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simpjaes · 2 days ago

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PERVERT. ― P.JS

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: dilf jay and his daughter’s best friend. Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 2.8k

PAIRING ― dad/weirdo ! jay x afab reader

CONTENT― jay is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s

WARNINGS ― age gap, somnophilia, dubious consent (due to somno), unprotected sex, dom jay, pocket pussies and masturbation Support me on patreon if you'd like!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Being called a creep or a pervert would have felt much more uncomfortable in any other situation, but it’s different right now because Jay is being a creep. A pervert, chubbing up in his pants solely because you’re trying to fuck with him again. He loves that playful tone of your voice when you call him that too, all while bending over in front of him without your panties on, fucking presenting yourself to him, then mocking him for looking.

It’s very different. You’re very different compared to the previous times you’ve been here.

He groans to himself as he remembers it. Lying alone in his bed now like he couldn’t have bent you flat over his coffee table not two hours ago. He could have done it, genuinely, you’d not have fought him on it while parading yourself around like that.

And it’s true that he always loved it when his daughter would bring her friends home from campus for a Holiday. Not for the reasons he loves it now, but still. It was always a different excuse for all the faces he’s met. Family is too busy, home life isn’t great, their family is too strict. Whatever. You come alongside his daughter often under the sad truth that you simply have no one to go home to. You’re alone and in need of some care. So, you come here, to Jay’s home, clearly acting like you’re more interested in his daughter than you are him.

Three times now you’ve come for the holidays and summer, trotting through that front door as if you always belonged here from the start. The first time was the only visit where Jay was casual towards you, somewhat of a father figure even.

He still remembers what you did at the end of that visit too. You had already been living in his house with his daughter for a month and a half by that point, only a week or two left before going back to your shitty little dorm rooms on campus for the Fall semester. His daughter was at her usual summer job that night, and you were fucking yourself openly on his living room couch.

You had feigned embarrassment, despite knowing when Jay comes home from work. He saw that shine in your eye though, the way you tried to hold back a smile at the way he looked directly at what your hand was doing, unable to tear his eyes away until you jumped up and apologized, smelling like the alcohol in his cabinet. The week following that should have been awkward too. But it wasn’t.

Solely because you found reasons to flaunt yourself from that point forward. Something clicked in Jay’s head. Lust, need, curiosity. And he thinks it clicked in your head too, because goddamn did you have nothing to hide at that point.

And still, even now, he remembers the exact spot on the couch where you had dripped all over it. So many lonely nights after that he found himself on his knees in front of it, nose planted right in that spot and trying to inhale some remnant of how wet you were that day.

The second time you appeared at his house, he had very nearly forgotten you. He can only get off so many times against his couch, after all, other things were more exciting after so many weeks had passed. He was outside on his porch hanging up christmas lights when he saw you getting out of his daughter’s car. Instantly his cock throbbed, nearly throwing him off the short ladder and onto the ground into a horny mess of man.

His daughter was there though, and he had to keep that under wraps. Quickly, he had tucked his cock and allowed the loving hug, promising a dinner of shitty food and horrible B movies to both of you before continuing his duty of, well, being a fucking dad to his daughter before being a creep to you.

That visit went well, you were actually quite distracted with his daughter and he was thankful for that, however, the day you left to start spring break was the day you reminded him that you’re…interested. Maybe.

Your daughter had already packed her belongings and gifts up in her car, and you hung around behind, feeling the electricity in the air as always when it’s just you and Jay in the room. Always wondering if he’ll say something or look for too long. You lingered, glancing at him shyly as if he knew, as if he could feel it too. But he still said nothing.

You huffed, hearing the horn outside blare as if to tell you to hurry it up. Staying too long here wouldn’t necessarily alert your best friend of anything weird going on, but there would be questions. So, you hurried it up, reaching into your bag and practically throwing a wrapped box at Jay.

He quirked a brow, looking at you under half-hooded eyes.

“Christmas was five days ago.” He said to you, almost like a question. “I know.” You had very quickly responded before practically sprinting out the door out of fear of what he’d think. Truly, you couldn’t face him opening it in front of you.

And Jay stared at that item for about two minutes before fucking it. All night. All day. Practically locked in his room, solidifying that you, his daughter’s best friend, provided a pussy for him.

All of that circles back to now, still lying in his bed alone after you had let him steal a glance of your pussy openly for the first time. Your third time in his home, this time for much longer than your last winter break. He’s gotta do something about this. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ The good news: your best friend left for work an hour ago.

The great news: Jay hasn’t stopped looking at you.

At first, this was scary for you. You recall the night you snuck into the liquor and had a few too many sips, wondering what would happen if Mr. Park saw you doing something scandalous. You’d thought he was hot upon meeting him, all dressed up in his business attire the day you first came here. That crush deepened the second you saw him fresh out of a shower not thirty minutes later, whipping around the kitchen to cook a meal for you and your best friend as if he hadn’t worked for nine hours already.

Something about him was just so unbearably sexy, and when he looked between your legs that day…you knew.

And you wanted to be sexy for him too. Thankfully, you definitely are.

The two of you are alone now, but in separate rooms. You can hear him moving around in the kitchen, washing the dishes he had used to throw together a quick breakfast, and you’re sinking into the couch wondering if he’ll ever bring up the pocket pussy you so graciously, and bravely, bought for him last christmas.

But it stays silent between the two of you, regardless of how loud the eye contact is when you pass each other, or he finds himself in the same room as you.

One hour, two hours, three hours.

Time is passing too quickly when you’re aware of someone in the room that you want. When you need them to fucking say something at this point because you’ve done your part.

Who cares if you want to fuck your best friend’s dad before she gets home from work anyway? She’ll never find out. And even if she did, you’re an adult.

“Mr. Park–” You mumble as he walks through the living room again, seemingly busy with yet another task.

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck that toy I got for you?” You didn’t have to work up the courage to ask him, the way he acts around you is enough to know.

Yet, still, he freezes in place as if he’s got a spotlight on him and newspapers being printed this very second at the mere truth of it all.

“What–” He pauses, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he prepares to lie. “What are you talking about?”

You lift from the couch, peeking over the back of it and narrowing your eyes at him.

“You threw it away?”

Still, he’s frozen.

“Of course I did.” He lies again, but he sees that disappointed look in your face to not know of how often he fucks it. Thinking of you, no less. “Funny gag gift, but there was no need.”

There was no need? What? Like, he gets around? He fucks around? Other people?

“Oh–” You start, but quickly cut yourself off to lie. “Yeah, it was a gag gift anyway. Thought you’d laugh.”

And it’s the way both of you pretend you didn’t just ask him so blatantly if he’s fucked it. A gag gift? Bullshit. You’re so fucking bad at lying it almost makes Jay want to punish you for trying to dumbly. Fucking yourself on his couch, presenting your cunt to him, gifting him something to shove his cock up into. A gag gift.

Right.

Yet still, he pretends to be normal. Acts like he’s not interested just to see if you keep trying. The funniest part is you both fucking know what you’re doing. Doesn’t change the fact that your best friend comes home and Jay continues to act like nothing has ever happened.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Disappointed sits in your gut as you cuddle under the blankets, feeling the cold fabric grow warm against your skin. This guest room has its charms but you can imagine the only action it’s ever seen has been you under these very same blankets, time and time again, plunging your fingers in and out of yourself with silent moans bitten into a pillow.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give Jay another ounce of your lust for embarrassing you like that today. Surely he’s used the toy, right? He’s a man, whether he actually wants you or not, he wouldn’t throw away a toy that only offers pleasure, right?

Maybe that’s all it is, too. Jay being a man. Anyone would look for too long if they’ve seen you fuck yourself. Anyone would stare at your pussy if you put it in front of their face.

You’re being too confident. In fact, you’re probably just making him uncomfortable at this point. And here you are probably reading an awkward atmosphere for one suffocated by lust and pining. How…fucking embarrassing.

And, so, you count your sheep. 1, 2, 3, 100, 200, 300, 1023, 1024, 1025– and finally, sleep overtakes you.

A heavy sleep, one deep enough to not hear the click of your door or the quiet, socked feet making their way to your temporary bed. In fact, you do feel the bed dip beside you, and in your sleepy haze all you can do is mumble out to your best friend, Jay’s daughter, “Fuck off to your own room.”

There’s a pause, allowing you to fall right back into your deep sleep.

Honestly, if it weren’t for those words, Jay would have already had his hands on you. But he holds himself back, one knee on your bed and head hanging as he looks down at you. Peaceful when you sleep, no mocking or cheeky look in your eyes solely because they’re closed.

He holds his breath, thinking about all that’s happened. This is okay, right? For him to sneak past his daughter’s room just to get to you at nearly four in the morning? This isn’t weird.

It’s not. He already knows you want it, and using that toy tonight just…wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He wants the real thing.

Jay hypes himself, over and over again as he stares down at you, lifting a hand slowly to tug at the blankets. Gently, so softly pulling it down past your waist. He holds his breath at your skewed tank top, allowing a view of your plump tits squished together from the weight of your arm.

A side sleeper, forcing the curves of your body to be blatant even under the blankets. He stares more, more, more, not yet touching but now continuing to pull the blanket off of you entirely.

Ah, shorts. Those fucking shorts. The ones that show the curve of your ass when you walk around the house. The ones he’s thought twice about, three times, four times about. Wondering what they’d feel like crumpled in his hands, tearing them off of you.

And god, his cock is aching. Leaking in his sweatpants, dampening the front of them as he finally leans down, face just inches from your chest as he allows his hand to land on your hip.

Slowly, he caresses down your body with one hand, and holds himself up with the other. He can smell your lotion on your skin here, so close to your tits. He leans closer, now tucking his hands between your legs, rubbing even more gently at your thighs. And then, he leans back.

All the way up, unsure of what to do, what to touch first, if he should wake you, or if he should just fuck off and pretend yet again that this happened. His hand goes from your inner thighs to your stomach, toying with the hem of your tank top before he reaches the neck line. Right there, he pulls more gently than he did the blankets.

Hoping, praying he can see.

And see, he does. He effectively pulls your tank top enough to allow one of your nipples to pop out, slowly erecting at the sudden coolness against it, and instantly he’s playing with it. Soft pads of his fingers very lightly touching the tip of your nipple, rubbing little circles before glancing down your body when you shift.

There’s a little sound out of your mouth at this point, something that is similar enough to a moan that lets him utilize his other hand now for more than just holding himself up. He runs it right back to your thighs, both touches barely ghosting against your skin until his hips start to fuck forward on instinct.

You. Gifted. Him. A. Pussy.

It’s hard for him though, to stop what he’s doing just to grab at your hand and bump it closer to him, all so he can rest his cock in it. So, he doesn’t, not yet at least. He continues his play like this for now, moving the hand on your thighs up slightly, until you shift again in your sleep and roll onto you back.

There, he readjusts, watching the way your sleepy legs spread open and the way your tit remains exposed for him to keep massaging. His hand intentionally moves to your clothed pussy now though, hoping you’ve gotten wet in your slip.

And you have, apparently, because he can fucking feel it on the tips of his fingers. That’s all he wanted. All he needed.

And so, he doesn’t care if you wake up now. Feeling that right against his skin was enough to send him over the edge. No more enjoying it, no more simmering in the delight of touching you. No.

He pulls back, practically tearing is cock out of his pants and forcing himself between your legs with no care or even consideration. You had half woken up to the commotion, but your eyes shoot open at the ripping feeling of his cock being shoved into you. All the way to his balls.

He falls over you, both hands cradling your head as he twitches inside of you, pistoning his hips so fast, so aggressively that you can’t even catch your first waking breath. Instantly, your hands shoot around him, clawing at his back as you come back to reality from the realm of dreams.

Or, is this a dream? A sweet, wet, desperate dream?

“Shh,” Jay hums against your ear, holding your head so tightly against him as his hips move freely, without his full intent, almost animalistic. “Gonna show you–”

He cuts himself off in a moan, feeling your nails dig into his back before your legs, surprisingly, don’t run. No, you wrap them around his waist. Yet, still, you can’t speak. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hope to fucking god you can adjust to him. He’s…so much thicker than you expected.

You can feel every vein when it pulses, the bulbous head pushing past your walls regardless of how much more wet you’ve gotten. Goddamn, what a way to fucking wake up.

Expectations will never live up to reality, you suppose. Because honestly, you thought you’d be the one on top of him, taking him for all he’s worth, but somehow the way he moves seems better. The blatant taboo nature of this, and how desperate he sounds against your ear.

Fuck.

“Show me?” You manage to cry out quietly, feeling the pain slowly fade to nothing but pleasure.

“How hard I fuck that toy.” He smiles when you finally speak, relishing in the way you grip him all over. From your fingernails to your legs. Even your cunt squeezes him pathetically tight, so fucking tight.

You moan now, satisfied that he’s a fucking liar. Confident that everything you thought originally was and still is true.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

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enwoso · 3 days ago

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PLAYING FOR KEEPS | leah williamson

💌 happy valentine’s day my loves x

masterlist

leah had always been proud to wear the captain armband from the moment she'd been handed it. it was everything she'd ever dreamed of as a little girl kicking a ball around with her brother in her back garden.

leading england, inspiring a nation and being part of something bigger than herself was everything she dreamed of. but as of lately the weight of that armband felt heavier than ever.

the loss to germany at wembley was still fresh, the sting of it sharp in her chest as she slumped in the changing room. around her the team moved in a haze - some quietly packing up while others tried to life the mood with half hearted jokes.

leah felt their disappointment as if it were solely her own and she knew it was her responsibility to rally them, even now. that was the job of the captain: to carry the burden, life everyone else, out the team above everything.

but everything included people like you, her girlfriend and leah wasn't sure when she stopped realising that.

leah glanced to her phone which was sat face down on the bench beside her. she hadn't checked it since halftime, knowing there'd be a text from you.

you not being able to make the match at wembley due to other work commitments but leah knew and understood and knew if you could've been you would've been the loudest one there cheering her on.

you made as many matches as you could, encouraging, supportive and loving. you were her anchor, always there to steady the blonde when the world sometimes became too much.

but anchors can only hold so much weight before they snapped.

leah sighed, running a hand through her wet hair as she grabbed her bag and muttered a quick goodbye to her teammates who barely noticed as she slipped out of the room.

mary was stood leaning against the white walls of wembley outside scrolling through her phone more than likely waiting for some of the other girls. glancing up when leah passed an eyebrow raised, "heading out already?"

"yeah" leah muttered, "need some air."

mary nodded as her expression softened but she said nothing. letting leah wander off down the hallway, wash bag slung under her arm.

as leah walked through the winding halls of wembley, her mind racing. she didn't want to go home, not yet. there'd be a post-match debrief tomorrow, tactics to dissect, strategies to reevaluate.

it was all consuming, but it had to be. the team relied on her.

except someone else relied on her too and the blonde had been neglecting that part of her life for a couple of weeks now.

you sat curled up on the sofa, having caught the last thirty minutes of the match but you were not able to sit with a hot mug of tea as your eyes flicked between the clock and your phone which sat perked on the arm of the chair.

the match now, had ended a couple hours ago. leah still wasn't home. but she'd sent a text earlier in the evening:

leah❤️ | 'sorry baby. be home soon, captain stuff. you understand x'

except with each moment when this would happen you were starting to understand less and less.

you'd been understanding for months, years even. you'd cheered leah on from the stands every minute you could, celebrated her victories and comforted her after each loss.

you'd sacrificed evening, weekends, and family commitments to make room for leah's hectic schedule. but the balance that once made your relationship with the blonde so special had shifted and now it felt like you were the only one willing to make the sacrifices.

finally after a few hours, longer than you expected her to be. leah closed the door to the apartment with a sigh, her body heavy from the loss and her mind reeling with what could've gone differently on the pitch.

the blonde barely having time to drop her bag before you appeared in the doorway of the living room, your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorframe, your expression a mixture of frustration and sadness.

"baby-" leah began but you cut her off before she even had the chance to give you another word.

"no. don't. don't you dare try and act like everything is fine, leah."

leah froze, taken aback by the sharpness in your tone, "what are you talking about? i just-"

"no, you just ignored me again," you snapped. "i've been waiting all week for us to have some time together after you've been on camp, but you didn't even ask if i needed you after the match. instead i just got some generic excuse about 'captain duties' and left me here alone. again."

leah frowned, her defenses but also her stubbornness kicking in, "y/n, it not like i wanted to. but i had responsibilities-"

"and what about your responsibility to me?" you interupted, your voice cracking. "what about us leah? or have we become less important than a post-match briefing?"

leah's jaw tightened, "no, no thats not fair. you know how much pressure i'm under. i'm doing this for the team - for the country! i don't have the luxury to just drop everything."

"and i'm not asking you to. you know i'm always proud of you, your biggest fan." your voice rising slightly as your frustration was beginning to build and start to spill over. "all i'm asking is for you to see me. to care enough to put me first sometimes. but instead, you keep proving over and over that everything else seems to come first; football, the team, being the perfect captain. i'm tired, leah."

you stopped as you sighed, your voice starting to feel a little shaky, "i'm tired of always coming in second."

leah stepped closer, her hands outstreched as if to physically hold you back from walking away. "y/n, please. don't say that. you're not second - i love you. i'm just.. i'm trying to do everything. i'm trying to be everthing for everyone.”

your eyes softened for a moment, but your voice remained steady. "you don't have to be everything for everyone, leah. you just have to be there for those who love you. but right now, i don't think you know how to do that and i don't think i can keep pretending like i'm okay with being left behind."

leah could feel her throat getting tighter and tighter by the second, panic beginning to set in with each word that left your lips. "so, i- what are you saying? you're leaving? baby? don't- please, don't do this." leah stutter out as she tried to reach out for you again as you brushed her off.

you shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. "i'm not leaving, leah. i'm gonna go and spend the weekend at my mum's, i need some space. time to figure out if i can keep doing this, if we can keep doing this. i'll be back sometime on monday, but for now, i just need to breathe."

leah reached out grabbing your hand, her voice breaking. "y/n, please. i can't lose you. i'll do better - i promise. just.. don't go, please."

you gently pulled her hand away, you voice low and soft but firm. "i'm not leaving to punish you, leah. i just need some space. i'll see you on monday."

leah stood frozen as she watched you grab your bag which you'd obviously packed while she was taking hours to come home, as you grabbed your coat and left. the sound of the door shutting being and echoing in the now-empty apartment.

as you walked along the street towards the tube station, on route to your mum's house as the streets were gloomy lit as a cold breeze hitting your hands as your mind filled with thoughts but it was short lived as the sound of you phone buzzing snapped you out of your thoughts, glancing at the screen to see a message from beth. a link to no doubt another tiktok she'd found funny.

you hesitated before picking your phone up and typing a response, liking the message with the link before your thumbs moved quickly across the screen.

you | 'can we meet for coffee tomorrow?'

meado🐾 | 'course! the usual place at 10?'

meado🐾 | 'everything okay?'

you | 👍🏻

—

you walked into the usual coffee shop, your coat pulled tight around you protecting you from the winter air. as you spotted beth sitting at a small table near the back two cups of steaming cup of tea in front of her as she waved you over.

"you alright?" she asked as you sat down.

you paused for a minute, opening your mouth to try and say something before you shook your head, "not really," you voice heavy with emotion.

beth gave you a sympathetic smile, "figured as much, what's happened?"

you took a deep breath, your hands fiddling with the edge of your jumper. "it's le, she's.. i dunno. she's, just so caught up in every. being captain, the team, the media. i know it's important to her beth, i really do. but, but i feel like i don't exist in her world anymore.."

beth frowned, leaning forward. "she's has been distant, hasn't she?"

you nodded, your voice shaking. "she used to make so much time for us even when timings weren't great. but now? i'm lucky if i get five minutes with her where she's not thinking about football. and last night, she said she would be home straight away after the match but then she just.. disappeared. captain duties apparently."

beth let out a slow breath, the girl being out in a difficult position. leah was one of her best friends and admittedly had known the blonde longer but she knew you and how much her best friend was in love with you.

