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zyafics · 1 day

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omg hi!! hope ur doing well i love ur writing btw, (play fake is one of my fav fics ive EVER read!!)

could u do a fic where rafe and reader are like best friends, and they’ve always both kinda liked each other but they dont really act upon it, until rafe gets a buzzcut and reader starts acting like real shy and clumsy around him bcs she’s shocked abt how he could get even MORE attractive, and then he gets linda confused so he asks her why she’s acting so different and then she tells him? make it as smutty and fluffy as u want! 🫶🫶

first off, ily 🥹 and omg, YES!! i've been thinking about this ever since i got your req in my inbox, so here's my very earnest attempt at doing it justice 🩷

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

pairing rafe cameron x bsf!female reader

reader type kook, spontaneous, loves adventure, hates silence, loves noises, doesn't exactly like her reality, and friends with topper and kelce, but is only close to rafe!

content (5.3k words) 18+, fluff, smut, soft!rafe to reader only, protected p in v, f receiving oral, lots of banter!, nicknames used: baby and wildflower.

dedication to @mintforadollar for helping me with the nickname and for @erwinsvow for her lovely fic, which i drew inspiration from and i've been obsessing over for the past two weeks <3

lıllılı Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"I want to run away."

It takes a moment for Rafe to register your confession and his response is a drowsy laugh. "Buy a guy dinner first."

You let out a groan, slumping against your wrinkled sheets and abundant pillows spread across your bed. "I'm being serious, Rafe. I'm tired of this house. It's too empty and quiet. I can't stand it. At night, I think I can hear my skin buzzing."

Rafe is accustomed to your sporadic calls regarding whatever issues you had with the world. Last week, it was about the insufficient amount of family portraits that frame the halls of your mansion.

"Maybe you just need to change your sheets."

"Stop!" You chastise. Rafe chokes up with another beat of laughter, low and rich with the deep timbre of his voice. The sound temporarily draws you away from your rant, igniting a small ember in your stomach. You brush away those tingly thoughts. "You're not listening to me."

"I think I'm listening to you perfectly fine, wildflower." He reassures, the solemnity of his tone takes you off the edge. Rafe shuffles on the other line, moving to a sitting position against his headboard. "What do you want? Do you want me to come pick you up?"

You cower from his offer, tucking one of your pillows under your chin. "You don't have to..."

"Don't get all shy with me now. You can't act this way when you're waking me up in the dead of night to report about your getaway plans."

"I feel bad."

Rafe sighs, getting off his bed. He knows the outcome of this conversation and rather prepares himself for the short drive. "I'm heading over."

"I could walk."

"It's freezing outside."

"Your house is down the block. I can survive."

"I'm already out the door. Just stay put." Rafe announces and before he's about to disconnect the call, he adds. "I'm serious."

He arrives in record time. Honking his truck with no regards for the nearby neighbors and you pad downstairs with a bag, descending down the driveway to the passenger side of his truck. A little shiver travels down your spine at the cool North Carolina weather.

"God, what did I tell you?" He scolds, noticing your lack of outwear, and reaches for the blanket in the backseats he keeps just for you. He throws it at your face, suffocating your air with a fluffy white fleece. You roll your eyes, covering your shoulders with it as Rafe reverses. "Where do you want to go?"

"Thought I'm supposed to buy you a meal first."

He doesn't bother entertaining your retort with a glance and flicks the side of your head with his fingers. You giggle. "We're not running away."

"Who said you're included in this adventure? I remember it being a one-person job."

Rafe scoffs. "You can't run away. You'd miss me too much."

"No, you'd miss me too much." You tease back, watching his lips pull to an upward curve at your words. It makes your heart flutters, knowing you always manage to get this side of Rafe. To the rest of Outer Banks, Rafe is seen as a precarious, self-absorbed playboy, but to you, he's your best friend.

And a little more.

The truck parks on the roadside of Tannyhill, the silhouettes of the estate surrounded by shadowy oak trees and a deep reflection of the moon on their waterfront view. Rafe doesn't make a move to leave, nor turn off the engine, before he turns to you.

"You okay?" He asks gravely, all humor stripped off his handsome features. You feel the air of your lungs stolen, at the amount of attention he's paying you, and the atmospheric change turns you to a bashful version of yourself.

"Fine." You answer, looking to your lap. "You know..."

Despite your house being a near-identical model to Rafe's, you hate yours. It's nothing about the architecture but rather the emptiness of the hallways. The cold floors sweep with minimalist decors. The echoes in the chambers where you can hear every little whirl in the air conditioner and creaks in the pipes. You'd rather be at Tannyhill.

Rafe doesn't say anything for the next few moments, observing you, before conceding a sigh. "Tell you what. I'll take you out on the Druthers tomorrow. We'll go bright and early, sail out for a couple of hours, watch the sunrise and it'll be something."

You lift your head, eyes lit up. "Is this our escape?"

"We gotta come back, though."

You frown but the offer remains enticing. It's better than nothing.

"Okay, deal." You nod, holding out your pinkie finger. Rafe scoffs at your gesture, but nonetheless, returns it. "Don't look so glum. You get to hang out with me."

"You do realize we have about three hours of sleep?"

You glance at the clock on his dashboard. He's right. But, you don't want to hold it off till another day. "I can go by myself. Just give me the keys for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes, as if he would even consider that suggestion, and shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"Aren't you afraid you won't get your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up and get in the house."

You laugh and hop out of his truck. When you enter through his bedroom, you throw your bag to a random corner and stroll over to his closet in search for one of Rafe's tees to sleep in.

When you settle on something, you strip out of your clothes—in the middle of his bedroom, just as Rafe enters—and exchange it for his shirt. He had little regard for your act, having grown accustomed to you changing in front of him and vice versa.

All Rafe does is pull off his own shirt, because he likes to sleep naked, and turns back to you. Unlike him, you're never going to get used to seeing him naked—the defined muscles of his chest, the toned planes of his abs, all those hours spent at the gym are clearly not wasted.

You flush, realizing you're ogling him longer than appropriate, and lift your gaze to find a smirk curving his lips. "Oh, shut it," you push his shoulders, causing him to laugh. He takes the opportunity to capture your hand, pulling the both of you onto his mattress, and you yelp.

Rafe changes your position so you're facing him, an arm sprawls over your waist, and there's about a couple of inches of space between the two of you. Here, in the low streams of the moonlight glistening through the veiled curtains and the faint aroma of his cologne on his pillows, you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

You say nothing. He says nothing, You stare into his cerulean eyes, knowing all this little emotions you're feeling all over—the light pricks on your skin where he touches you, the lapse in your breathing from how attentive he is, and the sharp incline of your heart rate pulsing through your veins—is because of him.

His voice is low when he says, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

You couldn't find it in you to answer. You just nod.

Rafe swallows hard, not having the ability to string together the next sentence. Instead, all he does is nod along, leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead, before falling asleep.

The next morning, just an hour before the sunrise, Rafe and you head to the ports to board the Druthers. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, you were giddily and strumming with high energy. He holds out his hand to guide you up the stairs, afraid your enthusiasm would cause you to miss a step.

When the Druthers is far enough from shore, it pulls to a halt, gently bobbing on the ocean waves of the tame morning. You settle on the deck and Rafe slides into the spot next to you. Here, you have the perfect view of the sun slowly rising from the horizon, painting the sky in a palette of red, orange and yellow.

You're grinning. You're feeling much better, especially after your melodramatic episode. Your head rests on Rafe's chest, observing the skyline until the sun reaches its acme, while he watches you. Something about you, happy, content, and with him brings a warmth no one can replicate.

"We have to go swimming." You announce suddenly, twisting your head to look at him with excitement bubbling on your features, doe eyes pleading with a want.

His expression is flat, trying to contain his emotions. "It's seven in the morning."

"So? When has that stopped me before?"

"It's freezing cold."

"That's your excuse for everything." You scoff, before tilting your head in a challenge. "Are you scared of a little water, Rafe Cameron?"

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something about the way you talk to him, he would never allow from anyone else. It's just you. He had to look away, pretending to shake his head from the idea but knowing, at the end, he lost.

With a long dip into the ocean, you swim around the Druthers with light splashes thrown in his face, causing Rafe to chase after you for your little stunt. When the pair of you returned to the boat, dripping wet on the floor deck, laughter exchanging at the break of dawn.

"You cheated!" You accuse, grinning.

"I did not. You're just slow."

When you change out of your bikini and Rafe changes out of his swim trunks, you return to the cockpit where Rafe dons a new attire: khaki pants, a polo shirt, and his backward baseball cap. The air shifts, a more solemn expression on his face.

"You had enough now, wildflower?" He tips his head to your direction, as you approach him. "Ready to return back to the real world?"

You groan. "What's so special about that place?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he declares, "but I have a couple of errands I have to run today. I have to get back, but I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"Hm." You consider your satisfaction. Standing before Rafe, you watch as his lips curl in amusement at the way you're mauling through the finer details. The itinerary of your day and whether it was enough. When your eyes lock with his, you offer him a sweet smile, albeit a little reluctant.

"What?"

You don't answer him, reaching for his hat and taking it off his head, before plopping it over your own as a keepsake souvenir. "Now, I am."

—

After spending your afternoon with Topper and Kelce at the Country Club, distracting them from their tee time with your commentary about their swings, Rafe finally arrives to join you.

But it's different.

When Rafe said he had a couple of errands to run, you didn't ask for their specifics. He just said he'll join you later and you were content with that assumption.

You should've prepared yourself.

Rafe got a new haircut; a buzz that took away his dirty blond locks and a clean fade on the sides. For some reason, it makes your heart accelerate. Your breath shortens. Rafe has always been attractive before but now, you couldn't even look at him.

When he tries to approach you in greeting, you dip out of the way and return to Topper and Kelce. However, in the middle of your path, you nearly tripped over some hazardously-abandoned golf club one of the boys threw out, but Rafe caught you. A hand on your elbow, his brows drawn together in concern.

"You good?" He asks. You can't help but let your eyes stray up to his hairline, finding it voided of the curtain bangs it previously occupies and the strands you like to mess with. Your gaze instantly drops to the ground.

"I'm–I'm fine." You stutter, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassing fact that you couldn't even make a clean getaway. Rafe helps you find your balance and you slip out of his grasp as you excuse yourself back to the other Kooks.

That's how the rest of the evening went. Through another round of golf and a dinner at the restaurant inside the Country Club, you try to ignore Rafe to the best of your abilities. It was a difficult task but a necessary one. Your emotions were fuzzy and harder to control. You couldn't even look at your best friend without flushing or revealing everything on your face.

You thought you could wait it out till you get home.

"Come on, wildflower." Rafe grabs your wrist, just as you're about to join Topper in his car, and you turn to face his contempt expression. Annoyance written over his features. "I'm driving you home."

"No, it's fine. Top said he can give me a ride—"

"We live nearby each other. There's no point for Top to do all that. Right?" Rafe cuts a hard look to the blond in the driver seat, to whom easily backs off with two hands raised in surrender. Coward. Rafe turns back to you. "Let's go."

You end up in the passenger seat of his truck. On the long drive back to Figure Eight, you were uncharacteristically quiet. Often, you would fidget with the stereo, messing with Rafe's presets on country and rap stations, to which he always has to swat your hands away. Today, you sat obediently in your seat, hands tucked between your thighs, looking anywhere but Rafe.

"You're not going to listen to music?" He asks, trying to cut the silence. You shake your head.

"I'm not feeling it."

You try to count the seconds. You try to distract yourself by looking out the window and listening to the chirps of crickets coming out, but all you can focus on is the sound of yours and Rafe's breathing. The acute awareness of something in the air. The amount of space between the two of you. The way something deep in you changed about him.

It isn't his fault. Whatsoever. It's all yours. All those times spent at Tannyhill, stealing his shirts to wear to sleep, cuddling up in his bed after sneaking out of your estate, running around with Rafe doing god-knows-what. You developed something for him. A crush. An inkling.

You always told yourself you could control it. It's natural for best friends to like each other at one point. It'll fade away eventually.

But, unfortunately for you, that isn't the case. it got worse. It grew more desperate. With each inching territory into something else means a larger consequence it can have on your friendship.

You can't lose him.

"Hey." Rafe calls out, his voice softens considerably from the aggression he used with Topper a while back. You don't turn to face him, despite that being his sole objective, and you respond back with a light hum. "Am I driving you home or Tannyhill?"

To you, those are the same things. Home is where Tannyhill is, where Rafe is. But, you knew what he was referring to.

"Tannyhill." You answer in a chipped tone. "I forgot my bag."

"Of course, you did." He teases, trying to break the tension with some lightheartedness. It doesn't work. You don't answer, too lost in resisting the urge to look at him.

Rafe sighs when you refuse to acknowledge him and turns back to the road. That's when you spare a glance from the corner of your peripheral; just a small peek.

And there he is: Rafe with the fresh shave that is such a strange yet welcomed sight. It brings out a clearer definition of his handsome features, the planes of his sharp profile, the cut of his jawline and the wrinkles around his eyes you always adore. It's too much for you.

You can't let him know that.

He's your best friend.

When he reaches Tannyhill, you leap out of the moving vehicle and race up the porch. You take the hidden key from under the mat and turn the lock, slipping into the familiar foyer and up the large stairwell.

Racing against an internal clock, once you enter the bedroom, you search for your bag, but you can't seem to pinpoint its location. When you manage to miraculously find it underneath the covers, you throw it over your shoulders and sprint to the exit.

Only for Rafe to block it.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, his brows furrowed together as he examines you. You quickly drop your gaze to the ground, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the marble.

