#Me wiping down my kitchen counters after washing a full sink of dishes: I am literally a goddamn wizard rn this shit is CRAAZZYYYYY

[killemwithkawaii]

Hi guys! As you may have noticed, I've been pretty all over the place lately (which is why posting has been so infrequent), but right now I'm feeling pretty damn good. The last few days have frankly been life-changing for me, and I wanted to make a post commemorating this breakthrough for posterity, and so that I follow through with the plan after this 'ah-ha!' moment passes.

[CW: Mental illness, Kewk overshares, drug use(?)]

Basically, I've been rawdogging life for years and have felt helpless to do anything about it because my symptoms made it seem impossible to take all the needed steps to get help AND do basic life stuff. I thought I could just keep 'dealing with it' because it 'wasn't so bad', or that I could 'get over' my 'personal shortcomings' if I just suck it up and tried a little harder, but in the last few days I was given the opportunity to try some meds I've wanted to try for a while, and I am absolutely blown away by the difference they made in my behavior and thought process. From the outside looking in, I'm sure it didn't seem like I was doing anything special, but to me, it I felt like I had fucking super powers:

In the last two days, I took a shower without needing a nap after, I went grocery shopping and did the dishes when I got home, there were no repetitive negative thoughts constantly distracting me, I was able to pay attention to the videogame my partner was playing for over an hour... Hell, I sat down and did my taxes for the first time in FIVE YEARS, which, once they're processed, will allow me to apply for health insurance, which will allow me to find and see a doctor, which will allow me to get an actual diagnosis for my mental illness that's not just 'idk probably depression' and get a prescription for this medication so I can actually start living my life instead of just dealing with it.

I cannot fully express how relieved I am to know that there's an actual answer, that I don't have to go through these ups and downs and struggle to do basically everything all the time because 'that's just how it is'. I've finally got the ball rolling in the right direction! Now, I just need to follow through and remember that whatever struggle I have to go through in the next few months to get there, it will be worth feeling how I'm feeling right now from then on.

Thank you all for your patience and support, in the past few years and in the future. It means a ton, and I'm grateful y'all stick around through all my personal BS 🤗💖💖💖

[sevsdollette]

thinking about domestic! sevika taking a day off work, but it’s your day to clean and she can’t stop staring at you.

contains: staring, sevika being needy, grinding, thigh riding, talks of breeding

nsfw, MDNI and men get away

you had to clean the master bedroom, scrub the bathroom, and take care of the dishes. your day was full. that morning you had to drag yourself out of bed, escaping the heavy, sleepy arm of your wife that was wrapped around you.

she was a brute in the best way, but she slept like a brick. when she snored, she shook the house. when she dreamt, she muttered. it was an adventure every time you had to pry yourself from the jaws of her grasp to go to the bathroom or get ready for the day.

anyway, you got up. it was a rare day of relaxation for sevika, so you thought getting the chores out of the way without her worrying would be best. she would have a nice day of you taking care of her. a tidy house was the first step.

the bedroom was filthy. laundry was the first task you had to hassle. with such busy schedules, the two of you gained a habit of tossing your clothes anywhere and everywhere. perhaps most of it was in a fleeting moment of hornyness, but nevertheless, it was a mess.

as you cleaned you realized just how much you had to do, and even the clothes on your back were from yesterday. you searched your dresser for something clean to wear, but the only viable option was a pair of tiny pajama shorts.

so there you were, tidying up your bedroom with no shirt, no bra, and only those shorts. you just had to clean everything and have a fresh reset.

it only took a few minutes of this cleaning when you heard rustling in the bed. you took it as Sevika tossing in a dream or sleepily readjusting her pillow.

a minute later, the springs groaned and she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes to get the image right. “why are you—what—?”

you spun around, a pair of her boxers in one hand and a shoe in the other. “this is the only piece of clothing i own that is clean. i am seriously overdue for laundry.”

her eyes trailed down your chest. “so… there nothing else?”

“nothing else?” you furrowed your brow.

“nothing underneath?”

you scoffed. “sevika, hush.”

after that, everywhere you went Sevika wasn’t far behind. your body was her alarm clock. She was standing against the counter as you brought dishes to the kitchen. Her steady gaze followed your ass as it peaked it from under your shorts.

She liked it when you leaned over to pull the clothes out of the washing machine and shove them into the dryer. (she almost wished you’d get stuck ;) )

when you went to the bathroom to scrub out the tub, she almost felt herself salivate as you bent over the edge. As you leaned to clean the far side, she could see just under the hem of your shorts to the soft flesh of your ass. your lips were purses in concentration; your brow was knit with thought. just one chance of scenery and you’d be pinching your eyes shut for another reason.

once the tub was sparkling, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and stood up. as you got to your feet, your frame fit into sevika’s muscular front. Her hands slid up your stomach and cupped your bare breasts. she hummed and dipped her face into the crook of your neck. she kissed the skin under your ear softly.

“babe, please. i’m cleaning.”

“hmm. why don’t you take a break, baby? i’ll have you sweating in a different way.”

“sevika you’re supposed to be relaxing not worrying about my chores.”

“well, i am worried. you know i like it better when you do things dirty.”

“shut up.”

“though, as a matter of fact. i think the sheets on our bed need scrubbing. why don’t you come with me and help me take a look.”

her tricks didn’t work on you and you pushed her off of you to keep up your cleaning spree. all that was left was the dishes. so you sat her down on the couch (which had a clear view of the kitchen sink) and told her to be patient.

it was amusing to see such a headstrong woman sit so still. you gave her a treat of swaying your hips as you walked away to the kitchen.

as much as you wanted to keep your authority, you couldn’t help but hurry through the dishes. you might have left some dry corners as you wiped the counter. perhaps you stacked more dishes to dry on their own than could safely sit on the mat. but, hey, if your wife wanted to fuck you, how were you supposed to keep her away for so long?

with the last dish put away and the rag wrung out, you turned around to look at Sevika. you set your hands on your hips, meeting her eyes that had been glued to you the whole time. “cleaning’s done,” you mused.

it was almost scary how quickly she was on top of you.

she grabbed your waist, pressing you against the counter and capturing your mouth in a kiss. her rough, greedy hands we’re feeling over every part of your body she had been watching for hours. she groped and massaged your breast, rolling your hardened nipples between her fingers. she smoothed her hands down your thighs and up under your shorts to grab your ass.

you moaned against her lips and kissed her deeper. her tongue slid against yours, tasting your eagerness as she teased your cunt through your shorts. she definitely hadn’t forgotten how little clothing you were wearing.

“you’ve been such a good girl this morning,” she cooed, “cleaning my house and all. now it’s time for you to relax, baby.”

you nodded, whining as she pressed on your clit over the fabric of your clothes.

her kisses carried down to your neck and she was quickly sucking over your skin. just the taste of your flesh was making her moan in your ear. your head tilted back to give her more room, mind feeling dizzy.

while she had you distracted, her hands came up to the crotch of your shorts and ripped them. soon the clothing was falling off your hips and hitting your ankles.

“Sevika! now i actually have nothing to wear.”

she grunted, picking you up to set her thigh between your legs. “good.”

you had no more control over the situation. her hands gripped your hips with a deadly strength as she rolled you over her muscle. you moaned. head falling back as your clit rubbed over her skin.

she had you gasping already. her teeth dragged over the bruises on your neck as she whispered nasty things in your ear. “take it, baby. i love you, sweetheart. fuck, you’ve got me so crazy for you and this cunt.”

a blush heated your face as your growing slick made nasty noises on her thigh. you were married for god sake, but every time she had you flustered.

“Sev—“

“cum on me, baby. i’ll fill you up—i’ll breed my pretty housewife.”

a guttural moan broke your pursed lips and another wave of arousal hit your core. she knew exactly what to say to make you finish. you could feel your climax approaching and you rocked your hips faster.

her hard thigh muscle made a perfect surface to stimulate yourself. she helped you through your faster pace, praising you with how well you were doing, how you were her good, gorgeous wife. too good for her.

you came with a stuttering, muffled plea. she kissed over your sore neck and guided you down from your high. her thumbs rubbed circled over your hip bones as she let you sit gently on her leg. your legs were still shaking.

through hazy, blurry eyes, you looked up at her. she kissed you slowly, sliding her tongue over your bottom lip and then biting it hard.

she picked you up, slinging you over her shoulder and walking to the bedroom.

note: tried a new format, tried no caps. tell me if it's more aesthetically pleasing. this fic is all I want to be for someone. let me be a butch or masc's pretty house wife. gonna get me a mrs degree.

[cascadedkiwi]

A Grand Soup [Comfortember 2023]

Characters: Micah Yujin x “Angel” Visual Novel/Game: Error 143 Genre: Comfort (more fluff, I’m feeling) Summary: Because Micah shall not settle for any old simple soup. Word Count: 822

Prompt: 27. Soup

Micah’s happy voice sounds through the front of the house. “Angel~ I'm home!”

“In the kitchen!” she calls back. 

Micah practically trots into the kitchen with his nose in the air, dropping the shopping bags onto the island countertop. “Oh, you brought out the big pot!”

She giggles, turning from her stirring. “What did you bring home?”

She can almost see imaginary ears popping up from his hair as he lights up.

“Angel, I went down that market street you told me about? There was produce EVERYWHERE!” He starts pulling out ingredients from the various cloth and straw bags. “I got carrots… sweet potatoes… bok choy - I hope I said that right - tomatoes, corn, red and white onions…” 

Micah separates a smaller amount and pushes the pile across the counter to where Angel is waiting with her sharpened knife. She transfers all she can carry to the sink to wash and peel as necessary.

“Don't think I'm done!” He says excitedly, although there's no way she possibly could've when he came in with four large bags stuffed to capacity. She listens as he continues unloading his haul like a proud gatherer. 

“I didn't even know cauliflower came in yellow! I got the regular white, too. I got all four colours of sweet peppers, white and purple cabbage - why do they call it red? Red onions aren't even red, either!”

Angel chuckles at his tone, bringing over bowls to separate the prepped ingredients. Her husband’s insistence at an excessively wide countertop was currently much appreciated. They could host a full family reunion to this thing.

“I got a bunch of beans and stuff, too! I found those ‘lentils’ you kept asking about, and Lima beans, and black beans, red beans, split peas…”

“Micah Yujin, who are we feeding with all this?” She asks with a laugh. The carrots had been diced and she was on to the broccoli he had purposely not announced. Her eyes roamed over the various mushrooms and pumpkin, lighting up at the butternut squash.

“Me and you, my love,” he answers in a posh tone. “You told me to bring home veggies for soup. This will ensure we execute only the grandest soup possible.”

“It'll be healthy, that's for sure,” she murmurs as Micah pushes the bags to the opposite end of the counter. 

He goes over to the sink, washing his hands before returning with his apron hanging from his neck and a knife and cutting board in his arms. “You didn't think I was leaving you to prep all this alone, did you?” He gasps dramatically. “I'm hurt, my angel, that you think so little of me after living as my sweet wife all this time.”

“We've been married for three months, Yujin.”

“And clearly I haven't demonstrated myself enough in those 90 days, Mrs. Yujin.” He makes quick work of the onions, using the excuse to have tears accompany his exaggerated sniffling.

Cassie shakes her head as she sets aside a bowl of greens, clearing her cutting board for the cabbage. “My apologies, my sweet.”

“No!” Micah huffs with a pout, leaving the tears as he moves on to the bell peppers. “This is my failure as a husband. I am more than just a provider, a bringer of raw materials for sustenance. I must prove myself!”

Cassie raises an eyebrow as he pushes away the peppers, dutifully wiping his knife before smacking down a sweet potato. God bless him because as much as she loved the things, cutting them was a workout. She would gladly watch him strongarm that vegetable into submission for their pot.

Micah turned everything into a performance or a good time. Even with his antics he was an efficient kitchen assistant, and pretty soon everything they wanted was in the pot and bubbling away. 

He sniffs the air, a confused look on his face. “Angel, is the oven on?” He bent to look but couldn't tell.

“Should be,” she responds as she rinses the dishes. “I've got bread rising in there.”

She squeaks into a laugh as she's suddenly hugged from behind, dropping a - thankfully plastic - bowl. She squirms as Micah peppers her cheek with kisses. “It's just bread, babe, relax!”

“My Angel made bread from scratch with this timing and I must relax?” He asks incredulously. “I shall not!”

“I'm assuming that informing you that my first attempt at a garlic confit is also in there will earn me more physical affect- Wah!” She squawks as she's raised clean off her feet and walked out of the kitchen.

“Mm-mm, mm-mm” Her husband repeats in her ear. “You're not allowed to do this to me. You're showing me up.”

“Micah-”

“ I'm the giver in this relationship, missy. Stop stealing my love language!” They topple onto the large sofa where he smothers her and her protesting laughter in kisses. 

It's a good thing they have a rather loud and intrusive kitchen timer.

[yonderlad]

I cleaned a corner of our kitchen today.

I know that doesn't sound like much, and a few years ago, when I worked in kitchens full time, I would have scoffed at that. "Oh you cleaned a corner of your home kitchen? I've just washed up after we cooked and served for 300 people."

But I've not been quite the same person over the last few years. I can, like most people I think, probably say I've not been the same person since before Covid. Or even earlier, January 2020, when I had my first public meltdown that would become many a week. Maybe that's when I stopped my growth and healing and started to decline again.

This last year, especially, has been hard. The stability of living in a place where they couldn't kick you out, was always balanced by the fear of not being able to pay rent. Or that it would be rice for dinner for a few days until the paycheque came in.

And then my body failed me. I try not to use language where I blame my body for doing it's best - try to think of a body "failing" me only if and when I die - but this really did feel like a betrayal. A body that used to carry me 10,000 steps before dawn, that could walk 12 miles a day for fun, was suddenly barely able to carry me out of bed. Couldn't tie my shoes for me, or shower.

Couldn't cook dinner. Couldn't clean.

I am...very lucky. In this life, I have a wonderful, most adoring fiancé who, when I say "how do you put up with me?" says "I'm not putting up with anything, I love you." Who has tirelessly worked the 45 hours of physical labour, versus my 16 hour desk job, and then still, without complaint and with endless kindness, come home to feed me, dress me, and wash me. I would not have made it through without them, before we even touch on the love we have for each other, and the happiness we bring.

We got my medication sorted in September, and it would be foolish to ignore the effect it has had on me. I am less fatigued, no longer taking naps daily after work, no longer routinely sleeping fourteen hours. I feel brighter, my nails are no longer peeling, my arms no longer getting pins and needles after moments.

But it hasn't fixed everything. And it's starting to look like it never will.

The pain prevails, joints flaring up at any given moment into pain, or stiffness. I cannot shake the numbness that sinks into my thigh if I stand for too long, leaving no sensation except pressure.

I'm still tired. I still catch up on sleep on my days off.

But today, for the first time in months, I made food. I cooked. Once my greatest hobby and my job, since lost to me, this evening I regained a little of my dignity and myself back. My partner still chopped the vegetables, the slap-chop we bought to make their - our- lives easier making quick work of onion, carrot, peppers. But I sautéd and seasoned and stirred. I checked the tomato puree was still good in the old way I used to that always made people laugh. I added a splash of balsamic - not in the recipe, but at home in nearly every tomato based dish - and deglazed a pan in improvised glory.

And then I cleaned down after myself. Put the toaster away, wiped the counter tops until they gleamed, put the frying pan in the sink.

And I can only see it as progress. And that can only bring me joy.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 2) - Baseball Caps & Stroller Naps

Summary: The reader gets into the swing of things around the Ackles household and starts having more one on one time with Jensen. He even offers to set her up with a friend of his. When he invites her to a family outing as a friend though, she gets another glimpse that he might not be as put together as he appears...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Daddy!Jensen

Word Count: 5,900ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Things are starting to happen! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

“Good morning,” you said the next day as Jensen walked into the kitchen covered in sweaty workout clothes.

“Morning,” he said, going to the fridge to grab a drink. “Get the kids to school okay?”

“Yup,” you said, Jensen sniffing the air and humming as he walked over to where a loaf of banana bread was cooling in the rack. “Ah, it’s still too hot. Wait another half hour.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It smells amazing by the way. I don’t think anything’s been baked in this house in six months.”

“I’ve always enjoyed it,” you said, Jensen taking a seat on top of the counter. He chugged down the cold bottle of water, some of it dripping down the corners of his mouth. “Enjoy sleeping in today?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I feel amazing.”

“You look rested for the first time since I’ve met you,” you said. “You should sleep in on the weekends more too. The kids don’t need to be up at dawn.”

“No, they don’t,” he said. “I do love sleep too. You do okay with getting the three of them going on your own today?”

“Yeah. JJ’s old enough to get herself dressed and make her bed and do a few things on her own. The twins are a balancing act but the trick is to give yourself double the amount of time you think you need and you’ll never be late.”

“Not a bad tip,” he said as you finished wiping off a glass and picked up a pad and pen. “Whatcha working on?”

“Ideas for crafts and that sort of thing. You guys have a lot of supplies already so I was thinking of some ideas to do this week,” you said.

“You know...you can stick them in front of a TV too. They have their shows they like. We aren’t big on tracking screen time,” he said. “As long as they play and do some kind of creative thing everyday they can watch TV for a few hours in a row if they want. Our parents didn’t worry about that shit when we were kids, you know?”

“No, they didn’t do that,” you said. He lifted up the bottom of his muscle tank and wiped off his face, your eyes going straight down to the pad so you wouldn’t risk staring. “Any work scheduled for today?”

“I gotta wash up, head to the brewery for a few to check on things. I have some voice acting work I’m doing right now so I go to a place downtown and record that. That’ll be my afternoon. I can handle making dinner tonight. I should be back around four thirty, maybe a hair after,” he said. 

“Alright,” you said. “Anything you need at the store today?”

“Nah, we got plenty here,” he said. He wiped off his face with his shirt again, using his collar this time. You handed him a dish towel and he smiled, rubbing it over his neck and head. “Sorry. I’m dripping aren’t I.”

“A little. Do you work out a lot?” you asked. 

“No more than the average person. Try to do thirty minutes in the morning most days of the week. It’s sort of been my only alone time lately,” he said.

“Are you a runner?”

“God no. I’m not built for that. I like boxing and HIIT, weights, that sort of stuff. Part of my job is to look a certain way so if I’m gonna be the tough guy…”

“You gotta look like a tough guy?” you asked. He smiled and you looked him up and down. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a strong guy, that’s pretty obvious. But you’re not a tough guy.”

“Oh I’m not?” he asked but there was a lightness to his voice.

“Tough guys tend to be assholes. You’re too nice for that,” you said. 

“I suppose you have a point,” he said, sliding off the counter. He stepped over to the banana bread and picked up the knife nearby, slicing off a piece for himself and popping it in his mouth. “Hot. Hot.”

“I told you so,” you said with a small laugh.

“Tastes delicious though,” he said with his mouth full. You shook your head as he ate another piece and turned to go upstairs.

“Jensen,” you said, pointing at the sweaty dish towel. 

“Ugh, yes mom,” he said, swiping it away with a smile. 

