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#i hate that i’m mad about this i’m just like okay what do you want starbucks to DO???
rafeschicana · 2 days
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𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。 ˚ just like her mama/daddy 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘
dad!rafe x mom!reader
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the constant beeping woke you from your afternoon nap. only given birth three weeks ago naps with your newborn baby were routine. you blinked, slowly bringing your hands to your face and rubbing your eyes. it’s only when you hear a shriek, do you sit up in bed panicking. you quickly look to the left of your bed where your daughter’s bassinet is, finding it empty. after struggling with removing the throw blanket that was tangled between your legs, you leave the room in search of your newborn daughter and her father.
“i’m sorry baby i know, i know mama is smarter than daddy, please be patient” rafe whispers to the fussy baby who whines in his arms. “Just let me put you down for one second!” he pleads to a fussy ari. that is when you decide to help. “i got it” you giggle walking towards the bottle warmer rafe couldn’t get started. “sorry we woke you, babe, she’s hungry and i couldn’t get that shit on.” he mumbles.
“that’s okay, our baby is like her father very impatient..when he wants something.” you smirk making him shake his head. the sound of his raspy laugh calming the little bundle in his arms. “how are you feeling?” the simple question warming up your insides. rafe was already a loving husband before becoming a father. now seeing him as a dad almost brings you to tears every time. “im okay i needed that nap” you whisper running a finger down ari’s nose.
“she's so beautiful” you now understood what everyone says about moms believing they have the cutest newborn in the world. “just like her mama” rafe bent down placing a gentle kiss on your lips. he never fails to make you feel beautiful even though you thought you looked a mess. wearing one of rafe's shirts which now had spit-up stains. his own sweats were also covered in dried-up milk. it was all part of the new parent life. you'd get adjusted soon enough.
ari squirmed in her father’s arms. bottom lip forming a baby pout. “my princess don't you start i hate seeing you cry.” rafe cooed rocking back and forth. “it’s coming ari girl” pulling the bottle from the warmer you tested out the temperature on your wrist. “just needs a couple of seconds to cool down” your girl was very picky when it came to her milk temperature. if it was room temperature she wouldn't take it, spitting it right out with a whine. It needed to be the perfect in-between. “mama’s got milk okay let's go sit down” rafe moved towards the living room with you following behind.
immediately snuggling into both of your loves as they rested on the sofa. “it should be good” you smiled passing rafe ari’s bottle. “only three ounces lets see how fast she drinks this shit” rafe joked knowing his baby was a hungry little thing. “We might have to change her schedule to a bottle every two hours.” it'll be hard but maybe she'll sleep a little longer through the night.
“hey, hey slow down princess it ain't going anywhere” rafe gently removed the bottle from ari’s mouth. ari let out an angry breath, furrowing her eyebrows. “i think she's mad at you daddy” you giggled craning your neck to kiss his nose. rafe threw his head back in silent laughter “she looks so funny when she's mad” he brought the bottle back to her mouth. ari immediately going back to drinking her milk in slow gulps. “still cute though”
“just like her daddy” you whispered before letting your eyes close into slumber.
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melrodrigo · 4 hours
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friends? p.2
Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader
Summary: A rivalry between you and Cairo has been going on for several months…what does it take for her to finally break?
Warnings: there r literally none they bicker like an old couple and cairos mean
Word Count: 2k+
A/n: helloooo i’m not sure abt this chapter but lmk what u thought, i cranked this out in its entirety last night, enjoy!
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Friendship was not Cairo Sweet's strong suit. Ask her about Dickinson or Austen or Shakespeare—these were all things she could answer. But the ultimate question of friendship was not something hot on Cairo's mind.
She didn't need it, that was her take. And why would she waste time on something she didn't need?
Friends, much less a partner, was something she never saw for herself. The thought of being a housewife, living in a picture-perfect picket fence house, appalled her. The only things that mattered were her, her writing, and Yale.
So when a certain girl had entered her life, she hated it.
You.
You with your stupid face, and pretty hair, she hated you. A burning passion so intense it heated up her heart and made it race. So intense that she wanted to punch you in the face whenever you passed, only to bandage it up with feather light touches so she could punch you again harder.
At first it was nothing; she didn't have a thing to worry about. A blushing face while you stammered and fumbled around trying to give Mr. Miller an answer, she disregarded you as someone she could respect immediately.
But obviously she had caught you on a bad day, because after those first few weeks, you managed to present yourself in a less idiotic way.
You were, surprisingly smart.
Almost too smart, she pondered. It was getting in the way of her own studies. How could it be, that someone was on bar (never better) than her?
Often she found herself seething at you, arguing at every chance she had with your answers; but, you had given her the same treatment as well.
It wasn't strange for your classes to end in heated debate, both sides failing to yield. It bothered her greatly. She went back home and read more than she'd ever read before, studied just a few minutes longer because she could feel you taunting her.
"Sweet." You nodded, as she pushed open the doors to Millers class. You'd made it a habit to arrive early, leaving only you and her for a good thirty minutes before everyone else arrived.
