#bc i love that she was the first to act and what that says about her and her despration and resolve

[mrs-kmikaelson]

The Love You Take

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader, Derek Morgan x reader Summary: Hotch is back, and you watch many things come to an end, even if they never began in the first place. Warnings: angst, assistant!reader, direct references to doyle arc, title and lyrics from "the end" in Abbey Road (beatles), r smokes (for like a millisecond), unrequited love, sexist remarks, cm-level violence, murder, grief, complex mental health issues Eps incl: S7E1 (it takes a village) Words: 3.2K

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a/n: this is part 2 to eleanor rigby! more hotch-centric bc they have lots to discuss. more is otw!

November 7, 2011

"Ms. L/N, you have worked under Agent Hotchner before he began his career in the FBI, is that correct?"

Your jaw tightened, and you unwound it. "Yes, sir. However, I have reported to acting unit chief Derek Morgan for the past 4 months."

Senator Cramer looked down at you with a hard stare, narrowing his eyes. "Yes. And you've received a promotion while he was in charge, if I'm correct." He was no longer asking you.

You were too used to this dance. Too used to men in power staring at you like a silly little girl. This had been your career for years. You knew the inside of a courtroom like the back of your hand—this was not new to you.

Boredly, you drawled, "Do you have a question for me, sir?"

"Watch your tone, Ms. L/N."

You fought not to show any contentment on your face. Your team's fate hung in the balance, and you needed to change that.

Even if the team itself had been torn apart.

October 23, 2011

You stood next to Emily in front of the glass holding Doyle. You hadn't said much—you didn't know what to say. She was alive. 

She was alive, but you thought she was dead.

The team was following a lead on Declan while you waited here. You could tell Emily wanted to say something, but you didn't know what. All you knew was that you missed her.

You cleared your throat, half-glancing at her from the corner of your eye before looking back at Doyle. "So, Paris, huh?"

Emily had turned her full attention to you, even though you still weren't looking at her. She softly smiled. "Yeah."

"I bet it was really beautiful."

She nodded, agreeing, "It was." Pause. "But I wish we could've seen it together. I really missed you."

Your eyes started to burn, so you redirected your gaze to the ceiling. You understood that she was alone in Paris and that she truly did miss you. But for 7 months, you missed Emily because you thought you'd never see her again. And now here she was, standing right next to you.

There was a lot to say, but there was a child missing and not enough time to go through everything, so you just settled for saying, "I missed you, too."

The sound of your phone ringing brought you back to reality. You wiped under your eyes and cleared your throat a second time, answering the phone without looking at the ID. "L/N."

"Gerace's dead," Hotch said, causing you to tense as his voice filled your ears. "Declan's gone. We think Chloe and him are with McDermott and they're about to leave the country."

You screwed your eyes shut and promptly hung up the phone, relaying the information to Emily. Your mind raced a mile a minute, but you were backed into a corner. You were running out of options.

You knew one thing for certain, and that was that you weren't letting Declan out of the country after everything Emily sacrificed to keep him safe.

Without putting much thought into it, you made a beeline for the interrogation room, letting the door slam as you entered.

Doyle looked up, confused. You hadn't met before. But you weren't going to let that stop you.

You didn't waste any time. "Chloe's working with Lachlan McDermott." You watched Ian look down immediately. "How would he leave the country?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. He's got endless funds. You'll never stop him."

From this angle, with his hands cuffed, you thought Doyle almost looked human. He almost didn't look like the monster who tried to kill your friend; instead, he looked like a defeated father. But you knew exactly who he was.

He ruined your team, just like he ruined lives everywhere.

"He hates you," you stated.

A little too proud, he replied, "More than you do."

You stepped closer to him, lowering your voice. "Then maybe, we should give him what he really wants." Doyle looked even more confused now, but you clarified, "You."

❧❧

You were on the phone with Hotch as you marched through the halls of the BAU, telling him your plan. You got Emily on board; you just needed him and Strauss to agree. Like he was reading your mind, he asked, "Is Strauss still there?"

"Yes."

"We need full support."

You could've laughed. It was like he didn't know you at all. "Already on it," you said. "Doyle said McDermott's family imported weapons to a private airfield in Maryland."

"Is it close?"

"Yep, and I'm sending you the coordinates right now."

You hung up the phone just as you reached Strauss' door, clicking the send button as you wrapped your knuckles against the wood. You barely waited for a response before walking in. 

Strauss sighed as if she didn't want to see you again. "Y/N—"

"Chief Strauss, the team needs authorization to exchange Ian Doyle for his son."

Her eyes went wide, and she took her glasss off. "I'm sorry?"

You pursed your lips. "Lachlan McDermott wants Ian more than Declan. The team will make sure he doesn't get away, but we need to do this in order to get Declan back."

Strauss' voice was hard as she spoke to you like you were a child who didn't understand what she was asking for. "Ms. L/N, this breaks several protocols."

"I'm fully understand that, ma'am, but I'm telling you, it is only a matter of minutes before they leave the country and Declan is gone for good."

Strauss folded her hands together. "But what makes you think they won't take off with Doyle and his son?"

"We won't let that happen," you reasoned.

"You can't guarantee that!"

You had known Strauss for too long. Too many meetings and too many communications. So even if you didn't have the greatest relationship with her, if you could leverage it to get what you needed, then you'd do it.

You weren't big fans of each other, but you knew she respected you at the very least.

You leaned down. "Erin,  I am certain that, if we don't do this, there is a very good chance that little boy will die."

Strauss looked away from you, and that's when you knew you made it through to her. "The team's already on their way, aren't they?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, so you turned around, thinking the conversation was over. She called your name just as you were about to leave.

"Y/N."

You turned around, seeing her stare at you the same way she stared at you earlier that night. A little cold, a little detached, and a little attached at the same time. 

"I hope that, when it comes down to it, Aaron will defend you just as avidly as you defend him."

You inhaled a sharp breath. "I'm doing this for the team, not for Hotch."

And then you left her office without another word.

November 7, 2011

"It was your idea to release Ian Doyle, was it not?"

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, but the urge was strong. "Yes, it was."

Senator Cramer hummed. You hated how smug he looked. "Was that decision a personal one?"

"No—" 

He barely let you answer. "I just find it interesting that Agent Hotchner's assistant is suddenly promoted and then given leeway to make decisions pertaining to terrorists. Were you given that authority because of your personal relationships within the team?"

You understood what he was implying immediately, narrowing your eyes. "A boy's life was at stake. My only concern at that time was helping my team save a life, as it has always been," you countered. "And as for any 'leeway' I have— well, senator, I have worked with the BAU for nearly 7 years. I have the experience to assess a situation and make a decision. So if you want to punish me for taking a risk to save a life, then I suggest you do so, but do not put the rest of my team on trial for a successful rescue."

Cramer held his mic a little tighter. "Calm down, Ms. L/N."

"This is calm," you retorted. But in contradiction to that statement, you took a deep breath. "If you have any other questions for me, senator, I'd be happy to answer them." That was bureaucratic speak for: shut up or say something meaningful. Cramer was doing neither.

He stared down at you with a quiet storm brewing in his eyes, eager to make you or any one of your teammates slip. His colleagues glanced at him questioningly, but he finally said, "That'll be all, Ms. L/N. Send in Agent Reid on your way out."

"Yes, sir," you replied, standing up and hoping Reid would tear him a new one. You'd let him be the one to correct the senator and highlight the PhD.

You exited the courtroom as quickly as was socially appropriate. When Hotch was still a prosecutor, you saw the inside of a courtroom more times than you could count. It used to excite you. Now, it had lost its novelty, and you would've rather been anywhere else.

In the hall, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer all turned their eyes to you. No one was sitting.

You looked at Reid and motioned to the double doors. He glanced between the three of you, and then he wordlessly walked into the room.

Derek raised his eyebrows at you. "You okay, pretty girl?"

Your lips quirked up ever so slightly before being pulled down by an imaginary force. You sighed. "He's a dick."

"Careful there, Y/N," Rossi warned, mirth sparkling in his eyes. "We are on trial."

You let your eyes roll. "He's drawing a lot of conclusions in there."

"So he draws," Rossi said. "I would grab my coloured pencils, too, if I had nothing better to do."

You snorted. Rossi could make it funny in hindsight, but you really were getting angry in there. You opted not to mention how Cramer implied you were sleeping your way to the top, or the relationships you made in order to get to where you were.

Like he could sense you weren't okay, Derek angled his body toward you. Likewise, you found yourself leaning toward him. Your hands weren't quite touching, but they were close. 

Right now, all you wanted was to go back home and lay in his arms. You could be suspended for all you cared; you just didn't want to be here. You wanted to leave before—

"How was your interview?" Hotch.

You all looked to him, but he was only looking at you. One of your hands twitched.

"Y/N was just about to colourfully draw us a picture about it." Rossi snickered at his own joke, but any humour you had left was just sucked out of your body.

Hotch must've thought he could corner you in public and it'd work. 

You knew better than that.

"I'm actually going to take a smoke break." You excused yourself altogether, walking away before anyone else could say anything and practically daring him to follow you. He wouldn't. That was the point.

You could think of countless other times when you wanted Hotch to follow you, and he didn't.

Now, it was too late.

June 13, 1994

"I didn't know you smoked."

You turned your head from the brick it was leaned against, seeing a blonde standing right next to you, a curious smile on her face. You tried to give her a real smile back. "I don't. It's just— stress."

Haley giggled. "What are you stressed about? Is Aaron working you to the bone?"

You faked a laugh in response. You weren't sure if it was because of the Aaron drop or if it was because your answer to her question was no, the exact opposite. "No, he's actually calmed down a lot at work with the wedding approaching."

The wedding. Tommorow, your brain reminded you. You didn't really need any reminders while you were at Haley's bachelorette party.

She invited you. You couldn't say no. But now that you were really there, listening to her talk about becoming Mrs. Hotchner and how she wanted a little Aaron, you wished you just declined.

But of course not. Of course, you said yes. That was precisely why you were outside of the bar, ready to light a cigarette. Even though you hadn't smoked since you were a teenager. Even though, the last time you tried to pull out a pack, Hotch scolded you.

Haley snorted. She was a little tipsy, not totally drunk. She didn't strike you as the type of person to get drunk. "That's because he's too busy preparing to go to 'the Academy.'" She did a mock deep voice, bursting into another fit of giggles.