"that.. that sounds like leah. she's not the best at juggling things when she's under pressure. it's like sometimes she forgets there's a life away from the pitch"

you eyes filling with tears, "i’ve tried to be patient, beth. i've tried to understand but i feel like im screaming into the void. she keep saying she'll do better but it's always the same. and i- i don't know if i can keep doing this.."

beth reached across the table, giving your hand a squeeze, "listen, i love leah to bits but she can be stupid and stubborn but she's lucky to have you and she needs to realise that before it's too late. but just be honest with her, your not asking too much. your asking for what you deserve."

you sniffed, trying to hold back a sob. "what is she doesn't change? what if this is just.. who she is now?"

beth's expression hardened, "if she doesn't change she's the one whose going to lose but if i know leah, she's not going to let that happen."

you sighed, staring into the tea in front of you, "i feel like i'm failing her by even thinking about walking away. like i'm giving up on her.."

beth shook her head, "no your not failing her, your asking for what you need. relationships aren't supposed to be one-sided and if leah can't see how much this is hurting you. she's the one that needs to wake up."

you hesitated, you voice barely a whisper, "and if she doesn't?"

beth leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. after a long pause, she said, "then that's a question only you can answer. but if there's not thing leah doesn't do and that's give up on those she loves. sometimes she just needs a little push in the right direction."

your lips twitched into a faint smile, "you really believe that?"

beth grinned, "i do and if she doesn't get it together then i'll personally give her a good kick up the backside for you"

that pulled a small laugh out of you, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly, "thanks beth, i needed this."

"of course," beth said raising her mug in a mock toast, "just remember your not asking for anything y/n, your asking for enough and leah? she'll figure it out."

—

leah sat on the sofa, where she'd spent the past day and a half. her head in her hands as her phone lay o her chest, her mind replaying the argument from saturday night, over and over in her mind. her chest ached with guilt and frustration and for the first time, she didn't have an immediate solution to fix what she had so clearly broken.

she'd spent the entire today, sunday, in her thoughts. she hadn't moved all day, nothing in the apartment had been touched or moved as the spent it just moping around as she checked her phone every ten minutes just in case you had messaged to say you were on your way home.

you hadn't. the last message from you was: 'got to my mum's okay.'

so simple and to the point. no usual goodnight message or a simple 'i love you' nothing. and while leah knew she deserved it, she would be lying if she said it didn't sting a bit as she stared back at the bright screen.

this time her when her phone buzzed she leaped up to grab it, it must be you. it was embarrassing really how fast she scrambled to get to her phone as it sat on the coffee table. but as she saw beths name, a little part of her sunk as she sighed and picked it up reading the message.

beth | 'you better be writing a long love letter and ways to apologise before i personally mess you up, williamson!'

leah | 'not now beth. i'm already miserable."

beth | 'good, as you should be. that poor girl. y/n deserves better than the leah williamson that you've been giving her. you need to get it together before she decides she's better off without you.'

leah stared at the message, her heart sinking with each word of beth's message she read. it was ture though. beth wasn't the type to sugarcoat thing, which is something as to why the two got along for so long.

she set her phone down, her mind racing. she couldn't afford to lose you - not when you were the one thing that made all the chaos in her life go quiet. when she was with you, the whole world stopped and leah was at peace. but promises wouldn't be enough this time. she ahd to show you that she could change, that she could be the partner you needed and wanted.

for the first time in weeks, leah wasn't thinking about tactics or training. she was thinking about the person she loved and hoped she would get to spend the rest of her life with - and how she could win you back.

—

leah didn't sleep thay night. she lay in the bed, the one you usually shared together. the bed which usually felt too small as you'd cling to leah throughout the night as if she was you personal heater. the bed feeling that little bit more bigger now you weren't in it with her.

as she stared at the ceiling, the sound of your voice from the argument playing on repeat in her head.

'you don't see me anymore, leah. you see england. you see the armband. but you forget to see me.'

every word had been a dagger to the heart. a reality check for the blonde. and for the first time in her life, leah felt truly lost in herself. she had always prided herself on being a leader, someone who could hold everything together. but she was beginning to see that her leadership had coem at a cost and a big one at that and it was one she couldn't afford to pay.

by the time the sun began to rise, leah had already been pacing the apartment scribbling notes in a notebook she'd found lying on the dinner table. pages were filled with ideas, crossed out apologies and half-formed plans to fix what she'd broken.

flowers? no, too cliché.

a handwritten letter? maybe, but it wouldn't be enough on its own.

a proper date? but what would that even look like when you were still so hurt?

leah was mid-sentence in her brainstorming when her phone buzzed.

beth | 'have you started groveling yet, or do i need to come over and supervise?'

leah | 'i'm working on it. give me a break.'

beth | 'breaks are for those who didn't mess up. times a ticking williamson.'

leah couldn't help but laugh at the message, though the weight in her chest didn't lift. she stared at her notebook again, willing herself to come up with something that would show you just how much she cared.

you returned to the apartment late that same monday night, keeping your promise just like you said you would. but as you walked through the door, you stopped in your tracks as your bag slid down your arm. the living room looked completely different.

the coffee table had been cleared as it had been previously stacked with empty water bottles. now was covered with a neatly folded tablecloth and two plates of what appeared to be your favourite pasta dish. soft candlelights flickered as faint sound of music played from the speaker in the corner.

leah stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wringling her hands. "i, uh.. i wanted to apologise properly." the blonde said, her voice usually so confident and full of herself was quiet and so uncharacteristically nervous.

you raised an eyebrow, your eyes scanning around at the setup, "you did all this?"

"yeah" leah shifted her weight from one foot to another as she looked more like a nervous schoolgirl than the captain of england.

“i know i've messed up, y/n. i realise now i've been putting everything else above us and it's not fair to you. you're the best thing in my life and i've been treating you like an afterthought. i'm so, so sorry my love."

your arms crossed, your expression unreadable to the blonde, "le, this isn't something you can fix with dinner and candles."

leah nodded quickly, "i know, i know this is just a small step. but i'm trying, y/n. i'm trying to show you that i want to be better, i want to put you first. but i can't just say it - i have to show it.”

you hesitated, your eyes softening just a inch, "but what's changed, leah? what makes you think this time is going to be different?”

leah took a deep breath, taking a second to steady her voice, “‘cause i’m not trying to be better for you, i’m trying to be better with you. i know i’ve so focused on being captain that i’ve forgotten how to be a girlfriend. but i don’t want to lose you, y/n. you mean far too much to me.”

you looked at her for a long moment before finally sighing, “your lucky i love you, le. but this isn’t fixed yet, it’s going to take time for me to trust that things will actually change.”

leah stepped closer, pulling you closer to her wanting to feel some sort of comfort in your presence which had been missing the past day and a half. “i know. and i’ll wait as long as it takes, as long as you let me prove it to you.”

later on that night after many stolen kisses and mumbled apologies, you were sat at the table slowly eating the pasta leah had made. leah’s phone buzzing with another message from beth.

beth | ‘so? did you manage to not screw up anymore?’

leah | ‘she’s giving me a chance, but i’ve got a long way to go.’

beth | ‘good, keep groveling or i’m still coming to mess you up!’

leah | ‘noted!’

leah looked up from her face a small smile tugging at the side of her lips as your brows furrowed in curiosity. “what’s tickled you?” you asked, the sound of your fork dropping to the side of the plate as leah put her phone to one side.

“just beth threatening to mess me up if i screw up again. but i’m serious about making this work” leah said her tone getting quieter as she looked for an expression in your face as an amused look appeared on your face.

“i know” you smiled, your tone softer, “but if you do screw up, i’ll mess you up first before beth..”

a small chuckle left leah’s lips but she knew from your tone you were serious but she wasn’t planning on screwing up so in reality she had nothing to worry about.

“noted!” leah nodded, determination settling in her chest. as she moved to your side of the table and planting her lips onto yours, “i love you” she mumbled against them before pulling you back in.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson #beth mead #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc #england wnt #england women #engwnt #enwoso

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lananiscorner · 2 days ago

Text

Reblogging this version and stealing the tags as well:

#i realized this when I was following#gen padalecki#she was talking about the garden#and livestock#and book clubs#and doing so many things with the boys#and i realized that if she had to work#like i have to work#and didn't have the money to hire people to do shit#she couldn't do all of that either#and then i unfollowed her#because it wasn't relevant to me#and was just making me feel bad about myself#even though i knew we were not on the same boat#she's in a yacht#and i'm in a rowboat#and you can't compare the two

This is so important, especially when it comes to body image.

If you ever find yourself looking at someone and thinking "damn, I wish I was as slim and toned as that insta model" or "damn, I wish I was built like that Navy Seal dude"... remember that this is literally PART OF THEIR JOB. You can't be an insta model without being slim and you can't be a spec ops soldier without being in excellent, buff shape. And as a result, people like that spend A LOT of hours in the gym. Like, a lot A LOT. And no, not off hours, after already working for 8+ hours a day like you with your desk job. If you are trying to emulate people like that while not being in that job, you are essentially trying to do two jobs at once. And that ain't a sustainable way to live (you can make it work, but good grief, at what cost...)

And any time you look at someone rich enough to afford somebody else to do their cooking and cleaning and child care? Dial your own expectations way the hell down, because those are freaking time sinks. There's a reason rich people hire other people to do that shit for them (because it's work--and unless you are rich it's work you HAVE TO do for free, because cooking is kind of important for eating and cleaning is kind of important for being healthy and if you don't take care of your kids they have a high risk of ending up dead).

I would also add to this that sometimes it really is too late/impossible to strive for something that you would like to be your top priority. I have asthma and I'm nearing 40. Even if I started working out right now, with the same diet and exercise regimen as a soldier, I would not be able to get that level of fitness, because 1) my lungs aren't build for that and 2) aging is a thing and my body's prime days are over.

And that sucks. Realizing that there are legit, unchangeable roadblocks to things you would like to make your priority SUCKS. And it's okay to be angry and frustrated about that for a while, and to grieve the opportunities you wish you had but never will. It's perfectly fine and normal and healthy. So long as you remember that grief is not a place to be forever. Life goes on. There's more beauty to find in the world and so much more to live for rather than wallowing in sadness forever.

So, if you find yourself with something that you want to make your priority, but cannot, for circumstances outside of your control, ask yourself "okay, but how much do I have to dial back the intensity to make it work and still have it be a top goal?"

One of my goals for this year is to go swimming again. I used to do that competitively. I would love to get back to that same level of intensity again, but 1) I am getting old, 2) I have a full-time job, and 3) it's not something I can just do at home anytime I want--I have to take a bus to the city swimming pool to get there and they ain't open 24/7. So no, I will not be swimming again with the same regularity and intensity as before, but I will try to find a time window that will work with my job and the commute and the opening hours and I will take as much swimming as I can get, because good grief, I miss the water.

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

#random shenanigans #life advice #life goals

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 3 days ago

Text

BEGIN AGAIN

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a revenge plan turns complicated when y/n falls for rafe cameron—the one person she was never supposed to love. but was it ever just revenge?

based on this ask !! this request has been in the works for a couple weeks (hence the 5k word count😝), i really really enjoyed writing this and as soon as i read it i knew i had to make it inspired by ‘begin again,’ and i hope you don’t mind me taking creative liberty on this one anon, so thank you !! <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: some angst but a fluff ending, cheating (jj to reader), soft!rafe, cursing, allusions to sex, revenge plan to lovers (?), alcohol consumption, rafe has a normal family in this one (😀). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (i got insanely carried away🫣)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N could still feel the sting of JJ's words, the way they sliced through her like a dull knife—slow, painful, irreparable.

"It just happened, okay?" he had said, desperation laced in his voice. "It didn't mean anything, baby. I swear."

But it did.

If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have done it. If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have shattered her trust, her love, her belief in him with a single, reckless mistake.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, hands curled into fists at her sides. The night air was thick with humidity, the salty ocean breeze doing nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.

"You cheated on me with Kiara?" she spat, her voice trembling, though not with sadness—no, sadness was something she'd felt the moment the words left his mouth. Now, it was only rage. "And you expect me to just—what? Pretend it didn't happen?"

JJ ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking more disheveled than usual. "I was drunk, Y/N. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"

"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't stand there and try to make excuses." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know what hurts the most, JJ? It's not even just the cheating. It's the fact that I defended you to everyone. My parents, my friends. They all told me I was stupid for choosing a Pogue over every other guy who actually makes sense for me. But I didn't care, because I loved you."

Her voice broke, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it together.

"And what did you do with that?" she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes blazing. "You threw it in my face. You embarrassed me."

JJ's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

"Yeah? Well, you did."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Y/N could see it in his face—the guilt, the regret. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "We're done, JJ."

His head snapped up. "Y/N—"

"Don't," she warned, her voice final. "You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

And with that, she turned and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She didn't cry.

Not when she got home, not when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even when the memories of JJ and everything they had crashed over her like a tidal wave. No, she didn't cry.

She just got angry.

Because she had been loyal. She had been good to him. She had given him everything, only for him to betray her with Kiara of all people—the one girl she had actually trusted.

And now? Now, she wanted him to hurt.

Which was exactly why she was standing in front of Tannyhill, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was reckless. Dangerous, even. But she didn't care.

She needed this.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just the person to help her get it.

—

Rafe Cameron was a lot of things—arrogant, temperamental, a little unhinged—but he wasn't stupid.

So when Y/N showed up at his door at nearly midnight, looking like she was on the verge of either committing murder or breaking down completely, he knew something had happened.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes scanning her face. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. "I need your help."

Rafe raised a brow. "With what?"

"Making JJ regret everything."

A slow smirk curled at the corners of his lips. "Interesting."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Are you in or not?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really wanna do this?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, he just studied her, as if trying to figure out how serious she was. Then, something shifted in his expression.

"Alright," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Let's make him suffer."

The plan was simple.

Make JJ jealous. Make him see what he lost. Make him regret ever touching Kiara.

But some point during that evening, the lines blurred.

Because Rafe was Rafe—intense, intoxicating, dangerously charismatic. And Y/N was already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

So when they ended up in his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, it wasn't just about JJ anymore.

It was about the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The way his hands skimmed her waist, his touch possessive yet careful. The way his breath fanned against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Still thinking about JJ?" he murmured, fingers tracing slow patterns on her hip.

She met his gaze, lips parted, heart pounding.

"No," she admitted, and it was the truth.

Because in that moment, it wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about making JJ jealous.

It was about the fire in her veins, the ache in her chest, the desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.

And Rafe—Rafe was more than willing to oblige.

His lips crashed against hers, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing except Rafe Cameron.

—

Y/N lay beside Rafe, her body still humming from the events of the night. The air between them was thick with something she couldn't quite name—satisfaction, exhilaration, maybe even something deeper. The sheets were a mess, tangled between them as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

Beside her, Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from their heated encounter. There was something different about the way he was looking at her, but Y/N shoved that thought away before she could entertain it. This wasn't about them. This wasn't about feelings.

It was about revenge.

"So, how do you wanna play this?" Rafe asked, tracing his fingers lazily over her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes sharp despite the haziness of their moment. "We make it obvious enough that JJ notices," she said, her voice steady, as if the way his touch sent shivers down her spine wasn't affecting her. "But not so obvious that it looks fake."

Rafe chuckled. "So, we make it look real then?"

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was doing—he liked to mess with her, push her buttons, see how far he could get under her skin. But she wouldn't let him win.

"Exactly," she said, rolling onto her side, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're his biggest enemy, and I'm his biggest mistake. Nothing will drive him crazier than seeing me with you."

Rafe's smirk widened. "You really are ruthless when you want to be."

"You have no idea."

Rafe hummed in amusement, and with that, their arrangement was set.

This was about JJ. About making him regret everything.

At least, that's what Y/N told herself.

—

The first time they made their "relationship" public, it was calculated. Rafe had picked her up from the country club in his Pogue-killer truck, windows down, music blasting—just in time for JJ to see them as he passed by on his dirt bike.

JJ had stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard Y/N thought his teeth might break.

Rafe had played it up, resting his hand on her thigh, flashing JJ a taunting grin before speeding off.

Y/N had expected to feel triumphant.

Instead, her stomach twisted in a way she didn't understand.

—

The first time Rafe showed up early, it threw her off.

She had told him to meet her for coffee on a random Wednesday, expecting the usual—him strolling in twenty minutes late, making some sarcastic remark, turning their little arrangement into something that felt like a joke.

But when she walked in, he was already there.

Sitting at a corner table, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw her, he stood up, gave her a small nod.

"You're early," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised."

Rafe smirked, pulling out the chair for her. "Sit down, princess."

She hesitated before taking the seat, watching him as he slid into the chair across from her. It felt... strange. Unfamiliar.

JJ had never been early.

JJ had never pulled out her chair.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the game they were playing. That's all it was—a game.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened when Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.

After they made their orders, they sat with their freshly brewed drinks.

"Didn't take you for a latte girl," he teased, nodding at her cup.

Y/N raised a brow. "Didn't take you for someone who hangs out anywhere that doesn't serve alcohol."

Rafe smirked. "Touché."

It should have been a quick meeting—just another public sighting to stir the pot. But somehow, they ended up talking.

Really talking.

Y/N had expected him to flirt, to push the boundaries of their deal, but instead, they talked about their childhood—about summers spent at the club, about the times they'd been forced to sit at boring Kook events together as kids.

Rafe had made her laugh. Genuinely laugh.

She had almost forgotten why they were doing this in the first place.

—

A week later, he picked her up for a party, and she made a point to wear heels.

JJ had always hated when she wore them, always made a face, always grumbled something about her being too tall next to him.

But when she climbed into Rafe's truck, he barely glanced at them before smirking. "Damn," he muttered, eyes dragging up her legs. "Trying to make it harder for me to behave?"

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something weird. Something dangerous.

Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh, his fingers warm and steady.

It was meant to be for show.

For JJ.

So why did it feel like something else?

Later that night at the party, Y/N and Rafe were standing just close enough that people whispered.

JJ was across the yard, watching them with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

Y/N should have been paying attention to him, should have been relishing in the jealousy that was the whole point of this.

But instead, she was too focused on Rafe's hand on the small of her back. The way his thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against her skin.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn't watching JJ.

He was watching her.

—

A couple days later, she almost slipped up.

They were walking down the street after grabbing dinner—something casual, something that wasn't supposed to feel like a date.

She was about to bring up JJ, to remind herself why they were doing this in the first place.

But before she could, Rafe started talking about his family.

"My dad's obsessed with old westerns," he said, shaking his head. "Every Christmas, like clockwork, he makes us watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Y/N blinked. "Seriously?"

Rafe chuckled. "Swear to God. Every single year. Sarah and I know every damn line."

She found herself laughing, imagining Rafe and Sarah rolling their eyes as Ward Cameron sat in front of the TV, quoting the movie word for word.

JJ had never talked about things like that.

JJ had never let her in like that.

She pushed the thought away, but the seed had already been planted.

—

Then came the night that the shift between them had started to show.

It was late, and they were sitting on the hood of Rafe's truck, looking out over the water.

The party was still going strong down the beach, but they had drifted away from it, neither of them in the mood for drunken chaos.

Rafe took a swig from his beer, then turned to look at her.

"You ever gonna tell me why you were with him?"

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafe tilted his head. "I just don't get it. You're smart. You've got standards. And yet..." He let the sentence hang.