It was infuriating. To have you so close, open, ready to harm, yet she could do nothing. She'd been having a particularly grueling week. Her parents had just come back from Brazil; and, always seemed to be ready to go at her throat. Gone were her lonely but comforting nights on her bed, candle-lit. Now it was just fights and condescending jabs.
"What did you get on the paper?" Your voice piped up, breaking her from her train of thought. You were referring to the paper Mr.Miller had given back last week, one that counted for forty percent of the grade.
She felt a swell of pride. Scores were something she could argue about. This would take off the stress she'd been building.
"99." She smirked, cocking her head to the side.
You whistled approval, nodding adamantly. Even though there was nothing to suggest so, she could swear she felt condescension in your tone.
She was good at picking out stuff like that. The roll of someone's tongue, the way they smack their lips—it all meant something to her.
She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. "What did you get?" She asked, brows furrowed.
You didn't say anything, simply holding up a finger and mouthing 'one hundo' and watched as disbelief took over her features.
"You're fucking lying." She seethed. Her good mood had suddenly disappeared just as fast as it had appeared.
You spun around in your seat, stupid smile on your face. God, she wanted to jump at you and claw it off.
"Hey, hey, it's okay to be mad. You can't be the best at everything." You told her, hands behind your head.She gripped the desk harder, knuckles turning a faint white.
She stood up, walking over to your desk."You little shi-"
"Good morning, the both of you!" Mr.Miller interrupted, cheery smile. His enthusiasm radiated off his body like rays radiated from the sun. He stopped short when he saw Cairo stalking close to you, a clear pout on her face.
"What are you doing?" He asked, question directed towards her, voice sickly sweet. He had grown fond of Cairo since the beginning of the term; she was his favorite student.
"I'd like her to be removed from the class. Can't you do that Mr.Miller?" She avoided his question, tilting her face at an angle where her chocolate colored eyes shone bright.
His white brows furrowed, not quite comprehending. "You mean," He started, "right now...?"
Bless him, he had no clue how manipulative Cairo was.
She doesn't let up, doesn't let her disappointment show. You notice it in the slight clench of her jaw--she's annoyed.
"I meant for the rest of the term, I can't stand being in the same class as her." She emphasized her words with a glare in your direction. You send her a sweet smile back.
"Please, flattery will get you nowhere." You winked, smile turning into a real one when you see her get visibly agitated.
"Please, girls. Let's be civil here all right?" Mr.Miller pipes up, trying to stand in between Cairo and you. It does nothing to lessen the tension in the air.
He turns slightly to Cairo, voice firm. "And no...I won't kick Y/N out."
The childish part of you desperately wants to fist pump the air; but, the more serious side of you decides maybe you shouldn't do that in the company of your arch nemesis.
Class turns weird fast. Cairo—normally quick and adamant—stays quiet, seemingly distracted by the simplest of things: a bird singing softly from a window, the great big forests where her house stood, the sound of your feet continuing to scrape against the carpet.
It irks you a little. It has you not listening in class, wanting to focus on the girl in front of you.
You almost don't hear it when Miller announces that you'll be working in pairs for the midterm project, preoccupied with her bobbling head, moving as if she were listening to some imaginary music.
"You will not be able to pick your own partner, that's already been done for...by me." He adds, after hearing the onslaught of voices from the students. It's clear he's not changing his mind.
"Alright. When I call your names, go sit with your pair and discuss how you'll do the assignment. Olivia, Taylor." He calls out the first pair, going down (what seems like) an endless list of names, never quite getting to yours.
You watch as countless people move around, silently looking out for who hasn't been called yet. You needed to get a good grade on this, and a lazy partner was going to be a nightmare.
You strain your ears to hear Mr.Miller over the commotion of students moving, but when you turn to squint at him you're surprised to see he's already looking at you.
A sinking feeling eats your entire being whole as you watch his mouth move. He points his finger at you, then someone in front of you.
Cairo Sweet.
Fuck.
Even though you loved to tease her, you did not need to have Cairo Sweet as your partner. She was likely to ruin you before you even got to starting the thing.
You don't make the first move to get up, instead you sit dumbly in your chair, bracing yourself.
Your peace is disrupted by a huff from above you. There she is.
"Move over. I need a seat." She says, something in her voice making you oblige. She pulls over an extra chair and sits by the other end of the table.
"You can come closer ya know." You say, unsure of how friendly to be. You'd only ever really spoke with her from a distance, a comfortable distance. Now that she's up in your personal space you feel ike you're going to suffocate.
She ignores you, pursing her lips as she listens to Miller explain the project.
You inch your chair closer, prepared to make a sly jab at the way she's being a teachers pet, but her stare—which has now been redirected on you—stops you in your tracks. She looks scary.
Lips downturned, nostrils flaring, you're a bit taken aback.
"Okay jeez. You don't have to be such an ass about it." You mumble, distancing yourself a great deal further than you already were. The mood, if it weren't enough already, turns more sour.
She ignores your suggestions and remarks on how to do the project, scribbling something down on to her notepad every now and then.
"Earth to you, Sweet. Are you listening to me?" You press, starting to feel those tendrils of annoyance grabbing you. It was one thing to be an ass, but to put her own feelings above doing good work was low, even for her.