"I just..." You stammer for an excuse. "I just got to get home."

"Why? You hate your house."

"I don't hate it." You lie. The conversation tips into an awkward tension—the exact thing you were trying to avoid. You think you need to spend a day, or two, or a whole week, to collect yourself and force yourself back to normal. Back to when you can look at him without revealing everything on your face.

"God, what is it? You don't like it?" Rafe laughs with an ounce of nervousness and the sound takes you back. You look up, finding him running a hand over his buzzcut. "It's my hair, isn't it?"

He didn't know why he decided to buzz it off. He just did. He didn't care if his father didn't approve or if Wheezie would make fun of him for the sudden change in appearance. That didn't matter to him.

But your opinions did.

"What?" Your lips part. Were you that obvious? "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. This entire evening, you've barely looked at me."

He's right.

"I was busy."

"Playing golf with Top? You hate that shit." He retorts, dropping his hand to his side, clenching them into whiten knuckles. "And when we were at the restaurant. You were sitting with Kelce. Why the fuck were you sitting with him instead of me?"

You swallow hard. Your throat is tightening with all the words you can't reveal.

"Maybe I just want to change it up. I am friends with them too—"

"But you're my friend first."

You scoff. "Possessive much?"

"Very." He answers nonchalantly. Your heart skips a beat. He can't say that; it's not fair. "And knowing you for so long, I know what you're telling me is complete and total bullshit."

His hand slides under your jaw, lifting your gaze to meet his, and you can't help but feel your walls crumbling. You're afraid. You're so afraid.

"Come on, wildflower." He murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. "Tell me the truth."

You have always been able to do that. In ways. When Rafe asks something of you, you're always able to tell him straight. It's one of the qualities he likes about you. Now is the first time you're going against your nature. Because it's too close, too real, that it can change everything.

Your throat grows dry and you lick your bottom lip, causing Rafe to glance down.

"I..." You begin, trying to string together a coherent sentence that won't damage everything. He raises a brow, waiting. "Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you."

You close your eyes after the confession. Your heart is in his hands.

All the air in the room stills, as if the air conditioner turns off and you're all left with a tense, palpable silence. You can't bear it. At least, at your house, you can blast your speakers on full-volume to create some level of noise and block it out. Here, all you can hear is the thumping of your heart in your ears.

"Say something." You urge.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to look at you too."

Your heart drops. You think he doesn't understand. He thinks you can't stand him physically, especially after his haircut, and this is a similar sentiment shared by him about you.

He doesn't feel the same way.

"Oh."

You open your eyes, trying hard not to cry. You can feel them swelling with hot tears but you blink fast, trying to not let Rafe see.

He immediately recognizes the look, drawing back his hand. That’s not what he meant. "Don't cry."

You're not doing a good job at hiding anything today. "No, it's okay," you say with a crack voice, "you don't have to—"

"No, fuck," he swears, "what I mean is that, sometimes, when you look at me, I just—" He couldn't explain himself, not in time, not in the way he wants, that he covers your eyes, flooding your vision with darkness and heightening every other sense.

Rafe releases a deep exhale, collecting himself. "Those eyes..." He mumbles, the resonance of his voice so close, it's as if he's right beside you. You feel his breathing fanning against the curve of your neck, raising goosebumps. "They drive me fucking insane."

Then, he kisses your neck.

The act jolts you by surprise.

"Everything about you drives me insane." He confesses against your heated skin, the vibration of his words sending straight tingles through your body. "I can't go a day without thinking about you. About wanting you."

Not just as a best friend, but as a whole. Everything about you he needs. In his life; forever. Sometimes, he can't believe you exist.

You're overwhelmed with all these new emotions. Your heart is swelling. "Rafe..."

"You're my best friend, right?" He muses, delivering kisses up the column of your throat to the underside of your jaw, and making his way closer to your lips. "But you're also the only one for me."

Before he gets to your mouth, you grab his wrist, the one holding you blindfolded. He stops in place—afraid this is your time to reject him.

"Rafe." You breathe out. "Can I see you?"

He slowly removes his hand, allowing your vision to flood back with his presence. This time, the sight of Rafe doesn't push you into overdrive. There's a new sense of clarity and calm, an elated comfort you don't share with anyone else.

You take your time drinking him in. From his face, to his lips, to the fresh haircut you're feeling entirely too grateful for. You do it all without fear.

"What?" He demands, his insecurities skyrocketing through the roof. "Don't like it?"

"I love you."

His heart lunges in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming from your lips. When it completely registers that this is not some sweet, wet dream he's going to wake up from, his hands reach forward to cup either side of your face and he finally kisses you.

His force pushes you back against his bed and you land on the mattress with a soft thump. You laugh into his mouth and Rafe grins against your lips.

"Eager, much?"

"I wanted to hear you say that for so long." He admits, his hand travels down your waist to grab your hips and pull you closer. Rafe deepens the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you're making, until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

You can't believe this is happening.

"I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Yeah? You wanna know what else I'm good at?"

Your eyes drop to his pants, seeing the subtle outline of his erection straining against his zipper, and he chuckles lowly. "You want it tonight?"

You nod timidly. Your eyes dropping to your lap again, but this time, Rafe doesn't allow you to do such things.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to his. "Don't do that, baby. You know how I feel about you getting shy from asking what you want. Use your words."

The new nickname is making you lightheaded. You can't believe this is real. "I want you, Rafe."

Sweetest goddamn words he ever heard.

He tips his head to your clothes. "Take it off."

"You first."

He laughs at your competitiveness, always trying to challenge him, but he doesn't resist. He pushes himself off the mattress, pulling off his shirt and removing his pants. All that is left is his boxer-briefs, which reveals the outline of his bulge. "Your turn."

You take off your shirt and your shorts and decide, last minute, to go the extra mile and unclasp your bra too. It falls over your shoulders and you throw it out onto the floor.

Rafe takes his time, staring at your tits. He has seen you naked before, the consequence of your intimate relationship that pushes the boundaries into blurred lines and the inevitable collision of morning showers in his ensuite and drunken exchanges after parties.

But this time, it's different. This time, it's a sight that's intentional—just for him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

You gawk at him, the words send a thrill down your spine. "Do you know how long I waited for this?" You gesture back to him, at his naked frame, and he smirks.

"You got an eyeful last night."

"Oh, shut up," you use your leg to kick him, but Rafe catches your ankle in the process. Your eyes widen as he uses the opportunity to spread your legs apart, sinking between your thighs. His gaze finds your soaked panties.

His thumb traces across your panties, drawing out your wetness against the fabric and collecting your arousal. You whimper, aching into his touch.

"Rafe, please." You beg. His eyes lifts to find yours in a self-satisfied grin. He loves knowing you're this desperate for him, only him, that his fingers hook under the band of your panties.

"Lift your hips for me." He commands and you obey. He pulls off your panties and hauls you to the ledge of his bed. With that, his fingers caress your wet slit, drawing out a low moan from you. "Fuck."

He has imagined that sound a thousand times over, but it's incomparable to the real thing. To know you're feeling this way because of him. He feels himself growing harder, straining against the thin fabric and begging to be inside of you.

But he wants to pleasure you first.

Rafe lowers himself and covers your clit with his mouth. He proceeds to suck, his fingers grazing your entrance before plunging a thick digit inside.

You tip your head against the mattress, reveling in the feel of his tongue against your swollen nub, the way he thrusts into you with a steady pace and the additive finger. Your legs drape over his shoulders, closing him in.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet," Rafe mumbles against you, the vibration of his words stirring something inside of you. "I can't believe I haven't been tasting you every single fucking night."

You draw out with a breathy moan, feeling yourself clench at his words. "We have all the time now."

"I bet I can make you come on my face fast, though."

You don't get a chance to entertain the response before Rafe sucks harder, pumping inside of you with a determined speed that causes you to arch off the mattress and claw at his sheets.

"Shit," you whimper, squeezing your thighs together at the intense pleasure, forcing Rafe to use his free hand to push your legs apart. You feel your climax rapidly approaching. "Oh, god, oh, god."

You come on his face, as promised, and you slump back against the bed, catching your breath. Rafe removes his hand from your cunt, the emptiness causes a little whine.

"What?" He looks at you.

"Nothing," you mumble, "I just want you inside me."

He laughs. "God, you're needy," he teases, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, you'll get it soon."

He goes to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Just as he's about to tear it open, he glances down at you, extending the small square. "Want to do it?"

You nod, pushing yourself upright and taking it from his hands. You rip it open, as Rafe removes his boxers, and his cock springs free, red and swollen with a bit of precum. You smile, glancing up at him with your doe eyes. "Is that because of me?"

"Shut up."

You giggle, rolling the latex over his length, taking your time to admire his size. He's big and perfect, the tip of his cock dripping with his precum that you almost wish you could take him inside your mouth instead. However, despite the recent orgasm, your body wants him inside.

"Lay back." He commands thickly. "Spread your legs."

You do as he says, throbbing from the control he has in the room. Rafe sinks his knees into his mattress, approaching you as he pushes your thighs apart and lines his tip against your entrance, causing your breath to shorten.

"Come on, wildflower, breathe with me."

You nod shakily, closing your eyes for a moment to inhale a calming breath before he plunges deep inside you, filling you to the hilt. A gasp escapes you, his girth stretching you out, but it soon fades into a pleasure unlike any others.

"God, you feel good," he mumbles, lowering himself to your mouth and capturing your lips into a hot kiss. Your hand drapes over his shoulders as he begins to thrust inside of you. "Too fucking good."

You feel perfect. All of this is too perfect. The way you press against him, your fingernails scraping his back, the way your pussy grips him with the ideal amount of pressure, and the way your lips sync with his as if you were made for him.

The air fills with your whimpers and mewls, increasing in volume with each thrusts that enters and leaves you, while Rafe is heaving in breathy grunts and moans. He pushes your legs back, forcing the new position to grant him deeper access into your sweet cunt.

He's hitting new spots you didn't know were possible. It's making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cries coming out with desperate pleas, that he had to cover your mouth with his to swallow all the noises.

When you feel yourself reaching a familiar high, the buzz tingling between your legs, you grip his shoulders tight. Rafe feels your walls fluttering around him, and he quickened his pace, sweat breaking across his forehead.

Your breath is heavy, your heart is racing, and as you ascend into your peak, you moan out Rafe's name with such euphoric satisfaction, he comes with you, emptying into the condom.

When he finishes, he falls into the space next to you. His breathing is rough, trying to catch his own breath, that you can't help but turn your gaze to his, examining him under this new light.

Rafe catches you staring, the way your eyes lift to his hairline, and he reassures with a soft brush against your jaw. "It'll grow back, I promise."

"it's not that." You declare, dropping your gaze down to his face. You still can't believe the embarrassment you still feel by how attractive he is. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Why else would I hide from you?"

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. His hand drops to your waist, pulling you closer to him until you're skin-to-skin, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"You couldn't tell me the whole time?" He mumbles, kissing your nose. You giggle.

"If I did, we wouldn't be here having sex."

He takes a moment to consider your words, before finding some merit in them. "Fair." He declares, just as his eyes find yours again. This time, he can look at you, knowing you're his. "I guess next time I get a new haircut, I can propose, huh?"

Your heart drops. Your smile fades from surprise. "What?"

He laughs at your expression. "You think I'm letting you go after this? It's either us or nothing."

Maybe reality isn’t too bad.

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jordyn14 · 1 day

Text

Don’t Think, Just Do | Joe burrow

Summary: Right after Joes season ending injury, he decided to have Thanksgiving dinner like always with his family. During the dinner, It seems like everything had to go wrong before it could go right.

Pairing: Joe burrow x first person fem reader

Words: 4343

Notes: this fic takes place after Joes season ending injury, so if you’re not interested, please just skip. I hope you enjoy!! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

It was finally Thanksgiving, which meant for the entire day, the smell of delicious food flooded the house. Like most of us already know, Joe hates turkey, so for every thanksgiving we have been together for, ham has been on the menu. There was currently a ham in the oven, along with mac and cheese that was in the fridge waiting for me to put it in the oven, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, and cheesy potatoes, all of which Joe helped make. The entire day was spent making the foods for dinner tonight. On thanksgiving every year, there is always a semi big gathering. Among those people are Joe's parents, Joe's grandparents, and Joe's brothers and their wives and kids. Because of everything that's been going on and the stress of picking out a doctor for joes surgery, we were all a little unsure of how thanksgiving was going to be, but Joe insisted that it needed to be the same as every year, and this year, since we just moved into our new house, we were having it over our house.

Every single food on the menu was done and either in the oven or in the fridge that was going to be heated up prior to dinner, so right now Joe and I were making the dough for the pumpkin pie. Usually I would stick to the lazy and easy side of things and use a premade crust, but since it was thanksgiving and Joe deserves it, I was making a homemade crust. Because we made sure to start everything early, we were right on track to have the pumpkin pie in the oven just in time for the guests to start arriving since everyone came about an hour or two before we ate dinner. In the background, the song New Person, Same Old Mistakes, by Tame Impala started to play from Joes speaker. Joe has some songs on his playlist that I don't like since I don't like a lot of rap songs, but he has a few that I really love, and this is one of them. I never knew about tame impala until he introduced me to them a few years ago, and now I love them.

