt to calm yourself, you swallowed. "I’m sorry Minho. I didn't mean to upset you. "Look at me, please." Nothing. He didn't appear to have heard you at all. It felt almost like a physical barrier because of how heavy the silence was between you two. You tried "Minho…" once more, your voice hardly audible above a whisper, the words suddenly desperate. "I really apologize. Talk to me, please.”

Still nothing.

A part of you wanted to turn away, to give him the space he so obviously needed, to leave him alone. The other side of you, however, couldn't take it. You felt the weight of the unsaid words weighing down on your chest as the silence tore into you. You felt as though the silence was choking you. Gently resting your trembling hand on the back of the couch, you were almost touching him, but not quite. "Please, Minho. I don’t want to lose you. When you act like this, I'm not sure what to do.” You thought he may finally say something as his shoulders stiffened. But the words that came out of his mouth were quiet, icy, and far away.

Without even looking at you, he murmured, "I don't want to talk right now." His voice was flat, with a hint of concealed rage boiling beneath. The words hurt more than you thought they would. Tears threatened to spill out of your throat, but you fought them back. "Minho, I'm at a loss for what to do. I hate this. I hate the way you're ignoring me. Tell me what's wrong, please.” When his head finally turned, you could see that his eyes were filled with a mixture of hurt, frustration, and possibly a hint of disappointment.

He repeated, "I don't want to talk about it," this time with more firmness and a clenched jaw that made it clear he wasn't going to back down. "I don't feel like doing this at the moment. Leave me alone, please. It felt like a face-slap. Your breath caught in your throat as the hurt of his words sunk deep in your chest. You felt so tiny and unimportant all of a sudden, and the pain was unbearable. You said, your voice a mixture of despair and irritation, "You've been like this all night." "Will you please just let me in? Why are you afraid to just speak to me?”

After a while, Minho straightened his posture and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. "You don't understand, do you?" The bitterness in his voice pierced you like a knife, even though it was quieter now. "You're constantly trying to fix things and restore everything, but sometimes I simply need space. I don't require fixing. I don't need to hear your apologies again. All I need is time.” The tears you were suppressing burned in your eyes. "Minho, I'm not trying to fix you. I'm just… All I want to do is put things right. When you refuse to communicate with me, I'm at a loss on what to do. When you cut me off in this way...”

When his eyes finally met yours, he ran a hand through his hair in irritation, yet there was something cold about them that made your stomach churn. "It's not always your turn to fix things. I need time to reflect sometimes. I need you to leave me alone sometimes.” Your chest tightened under the weight of everything you were suppressing, and the intensity of his remarks caused your heart to shatter. He had never been this detached, so angry, and so unwilling to compromise with you. It seemed like he was getting farther away each time you attempted to close the distance.

You said, "I'm sorry," once more, your voice cracking under the pressure of everything. "Minho, I have no idea how to go about this. All I want is to comprehend. Please don't ignore me. He stayed silent for a long time, and the emptiness between you two felt like an endless ocean that you were unsure how to cross. Then he spoke again, softer but still unpleasant, in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper. He murmured, "I'm not trying to hurt you," as his eyes briefly met yours before averting them. “But, I'm not sure how to deal with this either. Right now, I'm not sure how to deal with *us*.”

You were left whirling by his quiet, raw words. Even though you were drowning in your own pain, you could sense it seeping from him. Your heart thumping in your chest, you took a step closer. "Please, Minho... I am not planning on leaving. Just don't ignore me. Together, we might resolve this.” He remained silent for quite some time. However, you stayed put. You stayed there, both of you trapped in the limbo of suffering and annoyance, close yet still far away. His hand hesitated as though it would have reached for you, but he stopped.

He sighed at last, his breath trembling, the weight of everything between you two bearing down on him. He made a tiny move, brushing your palm with his, but it was the most subdued apology he could offer. His voice was almost heard, but he was sincere when he said, "I'm sorry." "I just want some time. I'll talk with you when I'm ready. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as you nodded. "All right. I'll hold off. Just don't be silent for too long. Minho didn't respond, but you could tell he hadn't actually cut you off—at least not entirely—by the glint of remorse in his eyes. Not forever.

Even if it passed for the time being, the silence between you lingered, serving as a reminder that sometimes the quiet that followed a fight was just as difficult.

—

It seemed like there had been no end to the silence between you and Minho. For days, the room felt heavy, and you both cautiously avoided each other, not knowing how to heal the rift that had developed. However, time was doing its silent magic, and gradually the barriers you had put up between each other started to come down.

It started with the small things.

You noticed that Minho was beginning to leave small signs of himself where he typically didn't. His jacket was carelessly placed on the chair's back, as though he had decided it didn't need to be neatly folded. His shoes kicked off at the door in a hurry, a sign that he was starting to feel like his own home again. Nevertheless, things didn't start to change until you were in the kitchen making coffee one morning. Minho came into the room quietly, his hair a little disheveled from sleep, and he was still dressed in pajama trousers. For a long time, he watched you from the doorframe, his face unreadable.

Although you both understood that the silence between you wouldn't last forever, you kept silent at first. You just continued doing what you were doing because you had to take the initiative and didn't want to push him. He apologized in a low, reluctant voice that sounded almost like he was trying things out. His eyes were on the floor, not looking into your eyes, and his hands were in his pockets. "For everything."

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze. It was there. The first break in the silence: the words you've been waiting for. The weight of all that had been left unsaid made your chest tighten as you turned to face him. You started to say, "Minho," but your voice trailed off as your throat filled with emotion. When he finally looked into your eyes, his face softened and he took a step forward. "I should have spoken to you. "I shouldn't have pushed you away like that," he added in a remorseful tone. "I simply... I shut you out rather than letting you in because I didn't know how to deal with anything.”