Y/N huffed, kicking a loose rock off the side of the truck. "He was... fun. He made me feel like I wasn't just another Kook girl. Like I wasn't just..." She trailed off, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

Rafe was quiet for a second before saying, "He didn't deserve you."

She turned to look at him, expecting the usual sarcasm, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know that now."

And when Rafe threw his head back, laughing at something she said a few minutes later, she thought it was strange.

Strange that he thought she was funny.

Because JJ never did.

—

Another night, they found themselves in his truck, parked by the beach. It had started raining, heavy droplets drumming against the windshield, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain.

Y/N had been rambling about something—some ridiculous Kook drama that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't actually matter.

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe had reached across the console and tucked a strand of damp hair away from her face.

Y/N had gone silent, her heart doing something it definitely shouldn't have been doing.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe had only smirked. "No reason."

But there was a reason.

And it scared her.

She knew things were getting complicated when she started noticing things about him she shouldn't.

Like the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Or the way he always made sure she got home safe, even when they weren't together.

Or the way he never pushed her, never made her feel like this was just some game.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between their act and reality started to blur.

And Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to figure out what that meant.

—

The moment that nearly shattered her resolve happened at another party.

They had been standing close, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. And then, without thinking, she had reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

It had been instinctive. Natural.

But when she realised what she had done, her breath hitched.

Because Rafe was looking at her like she had just changed everything.

And maybe... maybe she had.

Y/N kept telling herself that this was just revenge.

That the way her stomach flipped whenever Rafe touched her was just part of the plan.

That the way she found herself looking for him in crowded rooms was just to keep up the act.

But deep down, she knew.

She had fallen for Rafe Cameron.

—

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat from the night—sheets twisted around their legs, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick humidity of the night. Y/N lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind that had completely changed her life in the past few weeks.

Rafe lay beside her, his body close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but far enough that there was space between them—a silent invitation, as if asking her to fill it. His hand rested on his stomach, but his fingers were almost touching hers.

The silence stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It felt...right.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a glow over his face. He was still as handsome as ever, his jaw sharp, eyes intense even when he was relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But it wasn't the same cocky smirk that had first drawn her in—this was something different. It was real. It was genuine.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. There was a quiet intensity in them, a look that said he knew exactly what she meant but wasn't sure how to say it either. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I think it's something good."

Y/N's heart fluttered, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Rafe was always the tough guy, the one who hid behind arrogance and bravado, the one who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But with her, it was different. She could see it now—the cracks were there, but they weren't flaws. They were pieces of him she could understand, pieces that were human, not just a cold façade.

She reached out, her hand finding his, fingers brushing gently over his knuckles. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced their fingers together, holding her hand with a tenderness that surprised her.

"Do you regret this?" she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. She had to know. There were so many things between them, so many things left unsaid, but that was the one question that had been haunting her the most. Did he regret it?

Rafe blinked, the intensity in his gaze softening as he turned his hand to squeeze hers. "No," he answered, his voice steady but with an underlying depth she couldn't ignore. "I don't regret it." He let out a breath, his gaze turning towards the ceiling, as if trying to find the right words. "I thought it was just supposed to be a game, you know? Make JJ jealous, show him that you could move on...but it's not a game anymore."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced. She didn't know how she felt about that—about the fact that it had started with a plan, a scheme, to get back at JJ for everything. But as the days passed, the more time she spent with Rafe, the more she realized just how much they had in common, how well they fit together.

Her fingers traced the lines of his hand as she spoke. "Neither did I," she confessed. "I started this thinking I'd get back at JJ, but...I don't know, something just changed. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about him."

Rafe's eyes met hers again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, but with warmth now. "I know what you mean."

They both lay there in the quiet, holding hands, letting the moment stretch out. There was something peaceful about it—something intimate that neither of them had ever expected when this all began. What started as a plan to make someone else jealous had somehow turned into something much deeper, something neither of them had seen coming.

Y/N shifted slightly, turning onto her side to face him fully. She couldn't deny how she felt anymore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they laughed together, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the room, the way he protected her without even thinking.

"Rafe," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart raced in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth. She had said it before, in the past—I love you—but never like this. Never in this way.

Rafe's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, as if needing to touch her to make sure she was real. His thumb brushed over her cheek, soft and slow, sending a wave of warmth flooding through her.

"You're not the only one," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm falling for you too, Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words she had always wanted to hear from him, the words she had never expected to come, were there now. And they were real.

Rafe leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss, soft and slow, like he was savoring it. It wasn't heated or urgent like some of their previous kisses—it was gentle, sweet, and full of the unspoken feelings they had been holding back. It was everything they hadn't been able to say out loud.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, and they both just breathed, their hands still entwined, hearts racing in sync.

"I never thought I'd say this," Rafe said quietly, eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, "but you make me feel like I'm actually worth something."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of his words, the vulnerability he was offering her. He had always been the guy who seemed so confident, so sure of himself, but in this moment, Y/N saw something different. She saw the cracks in his armor, the part of him that had never believed he was good enough for anything—anyone.

And Y/N? She couldn't let him think that way. Not anymore.

"You are worth everything, Rafe," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "More than you know."

For a long time, they stayed like that—just holding each other, letting the night wash over them, the silence comfortable and full of promises. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the understanding that something had changed. Something real had blossomed between them, and neither of them was running from it anymore.

"I've never felt like this before," Rafe admitted after a while, his voice soft but full of sincerity. "With you, it feels like...like I could actually have something real. Something that isn't just a mess."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You have it, Rafe. You have me."

And for the first time in a long time, both of them believed it.

—

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Rafe and Y/N had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Their relationship had progressed quickly, but neither of them had hesitated. They had fallen for each other in a way that felt right—organic and effortless. The label was there, official now, and it felt like both of them had finally found what they were looking for.

But as expected, the whispers started circulating quickly. Word of their relationship had gotten out, and it wasn't long before people started noticing—especially JJ.

The evening was warm and humid, a perfect night for a party at the Boneyard. The music was thumping, people were scattered around the yard, drinking and chatting, while others danced under the string lights. Y/N, Rafe, Topper, Sarah, and a few other Kooks were lounging around a table near the fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting casually. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt at ease. There were no whispers, no judgment about her being with Rafe—only the people she cared about and a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time.

Y/N had spent most of her time with Rafe over the past couple of weeks, getting to know him in a way she never had before. She had always known the confident, rebellious side of him, but she was starting to see the softer side—the one who cared deeply and would go to any lengths to protect the people he loved. They had spent lazy days by the beach, late-night drives, and spontaneous trips to places that weren't on any map. She was falling for him harder every day, but it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was the little things—how he cared about her, how he made her feel, how he treated her like she was everything. He had given her more than she could have ever imagined.

She glanced at Rafe as they laughed with Topper, Sarah, and the others, her hand naturally finding his under the table. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, she just savored the feeling of being with someone who made her feel seen, understood, and loved.

But as she was about to say something to Rafe, a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She stiffened. It was JJ.

JJ stormed over, his face a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched as he walked straight toward them. Y/N's heart skipped, not knowing what to expect. She knew this confrontation was coming—it was inevitable.

Rafe noticed it too, his hand tightening around Y/N's as JJ approached, but he didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stayed calm, but Y/N could see the subtle tension in his shoulders, his jaw tight as he prepared for whatever was coming.

"Y/N," JJ said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes were frantic, scanning her face. "We need to talk."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her grip on Rafe's hand tightening. She could feel the anger brewing inside her, but she was trying to keep her composure. Rafe gave her a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing the back of her hand gently.

"I don't think we need to talk, JJ," Y/N said coolly, her voice steady despite the boiling fury inside her. "But if you really need to hear it from me, I'll tell you. I definitely don't want to be with you anymore."

JJ's eyes widened, his face contorting in disbelief. "What the hell, Y/N?" He snapped, glancing at Rafe briefly, his expression turning hostile. "This isn't about him, is it? You don't really like him. You're just trying to get back at me for what I did. It's all a game to you, isn't it?" His voice wavered, a hint of panic creeping into his words.

Y/N could feel the heat rise in her chest, but she didn't back down. "It's not a game, JJ. It's not about you anymore. It's about me." She stood up, her voice booming over the music, silencing the chatter around them. People had stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation unfold.

"You're such a horrible person," Y/N continued, her words sharp and cutting. "You broke me, JJ. You cheated on me with Kiara—our friend. You think I can just forget that? You think I'm some fool who's gonna let you walk back into my life after everything you did?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "You humiliated me. And you have the audacity to stand here and beg for me back like nothing happened?"

The words tumbled out of her, each one heavier than the last, and with each syllable, Y/N felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest. She was finally letting him have it. All the hurt, all the frustration, the betrayal she had been carrying for weeks—it was all spilling out now, and she couldn't stop it.

"I wish I had gotten with Rafe sooner," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Because with him, I know what it's like to be truly happy. He doesn't lie to me, he doesn't cheat on me. He shows me what love really is. What I've always deserved."

The group around them murmured, and she noticed Rafe's expression go from unreadable to... something else. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face softened, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd seen him like this—vulnerable, open, and completely in awe of her.

"Y/N..." JJ began, his voice faltering, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Shut up, JJ," Y/N snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hear it anymore. You lost me the second you cheated. And now you're just proving how pathetic you are by begging me to take you back." She shook her head in disgust. "You don't deserve me. And you definitely don't deserve to have me back."

The words echoed in the air as Y/N turned her back on him, her chest heaving with emotion. She felt alive, empowered, and something else—something she hadn't felt in so long. Free.

The group erupted into cheers. Topper raised his drink in the air, Sarah clapped, and a few others cheered Y/N on. It was like she had just dropped a bomb, and the energy in the air shifted. The Kooks were no strangers to drama, but this felt different. This felt like the culmination of everything Y/N had been holding in.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her, wide-eyed, his face unreadable. And for a brief moment, Y/N wondered if she had gone too far. But then, without warning, Rafe stood up. He took her hand in his, pulling her gently away from the crowd, leading her toward the exit.

Y/N didn't say anything as she walked with him. She just wanted to get away from the scene, to take a breath and let the adrenaline settle in her chest. The confrontation had been messy, but it had been cathartic. She had finally stood up for herself, and in doing so, she felt like she had reclaimed something she thought she had lost forever.

When they reached Rafe's car, Y/N paused, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the scene. She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry for making such a scene back there," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."

Rafe looked at her, his expression softening, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into a kiss.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she melted into it instantly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss slow, deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. She kissed him back with equal intensity, the heat of the night surrounding them, but the only thing she could focus on was him—the way he made her feel.

When they pulled apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "I've never had anyone defend me like that before," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "No one's ever stood up for me like that, Y/N."

Y/N's heart swelled, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. "I meant every word," she whispered. "I love you, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rafe's eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, Y/N." He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that held all the unspoken things between them.

In that moment, Y/N knew. She had fought for herself. She had found her strength, and now, she had found her true love too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a labour of love and i had SO much fun writing it and i’m so sorry it’s taken a while anon, i just wanted this to be PERFECT !! this has got to be in my top three faves that i’ve written and i hope it’s what you wanted <3

i’ve had this in my drafts (as well as a few more) from the past month of requests, and i’ve just been editing them all now (that’s the toughest part💔), but i’m getting there so thank you all for being so patient <3

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chleem · 1 day ago

Note

Wonder what is going on with casual!drew and reader in valentine’s :////

⋆.˚ Warnings: angst w/ a side of fluff (read at own caution

word count: 3.5k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

As you made your way to checkout, you weren’t so sure anymore.

It was your first Valentines’ with Drew, your casual relationship for…more than five months now.

He was next to you, mindlessly pushing the cart, AirPods in one ear, eyes focused on the snack aisle.

You couldn’t help but feel…disappointed? Sad? Weird?

It was casual, yes, but it was Valentine’s day.

Valentine’s wasn’t just another day. It was the day, the one where people at least tried to show they cared—whether with a gesture or a simple acknowledgment.

And while you’ve convinced yourself you were fine with the way things were between you two, a small part of you had hoped for something, anything.

A hint that maybe, just maybe, Drew felt differently about you today.

No. He didn’t.

Starting with this morning, no text. No call.

Well, only one, and it was ‘dinner at yours?’

Okay, you had to admit, that got you a bit excited, because maybe he got something planned?

But as the hours passed, there was nothing.

You didn’t see him at any point during the day, except for lunch. He was with his friends, laughing, hanging out, acting like… he would, on a normal day. But then, at one point, you could’ve sworn he flirted with that one girl.

The hours leading up were just bumping into couples in hallways, boring lectures, etc.

And now here you were, walking through the aisles of the supermarket with Drew, sharing AirPods, grabbing groceries like it was…just another day.

Maybe it was. You weren’t sure.

As you walked toward the checkout, it was clear—he hadn’t even mentioned it.

You glanced at him again, trying to gauge if maybe he was just oblivious, or if this was exactly what he wanted—no pressure, no expectations.

Causal, casual, casual.

But what you felt wasn’t relief; it was…you weren’t sure.

Finally, mustering up the courage, you nudge his side, getting his attention.

You could feel his blue eyes staring down at you as you both neared the end of the aisle.

"Drew?" Your voice barely above a whisper as you looked ahead. God, were you nervous?

“Yeah?” His hand pushes on the cart, fingers drumming gently to the beat of I’ll make love to you.

“…do you know what day it is?”

“Friday,” he answers almost immediately, and you can hear the slight confusion in his voice.

Oh wow. So…he really doesn’t know?

“Right,” you say, your voice almost flat as you try to play it cool. “Friday.”

“Yeah?” This yeah was definitely a confused one.

You and Drew exit the snacks aisle, making your way to the checkout counters. It's silent for a few steps, the air thick with the awkwardness, until—

"Something wrong?”

His voice is softer now, a little more tentative. He’s trying to figure out what’s going on, and part of you wants to just brush it off—tell him it’s no big deal.

You glance over at him, his blue eyes searching your face for some kind of answer, but you’re not sure of what to say.

Tell him and have him get you something last minute?

That would…feel much more worse.

But just as you’re about to settle on saying nothing, the seasonal aisle catches your eye.

Aka, The Valentine’s aisle. Bright reds and pinks, heart-shaped boxes, plush bears, and cards scattered across the shelves. Everything screams Valentine’s and stands out like a neon sign, as if to make sure you’re fully aware that today was supposed to be special for someone.

It feels like the universe is saying, Here, you can’t ignore it anymore.

Drew follows your gaze,

“Oh,”

He whispers, as if realizing.

You watch his back, your eyes scanning the t-shirt that outlines his muscles, hoping to see anything—anything that might indicate he’s getting it now. Maybe a shift in his posture, a tightening in his shoulders, like he’s finally clued in.

But no. Nothing.

He stands there for a beat, his hands still resting loosely on the cart.

In your AirPods, it’s now playing What a girl wants.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath, until he turns back around, his eyes meeting yours, and there’s…a smile on his lips.

A smile that, for the first time today, seems like maybe he does get it.

“Okay,” his hands leaves the cart, wrapping around your waist. He pulls you close to him, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Drew’s height towers over you, and he’s looking down at you with that, signature- almost smitten look of his.

You rest your arms on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat matching the quick thrum of yours.

Is he gonna say it? Will you be my Valentine-

“Happy Valentine’s, y/n.”

Your heart skips a beat.

But then, your eyebrows furrow, and the frown on your face betrays you, unable to hide the disappointment that creeps in.

You expected something more. You wanted him to say it, to choose you in that moment, to make this first Valentine’s together something that felt significant.

And yet, it’s just… casual.

You pull back slightly, giving him a soft, but hesitant smile, the silence hanging heavier than before. You can’t help but wonder if he realizes how much this matters—or if it matters to him at all.

Drew seems to notice, and the hands on your waist gives it a slight pinch, “what?”

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment that’s clouding your chest.

Fuck- you really thought he was gonna say it?

No- no, it’s just casual.

“Happy Valentine’s,” you whisper to him, barely above a murmur. Without giving him a chance to respond, you pull away from his arms, your hands gripping the cart.

Suddenly, you just want to get out of here. You don’t even know why— you just do.

The wheels of the cart squeak as you push it forward, your pace quickening slightly as you make your way toward the checkout.

Drew doesn’t follow immediately, but you can hear his footsteps behind you as he catches up.

His hands overlap yours on the cart, and you feel his chest press against your back as you continue toward the long line of checkout. His presence is undeniable now—warm and familiar.

He doesn't say anything at first, and for a moment, it feels like he's waiting for you to make the first move, to give him a sign that everything’s okay—or to tell him what’s wrong.

His fingers tighten around the handle of the cart, his hand large compared to yours.

“It’s Valentine's day, right?”

You can hear his smile, even though you’re not looking directly at him.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It is.”

“Okay…you mad?”

The line moves forward, so Drew gently pushes you and the cart forward.

His breath hits your ear every time with how close he is, and you could feel yourself going limp, harder to stay upset now.

“I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“…you wanna go back and forth like this?”

His tone is light, but you can hear the frustration that peaks out. He’s trying to keep it casual, trying to play it off, but you can tell he's getting frustrated too.

Before you can say anything, the cashier cuts in with a sharp “Next!”

Drew steps back, the pressure of his body against yours vanishing, but his warmth lingers, as if it’s still tied to you.

The two of you move synchronously, like this routine is one you’ve done a thousand times. You start unloading the items onto the counter, the soft beeps of the register filling the silence between you.

But then, as you reach into the cart to grab the next item, your fingers brush against something familiar... condoms.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, even hotter than before.

Oh, it’s not just any kind—it’s labeled Valentine's Special.

The packaging is red and glossy, with hearts and some playful wording plastered across the front.

His hands come in contact with yours, and when you look up, it's Drew, gently taking the box from your grasp.

“It was the last one...” he murmurs, so casually, but there's a teasing curl of his lips as he pretends to inspect the box.

He then places the Valentine's special box on the counter, its vibrant, awkwardly festive packaging sitting there between you and the cashier like a beacon of... well, awkwardness.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, no longer upset, rather, more self-conscious than ever.

It’s one thing to buy condoms, but another to buy different flavors or special packaged-ones.

Drew doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. In fact, he looks almost too relaxed, like he's having fun with it.

Knowing you’re too focused on that Valentine’s condom on the counter, Drew finishes loading the rest onto the counter, the cashier bagging up the items.

“How would you like to pay?” the cashier asks, breaking the silence.

“Card,” Drew responds, pulling out his wallet and swiping the card without a second thought.

Drew finishes the payment, grabbing the bag, his eyes flicking to you with that amused smile on his face again.

One of his hands lingers on the small of your back, his fingers just barely grazing the skin there as he guides you towards the exit. He then leans in, his voice low and teasing, “excited, baby?” he whispers, the words almost like a soft joke.

As soon as you feel like the cashier is out of earshot, you can't help yourself, gently scolding him, although, the smile on your lips betray you, “Drew!”

He chuckles softly, not even the slightest bit rattled by your reaction.

“Thought we, we’d try something special,” he shrugs.

The supermarket doors open automatically, and you feel his hand slip down into the back pocket of your jeans, as he reaches for his car keys.

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your ass sends a jolt through you, making you yelp.

The ticklish sensation makes your body instinctively pulling away just a little, which only makes it harder for him to look for his keys.

He lets out a soft laugh, the sound warm and amused, but his hand stays right where it is, maybe lingering a bit longer.

Drew knows you’re ticklish, and he knows there’s no need to keep his car keys in your pocket.

But he does it anyways, all the time.

“Hey,” you murmur, your hands going to rub your ass, where he touched.

There’s still a smile on his lips as he finally pulls his fingers out of the tight back pocket of your jeans, pressing the ‘start’ button for his car.

