#tired before i think the break was useful. but as you can see i have a lot of opinions about Serena Campbell's existence and her narrative

[deadhands69]

I know this trope is done to DEATH but I love the idea of personal knight katsuki and royal reader🥺

Katsuki who’s maybe a few years older than you, who loves to watch you sit in the courtyard, and lets you read to him because you can see he’s paying attention. Katsuki who pretends he hates how you practically give him a fashion show every morning in your new gown but it’s his favorite thing you do. Katsuki who’s there when you’re sobbing over the death of your beloved horse, you’re clinging to him as he softly talks you down. Katsuki who sits outside your door listening to the soft moans that come from within, hard as a rock in his gear, knowing that you’re calling his name, debating whether to stay out here or go inside and help his beloved girl.

I hope you can see my vision 🧐

-🌸

Hi 🌸!

Hope this is what you were thinking, I haven't written a knight/royal au before so it was a fun challenge!

Katsuki Bakugo stands at the door, feeling himself grow harder against the constraints of his armor. Through the cracks in the thick wooden door at his back, he can hear your soft moans floating through the air. It’s certainly not the first time. He’s been your personal knight for years, with you through everything. It’s his job to guard your door, regardless of what you’re doing in your chambers, but typically you at least try to muffle the pretty sounds you make. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you want him to hear it.

No, that can’t be it.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing himself to regain composure for your sake. It’s no use, his mind drifts to forbidden territory. The way you looked in your new gown this morning. How you like to pull his visor up, gaze never leaving his face when you drag him by the hand through the meadow to pick flowers. Today you looked into his eyes, the same way you always do and he had to fight off every fiber of his being screaming at him to kiss you. He can only imagine the taste of your lips. The taste of - no, spending time with you is his job and it wouldn’t be fair to you if he indulged in these thoughts. It’s not his place. No matter how much he wants it to be.

He fusses with his armor to distract himself. Trying to make room for the growing erection he tries in vain to will away. 

“Katsuki,” your voice drifts into his ear.

Taking his glove off, he rubs his eyes. It’s been too long without sleep and now he’s hearing things. 

But he isn’t. 

Once more, your voice sings to him through the door like a siren song calling him to the rocks. “Katsuki, please,” your breath catches, dragging the last syllable into a whimper.

Visions of you moaning into your pillow, waiting for him flood his brain. You need him. And isn’t it part of his job to tend to your every desire?

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, hand hovering over the door latch. His fingers clench into a fist as he turns away, pacing the hall outside your chambers. 

“Please, I’m so close,” your voice calls out once more, absolutely breaking through any ounce of willpower he had left. Pressing through the heavy door, he finds you in your undergown. The soft linen bunches at your hips, your tired hands moving back to the bed as you press yourself up on your elbows. He slams the door shut, barring it from the inside before moving to kneel at your side. You’re still panting, eyes heavy lidded and cheeks flushed as you reach to remove his helmet. He knows you’re strong, but helps you anyways. The heavy pieces of his armor and chainmail clink to the floor until he’s down to the padded shirt and thin pants that do nothing to hide how turned on he is.

Reaching for his cheek, you pull him in until his lips meet yours. You taste sweeter than he ever could have dreamed and he can’t get enough. He hovers over your body, pressing you back to the bed before kissing his way down your neck. Through the thin white fabric, he feels your nipples harden under his touch. His hands slip lower, grabbing the backs of your legs. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, but deep down he already knows your relationship crossed the lines of proper long ago. All those days spent with you reading to him. Holding you through hard times. This is just the natural progression of things. 

“Need you,” you murmur down at him and all hesitation is lost. 

“You have me,” he taunts back. Lifting the material of your gown out of the way, he slides to the floor, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. He kisses his way up your legs while moving them over his shoulders until his face rests on your inner thigh. His hot breath teases over your aching skin. 

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles into you. Your fingers run through his messy hair, giving you a better view of his face.

His chapped lips move over your folds, finding you dripping wet already. You weren’t lying when you said you were close. Passionately, he slides his tongue in and out of you, nose pressing hard into your clit. There’s nothing he’s ever wanted more than to hear you moan his name again (other than you running away with him and living happily ever after but he’ll start small.)

“Katsuki,” you cry breathlessly, “you feel so amazing.”

And he does, every lick rippling through your body like fire. Clenching his hair harder, you shove your hips into his face. His movements stutter as he whimpers at the feel of his slick mouth grinding over your cunt, teeth lightly brushing your most sensitive areas. 

“I’m gonna cu-” 

“Do it,” he pants before his tongue delves back into you. 

For a moment, you swear you could see stars. Forgetting when and where you are, like nothing outside the room exists or matters. He exhales hard, face collapsing into you as you slowly run your fingers over the side of his face, around his ear, and down his neck.

Eventually, he sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Climbing onto the bed, he holds you and you savor every moment of it - not knowing how long it will be before you’ll be alone like this again.

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au)

jihoon x fem!reader 2.7k words warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, dry humping, blowjob, needy jihoon cos why not, made so quick cos I was missing him and he has been living in my mind rent free since the day i saw him on the carts ( i wasnt same since then and thoughts have been thunk so here's a fraction of those thoughts ), just a short one, but thinking of making a part two continuation. enjoy!

“You alright?” The silence breaks, as the words from your mouth betrayed yourself. You didn’t really want to speak first, although you did feel the air has now gotten a little lighter compared earlier.

It was Seungkwan’s stupid plan; the guys had been sick of staying up all night after hours of practice for a few days now just to please their dear producer. No one can seem to thaw him, moreso pinpoint where the tension is rooted from. Obviously, it was self-inflicted pressure. Jihoon can’t understand why nobody seems to meet his expectations lately and it got bad to the point of Seokmin blaming himself for what seemed like delays but aren’t as they still got plenty of time before the next comeback. Seungkwan, hurt, seeing his talented friend’s self-esteem chase tears down his cheeks, stepped up by calling you over because “maybe you can do something about your best friend,” as he said.

Jihoon sighed as he slumps his body deep in his chair. You’ve made your presence known since earlier when Soonyoung was trying to ease the tension but you kept your mouth shut or else Jihoon might explode knowing you’re just going to take the poor boy’s side who was even more in tears brought therein by your comforting strokes on his arm. “You came here for what exactly?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed at his words. “Seungkwan called me. For some reason I thought I was coming for a celebration and yet…”

Silence takes over once again. The boys had long been gone since Bumzu initiated that everyone should take a breather first, and secretly asking you to stay and maybe help clear up your friend’s mind. “I don’t even know why the boys kept on doing this, okay? Suddenly all the pressure’s on me whenever you’re acting up.”

You did not want to say it, but it had been a long day at work and hearing his snarky voice ticked you in a bad way.

“I am just tired.” Jihoon says almost immediately, as if not wanting you to say anything more. He massaged his temples and continued, “...tired as fuck.”

“But that does not excuse that kind of attitude!” you stood from the couch, rising with the tension inside the room. “You’re being too hard on the boys and yourself. Again.” You cursed under your breath, realizing the cringy tone that just left your mouth. The last time the same exact nagging tone came out, Jihoon’s anxiety was having a field day in his brain just like earlier, and you did not expect what happened after.

And then it came to you. Soon you were flooded with flashbacks from what happened that night: Jihoon aggressively pinning you by the door, meaning to actually open it and let you out, when all of a sudden you pulled him into an embrace in an attempt to calm him down, crashing your lips to his after a long eye-fucking, breath kissing when you caught him off guard, blushing from the sudden warmth. Not long after he responded, kissing you hard as if you were not just shedding tears arguing with him over his sharp words when you were just asking him to simply breathe during a heated exchange with Soonyoung over the phone. The kiss went wild yet slowly turned comfortable as he kept on apologizing, feeling your hot tears meet his burning red cheeks. You figured he needed it that time, like a de-stressor of some sorts, and so you let his mouth conquer yours as a way to help.

That kiss went longer than what friends could actually share. But if it's the only way to keep your friend sane that moment, you suppose you can let him use you as long as he is not going to be weird about it right after. Which he did, or so you thought.

Because that day never left his mind. He was not sure why you let him kiss you like that that night, nor why you did not even bother to ask about it days, weeks after. A bit hurt that it seemed like a casual thing for you, but for him it meant healing, washing away the anxiety clouding his thinking. That moment stayed on his mind unhealthily long, almost turned into songs he would never write and let you hear, even causing him to get wet dreams for quite a while. But of course, no one could know. Not about the kiss. Not even his budding feelings towards his best friend.

“Jihoon-ah…” you exhaled, turning his swivel to face you. “I can help, Just… tell me how..”

Both of you had the same thing in mind, he needed you just like that night. But why does he find it hard to admit it? 

The guy blushed in pink, avoiding your eyes at all cost, acting as if in deep-thought. “I…”

“Look at me,” he obeys in a second, but his eyes can't help but fall into your lips inches away from him. “Do you want…. my help?”

He nods subtly as an answer, but you can’t just accept that. You needed him firm, an answer to also clear your doubts about the way his eyes are glued to your lips, his ears blushed to the reddest of red, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when you leaned in closer: is he nervous because he’s uncomfortable? or was he nervous because you suddenly make him be?

“Yeah…” his breath hitches, the side of your lips upturns.

“Then say it—”

“I need you,” he reveals his innermost desire as he scrambles to his feet and catches your lips like he has been waiting for it for centuries.

Just like the first time, the kiss deepens instantly as you two found a comfortable position on the couch, you settling on his lap, arms around his shoulders. You two couldn't even care less if the door had been left unlocked when the people had left. It’s just your mouth sharing warmth with his; tongues dancing together in harmony. Just like the first time, he was craving for more, and he was able to relay that message when his teeth grazed at your lower lip, causing a moan to escape your lungs. He too groaned and by then you realized he is now rock hard underneath your heat, his thin shorts revealing himself to your clothed mound. 

“Fuck…” you did not expect yourself to be so turned on knowing you made your best friend erect just like that. All you did was wet kissing and well, maybe sitting right above his cock was what it all took.

You arched your back when you felt him squirm underneath you. He was definitely trying to move and find his rhythm, you thought, so you matched with his and rolled your hips against his erection.

“Damn….” he moaned so deeply with his hoarse voice. The friction between your clothed pussy and his bulge was enough to send you dripping to your core. Not even him, the most rational person you knew, can think straight at a moment like this: does he want to kiss your neck or pull you for another tongue wrestling? Does he want to tear all the annoying garments away from you? Does he want to set his cock free and let you sit on it, ride it if it’s too tempting for you? There’s one thing he knows though, he does not want to stop humping for now. The kind of pleasure the friction is giving him, plus the fact that he was doing such an erotic activity with not just any person but his best friend he had been fantasizing about lately was enough to send him nuts. He cannot even fathom what would happen if this escalates to something more, just having your warmth and your equally heightened libido had his focus on the now.

“You’re so hard, Jihoon.”

It felt so good and ego-boosting at the same time. Is he having a good time as well? He seems to like it as much as you do. His erection and hip movements to meet yours say it all: he wants you so bad and you feel proud someone actually desires you that much. When even was the last time you got laid? Was it a very long time ago? You aren’t sexually active yourself, and surprisingly, you’ve never been in a serious relationship as well. Maybe it wasn’t your priority, but having this heated session with your friend, you realized, you also craved to be touched, and be wanted. You wanted to be kissed deeply and ravenously, to be held possessively, and to be wanted as hungrily as how Jihoon was making you feel. Exactly as how Jihoon is obsessing for all that you are right now.

“Touch me. Please, Jihoon…” 

The dry humping must have had a drug, you thought. How come having all these annoying barriers on your skin makes all these way hotter than you thought it could be? Especially when Jihoon’s feisty hands made their way from your waist to the insides of your shirt while his sloppy kisses made their way to your neck. His cold hands cupping your breasts send electricity to your spine, causing you to moan out his name as dirty and needy as possible. Who could blame you, he was making you feel so good. His hands that created masterpieces are now invading your privacy, so sweetly yet so heavy with emotions. It was as if he was milking out lyrics to an explicit love song out of you, to match the melodies coming out of your lungs that harmonize with his.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” he managed to say between breaths, as he enjoys playing with your now slightly free breasts that had slipped out of your bra. He is still a boy, you found that out long time ago, when you’ve caught him subtly staring at your chest during that one listening party night you were his plus one at a bar hosted by a producer friend and you just had to wear something skimpy and rather revealing, something to match the R&B vibe of the album. He did catch himself as well staring that time, and proceeded to lend you his suit because “the bartender was having the time of his life flirting with you," - went his alibi.

“Yeah? That’s why you wanted me so bad huh?—oh shit!” you moaned out loud when his hold on you became heavier, pushing you down to his hardened cock as if there were anymore spaces left in between.

Mouths agape, together you humped against each other's heat, only moans were resonating inside his studio alongside a minute sound of the friction cause by the fabrics.

“Fuck I think gonna cum, fuck,” Jihoon cursed, while his eyes were shut and his teeth gritted to concentration. “Fuck,” he humps against you harder as curses kept on rolling from his tongue, while your hips rolled faster to meet his tempo, moans pitched higher and higher. You were also close, and suddenly you were reminded this isn’t about you. You were helping your friend. And you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Wai-wha—what are you doing?” his voice sounded annoyed but you know better than to answer him. Legs folding on the floor as you positioned yourself in between his, not wasting time in pulling twice the constraints that were his shorts and underwear. His cock sprung healthily, all pink and angry, veins bulging out as if wanted to be traced by your tongue.

He hissed out of breath, confused if he wanted to surrender on the couch or look at you in a position he had only dreamt of once. 

No words need exchanging as you started sucking him off right there, mixing his precum with saliva, coating him down until your mouth can take. He had praises for you behind his teeth but all he could let out were needy guttural moans that translated how good you were making him feel anyway. You let his moans and the sight of him all sweaty and consumed fuck your system as the pool in your south continued to dampen your undies, the insides of your thighs getting ticklish, missing the attention it has gotten from him. Oh how badly you wanted him to fuck you right then and there, how badly you want him bucking his hips and drilling you so deep, how badly you wanted this thick cock of his inside you, stretching you oh so painfully yet so pleasurable.

“fuck… cant… anymore…” his shaky words were almost inaudible from all the dirty noises he was making, sounding even more gibberish while his body moved erratically to fuck your mouth, hands glued to your head to try to get his momentum, which did not take long as strings of cum exploded inside your mouth. You were quick to swallow, but most of his loads were still overflowing, racing down to your chin straight to your neck. It was one heck of a view, he thinks, as his chest heaves chasing his breath while appreciating a bit of the scene: his softening cock popping out of your mouth, before almost passing out.