You gave a small shake of your head, not because you didn't comprehend, but rather because the pain and suffering of those silent days remained present. You tried to control your emotions as you whispered, "I know you needed space, Minho." But when you refused to communicate with me, I was at a loss on how to make things better. I was really lost. He took tentative but resolute steps toward you. Almost whispering, he replied, "I don't want you to feel lost." "I apologize for making you feel that way. I just want you to understand that it wasn't about you. I was the one. I've honestly been overwhelmed.

The pain in your chest slowly begins to ease as you finally release a breath you were unaware you were holding. "I get it, Minho. Yes, I do. But if you don't let me in, I can't support. At that moment, he extended his hand and lightly touched yours. The tender touch served as a reminder that you were still there for one another despite the stillness. "I'll try," he answered in a quiet but genuine tone. "I swear. I'll let you in more. I don't want to isolate you again.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from sadness, but from the relief of hearing him say it. For the first time in days, you put your arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug as you moved closer, your heart overflowing with emotion. After a moment of hesitation, Minho wrapped his arms around you and held you tight, allowing you to both feel as though the burden of the last few days had been lifted. It was a subtle acknowledgment of guilt and a subconscious understanding that although things weren't flawless, they could still be fixed.

You muttered, "I'm here, Minho," against his chest. "I'm not leaving either." His voice was muffled as he talked into your hair, holding you closer. “I know. I’m sorry for making you feel like you didn’t matter. You do. You always have.”

Even though there was still some tension, hurt, and stillness, it didn't matter just now. The important thing was that you were both prepared to start over and, no matter how long it took, find your way back to one another.

Minho then said, "Let's take it slow," while planting a gentle kiss on your forehead and wearing the smallest of smiles. “But let's do it together.”

From then on, you were aware that you would deal with any challenges together; there would be no more silence, only love, understanding, and patience.

—

nini’s notes 111124

hi everyone! this is my first full length fic & it’s angst! i personally lovee reading angst so i thought i’d try it out, i hope you enjoy & don’t forget to leave any feedback that you may have 🤗🫶

asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!

-🎀

[redflowersociety]

Saying “I Love You” for the first time. - Mouthwashing HC

These are written with the pretense that… THEY LIKE U BACK!! (Except for Swansea cause he’s married…sorri) THIS WAS SO PAINFUL CAUSE I WAS WRITING THEM IN PARAGRAPHS AND THEN… boom. 1000+ words lost. Never writing on tumblr again, rookie mistake. Anyways, enjoy!! Promise next post will be higher effort

Curly (Pre-Crash)

He’s quick to make a teasing comment on your unprofessionalism, confessing to your captain and all. But he’s honestly super flustered and trying not to grin like a kid on Christmas Day.

He takes a moment to sit with it. It’s likely that you two would have made advances toward each other for a while, as Curly is the type to take things slow if he’s serious. After a year of pining, you two were finally dating! But hearing those words from your lips brought him to such happiness because he knew you meant it unconditionally, without expecting anything from him.

After this instance, it became common practice for both of you to remind the other of your love. Curly had never been a “words-of-affirmation” kind of guy, but this was an exception. “I love you” turned into his favorite phrase, as it was the perfect way to release the tension building in his heart from just how badly he had fallen for you.

Curly (Post-Crash)

He honestly couldn’t believe that you could stomach looking at him, let alone still sit with romantic feelings for him. It brought him to tears when he heard it, unable to comprehend how somebody could show him such boundless affection and care. He wasn’t used to unconditional love.

He forced himself through the immense pain to slur the words back, and that’s when you began to cry. He forced it out again and again, until you convinced him through pleading not to speak. You knew how much it hurt him, so you assured him that knowing was enough. You didn’t need the reassurance.

Upon your return to Earth, Curly not only had surgeries to make his face a little more structurally sound, but he had attended speech therapy to make up for the years he spent in near silence. One of the first things he learned was your name, and then “I love you.” It brought you to tears hearing it again for the first time in so long. It was okay though, as he could hold you in his scarred arms as long as you needed to cry it all out.

Daisuke

At first, he thought you were being silly. “Aww, I love you too,” he giggled. It wasn’t until you spoke up again with a more serious tone that he realized, and you swear you’d never seen a man turn red so fast. He was so taken aback, asking you at least five times if you were serious and if you were sure. Once his nerves were satisfied, he returned the gesture.

“I love you too. Like a lot, a lot. Soooo much. Like, I really thought I was tweaking out or something from like, the way my whole body would go numb around you and my brain would get fuzzy-“ his drawn out explanation on how his romantic feelings for you overwhelmed him made you laugh. Within the next day, you two were dating.

Even before you two got together, Daisuke ranted to anybody who would listen about just how perfect you were. Now? Oh, man. Swansea has been really considering throwing him out into space after hearing about your confession for the twentieth time from his loud-ass mouth.

Anya

It was honestly a relief to her that you had said something first. She had been trying her best to stay professional, but seeing you all the time, your smile and laugh, the way you spoke passionately about what you loved; it made it harder every day as she fell further for you. You were one of the first people she grew close to on the Tulpar, and the first she went to when Jimmy… did what he did. The trust between you both was ample and strong.

She was quick to say it back, like it was a breath of air she’d been holding in way too long and needed out. You two laughed from the sheer relief on her face, teasing her thoroughly about it. She didn’t hesitate to grill you right back for being the one who confessed first. It shut you up pretty fast. You both agreed within the hour to start dating!

There were mixed reactions among the crew. Some extremely supportive, and then some straight up bitter and resentful (Jimbo). Jimmy began to treat you especially cruelly, and you refused to stand by and let it happen. Curly also helped to defend you when he could, seemingly coming to his senses about Jimmy’s behavior. You could tell that Anya felt intense guilt for your pain, but you assured her that it wasn’t her fault. It was your decision to date her knowing everything you did. You were happy by her side. She certainly cried over that privately, completely enamored.