“Thank you,” you said, tapping on your notepad. You felt his presence beside you, not to mention the smell, and turned your head up, Jensen smiling back. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you due for a break?” he asked.

“You don’t really get how this nanny thing works yet, do you.”

“Yeah well...I’m not a shitty boss so I guess you’ll have to get used to that too. Take a break Y/N. Have some coffee on the balcony. It’s a sunny January day. Enjoy it,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he pointed at the back door before he headed upstairs. You bit your bottom lip and glanced at the clock. You had been going for over three hours non-stop and one of those had been spent trying to convince a four year old he had to wear pants to daycare.

You turned to leave the kitchen when you heard a tsk. You jumped and slipped on the rug in front of the sink, falling backwards straight down to the hardwood floor.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he said as he rushed over. “I’m always tripping over that thing.”

“I’m fine,” you said as you sat up with his help. Your ass hurt but you knew you’d be alright. “Maybe we move the rug from the very trippable area?”

He swallowed and stared at you for a long moment before you smiled.

“How about we put it outside your office?” you asked softly. He nodded and you picked up one end of the long strip of fabric. He went to the other end and picked it up, backing up as you walked it over to the other side of the house. You laid it out in front of his closed door, smiling as you straightened it up. “There we go. Safe and sound.”

You headed back to the kitchen, Jensen lingering behind you.

“I was...gonna say you can make...you can use my coffee machine,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Stuff is stuff. This isn’t a museum. It’s a home. It’s gonna change over time.”

“I know. It’s just that rug...it is so damn ugly and I hate it,” he said with a smile. “I wanted to get rid of it the day she brought it home.”

“Wives have a way of getting the last word in,” you said. He chuckled and you got out a mug for yourself. “Tell me to shove it if this is too personal but are you sure you want to get back out into the dating world? It’s rough out there.”

“It is. Until it isn’t,” he said.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you.”

“Guilty as charged.” He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed for a brief moment.

“Women like hopeless romantics,” you said. “Just don’t get taken advantage of for that. There’s some not so nice women out there too.”

“Afraid I’ll fall for some ditz?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think you’d do that. But someone might hurt you and you’ve been through enough. Maybe just...don’t fall in love at first sight or something like that,” you said. “Alright?”

“Never was much good at that,” he said to himself while you grabbed your coffee mug. “You believe in that sort of thing?”

“I’d like to. But you’re more of the expert on falling in love than I am,” you said.

“Maybe it’s not first sight but within a few days, a week, yeah I knew I was in love,” he said.

“Well if that happens again let me know and I’ll make sure this chick is good for you,” you said.

“I didn’t know my nanny came with bodyguard services,” he chuckled.

“That was under special skills on my resume,” you said as you headed over to the door to the balcony. “You should wash up. Don’t want to be late.”

“No I better not be,” he said. He turned to head upstairs, pausing on the first step. “You know, no one’s an expert at falling in love. Even those of us who were once married.”

“Oh don’t be a hopeless romantic for me getting my shit together too. We’ll be here for years,” you laughed. 

“Just sayin’...maybe we’ll both find somebody. Not that we need anyone to be happy but...you know what I mean,” he said. 

“Men don’t really talk about love like that you know.”

“I do,” he said. You smiled and he returned it. 

“That’s why all the good men get taken early, the ones that talk like that,” you said.

“I was older than you when I got married. Maybe I’ll get married again someday. We’re out there. I promise.”

“Go shower,” you said, waving him off. You slipped outside, closing the door behind you. You leaned over the railing with your mug and let out a sigh. “You have to a be a fucking hopeless romantic too don’t you. Fucking perfect at everything.”

You lowered your head and took a deep breath. 

“It’s a crush, it’s a crush,” you said, closing your eyes. “Just a crush. He’s your boss and a widow and he bought a birthday cake for me.”

You opened your eyes and glanced into the mug, taking another deep breath.

“He’s just nice. That’s it. Even if he’s…” you trailed off. You took a long sip of the hot liquid, not caring you were burning your tongue. Jensen was simply a nice person and that was that. You had a crush on the attractive single dad you were nannying for. There was nothing wrong with that and you knew for a fact it’d be gone by the end of the week tops.

“Ow,” you groaned a few days later. You opened your eyes and heard a knock at the door to your suite. “Yeah?”

“You okay in there? I thought I heard a crash,” said Jensen. 

“I’m fine,” you said, sitting up with a grunt, leaning back against your bed. “Shit.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again.

“No,” you said with a sigh. “The door’s open.”

You peaked through your open door down the hall, Jensen opening the one to the suite and offering a friendly smile. You nodded and he walked inside, frowning at your cut up knee. 

“I got blood on the rug,” you said. “Do we have bleach?”

“I thought we agreed earlier this week a rug is just a rug,” he said, squatting down and looking at your knee. He looked up and saw your overturned garbage can in your closet where you’d been trying to reorganize a few clothes. “Next time use the step stool in the garage?”

“Yeah,” you said, your face hot. “I’m fine really. Just want to clean up the blood before it sets in.”

“It’s a few drops,” he said, helping you stand with a wince. “You got any first aid stuff?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen crossing his arms. “No.”

“Come on,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders and walking you down the hall. “Scraped up knees are my specialty.”

“Jensen,” you said, stopping at the kitchenette island and bending your leg a few times. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He left and you hopped over to the couch, stretching your leg out. The bleeding had stopped, just a thin cut on your knee cap where you’d hit it, but you knew you were in for a nasty bruise. He returned with a bottle and cotton ball in one hand, a bandage and ice pack in the other. 

“Sorry,” you said, Jensen setting the items down on the coffee table.

“Why would you apologize for getting hurt?” he said.

“I should have my own first aid supplies,” you said. 

“Ah. So you’re as stubborn as I am when you’re not feeling great,” he said. You looked down at your lap and took a deep breath.

“Am I fired?” you asked. 

“No? Why the fuck would I fire you?” he said. 

“I don’t know,” you said, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Have you been fired for getting hurt before?” he asked, watching you hold the cotton ball against the open bottle top and tip it over, soaking the liquid in. You pretended to not hear him and put the bottle back, wiping the ball over the cut, a deep red mark already on your skin. “Y/N.”

“Yes, I have,” you said. You set the ball on the table and picked up the bandage, trying to angle it over your knee. He rolled his eyes and took it out of your hand, bending down and turning it around, pressing it gently over your skin. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” he said as he looked up at you.

“Do I look like I have an HR department I can go to? They were dicks anyways,” you said.

“If you’re ever hurt, big or small, just tell me,” he said. He rested the ice pack over your knee and you sat back, throwing it up on the couch for you to lay there. “Promise I won’t fire you for it.”

“Well if I can’t do my job I’m not much use to you,” you said.

“Are all wealthy people assholes that act like that?” he asked. You shook your head and smiled. “Good.”

“I’ve nannied for eight different families, nine counting yours. Some were very good people,” you said.

“But you were just the help to them, even the good ones,” he said.

“I am the help. That’s the whole point of me being there,” you said. 

“Do me a favor? Don’t assume just because you’re someone’s employee that they think of you as just the help,” he said, picking up the first aid supplies.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize for…” he said, muttering to himself as you looked down. “If I ever make you feel like that, smack me in the head, alright?”

“Alright,” you said quietly. He nodded and left with the items, returning a moment later with some cleaning spray, ducking into your room for only a moment before exiting.

“It’s all clean,” he said. He lingered at the door and put a hand on it. “Leave that ice pack on for fifteen minutes and pop it back in the freezer. Put it back on for a bit before bed.”

“Thanks,” you said. 

“It’s no problem,” he said. He still lingered and you took a deep breath.

“You should call someone, talk to them,” you said. He looked over his shoulder and you smiled. “You seem like you want to talk to somebody tonight is all.”

“I think I’m gonna go for a drive, maybe stop at a friend’s. The kids are all in bed,” he said. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah go take a second for yourself,” you said. “I got everything here.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jensen.”

One Week Later

“Y/N,” said Jensen as you washed your car in the driveway on a Saturday morning. You dropped the soapy sponge in the bucket and straightened yourself out. “Got plans today?”

“Uh, I was gonna run to the grocery store in a minute but other than that, no. Need me to watch the kids?”

“No. We were going out to lunch and then going to a little car show was all and we were wondering if you’d like to join us. Totally up to you. My treat.”

“You don’t want me to watch the kids?” you asked. He laughed and crossed his arms at you. “I’m confused.”

“Do you want to hang out with us today? For fun?” he asked.

“Oh,” you said. “That’s okay. You enjoy your time with the kids.”

“How do I make this clearer,” he said, walking over to you and looking down. “I want you to come with us, as a friend, to do something fun, like friends do. This is not work. Come if you want to.”

“You sure you want me to come?” you asked. He rolled his eyes and plopped his baseball cap on your head as he walked away.

“Yes. And wear sunscreen,” he said. “We’re leaving at eleven thirty.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you guys then.”

“There’s something about a burger that’s been cooked in a greasy pop up kitchen that just adds to the flavor,” you said as you took a bite of your cheese burger at the car show.

“It’s probably the grease,” he said, walking one hand on his burger, the other holding Arrow’s hand. She wiped her own little hand on his leg and he sighed as he looked down. “Arrow. I got napkins in my pocket.”

“Oh,” she said, wiping her face against him.

“No one mentions this part,” he chuckled. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulders once he was done with his food, humming as he pushed the stroller with a sleeping Zeppelin inside. 

“Dad, I gotta go to the bathroom,” said JJ. 

“I’ll take her and we can catch up with you guys?” you said. He mouthed a thank you to you as you headed over to the women’s room. You used the bathroom as well, finishing before her and waiting outside for her. “All set?”

“Yeah. Can we get fried dough?” she asked.

“Sure,” you said. You let her lead the way in line and got a plate for the two of you, taking a seat at a picnic table so she could dig in. “Taste yummy?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Dad likes fried dough a lot too.”

“Everybody does,” you said, taking a piece off the corner.

“Y/N, you don’t have a mom either right?” she said. “That’s what dad said.”

“Well that’s a funny question. I got a mom and so do you. They just aren’t around anymore is all,” you said. “What’s up?”

“I’m happy you stay with us I guess is all. I know you’re not mom and you work for dad but you kinda are and I like it when dad’s happy again,” she said.

“Me too. You doing okay, kiddo?” you asked. “It’s okay if you still miss your mom.”

“I do but I’m not sad anymore. Dad says when I get real old I can see her again so that’s cool,” she said, taking a big bite.

“It definitely is cool,” you said. “Maybe our mom’s are hanging out right now.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Maybe. I bet they get up to some fun stuff up there,” you said. 

“Me too,” she said. “Dad’s really happy you came with us. He’s been cranky lately.”

“Your dad’s gonna be just fine,” you said as she finished off her food. “So do you like having a nanny? I know that’s kinda new and funny, huh.”

“Yeah but I really like you being home. Dad gets flustered sometimes.”

“Flustered?” you asked with a little laugh.

“He works on a lot of stuff and he didn’t pick me up on time from school and stuff a few weeks ago. Too many chickens in a basket,” she said.

“Too many eggs in one basket,” you said.

“Isn’t an egg gonna be a chicken though?”

“I...never thought of it that way,” you said. You nearly jumped when you felt some hands on your shoulders but JJ was smiling as Arrow climbed up next to you.

“Ah. I see you ladies found the fried dough. Twins you want some?” asked Jensen.

“Yes please,” they said and he chuckled as he went off to buy some more.

“Look at her,” said Jensen twenty minutes later, pausing at a deep blue Impala, the twins both conked out in their stroller. 

“Isn’t that the same car you have?” you asked, lifting up the brim of your baseball cap to get a better look.

“Mine’s a 67. That’s a 63. I love that color though,” he said. “Blue’s my favorite but it looks good on that car.”

“I think it looks good in black,” you said, walking again when you saw JJ a few cars ahead of the two of you. “Where’d you get your car?”

“Work,” he said with a quick smile, hiding behind his sunglasses and hat. 

“Aren’t you an actor?” you asked.

“You have very obviously never seen an episode of my show,” he chuckled. “Which is totally cool by the way. I drove that car in the show for well over a decade. She’s one of my true loves.”

“Ah, gotcha,” you said. “So you’re a car guy.”

“Kinda. I don’t know everything but I enjoy them. What about you, you like-JJ! Stay closer,” he called out when she kept walking ahead. “So do you like cars?”

“I guess so. This is kinda neat, walking around and looking at the old ones. They had more style back then,” you said, walking past a pair of guys your age, one of them looking you up and down as you went by. “Did that guy-”

“Yup,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, throwing his arm over yours for a few moments. “Looks like he got the message.”

“Jensen,” you laughed. “I wasn’t offended. It’s not like he was gonna come up and ask for my number.”

“I don’t like the look of him,” he said.

“Neither did I,” you chuckled, Jensen dropping his arm from around you. “You’re that guy friend girls have that will do shit like pretend to be a boyfriend and all that stuff, aren’t you.”

“At your service,” he said with a mini curtesy. You giggled and he straightened up, JJ rushing over.

“Dad can I get an ice cream?” she asked.

“How about some apple slices,” he said, reaching under the stroller and grabbing a cooler. He pulled out a little baggie and handed it to her, JJ shrugging and walking ahead of the stroller again. “Shit, that probably means I can’t get ice cream now too.”

“We can always get some on the way home for later,” you said. “I won’t tell on you.”

“I’m putting this on your performance review,” he said. You shot him a side glance and he smirked. “I’m joking. I don’t want to do that as much as you don’t.”

“Thank you for that,” you said, stopping and looking at a red challenger for a moment.

“You like that one?” he asked.

“It’s nice,” you said before you started walking again. You fixed your hat and caught back up with him, Jensen slowing down as JJ took her time ahead of you. “So I should probably know this but what show were you in where you were driving around a muscle car?”

“You really haven’t looked me up online yet?” he chuckled. You shrugged and he laughed to himself.

“I may have peeked at your IMDB page but that was it. Was it that show you were on a long time? Super something?”

“Supernatural,” he said, a big smile on his face. “Yeah, I drove it for that.”

“Oh yeah, that was the really scary show, wasn’t it,” you said. 

“You’re too sweet,” he said, chuckling to himself. “It’s not that scary. I promise. Give it a try sometime. You might like it.”

“I’m sure someday I will. If I’m brave enough.”

“I think you are,” he said, JJ running up ahead again before he called for her to hang back. He sighed and threw his head back. “It never ends, does it?”

“I’m sure someday when she’s older you won’t have to worry so much.”

“I’m gonna worry about that kid when she’s forty years old,” he said.

“That’s cause you’re a good dad,” you said. 

“You haven’t known me that long,” he said.

“Do you love her? Worry about her?” you asked and he nodded. “Well any dad that does that and tells his kid that someday they’ll get to see their mom again to help her grieve when he well and truly doesn’t know the answer to that...you get the picture Ackles?”

“I could be better,” he said.

“Everyone could be better. They don’t need the best dad ever. They just need the best dad for them and you seem like you’re doing a good job of that from what I’ve seen so far,” you said. “You’re gonna screw up but so does everyone. Try to just enjoy it and not be too hard on yourself.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time with kids haven’t you,” he said.

“I’ve been in the mom role more than once as a nanny,” you said. You kicked at the dirt and shrugged. “It’s how I know the difference Jensen. You don’t need me or want me to be their mother. You just need help sometimes. That’s an important difference. Asking for help, especially when you don’t want it but need it, that’s a good dad move.”

He was quiet as he walked, stopping at a yellow mustang. He stared for a moment and swallowed. 

“Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot. Really.”

“Come on dad,” you said, walking away and up towards where JJ was. “Let’s go see if we can find one this one’s gonna be asking for on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Those three are finally down and out for the count,” said Jensen as he walked downstairs to catch you in the kitchen wiping up the pan from dinner. “Thanks for eating with us tonight.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said, putting the pan away. He looked out the back window and bit his bottom lip. “Everything alright?”

“You’re not like, hanging out with us cause you think you have to right?” he asked.

“Trust me. If I didn’t want to, I’d be down in my room,” you said. “Besides, I’ve thought about it and you know what, why don’t you set me up with that friend of yours.”

“Really?” he asked, a little alarmed.

“Why not? The age thing doesn’t bother me at all. Unless you think it’d be a problem for him?”

“No, he doesn’t really care about that sort of thing. I think he’d prefer it’s just someone he clicked with, had a connection, you know?” he said.

“Perfect. Why don’t you set us up for next Saturday night then?” you asked.

“I need you to watch the kids next Saturday night. I have-”

“The gala. Sorry, I forgot. Um, just, I’m free whenever. You know my schedule so you can set something up and just let me know?” you said. He smiled and nodded. As you were starting to leave he grunted. “Yeah?”

“I have some friends coming over for a drink in a bit. Small backyard fire. Whiskey and smores. You’re welcome to join.”

“Jensen. You’re not asking because you feel like you have to right?”

“No, not at all. I like hanging out with you. I’m sure whatever you’re binging on TV will be there if we bore you too much,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll be out in half an hour or so. Just wanted to freshen up from the show earlier,” you said. You ducked back to your room, taking a quick shower and changing into some leggings and a flannel. By the time you were out you could hear a slight mumbling and walked downstairs, catching Jensen with some guys on the patio pouring some drinks.

“Hey,” said Jensen when you stepped out of the slider door. “Guys this is Y/N.”

“Ah we get to meet the world’s best nanny,” said the tallest one. “I’m Jared.”

“Rich.”

“Rob.”

“Hi!” said a redhead that slipped out of the door behind you. “I’m Ruth.”

“Y/N. Your hair is kinda amazing by the way,” you said.

“This is what happens when you invite the girls,” said Rich.

“Normally we just talk about Jared’s hair,” chuckled Jensen. You grabbed a chair and helped gather up some snacks to bring over to his firepit, Ruth hanging back to help you.

“Jensen said you live here with him and the munchkins?”

“Yeah. He works so much it makes things easier on him. Are you an actress?” you asked.

“We all are. Only Jared lives close by. The rest of us haven’t been down here since…” she said and you nodded. “I really am happy you’re here. It’s nice to see a smile on our boys face again.”

“He’s a great boss. He’s very kind. We’re becoming friends,” you said. “He’s trying to set me up with his friend actually.”

“Oh which one?”

“Dunno. He just said he’s 42, an actor and is single. Age stuff doesn’t bother me.”

“Rob is a bit older than myself. It really doesn’t matter in the slightest, especially when you’re a little older,” she said. “Jensen says you’re great with the kids.”

“They’re pretty easy going. Normally the parents are the hard part of my job but he’s been great. He really loves his kids,” you said.

“Yes he certainly does,” she said.

By the end of the night you found yourself really enjoying Jensen’s friends. It was clear they cared for him at more than a surface level, especially Jared. You’d heard Jensen speak to him on the phone a few times and call him his brother but it really was apparent they had a special bond that went beyond a typical friendship.

“I’ll catch you guys for brunch before you head home,” said Jensen, waving night to them all as you helped pick up. You were just about finished and heading back for your room when Jensen caught you in the kitchen. “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. Your friends are great,” you said, a small pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. You both turned and saw Zeppelin there with tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Jensen as he walked over and squatted down.