“that was… really good.” it was probably an understatement to the euphoric climax he just had; his mind was still hazy from the release so he cannot find the correct words to tell you. But you were fine, the moans already sounded like praises to you. “That feels much better than I do with my own.”

“Of course it would,” you gave him a peck on the corner of his lips, and then dusting off the wrinkles on your clothes and adjusting your bra. “Takes two to tango.”

Confusion was then plastered on his face when you began fixing your hair and proceeding to face your back to grab your bag you left by the table. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving?”

“Who said you are?”

Somewhere in the room, his phone rings which he attentively checks. The name wasn’t supposed to annoy the hell out of him, but right now it almost spelled like a curse to him.

“You’re not leaving, please.” he grabs your hand as he takes the call from Bumzu. He knows you did not have your release, and he doesn’t want you carrying all that unreleased tension inside you when he himself had the best one tonight. 

You heard the other line asking how he was feeling now and that he had left something inside the studio and if it’s okay to go and get it. Jihoon agrees, not without a defeated sigh and a click of his tongue only you can hear.

“You know the passcode right? I think I’ll take my leave tonight, I don’t think I can wring anything out of my mind at this rate.”

You looked at him while shaking your head as a smirk forms on your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at him as if asking him what he was saying.

“Sure, actually we’ve been meaning to tell you that.” Bumzu seconds him, and asks about you right after. You heard him say Seokmin and Seungkwan had been asking if you weren’t busy and maybe hangout for a while as a way to thank you from earlier. Both guys had always been the sweetest among the bunch and although it was only out of courtesy, Jihoon can’t help but fume in jealousy, making himself lie to keep you in his (and ONLY HIS) sight for a while.

“She just left, I think she said she’s going for an early appointment tomorrow,” and ends the call soon when Bumzu bids his farewell and hopes of him getting well.

“I didn’t know you can lie to your brothers,”

“For an emergency yeah,” he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and now he was already leading you out of his studio to the elevator.

“You could just say you’re sending me home, that would sound a lot better,”

And then what, you finding out about how the guys had been teasing him about you since day one? Of course, he won’t let that happen. Not until he finds the time to finally be honest with himself and to you.

“So… my place or yours?”

-

stay tuned for part two for the hoo-haa ;)

[girlthingamie]

“Hey sis, wanna go for a walk?”

You don’t think much of it. This family reunion is getting boring and stressful so I’m asking if you want to go smoke in the woods before having to come back for dinner, not the first time. It’s chilly out so you tell me you’re going go to grab a hoodie, but I throw one of mine at you before you can take a step away. “Come on, don’t waste time,” I say as I roll my eyes. You pull the hoodie over your head slowly, breathing in deep as the scent of me floats off the fabric. Watching you huff my clothes makes me a little hard just as it makes you a little wet when you look up from it to see me smirking at you. Neither of us think much of it.

As we walk down the street you instinctively grab my hand and stick close to my side. An old habit from when we were little. Mom used to make us hold hands when we went out on our own so that you wouldn’t wander off. It was always my job to keep an eye on you. To keep you safe. Neither of us think much of it.

I light up my cigarette as we enter the woods, but when you reach to grab my pack out of my hands I pull it away. You look at me puzzled but when the words “Earn it,” come out of my mouth your look turns to a mix of excitement and fear. “Let’s play chase for it.” Your eyes widen. “1… 2… 3…” You break out running after spending the first few seconds frozen. You’ve made it pretty far when you hear me shout out “30.” The excitement fills both of our minds. The thought of me catching you... neither of us can think of much else.

You're a little out of shape, it's been years since we played like this. We stopped when you started getting bullied by the other girls your age for still playing with your big sis. I'll admit, I was pissed off at that. I always liked the feeling of chasing you through the woods. No matter how old we got. Regardless, you start to tire out quicker than you used to. Even though you can't hear me yet, you start to get the feeling that I'm getting closer. A sort of sixth sense I trained into you from the early age we started playing these sort of games. You never thought much of it.

You stop to catch your breath, leaning against a tree. You couldn't have anticipated me sneaking up on you. You couldn't have anticipated me hiding on just the other side of that tree trunk. You feel me exhale smoke on the nape of your neck as I come up behind you, but I grab you by the waist before you have a chance to react. Before you know it, you're pinned against the tree. The stench of both of our sweat is strong. For a second, it's all either of us can think of.

I look at you dead in the eye with the end of my cig between my teeth. "Looks like you lost. No smoke for you." I blow the last puff of smoke into your face. "In fact that was so pathetic of a loss..." I glance down and with one hand lift up the sweater I gave you revealing a bit of tummy. I squat down to be up close to the exposed skin and put the cig out on you with my mouth. You squirm from the pain, but you know better than to try to writhe away, another lesson from childhood. I let the cigarette butt fall to the dirt and place a gentle kiss on the burn mark. My lips, your tummy, both so soft. For a second, it's all either of us can think about.

I look up at you and lock into what feels like an hour of eye contact as we both realize how fucking hot that was, our minds racing through different thoughts and emotions. "We should uh.. probably head back. Don't want to miss dinner, right?" I say through heavy breaths as I stand up without breaking eye contact. I turn around and take a step but you grab my arm and pull me right up against you, sandwiching yourself between me and the tree. You kiss me. Eagerly. Desperately. You need it. I need it. I kiss you back. I run a hand under the sweater, my sweater, that stands between me and your soft skin. You moan a little into my mouth as you feel your big sister grope your chest. We stay out there for hours. We don't make it back for dinner, but neither of us think much of it.

[nyrasvoid]

To Tame a Dragon

♡ Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: As the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra, you and your family are summoned to King’s Landing under mysterious circumstances. Upon your arrival, you quickly discover that you’re betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your strange uncle who never seemed to have an ounce of affection for you.

⚝ Warnings: Arranged marriage, Aemond being a cruel and possessive husband, degradation (uses of “slut” and “whore”), smut (with another lord for now but very short), manipulation, angst, toxic relationships, dub-con elements, slow burn and kinda enemies to lovers dynamic.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ A/N: for now they kinda hate eachother and reader has a lover but dw cause she will actually end up with Aemond lol. Also if you have any suggestions for the following parts my inbox is open

⭑ Word count: ≈2.3k

You and your family had arrived at King’s Landing under strange circumstances. The journey from Dragonstone had been long and tiring, and yet, no one could tell you exactly why you were being summoned to the Red Keep. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had tried to get answers, but no one seemed willing to speak plainly to her.

The moment you set foot on the steps of the Red Keep, you noticed it: their cold indifference. The greens did not welcome you, did not offer the courtesy that you expected from family. It was as if you and your kin had been erased from the family tree entirely.

“You see that?” Your brother Jacaerys whispered, his voice laced with disgust as he looked toward the hall where Aegon and the others stood. “Not a single one of them steps forward to greet us.”

Daemon, walking beside him, clenched his jaw. “They think us beneath them.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, his words carrying the sting of resentment. “They are reminding us of who they believe holds the true power.”

Your mother’s eyes flashed with a quiet fury, but she said nothing, instead leading the way.

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

As you were escorted to your chambers by a guard, you exchanged a glance with your maid Ella, your trusted friend who had accompanied you on this journey. She followed you inside, her steps quick as she moved to help you settle.

“What do you think this is all about?” you asked her, your voice tight with frustration. “Why have we been summoned here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, my lady. They haven’t said anything to me. But there is a feast tonight. That’s all I was told.” Her hands worked to remove your traveling cloak. “Let me help you get ready.”

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. “A feast? At a time like this?”

She gave you a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s tradition, princess. You must attend.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was little you could do. You had to go. You had to pretend to care for the show, though your mind was filled with only one thing: why were you here?

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

The banquet hall was filled with lords and ladies, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and wine. You sat at the long table, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel small in the green’s presence, especially as Aegon’s gaze drifted over you.

But the worst of it was Aemond. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you refused to meet his gaze.

As you conversed with your brothers, the topic of the greens came up once again.

“Look at them,” Jace muttered, his voice low. “They think they can get away with this. Not even a word of greeting when we arrive.”

“They can all rot,” you said bitterly. “I can’t stand any of them.”

Daemon smirked. “But that’s what they want, isn’t it? They want us angry. They want us to break.”

You nodded, a sense of frustration building in your chest. “I refuse to bend to them. But I can’t even figure out why we’re here. What do they want from us?”

Before anyone could answer, a voice interrupted.

“Princess,” a lord from one of the great houses stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

You blinked in surprise, but a smile quickly tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’d be delighted.”

The lord’s hand was warm as it held yours, and the two of you made your way to the dance floor. He was handsome, tall and with a charming smile that made your heart flutter. As the music played, you flirted with him lightly, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your waist and the way he made you forget about the tension at the table.

But across the room, you couldn’t ignore the sharp gaze of Aemond. It burned through you, dark and possessive.

Aegon, ever the troublemaker, leaned toward his brother, a smirk on his lips. “You know,” he said loud enough for Aemond to hear, “if you’re not going to make a move, I’ll happily do it. She’s got quite the figure, doesn’t she? Those breasts, I’m sure you’ve noticed. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her for myself, brother.”

“I think I’m capable enough of fulfilling my marital duties, brother” Aemond finally muttered, his eyes locked onto you with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You returned to your seat after the dance, still smiling from the interaction, only for the King to call for silence. The room fell still, all eyes on him as he stood, ready to make his announcement.

“My lords and ladies,” the King’s voice echoed across the hall, “I have an important announcement to make. It is with great pride that I announce the betrothal of my granddaughter, to my son, prince Aemond Targaryen.”

You looked to your mother, but she was frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Rhaenyra stood, her voice shaking with fury. “What is this? You did not consult me, didn’t even let me know this decision was being made. You rejected my proposal years ago of marryimg Helaena to Jace, and now—”

But the King cut her off. “The decision is final, they will marry. The advantages to the realm are clear.”

Rhaenyra’s hands curled into fists. “You think I’ll allow this?” she hissed. “You think I’ll stand by and let you make this decision without my consent?”

“Enough,” the King snapped, his voice cold. “This is for the good of the realm.”

The tension in the room was palpable as your brothers attempted to speak on your behalf, but the King remained unmoved.

You felt your heart break. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say a word as you watched the man who had always been indifferent, cruel even, be forced into your future.

You stood quickly as you stormed out of the hall. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t bear to hear any more.

You reached your chambers, the door slamming shut behind you as you threw yourself onto the bed, tears spilling from your eyes.

Not long after, you heard a knock at the door.

It was your mother, entering the room quietly. “Darling, I know this is difficult,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “But you must understand… this betrothal—it’s for the good of the realm. You will see that, in time.”

You wiped your tears angrily. “I don’t care about the realm, mother! I don’t want this. I don’t want him!”

Your mother sat beside you, taking your hand in hers. “I know. I know, my sweet girl. But this is the way it must be. For now, we endure.”

You shook your head, still crying quietly. “I don’t want to endure this. I don’t want him.”

She gave you a sad smile, kissing your forehead. “It’s not about what we want. It’s about what we must do.”

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The sun hung high in the sky as you met with your closest friends. Floris Baratheon, Lysa Tully, and Serene Martell were already sitting under the large oak tree. It was supposed to be a relaxing break from the madness of your betrothal.

“We heard, my lady. About the betrothal. How are you feeling?” Floris asked, her voice full of concern. She was always so direct, unlike Lysa, who was quieter but equally perceptive.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, taking a seat next to them. “It feels like my life is already over before it’s even begun. I’m being forced to marry Aemond. A man I barely know, a man who doesn’t care about me. I don’t even have a say in it.”

Serene, leaned in. “Well, your life might not be over just yet. You always have the option of finding yourself a lover.”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at that. “A lover?” you echoed. “Maybe I could find one.”

Lysa chuckled. “Well, I’ve heard things about Aemond. The rumors say he’s cruel, that he’s got a temper, that he punishes those who displease him.”

Floris nodded, her brows furrowed. “I’ve heard those rumors too. And honestly? I don’t blame you for being upset. Who wants to marry someone like that?”

You sighed heavily. “It’s like my whole future has been decided for me. I can’t escape it.”

Serene raised an eyebrow playfully. “At least you’ve got options, my lady. You’re not trapped in the same way as us. Who knows? Maybe that lord you danced with at the feast would be the one to give you the freedom you’re looking for.”

Your heart skipped at the mention of Lord Garrick Redwyne, who had captivated you at the last feast. He was bold, charming, and you could tell he also took an interest in you.

“You know, you might be right,” you said, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “I did meet a very handsome lord at the dance. Lord Garrick Redwyne. We danced and… well, maybe he could be the one to offer me some much needed distraction.”

Floris snorted. “Aemond can’t even stand a chance against someone like him. I mean, honestly, have you seen Aemond? I’m sure he’s not good for much other than looking brooding and scary with that missing eye of his.”

Lysa and Serene laughed in agreement. “You should go for it,” Serene added, her voice low but encouraging. “Let him give you what Aemond never will.”

You paused, your mind racing. “I think I just might. It would be nice to have a taste of freedom before I’m locked in a marriage with a man who looks at me like I’m nothing more than a political pawn.”

The conversation turned lighter as you all continued to joke about the idea of lovers, but little did you know, one of the queen’s maids had been standing nearby, overhearing every word. The whispers would soon reach Aemond.

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Later that afternoon, you were summoned to meet with Alicent and some of the workers to begin organizing the wedding.

Alicent wasted no time in pushing her own ideas. “I trust you’re prepared to make the necessary sacrifices for the good of the realm,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing as she gestured to the workers. “This wedding must reflect the union of two great houses.”

You bit your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “I understand, Your Grace. But I’d like to choose the color of my dress. I’d prefer red and gold.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, her lips curling in a thin smile. “Red and gold? You do realize that’s a bold choice, don’t you? Quite revealing for a wedding dress.”

“Why, does it offend you?” you told her, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

“You are marrying my son, dear. A dress of green would be more appropriate.” Alicent’s tone was firm.

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “I will not wear green. I refuse. If I must marry him, I at least want some control over my dress.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, but your defiance seemed to catch her off guard. She stared at you for a moment, then finally sighed. “Very well, but make sure it isn’t too revealing.”

You smiled, knowing you’d won this battle, even if it was a small one. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

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That evening, as the grand hall filled with the sounds of laughter, you were heading to your brother Jacaerys to ask him something about the upcoming wedding preparations. But just as you were about to step inside, you spotted Lord Garrick Redwyne once more.

He smiled at you, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Ah, princess, how wonderful to see you again.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the sight of him. His charm was undeniable.

“Lord Garrick,” you replied, smiling back. “I was just about to speak with my brother, but I’m glad to see you.”

His smile grew wider as he took a step closer. “Would you care to accompany me for a moment? Away from the crowds?”, he said as he extended his arm for you to hold onto.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”, as you wrapped your arm around his and followed his lead.