You whipped your head toward her, too surprised to hide how surprised you were. "He got in?"

"Yep." She popped the 'P,' then sighed. "Could I have one of those?" She motioned to the cigarette in your hand.

Your brows raised to your hairline. You were too disoriented by it all that you didn't question it, pulling another stick out of your bag and handing it to her. You lit both yours and hers, and then you took a long inhale.

The two of you exhaled at the same time. She continued, "God, a guy asks to marry you, and then he tells you he applied to be an FBI agent." Her laugh was bitter this time. She took another drag of the cigarette, so you did, too. Blow.

She turned her head toward you, giving you the same picture perfect she gave everyone. Only, this time, the picture seemed cracked. "Let me tell you, Y/N. Never fall for someone with a law degree. They'll ask you to uproot your entire life and then convince you it was your idea."

You stared at her for a second before looking away, bringing the cigarette back to your mouth. You didn't respond. 

You didn't know how to say you already did.

Smoke filled the night air, and neither of you said another word.

In the morning, you would watch Haley Brooks become Haley Hotchner, and you would never bring up what she said again.

October 24, 2011

You slammed the door to your office, anger rolling off of you in waves. The door flung open right afterward, then it was closed much more gently, as if the person pitied your door hinges.

"Y/N—"

You cut Hotch off sharply, "Don't talk to me."

The case was over. Doyle was dead and Declan watched him die, but he was safe. The last 24 hours of your life were filled with bureaucracy and pleasantries you'd rather not have had, but now that it was all over, all you could feel was the white hot anger flowing through your veins.

Hotch still tried to defend himself. "I had to do it. It was the only way to keep Emily safe—"

"Are you kidding me?" You spun around, incredulity painted all over your face. You walked closer to him, making direct eye contact for the first time since he revealed Emily was alive. "Emily is safe. You did what you had to do. I don't give a damn about that. What I care about is the fact that you left."

Hotch's jaw tensed. "I was given orders."

"Orders?" A cold, humourless laugh left you. You shook your head. "Right. Orders. Your orders made you flee like a coward without saying a word."

He took a step toward you, his brows drawing together. "I left you a letter."

"You didn't tell me!" You threw your hands into the air haphazardly, your voice raising no matter how hard you tried to keep quiet. You pointed to your chest. "Me. I'm supposed to be your guy. I'm supposed to be the one you tell when you want to go to fucking Pakistan after faking our friend's death. I was supposed to be person you told, and you didn't tell me!"

Hotch's voice strained, repeating words he already said. "I left you a letter."

"God, Hotch." You ran a hand through your hair, another laugh parting from your lips. You hadn't laughed so much with Aaron in years. As tears built in your eyes, you realized you hadn't cried so much around him, either. "I know the way you take your coffee. I know the way you like your files organized on your desk. I know the order you prefer to have your meetings. But when you went to Pakistan, I didn't know about it."

You told yourself you wouldn't cry. You told yourself you were over it. You told Derek you were over it. Yet there you were, on the verge of tears.

It was hard not to cry when you spent years propping another man up, only for him to leave you at his earliest convenience.

"Y/N—"

"I know. You left me a letter." You sighed, looking away from him as you wiped under your eyes. The laughter in your chest had dissipated, replaced by emptiness. When you looked back at him, your eyes were empty, too. "Well, I didn't read your letter."

Hurt flashed across his face. You couldn't even feel satisfied. "What?" he echoed.

"I didn't read your letter," you repeated. "You wanted to leave without telling me? Well, I wanted not to know what you had to say after the fact."

He sighed, looking exasperated. You could imagine that leading a task force in Pakistan would do that to someone, especially if that someone was overachiever Aaron Hotchner. The same Aaron Hotchner who left the DA's office at the height of his career to start at the bottom at Quantico. The same Aaron Hotchner who had already left you once before.

He put a hand on his forehead. "If you had just read the letter—"

"You know, at least the first time you left, you had the decency to tell me," you interrupted. All the things you'd held in for months were leaving your mouth. "At least then, I didn't have to wonder if my job was secure."

He narrowed his eyes, stepping toward you. "Your job security was never questioned. If you had just read the letter—" 

"Oh, really?" You chuckled. Your hands clenched into fists in the air. "My job didn't exist without you, Hotch!"

He ran a hand through his hair. "That doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." You scoffed. 

And at that moment, you understood Haley Hotchner more than ever.

"You know," you shook your head. "I uprooted my entire life for you. And you convinced me it was my idea."

Hotch looked pained, even though he didn't have the right. "Don't say that." He sounded like he was pleading with you.

"I said it," you snapped. "I'm done. We're done."

You made your way past him and out of the room, letting the door slam a second time on your way out. 

It wasn't lost on you that there was no we to be done with, but you meant it. You were done.

This was the end of something that never even started.

And in the end, the love you take

Is equal to the love you make.

taglist: @saturnscomedown @percysley @c-losur3 @todorokishoe24 @lons-story-blog @pastaparker @ssa-danhotchner @rethasavedlives @alexxavicry @vivs30 @gael2020

additional a/n: do u guys see the parallels🤭

[milo-nellesn1fan]

Just incase ya can't write nuru or amber

Or amberuru

NURU

With kotos situation and reputation as a kingdom, I figured nurus parents are pretty closed off. Like they still love her, but they make her hide alot to keep up their reputation. And they don't show that much love because they're all caught up in stress. They make their kids act mature and put together to show other kingdoms that "just because we're struggling doesn't mean we're down about it!" Even though they are.

So I figured nuru would be pretty gloomy at first. She hides lots of things about herself because she thinks no one's cares or likes those traits. Taught by her parents, she struggles to ask for help on things and suffers in silence. Say she's sick for example, instead of asking for help, she locks herself in her room. Without food or contact. Why? In the castle if someone's sick they stay in their room while servant deliver food at their doors. That's just my personal head cannon. No servants no food.

I also have the idea nurus the most educated in astronomy in her kingdom, and she would be the one working hardest to fix the meteor problem. Why? She looks around her environment and sees what's it's doing to her family and her people and wants it to end desperately. I personally think her parents would notice her work and start counting on her to save them, basically setting an unrealistic expectation for her.

So, when she decides to join team radical I'd say her biggest conflict is her stressing out about abandoning her family and kingdom, barely noticing how much the damage being deemed as "the one who'll save us all" us slowly eating away at her.

How I feel team radical would be made aware of her inner turmoil has to do with my head cannon about nurus fear of precipitation lemme find that rq

"Nuru is afraid of heavy precipitation, specifically hail bc it reminds her of the meteor showers in her kingdom.Like one day their stuck inside the caravann bc its hailing. But its like the tennis ball sized hail. And it keeps denting and hitting the roof which sends nuru into a panic, shes in the corner crying and scared. The gang finds her hiding and try their best to comfort her that its just hail."

ON the whole "it's just hail" thing, Hugo says that. He tries to be empathetic but stupidly goes "it's just hail princess it can't hurt you" which is kind of a jinx bc right after a huge chunk crashes through the roof of the caravann scaring nuru so bad she passes out

That's all the yapping I have in me rn dw I'll be back 😼🍋🍋🍋

[reachhforthestars]

Sonic 3 spoilers!!! Talking about the mid credits scene/what people have been saying about it under the cut

feeling like the only one who doesnt want reverse sonamy for the movies </3

or more accurately, fine sonic can have an obvious crush on her but i dont want ‘reverse sonamy’ to mean ‘amy doesnt have a crush on sonic.’ she can be lowkey about it or whatever (like sonic is sometimes in the games/other media) but to me part of Who She Is is that shes this super cool, super strong, intelligent fighter but shes also still a young girl who has crushes and believes in fate and is guided by her compassion, not by her strength or her mission or her love of adventure.

shes such a good character because while she is physically strong and possibly slightly magic, those are equally as important as her love and compassion and care for the world and people around her. preserving amys girlhood is important to me like loving sonic isnt her single defining character trait bc she ‘has to have a crush on a guy’ but it is a main character trait because thats just who she is. a loving person who sees the good in the world and wants to protect it and loves sonic because she sees him as the embodiment of that

[sweetestflow3rs]

i personally think it’s so funny how amongst all the people in doltown, the main two who are vying for vani’s heart and have reciprocation ( or a form of it ) is whitney and the fuckass doctor, harper.

like whitney is self explanatory, i’ve went into depths, details of their dynamic. meanwhile, vani just started bothering harper for simply blackmail & a way to get deeper in the cult besides just being reliant on avery. which, if i had a nickel for every time vani fell hard for what started as a bit, i’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird it happened twice.

[misterbenzadrine]

GOING INSANE WITHOUT THEM WDYM IT'S ALMOST BEEN TWO MONTHS

i'm especially losing it bc they're literally me and my best friend and i haven't seen her in three months, i'm tweaking

[vv-ispy]

When all else fails, Consider Sayaka

[ruvviks]

toying with the idea of making yancey's friends not real. would that be too evil

[hauntingblue]

Jaya time

I love these moments of nearly cosmic horror when they encounter inexplicable things (at first) they are so intriguing

Is strawhat here?! *Megan thee stallion saying AAH 😜*

This cover just goes hard... Get it chopper

[a-nice-egg-offering]

Hearing about all my fave celebrity couples being friends and falling for each other in slightly messy circumstances is NOT helpful when I’ve been in love with one of my best friends for over a year and the whole situation is so messy and stupid

[grace4867]

Side tangent unrelated to my other delusions i just wanna ramble lol

Its MY blog i can do what i want lol

I RAN OUTTA TAGS OH WELL STORYTIME OVER LOL

[itsaintmebabe]

oscar piastri’s “partner”

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ pairing: oscar piastri x lando norris sister!reader

summary: you appear on the race broadcast and f1 mistakenly puts “oscar piastri’s partner” as your title even though the two of you have never spoken and youre lando’s younger sister

notes: i love making smau one shots so much and would love to take requests from you guys!!