“I had a bad dream and I want mommy but she’s gone,” he whined. Jensen instantly scooped him up and held onto him tight, kissing his head. “I want mommy.”

“I want mommy too, baby,” said Jensen quietly. You mouthed go and he nodded, taking Zeppelin upstairs while you finished cleaning up. 

You got up early the next morning and made a big batch of chocolate chip pancakes, plenty leftover for breakfast the next morning. Jensen padded over from the hall where you knew the home gym was, sweaty and tired but a smile came onto his face when he saw you.

“What’s all this,” he asked, getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Chocolate chip pancakes make everything better,” you said. He put a few on a plate for himself and sat down at the counter as you made up some more, stealing a few for yourself.

“These are delicious,” he said. You stored away some for when the kids got up, making up your own plate before you dug in. “Sorry about last night. I feel like I ruined the fun.”

“Not at all. He’s a toddler. I literally can’t imagine being in your position. I’d have fallen apart instantly,” you said.

“No you wouldn’t. You care about those kids,” he said. “You push on for them.”

“I know it’s not really my place to say so but-”

“Y/N. I’d prefer if you just talk to me like a friend, really,” he said.

“You made it sound like you were ready to try dating again. Last night you seemed kind of...maybe not so ready.”

“I’m ready. I will always miss her. I’ll always love her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love anyone else ever again like that too, you know? I don’t believe there is a limit on how much love a person can give,” he said.

“Your wife was a very lucky woman,” you said.

“I was lucky. She was patient with me,” he chuckled. “You guys would have gotten along really well.”

“Can I offer a bit of advice?” you asked.

“What’s that?”

“Keep telling your kids about her, all throughout their lives. They’ll still get to know her that way, you know?” you said. “Tell your future girlfriend too. That’s how you’ll know if they’re a good one for you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“You’re a kind soul. I would expect your partner would be as well,” you said.

“I hope so. Mine kinda has a permanent handle with care warning label on it,” he chuckled.

“I don’t think so. Just need somebody that understands, not try to fix you. There’s nothing wrong with you in the first place,” you said, taking a bite of your pancake.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he said.

“You’re not that much older, bucko,” you chuckled.

“Nah, I’m keeping kiddo,” he laughed. “You good to watch the kids for a few hours around eleven?”

“Sounds good. Go have a mimosa with your friends for me,” you said.

“Will do, Y/N. Will do.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[fivelakesinwriting]

Request of reader being scared to kill a cockroach while Barry is dealing someone, so reader's sitting on the counter or desk, just some random place, waiting for their night and shining armor to come help

I love this! Thank you for this! If this was your request I hope you love it! xoxo

Author's Notes: I am loving writing for Barry lately, so thank you all for the requests. Barry's girlfriend just wanted to help clean up a little and found an unwelcome friend...

Warnings: Bugs! I know some people won't like reading that, Swearing, Sexual references - sexual innuendos

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

For a man who lived alone, he certainly accumulated a lot of dirty dishes. She sighed as she sat on the threadbare couch and looked at the pile of plates, bowls and cups while her foot jiggled restlessly.

Don't clean anything, I'm gonna do it.

Was the last thing he said to her before he went outside to go deal with his "clients". That had been almost 45 minutes ago, and she could still hear him outside talking to someone out in the sun-room.

"Just one rack of dishes. He won't even know the difference." She mumbled to herself as she pushed herself off the couch and took the few small steps towards the small kitchenette.

The fresh smell of the lemon dish soap wafted up into her nose as she filled up the sink with water and bubbles. She turned off the tap and submerged his favourite coffee mugs in the water, soaking them.

"Gross. You're so gross, Barry." She whined as she grabbed a dishrag and began to clean out the stained coffee mugs. She cringed at the dark water in the sink, the bubbles all but disappearing within moments.

"Why do I like you? You're filthy." She shuttered as she placed the cup face down to drain on the drying rack.

She pulled the drain, wiped the counter and went to put the rag on the back of the faucet when she saw something scuttle behind a tower of dishes. She gasped so deeply she choked on air, backing up into the table across from the sink.

"No. No." She shivered as she hoped up onto the table and watched as she hard shelled bug crawled from the tower of bowls and cups, and made its way down the side of the cupboards to the floor.

"Barry! Oh, my - Barry!" She cried as she brought her feet up under her on the table and watched the cockroach roam around the tiled file.

"Damnit, woman. I'm out here trying to work and you're screaming my na - what the hell are you doing up there?" Barry grinned after he flung the screen door open and found his woman sitting, scared like a little kid, on top of his tiny kitchen table.

"There is a fucking cockroach. Right there, Barry." She stated firmly, her finger pointing at the bug on the floor.

"That? You scared of that?" Barry smirked as he slowly walked over to the cockroach, lifted the toe of his boot and crunched it under his weight.

"Thank you. That was so disgusting." She shivered, shaking her hands out as she brought her legs over the edge of the table, feeling safe again.

"Seen you go at a Kook with a knife, who was three times your size. Don't know why a bug has you so scared." Barry replied as he reached for a piece of paper towel to clean up the evidence.

"Kooks don't usually have antenna, and multiple legs." She mumbled as she swung her legs back and forth, watching him wash his hands.

Barry laughed with a nod of his head as he dried off his hands. He leaned against the sink as he looked the woman sat up on his table, still looking around his floor for more cockroaches.

"Told you not to clean anything." Barry grinned, his gold tooth shining at her in the small sliver of sunlight through the windows.

"Barry, this place is disgusting. How could I not?" She whined with a pout, arms crossed over her chest.

"Well. Now you know I ain't lying when I tell you to keep your hands to yourself." Barry smirked as he walked back over to her and placed his hands on her knees, parting them so he could take up the space between them.

"You're disgusting. Why do I even like you, Barry?" She pouted as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed to his.

"I let you be wild, and from what I remember from last night you like my fat co - " Barry replied but was cut off by her hand covering his mouth.

"Don't." She giggled, her hand sealed over his mouth as she hooked her ankles behind his back.

Barry gently took hold of her wrist to remove her hand from his mouth, still smiling under her palm. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips before he unwrapped himself from her mess of limbs, reluctantly swatting her away as she reached from him again.

"If you don't have anymore bugs for me to kill, I have to go back outside." Barry muttered, a full step away from her with his hands in pockets.

"How much longer will you be, Barry?" She questioned softly, her toes making small circles in the air as she looked him up and down.

"As long as I have to be. Don't clean anything. Go back to bed, read that book I got you." Barry grumbled with a point of his finger before he turned away from her and walked back out the screen door.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you! xoxo

Requests for OBX are OPEN!!!!

[heresathreebee]

KINKTOBER DAY 6 Foodplay/Rimming

Colonel Rick X Reader

AN: will edit tomorrow, too tired

It's your daughter's first day of first grade and to celebrate, Rick is in the kitchen making waffles and pancakes. And to his great annoyance, you had found a can of whipped cream in the fridge door. 

"Stop doing that," he scolded you over his shoulder and flips the last pancake, "that shit is nothing but pure sugar and she's gonna be too full to eat real food." 

Your laugh sounds muffled and whoops the image of you swiping white cream from your lips… but god willing, it will not tempt him right now. Today's about getting your daughter to school after that disaster of a kindergarten year. 

"Here." 

Rick swipes the can of cream from your hands and places two plates stacked high with fluffy, chocolate or blueberry baked breakfast delights. Your daughter squealed her delight and grabbed one of everything then she sat back and stared at it. 

Rick glanced at you in confusion but you were distracted (he was leaning on the counter and his biceps were bulging) so he asked, "'s a matter, darlin'?" 

Big and pretty eyes focused on him from behind the mountain she piled on her plate. "I'm not hungry anymore." 

Rick saw you stiffen as if you were struck with rigamortis and he tried his best not to glare at you in front of her. 

"You're fine baby, here–" 

You danced around Rick and filled a glass of water to bring back to her. She drank it at your behest as you fixed a plate for yourself. And like clockwork, the water washed the immediate taste of sugar from her mouth and she dug into the cholocate chip waffle at the top of her pile. 

Two parents sighed in unison and walked their daughter down to the bus stop. She held onto both of your hands, swinging back and forth to distract herself. She almost didn't go– Rick had to promise to come pick her up if she didn't want to stay but she had to stay until lunch. 

When she finally boarded the bus (with a face like you were sending her to boarding school), the two of you returned to the mess in the kitchen. You groaned, kicking your slippers to the side and huffing all the way home. 

"Oh stop it, it was your idea," Rick laughed. "Do you think she'll be ok?" 

You nod. "If she didn't want to go, we'd have had to drag her kicking and screaming. She'll be alright babe." 

Rick starts to load the soaked dishes from the sink to the dishwasher and you pause looking over the leftovers. "Did you have any of these?" 

"Hm? No, I didn't," your husband replied. He felt a tap on his shoulder and found you offering him a bit of blueberry pancake on a fork. "My hands are wet." 

"I'll do it for you, dummy." 

Rick opened his mouth to receive. The fool. Instead of a mouthful of pancake he got whip creamed instead. His sigh sounded, in your ears, like a deeply irritated 'goddamn.' You laughed yourself hoarse and offered the fork again. 

Rick watched you this time but true to your original word, you let him take a bite of what he wanted. Aaaand almost as a reflex, you licked the stray, sticky syrup from his chin. He definitely shivered– you felt it, but he doesn't scold you or bend you over the table like you hoped. 

You let him have his moment of restraint. The two of you fucked like rabbits, he knew what was on your mind. The dishwasher was loaded and plates emptied, all that was left was to soak the remaining dishes and wipe down the counters and table. 

But you watched him set up– hand towel over the shoulder ready to handwash what was left like he was unaffected by you. 

On Rick's part, he wasn't trying to frustrate you, he just didn't like to half ass a job (can't relate honestly). He heard you stomping in the direction of your bedroom. He was intent to ignore it to finish his task, but then he heard you stomp back into the kitchen and stop. 

The sudden silence bothered him. That and the feeling of your eyes burning holes into the back of his head. He half glanced– looked at the fridge to find you in his peripherals– but you weren't moving. 

Finally he half turned and found you doing exactly what it sounded like you were doing– standing, leaning, waiting (rather impatiently actually). 

And you had the whip cream still. You tapped your finger and the intensity of your glare gives him no choice but to stop. 

"What?" 

You don't answer but you do crook your finger at him. Rick dries his hands and obeys. Every step he takes towards you has your tightass stance unwinding and by the time he reaches you, you've relaxed into a lazy lean and mischievous grin. 

He asks again, "what?" 

You grab him by his belt buckle and drag him closer to you. "Take your pants off and bend over for me." 

You feel Rick stiffen. "...why?" 

"Because I wanna do something to you," you answer cryptically. 

"Am I going to enjoy what you're about to do to me?" 

You scoff. "I think you will, yes. If it's not, you're welcome to tap out." 

Rick's fingers twitched. "Let me put this away first." 

He reaches for the can of cream but you stop him. "This is a part of it." 

He says your name in warning. You can see he's uncomfortable about it and maybe he's right to be– you have been unpredictable and childish today– but you push forward. Give him your best, most sincere puppy dog eyes. 

"Please? I'll take it slow, if you don't want it, tell me and I'll stop," you say. "It's sort of a… continuation of Sunday's exploration…" 

You stuck your finger in his ass while he was pounding into you (he liked it a lot actually, he just doesn't do it often). You can see his thousand yard stare as he recalls Sunday’s events that left him shaking with pleasure for an hour after. 

"...ok." 

Rick reaches for his belt and undones it slowly. You know in your head it's because he's still on the fence about it but your adrenaline rises and you take pleasure in watching him strip. Once his pants are at his ankles, you feel like you need to help ease him into the mood. 

You start by cupping his cheeks and kissing him. Long, deep kisses that convey your commitment to pacing yourself. He kisses you back in kind and struggles to remove his underwear past his knees because he doesn't want to pause kissing you even for a second. He gives up after a second and puts both hands on your waist to pull you closer, deeper into the kisses. 

"I love you," you whisper in between dipping your tongue into his mouth. "I'm going to take care of you." 

Rick moans in answer and you feel 'something' poking your stomach. You break away from his lips and pepper kisses down the column of his throat, over his shirt clad heart and chest and you sink to your knees pulling his underwear with it. 

You look up at him knowing it's his second favorite position to have you in. His bright eyes are dark and he swallows roughly but instead of giving his awaiting cock a kiss, you stand. 

"Now bend over." Rick hesitates but obeys. "Good boy." 

He glares at you over his shoulder but he does as you ask, setting his hands palms down on the counter and spreading his legs as much as his pants will allow. He jerks when he feels your hand massage the inside of his thigh, but when you don't move on right away, he is able to relax into it. 

I trust you, he thinks. He feels your hair tickle the base of his spine and you plant a kiss on his back, then you straighten up and massaging more of his hips, his butt, his thighs without touching his most sensitive parts. 

When he feels you massage his cheeks a little harder, pulling them apart, letting go, and doing it on repeat, his cock hardens. You haven't touched it once and his intuition tells him you don't want him to either. His breathing picks up and it feels like you're torturing him now. 

Did you change your mind? Are you having second thoughts? 

As if on cue, you ask him: "have you ever… tried rimming before?" 

Oh… that was the last thing Rick was expecting you to say. 

You got nervous when you saw his head jerk up from the counter. You were preparing to step back and give him space, but he reached a hand back and caught a belt loop in your pants which he used to drag you closer to him (hips pressed to hips). He seemed to be considering his answer. 

"...yeah… I have." He looks back at you. "Is that what you want to do?" 

You nod cautiously. If he's not into it, you're not going to make him feel like he has to for your sake. Your sex life is fine without anal play– if he's not into it, you'll survive. 

Oh but to your great fortune, Rick is very much into it. He puts his head back down on the table and, as a show of good faith, he tries to spread his legs just a centimeter further. 

"Go for it." 

He's a shivering mess. Your fingers felt good inside him but your tongue? Expert. He was going to lose his hearing from how loud he was moaning and whimpering. If he knew you were touching yourself right now, he’d have come without even trying. 

“Please, please, please–” Rick choked when you finally touched him where he needed you most. You wrapped your hand around his cock and tugged. Stroking him roughly and pulling towards you which jostled his balls as well. At this point he was barely breathing. 

He started to say your name but– “Uhhnnn–”

Rick comes in your hand and all over your shirt. You refrain from slipping a second finger into him only because you might kill him if you did. He comes so hard he’s dizzy and he barely has enough sense to reach across the counter and hold himself onto it. 

He had been leaning back into your touch, hips inching further and further away and to keep him from falling on you, you stand and push him back up, draping yourself over his back to hug him. 

It’s ten minutes before Rick comes down from his high. His breathing is deep and evened, legs freezing cold but back warm, at least everywhere you were. 

"Rick…Rick…" 

He shakes you with a laugh. "Yeah baby? You sure know how to work my shit, don't you?" 

He cleared his throat and said adoringly, "you are going to be the death of me." 

[retrogradedreaming]

UHHHH maybe,, you could write a little thing for reki making the sk8 fam tea? and kaoru thinking hes gonna have to pretend he likes it but then "oh wait reki can actually make tea what-"

just bc this has been living in my head for awhile sdkljfs

(capt-snoozles)

It turns out I am completely incapable of writing ANYTHING short, so have a full one shot type thing, I guess. I hope it's okay that I kinda borrowed headcanons from you and @that-was-anticlimactic for Reki with TS at a couple of small moments in the fic?

----

It used to be Kaoru alone who visited Kojiro’s restaurant when it was closed on Mondays. But since the start of winter break, Sia la Luce had become much livelier now that Reki, Langa, and Miya weren’t in school all day, and Shadow came when his days off lined up right. If Kaoru were being honest, it took some time to get used to the space no longer being only his and Kojiro’s, but he’d grown to like how their group came together like this.

The afternoons were the quietest part of these days. Kojiro took these opportunities to try out new recipes on them, leaving everyone contentedly full and pleasantly sleepy. Today, Langa had actually fallen asleep in the booth, and Reki sat beside Kaoru at the counter, playing with a tiny skateboard and making soft sounds like a small motor. Shadow and Miya sat at a table across the room, arguing over whether clown or cat makeup looked cooler while Kojiro finished cleaning. Kaoru let himself sink into the lull, Reki’s noises and that of the skateboard wheels on the counter an almost comforting presence beside him. And yet, one thing was missing, keeping him from truly relaxing.

“Seems like a good afternoon for tea,” Kojiro said, as if reading his mind as he appeared out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “You want me to make some?”

“Absolutely not,” Kaoru scoffed. “People who microwave their tea should be arrested.”

“There’s no way you can tell the difference,” Kojiro said, defensive. “Hot water is hot water.”

“Only an uncultured pig would believe that,” Kaoru snapped. He was about to stand, to tell Kojiro he’d make the tea himself like he always inevitably had to, when Reki all but leaped from his seat, skateboard abandoned for the moment.

“I’ll make it!” he offered, and the way his face lit up meant that Kaoru took too long to say not to bother. By the time he’d found his words, Reki had already bounded around the counter and into the kitchen, and Kojiro didn’t even try to stop him. Before Kaoru could tell Kojiro to stop him, Reki called out to Kojiro, asking about the industrial stove, and soon, Kojiro was not only allowing Reki to make the tea, but encouraging him.

Kaoru supposed this was a step up from Kojiro’s microwave technique, but if Kaoru were likely to trust anyone other than himself to make a decent cup of tea, it wouldn’t be Reki. The idea that he’d wanted his tea made well and was unlikely to receive it as such set him on edge. As he listened to the water boil and the conversation continued around him, he found himself wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger and tugging, letting it go, and repeating the process until his scalp hurt. He didn’t even notice that Langa had woken up until he appeared beside Kaoru and spoke.

“What’s Reki doing?” he asked.

“Making tea,” Kaoru said, doing his best not to appear so anxious about something so small.

Langa peered over the edge of the counter to where Kojiro and Reki were talking in the kitchen, and then turned back to Kaoru. “I like how he makes it. I never liked it before I met him.”

Kaoru hummed a halfhearted response. He doubted that Langa’s standards were very high, given that he’d grown up in Canada. He’d likely had tea often enough, given that his mother was Japanese, but Kaoru knew from experience that plenty of people even here in Okinawa had no idea how to brew a proper cup. It was about timing, knowing how hot to make the water, how long to steep the leaves, and so many people rushed the process—or worse, forgot about it and steeped too long—that Kaoru preferred to make his own.

He couldn’t help but envision Reki handing him a bitter cup, or one that tasted like little more than hot leaf juice. He grimaced at the idea of having to drink it and pretend he liked it, suffering all the while. He would have to wait until he was home later to make something better for himself.

He was still trying to think of a polite way to decline the tea he’d obviously wanted when Reki came out bearing a tray of steaming cups and began making the rounds through the restaurant. Reki handed the first one to Langa, who accepted it, smiling softly up at Reki. Langa sipped the tea immediately, only to flinch and draw it away after the first sip.