He led you through the castle, past the grand halls and into a quieter corridor.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Lord Garrick said, his voice low as he wrapped his hands around your waist. “I can’t help but wonder what it would be like… to have you, without all the politics, without the pressure of your betrothal.”

You took a deep breath, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you murmured, your eyes locked on his.

Without another word, he kissed you—softly at first and then more passionately as the moments stretched. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as his lips moved to your neck. You let out a soft gasp, feeling a shiver run through you.

He moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck, and you gasped softly as he nipped at your skin. His hands were firm, his lips traveled lower still.

His mouth found its way to your most intimate place, and the pleasure was overwhelming, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned quietly, afraid of who might hear. You’d waited too long to feel this kind of release, this freedom.

When it was over, you both sat on the cool floor, catching your breath. “That was… incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

Lord Garrick smiled, kissing your forehead softly. “I will be here whenever you need me, my lady.”

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget about Aemond, about the marriage that awaited you. With Garrick, there was no cruelty, no coldness. There was only heat, passion, and the feeling of being wanted for who you were.

As he gave you pleasure, you couldn’t help but think: Maybe I can have a life outside of Aemond, even if it’s only in stolen moments like this.

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The air in the gardens was thick with tension as you walked beside Aemond, the silence between you two almost suffocating. You weren’t looking forward to this forced interaction, but here you were, ordered by the queen to “get to know” the man you were supposed to marry. You had no interest in being his bride, and certainly no desire to get to know him any better.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to you now and then, but you refused to look at him. Finally, after a long silence, Aemond broke it.

“Tell me, why do you always wear that look?” Aemond’s voice broke the silence, his words laced with bitterness. “You’ve been sent here to wed me, yet I don’t see a single ounce of enthusiasm in your expression.”

You didn’t even glance at him as you walked, keeping your pace slow. “Maybe because I have been forced into this marriage” you shot back, the bitterness in your own voice matching his.

“I don’t owe you any pleasantries.”

His lips twisted into a small smirk, though it lacked any real humor. “Of course, you don’t. I suppose that’s why you’ve taken to speaking about me behind my back—saying things I’m sure you think I don’t know.”

You froze. Aemond wasn’t looking at you directly, his gaze focused ahead. You clenched your fists, not willing to let him know he’d struck a nerve.

“What are you talking about?” you spat, though you had a pretty good idea. The rumors, the jokes from your friends… Had they reached him already?

He shot you a glance then, eyes narrowing. “I heard you’ve found yourself someone to entertain you. I suppose it must be rather entertaining to joke about your… lovers.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you insinuating, Aemond?” you asked.

Aemond’s voice dropped to a low tone. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know exactly what I heard. You think I don’t know you’re running around with some other man behind my back? I heard of your little conversation with your friends in the garden. You’re quite the whore, aren’t you? Laughing about my missing eye and discussing your lover like it’s nothing.”

Your jaw clenched at his words. Whore. He had no right to talk to you like that. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “You have no right of speaking to me in such way.”

You glared at him. “You want to talk about my lover? Fine. I’ll tell you everything. He makes me feel things you could never,” you hissed, taking a step even closer to him. “In fact, I’ve already lost my maidenhood to him.” Lies.

“You think that’s something to be proud of?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, loose woman, and you’ll regret every second of it once you’re tied to me.”

“You think I’ll regret it?” you snapped back, “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Aemond. I don’t regret anything. Not my lover, not anything I’ve done before now. You’re just angry because I’ve found someone who actually knows how to please a woman.” That said, you turned around to retire to your chambers.

Aemond’s expression twisted into anger. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed your arm, spinning you towards him, forcing you into the nearest wall. You gasped in shock as Aemond pinned you against it. His grip was tight as he pressed you there, his face inches from yours.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Aemond growled. He gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. into a bush, his body trapping you against it. “Let me tell you something, princess,” Aemond whispered into your ear, he leaned in closer. “I’ll put a baby in you, and once you’re carrying my child, I won’t touch you again. You’ll be nothing but a vessel for my heir. And when you’re knocked up and useless to me, I’ll get myself a whore. A woman who knows her place. And I’ll bring her to the Red Keep, rub her in your face, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

You were petrified as he pinned you against the wall, but he wasn’t finished. “If I find out who your lover is, if I find out you’ve been seeing him behind my back, I’ll make sure you never see him again. I’ll have him dragged out and humiliated, and you’ll never be able to hide from it. You’ll regret every little thing you’ve done.”

Aemond took a step forward, forcing you to tilt your head up to keep your glare locked onto his.

“You think you can humiliate me?” His voice was quiet. “That you can make a mockery of this betrothal? Of me?”

You scoffed, “You’re doing that all on your own, Aemond. If you’re so offended, then call off the wedding.”, you continued “You are a man, a prince I’m sure they will call it of if you object”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You think I would let you go that easily?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You are mine now. No matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you despise me, you will stand beside me as my wife.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he said mine, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you.

“You can have my hand in marriage, Aemond,” you bit out, “but you will never have me.”

Aemond let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that, wife.”

He turned on his heel, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest.

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[slut4megantheestallion]

Hello! I don't know if you have any rules regarding requests, but I sent you my idea. Arcane women x female reader! Especially Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn. They wanted to have something more intimate with the reader, but she can't because of past experiences and she feels frustrated with herself, and she doesn't feel able to tell her partner because she thinks he will judge and abandon her. Many times, the reader has stayed awake while her partner is sleeping and begins to cry, then her partner wakes up after sobs and finds the reader crying, and she finally confesses her trauma and her love comforts her. Again, if you're uncomfortable with this, you're free not to write it down! Hugs!

Characters: Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn.

Hiii<3 yeahh, I'll do this, and yes, I write for arcane sometimes, I do take requests 😄.

Arcane Women x Reader w/ trauma Headcannons

Scenario: The reader struggles with intimacy due to past trauma, afraid of judgment and abandonment. She often stays awake, crying, feeling frustrated herself, and ashamed. Until one night, her partner wakes up and finds her breaking down. Comfort and love follow.

Warning ⚠️: angst, trauma, past abuse, comfort, fluff.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Before you ended up in Zaun/Piltover and met, vi, Jinx, or caitlyn, your life was far from kind. You had experienced relationships that weren't built on love or trust, just lust, power, control, manipulation, and fear.

You were once with someone who made you feel like your body was something they deserved rather than something you owned. Your bound were ignored - your "no" was met with guilt tripping, anger, or silent treatment until you gave in. You learned to freeze rather than fight back because arguing led to worse outcomes. Over time, you started believing that love was something you had to earn by giving parts of yourself away.

Even after escaping that life, the scars lingered. You told yourself you were free and that no one can hurt you again, but when it comes to intimacy, your body still remembers what it felt like to be powerless.

Kisses sometimes feels like suffocating.

Touch- no matter how gentle - could make your skin crawl.

Even when your partner held you in the safest way, your mind whispered, what if they get tired of waiting? What if they leave?

You love them, but you hated yourself for feeling like this.

-Vi

● Vi had always been patient with you. She never pushes, never pressures you - just waits for you to come to her when you're ready, but she does notice this from the beginning of the relationship. How you'd tense slightly when things got to heated. How your kisses always stopped before they could get too deep. She doesn't pressure you or anything. She waits for to be ready, but what she doesn't know is that you don't think you'll ever be ready.

●Tonight is another restless night. You lie beside vi, staring at the ceiling while she sleeps, steady and warm next to you. You wish you could be at peace like that, but the weight on your chest won't let you breathe properly. You bite lips, trying to hold the tears back, but your body betrays you. A quiet sob escapes before you can stop it.

●A slight shift, then a groggy, sleep rough voice:

●"Babe?" Her voice is thick with sleep, but the concern is immediate.

●She sees you curled up, shaking. Something in her chest hurts.

●She reaches out, but the moment her hand brushes your back, you flinch. That makes her freeze.

●"Talk to me, sweetheart."

●You shake your head, hands gripping the sheets like they're the only thing keeping you together. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

●"For what?" Vi asks, brow furrowing.

●You try to explain how you want to be normal, how you hate that you pull away when she touches you, how you're afraid she'll get frustrated and walk away like everyone else did. Your voice cracks as you confess what happened in the past, how you were used, how your body never felt like yours.

●Vi listens, silent, herfists clenching under the blankets. Not at you, but at the people who did this to you. At the world that made you feel so fucking small.

●She leans in, gently tilting your chin up so you can see her eyes - so full of love and unwavering devotion.

●"You never have to apologize for this. Ever." She kisses your forehead, slow and lingering. "I don't need anything from you, okay? Just you. However you are, whenever you're ready. And if you're never ready? That's fine, too."

●Your breath hitches. "But... what if you get tired of waiting?

●Vi huffs a small laugh, but there's no humor in it - only warmth.

●"Then I'll wait longer."

●For the first time in a long time, you believe someone.

-Jinx

●Jinx sleeps like the dead usually, but tonight, something pulls her from her dreams - maybe it's instinct, maybe it's the way the bed feels too cold despite your body being right there.

●And then she hears it. Soft, muffled crying, her heart clenches.

● Jinx turns over, rubbing her eyes, then freezes when she sees you curled up, facing away from her, shoulders shaking.

●"Babe?"

●You stiffen, hurriedly wiping your face. "Sorry, I - just go back to sleep."

●Jinx isn't having it. Within seconds, she's hovering over you, pressing her forehead against the back of your head.

●"Nuh-uh, nice try. What's wrong, sugarplum?"

●You try to hold it in. You do. But the moment she snakes an arm around your waist, anchoring you to her, it all comes spilling out in broken whispers.

●Jinx listens. And for once, she doesn't joke, doesn't deflect - just holds you, silent and still, until you're done. When you finally stop, she exhales a shaky breath.

●"Damn, that's been eatin' at you this whole time, huh?" You nodded.

●Jinx is quiet for a long moment, and then she turns you into her arms, cupping your face. "Listen up, cause I ain't sayin' this twice. You? You're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. And I don't give a shit if we ever do anything like that. I just want you, yeah?" Tears spill over again, but this time, there's relief in them.

●Jinx smirks softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek. "Now come here, lemme squeeze the sadness outta ya." She pulls you against her, tucking you under her chin, holding you like she'll never let go, Because she won't.

-Caitlyn Kirraman

●Caitlyn has always been patient, but tonight, when she wakes to the sound of your quiet sobs, her heart shatters.

●"Darling?" Her voice is soft, laced with concern. You curl in on yourself. "I- I can't do this."

●"Do what?" Caitlyn sits up, brushing her fingers over your back. "Be what you deserve." Caitlyn breath catches, "love, look at me."

●You hesitate, but finally do. And when you see her face - soft, full of love, worried - the words come pouring out.

●You tell her everything. The past, the guilt, the fear that she'll leave. Caitlyn listens, her hand gently rubbing yours.

●"I wish I could take the pain away." She says softly. "I wish I could erase every horrible thing they did to you. But since I can't... let me show you that love doesn't have to be like that."

●You choke back a sob.

●Caitlyn presses a tender kiss to your knuckles. "No matter what, I'm here. We go at your pace, always."

●Her words wrap around you like the warmest blanket. And finally, after all these years, you believe it.

[blubunz]

BREAK A RABBIT'S LEG

— leon s. kennedy x f! bunny hybrid! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: sweet tooth rotting smut, soft dom leon, praise kink, vanilla sex, p in v, starting this account with something light and simple.

A/N: First fic here! Actually, first xreader fic ever.

Leon doesn't believe in crazy superstitions, having worked in a completely opposite field from it. Though, he believes that the day he got you was the luckiest day of his life.

You were on edge at first, but Leon was patient enough to lure you out of your hiding spot, mainly with treats and toys. He doesn't hate it, he enjoys having you taking his mind off things for once, something completely detached from his work.

By now, you seem to be comfortable enough to walk around the house like it's your own, sometimes wearing the most provocative outfit too, Leon has to hold back from pouncing on you whenever he gets home.

To him, you're not only his lucky charm, but also his precious darling — which are all the same to him, you make him so, so happy no matter what you do. He likes how you're so energetic now, at least more than when he first got you home. And then, you begin to ask questions.

You say you've seen the outside world a few tines, through fleeting glances from your past, your kind aren't seen out there, mostly cause you're not exactly 100% humans.

Even if they think it's cosplay, Leon doesn't allow you to go out despite your argument — he doesn't want to lose you.

Can't you see? It's too dangerous out there in the open world, Leon has been providing you with every necessity and even the slightest of attention, yet you're asking for more? He's starting to think he may had spoiled you too much.

On one particular evening, he gets home, all bones aching and pain growing, he slumps on the couch, seeing you peek out from the hall. His eyes soften at the sight, no matter how upset or exhausted he is.

“Hey, princess.” He coos, and you take that as a welcoming sign and step closer, Leon has to hold back a groan when he sees you in only your underwear.

“Hi, Leon.” You hug him and nuzzle up to his neck, his face sitting firmly between your long, fluffy ears.

“Sweetie, why—” He paused, gulping a bit. “—why aren’t you wearing proper clothings?”

“It's hot today.”

“We have air conditioners.”

You grow silent, eyebrows furrowing. “So?”

“Do you want something, pretty?” He asks, as he pulls you up to his lap, marvelling at how soft your tits are and how they sit so snug and delectable in his palms.

You shake your head no, and he smiles.

“How was work, Leon?” You ask. “I can see you're tired, so I just...I thought maybe I can help you.”

“You're right, work was tiresome, bunny.” Leon sighs. “You don't mind me using my favorite lucky charm, right?”

Your ear twitches as you nod, shamefully look away when he calls you that. You aren't sure what sort of "luck" you're giving him, but as long as he is happy, it's all that matters.

And to be honest, Leon knows you're not actually a luck magnet, his days have their ups and downs. It's a different view for him, you don't bring luck, you are luck.

You're the light of his cruel life, reminds him of his starting years as a rookie — innocent and full of life. It was because of greed, of people, that he turned out like this — a mess, an unfitting puzzle piece, yet somehow you manage to fit with him just fine.

Leon dips his head down and kisses your chest, all over the skin before ending with a cute little nip on your sensitive bud. You gasp, and then he gets the whole thing in his mouth.

Leon sucks and kneeds your tits like crazy, drpols rumning down his chin and his eyes looking fuzzy. God, has he ever looked this pathetic?

He leaves marks and hickeys all over your chest, trailing down to your stomach then down to the band of your undies, he doesn't pull it down yet, savoring how your juices cling to the fabric when he kisses on your sweet clit.

“Tastes so sweet, pretty bunny.” He praises, and you can only whine needily in response, urging him to devour you by tugging his head more against your dripping cunt.