Especially for her, you think.
"Do you ever shut up?" She growls, biting her cheeks so hard you could see the indent it was making on the outside.
"Okayyy...someone's obviously going through something, but can we just-" You gesture to the sheet of paper on the table, you haven't even been allowed to look at what she's written yet.
"I am NOT going through something." She says again, voice cracking. The sound brings forth a peculiar reaction in you, your mouth hanging open. Her eyes look...watery.
Before you can utter a word she's getting up and storming out the classroom, making heads turn left and right at the loud noise.
"Um...I'll be right back too." You say, sending Mr.Miller a cheeky smile and a wink, hoping that'll lessen his curiousity enough to not come out after the two of you.
You push open the doors, call Cairos' name a couple times.
You eventually find her outside, back pressed against the brick wall. She's lighting up a cigarette.
Her body language looks more calm now, but you're not sure what to do. You shuffle on your feet, twiddling your thumbs.
"Sorry I did that." She speaks, not turning to look at you. It startles you a bit, you hadn't realized she saw you.
"Cairo Sweet saying sorry? I must be dreaming." You try, although you're not smiling and she doesn't laugh. Humor seems to be sucked away in this little bubble belonging to only the two of you.
You move a little closer, then even closer when Cairo doesn't object. Even though you did hate her to the bone, you wanted to make sure she was okay.
"Are you...alright?" You ask softly, watching her face for an answer. She seems to be deep in thought.
She takes a swing from her cigarette and blows. "I don't like you." Is what she says.
The ice breaks. You no longer feel like you're supposed to pity her. This was Cairo Sweet, her heart was made of coal.
"Yeah I think we established that. Anything else?" You sigh, leaning back so you're also pressed up against the wall.
She turns to you, and for the first time, she doesn't seem very mad.
"I don't like you." She says again, moving closer. It's in your natural instinct to step back, why was she being so weird? Was she going to hurt you?
She grips your shoulder lightly, enough for you to get the message to stay still.
"I don't  like you." Cairo mutters for the third time, eyes piercing into yours. She seems to be speaking a little lower, a little raspier than normal. Cogs seem to be turning in her head, debating and debating and debating.
Debating on what you can't be certain.
"I get it, you don't like me. So what?" You mummur, voice lower than normal. The proximity is making your mind feel a little clouded.
You try not to let your gaze drift down to her lips, but when there's nothing around to distract yourself with, they do.
Her freckles, the ones that litter her face. You get the disgusting urge to touch them.
"So...don't get the wrong idea." She says before taking your lips in a kiss.
It takes you a second to comprehend what's really happening. You stand frigid, mouth parting to gasp. You're gasp is swallowed by her own lips, soft and supple.
Once Cairo feels that you aren't responding, she pulls away, frightened look on her face. Pink lips downturned, her cheeks a rosy red. You don't have time to process what the right move is. For now, you don't need Cairo thinking you didn't like whatever that was.
You reach for her neck, pull her in for a second kiss. It's somehow better than the first. She responds quick, hands wandering to cup your face, then down to circle your waist, then up to tangle in your hair—like she's changing her own mind too quick.
You let her take the lead, pressing you into the wall with a strength you didn't know she possessed.
You're too lost in it all, the smell of her shampoo, the feeling of her teeth scraping your lips, biting down only the slightest, her fingers burning traces wherever they go.
"Sweet." You breathe, coming out more like a soft moan than you would've liked.
She breaks apart from you, a wild mess. You think she's never looked prettier, hair everywhere, lips torn from your heated kisses.
Her eyes are soft until they flash and something else takes over. It's as if your voice had brought her back to life.
"I don't like you." She snarls, and promptly turns on her heels, just a slight increase in speed than her normal strut.
You're left breathless, staring out into the green plains. Mind and heart racing, you're not sure which organ you should listen to.
The implication of what you did hits you like a freight train. You groan and press your hands to your head, willing and willing and willing for a solution to come out of it.
Not to anyones surprise, nothing comes. A magic fairy doesn't tell you what to do, and you're still standing behind school panting.
"Oh god."