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ masterlist / social media au / fc: lexi jayde

liked by lando, alexandrasaintmleux and 263,198 others

y/nnorris shoutout to my brother for winning monaco and giving me a free paddock pass

view all comments

user6 imagine being so girlfriend coded that sky sports couldn’t even wait for confirmation

↳ y/nnorris confirmation of WHAT😭

↳ user93 the relationship that apparently only you don’t know about

user14 paddock pass this, paddock pass that. GIVE US A PIC WITH OSCAR BE SERIOUS

lando glad to know i’m just your paddock pass provider now

user23 not her pretending like she didn’t get introduced as OSCAR’S PARTNER on live TV

user67 "free paddock pass" no babe they put your full relationship status on the international broadcast

user19 the way she’s not just a drivers sister now but a whole wag too

↳ y/nnorris WHOSE wag??? be so serious rn

↳ user43 girl don’t play dumb we all saw the monaco broadcast

user89 the fact that you’re confused just confirms it. that’s exactly how all the lowkey couples act

↳ y/nnorris I AM NOT A LOWKEY COUPLE

↳ user10 yeah that’s what the last lowkey couple said too

y/nnorris just added to their close friends story!

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and 289,472 others

y/nnorris pls stop tagging me in “wags of the grid” edits sorry to disappoint but i’m just lando’s little sister

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user27 girl be so fr. you expect us to believe sky sports made a whole graphic for fun???

user4 she debunked the rumor but i somehow feel even more convinced

lando you had a boyfriend and didn’t tell me?? damn thought we were close

↳ y/nnorris YOU ARENT HELPING

user38 “just lando’s sister” okay but why did oscar like this post 17 seconds after it went up? be fr

user3 the fact that oscar liked the “we’re not dating” post is the exact behavior of a man IN LOVE

user32 girl you had us in the first half but now you’re following each other??

oscarpiastri sorry about the graphic btw… not sure how that happened

↳ y/nnorris nah it’s okay 😭 my mum was so excited and now i have to explain we’ve literally never spoken

↳ user27 “we’ve literally never spoken” and yet… here they are… speaking

user29 girl he commented. he FOLLOWED. he LIKED. sky sports knew before y’all did

user2 no but how have they never met before oscar and lando have been teammates for like 3 years???

y/nnorris just added to their close friends story!

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and 304,592 others

y/nnorris he ordered for me so now i have to marry him i guess

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user63 rue when was this??

user87 we went from “sky sports accidentally exposed them” to this?? i’m grieving

user93 this is so sick. sky sports gave us hope just for you to do this vague little boyfriend soft launch??? and you’re saying it’s NOT oscar????

↳ user5 she never said it wasnt oscar

↳ user35 nurse she’s out again

user73 we were rooting for you. we were all rooting for you.

user26 this post aged me 7 years and it’s only been up for 6 minutes

user48 idc if his face isn’t in it. that’s oscar. my heart told me.

lando hilarious post considering who took the second pic

↳ y/nnorris i’m going to unplug your sim rig

↳ user26 WHAT DO YOU KNOW LANDO

↳ lando 🤐

y/nnorris just added to their story!

liked by oscarpiastri, lando and 430,982 others

y/nnorris my love just won the spanish gp!!! congrats to my brother too ig

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user16 no bc oscar hugging you was already too much but this caption just buried us alive

user75 nah bc the fact you posted this with ZERO photos of lando is sending me

user41 okay but does anyone feel like this happened too quick

↳ y/nnorris babe i’ve had a crush on him since he joined mclaren so no it def didn’t happen to quick

↳ oscarpiastri i’m sorry WHAT i didn’t know that??

↳ y/nnorris u ever try flirting while your brother’s also in the hospitality suite??

↳ lando alrighty logging off forever

user73 can we talk about the fact that oscar LIKED THIS POST IN UNDER A MINUTE

user26 con😭grat😭ula😭tions😭

lando you’ve known me 22 years. oscar? like 3 months. betrayal.

↳ y/nnorris ok but who won today? that’s what i thought

oscarpiastri wait wait wait… you’ve liked me this whole time??

↳ y/nnorris yes bro. i was literally fighting for my life in silence while you talked to my brother about tire degradation.

liked by y/nnorris, lando and 987,924 others

oscarpiastri 25 points, a podium, and a photo that might be my favorite

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user26 “a photo that might be my favorite” YOU ARE NOT SLICK

user4 25 points for McLaren and -1000 points for my emotional stability

user15 we won. sky sports was RIGHT. the prophecy is fulfilled.

lando y’all are gross. blocked. reported. see you at dinner.

↳ y/nnorris don’t be mad ur teammates pulling more than you 😌

↳ oscarpiastri she said it not me

↳ lando i’m sitting between you at dinner. say goodbye to holding hands

↳ yourusername bold of u to assume we wait for dinner

↳ oscarpiastri bold of you to assume we just hold hands

↳ lando I’M CALLING MOM

user46 he said “my favorite photo” and it’s HER??? we lost him. it’s over.

user16 y’all called me delusional for connecting the dots but LOOK AT ME NOW

user72 WE DID IT JOE

[tbaluver]

Hellooo!! Good day/night to you🥹 If it's alright I would like to put in a request, wherein, MC did the "act fast, I'm a random woman" to the LADs men😉. I've been seeing that trend all over my fyp and thought—what if it was them.

"Pretend I'm A Random Woman!"- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre: fluff fluff + silly a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this is so funny bc ive also been seeing this on my fyp too! ( ˵ •̀ □ •́ ˵ ) xavier puts his speed of light to use, raf gets two attemps bc he gets a lil too into the role and caleb gets a second chance bc hes just down bad for you (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

 “Xavier, quick! Pretend I’m another woman!” you shout quickly as you lunge toward him, arms outstretched—only to find nothing in front of you but air?

You spin around and he’s already behind you.

You rush him again, only for a flash of light to flicker and he’s out of your reach again. You keep trying and trying but each time you move closer to him, he’s already behind you, farther than before.

Finally as you’re left panting, he yawns lazily and extends an arm toward you. “I’m getting sleepy, he mutters. “Can we stop playing pretend now?”

Zayne:

“Zayne, quick! Pretend I’m another woman!” you blurt out, rushing toward him with a mischievous grin as you try to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

He easily steps aside, avoiding your embrace. His hands gently catch  your wrists, guiding them away with ease to keep some distance between you both

“Excuse me,” he says, clearing his throat as he adjusts his glasses. “I’m not interested. If you continue to act like a suspicious Wanderer, I may have to report you to the Hunter’s Association—where my wife happens to work.”

His voice is calm but the cold gaze in his eyes stop you in your tracks. The act is already over the moment it began.

Slowly, his expression softens. He tilts his head, resting his hand gently on your head. “Does that answer the idea in your head?” he asks, amusement flickering behind his eyes.

You stammer, cheeks warm as you nod. He said the word wife.

“I’m not interested in other women if that's what you’re worried about” he says softly, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Let alone let you pretend to be one. How about we try something else?”

Rafayel:

Attempt 1:

“Quick Raf! Pretend I’m another woman!” you blurt out, throwing your arms around him as you lean in to kiss him. Instantly his smile fades away, replaced by panic when you try to wrap your arms around him and try to kiss him.

Immediately, he jerks his head back, his hands flying up in defense as he dodges your lips. “Ew ew! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND GET AWAY FROM ME”

Attempt 2:

“Quick Raf. Pretend I’m some random girl trying to flirt with you.”

Without missing a beat, he slips into character, face turning uninterested the moment you walk up to him.

“Heyy, sir, are you—”

He cuts you off with a raised hand. “Excuse me,” he says flatly. “I’m trying to find my girlfriend, who is a hunter and also just happens to be very skilled with a gun.”  He throws you a smug smirk, tilting his head as he strolls away.

Sylus:

“Sylus! Quick, pretend I’m a random woman!” you blurt out, charging toward him—only to be instantly caught mid-air by crimson red tendrils that lift you off the ground before you can even get close.

From below, Sylus smirks up at you. “If it were a random woman, she’d have been gone before she even blinked.”

“Sy—!” you groan, embarrassed as you float in air jail. His evol didn't hurt you compared to the first time you guys met whereas this time they gently wrap around you.

He chuckles, thoroughly amused. “Did you really think I’d let just anyone run up and throw themselves at me like that?” His crimson eyes follow your gentle descent down from the air as he raises a brow.

“Only you get away with that kind of nonsense sweetie.” He says softly, taking your hands gently as he meets your gaze.

Caleb:

Attempt 1:

“Quick, Caleb—pretend I’m some random girl!” you blurt out, barely giving him time to react. Before he can even respond, you stand on your tiptoes while you throw your arms around his neck, and plant a kiss on his lips.

He kisses you back instinctively, his brows knitting together in confusion as you pull away.

“Caleb!” you gasp, “You’d kiss another girl that easily if it wasn’t me?”

He stares at you, finally realizing what you meant. It was another one of your pranks. “Wait, what? Sorry, pipsqueak—I didn’t catch what you said,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “It’s just..reflexes when it comes to you.”

He grins, stepping closer. “Besides, I couldn’t picture you as anyone else, even if I tried.”

Attempt 2:

This time Caleb was ready for whatever test you launched at him. The second you sprinted toward him with the same mischievous grin, he raised a brow, already seeing through you.

“Caleb! Pretend I’m some random—” Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt your body moving backwards? You blinked in surprise, realizing he was using his evol to keep a good distance between you and him—without even sparing you a glance.