I started to bop my head to the song and move my body to the rhythm of the song while putting the dough into the pie container. I moved my shoulders and body to the beat, and soon Joe joined in and started to dance with me a little bit. I couldn't help it, I loved this song. I grabbed the rolling pin that I set down after rolling out the dough and held it up like it was a microphone. "I can just hear them now, 'how could you let us down?' But they don't know what I found, or see it from this way round." I started to sing into my 'microphone' while dancing some more and walking around the island. "Oh yeah, now it's gettin' lit." Joe laughed and grabbed onto a spoon so he could sing the next lyrics. "Feeling it overtake, all that I used to hate. One by one every trait I tried, but it's way too late. All the signs I don't read. Two sides of me can't agree. Will I be in too deep?" Joe sang and gestured to me to sing this next part.

While we sang, we were a laughing mess. The both of us sucked at singing, although we loved to sing. "Going with what I always longed for...feel like a brand new person." I sang. "But you'll make the same old mistakes." Joe sang the next part that was quieter. "I don't care, I'm in love." I sang while making a little heart sign with my hands at Joe. I spun in a little circle and reached Joe who grabbed ahold of my hand and raised it above my head so I could spin. "Stop before it's too late, I know there's too much at stake." I sang. "Making the same mistakes." Joe sang. After he sang this, I prepared myself for the next high note and sang, "and I still don't know why it's happening." The both of us laughed, knowing I totally butchered the high note.

When the song was over and we sang pretty much the whole song, give or take a few lines that we missed while we danced, we went back to making our pumpkin pie. Once we were all done with it, Joe stuck it in the oven and I sat myself down on the island counter and kicked my feet while waiting, my stomach growling a little bit. Joe looked at me sitting on the island and started to walk my way. I spread my legs apart so Joe could step between them, so when he did, I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively and pulled him closer. I wrapped my arms around his neck and ran my fingers through his soft hair. Joe put his hands on my waist.

"I love Thanksgiving so much, mostly for the food" I laughed. Joe nodded with a sigh and kissed my lips. "I love any day I get to spend with my wife." Joe said. My cheeks flushed red and butterflies soared through my stomach. "Damn, you fluster so easily." Joe said with a little chuckle. "It's the Joe Sheisty effect, I swear." I laughed. "Ah, okay, we can go with that." Joe joked. The both of us looked into each others eyes for a second too long until our eyes shifted to each others lips and then back up to each others eyes. After a few seconds, Joe leaned forwards and captured my lips in his. I turned my head to the right for easier access as our lips moved in perfect harmony, like they were made for each other. As we kissed, Joe slipped one of his hands under my shirt. I let out the faintest moan when his cold hands hit my skin, not expecting the cold, and I arched my back slightly.

With his hand under my shirt, he began to run his cool fingers up and down my back as we kissed. With the other hand, he brought it up and cupped my cheek. I ran my fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, down to his biceps, then his back muscles. Our hands explored each other's body's as if we hadn't touched each other in years and forgot what we felt like. Joe released my lips and began to kiss my jaw which then turned into my neck. Joe began to suck and kiss at my neck, making sure not to stay in one place too long and leave magenta marks. I sucked in a small breath at the feeling of his lips on my neck and leaned my head back slightly as Joe moved my hair out of his way. I repeatedly let out soft moans. I felt his teeth graze my soft skin before he got to the spot that always felt amazing. He began to suck and kiss even more, knowing this was my spot. I let out a few more soft moans, loving the feeling and not wanting him to ever stop.

"You are the most gorgeous woman in this entire universe," Joe said, taking his hips off of my neck for a second, "in any universe." His lips attached to my neck once again as butterflies fluttered their tiny wings in my stomach at Joes words of affirmation. I started to lift up my skirt for easy access while Joe leaned back slightly. Just as Joe started to unbuttoned his pants and unzip them, I heard a car pull into the driveway. "Shit." Joe and I said at the same time. "Shit." We both said again once we realized what we were about to do. Joe zipped his pants back up quickly while I situated my panties and then jumped down from the counter. We both laughed at how in sync we were and then I looked down at Joes hard-on. "Do you think you can really be in front of your family like that?" I asked Joe with a small smirk, knowing he didn't fully realize yet. He probably felt it, but didn't realize how bad it was. "What do you mean? I thought you liked this shirt." Joe said. I couldn't help but laugh at Joe and how he was so unaware of what was going on. "Do you really want your family to know what we were doing before they got here?" I asked Joe.

Joe just raised an eyebrow out of confusion and said, "how would they know?" I slapped my forehead a little bit and then said, "you have a fucking boner Joe." I started to laugh when Joes eyes got all wide and looked down to see the tent in his pants that was gradually getting bigger. "Shit." Joe said quickly and covered himself with his hands. "Go upstairs and take care of...that," I said, gesturing to the tent in his pants, "and I'll go get the door for whoever is here and tell them that you spilled something on yourself and needed to change." I said. "This is your fault." Joe said with a little laugh as he started to run up the stairs. "What? You started it" I laughed. Just as I started following Joe to the stairs that were near the door, someone knocked at the door. "If you weren't so gorgeous, I wouldn't get horny." Joe said just before he turned and started to sprint up the stairs.

I shook my head with a laugh and then walked to the door. I unlocked it and then opened it up to greet whoever was standing outside of it. My face lit up when my eyes landed on Robin and Jimmy, who of course were the first ones here, like always. "Hello my favorite daughter in law! Oh, the house looks amazing!" Robin said and pulled me into a ginormous and tight hug. "Thank you!" I said and smiled at Jimmy who was looking at the place with a big smile on his face. After I hugged Robin, I hugged Jimmy and then I invited them inside. After I invited them in, Jimmy was holding in a laugh on the side of Robin who started laughing. "What? Come in!" I said, excited that they were going to be in this house for the first time since it's been decorated since we just moved in a week ago.

"I think you got a little something on your, uh-chest." Robin said, her face slightly red from laughing. I looked down at my chest to see Joes hand print he made with the flour that I was totally oblivious to. I brushed the flour off of my shirt as fast as I could while my face flushed red out of embarrassment. I moved to the side so Robin and Jimmy could walk in and then shut the door behind them with a little sigh and said to myself, "you're an idiot." When I turned back around, I gave a quick smile to Robin and Jimmy who were still calming their laughter after what they saw. "Where's my son? Don't tell me he's playing video games." Robin said. "He's upstairs changing, he spilled something on himself." I said. "Flour?" Jimmy said with a laugh.

With a little groan and then a laugh, I walked past them and they followed me to the living room. Because I knew more people would want to see The house in its entirety, I waited to give the tour of the house until everyone showed up. When Joe came down, he greeted his parents and then one by one, more people arrived. First, it was Jamie and his wife Stella, and their son Justin, and then Dan and his wife Jenna, and their daughters Penelope and Emily, then Joe's grandparents. Once everyone was here, I gave them a tour of the house while Joe got all of the food ready and brought it to the dining room table. Through most of the tour, there were ooh's and awe's, especially in the game and bar area downstairs and the movie theatre. When we were done with the tour, we made our way to the living room where we talked for a little bit and then we finally decided it was time for dinner.

We all sat down and started eating right away, all of us starving because we made sure to save lots of room for food. There were conversations all around the dinner table between multiple different people, but I was currently talking with Jenna and Robin about Jenna's new therapist job that she just got. She was working for a smaller company, but after a lot of consideration, she decided to move to a bigger company. "I was just unhappy at my old job and this new one offers a lot more than the other place...and the money isn't bad either." Jenna said with a little smirk and head tilt at the end. "Girl go get that bag. Plus, life's too short to be miserable in any aspect of it." I said with a little shrug, justifying her decision. "Amen to that." Robin said and pretended to cheers her wine and then took a hearty sip.

As the dinner went on, I noticed that Joe started clenching his jaw next to me, obviously agitated by something. I was initially worried that his hand was bothering him, but realized that for a lot of the dinner, Jamie has been constantly talking about Joe's injury. He wants to know more about it like where he's getting the surgery, if he knew he was done for the season when he felt it pop, how much it hurt, among other things. Also for a lot of the dinner, Joe's been trying to change the subject by giving short responses and then talking about something else, but it always came back to Jamie asking about the injury or football in general. "How is rehab going to work this time? You going to the same place in Cali like you did with your knee or staying here?" Jamie asked Joe. From the end of the table closest to me where Robin was, and the other end where Jimmy was, I could tell they knew Joe was agitated, but it seemed like Jamie couldn't tell.

The last thing I wanted was for Joe to blow up or say something that would make Jamie mad. Then that would lead to Jamie getting upset, and then the whole night would be either ruined or just awkward. "Yeah, I don't know. Still trying to figure that all out." Joe said, his voice sounding upset and annoyed. When Joe said this, he reached up and started rubbing the back of his neck, clenching and unclenching his jaw some more. Glancing down, I reached for his hand in his lap and then gave it a small squeeze when I got it in my hand. Joe glanced at me with a small and thankful smile before looking straight ahead so he could take another bite of his food. "Did you know right away how bad it was?" Jamie asked him from across the table. Instead of answering his question this time, Joe adverted his attention to his dad and asked him something that I couldn't quite make out.

Since Joe got away from the football talk, I turned my attention back over to Robin, Jenna, and Stella since we were all talking about the house. "Hey mommy?" Emily asked who was sitting next to Jenna. "Yes sweetheart?" She asked and tucked a piece of hair behind Emily's ear. "Can I have more stuffing?" She asked. "Of course you can." Jenna said and scooped some more stuffing on her plate. I smiled down at Emily who shoved a ton of stuffing into her mouth while looking at me. "How do you think the Bengals are going to do without you?" Jamie asked. Whipping my head over towards Jamie, I was about to say something but Joe smashed his left hand on the table, making everyone jump a little bit, shocked at his reaction. From the hard contact, all of the glasses on the table shook like crazy; I even grabbed onto mine just incase it decided to tip over.

"Can we talk about something other than football for one god damn second?" Joe raised his voice. We all looked at Joe as he stood up from the table abruptly and then stormed out of the dining room and towards the living room. I watched Joe walk away before he left my sight. The only thing I heard other than our forks dropping on our plates was the sliding back door open and then close with a lot of force. With a little sigh, I turned my attention back towards the table where everyone was trying to act like nothing happened and continue thanksgiving dinner. From everything that was going on, I felt tears prick my eyes. Trying to keep myself from crying, I lifted my hand up and put it under my nose, trying anything to calm myself down. Robin, seeing that I was a little emotional, reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a little squeeze. Looking over at her, she gave me a reassuring smile.

"Geez, what did I do? I didn't think I said anything bad." Jamie said while he wiped his mouth off. From across from him, his grandparents and wife were about to say something to Jamie, obviously angry with him, but I intervened. "This is his second season ending injury in 4 years, he is frustrated right now, and talking about football doesn't help. The only reason he told me that he still wanted to have this dinner was because he thought it would be a good way to forget about his injury, but instead, that's all you're talking about. Put yourself in his shoes and cut him some fucking slack, Jamie." I said. I dropped Robins hand that was holding mine and left the table, storming off just like Joe did. "What the hell are you thinking, Jamie?" I heard Jimmy ask Jamie. "Please wait." Robin called after me as I walked out of the dining room.

After I walked out of the dining room, I headed towards the back door so I could go to Joe and see if he was okay. As soon as I looked outside, I saw Joe sitting down on the couch which was surrounded by the other patio furniture we needed to prepare for winter. Joe was staring straight ahead. Looking at his expression, I could tell he was upset but trying to hide it. Ever since his injury, he’s been closed off, which is typical for him during an injury. We haven’t even really talked about it yet because I always let him come to me instead of me pushing him to talk to me about it. As soon as I slid the door open a little bit, Joe immediately looked up to see who was walking outside. When he saw that it was me, he gave me a small smile and scooted over so he was on one side of the couch and then patted the side next to him, wanting me to sit next to him. "Why didn't you stay and eat? You didn't have to come out here." Joe said.

I walked over to him and then sat down right next to him. Once I did, Joe put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. "Yes I did, plus, I kind of went off on your brother, so it would've been awkward if I stayed." We both laughed for a few seconds before I rested my head on Joes shoulder. There was a moment of silence before I spoke up, "are you okay?" I asked Joe. There was a definite sigh from above me as I pulled away slightly to look into his eyes, but we both kept our arms around one another. I could tell that he was carrying a lot of stress and anxiety. He was tensed up and doing his best to hold back, but I knew if I put a little bit of pressure, the flood gates would open up, and that’s what he needed right now. He needed to talk about it.

"Are you okay?" I repeated as a tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek only to get caught by my hand that quickly wiped it away. As I looked into Joes eyes, I noticed that he was trying his best not to cry, but I knew he wanted to. I knew he wanted to open up and talk about his pent up emotions but was struggling to. "I'll be fine. After my surgery I'll get back at it, just like with my knee." Joe said, but his bottom lip started to quiver slightly. His voice was shaky, his eyes were glistening with tears, and his breathing was heavy and uneven. He was trying so hard to hold back. "Joey, tell me how you really feel, it's okay." I said and ran my fingers through his hair slightly.

With a gentle shake of his head, Joe bit his bottom lip to hide the small quiver and said, "I can't feel sorry for myself, and I don't want you to feel sorry for me either." I brought my hands up and cupped the sides of his cheeks, making him look over at me. “Opening up and showing a little bit of emotion doesn’t mean you have to feel sorry for yourself. This is a big deal, Joe, and holding back your emotions is only going to make it worse. You have to let it out before you can move on." I said. Joe took a deep breath and sealed his eyes shut. His shoulders dropped low and he eventually let a few tears slip from his eyes which rolled down his rosy cheeks. Joe let out a shaky breath and bit the inside of his cheek. “I just came back from an injury...I just started to feel 100% again and was ready to prove that to everyone," Joe started to say, "Now I'm out for the season, and it feels terrible. I feel like I was just down on the field after fucking up my knee and missing the rest of the season, now I have to miss the rest of this season." Joe said.