Swansea

Swansea is married, so he knew to take your words in a familial sense. He didn’t return it, saying something like, “You’d better kid. With all I do for you.” But when you him on his lonesome in the utility room? Yeah, he smiled about it.

f you had a bad childhood due to your parents, Swansea could tell pretty quick. He never considered it his problem, but even still, he took you under his wing with Daisuke. He wanted to give you guidance in the ways he knew how. You deserved that, at least. He would go out of his way to help you when you needed, mostly with solving practical problems. He had never been the most emotionally aware, but he tried with you. He figured even if he couldn’t assist you much, it’d be good practice for his daughter on the way.

That’s not to say he never had any advice. He struggled to comfort, but he was quick to pick up on your mistakes and told you the blatant truth. You appreciated that, even if he was harsh at times, cause it helped you become a better person.

Jimmy

Your confession was certainly an ego boost, but nothing past that. He couldn’t believe that you could say something like “I love you” to someone like him without there being pity behind it. Even still, he returned the gesture because he knew that getting with you would make you so much easier to use. He took the opportunity.

The entire crew, aside from you two, were completely flabbergasted when they found out you two were together. Swansea was quick to ask “Why,” hoping to understand the reason behind such a horrible decision on your part. He didn’t get a good answer from you. Anya felt such pity for you, sure that a good person like you had been manipulated into that position. Even still, she couldn’t help you without putting herself in danger, so she kept her distance.

After the crash, Jimmy took out all his frustrations on you in private through abuse: sexual, physical, verbal, and however else he felt in the moment. Nobody was confused when you started wearing more covering clothes beneath your uniform. Swansea was the only one to really step up against Jimmy when he found that he was hurting you. You had to beg Swansea not to kill Jimmy for that alone, and even still, jimmy got a beating. Daisuke checked on you as much as possible, worrying constantly for your well being. Curly found your relationship to be one more thing to feel guilt over, as he once again couldn’t do a single thing to protect somebody from him.

[blueboybot]

Lovestruck!

Billy didn't mean to follow Danny...

That was a lie, he totally did mean to follow him BUT he didn't intentionally make himself show up all the other times. It was just that Danny had a habit of being in the area whenever disaster struck in Fawcett City and Billy has picked up the habit of having Danny in his arms more times than not.

......

The first time he met Danny it was a Captain Marvel. A building down town had caught on fire after some faulty wiring and he managed to get everyone in the building out safely with the help of a few firefighters. He thought he did until his super hearing caught the sound of a sudden heart beat, slower than a regular human but definitely still alive. He wasted no time flying back into the building and reaching the fifth floor with relative ease where he saw him.

Now Billy could admit that this was not the time or place but as soon as his eyes landed on him his heart felt as if it was struck by lightning. There in a room was one of the prettiest boys he's ever seen with dark locks and sky blue eyes rushing to grab papers before the flames of the ongoing fire could consume them. It took Billy and embarassing amount of time to snap out of it and grab the boy before flying out of the building.

As Billy floated in the air he couldn't help but to stare at the other.Travelling his eyes down from the other's face he noticed that the boy was wearing and all black outfit, the shirt being cropped and having the design of a purple seedling, his pants were a little baggy and adorned with chains and zips all while sporting black combat boots.

"Uhh you can put me down now," A voice said pulling him out his thoughts. The other boy looked at him with a raised eyebrow, still clutching the papers close to his chest.

Against his will his cheeks started to heat up "My bad."

He quickly descended and placed the boy next to the nearest firefighter before flying off once the fire was put out.

The second time he met Danny and got his name was as Billy Batson. Billy was doing a run in the park as part of his daily exercise, because Captain Marvel shouldn't be the only strong one with muscles, when he turned his face for a few seconds to enjoy the scenery and collided with another body, sending the person backwards and onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see where I was going and–" As he was reaching out his hand to help a pair of familiar blue eyes halted any further actions. This time he was dressed in a red bucket hat, a yellow vest with a white long sleeved undershirt and a long green pants with brown shoes.

"No worries you apologised so that counts for something," He held out his hand and Billy quickly took it, pulling him up onto his feet "The name's Danny."

"Billy."

Before another word could be said a loud explosion shook the earth followed by the terrified screams and frantic running of people around them. Billy opened his mouth to say something to Danny but when he looked all he saw was air in the place Danny was supposed to be standing. He had no time to dwell on that so sped off to more secretive place before transforming and flying off to where the trouble resided.

When he got there Billy was absolutely dumbfounded because in the villain's hands was none other Danny himself in all of his annoyed and squirming glory. The villain finally noticed him and started their monologue while holding Danny in the air, displaying him like the helpless and slightly angry captive he was.

It took a total of five minutes for Billy to knock the villain down and catch Danny before he hit the ground.

"Nice to catch you again Danny," He teased.

Danny narrowed his eyes at him "How do you know my name?"

"Uhh super hearing," He nervously replied.

"Are you stalking me?"

"Nonono it was really super hearing, I promise."

.....

After a while it sort of became a routine for them but Danny only ever seemed to be willing to talk to him as Billy rather than Captain Marvel for some reason he's not sure why. In all honesty Danny was much nicer to him as Billy, he would always be close and open to him as possible to the point where it leaves Billy's cheeks heated. While as Captain Marvel Danny is quick to shut down any conversation and leave as quickly as possible after thanking him for the rescue. Billy's not sure what he did as Captain Marvel to offend Danny but he hopes to figure it out soon.

Deviating from his regular patrol route to follow his crush was probably not the best option but he's working on it. As soon as Danny gets home safely he'll go back to his regular program.

Just as Danny turned the corner a nearby pillar from a building under construction started to crumble and just before the giant chunk of stone could harm Danny Billy swooped in and saved him from becoming one with the ground.

