#its just a matter of time but driving for an hour every morning to work like. no one spilled chinese food in you yet

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls. 

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more. 

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for. 

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening. 

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest. 

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from. 

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face. 

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening. 

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit. 

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.” 

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22. 

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink. 

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill. 

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts. 

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable. 

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed. 

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob. 

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you. 

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested. 

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating. 

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it. 

Pictures of Callie. 

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something. 

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means. 

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations. 

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible. 

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.” 

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such. 

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” 

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go. 

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?” 

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger. 

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child.  “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #aris notebook

[cosmicrhetoric]

i get soooo snobby about things that suck. like driving a car made in the last ten years? wheres the cd drive >:[ why doesn't it shake a bit when you go over 35 mph >:[ the brakes are too good. beloved anime from my youth added to streaming service? i miss fansub fonts >:[ why isn't this in three parts on yt >:[ fuck off with autoplay i want to hear the op. and it never ends

#me complaining abt the naruto netflix subtitles a few weeks ago like i dont speak japanese but i know thats some bullshit #but growing pains with the new car......i want 2 love her as i loved my old model but its not the same... #its just a matter of time but driving for an hour every morning to work like. no one spilled chinese food in you yet #no one has had a bad trip in this car. no ones thrown up. it hasnt even survived a 9 hour drive in a snowstorm #theres nowhere to put my 10 yr old mix cds from high school #also big shoutout 2 my friends for like. treating this as a huge loss for me i didnt realize i was the Person Who Loves Their Car archetype #im half joking every time i publically mourn but also im not joking like im not joking

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff 

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchesterfluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fluff

[animesimp-writes]

❥︎ Characters; Tanjiro, Muichro, Zenitsu, Inosuke

❥︎ Genre; sleeping at night with their s/o

❥︎ Warnings; none just pure fluff つ◕◡◕つ

❥︎ Notes; I still can't believe demon slayer season 3 have finished, now i have to wait next year for season 4 GEWKWMXSJA

❥︎ 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎

♥ he’s the type to fall asleep in one position and wake up exactly like that.

♥ once he develops the habit of sleeping next to you he also develops one of holding your hand while falling asleep. Too bad for him because he’ll feel lonely in missions where he has to sleep alone.

♥ immediately falls asleep when you play with his hair.

♥  hearing you talk about the most random things in a relaxed voice works like a sleeping gas on him.

♥ he’s a cuddle bug so expect a lot of cuddling before actually falling asleep. He loves to hold you in his arms while he tells you about his most recent mission and how scared Zenitsu looked because of a bug.

♥ 100% probabilities to wake up with him hugging you or playing with your hands looking at you.

❥︎ 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔

♥ this baby would be stuck to you the moment you put a foot in the bedroom.

♥ LOVES to hold you tight as he falls asleep. You’re just a big teddy bear for him, and bonus points his favorite person too!

♥ he’ll play with your hair while you rant about everyting.

♥ he’s touch-starved so give him a lot of cuddles and shower him in love so he can relax and fall asleep. Maybe that’s just an excuse so you can baby him. 

♥ Would instantly fall asleep if you start telling him about your last mission, don’t take it wrong, your voice just relaxes him a lot.

♥ like it or not you’ll wake up with him sleeping on the floor with all the blankets because he’s too cold.

❥︎ 𝐌𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎

♥ he doesn't move around in his sleep so you don't have to worry about him.

♥ however you love to snuggle up in his arms tho, he thinks its cute but will never admit it.

♥ nights when he can't sleep he'll just lay there staring at your cute sleeping face.

♥ he likes to hold hands with you as you two sleep, so every time he knows your still there with him.

♥ You'll always wake up to him staring at your face every morning, but he stares without realizing so you can't get mad a him.

❥︎ 𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄

♥ you deserve heaven if you can put him to sleep.

♥ he’s the type to hold you tight while falling asleep (might break you a rib or two) and immediately push you away while he’s asleep. 

♥ gets so used to you playing with his hair before falling asleep that he can’t sleep without you anymore. Will totally drag you to his missions so you can sleep together.

♥ you have to lay with him one hour or two before you actually fall asleep because he’ll tell you everything about his day, doesn’t matter if you were with him or not.

♥ loves to hear you get mad with him or joke with him about something that happened today, it will put a smile on his face before driving into sleep.

♥ you’ll wake up in strange positions, he moves a lot in his sleep.

© mitsuri-writes || do not copy/repost my work on other platforms || reblogs are much appreciated!

#kny #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #headcanons #zenitsu x reader #tanjiro x reader #genya x reader #muichiro x reader #inosuke x reader #muichiro #tanjiro #genya #inosuke #zenitsu #kny x reader #x reader #kyn #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro kamado #kamado tanjiro #kamado #zenitsu agatsuma #agatsuma zenitsu #agatsuma #hashibira #hashibira inosuke #inosuke hashibira #momotanmo #headcanon #anime headcanon

[tired-biscuit]

18+ mdni, fem!reader // cw: pregnancy, husband!bakugou, domestic comfort

bakugou changes after he finds out you're pregnant.

it's mostly for the better. he's attentive and kind in that rugged sort of way only he can make work, as well as surprisingly tolerant and patient. he cooks for you, carries you up the stairs whenever you're feeling too lazy for it, satisfies your weird cravings, and insists that he do most of the chores whenever his job allows him to - vacuuming the house is always done on sundays because of that reason alone.

the dad-to-be even endures all of your ups and downs; trying to appease you in whichever way he can, whilst you continue to grow and carry your future little bundle of joy inside of your belly. even most of the hormone-induced emotional outbursts and tantrums that tend to overtake your sound state of mind from time to time are taken care of and sailed across pretty smoothly because of his sudden change in demeanor. it's great - for the most part.

but above all that, bakugou also becomes careful.

during sex especially.

actually, now that you think about it, the once ravenous brute that your husband used to be - the one with a foul vocabulary you'd constantly snicker at whenever it came out to play, and the fierce eyes that paired so well with that signaturely feral grin you rarely get to see nowadays - now turns completely wary whenever you feel in the mood as of late.

safe to say, it's pretty peculiar. however, you're not quite sure yet if it's the good kind or not.

because even now, as you sit on his lap completely naked; with your skin dewy from sweat and the baby bump barely showing, his hands are still calloused and rough to the touch, yes, but are also awfully gentle as they wrap around the curve of your hips. slow and unsure whilst stroking you, they remind you nothing of the near death-grip he had once used on you to leave your skin bruising with passion until the early hours of the morning.

no, instead, this particular touch is so feather-light that it feels like it's more of the phantom kind. and to be completely honest, that 'barely there' feeling is beginning to drive you nuts.

and not in a good way.

especially because he's got that soft look in his eyes, now. the one that you love, of course you do, but for which you're just not in the mood for right now. it's the one that makes him treat you like fragile glass instead of his woman; that makes him make love to you like you're an inexperienced virgin despite the fact that you're literally carrying his child and that he's managed to bend you over nearly every flat surface inside your cozy home during the course of your relationship.

it's the look that makes you want to anger him just so you can get fucked by him all mean and raw like he'd done back then; with you bent over those exact flat surfaces, or rather splayed wide open on top of them. the one that makes you yearn to bounce on his cock with all your might and fervour just so you could prove him wrong.

however much to your dismay, he doesn't let you do that; of course he doesn't. no, to make matters even worse, he's not even allowing you to take his dick in its glorious entirety anymore. instead, he reckons that a little over half of it should do just fine to soothe your needs.

from his perspective, it's looking out for your wellbeing. from yours, it's pure bullshit.

so as you wrap your arms around his neck and sneakily attempt to get a pass at fully sitting down onto him by tugging onto his hair, you're disappointed to feel his hands slide downwards just as fast; right to the underside of your thighs. because just like you, he's pulled the same move. the same tricks.

still, you moan prettily as he stops you by grabbing handfuls of the plush flesh and gently spreads your cheeks apart, making you shiver from the shortly-lived stimulation nonetheless. you watch with tired eyes as his biceps flex, oh, so deliciously when he uses force to make you halt just a few inches from accepting his entire length.

the ripple of muscle is almost like torture for your feral state of mind.

you lick your lips as you tug on his hair again and whisper, "kat-"

he closes his eyes for a second at the touch before he opens them again. his pupils are so big by the time he looks at you properly.

"mm-mm." it's all he offers now. still, a small smirk ghosts over his lips when you pout and consequently begin to glare at him because of the denial.

fucker.

"but-"

"nah." he shakes his head this time, a twinkle of mischief and caring; such deep, profound caring dancing in his eyes as he looks up at you.

"but, i-i-" you sigh, breath quivering when he readjusts on the couch and unintentionally pushes deeper inside of you by a mere inch as a result. both of you seem to have trouble biting back the groans of pleasure climbing up your throats as you add, "...i wanna."

"so?" he pauses, his cheeks dusting pink. "we've been over this... you know what my answer is gonna be."

"kat, c'mon," you repeat, blinking in a way that makes your eyelashes flutter all endearing-like, "please?"

"no."

"pretty please?" you pout again, bottom lip jutting out cutely, the gears in your head turning. "i wanna be pounded properly this time. by you; my amazing husband..." you take a second to stroke the stiff column in the side of his neck as you watch his adam's apple bob, "my big, strong pro hero."

his pupils dilate again. you're so close to winning, you can nearly taste the victory on the tip of your tongue as you feel his fingers twitch just like his dick does, and his hips falter before they push slightly upwards.

so close, you're so close; he just needs a little-

"jesus christ, let me have this, woman... just this, c'mon." he grunts in protest all of a sudden, his voice straining slightly when you wiggle your hips to try and persuade him further. he holds you steady now, his grip strictly solid again. "i already do everything else exactly the way you want me to... can't ya just go easy on me, at least for this one thing?"

you blink, your purpose forgotten. "what on earth do you mean by that?"

and he rolls his eyes. "what on earth do you mea- well i don't know, who else had to go to the fucking mini-market at 3am yesterday, just 'cause someone was craving a weirdly specific brand of bananas?"

"well, that's not fair," you quip back in an instant, brow furrowing. your tummy tingles because his cock is literally throbbing inside of you, but you still gather enough focus to stand your ground. "as far as i know, i didn't ask you to go get them."

"no, you just moped around and kept doing that little sigh thing - the one that you know damn well drives me absolutely fuckin' crazy, by the way, until i got out of bed and drove there like some goddamn circus monkey of yours."

a beat of silence passes between you at that.

"circus monkey?" a pause. "really, katsuki?"

"shut up... it's 'cause of the stupid bananas."

you want to laugh now and so does he, you can tell by the consistent twitch at the corner of his mouth. but you're both just so stubborn. unyielding.

childish, like the baby you're carrying will surely be.

"well, i-" his fingers dig deeper into your skin the moment you open your mouth to tell him off again, his blunt nails burrowing themselves into the softness as you yelp and press your palms against his chest to try and stabilize yourself.

"we're doing this my way." he smiles up at you, showing you his teeth. "okay?"

"whatever." your eye roll is dramatic as ever before you stick your tongue out at him. "you're mean."

his eyes glimmer at the jab. the red shade is so rich that it makes your heart beat faster. especially when he purrs, "i thought you liked that about me, baby?"

"oh, you little- mmph!"

he pulls you in for a kiss before you can even begin to object again.

better luck next time.

#bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #biscuit drabbles #cw pregnancy #bnha smut #tw pregnancy

[fandomxpreferences]

Heartbroke Bitch

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Ex!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW: 18+, drug and alcohol use, angst, fluff, self destructive behavior, I think thats it

Summary: When youre left heartbroken, you cope in a less than healthy way. But what happens when Rafe sees you hanging on the arm of one of his best friends? (Loosely based off Escapism by Raye)

Word count:3.2k

A/N: Let me know if you want a part 2!

Ever since that night, you've been a different person. Rafe ending things sent you reeling and the words keep playing in your head like a record. 

"It's just not going to work. I'll have Sarah drop off your things."

That was all he gave you before all but kicking you out. He didn't even have the respect to give you a reason, though you've come to the conclusion it's because you're a pogue. You and Rafe never should have started anything in the first place; you knew you were playing with fire. 

JJ and John B tried to talk sense into you, but you were too lovestruck. All you cared about was the misunderstood kook king, and now you're heartbroken. The first week you cried and drank as the group tried to get through to you. 

The following weekend, you went out to a kegger at the boneyard and saw Missy Thompson giggling into Rafe's ear and something inside you snapped. You were tired of feeling hurt, so you decided to beat him at his own game. 

"Where are you going dressed like that?" 

There's a teasing lilt to Sarah's voice, but you don't miss the concern in her eyes. She already knows the answer to her question. You've spent the last three weeks staying out until sunrise, various drugs coursing through your veins and different men sneaking out every morning. 

Your eyebrow quirks as you look down at your less-than-modest outfit and shrug.

"Out. I was invited to that new club." 

JJ frowns and stands to walk over to you. He stops a few feet away and you look at him expectantly. 

"Again? Y/N/N, you can't keep doing this. I mean I'm always down for a good time, but you're going to hurt yourself." 

The pain in his voice causes your chest to tighten and you roll your eyes to cover it up. That's exactly why you're doing this; you're tired of feeling hurt and so far losing yourself in white powder and men whose outfits cost more than your car has proven to be effective. 

"So what if I do? I'll be fine, JJ. Don't worry your pretty little head." You smile while patting him playfully on the arm. 