“Please—” You plea, grinding your slit against his lips and bumping his nose.

“Of course, princess, I'm getting to it.” He chuckles and pulls your panties down, quickly lubing his two fingers and spreading your hole open.

You mewl and squirm, his fingers are always so thick and longer than yours, so you hardly can satisfy yourself nowadays due to your body's constant need for Leon, for he's now the only one who can satisfy you.

You never have to beg, he already fishes out his cock and rubs pre-cum all over while maintaining eye contacts with you, hypnotizing you into his pretty baby blues.

“Ready, bunny?”

You nod at that, and he replaces his fingers with his thick, veiny cock. Both of you groan, and your arms find their ways around his neck, clawing his back.

Leon sucks in a breath, he's addicted to having your cunt wrapped around his aching shaft, and with the way your walls tighten up with each little movement he makes...fuck, he's trying hard not to cum so soon.

“So good, princess. Such a good girl for me, yeah? Come on, don't be shy.” He gently coos, his chest presses firmly against your own as he looks deep into your teary and lust-filled eyes. His hips begin to move, and you groan, your own hips bucking forward to get him to do it faster.

“That's it, take what you deserve, yeah, my good girl?”

“Ah-ah—! Mhm! Mhm!” You moan louder when he increases his pace, balls smacking against your ass as the tip kisses right into your womb. He was so thick, and you can feel his rlveins rippling and pulsing with each thrust he delivers into your needy pussy.

“Mngh. Good...girl—” He pants against your neck, arms wrap around your whole body, and lift your hips up so he can drive deeper into you.

“Good—”

Thrusts.

“Fucking—”

Thrusts.

“Girl—!”

Thrusts.

His toes curl, dipping into the mattress as he raises both your hips higher, his grunts turn into moans, and primal growls like an animal. His eyes roll up as his teeth sink down your shoulder, you would've laughed at the sight, teasing him a little, but Leon keeps distracting your mind with his brutal thrusts, pounding you like an animal. How can you focus on anything else when you and your pussy are so addicted to his cock?

His thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated, both of your moans bounce off the wall. He grunts out his climax, pulling you into a bruising kiss before releasing his load in you.

Your eyes roll up as you visibly shudder, jaw hanging open and hence making it easy for him to push his tongue in and wrap it around yours, sucking your tongue and the sounds you two make are so lewd.

You cum too, pussy clamping tight while juices flowing out, and your clit twitches at how hard you just cummed, like you never had sex ever.

Leon pants, kissing your neck gently as he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. “Bath time, bunny.” He smiles, kissing your cheek before letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he walks.

You whine when he settles you in the hot tub. The warm temperature soothes your pain somewhat.

“I know, I know, sweetie.” He kisses your forehead, then up to your long ears before whispering into them. “I'll take good care of you, just relax.”

[jjjjeonww]

hong joshua - "Dear, Diary. Damn my academic rival."

genre - romance! ~~in which you've seen joshua as your academic rival for years, but lets see how he sees you in his perspective. (just wanted to switch it up a bit heh) a/n: this is a little thank you for 108 followers hehe<3!! also, this is a fic requested by the one and only, @hanniescookie! you keep coming up with amazing ideas and requests my angel, and im always happy and always honoured to complete them and be the person who receives them <3 ( @wonkierideul, here's your tag my lovie! you've had a tiring day, take a break and rest up. a junhui fic will be coming soon, just for you🤍)

(remember, this is all in joshua's pov!) 28th December 2024 Dear Diary, Today I felt so stupid. Why? I couldn't take my eyes off Y/n as she pored over the latest batch of data, her brows were furrowed in concentration. The flickering lamplight casted shadows across her face, it highlighted the curve of her cheekbones. Honestly, to me, Y/n was a vision of focus and intellect, a force to be reckoned with. And damn if she didn't look gorgeous in the process.

When she glanced up and caught me staring, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It was a rare sight, that smile... but it was all the more devastating for its infrequency. I felt my heart stutter in my chest, my breath hitched slightly as I drank in the sight of her.

"You've got that look again," I said. I have no idea how, or why my voice came out more huskily than I intended. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Like when Tom thinks he can finally eat Jerry. What are you so smug about?"

I saw her smile widening, a glint of mischief appeared in her eyes. "I'm not smug," she said, and I know I heard the stupid note of false innocence in her tone. "I'm just...satisfied with my progress." Note by Joshua: (As if she could do any better than me. Well, she did do better than me this time. Won't let it happen the next!)

5th January 2025 Dear Diary, Today we got our test results. Obviously I looked around to find Y/n and to see her reaction to her grade, only to find her right next to me, holding up her test results, the paper rustled softly in her hand. I leaned forward to see, my glasses slipping down my nose as I squinted at the numbers. My jaw clenched as I took in the scores - hers were higher than mine, by a margin that made my gut twist with reluctant admiration.

"What?" I scoffed, pushing my glasses back up. "You've beaten me again?" I leaned back in my chair, and crossed my arms over my chest. "Damn you Y/n. Next time... don't get too comfortable. I'm not going to let you stay ahead for long." Her smile turned into a full-blown grin, those eyes... they sparkled with that familiar competitive fire. "I wouldn't expect anything less," she said, a note of challenge in her voice. "But don't worry, Joshua. I have no intention of making this easy for you. I want to see you push yourself, to reach for even greater heights."

I felt a surge of determination, a fierce need to prove myself and rise to her challenge. But beneath that, I felt something else, something softer and more intense. A longing to see that smile on her face again and to keep this fire alive. Note by Joshua: (I guess I got another longing; For her to stop calling me by my name and instead call me 'hers'. And I'm cringing at my own joke haha! until next time diary!) 13th January 2025 Dear Diary, The days have turned into weeks, and my isolation and forced collaboration with Y/n only seemed to intensify the charged atmosphere between us. We clashed over theories and methods, our voices raised in heated debate as we paced the confines of the cabin. The air grew thick with tension, but it was a different kind of tension than before. There was an undercurrent of something else, something that made my skin prickle and my heart race.

Note by Joshua: (Today's note of 'love' was a short one. Guess our isolation was bigger than our forced proximity.) 27th January 2025 Dear Diary, Something happened this evening. As I was reviewing our notes by the flickering fireplace, I glanced up to see Y/n staring at the flames, a distant look on her face. She looked gorgeous in the firefight, shadows dancing across her delicate features and highlighting the curve of her lips. I found myself wondering what she was thinking about, what dreams or fantasies played behind those captivating eyes.

"You know," I said softly, to me, my voice was barely audible over the crackling of the flames, "sometimes I wonder what goes on in that brilliant mind of yours."

And she turned to face me, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

I felt a smirk tug at my own lips, a hint of playfulness entering my voice. "I think about it more than I should," I admitted, my gaze locked with hers. "Especially when you look at me like that."

Her smile widened, a soft blush coloured her cheeks. "Like what?" she asked, a note of innocence in her voice belied by the heat in her eyes.

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, my eyes never leaving hers. "Like you're trying to figure me out," I murmured. "Like you're seeing right through me, past all the bravado and the competition, to the heart of who I am."

I watched how her breath hitched, and how she swallowed hard. "Maybe I am," she whispered, her voice was barely audible. "Maybe I want to know what makes you tick, Joshua. What drives you, what you dream about, what you...want."

I felt my heart pound in my chest, a fierce longing surging through me. I wanted to tell her everything, to lay bare the secrets of my soul and hope that she would do the same. But I held back, I didn't want to scare her off. Note by Joshua: (Maybe next time, we'll see what'll unfold for me and Y/n. But hey, at least today's 'love' note was a long one right?)

[transformers-spike]

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. “You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding. 

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.” He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

[247-diaperboy]

“Diaper college “

a colege student discovers unusual rules.

I was a freshman at a sate colege. I had been sheltered as a child.  I never was out pass ten a clock. I was a home body. I had no interest in being out pass ten. I loved my family. I did want a little more fredom. I was ready to enter adult hood. 

The dorms were small and had bunkbeds. I found that a little strange at first.

I was excited to be away at collage and I made friends almost right away. I liked the school almost immediately.  

We had to be back at the dorm by midnight.  That was fine by me. The first day went well. At night right before lights out, the dorm supervisor called floor meeting.  

The dorm supervisors welcomed the incoming students.  Freshman and transfer students.  “We have a rule that we do not talk about until the last minute. No one likes to admit that they have issues with bed wetting.  Sometimes first-time college students who have never had issues with bedtime incontinence develop issues. It can be caused by stress.  Over the years incoming freshman issues with incontinence have been on the rise.” the supervisor said. 

I was perplexed.  I had no idea where he was going with this.” all students hear are required to wear diapers at night. All students must be diapered before going to bed. The d.a will go room to room checking to make sure every student is diapered.  We will make sure that the diapers are secured. d.a max said.

“We do not want the diaper to become loose or leak while you are asleep. We ask that you not take off your diaper until morning. The bathrooms are locked after midnight. You are not allowed to access them. We recommend that you use the facilities before you go to bed.” Mark the other d.a said.

 “We have to pee or poop in our diaper my roommate asked. “Yes. That is true. Its sounds gross but take precautions. Max said.

I was shocked and stunned. I really wanted to like the college.  So far i had. I was having a great time. I disliked this.  I see why they waited until now to inform us. 

“We need to look at your diaper. If you wear shorts or pjs you will need to show us. We will need to make sure that it is fastened correctly Max said. 

After the meeting was concluded, we were to go to our rooms. I took off my shoes. I unzipped my jeans. I pulled it off. I took off my underwear. 

I took out my diaper and put it on. I waited to put on shorts before the dorm advisors had time to examine it. I did not want to put it on just to take it off again. I waited.  

Max and Mark came in. They looked at my diaper. They concluded that my diaper was secure. Adam my roommate's diaper was looked over. he was concluded to have a secure diaper as well. 

They left. I put on my shorts. However, Adam put on a t shirt but nothing else.

I got into bed. my diaper felt weird. I tried not to think about it. After all everyone else hear was wearing a diaper.

I fell asleep fairly easy. I did not wet myself. I woke up needing to pee. Adam had peed his diaper. There was a huge stain on his diaper. 

I felt horrible. I took off my diaper and used the toilet. It felt so good. I got dressed. Adam took off his diaper and showered.  

The next night i went to bed.  I had not peed. I felt awful again. I was getting tired of waking up with a full bladder. I decided to just pee my diaper. 

I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee. I was going to let myself pee. I imagined being in a toilet. I imagined peeing. The urine started to drip into my diaper. It started off small then all at once I flooded my diaper. It felt good.  It was almost orgasmic. I fell back asleep. 

I had a full diaper. I felt good. The next night i slept through the night but had a full diaper. Every night i slept like a baby. My diaper had been soiled.  It was like that every night. 

I tried to wear underwear when i was home for break.  I ended up wetting the bed. I was now nocturnally incontinent. I wore diapers at night all the time. Other students said that they had the same problem. They all wore diapers every night from that time on. 

I was bothered by it at first. After a while I got used to wearing a diaper to bed and waking up in a wet diaper every morning. I kind of enjoyed it. 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 67

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,645ish

Summary: The next few days are full of soft moments that you want to keep close forever.

Notes: Please send in reactions! There’s only 5 more chapters after this. HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

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

Logan didn’t get much sleep that night, replaying your date in his head. It went better than he had hoped and his cheek still tingled where you had kissed it. He went to work in the morning, where it wasn’t an easy day. Things were going wrong left and right, only furthering his exhaustion. When he finally arrived home, Wade had left a note for him saying that he was over at your place for dinner and a movie. The urge to see you quickly beat out the urge to go straight to bed. Logan mustered up the energy to quickly clean up and head over to your apartment.

Logan entered only to be met with the smell of good food and laughter. His tense and tired muscles relaxed instantly. Wade and Laura are sitting at the set table with you finishing up dinner in the kitchen.

“Lo!” You greeted, noticing him coming further into the apartment. You smiled widely at him.

“Hey, doll,” he replied with a tired smile. His body was on autopilot, immediately heading straight over to you. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m all done, but thanks for the offer. Why don’t you go sit down?” You didn’t even think twice about it when your hand came up to his cheek and your thumb began rubbing against it. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, too focused on your hand against his face. His head leaned into your touch.

“Uh… do you two want us to leave you alone?” Laura asked, breaking the bubble that had fell over the two of you.

“Please don’t start having sex right here,” Wade added. “None of us are ready for that.”

You quickly ripped your hand off of Logan and looked away bashfully. Logan glared at Wade before moving to sit down at the table. You quickly gathered up the rest of the food and placed it on the table before sitting down as well.

Dinner was full of light chatter and stolen glances between you and Logan. Before you knew it, dinner was done and cleaned up and you and Logan were sharing the couch while the movie was playing. You kept glancing over at Logan, whose head was bobbing as he fought to keep his eyes open. You leaned over and placed a hand on his arm, catching his attention immediately.

“Why do you go to bed?” You whispered, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled with a slight shake of her head.

“Lo.”

“I’m not tired, doll.”

“Mhm,” you rose an unbelieving brow at him. “Lay down.”

“What?”

You tugged at his arm. “Lay down.”

Logan hesitated for a moment, studying you to make sure that you were truly okay with it. He saw nothing but sincerity. Slowly, be moved closer and laid down on the couch. His head rested carefully on your legs while his legs came up  and curled on the couch the best they could. With a slight tremble to your hands, they came up and began carefully carding through Logan’s hair. His breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers in his hair and against his scalp. 

As you continued, Logan couldn’t fight to keep his eyes open any longer. You smiled softly down at him when you saw him finally give into the much needed rest. What you both failed to notice was that Wade and Laura had stopped watching the movie and were focused on the two of you. They kept eyeing each other with large grins on their faces.

Your focused stayed on Logan for the remainder of the movie. You realized with his face so relaxed how much you loved the way his face wrinkled with different emotions. How his crows feet got more prominent when he was smiling and laughing, but now they seemed non-existent. Your thumb brushed against where his crows feet normally showed. Logan was so… handsome. So… pretty. It was unfair that he was that way. You always had believed that, even with your husband. You were realizing how lucky you were to get to appreciate another Logan like this.

The movie ended before you knew it and it was time to go to bed. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to Logan’s head.

“Wake up, Lo,” you whispered. “Movie’s over. Time to go to bed.” 

“No,” he groaned, turning so he was face down in your lap. 

You laughed. “No? What? You’re just going to sleep here tonight?”

One of his arms slipped under your legs while the other came over, holding them close. “My pillow’s nice.”

“I’m not your pillow, Lo.”

He hummed. “But you are… Just sleep right here.”

“So… I’m just gonna head home now,” Wade said, standing up from his chair. “You coming, Peanut?”

Logan huffed, too tired for this shit. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed, darlin’.”