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poppyseed799 · 1 year
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I feel like life series fanon jimmy is kind of mischaracterized and there’s an easy way to make sure you’re doing it right: he has a lot of unearned confidence
#the tags is where I’m going to ACTUALLY say stuff LOL!!!#but like I love life series Jimmy mkay. he’s got that curse of dying first and all. which is what I mean by fanon cuz curses aren’t real#but a lot of fans make it like Jimmy accepts the curse? or even acknowledges that it’s real. which bugs me a bit cuz No He Does Not#(side note tho. I’m not mad about it. I know ppl wanna explore the concept of someone cursed to die first and that’s what they’re doing)#but like Jimmy would just be so in denial about it okay. even if you managed to convince him he would be like ‘..BUT SURELY THIS TIME’#and this relates to ranchers too. I love ranchers ok. mostly cuz my sister does tbh LMAOO she loves them. but ranchers fan content isn’t#what I’m looking for cuz it’s so often stuff like.. Jimmy being like ‘I’m sorry I’m cursed’ and Tango being like ‘it’s ok love u anyway’#but it’s really more like ‘CURSED?? NO! WE WILL WIN!’ which I think is MORE fun for the aftermath of their death. meeting in the afterlife.#I NEED to see ranchers content where they keep denying that the curse is real then Jimmy dies and they’re ghosts or whatever and Jimmy’s#like ‘oh no. we didn’t break the curse. tango probably hates me now. he only liked me cuz we thought the curse wasn’t real.’ and tango to be#like upset at first as anyone would be when they die. but then he like notices the way Jimmy is acting and he’s like ‘no.. ranchers 4 life’#???? what am I saying. hire me for writing fanfic I totally know what I’m doing.#anyways what I’m saying is Jimmy is the canary but he’s the canary that’s like ‘SURELY I can sing for the miners the whole way THIS time’#he is NOT the canary who says ‘WELL time to eventually stop singing in this cave’#HOWEVER I do think that although he has loads of unearned confidence and is in a constant state of denial. he does also have that crumble#sometimes. so it’s not totally ooc imo for him to act like that. but it would be rare moments and also mostly post death#ANOTHER SIDE NOTE I WANNA SAY. I HATE the way I’m saying this as if it’s fact. it’s my personal analysis and just because I think it’s right#doesn’t mean I want to present it as undeniable fact. I could be misinterpreting. if you want to interpret life!Jimmy’s character different#then go on ahead. I don’t hate fanon Jimmy I just wish I saw more like how I see him. that is all.#ok I lied I also wanna add that I’m bad at explaining things ESPECIALLY personalities so it’s possible that I didn’t convey what I wanted to#say properly too. sorry. OKAY NOW THAT IS ALL.
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dancing-with-stars · 2 months
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guys. guys !!!!
#vanu is rambling#ok idk this is gonna b a happy post but i think there are lots of people who love me in this world. or at least enjoy my presence.#like i always always always ALWAYS doubt if my friends or family like me and in my head they all secretly hate me#but like for these past couple months things have been different.#i don’t feel so left out (like i usually do in groups) or alone.#like my friends genuinely want me there like they always ask me to go places with them. and i almost always say no because im so busy or#i just cant but they still ask me everytime. yesterday the whole group was calling and playing a game and i got a bunch of texts like hey#where are you u shud join the call it’s rly fun ! but i just couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone at that moment.#today they were rly happy when i joined the call and idk it made me feel like. oh. maybe my friends do like me#and also i have two moods: i’m either super talkative or i go into my little shell and don’t say anything/add to a convo. and like during#those moments they’ll be like hey u ok? or they’ll just listen to me talk about ceramics and how fun it is or how much i hate eating pears#and like. we laugh so much together. like i have so much fun with all of them i love every single one of them omg#and scary thing is we might not even be friends after we start college. but yk what? that’s okay i don’t wanna think about that.#because like who cares? i’m not gonna let my fears ab the future ruin my friendships. i’ll always love them anyways. and we’ll always call.#i’m glad i met them. they’re all such beautiful and funny and amazing strong willed-people. they are my friends.#it’s just so crazy to me that they willingly want to spend time w me and are sad when i can’t. and they’re so understanding at the same time#they don’t get mad about it. and like they have mad eng last year in high school so much more enjoyable.#someone told me that this is ur last year do things so when you look back you don’t regret anything- so you can be proud of what you did#and my friends helped me with that. and like i still feel lonely the majority of the class because despite this there’s like a permanent#stain of sadness right there at the bottom of my heart. but they make the hard days more manageable.#like i’ve been on call with these people until ungodly hours at night just laughing and i go to sleep feeling a bit lighter.#they introduced me to the tech side of theater which i never thought i’d get into but here i am. they teach me silly facts and words in asl.#they taught me dances- knowing full well i SUCK at it- because we all had fun with it. theyve taught me it’s OKAY to be vulnerable in#friendships and that sometimes being open/yourself is quite literally the best thing you can do for your own soul and others. they’re cool#people really. really cool people
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dashiellqvverty · 3 months
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“boycotts work” in response to starbucks apparently losing money like… okay work to do what??? what has starbucks done, in response to losing money due to the boycott, to stop materially supporting israel? well. they weren’t materially supporting israel in the first place, were they. like perhaps i missed something in all of this but if i’m not mistaken it started because of them suing union members who posted about supporting palestine? which sucks! but… what is the express goal of boycotting them? punish them for being in support israel? sure! a perfectly good reason not to spend your money at starbucks! there’s PLENTY of good reasons not to give starbucks your money im all for, in general, not financially supporting them. but you can’t say a boycott “worked” if there was no goal in the first place. beyond making them lose money. you’re supposed to make them lose money SO THAT THEY WILL DO SOMETHING. starbucks is not a part of the official bds boycott list! mcdonald’s was added but starbucks still hasn’t been! because again. there is no clear goal. AND YET it’s the most “popular” thing to boycott. bc everyone can feel like they’re participating bc it’s *starbucks* and yeah you’re not buying HP or puma products every day to begin with but not buying your starbucks drink makes you feel like you’re doing something.