"I'm sensing a pattern here Captain." From within his arms he saw that Danny wore a teal headband, a black long sleeved shirt, teal pants and black shoes. Despite his scowl Danny really did look good in anything.

"Just doing my job," Billy smiled back.

......

This was supposed to be Danny's vacation from fighting ghost and he was not enjoying it to his fullest like he hoped. You would think that after a reveal gone extremely well with his parents and being given some promised time off by Clockwork he wouldn't find himself in no more trouble but here he is, constantly being saved by a man who refers to himself as 'The Big Red Cheese'.

On the plus side he got to meet a cute boy named Billy who he definitely is crushing hard on and will be in his thoughts for the rest of his stay here. Now back to Captain Marvel. Danny found the superhero to be weird in a creep kinda sense, sure the man is constantly saving him but that's because Danny is on strict vacation time and will not be using his powers while there is a well established hero in the area. What he means is he's caught the man multiple times staring at him and raking his eyes over his body and it makes the ecto-infused hair on his body stand up when he does it.

He hasn't done anything to him yet and despite Danny's best efforts to follow the man he can't. For someone who wears such bold colors he does manage to slip away from him very easily. If the man does try anything with him Danny will take pleasure in showing him why he picked the wrong one.

[hotshotsxyz]

heart is beating heavily

(buddie) (s8 spec) (1k) several people asked for more of this town is only gonna eat you so this is that. unfortunately i am still feeling evil, so please enjoy buck's pov of the same events :) btw the title of both of these fics comes from the song bloody shirt by to kill a king, which i played on repeat while writing these cw: mass shooting / gun violence

Buck’s breath leaves him in a sharp exhale when he hits the ground. It hurts, but not—not where it should. His chest, his back, they’re on fire. His head, though, as violently as he was thrown to the ground, never makes contact with the cement.

The only thing he can see now is Eddie. Eddie, hovering above him, eyes wild. He looks—cornered. Trapped. Only he’s the one pressing Buck into the sticky floor of the arena, not the other way around, and he doesn’t understand why.

“Eds,” he tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak.

Eddie shakes his head sharply, almost—

Panicked.

Buck takes a breath and it hurts. His thoughts feel sluggish in a way they never really are. He tries to take stock of what he knows anyway.

His body is screaming in pain.

Eddie is afraid. (Why is Eddie afraid? What could possibly—)

They’re on the floor. (Eddie pushed him to the floor. Why would he—)

The space around them is filled with a cacophonous noise that Buck can’t quite identify.

Pain. Fear. Sharp popping noises that make Buck’s ears hurt, and—

Screaming.

Oh.

Buck presses his lips together and tips his chin toward his chest in an approximation of a nod. Eddie exhales, warm against his cheek. His face does something complicated, and then—

I’m sorry, Eddie mouths, and before Buck can figure out what for, white hot pain lances through his chest.

In his mind he screams.

In reality, he bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. They’re in danger, and he won’t—As long as he’s still breathing, Eddie won’t leave him here. Even if he should. He won’t protect himself, won’t run, won’t hide. The least Buck can do is keep from drawing attention toward them, but in the moment, it feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“—so good,” Eddie breathes into his ear. “I got you; I promise.”

Buck wants to believe that almost as much as he wishes Eddie would just save himself. Every breath he takes is harder than the one before, though, and it occurs to him that soon, he might draw his last. If he has to die, Eddie’s face is a pretty incredible last thing to see. He just wishes it wasn’t twisted in pain and fear.

It takes a minute for Buck to catch up with his own thoughts. Pain. That’s—he’s seen it in Eddie’s expression enough times to know it intimately. Why is he in pain? Eddie presses his cheek to Buck’s before he can interrogate the expression further.

“Slow, steady breaths, okay? You have to breathe through it, even if it feels like you can’t.”

The scrape of Eddie’s jaw against his sends something like a shiver down Buck’s spine. There’s something—something important, but—it feels just out of reach.

“You have to, Buck, I can’t—I just need you to hold on,” Eddie whispers, quietly wrecked.

He’s trying. God is he trying. But it’s—every breath feels like pulling fire into his lungs. With every exhale, he feels a tiny bit weaker, a tiny bit worse. Eddie pulls away slightly, and Buck feels the absence like a missing rib.

“Hear that?” Eddie asks, brushing a thumb across Buck’s cheekbone.

He doesn’t—he doesn’t hear anything other than Eddie, but he’s not sure he wants to.

“We’re so close, Buck.”

Something settles in his chest at the sound of his name on Eddie’s lips, louder than before, drenched in something that sounds like relief. He blinks once, twice, slow and heavy.

“Come on, eyes on me,” Eddie says sharply. And—oh, when did he get so far away?

Eddie pulls the hem of his shirt to his teeth and—oh god. That’s not Buck’s blood. He’s—Eddie’s hurt too, but Buck can’t make his mouth work, can’t even keep his eyes open long enough to—

“No!” Eddie commands. A new pain accompanies his voice. “You’re staying right here with me, got it?”

He has to—has to tell Eddie—he doesn’t—

“That’s perfect, you’re perfect,” Eddie says, eyes shining.

A lump forms in his throat.

“Just keep—c’mon Buck, just keep fighting. I need—you have to be okay.”

He does. He does have to be okay because Eddie’s not and he’s acting like he doesn’t even know.

“Hurt,” Buck forces out.

“I know,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t! “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

Buck lets out a frustrated groan. He tries to shake his head, and when that fails, to lift his hand to Eddie’s abdomen.

Eddie turns away from him, and if Buck could scream now, he would.

“Alright,” he says, turning back to Buck. “I’m going to get you onto that gurney. Let me do all the work, okay?”

No! No he can’t! Buck tries to tell him again, tries to force anything through his lips that Eddie will understand. You’re—“hurt,” he manages again. He can’t even lift his hand now. He’s dying and he’s going to take Eddie with him.