“What?” You laughed.

“I’m always carrying you to bed, doll. I think it’s time you return the favor.”

“How am I supposed to carry your heavy ass down the hall, Lo? You’re way stronger and heavier than me.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “I gotta do everythin’ round here.” He tightened his grip on your legs and stood up, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Lo—Logan!” You squealed.

“You said it was time for bed, so I’m carryin’ you to bed.”

You laughed as Logan carried you, slung over his shoulder, all the way to bed. He gently tossed you down on the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, darlin’,” he cooed. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Lo,” you whispered.

~~~

“You know, you don’t compliment her enough,” Wade stated as he threw a grape into his mouth.

“What?” Logan questioned, Wade catching him completely off guard. Logan was making breakfast, planning on inviting you and Laura over for it.

“You heard me. You don’t compliment Y/N enough.”

“I compliment her.”

“Uh, rarely.”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

“Because one of the reasons she was nervous for your first date was because she’s insecure about her scars. I tried to help but I’m not the one she wants to—“

“Wait. Insecure about her scars?”

“Yeah, our Little Flame things they make her look ugly.”

The plate of pancakes that Logan was holding fell from his grip and shattered on the floor. He didn’t think twice before he rushed out of the apartment, in nothing but some grey sweats and a white wife-beater. Logan didn’t bother knocking, just barging in. You were standing in the living room, looking for something with a simple towel wrapped around you for coverage. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, clutching the towel closer.

“Logan!” You shrieked. “What—what are you doing? Is everything alright?”

“I— Uh—You,” he was stammering, his mind spinning. Logan hated that you believed you looked ugly when he thought you were the most beautiful person in all of the multiverse. He knew that you were simply standing there in a towel, allowing more of your scars to show, but in each new scenario he saw you in, you only grew more beautiful in his eyes. “You… Doll, I—“

“Lo, are you going to pass out?” You took a few tentative steps toward him, growing concerned. “You’re breathing is off.”

“I’m fine. It just… Darlin’… Fuck. This is… Beautiful.”

“What?”

“You are beautiful.” You stood there, speechless. Logan suddenly grew incredibly embarrassed. “You’re, uh, beautiful and I… well, I thought you deserved to know.” 

Then as quick as he came, Logan was gone, leaving you in shock in the middle of the living room. Laura had witnessed the whole exchange from the hallway and stepped into the living room once Logan had closed the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Laura questioned.

“I have no idea,” you breathed out.

~~~

Logan was actively avoiding you for the rest of the day. He spent a majority of the day at work. You reached out through calls and texts, but he just ignored them. He was embarrassed about this morning. How he barged into your apartment to compliment you. But it was also bothering him that Wade seemed to know everything you needed before he did. Was Logan not actually ready to chase this relationship with you?

You were growing increasingly more concerned with the fact that Logan had been ignoring you for the day. You knew that you should probably be mad, but it truly only made you concerned. He had rushed into the apartment this morning like something was wrong, only to tell you how beautiful you were. It meant a lot to hear that from Logan, but the words were being buried by confusion.

It wasn’t a surprise when Logan didn't come home from work. You knew that he was either still working or out at a bar. You had saved him leftovers from dinner and you were currently waiting at the table to see if you could hear him coming home. His steps were unmistakable. Too heavy for the average man due to his adamantium skeleton. You quickly grabbed the leftovers from the fridge and went out into the hallway. Logan was patting at his jacket, searching for his keys.

“Lo?” You breathed out. He froze. You bit your lip as you took the few needed steps to get to his side. “I saved you dinner.” You offered him the container.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the container without looking at you.

“You’ve been avoiding me since this morning.”

“Been busy.”

You nodded, unbelieving. “I’ve been worried.”

Logan’s heart clenched. He didn’t ever want you to be worried about him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You placed a hand on his arm and rubbed your thumb against it. 

“Sorry about this morning.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I’m sorry for how I went about it all. Not what I said—Never what I said.”

“So… you believe I’m beautiful?”

Logan nodded, swallowing nervously. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You gasped, eyes filling with tears. “I meant what I said this morning… I just should have gone about it a different way.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “It was kinda… cute.” You smirked.

“Cute?”

“Yeah, big bad Wolverine barging into my apartment just to tell me I’m beautiful. It was cute…. And it meant a lot. Thank you. I really needed to hear it.”

“Then I’ll work on telling you more.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to. You deserve to hear how beautiful you are all the time.”

“You’re too kind, Logan. For a man who has been through hell, I’m so glad you’re kind.” 

You wrapped your arms around Logan and pressed yourself against him. He hugged you back and kissed your head. The two of you held each other in the hallway for a good long moment before you pulled away.

“I should let you get to bed,” you said softly. “Don’t go ignoring me tomorrow, okay?”

“Never again, doll,” he replied, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Lo.”

~~~

The next Saturday rolled around and you were planning on getting the courage to see if Logan would like to go on a second date. 

“Mom!” Laura yelled for you from the kitchen as you got ready for the day. 

“What is it, kiddo?” You yelled back.

“The sink is leaking!”

“Shit.” You stopped what you were doing and hurried to the kitchen to see the sink leaking badly. You sighed. “I don’t have it in the budget to call a plumber this month.”

“Well, maybe we could call Logan? He works on cars. Pipes have to be the same thing, right?”

“I guess. I just don't want to bother him.”

“Trust me, if it’s you asking, it’s no bother.”

You looked down sheepishly. “I guess I’ll give him a call.” You pulled out your phone and pressed Logan’s contact. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously as the phone rang.

“Hey, doll,” Logan’s voice sounded from the other side of the phone.

“Hi, Lo. I’m sorry to bug—“

“You never bug me.”

“Uh, well, my sink’s leaking and I don’t really have the funds for a plumber right now and I was thinking—“

“I’ll be right over.”

Logan hung up before you could even respond. Laura was leaning against the wall, a knowing smirk on her face. Within moments, Logan was coming through the door with a toolbox and Wade on his tail. Logan had on a pair of faded jeans and a white wife-beater with a plaid thrown over it. The plaid was open and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You licked your lips before sucking in the bottom one as you checked him out.

“It’s the kitchen sink,” Laura told them as you were clearly too busy checking Logan out.

“Yes, your favorite hunky plumber and his beautiful assistant are here to save the day!” Wade exclaimed.

You spoke your head slightly, breaking yourself from the trance Logan’s appearance had put you in. Logan shot you a smile, heading straight for the kitchen sink. Wade jumped up onto the counter, swinging his legs, as Logan crouched down and opened the cabinet under the sink. It wasn’t long before you found yourself sitting at the table with a book in your hands. Though the book wasn’t your focus, it was the handsome man working under the sink. Wade smiled, watching you watching Logan. That’s when he had an idea.

When Logan turned away to look through his tool box, Wade reached down and yanked the pipe loose completely. Water began spraying everywhere.

“Ah, fuck!” Logan exclaimed, fighting through the water to stop it from ruining anything.

“I’m going to grab some towels,” you stated, rushing away.

Logan huffed once he got the water stopped. Both of his shirts were soaking wet and uncomfortable to wear. He pulled off the plaid and the wife-beater, revealing his toned torso.

“Show off,” Wade whistled. “Like she’s gonna fall for a pile of muscles. Our Little Flame is a woman of character.”

“You’re the one who broke the damn pipe,” Logan grumbled. “It’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“Here are the—oh!” You stopped at the edge of the kitchen, taking in the sight before you. You quickly grew hot, steam beginning to come off of you.

“Doll, uh, you’re heating up.”

“I…” you swallowed, unable to pull your eyes away from Logan’s toned muscles. 

“Darlin’, seriously.” Logan was unfazed by his own appearance, too worried that you were going to be in some serious pain. “You need to cool down before you hurt yourself.” He stepped forward and your eyes finally snapped up to his.

“I’m… I’m going to go run some errands.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you need a cool shower or a towel.”

You shook your head, tossing the towels at him. “I’ll be back with lunch.”

Wade laughed as you scrambled to get your things and rush out of the apartment. “Wow, Peanut,” he giggled. “You sure got Buttercup all flustered there.”

“Let’s just get this fixed, Wade,” Logan grumbled, worried about you.

~~~

When you came back with lunch, the sink was all fixed up and Logan had a shirt on.

“Thanks for fixing the sink, Lo,” you said as you laid out lunch.

“Of course, doll,” he replied, grabbing plates and utensils. “Also, in case I haven’t mentioned it today, you look really pretty today.”

You looked away bashfully. “Thanks.”

Logan hooked a finger under your chin and forced you to look at him. “Don’t gotta do that. Look away when I compliment ya. I mean every word I say.”

“I know.”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Good. I’ll keep telling you so that you remember and hopefully one day you start believe it all.”

next chapter >

[madesa]

Do you have infantilism/age play headcanons for Wincest?

I like to think Dean is the biggest infantilism lover when it comes to his little brother (and only his little brother, by the way) like if you combine all of us infantilized Sammy lovers it would NOT be enough to compare to Dean (side note this turned out to be soft and comfy and cuddly so please spare me if it's not what you thought)

Right away, as soon as Sam was born, Dean knew he would never be able to shake this kid off. And in the future, when Sam is all grown and actually shaken off of Dean, Dean is like "oh god no oh god Sammy please come back to me💔 Sammy it wasn't you it was me💔" he misses his Sammy BAAADDD..which leads him to infantilize this big buff 6'4" guy who looks like he could throw tables and break people in half

From an outsider perspective, it's like this smaller guy taunting a much bigger guy and calling him "baby Sammy" (not just baby...baby is reserved for baby, Baby Sammy however, is different) and when they think Sam is leaning forward to absolutely punch the crap out of this smaller dude, he just plops his head on Dean's shoulder!! What!!

Sam only does the head plop move when he's extremely tired. Which is when Dean also (so very coincidentally) starts babying him lol

Sam, tired from a mission:

Dean: Awww hey baby Sammy come here, come here

Sam, subconsciously walking towards Dean because waw...that voice sounds so familiar...he only used it back then:

Dean smiling because his plan is working:

Eventually, Dean stops relying on missions to tire Sam out because he's only getting better and better at keeping his eyes open, and when he realizes baby Sammy won't come back if Sam isn't unconditionally tired, he starts doing...desperate things.

He buys roofies.

Well, he dare not call them roofies, in his head they're called sleep pills.

Dean is a monster...but he does have a heart (when it comes to his brother) so he only doses Sam up maybe half way, just enough that Sam feels like he's getting naturally sleepy and just enough that it kicks in quiet and slow.

As soon as he sees Sam's head trying to keep itself up while he goes through some random lore, Dean is by his side and it's so quick not even an angel teleporting can compete

Sam is going "uhh...huh?" And Dean is just like "Heyyyy Sammy!" he does a little shoulder wiggle. To. Act like he's talking to a baby. Sam likes how his shoulders move.

Eventually, after enough "Mmm, let's get you up big guy" and "wow, you're so much taller than before!" And "remember when you were just this short and you still called me Dee?" Dean ushers Sam into bed. While he's trying to take his leave, Sam's finger gets caught on the inside of Dean's sleeve and Dean stops.

"Dee...?" Comes from Sam.

And Dean gets so hard he thinks he did pass out, his body just stood him upright for the sake of not seeming like a creep.

He spins around and now, he's no longer Dean, he's Dee. The jerk looks like he could just get on his knees and worship those roofies so quick, but he doesn't. Instead, he sits on the edge of Sam's bed and asks "yes Sammy?"

Sam is having such a hard time trying to think, like it's getting to him, and Mmm..everything is so soft and cuddly and warm like when he was a kid and Dee really does still smell like before, you know, just with extra alcohol and bar stink.

"bedtime story?" He blurts out. Because Dee does that. Dean stopped doing it a real long time ago.

Dean softens and he feels like he might deflate, so he picks up the wizard of oz book Sam keeps on his bedside table and starts reading.

[creeksandsocks]

The Diner

Pairing Eddie Munson x f!reader

Tags: Fluffy, Mature (just to be safe), bad writing, writer has no knowledge of Dnd, Mentions of food/eating

Authors note: okay, this is my first EVER fic, so please bear with me 😪 as the writing and pacing will probably be janky. This is really a conglomeration of a bunch of little ideas that come into my head about the man of the hour, please feel free to leave me constrictive criticism or any asks! Thank you so much for reading my fic *mwah

[3.8k words]

It's freezing, early winter’s 9 PM wind gives you goosebumps down your legs. You wrangle the flowing pleats of your skirt in your left hand, hoping to both provide yourself any semblance of insulation and protect yourself from flashing your panties to the empty Hawkins High Parking lot. Your right hand clutches the pay phone to you, it stays nestled in the crook of your shoulder as you desperately try to call Steve. 

Your eyes reread the graffiti that was hastily scratched into the weathered plastic of the booth. Before you can reread the entirety of the angsty scribbles on the wall, you're put through to voicemail. For the umpteeth time,  you hear his outgoing message repeat “You’ve reached Steve, I can’t answer your-”. You slam your finger onto the “2” symbol of the key pad, effectively skipping through the rest of his message so you can beg into the receiver.

“Hey, man!” you grit “I get your probably tired, but, like, im freezing out here. Please come pick me up- us up!”

You're stranded in the parking lot of your own high school. Dustin had somehow convinced you that it was in fact a good use of your Friday night to drive him to his hellfire club meeting. Because you loved him (and because your BFF Robin was forced into an awkward and inescapable dinner with her estranged grandparents) and your Friday night was rendered free you gave the kid a ride. After dropping him off and sending a lighthearted wave his way (which he decided he isn’t yet too cool to reciprocate). You tried pulling out of your spot. The thing is, you’re close enough to downtown and already out of the comfort of your bed that you decided to make your time at least a little bit useful, maybe exchange the sweater that's been sitting in your trunk for two months or windowshop downtown? But, your plans were ruined the second you place your foot on the gas.

While contorted in the front seat, trying to stretch and see behind yourself as you peel out of your spot, the car's steering wheel pulled against you and and the entire vehicle veered left. Slamming your foot on the break your heart sunk. Fuck, you think im screwed. You hop out of the drivers chair and the cold bites at you as you timidly make your way around your car, investigating what the problem could be. You make a semicircle around the hood of your car before you are met with the culprit. A cartoonishly large nail was stabbed into the side of your tire, leaving the entire thing deflated. 

Though it felt like your joints had been frozen and locked into place by the nipping cold, you remarkably made it back into the driver's seat of your car, relishing the heated air that swirled around you. Running through ideas you decided your best bet was Steve. You didn’t have a spare tire, your parents would probably make a whole fuss out of your flat tire, robin was busy, too. Though he had made a big point on how “fucking awesomeeee” his before-dinner nap would be, you couldn’t fathom it lasting longer than the four hours it had been - let alone a phone call blaring from his nightstand. 