They watch as you walk off and give each other worried looks, unable to do anything but stand by as you set out on a path of self-destruction. 

An hour later you're in the VIP section sipping on champagne that's expensive enough to solve all your money problems and having a great time. The music is loud enough to drive your thoughts away and you let yourself get lost in the moment. 

You aren't sure who the people here are; you've made a lot of new acquaintances since going out more and you just happened to strike up a conversation with the man that brought you here. You're not even sure what his name is. 

You think it's something along the lines of Andrew, or maybe Everett. You don't really care enough to remember; you just know it's something pretentious that reeks of old money. Not that it matters much. By morning he'll just be another notch in your belt and you'll never see him again. 

You're just about to do a shot when a familiar voice calls your name. You look up with a frown, trying to place where it came from. A smile breaks out when you place its owner and Topper plops down next to you. 

His arm wraps loosely around your shoulder and you lean in a bit, happy to have someone you know around. 

"Didn't expect to see you here." 

Topper isn't exactly known for tolerating - much less liking - pogues but he grew fond of you during your time with Rafe. 

You nudge him lightly with your shoulder and he grins. 

"A pleasant surprise, I hope." 

He leans in a little closer and nods. You can't help but notice his spicy yet sweet cologne as his body heat radiates against your skin and it's almost as intoxicating as the alcohol. 

"Very pleasant. You smell good. Like cotton candy and tanning oil." 

Your eyebrows raise at the forward comment and you let your eyes drop down to look at his lips. 

"You like it?" 

The other man is long forgotten as Topper invades your personal space and suddenly your target changes. 

"I love it. What is it?"

You lean back with a laugh and the way his body chases yours isn't lost on you. The game is afoot and you've discovered you love the thrill of the chase. 

"Something expensive. That's all I'll say, a lady never reveals her secrets."

His smile turns devilish and his nose presses against the column of your throat to inhale your scent again. 

"Something tells me you're not much of a lady." 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as he flirts back and your hand laces in his hair to tug his head back. 

"You have no idea, Top."

Your words hang in the air for a moment before he pulls you closer so you're halfway on his lap. You watch as he pulls out a baggy and waves it at you suggestively, your face lighting up as you nod while he sets it up on the table. 

You don't think twice before bending down and snorting a couple lines, tilting your head back with closed eyes. This has become a regular occurrence for you, and Topper lets out a surprised laugh before copying your previous movements. 

"Didn't take you as the type to do party drugs." He admits and you press farther into him. 

"Mmm, there's a lot you don't know about me." 

A few minutes later you're both feeling the effects and you gladly follow Topper as he takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. You aren't paying attention to what song is playing as you grind on your ex-boyfriend's friend, your hands wrapped around his neck as he nips at your shoulder. 

Rafe immediately feels annoyed as he walks into the loud venue, his first instinct being to turn around and leave. Before everything with you, this would have been his scene. However, despite being the one to call it quits, he's been having an exceptionally hard time. 

He thought it would be easy to move on, but every time he tries, his thoughts are consumed by you. He gave up hope after he moaned out your name with another woman and she slapped him before storming out. He didn't realize he was in love with you until he watched your tail lights fade in the rain. 

He downs a shot to settle his nerves, the burning sensation distracting him from the thumping bass. He's just about to take a seat when his eyes land on you. Bile rises in his throat as he watches you party without a care in the world.

He thinks this hurts worse than the initial breakup. Seeing you laugh and dance as if you aren't feeling the same heartache as him is bitter and he doesn't like it. 

He knows he's the one that tossed your relationship in the trash, but he thought he meant more to you. At least enough for you not to be living it up a month after he left. 

You were never one for the. club scene, and he's honestly not sure why you're here. It's not until you bump into him on the way to take another shot that he really takes you in. 

You stop to apologize and his eyebrows pinch when it takes you a second longer than it should to realize who he is. Recognition finally crosses your features and much to his surprise, you give him a short hug with a smile. 

"Hey, Rafe."

He stares at you in shock for a second, trying to figure out why you seem so unbothered by his presence. He's certainly not feeling as relaxed with you standing a foot away. An unfamiliar scent washes over him and he realizes it's coming from you. 

He's always loved the way you smell, and that is certainly not your usual perfume and body lotion. It almost makes him sick to his stomach. His eyes rake over your face for a moment as he tries to place what's so different about you. 

He doesn't even recognize the woman in front of him and his heart breaks as the realization sets in that this is his fault. He broke you. 

Your body is covered in a skin-tight dress that's six inches too short and glitter. He notices you seem taller than usual and his eyes pan down to the sky-high stilettos on your feet. 

That's not what concerns him most though. You're clearly drunk as you struggle to keep your balance and your pupils are completely blown. 

If he had to guess he'd say coke or Molly, maybe both based on your apparent indifference to your life. Either way, it makes his stomach turn and he barely resists the urge to break Topper's hands as they sit a little too close to your ass.

"Hi." 

It's all he can manage as guilt and pain consume him and he wants nothing more than to go back in time. He doesn't get to say anything else before you're stumbling away, resembling a newborn fawn. 

He ignores his friends' protests as he pulls out his phone and steps outside. His thumb finds Sarah's contact and he presses the call button without hesitation. The line rings a few times before she answers and he leans against the brick wall. 

"What do you want?"

There's music in the background and he knows he's interrupting her night but he can't bring himself to care. 

"Is Y/N okay?"

There's a moment of silence before his sister sighs and his eyes squeeze shut. 

"Rafe, you lost the right to ask about her." 

He knows she's right, but he's going to get answers even if he has to drive to the cut himself. 

"I know, okay? I know. But I'm at this night club and she looks absolutely wasted. I'm worried." 

He can almost hear her mulling over her next words on the other end of the line when she finally responds. 

"We all are. Between me and you, she's been on a bender. She's gone out almost every night since the breakup. She comes back completely fucked up with random men at like 6 am. We thought it would pass, but it seems like she's not slowing down anytime soon." 

His stomach lurches at the idea of you going home with strangers while completely intoxicated and he takes a deep breath. He hates that he's been sulking while you've been sleeping around, but that's not what's at the forefront of his mind. 

His main concern is your safety. He knows that sooner or later you'll take too much or trust the wrong man and something will happen. 

"Thanks." 

He hears her start to ask something but doesn't wait to listen, quickly ending the call and heading back in. He's on a war path to find you and when he does, his blood boils. 

You're laid on a table while Topper does a body shot off you and his feet carry him forward before his brain can catch up. He rips his friend backward and Topper is about to cuss him out when he sees the look on his face. 

His hands come up in surrender and before you can process, you're being thrown over Rafe's shoulder and carried outside. Your arms and legs flail as you slap at his back and his grip tightens. 

"Fucking put me down!" Your voice is slurred but loud, and your heels click as your feet hit the pavement. 

You take a second to get your bearings before snapping your head up to glare at your ex-boyfriend. 

"What the fuck, Rafe?!" 

Your anger does nothing to deter him and his arms cross over his chest as he blocks you from going back inside. 

"I could ask you the same thing."

His voice is firm yet gentle as he looks at you and it pisses you off. 

"Actually, you can't, asshole. What I do is none of your business." 

He scoffs and if you weren't so far gone, you'd probably take your shoe off and stab him with it. All of this is sobering you up and you definitely need to be high to deal with this conversation. 

"This isn't you. Why are you doing this?" 

It's a stupid question, he's aware of this. Still, he wants to hear you say it. 

"Maybe it is. You don't know who I am anymore."

The words are harsh as you snap at him and his fists clench while he tries to hide how much it hurt him. 

"Yes, I do. So I'll ask one more time. Why are you doing this?"

He softens when he notices the way your chest is heaving and you're gnawing on your lip the way you always do when you're trying to fight back tears. 

"Because I don't want to feel how I did that night, okay? I want to be numb. Is that what you want to hear?"

His heart clenches when your voice wobbles and he reaches out to grab your hand. Pain shoots through him when you recoil from his touch and take a step back. 

"Don't fucking touch me." 

His hand drops back to his side and his mind spins as he tries to figure out how to fix this. That first week was hell, especially when you sent him drunk texts and left voicemails with jumbled words. He figured you were drinking away your sorrows the same as him, but he never imagined it was this bad. 

He fought the urge to call you back and fall to his knees while he begged for another chance. He figured pushing you away was in your best interest. He knows you think he did it because you're a pogue; Sarah called to chew him out over it. 

If that's what helped, he was happy to let you believe it. In reality, it couldn't be farther from the truth. He didn't care about that at all. He knows he's fucked up and all he did was hurt you. 

He figured cutting ties and letting you find someone else was the better alternative to hurting you over and over again. 

He knows that you would never leave him, even if you should. So he decided to do it for you. 

"Okay, I won't touch you. Just please come back with me so I know you're safe. You don't have to talk to me or look at me the entire time if you don't want. Just crash in the guest room and I'll take you back to John B's in the morning." 

You know it's a bad idea, but you're starting to come down and you really miss how comfy the beds at Tannyhill are. He does an internal victory dance when you nod your head and has the valet pull the car around. 

The ride back is dead silent, but he doesn't mind. He's just happy to have you back in his passenger seat where you belong. It's a relatively short drive, and before you know it he's pulling into the long familiar driveway. 

He opens the door for you and you have to remind yourself not to grab his hand the way you normally would. He puts his hand in his pocket to keep from placing it on the small of your back and lets you take the lead. 

An amused smile splits his face when you stop to take your shoes off and thrust them into his stomach. He takes them without any hesitation and carries them without complaint. 

This is familiar to him; your feet always hurt at the end of the night and it wasn't uncommon for him to end up carrying you or toting your shoes and bag around while you were dating. 

He even went as far as keeping a pair of flats in his truck; they're still in the back seat and he kicks himself for not remembering to offer them to you. 

"You're back ear-"

Rose stops mid-sentence when she sees you, and Rafe shoots her a look that tells her not to ask questions. His heart leaps as you trek up the stairs, the path second nature to you. 

He isn't expecting you to swing the door to his room open though and he wonders if it's intentional or just because you're too inebriated to realize. 

He takes a detour to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and painkillers before joining you. He stops in his tracks when he sees you rummaging through his closet and watches as you pull out your favorite hoodie of his, struggling to put it on. 

He debates offering to help before deciding not to push his luck. You're already back in his room when he never thought he'd see it again. The last thing he wants to do is drive you away.

He stands in place as you crawl under his comforter and settle into your side of the bed, nuzzling your head into the soft pillow. His scent is overwhelming and it brings you comfort.

You're sure you'll regret this tomorrow, but right now all you can focus on is being back in his white Egyptian cotton sheets. 

He hesitates for a second before going into the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth and moisturizer. His movements are calculated as he sits on the edge of the mattress and starts wiping away your makeup. 

You don't protest and he takes that as his sign to continue. Once your face is clean, he rubs the expensive lotion that you love into your face, making sure to use upwards movements the way he always saw you do. 

He grabs a pair of joggers and starts to leave when your voice rings out. 

"Just get in the fucking bed, Rafe." 

He doesn't need to be told twice and moves at lightning speed as he slips off his shirt and throws on his sweatpants. He makes sure to leave plenty of space and his heart stops when you roll over and lay on his chest. 

You seem to sense that he's about to say something because your hand comes up to cover his mouth. 

"Don't ruin it with words. Just enjoy it while it lasts."

He nods against your palm and you return your arm to its previous resting place across his abdomen. He hears his phone vibrate and grabs it off the nightstand, careful not to disturb you. You're already snoring softly when he unlocks the screen. 

There's a text from Sarah. 

Do you know if Y/N is okay? We can't get ahold of her and Topper said she left with you.

He snaps a quick photo of your sleeping figure and sends it. Her response is a red heart and he locks the phone before setting it back down. He settles in and falls into a peaceful slumber, elated to have you back in his arms.

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fic #Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron angst #Rafe Cameron fluff #Rafe Cameron outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks angst #outer banks fluff

[sturniozo]

Our Lips Are Sealed VI

Masterlist

The car ride home was silent. My dad had decided very early in the morning to wake me up and take me home. The sun was barely even coming up when I was dragged out of bed. I guess my dad decided he just couldn’t wait to get me out of the house. He just couldn’t wait to get rid of me for good.

I keep staring out the window during the silent drive. I wonder if Nate or my mom are even awake right now. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if Nate hasn’t even gone to sleep yet. He probably spent the whole night staying up and playing Fortnite with Matt and Nick.

Chris had stayed up almost all night with me. He stayed on the phone with me until we both fell asleep, something we used to do all the time. Chris and I had spent almost every night on the phone together almost two years ago, but I had stopped it from happening again once I had realized my feelings for him.

I hadn’t noticed when my dad had pulled into the driveway. He snapped me out of my thoughts by shouting.

“We’re here, did you not fucking notice?” He says loudly. I flinch slightly.

“Sorry, dad, I was just a bit tired.” I mumble and open the door to get out.

“I’m tired too, you think I wanted to get up at the crack of dawn to take your ass home?” My dad says spitefully.

“I didn;t ask you to, I was supposed to stay until Sunday night.” I tell him.

“Well last night you couldn’t wait to go home!” He shouts.

“I didn’t want to go!” Tears fill my eyes. “You never listen to me.” I step out of the truck.

“You were a lot easier to listen to when you were five and all it took was a doll to make you happy. Now I can never make you happy, no matter how hard I try. You’re just like your mother!”