Eddie says something he can’t parse, and suddenly he’s moving, being lifted dizzyingly high off the ground. He sees—

A body. A swarm of cops. Uniformed paramedics and EMTs running in every direction imaginable.

One of them, he just needs one of them to look at Eddie. He just needs one of them to see. He’s still walking, still talking. He still has time.

Eddie drops him onto what must be a gurney, and immediately it begins to roll. Buck allows his head to loll away from Eddie and towards—

An EMT! She can—she can do something. She can—

She’s not looking at him.

She’s not looking at Eddie either. She’s looking straight ahead and under any other circumstances Buck would compliment her for her pragmatic understanding of the urgency of the situation. But she’s walking too fast and Eddie’s beginning to stumble.

“Diaz, is that—” Yes, yes! Someone sees him. Someone else knows—

“—were you shot?”

Buck gets his head around just in time to watch Eddie collapse into the arms of a firefighter he doesn’t recognize.

He wants to scream, to sob, to thrash against the restraints keeping him on the gurney. He wants to—

Wants to—

Needs—

Eddie.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Oh goodness I am so excited to finally being able to read part two!

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.  Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?” Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.  “Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

And oh my word the two lines from Dean when she got mad KILLED ME. The:

"What's this, some kind of Latina temper?" he asks snidely.

AND

"Oh, I'm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?" he snarks.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.  He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room. So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.  He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

Oh sweetie pie, Dean you're an idiot, but we love our little idiot even when he loses his temper because he cares so much. This part really got to me, because at first I was like "oh why would she stay with him in his room," but I get it. Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships.

Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.  Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.  And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.  “You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.  “Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

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

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless.

And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss. He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.   A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.  “I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

ESPECIALLY THIS LINE:

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

I don't know why that wiped me out after everything tbh.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

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

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

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

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 5,400

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

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

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

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You truly become incensed at that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

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

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

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

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

You give him a wry look.

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

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

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

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

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dangerous, for both of us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

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

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

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

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

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

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

“What does it mean?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, fuck yeah. 

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

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

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

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

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

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn it, Dean!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

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

[During their fight]: 

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

Translation:

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

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

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

Translation:

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

Keep Reading:

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

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

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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[lqveharrington]

Bus Stop | R.L.

summary: both you and remus miss the bus during a rain shower.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, strangers being cute, cursing

a/n: i seriously need to finish my coriolanus series help 😭

As a meteorologist for the local news media, you knew what the weather was going to look like everyday. In fact, plenty of people tuned in to hear the forecast just from you. It was something you enjoyed doing, you liked helping people out for the smallest things. You could predict whether or not the sun would be shining to the point where ice cream would melt in an instant, or if it would snow so hard that the roads were to icy to drive in.

It felt nice to be helpful and appreciated in a community you’ve learned to love.

But every once in a while, the computer system the station owned would make small mistakes. There would be times where it predicted hard rain, but instead ended in light rain with little to no clouds. Of course, it was something so rare that you always disregarded it and moved on.

Except for today.

You were standing underneath the thinnest awning as rain pellets fell harshly from the thundering sky. You missed the bus for the first time in years. It was stupidly coincidental that the day the computer system decided not to work was the day you missed the bus. It had shown that only light rain would be coming to your area.

Wrong.

So now you were trapped in a small space until a bus appeared or the rain let up, which was unlikely.

The wind blew harshly on your skin and made the rain splash everywhere. You were getting drenched by the minute and all you could do was wait. Your Mary Jane’s were completely ruined and your tote bag completely soaked, which incased your book and notepad. It was all destroyed.

A frown made its way to your face. You couldn’t even tell if tears were streaming down your face or if it was the rain as you felt your chest constrict. But even the universe had its limits and thought it was cruel to have you all alone in the storm. So it sent you one companion who happened to miss the bus as well.

A man ran over to where you were, his eyes wide in frustration and annoyance. You watched him run underneath the awning with his jacket over his head, which did little as he was completely soaked from head to toe.

He gave you a slight nod and looked out toward the obstructed street view, “How long have you been waiting?”

You blink in confusion before realizing he was talking to you. Heat covered your neck when he gave you an amused grin as he ran his fingers through his wet hair in attempts to squeeze the water out.

“Oh! Uhm, maybe a couple of minutes? Only two buses come down this way.” You look down to your shoes, the puddle underneath rising toward your ankle, although you feet were already drenched.

He sighed and leaned his head back on the brick wall behind, rubbing his palms in his eyes. “Fuck, okay.”

After a few seconds, an awkward silence took over despite the heavy rainfall. It wasn't like you intended for it to get awkward, but standing in a tight space with a man you never met really set off tension.

Yours eyes flickered from the rain puddles to the man beside you. Clearing your throat, you began to speak, but at the same time, the man spoke as well.

“How—“

“What—“ Your eyes widen and the previous heat creeped up to your cheeks. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“No, that’s quite alright. I was just trying to make small talk.” The man shrugged and sent you a small smile.

You grinned back and fiddled with the strap of your tote back. “So was I.”

Despite the attempt, another silence took over. This time, it was less awkward. The rain continued to pelt down and the sun began it's slow descent down when you decided to strike a conversation again.

“What made you late?”

He looked over toward you, his mind zoned out from the pattering of the rain. “Mm?”

“To the stop, I mean." You smile sheepishly and waved your hand around. "I got here just as the bus left, but you were minutes behind.”

“Ah,” He nodded and pushed his hair back again. “My car is at the mechanics and I wasn’t sure when the coaches come around. I guess I was a little off.”

“Just a little.” You pinch your finger together as a small laugh falls from your lips.

A comfortable silence took over this time. You had yet to know the man’s name, but you knew that he was alright to be around for the time being. Who knows if there were weird people out in the rain coming to get you.

The rain only grew harder, causing you and the mystery man to push closer in hopes of staying out of the harsh weather and not freeze to death. Well, more so than already.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before.” The man spoke and glanced at you to see an amused glint in your eyes.