You scavenged around your car and ended up with a decent ball of random change from the floor mats of your car. Reaching into the backseat you grabbed the sweater you had stashed back there before leaving. You threw it over your head, and pulled your hair from being trapped under the neckline. You braced yourself and did a mad dash to the phone booth. You called Steve three times before you decided your attempts to rouse the, apparently still, sleeping bear were futile and trudged back to your car. After turning your keys in the ignition and warming your stiff fingers in the vents you devised a plan. You'll wait here for the duration of Dustin’s campaign When the meeting is scheduled to end, you return to the phone booth. Given that the meeting goes its usual fifteen minutes overtime, you'll have enough time to call and convince Steve to come and be a hero to both you and Dustin. In the absolute worst, most embarrassing, hoping-you-get-hit-by-lightning case you could ask Gareth for a ride. Out of all the driving-age Hellfire members, he’d probably be most keen on doing you a favor like this. In fact, he said he owed you his “entire life and academic career” when you corrected his French homework for him. But, you've never hung out with, colloquially known to Dustin, “the boys”. Let alone any boy ever. It just felt too intimate to ask him for a ride, besides you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle standing in the vicinity of the leading member of Hellfire who’s been the apple of your eye for the past few months, Eddie.

To set the record straight, Eddie is known as gumdrop to you and Robin (because it is in fact best friend law to have nicknames for your guys’ crushes). Robin, you and Steve have all basked in the shared misery of lovesickness together from behind the counter of your job at Family Video. Besides silently judging customers and their movie choices, you spent your shifts reveling in moments throughout the day when you had brief and blushing eye contact with your respective crushes. 

For now, you were entirely content with adoringly staring at the side of Eddie’s big, boyish head from the last row of your history class. Besides gentle urging from both your closest friends, you’ve never really made a move on him. Other than asking him the day’s date or sharing shocked eye contact whenever your teacher said something especially out of pocket. In the cafeteria, Robin often stared at you knowingly every time you started gumdrop’s direction, giggling when he made a stupid or obscene gesture from the head of his own table. She was frankly disgusted when you blushed at him halfway-choking on a pretzel. You thought, hahaha hes sooo funny and silly he coughed omgg lol his friends didnt notice when the pretzel went downthe wrong pipe ahahha omg hes so cute i didnt even get the ick from that he's like a baby ani-.

That leads you to now, freezing and hopeless. From far away you hear the auditorium doors slam “damn it!” You curse. The hollering of pubescent boys is a telltale sign Hellfire has let out. You decide that it's the lesser of two evils to just ask Gareth for a ride rather than be discovered by a pack of teenage boys as you curl yourself around a pay phone. You put your last 10¢ into the pay phone and add to the avalanche of messages Steve will be bombarded with when he wakes up. “Okay, so! Change of plans, I'm getting a ride you don't need to do anything, goodnight love you bye!” You quickly gush out before you slam the phone back into its holder. Resulting in a  reverberating, metallic chime from the man-handled tech. You lean your back on the wall of the school, pitching both your feet out in front of you and using the push of them to keep you balanced. You take a deep breath, it's refreshing even though stunted by the pinching cold. Moments after you’ve made yourself comfortable against the brick wall, Jeff swings around the corner followed by Freak and Gareth. 

They do look shocked to see you, but certainly not disappointed. In fact, they're probably in heaven. You're a pretty girl stationed just outside of a seemingly successful club meeting. They form a line facing you, and Gareth speaks up first. “Hi, what’re you doin’ here? Like, we don’t mind or anything but Dustin said you were just dropping him off?” You inhale to reply before Jeff blurts out “We’re actually gonna grab some burgers down the road, if you wanted to come?” The sweet boy tries to dull his own enthusiasm by (not)cooly adding “Cause you're with Dustin anyways”. I mean, you are hungry and Dustin loves these guys, why deprive him of a prime Friday night just because you are nervous? You shock yourself with how confidently you reply “Yeah, actually! I would love to, I mean as long as it's not a burden at all!”. 

“Oh shit!” freak interjects and whips his head towards his left, “Jeff I left my backpack in your car”. Jeff deadpans the man before gesturing for him to follow out into the parking lot. Now alone there's a comfortable silence between you and Gareth.

He breaks the silence asking you how your night went. You start, “Uh… my car actually-”.

You’re abruptly cut off by being body slammed into the brick wall behind you. Your senses are overwhelmed by a throb at the back of your head and shoulders paired with the strong scent of a boy. You groan and slowly open your eyes. Standing in front of you Is Eddie Munson in all of his glory - he tightly rounded the corner thinking he would be met with emptiness, but instead slammed you a step back into the school's wall. As he steps back from you he apologizes profusely, “Oh my god, i'm so sorry, seriously! I really didn’t expect to see you there, are you okay?”. You give him a gentle smile and reassure him “no, don’t worry! It’s really okay, like actually it doesn’ even hurt”. He continues to apologize and confirm you haven’t been damaged by his foolery. You continue to tell him that, really, you’re okay. You forget about the cold air, Gareth (who is bent over laughing at his best friend) and the slight pain in your skull. When you realize that: Eddie is still standing very close to you and he is still very cute from that distance. It seems you both realize at the same time that you're standing intimately close,  but he only steps back seconds later when he’s snapped back into reality by Dustin and Mike rounding the corner. 

“HEY GUYS”, Gareth wheezes as he angles himself towards two youngest arrivals. Now fully upright, but still suffering the aftershocks of what is probably the hardest he’s laughed all week. “Eddie just-” he cuts himself off again with guffawing. 

Eddie whips around, “C’mon man it wasn't even that funny” he grits. Though it’s impossible to tell, it sounds like his eyes are wide and pleading as he commands his friend. Eventually, Gareth is able to share the scenario with both the freshman and the boys returning from their car errand. By the time he's gotten it out, even you and Eddie, though blushing, are able to laugh at yourselves, too.

Youv’e all organized yourself into a huddle. Everyone is delighted to confirm that “operation burger” is indeed still a go; mostly unchanged by you, the newest addition to the escapade. You hadn’t found an appropriate time to share the unfortunate predicament that your car could be found in just yet. You decide that it's better to drop the bomb on Gareth after your group diner-date. Hoping to avoid baskining the in the humiliation for the entirely of your time if he so happens to say no. Eddie, being the only owner of a vehicle large enough to transport the entire group of teenagrs, was forced into being the driver. Thankfully though, he doesn’t seem to mind; assuming the role similarly to how he did with becoming the leader of Hellfire club.

Walking to his van, which is parked in the back corner of the parking lot, Eddie and you lag behind the rest of the group. Walking near him, you watch as both of your guys’ breath is visible in the night air. Though Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will often gushed about their weekend-long campaigns to you, you didn’t really know much about DnD. Much to the dismay of the kids, you never joined them in a game no matter how eager they seemed to teach you. “So, how was your, uh, game” you question, “is it, like, finished or successful, or did you win or something?”. Though you cringe at yourself for sounding so amateur in your questioning, you’re proud of yourself for talking unprompted.

His furrowed brows raise as he processes the question. He removes his hands from deep inside his leather jacket pockets so that he can gesture with them. “Well it actually was pretty cool!” he enthuses, and you're immediately relieved that he understood you, “They made a lot of progress in it- but it's still far from being done, like a couple hours at least. They usually take a couple meetings before we can wrap them up. But so far, im totally kicking their asses”. He smirks when he notices that you stared kindly at him with big eyes without his entire spiel. Besides softly reassuring him “nice, that's good..” an awkward silence fell between the two of you.

You're close enough to his van that the freshman who were leading the pack are waiting expectantly at the side of the van. From your peripheral vision, you can see him eyeing you. You probably look pathetic right now, goosebumped legs, and clutching your thin sweater around yourself, in a futile warming hug. “Umm” he breaks the silence, “are you cold? I can give you my jacket, it's no problem really-”. You blush and angle your head to the right, hoping to shield your smirk from him. You whip your head around to respond to him, but he's already it shrugging off. Though you’re delighted to wear his jacket. His jacket! You're scared that he's simply offering because he’s a gentleman. It’s not out of character for him to act so gallantly towards you; he opens the classroom door for you every time he's given the opportunity. One time he even pried your stuck locker open for you while you fawned at his biceps flexing under his Slayer band tee. You grab it from him and enjoy the fact that it’s still warm from his body heat. You also enjoy the look of his outfit, a Dio shirt layered over a white long sleeve. You earnestly thank him before you bundle up in it and overlap the front zippered panels on your stomach, wrapping yourself in it. His jacket smells just like him, perfect and manly without the suffocating amounts of cologne.

The entire group reaches the van and piles in. It seemed Eddie wanted to offer you the passenger seat, but Freak was already buckling himself in before he could ask. You’re all squeezed in the back two rows. You, specifically, are squashed between Mike and Dustin. The ride to the diner is filled with boys recounting the events of the campaign, congratulating and criticizing each other. You reach your destination before you’re even able to entirely settle in, it’s maybe four minutes from your school. He parks in the back of the parking lot. He doesn’t want to clog up prime parking with his massive mode of transport. You all rush into the diner and head to one of the booths that lines the walls of the decrepit diner. He gestures, kindly, for you to take the first spot, nearest to the window. You slide in and he quickly follows suit, he wants to make sure he secures the prime spot next to you. Everyone piles in freak next to Eddie and you end up facing Dustin, and you kick his shins under the table like your siblings. Jeff and Gareth are sitting on the backrest of the booth that both younger boys occupy, leaning in. Weirdly, the diner is barren for a Friday night. Some sleazy party is probably booming in one of the estates in a neighbourhood nearby. Though out of the ordinary, none of the group condemns the empty diner. You are subsequently free from prying eyes of jocks and now have even more reason to be rowdy, though still respectful enough to avoid annoying the entire restaurant, diners and waitstaff, alike.

Mel’s diner is nice enough, it’s had a boost in business since Benny’s went out of business a while back. The seats are bright vinyl leather and the two legged table top is infinitely sticky. Some of the overhead lights flicker occasionally, but overall its a nice place with a gumball machine exactly to the left of the front entrance. 

You keep Eddie’s jacket on, not wanting to lose the conforming weight of it wrapped around your shoulders, it also shields you from the night’s cold seeping in through the front windows just next to you. An older waitress comes and collects your orders. You only want a chocolate shake despite the cold, chocolate milkshakes always hit the spot. Dustin orders one too, only switching it for vanilla. Most of the boys order burgers, fries and drinks. They're probably starving - they've unlikely had any sustenance since school ended other than Mountain Dew and Pringles that they feast on during their campaigns. While waiting for the food to come, the boys continue to recap their campaign and Eddie makes sure to tilt his head towards you to fill in any information he thinks that a non-participant would need to follow along.

It feels awfully intimate to have him so close to you, almost cageling you in every time he verbally annotates the conversation. The old leather seats pucker under his manly frame and his radiating body heat makes your mouth water as he's splayed out next to you. Sometime  after placing your orders, he stretched both his arms around the back of the seat rest. Leaving his arms wide and chest opened. It almost feels like his arm is around your shoulders - being squished three people deep into a two-seater has forced your shoulder near to his armpit. From there, his body heat radiates even stronger.

The waitress eventually brings your guys’ food, she splits it into two runs in order to prevent spilling any. Everyone’s quieted now, fully focused on eating their meal. Eddie keeps his left arm, the one behind you, perched on the back of the seats. His right arm was relieved of its station and holds his burger.

He’s a cute eater, you think. He closes his mouth politely as he chews but still stays engaged in the conversation by furrowing his brows or a strained closed-mouthed smile. As he takes a challengingly large bite of the burger ketchup squeezes from the burger onto his lip and pants, his tongue darts out to lick the small drip from his lips. The drip on his jeans is just above the line that connects his thigh to hip. The ketchup doesn’t immediately absorb into the black denim and almost hovers above it, nestled in the folds of his pants. Now, it is not your fault that the ketchup is a mere four inches from his… manly convexity and it is not your fault that you're entranced by the projection in the crotch of his pants. Your head snaps up when he peers over at you with blushing cheeks, embarrassed to have spilled on himself in front of you, even in such a minor amount. You keep eye contact and barely contain snorting laughs  as he gingerly slides a napkin from the table and wipes the glob off his pants. He still has an unchewed mouthful of burger, bulging his cheeks out like a hamster when he slowly places his pointer finger against his mouth. At that, you both chuckle. He balls his previously pointing hand into a fist to cover his mouth as it opens to laugh.

He smirks the left side of his mouth and side eyes you, in an attempt to keep his head straight as he sneaks one of his fries into your shake. Grinning mischievously as he brings the dipped fry to his mouth. You return the favor, keeping your head straight ahead as you strain your eyes looking to the right to steal one of his fries and eat it bite-by-bite. He doesn’t even mind that you chose one of his perfectly soggy long ones instead of a sub-par fry. 

It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten to the diner. You don't want to leave, you've fallen into comfortable conversation with all the guys at the table. You even basked in moments when all pairs of eyes were on you as you shared juicy bits about school drama that was previously entirely unknown to them.

When your waitress finally arrives you all silently agree to pay for your own meals, it's common knowledge among broke high school kids like yourselves that it's everyman for himself when it comes to paying. Everyone pools their money in the middle of the table. As someone who has easy access to the bills and change that clutter the table, Eddie takes to bundling it up and handing it to the waitress, he tells her to keep the change with an unsubtle wink that she’s unamused with. Eddie doesn’t even look at you as he slides the five dollar bill you placed down to pay, back to you. You assume he thought you laid it out on the table as you rifled through your wallet for exact change. Before you can correct him, though, he's already sliding out of the diner booth. You follow him out and hold your flaccid bill out to him.

 “To pay” to tell him, hoping your assumption had been correct, that he just didn’t notice your bill sitting on the table.

“No uh, I did you! I’m happy to do you!” He says as he stretches his arm up to nervously scratch his neck. 

“What?!” you say as you are laughing at his unintentionally implied dirty talk.

“No- wait, I mean I paid for you! Sorry, like I did it for you…” he becomes shy as he corrects himself and his cheeks grow pink.

You spare the poor guy any more embarrassment and thank him before you all trudge out of the diner. Eddie’s just thankful that Gareth wasn’t within earshot of that one, he was unsure he'd ever live it down.

Everyone reassumes their spots as you crowd yourself in the back of his van, and you're disappointed at how short the drive is. You hoped this moment would last forever, if not a little longer. You enjoy the familial feeling that shines in the van. The cold air that greets you as you step out the van pulls you out of the moment. 

You're sure at this point Gareth will give you a ride home, but that's at the back of your mind as you try to catch Eddie's eye so you can wave him off into the night.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: John realises where the demon will strike next so they head there to stop the next killing.