I slam the door of my dad’s truck loudly and make my way to the front door of my house. I see the light from Nate’s room turn on from the upstairs window. His shadow makes its way to pull the curtain where he sees me walking to the door. He quickly moves away from the window and leaves his room. He makes it to the front door as I do, indicating he ran to the door.

“Is everything alright?” Nate asks as he watches my dad pull out of the driveway.

I just nod, hiding my face so he doesn’t see my tears. Nate wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me inside with him, closing the door behind us. We sit down on the couch and I finally look at Nate. His face softens as he sees my tear stained face.

“Tell me what happened?” Nate asks.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down as I begin to tell Nate everything that happened. Everything that happened with my dad over the weekend, or just the one night I spent there. Once I had finished explaining everything Nate pulled me in for a hug.

Nate’s always been a good brother. A nice brother that I could always count on when I needed anything. “Everything will be okay.” He mumbles against my shoulder as we hug. I pull away and wipe off my face. “It’s okay, hey, it's okay.” Nate repeats. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” I say. “I’m fine, really. I wasn’t going to go back anyways.” I shrug it off.

“Yeah, but you still like your dad, at least a little bit.” Nate laughs softly.

“You never talk to your dad anymore. It’s been like, what, two years?” I snort.

Nate scoffs. “My dad is a piece of work.”

“Piece of shit’s more like it.” I say, which causes Nate to laugh softly.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiles and leans back against the couch. “You never got to meet him and know just how true that is, though.”

I lean back against the couch with Nate. “No, but I got to hear you talk shit every time you came home.”

“Those stories were watered down versions.” Nate mumbles.

I sigh and close my eyes. “I didn’t mean to piss my dad off so bad.”

“I know.” Nate says. “Do you want breakfast?”

I shake my head. “Not really. I just want to go to sleep. Dad woke me up early.”

“Okay.” Nate mumbles.

I sit up from the couch and pick up my bag, going to walk up the stairs.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours, when Nick, Matt, and Chris get here.” Nate says as he follows me up the stairs.

“Nick, Matt, and Chis are coming over?” I ask.

“Yeah, they were gonna spend the night here before we go camping for your birthday tomorrow.” Nate says, stopping at the door to his room.

“Well thats nice I guess.” I mumble as I stop at my door.

“What, you suddenly don’t like them?” Nate laughs.

“What? No, I love them like they’re my brothers.” I laugh.

“Good, because they are.” Nate leans against his door.

“What?” I ask.

“I- I don’t want you to see them as anything but your friends, brothers. Nothing more.” Nate says.

“I don’t, they’re just friends to me. Brothers.”

“Good.”

“Whats this about?” I ask.

Nate just sighs. “Nothing, just… Just get some sleep. You need it, you look like shit.”

I snort. “You’re one to talk.”

“Hey!” Nate laughs. “I’m always looking great.”

“You always look like shit.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Stinky boy.” I tease.

“Go to bed, before I tell Chris about your doll collection.” Nate crosses his arms.

“Good night!” I say with a laugh and open my door, walking into my room. I plop down onto my bed, tossing my bag onto the floor. I kick off my shoes and shimmy up to my pillows, snuggling against my stuffed animals. It doesn’t take me long to pass out.

I’m unsure of just how long it had been since I had fallen asleep, but I’m awoken by the weight of four nineteen year old boys doggy piling on top of me. Chris was at the bottom, right above me, supporting the weight of all of them so I wasn’t absolutly crushed to death.

“Jesus!” I wheeze out. “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Nate laughs from the top of the pile. “You would’t wake up.” He says.

“Yeah,” Chris chimes in. “ We thought this would wake you up.”

“What, killing me?” I wheeze out a laugh. “Get off me, before I become like that kid from the weird book we read in elementary school.”

Nate flops off the top of the pile, followed by Nick, and then Matt. Leaving Chris hovering over me.

“You too.” Nate says sternly.

Chris says nothing as he sits up and steps off my bed. I turn over to face the boys in my bedroom. “What time is it?” I ask.

“Almost noon.” Matt replies.

“Oh, so early.” I mumble and sit up.

“Yeah, extra early.” Nate sits on the bed ext to me. “Get some breakfast or something so we can start packing for the camping trip.”

I groan and lay back down. “Five more minutes.”

Chris takes my hands and pulls me back up. “You’ve had six hours.” He laughs.

“Come on,” Nick says. “We convinced your mom to let us start the camping trip a day early.”

“What?” I ask as I sit up straight.

“Yeah.” Chris smiles at me. “We’re leaving tonight.”

TAGS: @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @iloveneilperry @luvmxtt @blueeyedbesson @iloveurgf @mattswifr @that-chris-girl01 @sturniolho @remussbitch @chrisstankyleg @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x fem reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine

[heejayy]

Young and Beautiful

Nanami x black reader

Warning: none

Word count: 1.2k

You let out an exhausted sigh as you slipped your hair out of its tight bun; you'd finally finished sifting through and responding to all of your emails, as well as reviewing some documents your boss had sent you. Your eyes are dry and strained, and your fingers are cramping after hours of typing. You checked the time and it was 10:53 p.m., which wasn't too bad given that you'd previously left work much later. Ready to depart, you stood up, stretched, and began gathering your belongings before heading home. You collected your binders, slid your home computer into its case, and grabbed your heels, which you had kicked off hours before.

As you closed your office and approached the elevator, your watch chimed with a message.

Bossy pants:

Mrs. Y/l/n, please meet me at 6:30 to look over the paperwork I handed over to you. There was an error.

"Fuck me!" you muttered, feeling rage rise in your chest. This man never gives you a break; he always relies on you, and he never bothers anyone else, which is driving you mad.

"Ugh he's always bothering me he acts like he doesn't have two other assistants to go over his project with but no it has to be m-"

"Y/l/n is that you?" You froze. Every muscle in your body stiffened up; you didn't expect him to be here so late; he usually leaves around 7 p.m., so what on God's green earth is he doing here at 11 p.m?

"M-mr. Kento?" Your chest tightened as you feared he had heard your angry rant.

"Come here," your body responded to his instruction before you could even think about it. You found yourself at the doorway of his office, playing with your acrylic nails, too frightened to look him in the eye, so you looked elsewhere.

His tie was unfastened, and his hair was tossed all over the place, in direct contrast to how it had been precisely slicked back and combed that morning.

“Mr. Kento "I didn't realize you were here this late... why is that?" You asked cautiously, hoping he hadn't heard your dramatic outburst earlier.

"Had to finish some paper work, I'm assuming you did as well?" You nodded, giving him a forced smile. An uneasy silence settled over his office.

"Tell me y/n do you think I work you too much?" He clearly heard your small outburst.

"I- listen I didn't mean-"

"I made you the senior executive assistant for a reason. You're a hard worker, honest, and trustworthy. You and Suguru are the only two people I trust to oversee this floor and manage my schedule; I wouldn't assign you anything you couldn't handle."

“Mr. Kento I understand you mean well, but this is just too much at times, and I'm not saying I don't want this position; I do, and I thank you for it, but I'd like some extra help if it not too much trouble." He took a sharp breath in and pushed his chair from behind his desk, then opened a drawer and pulled out a wine bottle and two glass cups.

"Join me?" You were taken aback by your boss's casual approach toward you; he was always known to keep matters strictly business-related.

"Um sir-"

"When's the last time you had a chance to wind down or hang out with your friends?" You blinked quickly, unsure of how to answer this question.

"My friend sort of abandoned me a long time ago due to me flaking on them for work." He gave you a kind of frown. "I know exactly how that feels."

Your boss strolled over to his couch and patted the empty space next to him, "Join me?"

You tilted your head in confusion, but decided that one drink wouldn't hurt.

2:45 AM

You ended up having more than one glass, and now your cheeks are heated, and you're leaning slightly into your boss, giggling at a story he just told you.

"You don't even seem like the type to get wasted I can't believe you did that!" He chuckled, savoring the last of his wine.

"Yeah well I was young and foolish and I also had bad influences for friends."

As you rested your head on his shoulder, a comfortable silence descended over the room; perhaps it was the wine, but your mood was subdued. Your mind wandered away, thinking about how you'd become drawn into the toxic work culture and how it was draining your youth.

"Nanami i'm tired."

"Tired of what love?"

"I'm tired of feeling as if I have to work until I drop, as if even if I achieve every goal, something is missing, as if I haven't done enough because there's always someone who will outdo me." Sometimes I just want to quit and move to a remote island to be happy."

"Keep this a secret yeah, but sometimes I feel the same way." Your head snapped up.

"Really? No way!” You spoke sarcastically, he chuckled “do I seem that miserable at work?”

“No you just- you don’t seem like this is something you enjoy doing.”

“Don’t get me wrong I do appreciate having this job but if I had a chance to run I’d take it.”

“Run where?” You asked curiously. He glanced down at you with a small smile “let’s make a deal, when I make a break for it I’ll take you” you giggle feeling flustered.

“Ooo where we going?” You asked with a hint of flirting.

“Malaysia.”

Present Time

"Baby you ready?" You snapped out of your daze when your husband called for you. You placed the photo frame to the nightstand; it showed you and your husband celebrating your first anniversary on the beach in Malaysia. You were both young, happy, and much in love. To think you ended up marrying your boss, the same guy you used to gripe about on a daily basis. Now, you can't picture living without him.

"I'm almost done my love."

You're now in your 50s and still go to the same beach on your anniversary, but sometimes you wonder if you should've taken advantage of your youth and explored more instead of being locked up in an office all day.

"What's on that pretty mind of yours?" He inquired, and she wrapped his arms around your figure, rocking you back and forth.

"Nothing much, just reminiscing back to when we were younger. I feel like I wasted my youth chasing something I didn't want only to impress others, and now that I'm older, I feel like I missed out on the opportunity to be young and happy.

I wish I could rewind time to tell myself to enjoy life before it’s too late.”

"What are you saying before it's too late? We're only in our early fifties. We still have so much more to explore, and now that we're retired, we have all the time in the world, so put all this 'I'm old' rubbish out of your head and let's get ready to leave," you smiled at his attempt to cheer you up.

"Doesn't matter what age we are I will always love you."

"Nanami?"

"Yes beautiful?"

"I love you more." You cupped his face and kissed him gently, but that wasn't enough for him. Nanami gripped you by the waist and pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss. One thing this man knew how to well was make you weak in the knees.

"That's impossible love."

©heejayy 2024 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission.

#Nanami fluff #nanami x black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x poc!reader #Nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #X black reader #kento nanami #ask heejayy #jujutsu Kaisen #jjk fluff

[lunalockley]

The Limo Driver (part one)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Very NSFW which is funny cause reader is in her workplace. Fingers exactly where you want them.

Summary: Jake has issues, yet has the audacity to be possessive.

Words: 4700+

Notes: Hiii! I wasn't posting for a while because I wasn't satisfied with my writing, but now save yourselves I'm backkkk

Masterlist

gif credit

Truth is… you’ve missed him. All this time you’ve missed him.

You have realized he never told you how old he is, where he is from, or what he does. You don’t have any substantial information about his personality, about who he is as a person. All you know is he answers to the name of Jake and you think he drives a limo for a living.

That’s it. That’s all you have on him. And half of it it’s guessed.

Yet, you’ve missed him. A lot. Which is pretty stupid. And annoying.

Because if you already have to deal with mornings you suddenly wake up breathing hard and sweaty just by the infuriatingly vivid idea of his warm mouth making his way down on your neck, or the roughness of his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer, deeper, harder… ugly, disgusting ideas you’re determined to call nightmares. At work, everything gets worse. 

There are days when the restaurant is full, no matter how late it is. So you move around on a nonstop cycle greeting, serving, and cleaning until your shift is over and you don’t have energy left to think about anything else than your soft, comfy bed. But there are also days when almost no one comes. Days when no one wants breakfast at 1 am, for some reason, so you don’t have anyone to reassure there’s still bacon and eggs available—even when the ‘24-hour breakfast’ slogan plagues pretty much every inch of the restaurant. Nothing to serve, nothing to clean, no repetition to follow. Nothing to concentrate on.

So all that are you left with it’s the constant hum of the ceiling fan, your thoughts and the fact that his usual seat pulls your attention like a gravitational force, taking over you against all your fucking will. Whether it’s being used by a stranger and you can’t escape how wrong it feels having someone else where it should be him, or when its emptiness seems to mock how you haven’t been able to forget him despite how long it’s been since the last time you saw him.

So of course it’s stupid and annoying… and stupid.

Because if he’s not sitting there frowning at his coffee and flirting with you whenever you got closer enough, as he did for weeks on end all these months ago, it’s because he doesn’t want to, right? It’s been nearly a half-year for fuck’s sake. Of course he doesn’t want to.

You know that. You do. Yet the kiss gets replayed on your mind all the fucking time. Because that’s the exact same spot where you felt his lips against yours for real, not like the not-good-enough vanished version of your drea—nightmares.

Even though you’d prefer those horrible nightmares than staying behind the counter with nothing to do but alternate your eyes between a smooching couple in one corner and an old melancholic man observing the night sky in the other, the only customers in the restaurant. No one else has entered the place in a torturously slow hour and a half. And there's still another hour left until your shift ends.

It’s embarrassing how all your life you had been proud of yourself for not letting anyone take over your mind as you’ve seen in cheesy movies and listened to in corny songs. You were fine, taking care of your well-being, working on as many jobs as physically possible, patiently increasing your savings, doing everything in your hands to follow your slightly unrealistic dreams. But this? This is straight-out dumb.