Not promising, Kaoru thought. If he’d boiled the water, it was ruined, even if it was something as simple as green tea. And yet, Langa only took another sip while Reki looked on approvingly.

“It’s good,” Langa finally proclaimed, and Reki glowed as if he’d received praise from the emperor himself. Reki moved on, handing Kaoru his cup.

“Thank you,” Kaoru said, accepting it with both hands. Fortunately, Reki moved on to Shadow and Miya without waiting for Kaoru to try it, which meant that he didn’t know Kaoru only held onto it without making a move to taste it. If nothing else, he could enjoy the warmth that crawled from his fingertips all the way to his elbows.

Neither Miya nor Shadow hesitated in drinking theirs, though Kaoru couldn’t imagine they cared much how it tasted, as long as it was hot. And yet, as he watched, the two of them looked just as pleased as Langa when they tried it.

“Oh wow, the slime makes good tea,” Miya pronounced, hugging the cup close to him like a space heater.

“Damn, this is pretty good,” Shadow said, drinking deeply and draining half the cup. “How’d you even learn to make it like this?”

Reki shrugged, taking up his own cup, the last on the tray. He set the tray down on the counter and took the empty seat beside Langa. “I dunno, I guess I just picked it up over the years. It’s kinda like making skateboards, y’know? You have to figure out how all the parts fit together, and if you do it wrong, the tea doesn’t taste right.”

Kaoru looked up at him from the murky depths of his tea, brows raised. When it came to making tea, the analogy was rather profound, and Kaoru couldn’t argue it. Reki was right—tea was about the sum of its parts, the pieces fitting together perfectly. And as with building skateboards, the person making it had to know exactly how to combine each piece to create the whole.

“That doesn’t make any sense, but whatever,” Shadow said, taking another sip. “All I care about is that it doesn’t suck.”

“How come you’ve never made us tea before?” Miya asked, eyes trained on the Switch he’d pulled from his pocket now that he’d abandoned his conversation with Shadow.

“I don’t really have the patience for it,” Reki said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda like, if I don’t wanna put in the time to do it right, why bother?”

While everyone was wrapped up in conversation, Kaoru finally chanced a discreet sip. If it was as bad as he’d expected, he could school his expression appropriately while they were all distracted. Perhaps he could even get away without having to lie about how good it was. And yet, when the tea touched his tongue, he paused.

It wasn’t too hot.

It wasn’t too weak or too strong.

It wasn’t too bitter and the leaves didn’t taste as though they’d been burnt.

It was, as far as Kaoru was concerned, some of the best tea he’d had outside his own home. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to say so. He sipped it again, just to make sure he hadn’t deluded himself based on everyone else’s praise. Sure enough, it was almost more delicious the second time.

“You surprised?” Kojiro murmured at his ear, his own cup dangling from his fingertips. Kaoru jumped, nearly spilling his tea. When he turned to face him, Kojiro’s lips quirked in a smug grin, and he raised one brow meaningfully. Kaoru shot him a hard glower in return, a silent command to keep his mouth shut before Kaoru turned back to Reki.

“It’s delicious,” Kaoru said, and it wasn’t forced in the least. “I’m impressed.”

Reki, who had already immersed himself in talking to Langa, gaped at Kaoru, one of his hoodie strings falling from between his teeth. Then, he flashed a wide grin. “Glad you like it!”

“Have you ever practiced tea ceremony?” Kaoru asked, reluctantly setting his tea down on the counter.

“Nah, my parents let me try it once when I was younger, but I kept messing up the steps,” Reki said. “It’s not really fun when people get mad at you for doing it wrong.”

“I studied it for some time,” Kaoru said, remembering how the order felt comforting, how the amount of concentration it required gave his anxious mind something to focus on, how the simple yet refined aesthetic felt like clearing his head. In recent years, he didn’t have time for it with his calligraphy business, but a part of him missed it. “It’s quite a bit different from drinking tea like this, but if you wanted to, perhaps we could do a...modified version of it. Something less formal with everyone here.”

Reki’s eyes brightened, and he looked to Langa, who only seemed to share his enthusiasm. “It sounds fun, yeah! A lot better than getting yelled at by a bunch of old people because ‘tradition.’”

“I’d say so,” Kaoru said, and they devolved into talking about their favorite teas and the best ways to brew them. Kaoru couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to someone who actually understood that tea was an art even more than it was a drink. But Reki did, and when the rest of the group finally left, leaving Kaoru and Kojiro alone in the restaurant to clean up, Kojiro nudged him with an elbow.

“You didn’t think Reki could make tea like that, did you?” he said, the words teasing but too close to Kaoru’s own thoughts for comfort.

“Shut up or I’ll leave you here to wash dishes alone,” Kaoru quipped, even as he accepted the next cup to dry. “I will admit, I was pleasantly surprised.”

“I knew you would be,” Kojiro said as he dried his hands and stretched.

“Anything is better than microwaved tea,” Kaoru said. And although it was true, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next Monday, and the last before the kids started school again.

[marvelfansince08love]

Hey Neighbour! - Part 8

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader 

Warning: uhh some implications of sex 

A/N: Hi, a big big sorry to you all on the late updates to this. I have no self control and have far too many WIP rn and keep forgetting to update this one as I’ve almost finished it! Happy reading! Apologise for any grammar/spelling mistakes x

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @creepingwolfberry @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @minavenable @pearplate @r0an0ke @mssallymckenna @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @venablemayfairgoode @chewbacca0805 @pluied-ete @supremeinlilac @nyx-aira @witchxaf @black--widxw @fireflyglass @cordeliafoxxe @d14n4ol @bluevelvetbitxh @amethyst-bitch @lezzzbehonesthere @msvenablezcane @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @mooreashes @violentwavesofem0tion @cordeliass  @women-am-i-right @paulsonpills @goodeday2u @sm0ke-and-m1rr0rs @daisybri7

Hey Neighbour! - Part 8 

You had avoided the Mayfair-Richards home for the past five days unable to face the woman you had fallen in love with. Old wounds and insecurities had opened up causing you to retreat from your neighbours, Amelia had also picked up on your change of mood which caused the guilt to amplify. The two young children still saw each other at school leading Amelia to mention how Oz had told her how sad his mother looked whenever she did the dishes at night, to anyone else they would have been bewildered by the statement but for you it was like a stab to the heart. Ally had tried to call and text you to ask if you were okay, your short texts back and actively declining calls must have given her the hint that you didn’t want to be contacted because after the first three days she stopped trying. You hated yourself for doing this to her but you couldn’t help but fall back into the familiar withdrawal habit whenever you felt this way, no matter who you hurt in the process. 

“Mama, I’m finished!” Amelia announces, smiling proudly at her empty plate. You’re startled out of your thoughts as you look towards her matching her wide smile with a forced one. Your brother sits next to her as his eyes stay fixated on your form, concern evident within his gaze. 

“Well done, Amelia-cakes! Why don’t you go wash your hands and brush your teeth for bed,” you instruct softly, watching as she nods and dashes out of the room. You quickly make eye contact with him as you lean forward keeping your voice low so to not alert Amelia of the intense situation..

“I wish you would stop looking at me like that,” you whisper harshly, he only shakes his head mutely before responding. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re making yourself and her miserable, you clearly like each other a lot. Don’t ruin this just because you’re allowing your negative thoughts to take over,” his voice soft and gentle causing you to falter, expecting a harsher response. Sighing you relax back before taking a sip from the wine glass. 

“Will you please help Amelia upstairs while I clean up here?” you ask instead, attempting to avoid the current topic of conversation. He sighs in defeat before dutifully leaving the room to find his niece. 

You stand from your chair and collect the empty plates before moving towards the sink, as you begin to clean the dishes you notice a slightly dimmed light across the way causing you to tense, slowly you look up from your task and towards the light. Ally stands at her kitchen counter, even from here you can see how tired she looks causing that familiar guilt to creep up into your chest once more. She looks down for a few moments before placing a large piece of paper into the window, words written in black ink for you to read. 

‘I think we need to talk’ The words cause you to gulp as you nod back before searching for some spare paper to write back on. 

‘Garden in ten?’ you try to smile hoping to ease the situation but falter when she doesn’t return it and only nods back in acknowledgment. 

Wiping your hands on a dry towel you hurriedly move upstairs to inform your brother of your plan, he reassures you that he’ll be fine with Amelia while you go to talk to Ally giving you an encouraging smile before shoving you back towards the staircase. Grabbing your thick jacket and shoes you make your way towards the front of Ally’s home, waiting patiently for her to let you in. Your breath catches in your throat as you take her in, the urge to reach out and hold her becoming stronger with each passing second, brown tired eyes scan your face before silently standing to the side allowing you to move in. You head straight for the kitchen and into the garden area sitting down in your usual spot, you wait for her to join you. A hot cocoa mug appears in front of your view causing you to smile sadly as you take it from her hands muttering a quick ‘thank you’. It’s quiet and dark out except for the porch light that glows above you, both sitting quietly as you take a sip of the hot drink.

“Ally I-” 

“Why weren’t you honest with me? If there was something wrong you should have told me instead of practically falling off the face of the earth,” her statement catches you off guard, causing you to falter as you stare at the mug in your hand. 

“After she left me and Amelia I was struggling for a while, I couldn’t cope with working and looking after a baby full time but I had this beautiful girl to look out for so she became my top priority over everything, my job, my friends. It took me years before I could trust others outside of my family to take care of her. I’m not good at having these healthy relationships that are good for me and I am so sorry that I’ve treated you this way, you deserve better than this,” you mutter, tears gathering within your blurred vision.

“I understand how hard it can be to trust people, I mean you know about Ivy and how she betrayed me, betrayed Oz. I get why you got scared when things were looking serious, I’ve had my moments with that too but Y/N I’m not like her and you aren’t like Ivy.” She pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing. 

“We are good people and I don’t think it was a coincidence that it was you who so happened to move in next door… that night after the fair apart from Oz I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life, I want to be with you and I want this to go somewhere but I need you to speak to me and be honest with me,” Ally tilts her head as if seeking your gaze before reaching across and grabbing your hand. 

“I’m so so sorry, Ally. I should have spoken to you about my worries, I’m not used to someone caring. I just looked at how comfortable we all were in your kitchen that morning, how domestic it all was and my god I couldn’t have fallen further for you but my mind was screaming at me that if I allowed Amelia to become closer to you and you decided to leave… I can’t have another person walk out on her.. On me,” you stutter over your words as you feel your throat tighten, holding back a sob. Ally moves from her seat and crouches in front of you placing your mug onto the table she takes both your hands into her own, squeezing them with reassurance. 

“I love you y/n. This week has been tortuous the amount of times I thought about walking over and forcing you to speak to me, but I knew you needed time to collect your thoughts. I may not have been obvious with it but I could tell something had spooked you that morning but please come and talk to me whenever you feel trapped into a corner, okay?” her dark brows arch, as she waits for your response. As you nod Ally reaches upwards and captures your salty lips with her own, her warm comforting hands cupping your face in place. 

Tears continue to fall between you both as Ally presses gentle kisses along your jaw and cheeks seeking out that comforting touch, you realise that you were wrong. Ally isn’t like the rest of them, she’s kind and caring but most of all she understands you in a way that no one else can relate to. You quickly capture her lips, a heated kiss needing to feel her close. 

“Is Oz upstairs?” 

“No, he’s staying at a friends house,” she mumbles, against your lips. Pulling back you look into her slightly glazed eyes and demand the thing you need most. 

“Take me to bed, Ally.” 

With that, Ally grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house. The moonlight glows throughout the room giving you a clear view of Ally’s face as you allow her to look after you, whispering soft reassurances against your exposed skin leaving trails of wet kisses along your body, closing your eyes you surrender yourself to this woman finally allowing yourself to be loved without restrictions. 

***

Bright light beams through into the bedroom causing you to stir and groan at the invasive light cuddling into the softness of Ally’s chest enjoying her warmth and secure form wrapped around you. Lips graze against your hair as the brunette whispers a ‘Good Morning’ causing you to smile as you watch her fingers brush over your forearm that has stayed wrapped around her waist all night. 

“Good Morning, Honey. Did you sleep well?” your fake-innocence doesn’t pass Ally as she chuckles deeply, her hand moving to tilt your chin upwards causing your lips to brush against her swollen ones. 

“Deliciously actually,” her hoarse voice, makes you shiver before you capture her lips once more enjoying the sounds that escape her throat. 

The sound of the front door opening downstairs and quick footsteps making their way upstairs causes you to part suddenly, blindly reaching for your scattered clothes recognizing those footsteps from anywhere. 

“Mom!!” Oz’s voice shouts from the hallway, causing you to quickly cover up and head for the en-suite bathroom needing to freshen up before the poor boy sees you. Ally’s eyes follow after your retreating form in light amusement as she tucks on the woolly jumper and ties the string around her joggers. 

“Mom I’m home! We had such a cool night! Jeremy bought over his new racing car you know the one with the remote it was awesome!” Oz’s excited voice trails into the room as he runs straight for Ally’s legs hugging her tightly, she places her hands on top of his crazy blonde curls and smiles.

“Well it certainly sounds like you had fun! So where is Sam’s mom? You didn’t just run from her car without saying thank you did you?” Ally’s tone makes you smile as you peak through the gap of the bathroom door always infatuated with her motherly side. Oz tries to hide his expression but with one raised eyebrow from Ally the boy slumps and sighs before nodding. 

“It’s okay Ally! He was just excited to see you! Oz I’ve left your bag by the door okay,” Sam’s mom shouts from the staircase before the sound of the front door closing reaches your ears. Taking this as your cue you leave the bathroom just as the sound of screeching reaches your ears, a small body colliding with your own making you stumble. 

“Woah! Hey Buddy!” you greet with a groan, laughing as you place you cup your hand around his jaw cradling him close. A sense of guilt lingering within your chest, the realisation what your actions could have done to the poor boy being the same fear you have for Amelia. 

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into your stomach, you crouch to be eye level with him and give him the biggest smile you could muster. 

“I’m sorry for not being around much, silly adults and silly work has been keeping me busy. I promise to make it up to you,” you murmur, watching as he nods accepting your apology before turning to leave to grab his backpack from downstairs. You stand from your position and fold your arms across your chest, that unsettling feeling still present, Ally steps towards you and places her hands onto your cheeks before kissing your lips. 

“Stop, I can practically hear the gears turning in that beautiful head of yours. Now let’s go downstairs. I want to see my girl.” Her words cause you to raise a question eyebrow as your lips twitch into a half grin. 

“Oh?”

Ally grins wickedly, before stepping towards the door. “I meant Amelia silly.”

With that she winks and takes her leave leaving you agape. 

“Well I know my place then,” you grumble playfully before running after the mischievous Senator. 

As if on cue the sound of the front door stops you both in your tracks midway down the stairs, Ally moves to answer the door and beams when she sees Amelia stood with her Uncle who has a very dirty grin on his face as his eyes move from Ally to you wiggling his brows as Ally crouches down and fronds over Amelia who seems to be enjoying the attention from her favourite person. 

“Uncle Rupert said you guys had a sleepover without me, Ms. Ally!” she exclaims, a small pout forming onto her lips and you bite your own to stop your laughter. From the shakes coming from Ally’s shoulder the woman seems to be doing the same. 

“Oh sweetheart I’m so sorry, I promise we can have soon okay? Just me and your mom needed to have a grown-up sleepover to talk.” 

“Yeah I bet you did,” Rupert mumbles, amusement evident within his tone. You glare at him from your position as Oz comes running from the living room area, he instantly goes to hug his friend as he drags her further into the house telling her all about his sleepover. Rupert waits by the door as Ally gives him a shy hello before following the two leaving you to talk privately to the smug man.

“Not a word,” you demand, making sure to punctuate every word, it only seems to make him grin further. He shrugs putting his hands up in surrender as he steps through the door meeting you at the bottom of the staircase. 

“So are we back on then? Oh and no need to thank me for looking after the devil's spawn last night, I swear she just knows what to do to make me crumble. I didn’t even know you still owned a Nintendo Wii,” he rants, as you both walk towards the kitchen where Ally sits with the two children all drinking from their respective mugs. Rupert goes to sit next to Amelia as he steals her mug to take a sip as she glares at him. You shake your head at the two before clashing eyes with Ally who winks over her mug gesturing you over which you gladly do. Stood behind her you wrap your arms around her shoulders and listen as they all converse amongst themselves enjoying these rare moments that you will hold dearly, smiling you kiss Ally’s temple before relaxing joining in on the conversation. 

Now relaxed you allow the past to stay at the back of your mind as you look forward to the future, a secret plan up your sleeve you allow the details to rail off within your head excited to show Ally just how much she means to you and how do you do that?

By going official, of course.

[just-my-fandom]

Hermano (Oscar Diaz x Martinez! Reader)

Request; Hi! I was hoping I could be your first on my block request! But, I wanna request something where the reader is dating Oscar and is Ruby’s older sister, and during olivias quince reader notices Latrelle in the hood, and when he pulls out the gun, the reader tries to protect Ruby? You can chose if she lives or not. Suuuper angsty

Request 2; I was wondering if you can do a Oscar Diaz x reader request ??? Please can it be fluff. I don’t mind any story line just surprise me😊😊😊

Warning(s); Mentions of blood. Being shot. Trauma.

Translation; Fećil- easy. Vaso- glass. Mija- daughter. maravillosa- gorgeous.

. . .

First, you were yelling for Ruby. He insisted on you sharing a siblings dance, as the last time you actually got to dance with him was at your own quince, but that had been years ago.

Then, you’re forcing Ruby to spin ninety degrees so your back is facing the hooded figure, who you instantly recognized as Latrelle, the man who had pulled a gun on you and your boyfriends brother, Cesar, nights before.

By the time, time could catch back up to you, the bullet had already pierced your upper shoulder, and sent your mother, Geny, into a state of panic, her screams the only thing in your ears when you collapsed.

“Mija!” Geny forced herself up to her feet and ran across the dance floor, dropping to her knees beside Ruby, her hands trembling as they fidgeted on where to grab, “Mija! Mija, baby-,”

“Someone call 911!” Your father shouts, but they almost fall on deaf ears, “Call 911!”

“Call Oscar!” Ruby looks over his shoulder, gaze frantic before they land on Cesar, “Now!”

“Mija!” Geny pleas, your teary eyes shifting up to her, when her hands slide to your face, desperately, “Stay with me, okay? Baby, my baby!”