#sorry this is a mess idk where to put line breaks#i’m just soooo sick of starbucks starbucks starbucks#FUCK starbucks to be clear if it’s possible to boycott them successfully enough to make a difference that’s a GOOD THING#wish it was being channeled into something more practical#if we can boycott starbucks can we boycott them in protest of their union busting#like not that this isn’t important but a starbucks boycott isn’t going to materially affect things in This Situation#but there are other things starbucks is doing that a boycott with clear goals COULD accomplish#literally this is all related to their anti union practices too#anyway choosing not to spend your money somewhere because you don’t support their views#is a perfectly good thing to do im not saying you should go buy every drink from starbucks#i’m saying what is the POINT of the starbucks boycott and why is it ALL that gets talked about#when everything actually on the bds list gets glossed over#r.txt#similarly i saw a tweet like ‘(brand) is on the bds boycott list’ and i looked it up and it is not#the source was an app that tells you if companies support israel#both materially or in like statements and stuff#AND AGAIN. i also want to try to avoid israeli products when i can#or companies w ties to israel#but that is NOT the same as bds#i hate that i’m mad about this i’m just like okay what do you want starbucks to DO???#it just feels like all it’s done is take focus away from ACTUALL bds boycotts by becoming Thee Boycott
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milo-is-rambling · 1 year
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Ignoring my emotions and going to try to sleep. If that doesn’t work I will write poetry about my shitty fucking feelings and then try to go to sleep. If that doesn’t work I’ll take my sleepy time cough meds and try to sleep if that doesn’t work I will simply be miserable until morning
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tiredsadpeach · 1 year
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The urge to isolate and only talk to my family, my bf, and one other friend lmao
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strawbebyjam · 7 months
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(,:
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kissitbttr · 10 months
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miguel putting up with his girl’s princess attitude
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“miguel!” you call out from the bathroom as your fingers delicately fix the straps of your bodycon dress. “can you come here for a minute?”
miguel sighs, this is the third time you keep calling him knowing how busy he is at the moment. work has gotten the best of him, and if reinventing new techs back to back isn’t enough to drain him, he has to keep up with your needs daily.
does he has the courage to say no to you, though? nope. as much as he hates to admit it because it’s embarrassing, he’s scared of you. if the spider society think that Miguel is too frightening then they have not seen you get mad or being a brat.
“coming, baby!” he walks out of his office while taking off his glasses, rolling the sleeves of his henley shirt to his elbows.
the bathroom door is left wide open, immediately seeing you standing before the mirror in a long and tight fitting grey dress that falls just around your ankles. and just like that, his annoyance completely washed off,
he takes a good look at you. eyes slowly observing every single detail of your face and down to your body. the way that dress hugs your curves and accentuate your best assets should be a crime,
God, you’re such a perfection.
“shut your mouth before you catch flies, babe” you jokingly say as your fiancee stares at you with his jaw slightly agape. “mind helping me?”
Miguel clears his throat after, slightly smirking as he shrug his shoulders. he leans against the door way with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving yours.
“you look absolutely divine, mi amor.” he comments, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “is that new?” he points at the dress,
rolling your eyes playfully, you try to keep your composure still. even after three years of dating—now engaged— he still manages to make your heart skips and create butterflies in the pit of your stomach,
“I know” you reply in confidence, winking at him which he chuckles in return. “and yes it is! it’s SKIMS! got it yesterday, does it look good on me?”
he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “baby, you already know the answer to that come on now… you make anything look sexy.” he strides closer to you as he stands from behind you, “now, què necesitas?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips
you find it attractive how he towers over you, and it’s one thing that you love about him. it’s not that you’re petite or anything. but compared to how tall and big he is, you’re definitely tiny.
“straighten my hair for me please? I can’t reach it” you pout at him through the mirror, “just this part right here” fingers move to the back to touch part of your hair,
“ay dios mio, woman… you’re lucky i love you” he teases before grabbing the iron from the sink. “going out with the girls, mami? i assume lunch?” he asks as he starts parting your hair with one hand,
your head shakes, straightening the dress. “no, I’m doing cake testing today and wedding dresses … Darla is bringing three more flavors.”
he stops what he’s doing, giving you a confused look. “alone? cariño why didn’t you tell me? you know I’d come with you” he feels a bit disappointed and now guilty that he’s busying himself with work and instead you’re left dealing with your wedding, alone.
his hand rests on your shoulder and you move yours on top of him. “hey, it’s okay, Miggy… you’ve been so stressed lately i do not want to put more pressure… it was last minute anyway, she texted me this morning.”
“you’re my girl, i would never be too busy for you.” he says almost too fast,
giving him a sincere smile, you nod your head. “yes… i know, baby. trust me it’s okay…plus it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress” you giggle a bit. “we can go over the seating arrangements again together, yeah? i promise” you plant a soft kiss on his finger,
Miguel exhales a sigh, still feeling tiny bit upset that he won’t be there to keep you company. “okay, fine… tell Darla that keep vegan options open for the cakes.”
“noted, honey.” you tell him as he continues to straighten your hair, “is everything okay with work?”
he nods, eyes too fixated on your long hair, not wanting to mess up a single strand. “just running over a few reports and fixing few minor defects on the techs and my suit…the last guy did quite a number on me.”