You think about him as soon as you wake up, you get distracted on your daily life, on your work. And the fact that any little silly thing has the power to make you think of him, to wonder what he might be doing, may have he eaten, might he be okay—it’s infuriating.

You just never had someone on your mind… all the fucking time. 

And now it’s getting to a point you’re just mad about it. About how silly you were to open up to him, to share your dreams and fears when he didn’t even tell you his last name. About how naive you were to let him be part of your life so easily. About the stupid kiss, too. About how you still care, how you’re still hoping he’s okay. About everything. Even the soft buzzing of the coffee machine is getting on your nerves. 

You just have to… forget him. Somehow.

While you channel all of your frustration into cleaning the bar table for the eighty-sixth time you go through it again. You need a plan, you have to get over him. You need to go out, have a social life, get some new air. You’ll fucking do fifty push-ups every time he comes to mind if you need to. You won’t spend not even one more second thinking of him or his stupid lips, nor the lopsided almost-smiles he would give you every time you—

“Always working so hard, preciosa.”

A beat, and then you feel how your heart starts to race in your chest as all the oxygen seems to leave your lungs, getting replaced with too many emotions and thoughts you can’t process all at once. Everything feels like too much for a second. Too alive, too fast, too hot. And as if your body had a mind of its own, while you’re still trying to regain control of it, your head lifts and you’re certain you’ll finally find out you have lost your fucking mind. 

But you haven't. Because he’s right there, in his usual chair. 

Jake.

His brown eyes are the first thing that catches your attention, his gaze always having the power to somehow make you feel safe and exposed at the same time. Just like the first time you saw him, you weren’t able to look away even when he was drenched, limping, and bleeding. Another thing he never explained. 

The memory makes you examine the rest of his body. He’s wearing a t-shirt and a shirt and his chest is moving hard underneath, almost like he had run here. At least he doesn’t seem hurt this time. You also notice he’s not wearing his usual hat and you think this might be the first time you’ve ever seen his hair in full glory. Even if it’s slightly combed you can see it’s curly and fluffy and you try to bury deep down the stupid desire to lose your fingers in it. 

And you realize his whole body seems to be vibrating with some sort of energy, some sort of excitement you’ve also never seen in him before. And your own body, too susceptible to his, can almost feel it emanating out of him.

You search back for his eyes just in time to catch his slowly lifting from your body and when they make contact with yours they shine with something you rather don’t think about right now.

“It’s been a while,” he says still a little out of breath. And your heart is still in your throat while you wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Is he expecting you to say something back to that? After all this time? Oh, it’s been a while? I haven’t noticed. At all. It’s not like I’ve been worrying to death because of you. 

But even if you wanted to say anything at all out loud you don’t think you could, you’re still frozen in place working with way less oxygen than needed. So you keep taking each other in, staring in silence like two idiots waiting for the other to say something. And to your surprise, he gives in first.

“Did you miss me?” He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are bright and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, that flirty tone you know so well. The first thing about him that you can actually recognize because everything else feels out of place. The absence of his hat, the casual clothes, his whole weirdly happy demeanor. So you hold into it. 

Which is the worst thing you could do. Because your heart already struggling somewhere in your chest makes a mortal downfall to your stomach in response to it. And you feel it breaking a little bit more. Of the thousand if-he-ever-comes-back scenarios you had in your head you never picture him being almost… cheeky about it. He spends night after night for months bolted to that chair, talking to you, flirting with you, fighting any drunk who got too handsy, waiting for you on your late shifts to accompany your way home through dark streets, looking at you in that stupid bone-melting way he does… kissing you, just to disappear for six months and appear all of the sudden to ask if you missed him? The nerve of him.

“It’s good to see you, Jake,” you acknowledge, and you curse yourself for your slightly shaky voice. You’re still trying to gain your body back from the emotional overload. The adrenaline is still buzzing through your veins. And the way his gaze flick to your mouth once you pronounce his name doesn't make it any easier.

“Just black coffee?” You hear yourself ask, and you curse yourself once more for blurting out his usual order just like that. You shouldn’t remember those things after six months, should you? The thing is you’re not just trying to avoid answering his stupid question but you also need to have at least something to do with your hands. You can’t just stand there in front of him like an idiot, for god’s sake.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he answers dropping his gaze to the table and you take the opportunity to turn around away from his mesmerizing brown eyes and stupidly long eyelashes at least for a moment. “Always having fun playing with my heart, preciosa. You didn’t miss me, then?”

Again, the nerve of him.

“Clients come and go,” you toss carelessly back at him. Not facing him gives you a false sense of power. You have never been so ruthless around him, you never fully played along with his flirty comments but neither did you shut him down. Not being able to resist him. Stupid you. But no more of that.

“Mmm, just a client then,” he remarks in a meditative tone.

“Well, after all this time you’re not even that, are you?” You throwback a little too firmly, serving his cup of coffee a little too hard, almost spilling some on the counter bar. God, where is this passive aggressiveness coming from?

He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to. Instead he just looks at you. So you do the same, you can’t back down now.

As you observe him you notice part of his weirdly vibrating energy seems to have diminished along with his playful demeanor. He has realized you’re not playing around. And for a second you feel a stab of regret. Despite your annoyance, you enjoyed watching this new third expression his always serious face is capable of making, besides his usual grumpy, extra-grumpy murderous one you were already used to. Now all you have left are his rich brown eyes, which reveal more information than his words have ever done. Despite his will, you believe.

“How’s our cat?” Jake tries again, changing the subject. One you can’t resist.

“My cat. Just mine. And she’s fine. So big you wouldn’t recognize her.”

“Did you find her a name?”

“No. She’s still Viejita.”

Viejita. The way he called her when he brought her to you, tiny, malnourished, and full of fleas. He had found her alone in the streets. Said he had no heart to leave her, but he couldn’t take her home with him. Something about already having fish and cats not being discreet enough. So like the idiot you are you took her with you.

Not like you regretted though. You are pretty sure that tiny black-haired monster has become the love of your life.

“Viejita,” he chuckles softly. “That’s good. I approve it.”

You gasp, shocked. How dare he.

“You have no right.”

This time around he’s the one who seems shocked. After a brief moment, he says in perfect conviction: “Of course I do. I found her. I’m her father.”

“Yeah, you’ve missed half her life, that actually sounds like it.”

The silence rises again and his eyes, god, his eyes are looking at you with an intensity you’ve seen only once before: the night he kissed you. So instead of doing the grown-up thing and facing him once and for all, you do exactly the opposite. You turn around and pretend to be very busy doing literally nothing.

“And how have you been?” He asks a few moments later. Even when you can’t see him you feel his eyes pinned on you. You move things from one side to the other, pretending to organize them when you’re actually doing quite the contrary. You take a mental note to put everything back in its place before your co-worker arrives for her shift.

“I have work to do. Other customers to serve, Jake. Can’t spend the night chatting with you.”

“Yeah, sure, I see that. You’re drowning in orders,” you hear him grumble as you make your way to the table of the smooching couple that just left. They just had coffee and waffles, but you make the most of it taking as much time as you can carrying the mugs to the kitchen. Yet, it still takes too little. By the time you’re back at the counter top, there's still a half-hour of shift left. And Jake is right where you left him, his coffee untouched.

 “C’mon bonita, talk to me.”

You had forgotten the power his dark raspy voice has over you, breaking goosebumps all over your body. One more reason to hate your work dress too short everywhere, leaving your arms as exposed as your legs.

“Stop—Stop calling me… things in Spanish, please.”

“But you are bonita. Muy bonita. Preciosa.”

Fuck him, why does it sound so good? You’ll listen to Spanish ASMR tonight. Not having him in mind, of course.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t fight it. I’ve gone that way, too. But is just denial.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He’s doing that thing where the corner of his lips is slightly raised and his eyes shine with mischief. You can’t help yourself. You fall right in.

“What were you in denial of?”

“You.”

Ok, no. Abort. Don’t go that way. Change the subject. Fast.

You fill the air with meaningless sounds until you actually find something to say. “What’s with the new style? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… so casual.”

He doesn’t smile but you see it in his eyes, your reaction pleased him. But then he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat a little bit, along with a subtle change in his demeanor. Almost defensive, but you’re not sure. “Borrowed.”

“Borrowed?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you need to borrow them?”

“Circumstances.” He answers with a shrug.

“Ok. And… what have you been up to?”

“Work.”

Single-word answers. A mimic of a response but not actually giving anything away. Keeping himself clean, not exposed, not involved.

“What are you doing, Jake?”

“I’m talking t—”

“No, you are not,” you interrupt him. You see a muscle appear on his cheek. “Why are you here? Why you came back?”

“I came back—came back to you. Didn’t want to leave.”

“But you did. So what does that mean?” You ask defenseless, tired of trying to figure him out. 

He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything at the end. All you get is a head shake and a shrug as an apology. He won’t say anything, he never does.

“Nice talk.”

There are still almost twenty minutes left but you don’t care. The old melancholic man, the only customer besides Jake, is still sipping his coffee. He doesn’t need you.

You go and take your backpack to the bathroom. You’ll change and kill the time in there until your shift ends. But as soon as you close the door it opens again. Jake storms inside, you didn’t even hear his footsteps.

“Jake, what the f—”

“What’s wrong? What changed?” He interrupts you, positioning himself against the door. Blocking any way to escape him, forcing you to face him.

What changed?!

“Please, this isn’t—just…” you pause to take a big breath, putting all your effort into channeling the remaining patience you’ve got left “just leave me alone.”

“Why?” He asks softer than you expected, taking a step closer. But despite the tone, despite the cautious way he's approaching you you can see he’s holding back. You can feel his body tense with restraint.

“Because I want to be alone. I don’t want to be near you right now.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

Is too fucking small here, this bathroom can barely fit two people. And he’s gotten closer. You can feel the heat emanating out of him. The audacity to come here and perform a little interrogatory when he never answers any of your questions.

“Jake, please—”

“Answer me. Why don’t you want me near you?”

“Please, stop being an—” an asshole, you want to say. A selfish idiot who just takes and doesn’t give anything back. But you don’t. “Just leave.”

“Tell me why.”

That’s it.

“I don’t wanna be near you because you’re being a fucking asshole and I hate assholes and I hate your stupid chair and I hate that you leave only when you want to and not when I ask you to, like when you kissed me and you just fucking left! I hate that you don’t answer any of my questions but you come here expecting me to answer all of yours, and I hate that you are so close to me,” you snap, trying to push him away full force but he doesn’t move an inch. “And I fucking hate you too so get the fuck off m—”

It’s so fast. His hand on the back of your neck is what silences you. He’s suddenly pulling you closer, caging you by taking over your waist with his whole fucking arm. And when you are millimeters from his face his eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on but they immediately change into something primitive and dark, halfway to insane.

And then his mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you. Hard.

All you can feel is him. His scent. The low hum when his tongue invades your mouth. The hand holding the back of your head, the other moving over your back and pushing you towards his torso. All hard muscles and heat. His pulse jumping under your fingertips. His upper thigh between your legs. 

Is this how it feels when he loses control? Is this how it feels when you lose control?

It must be. Because for sure you’re not in control of your body right now. Not for the way is pushing back to fit every part of his. Nor for the way you moan when he bites your lower lip. Or for the way your fingers trail down and get into the waistband of his jeans, desperate to feel more of him. The contact makes him shudder and growl into your mouth. But you can’t go any further because he’s suddenly turning you around so fast you barely get to hold your hands into the mirror before completely losing balance. His hands grip your hips, pulling you into him, making you feel the heat of his hardness and punching another pathetic moan out of you.

In response a pleased hum rose in his throat, the sound deep and husky. He slowly raises one hand through your body and wraps it around your throat, bringing you even closer to him. The other hand travels down your thigh. The look in his eyes wild and sharp, almost black when they click back on yours through the mirror's reflection. “Not so desperate to get away from me now, are we muñequita?”

You can’t breathe. Not when his fingertips find the hem of your dress. Not when he lifts it so, so slowly up to your waist. Not when he starts playing with the elastic of your panties. Not when he leans his head over your shoulder to get a better look. Not when he briefly brushes your clit through the fabric. Fuck.

You gasp at the contact. Jake removes his hand as his eyes immediately search for yours over the reflection, the intensity of his gaze as if his life depends on your answer.

“Do you still want me to leave?”

He’s not just asking for confirmation, he’s giving you a way out. If you say yes he will leave just like you said you wanted him two minutes ago. Perhaps he won’t ever show up again and you’ll finally get a chance to get back to your normal life before him. That’s what you should do. But you know won’t. Because whatever your common sense is shouting at you gets pushed back to the background. Too caught up in the way his body feels against yours. Too absorbed in what his next move might be, what his next words might sound like right there next to your ear. But you can't get yourself to recognize any of that out loud, so all you do is shake your head, utterly defeated.

“Mmm, what you want me to do then?”

You take his hand and try to take it back to your pussy but he takes it away before you can’t get any relief. It’s not fair. Instead, he raises his hand to move your head to the side, exposing your throat.

“Too bad. I’m not giving you what you want until you act right,” he says lowly and the baritone goes straight into your core. It’s too hot. You feel too hot. Overheated. There’s a faint sheen on your neck and now he’s licking it and you feel like dying. He lets out a noise that’s halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Months waiting for a fucking chance to get here and once I do you can’t fucking behave yourself. Now how was that? You hate me you say?”

“No. Jake, please,” you whine. Unable to stop yourself.

“No?”

“No,” a mere whisper. You don’t even know what are you answering. Your body wants him so bad isn’t even processing thoughts.