The sound of the car beeping open echoes in the quiet parking lot, and the trunk lifts automatically.

You both start walking toward the car, and Drew tosses the big bag of groceries into the trunk in one smooth motion, closing it after.

Then the soft thud of the car door, as both of you settle in—Drew sliding into the driver’s seat, and you into the passenger’s.

The familiar scent of his car hits you immediately, and its weirdly comforting in a way, but also stirring.

Almost immediately, as Drew starts driving out of the parking lot, one of his hands rest on your thigh, the touch gentle yet grounding.

Casual, casual, casual.

You reach forward and press play on his car screen.

Playing, Every breath you take.

“Fucking classic,” Drew murmurs under his breath, eyes focused on the road ahead.

A smile tugs at your lips at his comment, and you find yourself resting your head gently on his arm, surprisingly comfortable.

For the rest of the way back, the two of you just... settle into the silence. The music drifts through the air, and the shared playlist seems to pull you both into a space where words aren't necessary.

——

Once you stepped out the elevator, a girl stops you, her smile wide as she catches your attention.

Drew watches, as the two of you go on about…actually, he lost interest the moment she opened her mouth.

He gives you a soft tap on your waist, and it immediately pulls your attention back to him. When you meet his eyes, he cocks his head toward the bag of groceries, a silent hint that he's going to head to your dorm first.

You give him a quick nod, before returning to the conversation with the girl, maybe your classmate? Or friend? Drew didn’t care.

As Drew makes his way down the hall, the sound of your voice fading behind him, he finally reaches your dorm.

But…he stops dead in his tracks, his gaze falling to the floor in front of your door.

There, at his feet, is a large bouquet of roses. Bright, bold, and impossibly out of place in the otherwise quiet hallway.

What…the fuck?

For a second, he just stands there, the usual confidence draining from his posture as he takes in the unexpected sight.

Drew then notices a small, white card tucked in amongst the flowers. His expression flickers, a quiet moment of hesitation before he slowly bends down.

His hand reaches for the card, fingers brushing lightly over the petals before finally gripping it.

Drew’s eyes scan the words written on the card, his brows furrowing deeper with each sentence.

It slowly comes to his realization that this is a love letter…for you!

He blinks, re-reading the opening line. “‘I’ve liked you, y/n, for a very long time, please accept this…’”

His grip on the card tightens, jaw clenched. The words on the card are so sincere, so lovingly—what the fuck?

Drew flips the card over, almost desperately, hoping to find any clue as to who might’ve sent this to you.

And there it is, written in neat handwriting: Mike.

His mind scrambles for a moment, trying to place the name.

Mike…mike…mike…who the…

Then, it clicks.

Mike. That first-year at the bar. The one you bumped into a few weeks ago, the one at the library.

It’s him. The guy who's clearly interested in you, and now he’s made his move with this…this huge bundle of flowers and cringey confession.

His mind races, the feelings of frustration, confusion, and jealousy— all fighting for control.

But, what he’s feeling right now isn’t what’s concerning.

What’s concerning, is what to do with these roses?

Then, he hears footsteps, coming his way, and slightly panicked, he crumbles the card up, forcing it into his pocket.

You stand there, only a few steps away, your eyes flickering between the roses on the floor and Drew bending- well, practically kneeling next to it now.

Closing the distance, you bend down next to him, eyes focused on the roses.

And Drew sees it, clear as day; the way your eyes light up, that soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and the faintest flush on your cheeks— shy, happy, embarrassed, he didn’t know.

Your hand touches the roses, almost too delicately, and then, you meet his eyes.

Drew's breath catches. There's something in your eyes—something that feels like…like the entire world is reflected in them.

He’s stunned, his words stuttering out, ”you—“

“Are these for me?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah... they are,” he finally mutters, his voice quieter than usual.

Drew couldn’t help but admire the way you looked- his attention now solely focused on you, as if everything else in the world had faded away.

You turn to him, eyes soft and full of warmth as you say, “Thank you.”

As if feeling the weight behind those words, you laugh softly, trying to play it off.

But Drew knows you better than anyone. You’ll cherish these roses till they wither away, he knows it.

But then your words- ‘thank you,’ flash through his mind, and he lifts his eyebrows slightly, confused.

“You ordered these…no?”

You thought he was the one that gave you the roses.

His heart races for a split second as he considers how to handle this.

Then, he decides fuck it, a grin tugging at his lips as he shakes off the knot in his stomach.

The last time he’d seen you this excited, it was after you won that hotdog-eating contest, and honestly, he would kill to see you that happy again.

With a gentle shrug, he smiles, “you like it?”

You smile even wider, “very much.”

You pick up the big bouquet of roses from the floor, hugging it tightly to your chest.

Drew’s grin softens, and he leans in just slightly, his eyes sparkling as he catches your gaze. “Really?”

You stand up, still hugging it as if it might disappear if you let go. “Mhm.”

Drew stands up, “no you don’t,” he whispers, but not a single cell in his body believed you didn’t like it; it’s painted all over your face.

“I do! I love it,” you say, your voice growing all soft and genuine.

He stood there, watching you, almost as if time had slowed.

Standing here, outside your room, with you, with how you cradled the roses to your chest with such tenderness—it made something change inside him, something deep he couldn’t quite place.

There was something about you in this moment, the sincerity in your smile, the way you looked so... happy.

Drew didn’t expect to feel so conflicted.

He’d always been the one to keep things light, casual, to avoid feeling too much.

Was this what it felt like to want more than just the surface? To actually care?

Drew opened his mouth to say something, to make a joke, to deflect—but he couldn’t. He was struck by how genuine you were, how completely different this moment felt from everything else.

“Thank you,” you whispered again, and the words hung in the air, almost as if you were thanking him for more than just the roses.

Were you? Were you thanking him for more than just those roses?

And maybe, just maybe, Drew realized that he was starting to get a little too comfortable with the idea of something more.

Something more, with you.

Aw, fuck.

And he did it, he cuts own his thoughts off, "Prove it.”

Those words practically echo between you two, a challenge wrapped in a husky whisper.

You glance up at him, a little taken aback, but Drew notices it, the way you quickly recover.

You take a small step forward, "Prove it?”

Drew’s smile is a mix of teasing and something deeper. "Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face. "Show me, show me you really mean it.”

Without thinking, you tilt your head just slightly, and then, just as Drew anticipated, you close the gap, pressing your lips to his.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you in, as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more alive than any of the other moments you'd shared before.

In that kiss, there's no pretending, no games. At least for Drew, there’s no pretending.

Actually, not a time was he pretending. When he’s kissing you, those kisses are full of all that’s unsaid, and Drew finds himself lost in it.

And soon enough, the only thing that matters in this moment is the dent forming in Drew’s pants.

Also…the huge bouquet of roses and grocery bag in the way, almost like a wall.

He reluctantly pulls away, breathless, eyes flickering between your lips and the flowers.

Silence flows through the both of you, until Drew speaks up, his voice soft, and in his ears, sounding a bit whimper-like.

“...I'm not hungry anymore."

You’re not?” you ask, your voice a bit higher than usual.

“I am, but, for something else."

“…but I’m hungry…” you reply, your words soft, and Drew catches the little pout forming on your lips.

He freezes for a second, seriously contemplating whether he should prioritize his appetite or yours.

Drew decides against it- laughing, the sound low and warm, “Okay- okay.”

Your smile returns, and you reach into his pocket for your dorm keys, hands close to his erection that pokes evidently against his jeans.

Your eyebrows raise briefly as you take the keys out, unlocking your room.

Drew watches you, amused but also slightly captivated by how you’ve turned this moment into something playful. But that’s your charm—the way you could take something as intimate as this and make it feel light, effortless. It’s always been that way with you.

But clearly- that guy, Mike, clearly saw something in you too.

That thought makes a strange twist in his gut, yet, Drew quickly pushes it aside, not wanting to spoil the mood.

The roses might be from someone else, but this moment? That’s all his.

After all, it was Valentine’s Day.

And it goes without saying, love is in the air, and nothing could ruin it.

Or- casualness is in the air, or… whatever’s going on between you two.

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

is there a difference between 'will you be my valentine?' and 'happy valentines.'? i wonder...

casual taglist: @maybankslover @rafeyswifey @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amb3rsaurus @bananaminn @rafecamerons-national-anthem @milky321 @drewnationalgf @iraslore @ursogorgeous13 @jamimers @hockeybabe87 @jqtsblyth @virgochaos @wolvestitches @dontblamethedrunkcaller @thoughtdaughter0

edit: i forgot they got airpods in during shopping...pretend they took it off once they got in the car, okay? ok.

#request #inbox #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #angst #fluff #fiction

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gayslutbehavior · 3 days ago

Text

i really admire the way my mom raised me when it comes to books. she always let me pick what to read, and she usually read the same books along with me so that we could talk about them. she likes reading YA, so that helps. i remember she really liked a series of unfortunate events and would help explain some of the funnier lines that might have gone over my head.

if there were books that either of us thought might be upsetting or hard for me to read, she would read them first and tell me what she thought. she wouldn't say i could or couldn't read them, she would just give me a heads up about things that might be challenging. for example, when i was about 10ish i wanted to read the sixth harry potter book, and she told me (with permission wrt spoilers) that an important character dies and that she found it really sad and thought i might too.

there were also books that she read before me and said she thought would be fine and then i ended up feeling uncomfortable about it for some reason and stopped reading. so she knew she could trust that i would take care of myself when reading. i had a panic attack when i read mockingjay for the first time because the war felt so real, and i took a break, calmed down, and came back to it later. but i'm still really glad i read that book because i think it was really good and taught me a lot.

it was the same way with movies - i watched little miss sunshine for the first time when i was pretty young, and she didn't try to keep me from seeing the more inappropriate parts, but she did explain things that i didn't understand. the only part she warned me about was when the brother realizes he's colorblind and can't be a pilot and gets really upset. she said he's going to yell and it's really sad. it wasn't the sex or the raunchy humor that she focused on (she knew that i knew what sex was), but the parts that were upsetting or scary, which makes sense to me.

pulp fiction is one of her favorite movies and we had a poster of it on the wall in our living room, so of course i wanted to watch it, but she told me that i should wait until i was older, not necessarily because it was inappropriate, but because it's the kind of movie that's hard to follow and requires a lot of cultural context to understand. i listened and when i ended up watching it for the first time i totally agreed that i wouldn't have understood it when i was younger.

she used to watch house when it came on and most of the time i didn't watch it with her even though she never said i couldn't because i really didn't like the parts where it would show the inside of a body. if i did want to watch, she would fast forward through those parts for me. i vividly remember watching house with her when thirteen comes out as bi. she paused the show to explain bisexuality to me and it was a huge moment for me as a queer person! the fact that she didn't brush past it or try to hide it from me helped me to learn and grow in my own identity.

the point is, the times when i was most confused or upset or alienated by a piece of media, it was rarely because there was sexual content. having warnings from my mom helped me to be prepared for things that might be beyond my expectations, and with her help i learned how to process and move through those things instead of ignoring them. i also learned that it was okay to feel like i wasn't ready to watch/read something. and i think that's a much safer approach to consuming media than trying to prevent kids from seeing or reading anything challenging until they're a certain age. it's all a process of growing and becoming ready for that kind of thing imo

I keep seeing aggressive "don't let kids read Wicked, it's inappropriate!!!" posts, and they're deeply irritating.

Would I recommend the novel to a random 12 year old I don't know? Probably not! But I first read Wicked at 12, and it's not like it permanently scarred me. It's not like I couldn't follow the plot. I didn't understand all the sociopolitical and religious commentary at 12, but that's why I went on to re-read it multiple times throughout my life. I get more from it each time.

There's sex and violence, yes, but I knew what sex was at 12, and I was seeing violence and war on the news every day. Why's the fictional sex and violence worse? Why should a kid not challenge themself with a book outside their comfort zone? Every kid deserves the chance to wig themselves out with a weird book they don't fully understand yet, and Wicked was mine.

My wife is very fond of a Mitch Hedberg quote I think is relevant here: "Every book is a children's book, if the kid can read."

(Also I think it's weird that people fixate on the puppet sex and the BDSM club, and not the parts where Elphaba bashes someone's skull in, or Turtle Heart gets lynched, or the soldiers abduct Fiyero's entire family as political prisoners. The "sex is evil, violence is fine" moral panic is eternal.)

#oops im rambling #but this is important!!!#and relevant to my irl job #bc people are trying to ban books again lmao

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nightplvmes · 2 days ago

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*.⊹˚ SYLUS | surprise dinner (valentine's day)

── ◜sylus x fem!reader — ◜short special | specials from the rest of the LIs on my profile

Everything had gone wrong. From the moment she woke up that morning she must have known that everything was going to go wrong.

First it started with her alarm going off. She woke up two hours later than she was supposed to and had missed the delivery time for the dessert she had ordered. It was a famous and expensive bakery, they had been very strict when they said that if she didn't arrive on time or at least half an hour later she wouldn't receive her order. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She thought maybe she could convince them to change their minds, but on her way to the bakery, her car's tire had gone flat. She ended up taking it to a garage and took a taxi back to home.

As if the day hadn't been bad enough. The dinner she had in mind also went wrong. She had burned a significant portion of the meal and didn't have time to start over. Around 5pm she had called Sylus to tell him that they couldn't meet that day because she had a problem. Lies and lies.

Sylus didn't say anything to her except that he understood and hung up. In her mind she was relieved that he hadn't been upset about ruining their first Valentine's Day. In Sylus' mind it was a different story. He had noticed her shaky voice because he know the way her voice sounded different after crying. Something was wrong.

It was already quite late when she returned home after searching for her favorite ice cream in three different stores. She couldn't even be sad in peace because she hadn't found the stupid ice cream.

Sylus had sent her a text while she was out but she wasn't sure what it meant. See you tonight. When she asked what it meant she got no reply. They weren't supposed to have a date until tomorrow, she had called him a couple of hours ago and he said it was fine.

When she got home everything was dark, she was almost sure that she had left more than one light on. She hated coming home and tripping over everything, plus her cat was always walking around. She walked in the darkness until she saw a flash of light shining in the dining room. She walked slowly and felt the air escape from her lungs.

He was there.

But he wasn't just there. He had prepared dinner, the room was dimly lit by the candles and everything was perfectly arranged. How had he done that in such a short time?

"Sy…" She felt the bag with the ice cream slip from her fingers. Her lips were parted and she felt like she couldn't breathe. Her eyes stung with tears.

"I got some information," he started speaking, setting something down on the table before walking over to her. "About the things that went wrong for you today."

She narrowed her eyes, confused, but it didn’t take her long to realize what he was talking about. Had Mephisto been following her? She had been distracted for most of the day, but not enough for her not to have noticed a black crow following her.

"I thought our date would be tomorrow," she said once the urge to cry had settled a little.

"I can leave if you want," he joked, closing the distance between them. She felt his arms wrap around her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Maybe she had overreacted by canceling all her Valentine’s Day plans because of how badly her day had gone. But that afternoon, when she had sat on the couch, replaying everything that had gone wrong, she had felt awful—too drained to even get up and get ready.

"No." She shook her head quickly, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and tugging gently. "You didn’t have to do this," she murmured, feeling Sylus’ breath against her face.

"Stop saying that." He tightened his hold on her hips. He would do anything for her—he had told her that over and over again.

She rose onto her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his one last time before she couldn’t hold back any longer. Finally, she kissed him. The urge to cry rushed back for a few seconds. She had given up—had accepted that her first Valentine’s Day with her boyfriend was going to be a complete disaster.

But now she was here, in Sylus’ arms, feeling how perfectly his lips fit with hers. A gasp escaped from her lips when she felt Sylus start to move backward, making her follow. Her back hit the wall, but his hand was already there, stopping her from hurting herself.

When she finally pulled away from his lips, her breathing was slightly unsteady. She could barely see anything in the dimly lit room, the candles on the dining table casting a warm, romantic glow. When she first met Sylus, it had been… an unconventional beginning. She never would have thought he was the type of person to prepare an entire dinner without her knowing, surprising her when she got home. A lot had changed since then, but she knew a different Sylus now.

"Come here. We can eat your ice cream after dinner."

She let out a little laugh, remembering the bag with over a liter of ice cream she had brought home, planning to eat it while crying over her ruined plans. She picked up the grocery bag that had slipped from her fingers, feeling Sylus intertwine his with hers as he guided her to the dining table.

She was still too dazed to say anything. She just let him pull out the chair for her, set the silverware, and… she was almost sure he had cooked everything himself, not just bought it from some restaurant. After all these years, she had learned to recognize the little details that made it clear when he was the one who had cooked.

The Sylus she had first met might never have done something like this—at least, that’s how he had seemed. But the Sylus she knew now? He would do anything for her.

#love and deepspace #sylus #lnds #lads #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x female reader #sylus love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace sylus x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace one shot #sylus fluff #lnds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace x reader

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cazshmere · 2 days ago

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Moon Signs and the Trap of Manipulation 🎭

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: This post is meant to bring awareness to subtle manipulation tactics that each Moon sign might be more vulnerable to. Being aware of these patterns can help you set better boundaries and protect yourself from being taken advantage of. Remember, manipulation isn’t always obvious, and recognizing these behaviors can help you stay in control of your own choices. These are just my personal observations so please take them with a grain of salt 🎭

♈ Aries Moon

1. People pretend to be your friends but secretly compete with you, trying to one-up or outshine you.

2. Manipulators make you feel like you’re in charge, knowing that stroking your ego makes you more willing to comply.

3. You can be guilt-tripped into taking the lead in situations, even when it’s not beneficial to you.

4. You might be manipulated into unnecessary fights, arguments, or rivalries by people who provoke you on purpose.

5. People may secretly compete with you by copying your ideas, style, or achievements while pretending to admire you. They subtly try to outdo you or take credit for your originality, making you feel the need to constantly prove yourself.

🎭 for instance a “friend” that always hypes you up as the leader but subtly takes credit for your ideas and efforts. you end up doing all the work while they sit back and benefit.

♉ Taurus Moon

1. People use financial or emotional security to gain control over you.

2. Being pampered with gifts, acts of service, or luxurious experiences can make you overlook red flags sometimes.

3. Some people make you dependent on them so that you feel like you need them to be okay.

4. Fear of change or instability can be used to keep you in a stagnant or toxic situation.

5. People may appeal to your loyalty, making you feel guilty for leaving situations that no longer serve you.

🎭 okay so for instance a partner provides for you financially and always does nice things for you, but slowly starts controlling where you go, what you do, and who you see. since they’ve “done so much for you”, you feel guilty setting boundaries.

♊ Gemini Moon

1. People who can keep up with your mind can subtly steer your opinions and perceptions.

2. If someone engages you in deep, interesting conversations, you may ignore their true motives.

3. You might be manipulated through fast-talking, gaslighting, or cleverly twisted words.

4. You could be distracted by fun, new ideas, or constant entertainment, making you miss underlying manipulation.

5. People can create an “information overload”, overwhelming you so you stop questioning them.

🎭 okay so lets say there’s this friend who always has fascinating conversations with you but subtly inserts their own biases and over time, you start adopting their beliefs without realizing they’ve been shaping your opinions💀 scary ngl

♋ Cancer Moon

1. People who play the victim can make you feel responsible for their happiness.

2. You may stay in toxic situations out of loyalty, especially if someone reminds you of past good times.

3. Guilt-tripping tactics like “after everything I’ve done for you” can make you feel obligated to help.

4. Some people use their emotions to control your actions, acting sad or hurt whenever you set boundaries.

5. Fear of abandonment can be exploited to keep you stuck in draining relationships.

🎭 okay so lets say a family member constantly reminds you how much they sacrificed for you, making you feel guilty for prioritizing yourself. even when they mistreat you, you feel like you “owe” them loyalty.