ʚɞ cr. for the dividers @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you as always to my lovely beta reader @ilovemitsuya MWAH ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

ʚɞ Others places you can find me:

Wattpad

Twitter ( but idk how to use it or interact with people .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. )

[nemesyaaa]

sweet creature // truck driver!rafe x housewife!reader

summary : just a few mixed headcanons.

warnings : +18 content. minors dni. strong age gap. sweetheart x old man trope. smut. p in v. teasing. smoking. size difference. full nelson position bc big men lovers club here. hand fetish(sorry.). sleazy!rafe. squirting. loss of virginity. please, be aware of the warnings before reading.

author's note : muchas gracias a mi dulce @rafesangelita for giving me the idea bc i really loved to work on the concept of truck driver!rafe. shout out to crush by ethel cain too for give me the inspo of the story. <333

can't stop thinking about truck driver!rafe who's a proud working man. he's soooo bulky from charging alone some weighty goods on his eight wheelers everyday to deliveries driving for weeks and days. he's massive without forcing just because he's doing so hard with his hands on daily.

speaking of this, he's got such big sized hands. apparent thick veins on the back and calloused on the palms. large fingers with too much strength. easier for him to manhandle you or lift you up. they're very manly and rough. fat and round biceps with a strong size. he's tall and big, literally showing you without speaking who’s the man of the house, and who you belong to. you feel so secure every time he's around because you can be sure no one is touching you, no one is looking down at you, no one just dare to even glance at you. he doesn’t like to fight because he doesn't want you to think he's gonna hurt you one day, but if it's for you, he can do anything.

even if you don't like it, he's always smoking a bunch of cigarettes while he's driving and listening to some kind of old music. john denver or johnny cash are his favs.

he's always buying some new marlboro reds at the gas station with some gum when he's taking a break. if he's not smoking, he's chewing some gums until there is no flavor. he's just needs to get something in his mouth. just a bad habit.

he’s a loyal man that doesn't care about women hitting on him at the gas station. but sometimes, he's nostalgic because years ago , you were one of them. you were that pretty rebelious girl who's acting like she has no dad, no family and proudly flirting with him, doesn't give a fuck about getting away with a stranger. at first, you called him old man to joke. at contrary, he directly called you sweetheart, thinking that you're such a sweet thing.

both of you ended up in the motel. “ im curious of what you’ve got in your pants, old man. ” “ you're too young for that shit. ” “ huh, huh…don't you think it's more like you're too old for that shit, sir ? ” the smirk on his face at the moment was really something else. that fucking attitude of yours making him bite his lips.

the minute after, you were pinned down on the mattress, his whole body size over yours. “ repeat it. ” “ i said, you're too old to fuck, sir. ” “ isn’t a fucking virgin thing who doesn't even know anything about the word she's saying who's talking right now ? ” “ I'm not a virgin. ” you lied, rolling your eyes at the sight. “ i swear, I'm not ! ” he laughed softly. “ why are you lying, so eager to be a little slut ? that's why you ran away with strangers like me ?” it was the first time a man like that, and you were speechless. not in a bad way. it was just surprising. “ i think you're forgetting your manners. ” he said carefully, his blue gaze burning over yours.

“ if you want it, i will fuck you. but i need you to say it. clear and ‘oud. ” you turned your head away because there's no way you're gonna say such a thing to him. “ i will find someone else then. that receptionist girl was pre…” “ fuck me. ” you quickly said before repeating it slower and clearly. “ i want you to fuck me…” “ alright. spread those fucking legs for me, sweetheart…huh, look at you, being so wet for me…you really need me.” “ ugh, just touch me ! stop talking, old man. ” you gasped. “ remember that you asked for it. ”

“ yea, yea. ” he started to unbuckle his belt before taking off his pants. your mouth was gagging at his fat cock hanging between his heavy thighs. “ it’s not gonna suck itself. ” you gasped loudly, swallowing hard. “ i j-just don't know how to do it…show me please. ” “ fine. after all, it's my job as your eldest. ”

and that's how you consumed your first night with rafe.

truck driver!rafe who’s got such a pretty polaroid of you that stays and never leaves his truck. there is your lipstick stains on it and a sweet “ good luck ” written on the white space.

as a good housewife, you always prepare him some delicious meals to keep him fed even if he's away. you're always checking on your man' and loves when he's gaining more weight.

he's starting to get old, hitting his forties soon. he doesn't really care about his physic anymore but you still find him so attractive. when you met him, he was already a grown man so it didn't really change anything. he loves to wear a cap on his messy mullet, thinking that it makes him look cool. biggest tees with long sleeves lover. the fabric is not good enough to hide his muscular frame because his big size is so obvious. and he's wearing those blue jeans that fit his muddy boots.

he's not very hairy, but he's not the type to shave often like he used to when he was younger. he's fine with the apparent thick hair of his happy trail and mustache that makes him look like an 80's pornstar. when he's come home, shirtless and sweating, he's just serving you the best look to fuck.

you're obsessed with his scent after a long shift work. you don't care how strong he smells, you just want to hug him and never leave. while he's holding you tight, he's getting you locked on his hug, your face buried against his heavy and glistening chest. and you can't help but kiss his wet sweating tee.

even if he's tired, just knows this man gonna fuck you very hard, especially when you're so clingy to him. you can forget vanilla with truck driver!rafe, there's no way he's gonna be sweet on your fucking pussy, especially after you've been teasing him with dirty pictures of yourself while he was away and driving. also, he does need some stress relief so prepare to be dumb for at least one fucking day raw.

he's excited the moment he sees you. there is no more teasing. he's now in charge of everything and you better take everything he's gonna give you. this is not like he gives you other choices. at this moment, his favorite position to fuck you will be full nelson because you're trapped on his tight muscular hold, forced to bounce on the thickness of his dick. he's dicking you down so hard that you could hear the famous flap flap flap of his heavy balls slapping your skin.

“ don't fucking move. ” he treaths you with the raspy sound of his voice, while your body is bouncing at every of his thrusts. you're shaking loudly on his rocked abs, lips filled with drool and tears running down your heated cheeks. ” you're so fucking tight..! gonna give your pussy a big stretch…fuck ! ”

every back and forth is powerful enough to make your pussy throbs. the way his fleshy cock is moving and bruising your hole — going further and further to the point your stomach is filled with every inch of his shaft, the veiny lines of his dick pulsating inside your cunt and growing harder on your belly. all your whines and cries are nothing for the truck driver, nothing more than a sign to fuck you even faster and stronger. he still holding your twitching body against his toned chest, feeling every squirms of yours on his sweaty skin, and his hands grips at your back legs, while giving you the craziest thrusts. his hands feel so warm and huge on your lower tummy, fingers bruising at your belly while his length is striking to your spot each time. “ you're d-deep…fuck, rafe !! ah…it feels so good…” you cry out of emotions, tears bursting on your face again. “ yea, right ? fucking deep’. you really feel it inside you baby. ”

he's stretching your cunt so well that you can't stop screaming and quivering, feeling his sweat sticking to your body. his breathing is hard and heavy on the side of your cheeks, his jaw slacks but he keeps his mouth wide open loudly panting and getting deeper and stronger, lips tugging at your ears.

he's such a bully. i mean, his dick is. hitting and hitting your g-spot with any fucking breaks, always striking at it like a weapon. getting no mercy and pity on the way he's making you cry. he loves to see your face turning dumb, eyes wide shut, mouth leaking too much saliva, stupid babbles coming from your trembling lips. he's just pushing himself so deep inside your swollen core, breathy moans filling his lips as his cock hardly twitch between your walls, making your throbs even more. you can't even breathe without choking on yourself.

it's like he knows how to take all your energy with his thrusts. his cock won't leave your pussy alone, the veins still hard and bulged with pumping blood, and balls full even after your first orgasm. but not only he wanted you to come but to squirt too.

“ r-rafe, i feel it coming…nghh! ah stop. i c-ca…” “ just let it go, baby. can you do that for me ? ” and it happens just two seconds after, your stretched pussy opening bigger to splash a strong liquid over your folds and making a pool everywhere on yourself. you can't even process the situation that his dick is back into your walls again, merciless pounding your wetted hole. with the same fucked pace. you're such a shivering mess you can't feel anything except the length that's driving hard in your soaked insides. now that you're squirted, it's such a big wet place on your cunt. and he leads him to make you squirt another time. the sound of your pussy pumping his dick is so squishy and loud.

when he comes inside you, you can be sure it's gonna leak a lot from your slick. he's gonna fuck until his balls are empty, and your pussy gonna coats with so much of his sperm.

to be sure of his cock being dry, he's softly slapping at your lips with the tip, and making you clean it. he loves how sloppy you're sucking when you're tired, but he's a hard sucker for the look you give him when his dick weakly falls out of your mouth, and a stream of his sperm sticks at your lower lips.

and you're just off, laying your body back to the sheets.

you can't believe this man was soon forties. you simply can't believe it.

[dilf-docs]

Give Me Coffee, Utah Love

sleazy!joel 'mullet' miller x younger fem!reader

summary: on the run and looking for a fresh start, a cheap gasoline coffee and to-do list slipping from your bag later, you (have lost your mind and) consider this stranger's proposition.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (52/25), pwp, p. in v., fingering, (one) pussy spank, degradation kink, lwk breeding and exhibition kink, nasty filthy sex, public sex, one joke about kys, strangers to ???, pulled an all nighter for this yey me (its 3am and my alarm sounds at 4:10 lol) so forgive me if i made any spelling mistake, i wanna see ur comments/reblogs bc i crashed out so bad i feel like i deserve it

word count: 4,060 words

side note: that one girl who doesn't play abt snl. okay but who works harder? the devil, a7estrellas or me, that only needed two pedro snl sketches and is acting like a yuppie in the 80s doing cocaine on a bathroom after work bc WOW so many new content. yes, men with mullets should die but this is pedro! song of choice for this piece is queen of the gas station by sleazy dilf patroness lana del rey. also up next, renaldo inspired one shot to celebrate the snl 50 series! (update: read it here)

You liked driving at night.

There was simply something about the eerie silence, the shadows casting upon the streets, barely touched by the headlights and the moon, the quiet hum of the radio and the slow shift of your hands on the wheel.

You liked driving at night, but today, it feels off.

Just this morning, you had looked at your house one last time. It still had that white paint on the porch, that had faded due to the sunlight, and those scrapped stickers on what had been your childhood room's door.

He had tried talking some sense in to you, claiming all your life was there, in Arizona. With him. But Phoenix had started to feel like a prison and he was your warden. So you snuck at dawn when no one would notice, like a criminal. Very fitting.

The sun hadn't touched yet the kitchen where you ate when your feet balanced off the chair and now graced the floor in a lazy manner, eating cereal with marshmallows first and now, just about three days ago, just oatmeal, because it seemed like what a grown up would do.

But in many ways you were still the same kid who was too shy to raise her hand in class because she couldn't find her voice, bound to be forgotten among much louder and brigther kids. Yet he had seen you.

So you stayed: put up with dances where he would spin you until the world was reduced to a blur, and the quiet home life in town-- kids running around and barbecues on the summer seemed like a good ending. You dreamed of a truck and a garden, and the few friends you made all seemed to share the same vision. Except for one.

When Dorothea came back from New York, eyes too wide and smile too bright, she seemed like a different person. In many ways she still was the same girl with an accent who had shared her sandwhich with you during recess, but her words now carried ambition and her gaze seemed awoken by a purpose you couldn't find but on the road that drove out of town.

But folks kept her at arms length. The amusement in her smile was infectious as a disease, and with whispered stabs they would talk behind her back. Your friend bore a scarlett letter for wanting more.

You had never wanted more; compliant might of be your second name. But when you'd see her walk by your house, shorts above her knees and that city girl strut with her sneakers against the hot asphalt, you were envious, and Williams seemed so small and dull.