“So you don’t?” 

“Jake.”

“You sound so sweet. But I need to hear more, preciosa.”

“Please, Jake, I’m so wet.”

That seems to push a bunch of air out of him. Almost like he couldn't help himself, he moves his head back over your shoulder to watch as pushes the panties to the side with his thumb. His index and middle finger beginning to collect your wetness, the touch so soft you can barely feel it. Torture. Not even close to enough.

“Just fucking touch me already please or I swea—”

The rest of the sentence is muffled as his two fingers fill your mouth, a pinch of something pungent and salty. Your own taste.

“Told you to behave yourself,” he slowly moves his fingers out to your lower lip just to get them back inside to the knuckle. The movement, the words, the tone coaxes a whimper out of you. You’re burning inside out. “Now tell me, does it taste like you hate me? Mmm?”

Before you can even try to answer he turns your head to the side and meets you halfway to kiss you. His hand on your jaw, his tongue dominating yours, his voice raspier when he speaks again. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He keeps kissing you as he begins to trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down. And you feel yourself melting against him. His touch is so smooth and the effect that it has on you is so powerful. And he knows it. 

“You just can't get enough of me, can you?”

And then when he finally starts working on your clit you lose it. God, you had no idea. If two of his fucking fingers have made this trembling, needy, overheated mess of you, you better don’t even imagine what he could of you if—No. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell, you wish you could even talk but language has left your fucking brain. All you can do is whimper as he keeps talking you through it.

“Does it feel good?”

“You’ve needed this all this time? Needed me?”

“Say it then.”

“Say it. Say that you need me.”

“Say the words, baby.”

“Would you like it better if I fuck them off of you?”

Your body makes a sudden jerk when he stops the movement, demanding an answer. But no matter the state you are in there’s still a little corner of your fogged brain fighting. Fighting for not giving him what he wants, no matter how much you want to. No matter if he’s only asking you to admit what you know is true. His hand finds your jaw and positions your head straight into the mirror, forcing you to look into his eyes through the reflection.

And you give in a little. 

“No-o one gets under my skin the way—the way you do,” you manage to say, panting and trembling. Yet, you catch it. As soon as the words leave your mouth his gaze softens. His expression doesn’t seem to change, not anyone could see it. But you can. His eyes look pleased. The storm calms down a bit.

And while you're still spellbound, immobile under his gaze and unaware of anything else but his brown deep eyes he slides two fingers in. The stretch ignites fire from the inside. Your head rolls back into his shoulder as his head falls back into yours.

“Fuck.” The words sound muffled on your neck, low and delirious. “Fuck, baby. Those pretty little noises you’re making will haunt me till my last living night.”

You can already feel it. The way your muscles tense, the way your pussy is squeezing his fingers. So close, so close, so close, so fucking close. And then—

A knock on the door. Your co-worker is calling up your name.

Jake slips his fingers out and takes a step back. The movement sinks down into your stomach. Is he regretting it? Will he disappear again just like last time?

“I–I’ll be there in a minute,” you pronounce as clearly as you can, hoping she won’t notice the tremble in your voice. 

Slowly, you come back to your senses. Your legs barely hold you up. A minute goes by and he still doesn’t say anything. You take your jeans and put them on. Deep down you already knew it. This doesn’t changes anything. He won’t let you in. And you’ve got enough of it.

“I don’t unders—All these months I’ve been so worried, and confused, and angry at you. And on top of that, I missed you so much that I even got tired of it. Physically tired of it. But you know what the worst part was? The more time you spend in my head the more I realized I don’t know anything about you. I barely know your first name. And you, somehow, managed to get any stupid little detail of me out in the clear and that makes it even—”. You finish taking off your dress and you put on your shirt. He's looked at you through the mirror throughout the whole process, his eyes dark and stormy again. You close your backpack and turn to face him. “The point is even this ridiculous little 30-second monologue of me being honest about how I feel it’s more than anything you’ve told me about you. I don’t know you, Jake. I’m not the one who needs to act right. And whatever this is,” you say pointing between the two of you, “is over.”

He’s taking deep breaths, his body tense, restrained once more. Controlled. With a last look in his eyes, you recognize what you couldn’t get your finger on earlier on. It’s vulnerability. But after a few blinks it’s deep down hidden again.

You think he might stop you once you open the door and walk away, but he doesn’t.

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Sorry if I tagged you and you only wanted to be tagged in the I wanna be yours series! I'll be posting very soon there. Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged in part two of The Limo Driver so I can remove you! <3

Also I don't remember who started calling Jake fancanon cat Viejita but please all credit to them!

#jake lockely smut #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x reader #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #moon knight imagines #steven grant smut #mcu moon knight #moon knight smut #jake lockley fluff

[insomniakisses]

ITZY reaction to feeding off their s/o for the first time [Vampire au]

Got long so its a long ish reaction, lemmie know if u prefer longer ones

Warnings / notes; mentions of blood, biting and vampire!au, kinda suggestive

Being the leader of itzy and the oldest she was used to planning and organising pretty much everything. So when dates don’t match up and things go wrong her only source of comfort was to feed. She had many a blood bag purely for this occasion, stored securely in their own chilled container to use at her own discretion.

She’d been so stressed lately, swamped with work and all the promotions for their new album that she had completely forgotten to count how many where left. Not thinking much of it. What could happen if she was getting low, its nit like she’d run out completely. She never did.

Which is why it was such a shock this morning when she opened the container to find it completely empty. Not a bag or even drop of blood insight. The only thing present was a deep hunger and desire for blood. So deep she found herself waking you up and asking for yours.

She knew she shouldn’t, especially so early you probably didn’t know what you were agreeing too, but it felt so good. The noises you made, how you tasted and your body writhing under her. God it was euphoric. She was no where near satisfied but she knew she had to pull away less she drink you dry.

So with reluctance filling every part of her being she pulled away, placing feathery kisses across your cheeks and down to your neck where they got more and more heated as time went on. Her mouth moving lower and lower every second, soothing a new different of desire for you.

She hated herself, forgetting to pack blood bags on your 12 hour car ride was going to be a nightmare. Car journeys always did make her hungry, and although she didn’t mention it you could tell her hunger was getting the best of her. From her constant shifting around to her eyes practically glued to your neck you knew she was starving.

“Lia… you know you can always use m-“

“No!”

Despite the aggression in her voice you could tell she was trying her best not to bite you right then, her voice painfully strained as her hands gripped the seat. With a soft sigh you pulled the car over, climbing onto her lap and wrapping your arms around her neck. Placing a few kisses to her neck you before speaking up.

“I really don’t mind… I can tell your desperate plus… i think its kinda hot actually…”

Trailing your sentence off you placed your lips back onto her skin kissing from her neck up to her lips, connecting them to yours in a heated kiss before pulling away and practically whining out a plea in her ear.

“Please~ i want it just as much as you”

You could practically feel her smirk before her fangs dug gently into your neck, moaning as blood filled her mouth. Taking a few minutes to sate herself she pulled away, laying a kiss to your neck before letting you slump against her. The high slowly dissipating and leaving you sleepy and exhausted. She waited till you were completely asleep before siting you in her seat and driving to your destination.

She had been possessive and clingy all day. Never even letting you out of her sight, or arms for that matter, not even to shower. So it was no surprise that night when she pulled you into her lap arms trapping you in a vice like grip. Lips on your shoulder immediately, making there way up to your neck before she froze.

About to turn your head to check what was wrong, you were caught of guard when she flipped you. Your back pressing harshly into the sofa as her hands pinned your wrists to the leather seat. Red eyes of hunger and complete desire staring right through your scarred ones and into your soul.

Her body lunging forward, fangs inches away from your neck when you whimpered. It was quiet, almost inaudible, but she heard it. Clear as day. Her actions halting immediately, eyes returning to soft brown, her fangs remaining as she placed soft kisses across your skin. Muttering apology after apology for her behaviour and for scaring you.

Moves you so your on her lap, straddling her so your facing each other. Places her lips onto yours for a soft kiss, intending it to be innocent but like always her kisses turn rougher and more heated. Clothes being carelessly discarded until she looses control again, moving to pull away but you grab her hair. Pushing her closer to your neck, silently begging her to bite into your flesh.

Bliss filling both of you when she does, her thirst sated and your pleasure heightened by the small but dangerous action. Pulling away gently she trails her tongue across your neck to catch any stray drops of blood before giving you a cheeky grin, hands finding their way along your body perfectly. She was far from done with you yet, another type thirst needing to be sated.

You’d been sleeping in as she made you some breakfast, going to wake you only to get distracted by her own hunger. Your head turned to the side provided her perfect view to your neck and pulse point. The thought if sinking her teeth into it making her go crazy.

Doesn’t even register herself moving closer until shes straddling you and placing kisses up and down your neck, teeth dragging across your skin. Fangs just millimetres away from piercing the delicate flesh that lies there.

It isn’t long until your wide awake, staring at her eyes wide and breath hitching when her gaze meets your own. Your hazy, sleep filled ones meeting her bright red ones burning with hunger and desire. You give a soft nod and she immediately breaks skin, eyes shutting tight as she feels her desire finally dwindle.

But the high of tasting you mutes all other senses and reason, and it isn’t long until you get light headed and weak. Pushing her off with all your might as she gasp in realisation, cleaning your wound while you finally let your eyes close content in knowing she’d stopped. This would 100% be a one time thing.

Being new to vampire life having only been an adult for a small time, so she was relatively new to the whole feeding thing. A major concern when dating you, a human, not that you ever thought she would hurt you. At least not intentionally.

Yuna however, was a lot more worried. As were the other girls. Having recently moved in with yuna the two of you were around each other pretty much all the time aside from work, bringing in the challenge of yuna being unpredictable and very, very blood crazy.

Having managed to go through her whole stash of blood she kept in the house, she felt herself panic. You were due home any second and here she was practically drooling over the idea of her teeth in your flesh, blood flowing down her throat.

She wanted it. Needed it. Eyes turning red, pupils dilating and sharp fangs poked from between her parted lips. You were outside, heart beating steadily as you turned the handle, making your way inside door barely shutting before she pounced.

She couldn’t help it, her instincts overriding her mind as she pushed you up to the wall. Hand squeezing tightly on your neck, feet inches above the ground as you writhed and gasped for breath. Yuna’s grip unrelenting as she sunk her teeth into your arm, blood dripping from her lips and onto the floor.

You fought, and you fought hard. Pushing, kicking, shoving even screaming but nothing seemed to work. Your voice growing tired the more and more you tried to reason. Fear filling your being when her eyes locked with yours, it was barely a second before they locked shut again. The damage, however, already done. You’d never seen her like this. Eyes glowing red, void of anything but hunger. So… inhuman.

Neither of you were sure how long she was there for, but you could feel yourself getting weaker. Eyes fighting to stay open as your mind and vision became fuzzy, body completely void of movement as yuna continued to feed. Eyes shut as she moaned in content her bliss falling short at the pained, tired voice.

“Y-yun-a ss-sto-p”

Eyes shooting open she ripped her mouth away from your arm, backing away in shock she couldn’t help the tears streaming down her face. You were hurt, dying even and it was all because of her.

Picking you up she rushed you to the bedroom, laying you softly on the bed as she cleaned and wrapped your wounds. Kissing every inch of your skin as she apologised over and over again promising to nurse you back to health, you couldn’t she wasn’t letting you. She could only hope you would forgive her as your voice echoed in her head. Full of fear and pain, because of her.

#itzy x reader #itzy #itzy x fem reader #vampire itzy #itzy imagines #itzy reactions #yeji x reader #yeji imagine #vampire yeji #vampire lia #lia x reader #lia imagines #ryujin imagines #ryujin x reader #vampire ryujin #chaeryeong x reader #chaeryeong imagines #vampire chaer #yuna imagines #yuna x reader #vampire yuna

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

our street

bucky barnes x reader, fluff

a/n: based off cornelia street by TS

The street was quiet, cars driving by in a lulled trance that only ever happened in the late hours of the night. Bucky held onto your hand freely since the two of you were alone; after a night out with the rest of the group, the two of you managed to sneak away. “I need to get some sleep; I’ll see you guys back at the house” was his excuse thirty minutes to bar hopping with Steve and the others. You waited a good thirty minutes after his departure to feign an upset stomach, hugging your friend’s goodbye and heading toward your apartment. No one questioned anything and you were sure the barhopping had planned its part in the grand master plan.

Well, it wasn’t the most brilliant plan, but it worked every time.

A whole six months of sneaking around and keeping things quiet. Bucky and you managed to successfully develop and nurture a healthy relationship – most of your time was spent away from the facility because it gave a sense of normalcy to the courtship. He would come over to your apartment most mornings with bagels and coffee. You would sneak into his room at the facility when everyone was asleep, unaware of what was conspiring under their noses. Alarm set for the early morning so you could pretend that you slept at the facility instead of driving back into the city. It took effort to keep things under wraps, but it had been worth it.

“Took you long enough.”

Bucky stood under a streetlamp, where he had been casually scrolling on his phone. He grinned when you stumbled into his arms, engulfing you in the safety of his embrace. He kissed you on the forehead when you whimpered that you didn’t want to walk back to your apartment.

“I actually think I drank too much,” you complained, allowing him to lead you toward the curb of the street. He held out a hand for a cab and grinned, explaining that you weren’t actually supposed to get drunk. “No shit.”

Bucky laughed. “A cab for three blocks, insanity.”