♌ Leo Moon

1. Flattery and constant praise can blind you to manipulation.

2. People who make you feel special or put you on a pedestal can subtly control your actions.

3. Your fear of being embarrassed or looking bad in public can be used against you.

4. Manipulators may guilt you into staying by making you feel like their admiration is conditional.

5. Someone may create a situation where they “need” you to save them, making you feel heroic.

🎭 for example a partner constantly praises you in public but privately criticizes and controls you. you don’t want to leave because you feel like everyone sees you as a “power couple” because of the manipulation😕

♍ Virgo Moon

1. People convince you that you owe them help or that it’s your job to fix things.

2. You might be guilt-tripped into doing more by people who act helpless or incompetent.

3. Manipulators use your perfectionism against you, making you feel like nothing you do is “enough”.

4. Constant subtle criticism can make you dependent on their validation.

5. You might be drawn to “projects” or people who seem broken but just need your help to “change”.

🎭 let’s say a boss subtly criticizes your work but also tells you that “no one else can do it like you,” making you work extra hard for their approval😕

♎ Libra Moon

1. People use your desire for peace to pressure you into saying yes.

2. Manipulators guilt you into staying by saying you’re being “cold” or “selfish.”

3. Someone may use social circles or mutual connections to trap you in toxic dynamics.

4. You may stay in bad situations to avoid confrontation or looking like the bad guy.

5. Love-bombing (excessive charm and attention) can make you ignore red flags.

🎭 a friend always acts hurt whenever you say no, making you feel guilty. you keep agreeing to things just to avoid feeling like a bad person.

♏ Scorpio Moon

1. People create deep emotional connections quickly to trap you.

2. Secrets, shared trauma, or deep conversations can be used as a tool to control you.

3. Someone might convince you that only they truly understand you, making you dependent on them.

4. Emotional blackmail, threats, or withholding affection can keep you attached.

5. Manipulators might play with your trust issues, making you feel like you are the problem.

🎭 let’s say a partner love-bombs you, creates an intense emotional bond, then slowly isolates you from others, making you feel like they’re the only one who truly gets you, BLARING RED FLAG BABY 🚩🚩

♐ Sagittarius Moon

1. People convince you to take risks, knowing you love spontaneity.

2. Manipulators promise big, exciting things but never deliver.

3. Someone might make you feel “boring” or “trapped” if you try to be cautious.

4. Your belief in freedom may be twisted into an excuse for them to avoid responsibility.

5. You might be manipulated into chasing dreams that only benefit them.

🎭 someone constantly asks for your insights, ideas, or perspectives, making you feel valued for your wisdom. but later, they present your knowledge as their own, taking credit while you’re left wondering if you were just being used as a stepping stone.

♑ Capricorn Moon

1. People make you feel like it’s your job to take care of them.

2. Manipulators guilt you into overworking, making you feel like your success depends on them. I’ve noticed that for Capricorn Moons, there is a high possibility that one or both of their parents control and manipulate them.

3. Your fear of failure can be used to pressure you into doing things.

4. You may feel obligated to stay in a situation because you’ve already invested time and effort.

5. Someone might convince you that leaving means you “lack discipline” or are “giving up”.

🎭 picture this: a toxic work environment convinces you that you must overwork yourself because ‘success comes to those who sacrifice’. the people around you reinforce this message, making you feel like it’s normal😔

♒ Aquarius Moon

1. People use your love for unique perspectives to subtly push their own agenda.

2. Someone might make you feel like only they see the world the way you do.

3. Manipulators can twist your desire for freedom into making you avoid real emotional connections.

4. You might be convinced to reject traditional stability, even when it would benefit you.

5. Your rebellious side may be used to push you into unnecessary conflicts.

🎭 its like when a friend convinces you to cut off everyone in your life because “they don’t understand you,” isolating you so you rely only on them 🚩🚩🚩🚩

♓ Pisces Moon

1. People use your empathy to make you feel like you must save them.

2. Someone might make you believe in a dream-like fantasy to keep you attached.

3. Manipulators use sob stories and victimization to guilt you into staying.

4. You may be gaslit into questioning your reality.

5. Someone might use your idealism to get you to ignore practical concerns.

🎭 for example a toxic partner convinces you that enduring suffering together is a “beautiful love story,” making you ignore red flags💀 like boi???

gif & divider credits to the rightful owners

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honeypiehotchner · 1 day ago

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Operation Lovebirds (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- oneshot

Happy belated Valentine's Day! In the spirit of making myself feel better, here's some unashamed fluff in between updates of The Gambit!

Summary: You make plans for the team to get drinks together after work on Valentine’s Day in an effort to make yourself feel better after a sudden breakup. The team decides to play matchmaker instead 😉

Warnings: oblivious reader, oblivious Hotch, PINING, YEARNING, past relationship/breakup woes, gender neutral terms for reader's ex, hotch is divorced but no foyet arc, awkward flirting (i think), happy ending ofc!!!

WC: ~5,200

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Aaron Hotchner since you started working at the BAU a year ago, it’s that he doesn’t go out.

You’re not really sure what it is that stops him, because even Rossi comes out with the team most nights, but in the year that you’ve been here, Hotch has come out three whole times. Three. In a year.

So, naturally, you’re the first to let the pure surprise show on your face when Hotch agrees to go out tomorrow night. In fact, you laugh.

He doesn’t.

“Oh my god,” you pause, smacking Morgan’s arm. “He’s being serious. Somebody get the champagne! Get me a calendar, I need to mark it.”

Hotch rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile fighting at the corners of his lips like always when he hears your jokes. “Don’t get too excited. I might change my mind.”

(The truth is, after seeing how excited you are, he won’t change his mind. He hasn’t seen you smile in a week.)

A week ago, the person you were dating broke things off rather randomly. You aren’t even sure if you can consider them as someone you were in a relationship with, since based off their final message to you, it seems they didn’t see things that way. Regardless, it ended, and it was something that, for the first time, you had high hopes for. You thought it might’ve been real.

So, yeah, Hotch hasn’t seen you smile in a week. He knows something is wrong, but hasn’t had the courage to ask, in case he’s overstepping. The two of you get along just fine to work together, and you’ve had a few heart-to-hearts over the months, especially on late night flights when everyone else is asleep and you’re the only two wide awake. But those feel…different than this.

Hotch is just happy that his idea worked. He knew if he could joke about going out, it would put the bug in your ear, and you’d make the plans. Which is how he found himself agreeing to go out to a bar tomorrow after work.

Tomorrow just so happens to be Valentine’s Day. So what if Hotch selfishly wanted to spend the day with you in some capacity outside of the office, but was too scared to ask outright? So what if he’s a little happy at the fact that you have no plans other than inviting everyone out to drinks?

He’s a little worried given that he thought you were seeing someone, but he thought that was his imagination. You never mentioned dating anyone to anyone on the team, Hotch was just putting pieces together to hurt his own feelings.

Except. You haven’t smiled in a week, and you’re suddenly free for drinks after work…on Valentine’s Day.

Hotch tries not to think about it too much. He doesn’t want to think about you being sad any more than he’s had to this past week with your silent moods and halfway smiles. That alone has already twisted something into a knot in his chest.

“This is perfect!” your excitement is palpable. “This might be the first time I get everyone out at once. Derek, do not let me down. Bring your date!”

“Fine, fine,” Derek concedes. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come -- after her and I have had a very romantic dinner,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder in the same sibling way you always interact with Morgan, but Hotch watches you carefully, noticing the hint of sadness behind your eyes.

Fuck. You were seeing someone. That’s the only explanation, and they broke your heart -- a week before Valentine’s Day, might he add -- and it must’ve felt real to you because why else would you have that devastated look in your eyes?

Hotch, unsurprisingly, has harbored somewhat of a schoolgirl crush for you since about a month after you started working at the BAU. It took Rossi precisely one week to notice, but you’re going on month eleven of being blissfully unaware. Morgan has given Hotch a couple knowing looks but has yet to call him out on it. If JJ and Emily know (and they do), they haven’t said anything, least of all to you. Garcia is well aware after she caught Hotch watching you wistfully from his office one afternoon, but she hasn’t mentioned anything to you.

Rossi has, of course, tried to talk Hotch into making a move -- even a half-move, a hint of a move -- but Hotch refuses. Mostly because he had suspicions you were seeing someone, but also because he just can’t imagine someone like you having the same feelings for someone like him. It’s bizarre.

As everyone listens to your giddy pre-planning of where to go for drinks and what to wear, knowing looks are shared by the team -- looks that you and Hotch are left out of.

+++

You’re trying on the fourteenth outfit and trying to hold yourself together when you nearly cancel drinks to lie in bed in a pit of despair.

But that’s dramatic and irrational, so you try on a fifteenth outfit, say fuck it, and grab your car keys.

You’ll be a little early to the bar, but you don’t mind. Might as well get out before you lose the will to go back out again.

You just couldn’t stomach sitting inside, alone on Valentine’s Day, not during this rollercoaster of emotions that you’re feeling. Especially not now.

It’s not that you thought you had found the one, it’s the fact that you thought maybe they are. It’s not the fact that you were certain, it’s that you were so hopeful. You really thought things would go farther than that, and you never thought the crash and burn would be so random.

You really thought this time was different. Because it felt different, it felt good. Only for it to end the same as always.

You should be used to it by now, you think. People being uncertain of you. People being uncertain of how they want you in their lives. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a relationship with someone only for them to decide that suddenly they aren’t ready for a relationship. It doesn’t make any more sense than it did the last time, but this one certainly knocked the wind out of you from how unexpected it was.

No matter, though. Because tonight you’re dancing, laughing with friends, and hopefully smiling so hard that you forget about it all hurting so much.

When you get to the bar, you’re the first one there, so you slide up to the bar and wave the bartender down, getting started with your first drink.

Unfortunately, no one cute catches your eye -- yet. You’re not exactly sure if you want to flirt with anyone tonight, but it could be fun. Could take your mind off things.

You’re halfway done with your first drink when Derek texts the group chat. Dinner got a little delayed. See y’all in a bit.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he means by delayed. You snort and text back telling him it’s fine.

JJ is next. Couldn’t find a babysitter so Will and I are staying in! So sorry guys!

You frown, but it’s fine. You were worried about whether they'd be able to find a babysitter so soon.

No one else says a word, so you assume they’re all free.

Except that they don’t show.

You’re getting a little annoyed as the minutes tick by until you see, like a knight in shining armor, Aaron Hotchner walks through the doors.

You smile in pure relief and disbelief that he’s actually here, waving him over. He spots you and a soft smile settles on his lips, making a beeline for you at the bar.

Couples are sitting on either side of you, so Hotch stands behind you, your body suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“You look surprised to see me,” he teases.

You stare up at him, mystified. “Because I am.”

Hotch orders a whiskey on the rocks and another of whatever you’re having, opening a tab. Your brain short circuits a moment too late when you realize he’s just bought you a drink.

You don’t mention it, unsure of what exactly it means. Or what exactly you want it to mean.

When the bartender brings the drinks over, Hotch leans down to speak to you over to growing crowds and conversations. “There’s an open booth over there if you want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

Your mind spins with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts as you nod. “Booth sounds nice.”

You were unaware of just how many people had flooded into the bar since Hotch arrived, your focus clearly all on him and how close he was to touching you. Your fingers lightly touch Hotch’s back as you follow him through the crowd to the booth that he can see with his height.

Finally, you spot it, a miraculously free two-person booth at a table with a small lamp in the middle. It casts just enough shadows on Hotch’s face to make him look infinitely more attractive (something you hadn’t thought possible).

You’ve harbored a foolish crush on your boss since, well, the very beginning. It’s embarrassing.

Because you know that not only will he never feel the same way, it’s also highly against the rules at work and would be beyond frowned-upon. So, you suffer in silence, and try desperately not to think about what it might feel like to just kiss him. Just once.

That’s the alcohol and loneliness talking. You need to pull yourself together.

There’s precisely ten minutes of small talk before Hotch goes straight for the heart.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

For anyone else, it’s an unassuming question. It’s simple. It almost falls into the category of small talk, except it doesn’t. Not for two FBI profilers.

Still, you try to deflect with a shrug. “I’m alright. As alright as someone chronically single can be on Valentine’s Day, I guess. What about you?”

He’s not exactly in a different boat. He’s been single ever since his divorce a few years ago, as far as you know -- and you imagine you’d know because these sort of things get around in the BAU. The nosiest unit in the FBI, you always joke.

Hotch mirrors your shrug. “I’m alright.” He pauses, studying you. “I only ask because you’ve seemed…down lately.”

You grimace.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly adds, almost scrambling. “I know this is odd, I’m your boss and we’re sitting at a booth in a bar on Valentine’s Day, but, I want you to know, if you do want to talk -- about anything -- I’m here. I want to listen.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, feeling your facade as it slowly melts and drips away. “Thanks,” you avert your eyes, focusing instead on your drink that has barely two sips left. You have a comfortable buzz now, one that makes you a little quicker to let him in. “I was seeing someone that I was really hopeful about, for the first time, ever, and it ended randomly a week ago. Got a text just out of nowhere.” You pause, chuckling darkly. “I was in the middle of thinking about Valentine’s plans, actually, when I got the text. So.”

Hearing you confirm it out loud only makes Hotch’s heart twist and threaten to break. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure of what else he can say, unsure of if there’s anything he can say to make it better. “I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Thanks,” you breathe, shaking your head a little to shake yourself out of it. You look up at Hotch and put on a fake, half-smile, the same one he’s seen you wearing the past week. “On to the next one, huh?” you joke. “If there even is a next one. If I even want there to be another one,” you add with a roll of your eyes. “I might have reached my limit for this shit.”

Hotch can’t even say that he blames you. “That’s understandable.”

There’s a trace of something in your eyes when you look at him, something he can’t read, but your smile is a little softer now, starting to look genuine. “Alright,” you clear your throat. “There’s my relationship woes. What about you? Breaking any hearts? Anyone breaking yours?”

He laughs at your change of subject, but shakes his head. “No, no, there’s no one.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t really wanted to, I suppose.” I’m too much of a coward to ask you out on a date, according to Rossi. “Maybe soon, though.”

Excitement glints in your eyes. “Ooh, there is someone, I knew it! Tell me immediately.”

He just stares at you, fighting back a smile at your unbridled joy that he gets to witness. He is so glad he gets to see this expression on your face. “There’s not really someone, it’s kind of--” He pauses, looking down at his own glass, wondering how much he can say without giving himself away so embarrassingly. “I’ve been too afraid to do something.”

“Why?” you ask, sounding genuinely interested. “Is she dating someone?”

“She was,” he replies, perhaps too fast. “And I’m not certain she feels the same way, or else I’d have made a move by now,” he admits, thinking the whiskey is getting to him. “Maybe.”

“Aaron Hotchner, a shy, hopeless romantic,” you muse, leaning back in the booth with a smirk. “Who would’ve guessed?”

He gives you an almost pained look, hoping the awe seeps through the most. Because you have no idea, do you? You have no idea just what you do to him, just by talking to him, looking at him, making him laugh, letting him hear your laugh. He’s more of a goner than he originally thought.

He laughs off your teasing. “There are my woes,” he says, hoping that’ll be the end of it. “Where are the rest of the team, anyway?”

“Who knows,” you say, sounding unbothered, though you dig your phone out to see if anyone has texted.

If you and Aaron hadn’t been so caught up in conversation for the past hour, then you would’ve seen that everyone has said they can’t make it or that they’ll be “late” which is only code for they won’t show. You frown down at the messages, some almost forty-five minutes old now, wondering what they’re up to.

Aaron glances at his phone, too, finding a private message from David. Enjoy your date ;)

Hotch rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone. The team -- most likely led by self-proclaimed Cupid, David Rossi -- decided to play matchmaker. He should’ve known.

And you…you seem completely unaware.

“Whatever,” you exhale, exasperated. “I should’ve known better than to try to get everyone together on Valentine’s Day.” You pause, a sheepish look in your eyes. “I just really didn’t want to be alone, so,” you lightly tap Aaron’s leg with your foot, “thanks for coming and keeping me company.”

“Anytime,” he says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “Should we get another drink?”

You hum. “I was actually getting kinda hungry.”

“You read my mind,” Aaron smiles. “Do they have food here?”

“Probably shitty bar food,” you reply. You look up at him through your lashes, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

He nods immediately, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go. I know the perfect place.”

You grin almost instantly, standing up from the booth. “Lead the way.”

+++

The perfect place that Aaron knows is a hole-in-the-wall, family-run pizza joint that he has frequented for years, probably ever since he joined the BAU and moved out here. It’s open late, and half-full of other couples when you and Aaron arrive.

“Hey, Tony,” Aaron greets the owner with a firm handshake and smile. “Table for two, please.”

You watch as Tony gives Aaron a look before repeating his words, “Table for two, you got it, right this way, Hotchner.”

The way Tony says his name is reminiscent of a coach talking to his favorite player, right down to the playful swat of Aaron’s chest. It makes you smile.

“And who is the lucky lady?” Tony asks nonchalantly as he places the menus down on the table by the window.

You giggle, introducing yourself. “I wasn’t aware Aaron had connections here.”

It could be a trick of the dim lighting, but you swear you see Hotch blush as he shakes his head.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says, standing back as you both sit. “I’ve known him for years, always coming here alone on Valentine’s Day. I’m just happy to see he’s brought someone with him this time.”

“Oh, we’re--” you start to say.

But Hotch interjects with, “That’s enough, Tony, thank you.”

You furrow your eyebrows only a little. He didn’t deny what Tony is implying.

You ignore it. Because you can’t let yourself read into it. That’s what always ends up burning you. You need to ignore it.

Tony leaves to let the two of you look at the menu, albeit going with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, trying to redirect. “Or should we just get a large and split it?”

“That might be easiest,” Hotch agrees. “Let’s do that.”

Tony returns to take your order and brings water with him, promising some wine if you’d like. You laugh him off and tell him the two of you just came from the bar.

When the pizza comes out, the two of you dig in, both having not realized just how hungry you were. With more water and food on your stomach, the alcohol has begun to wear off. But you’re still happy you’re spending the night with Aaron.

Whoever it is that he’s got his eyes set on, she’s one lucky girl. You know that for sure.

As the night winds to a close, you watch him more closely, wanting to memorize this. Because if you have any say in it, he’s going to get that girl that he’s so hopelessly in love with already. He deserves that. Even if it means you’ll never have another night like this with him.

So, you tell him just that as he’s dropping you back off at home. You turn toward him in the passenger seat, a sad smile on your lips.

“I’m going to give some unsolicited advice, okay?” you begin.

He laughs, clearly wary. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Ask her out,” you say, hating the way you can feel the beginnings of tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. “Make a move. Don’t make her wait any longer. She might feel the same way, you never know, and you’ll never know, if you don’t ask her. So do it.”

He watches you, eyes studying every inch of your face. You don’t know it, but he’s trying to figure out why you look so sad as you’re saying this to him. How can you have no idea that it’s you, it’s always been you? How do you not know?

“That’s all,” you say, blinking the emotion out of your eyes. It’s gone so quick that he wonders if he imagined it. “Thank you for tonight, I really needed it. I’ll see you on Monday?”

He nods, all words foreign to him. “See you Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” you give him another smile.

He watches you leave, watches you get to your front door, waits for you to go inside. He stays there, waiting until he sees the lights turn on in your apartment, until he knows without a doubt that you are safe inside.

He drives away. And starts to think of a plan.