"I get it, Joey." I said, encouraging him to keep going. "This past offseason and training camp I was supposed to be healthy, but I hurt my calf. So, I hoped that this next offseason and training camp I would be 100% healthy, but once again, I won't be. I will have to go back to rehab for yet again another injury...but this time I don't even know if I'll get 100% of my strength and grip back." Joe said, more tears escaping his eyes as he poured out all of his emotion that he had, until there was nothing left. Joe said everything that he was keeping bottled up inside of him. After staring at the ground for a few seconds, he finally looked up and into my eyes. We held eye contact for a few seconds. We both didn't move, we just looked at each other while we both cried and took deep breaths. "It's going to be okay." I said.

"How do you know?" Joe asked me. With a deep breath, I said what I truly felt. I let my heart instead of my head do the talking. "You are Joseph Lee Burrow. You came back from your hand surgery and being the backup to the backup. You came came back from your sprained knee. You came back for the first game of the season after appendix surgery just a few months prior and made it to the AFC championship. You played with a messed up calf and still managed to pull out some wins. You tore your ACL, MCL, and PCL your first ever year in the NFL, worked your ass off every single day to get better and made it to the Super Bowl. The fucking Super Bowl, Joe. You are incredible and there is nothing you can't do, I believe that and everyone else does too. You should to. No one is expecting you to be 100% right now, so you can sulk for a little bit, because this sucks. I know it does. I know how hard it is to be in this spot again after everything you've conquered. I also know that when you're done sulking, you're going to grind and work hard every single day until this is a thing of the past." I told him.

"You are so strong Joseph Lee Burrow, physically and mentally. I know you will work hard and never give up on rehab, no matter how hard it is for you. It's hard? Suck it up. You’re strong enough to do this. And I'll be here every step of the way just like always. All you have to do is believe in yourself." I said. "I just keep worrying and thinking that-" Joe started to say but I cut him off. I placed my forehead on his and said, "Just Stop thinking, Joe. Don't think, Just Do.” I started to stroke Joes cheek as he processed everything I said, and then he said, "You said that to me about colleges on our first date and when I was on the fence about LSU and when I hurt my knee and then after the Super Bowl." Joe smiled slightly. "Exactly, now look where you are. What's another setback?" I asked him. Joe took a deep breath and nodded a little bit while maintaining eye contact with me. "Alright." Joe said.

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keepingsecretstokeepyoutk · 3 days

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So Long London - Full Lyric Analysis

My Gaylor/Kaylor interpretation at a glance: Taylor uses the bearding narrative of her breakup with Joe as an allegory to talk about her reluctant decision to “break up” with her fans/kill off her public persona in the process of coming out.

The Joe bearding narrative was likely created for this very purpose - an "ex" who didn't allow her to "bejeweled" (be her whole self), who she tried to make it work with, tried to change herself for, before realizing she couldn't keep sacrificing her wellbeing, mental and otherwise. Read through this lens, this song is devastating, so prepare yourselves emotionally, maybe have tissues on hand.

I interpret a number of the "break up" songs on this album (almost all of them) as being about her reaching the end of her rope with being in the closet and trying to slowly change her fan's attitude towards her queerness. So many of these songs imply that she has hit her breaking point, and the metaphor of a failing romantic relationship is the perfect vehicle to express this shift.

I believe this precedent exists in her work, and for this particular chapter, was established with "You're losing me".

This is also one of a few songs on the album that conceptualize her fame (as obtained with her public, hetero persona) as a place. In this song, that place is represented by London (hence, "so long, London"). In Florida!!! she may be running away to Florida from this place, (after she comes out and needs to escape the backlash). In "I hate it here", she dreams of escaping this place, and imagines two other locales within the lore of her songs - "secret gardens", a probable parallel to Betty's garden and the "garden gates" in Cruel Summer, as well as the "lunar valleys" referencing the galactic landscape established in Down Bad.

Lets get into it!

Verse 1

“Saw in my mind fairy lights in the mist/kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away/my spine split from carrying us up the hill/wet through my clothes, wary bones caught the chill/stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe”

In this first verse, Taylor introduces the idea of her fans being like a partner who isn’t present in the relationship, and more importantly, a partner that is ultimately rejecting her true self.

“Fairy lights in the mist” - Taylor has used daylight/light images to represent the end of her closeting/her coming out for at least 5 years. Here she sees small pinpricks of light amongst darkness and the classic metaphor for hiding/confusion, etc - mist. She is saying that in the past she had hope, she saw a possible path forward to coming out while also keeping all of her fans.

“Kept calm and carried the weight of rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” - Taylor reflects on her years of hoping that she could slowly introduce her fans the idea that she is not straight, then come out with minimal rupture in her relationship with her fans. She tried to keep the faith and looked past a lot of bad behavior on the part of some of her fans, convinced that she could make them see her and that their love for her would extend past their need for her being the persona they have grown attached to.

“Stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe” - ultimately, she gave up, having been rejected too many times - ignored when she clearly signaled her gayness and the masses of her fans just refused to acknowledge it. Beyond refusing to acknowledge it, they bullied those that did see it, demonstrating to her how reviling they found the idea that she might be queer. “Drill the safe” is a metaphor for trying to force something that will never happen, she is realizing she needs to let go of something that isn’t for her.

Chorus

“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/oh the tragedy/so long London/ you’ll find someone”

Taylor now must ask her fans, how long did you expect me to sacrifice my own happiness while you continue to ignore my pleas for you to see me?

“You’ll find someone” = you’ll find another idol/para social relationship to obsess over, identify with, etc. This is a reference to Dear Reader, when she sang “you should find another guiding light.” In that song, Taylor warned fans that she is not who they think she is ("you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking"), that the idea they have of her life is constructed, and strongly lamented her life choices, essentially telling fans they shouldn't look to her for life advice, because she is lonely and miserable. Here, the reference not only underscores the idea that they don't know her, but also that she is making the choice for them to "find someone" else, because she is choosing to come out of hiding, and in so doing, is also choosing to leave behind the misery that made her write Dear Reader in the first place.

Verse 2

“Didn’t opt in to be your odd man out/I founded the club she’s heard great things about/ I left all I knew/you left me in the house by the heath/I stopped cpr after all it’s no use/the spirit was gone, we would never come to/ and I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.”

I made a post about the "Heath" reference that you can read here. Please note the reblog of it that I added an addendum to about the Heath being a park in London. Heath was a doctor that practiced conversion therapy, meaning that her fans "left her at home" with someone trying to change her. By ignoring her signaling, they told her they didn't want the real her, which kept her in the closet, and I fear kept her more vulnerable to those who may have tried to manipulate her into trying to change herself, or deny her true self even behind closed doors.

"I stopped cpr after all its no use/the spirit was gone we would never come to" - again Taylor is using the of a failed romantic relationship to express her lost hope in salvaging the corners of her kingdom that ultimately won't accept her when she comes out. This is also an example of the frequent gothic/death related imagery Taylor uses on this album, a theme consistent with the idea that something is ending, that she is killing off her public persona.

"and I'm pissed off that you let me give you all that youth for free" Taylor has spent so many years choosing her fans and her current carrer path over the full expression of her life and happiness. Again, she had hope that the people who have given her endless validation and effusive praise for years would accept her for who she is. She is realizing that the love between her and at least some of her fans was conditional, and given what we know of how much her fans have meant to her over the course of her career, this was likely a devastating wake up call that took years for her to accept - undoubtedly a huge factor in her seemingly delaying her coming out so many times.

"So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/I’ll find someone”

Taylor has said her fans are her longest relationship; the imagery in this song reflects the idea that this is a break up with someone she has tried with over and over again. So she undoes the “stitches” that link her to them. This line references her song Glitch on Midnights, “fasten myself to you with a stitch” symbolizing being bonded with a romantic partner (which represent a portion of her fans in this song).

"Two graves one gun" is likely a reference to burying her public persona self, and the second grave could represent her fans (a parallel to the "cheating husband" in "Florida!!!"?) or it could be a shrouded suicidal thought - the second grave being her private persona - both selves being killed off. This lyric is one of my favorites in this song but I don't have a strong conviction on who the second grave is, I'm very open to others' thoughts...

Bridge

“And you say I abandoned the ship/but I was going down with it/my white knuckle dying grip/holding tight to your quiet resentment/and my friends said it isn't right to be scared/every day of a love affair/every breath feels like rarest air/ when you're not sure if he wants to be there/So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me/How much tragedy/Just how low did you think I'd go/Before I'd self implode/before I had to go be free"

"And you say I abandoned the ship...white knuckle dying grip" Taylor emphasizes her wish for things to be different with this lyric, clinging to her ship as it sinks. We all saw her try to right the ship, she's finally choosing to let go and swim to safety (a nautical parrallel to the manuscript's "my trip to your shores"?).

“My friends said it isn’t right to be scared everyday of a love affair…if you’re not sure he wants to be there”

Similar to when someone is in a bad romantic relationship, i imagine her friends expressed their concern that her relationship with her fans is unhealthy. Although many of her friends are high achievers themselves, Taylor’s success is in another league (monster on the hill) and they would likely have expressed their hope that she can slow down and accept a slightly less monumental career in the interest of her mental health.

“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/Just how low did you think I’d go?” “before I self implode/before I have yo go be free”

Taylor imagines arguing with her fans in the throes of the break up, and in this passage it becomes clear that she is convinced they know the truth but are refusing to acknowledge it. That they allowed her to keep faking her straight persona for their sake. That she was a woman pushed to her limits by a partner (fans) who knew they were running her ragged, a partner that didn’t in fact love her, but loved what she could do for them.

So she asks them, how long did you think I could keep doing this before it broke me? How long did you think I would go along with this, be willing to sacrifice for you? how much would she fake/take the money to keep up the straight persona?

“You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?/I died on the altar waiting for the proof/ you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days”

The para social relationship is again a perfect match for the metaphor of a partner that uses you but doesn’t meet you in relationship as a full person. The praise puts you on an altar, but their actions don’t reflect the effusive words. “Bluest days” is a red herring to match the bearding narrative/fan rumor that Joe’s mental health affected their relationship, but also could be interpreted as the fans overlooking her truth in the interest of relying on the idea that their favorite pop star has the same boy problems that they do, their "bluest days" were the days they were torn up over a relationship or an unrequited love and needed her break up anthems, and they wouldn't have the same effect if they knew (and weren't in denial) that the songs are about women (or now about them, ironically).

Last Verse/Outro

“I’m just getting color back into my face/im just mad as hell cause I loved this place/for so long London/had a good run/moment of war son/but I’m not the one”

The first line here parallels the language in “you’re losing me”, which uses the metaphor of a relationship literally dying (“i can’t find a pulse”, etc). In this song she is leaving the relationship to save herself, and in leaving she is recovering her health, hence getting the color back in her face after being pale when sick and near death.

“This place” or London, is a stand in for the world, the Swiftverse that she created for and with her fans. It had been her life’s work, her source of pride, self worth, her legacy, but now she must leave, because it was built in large part around a self she created to make herself palatable to the fans she amassed. She can’t be that person anymore, and maybe in some ways “this place” doesn’t even really feel like hers. This parallels Florida!!!, "your home's really a town you're just a guest in/so you work your life away/just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin". She is just a guest in the musical world of the brand of Taylor Swift that she spent her whole life building ("the story isn't mine anymore")

To close, she repeats the main lines of the chorus,

“So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/you’ll find someone”

This repetition drives home the finality of this decision - her exit, her killing her public persona, her detaching herself from those that don't see and support her, and her reassuring herself that those people will find someone else to worship, and someone else to see themselves in, and her realization and relief that they aren't her responsibility anymore.

#gaylor #kaylor #bearding #closeting #ttpd #so long london

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samandcolbyownme · 1 day

Text

Summary: After being a guest on the podcast, you thought your communication with Zach was over with, but that was until you got a certain texts from a certain someone.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, dealer!Zach, mentions of smoking weed, being high, friends to lovers, cuddling, cute actions, fluffy and smutty, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, handjob, fingering, sensual filth

Word count: 3.7k | not edited

Sorry this took so long, I’ve had writers block for days. I hope it’s okay, love yas! Enjoy! 🖤

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You walk through the door, “Hello, hello.”

“Ahh!!” Tara says excitedly, “I so happy you’re here!” She walks over to you and you embrace her in a hug, “I’m so glad you reached out, again, thank you!”

“We’re so excited to have you.” Tara says as she leads you over to the seat, “You can have the honor of sitting next to Zach, he’s probably going to target you today anyway. I think he has a little crush on you.”

You roll your eyes laughing as you sit, “Yeah, I seen how he is. I watched a few videos to kind of catch up on everything.”

Zach and Jared walk in and Jared is the first to greet you, “Hey, y/n. How are you?” He walks over and you stand back up to hug him, “I’m good, busy. But good. How are you?”

He nods, “I’m good.” He steps out of the way and you gasp, “Oh my goodness.”

Zach smirks, “Sheesh, I know I’m attractive but no need to make it a big deal.” You shake your head as you walk over, laying a hand on the head of the dog in his arms, “I was talking about the dog.”

Zach nods ever so slightly and his voice is low, “I know.”

You smirk, scooping the dog from his arms, “You just lost your dog.” You walk back over and sit down to put on your headphones, hands going right back to love on the dog in your lap.

“So, this is your first time meeting Zach right?” Jared asks and you look up, giving him a nod, “Yep, first time, I mean. I think we’ve followed each other on Instagram for a little bit.”