He was joking, of course, but you tugged him away from the curb. His hand fell to his side, and you told him you’d be fine to walk. He started to protest because if you were too tired, he really didn’t mind getting a cab. “Or I can carry you on my back?”

“Don’t be absurd. Of course, you can carry me on your back! You’re stronger than Steve.”

Your matter of tone sent Bucky into a laughing fit, turning himself away from you. He kneeled and beckoned for you to hop on – never one to ever deny yourself a ride on Bucky, you did as you were told. Effortlessly, he adjusted to your weight and stood up. Your hands fell over his shoulders, loosely holding onto his neck. He started toward the direction of your apartment, and it was quiet for a good five minutes, the two of you taking in the city. The cars passing by the handful of people walking by who didn’t bother laying a single glance in your direction.  The same street, different moments – Bucky grabbing food from the corner deli because they had the best turkey sandwiches. Your favorite coffee shop a block down, where the two of you would sit at a table; Bucky reading a book while you did a word search. The bar that none of your friends knew about, that you would frequent so much every bartender knew Bucky and your order. On this street, your lives felt normal.

It did something to you.

It made the things you held in your heart easier to say out loud.

“Just so you know…” your words were quiet, a tiny bit messy from the tequila shots. “If you decide, one day, that this isn’t something you want I would never be able to walk down this street again. I’d move to another block, another city because I don’t think I could bear it. Losing you…”

Bucky’s pace slowed down but he continued down the street – toward your apartment. “I think we should tell everyone; I don’t want to hide this anymore.”

A sweet relief filled the air, and you kissed his neck. “Then you can finally move in with me.”

The corner light came into view and Bucky grinned, looking both ways before crossing. “That might be the best plan we’ve had yet.”

“We are true masterminds!” you shouted, yelping in excitement when Bucky began to run. You held on tight as he raced toward your soon to be shared apartment, laughing as your hollers of joy filled his ears. He grinned as he pictured the small engagement ring, he picked out weeks ago in his pocket. A lightness filled his heart with each inch forward against the pavement. Somethings were worth keeping to oneself but the love he had for you, could no longer be contain on this single, perfect street.

He wanted to share it with the whole world.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #taylor swift

[apocalyp-tech-a]

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (TechxReader)

Hello! This is my Bad Batch XReader Exchange gift for @deezlees for the @cloneficgiftexchange run by @ghostofskywalker!!! 💜

Prompts: Learning to ride a horse || Going on a vacation together || His first time at a history museum || Confident reader persona

Words: 2500

Warnings: None except flirtation maybe

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55173340

A/N: Having background in public history and having already written Tech at museums, this was a perfect matching!!! Hope you enjoy it! 🤓 And thank you to @cloneficgiftexchange for running it!

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (Tech X Reader)

The sun shone through the early morning commute of speeders and ships traversing Coruscant's sky, its pale blue color muted by smog that even the planet's filtering system could not alleviate. Towering skyscrapers of grays in every hue passed by as you navigated to the Grand Army of the Republic's base.

Upon pulling up in your speeder, a bright millaflower red Mustang XD38, you saw your future passenger salute you by casually flicking three fingers from his brow. You brought the speeder to a stop and flirted. "Hey good looking. Looking for a ride?"

"That depends," he said as he hopped into the passenger side with one dexterous and confident move.

"Depends on what, Tech?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"On if I can be the driver." He adjusted his goggles hopefully.

"Can I pilot the Marauder?"

"No."

"Then you can be my CO-pilot. Just remember, I am the Captain here." You winked at him playfully.

You revved up the engine, but it wasn't loud enough to cover Tech's large sigh of frustration. You chuckled to yourself proudly before shooting him a grinning glance. "Aw, don't be like that, maybe you can drive back."

"That is exactly what you said on our previous two outings." Tech held up a pointed finger in a very casual, yet disgruntled manner.

"Yes. Hence the word "maybe."

Tech's propensity for arguing about who was driving dissipated as the museum came into view. His eyes were wide with excitement, though you knew he was trying to keep that emotion at bay. You had seen him go on one of his excited know-it-all rants before. You found them amusing, endearing, and most of all impressive. He was the smartest person you knew, whether it was from Kaminoan meddling or not, didn't matter.  You loved listening to him, and he loved to talk. And you didn't just like listening to him because of the pleasing sound of his voice and looks, but because he actually did talk about things that were interesting. 

After parking, you both walked to the museum's main entrance. Tech adjusted his goggles as his head tilted back to take in the much larger than necessary doors adorned by a full arch of sculpted marble, stone, mythological figures from all over the galaxy.

"Shall we?" You suggested with a smile.

Tech nodded in the affirmative. "After you, Madame." Tech took note of the strange face you gave him upon being called 'Madame.' Perhaps it was a little old fashioned, but he still had not figured out what else he could use in place of your name without being too forward or disrespectful. Sometimes you called him 'Hot Shot' or 'Ace' which were exceedingly better than the names his brothers called him.  

As for you, his brothers were not without suggestions. Crosshair suggested 'Doll,' Hunter suggested 'Sweetheart,' Echo suggested 'Dearest,' and Wrecker suggested 'Booboo-tooka.'  

None of those monikers were quite sufficient, however, but Tech knew a solution would eventually present itself.

Since you had already purchased tickets as a surprise for him since he had not only repaired, but upgraded and heavily modified the repulsor system for your speeder, you were able to acquire visitor badges quickly and began your mosey through the museum.

With twenty levels, there was no way you could see everything in one day let alone a few hours, but you knew Tech had marked out an itinerary on his datapad to follow at your suggestion. You knew he only had so much leave to see what most piqued his interest. Even though he wanted to see everything, you finally convinced him to whittle it down to four floors.

"Let's start with the Paleolithic and Neolithic," he said with a tweak of his goggles. He started walking toward the lifts as if he had been there before, but you knew he had simply memorized the entire museum's layout.

"Sounds good to me," you said walking beside him. As you stood in the lift, you tilted your head up to study his profile as he continued to look down at his datapad. You wanted to blame the movement of the lift tube for the slight buckling in your knees, but you knew it was all due to his handsomeness. 

Your heart pitter-pattered the moment you had seen him at 79s three months ago. You weren't one to go pick up guys at bars, but there was something unique and enticing about him. You thought little of it or him, figuring to never see him again until he came into your electronics shop in search of a capacitor.  

Apparently your knowledge of computers made an impression because he came in the next day looking for a hyper-regulator. With fate on your side, you asked if he wanted to meet you for a drink and after some adorable awkwardness, he agreed.

The lift doors slid open and you stepped into a carefully curated world of wood and stone. Dioramas with the first humans, the first Trandoshans, the first Rodians, Twi'leks, and Pantorans were set up along one corridor.  

"It is fascinating, the similarities between different species as pertains to the genesis and evolution of technology," Tech marveled as you came to the exhibit of like tools from all over the galaxy. "The Twi'lek arrowhead is quite similar to the Devaronian and Human. The same goes for ax-heads and needles. But once you get to items like beads and pottery vessels, you see the cultural trajectory lose conformity and develop based on materials available by individual local environment and customs."

"I had never really thought about it like that. I'm used to technology and more recent history I guess."  You shrugged.

"Indeed. One can hardly expect the modern mind to memorize all of the information whether historical or technological. Though I do try."

"You have some 'exceptional' advantages that the rest of us do not," you teased. You had not known him three rotations when he went on a detailed explanation of he and his brothers' 'defects' which did not sound like defects at all to you. Then he continued to explain how those traits made them more deviant than defective. You certainly understood that side of him as he often met with you when he should have been attending to GAR duties.

Satisfied with your visit to the 'stone' ages, you next traveled through time and to the fifth floor to the rise of cities and nation states.  

Tech stared at the first exhibit with fascination.  "The agricultural revolution varied by planet. Those that did not have crops that could be mass produced could only sustain small settlements, whereas those with large crops could maintain large cities that grew exponentially into kingdoms and nations."

"And wars and starvation."

"Yes," Tech turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern at your statement. Did you not find history as fascinating as he did? He knew your views on the war and cloning. He dared not ask, but all he could do was agree with you.

When Tech continued to stare at you, you realized maybe you had gone too far and put a damper on an outing that was supposed to be fun. "I'm sorry, Tech. I didn't mean to rain on your parade."

He adjusted his goggles thoughtfully. "I have seen plenty of rain on Kamino," he said understandingly. "You need not apologize. That is an unfortunately correct assessment of civilization. With growth and progress comes conflict and suffering. The two seem to go hand in hand, but I think rather to have faith that intelligence and good intentions have the advantage."

"In that case, it's almost as if sentient life is collectively "defective." You smiled, grateful for his understanding and wisdom. For being a clone maybe a third your age, if that, you can not but admire his calm and collected approach to situations and problems. The only thing he seemed to ever be nervous around is you, but that was understandable because you knew the clone troopers didn't exactly get lessons in romance in the GAR.

Tech merely pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a knowing smile. He was never quite sure how to take your sarcasm, probably because he was self aware of his own and that of his brothers, Crosshair in particular. But the affectionate twinkle in your eyes and gentle flourish of your smile made his heart beat a little faster and the tips of his ears feel a little warmer.

He had not expected to become interested in a female. He was engineered to be a soldier, nothing more. Yet, you made him feel like he was more than that, that he wanted more even. He found himself returning to your shop even though he really did not need to.

And yet he did 'need' to.

Tech found himself smiling back at you. "Indeed. I must apologize. We have been to two floors of exhibits that I wanted to see. Is there something you would like to see?"

"No, Tech. This was all for you."

"I should very much like to learn about what interests you."

"Well, there is an atrium level. Gardens and ruins from other worlds. I remember being taken with the one from Naboo when I was a child." You felt a little weird saying that considering Tech was technically the same age as you were at the time. "You can actually sit there and relax. Or meditate like a Jedi." You shrugged.

"I would very much like that."

After browsing the garden exhibits of Kashyyyk, Chandrila, Selonia, and Old Coruscant, you settled in the Naboo section. A small waterfall splashed down a rock cliff before flowing through a makeshift river that encapsulated the area and then recycled back to the top of the waterfall. Lush green grass spread across one half before melding with a more tree and moss covered rocky area that housed some Gungan head statues. But what really amazed you not only as a child, but as an adult as well, were the guarlara statues that guarded the Naboo area.  

Tech studied you as you gazed upon the statues, content to witness your own fixation with something in the museum since you put up with his. "The guarlara, a quadrupedal mammal native to Naboo, having evolved the physical trait of speed on that planet's grassy plains and also a long mane of hair. Used as transportation before the speeder was invented and now only used for official royal business such as coronations."

"Sadly, I don't think I'll ever get a chance to ride one."

"No. They are reserved for royalty," Tech said a little too bluntly. But you knew he didn't mean anything by it and that he for the most part sympathized with you.

"Indeed," you echoed a word he had a habit of saying. "Let's sit over on that fancy stone bench. My feet are a little sore from all of the walking we've done."

"Indeed," Tech said in reply with a grin. He forgot you were probably not used to walking five or ten klicks or more as he was.

You both sat in silence as the sound of the waterfall drowned out the low chatter of the museum. You took extra satisfaction because Tech is sitting right next to you, so close that your arms and legs were touching.  

You knew he was a little nervous because he continued to look down at his datapad rather than enjoy the soothing sound of the waterfall, but maybe water just wasn't his thing.

“Hey Ace. What cycle are we heading for next?”

There it was. 'Ace.' One of your pet names for him. He wanted so badly to find one for you as well, but he wanted a special name, not the usual. He knew you liked driving and piloting as he did, but Ace could not work for both of you. He knew you also liked guarlaras, but there were not many equus related monikers that seemed suitable. Guarlara itself did not roll off the tongue very well. Pony was not very romantic. And mare simply sounded unsuitable.

Tech's eyes went from studying his datapad to studying the floor. He was disappointed that he could not find an ideal solution to this very simple quandary.

He now turned to you, studying your delicate features, so content to be in your favorite part of the museum, yet you were so colorful as well, not like anyone he had ever met before. When you turned to him, he took to studying the sparkle in your eyes, that seemed to represent everything he admired about you.

“What is it?” you asked, noticing Tech staring at you strangely.

He took your hand in his. "I was simply thinking about what an extraordinarily colorful woman you are. You remind me of the rainbows on Kamino. They were always so vibrant after a storm. And you are a vibrant beacon after all of the missions we go on. You are like a rainbow to me, albeit in adult human female form."

“Awwww...” You squeeze his hand and place your other hand over your heart. "I think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Tech could not help the large smile that spread across his face. “Then it is settled, Rainbow.”

You could not stifle the huge goofy smile that was spread across your face, beaming with happiness at Tech, whose eyes reflected your contentment. “You know, Ace, I think you might have earned the title of Captain.”

“That is not possible. Hunter is our Sergeant and first in line for that- Oh. You are referring to your speeder. You are going to let me pilot it?” Tech asked with a hopeful tweak of his goggles.

You laughed at him. “Come on, Captain Tech. Let's finish out the rest of the museum, then you can take me for ride.” The sly wink you gave him gave you exactly the fumbling reaction you desired.

Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose nervously and cleared his throat. “Yes. I shall take you for a ride in your speeder.”

After you were all done at the museum, you took note of Tech's excitement to sit on the pilot side of your speeder while you took the seat he had earlier.  Before you knew it, you were speeding away from the museum, up into the sky at a breakneck, but controlled speed, but it didn't matter, you knew he was a skilled pilot, and you trusted him with your life, and your heart.