“Mama,” You murmur, Geny nodding, not looking away even after hearing sirens,

“Mamas here. I’m here, mija,”

“Mama,” Your eyes pinch shut at the sudden pain in your back, crying out, “Ruby. I-is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s okay,” Your father heaves, eyes glossy, “You did a good job. You did such a good job, mija,”

Your heaving chest slows, Genys desperate yells fading as your eyes finally remained shut, grip on Cesars hand falling limp,

Present

A week after New Years, Geny stands at the kitchen sink, silently washing the sink full of dishes in front of her, almost not acknowledging the figure that steps up beside her, fearing it was Amber, Mario’s pregnant girlfriend,

“Are you mad at me, mama?” Your voice pulls her out of her trance, her eyes shifting to you, your arm that wasn’t in the sling picking up a clean dish to dry,

“Of course not, Mija,” Geny sets down the bowl back into the soapy water, turning to face you so your eyes shyly met hers,

“But you’re mad at Oscar,” You point out, your mother sighing and closing her eyes, hand propped on the sinks counter,

“I’m upset about the Santos dragging my daughter into their rivalry,” She corrects, and you set down the clean plate, body facing her,

“Mama, the Santos protect me. With Oscar as their leader, they’d never let me in harms way,”

“Oh yeah?” Geny hums, eyebrow raised, “Look how that went,”

“Mama,” You plea, eyes glossy, “Oscar and the Santos had no part in the shooting. It was a irritable Prophet trying to get his point across,”

“Well he did,” Geny hisses, narrowed eyes softening when the kitchen light gleams in your eyes, “Mija, you’ll only understand when you have your own children. You, Mario, Ruben, the twins; you’re all my beautiful blessings,”

You smile, weakly, when Genys hand grazes your cheek, “From the moment you took your first breath,” A small crack in Genys voice pulls your lips into a frown, “From what could have been your last, I just want you and your brothers and sister safe,”

“I just need you to trust Oscar as much as you trust me,” You whisper, blinking away the burn in your eyes, “And I know that feeling,”

Genys brows pinch in confusion,

“When I saw that Prohet with the gun,” You recite, sucking in a deep breath, “Ruby was the only person in that moment. I had this sudden swarm of urgency to protect him, because he, and Olivia, were in the line of danger,”

Your face twists at the sudden wave of emotions that hit you, “But I couldn’t protect Olivia, mama, and the more I think about it, the more guilty I feel because Ruby has to go on without the girl he loved,”

“Mija,” Geny whispers, arm reaching out to slide around your shoulders, “Bebe, you are a hero, understand?”

“How am I a hero when I let Olivia die?” You whimper, your head sucking down into her shoulder so Geny tangled a hand in your hair, shushing you, softly,

“I trust him, Mija,” Geny whispers, thumb brushing over the side of your head, gently, “He is your familia, and any familia of yours is apart of mine,” She leans back, hands at your shoulders, “But it’s going to take time for me to fully believe he is the right man for you,”

You press your lips together, nodding, letting Geny press her lips to your forehead, and squeeze your shoulders,

“Hey, Y/N?” You pull away in time for Ruby to stick his head in the kitchen entranceway, his eyes snapping between you, and Geny wiping her cheek, “Bad time?”

“No,” You copy Genys actions, sniffling, “What’s up?”

“Uh, the school called. They’re looking for volunteers for the Valentines Dance. Do you maybe wanna chaperone?” Ruby holds up his phone, and you glance at Geny, eyebrows raised,

“What’s in it for me?”

Ruby pauses, tapping his chin, “You get free food and drinks?”

You mock his pause, sharing a smile with your mother at the interaction, “I’m in. Get me an application form,”

“Yes!” Ruby thanks you, then darts to his room.

“I’m proud of you, Mija,” Geny murmurs, and you look back up at her, smiling as a sign of thanks, “Go have fun,”

. . .

Fun. Funny. You haven’t heard that word in months. It definitely wasn’t what you were having right now.

You discretely remember the song playing the night of Olivias quince. Other than your mothers screaming, it had been the only thing you heard before you passed out.

You never thought you’d have such a negative reaction to a song. But as it played loudly through the speakers at the Valentines Dance, all you saw was the blood, all you could hear was the screams of fear from Olivia, shouting for you as you laid near her,

“Y/N!” Ruby’s sudden voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hands grabbing at your wrists, and you now realize your hands are tight in your hair, and your breaths are uneven,

“Come on!” He orders, loudly over the music that blasted above you. He drags you towards the doorway of the gym, Monse suddenly beside you.

You drop down onto the steps of your brothers high school, gasps becoming wheezed as Cesar dropped to a squat in front of you, “What happened?”

“The song,” Monse answers, “It’s the same one from the night everything happened,”

“I’m so sorry Ruby,” Your arms slide around said boys shoulders, his own comfortingly wrapping at your dressed hips, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect her,”

“I’m gonna call Spooky,” Cesar stands up, Monse squeezing your arm before following Cesar back inside, briefly explaining the situation to a confused Jasmin,

You sniffle, cheek resting on top of Ruby’s head, focusing on his regular breathing to match your own, “I’m sorry, buddy,”

“You don’t have you be sorry,” Ruby answers, instantly, squeezing your hip when Jasmin seats herself as your other side,

“But I do,” You mutter, voice weak as your eyes pinch shut, “I could’ve protected you both from that Prophet. But I didn’t. And it’s in my conscience that I let Olivia get hit by that bullet,”

Ruby slides his hand up your back in a soothing motion, allowing your hand to tangle in his hair for your own comfort,

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, Spooky,” Cesar runs a hand down his face, eyes firm on Monse standing in front of him, patiently, “But I’m not calling for my own entertainment,”

“Then why the hell are you?” Oscar grunts, Cesar clenching his jaw at his brothers harsh attitude.

“It’s Y/N,” A moments pause, “She’s freaking out and you and Ruby are the only ones able to calm her down. But I don’t think Ruby can hold her steady for much longer,”

“Where are you?”

“The school dance,”

“And why the hell is Y/N with you?” Oscar growls, and Cesar can hear the distant slamming of his car door,

“She was chaperoning!” Cesar protests, almost as if Oscar was setting the blame on him, “They started playing the song that was playing the night of the quinceañera, we took her outside for air,”

“I’m on my way,” Oscar hangs up with a dull click, Cesar dropping his arm to heave a sigh, almost instantly hearing the loud roar of Oscars vehicle,

“Well that was quick,” Monse mumbles, peering out the door to see Jasmine stand up and step away from you, when Oscar rolls down the window to his car, your eyes shifting to look up at him,

“Hey mamas,” He calls, your lips pulling only slightly at the nickname, “C’mon, we’re going for a ride,”

“But the dance,” You murmur, glancing down at Ruby, who shakes his head and smiles,

“Go. I’ll tell the principle we had a family emergency or something,”

You nod, pulling him into you for a small embrace, before you push to stand up, pulling off your heels before climbing into the front seat of the vehicle,

“I’ll make sure to have her home by curfew,” Oscar winks, and you roll your eyes, watching Ruby copy your action and wave effortlessly, turning to following his friends back inside,

Four beats of silence fills the car halfway down the street, your hand mindlessly pulls at the bandages at your shoulder, which itched your skin more than the dress you wore,

“What’s on your mind?” Oscar finally questions, gaze leaving the road to look at you, legs pulled to your chest and eyes straight ahead. His hand not on the wheel touches your thigh, pulling back slightly at your tense flinch, waiting for you to relax before settling his hand back in its place,

“I’m seeing it again,” You speak, voice quiet, “That prophet, Olivia, me being in the hospital,”

Oscar draws his thumb across the skin of your thigh lightly, glancing at you when the car is stopped by a red light, “You know that’s all over,”

“It doesn’t matter, Oscar,” You lift a shoulder, turning your head so you were looking back at him, “You’re used to the gunshots and the different sides. I’m not. Watching my brother almost get shot, watching Olivia get shot, it’s traumatized me, as much as I fucking hate to admit it,”

“Faćil, mamas,” Oscar squeezes your thigh, car rolling to a complete stop just outside of the neighborhood you lived in, “You know I’m always gonna protect you. You’ve went through some shit, I get that. But you’re a strong ass woman, and you’re gonna let some song deflate you?”

“No,” You murmur, glancing down at where you finally stopped picking at your bandage and dropped your hand into your lap, “I’m just tired of everyone treating me like I’m vaso,”

“Then you gotta show everyone that that Prophet don’t mean shit,” Oscar orders, and you smile, shaking your head,

“How can you be so demanding yet therapeutic at the same time?”

“I’m just like that, maravillosa,” Oscar grins, ignoring your teasing roll of eyes as you sit up, glancing out to the road in front of you,

“Take me back to your place?” You murmur, Oscar chuckling as his hand slides up to grip the hemming of your dress,

“Don’t gotta ask twice,”

[libraryofloveletters]

Neighbours

Derek Morgan x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, cursing, kissing, mentions of cheating, death of a parent, alcohol.

Category: Mix of angst and fluff 

Word Count: 4k

Author's Note: Idea came from @m0rcia​‘s garvez idea from the Hotchner fam au :) 

----- 

During High School 

The boy next door. 

Oh how you hated him, something about him just irritated you. Tall, dark and annoying is what he was, there was no other way to put it. It wasn’t always like that though, truthfully you and Derek had gotten along rather well as children. 

Things started to change around the start of high school, you didn't hang out as much and you had both gotten your own friend groups. His focus was on football and yours was on school. The two of you used to spend hours upon hours outside throwing around that stupid football of his. You’d both go home covered in mud and grass stains but you didn’t have the same desire to be tackled into the mud as you did when you were younger.

Senior year was coming to an end, everyone had picked a path for their life and you were, well, stuck. You had no clue what you wanted to do or where to go from there. The whole neighbourhood was gushing about Derek, the school’s star football player and his plans to go to Northwestern with his football scholarship. Of course your parents also knew all about Derek and his scholarship, meaning that you got compared to him every single night until you figured out what you were doing with your life. 

Graduation day was absolute hell. It was hot and you were uncomfortable in the heels your mother forced you to wear. You sat in the smouldering heat with all of your classmates, listening as your wretched principal spoke. 

Clearly, you loved high school. 

It came the time to throw the caps, because your school did things like that. You un-energetically threw your cap in the air, watching as it hit the floor. Something hit your back as you bent to pick up your cap. Turning around, you were met with none other than Derek Morgan himself. 

“Sorry y/n” 

“Watch where the fuck you throw shit” 

“Okay mama, relax with the attitude” he squeezed your shoulder, “I’m sorry” 

“Are you though?” you rolled your eyes and pushed his hand off your shoulder. 

“I am s-” 

“Save it” you shake your head as you walk the other way. He didn’t say anything to you again after that day. 

The night before he left, his mom threw a little party for him. It started as a little party and ended with the whole graduating class in Fran’s backyard. You had gone over with your parents, but you didn’t speak to Derek. You said hello to Fran and his sisters, and a few friends you saw at the party. Your parents left early and you stuck around to hang out with some friends. 

Around 3am, you decided it was time to head home. It was only Derek with a few of his guys and their girlfriends hanging around, your friends had just left. Fran was in the kitchen trying to clean up the house, you stepped in and knocked on the wall.

“Need some help Mrs. Morgan ?” 

“Oh sweetie, call me Fran and I'm alright. Why don’t you head home ?” 

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. If it’s just the kitchen, I can finish up and you can go to bed ?” 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked before setting the garbage bag down. 

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Get some rest” you smiled back. 

She kissed your cheek before heading to her bedroom. You liked Fran, she was always nice to you and checked up on you, even if you and Derek stopped talking. 

The backdoor clicked shut while you were washing the dishes. “Hey, I didn't realize you were still here” Derek spoke quietly, “where’s mom?” he asked you. “In bed, I told her I'd finish cleaning up” you told him, not turning around. 

“Thanks, I can take over if you wanna get home” he mumbled with his mouth full. You glance over your shoulder to see Derek practically inhaling a slice of pizza.

“You still don't chew?” you asked him, shutting off the sink and wiping your hands off. 

“What’s that supposed to mean ?” he said, his brows furrowed and his mouth full. You gave him a small smile and shook your head. 

“You actually smile?” Derek asked you, a look of genuine amazement on his face. 

“Shut up” you picked up a slice of pizza and hopped up onto the counter. Derek stood beside you, leaning against the counter. The only thing between you and him was the empty box of pizza. The two of you ate in silence, no tension, no anger, just there in the moment. 

Derek looked over at you, “what happened to us?” he questioned you. 

“What do you mean?” you hopped off the counter. 

“You used to say we’d be in each other’s lives forever when we were younger” he watched as you moved about the kitchen. 

“I’m still here Derek” you told him.

“But you’re not though” he uttered, looking at you. 

“It’s just different now” you picked up the empty box and threw it out. 

“How? I’m still me and you’re still you” He grabbed your hand. 

You scoffed and shook your head, “expect you’re not just you anymore. You’re the popular football player that everyone loves and I'm just.. me” 

He looked at you, he looked sad. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “Don’t do that. Don’t say it’s not true, because we both know it’s true.” Derek didn't say anything to you, he pulled you closer to him. You were now standing in front of him, he was still against the counter. 

“Y/n, you’ll always be important to me, you know that right ? I know we drifted, a lot more than I’d like to admit but I still care about you, I still check on you” his hand cradled your face, you were looking up at him. 

“Really ?” you asked him quietly, so quietly he almost didn't hear you. He nodded and leaned towards you. You leaned in too, his lips inches away from yours. 

“Can I?” he whispered, you nodded. His lips were on yours, your arms were over his shoulder, one of your hands resting on the back on his neck. Derek’s hand was still on your cheek and the other one on your waist. 

If it wasn't for his sister coming down and catching the two of you, it would have gone on a lot long. “Ahem” she cleared her throat, you and Derek pulled away from each other and turned towards her. 

“Hey you two” she had a smug smile on her face.

“Hi.. uh I should get home” you said quietly before heading towards the door. 

“Let me walk you home” Derek followed you to the door, you shook your head. “I’m fine. Goodnight you guys, tell Fran I say thank you for having us over” you slide open the backdoor and step out. 

The early morning breeze was chill but yet warm. It was starting to change to autumn weather, you walked across the street, the wind blowing the leaves down the street. You sat on your front porch when you got home, your mom stepped out. 

“Are you now getting home?” she walked past you to the car. 

“Yeah, I stayed back to help Fran tidy up. Where are you going ?” you asked 

“Work, there was an emergency” she told you as she got in the car, you knew she was lying to you. Sometimes she forgot you weren’t a kid anymore, you knew she was cheating on your dad. She wasn’t very good at hiding it, but you had the things on your mind, like your kiss with Derek. 

He was leaving for college in less than 12 hours, it made no sense to start something with him. You sat on your porch for the rest of the day, heading in to use the bathroom and get something to eat. 

You watched the sun rise, felt the temperature change, watched Derek pack his boxes into the car, saw his goodbye to his sisters and his mother. He looked across the street, he looked at you before getting in his car. He didn't smile, he didn't come say anything. 

He just left. 

15 years later

You found yourself, once again, on your front pouch watching Derek. Only this time, he was unpacking. Fran had passed away last week, it was a heart attack. No one could have known but that didn't make it hurt any less. 

You had seen him at the funeral, you didn’t say anything to him but he saw you. He gave you a small smile and you gave him one back. You hadn't seen him since your kiss 15 years ago. 

He stepped into the house and shut the door, you headed inside too. Your house was just as empty as his. Your parents had moved to the Bahamas in an attempt to save their marriage, leaving you with the house. You took the year after high school to work before finally settling on teaching as a career. You taught at your local high school with the same horrible staff and wretched principal that you hated all those years ago. You understood how the kids felt, it wasn't hard to connect with them. 

Settling in on your couch with a bottle of wine and Netflix, the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” you called out, not wanting to get up but there was no answer. The doorbell rang again, “who’s there?” you shouted, thinking that whoever was at the door didn't hear you the first time, but again there was no answer. The bell rang a 3rd time, “fuck hold on! I'm coming” you groaned as you walked to the door. You pulled the door open, 

“Are you deaf? you didn't hear me shouti-” Derek stood at your front door. “Oh, hi” you looked at him, he looked the same, only slightly older, more mature. “Hey, can I come in?” he asked, you nodded before stepping aside and letting him in. 

You really had debated if you should let him in, but you couldn’t turn him away, especially not now, not after what he had just gone through. 

He looked around as he followed you back to the living room. “House looks different” he took a seat on one end of the couch, “yeah, remodelled after they left” you sat at the other. Derek looked at you with a confused expression on his face, “left?” “they went to the Bahamas to try and save their marriage but I doubt that’ll work” you took a sip of your wine. You leaned the bottle in his direction, he took the bottle from you and took a sip. 

“No glasses ?��� he chuckled, leaning back into the cushions. 

“Didn’t want to wash them afterwards” you turned the grinch back on. Derek laughed, you looked over at  him, “what ?” “you still watch this shit?” “hey! the grinch is my favourite, don't start with me Morgan” he rolled his eyes and settled back into his spot. 

15 minutes later, he rolled over onto his stomach and sprawled himself over your couch. “I'm hungry, what do you have to eat ?” he looked at you, “order a pizza” you mumbled, your eyes still on the tv. 

Half an hour later, a weight lifts off the house and your front door opens. Derek returns to the couch with a box of pizza. You watched as he set the box down and opened it, he looked over at you. 

“It’s rude to stare” he smiled and you shook your head “don't flatter yourself” 

He picked up a piece and practically inhaled it. “Seriously dude, would it kill you to chew ?” you watched him as his face changed into confusion. 

“Okay, I need to know what you mean by that! I've been hearing it my whole life” he pouted. You let out a loud laugh, “you never chew, you just inhale your food” you told him, his mouth making an O shape. 

Once again, you could yourself in the company of Derek Morgan, in the middle of the night, eating pizza, in silence. Shifting positions on the couch, you turned to him, “I'm really sorry about Fran, she was a wonderful woman” you spoke quietly, unsure if you regretted what you just said. He nodded, “she was, wasn’t she?” he gave you a small smile. 

“I saw your sisters when at the service, they didn’t come help you pack up ?” 

“They’ve got their lives, work and their families. I told them I'd handle it” 

“Hm, you’re not busy with work ? What happened to Mister Big Shot that went to Northwestern?” you joked, he chuckled. 

“Well, Mister Big Shot that went to Northwestern” he mocked, “got a law degree and works for the FBI now” he admitted to you proudly. 

“What the hell, are you serious ?” you were genuinely shocked, he nodded. If someone told you that Derek went on to be a football player, you’d believe them with no questions asked, but Derek, as a FBI agent, was something you never ever thought would happen. 

“The same Derek that rolled around in mud his entire childhood and was in trouble all the time, works for the fricking FBI ?” you laughed, “yup, that would be the one and I wasn't always in trouble!” 

The two you ended up sitting on the couch till about 3 am. “Can I ask you something ?” Derek turned to you, “of course” you looked over at him. 

“What happened to us? I want the truth. We’ve both grown up, the least we can do is talk about it.”

“I don’t know, we just drifted.” you looked at the wall, you couldn’t bare to look at Derek right now. His hand rested on yours, “y/n, c’mon, the truth.” 

“We just didn't fit into each other’s lives anymore. You went from Derek that would play dolls with me to Derek that was the popular football player. All the girls loved you, they practically swooned over you in the hallways, the guys were constantly talking about you and your games. I didn't want that attention. I just wanted you as you, not everything that came with it. The only way to let you go was to push you away I guess” you admitted to him, he sighed. 