Who does she think she is? he would say, and you'd nod your head, despite the secret admiration hidden in your eyes.

Suddenly, the red truck sounded stupid and the married life with kids could wait.

We could wait, you had said outloud.

He had laughed, like you just told a joke. It was on surprise, but it felt cruel.

Why? like he couldn't understand you-- as if you spoke on a different language. What is there to wait for?

You took your decision that day.

It started slow, by wearing skirts that rode up with the wind, blaming the lack of clothes on the heat. Then with the nicotine between your lips, the forbidden act making clouds that escaped your red lips. Or wearing the other make up Dorothea taught you, now holding hands with her as people whispered she had tainted your naive soul too. He caught your new smell, and spoke harshly about not wearing clothes that made other men turn to eat out the sun-kissed skin of your legs, because you'd turn too, gaze defiant and full of mischief, but that he didn't know. Might as well wear nothin'. But he cried with his face buried in the same uncovered legs, saying he hated to see you like this; he didn't recognize you.

It was easy then.

One day you packed your bags and took the car you'd been given as a graduation gift, leaving town with what seemed a lifetime stashed in the backseat.

You left a note for your parents, neatly placed on a bed you wondered when you'd sleep again in, if you were ever to be back. To him, who you now just start to wonder if you ever really loved or just accepted because it's what there was and nothing more, you hadn't left a note nor explanations.

He wouldn't understand anyways.

Just the promise of what could've been, shining in the middle of your bed.

You had been driving non-stop, afraid like a fugitive who was being chasen. Sometimes, you'd take stops on the road and pulled out a pen and a book, despite your fingers itching from driving and your urgency to check the phone you'd been to coward to turn on to see the wake of messages your disappearance might have sparked.

There was a sting somewhere outside the ache of your bones or the flutter of your tired eyes, and it cried for home and longed for the life you always envisioned for yourself. But it also felt like a second skin you couldn't quite wash off with the cheap soap and cold water of the motel you had crashed in a couple of hours ago.

You didn't want to live in suburban desert dreams back at Williams. You wanted to feel alive.

It's nightime when the little peep sound jolts you awake. You had been driving in auto-pilot; your car needs gas and you needed rest.

Its probably ten at night, and according to your map, Utah isn't that far. It's a fresh start: a place where no one knows your name or your whole life, for the matter.

Your car comes to a stop under faded neon lights in the middle of the road. There's a truck parked next to your car, the guy inside the convenience store, and that's about it. You're filling your tank while suppressing a yawn, when a movement across your station catches your eyes.

The only other customer, a man old enough to be your dad. He's staring at you, leaning against his truck, arms crossed while the biceps flex with the position, tense. Even from your place, you can see how the veins pop here and there, making you gulp on instinct.

The smoke of his cigarrette gets lost in the neon hues and starry sky. Doesn't he know you're not supposed to do that at a gas station? Yet, his lack of care and recklessness picks your interest.

(Hey! The last time you had human contact was about a day ago and after seeing only roads, asphalt, desert and mountains, you deserved a little treat to entertain yourself)

"Like what you see, doll?" sporting the most sleazy smile you'd ever seen.

Something about him was as alluring as uneasy, the nervous tremble of your hands but the warmth between your legs speaking of said conflicting emotions. You pretend to be invested on the task of filling your truck (the reason you're here, after all) but the way your body burns, begs, to look again is humilliating. So you do, but he isn't there anymore, althought his truck is.

"You know, wearin' a dress like that at night isn't a good idea for'a girl like you"

He appears from seemingly nowhere, making you jump. Your heart flutters and you clench at nothing with the sound of his deep voice, low, akin to a rumble or a thunder. It's laced with diversion, and the not so subtle way he eats you out with his eyes like a starved man, wolfish grin on display as he leans now against your car, makes his intentions all the more clear.

"Why?" you feel oddly bold, instead of scared. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, because why the hell would you be flirting in a gas station, at night, entertaining an old and slighlty creepy albeit attractive man when you had been engaged less than a day ago?

"The weather" he appears nonchalant, balancing the cigarrette like a toothpick between his chapped lips. "Or men"

"Bold of you to say that while wearing that" you poke fun at his outfit, which consists of some shorts, worn t-shirt and a vest. He's sporting the tall socks and slippers combo, dressing like a grandpa but he pulls it off alright. "Also, men? Like who, you?"

He laughs, the sound sprouting rich and grave from his chest. It makes you dizzy. Yup, let's blame the lack of sleep again.

"Well, look at that. Sure got'a mouth on ya', doll" he gets closer, and his scent floods your nostrils. Wood, gasoline, musk, sweat and burnt ciggars. "Just takin' care of you. Say, how about ya' warm that shaky frame of yers? This place has sum coffee goin' on. Shit, but it works"

He could poison your drink for all you care, but all his teeth are on display and he's got a dimple. Also, you're fighting your fluttering eyelids in here.

"Y/n" it's your way of agreeing while extending your hand.

Instead of shaking it, he pulls you even closer and kisses it, his warm lips brushing your cold hand. You shiver at the contact, and it may be the way his firey auburn holds your gaze while doing so or how big his hands feel, both your mind and heart racing.

"Joel" he says, and then that same calloused palm finds its way to the soft part above your ass in your back, guiding you to the store.

Inside, it smells like cheap coffee and grease. You clutch your bag tighter, and choose a table as the stranger pays for your coffee, or well, Joel.

"There ya' go" and he places the hot brown liquid in front of you.

Now that he's closer and under the yellow-ish lights, you take a better look at his face. His eyes, which mock the drink in front of you. His hands, that seem to almost swallow the small cup with their size, and then his hair. God, alright. He sported a fucking mullet of all haircuts. And boy, wasn't it embarrassingly attractive? Your eyes fall towards his beard and mustache, grays sprinkled across them. But your mind and eyes alike went back to the thought of feeling the slightly greasy looking hazel strands, calling for your touch.

"Gonna take a sip or what?" and he smiles. You don't know if it's in diversion by your doze-off or because he knows why.

You had never felt this hot and bothered. Hell, not even normal hot. He had never made you feel like this, and now some fucking random skanky man was getting your panties on a twist in the middle of the road.

"I-I'm going to the bathroom" you manage to squeak out, running for your life.

Inside the stall, you splash some water into your face, as if trying to make you react. Get yourself together, you tell your reflection in the mirror, but then you're fixing your hair, and as you reach for your red lipstick you realize you left your bag back at the table. Fuck.

You get out, only to find your bag weirdly sprawled on the seat, the handles centimeters away from falling to the floor. Then, he, who you only see his sturdy back and broad shoulders, crouched down, like he's reading something, althought Joel doesn't seem the type of guy who chooses to read in his free time.

"Joel?"

And then you see it: the tiny notebook you had been scribbling on the road, looking even smaller on his grip.

Your To-do list.

It may sound stupid, but a week before leaving, you bought it: the last memory of your town and the start of your new life. At twenty-five, the concept may sound a little stupid with what you've written, but you felt your new life deserved to have space for some of those dreams or fleeting thoughts you had during class written down.

And now fucking Joel was reading it.

"Wow, doll. Ya' sure are full of surprises" he chuckles, flipping through the pages. What sounds better: killing him or yourself? Hmm, maybe throwing the burning coffee at him would suffice.

"Give me that back" you extend your rigid hand, voice clipped.

The stupid trail of decisions catches up to you. Why had you trusted a stranger that had oggled you right in front of your face? You're too starved and horny to think straight, clearly, because now he's mocking you while your face burns with red shame.

"Saved your bag from fallin' when ya' rushed outta da seat. Then this lil' thing came out" he stops on a page. "Skinny dipping. And'ere I thought you're a good girl"

"Shut up and give me that" you seethe.

"Wow, doll" Joel chuckles yet again. "don't get yer panties in a twist. If ya' wanted so, jus' ask"

You scoff at his boldness. "Excuse me?"

"Ya' heard me" he gets up from his seat, body towering over yours.

Was it hot in here? Why was your body warm all of the sudden? Was it the coffee? No, you hadn't even take a sip. Joel searches before looking at you again with a content gaze and an ugly smug grin, like he's used to having his way.

"Sex with a stranger" then searches for other, the sound of the pages the only other sound in the room, still not overpowering the one of your heart, echoing in your ears. "Sex in a bathroom"

He closes the little book and hands it back to you. You take it with force, ears burning at their tip. "So?"

"Funny" he muses. "I can help you with both"

Your head drops back against the cold wall as Joel's lips find your collarbone.

This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Of all the decisions you've made in your life, this one is either the worst or the best. Fuck, you hadn't even arrived at Utah and could cross two things from the book.

His kiss is rushed, rough and sloppy, sucking on your lips so hard you feel them swollen and bruised. Joel's tongue then pokes inside your mouth, to taste your insides and all of you more deeply, content with the savor of your sweet mouth and gloss smeared across his own. It isn't often that he gets a chance like this: sure, casual sex is like breathing for him at this point in life, where he's made it too far without building a home for a wife. But now, here? You, this pretty young thing, the small whimpers coming out of your lips, how you squirm under his frame and groping hands that travel through a body he can't get enough of. Shit, he ain't young anymore but he's painfully hard and can't stop his task despite his aching joints and age. Joel just wants to taste all of you forever, despite the shit place and rather funny circumstances:

You both, strangers, in an dirty dark alley behind a gas station, about to fuck.

He's pressing his knee tightly between your thighs, the same one you had spotted before thanks to his shorts. His strong grip pins your hand above your head, rendering you immobile under his weight, that presses over you. Shit, you should be thinking this through and running away, but the complete submission and reckless choice makes it all the more hot.

Your throat works up soft, needy noises and Joel marvels at the sounds.

"Keep 'em comin', doll. Wanna know I'm makin' you feel good"

His lips leave lazy wet trails across your skin. The skirt of your dress is raised by his leg and pressed knee.

"Hmh, Joel-" you needily whimper.

"Shh" he swallows a moan with his mouth, "but jus' for me, doll. Keep it low, will ya'? Or want the whole place knowin' what a dirty slut ya' are? Fuckin' with da first stranger that looks yer way?"

You had never been degraded, less thought it would turn you this much on.

"Joel" you whimper his name.

He groans into your mouth, lewd tongues tangling and tasting the messy kiss with fiery passion and hate. Your fingers fist into the thick material of his vest, nails about to ruin it, but by the way his eyes darken and he smiles, Joel might be into it.