“hmm i love it when you speak science to me” you comment, watching him laugh a bit at your flirty remark. “but you still need to be careful. i do not want to see my future husband all bruised up when i walk down that aisle or else I’ll leave your ass.” your tone comes off demanding and firm, but it’s only because you care.
“yes ma’am” he replies, setting down the hot object down on the sink before slowly running his fingers through your hair. “there you go, baby” he moves your hair to the front, kissing your cheek and seeing you smile just makes him happy. knowing he’s done a great job.
turning around to face him, you stand on your toes to kiss his lips. “thank you, miggy… I’ll see you later, okay? we can go grab dinner outside and then movie night at 9?”
his heart warms at that and lips stretches into a large grin. “sounds like a plan.” then he lightly slaps your ass as you walk out of the door,
“let me know if there’s going to be bunch of assholes staring at you today, I’ll hunt them down and fucking kill them on the spot.” he mentions as if it’s nothing
and they say romance is dead.
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cake testing with miggy!
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augustinewrites · 1 year
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does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭
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“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can. 
“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before. 
“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.
“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place. 
“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.
“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”
“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.” 
with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head. 
“satoru, please don’t freak out—”
he freaks out. 
he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”
you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”
“what grade curse was it?”
“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”
“you’re only grade one. why would they—”
“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”
“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently. 
“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.” 
“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”
“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”
“well when you come home hurt, yeah!” 
he regrets it as soon as he says it. 
and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.” 
“hey…”
he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.
_____
freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.
“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.” 
“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket. 
he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”
“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him. 
“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.” 
(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)
“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”
wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat. 
“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.” 
“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”
“ah. about that….”
_____
“alright, dinner’s served!”
you the kids exchange a look.
megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”
“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”
“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.
tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.
“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”
“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.
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nadvs · 1 month
Text
cam girl (part eleven)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
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summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.
He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.
And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.
Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.
His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.
He still doesn’t know how you do that.
Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.
You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.
Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.
He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.
He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.
“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.
“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”
He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.
“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.
You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.
“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”
That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.
“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”
Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.
“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.
He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.
So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.
“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.
You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.
“Please?”
Did he really just say that?
The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.
“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.
His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.
“Come here,” he says.
“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?
He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.
It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.
“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”
Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.
“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”
“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.
“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”
Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.
“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.
He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.
Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.
You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.
You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.
“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.
“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”
He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.
You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.
Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.
He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.
The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.
You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.
When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.
You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.
You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.
Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”
You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.
He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.
Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.
He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.
You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.
“Why?” you whine, needy.
“Sit on my face,” he orders.
You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.
You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.
When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.
The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.
Rafe shoves away the thought.
He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.
Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.
“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.
“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.
“Answer me.”
“No,” you tell him.
“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”
You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.
“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”
Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.
“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”
You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.
His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.
Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.
Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.
When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.
Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.
“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”
You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.
“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.
Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?
He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.
But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.
୨ᰔ୧
You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.
When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.
His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.
As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.
But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.
The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?
You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.
You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.
After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.
You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.
Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.
You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.
“You should be careful.”
You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.
“What?” you ask.
“I overheard him talking about you.“
“Sorry?” you repeat.
“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.
He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.
“What are you talking about?” you ask.
“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”
The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.
Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.
You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.
“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.
“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.
Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?
You’ve been found out.
“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”
“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”
“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.
“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”
“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.
“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.
“Just say it.”
“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”
This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.
“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.
“They all just laughed.”
Your heart sinks.
Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.
For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.
“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”
“Yup,” you reply, walking away.
You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.
This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.
When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.
You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?
Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.
After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.
Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.
Rafe: where are you?
You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.
You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i
{ read part twelve here }
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irndad · 1 month
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Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-
Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹
Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.
my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k
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“Is Maeve okay?”
It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 
She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 
Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 
She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?
It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 
He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?
“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”
She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 
“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”
She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 
“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”
It’s only then she frowns. 
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”
“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 
“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 
“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”
“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“
“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”
“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”
A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 
She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 
Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 
Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 
And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 
“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”
Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 
Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 
“You’re important to me.” 
She has no idea how much. 
Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 
“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.
Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 
The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 
He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 
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bunnycvnts · 1 month
Text
new bf! rafe that is slowly, very very slowly, getting used to having a girlfriend that cares about him !!
*+:。.。  。.。:+*
rafe was having a particularly rough day with ward screaming at him to be a better man and running out of gas three blocks from tannyhill, so when you came over that night, his attitude was at an all-time high.
every little thing was ticking him off. from the way his collared shirt was sitting against his skin to the crickets chirping outside, and to the way the tv was far too loud considering how close you were sitting. he was overstimulated, annoyed, and really just needed a fucking break.
when you got up to get a glass of water and your heels clacked against the wood floor, he sort of lost it. “can you- seriously? take the fucking shoes off.”
you paused at the entrance of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing as you turned around slowly to look at your boyfriend. “what?” you weren’t upset; you were just thoroughly confused about his outburst. you’d been together for three months now and had seen your fair share of him being dramatic or moody, but it was rarely ever pointed towards you.