“See, if you had told me that-” you cut him off, “what ? you would have ignored all the girls ? stopped being the star of the football team ? don’t lie to yourself Derek. We both knew you loved it, it’s who you are. You would have never given that up, especially not for me.” you looked over at him, his eyes were on you. He looked at you like he had never seen you before, like you were this fascinating thing that deserved all of his attention. 

“That moment we had in the kitchen that night, that meant nothing ?” he moved closer to you. “Of course it meant something but you didn’t even say goodbye. You just upped and left, Derek. All the times you came home to visit, you didn’t even say hello” 

“y/n, I tried. I came every time I came home. That day, I didn’t say goodbye because I thought I had upset you with the kiss, but I came every time I came home, to see you and try and talk. Your mom always said you weren’t home and she’d tell you.” 

“What? She never told me anything” 

“Well there you go. I tried, I promise you I did.” 

The two of you sat there, the tension was so thick you couldn't cut it with a knife. “Y/n” he called for you, you were too deep in your thoughts to hear him. “y/n” he called out again, his finger pulls your chin towards him. 

“Hm?”

“You know I care about you, right ? I never stopped” 

“Okay” you mumbled and got up. 

“That’s it? We’re not going to talk about it ?” Derek stood up 

You walked into the kitchen, ignoring Derek and his questions. You leaned forward on the counter, your hands gripping the edge to try and ground yourself. 

Why hadn’t she told me he came ? He just wanted to talk, what’s her problem ?

“Y/n, come on. Can we talk?” Derek rested his hand on your shoulder, you shrugged your shoulder and pushed his hand off. “Get out” you mumbled, “what ?” his eyes burning into your back. “Get. Out.” you said a little louder, “Why ? I just want to ta-” you turned around, you grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen and to the front door. “Out” you opened the door, 

“I'm so confused, why?” 

“Derek, shut up and get out!” 

You pushed him out of the door, he stood there looking back at you with a look of shock and confusion on his face. You slammed the door shut before heading to the bedroom to find our phone, expect it wasn't there. It felt as if you tore apart the entire house looking for it. When you found it, you dialled the one person you knew could answer your questions. 

“Hello ?” She answered 

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that Derek came to see me ?! and not just once, BUT EVERY TIME!!” you yelled into the phone 

“Honey, calm down” your mother said to you. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down! you lied to me for 15 years, you watched me sulk for 2 whole years about Derek kissing me and just leaving when you knew he had come to talk to me!” 

“He’s no good for you” she said as if that was a fact. 

“What the hell does that mean? Not like you’d know what was good for me anyways. You don't care about anyone but yourself” you just hung up on her, you weren't in the mood to deal with her and her nonsense.

You paced back and forth through the whole house for a few hours. You had downed an entire bottle of wine while you paced, you knew what you needed to do. 

Come on, it’s just Derek. 

You headed out of the house and across the street.

God, what if he hates me now ? 

You walked back towards your house.

Oh, he won't hate me. 

You headed back to his house.

This is stupid.

You turned around to walk back to your house when you heard his voice. 

“Are you gonna stand out here all night like a mad woman ?” he leaned against the door frame. You walked up to him, he stood there looking at you. “I’m sorry I kicked you out earlier.. I just needed a minute to process things” you admitted,  Derek chuckled. “Considering that it's 4am, I'd say you had more than a minute to process. I’m making tea, want some?” he asked you, you nodded, “tea sounds good” you walked in. 

The house hadn't changed, expect for the addition of a few new picture frames. There were some of his sisters and him from what looks like his college graduation, some of his sisters and their families and the one that stood out to you was of Derek, Fran and some little skinny white boy. You picked up the frame and turned to Derek. 

“Come all this way and flirt with me but you have a boyfriend ?” you asked, holding back a laugh. 

“Haha, very funny. That’s Spencer Reid, we work together” 

“He works for the FBI ? He looked like a baby” you laughed and set down the frame. 

“He’s grown a lot since then” Derek laughed and headed to the kitchen, you followed him. “God, it felt like just yesterday we were running around here with Fran cooking and yelling at us” you said, hopping up on the counter. “Yeah, we had some good times” Derek smiled as he handed you a mug of tea. 

The two of you drank your tea quietly, you broke the silence. 

“I talked to my mom” you looked over at Derek, he turned to face you. 

“Oh yeah? What’d she say ?” 

“Nothing important, just tried to lie to me yet again” 

“About ?” 

“Apparently you’re ‘no good for me’ whatever that means” you roll your eyes, Derek shifts closer to you and he changes the topic. 

“You’re a teacher now ?”

“I am” you smiled, “ I don’t remember telling you that though, you work your FBI magic on me?” you chuckled, he smiled at you. 

“Mom told me, actually” your head tilted to the side, he realized you were confused.

“I feel weird admitting this to you, but she used to tell me what you were up too. She said she came to your graduation too” he fidgeted with his fingers. 

You smiled to yourself at the memory of Fran at your graduation. Your parents had already moved away and you didn't have anyone, you mentioned it to Fran as a by-the-way thing and she showed up.

“She did, but you’ve been keeping tabs on me or everyone you graduated with?” 

“Just the ones I've made out with” he had a smirk on that annoying face of his 

“Oh so half of the graduating class?” you held back a laugh. A loud “hey!” and a light smack to the arm was what that comment got you. Derek picked up the empty mugs and put them in the sink, on his way back to his spot beside you, you stretched your legs out, one was on each side of him. 

“What’s the plan here Ms. L/N?” 

“Not sure Mr. Morgan” 

“Actually, it's Agent Morgan to you” he stated causing you to roll your eyes. His hands rested on your thighs, “just two friends, chilling in a kitchen. Maybe they might kiss” you mumbled looking at him, he looked back at you with a smile on his face. 

“Yeah they might” 

“Exact- wait what ?” 

His hand cradled your face, your lips inches apart. “Can I ?” “Stop talking and kiss me alrea-” His lips on yours ended your sentence. Your heart pounded in your chest, you could only focus on how Derek’s lips felt against yours. You had been dreaming for another moment like this since your last kiss with him, it felt as if time stopped and it was only the two of you while the world melted away. 

Derek’s eyes had opened, taking the beautiful women in front of him. Taking in the moment just to make sure he wasn’t imagining what he had dreamt of the last 15 years and for the first time in those 15 years, he didn't feel angry or sad when he looked at you, he saw the one he had been waiting for.  

It felt like forever before either of you pulled away for a breath. Your hands clung onto Derek’s shirt like he’d disappear if you let go, his hands found their way to the back of your neck, toying with the hair at the nape of your neck. The two of you, wrapped up in each other, smiling at one another like children. 

“Not so bad huh ?” 

“Not so bad Morgan” 

---- 

Taglist: @aaronhotchnerr​ @mac99martin​ @aaron-hotchner187​ @tclaerh​ @luke-alvez​ @iconicc​ @lieberhers​ @pumpkin-reads​ @ssa-holmes​ @katexrichardson​ @sluttytears​

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

Y/N don’t like Harry meal he cooked but she act like she liked it

meatloaf

warnings: slight angst, like one swear word?

word count: 1.1k

There weren't many foods you didn't like; you really weren't picky. You were usually fine with anything, especially anything Harry cooked you. Even if it wasn't your favorite meal, knowing how much time and effort Harry put into it made it delicious to you. So in general, when you said you didn't care what he made for supper, you were pleasantly surprised. He had a knack for knowing exactly what you would want even if you didn't. 

Tonight, however, there was an issue. Meatloaf. Meatloaf was the one food you had never liked. You had tried different recipes from different people. You had tried adjusting; adding or reducing the amount of spices. You had tried everything, but it just wasn't happening for you. You really couldn't stand it. But what were you supposed to say? "Thanks for spending two hours cooking this meal for me, using your special family recipe, but no thanks, I already hate it?" Absolutely not. There was no way you could say anything like that. You were kicking yourself for not telling him in advance how much you hate this particular food. But you didn't, so now you didn't really have any choice but to eat it and pretend you liked it. Maybe you could say you had a stomach ache or something and get out of eating very much. "Ok, love, the meatloaf should be done soon. How was your day?" Harry smiled as he turned to you. You ignored the churning in your stomach at the mention of your least favorite food, trying to plaster a smile onto your face. "It was ok. Long, though. I'm pretty tired." "I get that. I've been slaving over a hot stove all day," Harry sighed, draping an arm over his forehead dramatically. The oven dinged before you could say anything. Harry's face lit up as he slipped the oven mitts onto his hands and opened the door. "I'm so excited for you to try this," he said. "It's my grandma's recipe. In my humble opinion, it's pretty fucking delicious." You smiled nervously at his back as he lifted the pan out and closed the oven. "You can go sit, I already set the table," he said, his back still turned. "Thank you," you murmured, making your way to the dining room. You sank into your chair, resting your head in your palms. You felt awful. Harry spent hours making this meal for you. He used an old family recipe. He was excited for you to try something he loved, and you couldn't even be supportive. No, you know what? I am going to eat this meatloaf and I am going to smile and I am going to tell him that it is delicious. But what if I do that and then he thinks I really like it and he makes it again? Maybe it will be delicious. Maybe just because I haven't liked meatloaf in the past doesn't mean it'll be bad this time. You were so caught up in your argument with yourself that you didn't hear Harry coming in. "You ok?" He questioned, setting the food down on the table. You brought your head up to look at him, smiling weakly. "I'm fine, I'm just really tired," you said, somewhat truthfully. Your mental battle was beginning to exhaust you. "I'm sorry to hear that," he leaned down, kissing the top of your head. "After we eat, we can watch a movie or something." You nodded, looking down at the meatloaf. You took a deep breath as he moved a slice onto your plate, pushing it toward you. You decided not to drag it out any longer than you had to, so you picked up the smallest bite you could on your fork. You looked up to see Harry watching you with an excited look on his face. "I can't eat with you staring at me," you said with a small laugh. "Sorry," he grinned, taking his own bite. You knew you couldn't wait any longer, so you just went for it. It was as disgusting at you had expected. You could barely keep a straight face as you slowly chewed and swallowed the bite. "What do you think?" "It's- it's good," you lied. "I think so," he smiled, taking another bite. You were thankful there was other food on your plate to wash down the taste in your mouth. You just didn't know how you were going to eat the rest of the meatloaf and avoid hurting Harry's feelings at the same time.

-----

   "Done?" Harry asked, standing up to bring his empty plate to the kitchen. You nodded, pushing yours away from you. By some miracle, you had managed to eat almost everything. You had left a few bites of everything on your plate, so it would just seem like you were full, and not avoiding the meatloaf. You stood as well, picking up the empty cups to bring to the sink. "What did you think?" Harry asked, opening the dishwasher. "I hope I did the recipe justice." You couldn't help it at this point. Tears were welling up in your eyes before you could stop them. You felt so bad for lying to him, you didn’t think you could do it anymore. He was smiling when he turned back to you, but his face dropped into a panicked expression when he saw the redness in your eyes. Stepping towards you quickly, he took the dishes from your hands and moved them to the counter behind you. He placed his hands on your arms, ducking his head to meet your downcast eyes. "What's wrong? What happened?" "I'm so sorry, Harry," you sniffled, not meeting his eyes. "What? Sorry about what?" "I didn't like it." "That's it? Why are you crying?" He lifted your chin to meet your gaze, using his thumb to wipe a tear from your face. "Because you put all this work into making everything perfect like you always do, and you spent so much time on it, and I'm so ungrateful and-" "Hey," he said gently, brushing another tear away. "You didn't do anything wrong, love." "You're not mad at me?" you asked in a small voice. "Of course not," he said incredulously. "Why would I be mad at you?" "Because it's a special family recipe and everything and you were so excited to make it for me-" "I was excited because I wanted to make you happy. I don't ever want to do anything that doesn't make you happy, ok? You have to talk to me." You nodded, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into his shoulder. "And you're not ungrateful," he added. "You're allowed to not like things. I promise I'm never going to be upset with you for telling me how you really feel. You can tell me anything, yeah?" You nodded again, sniffling once more. "Thank you," you whispered. "For what?" "Being so understanding." "Of course, baby. I love you." "I love you too."

[lluvguts]

all better // reddie

pairing: teen!richie tozier / eddie kaspbrak

genre/warnings: fluff and angst, trauma, h/c

word count: 2111

summary:  Eddie has a bad day and Richie does his best to cheer him up.

check out my ao3

It’s just Richie’s front door.  

But no amount of convincing worked for Eddie’s mind as the sight of it warped into the small door in the sewer...With the grotesque face of the leper staring back at him. As he stared at the Tozier’s oak door he swore he saw a thick trickle of blood seep from the threshold and hear the sound of sickly, rasping breath from inside the hollow door. Just a few more moments and he’d be face to face with It..

It’s dark out, he told himself. That’s why I’m seeing things. But I’m here, Richie’s here. I’m safe. No need to be scared.

But that didn’t stop the nightmares that assailed him all night long—ever since they defeated It—keeping Eddie wide awake and strangled in worry for what could be lurking in the murky blackness outside. Eddie’s mother had caught on to his insomnia since the first week, making him take all sorts of supplements and medicine claiming to be a “sleep aid.” They did nothing to keep the images at bay. The noises. He only slept well on nights when Richie snuck over, or when Eddie drove to his house.

Richie could never know.

Eddie shook his head and knocked again. His eyes searched the window with its drawn curtains. I did tell him I’m coming, right?

But then the lock swung back and the door opened, showing the face that soothed all his worries. Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm and brought him in for a hug. He was suddenly pulled into Richie’s open chest and the familiar stink of cigarettes and black tea consumed him. It was a bold and comforting smell, one that Eddie loved. It made his nerves settle and for Eddie was unmistakably Richie Tozier.

“You look like shit, Eds,” Richie held him tightly, “On the phone you said it was a bad day, right?”

Eddie nodded against his shirt and they pulled away. I’m not entirely wrong. It was a bad day. He just doesn’t need to know exactly why. And that was the great thing about Richie: he didn’t need an explanation. He was more than happy to let his boyfriend curl up in his arms, his face still burning from fearful tears while Richie whispered little jokes or Voices in his ear until Eddie wiped his eyes and laughed. Most of the time they weren’t even funny.

“That’s alright, Eds. I’ll fix us some dinner, yeah?”

“You can cook?” Eddie followed Richie into the kitchen and sat on an island chair.

Richie pouted at him, his lower lip sticking out. “Don’t be hateful, sweetheart. Of course the Trashmouth can cook.”

“What’s on the menu then, Chef Tozier?”

“You’ll see.” Richie laughed and rummaged through the pantry.

Eddie glanced around the empty kitchen, not a single sound filled the house—except of course for Richie banging around looking for a stove pot.

“No parents?"

"Nope. My folks are out of town for the weekend, some family thing.” Richie said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“And they left you alone?” Eddie asked, unable to help the smile that drifted into his voice.

“I’m seventeen. I don’t need constant supervision.” Richie growled.

Eddie pointed to him. “Yet you were about to pour marinara sauce into a pasta strainer.”  

“Okay, scratch that. I’ll always need you, Eddie my love...Plus I promised them I wouldn’t burn the house down.”

“What on Earth are you doing with all that?” Eddie caught sight of two boxes of macaroni, lettuce, and red sauce.

He tried to stifle his giggling, but it was useless. “Rich, are you trying to make spaghetti?”

“Maybe.” He replied defiantly with an embarrassed blush.

“With iceberg lettuce?”  

Richie inspected his ingredients again with his eyebrows raised, his eyes looked more doubtful now from beneath his glasses. “..That’s a thing, right?”

Eddie sighed and joined him at the counter. “You’re hopeless, Richie. Give me that ladle,” He loosely gestured to the wooden spoon next to him while putting back the lettuce.

“This is the wrong type of noodle.” Eddie held up the box of pasta while the marinara sauce simmered on the stove—the one thing Richie had done correctly.

Richie snorted and put his hands on his hips. “Not everything can be perfect like you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let Richie’s arms snake around his waist. “Okay, fine. Macaroni it is.”

He waddled over to the sink—with Richie still attached from behind—to pour water into the pot. As he let the faucet run Richie bent down and kissed his bare neck softly, his glasses poking into his skin.

Eddie stiffened. “What was that for?”

“For helping me with dinner. For being cute. Why, can’t I kiss you just because?”

“Of course you can. You’re just..distracting.”

“Oh? You mean like this?” Richie laughed and placed a trail of teasing kisses up his neck, making Eddie grip the handles of the pot tighter while he fought to breathe. He knows just where to kiss me.

“Am I distracting you now?” His mouth rested just above the space between Eddie’s jaw and earlobe, his warm lips and breath tickling him. One of Richie’s hands drifted down toward his pants and Eddie stepped on his bare foot.

“Cut it out Richie,” Eddie gasped. He realized in his daze that the pot of water was about to overflow and quickly shut it off. He carried it to the stove and set it to boil, then poured in the macaroni noodles.

He turned to him. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Richie returned his hands to his sides and smirked. “Awe, shucks. To think I have that effect on people.”

“Only me, dipshit.”

“And that’s just fine,” Richie pecked his cheek and hugged him again.

“Feeling any better, Eds?”

“After some dinner I will be.” Eddie replied while wrestling out of the bear hug to set two plates on the tile counter. Richie drained the pasta and Eddie turned off the burners.

“Like mother, like son.” Richie said philosophically at the sink.

“Be quiet,” Eddie gave his chest a playful shove and handed him the food. They sat at the table on opposite sides, and just as he was about to eat Richie stuck his fork at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you try some!” Richie pushed the fork further towards Eddie’s mouth.

“I have some right here,” He gestured to his own full plate, “And you’ve been eating off that already.”

Before he could pull his fork away a few stray pieces of macaroni slipped off the fork and fell across Eddie’s shirt, staining the front with oily red sauce. Richie’s eyes widened, and he drew the fork back guiltily.

“Gross!”

“Oh, shit. Sorry Eddie! I’ll go get one of mine!” He hopped off the chair and dashed up the stairs. Eddie took the chance to eat some of the “spaghetti” before Richie returned with a fresh shirt.

“I am not wearing that,” Eddie said firmly, picking the noodles off his lap and into his empty plate.

“Just take that off and put on mine. It’s mostly clean, don’t worry. I’ll wash yours.” Richie held his shirt out to him, waiting with closed eyes for the dirty one. Eddie diverted his eyes and pulled his shirt up over his head. He threw Richie’s on hurriedly, his face was red the whole time. God, it smells just like him.

“Okay, you’re good.” Eddie told him and he opened his eyes. Richie examined him wearing his own clothes then flashed a grin.

“Why do my clothes look better on you? And the Cutie Award goes to..”

Eddie thrust the stained shirt at him. “My ass.”

“He’s not wrong, folks!” Richie shouted into the empty hallway as he went back upstairs to the laundry room.

“You want me to clean this up?” Eddie called. Richie had left a trail of dirty dishes and stray pasta noodles in his wake as they had cooked, not caring to pick up.

“Just come up here! We’ll do it later.” came his reply. By “later,” Eddie knew he meant “tomorrow.”

Eddie headed up the stairs and sat on Richie’s bed, waiting for him. Even without him there—just for a few seconds—the thoughts came racing back, like a flip of a switch, no matter if things were happy and easygoing minutes before.