Zach holds his hand up and tilts his head, “Oh, so we have decided to pretend like last night didn’t happen, got it.”

Your mouth drops and you gasp, “Zach.” You laugh, “Don’t do that.” Tara raises her hand, “Actually, y/n was with me last night.” She looks at you, “Can I say it!?”

You smile, nodding your head, “Yeah, go for it.”

“So for those of you who don’t know who y/n is, she has multiple brands, a swimsuit line, a make up line-“

Alyssa cuts Tara off, “Which are both really good by the way.”

You smile and blow her a kiss. She pretends to catch it and you laugh and Zach scoffs, “Get a room.”

“Wow. I don’t know who Zach is more jealous of today, Alyssa or Handsome for being in y/n’s lap.” Jared laughs and Zach sighs, “Have you ever heard of the term, think before you speak?”

“Have you?” Tara and Jared yell at Zach in unison and you cover hour mouth, “I’m so glad I showed up today.”

——

Followers in each others Instagram lists is what you and Zach have been to each other for a while.

You’d like his stuff when you seen it, vice versa.

You couldn’t lie when you said his posts didn’t put a smile on your face, or make your heart skip a little beat when he posted a picture he looked a little too good in.

You’ve been newly single these last few months, and you just knew that you were set out to get nervous around anyone you found attractive.

But Zach didn’t make you nervous.

He made you feel comfortable.

You felt like you knew him for as long as you followed him on insta. It was weird, but yet, so refreshing to just have someone talk and joke around with you.

There only thing that was serious about it, was the tension you hoped no one picked up on, but with being a, basically five star rated influencer, you had a fan base that picked apart every thing you did.

So in the long run, you wouldn’t be shocked if you woke up to you and Zach trending on twitter or have new edits posted that ship the two of you that your friends would send to tease you.

Your phone rings, pulling you from your thoughts.

You sit up from your bed and reach over, furrowing your brows when you see a number displayed across the screen.

You answer, kinda skeptical, “Hello?”

“Y/n?”

You pull your head back, slightly shocked, “Zach?”

“Yeah thank Tara for leaving her phone laying around.” He chuckles and you laugh, “You could have just asked for it, you know?”

He sighs, “Yeah, I don’t know why I didn’t just do that.”

You smile and tilt your head, “So, what’s up?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, “Do you.. want to come over?” He quickly follows up, “Just to hang out.”

The words roll off your tongue with major ease, “I would love to just hang out with you.” You tease, “I’ll text you when I leave.”

——

You pulled back up to Zach’s, chewing on your lip as you text him, I’m here.

He responds back almost instantly, like he was waiting for you already, Come in through the studio door.

You get out, making sure you have everything before you walk towards the door. As you grow closer, Zach pushes it open, giving you a smile, “Hello again.”

“Hey.” You smile as you walk past him and into the house. He nods towards the steps and you follow him, making your way up to his room.

He motions for you to go in and you oblige, walking in, and you know his eyes are on your eyes, but you can only smile.

You turn around as he closes the door and he licks his lips, “So if I did my research right..” he walks over to his nightstand and opens the door, “C’mere.”

You walk around and your jaw drops as the sight in front of you, “Zachary Justice.”

His head snaps towards you, “What?”

You smirk, shaking your head, “What a plot twist you are.” His eyes look around the room, “Not following.”

You sit down next to him and you lean in, “Are you a..” your voice goes barely audible, “..drug dealer?”

He turns his head, his lips inches from yours, “I stay away from the harder shit, so..” he purses his lips, “that would just make me a, weed dealer then?”

You nod slowly, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, “I supposed it would, wouldn’t it.”

He smiles, looking back down at the box in front of him, “I can roll us a blunt if you want, a joint. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Well, how m-“

“Mm.” He shakes his head, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You laugh slightly and he looks at you, a smirk toying with his lips, “Offer to pay. If I wanted you to pay, I would have gotten the money first.”

You bite your lip, “Okay.” You swallow, “We can just do a joint or something. Doesn’t have to be much.”

He nods, pulling a pre-rolled joint from a thick plastic bag, “Okay.” He nods towards the bed, “Make yourself comfortable.”

You look at the bed and back to him, “You.. you’re gonna smoke in here?” He nods, “Or whenever you’re comfortable. I usually just do it here while watching a movie.”

“Do they know?” You start to kick off your shoes, “Jared and everyone else?”

Zach nods, “Yeah, they get from me, so they keep it hushed.” He slips his shirt up over his head and walks over to you, placing the joint between his lips as he lights it.

He takes a drag and hands it to you, “I’m going to go get some snacks, tray is there. Remote is here. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

You smile, taking the joint from him, “Thank you, Zach.” You watch him walk out before you place the joint between your lips, taking a much needed drag.

You hold in the smoke, eyes glancing over the screen as you look at the movies. You tilt your head back letting out the smoke as you slowly feel the buzz of being high creep its way in.

You hear the door open and tilt your head up, “That was fast.” You take another drag, eyes watching as he walks around to his side of the bed.

He chuckles, setting down the stuff he brought, “Did you pick a movie?” He looks up and over to you, you nod, handing him the joint, “Uh huh. I was just-“

You pause as you watch him take a drag, “-waiting for you.”

He nods, “so nice.” He smirks back at you and hands you the joint. You press play as you take a third hit, really feeling relaxed now.

You move back towards the headboard, leaning up against it as you move around to get comfy.

Zach glances back and shifts over and back to lay between your legs, his arms hooked under, so his hands rest on top of your thighs.

You look down at him, smiling as you take another hit.

You reach down, placing the joint between his lips and he nods his head when he wants you to pull it away.

You sit up, putting the joint in the tray before you slowly lean down. Your free hand on his cheek as your press your lips to his, mumbling out, “Blow.”

He exhales and you inhale the smoke from his mouth.

You peck his lips quickly before sitting up to exhale, “Sorry. I’ve always wanted to do that.” You explain and he tilts his head back to look at you.

You glance down at him, “I had a feeling you’d be okay with it.”

“The only thing you had a feeling about today?” He asks and you shake your head. He bites his lip, nodding his head slightly.

You clench your jaw as each movement of his neck resting against your clothed crotch area sends shivers up your spine.

“I figured I’d take a shot because your eyes..” he smirks, “Your eyes said you were feeling it, too.”

All you can do is nod slowly. Your hand moves to his hand and your run your fingers through the brown stands as he stare up at you, “Talk to me, baby.”

His quiet voice makes you feel weak.

“I feel it.” You whisper out, eyes moving to his glossed over ones, “I’ve never.. felt this way with someone before.”

“It’s nice, right..” Zach laughs weakly, “When you fall so unexpectedly for someone and they feel the same way back.” His hands slide down to give your knees a squeeze and you clench around nothing from the action.

He knows he’s teasing you, but he’s waiting for you to make the first move. Or, for you to tell him to stop, which is something you won’t be doing.

He smirks, looking back at the tv. A little bit goes by and he’s now laying with his arms on either side of your body and his head rested on your shoulder.

His forehead is resting against your neck and you’re nervous now, and the urge to swallow is screaming at your loudly.

You don’t want to seem nervous, but if this goes you know in your gut it’s going, you can’t help but be nervous.

“You know.” Zach says, finally breaking the long silence. You hum in response and he chuckles slightly, “Weed.. be perfect together.”

You giggle slightly, “That’s cute.”

“Get it.. weed..” he laughs weakly and gets serious really fast, “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to leave.” You run a hand through his hair, “You’re cute. You have good weed, and you make me laugh? Please. You’ll have to kill me to get me away from you.”

You feel him smirk and he pulls your body closer to him, “Good thing I don’t want a murder charge.”

You laugh and almost like muscle memory, plant a kiss to his forehead. Instantly, he retaliates with a gentle kiss to your neck.

Neck kisses are your weakness.

You test it again, planting another kiss on his head. He kisses your neck again, and again. And again.

You let out a little moan as he sucks gently, his teeth grazing your skin, “Mm, you like that huh?” Zach’s voice is low in your ear.

You nod, a hand sliding to the back of his head, “Yes.”

He starts kissing your neck again, his hand sliding up to push your sweatshirt up your stomach slightly. Your muscles twitch under the light brush of his finger tips and you gasp, whimpering out as you feel his teeth sink into your skin.

You moan, body pushing closer to his as he kisses up to your ear, “You sound so pretty.” He gently bites down on your bottom lip before his fingers slide to the bottom of your sweatshirt, “Can I go under?”

You raise your brows, “Such a gentleman.” Zach smiles, pecking your lips in between kisses, “I.. just.. want you.. to be.. comfortable.. and.. relaxed, baby.”

You go to sit up and he cups your cheek, bringing you back to him, “Let me do it.” He sits up and quickly but gently takes off your sweatshirt.

You bite your lip and lay back down, Zach lays back down besides your and slips his arm under your head as your leg goes over his hip.

Your hand moves to rest on his neck as your lips meet again, but this time the kiss was hungry.

His hand slides from your thigh to your ass and he pushes you in to meet his hips. You moan against his lips when you feel his hard bulge press against your clothed cunt, “Please.”

He moves his hand from your ass and brings it up to squeeze your boobs, going back and fourth between them.

You tilt your head back, moaning out as you grind down onto him, “Zach..” your tilt your head forward, “P-please.”

He slides a hand down between your bodies, leaning his back so he has room to slip his hand into your sweats and panties.

Your breathing grows rapid as you await the needed touch. His fingers slide down to press onto your clit and your breathing gets caught in your throat as your hips buck forward slightly.

“That what you want? Does it feel good, sweetheart?” Zach asks against your lips. You whimper out, “Feels so good..” you reach down to push his hand down a little further, “Need more of you.”

He waists no time fulfilling your request.

Two of his fingers slip into you, causing a groan to rip from his own lips, “Fuck, you’re so tight just around my fingers.”

Your eyes roll back as his fingers curl to reach that perfect little spot, “F-fuck.” Your chest pushes into his and he groans, “Can you cum for me?” He kisses your neck, “I want to get you off, sweetheart.”

“Close.” You whisper out, “Keep going.”

“Think you can take a third, baby?” Zach asks and you nod eagerly, “Please, please, please.” Your voice is whiney, “Fuck.”

You feel Zach’s two fingers withdrawal but they’re quick to return and you moan louder as the slight stretch you feel as he thrusts them into you slowly.

“F-fuck.” You gasp out, arching your back as Zach leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth.

His tongue flicking and swirling over sends you over the edge, squeezing his fingers and moaning continuously.

Your hands tangle in his hair and tug, earning a groan that vibrates your nipple that’s between this teeth.

He guides you through your high, kissing up to your lips before he pulls his hand out of your sweats.

You wanted more of him.

You grab the waist band of his sweats and tug on them, leaning in to have a turn with his neck. He groans as you kiss and lick upward, whispering quietly in his ear, “I want you to fuck me.”

His cock twitches against your hand, “if that’s what you want.” He whispers as he grips your hand and pushes it down harder.

You squeeze and pull your hand away so you can roll over to take off your sweats and panties. You turn back, shocked at how quick Zach was to take the rest of his clothes off.

“I know, I’m quick.” He smirks and grabs your arm, pulling you back into him. He pulls the blankets back up around your bodies before moving to roam the newly freed skin.

You tilt your head up, lips searching for his. You weren’t sure if it was just because of your connection with him, or the fact that you were high, but you feel so needy for him.

And Zach loved it.

He drapes your left leg over his hip as pulls you closer, his lips connect to yours. You moan against his lips as you feel the head of his cock brushing up agains your soaked opening.

Your nails dig into his back as you whimper, rolling your hips into his, “Baby.”

Zach grips your hips, pulling you down as he pushes his hips upward. You gasp, jaw falling slack as you feel him slide into you.

You look at him, brows furrowed as you slide your left hand to his cheek.

He breathes out quickly before smashing his lips to yours, “Fuck you feel so good.”

You moan against his lips, walls clenching his cock as he thrusts in and out at a slow pace. He had you feeling so good within a matter of seconds, the way you felt from the high mixing in made you feel like you were on top of the world.

Nothing mattered but Zach.

No busy work days.

No constant emails, calls, and texts.

Your world was silent for a moment, for the first time in a while.

“Fuck.” You whine out, digging your heels into the back of his thigh, “Gonna cum.” You smoosh your lips to his, moaning against them as you cum undone around him.

“That’s it, baby.” Zach whispers as his hands press harder into your body, “Just let go for me.” He presses his lips to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

He slides a hand up to your cheek, running his thumb over it as he groans lowly. You slide your thumb to his lips, pulling it down slightly as you moan out, your voice soft when you speak, “You sound so hot.”

He groans at your words, moving to bury his face into your neck as he thrusts into you deeper, “Keep talking, please.”

Your hand slides around to grip the hair at the nape of his neck, “You make me feel so good, Zach.” You gasp when you feel his hand slide down to rub on your clit, “Fuck.”

You tilt your head back and he lifts his head to attach his lips to your skin. You squeeze his cock, earning a moan from him.

You smirk slightly, “Does that feel good?” You tilt his head up to peck his lips and he nods, “Fuck, baby. Yes, so good.”

His hands grip your body and he rolls on top of you, your legs instantly locking ankles on his lower back, “Where do you want me?”

You arch your back, moaning out as he keeps his thrusts as steady as he can, “Just.. pull out if you can.”

He nods, connecting his lips to yours again. You drag your nails up his back, and he thrusts his cock into you, “Sh-“

You feel his cock quickly disappear from you before feeling his cum pool between your hips. He lifts his head from your shoulder and kisses your cheek before he gets up to get something for you to wipe off with.