+++

Monday is a slow, tortuous day after a slow, tortuous weekend spent wondering yourself sick about if Hotch took your advice. If he spent the weekend with her, the girl that made his eyes go all soft when talked about her to you. If he was going to come into the office as a new man on Monday, feelings reciprocated, love radiating off him.

He didn’t, which you felt guilty for feeling relieved about.

He brought you a coffee, though. With a heart on the side of the cup. Probably from the barista who made it, you think.

It’s a paperwork kind of day, so everyone leaves by 4:30, even Reid, though he leaves so early because he has an event at a bookstore to go to. Slowly, everyone trickles out, until it’s just you and Hotch.

You’re avoiding your empty apartment. Hotch is finishing up his work, while simultaneously building up the courage to ask you to dinner.

Time is ticking, this he knows, and he starts packing up as soon as he sees you standing to rinse out your coffee mug.

You’re just finishing gathering your things when you hear Hotch leaving his office, locking the door behind him. You look up at him with a smile.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you tease, gesturing around at the barren BAU. “Why do we keep doing this?”

It’s true that you’re usually the last two here, but this time feels different. There’s a different tension in the air that wasn’t here before, and you’re trying like hell to decipher if it’s good or bad.

“What are your plans for dinner?” he asks.

“Just leftovers or something,” you shrug. “You?”

“Well,” he says, letting out a soft, nervous laugh. “I was hoping to take someone out to dinner.”

You deflate a little. He must mean the girl. You try not to let it show in your tone, so you keep your head tucked, putting things away. “Did you ask her out? What’d she say?”

“That she had leftovers or something.”

Your hand freezes on your purse. You’re terrified to look up because if you do, then that means-- He can’t mean--

“I didn’t think I was so bad at this,” Aaron chuckles. “I guess it’s not muscle memory anymore.”

Slowly, slowly you lift your eyes. He’s sheepish. There is a blush on his cheeks, his smile is so damn hesitant, and you’re smiling before you can stop yourself.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Are you trying to ask me out on a date?”

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, looking so boyish. “Would you like to get dinner with me? Tonight, as a proper date?”

You nod right away, then stop yourself. “Wait, what about that girl you were telling me about?”

You’ve been “the other girl” before, and you refuse to do that again, not even for a man who looks like Aaron Hotchner.

But he laughs. Not at you, more at himself, at the situation. He shakes his head. “That girl is you,” he says. “I thought I was so obvious.”

“Wait--” you pause, blinking, the gears in your head stuttering and starting. “Me?”

He nods. “Since you started here. It was getting kind of embarrassing, according to Rossi.”

You giggle, unable to help yourself. Then pieces begin clicking into place. “Wait, so Valentine’s Day--”

“That was the team’s doing,” he nods to confirm. “Rossi got them in on it.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “And tonight?”

“Tonight was…just us being ourselves,” he confesses with a warm smile. “I didn’t tell any of them to leave so early.”

“And I just always stay a bit later,” you add. “Like you.”

“Like me,” he says. “Though you still leave before I do, most nights.”

“Yeah, because you sleep here, it seems like.”

“Hey,” he laughs, feigning hurt for a moment. “So…dinner?”

“Dinner,” you nod. “I’d love to get dinner with you, Aaron.”

“That’s a relief,” he breathes. “Can I take you somewhere again?”

You can take me anywhere you want, is what you want to say, but that feels a bit forward. “Of course,” you say instead. “Lead the way.”

+++

The team finds out the very next day, by pure accident.

Aaron drove you two to dinner last night straight from work, and the both of you were too caught up in it all to realize you left your car at work. Until it’s the next morning, you’re heading down to the parking lot of your apartment, car keys in hand, with your car nowhere to be found.

Aaron is walking through the BAU doors when his phone buzzes with a call from you. His heart skips as he answers, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my love,” you reply easily. “Do you know where my car is? You get one guess.”

Hotch pauses, thinks, wondering why you’re asking him this question, until-- “Oh, shit,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you.”

“I can just take the bus,” you laugh just as hard. “I just wanted to tell you.”

You? On the bus? When he can easily just come get you? Absolutely not. “I’ll come get you,” he says again. “Let me set my things down, and I’ll be on my way to you.”

“Aaron--”

“Let me, please?” he asks, shoving inside his office to put his things down just inside the door. “I’m already walking back out to my car. We can get coffee and breakfast.”

“Okay,” you concede, finally. “I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be twenty minutes.”

It’s less time than that, actually, but you don’t call him out on it. Instead, you climb into his passenger seat with a smile.

“Long time no see,” you joke, buckling yourself in.

“I’m so sorry,” he laughs. “I completely forgot about your car.”

“I did too, don’t be sorry,” you reply, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s funny. And I’ll just drive it home tonight.”

He doesn’t want you to, he wants to always drive you around like this, but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want to come on too strong. “Okay. Well, for your troubles, we’ll get breakfast.”

“And coffee,” you sigh happily. “My turn to pick. I know the best place.”

He turns his phone toward you, the GPS already up. “Lead the way.”

When the two of you finally make it back to the BAU, the whole team is there, huddled around in the bullpen, clearly whispering about you and Hotch.

See, it’s rather suspicious when Hotch’s things are in his office, but he isn’t, especially an hour after he’s usually already got half the day’s work done. And your absence was noted too, as the minutes ticked by and no one had heard from you. And they knew the two of you were the last to leave last night.

Hotch holds open the glass door for you, laughing at something you’ve said (like always), the two of you unaware of the team meeting until you’re inside.

Everyone wears similar smirks.

“Hello lovebirds,” Rossi chimes. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Just breakfast,” you say with a shrug.

“Mhm,” Morgan hums. “Where’s my breakfast?”

“Go away,” you groan, swatting him. “Why are you all around my desk? Boundaries!”

Just like that, the crowd disperses with some laughter, and Hotch is free to escape up to his office. Rossi is quick to follow him, interrogating him about his night.

“It was a great night,” Hotch replies, not wanting to give anything away. “You are an instigator.”

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi presses on.

Hotch makes a sound of disbelief. Rossi looks appalled.

“You didn’t?”

“There is such a thing as taking things slow, Dave,” Hotch replies.

“Alright,” Dave concedes. “But dinner was good?”

“Dinner was great,” Hotch reiterates, unable to hide his smile. “Now get out of my office so I can get some work done.”

Rossi leaves with a smirk so smug that Hotch hopes his face cramps up.

+++

Later in the evening, when once again it’s just you and Hotch left in the office, Hotch decides to pack up a little early.

You’re in your own world, completely unaware that he’s heading out until he’s standing beside your desk.

You lift your eyes, realizing he’s watching you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Ready to go?”

You glance at the clock. “I was actually--”

He shakes his head. “Come on.”

“What?”

“As your boss, I’m deciding you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, really?” you quirk an eyebrow. “And there wouldn’t happen to be any ulterior motives, would there?”

He shrugs, all sheepish again. “If you happened to be free for dinner again, I wouldn’t say no.”

“And if I’m not free?”

He’s unbothered. “Then I’ll walk you to your car and let you get to your plans.”

“Not even a kiss goodnight?” you tease as you start gathering your things.

Hotch goes quiet. “That can be arranged.”

“Okay,” you murmur, standing with your things. “Let’s go.”

He reaches out for your hand which you easily hold onto, walking with him to the elevators. As you wait for one to arrive, you look at him, taking in his side profile. He catches you looking from just the corner of his eye, starting to smile.

Once you step onto the elevator, you break the silence. “I desperately need to sleep early tonight, so raincheck on dinner?”

He nods. “Of course.”

You pause, testing the waters. “Coffee tomorrow, though?”

He smiles. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“That’s perfect,” you reply.

Hotch walks you to your car, as promised, and helps you set your things inside. He even opens the driver’s side door for you. You’re about to get inside when he stops you, one hand on your arm.

“About that goodnight kiss,” he says, a glint in his eyes that has your stomach doing flips.

You place your hands on his shoulders, gently looping your wrists around his neck. “Mm, what about it?”

His hands find your waist in no time, squeezing ever so slightly. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask,” you murmur. “And yes.”

You’re both smiling into it, softening when your lips finally connect. You feel it then, how this is what you’ve been missing.

Aaron is so gentle as he kisses, so timid in a way that only makes you want him even more. His hands never wander from your waist, except for one moment to cup your jaw, to brush his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you one last time.

He pulls back to watch you, your eyes still closed in bliss. When you finally open them, he’s smiling at you.

“That’s some goodnight kiss,” you tease. “Careful, or you’ll spoil me.”

He shakes his head. “I want to,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “And I will.”

You bring one hand to his face, holding onto him in disbelief. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, giving you one more kiss for good measure. “Let me know when you get home safe?”

You nod. “You as well?”

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nod slowly. “In the morning.”

Neither of you make any move to leave. In fact, it takes half an hour for you to peel yourselves off of one another, and might’ve taken longer if your stomach hadn’t growled.

Eventually, you part, and Aaron shuts you into your car, waving as you drive off before he walks to his own vehicle. He stares at his reflection in a bit of disbelief, wondering what he did to deserve someone like you.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner oneshot #pure fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #just desperately needed to write some fluff

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wcnderlnds · 2 days ago

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the heart wants what it wants | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he hates himself but you kinda, sorta love him. ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: usual squid game stuff, swearing. ・❥・ authors note: as if i was gonna leave my boy thanos out of valentines fics. here's something a lil fluffy while still (hopefully) in character for him.

“What’re you sitting there looking like someone just pissed in your cereal for? And don’t try and tell me it’s because of that last game or whatever because I know that’s bullshit.”

Thanos’ voice pierced through your ears as he sat down beside you on the steel stairs between the bunks. His arms rested on his knees, hands dangling between his open legs as he looked at you expectantly. That was Thanos down to a tee – he needed to know everything immediately, patience wasn’t his strong suit. It frustrated him when he didn’t get answers. You had known this man for far too long to know the signs. The way he was clenching his jaw, his fingers tapping against his leg.

“...I don’t want to tell you because you’ll laugh at me,” you mumbled, head resting on your arms that were crossed over your pulled up knees.

“Come on, spit it out,” he waved his hand, dismissing your worries. “I probably will laugh but since when did that shit bother you?”

He was right. You never cared before so why now? Well, you knew why. Being trapped in this place with him had resurfaced something you had thought you’d got rid of a long time ago. When you had first met Su-bong, you had the world’s biggest crush on him but he had turned you down, telling you that you should just be friends so… that’s what you were. Now, eight years on and that all consuming crush was back. You were trapped in a life or death game with him, he’d been protecting you and making sure that no harm fell on you. His hand grabbed yours at any opportunity like he just had to be touching you to make sure you were still here. You had never seen so much panic in his eyes than the moment you had almost fell in Red Light, Green Light. Luckily, he had managed to grab your arm to stop you from meeting your end. Su-bong wasn’t someone that wore his heart on his sleeve but when he cared, he cared. That was one thing you were certain of; he cared about you. There were ways he showed it without saying it. Like now, he had come to sit with you, asking you what was going on even if it was in his own annoying way. He had to act like he didn’t care otherwise it would consume him, his anxiety would sky rocket. That was why he was popping those colourful little pills. They may make him act insane but inside they calmed him, made him think clearer so he could protect you.

“Fine,” you sighed. “...it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just sad I’m stuck in here and not enjoying some chocolate covered strawberries fed to me by some super hot person. Happy now?”

Thanos couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, nudging you with his shoulder. “That’s why you’re feeling sorry for yourself?” He narrowed his eyes, examining you before he decided you weren’t telling him the full truth. A quick shuffle and he was sitting right beside you, his leg touching yours. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. It was unusually soft for him but he had these moments with you sometimes. The only person who wouldn’t judge him was you, that was something he knew for certain. “You ain’t tellin’ me the whole story so I’m gonna need you to get that pretty mouth of yours talking more before I go get Nam-su to come glare at you with those beady little eyes of his.”

“You know his name is Nam-gyu, right?” You rested your head on his shoulder, nervously wringing your hands together. Thanos noticed almost immediately, placing a hand on them to stop you. “Remember when we first met? When… uh, when I had a crush on you and your turned me down?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Well, I might be feeling that way again.”

At those words, he froze up. His body tense, panic flashing across his eyes. Yeah, you shouldn’t have said anything. He would only close himself off now and that was the last thing you needed right now. He had been your whole support system here. The silence between you was almost deafening until he finally spoke. “...you shouldn’t.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Wish it was that easy, Su-bong.”

“You wanna know why I turned you down all those years ago?” He had pulled away from you slightly, both his hands now resting on your shoulders as he made you look at him. “Because you fuckin’ deserve better than me. I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m no good, especially not for you. Someone like you? You deserve the fuckin’ world and I can’t give you that. I wish I could but I can’t. You need someone who can treat you like the princess you are but, baby, that man ain’t me.”

If it wasn’t anyone else, they wouldn’t have caught the waver in his voice, the way he was looking at you as if pleading for you to listen to him. He meant every word he said but you didn’t. You knew he often got lost in his self loathing thoughts, thinking that he was scum of the Earth but he wasn’t. He was just a lost boy, someone had never had someone care about him like you.

“I don’t care, Su-bong. My heart knows what it wants and it wants you. It isn’t going to stop. It’s been eight years and it’s always felt this way. You are everything to me, you always have been. I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you,” your hand cupped his cheek, the gesture so soft he almost nuzzled into your palm but refrained. “Sure, you’re not perfect but neither am I. I’ll respect whatever you want but… just know that my heart belongs to you.”

His eyebrows scrunched together as if he was in deep thought, one of his hands playing with the chain of the necklace that hung around his neck. His cross; the one that contained his drugs. It looked like he was in an internal conflict with himself before, finally, he pulled the necklace over his head and onto you. You felt your heart pounding as his fingers skimmed across your chest, making sure the cross laid properly. “You’re a damn pain in my ass, you know that? But… I’ve been into you the day we met, just thought you deserved more than I can give you. So, this is my promise to you to show you that I trust you, that maybe I’ll try and be the person you deserve some day. Ain’t never let anyone wear this other than me, by the way.”

The gesture meant more to you than you could even put into words, your heart hammering against your chest as he tapped the cross. You smiled up at him, hand resting over his. “The highest honour, huh?” You couldn’t help but tease to at least ease some of the tension. “It means a lot… and Su-bong? I believe in you.”

You heard the small, breathy laugh that came from his lips as he looked at the ground trying to hide it. That meant more to him than you would know. Finally, he looked back up at you, his arm back around your shoulder to pull you back into his side. “We get out of this shithole and I’ll feed you all the damn chocolate strawberries you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

As you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on yours, you knew that once you got out of here things were definitely going to change but it gave you something to look forward to. His promise the one thing that would get you through these deathly games.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @justsisse @djarindroid @angelofbooksworld @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey @infinetlyforgotten

#choi su bong x reader #thanos x reader #choi seunghyun #choi su bong #squid game x reader #my fics

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wvyik · 2 days ago

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quit pouting, winchester’ d.w. ꩜ .ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean gets all jealous over something super dumb (he’d never admit it though), and ends up pouting until you kiss him to make him stop being so ridiculous.

warnings; a hint of possessiveness, jealousy with unreasonable doubts, (duh) make out sesh, but other than that — just pure fluff, because this man is soft for you no matter how much he tries to act tough. don’t kiss and drive kids!!

notes; this is my first fic ever!! send some love. thanks so much for reading through my yap sesh. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

words; 1008

Dean Winchester is pouting.

And, yeah, he’d probably rather die than admit it, but it’s so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. Arms crossed, jaw tight, barely sparing you a glance as he sulks in the driver’s seat of the Impala. You’d think you just crashed Baby into a brick wall with how pissed he looks.

“De.. what is wrong with you?” you finally ask, leaning against the window to look at him.

“Nothin’,” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him. Nothing, my ass.

You narrow your eyes. “Dean.”

“Nothin’, i already told you.” he repeats, this time with even less conviction.

You huff, shifting in your seat so you’re fully facing him now. “Oh my God, you are such a bad liar.”

He scoffs. “I’m a great liar, trust me.”

“Not to me.”

And, that shuts him up for a second. His fingers tighten on the wheel, his mouth pressing into that stubborn, self-righteous little frown he gets whenever he knows he’s losing but refuses to admit it.

You smirk, slowly realizing what could be the cause of his state. “Oh my God, you’re jealous.”

Dean’s head snaps toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “What?”

You lean in, grinning now. “You totally are.” you say with a soft chuckle, as if the thought of him being jealous is the most hilarious thing in the whole world.

He rolls his eyes, trying so hard to play it cool, but his ears are so red. “Pfft. Yeah, right.”

“You so are.”

Dean exhales sharply, turning his attention back to the road like the empty highway is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how to dig himself out of this one.

“You’re acting all weird,” you point out, watching him squirm. “You’ve been quiet for the last hour. You barely even yelled at that dude who cut you off.”

Dean clenches his jaw. He knows you’ve got him.

“So,” you press, “what’s got your panties in a twist, huh?” As if you already don’t know.

He grumbles something under his breath. Oh, he’s embarrassed. You could tell.

You blink. “What?”

More grumbling.

“Dean.” you repeated, hoping for him to finally speak up.

He exhales roughly, hands flexing on the steering wheel. Then, finally, he mutters, “Nothin’. Just— dude was flirting with you, ‘s all.”

You blink. Then blink again. “Are you talking about the gas station cashier?” Dean says nothing. Which is an answer in itself. Oh, this is too good.

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Dean, he barely said two words to me.”

“Yeah? And he was lookin’ at you like a damn puppy,” Dean grumbles. “Like he had a shot.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “That is so stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, jaw still tight. “‘S stupid to you.”

And okay, yeah, now you kind of feel bad, because he’s being ridiculous, but also kind of… sad about it? Not that he’d ever admit it, but the way he’s gripping the wheel, the way his lips are pressed tight like he’s trying to keep everything in—he actually cares about this. About you.

Which means he deserves to suffer just a little longer.

You scoot closer, pressing your chin to his shoulder. “You know you’re the only one I want, right?”

Dean stays silent, but you feel the way his grip on the wheel loosens. His jaw twitches when you press a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek. You smirk. Oh, he’s melting.

So, you push further, brushing your lips along the sharp edge of his jaw, taking your sweet time. You can feel the tension in him shift— not gone, but different. Like he’s holding his breath, waiting for what you’ll do next.

He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rough. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

You hum, letting your lips trail just a little lower. “Then quit pouting.”

“I ain’t—”

You shut him up with a proper kiss.

And at first, he barely moves—like he wasn’t expecting it, like it takes him a second to catch up. But the second he does, oh, you’ve got him.

Dean exhales through his nose, tilting his head to meet you fully, and then he’s kissing you like he’s making up for lost time. His hand finally lets go of the steering wheel, landing firm and warm against your thigh, fingers flexing like he’s grounding himself.

You don’t hesitate to deepen it, shifting in your seat to turn toward him, your hand moving up to cup his jaw. He’s warm, rough with stubble, and you take your time exploring it, feeling the way his breath stutters when you scrape your nails lightly along the edge.

Dean groans— low, quiet, but wrecked— and then he’s pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. The Impala swerves slightly.

You pull back just enough to whisper, breathless, “Dean, focus.”

“Tryin’,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “You’re makin’ it real hard, sweetheart.”

You grin, fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Ain’t that the point?..”

Dean exhales sharply, like he’s trying so hard to keep his cool, but he’s losing. And you? You’re having the time of your life watching him come undone.

You lean in again, kissing him slow and deep, dragging it out just to make him suffer. He sighs into it, fingers pressing just a little tighter into your skin, like he doesn’t want to let go.

Eventually— reluctantly— you pull back, just enough to look at him. His pupils are almost brown in this lightning, lips pink and kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

You smirk. “Told you you were pouting.”