The man pulls away for breath, a string of saliva connecting you two.

His hand gropes your ass and then moves to your exposed inner thigh.

"What'a dirty girl" your fingers hook into his worn-out jeans, tugging the peaking waistband forward to you. His weight and chest push into you, "so wet and eager for this dick, you cockhungry whore"

To prove his point, his thick fingers rub your clit through the material of your panties. You tilt your head back in pleasure at the newfound sensation, and he takes the chance to mark your exposed neck and collarbone, making you moan his name when he sinks his teeth on the skin.

"All 'tis for me?" and his fingers fingers slink down to trace your folds again. Your back arches, breasts pressing against his chest. You dig your nails on his broad back, making him hiss with pleasure as you grab for support.

His rough digits slide and push your sticky panties aside, then plunge inside your pussy. You whimper quietly, the squelches of your pussy swallowing his fingers the only sound in the dark, aside from the busy road ahead. The calloused pad of his thumb circles your sensitive nub, pressing and massaging as his lips travel down to the valley of your tits.

"Wanna free this bad girls and taste 'em" he pulls down your dress, mouth practically watering at the rosy soft skin. "Fuck, doll. No bra? Ya' were lookin' for this, ain't you? Makin' the job easy. I'm just'a lucky man"

He wants to see how they bounce with each thrust, eyes darkening with the shade of lust.

"I- Fuck"

Joel's fingers thrust in and out at with a rapid pace and delicious movements you had never been pleasured before with. Now, when he curls them? That nearly sends you over the edge, reaching a spot you had never known existed.

"S'tight" he groans at your clenching warm sticky walls, fingers slowing but still moving as you ride out your high, drenching him in your liquids.

"Found sum sugar for that shit tastin' bitter coffee, eh?" he takes his own fingers on his mouth and sucks on them with a rather obscene gesture, taking them out with a loud pop. His tongue licks what's left off, and you whimper at the lewd image. "Yer too sweet, doll. Can't get 'nough"

Your arms wrap around him, as Joel rolls his hips, seeking friction to relieve him of the uncomfortable strain against the denim.

"Ready to take me in, doll? I'll just warn ya' somethin'" his free hand unbuckles his belt and tugs down the jeans and boxers down, dick in display: hard, and leaking with precum. He drags his teeth against your ear, and his hot breath ghosts over you with coffee and ciggars. "See that? Think ya' can take it?"

The tuft of sweaty hair leading down to his length has you salivating, and your fingers wrap around him before you realize it. Joel winces at the touch.

"Like a champ" and you swear his erection throbs in your palm, head angry and needy.

What a gentleman.

He doesn't wait for more words, teasing your moist folds with his tip before he's inside, buried to the hilt, rough fingers steady bruising your hips as he thrusts you up against the wall. You look up at the flickering lampost, wondering how did you ever made it here and what the hell are you doing, his groans deep inside your ear as his head is buried in the crook of your neck, labored breaths against your ablazed skin. For a moment, he looses the spot and favors looking at you, to take in the sight infront of him: mouth slightly gaped open, eyes lidded, and fingers desperately digging into his back. You're fucked out of your mind, but so is he.

"Like what you see?" you mimick his words from earlier. He lets out a dry and labored chuckle.

"I do"

He snaps his hips, and you're not sure what is it that creaks, too many things happening outside (the cars, the whiff of gasoline, the nocturnal wind). Joel soon takes up an erratic pace. He's so deep in you, his balls slams into your pussy with each thrust he forces into you.

You should start writing more things on that notebook if they would become true and as good as this. Earn a ridiculous sum of money for free, for example.

Joel grunts, hands busy holding you against the wall, but he so badly wants to play with your bouncy tits, so you let out a yelp when his wet tongue rolls over the skin, mouth then sucking the skin until it's bruised, kissing lazily around your hardened nipples until teeth bite on them.

He's going insane; should go more often late night driving if he'd end up fucking pretty naive sweet-tasting girls behind alleys.

His cock fills you so perfectly it doesn't take long before your walls are spasming around his cock, and you're about to cum for a second time, before on his fingers now over his girth inside of you. Joel can sense it, so his filthy mouth goes for it:

"Go on, doll. Show me what yer made of"

You fall apart with a sharp cry, face buried into his shoulder with a bite to muffle it.

He groans as the pleasure rolls through you. "Milk me dry, c'mon. Take all of ma' seed like the slut ya're" Joel speaks while moving inside you, deeper and quicker, aching for release. Then he's pulsing, cumming with a harsh grunt. "Don't waste a drop, doll. I know you're considerate jus' like that"

His hands slide down to your waist, his long hair drenched, sticking to his forehead. There's the silence of the night and your breaths as you try to compose yourselves.

"That's a good girl" while softnening cock still inside you.

"See? Told you: took you like a champ" you pant, trying not to think of what lead you to now, just focused on the high. "I like to keep my promises"

Joel laughs, but its a soft sound; light. It caresses your chest like a wind chime.

He then pulls out, your folds a mess and his dick coated with your juices. "Shit, look at ya' hungry pussy, doll. Wore me the fuck out"

You help him pull up his pants, looking at the socks while you contain a laugh. Then you think again and the alley pulls you out of your post sex haze. Yeah, filling those two checkboxes in your To-do list will feel good as fuck, but:

Now what?

"Joel?"

"Hmh?"

He pulls up your dress to cover your tits when the wind brushes through the alley, with a weird softness to him, then fixes your panties, giving your clothed pussy a weak slap that sends a shiver through your body.

"Thanks for the treat. I'ont remember orderin' desert"

You laugh as you push him off your body, refusing to meet his eyes. This is the second man who has seen you naked, and while definitely not good at words, his wolf-like hunger in his brown eyes and needy mouth besides the hard dick have said more than enough. Besides, it's a little late to be embarrased but you're still trying to process this wild huge leap you took to celebrate the start of your new life.

"Drive safe" you mutter, starting to walk away, thinking how the hell you'll survive the two hours left in the orad with such a sticky pair of panties and sweaty body.

"Where you goin'?" his deep voice stops you before you've reached the end of the alley.

"Utah" you answer in a beat, heart beating dangerously fast.

The same sleazy smile from the first time you saw him adorns his handsome face, all teeth in display.

"Really, doll? Well, lucky you" he lights up a cigarrette, trail of smoke condensing in anticipation. "'Cause that's jus'bout where I'm headed"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[pencil-n-pen]

REDUCED TO SKIN AND BONE

. ݁₊ ♡ . ݁˖

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buck x people pleaser! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: Pathological People Pleaser- capital P. That’s you. Life is a helluva lot easier when no one can hurt you- not if you never give anyone substantial pieces of yourself. Too bad Evan “Buck” Buckley takes issue with this.

cw: reader is a grade A pathological people pleaser so all the angst and issues that come with that, canon-typical gore/violence (they are firefighters/paramedics)

tags/tropes: coworkers to lovers (hr HATES these two) bobby knowing everything about these two but letting them work it out anyway, team as a family, BUCK IS BOBBY’S KID IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS, also Buck being really sweet and nice (and reader having no idea what to do with this)

a/n: tbh this reader is really just a girl. this fic is extremely inspired by Love Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood, which, my dear followers, if you'll recall, is my favorite romance book ever (!!!!!) also no one say reader isn't realistic bc i based her internal dialogue and worries off of my real life experiences as a recovered people pleaser (there is hope for us)

credit to @bookshelf-dust for the in house arson investigator idea !! super brilliant and perfect !! go read their stuff !!

title taken from Goddess from Laufey!

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‘Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Cause they see right through me//Can you see right through me?

-The Archer, Taylor Swift

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₊˚⊹♡

Firefighter Evan “Buck” Buckley confuses you.

You’ve only been with the 118 for about two months. You’d be lying if you said the action and excitement of actually working with the firefighters on calls didn’t excite you to come to work— something you thought you’d never say.

And the team is great. You were nervous as hell at first. Suddenly being out on calls is exciting now, but scary as shit at first. You were much too used to your boring desk job. Plus, the firefighters were all intimidating in their own ways- Hen and Bobby the most.

Hen, because you totally look up to her and admire her ability to just… do whatever and say whatever and not worry what other people think. She holds her head high, and you’re more than a little envious.

Bobby, because he’s your captain, and you need to prove your worth as an addition to the team.

Slowly but surely, you began to solidify your presence as a team member. You aren’t sensitive to the blood and gore they see on calls which definitely won you points with Hen and Chimney, and you aren’t a pushover- you’re willing to put your foot down when push comes to shove. Plus, not to brag, but you’re damn good at your job.

After a month, you’d gotten everything down pat. What’s the right thing to say, what isn’t the right thing to say. What to do so the team trusts you, what to do so they don’t ask too many questions, how to correctly come across to them as a capable person. How to seem normal and well-adjusted and fine. What normal looks like to them.

With the exception of Evan Buckley.

You just… can’t get a read on him. Ever. He’s nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive, like seriously, it’s not even fair) but no one is that nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive.)

You don’t like talking to him because he’s been more than a little sweet on you since day one. And obviously it's not serious and he doesn't mean it, just friendly camaraderie, but. But but but but but. It catches you off guard without fail every single time. Because every single time you talk to him, you get the very distinct sense that he’s looking right though you. That when you’re talking to the rest of the team, perfect smile in place, he can see through you.

It’s more than a little unnerving. It leaves you unsteady and wrong-footed. Like you’re never sure what exactly to say or how to act.

So you mostly just avoid him. You’re thankful that you’re only the arson investigator, because if you’d actually been a real firefighter, avoiding him would be a million times harder. As it stands, it’s fairly easy to do it without being obvious.

Or so you think.

“Is something wrong Captain Nash?” You ask, shutting the door behind you in his office.

Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you to just call me Bobby.”

“I think the second I do, my parents will appear in the room and lecture me about respect and manners.”

You sit as he gestures, watching with almost perfectly concealed apprehension as he laces his fingers.

“Did Buck say something to you?”

What.

“What?”

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby clarifies, as if that was the part of the question that needed specification. “I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid him when possible. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. No one else has noticed.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the admission of being caught.

“How could you tell?” You ask instead of answering his question.

Bobby just shrugs. “I have three kids. This isn’t my first rodeo. Now, you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”

You’re not really sure you can explain this to him without one, sounding like a crazy person, and two, having him lose all the respect you’ve worked hard to build with him.