Your eyes follow him as you regain your breath. He hands you a towel and you smile as you take it.

“So do you want to start the movie where you started distracting me or?” He looks at you with a smirk and you roll your eyes as you sit up, “Hey now. I’m not the one who started the neck kissing.”

“But you did start the kissing.. I mean, the whole sucking the smoke from my mouth?”

You feel your cheek redden and you fight back a smirk, “Mm.”

He nods, slipping on his sweats before bending down to grab his shirt for you. He crawls on the bed, “don’t think I definitely didn’t pick up on that little peck before you backed away “

You roll your eyes, laughing as you take and slip on the shirt, “whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.” You look over at him and he leans back, pulling you with him, “I’m sure hoping it’s you now, but.. yeah.”

You smile, leaning into his body and watching as he hits play, “If that’s what you want.” His hand moves to intertwined his fingers with yours, “If it’s what you want, too.”

You squeeze his hand, “It is.”

——

A little bit into the movie, you’re laying on Zach with your head on his chest and you let out a quiet sigh, “Thank you.”

His thumb moves over your shoulder, “For what, sweetheart?”

You laugh slightly, “Well, not only getting yourself hired as my new dealer.” You smirk and look up at him and he looks down at you, “Oh yeah? Who says I’m taking new clientele.”

You roll your eyes, “Please. I have you wrapped around my finger.”

“And I love every second of it.” Zach leans down and pecks your lips, causing you to smile and giggle slightly, “And for making me feel like a normal person for once.”

He brushes hair from your face, “I figured you could use a little time out of any sort of light, hence why it’s so dark in here if you didn’t- yeah.”

You reach up, laying a hand on his cheek, "Gosh, how lucky am I? You do have a sweet side, Zach Justice." You scrunch your nose, smirking slightly as he smiles at your joke, "Do you think people will judge me for falling for my weed dealer?"

He reaches up lazily hold your wrist as his head turns to press a kiss to your palm, “I only care what you think, baby.”

——

Thank you for being patient.. I’ve had major writers block this last week or so and I’m trying to push through it. Let me know how you liked it!

As always, I love you all! Thank you for reading!🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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golden1u5t · 1 day

Text

mess it up | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst + fluff

ꨄ summary: spencer hadn't been answering any of your phone calls and every time you showed up at his apartment he pretended he wasn't home. so, you go to his job, hoping to get a second chance with him. based on “mess it up” by gracie abrams

there had been towering walls built around your heart, walls you thought were indestructible, walls that had shielded you from being vulnerable. for the three months you and spencer had together, getting to know each other and exploring something that could have turned out great, the walls you built had started to crack and it scared you.

you found yourself starting to care for him, more than you ever cared for anyone before. you were scared of letting him get too close, scared of a possible heartbreak, so you closed yourself off again. the mere thought of letting someone in again, of exposing all your fears and insecurities, sent shivers down your spine.

the day you broke things off with him you thought you were doing the right thing, the thing that was best for you. you hadn't realized you missed him so much until you started losing track of your days. days turned into weeks and the weight of it piled on top of you until you finally broke.

that's when you finally reached back out to him, started leaving messages and voicemails that he never responded to. you had even went so far as to sitting outside of his apartment hoping that you would run into him, you never did.

so here you are, sitting in your car in the parking lot of his job, your fingers tapping against your thigh as you watched the raindrops race down the windowpane, each drop mirroring the turmoil deep in your gut.

you looked over to the passenger seat and picked up your phone. with trembling hands, you went into his contact and type out a message- an apology that would probably end up sitting with the rest of the apologies you've sent.

you let out a shaky breath and looked up at the building in front of you before looking back down and deleting the entire message. you figured that there was no point in sending a message when you were right in front of his job.

+++

derek spotted you as soon as you stepped off the elevator. it was purely coincidental but he's glad he saw you because he was able to jump out of his seat and stop you before you entered the bullpen.

"what are you doing here?" he crossed his arms over his chest and looked you up and down, making it known he wasn't exactly happy to see you. when you and spencer broke up he went to derek for advice, mostly because derek was like a big brother to spencer but also because he had the most experience with women.

given his attitude towards you, you knew that he knew about everything that went down with you and spencer and he wasn't just going to let you off that easily.

"¡ need to talk to him." you tried to look around him to see if you could get a glimpse of spencer but derek just moved his body in every direction you did. "derek, please just-"

"no. he's just now coming back around, i'm not about to let you mess everything up again."

"that's not fair. you don't know everything about the situation."

"i know enough."

while you and derek stood outside of the office arguing, spencer was coming out of hotch's office. as he walked down the stairs he noticed that mainly everyone's gaze was directed to the double doors.

"who is morgan talking to?" he asked, dropping the pile of reports on his desk. he looked back at derek and furrowed his brows, he could tell by his body language that he was not happy with the conversation.

"oh, boy genius! i need your help with something." garcia turned to him and quickly stood up of her chair, she placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to usher him away before he found out that it was you behind those doors. just like derek, she and everyone else only wanted what's best for him.

she couldn't get him away fast enough because the doors opened as someone walked in and right before they closed again, spencer could here your name come from dereks mouth.

"y/n?" his lips turned down and he quickly turned back around, garcia's hand falling off of his shoulder as he started to walk towards the doors.

even though he had been ignoring your calls and messages, he couldn't just ignore you showing up. everything derek had told him about just cutting you out of his life forever and all of those things were being thrown out of the window as spencer walked through those doors, he figured that you showing up had to count for something.

"morgan, can you- i can handle it from here." derek started to protest against it but spencer gave him a pleading look so he backed off. spencer waited until derek was back in the office before he put his focus on you. "why are you here?"

"you haven't been answering my messages." you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you stood in front of him for the first time in a while. you looked him over and figured he still looked the same but his hair was different—he was still that same boy you fell for.

"you made it clear that you weren't interested it me." spencer pressed his lips into a thin line and crossed his arms over his chest. he tried to make it seem like he was over it all but he wasn't, his heart was pounding just as hard as yours. "what else is there to say?"

"you don't understand. I've never-spencer, i've never liked someone as much as i like you and that scares me." you take a step closer to him. "i was scared that you would see my flaws and decide you didn't want me anymore. after i had already opened myself up to you, after i became vulnerable."

"you didn't give me a chance to decide that for myself, even though i would have never done such a thing! i liked you a lot, i thought we could actually have something together." spencer's arms dropped to his sides.

"i'm so sorry, spencer, and i know i've said it a million times but i truly am. after getting to have a glimpse of what we could've been, i want that with you. i miss the long conversations we had, i miss all the phone calls we shared when you were away, i miss the feeling of your arms around me."

spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, he couldn't lie and say he didn't miss those things too. he knew he should probably just turn back around and go back to work, say that you had your chance with him and you blew it, but relationships were never spencer's strong suit and he really did like you.

"i'm willing to try again but this is the only chance i'm giving you so if you mess it up-"

"¡ won't. i promise." you shook your head quickly. spencer bit down on his lips before giving in and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and letting out a sigh as he remembered how much he really did miss holding you. for a moment, you both stood there, holding each other close and breathing in each other's scent. you eventually pulled away, reluctantly though. “i want to take you out tonight, on a date."

"¡ thought the guys are supposed to take the girls out?" he teased, laughing when you rolled your eyes and shoved his chest.

"j'm serious, ill pick you up around 8." you said, figuring that'll give him enough time to get settled back down from work before you picked him up. "okay now get back to work before you get fired or something. your friends hate me enough as it is."

"they don't hate you." he replied. you raised your eyebrows as you could see right through the lie. "okay, maybe they do."

you shook your head at him and gently pushed him back, urging him to go back into the office. you watched as he made his way through the doors, ignoring the dirty looks you were getting from everyone else.

as you walked out of the building, you felt that a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. you knew you would have to work on tearing those walls around your heart down but for spencer it'll be worth it.

#golden1u5t #myrarants #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #sub spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader angst #spencer reid x fem!reader fluff

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glearyyyne · 14 hours

Text

a true story

Synopsis: Working at the bar as a waitress took a toll on you as soon as a white-haired man started to appear in the bar just to watch you. It was fine at first but he started to cause chaos in the bar which made you want to resign when he offered a deal with you and you accepted it, you didn't know it would lead to you questioning your feelings toward him.

Word Count: 4,959 words

Warning: 18+(because of kissing), angst, cursing, misunderstanding, mention of gun, fight.

Note: Another eternal sunshine song-based! Took me a lot of time to finish this 'cause I've been wanting to drop this fic but my friend encouraged me to continue and post it. To my friend, I love you very much for encouraging me to continue this!!

_____________________________________________________________

"Hey [Reader's name]!"

You spun around while adjusting your apron right after punching in for your shift.

"What's up, Fumiko?" you asked, quickly tying your apron into a neat bow.

"Table 7 needs you," she informed you, prompting a frustrated sigh from you. "Can't they wait a minute? I just clocked in!"

"Well, you wouldn't want to upset the boss again by ignoring his favorite customer," Fumiko gently reminded you.

You let out a sigh, muttering under your breath in frustration.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself before stepping out of the locker room to begin your shift, knowing that serving Table 7 was your first task as always.

Table 7 was just a short distance from the bar, but what made it hard to miss was the white-haired man seated there, his striking appearance standing out among the other customers.

Pausing once more, you took another deep breath, gathering your composure before making your way over to the table.

As Satoru sensed footsteps approaching from behind, he turned with a broad smile upon seeing you.

"Ah, [Reader's nickname]! Wonderful to see you!" he greeted enthusiastically as you reached his table.

You couldn't resist remarking, "My parents gave me a name for a reason," your grip on the notepad tightened as you struggled to contain your frustration.

Satoru's eyes sparkled behind his trademark sunglasses.

"Okay, chill kitten," he teased once more. You internally groaned at the pet name.

"Call me another pet name, and I'll make sure to file a restraining order against you," you threatened, although you knew you couldn't file a restraining order because...

"Oh yeah? I think you're forgetting something, princess," Satoru retorted, pulling out a pocket gun.

He’s one of the most dangerous men in Japan.

"You can't file a restraining order against me when they know how dangerous I am to society," he whispered with such intimidation that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious, but the smile on his face hinted at a hint of psychopathy.

With a sigh, you said, "What do you want to order?" eager to move past the uncomfortable exchange.

"Mhmm, if you were on the menu, I would have ordered you," Satoru shamelessly remarked as he perused the menu.

His words made you want to whack him on the spot.

"If you're looking for entertainment, I suggest booking a private room with one of our exotic dancers," you suggested, hoping to redirect his attention away from you.

But luck wasn't on your side.

"They've already been touched by those dirty drunk businessmen, and besides, nobody will focus on some waitress like you when you're so pretty and perfect for me," Satoru explained, his words dripping with arrogance.

You scoffed at his statement. "Well, if you're into looks, I'm sorry, but I don't date guys like you who are too arrogant and full of ego," you told him angrily.

Satoru chuckled in response. "Well, I can change your mind about me if you'll let me," he said, his tone suggesting he wasn't about to give up.

It seemed he wasn't going to let this go easily.

You stared at him blankly. "Can't you just tell me what your order is?" you asked, not wanting to waste any more time on him.

"Why? So you can go back and ignore me as usual?" Satoru asked with a pout.

"Good thing you know," you retorted.

"Of course I know," Satoru replied, seemingly about to continue, but he was interrupted by another customer.

"Hey miss, can I get another bottle of beer?" the customer interjected.

Turning to the customer, you nodded, "Sure, after I take his order," you said, pointing your pen towards Satoru, who wore an unpleasant expression on his face.

"Get another waiter to get you some beer," Satoru told the customer, his tone dismissive.

You tried to intervene, "Hey!" but Satoru continued.

"Sorry, he's just, you know," you attempted to explain to the customer, but Satoru cut in.

"I'll get the usual meal," he said with a smile.

"You got it then," you replied, jotting down the order that you already knew, before walking away.

Satoru eyed the guy who interrupted your conversation, making a mental note to deal with him later.

You continued your work, feeling the weight of his eyes following you around whenever you served someone.

Those annoyingly pretty blue eyes seemed to track your every move.

You did your best to ignore him, but you couldn't help but return his stare whenever you unconsciously scanned the bar.

Despite finishing his meal, he remained, still watching you. When he noticed your gaze, he smiled and waved at you.

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your tasks, determined not to let him distract you any further.

"So cute," Satoru said with a giggle as you looked away, obviously amused by how hard you were trying to resist his charms.

He enjoyed the challenge, especially when it came to you.

After hours of serving food and drinks to patrons, you glanced at the clock and realized you were close to the end of your shift.

Surprisingly, Satoru was still seated at Table 7.

It seemed like he was waiting for something, but you figured it was none of your business anyway.

"Bring this to table 6," the bartender instructed, handing you five drinks that needed to be served.

This was your last task of the night, and it had to be five drinks.

Carefully balancing them on a tray, you set off to deliver them to table 6. As you walked, you suddenly realized that Table 6 was dangerously close to Satoru's.

"Here's your drinks, sir," you spoke after arriving at their table, gently placing down the drinks.

The men at the table suddenly went quiet as you approached.

One of them, who was uncomfortably close, whistled and eyed your body, but you ignored him and continued placing the drinks.

"I didn't think the drinks would come with such a beautiful lady," he said, earning laughter from his companions.

You knew Satoru was watching, so you felt somewhat safer in case the man tried anything.

"Why are you ignoring me, baby?" the guy said drunkenly.