Tech looked over at you, a huge smile spread across your face as the speeder breezed through the bright, neon signs and beaming lights of the other vehicles in the skylanes and shining through the windows of the skyscrapers.  All of the colors of the Coruscant evening did not compare to the lovely colors of you, his own personal Rainbow.

#TBBE24 #tech the bad batch #tech tbb #tech x reader #star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #aelfwynn on ao3 #fan fiction #reader exchange #aelfwynn / techpopstar on ao3

[ninety-two-bees]

@jegulus-microfic | jan 13 — wet | words: 714

this is part two of yesterday’s microfic. here’s part one

The rain is coming down heavier than it has in weeks, and Regulus just missed the last bus back to the studio.

It’s probably for the best. His bus pass has been expired for weeks, and it’s only a matter of time before someone catches on. The smart thing to do would be call James. It would be so much easier than walking back in this downpour. He just…can’t bring himself to do it, so he starts walking.

They’ve been on a few dates now. James takes him to places he could never dream of affording, and he doesn’t put up a fight when James insists on paying. He makes up little lies—oh, my phone broke just this morning and all my fancy clothes are at the dry cleaners—and James insists on giving him the money to replace it all. Regulus’ plan is working perfectly.

So why does he feel so bad about it?

James is a decent guy. He doesn’t ask too-personal questions, he doesn't ask for more than Regulus is willing to give—by all accounts, he’s a gentleman. He has to know that Regulus is just using him for his money at this point, but it doesn’t seem to deter him from asking to spend more time together.

Maybe that’s the problem. Taking advantage of a creepy older rich guy is fine until he turns out to not be a creep. He seems to genuinely give a shit about Regulus, and that can’t be said for many other people. Maybe he should call things off before James gets too attached.

“Regulus?”

Fuck.

A familiar car pulls up next to him, and he knows he can’t just walk away. With a sigh, he braces himself and turns to see the driver. “Are you stalking me now, Potter?”

James rolls his eyes, but there’s a stupid affectionate grin on his face that makes Regulus’ stomach flip. “You know I can’t get enough of you,” he teases. “Is there a reason you’re out in the rain? You’re soaking wet.”

“Fancied a walk,” Regulus says dismissively. He tries to ignore the shiver that runs through his body as he’s forced to acknowledge how truly drenched his clothes are. Even his socks are wet. Gross.

“Get in the car, Reg. I’ll take you home,” James offers. Regulus is about to decline, but the car door swings open and he realises he has no choice.

James’ car is far too nice for him to be dripping rainwater on the seats. It seems like every surface is heated, and James still reaches into the backseat to produce a blanket for Regulus. It’s not fair. He’s too nice.

“Can you just take me back to the studio?” he asks as James starts the car.

“You should really go home, Reg. Dry off. I don’t want you getting sick,” James insists. “Let me know where you live and I’ll drive you there.”

“Just take me to the studio, James.” This is the moment Regulus has been dreading—the moment it all falls apart. James is going to put the pieces together and realise that Regulus has been lying to him this entire time. It shouldn’t be so terrifying. He was going to end things with James anyway. Maybe it wasn’t James getting attached that he needed to worry about.

But James doesn’t say anything. He just nods and begins the drive back to the dance studio. In the time it takes to get there, Regulus’ clothes have begun to dry, but the discomfort has found its way into his bones. This isn’t how he wanted his last moment with James to go.

Always a gentleman, James walks Regulus right up to the door of the studio. “Call me in a few hours and let me know that you’re still feeling okay, yeah?” James asks, and Regulus offers him a curt nod. If they were really dating, this is the moment they’d kiss goodbye, but they don’t. This has only ever been transactional for Regulus, and he thinks James might finally be figuring that out.

“Goodnight, Regulus. Take care of yourself,” he says, offering Regulus one last smile before making his way back to the car. Regulus watches him drive off, feeling a lot like he left his heart in the passenger’s seat.

#marauders #marauders fic #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus microfic #ao3 writer #kit's microfics

[jaksalot]

What if....you were Nana Shimura’s grandkid

So let’s say in this little au of mine, reader is Nana’s youngest grandchild. You’re a teenager again, and you’re at UA. Here’s how I think it would go. 

Toshinori laid one eye on you and instantly had a seizure, panic attack, and flashbacks

He’d def train you(make sure you’re prepared for the real world) 

Drive you to school, pick up mcdonalds on the way there, and let you hang in the warm teachers lounge

He’d call Gran every two or three minutes, gushing about how great you were

He regretted this after Gran wanted to meet you himself

Fearing the worst he was ready to spring into action the minute Gran wanted to fight you

But, surprisingly, Gran was very calm and sweet to you

Ngl Toshi would get kinda jealous of your relationship with Gran

Since you’re parents died(thanks Tomura) i’m kinda thinking you’d live in this orphanage or even have your own apartment

When Toshinori found out

Hell opened up

He bought you this giant penthouse

(which you were a little overwhelmed)

paid for an uber every morning and afternoon

it got to the point where Gran had to tell him how this wasn’t necessary 

So you stayed with Gran

Kicked this man’s ass every hour of the day

“Yo Gran-I know its four in the morning-I have school”

or

“Gran, i threw up...”

He’s very hard on you

in a loving way

Toshinori is the doting “father”, thinking that you could never do anything wrong

While Gran is the strict “uncle/grandpa” that forces you to actually clean your room

Any sport you’re interested in?

Wham Bam thank you Ma’am you have five different trainers provided by Toshinori

Not interested in Sports, wanna do something intellectual with smarts and stuff

Put you into any class you want 

They have accidentally called you Nana many times

You can’t blame them!

You have her heroic eyes and passion for those who can’t help themselves

Bless their hearts when you tell them you’re in the hero class

Poor old men 

Their hearts burst every time they see you on the battle field

You’re bloody

You’re shaking

You probably have multiple broken bones

And they watching in total fear and chaos

You’re in your third year when they find out about your family past

And that just makes them a little more protective

Especially for your dates

Mirio/Amajiki/Nejire whoever

doesn’t matter

they cannot be trusted

You love them but

They need to chill

Toshinori(since he cannot sit still for two seconds) probably will become your secretary or mentor when you’re a hero

He also deals with reporters and the papparazi 

Has blackmailed every news/papparazzi station in Japan

That’s all I have for now. I am working on a Kirishima x child of AFO/dragon reader and Midoryia x #3 hero that was raised like Hawks(his age tho).

Requests are always open so don’t be shy!

#mha x reader #platonic x reader #sfw #mha #rose writes #rose speaks #Toshinori Yagi #Gran Torino #Nana Shimura #Mentioned Tomura Shigaraki #Mentioned Big 3 #Mirio Togata #tamaki amajiki #nejire hado #Reblog and like pls

[dawn-moths]

Hi can i have number 27 with cerulean gaze touya please?

you can absolutely have #27 with cerulean gaze touya ☺️

prompt: kissing to make them stop talking

character: dabi/touya (boku no hero academia // a storm pairs well with a cerulean gaze)

words: 2000+

content warning: 18+ content! minors please dni! reference to past trauma/ptsd, a very messy and passionate kiss.

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“You’re late,” you say the moment you hear the front door to your tiny apartment swing open with a short creak, sticking a little before being forced the rest of the way closed as the cheap wood swells with the summer’s humidity. You hope your words come out sounding annoyed with a tiny flicker of anger, but your true emotions betray you.

Because you were so worried— have been sitting on the couch anxiously counting each ticking of the wall clock with your mind scurrying off to all the worst case scenarios it can think of— ever since it passed over an hour since Touya had texted you that he was on his way home from work.

It normally only took him fifteen minutes to get home if he didn’t have any quick on-the-way stops to make, speeding back to you on his old, beat up bike, looking forward to seeing your comfortingly familiar face each and every time, always drawn back into your orbit no matter how far he traveled.

And you had been lucky, for the most part, that nothing had followed Touya from his old life to sink its fangs into the new one you two shared. No ghosts hunting him and eager to haunt his mundane peace ever since he’d let Dabi sink to the bottom of the bay, brushed the ash from his hands, and walked away.

But that didn’t mean that you still didn’t worry.

Because sometimes, when he was running late or took too long to respond or wouldn’t pick up your calls, one of those little demons with tiny, razor claws still embedded like a thorn in your memory hissed out an eerie reminder of, “What if something terrible has happened? What if tonight’s the night he doesn’t come home?”

“Shit— I know, sorry…” Touya quickly apologized, kicking off his boots and hanging his motorcycle helmet on its usual hook on the wall beside the door, tossing his jacket onto the back of the kitchen chair just a few feet away. You don’t turn to face him as you hear the jingling of keys shoved hastily into his pocket and his footsteps hurrying over to the couch, can barely convince yourself to look up into those striking cerulean eyes as he stands before you and continues with only slightly less urgency, “Right as I was about to close up the owner came by and said he had to run through some of next week’s shipment details with me…”

You’re trying to make him feel guilty, though usually in the aftermath you’re able to realize how unfair that is, but you can’t help it. You still won’t look at him, though it has less to do with the fact you were trying to drive home your displeasure with his actions and more so that, if you did, you knew there was a very good chance you’d end up crying right now.

Because you just couldn’t get the image out of your head— the visual of one of Chisaki’s guys trailing Touya on his bike and pulling up beside him as he parked in the spot reserved for him outside the complex, the fatal gunshot ringing out from beyond the window, your boyfriend’s body crumpled on the concrete in a blossoming puddle of blood as you gaze down at it from above— or another past enemy out for revenge, walking into the little coffee shop Touya loved working at so much with all its handcrafted mugs made by local artists and all the nutty, smoky, herbal scents of the freshest batch brewed, recognizing Touya’s distinct face— the face he used to share with Dabi, back when he’d gone by that name— and stabbing him at the register, leaving his body slumped behind the counter where he probably wouldn’t be found till the next morning.

They were visions that infected your dreams, poisoning you from the inside out and sometimes leaving you a trembling, terrified husk of yourself as you wept and hyperventilated, curled in on yourself in the empty bathtub or under every blanket on the bed as the trauma you’d sustained from back then sank its vicious, gnashing teeth into the fleshy, vulnerable parts of your mind.

Sometimes Touya was there to help you through these episodes, help you out of them, whether with his arms around you or just with his voice coming out slightly tinny through the speakers of your phone. Sometimes you had to ride it out until he returned home and either found you caught in the middle or lingering in the aftermath, eyes glassy and hollow and cheeks still streaked with the evidence of dried salt.

And in the end, he’d convince you that everything was alright. That he was alright. And that, so long as he had you, he always would be.

But it turned out it didn’t even take looking at him this time to cause tears to well and spill from your eyes, shallow breaths silently hitching in your chest as your greatest fears won yet another battle inside of your brain.

“Hey, hey…” Touya was crouched before you now, both of his big, slender, tattooed hands resting on your upper thighs, gently kneading them with reassurance as he reminded you, “It’s ok… I’m right here… I’m right here, I got you… Hey…”

You flung your arms around him, pulling him closer as you continued to cry into his shoulder, breathing in his scent of coffee and campfire smoke with the smallest twinge of nicotine and feeling just a little bit calmer for it.

“When you don’t come home on time I—” you choked out, your voice reduced to a feeble squeak as you squeezed your eyes shut and drew in a deep breath, exhaling it with a shudder. “I just worry that— I get scared that— What if—”

You couldn’t seem to speak any of those grim possibilities into existence, afraid saying them out loud would make them so, sputtering out half sentences until all your words turned so frantic they ceased to make any sense at all.

“Hey…” Touya was cupping your face in his hands now, gazing deep into your bloodshot eyes, searching for something, or perhaps trying to lead you out from your own treacherous fog. “I’m ok,” he repeated, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours and dropping his voice to a placating whisper. “I’m right here. We’re together in the apartment. Nothing bad has happened. We’re both ok…”

Things seemed to stay like that for a long time, just the two of you gently pressing foreheads until your breathing slowed and your tears ceased to fall. All the while, Touya was stroking your jaw with the calloused pad of his thumb in slow, soothing motions, quietly shushing you and repeating his affirmations of safety until you seemed to come back to him, come back to yourself.

“There we go…” he said with a sliver of a smile as he pulled back just far enough for you to lock eyes with him again. “There she is, that’s my girl… You’re ok, see…?”

And you believed him now, believed that the two of you were safe so long as you had each other, and almost was able to manage a crooked grin of your own until suddenly a new wave of your initial anger ignited in your chest again, a slight scowl twitching back onto your brow.

“You need to let me know next time you get caught up,” you told him. “Please, Touya. Just a simple text will do. It’s just— It’s torture sitting here thinking something bad happened to you when so much time has gone by. Please, please, I—”

Before you could say another word, Touya’s mouth was locking onto yours, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until you obediently parted them for him, flooded by the familiar heat of his kiss.

He could be so passionate sometimes, striking a match within you and tossing it to the dry brush of your ivory bones until your entire being was alight with a raging wildfire, both of you frantically grabbing for each other, being pushed up against doors or walls or counters, fingers tangling in and pulling hair, nails raking down backs, gasping and moaning and aching with pleasure, that neither of you could escape the blaze.

Other times, like right now, he knew how to let his love burn like a candle, flame slowly eating down the brittle wick inside of you as the sweet, sticky feeling of arousal pooled molten in your belly, coating your veins in a tender, honey-dipped kind of desire.