He was no longer in Richie’s room. He was on the burning asphalt with a broken arm, he was running through the yard of the Neibolt house, desperate and out of breath. He was staring directly in the face of Henry Bowers, his entire arm engulfed in flames as searing as a hot iron with Patrick’s spit stuck in his eyes. He was reliving every memory.

“...Eds? What is it? What happened?” Richie appeared in the doorway but Eddie could hardly see him through the haze; he only heard his footsteps thundering in his head as he came to his side, taking his face and forcing him to look into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Eddie? Talk to me, please,” Richie was pleading, sitting down next to Eddie and keeping his hands placed firmly on his shoulders, helping to relieve his staggered breathing.

“It hurts,” Eddie said weakly but his words got choked up in a fresh wave of tears.

“Where, baby? Where does it hurt?” He searched his face and scanned his body frantically.

“God, Richie. My head..the memories, it hurts so much. They never went away,” He cried, truly feeling every ounce of that childhood pain. Richie grabbed his sides and pulled him into his lap, his face set into a hard, serious frown that left Eddie startled.

He’s always been there for me.

“N-no,” Eddie tried moving away, “I’ve been crying..It’s gross, Rich. Let me go wash my face or something.” He sniffed loudly.

“Shhh,” Richie shook his head and held him more fiercely, Eddie could feel the beating of their hearts together against his chest. He closed his eyes and counted each rhythmic thump of Richie’s heartbeat until he could breathe again.

He brought his face to Eddie’s cheek, wet with tears, and kissed him.

“Let me make it better,” Richie whispered. He moved his lips to tenderly kiss every spot on Eddie’s face: each tear, his pink nose, his eyelids.

“It’s gone, we killed It, everything’s alright now,” He kept his lips pressed to Eddie’s temple, and as he did the ache there subsided, “You’re safe with me, Eds.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a sap, Richie.”

“Only for you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes with Richie running his hands through Eddie’s hair. He loved when Richie did this, when his gentle fingers sent shivers down his spine. His comforting touch made different tears slide down Eddie’s face.

“Is it still there? Did the nightmares go away?” Richie asked with another twinge of concern when he felt Eddie crying quietly again into his shoulder.

Eddie tucked his face into the crook of his neck to hide the embarrassment and mumbled, “No, they w-went away.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you still crying, Eddie?” Richie leaned against the headboard so he could see the smaller boy’s face and he cradled the back of his hair.

“I’ve never had someone be so..kind to me before. Not like this. No one would ever do the things you’re always doing for me. I-I don’t think I deserve it.”

Richie lifted Eddie’s legs up higher so he was more comfortable and the smaller boy snuggled in. He spoke with his chin resting on top of his head, “I know I’m kind of an ass most of the time, but I don’t mean to be. I’m always looking out for you Eds, even when you think I’m not...It’s cause I love you.”

Those three words silenced everything and left Eddie blissfully calm—despite his frantic heart.

He loves me?  

Eddie questioned it as soon as he said it, but after thinking it over he knew Richie wasn’t lying.

Who else would clean me up after a panic attack, or wake me from a nightmare, even if I was covered in sweat and tears and who knows what else? Who else would hold me the rest of the night, even if it meant he didn’t sleep?  

“I love you too,” Eddie said against his neck. And then, after a thoughtful pause,

“But don’t call me Eds.”  

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty four

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: the party cleanup

disclaimer: mentions of selfharm, mentions of scars

just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are - John Green

At 3am the party had finally started to die down, people slowly funneling their way out. And by 3:30, All the guests were gone, leaving Avery, Harry, and Francis. Avery was on her fourth cup of coffee, the caffeine keeping her awake enough to not pass out on the couch. Everyone was sitting in the living room, strewn around the space. All of them winding down from the energy that the party created. It was silent. Serene. Comforting, in a way.

Harry was the first to move, starting to pick up the mess that swept the entire flat. Avery and Francis joined him soon after. They collected all the cups and plates that were scattered about, bringing all of them to the kitchen. Francis washed the dishes, Avery dried and put them away, and Harry made several trips around the apartment to collect all the trash.

Avery was lost in her own world, taking her time in drying the dishes and figuring out where they were kept. A tap on her shoulder had broken her from her trance. When she looked back, she saw Francis with a big soapy beard on his face. His jaw was completely covered in bubbles.

“How do I look, Avery?”

“Absolutely fabulous, if I do say so myself.” They were giggling like children, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

The laughter had Harry making his way to the source, and the sight in front of him had him laughing too. It was nice seeing Avery and Francis smiling and laughing. It was something that he hadn’t seen in a while, mainly from his friend. Maybe this party really was what he needed. Maybe this was a fresh start.

“Alright Old Saint Nick, let's get the kitchen cleaned up, after that we are finished till the morning.”

Harry chuckled, throwing a towel to Francis, and after he wiped his face clean, they continued. The rest of the dishes were washed and put away, the counters were wiped down, and the floors were swept. Avery had the cake she made in her hands, about to put it in the fridge, before she heard someone protest.

“Nope. You're not putting that masterpiece away until you try a piece.”

Francis hastily took it out of her hands, grabbed a paper plate, and cut a small slice out of the cake. He just about shoved it into her hands, not taking his eyes off of her until she took a bite. "It's very sugary," She said, grimacing as she swallows her first bite. "I think I need to cut down on that the next time"

"I think it’s great," Francis shrugs, getting a new fork to take a bite from her piece. "I mean, considering this is one of your first cakes, this is amazing."

"Thank you." After tasting the cake herself, Avery doubted that he was telling the truth. It was awful. "Harry, you try a bite" She holds the fork out to Harry and he doesn't even take the utensil from her, but eats it straight from the fork. The silly action instantly made her blush, All the heat rushing to her face and making it beet red. But the redness of her cheeks quickly vanishes as Harry loudly coughs, and nearly downs a whole glass of water after swallowing the small bite of cake.

"I'm sorry, Ave, but..." He takes a breath. "that is revolting. Francis, how are you just eating that?" Avery giggles, looking over at Francis, who has almost finished her piece.

"I can feel the cavities forming in my teeth..." He takes another sip off his water.

"I like it." Francis concludes with a shrug. "Anyways, Avery, are you staying here or should we take you home? I can play my charm and convince Mrs Sheffield to give us her car keys."

"It's 4am," Harry frowns.

“Trust me, she loves me!"

They keep bantering back and forth while Avery contemplates if she should stay or go. She had been with Harry for a majority of the weekend, rarely leaving his side. She didn’t want to overwhelm him. Didn’t want him to get tired of her presence or feel like she was clinging to him. "You can stay, Ave. It's no problem." Harry says, bringing her back into reality with his green eyes looking into her own.

"I don't want to bother you guys"

"You're not bothering anyone. Stay. I can walk you home after breakfast"

Her gaze moves over to Francis, who was putting the cake back into its container. She was looking for him to protest, for him to say that he didn’t want her there. But he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, so she nods. "Alright, just til after breakfast."

Harry breaks into a smile and Francis puts the dessert in the fridge, slowly closing the door. "Great, now that this has been discussed, I am going to bed." Francis said goodnight to the two before vanishing in his bedroom. Avery noticed how Harry's eyes stayed fixed on his friends door for a moment.

"He likes you." Harry then says, turning back to her with a gleaming smile.

"I'm glad"

He walks over to her, leaning against the kitchen counter. "When do you go back to work?"

"Tomorrow."

"You're going to be tired."

"I'll be fine." She murmurs. In the dim kitchen light, Harry can see the three freckles on her nose, and the different shades of blue in her eyes. There had been numerous times where he’d thought about kissing Avery. More than he would like to admit. So many times where he wanted to sweep the loose strand of hair behind her ear, cup her cheek, and put his lips onto her own. He believed that, maybe, her pain would leave after he kissed her. He knew that it was stupid. That it was impossible. That something that mundane could ever fix the pain that she had felt.

So, out of all these times, he picked this one. He picked this time because he was tired. He picked this time because he still had some liquid courage coursing through his veins. He picked this time because she looked just… so unbearably sad. Even though he knew she had a great time that night, there was this underlying look to her. Even at her happiest, she always looked to be sad. Like she was in a great world of pain. Always.

He slowly leaned closer, his gaze fixed on hers. She didn't move away from him as their eyes met. "I don't think we should do that," Her breath is warm against his lips. "You'd regret it."

"I doubt that." His words are hushed, and if he leaned a bit closer, just the smallest bit, their lips would touch. Averys gaze switched between his eyes and his lips. She wants to be brave enough to close the gap. She does. But there is a small voice in her head telling her that it's wrong. That she will destroy everything that she has created if she moves forward with what's happening.

"You're so soft nobody knows how to take care of you".. "You know what you are? An ungrateful brat. That's all that you are, and that’s all you’ll ever be".

"You're pathetic, I can't deal with you anymore. No one can."

"I'm sorry but... I can't." She whispers and she doesn't have to tell him that's it because of her mind, her past, and everything that she continues to hide from him. He knows.

"I get it." Harry reassures her and instead of kissing her lips, he kisses her forehead.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He leaned in again, pressing his lips to her forehead once more. This time letting them linger.

“It’s okay, Ave. It’s alright. You don't need to be sorry.”

So, instead of kissing, they watch Lost In Translation. Harry had fallen asleep shortly after, his head resting on her thigh, and Avery’s fingers gently carted through his soft, honey brown curls. Somewhen, the morning sun illuminated the living room. The early morning rays casting a golden shadow over the room. Bathing everything in what could only be described as eternal light.

Francis emerged from his bedroom soon after the sun rose, stopping for a short second to look at his friend. Harry was asleep on Avery's lap, his face cuddled into her stomach with her hand resting on his head. He looked so at peace, even youthful in his sleep. He was getting the rest that Francis knew he deserved. That he needed.

Seeing him and Avery together made Francis happy. He saw the way that they had interacted during the party. They were always together, never spending much time apart.

Francis made his way to the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water. He got a cup out of a cabinet, one that had been washed only hours ago, and filled it at the kitchen sink. not bothering with ice, it was too early for ice cold water. Once the cup was full, he turned off the tap and turned around. He jumped and nearly dropped his cup, startled to see Avery stood at the entrance of the small space.

“Jesus! You scared me.” Francis leaned against the counter, holding a hand up to his chest in an effort to slow his racing heart.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

They stood there in silence for a while. Avery eventually made her way into the kitchen, sitting atop of the counter closest to the entrance. Francis was looking out the small window they had in the kitchen, and Avery watched. He didn’t seem to be actively in the room. His mind was elsewhere. This was a different kind of silence. Not like the atmosphere that they had experienced after everyone had left hours ago. This one was darker, in a way.

Somehow, Avery knew. She just knew. She knew that he was troubled. Maybe it was the worry that Harry always had in his eyes when looking at his friend. Maybe it was the dread that showed in Harry’s face whenever he called. Or maybe it was her own personal experience. But, either way, she knew. She could see the scars that littered his arms, the ones he had tried so desperately to cover, and it made her angry. Did she have a real right to be angry? No. She didn’t truly know the boy that was standing in front of her, but she knew enough. She knew enough to know that he shouldn’t feel that kind of pain. From what she had seen, he was funny, caring, and he stood by his friends. He cared for his friends. She didn’t want anyone to know half of what she had been through, what she had felt. And she knew that he had.

“Francis?”

“Yes?”

“Just… thank you.”

He looked bewildered by her words, not knowing what they were for. “For what, Avery?”

“For earlier. Eric. You saw that he was bothering me and you told him off. I never got to thank you for it.”

“Oh… it was no problem. He was being a prick. He kept on advancing towards you when you told him no, and I won't stand by to see that.” He made his way to the kitchen sink, Avery not too far from him, and started to rinse out his empty glass. Avery watched as he did so, closing her eyes shortly after to let them rest for a minute.

“Avery?”

“Yes, Francis?”

“Can you promise me something?” He looked into her eyes, a serious glint inside of them.

“I guess so… what is it?”

“This probably isn’t my place, and I apologize if I offend you in any way. But, just… please stand up for yourself. Okay? There are loads of blokes like Eric, people who will take advantage of you because you are too nice, people who will disregard your rejection of their actions. You have to stand up for yourself. I would hate to see you get hurt because of something like that.”

She was taken aback by what he was saying. She didn’t know how to respond, at least not right now. So she simply nodded her head, casting her eyes downward.

“And thank you for the cake, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. I'm glad.”

Avery’s apartment was a wreck. Various papers and notebooks littered every surface as she tried to find a good sample she could send over to Hughes Magazine. This was a real opportunity, one that needed to be taken seriously. She has the chance to be a published writer, to have something that she had written somewhere in the world for people to see. To say that this was nerve wracking was a major understatement. Avery was sitting in the middle of her living room looking like a mad woman, frantically flipping through notebooks in hopes of finding something that she deemed good enough.

After going through every piece of writing she had, she decided to submit two short stories and a handful of poems. She chose pieces that, she hopes, shows her diversity as a writer. Avery wanted this to be something, just once. She added her CV and all the other required information before attaching the poems and stories at the end of the e-mail, sending it off to their office in London before closing her laptop, pushing every bad thought aside.

As she began to pick up the mess she had made in the process, Avery's phone lit up showing her a message from Tom.

Tom: Hey, is there any chance you could come in early tomorrow? I've found a potential new employee and I would like you to show her around a bit.

Avery: Sure. How much earlier?

Tom: Thirty minutes early will be fine, just need a second opinion on her. She would be starting work soon, if she is decent at everything.

Avery: I'll be there.

Tom: Thank you, Avery :)

"What do you think about the editing?" Harry questions Francis, showing his laptop with the edited photo on the screen. He spent the whole Sunday in front of the computer, trying to finish editing the set his boss needed for an upcoming ad. His eyes were exhausted and his head ached from the hours he spent looking at the monitor screen.

"I like it," Francis says with a shrug, continuing to eat his Ben and Jerry's out of the paper container.

"I need constructive criticism, Frany. Saying you like it is not cutting it anymore." Harry groans, putting his head back to regain composure and stretch his sore neck.

"You know I'm devoted to the numbers.'" Francis replies with a sigh. "I can't give you constructive criticism when I don't understand it."

"It's art. Most of the time you don't have to understand it."

"Why are you not doing your black and white photography? I love it and I know you do too, I'm sure there are some people who would buy it."

"Those “some people” aren't going to pay rent," Harry closes the laptop, realizing Francis really wouldn't be much help here, and layed down on the sofa, his head atop the arm rest. "I wish I could just do that."

"I’d say do it. Do what makes you happy. That's what you always tell me, anyway."

"Yes, but you're different," Harry murmurs, his eyes closed and his forearm shielding them from the sunlight. "And what would I photograph? I don't go out anymore, I barely see James or Emily or Anais anymore. And God, I have a million photographs of you already."

"First of all, you make that sound like a bad thing." Francis replies, before eating another spoon of his ice cream. "Why don't you do a series on Avery?"

"She doesn't like being photographed."

“May I remind you that that's what you do? Take photographs without people noticing, so it's not staged."

"Yes I know, but-" Before Harry can finish his sentence Francis makes his way to Harry's room only to come out a minute later with a large black and white print. Harry remembered that day as if it were yesterday. It was Anais’s birthday party. Francis wasn't well that day so Harry had to take him to the party, he didn’t trust him enough to leave him home alone. He had spent the whole evening making rounds around the house, camera in tow, capturing every guest he could.

The photo in front of him showed Francis in an armchair in Anais’s living room. There was a half empty glass of champagne in his hand and a red balloon tied to his pinky, and at the first glance it almost looked comical. This sad boy with all the balloons, presents, and dancing people around him.

That same night, Harry had gotten absolutely wasted. So, when Francis told him that he wanted to go home, he didn't hold him back. He didn't look at him, not really, not like he should have. Once he had finally made his way back to their flat, he found Francis cutting himself on the bathroom floor and immediately sobered up. They didn't talk while Harry gently patched his friend up, doing so with so much care that it made Francis cry. And they didn't talk while Harry sent Francis to bed before he cleaned the bathroom, blaming himself for everything that had happened in the process.

Despite everything that came after, this was still one of his favorite photographs he had ever taken. The black and white didn't seem dramatic, but natural. He caught Francis without a mask, just Francis. It was safe to say that his best friend despised the whole thing, he didn't like it one bit and Harry was sure that if he hadn't stopped him, Francis would have ripped the print to shreds immediately.

"I really like that print..." Harry mumbles, eyeing the photograph that feels like it was taken so long ago. When he was still so naive and inexperienced, thinking he could just do this his whole life. "But I can't do it. I have to think about earning money, this dream won't take me anywhere."

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[rusticreid]

watch the evening glow (across idaho)

Summary: Spencer and y/n take a much-needed vacation after a tough case, and find exactly the type of distraction that they need. Spencer x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,482

Warnings: oral sex (both receiving), PIV sex, mentions of history of drug abuse

A/N: Don’t ask me how boats work, I don’t know. I don’t even know what kind of boat it is. In the words of Harry Styles, “it’s just a boat”. Honestly this picture made my hick heart soar and I had to write this so ... that’s how we ended up here. 

While it contrasted his lively Las Vegas upbringing, Spencer Reid felt his calmest in the sleepy monotony of Idaho. As often as possible, he and y/n would hop on a plane for a vacation at their cabin on Lake Coeur d’Alene. They enjoyed lazy days on the lake, sipping beers and laughing as the stresses of life in the BAU melted away. Sometimes, they would take one of their trips following a case that hit one or the other of them particularly hard, needing a reminder that life could slow down, be free and easy too. 

This particular time, it was Spencer who needed to take a breather after a case where the unsub had been dosing captives with narcotics to keep them subdued, which had hit far too close to home for his comfort. After they had gotten home from that case, he had turned to y/n, “That case was a lot, baby. I need a fucking break.” 

Y/n nodded sympathetically, pulling him into a hug. Spencer had been sober for years now, but still struggled with urges to use Dilaudid again. “Do you want to go to the cabin? We haven’t used vacation time in forever.”

He nodded, forehead against her shoulder before he pulled away. “Did you know that one of the primary factors when considering the likelihood of a relapse is the recovering addict’s environment? Those who have risk factors like a high-stress lifestyle, who witness trauma or violence are significantly more likely to experience a relapse? That combined with my coexisting risk factors of mental illness and ADHD means that it’s statistically surprising that I haven’t had a relapse.” 

Y/n smiled at him, reaching up and ruffling his hair, “I’m proud of you, baby. But even if you did relapse, I would be here with you to help out, no matter what you needed. I love you, I’m here for you, and I am so proud of you. Now, let’s get some sleep and then put in requests to take a few days off.” 

---

The one thing endlessly annoying about traveling to Idaho, was that it was severely lacking in airports. To get to Coeur d’Alene, they needed to either fly into Boise, which was a 7 hour drive from their destination, or fly into Spokane, which required a layover in Seattle, but was only a 40 minute drive from their destination. Y/n and Spencer had greatly favored the second option, as the Seattle layovers weren’t usually too long. 