“Yeah?”

He squinted his eyes before snapping his fingers in recognition. “You’re the meteorologist on channel 8.”

You laugh softly and place your hands on your hips, smiling like you would on television. “The one and only.”

“I didn’t think I would meet a celebrity waiting for the coach.” The man chuckled and ended with a content smile, shaking his head at the fact he did meet someone everyone loved.

“Where do you work?” You ask out of the blue, catching him off guard. “It’s only right, you know my place of work.”

He raised his brows like it was the most obvious thing. “You’re on the tele.”

“Same difference.”

You both stared at each other as if you were in a silent competition before you looked away, clearing your throat. Sensing your fraction of discomfort, the man answered your question.

“I work down at the bookstore on King’s street. It’s beside the café.” He gestured toward where he came from and smiled when your eyes lit up.

“Oh! My friend Lily works down there. I love that place, they have everything I ever need in life.” You grin at the mention of your favorite store downtown, but purse your lips when you remember what exactly you had in your tote. “But, one of the books is kind of destroyed in my bag.”

"You destroyed public property?"

"Not on purpose!" You defend yourself and put a hand up, the small smile on your lips showing your true emotion. "That's not funny."

"It was."

You roll your eyes in an amused manner and settle into a short silence. Time felt like it was going so fast yet so slow, and you weren’t exactly sure what that meant. Picking at your nails, you ask him another question he hopefully knew the answer to.

"Since you work with Lily, do you know a guy named Remus? She said he worked there with her, she wants me to meet him."

He raised a singular brow at you and tucked his hands under his arms as the wind blew harder. "I may or may not know. Why?"

"She said we would hit it off right away." You shrug and shiver, causing your body to instinctively pull closer to the man beside you for warmth. "And every time she wants me to go over to meet him, I'm really busy with work."

He hummed and looked down at you, meeting your eyes with pure joy and mischief. "I think that you would hit it off right away."

"You think so?" You murmur, glancing down at his lips for a split second before looking back up to his eyes in shock at your own action.

"Oh, definitely. You'll have the time of your life with his horrid humor." He chuckled as you huffed a breath out, the heat from your mouth shown in front of you.

"As bad as you laughing at me for accidently destroying a library book?"

"Precisely." The man nodded in agreement, pulling you further back into the stop as a car drove by without slowing down. "How long have you been a meteorologist?"

"Oh gosh," You bite your lip in thought and go back to your first time actually working as a meteorologist. "Maybe two years officially? I studied a lot in college for it and was given an internship with NASA back in the states for my last year."

His lips turned-down into a smile, not that surprised by the fact with how much you loved your job. "I'm impressed."

"Thank you." You tilt your head down and look down at the ever growing puddle, sighing at the sight. "Although, sometimes I wish I had chosen a job back in the states rather than come back here."

"Why is that?"

"The weather here is mostly the same all year round. There's nothing too interesting about it." You gesture toward the rain.

As you pointed out the harsh rain you would always report on, the bus lights finally appeared through the thick fog. You shut your eyes in thanks before holding tightly onto your tote. But before the bus got to your stop, you decided to speak once more. Maybe, just maybe, the mystery man was alright.

"I never got your name."

He turned his head to you and shrugged, his brown hair splashing you with water. "Technically, I didn't get yours either."

"Doesn't count, I'm on television." You quip as the bus comes to a stop, but the look on the man’s face caught you off guard. "What is it? Why are you smiling weirdly?"

"I'm Remus Lupin." He struck his hand out and kissed your knuckles. "And it was a pleasure to hit it off with you."

"You're joking." You gape at the mysterious man who you could now identify as the same Remus Lily was talking about. "You're incorrigible."

"And your coach is going to leave you behind soon." He tilted his head toward the flashing headlights of the bus.

You purse your lips and quickly get your body on the bus. You paid your bill and turned around to see him still standing at the stop. Furrowing your brows, you call out to him only to be interrupted.

“Will I expect to see you in the bookstore soon?” He cupped his hands around his mouth to enhance his voice over the heavy rainfall.

A small smile graced your lips as you responded. “Maybe!”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. jealousy is a disease !

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

featuring : till

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"ugh, stop talking about that!"

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

[planetpedri]

this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?��

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

[lostsyren]

Could you do.....maybe Sofia canceling a date with Rafe because her paycheck got delayed, and she feels to embarressed to go on dates in the same clothes and had plan to buy new things. She tells him that she is sick, but then he sees her at a bonfire party. He feels heartbroken thinking she lied because she is tired of him while he is head over heels, he walks off, she runs after.....ANGGSTTT <3

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ date night

{a/n: sorry for taking so long to get to my requests but I hope it was worth the wait!!}

{summary: sofia can’t make it to date night, and rafe’s not happy about it…}

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

“You really like that dress don’t you?” Ruthie said with a slimy smirk across her face.

Those words echoed through Sofia’s mind as she stared at her closet trying to figure out what to wear with her date with Rafe.

She hadn’t even thought twice about the clothes she wore in front of Rafe and his friends before– having enough confidence in her sense of style. Sofia had carefully curated a wardrobe from lucky thrift store finds and the occasional designer splurge when she had some of her pay check left over.

So when Ruthie had teasingly poked fun at her favourite dress (a satiny, floral slip that she adored), her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

“It’s so cute though, if you like that sorta thing, I can understand why you wear it so much,” Ruthie had continued, hiding her bitchy words under a guise of tooth-aching sweetness.

She hadn’t thought about it again until Rafe had asked her to come out to dinner with him a couple nights later. Sofia enthusiastically accepted– it was only when she got home to get ready, seeing her limited selection of clothes, did the stirring regret begin to overwhelm her senses and Ruthie’s words begin to engulf her brain.