Warnings: Cannon violence

Word Count: 4.6k

Salvation

(Masterlist, Previous chapter, Outfit Board)

  The room is filled with John’s research. The walls are covered with post-its, pictures, newspaper articles, weather charts, and hieroglyphics all about the yellow-eyed demon. There are papers strewn across the desk with the Colt and shelves of hefty books lining the walls. “You know to anyone else this would look like a psychotic break,” I think aloud, examining the wall of information. “Well—”

  “Whatever stupid comment you’re going to make, don’t,” John cuts me off. I make a face he cannot see, mocking him.

  “This is it,” he continues. “This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we’ve been searching for this demon right? Not a trace, just…nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail.”

  “And that’s when you took off,” Dean concludes. He hasn’t stopped pacing since we got here.

  “Yeah, that’s right. The demon must have come out of hiding, or hibernation.”

  “Alright so what’s this trail you found?” he asks.

  “It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground,” he explains. “It's going after families, just like it went after us.”   “Families with infants?” Sam asks, leaning against a counter.   “Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday.”   “I was six months old that night?”   “Exactly six months,” John echoes.   “So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?”   “We don't know that Sam,” Dean defends.   “Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure Dean,” he bites back.   “For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault,” Dean says, his voice lined with frustration.   “Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem,” he shouts.   “No, it's not your problem it's our problem!”

  “Okay. That's enough,” John commands, standing abruptly. Immediately they stop, backing down as they take breaths. 

  Sam breaks the momentary silence. “So why's he doing it? What does he want?” It’s an almost impossible question especially when one will never be good enough, it doesn’t bring people back nor make you understand. The most it can give is a direction on how to stop it if that. “The answer can range from chaos junky to wanting an army,” I answer.

  “I wish I had more answers, I do,” John adds. “I’ve always been one step behind it. Look, I’ve never gotten there in time to save…” He looks down with a frown on his face.   “Alright, so how do we find it..before it hits again?” Dean asks.   “There are signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fires; signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked...and…”   “These things happened in Lawrence,” Dean finished.

  John nods, “A week before your mother died. And in Palo Alto...before Jessica. And these signs, they're starting again.”   “Where?” Sam asks   “Salvation, Iowa.”

********

  The roads seem endless as we head to Iowa; land stretching for miles. John's black truck leads the way through countless hours and misty roads until he suddenly pulls off onto the shoulder. Call it a learned habit or whatever else; either way we exit the Impala with haste, meeting a distressed John outside his vehicle. “God damn it!” he curses, kicking the dirt by his tires.

  “What is it?” Dean asks.

  “Son of a bitch!” he curses again instead of answering.

  “What is it?!” he tries again.

  “I just got a call from Caleb,” he explains.

  “Is he okay?” Dean asks, worry on his face.

  “He’s fine. Jim Murphy’s dead.”

  “Who’s Jim?” I ask. I know the Winchesters have many connections, yet it still surprises me how many they do have, especially when my father had little to none. I think he only had John by the time he married Mom, and that was really only an ‘I owe you.’ Turns out no one wants to keep in touch or be friends with the guy who married a Witch. “He’s a Pastor that would look after us sometimes,” Dean explains. It comes back to me a little: Sam mentioned calling Pastor Jim for information on their father months ago, and Dean telling me memories long ago in the faint autumn sun.

  “How?” Sam asks.

  “His throat was slashed. He bled out,” John answers. “Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place.”

  “A demon,” Dean concludes. His father nods. “The Demon?”

  “I don't know. ‘Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close.”

  “That doesn’t sound like something he would do though,” I chime in. “Why suddenly change the pattern even if he does think you’re getting close?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do we do?” Dean asks.   “Now we act like every second counts. There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week,” John orders.   “Dad that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?” Sam points out.   “We check ‘em all that's how. ‘You got any better ideas?”   “No sir.”  John nods, satisfied with that response. He turns to his truck and stops, his head hanging low. The last few days might be the most I’ve seen him upset. “Dad?” Dean says softly.   “Yeah. It's Jim. You know, I can't....” His face hardens, ridding his voice and face of sadness. “This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes.”

  I tug on the bottom of my blouse, adjusting how it sits on my chest before walking through the door Dean holds open. He’d been quiet the entire way to the hospital, even when we dropped off Sam at the medical center, I worry it might be about Pastor Jim’s death or the weight of the whole yellow-eyed situation but I’m not sure.

  We walk over to the receptionist's desk, a pretty brunette sitting behind it. He doesn’t make a face or remark about her looks which is even more concerning. “Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?” she asks, shining a perfect smile. 

  “Hello,” I smile back, feeling a burning gaze on me. “I’m Agent Spears and this is my partner, Agent Taylor,” I pull out my ID from my pocket, showing proof of my lie. I look at Dean, his eyes shooting up to my face from wherever they were, his eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide. My eyebrows furrow and my nose scrunches a little with my confusion. He looks at my ID and then at the woman in front of us. “Right,” he mumbles, fumbling with the pocket of his suit jacket for his ID. He pulls it out, flipping it open quickly with a boyish smile. “We…” I look back at the woman. “We were hoping to look at some files…”

********

  Our file reading had been cut short when we received a worrying call from Sam informing us of his vision. It hadn’t taken us long to get to the motel room to regroup and talk; Sam sitting with his head in his hands at the table while his father sat on the end of one of the queen beds. Dean sits on the edge of the other bed, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to his elbows; we didn’t have time to change into normal clothes when we essentially rushed over here. And I stand a little awkwardly by Dean, arms crossed against my chest after hearing everything Sam has to say. 

  “A vision,” John repeats flatly.

  “Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling,” Sam explains through gritted teeth, messaging his temples.

  “And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…”

  “Because these things happen exactly the way I see them,” Sam finishes.

  “It’s almost like he already explained that,” I remark, earning a sharp glare from John. But, it’s not my fault he’s not getting with the program.

  “It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake,” Dean elaborates, rising from the bed and crossing to the counter behind his brother to get more coffee.   Sam winces. “Yeah. It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get.”

  “Alright. When were you going to tell me about this?” John asks, his words directed at his eldest son. Both boys pause, looking at their father.

  “We didn’t know what it meant,” Dean answers.   “Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me,” John replies firmly.

  The coffee pot and mug slam back onto the counter, discarded as Dean strides towards his father. “Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence alright? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery.”   “You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry.”

  “I’m sure you can watch your own tone Johnny Boy,” I interject, an unamused smile on my face. I’ll give it to him, I never thought I’d hear him say he was wrong ever let alone multiple times in the last couple of days. But, I’m also not fond of his accusatory tone as if this was the boy's fault.   “Look guys, visions or no visions, ‘fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight,” Sam cuts in. “And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through.”   “No, they're not. No one is, ever again,” John reaffirms. Then, the ringing of a phone cuts through the atmosphere. “Hello?” Sam answers.

  “Who is this?”

…

 “Meg,” he states. The name is like a knife being plunged into my gut. It is a reminder of the cruelty I put her through, how it was my fault she died as she did. The boys tried to convince me that it wasn’t my fault but they were wrong. Her death may not have been on purpose but it was certainly my fault. And now she’s back. That night is a reminder of what I am and all that I’m capable of. No matter how much I try to hold back and no matter how good I am I can never get rid of what is in my blood.

  “Last time I saw you you fell out of a window,” Sam answers. Again there is no blame put on anyone, it’s framed as an accident or something that happened and yet it does not feel that way to me. “...Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop.” She should be dead and yet she isn’t. Maybe this should feel like a second chance or rid me of some guilt, but it doesn’t. Sam looks over to his Dad before he answers whatever question he was asked. “My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is.”

  He hesitates and then the phone is put into his father's hands. “This is John…I'm here”   There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “Caleb? You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go.”

  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s torturing this man. 

  “…I don't know what you're talking about,” He answers steadily. “…Caleb. Caleb!... I'm gonna kill you, you know that?” The boys step closer to him. “Okay…I said okay, I'll bring you the colt.”

  My eyes widen.   “It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there…That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane.” There’s a silence and a grim look on his face before John hands back Sam’s phone. He runs a hand down his face as he paces, explaining that Meg demanded he bring the Colt to a warehouse in Lincoln alone otherwise everyone they’ve ever known, every hunter friend, every loved one will die.   “So you think Meg is a demon?” Sam questions.   “Either that, or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter,” John replies.

  “‘How else could she have…um… survived,” I mumble.   “What do we do?” Dean asks.   “I’m going to Lincoln,” John declares.

  “What?” Dean exclaims.   “It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die, our friends die.”   “Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over,” Sam points out.   “Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a coupla of vampires no ones really seen the gun, no one knows what it looks like.”   “So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?” Dean asks.   “Antique store,” John clarifies.   “Cause that’s so different,” I remark. I mean, it is but in this instance, there might as well not be a difference. 

  “You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?” Dean interjects.   “Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference,” he reasons.   “Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?” Dean points out, his voice firm.

  “I just...I just need to buy a few hours, that's all.”

  “I know you’re supposed to go alone but I can go with you and offer assistance from afar,” I offer.

  “No,” he says firmly. “You need to be with the boys.” I never thought I’d hear him say those words but with the way he directs them at me so sharply I know what he means. I can offer a level of protection against the yellow-eyed demon that wouldn’t be there otherwise.

  “You want us to stay here, and kill this demon by ourselves?” Sam asks, figuring out what his father meant as well.   “No Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want...I want Mary alive. It's just...I just want this to be over.”

********

  I can’t stop my leg from bouncing as we sit in the Impala, watching the house where the demon will strike next. The boys are better at hiding their nervousness, which may only be good in this instance, but I’m unsure. 

  John was long gone by now. His truck was packed with a fake gun and an arsenal of weapons. The real gun sitting between Sam and Dean in the front seat with only four bullets. Promises of “don’t die” and “finish this fight” were shared before he left. 

  Maybe I shouldn’t be nervous or maybe that’s a stupid remark. There’s a whole powerful and methodical demon to take down and a handful of people to protect in the process. I can’t mess up and I certainly can’t falter. I won’t. This is also why, for once, I chose simple clothing, opting for an all-black outfit that would be easy to move in. This had to go right.

  And no offense to the boys but I’ve been tuning out most of their conversations. I don’t need “what ifs” I just need focus, my ears tuned to the radio playing music quietly and my eyes trained on the house, waiting for the telltale signs.

  “You doin’ okay back there, sweetheart? You’re awfully quiet.”

  My eyes immediately follow the voice; so much for tuning them out. “I’m always quiet,” I defend.

  He smirks, somehow able to even at a time like this, “That’s not true.”

  “Hey,” I frown.

  “Didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he adds. “‘You nervous?” It’s a question, yet the way he looks at me through the rearview mirror makes me feel like he already knows the answer and is just asking out of courtesy. 

  “‘Course I am,” I answer. “And I know you guys are too…Which is fine! Nervous is good…probably.”

  “Well, don’t worry that pretty head of yours, we’ll be just fine. I’ll protect you,” he declares, winking. He’s all smug in the way he says it and the way he smiles. Yet, I’m sure he’s just trying to get me to smile. And it works. I smile, scuffing and shaking my head even though I know for a fact that he wasn’t joking about protecting me. “There she is,” he drawls, eyes dipping down. My nervousness does ease, which should be stupid when all he did was talk to me. Maybe that’s pathetic and maybe I don’t care if it is. 

  “Dean...ah...I wanna thank you,” Sam says, joining in on whatever this is.   “For what?” He responds, eyes breaking from the rearview mirror to look at his brother.   “For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And uh...I don't know I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”   “Whoa whoa whoa, are you kidding me?”   “What?”   “Don't say just in case something happens to you. I don't wanna hear that fucking speech man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except for that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?” Any softness Dean had moments ago seemed gone now. The light not-joking-joke was serious and ever so evident. This is a serious situation and I almost feel guilty for feeling a moment of ease, especially when the real fear of death lingers over all of us. Things can go wrong here really quickly; the Demon might not die tonight. The only thing I can promise and ensure, above all else, is that my boys aren’t dying.

********

  “Dad’s not answering,” Dean announces, his phone held to his ear. 

  “Maybe Meg was late,” Sam suggests. “Maybe cell reception’s bad.” 

  Of course, he may be right, there's always the possibility; yet it feels like nothing more than an attempt to be positive, to see things optimistically. 

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Wait. Listen,” Sam cuts Dean off. He rolls the dial on the radio, the breaking static getting louder.

  “The lights are flickering,” I add, eyes trained on the house. My heart hammers in my chest at the knowledge of what lurks ahead.

  “It’s coming,” Sam concludes.

  Nothing more needs to be said and no more evidence needs to be presented for us to haul it out of the car. I beeline it to the front door, my hand on the handle and the lock undone before my body is fully near it. The boys take the lead, taking careful steps down the hallway. Then, a man lunges forward swinging a bat into a lamp. It shatters to the floor with a resounding clash.

  “Get out of my house!” He yells, positioning himself to swing again. He has poor aim, a goatee, and a green sweater over a button-down, which doesn’t make for the most intimidating combination. 

  Dean surges forward, grappling with the man and the bat while Sam pleads for him to calm down. He fights against Dean who easily takes control, swinging him against the wall with a thud, the bat pressed across his throat. “Be quiet and listen to me,” Dean orders sharply. “Be quiet and listen. We are trying to help you.”

  God, that was kind of hot—Wait. Priorities, I remind myself. “Come on, Sam,” I nod, moving to the stairs. Dean can take care of himself and we had other things to worry about.

  “Charlie? Is everything okay?” A woman's voice cuts in just as I put one foot on the bottom step.

  “Monica get the baby!” Charlie yells frantically. 

  “Don’t go in the nursery!” The Winchesters yell at the same time. 

  I rush up the stairs, taking two at a time, throwing back another, “Sam!” In an attempt to urge him along. I hear a faint threat from Charlie and some light commotion as I move down the long corridor, seeing a flash of white rush into a room at the far end. I push my legs forward, breaking into a run. I skid into the bedroom, catching only the syllables of a sentence before I throw myself in front of the dark-haired woman clad in a white nightgown. Immediately, I launch a burst of energy toward the dark figure sending it back into the wall. I don’t have the gun, all I can do is keep it busy. 

  “Get out of here!” I yell, looking back only briefly. But, suddenly I’m flung sideways, my shoulder hitting the wall hard before I fall to the floor, picture frames rattling above me. “Go!” I order, pain erupting in my shoulder and down my arm as I pick myself up.

  “But my–”

  Yellow eyes shine as it raises its hand.

  “I’ll get your baby, just go!” 