Dean exhales, shaking his head with a grumble—but the way he looks at you? The way his thumb traces absently against your knee, like he’s memorizing the shape of you?

Yeah. You definitely won this one.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #fluff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #im so nervous #yapping

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spiderb00 · 1 day ago

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- ROMCOM

Megan Skiendiel x actress!reader

“Your girlfriend's birthday will always be special”

Genre – Fluff Warnings – none

Now playing – Feels Like, by Gacie Abrams

Your schedule has never been tighter, all your commitments seem to have got in the way. The recordings for the new season of Percy Jackson were in full swing, the interviews for events, the awards where your films were nominated, it was all so crazy. You never imagined that you would have a life as a Hollywood star, at least not when you were only nineteen, but it happened. You'll be eternally grateful for everything you've achieved and still achieve, but you couldn't deny how much you just wanted to relax at times.

Being recognized for your work was incredible, you could never deny that, but you knew you certainly weren't cut out for Hollywood. Sometimes you missed your simple life as a teenager, sometimes you wondered what it would be like if you had continued working in your father's small bookstore, but these thoughts soon faded when you remembered Megan.

Megan was one of the biggest reasons for you to face the difficult days, knowing that at the end of the day you could see her beautiful face, even if it was only by video call. Your girlfriend's energy always gave you the strength to keep fighting, you were just two young souls trying to unravel the world together, and that made you very happy.

You begged on your knees for Megan's managers to give you a few days with her, fortunately, they agreed after an assurance that you would be back on time. So you set everything up, called Megan's friends and got everything in place.

The island was beautiful, the resort was better than any hotel Megan had ever stayed in, and being with you made everything better. Hand in hand, you walked along the beach, enjoying the sand, the sun and the waves. You had fun with your friends, making fools of yourselves and laughing at the smallest things, just being teenagers for a few days.

Megan didn't think things could get any better, but you always exceeded her expectations.

It was early and you had a hard time getting Megan out of bed, the sun and all the previous day's activities making her more tired than usual. But when you finally managed to get her out of bed, you dragged her out of the room you two shared, keeping quiet so as not to wake any of your friends, who were sleeping in the rooms next door.

Walking quickly down to the beach, Megan and you were giggling playfully, Megan's chest felt like it was about to explode, the feeling of being in a romantic comedy movie was always present in her chest when she was with you.

“Come on, Meg. We'll miss the whole thing if you don't hurry.” You said, pulling the girl through the hallways of the hotel.

“I'm going as fast as I can, baby.” Megan said, the giggle she was holding back tickling her throat.

When you finally made it out of the hotel, you hurried even faster, pulling Megan closer to the pool. The girl wasn't even paying that much attention to your haste anymore, because now she had understood everything. Megan was looking up, impressed by the shades of purple and orange that were appearing in the sky. The sunrise was happening, the sensation Megan felt could not be compared to anything else.

Both of your steps became slower, and now Megan realized that you were on the beach, which was only a few meters from the resort. The sound of the crashing waves, the color of the sky, the sensation of warmth that was building up all over her body, the sand on her feet and the way your eyes shone in the specific light, made Megan's heart beat faster.

Still holding your hand, the Chinese girl felt like crying, but not from sadness, it was simply that feeling of love, soft and simple. That feeling of comfort and all those thoughts of how it could never end.

“Don't you think it was worth waking up early?” You asked, bringing Megan's hand to your mouth and kissing it.

Megan watched in amazement, every detail of the moment being stored deep in her heart. “Everything is worth it with you.”

Looking at Megan, you saw the way your girlfriend was looking at you. Her big eyes made you melt, and the way her hand fit into yours made your chest swell.

“I wanted some time alone with you, so I thought about it.” You said embarrassedly. Your cheeks were burning red, all because of the way Megan was looking at you.

Taking your face in her hands, Megan caressed your cheek, smiling at you before leaning in and kissing your lips. Your hands went to her waist with muscle memory, and your shoulders relaxed as soon as Megan sighed into the kiss.

“I love you.” The smile on her face made your smile appear.

You loved Megan, every detail of her made you feel like the luckiest person in the world, and all you wanted was to spend the rest of your life admiring her up close.

“I love you more.”

Hugging you, Megan laid her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she admired the different colors of the sky.

hi everyone, I hope you're all well.

this is really short because I'm running out of time, but I've wanted to make a fic with megan for so long that I had to make this one.

anyway, drink some water, stay safe

xoxo, spider.

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #kpop gg #gxg #kpop fluff #megan skiendiel x reader #katseye megan x reader #megan skiendiel thoughts 💭#spiderb00

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mommyslittlebird · 19 hours ago

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The Desire to Nurture

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: While settling into to your new living situation, you come upon an opportunity to be the one to taking care of Natasha, instead of the other way around.

CW: Mentions of injuries, white coat syndrome

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I apologize this one is still pretty short. I’m really struggling with platonic fluff and pacing things correctly, but the chapters will hopefully get longer as I get into things I’m more familiar with writing (i.e. romance and smut).

A/N: I got a little emotional at the end of this one.

Chapter 4 of A Room of Your Own

———————————————————

Settling into the house came easier than you anticipated. The days flowed in an easy rhythm of classes and time spent with Wanda and Natasha. You grew close to them rather quickly, perhaps by necessity or perhaps by some other worldly force pushing you together.

It was almost like a “love at first sight” type of situation. Granted, this wasn’t quite love, but there was certainly something. There was a sort of immediate familiarity, a magnetism that you couldn’t explain. It just seemed like you were meant to be around them.

Getting to know them wasn’t like getting to know two strangers you had only met a few weeks ago. It was like reintroducing yourself to a friend after years apart. There just seemed to be a pre-established baseline.

You surprised even yourself with how much comfort you were finding in physical affection. You had always been an affectionate person, but most people never saw that in you. You came off as standoffish to most, and they just assumed you didn’t like to be touched. You, being a little nervous about initiating physical contact, just accepted that people didn’t want to touch you. Sure it wasn’t something you were proud of, but you had sort of come to expect it. It didn’t necessarily make you sad; it was simply a fact of your life.

That is, until Wanda and Natasha came along.

Wanda’s touch was always gentle. She kept short acrylic nails that she would use to massage your scalp or run down your spine. She had found a spot on the back of head and neck that would put you in a boardline hypnotic trance when she scratched it. She couldn’t help but chuckle every time she felt your body relax and watched your eyes glaze over.

Your favorite spot on the massive couch in the living room became the leftmost armrest because Wanda's favorite spot was the leftmost cushion. You would sit slightly in front of her so she would idly rub your back while she watched tv or read her books.

Natasha always teased you. The L shaped couch was easily large enough to accommodate 8 people and yet you insisted on sitting on the armrest like all the other seats were taken. You didn’t mind the teasing though. It was no secret you were growing fond of Wanda and loved it when she gave you attention.

Natasha’s affection was always a lot more playful. She was certainly the less physically affectionate of the two. Sometimes it was just a little too much for her to be cuddled, and she needed a bit of space. But that didn’t stop her from giving you affection in her own little ways.

The woman was like a walking space heater, so she was always warming up your cold hands letting you stick your feet underneath her while she sat on the couch. Not to mention, always being hot usually meant she found relief in your cold extremities. She liked to grab your wrist and put your hands on her cheeks or the back of her neck.

You weren’t exactly sure how it started, but the two of you had a bit where one of you would fill their cheeks with air, and the other one would squeeze their face until the air came out in a funny, raspberry-like noise.

When she was feeling particularly impish, you and Natasha would play wrestle. Mostly, it just consisted of Natasha wrapping her arms around you and picking you up while you pretended to try to get away. Sometimes she would flip you upside down and throw your feet over her shoulder, which always earned her a chiding from Wanda.

You had adjusted your schedule to only have in-person classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You were going into healthcare, so with your general education classes out of the way, you were mostly just doing clinicals and labs anyway. You spent the other days with Wanda in her home office, silently working in the reading nook. The nook–previously pristine and untouched, flanked by two small, neatly organized–was now completely overtaken by you and your things. The decorative throw pillows were replaced with large, comfortable body pillows, and where there had been an ornamental, scratchy, wool blanket, there was now a fluffy grey throw covered in little sharks. Wanda did, at least, insist on keeping the blanket folded when you weren’t using it.

More and more of your things were starting to find their way out of your room in general. Wanda even hung up a picture of the three of you in the stairwell. It was from a time you’d gone out for ice cream and both you and Natasha had gotten chocolate all over your mouths. Wanda had chastised both of you, resulting in her getting a sloppy chocolate kiss from Natasha, and a kiss on the cheek from you, covering her face in chocolate as well.

You started to feel less like a guest and more like a roommate and a friend.

You still weren’t exactly clear on what Wanda and Natasha did for a living. You knew they both worked for Stark Industries, though they had very different positions there. From what you had gathered, they’d actually met there when they were assigned to the same unit. Wanda had since retired to a much more cushy position that she could do from home. Natasha no longer did field work, but rather switched to training new recruits. They had talked minimally about their jobs before saying they retired because they were getting older and didn’t want to spend their time getting shipped across the world on long ‘missions.’ What these ‘missions’ entailed was still unclear, but you got the sneaking suspicion you weren’t really supposed to know.

On one of these easy, slow afternoons, you sat in the living room with Wanda. The two of you were sitting side by side, reading, when you heard Natasha come in the garage door.

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite ladies,” she smiled, stopping to kiss Wanda on her way in. “How’s your day been, my love?” She slung her duffle bag off her shoulder and threw it in the corner. She grabbed her shoulder, wincing and sucking her teeth as a jolt of pain shot up her arm.

“Did you hurt your arm?” you asked, closing your book and turning your attention to them.

“Yeah,” Natasha groans, rolling her shoulder to relieve the pain. “I’m not sure what I did to it.”

“Do you think maybe it’s ‘cause you're almost 40 and you spend your days wrestling with 20 year olds?” you teased. Wanda laughed.

“First of all, almost 40 is brutal. I’m 38,” Natasha started, mouth wide like she was offended. “And second of all, I’m gonna wrestle your 20 year old ass into the ground.” She pounced on you, wrapping her arm around your thighs and picking you up upside down. You squealed and giggled, kicking your feet in a faux attempt to get away. After a few seconds though, Natasha gently laid you on the floor, grabbing at her shoulder again.

You stood up and reached out to touch her. “Are you okay?” you asked, quickly switching from silly and fun to serious and concerned.

Natasha nodded. “Yeah. I probably just need to rest it for a little while.”

“Can I look at it? That’s what I go to school for, you know,” you asked, gently grabbing her bicep.

“I thought you were going for philosophy or some shit,” she said, taking her hand away and allowing you to move her arm freely.

You gently moved her bicep, testing her range of movement. First and foremost, you needed to make sure she didn’t tear her rotator cuff. “I do that too, as a minor. I have an English minor as well, but those are more just hobbies.”

You poked around at her arm for a few more minutes, assessing as much as you could. “Nothing is dislocated and it doesn’t feel like anything is torn, but you should probably get an MRI just in case-”

“No!” Natasha interrupted harshly, tearing her arm from your hand. “It’s fine. I just need to rest it, like I said earlier.” She quickly moved away from you, fiddling nervously with the zipper of her bag.

You looked at her, confused, then to Wanda. Her lips tightened, as if she was trying to silently apologize for Natasha’s harshness. But in looking back to Natasha, you saw all you needed to know. She was afraid. Of all the horrifying things she’d faced in her life, Natasha Romanoff was scared of doctor’s offices.

You gently approach her from behind, saying her name in almost a whisper. “Natasha…”

She turned around to tell you off, but the look she received from both you and Wanda made her decide otherwise. You weren’t angry or stubborn. You weren’t even confused. You understood. She let out a breath she had been holding and visibly relaxed.

You both stared at each other in silence for a long moment before you spoke up. “We don’t need to talk about it. I understand,” you said in almost a whisper. “I have some things… here that might help, but we don’t have to do anything right now. I’m not gonna try to make you do anything right now.”

Natasha looked at her feet, anxious and embarrassed. “Yeah…” she finally said. “Yeah, just… let me take a shower really quick and we can talk after.”

You both headed upstairs, her to the shower and you to your school bag. Given your field of study, you had started carrying around a small bag of medical supplies: just full of basic things you were good and familiar with.

Natasha was out of the shower in under ten minutes and you met both her and Wanda in their room. Immediately, you could tell Natasha had calmed down quite a bit. Wanda was helping her wring out her hair while she tried not to move her shoulder. “Alright doc, what have you got for me?”

“Well, I have some menthol and methylsalicylate cream,” you said in an overly pretentious tone. “So, IcyHot, basically. And I have some kinesiology tape in…” you looked down into your pack, drawing out three rolls of tape, “blue for boys, pink for girls, and camo for… hunting expeditions? Take your pick.”

“Well, we all know I love a good hunting expedition. Give me the camo,” she chuckled.

“Alright,” you said, dropping the other two rolls back in your bag, “take off your shirt and get on the bed.”

“Woah,” Natasha teased, “at least take me to dinner first.”

Wanda chuckled, peeling the shirt off over her wife’s head and smacking her in the torso with it. “I don’t recall you being the type that needed to be wined and dined,” she retorted, playfully shoving Natasha face down on the mattress.

You crawled up on the bed, first kneeling next to Natasha, but then deciding it would be better to straddle her waist. You started in on her shoulder, gently massaging the sore muscles. She groaned with a mix of pain and relief. “Do you usually get this up close and personal with all of your clients?”

You shook your head, continuing to press the base of your palm into her back. “I don’t usually do this on a king size mattress.” As you started to rub the cream onto her shoulder, you couldn’t help but admire her back. She was so strong, toned with muscles from the base of her spine up to her broad shoulders. Her skin was so smooth and warm, surprisingly mostly unblemished despite her choice of career. Without thinking, you gently traced your hand down the side of her spine, taking in the soft expanse of her ribcage and shoulder blade.

You were torn from your drifting thoughts when Natasha said, “damn, while you're up there you should just do my whole back.”

“I will if you want me too,” you replied, not quite able to tell whether or not she was joking.

“You’re very good at this,” she groaned again as you circled a particularly tight muscle. “Even when you’re pushing on it like that, you’re very… gentle.”

You smiled and blushed a little at the compliment, wiping the excess cream from your hands with a cloth. You worked your way down her spine, diligently kneading the rest of her back. She started to make little noises as you made your way to her lower back. “Mmm… fuck that feels good.”

You turned your head to find Wanda, leaning in the bathroom doorway, smiling impishly. “Careful. You might make me jealous,” she quipped, but the look on her face told a different story. She looked to be enjoying this as much as Natasha was.

The look gave you a renewed sense of confidence. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position so you were now kneeling on Natasha completely. “I don’t normally do this with my patients, but since you’re so well behaved….” You leaned forward, pressing the full weight of your knee into the muscle just above her pelvis bone.

She hummed with delight. “Mmm, you might just be my favorite… physical therapist? Kinesologist? Is that what they call you?”

You chuckle. “I’m technically a ‘non-surgical orthopedist’, but right now I’m just your roommate kneeling on your back. This would be… frowned upon in my practice.” You shifted again, rolling off her back. “Alright, you can sit up. I’ll tape you up.”

Gently, you helped Natasha sit up. You carefully avoided looking down, fearing one glance at her bare chest might cause you to melt into the mattress. You grabbed a strip of the tape and stretched it carefully over her injured shoulder. “There. You can shower with it and everything. I’ll reapply it when it starts to come off. But you’ll have to limit physical activity and try not to lift anything too heavy. Including me, so don’t even think about trying to tackle me.”

You and Wanda helped her get her shirt back on over her head, giggling as she tried repeatedly to put her arm through the head hole. You sat back on your feet with a giddy, pleased smile on your face. It felt good to be the one helping them. You’d spent the past weeks trying to come to terms with being cared for by the two women. They had assured you as many times as you needed to hear it that they were doing this because they wanted to, because it made them happy too, but you had never truly believed them until right now.

Sure, maybe a massage wasn’t the same as completely opening your home to and caring for a person, but this feeling, this pride, of knowing you had been able to help and bring relief was elating. You spent so much time thinking of yourself as a thing that had to be dealt with, but maybe there was some inherent pleasure to nurturing as well. You felt good. You felt useful. You felt appreciated.

You’d read once about inmates in prison adopting pet roaches or toads because “... we all, in some form or another, have the desire to nurture.” Maybe that's what you did for them. Not in giving massages, or doing the dishes, or helping bring in the groceries, but in just existing here, for them to nurture and love.

The weight of your burden on them suddenly felt no heavier than that of a little bug in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. You were wanted here. You always were. But you could see it now. Not in the relief on Natasha’s face, but in the smile on your own.

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messyemmy · 2 days ago

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Fuck Love- Valentine's Day Grapejuice (fic) Flashbacks.

[This is part of the Grapejuice universe but can be read as a stand-alone one shot! Harry's best friend, Jack, is Y/n's younger brother.]

Premise: When your boyfriend stands you up on the most 'romantic' night of the year, Harry shows up with a sweet solution.

Grapejuice / Other Writing

Word count: 2.5k.

💗

The living room’s yellow lamps are the only lights casting through the empty house- empty other than yourself, curled up on the cosiest sofa- and it looks like it’s going to be a night of misery.

Dressed in such a pretty tulle-draped cherry red dress, matching heels discarded at the entrance hall, you really are having a pity party.

Being three hours late is one thing, it’s another thing to go radio-silent just as your boyfriend seems to have.

These dinner plans have been in the works since January, and even though you’ve come to expect this type of behaviour from him, hope had somehow riddled past the obvious- only to be dismissed once more.

A year ago, you might have still been waiting in the entrance hall until your feet ached along with your heart, frantically glancing out the window at any sign of car headlights, anxiety punching you in the gut over and over until eventually, you would end up on this same sofa, mulling in sorrow.

In the silence, you soak up sadness- only coming out of this haze when the soft sound of the front door unlocking garners your attention.

And then a mop of soft curly hair peaks round the corner, paired with the squishiest cheeks and softest smile.

Nobody needs to know how quickly your muscles relax at the reassurance of no longer being alone- even if that company happens to be your extremely annoying and antagonistic brother’s equally annoying and antagonistic best friend, Harry Styles.

Dressed in comfy dark grey sweatpants and his favourite navy hoodie, Harry looks so comfortable as he slips out of his scuffed trainers and neatly toes them off into the shoe pile.

He carefully sets down a pastel pink rectangular box on the nearest side table and offers no formal greeting as he meanders over to your wallowing figure.

There’s a thick coat of sympathy painting his stare- the type that you can see from afar, and it has your fists clenching at the thought of him feeling sorry for you. What a low blow.

His shoes stop just before the sofa and he peers down at you knowingly.

Though Harry’s face shows no sign of pity, it’s his words that have you wishing the earth would swallow him whole,

“Did he stand you up again?”

“Don't rub it in.” You warn, and his features instantly soften apologetically.

“Didn't mean any offence, Clutz.”

Harry cautiously sits on the arm of the couch, watching tentatively as your furrowed brows turn from one of frustration to one of hurt.

The type of face he rarely sees- and when he does, it scrunches his body with something he can’t quite find the word for.

All he knows is that he wants to do anything it takes to make things better, or at the least soothe that adorable frown decorating your glowing features.

The palm of your hand greets your forehead with a forceful press of disappointment, and for some reason, you can’t stop your head from shaking, nor can you stop the words suddenly whispering his way,

“I should've known.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to furrow in bewilderment, he certainly can't understand how you’re the one to blame for any of this.

Is this truly how you see things- that you’re in the wrong for having expectations?

“You shouldn't have to assume everything will end in disappointment.”