You settle for the super abridged version.

“Buck… makes me nervous. I’ve had some bad experiences with men that acted like him before, so. I’m over it, of course, I’m fine he just… sets me on edge a little. I’m not like, afraid of him or anything.”

You are actually afraid of him a little. Because if he really does see through you then what’s stopping him from ripping the current back? Giving everyone a good look into your ugly and raw? What’s stopping him from leaving you exposed?

Bobby hums, contemplating.

“You don’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You rush to amend, heart starting to race. Fix it fix it fix it fix it— “I do trust him. I know he’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, he’s a great guy—“

Bobby leans back in his seat. “He’s a genuinely nice guy, and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you avoid him. You don’t trust that he’s genuine.”

Too close too close too close too close—

Smile. Laugh. Look down for a few seconds. Raise head, hold eye-contact. Speak.

“Nothing like that,” Smile. “Just takes some time for a girl to get used to all the facts that tend to come with him. I could’ve done without the one about heart worms before lunch.”

Laugh.

“Oh, you have no idea. Imagine being present when he actually got to assist on a tapeworm removal. I was put off noodles entirely for months.”

Now Bobby laughs, a real one, so you laugh with him, and you feel a little safer, the conversation back in your control.

“I promise, there’s nothing between me and Buck. Just new-girl nerves.”

Flash a smile, appease the man.

“If that’s all, then you’re free to go. Keep up the good work.”

You stand, one hand on the edge of the armrest of the chair to hide the minute tremors in your hand. You hold your breath as you leave Bobby’s office, breathing tiny, quick breaths through your nose until you make it to the safety of your office, closing the door behind you and all but collapsing into your chair.

That was… close. You must’ve let your guard down around Bobby. His personality and dad-aura are so disarming. You hadn’t even realized he’d been watching you that close. He read you a little too easily and a little too quickly. That was too close. What if he had—

A knock on your door snaps you ramrod straight, posture perfect and easy expression snapped into place in seconds.

It takes everything in you not to deflate when you see who walks through the door.

“Buck?”

“Sorry, sorry,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, “I know you don’t like me in here, I’ll be quick. I just need that file from that warehouse fire case?”

You frown as you search your filing cabinet for the case file. “I’ve never said I didn’t like you in here.”

“Yeah, not as much as said as implied.”

“I don’t mind you in here. It’s just an office.”

You’re not sure what he wants you to say. Does he want you to agree with him, tell him you don’t want him in here, make him right? Does he want you to tell him that he’s welcome in your office?

What does he want?

He shrugs in the corner of your eye, hands in his pockets, and you honestly have to physically restrain yourself from staring at the muscles of his arms as they move and tense with the motion. It’s very conflicting: him being the unending source of the late-night fantasies you pretend not to indulge in to fall asleep, hugging a pillow, and the fact that he’s the reason you’ve considered going on anxiety medication.

“…Are you okay?”

You’re abruptly reminded that he’s still in your office and you’re still having a conversation and your grip has at some point turned crushing on the case file.

“Oh, yeah,” Smile, look down, laugh. Look up(?) “Long night last night. Didn’t get much sleep.”

He cocks his head, the action reminiscent of a dog. He really is a golden retriever. You should really stop thinking about Buck so much.

“I thought you went home early last night?”

Your smile wavers.

Laugh(?) put the case file down. Take a sip of coffee, smile(?)

“You know how it is. Work never quite ends at work.”

He doesn’t skip a beat before speaking.

“Why do you do that?”

Something cold starts to drip down your neck. An icy chill of dread.

“Do what?”

“That lying thing.”

Smile? Laugh? Sit down?

Your other hand comes up to cup your coffee. “As far as I know, I don’t have a lying thing.” You huff a breathy laugh, but it comes out wrong. More wheezing and choked than a laugh.

He leans back against the wall of your office, crossing his arms. “Yeah you do. Like, sure, maybe you did have a late night, but none of those expressions or smiles were real. You like, lie with your face.”

You feel cold and hot at the same time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want this case file?”

“No, you know what I’m talking about. Is it conscious? Is it like code-switching? Nah, this is too—“

“Buck!” You snap, skin crawling, “Would you please just take this file and go?”

He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “There! That’s real. That was a real expression.”

You forcibly smooth your face out, trying to project the calm you don’t feel. “Me getting annoyed with you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. “Just for a second, you looked real.”

You blink. Pause. Turn his words over in your head.

“You don’t really need this case file, do you?”

“Nope.”

You set the mug down, ignoring the way your tremors increased at your little outburst. “So you just came to what? Get under my skin? Disturb me while I’m working?”

He taps a boot on the floor. “Kind of. It’s my turn to be the man behind, and this beats mopping.”

This time, the flat glare you send him is intentional. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem as rigid as you did a few minutes ago.”

You stiffen your posture on instinct. “It’s called posture.”

“That’s not posture. That’s fear.”

His tone is light and joking, but his words hit their mark. Or maybe there isn’t a mark, and he just stabs your metaphorical bullseye anyway.

You shuffle in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

You stare at your shoes, face hot. This is uncharted territory. The end-all-be-all of terrible conversations.

“Well for one, it’s terribly awkward, and two, I don’t see why you felt the need to call me a liar to my face.”

Buck pushes off the wall. “Okay, that’s not what I meant by that—“

“No, I think you meant what you said.”

He sighs. “Can we start over?”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you have this misconception about me, and it would really suck if a pretty girl didn’t like me just because we got off on the wrong foot.”

PRETTY?

“You think I’m pretty?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He smirks, a mischievous thing pulling at his lips. “No, I think you meant what you said.” He says, mimicking your earlier words.

You press your hands into your face, exhaling hard.

“Well, if your goal was to make me uncomfortable, you’ve definitely succeeded.”

“Aw, that’s no good. That’s the opposite of what I wanted.”

The gears in your brain turn.

“You came here… because you wanted me to be more comfortable around you?”

He snaps his fingers. “Ding ding ding!”

You frown. “So your plan to make me more comfortable around you was to call me a liar and purposefully get under my skin?”

Your words hang in silence for a moment.

“Well when you put it like that—“

“Is there another way to put it?”

“The plan was to get you to see that nothing bad is gonna happen if you stop doing that face-lying-thing. I mean, you haven’t been doing it for the duration of this conversation and the world hasn’t ended, right?”

You look away. “That’s because I can’t pretend with you. It always falls apart. You freak me out.”

His brows furrow. “I freak you out?”

“Yes!” You snap whipping your head back to face him, “Other people put out, like, signals, you know. What kind of people they like and dislike, and I pick up on them, and avoid the parts they don’t like and play up the parts they do like. But you don’t put out anything! I don’t know what you want.”

Buck is silent for several moments. It’s unnerving.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like you?”

You blink. Look away. Cross your arms.

“You know,” He continues, voice a little softer, “I have a habit of liking people just as they are. Bobby tells me it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Is planning difficult conversations one of your lesser qualities?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“No.”

It’s easier to focus and talk about the less serious parts of this entire situation than even think about what he just said.

“How about this,” He says after you don’t speak again. “If you’re gonna fake something, or pretend you feel one way about something, you have to come tell me the truth about how you really feel.”

“Well that sounds terrible. What do you get out of it?”

He smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “You agree to let me take you on a date.”

Your face is practically on fire. Evan Buckley is asking you on a date. Buck is asking you on a date.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage to get out. Oh.

He frowns. “Are you oka—“

You smash your face into your hands, hiding your flushed and flustered face from view. “Just— just give me a second.”

You attempt to slow your racing heart, all to aware of the fact that Buck is still in the room, still looking at you.

“…Can you turn around?”

You hear a quiet little huff, then the shuffling of footsteps, signifying he is in fact no longer looking at you.

“If I’d known you’d be this excited at the idea—“

“Shut up or I’ll say no.”

He just hums, voice teasing. “I don’t think you will.”

“I might.”

“Mm. Nope.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t,” You grumble, dropping your hands. “Okay fine, I’ll do it, but when I tell you… stuff, you don’t get to make fun of me for whatever it is.”

“I really think you have the wrong idea of who I am as a person.”

“I’ve seen how you make fun of Eddie.”

“Well, that’s Eddie. It’s like, bro code.”

“Ew.”

“Having friends is gross?”

“Yes. Get out of my office.”

He turns around, grabbing his chest, feigning pain. “Oh the hurt. The pain.”

“You’ll survive, I’m sure. You’re a big boy.”

Okay what the fuck are you saying right now. Can’t god just strike you down? Can’t some old water damage cause the ceiling to come down on you?

Buck takes it in stride, laughing loudly, though if you look close, you can see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“So when are you free for our date?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively over the word date, and you despise the flush it brings to your face. And ears. And neck.

“Um. Saturday?”

“Cool. You have my number, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll text you the details later this week. And hey, look at me.”

He waits until you look up. “You aren’t allowed to spend the rest of this week stressing about it, okay? It’s gonna be fun, and nice."

He opens the door to your office, ducking half out before turning around. “Remember: fun and nice.”

And then he’s gone. Then you’re just an idiot standing in your office, face hot and tingling.

He called you pretty.

—

Buck's request is difficult to follow through on. Like, sure, you agreed to it, but you still don't really understand why he wants to know this. The things that go on in your head that you don't tell anyone about. He said he got a date out of (a date, you're going on a date with Evan Buckley--) but is that really... anything?

Is it a real date? Or just some little fling? And why, exactly, is the date something he considers a fair trade? Like sure, he's hot -incredibly so- and every time you think about the date your heart speeds up and million questions run through your head, like will he pick you up, is he the type to bring flowers, where are you going for the date, all of those things.

You wince from your spot on the couch upstairs, papers strewn across the table in front of you.

"Dammit," You mutter, holding a finger up to the lip that you've chewed to shreds, now bleeding steadily, blood beginning to trickle down your chin.

A napkin appears in your line of sight, and you take it from Hen gratefully.

"Thanks."

She just nods. "Something on your mind?"

You blink, a little questioning.

"Your lip," She gestures to it. "You always chew it when you're thinking about something troubling. Is this about that new case?"

"Ah," You breathe, a small shiver running down your spine at her words. Being perceived is weird. "No actually. It's..."

You decide to be honest. News will get out anyway, and Hen appreciates truthfullness. "It's about Buck."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You shuffle the papers in front of you, hands itching for something to do, "We're going on a date on Saturday."