She still had time to go out and buy something new, something Rafe would like (and something that would shut Ruthie up), but when she checked her account balance, she realised she didn’t have enough. After the bills for her siblings tuition and the chunk of her wage she’d spent helping her parents fix the car, she was left with nothing. And she wasn’t getting paid again till a couple weeks.

Sofia huffed exasperatedly, sinking into her bed. She hated feeling like this…feeling inferior. What if Rafe through the same thing? That he was taking her to all these flashy places, driving her around in his shiny car and she couldn’t even dress up a bit for it?

With a sinking heart, Sofia grabbed her phone to call him.

It went through instantly.

“Hey baby, everything ok?” He asked, his voice eliciting somersaults in her stomach.

“Hi Rafe, I just…I don’t think I can do dinner tonight, I’ve got this horrible headache and I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” she fibbed, biting her lip.

“We don’t have to go out, I can pick you you up and we can just chill at mine– order from that place you like?”

Sofia didn’t like lying to him, it almost physically pained her, gnawing at her bottom lip and playing with the dead skins around her thumb. “I think I just needs some rest.”

“Ok then, get well soon yeah? And text me if you need anything alright? Goodnight Sof,” he said, disappointment toning his words.

“Night Rafe.”

She ended the call quickly, burning hot with guilt– she hated lying. Especially to her boyfriend of all people.

And now she had nothing to do for the rest of the night all because she was too embarrassed to wear the same thing twice…it was honestly so stupid. Sofia huffed and turned around in her bed.

As if sensing her impending boredom, her phone buzzed with a text from her friend, talking about a bonfire party at the Boneyard.

Sofia smiled too herself, slipping on her worn trainers and getting ready to head to the beach.

She didn’t have to worry about what to wear there.

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

Rafe, along with Topper, Kelce and Ruthie drove down to the Boneyard. He wasn’t supposed to tag along, but with Sofia cancelling their plans, he had nothing better to do.

As they rolled down the rocky beach in Topper’s jeep, Rafe pulled out his phone, sending Sofia a quick text.

R: Hope that headache goes away soon then maybe we can reschedule? :)

Rafe was surprised at how disappointed he felt after she said she couldn’t make it. All he could think about sitting in the back of the car, watching the Stygian waves roll onto the coast, was how much he’d rather be with her right now.

“Yo Rafe, I thought you were busy tonight?” Kelce pestered with a smirk.

Topper chuckled lowly, “oh yeah, wasn’t it date night tonight? What happened to that?”

“She wasn’t feeling too good so now I’m stuck with you idiots.” He muttered.

“Oh come on, you’ll see her again the club. I’ll make sure to ask for doubles so she’ll come by our table twice, yeah?” Ruthie goaded, twisting her body around so she could see him.

Rafe brewed with a dull anger– he always thought Ruthie was a bitch.

“Two drinks Ruthie? You sure about that? Aren’t you a lightweight?” He scoffed.

“Hey hey hey, let’s have fun tonight yeah?” Topper mediated, parking up the jeep next to the arsenal of vehicles.

The four of them hopped out, heading to the kegger, quickly getting pulled in by their kook friends, enveloped in the heady flow of gossip and conversation. Rafe just stood quietly, sipping at his third cup, enjoying the warmth of the fire on his face and salt of the air on his tongue.

His vision strayed over to the other side of the beach, where all the pogues had congregated. And that’s when he saw her. Dressed in her favourite shorts and sunset coloured hoodie– she looked gorgeous bathed in the glow of the bonfire.

Rafe felt his heart sink into the cavern of his ribcage. She lied to him.

Settling his solo cup down on to the kegger, he pulled out his phone and rang her number, watching her like a predator eyes its prey, his dilated pupils honed on to her unassuming figure.

She excused herself from her friends, walking off to a quieter area before she answered his call.

“Hey baby,” she cooed with a smile, Rafe seething in silence as he watched.

“How you feeling? Still got that headache?” He asked bluntly, his molars grinding down on each other.

“Yeah- yes, still hurts.” She said. Rafe saw her eyebrows furrow as she bit her lip furtively.

“You at home? It sounds kinda loud over the phone?”

“Yeah my siblings have the TV on,” she blatantly lied. Rafe breathed in deeply through his nose.

“Oh so you’re not at the bonfire at the boneyard?”

Rafe watched her face drop, her gaze darting around the beach as she stayed silent on the phone. She locked eyes with him from across the sand, her mouth parting slightly, lips forming a little ‘o’ shape, something that he usually found cute, but now it just irked him.

“Rafe,” she said, voice bordering a whisper.

“You fucking liar,” he hissed, before ending the call, and heading over to the cars, ready to call an Uber for himself and head home.

He tried to regulate his lurching breaths, anger beginning to flow hot through his veins, but it was hard to do when a heart rending sadness slammed into his nervous system, catching him off guard.

Sofia? A liar? No. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like everyone else.

His fingers struggled to order an Uber, shaking with the aftershock at seeing her deceive him with such disregard.

“Rafe! Wait please I can explain.” He whipped his head back to see Sofia approach him.

“Stop it Sofia, explain what? Huh? How you lied to me?”

A pang of regret reverberated through him when he saw her glassy, tear filled eyes, her quivering lip. Was he being too harsh? No. She was the one who was in the wrong– not him.

“I’m sorry, I just, it’s ugh it’s going to sound so stupid Rafe, but I promise I didn’t mean to hurt or lie to you.”

“What’s going to sound so stupid? Why you made an excuse to get out of being with me? You hate me that bad huh?”

“No no! Of course not. Look, Ruthie said something the other day…” she began, her cheeks red and tear stained.

“Ruthie? What the fuck does she have to do with this?” He yelled. They were on the outskirts of the party, away from the crowds and crackle of firewood.

“She was making fun of how I wear the same thing all the time, you know? And it made me get self conscious…and tonight when I was getting ready, I just got in my own head, thought you would want me dress up more, not just wear the same things every time.”