  I intercept it again, throwing another blast that doesn’t seem to do anything more than halt and irritate it. Monica leaves the room. The baby erupts into tears, the commotion certainly startling it. The Demon tries to move me again with a flick of a wrist but I brace myself, using my powers to hold me in place as I lift my own hands and attempt to move it away from the crib. But, it barely shifts. And yet it feels like I’m fighting against gravity, a heavy invisible force trying to force me back as if weights were tied to my limbs. Even so, I push more of my powers forward, harsher and faster yet it still doesn’t budge even if it feels like a house was being thrown on top of me. 

  Then, Sam bursts through the doorway, freezing as he takes in the Demon. It seems to react to him, turning to him slightly. The Colt is raised and the shot rings in the air. The baby’s wailing becomes just as piercing as the gun. The Demon disappears into smoke, the bullet landing in the wall behind it, marking the wall. 

  I nearly collapse as the invisible weight is lifted off of me, my bones feel like jello–almost as if they too were giving up on me. I slump forward slightly, pulling myself toward the crib.

  “Where the hell did it go!” Sam yells.

  I ignore him, focusing on getting the kid out first. Before my hands even touch the wooden sides I can feel what is to come, the fire licking at my hands before there's one at all. I don’t know whether it's some sort of intuition or what Missouri had shown me all those months ago, either way, I quickly and carefully scoop up the crying baby, the crib exploding into flames as I step back and shield the child from it. The windows explode, flames crawling outwards—feeding on the oxygen.

  The moment I step into the hallway strong arms encircle me. He’s behind me, urging me forward with a hand on my middle back as we race out of the house, smoke filling the place rapidly. Sam and Monica aren’t that far in front of us, I guess she only left the room before and not the house itself.

  My lungs greedily take in clean air as we make it outside. The baby is taken from my arms and into the rightful one of her mothers. Charlie puts his arm around his wife’s, eyes scanning both his girls. “Thank you,” Monica says with tear-filled eyes. 

  I’m glad everyone was safe and yet I feel almost defeated, like there was more that could’ve been done. And I’m sure that same thought is going through the boy's heads too. All that we can do is watch as the house is consumed in flames, harsh oranges and reds licking at what is meant to be a place of safety. But, there in the burning nursery, through shattered windows, is a mocking dark silhouette that can only be one being.

  “It’s still in there!” Sam yells, starting for the front door.

  Dean grabs him quickly, holding him back, “Sam. Sam, no.”

  “Dean let me go, it’s still in there,” he argues, struggling against his hold.

  “No. It’s burning to the ground, it’s suicide.”

  “I don’t care,” Sam yells.

  “I do!’

  And just like that, something changes. I can’t explain what it is exactly, but it’s heavy and it’s real. Once more, all we can do is watch as the flames rise again, the Demon disappearing. 

********

  Dean paces the motel room, his phone to his ear as it rings for the umpteenth time. “Come on Dad, answer your phone damn it,” he grumbles. Given the last year his disappearance doesn’t seem out of character but because he was on this whole mission his lack of contact is worrisome. He hangs up with a huff, “Somethings wrong.”

  “Okay,” I sigh from my chair, “We’ll find him…again.” Whatever is wrong we can fix, or at the very least handle it better than the yellow-eyed demon (hopefully.) 

  Dean nods silently, stress and frustration clear in his features. Then, his attention goes to Sam who instead of answering stares at the wall with his classic bitchface. Dean tilts his head down, trying to get his brother's attention. “‘You hear me? Somethings wrong.”

  “If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this.”

  “Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life,” Dean counters.

  “You don’t know that,” Sam answers firmly.

  “The building was going down you wouldn’t be able to see let alone breathe long enough to even get to it or do anything,” I add.

  He shakes his head, “‘Doesn’t matter.”

  Dean walks towards where Sam sits on the end of one of the beds. “So what, you’re just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?”

  He stands up abruptly, towering over his brother. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re damn right I am.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen, not as long as I’m around.”

  “What the hell are you talking about Dean? We’ve been searching for this demon our whole lives. It’s the only thing we’ve ever cared about.”

  “Sam, I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it’s not worth dying over.”

  “What?”

  “I mean it. If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed then I hope we never find the damn thing,” he doubles down.   “That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom,” Sam argues.   “You said it yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back.”

  Sam snaps. He grabs Dean by the collar of his shirt and shoves him hard against the wall. I stand quickly, ready to intervene but Dean throws me a quick look that tells me to not. 

  “Don't you say that, not you!” Sam yells, his voice breaking a little. “Not after all this don’t you say that.”   Despite the anger thrown at him Dean answers with soft, quiet words, “Sam look. The three of us...that's all we have...and it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together man...and without you…or Y/N, or Dad…”

  “Dad,” Sam slumps, letting go and turning away. He runs a hand down his face as he walks across the room. “He should have called by now. Try him again.”   Dean presses a couple of buttons, then raises his phone to his ear again. It’s quiet for two beats before his face contorts in anger. “Where is he?” He spits.

                                     ......TO BE CONTINUED......

(Next Chapter)

Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl @yasmin12312 @squishytap @i-am-fckn-sleep-deprived @wecangetlostinthepurplerain

[rafeandonlyrafe]

crash

words: 2k

warnings: car crash, drinking, partying, soft!rafe, descriptions of blood, rafe and sarah actually get along, underage drinking? (i guess sarah but this doesnt fit in with the obx timeline), topper and sarah dating, established relationship, surgery, hospital setting, injuries, fluffy, they say i love you a lot

“you good to drive top?” rafe tosses the keys towards his friend. rafe usually wouldn't trust anyone else with his truck, but he wouldn't drive with even one drink in his system when he has such precious cargo.

“yeah, man.” topper catches the keys one handed with ease, pulling sarah behind him with his free hand.

rafe looks to you, wrapped against his side, steps slightly wobbly, a small giggle escaping your lips as he opens the back door for you.

“why thank you.” you step in with rafes help, immediately flopping down in the seat. 

“gotta buckle up, baby.” rafe may be slightly tipsy as well, but he's not as far gone as you are, having indulged with your girlfriends at the party, including sarah who is clearly the drunkest out of the group as topper has to physically lift her into the passenger seat.

“mkay.” you hum, letting rafe do up your buckle in the middle seat before you collapse against his side, eyes closing instantly as your tiredness sets in.

“did you have fun?” rafe asks as topper gets in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“mhm.” you hum out again, not wanting to actually open your mouth to speak as the truck moves out of its parking spot, topper carefully driving down the road as he squints slightly into the darkness before turning the brights on to illuminate the road more.

“just head to mine, top.” sarah says, reaching over to place her hand on his bicep. “you can spend the night.”

“in the guest bedroom.” rafe adds on. he can't see sarah roll her eyes, but he knows she does.

“shh, young love is cute rafey.” you mumble, rubbing your head against his chest like a cat would snuggle into their owner.

“im like only three years younger than-” sarah can't finish her sentence as topper blares on the horn seconds before another truck rams into the passenger side, sending the truck spinning through the intersection. before you even realize what is happening, you're upside down, then right side up, then upside down again before the truck ends up on its tires once more, now off the side of the road.

“fuck!” topper shouts out, his hands running over his body, checking to see that he’s okay before turning to look to sarah, who is clearly shaken but uninjured. “everyone okay?”

“baby?” rafes arm caged you against his body during the impact, but the rolling dislodged you as the top of the car crunched down.

“shit…” you groan, reaching up to touch your forehead, having smacked it against something in the crash. you pull your hand away to realize that your fingertips are red with blood.

“im bleeding.” you wheeze out, panic suddenly setting in as you try to move before realizing you’re trapped, leg pinned under sarah’s seat which has been pushed in towards you from the impact.

“baby, baby!” rafes voice breaks through your panic as his hands grip at your wrists until you stop your flailing. “stay calm, im getting us out.”

topper is able to kick his door open before rounding the now completely wrecked hood to get sarah out. he looks at the intersection to see the truck that plowed into them now blocking the center of the roadway. 

“i-i can’t get out rafe. my leg is pinned. i-i think its okay though.” you’re not sure if your words are the truth, afterall, your head feels completely fine and judging from the blood you have to wipe away from your eye, its not.

“okay, shit.” tears stream down rafes face as he looks over you, allowing himself a split second of panic before he instantly begins to move in the crumpled truck, tearing at the bottom of his shirt until he’s able to pull off a chunk, moving it to your forehead and pushing against the cut despite your grimace.

“its okay.” rafe assures you softly. “ive got you. you’re okay. you’re okay.” the repeating words are partially for rafe as he reaches with his free hand to under the seat, feeling that your leg isn’t bleeding, just stuck at the ankle by a bar under the seat.

“call 911!” rafe yells, and sarah instantly pulls out her phone from her back pocket, glad it survived the crash.

“fuck-i-” tears form in your eyes as the pain sets in, as you see the panic in rafes face and realize how bad you must look. “im scared.”

“im scared too baby, but its gonna be okay, just stick with me.” rafe can’t help himself, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek despite the sweat and drops of blood, he needs to reassure you that everything will be alright.

when rafe pulls away from the kiss, his eyes are blown wide, brows raised. “what is it?” you begin to squirm again.

“nothing, i got you.” rafe works to unbuckle his and then your seatbelt as the fabric of his shirt is now dyed completely red with your blood. he doesn’t want to tell you how shockingly cold and clammy your skin felt when he pressed a kiss against it.

“topper!” rafe shouts. “try to move this fucking seat!” rafe can’t just sit still, managing to push at it with one of his legs as topper pries at the seat, the sound of sirens approaching.

“see that, baby?” rafe looks at you, even able to tell in the dim lighting that your face has gone unnaturally pale. “help is coming, okay?”

it’s a fire truck that arrives first. they do a quick assessment of everyone at the scene before helping topper and rafe, who have not given up on moving the seat. they get it to budge just enough for you to pull your leg out with a sigh of relief as the ambulance arrives.

“come here.” rafe feels a pang of pain is side, but he ignores it as he climbs out of the car, pulling you into his arms. “she needs to go first.”

rafe knows eventually they’ll all get taken to the hospital, but you’re his priority.

“the other guys got a broken leg-” a firemen begins to explain to the emts as they lower the gurney. 

“and hes the one that fucking hit us!” rafe shouts. “my girlfriends got a head injury, she’s going first.”

the emt takes one look at you and nods, motioning for rafe to lay you down. the emt instantly takes over, applying more gauze to your forehead but leaving the crumpled bit of rafes shirt there, hoping that it’s clotting underneath.

they raise the gurney up, rafe climbing in the back with you as a second ambulance pulls up, probably to take the other driver.

rafe tries to talk to you as the emt moves around the back of the ambulance, checking the rest of your body, grimacing slightly when she sees your ankle, which is already swelling and turning purple.

the ride and transfer into the hospital is a rush, and despite rafe not wanting to leave your side, you’re taken for further examination while he has to stay behind.

“sir, we should get you checked out too.” a nurse says softly, his voice too calming for rafe, which just causes the anger he’s been holding inside to bubble over.

“not until i know y/n is okay.” he says firmly, walking out of the waiting room before he can say another word or start punching shit and get himself kicked out. rafe moves towards a tree, pummeling his fists into the bark until they’re bloody and bruised. 

with the anger now at a simmering level, rafe walks back into the emergency room entrance, looking for an update on your condition, only grunting his disapproval before slumping into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

rafe doesn’t even realize that he’s fallen asleep until he's being shaken awake by topper.

“y/n.” rafe stands suddenly, cursing at himself for falling asleep in the first place, but his body crashed from the adrenaline.

“shes alright. the doctor just updated us.”

rafe walks past topper, noticing sarah sleeping in one of the other waiting room chairs, relieved to see that they're both fine and not admitted.

“room 1007.” topper calls out as rafe moves past the nurses station to find you.

you are still groggy as the medicine works it's way through your system, and the feeling of stitches on your head is an unusual weight against your skin, yet you still smile widely when rafe enters the room.

“im okay.” you confirm instantly as he rushes to the side of your bed.

“god,” rafe places his hand on your cheek, his gaze darting between your eyes and the gash on your forehead, looking a lot less serious now that the bleeding has stopped. “im so sorry baby.”

you shake your head. “i really am fine. this nice nurse was explaining to me that head injuries bleed a lot and always make it seem worse than it is. and my ankle is just bruised and sprained, not even broken.”

“you won't be using that ankle any time soon anyways.” rafe leans forward to press a gentle kiss against your cheek. “you're getting carried everywhere, i hope you know that.”

you laugh before suddenly stopping, watching as rafes face turns pale, a sheen of sweat seeking to suddenly appear over his face.

“rafe?” you watch as he blinks heavily, once, twice, then his eyes slide closed as he drops forward, landing on the bed, body completely slack.

“nurse! nurse! help!”

--

“ma’am, you should be resting in your own bed. you're still a patient here.”

you're well aware you're a patient, moving around the floor in your hospital gown and hauling the iv attached to your arm.

“ill rest when i know my boyfriend is okay.”

“he had internal bleeding and wasn't seen for hours after the crash. he's in surgery but it won't be short, we are being as thorough as possible to make sure he's going to be okay.” the nurse explains to you gently.

“ill go sit.” you say, mostly because you feel like your legs might give out at any moment, and you're tired of hopping around on your one good ankle. “but i will not be resting until i know rafe-”

a bell dings and cuts you off, the nurse rushing off without another word.

“shit.” you groan, just glad she ran off in the opposite direction of where rafe is in surgery. 

you hop back to the waiting room and drop into the seat next to topper.

“im so sorry, y/n.” topper says, apologizing yet again.

“it wasn't your fault, top.” you shake your head. “he hit us out of nowhere, you couldn't have done anything.”

“maybe if id just gone a little slower-” you tune out whatever else topper is saying, stomach churning as you watch in waiting for an update on rafe.

--

“he's awake and asking for you.”

“thank god.” you jump up, cringing when you land on your hurt ankle. 

“im taking you there in a wheelchair whether you like it or not.” the nurse whose been with you all night says. “but ill walk fast.”

you sit on the chair, needing to get to rafe as fast as possible, and you know the nurse understands just how much you need to see him as she rushes down the hallway.

“baby.” rafe is sat in bed, looking so much younger and vulnerable in that moment. “are you okay?”

“me?” you laugh and shake your head, moving to carefully sit on the bed next to him. “you just got out of surgery. you needed a blood transfusion.”

“mmm.” rafe shakes his head. “are you okay?” he asks again.

“yes.” you nod, tears coming to your eyes. “im okay now that you're okay. don't you ever put your health off again just for me.”

you lean forward and press your lips against rafes, kissing him softly even though he can barely manage to move his mouth to meet you.

“i love you.” you tell rafe. “and i don't want to live without you.”

“i love you too baby.” rafes cheeks stretch as he smiles, and your chest flutters with relief as the spark in his eyes comes back.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.”