"Oh!" She exclaims, settling on the couch across from you. "That's... surprising. I was under the impression you didn't really care for him."

Your face heats. "That's kind of why we're going on the date. He wants to... make me more comfortable. Those were his words."

"Interesting method."

You shrug. "It's Buck."

Hen nods, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm guessing you're not so sure about it?"

"It's not that. I just," you debate your next words carefully, weighing the options, wondering if you should even say them, but Hen's face is open and non-judgmental, and she knows when not to gossip.

"I haven't been on a date in awhile," You admit, "Or many at all, really. I don't know what to expect."

Your hands still on the papers. "I... don't do well when I don't know what to expect."

Hen nods. "I get it. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Buck will do everything in his power to make the date as 'comfortable'," She does finger quotes around the word, "As possible. It took him a couple tries to get here, but. He's got a good heart."

You can't help the small frown at her words. "I know."

Hen tilts her head, squinting. "Do you? Cause it seems like you aren't so sure."

Smile. Laugh.

"Well," You laugh a small, breathy thing. "In my experience, no one is that nice."

Hen snorts. "Okay, true. But Buck's been through a lot. What he may lack in tact he makes up for in earnest effort."

She stands, and levels you with a look you try hard not to whither behind. "Give him a chance. And try not to break his heart."

You smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "I'll try not to."

Though I'm not sure he'll be the one getting his heart broken.

--

Buck is careful not to bother you too much at work. He still sets you on edge in that "I see through you" way of his, but he's right- nothing terrible has happened since your conversation. If anything, he's almost... gentler, in his good natured ribbing and such. He's actually rather attentive.

"Okay," He murmurs next to you at the table, most of the others finished with their food , plates cleared and being washed. "You've got your fake smile on, so spill."

You elbow him. "Cool it, Buckley."

"Great meal, Cap!" You call out to the Captain, who sends you a quick smile from the sink.

You spear a stem of asparagus prepared honestly perfectly by Bobby, and lean over to Buck. "Fine. You really wanna know?"

"Uh, yeah."

You take a huge bite, smiling as you swallow. "I hate asparagus."

Buck's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? That's such a small thing to care about."

You glance up to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. "Bobby works really hard on everything he makes! I don't want any of it to go to waste or to seem unappreciative."

"Okay, we're really going to have to have a talk about your perception of everyone," He elbows you back, "Come on. Bobby would not be offended if you don't eat the vegetables because you don't like asparagus period. It's not like you're even saying you don't like his cooking!"

You take another bite. Only A few left. "Better safe than sorry."

"Stop eating them--"

"I have to finish them!"

"Something wrong over there?" Bobby's voice rings out over the kitchen.

"Nope!" You call back.

"Actually," Buck starts, ignoring your furious elbowing, "Our little investigator over here doesn't like asparagus."

Bobby tilts his head with a smile. "Why didn't you say something?"

Your stomach lurches. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-- "I... didn't want you to be offended?"

"Why would I be offended that you don't like asparagus?"

"Because you cooked it?"

He shakes his head. "Not how things work around here. If you don't like something, you don't have to eat it."

Your face feels like it's on fire and your palms are sweating and you kind of feel a little nauseous. But that might be the asparagus. "Right. Okay. Thanks."

Bobby goes back to loading the dishwasher, and the others are no longer paying attention, so you lower your forehead to the table, grateful that Buck moves your plate away before your head can meet your now unfinished vegetables.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because asparagus is a dumb thing to be worried about," He says, voice light and cheery.

"It was a valid concern," You mumble.

"Maybe in your head. But not quite in reality," He rubs your back consolingly a few times, though all the action does is rile you up more. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're still sitting here and you actually can't see if the others are still looking and oh god maybe Bobby is upset because you're an adult, you should've known that and--

"I can physically feel how tense you just got."

Oh. Right. His hand is still on your back.

"Relax," He drags out the word, his voice low and deep, "No one is going to spontaneously hate you. I sure don't."

"You don't count."

"Mm, how come?"

You're glad your face is currently hidden by the table, because you flush when you mumble the next words.

"Cause you think I'm pretty."

"I do," He amends, "But I'm not sure that discounts my opinion. IF anything, it doubles it."

"That's not how that works."

"It's not?"

"No."

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Prove me wrong, then."

--

Saturday approaches and your anxiety increases. Buck had in deed texted you the details -which did, actually, make you feel better, knowing a bit of what to expect and having it in writing.

When Saturday arrives and the clock inches closer to the time he said he'd pick you up, you start to question if any of this was a good idea.

Everything collapses when you have to pick an outfit. Nothing seems right- everything is either too much or not enough. You blink the tears out of your eyes because you spent too long on your makeup to ruin it, and Buck's gonna be here soon and you need to just pick something--

A knock sounds at your door and you gasp. Shit.

You rush to the front door, and wrench it open.

"Hi I'm so sorry I'm not ready yet- oh my god are those flowers?"

Buck takes the rush of words in stride, smiling and holding the bouquet out to you. "They are."

You take the flowers with reverence, the gentle, floral aroma soothing your senses.

"Are... you okay?"

You blink, not realizing that tears had begun to well up in your eyes again. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm a little... frazzled."

His gaze darts down. "Is that why you don't have pants on?"

You're almost one hundred percent sure you burst into flames right then and there. And if you don't, you seriously hope you do.

"Oh my god- don't look, I'll be right back, uh, please come inside and close the door!"

You race back into your room and shut the door, throwing on the closest pair of pants- which happen to be the fuzzy, old, candy heart-print pajama pants you took on three hours ago when you started getting ready.

You step back out, now sporting a wonderful outfit consisting of your black, rather nicely fitting going out top and fluffy pajama pants.

"I'll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sorry about the," You pause, swallowing your embarrassment, "Lack of pants."

He chuckles, laughing that nice little Buck laugh that settles your nerves a bit. "Hey, I wasn't complaining. I asked for the real you and this has all been very real."

Your never-ending flush revives itself as he speaks. "I"m really sorry, I'm usually more put together than this, I promise."

He takes a step toward you. "Remember why we're going on this date?"

A beat passes.

Buck takes another step. "To make you more comfortable with me. And the team, but mostly me."

You laugh a little, a nervous thing.

"But you don't seem very comfortable right now." His hands rise to the your waist, sliding down to your hips.

"Sorry," You say on instinct.

He huffs. "Still don't think you're getting the point of this. Okay, what was the big stressor of tonight, besides the actual date part?"

You look down at your feet. "My outfit."

"Well," He says, squeezing your waist and very clearly enjoying the little squeak you let out at the action, "Then why don't we sollve that by..."

Your heart siezes. Oh god, you're not ready to sleep with him, you haven't had your everything shower because it was only the first date and you didn't think--

"...Staying in tonight? I can order some takeout and we can watch a movie."

Oh.

"But your reservation--"

"Can be called and cancelled," He soothes. "I only want to do things you're comfortable with. That was the whole point of this date."

Later, after you both stuffed your faces with takeout graciously ordered by Buck, and both of you cuddled up on the couch (!) you let yourself speak.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry for freaking out earlier," You curl your arm around his bicep, face smashed into the side of it while you (pretend) to watch the movie. "Thanks for... this. And the flowers."

"You really like those flowers, huh?"

"Mhm. They're really pretty. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"What? No way."

"Well. I haven't ever gotten flowers from a date or boyfriend," You stumble over the word boyfriend, "But like, you know. Graduations and stuff."

"Guess we're going to have to fix that, then."

"We are?"

He raises a brow. "You didn't think I was gonna stop at one date, did you?"

"Well it was kind of a mess."

He shrugs. "On one of my first dates, I choked on bread and my date at the time had to perform a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen."

You gape at him. "Those are real?"

He traces a finger over the thin, silver scar on his throat. "Yep. So trust me, this date turned out fine. I actually uh,"

He flushes a little, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "I actually really enjoyed tonight."

You chew your lip, nervous and scared but all the sudden deciding that you're going to get over yourself and do something. No matter how small.

You stare at the end credits. "You wanna watch another movie?"

"Absolutely. More takeout?"

"I don't know how you can even think about eating more. But I do have popcorn in the pantry."

He presses a quick, soft little kiss to your cheek. "Perfect."

₊˚⊹♡

[h1biscusgal]

What I have manifested way before entering the void.

Decided to do this post because I've seen quite a lot of people thinking the void is the last resort for all your imagination and manifestation.

Yeah it actually is but girly pop why do you have to strap that on and act like it's the only way you're EVER going to get something?

I used to think the void was the only thing that can help me manifest, GUESS WHAT, IT AIN'T, BC EVERYTHING WORKS ONCE YOU DECIDE.

so here's something to let y'all know that yes, you can definitely manifest without the void, here are some of my successes and I hope it will motivate people towards their goal.

What I manifested:

Changing past grades = mf almost four years ago I used subliminals to change my past grades after answering exam tests, and it was the first time I ever locked in and let go of things, I should've gotten scrape grades but guess what? All fucking 100 💀, even the answered which I don't remember putting in was literally there by my pen.

Losing weight = anyone remembers the weightloss mania in subs community 🧍🏻‍♀️, yeah I managed to burn off 8 to 9 kg during two weeks without paying any attention to it, I just usually went and said I'm getting thinner.

Manifested getting bought a laptop = AIN'T NO WAY I THOUGHT THIS COULD WORK, my dad was not budging on buying me one, I fucking affirmed once or twice and forgot about it and he bought one for me the next day, and god such a laptop it is.

Longer lashes = my lashes rn look insane, like long dolly typa shit yk? I love that sm, again just believed in it.

Bug sleepy eyes effect = DON'T LAUGH AIGHT, I wanted to have those big droopy eyes yk? (Billie Eilish inspired) And god the amount of people anytime they meet me say I have pretty bug eyes makes me giddy.

Attention of the crowd = I'm the center of attention with the girlies at my highschool, ngl quite popular too, I LOVE HOW I'M KNOWN AS BUNNY.

Cats = that was last year, I wanted cats for so long and guys, my mom? NEVER wanted them, like she literally told me she'd shove me out of the house if I got one 💀, now guess what, I have three cats and my mom loves them more than me (smh)

Higher IQ = yeah you heard me right, this one is recent too, it's my senior year and I gotta study, so I manifested understanding things so easily and taking less time on studying with even more effective memory.

My artstyle = believe me or not, this one is the oldest, and I'll show you proof, I love semi realism

I'll add more when I can!