He plops down on the sofa with a soft thump, shifting himself comfortably to face you. It's a totally defensive reaction when your stare snaps and shocks his own, eyes squinting,

“And you should find a girlfriend you can prove that to.”

“I'd ask you if you weren't taken.” Harry shrugs off your dismissal like a pro, incapable of dimming his boyishness to pure darkness.

Perhaps it works, because your face is washed of all prior feelings of upset, and it looks like you’re fighting a fearsome battle against a smile peaking at the corner of your lips.

But just as easy as it was to settle, it’s just as easy to spiral, and now you’re a jumble of thoughts all surrounding Harry’s current intentions, suspiciously crossing your arms along your chest,

“What are you doing here? Thought Jack was out with Millie?”

“He is. ‘M just lonely.” Harry shrugs off the small sting of vulnerability,

“And I figured you might be here, feeling the same.”

“ I am not lonely, Harry.”

“Alone, then… On February fourteenth.”

Harry has his foot in his mouth and he doesn’t even know it- no clue that every word he utters is like venom in your veins, and you’re mere seconds away from taking out every ounce of hurt on him.

Hurt doesn't begin to cover it. This ‘relationship’ of yours is three and a half years past a fling- deep in the depths of a complicated, disconnected companionship that more often than not left you a tearful, insecure mess.

Your heart- and head- know that the relationship is fading, but security and closeness are not something you can find in just anyone- the threat of going from a duet back to a single 23-year-old is rather daunting.

Harry strolled his way right into the line of fire with his misguided attempts to express that he understands how you feel- that he knows you. Instead, it’s coming out like he enjoys the notion that this is how you spend your Friday night.

And he’s looking at you with those big clueless emerald eyes, practically begging to be lashed out at. His wish is your command,

‘Can you stop being so negative about my relationship?”

Harry’s shoulders stiffen in puzzled suspense. He knows he shouldn't be surprised or offended by your mood this evening- hell, his mood is no better, it’s just another year of pining over his wanting for you- but he hadn’t expected your anger to be fully directed his way.

He can feel the air between your bodies thickening with anger, and chooses his next words with great caution,

“I was just stating the facts.”

“Well, thank you Harry for rubbing it in that my boyfriend doesn't care enough about me to even show up for Valentine's Day.”

Your voice is louder than he likes, harsh and loaded with hurt. Pain that is clearly caused by his choice of words, and all in an instant, the realisation of how badly he has miscommunicated his desire to bond with you,

“I'm sorry.” He’s earnest, “I didn't think of it that way-”

“You never think, do you?”

“Alright, I deserved that one.”

Harry concedes with shame, hoping that the steaming anger spewing from your cutely flaring nostrils will soon fade, and it is fading, because that all too familiar fear of cruelty comes rushing back, convincing you that there’s no right to be upset- even if your feelings are hurt.

“Just… there's no need to pity me, alright?”

And you know he means no harm- he hardly ever does- how could Harry know the insides of your relationship if he’s never been in a serious one himself?

He should know better than to poke a grumpy bear, even in an attempt to be kind. He'll certainly know now,

It’s all you can ask of him, and Harry feels his mouth dry up at the implication that he sees you as anything less than perfect. How the hell can he make that clear?

“I don't pity you. I pity the man who chooses to be anywhere other than near you.” He’s watching for your reaction, “You'd have to be insane.”

“Tell him that.” You scoff with incredulity.

“I will. Give me your phone.”

“Absolutely not.” Suddenly Harry’s lurching for you, hands playfully roaming as he jovially searches for your phone.

And you’re arms are flailing, trying to swat him away in between exasperated giggles and gasps, “Harry!”

He stops his prodding, body leaning close enough that his senses are surrounded by your sweet jasmine perfume, and all you can do to stay sane under his hold, scolding,

“You’re a menace.”

Harry’s the picture of enjoyment as his entire face scrunches into an even greater smile- if possible- as he rides the high of your heartwarming laughter, willing to do anything to keep that gorgeous giggle playing on repeat,

“‘M gonna say, ‘Hey dickhead, open your eyes!’ And then I’ll whisk you away on a date.”

“You’ve got it all planned out, then.” How can you ignore the fondness you feel for Harry’s romantic valiance?

“Hold on a sec.”

Harry has a strike of genius, removing himself from your shared bubble with such sudden disregard that a shock of disappointment rattles your spine.

Your gaze trails his lanky figure as he heads for the entrance hall, quickly retrieving the mystery box from earlier.

With surprising relief at his haste, Harry removes the cardboard lid and sinks back down into the sofa cushions.

He shuffles closer until the searing brush of his cotton-clad knee makes contact with your now crisscrossed calf, and thank the heavens that the box he presents you is alluring enough to dismiss the rush of excitement his closeness evokes.

A container housing the most mouthwatering stack of thickly chocolate-drizzled brownies. Enough brownies to put your frazzled being into a comatose state.

Eyes oozing with hungry desire, Harry hides his pride well and offers the box your way,

“Here we go.”

To avoid almost snatching the box and needily digging in, you eye him up suspiciously, pondering the origin of these suspiciously alluring treats,

“Who were these meant for?”

“Me.” He states simply.

“Ah, one of your many suitors, or… suitress?”

“Curious, hm?” When you scoff shyly, Harry softly chuckles and clarifies, “From ‘m mum.”

“She’s the best.”

“No, they’re yours.”

Exhaling fondly, Harry carefully shakes the box like he’s offering a treat to a well-behaved puppy. You can only offer a bashful refusal,

Harry chuckles deeply and sets the brownies down on his lap before he picks one from the top of the pile and dramatically parts his puckered lips, letting his tongue and teeth lazily engulf the dense fudgy cake.

He moans filthily, chewing a couple of times before coaxing through bites,

“Oh, c’mon, you know you want one… Can see you eyeing them.”

“Shush.”

“C’monnnn Y/n, you know you wanna.”

Harry’s cutely tempting coos are almost too much to resist. Your eyes are darting from the brownies begging to be devoured, and the devious smile stretching across his entire face,

“I don’t want to indulge in anything Valentine's related.”

“Fuck love, you say?”

“Fine.” Harry agrees casually, because, of course, he already has a solution for this dilemma,

“These aren’t Valentine's brownies. They’re ‘fuck love’ brownies.”

That’s all the permission you need to soothe your sorrows with a sugary overload of chocolate comfort as you reach over with pathetic haste and grab ahold of the nearest brownie.

“Atta girl.” He praises.

The dessert disappears into your mouth with such momentum that Harry almost misses the entire thing.

But when he sees your ruby-stained lips coated in sweet chocolate and you continue to chew contently, Harry is a mess of all-encompassing love.

He embraces the love he has for you, as he has time and time before, and it always feels like the very first time he realised that he had been falling in love with you his entire life.

The two of you share a couple more brownies in pleasant silence, while Harry sneaks glances and observes curiously as your brows constantly shift from frustration to satiation- You can’t settle on sorrow or satisfaction.

But how can Harry say it aloud in a way that would make sense to either of you?

Because if it were so simple, he would profess it over and over, and perhaps you would be sitting here overjoyed instead of so overwhelmed with disappointment.

Harry’s going in for number three and your gloomy gaze is glued to your hand, still cradling a half-consumed brownie and presenting your new theory,

“I’m starting to think love is some cruel form of punishment.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Harry thinks being in love with you can be as painful as it is rewarding. Watching your heart lose hope more with each day, he feels a type of hurt that he imagines you must be experiencing with each disappointment.

And he can’t help that it makes him spiteful, and jealous, and perhaps he’s secretly praying for your relationship's downfall.

Which has him constantly riddled with guilt, but that fades in rare moments like these, when he gets a taste of what life loving you would entail.

Perhaps you don’t notice how normal- natural- it feels to spend time with Harry one-on-one because the dull ache in your chest has yet to subside, even with the warm comfort of Harry and chocolate dessert, it’s impossible to dismiss your heartbreak.

All you can muster is a disappointed sigh before finishing off the rest of your brownie, halfheartedly dusting the crumbs from your fingers and concluding,

“Fuck love, yeah?”

“Fuck love.”

Harry agrees- for your sake, and perhaps his own. But as the words are leaving his lips, bitter betrayal of the heart harshly burns his tongue, and if he doesn’t deter this moodiness soon, he risks throwing up all his honesty about loving you, as well as the brownies.

Chocolate was the first step in making up for a rough start to the evening, the second was to create a worthy distraction, and though he would prefer doing that with just his company, Harry fears he might further provoke your mood.

Harry’s about to spend the next couple of hours scorched beneath your bare soles, one palm resting along your ankle, desperately resisting the urge to caress the other along the slopes of your calves.

The safer bet is to suggest turning on the telly, which guarantees an avid nod from yours truly, reaching out for the remote.

He puts the remaining brownies on the coffee table, his breath hitching as your legs carelessly and comfortably stretch out and rest atop his mid-thigh.

Comfortable familiarity embraced you as soon as his hand wrapped around your exposed skin, and you began aimlessly scrolling, tilting your head to garner Harry’s attention,

“What should we watch?”

“You’ve got mail-”

“No romance.”

Harry won’t argue with you on that one- if pretending to be part of the ‘I hate love’ club will soothe you right now, he’ll do it. Even if it twists his insides with treachery.

“Right. Fuck love.”

The two of you continue debating over the perfect choice, and it’s a quick consensus to select the most action-packed thriller that any streaming service has to offer.

As the intro music fills the room with a foreboding melody, you try your hardest to ignore how easily you'll accept your boyfriend's apology tomorrow, and Harry tries even harder to pretend he isn’t so consumed with loving you that he’ll wait patiently when you do.

💗

Hope you enjoy it! Part 5 coming soon! - Emmy. xo 💞

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lostinlovingrevery · 16 hours ago

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Old man Logan with reader who is lonely, has no friends but is still a ray of sunshine with him, always trying to impress him and give him pretty gifts and getting all dolled up for him. She is sad inside though, apart from being his boyfriend, he is her only friend

My Ray Of Sunshine (Why Are You So Sad?)

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay! Started angsty, but I wanted it to be happy for both reader and Logan in the end. Loneliness is an awful feeling (smth I'm all too familiar with) If anyone ever needs to talk, my inbox is always open!! I had a little trouble figuring out where to go with this, so I hope this satisfies you!

Plot: You and Logan have been dating for some time, but you still feel the intense loneliness that wraps it's arms around you, him being the only one in your life - and you feel like he's not honest with you.

Warnings: Angsty, slight depression, mention of loneliness, happy endings

Word Count: 2021

"Hi Lo," You cooed as you answered the phone, a smile stretching across your face.

"Hey sunshine," You heard his gruff voice on the other line, giving your heart a flutter. You always loved the sound of his voice, no matter how gruff and cranky he could sound - he never takes it out on you though.

"You still coming over tonight?" You ask as you walk across the room, your fingers tapping along the small box that sat on your desk. A present you decided to get Logan, a nice little silver watch he can wear. There was a moment of silence, "Lo?"

A small sigh,

"Sorry. I can't. I have to work."

Your face fell, but you took a deep breath. "Oh, that's alright!" You say, putting on your best happy-go-lucky voice. You didn't want him to feel bad, just by the tone of his voice you could tell he was having a bad day. "We'll plan for another night baby. You get a request?"

"Yeah, Bachelors party." He says. "Big payout."

"Oooh....Nice paycheck then huh? You can make it up to me later by taking me out somewhere nice then." You tease. You couldn't see the fond smile on his face, but you could picture it.

"Yeah. We'll plan on it. Promise." He says. You chewed on your lip, as you felt that swell of emptiness build up inside you.

Another night alone.

"Sunshine?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your thoughts. "Sorry, sorry-" You laughed. "Zoned out again. What?"

"I gotta go, got a job. I'll call you later, or in the morning. That alright?"

"Yes, of course." You smiled. "Be safe, okay tough guy?"

You heard a warm chuckle, which made you relax. "Yeah, I will. See you doll."

You heard the phone beep and sighed. Alright.

You and Logan had been dating for a little bit. Meeting in a small little diner that you waitress at. It started as harmless flirting, but then you both managed to find yourself able to talk to each other so easily. Logan listened to you, seemed so openly accepting of you. How could you not be drawn to him?

You thought yourself a little ridiculous for gaining a crush on an older man like Logan, but then his weathered charm got to you - and you just couldn't help it. You'd slip him extra treats on the down-low, not charging him for them. An extra cup of coffee, a slice of apple pie, once you even managed to slip him a stack of pancakes. He'd smile at you and your antics as you slide the plate across the counter and give him a wink- his smile being something tired yet warm that made your knees weak and butterflies shoot through you.

You put more effort into your appearance, especially when you knew he was going to be there. Dolling yourself up - not your usual thing to do but when you got a man like Logan coming around...Well, it's hard not to want to look pretty for him.

It was you that finally convinced him to go on a date with you, and you surprised him by taking him to a gorgeous museum the next city over. You had wondered initially if he scoff at that- him being the gruff and older man he is, but he seemed to really enjoy it. He listened to you ramble on and on about Vincent Van Gogh, one of your favorite painters as you listed everything you knew about him, explaining the misconceptions about him as a painter and a person.

You took the charge of the relationship that formed between you. You planned dates, which seemed to make Logan happy- your infectious happiness- not rubbing off on him but more giving him some much needed relief in what you must believe is a very stressful life for him. He deemed you his sunshine, a pet-name you wore with pride.

You believe it's stressful- or rather assume. He never really told you about his personal life. You know he was a limo driver, you know he lived on the outskirts of town - you never been where he lived. He mentioned something about taking care of his father. He's shared a few stories- always seemingly missing information in them like he was purposely leaving out parts of them.

It made it worse by the fact that he really is the only person in your life right now. You adored Logan and did everything you could to make him happy because he was the only one to give your love to. You spend the time you can together, when he visits your work, or when he comes and stays with you for the night. He's busy though, so he's not really there as often as you wish he was.

Actually, you probably love him. You haven't told him that though. You always feel though that he's hiding something from you. It's disheartening really, he'll listen to you, he's heard your secrets but you never hear his. He refuses to bring you to his place, making some excuse that yours was nicer and maybe it was but you didn't care about that. It created a space between you, something you're not sure if Logan recognizes himself.

You moved to change out of the pretty yellow dress you had on to see Logan, wiping your makeup off and pulling your hair into a messy bun as you prepared to spiral into a night of anxiety, depression, and wine.

You settled on your couch, flipping the tv on, surfing through channel after channel. The night got darker and you got more and more tired. The shadows of your living room, seemingly your only company for tonight, closing in on you as the tv flickered over your curled up form.

Your eyelids grew heavy, as your felt the sinking feeling of your heart, reminding you that you were by yourself again. Inevitably wondering when will Logan leave?

Heavy knocks on your door startled you, as you sat up on the couch and confusion stretched across your face. Worry settled in you, as you had to wonder what shifty characters were knocking on your door at night?

You stood up and crossed the apartment, peeking through the peephole of your door, you're shocked to find Logan standing there. You gasped, stepping back to unlock your door and open it.

"Logan?"

"Hi sunshine." He greeted you, and smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his smile lines became more prominent. He held a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand.

"What are you...What are you doing here?"

"I missed ya." He says gently, a lingering gruff in his voice. "Can I come in?"

You bit your lip, and nodded. Still, your lingering feelings stuck in the back of your head. Stepping back, you forced a smile up at him as he stepped inside, holding the bouquet up.

"I figured you'd like them because...You know. That painter who- Are you okay?" He stopped, squinting at you, as he watched your eyes met with the bouquet, and tears filled your eyes. "Hey, hey sunshine, what's wrong?" He asks softly, bringing his hand up to your chin, tipping it upwards to look up at him. You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Sorry-" You say pulling away from him, wiping your eyes. "I'm just happy to see you..." You lied through your teeth. His eyes, he looked tired.

"Don't know about that sweetheart..." He mutters, examining your expression. "What is it? The flowers? You hate em?"

"No." You let out a small laugh, crossing your arms. He turned to shut the door behind him, locking it before setting the flowers on a nearby table, his hands coming to rest on your arms.

"Well?" He looks down at you, his face serious, but his eyes held concern. "You don't need to pretend with me darling."

You were caught off guard by him, showing up suddenly when you felt your worst. Your instinct screamed at you to push him away, to pretend that it was all okay. You didn't want to bring him down. Your anxiety peeked at the idea that he may be disappointed by this version of yourself, that he would see the lonely person you are, and leave because he wouldn't want to deal with you.

But they way he looked at you, you couldn't help it as the dam broke, and he pulled you tight to his chest, holding you as you cried.

"I'm sorry doll. I didn't mean to hurt you by canceling." He says softly, his hand petting your hair gently.

"No..No, it's not you." You sniffled, stepping away for a moment. "I...I just feel so alone sometimes. I like you a lot Lo, I love us spending time together but when you're not around I'm just by myself and it...It's just terrible."

Logan brows creased, as he brought a hand to cup your cheek. "I didn't know." He says gently. You let out a shaky sigh and looked back up at him.

"You're the only person in my life." You continue. "I don't feel like I don't completely know you though. Not like how you know me. I feel like you're keeping things from me or that you're...Only sticking around temporarily."

"That's not true." He says quickly, and firmly. "I care about you sunshine." His thumb wiped away a tear. "A lot. More than I have a right too. You're....Everything sweetheart. I count myself a damn lucky guy that I met you, that you let me be apart of your life. "

You swallowed and nodded, looking away as you let out a small sigh. You both stood there in silence.

"I..." He started. "I don't know how to stop you from feeling alone but...I get it. You're right. I haven't told you the whole truth."

He grabbed your hand, leading you over to the couch, as you both sat down.

"You ready for this?" He asks.

~~~~~~~~

You stood outside the hot desert sun, as you look around the barren horizon. Logan let out a small cough, as he puffed on the cigar that he was smoking.

"It's quiet." You say.

"Yeah." He nods, his eyes trailing over you as he tried to read your body language.

After an intense conversation last night, you both passed out on your couch. When you woke up in the morning, Logan had you get dressed, and brought you to his...well, where he lives. Can't really call it a home.

That was you.

He felt terrible when you admitted to him everything you struggled with. He adored the way you always seemed to be optimistic, the way you got yourself all dolled up for him, the way you tried to spoil him and every way possible. That's not why he liked you though. He liked your character, he liked the person you are. Not just for what you do for him. You were a fresh breath of air for him. His sunshine.

He wished you see yourself the way he does. You're always encouraging him, to look at himself and see himself as a good man. He didn't know how long he got but he'll spend every second with you to prove you are the most wonderful and loveable person.

You looked at him and smiled. The sunlight gleamed off his new watch that you gifted him. He finished the cigar, flicking it to the ground and stomping it out with the heel of his shoe, before putting an arm around your shoulders.

"You ready to meet the old man?"

"Uh Lo, you're right here." You tease, wrapping your arm around his waist. He chuckled warmly.

"Real cute." He mutters shaking his head, as he led you to the decrepit water tower. He went to the door, and slid it open, a harsh grunt escaping him as it rolled open, he stood to the side and waited as you walked in.

Inside you saw two men. One, sitting in a chair reading a comic book, looking up at you. He had white skin, and yellow eyes. That one must be Caliban.

"Hello dear-" The other man greets. An older gentleman, lying in a bed with a warm smile. You smiled back as he reached his hand out to you, and walked over and took it. "I've heard so much about you from Logan. It's nice to finally meet you. Tell me...Which of Van Goghs paintings is your favorite?"

#OOOOF #i'm hoping this came out in a way you like nonny!#i had a million different situations to try to type out but this was the one that stuck?#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fic #vans daydreams #old man logan #old man logan x reader #angst #old man logan angst

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