No matter if you were cross at him or craving him, the second method worked each and every time. And pretty soon, all you’d be able to focus on was just how much your body wanted his, all other thoughts reduced to delicate, snowy ash and blown away by the breeze.

“Tou—!” you attempted to say as you drew in a gasp of air, but he only gave you half a second to catch your breath before going back for more, nipping at your bottom lip and giving the plush, sensitive flesh a light tug, letting you feel him smirk against your lips as he hummed out a note of mischievous amusement after you let out a startled squeak.

And you were positively melting into him now, letting out muffled moans that he swallowed down with each new, languid lick into your sweet little mouth. You couldn’t resist the taste of each other, his flavor being the dark, bitter kind laced with something subtly spicy, while yours was light and fresh and just the tiniest bit sweet with the piece of hard candy you’d sucked on after dinner, saliva exchanging between the two of you until your two distinct flavors merged into the one that only you and Touya had ever tasted.

Touya was addicted your soft little mewls and delightfully adorable whimpers as he deepened the kiss, and you couldn’t get enough of his lilting, smoky hums, both of you memorizing the map of each other’s mouths, the ridges of each other’s tongues, the shape of each other’s teeth, and pretty soon you couldn’t even remember what you’d been so mad about in the first place.

Because here, like this, there were no worries, no sorrows, no traumas to chase away.

There was only his careful hands, now beginning to find their way to the hem of your shirt and making your stomach flinch as they ghosted over your skin, and his ever present warmth and the skillful way his mouth knew exactly what to do to make more of that sickly sweet desire roll over inside of you.

The next time he pulled back to admire your flushed face, a thin strand of saliva bowing and snapping between your mouths, Touya licking it up as he combed his long fingers through a few loose tangles in your hair and admiring the way your split-slick lips shone under the dim lamplight, he knew his apology had at least been a little bit accepted.

However, the way your pupils were blown wide with want and your eager little hands threaded through the inky tufts at the base of his skull and gave a tiny, impatient tug told Touya that he’d probably have to do a lot more than just kiss you after making you wait so long.

“I promise to text you next time,” he said, sounding truly sorry that time, though still couldn’t help but flash just a spark of a smug smirk at your disheveled state.

You gave his cheek a light, loving nudge with your nose, your anger dissolving like sugar in water, and replied in a hushed tone, “You better…” before beginning to press more soft pecks to his jaw.

But then Touya’s hands were finding purchase under your soft thighs, lifting you from the sofa as he stood, cradling you in his lithe grasp and starting for the bedroom.

He gave your neck a teasing, featherlight kiss when you tried to nuzzle into him further and said through a breathy chuckle, “Don’t believe me? Well, then I guess I’ll just have to show you how sorry I am.”

Needless to say, after tonight, he’d be fully forgiven. Though, he didn’t think you’d mind so much if he ever made the same mistake again in the future and had to apologize.

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send me a number from this prompt list + one of the characters i write for and i’ll write a short lil something for you 💕

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[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower for Every Secret - Ch 2. Zinnia

PART 2 OF A FLOWER FOR EVERY SECRET.

WORD COUNT: 2248

WARNINGS: Mention of alcohol, Sarah's mother lore, some fluff at the end, Joel is a big softie. 18+ MINORS DNI.

I couldn’t wait for five to come. Tapping at the keyboard on the computer answering emails, answering phone calls and redirecting them to the proper office in the relatively small building. It all seemed so mundane compared to a dinner with the Millers. “Big plans this weekend?” Detective Carrillo mused, and I opened the glass barrier to be able to hear him better.

“Bigger plans than sitting behind this desk, if that’s what you mean.” I smirked up at the officer, “Big plans for your team after I head out?”

Shifts were about to change, night shift significantly more busy than dayshift on Fridays, “The usual. Patrolling gang neighborhoods, probably a small bust or two. Hopefully no big messes to clean up.”

“Hopefully.” I sighed in response, but grimaced at the knowledge of horrors beyond my comprehension just outside the bulletproof glass doors.

The drive home was fairly quick, and I rushed inside to get out of my business casual attire and into a green sundress that fell to my knees. I pulled my french braid out of my hair, leaving big waves that I secured with hairspray before touching up my makeup, adding a little extra blush and a warm-toned pink lipstick. “It’s just steaks.” I said to myself in the bathroom mirror.

I didn’t want to be too early, so I flipped the radio on and set to work on returning Sarah’s favor of making dessert the previous night, baking a quick batch of chocolate chip cookies, setting them on the platter that I needed to return to Joel. By 6:45 I was too anxious to wait any longer and made my way out the front door, slipping into a pair of flats that I had left sitting by the door.

“Going somewhere, Dear?” a kind voice to my left called after me.

I spun on my heel to face the source, Carol. In her front garden beds, gloves on, covered in dirt. “To the Miller’s.” I pointed down to the plate of still-warm cookies and looked to the house directly across the street.

“With sweets?”

“Sarah made me brownies last night, so I’m just returning the platter - and the favor.” I looked down to the paved driveway and kicked a loose rock back into the grass before looking back up at Carol.

She hummed in response, rubbing her hands together to get the excess dirt off of her pink gloves, “Nice night for it.” 

“Yes, it is.” it was still considerably bright out, the sun hardly had begun its descent. But I didn’t let myself correct her, “Supposed to be a nice weekend in general, I reckon.” I added for good measure, not trying to rush the conversation into its finish point.

She nodded, hand on her hip, no doubt leaving a smear of dirt across her overalls; “That’s what the weatherman said this morning, anyway. He’s never quite right, though.” 

“I suppose you’re right, Carol. Weather always has a way of surprising us.”

She gave a polite wave of her hand, as if dismissing the statement altogether. I supposed that signaled the end of the conversation, and I made my way across the street, which had quieted over the last few hours as parents called their children in for meals. As the older families retreated to backyards for beer and card games. No matter how busy the neighborhood seemed, in one breath everything could become so serene.

I knocked on the heavy wooden door of the Miller residence and in no time at all was greeted by who I could only assume to be Tommy, looking much like Joel - but a little shorter, a little slimmer, but the same glint in his eye. “Hi, I’m -”

“I know, you’re here for dinner, come on in, he’s been waiting for ya. I’m Tommy. No need for formalities in the Miller house.”

His home was exactly as I’d pictured. Lived in, loved, but nicely maintained. Photos of Sarah, Tommy and what I assumed to be other relatives and friends littered the walls in all sorts of frames, a big comfy leather sofa centered with the large front window, and a tidy kitchen, all clean lines and neutral tones. Varying shades of beige and blue, broken only with the greens of houseplants and the odd brightly colored things that belonged to Sarah. Her bright pink converse certainly looked out of place next to Joel’s tired steel-toe boots.

“You made it.” Joel smirked as he entered through the sliding glass rear door, a hand towel tossed over his shoulder.

“It was a hard trek from across the street, you wouldn’t believe the terrors I faced on my long journey.” I dramatically sighed, before mirroring his smile, presenting the platter to him. “Cookies.” I stated.

“Cookies?” he repeated with an arch of his eyebrow.

“For, well, everyone, I suppose.”

“Thank you.” he smirked, “But remember when I said I owe you?” he dropped his smile and pointed at me in an accusatory manner, but I could tell from the gleam in his eye it was a facade. 

“I remember that well, Joel.” I started, placing the platter on the countertop, “But I had to bring the plate back, and I wasn’t bringing it back empty, even if Sarah is at her friend’s house.” I recalled the events of last night.

“Let her make cookies if she wants to, I like cookies.” Tommy butted in as he rounded the corner from the living room.

Joel rolled his eyes at his younger brother before retorting, “Nobody cares what you like, Tommy. Nobody except maybe Maria; but even that’s pushing it sometimes, I think.”

I laughed in response, handing Tommy a cookie from the plate, “My own special recipe, guess these are for you.”

“I like your neighbor, Joel.” Tommy pointed to his brother before taking a bite of the still warm confection, disappearing to the backyard, calling for Maria, who I assumed was out in the yard. The smell of cooking meats wafted into the kitchen with the warm breeze.

“Y’look nice.” he stated softly the moment the door shut behind Tommy, and he leaned back against the countertop on his palms.

“I tried real hard.” I matched his tone as I studied his casual attire, plain gray t-shirt stretched across the plains of his shoulders and a simple pair of jeans. Though the admission of me trying to impress him almost made me feel embarrassed enough to stare down at the neat tile flooring that stretched across the kitchen and dining area.

“You don’t have to try. I’ve seen you get the mail in your pajamas.” a wild smirk spread across his cheeks, showing off his dimples.

I tried to stifle my grin, but continued, “You know, Joel, I was almost hoping that it was just gonna be us.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and an eyebrow twitched almost with a question, “That so?”

I nodded, wringing my fingers together nervously, “I had fun with you last night.”

“I did too, Sarah too. She thought you were real nice.”

“She’s a sweet girl.” I nodded in answer, daring a step closer to Joel.

Tommy pulled the sliding door open and looked to Joel before saying in a tone that was almost apologetic, “Hate to break this up, but I know you’ll shoot me if I touch your grill, Joel. You got four steaks waiting to hit the fire right now.”

I hummed in response, following Tommy, who held the door open for me. I didn’t wait for Joel to follow behind, “Then I guess we better get out there.”

A woman was setting out another beer for Tommy from a cooler on the porch, Joel’s lawn was nicely manicured with simple landscaping and a decently sized pool, a nice thing to have to stave off the year round Texas sun. A tall wooden fence caged in his yard, offering privacy from the neighbors to his rear and sides. “Hey! You must be the new neighbor.” Maria greeted me, pulling me into an embrace.

I hugged her back reluctantly, and smiled at her, “And you must be Maria? Heard them talking about how tolerant you are of Tommy in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’m his wife..” she nodded in confirmation, before holding up a bottle of red wine, “You drink?”

“I do.” I nodded and she didn’t hesitate to offer me an overfilled portion of the wine in a stemmed glass.

Joel wasn’t far behind, toting a stack of plates with utensils on top in his arms. He put them in the center of the table before finding his station at the grill and laying the steaks down gently with a hiss. I tried to look like I wasn’t watching him cook, but his eyes found mine and he broke into an almost shy smile. Maria clocked it almost the moment it happened and she nudged me carefully, “What did you do to Joel?” she nearly whispered.

“What do you mean?” I dropped my tone so as not to let him or Tommy overhear what had obviously just become girl-talk.

“You’ve lived here for two weeks?” she asked.

I nodded, “Only had a real talk with him yesterday, though. Sarah brought brownies over and I let them in for dinner. Just a little small talk before then. His typical Howdy, Neighbor.” I shrugged.

Maria looked from Joel to me and back again just as he looked up from the grill and made a smart remark at Tommy about how dumb a move was in the NBA finals last week, asking if Tommy had seen it too.

I let the talk of basketball fall off my shoulders and focused on Maria and her introductory talk, how she and Tommy had been together nearly ten years, and after seven he had finally proposed. How the Miller brothers could be reckless and silly, but one exhale later back to serious business. How Sarah was the light of Joel’s life, and nobody could seem to hold a candle to her, how nobody ever seemed good enough to be in his circle long-term. Only wanting the best for his daughter. I listened especially hard when the topic of Sarah’s mother fell from Maria’s lips. “They seemed good the whole time. Got married young - too young. Right after highschool. Neither went to college, and then Sarah came along so soon after, he was only 20. Almost as soon as he had time to settle into fatherhood and married life, he woke up to her just… Packed and gone with divorce papers and a note. Never saw her again after deliberations. Her mother didn’t want anything from either of them. The next week Joel started to plan on starting his own company. So he could always have her along, so he could fight for the life his little girl deserves.”

I looked up to Joel, who was smiling with Tommy at his side, and he flipped a perfectly browned steak over to its still-pink side. He looked back at me and the same shy smile made his cheeks dimple, he took a long drink from his beer before turning to look at Tommy again.

Joel plated my meal for me and set it in front of me on the table, he took the seat opposite me, and Tommy the opposite of Maria.

After the sun set and the meal ended he offered to walk me home when I announced I was feeling tired, and he led me through the house, the only lights were soft and warm from a few lamps. “I like your family.” I stated, looking up into his eyes, made hazy by the alcohol.

“I think they like you.”

“Maria and I got along really well.”

He nodded and grabbed a flannel from the rack, slipping it over his shoulders before opening the front door. We both kept a near snail-pace as we descended the porch steps, made our way down the driveway and across the street.

“She told me about Sarah’s mom. Real sorry for that.”

He seemed to stiffen slightly before his shoulders relaxed. “I planned on saying something, but. It’s fine. She’s never known any different than just me and her Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria.”

“You’ve done great with her. Must have been so hard.”

“Hardly slept the first few years. Felt like all I did was fail her. Then I saved enough pennies to buy the house. Was a real fixer upper. My crew was amazing. Tommy was even better. Every spare moment, free of charge, they were in there making it perfect. Not for me. Not for any favor. For her. Everything I do is for that little girl.” he almost choked on his last sentence, but cleared his throat.

A familiar warm feeling I got the night before spread through my chest and stomach as my feet shuffled up the three steps to my door. I only realized we’d been holding hands when his fingers slipped away from mine with the distance I had created. Each of his callouses brushed against my fingertips.

We bid each other goodnight and I disappeared into the darkness of my living room.

The next day, groggy with a dreamless sleep and a cup of tea in my hand a familiar thud of the newspaper smacking the door sent me to retrieve the paper. Next to the paper, on the worn-out wood was a yellow zinnia, perfectly plucked, obviously meant for me to find.

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