“the heels, they’re driving me fucking nuts, clicking and clacking through the house, and the tv?” he paused to gesture angrily at the screen, “why is it so fucking loud? you’re sitting like six feet away from it.”
your teeth sunk into your lower lip, quickly slipping off your heels and heading back towards rafe, your feet now padding lightly against the floor, almost silently. “is everything okay?” the remote sat in your hand as you spoke, muting the tv effectively. you eyed him cautiously, now noticing the way his hands were fidgeting and his knee wouldnt stop bouncing.
his face scrunched. “yes, everything’s okay; that shits just mad annoying, babe. it’s giving me a fuckin’ headache.” your hand reached out to rub his arm soothingly.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t know. how about we go to your room? it’ll be quieter, and you can change out of your clothes from today. i can go home too if you’d prefer. it’s okay.” your words were chosen carefully, bordering on demanding, and you tried to refrain from any tone that sounded condescending. it was easy to spot that he was overstimulated, and you only wanted to help.
“ye-yeah, yeah. let’s go to my room. don’t leave; why would you leave? i told you everything’s fine.” he didn’t know why you were acting this way, and it made his stomach feel weird. you guided him by his hand up the stairs and to his bedroom, speaking quietly as you went.
“i just know you need a minute, baby. that’s all. know you need some peace and quiet. maybe a nap. will help you feel better, promise.” he paused on the stairs at your words, but your hand tugged at his, making him regain movement.
once you both reached his bedroom, you pulled out some gym shorts and a loose t shirt for him to change into, shoving them into his hands. “here, put these on!” you smiled up at him before moving to his bedside table, where he kept matches. lighting one, you held it to a candle you had bought him a few weeks ago. he had noted how great the scent was but felt it was too girly for him to buy a candle— and he wasn’t girly. so, you took it upon yourself to buy it, and the trimmed wick and melted down wax covering the sides didn’t go unnoticed.
rafe changed quickly and leaned against the wall to watch you. the way you moved so efficiently and effortlessly through his room made his heart beat a little faster. you didn’t have to ask where he kept leisure clothes or the matches. you didn’t think twice before pulling the blanket up from the made bed and fluffing the pillows for him. you didn’t even need him to tell you that he hated sleeping with the top sheet, as you knowingly kept it tucked into the mattress. just watching you made his headache lessen, and he didn’t fight when you pulled him off the wall and helped him get situated in his bed.
“do you want some water or medicine?” his head shook at your question, denying it. all he felt like he needed was you. no one had ever paid so much attention to him or knew what made him feel better or worse. no one had taken the time or given the effort to care so lovingly for him. so when you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand running through his hair gently, all he could do was open his arms to gesture you closer. the blonde shuffled even closer to you, resting his head on your stomach, so you could continue massaging his head and playing with his hair.
“nah, just my girl.”
*+:。.。  。.。:+*
ok this is my first writing post pls be nice
taglist: @sunkissedrafe
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multifariousqueer · 11 months
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can you write miles 42 having readers bank account, card ALL that on his phone and gets mad if she purchases shi with money he didint give her. its really crazy but its miles 42....what do you expect??? hehe
Sure love!!!
A/n: y’all I love you so much but I need you guys to start requesting regular miles fanfic pls. Although 42 miles owns my 🩷
It was just a simple necklace. It was the Vivienne Westwood necklace that you saw everyone around you wearing and wanted so badly. You knew Miles would get it for you in a heartbeat but a part of you wanted to get it for yourself. It had been a long, stressful semester but you struggled through it all and got to a point where ou were passing with A’s and B’s. Coincidentally, you had gotten a job at Starbucks after months of applying and you had about $1000 saved up of your own money that you were waiting to spend on something special. That was, until that “something special” came along in the form of Miles.
You never knew what he did but you knew he was making 8x your salary in a month. It seemed like anything you wanted, you got when you were with Miles; shoes, clothes, books, makeup any and everything you wanted, it was yours in a matter of days. It’s worth mentioning that Miles is extremely overprotective and wants to know everything about what you’re doing and buying because he loves you and cares about your habits.
Even on Miles’s birthday when you dipped into your savings to get him the latest Jordan’s, he was furious that you had to use your own money:
“Damn Ma, these are valid. How much were they?”
“Oh don’t worry about it” you said
“I said, how much were they.” His eyes narrowing in on you because he knew how much they were because he was gonna buy them 2 weeks ago but decided not to.
“$500. I’ve been saving for them for you, baby. It’s all good” you tried to assure him
“Aight. thank you.” He said, pulling you close to him, the scent of the Dior Sauvage cologne you also bought him, filling your nostrils
But deep down you knew he was pissed off and mad that you spent your own money, so after a long talk about how he should be able to keep tabs on you and keep you safe, you gave him your Apple Pay and banking info for emergencies only but of course it’s Miles and being the overprotective boyfriend he is, he checks it everyday for any “extravagant purchases” made by you or someone else.