Ignoring him, you were about to place the last drink when you felt a hand grope your ass, causing you to spill the drink.

"Fuck!" the guy shouted, drawing attention from other customers. "You bitch!" he exclaimed, seemingly about to attack you.

Bracing yourself, you covered your face with the tray, ready to defend against the assault.

But the attack never came.

You uncovered your face from the tray as soon as you heard water splashing.

To your surprise, you saw the guy who groped you was covered in water, with Satoru holding an empty glass raised to the guy's head.

You were speechless at what he had done.

"What's your problem, man?!" the guy shouted at Satoru, his voice filled with anger. Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be holding their phones, ready to record the impending fight between the two.

Satoru scoffed, chuckling."You. You're my problem," he said angrily, pulling out the pocket gun he had and pointing it at the man, who suddenly looked scared.

"You're touching what's mine," Satoru's voice was laced with possessiveness.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to Satoru, attempting to stop him from shooting the guy.

"Satoru, stop it!" you pleaded, reaching for his wrist to prevent him from pulling the trigger.

"Just a second, princess, we need more time," Satoru said, his gaze still fixed on the man as he continued to point the gun.

"What time?!" you exclaimed, panic rising within you as the situation escalated.

"Now," Satoru calmly replied, finally lowering the gun.

Before you could ask him anything else, security guards arrived on the scene, intervening in the fight.

You were speechless, still processing everything that had just unfolded, as Satoru took the opportunity to wrap his arm around your waist and kiss your head.

"Your shift ends now, right? Can you go to the locker room? I'll take you home," he whispered softly.

Still surprised by the turn of events, you didn't have time to get annoyed at his actions.

Instead, you nodded silently before heading to the locker room, leaving Satoru behind to deal with the aftermath of what had happened.

You made your way to the locker room, trying to calm your racing heart. Fumiko entered soon after, concern evident on her face.

"Hey, I saw what happened. Are you okay?" she asked, gently rubbing your shoulder.

"I didn't think your boyfriend was capable of doing that," she added, causing you to look at her in surprise. "Boyfriend?" you let out incredulously.

"Is he not your boyfriend?" Fumiko asked carefully.

"Never in my life would he be my boyfriend," you vehemently denied, heading to your locker to grab your things.

All you wanted was to retreat to your bed for the rest of the night.

"I think the boss wants to talk about what happened," Fumiko informed you, leaving you sighing heavily.

This might be it; he might fire you.

"Okay, I'll head there," you said, grabbing your bag and preparing to leave. However, Fumiko stopped you before you could go any further.

"Get some rest, will ya?" she said with a reassuring smile.

Her words resonated with you, and you returned her smile, nodding in agreement before finally leaving the locker room.

The conversation with your boss wasn't too lengthy, though he scolded you for spilling the drink that had caused the fight.

However, to your relief, he didn't fire you. It felt as though Satoru might have intervened somehow to prevent your immediate termination.

The bad news was that you were suspended for a day, meaning you couldn't work tomorrow.

While it was disappointing, you understood the decision. It might be for the best to keep the club safe, especially if it meant Satoru would stay away while you were suspended.

As you exited through the door, you saw Satoru smoking nearby. As soon as he noticed you, he threw away the cigarette and began to approach you, but you stopped him in his tracks.

"Go home, I'll take the bus," you told him firmly, walking in the opposite direction. However, Satoru was about to let you go slowly.

"Wait, I just told you I'll take you home," he insisted.

"But I can't face you right now, Satoru. I almost lost my job there!" you snapped at him, frustration evident in your voice.

You expected him to argue back, but instead, he surprised you by taking off his blazer and wrapping it around you, leaving you speechless.

"It's cold outside. Please, let me take you home," he said softly, his demeanor unusually gentle. It was the first time you had seen him act like this.

"Will you leave me alone if you take me home?" you asked, hoping for him to accept it.

However, his smile dropped at your question.

"I don't think I can leave you alone, not when I like you too much," Satoru confessed, but you didn't take his confession lightly.

"Oh, stop this crap. You can go and find someone else to date then," you retorted, refusing to let his words sway you.

"If you agree to be my fake girlfriend for a day, I'll leave you alone," Satoru suggested, his proposal tempting despite your reservations.

"Why do you even need a fake girlfriend to begin with?" you asked, curious about his motives.

"To impress my grandfather. That geezer wants me to bring someone to a ball party that's held tomorrow," Satoru replied, providing an explanation that made sense.

The timing coincidentally aligned with the day you were suspended from work, and you didn't have any other plans.

"Fine, you better keep your end of the deal," you told him, reluctantly agreeing to his proposal.

Satoru smiled softly at you after you accepted his offer. That left you feeling something that you couldn't explain.

What the hell was that?

As you were about to head inside your house, Satoru stopped you. "Hey, I'll pick you up tomorrow by 7 am," he said, causing you to stop in your tracks.

"7? That's too early! Can't you see it's 1 am?" you protested.

"I know, but it'll be fun. You'll get to be treated like a princess," Satoru smirked at you before turning and walking back to his car, leaving you standing there feeling confused.

You were about to ask him for clarification, but he had already left.

Shaking your head in bewilderment, you headed inside the house and got ready for bed, still wondering what Satoru had planned for tomorrow morning.

"I didn't think you'd bring me to the mall," you remarked to Satoru, who was busy looking at clothes for you.

"Does it really have to be here at Louis Vuitton?" you added, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the luxurious surroundings.

"I can't let you go into the ball wearing cheap clothes, and besides, that geezer is allergic to anything less than top-tier fashion. So, if we want to impress him, then..." Satoru paused, pulling out a dress.

"You need to wear this," he said, showing you the dress.

"I would have to work ten jobs just to be able to purchase that," you told him, feeling a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

Satoru chuckled at your remark.

"But you don't need to work ten jobs to buy this when you have me," he said, his ego shining through. You rolled your eyes at his typical arrogance.

"We're only going to buy one, right?" you asked, trying to reel him in, but Satoru didn't respond.

Instead, he is immediately swarmed by sales ladies to assist him in finding you the perfect clothes.

The original plan was just to buy clothes for the ball, but it ended up with tons of outfits for various occasions – working, hanging out, lounging at home, and even for work.

"You didn't stick to your plan, did you?" you asked him as you both left the shop, him carrying tons of bags while you only had a few.

"So what? At least you have more clothes to wear," Satoru remarked as you both walked towards the parking area on the ground floor of the mall.

Just as Satoru was about to open the door to his car, your eyes widened as you saw someone unexpected, causing you to instinctively pull Satoru close to you.

His hands unconsciously went to the wall, as if pinning you against it.

"Woah, I didn't expect this," Satoru let out with a smirk, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

"Shut up, there's someone I didn't want to see, and I need you to cover for me," you told him urgently, but Satoru was stubborn.

"Where?" he said, looking around, making you panic. You grabbed both of his cheeks and made him face you.

"Just look at me! Don't turn around!" you whispered angrily.

"Well, I can't deny you're giving me the chance to look at your pretty face," Satoru teased, but you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

As you saw a shadow approaching, panic surged through you again. Without thinking, you pressed your lips against Satoru's.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't resist. He kissed you back, his hand instinctively moving to your waist while the other remained pressed against the wall.

You could feel Satoru's smirk against your lips as he began to dominate the kiss between the two of you.

Lost in the moment, neither of you noticed when someone approached.

"Uh, excuse me?" the guy's voice interrupted, causing Satoru to pull away from the kiss and bite his lip in frustration.

"Yes?" Satoru replied, trying to maintain his composure as you ducked your face, hiding onto his chest in embarrassment.

"I think you shouldn't be doing that here," the guy said, and you stayed quiet as you recognized his voice. Out of all the places, he had to be here?

"You're ruining a good time for me, dude," Satoru told the guy without even looking at him.

"If you interfere again, you'll never see the light of day," Satoru threatened, his hand moving to his gun just to scare the guy off.

The guy backed away and left, leaving you two alone at last. You finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was it him, wasn't it?" Satoru spoke, his voice deep and serious.

"Huh?" you asked, finally looking up to see him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"The reason why you're in this position?" Satoru asked, his hand gently holding your chin. Your heart raced as you met his gaze, unsure of what to say.

"But then again, I can finally taste your lips," Satoru whispered, his words causing you to blush furiously.

You thought he was about to lean in for another kiss, but to your surprise, he pulled away and picked up the bags from the ground before heading back to the car to open it.

You stood there, speechless, trying to process what had just happened and the whirlwind of emotions it stirred within you.

"You're not going inside?" Satoru asked, a smirk evident in his tone, and you felt the urge to wipe it off his face.

Ignoring his smugness, you walked up to the car and opened the passenger door, getting inside and taking a seat. Satoru didn't say much as he started the engine.

You waited, expecting him to speak, but when he finally did as he began driving, you weren't prepared for his choice of topic.

"I think it would be best if you wore the midnight blue dress so it would match my eyes," Satoru suddenly spoke, catching you off guard.

"You just had to choose that as the icebreaker for our conversation?" you asked, staring at him incredulously.

"What? You wanted me to talk about how sweet those lips of yours are? Because I can tell you straight if you want," Satoru replied casually, his words annoying you.

"Whatever, it's not like you'll be getting more than that," you muttered, but you heard him chuckle.

"I assure you, princess, that you'll give me more," Satoru said confidently.

"Why do you think so?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"I just feel it," he replied cryptically, leaving you puzzled by his enigmatic response.

***

You admired yourself in the mirror after putting on the fitted midnight dress.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice Satoru approaching until he appeared behind you, his hand resting on your waist as he looked at you with a grin on his face.

"So gorgeous," he whispered directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his words stirred something within you, and it felt strange to have Satoru eyeing you as if you were his.

Sensing your reaction, Satoru leaned down and kissed your neck, leaving you shocked by his sudden boldness.

The sensation of his lips against your skin sent a jolt through you, and you struggled to compose yourself during his unexpected actions.

"Can't help myself," Satoru murmured against your skin, his voice low and seductive. "You look so irresistible in that dress, like a vision from a dream."

His lips trailed along your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I knew it would fit you the moment I saw that dress in the store," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin.

"Satoru—" you began to protest, but he hushed you as if he already knew what you were going to say.

"Shh, remember you're my fake girlfriend now," Satoru reminded you, his words a gentle reminder of the charade you both agreed to.

As you slowly processed how the fake girlfriend charade had begun, you felt a cold band being placed on your finger.

Quickly, you stared at your hand, surprised to see a beautiful ring adorning your ring finger.

While you were still absorbed in examining the ring, Satoru took the opportunity to whisper to you.

"I need to let them see that you're taken," he said with a smile, "for now," he added cryptically.

Confused by his words, you couldn't shake the feeling that all of this would lead to consequences in the end.

Both you and Satoru entered the luxurious mansion, with Satoru guiding you inside with his hand on your waist.

You tried your best not to appear too stiff, knowing that any sign of discomfort would be noticed by everyone around you.

Eventually, you both stopped at the entrance of the ballroom.

"Make sure to act cool," Satoru whispered to you, and you nodded, taking a deep breath before the two of you entered the room.

The ballroom was as extravagant as expected, filled with large paintings, a lavish chandelier, and a polished floor where guests danced to the slow jazz music playing in the background.

The room buzzed with the sound of people conversing and laughing, adding to the lively atmosphere.

You observed your surroundings while Satoru guided you to where his grandfather was, trying to maintain your composure amid the greatness and finesse of the event.

As you stopped observing the room, you finally spotted Satoru's grandfather, who was conversing with other guests, holding a glass of wine in his right hand.

"Hey, old man," Satoru greeted his grandfather casually as if he were addressing a stranger.

His grandfather turned to look at Satoru with a blank expression, but as soon as he noticed you, his face lit up with a warm smile.

"Oh! She must be your date for this event?" his grandfather asked, his attention fully on you and Satoru as he excused himself from the other guests he had been speaking with.

He extended his hand toward you as if expecting a handshake.

You looked at Satoru for encouragement, and he smiled reassuringly before you accepted his grandfather's handshake.

"It's so nice to meet you, Ayaka-san," his grandfather greeted you, but you were utterly confused.

"Ayaka? I'm [reader's name]," you told him, which caused the old man's smile to falter as he stared at you and Satoru back and forth.

"You're not Kobayashi's daughter?" he asked, further adding to your confusion.

"Kobayashi—what?" you turned to Satoru, seeking an explanation for this unexpected turn of events.

Satoru simply laughed, placing his hand on your shoulder and pulling you in close so you could hear him.

"Go and take some food from the buffet while I discuss some things with my old man," he instructed you.

You were about to protest, but you felt Satoru's grip tighten. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Now go, but don't stray too far from my sight," he added as he walked towards his grandfather, engaging in a discussion that felt off-limits to you.

Feeling a bit left out, you made your way to the buffet, grabbing a lavish plate as you pondered your choices.

Lost in thought, you were surprised when someone placed a cupcake on your plate, prompting you to look up at them.

"It seems you're lost in thought, madam," a boy who seemed younger than you spoke.

"Oh, sorry. It's just... I'm not used to these kinds of events," you explained.

"I could tell," he said with a smile. "I'm Isamu, Gojo-san's cousin," he introduced himself.

"Oh, I'm [reader's name], his girlfriend," you introduced yourself, but you noticed how his face became confused.

"Really? But everyone here was told that Ayaka-san is his girlfriend," he said, adding to your confusion.

Who is this Ayaka-san? If he already has a girlfriend, why would he bring you here?

"Is she that popular?" you asked him, feeling increasingly perplexed.