Upon landing in Spokane, Spencer and y/n had packed into a rental car and began the drive to Coeur d’Alene. “So,” y/n began, turning to Spencer “What do you want to do this time? I was thinking we could take the boat out, do a little exploring. Maybe I could find some ways to distract you from the case…” 

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he turned to y/n with a smile on his face, “Oh yeah? And how would you do that?” 

Y/n smirked, reaching out to rest her hand on his thigh, “I’m sure we can work something out.” 

---

As they neared their destination, Spencer pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store so that they could stock up on groceries for the week.  Y/n had always enjoyed the casual intimacy of grocery shopping with Spencer, who never failed to make endless comments about anything and everything they picked up. 

They picked up a case of beer, knowing that that cold beer would pair well with their days on the lake. Grabbing a few other items, they made their way through the checkout, hands intertwined. 

The drive to the cabin was short, but that didn’t stop y/n from palming at Spencer’s cock through his pants. He whined, looking away from the road for a second to glare at y/n, “Baby, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to end up crashing the car.” 

Y/n giggled, slowing her motions only slightly. “Then you’d better hurry up and get us to the cabin.” 

Spencer let out a shaky breath, keeping his eyes on the road as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, “You know, according to the CDC, 9 people die every day as a result of distracted driving. That adds up to approximately 3,500 each year.”

“Well,” said y/n, smirking as she looked out the window, “it’s a good thing we’re here then, isn’t it?” 

---

Y/n headed to the bedroom, stripping off her clothes as she went. Spencer, on the other hand, took his time unpacking the groceries. He smirked, knowing that y/n would already be on the bed waiting for him, likely very impatient. 

Spencer was right, of course. When he pushed open the bedroom door, he was rewarded with the sight of a fully naked y/n touching herself. She looked over at him with hooded eyes, “Took you long enough. I almost finished off without you.”

He let out a laugh, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “Oh and what, you’d stop at just one orgasm? Just over ⅓ of people with vaginas are able to have multiple orgasms within a single session, and we both know that you’re one of those.” 

Y/n whined, “God damn it, Spencer Reid, just come over and fuck me.” 

He didn’t need to be told again. He stripped down, situating himself in front of her. He smirked up at her as he grabbed her by the calves, throwing her legs over his shoulders as he leaned in to suck a bruise on to her thigh. Y/n reached down, tangling her fingers into his curls in an attempt to guide him to where she wanted him most. He smiled as he moved to kiss and suck at the other thigh, knowing he was driving her crazy. He licked his lips, contemplating for a second before diving in, face first. His tongue flicked at her clit, eliciting a moan from her. His hands gently stroked her hips as his mouth went to work, alternating between sucking her clit and lapping at the growing wetness inside her. 

Having neared the edge before Spencer had even entered the room, y/n was quick to find release, thighs tightening around Spencer’s head and neck as she rode out her orgasm on his tongue. With a heavy breath, and shaky legs, she reclined fully on the bed, “Fuck, Spence. You’re going to kill me one of these days.”

He stood up, smirking as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, “The risk of death during sex is significantly higher in men, especially those with a preexisting heart condition. There was a study done over 20 years, which showed that 0.19% of natural deaths in that time period were caused by sexual activity, and only two of them were women.” 

“You really do have a statistic about everything, don’t you?” y/n said, grinning at him, “Come here, I need to get you off too.” 

He leaned down to kiss her before laying next to her on the bed, “Well, I won’t say no to that.” 

“What are you in the mood for?” y/n asked, kissing up the side of his neck. 

“I’m not really in the mood to fuck, but I’d take a blowjob or a handjob. Whatever you’re up for is good for me.” 

“I can make that happen. Can you sit back against the headboard for me?” 

Spencer happily obliged, stroking himself with slightly hooded eyes. Y/n straddled his thighs and leaned in, kissing him forcefully. She reached down, grabbing his cock with her hand stroking at him slowly. He closed his eyes with a groan, “That’s it, baby.”

Y/n leaned over, rummaging through the drawer of the bedside table until she found a small bottle of lube. She uncapped it, drizzling some over Spencer’s cock, knowing that he liked wet, sloppy handjobs. She tangled one hand in his hair, kissing him as she stroked at his cock with the other hand. She got herself into a good rhythm, stroking and twisting in a way that had him moaning into her mouth. He bucked into her hand once, twice, three times before spilling over with a grunt.  He let his head fall back against the headboard, panting. 

Y/n got up from the bed, padding into the bathroom to wash his traces off her hands. Once she was done, she wet a washcloth for Spencer to clean himself off with. Returning from the bathroom, she found Spencer thumbing through a book, still breathing heavily. 

“Do you want to take a nap and then make dinner in about an hour?” y/n asked as she wiped him down. 

He smiled, nodding sleepily, “That sounds good.”

---

Y/n and Spencer giggled as they attempted to cook dinner, fumbling around each other in the tiny kitchen. Neither of them were much of a cook, so they generally stuck to simple meals when eating at home. Y/n sat on the counter as she waited for the pasta to boil, watching Spencer as he carefully measured the ingredients for a simple alfredo sauce. She smiled as he whispered to himself, ever-cautious about getting it exactly right.

When the sauce was done and the pasta was boiled, Spencer and y/n piled their bowls high and made their way over to the couch. Spencer grabbed the remote, turning the TV on for background noise as they ate. 

“So what do you want to do this week?” y/n asked between bites, “I’m thinking maybe a hike or two, a couple days on the lake and a stop at the farmers market for sure.” 

Spencer nodded, “I have a couple of books I want to read, but I can definitely do that when we’re at the lake.”

They chatted idly as they finished their dinner and then left their dishes in the sink to deal with at a later time. Y/n went to the bathroom, beginning her nighttime routine, as Spencer went around the cabin, locking the doors and windows, and turning off the unnecessary lights before crawling into bed to wait for the bathroom. 

---

Y/n and Spencer had decided to spend their first full day at the lake. The first time they traveled to Idaho, Spencer had read every book he could find regarding the details of boating, learning the intricacies pretty quickly and deciding on the type of boat that he and y/n wanted to purchase. In the subsequent trips, he had picked up fishing too, but wasn’t always in the mood for that. 

That particular boat outing, Spencer and y/n just intended to eat sandwiches on the lake and lay out in the sun, pretending that the outside world didn’t exist. Y/n scanned the scenery as Spencer dealt with maneuvering the boat. 

They made idle small talk as they made their way around the lake. Spencer found a place to stop the boat, so they could eat their lunch while enjoying the scenery. Y/n dug through the cooler, pulling out their sandwiches and a beer for each of them. Spencer accepted his lunch gratefully, leaning back in his seat to put his feet up. 

They ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and the peace provided by the lack of other people. “I’m always surprised by how quiet it is here,” remarked y/n, “It’s like nobody lives here.” 

Spencer raised his eyebrows, “You’re technically right. Idaho has a population density of approximately 19.8 people per square mile, as opposed to the 202.6 people per square mile that we’re used to.” 

Y/n smiled, humming in agreement and taking a swig of beer in favor of responding verbally. 

“You know what,” Spencer said suddenly, turning to y/n. 

She turned to him, expectantly, “What’s up, baby?” 

“We have had sex in every other possible location I can think of, our apartment, our cars, the BAU office, the jet… everything except for here.”

Y/n giggled, setting her beer down and pulling her dress over her head, leaving her in just a bikini, “We can change that. Nobody’s around” she said, looking around to confirm her statement. When she was satisfied that nobody was going to catch them immediately, she knelt before him, toying with the waistband of his swim trunks. He looked down at her through hooded eyes, lacing one of his hands into her hair. 

She noticed with a bit of a start that he still held his beer in the other hand, and something about that made her wet. She palmed at his cock through the thin material of his shorts, smirking at his quiet groan. 

She stuck her hands into the waistband, maneuvering his shorts off his body. She grabbed his cock, jerking it a few times to get it to full hardness. When she was satisfied, she leaned down to tongue at the head, lapping at the drops of precum leaking out. Spencer’s groan was more audible this time, his hand tightening in y/n’s hair. She plunged down, sucking the head into her mouth. She bobbed up and down, and when she looked up, she was treated to the sight of Spencer taking a swig of his beer, his long fingers curled elegantly around the neck of the bottle. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. Something about the nonchalance of drinking beer while receiving a blowjob made her even more desperate. 

Spencer was panting, pulling at y/n’s hair. She reached down, pulling her bikini bottoms aside to run a finger through her growing wetness. Spencer reached for her chin, breathing heavily “I’m getting close.” 

Y/n nodded, “Are you in the mood to cum in me?”

Spencer bit down on his lip, flushing, “Yeah, turn around and bend over.” 

Y/n did just that, bracing herself against the side of the boat. Spencer pulled her bikini bottoms to the side, and lined his cock up with her entrance. Grabbing her by the hips, he thrust inside her, hissing as he bottomed out. She clenched around him the way she knew he liked. He got into a rhythm, faltering as he neared his climax. He stuttered against her as his vision whited out, moaning louder than he should have, considering that they weren’t really that far from civilization. He pulled out, watching his cum drip down her legs, getting her swimsuit irreparably dirty. 

He pulled her bikini bottoms all the way down, he trailed his fingers up her legs, towards her pussy, gathering drips of cum on the way to her entrance. His cum-slick fingers trailed over her entrance, teasing at it lightly. He grabbed her arm, turning her to face him so that he had easier access. 

She whined as he teased her, fingers running through her folds as he pointedly avoided her clit. She shifted her hips in an attempt to get his fingers where she wanted them, but he remained intent. “Please, baby I need -” y/n whimpered, gasping as one of his fingers ghosted past her clit. 

“What do you need?” Spencer asked, smiling devilishly, “All you need to do is ask.” 

Y/n whined, both frustrated and incredibly aroused, “Please let me cum, Spence, please.” 

Spencer let out a laugh, but finally caved, circling her clit with his index and middle fingers. She gasped, pressing into him, “Yeah baby, just like that, don’t stop.” 

Spencer sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, only concentrating on pleasing her. She breathed heavily, the occasional “fuck” escaping her lips. Eventually, she reached her climax with a gasp, shaky legs threatening to give out under her. Spencer helped her to sit down, pushing her hair out of the way so that he could press a kiss to her sweaty forehead. 

Y/n drew in a shaky breath, “This is going to be a fucking shitshow to clean up.” 

Spencer let out a laugh, “I think I have some baby wipes in my bag”. With a grunt, he stood up to rifle through his bag, pulling his shorts back up as he stood. When he found what he was looking for, he crouched next to y/n, spreading her legs to clean her up with the wipe. He got to his feet again, holding out a hand to help her up, “I do think you’ll probably have to wear the dress without the bikini bottoms, though” he said with a smirk, “They’re pretty dirty. Tragic, truly.” 

Y/n swatted playfully at him, then walked over to slip the dress back over her head. “Are you ready to head back, or do you want to stay out for a bit longer?”

Spencer pondered for a second, cracking open another beer, “I think I’m ready to go. We can take a walk later tonight if you’re in the mood.” 

Y/n smiled, taking a drink out of her own beer, “Sounds perfect to me.”

---

[forever-rogue]

Hi darling. I would like to request Frankie being overprotective when reader is sick. I have headache rn and I would like to see how our cutie boy can handle it. Thank you 🤩

I love the idea of an overprotective Frankie 🥺 He would be such a good caregiver.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You set the warm kettle back down as you finished pouring the steaming water into your mug. Spying your favorite tea in the cabinet, you grabbed and opened it fishing out one of the last teabags. You'd have to get more when you went to the store next time. You loathed running out of it, especially now that colder months were starting.

"What are you doing?" Frankie caught you completely off guard as he came back into the kitchen, canvas totes in each hand, filled with fresh groceries. You had dropped the tea in surprise but offered him a sheepish look as he came over and set the bags on the counter, "Honey Bee, you should be in bed."

"I know," you managed to croak out, your throat still dry and scratchy. You'd come down with a harsh cold, which had caused you to have stay home from work and rest. Frankie, the ever doting boyfriend, had taken on the role of caregiver rather well, and had been waiting on you hand and foot, trying to help you to feel better. You hated depending on someone else for everything, but this cold had really knocked you down and out, "I didn't know when you'd be back and really wanted some tea. I can do some things myself."

"I know," he agreed, taking the bag and dipping into the mug for you, adding just a bit of honey like he knew you enjoyed. His hand found your cheek as he stroked your skin delicately before placing a kiss to your forehead, "but its okay to let me help you out. You always do it for me. But come, let's get you back to bed."

"Are you sure?" you asked quietly, "I can help put away groceries and stuff. At least let me help that much..."

"Absolutely not, out of the question," he insisted fervently, wrapping an arm your waist and holding your tea in the other as he led you back to bed. You didn't even bother to argue with him, knowing there was no point.

Setting down your tea on the bedside table, next to a picture of the two of you that you loved, he pulled back the covers and ushered you under them. It was like the universe was on his side because as soon as your head hit the pillows, you were heavy with sleep again. Sniffling a yawn, you offered your love a soft smile, "thank you, Frankie. You're the best and I love you more than words could describe."

"I love you too," he promised softly, "now just rest. But if you need anything, call me. I'm going to and make some soup, okay? After that I'll draw you a bath, if you would like."

"I don't deserve you," it was a wistful sigh as you snuggled into the blankets and he offered you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Of course you do," he promised gently, "you deserve the world. Now rest, and if you need anything-"

"I'll call for you," you confirmed with a sleepy grin. He nodded before leaving the room closing the door ever so slightly.

He'd gone to the grocery store early that morning in order to get everything for homemade chicken noodle soup. It was his Abuela's recipe and he swore by it, sure if he had helped him through many colds in the past.

Frankie hated seeing you sick, knowing how independent you were and much you despised relying on the help of others. But he wasn't about to let you handle things on your own either. He had a feeling you'd be okay and feeling much better after the soup anyways, and surely you'd he right as rain in a few days.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When stirred from slumber again, the sun was setting and casting the room in a soft, pinkish orange glow. You stretched and yawned and almost as if on queue, Frankie popped his head into the room.

"Hi baby," he said softly as he came over to you, his hand going to your forehead to set check for any signs of fever, "how are you feeling?"

"Better, I think," you admitted, the tired heaviness of your aching body feeling ever so slightly relieved, "I must have been out for hours."

"You were," he confirmed, "but you need to listen to your body as well and right now your body needs the rest."

"Apparently so," you agreed as you pushed back the blankets, "is that your Abuela's soup I smell?"

"Indeed it is," he grinned at you, "it can work miracles after all. It just needs to finish simmering for a while and it will he ready soon. I made some bread to go with it too."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Francisco. Thank you for taking such good care of me," you beamed as you ran a hand through his dark locks.

"Like I said, you do the same for me," he said gently, "and I love you. Now, what do you say about a bath?"

"Are you saying I stink?!" you joked as he leaned in and pretended to smell you. He jerked back and scrunched up his nose as you glared at him.

"Very stinky, baby," he almost giggled with laughter, "definitely time for a bathroom. You smell like honey and vaporub."

"Jerk," you teased as you slid your legs out of the bed in order to head to the bathroom. But Frankie was quicker and easily scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the ensuite bathroom, "ahh, what a prince my love is."

"Nah," he teased, "don't get used to it."

But you already were. Because Frankie was like this all the time, treating you like you were the only thing that mattered, because in a lot of ways to him, you were. But you loved and adored him with just as much reverent devotion.

Frankie gently set you back down before turning on the water, fiddling with the taps for a moment to get the temperature just before dropping in some of your favorite bubble bath. Stripping off your pajamas, you quickly stepped into the water, sinking down and letting the rising water start to envelope you. A small groan of pleasure left your lips as Frankie sat down the floor next to you, resting his arms atop the edge and watching you closely.

"What?" you asked as you grabbed a few bubbles and placed them on the tip of his nose, "never seen a pathetic sickling take a bath before?"

"Shush," he said as you blew some bubbles right back at you, "you are always beautiful, no matter what you look like or how you feel."

"Mhmm," you replied as you leaned back and closed your eyes, "whatever you say, mi amor."

"Exactly," he insisted, "do you want me to wash your hair?"

Your eyes opened as a little grin crossed your features. There were few things you loved more than the feeling of getting your hair washed, especially by Frankie. He often took it upon himself when the two of you showed together.

"Really?" you asked as he nodded, "I would love nothing more. My body is still tired and sore, and if I'm being quite honest, it's never as good as when you do it."

"Ahh, I've spoiled you too much already."

"Indeed, you truly have," you agreed.

"I'm joking-"

"I'm not," you promised, taking his face in your hands and staring into those soft, deep chocolate eyes, "I mean it, Francisco. I love you more than anything. You make me so happy."

"You do too," he promised, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, "now come, let me help you wash up and then we'll have dinner."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Okay," you said, swallowing a hearty bite of bread and soup, "it's official. Your Abuela is a miracle worker and whatever secret ingredients she puts in the soup are magic."

"I know," he grinned at you, as he took your bowl and laddled some more soup into it, "one day you might even learn the secret ingredients. But she has to give permission first."

"Oh?" you quirked an eyebrow at him as you eagerly took the second helping, "and how does one go about getting permission?"

"Gotta be part of the family-"

"I am part of the family," you insisted, knowing full well it was true. His family, including his Abuela, adored you and always considered you to be one of them.

"I know," he agreed, a flush of pink rising in his cheeks, "but she means family family. Like we gotta get married."

"Ohh," your eyes widened as you stared at your soup, "maybe...maybe one day."

"Obviously," his response was sure, but nonchalant that your head snapped in his direction as he looked back at you with a simple shrug. You'd talked about marriage before, more or less in passing, but you'd never given it that much thought before. You figured if it was meant to happen, it would happen eventually, "what?"

"You want to get married?" you asked shyly as he gave you a surprised look.

"Of course," he beamed, "I'm going to marry the hell out of you. Don't you worry, Honey Bee, its going to happen. When you least expect it, but it will happen."

Frankie was just was just waiting for the opportune moment to pop the question. He'd had the ring for months, carefully hidden away as he tried to plan the perfect moment. Hell, he was half tempted to grab it and do it now. Despite still being sick and tired and run down, you looked as beautiful as ever. The soft expression on your face was enough to make his heart melt.

"Well..." you trailed off, staring at your soup and barely able to contain your smile, "I...I look forward to it. Just, you know, so I can get your Abuela's recipes."

Frankie snorted with laughter as he shook his head and reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

"You must be feeling better if you're giving me this much sass," he stated as you nodded in agreement.

"Its the soup..." you said as you brought the bowl to your lips and downed the rest of it, "and the amazing care from my Frankie. Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me," he promised, getting up to clear away the dishes, "now, what do you say to a movie? If you're up for it? We'll get under the covers, you can rest, and I'll even let you pick the movie."

"Deal," you eagerly agreed, "I make no promises to stay awake but I will try."

"Perfect," he busied himself with the kettle on the stove, "now get back into bed, turn on Netflix, and I'll be there in a few minutes with tea."

"And honey?"

"Only the finest for my Honey Bee," he promised, waving the bottle at you.

"I love you, Frankie," you said softly, "truly."

"And I love you," he shot you a quick wink, "now get into bed and I'll be right there."