Of course he isn’t crazy, he set a $25 limit for you before he steps in and asks what’s up. Once, you were at a mall with your friend and found the cutest shirt at Urban Outfitters and decided to buy it. The price tag read $50 but you went ahead and got it; the same happened at Bath and Body Works and Tilly’s and as you made your way to the bathroom, you got a text from Miles:
Miles: did someone take your card?
You: no why??
Miles: why’d you spend $150 in an hour??
You: I’m at the mall
Miles: so? I pay for your shit
You: dawg it’s $150. It’s not that deep 💀
Miles: I ain’t yo “dawg” and yes it is when Yk I buy you shit
You: you aren’t my sugar daddy
Miles: I basically am atp. I’m sending you $1000, buy something cute
You contemplated leaving him on seen but you remembered how he hates that so you replied:
You: Okay
You had saved up enough to get the necklace and when you got it, you were ecstatic. You thought about all of the possible outfit combos and how good it will look against your brown skin but your thoughts were interrupted by a certain someone:
Miles: what’d I tell you, Mami?
You: ?
Miles: don’t play dumb, yk I would’ve bought you that necklace in a heartbeat but instead you wanted to be miss independent and buy it yourself. I guess since you’re so independent, I’ll stop sending you that $1000 every week. How about that?
You: ok
Miles: ?
You: we can discuss this when I get home
Miles: K
You: k
It was a long ride home but eventually you accepted that Miles was gonna rip your head off and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.
When you got home, he had three of the necklaces, two huge teddy bears, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the newest pair of Jordan’s waiting for you:
“What’s all this?” You smiled and asked
“I told you I’ll pay for your shit, y/n” miles said, with a small smirk on his face
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bettysupremacy · 2 months
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Could I request something with James? Where reader lashes out at him and she had arguments with her ex a lot and expected this (her lash out) to get into a really big argument but he’s just like „okay noted“ and super kind about it (a little bit inspired by all my ghosts by lizzy)
(You can obviously change stuff to your liking and no pressure)
all hail lizzy mcalpine. i loved this request and i love james! thank you!
“Im serious, James!” You exclaim, a little louder than necessary. “I miss you! You’re always at practice, or with the boys, and I love the boys! But I miss you!”
He pauses in the doorway, startled by your reaction.
Remus and Sirius miss me too, you expect him to say, or rather, I can’t miss rugby cause you miss me a little more. You anticipate the sting of his words before they come, bracing yourself as you lean back against the kitchen countertop. They don’t come.
“And I miss your hugs.” You tear up pitifully, trying again, rather weakly, as he walks over. You don’t want an argument, but why isn’t it coming? “You’ve been gone so much. You know I hate doing the dishes.”
He grabs ahold of your elbow, his thumb digging into the crease as he pulls you close. Your palms dig into your eyes as your forehead dips against his chest. The way your shoulders shake aches him. He should never be the reason for your tears.
He’s been gone more recently, yes, and he feels terrible about it. If he’s not at rugby, the boys want to see him, and if he’s not with the boys, he’s at rugby. He’s missed you so much recently, he just didn’t know you mirrored his emotions.
“I’m the worst,” James says sincerely. “I didn’t know I was making you feel like this.”
“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, stress evident in your choked voice. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or guilty, by crying I mean.”
He rocks you back and forth, arms securely over your shoulders. His embrace is a little tight, but this is the longest hug you’ve had this week and you can’t bring yourself to say something.
“Please don’t say that, please don’t feel bad for crying.”
“It’s totally manipulative though, I know, I’m sorry.”
He pulls back, searching for something in your eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s just-“
He looks so sad and confused as you pause midway. Helpless, like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Quietly, you feel bad for giving him the crease between his brows.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” James appalls. “I’m going mad knowing I’m the dolt that made you feel like this.”
“James-“
“I’d totally beat someone up if they treated you like this, I would hate them forever.”
“Stop.”
“No, seriously!” He doubles down. “I would never forgive them.”
He’s so unapologetically him it aches you deeply. He’s rosy, smiles and boyish giggles. Warm in the summer, and warm in the winter. Radiating a kind of glow that only very special people are able to emanate. Sometimes you secretly feel like you’ll never be able to glow like him, but he always manages to bring it out of you when you’re around him.
You frown suddenly. “I’m so tired of missing you, Jamie.”
“I miss you too, lovely.” He’s serious again. “How can we get through this?”
You shrug, unused to this gentle treatment you so desperately deserve.
“Should we install weekly dates, hmm?” James asks. “We should, shouldn’t we?”
You shrug again feeling weak with emotion.
“Or tell the boys to bugger off,” he continues without giving you room to speak. “You’re much too kind to say it but I know, my love.”
You laugh quietly, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. He’s fond, smiling as he watches down to you.
“Oh, my girl,” he croons, grabbing your warm face to cradle. “Totally not to pull the victim card, but I missed you so much more.”
“Really?”
“I moon over you while you’re away. The boys are sick of it.”
He leans down nuzzling his cheek against yours, pulling back to kiss the corner of your mouth, the side of your nose, the apple of your cheek. You don’t know what to do with yourself, letting your wringing hands float up to hold his shoulders.
“Thank you for telling me.” He says honestly.
You reel earnestly. Only James Potter could thank you for trying to start an argument.
“You’re welcome.”
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