Rafe’s face contorted in confusion. She couldn’t be serious right now?

“And I can’t just buy a new dress like that, I have bills to pay and stuff so I was just feeling sorry for myself and lied because of my own stupid feelings.” Sofia’s lips began to quiver, another bout of tears quickly approaching, before she shrouded her face with her hands, muffling her soft cries.

“Sof…” he said, tone gentle and kind, feeling like shit for shouting at her. He should’ve know Sofia had a reason for lying and he should’ve know Ruthie had something to do with it.

“Ugh it was so stupid, and I feel like an idiot.” She laughed mirthlessly, as he pulled her into a hug, letting her cry against his chest.

“Baby, you know I don’t care right?”

“Yeah I know. I care though.” She mumbled against his warm embrace.

“Come on, let’s get out of here yeah?”

“Yeah, ok. I’m sorry again, I feel terrible.”

Rafe slung an easy arm around her shoulder, leading her up to road where their taxi was going to meet them, “well don’t, otherwise I’ll feel like shit for shouting at you.”

“Fine. Truce?”

Rafe chuckled softly, looking down at her with a soft smile, as she gazed up at him with her glossy eyes.

“Yeah, truce.”

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

A couple days later, after Sofia had slept over at his place, she woke up to the birds singing on Figure 8, a sound lost amidst the cacophony of building work and barking dogs on the Cut. She sighed contentedly, turning around in the sumptuous sheets ready to nestle up against Rafe, to find the bed empty. She hummed in dismay, forgetting it was Sunday, the day he needed to go down to the office.

Eventually, after letting her eyes flutter shut for a couple more blissful minutes, Sofia rolled out of bed, slipping on Rafe’s shirt, a habit she was getting increasingly used to.

She pattered across the hard wood floors ready to get into the shower, before her eyes snagged on something resting on the drawers. It was a cream coloured bag, one from those fancy stores in Kildare Town Centre, the straps made of black silk.

On it was a sticky note, Rafe’s familiar scratchy writing scrawled across the paper.

Now you don’t have an excuse to miss dinner with me :)

Sofia’s eyebrows quirked up in curiosity as she read the cryptic note, rifling into the bag.

Inside was maybe a dozen items of clothes, from satin dresses to cashmere shirts, all in shades of her favourite colours– blooming pinks, soft oranges, cherry reds. She adored every single one.

Her heart soared with excitement and warmth, her cheeks tinged with a rosy blush. Rafe could sometimes be so sweet it left her weak-kneed and gooey, her insides alight with joy.

A creeping sensation of guilt arose– these must’ve been expensive. Sofia noticed he’d removed all the tags off them, probably anticipating her qualms about the price. But she put it aside, ready to first try them on. She’d pay him back, she told herself, running her hands over the silken fabric.

Carefully unpacking each item, she laid them out on the bed, until her fingers skimmed the final one.

Pulling it out, she rolled her eyes with a small smile when she saw the two piece lingerie set Rafe had nestled at the bottom, comprised of black lace and gossamer.

Sofia laughed softly, as she put the piece along with the rest of her gifts– maybe she already had a way to pay him back, one that was much more fun than working double shifts at the club.

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥

[sukoji]

part. 1 it's here!

you walk behind him, you are in the garden walking through the large field, sukuna sits in the middle of the field and looks at the starry sky, his face still serious, but thoughtful. you sit next to him looking at him confused, but he doesn't say a word for a long time and you sigh, making a move to get up and leave, but he captures your hand with his, which is three times the size

then he starts talking while looking you in the eyes, his deep, hoarse voice resonating, making you shiver as always, but in a good way

“he looked at you in a way he should never have looked at you and it pissed me off and yes i broke that bastard's face and i will not apologize for it”

you had already gotten used to sukuna's possessiveness and hitting guys or threatening them for looking at you too much no longer surprised you at all, besides there was no damage and the guy is alive. fortunately or not.

omg, i'm picking up sukuna's habits!

laugh and look at him for a moment and mutter

“what? you think i got mad because you hit a guy? really?”

sukuna looks at you and grumbles impatiently

“if it wasn’t that, then what was it? tell me, woman.”

you snort and cross your arms looking forward and mumbling softly, almost inaudible “you...forgot...our...anniversary”

“i forgot what? come on, speak louder”

he speaks and takes your chin directing your head towards him so that you look him in the eyes, he remains serious as he looks at you attentively

“our anniversary...together, our wedding anniversary sukuna”

you remain silent, the date was important to you, the day you joined your lives forever and it was also the happiest day of your life and seeing that he forgot hurt you.

he remains still as his fingers stroke your chin and he looks you in the eyes in analysis and then he speaks

“i'm sorry for forgetting this day, dear.”

you had already gotten used to the affectionate nickname that sukuna calls you since you got married, but hearing his apology for the first time made your heart race

“you...what?”

you mumble stutteringly as you look at him with wide eyes which makes him chuckle slightly to the side and his grip on your chin tightens and he pulls you closer and with his face close to yours he murmurs hoarsely

“i said i’m sorry, little wife.”

he murmurs and you sigh lifting your chin to him like an instinct and murmur softly

“i’ll forgive you, if you reward me”

he raises his eyebrow, but laughs at your demand and takes your little face in his hands and murmurs

“and what does my little wife want? hm?”

you pretend to think for a moment and as a habit a pout forms on your lips catching sukuna's gaze on them and it takes all his control not to take them right there, since you have been denied kisses to him.

“hmmm, a romantic dinner, just the two of us. a night for us!”

he smiles sideways with your animation when speaking and brings his lips closer to yours and murmurs on your lips before attacking them with a hungry kiss

“whatever you want, dear”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

ps. i'm sorry if it didn't turn out so well, It was my first time writing something about my baby sukuna! 😭