"Wait, you don't know her? I thought Gojo-san at least told you about her," he replied.

"If you wouldn't mind, would you like to dance with me? I can fill you in on the background of the two," he suggested, extending his hand.

You glanced at Satoru, who was still busy greeting guests, and figured it wouldn't hurt, so you accepted his hand and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor.

As you began dancing, he finally spoke. "They were playmates in their childhood. Gojo-san would throw a tantrum if Ayaka-san wasn't his playmate," he explained.

You listened attentively, but you couldn't shake the strange feeling bubbling up inside you, as if your blood was boiling.

"Everyone adores them, and it's already been agreed that they'll get married when they're older," he continued, leaving you even more puzzled and uncertain about your role in this situation.

Feeling numb from the revelation and betrayed by Satoru's omission, you couldn't help but feel like you were being cast as the villain in this family's storybook.

"But I don't know, everything changed when Gojo-san was appointed to take over his father's business, and it was mentioned that the business was dangerous," Isamu explained, adding to your confusion.

"So where is this Ayaka-san?" you asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I don't know. I thought she would come today as Gojo-san's date, but I didn't expect it to be you," Isamu replied, his tone sounding mocking to your ears.

“But I should give you a warning, Don't believe or fall for his concerned face; you'll get yourself in trouble,” Isamu told you which made you even more confused.

Before you could respond, you felt a hand on your waist and turned to see Satoru.

"Excuse me, but you're dancing with my girlfriend," he said, his tone polite but laced with tension.

"Oh, sorry," Isamu apologized, releasing your hand and wiping it, which triggered you.

"I'll leave you two alone for some time," he said with a smile before walking away, leaving you feeling even more conflicted.

Satoru cupped your cheek, his concern was evident in his eyes.

"Hey, are you alright? Did he do something wrong?" he asked, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being scrutinized by everyone around you.

Pushing away his hand, you looked at the ground and whispered, "I... I want to go home.”

Satoru didn't respond immediately, but you could sense his frustration as he glanced around the room.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he muttered, his words filled with regret. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you close, and together you walked out of the ballroom.

Satoru quickly led you to one of the bathrooms, entering before you and locking the door behind him.

He turned to you, finding you still avoiding his gaze, unsure of what to do next.

Taking charge, he placed his hands on your waist and lifted you, seating you on the sink.

Once you were settled, he leaned in, resting both hands on the sink as he studied your expression.

"What did you two talk about?" Satoru asked, his tone gentle but insistent.

You bit your lip, hesitant to discuss it. His hand moved to your chin, his touch soft as he advised, "Don't bite them too hard."

Your mind was swirling with conflicting emotions.

Just yesterday, you were angry with him and vowed to keep your distance, but now... the mere mention of Ayaka next to Satoru stirred a fierce jealousy within you.

Were you really starting to fall for him?

You gazed into Satoru's eyes, he looked at you with a genuine look. But then, a warning from Isamu echoed in your mind

"Don't believe or fall for his concerned face; you'll get yourself in trouble."

Conflicted and unsure of whom to trust, you couldn't bear the thought of Satoru displaying this same affection to Ayaka, his supposed childhood sweetheart.

In a split-second decision, you seized Satoru by the collar and pulled him into a kiss, letting your emotions take over.

Satoru responded swiftly, his hands finding their place on your waist as he reciprocated the kiss with equal intensity.

You felt a surge of desperation, a need for him to affirm that you were indeed his. Your hands moved to his collar, unbuttoning his clothes in a feverish haze.

Satoru allowed you to take the lead, deepening the kiss as the passion between you intensified.

You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, and rested your head on Satoru's shoulder.

His hands found yours, guiding you as you helped him remove his clothes.

His whispered encouragement urged you on, and at that moment, you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming desire, allowing yourself to lose control completely.

You woke up in Satoru's room, feeling a wave of confusion and regret wash over you as the events of the previous night flooded your mind.

You remembered the passion and the intimacy, but also the emptiness that followed.

“Don't think about anything, just think of me- God I love you too much, you're driving me crazy.” Satoru's whispered declarations of love echoed in your ears last night, but you knew deep down they held no true meaning.

As you sat up, the reality of the situation hit you hard. Satoru had left you alone in his bed, a painful reminder of his indifference.

Anger and betrayal surged within you, mingling with the hurt and vulnerability.

"Fuck you, Satoru," you muttered under your breath as you clenched your fists, the sting of betrayal fueling your resolve.

Despite the ache in your legs, you pushed yourself to get dressed, every movement a painful reminder of the night before.

Before leaving, you scribbled a short note, a final message to Satoru.

"Don't come find me," you wrote hastily, the words carrying the weight of your shattered trust and wounded pride.

With a heavy heart and a resolve to start anew, you left his house behind, planning to leave the city and leave him behind for good.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen

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stusbunker · 2 days

Text

Spotless: En Cédant

Chapter Twenty Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee, Bobby, Sam, Annie, Kevin (mentioned)

Word Count: 2541

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, Aromantic Bela, more hints at bisexual Dean, unbeta'd

A/N: Dean's magazine interview is released and he asks a question he regrets.

Series Masterlist

Dean walked into the auditorium they’d been leasing for rehearsals with a gas station coffee and what John would have called a ‘piss-poor’ attitude. Sam had stayed over at Madison’s and gotten his own way to their last pre-tour play through. It was one of those rare mornings where their place felt too big, and Dean couldn’t kick the feeling that something was missing in his daily life. But it was too early for a pity party and too late to turn around and play hookey.

Not that he’d even dare that on this tour, not this close to showtime.

The energy in the hall did little to ease Dean’s annoyance, filled with quiet conspiring. Each person he nodded at seemed to be hiding a smirk or trying not to laugh out loud. Once he got to Lee, he’d had enough.

“Okay, what the fuck is with everybody today?”

Lee shook his head. “You don’t know, you poor bastard. Have you seen Trouble yet?”

“No— whyyyy?” Dean scanned the room littered with roadies and band members, lounging over the stage and the first rows of seats.

“Look, man, it’s easier to show you than tell you.” Lee reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up magazine, which was not what he was expecting. His sources of embarrassment primarily spread online these days.

But then he looked down and saw his own smug face staring back at him.

“Holy shit,” Dean said in a whisper.

“She’s got like a whole box of these, everybody’s read it or is currently reading it. It’s almost like you’re famous or inspirational or some shit.”

“Some shit is more like it,” Dean muttered and flipped to the page number next to the tagline, ‘Phantom Traveler’s frontman Rides the Road to Redemption’.

“Hey! Get your own!” Lee snatched the magazine out of his hand before he could get past the shot of him in Baby’s driver’s seat, eyebrows furrowed in the side view mirror.

“You sonuvabitch,” Dean threatened and went to steal it back when Bobby appeared with his ruffled mustache of disapproval.

“Okay, Fabio, go find Trouble, she’s got a whole case of those you’re supposed to sign before we get started.”

Dean wiped his face with his palm and braced himself for a long ass day. “Okay, any idea where she is?”

“First dressing room,” Bobby replied. “Don’t take too long, we want to run through some old stuff with Kevin so Charlie can plan out some lightwork with it, then we need to talk setlists for this weekend.”

“Yeah, of course, uh, I’ll be right back,” Dean said, turning to head to the pit. He turned and added over his shoulder. “At least I hope so.”

It was worse than Dean thought, but somehow also better than he’d expected from Meg.

Sam sat backwards on an old makeup stool as he read the article out loud, “‘even his timeless good looks couldn’t save him from the storm of controversy he unleashed after punching out photographer, Jared Bender, alienating his keyboardist and lifelong friend, Cas Novak to the point of leaving the band, and forcing his manager and mentor, Bobby Singer, to cancel their last North American tour with two months left.’”

Sam made a visible ‘yikes’ face and continued on as you listened, moving stacks of magazines around into manageable piles along the counter.

“‘The man sitting across from me was neither the cocky dipshit I interviewed six years ago, nor was he the unstable egomaniac who caused those around him to walk on eggshells during their last tour. He was oddly zen, blunt as ever, and refreshingly humble.’---- Ha! Christ, did you pay her off?!”

Dean decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat. You froze and turned, but Sam just grinned wolfishly at him through the old spotted mirror, completely unsorry about being caught.

“There you are! Hot off the presses, man.” Sam flipped the copy he was reading towards Dean, which he caught against his chest with his free hand.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean grunted, splashing some of his coffee as he stopped the magazine from falling to the floor. “How bad is it?”

You chuckled. “It’s not— well, for starters, it’s the freakin’ cover! I was not— she was being purposely vague about the whole thing, even which issue it was going to be— I am kind of in shock still.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean stared at the cover, unsure if he dared read it with an audience. After the silence got too heavy, he buried his own sick curiosity and looked at you to keep busy. “So, Bobby said you’ve got work for me?”

Dean smiled too late, catching you entirely deflate from his terrible segue.

“Uh— yeah, it’s only 100 copies. We’re sending them out to bundle with tickets for radio stations in every city.”

Dean walked across the small room, set down his coffee beside Sam’s rumpled magazine, and picked up one of the metallic Sharpies you had left out. “You sure they want just me signing these?”

“Dude— none of us are in any of the pictures. And besides just verifying some details, she didn’t interview any of us.”

Dean spun on his heel. “She asked you if I was lying about stuff?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t like that— it was more of her trying to catch you in consistencies.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at how that was exactly what he had said.

Sam huffed and started rambling. “I mean it was about the tone of the album and the cohesiveness. It wasn’t bad, God, okay?!”

“You’re not really reassuring me here, Sammy.”

“Look, I’m gonna go set up.” Sam stood up. “But, we’ll talk it out once you’ve read it, okay? Just get these signed, so we can figure out everything upstairs. Maybe then Bobby doesn’t have an aneurysm.”

“We can only hope,” you tucked on, which took the words out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean nodded, sighed, and popped off the cap of the marker. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Sitting around haphazardly sprawled across the theater seats, the band and immediate support personnel plotted the first stretch of the tour. Dates were set, venues, everything important, but the minutia had to be finalized so everyone knew where to be and when.

“We’re doing in studio stops with stations here and Vegas. But we are doing phone in interviews with San Diego, Phoenix and Albuquerque. We’ll talk more, but I think we’ve got stuff lined up once we hit Texas,” you rattled off to the group, pen in hand, laptop on your lap and phone in hand.

Bobby had his day planner open on his lap and Annie added things into her phone as you went. Dean kept his calendar app open, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary yet. Once the tour got underway, things got easier with the practiced dance, but until then he was jittery and brooding.

He hated the build up, but knew it’d be over soon.

“Dean— we gotta talk later, figure out when Bela will need passes. That goes for everyone, please let me know who you’re bringing each night so I can submit the names to each venue.”

“How is that your job on top of everything else?” Bobby asked.

“You want to do it?” You countered, coyly.

Everyone laughed. Lee threw a balled up receipt at the back of Dean’s head, but he just flipped him off.

“Need to get you an assistant,” Bobby muttered, but Dean didn’t think it was a bad idea.

The meeting continued, plans for press stops and casual drop ins for the first leg were cemented with your approval. The band’s image meant everything to you, not just because it was your job, Dean knew it was a deep seated loyalty and faith in them, both as individuals and as a unit, a family. You worked harder for them than any mere publicist would.

And that genuineness came through to the fans.

Then that respect and admiration was reciprocated. Sure, there were ones who were closer to obsessed than others, but even Becky, the fanclub president, had cooled down over the years. Things might get awkward amongst the masses, but it wasn’t dangerous. And it had been awhile since anybody had asked for a lock of his hair during an autograph session.

He didn’t miss that.

Dean switched apps and snapped some quick shots of the group from where he sat, dazed and tired from the meeting, but still together and looking good. He typed a quick caption to the post: ‘Can’t wait to see y’all again soon, we’re back baby.’ He even remembered to tag the band’s account before posting. But he knew you’d go through and add hashtags and pin people’s accounts to their faces in each shot, eventually.

For now, he was just grateful that he was still doing what he loved with his people.

Not much later, Bobby called it and everybody agreed to meet at Elizabeth’s. After securing all the equipment and hugging Charlie goodbye, Dean helped you haul the boxes of magazines to Bobby’s truck to be mailed out later.

“You want to ride with us? Got that scheduling stuff to hammer out anyway,” Dean cleared his throat and nodded towards Baby on the far edge of the parking ramp.

“Uh, Sam left with Kevin, but yeah,” you said, looking over to Bobby and Annie. “See you guys there?”

“Sounds good,” Annie said.

“Drive safe,” Bobby warned and held the door open for his wife.

Dean felt weird with his empty hands and you bent over with your bag and your laptop case, but you seemed to manage. “How are you feeling about things? How long we got before shit explodes with that article?”

You hummed in estimation, “about nine hours? East Coast will get to it first so it’s gonna be another early day.”

“Brutal.”

“It will keep me busy, but it will be a good busy. I’m sure of it,” you promised.

Dean huffed. “If you say so.”

He unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for you, the familiar creak in the hinge the only sound in the cement tomb of the parking garage. But it didn’t feel creepy, it felt nice to be alone and out at night. With you.

He let you drag your stuff into the footwell and made sure not to get your sweater caught in the door as he closed it. He rounded the front bumper and got into his spot. “Alrighty, let’s go get stuck in traffic for an hour.”

You smiled at him, without looking up from swiping through your phone.

“You posted?!” you shrieked in surprise not five minutes later.

“With my own two thumbs and everything,” Dean teased back.

“They are loving this.--- Dean, it’s already got like over a thousand comments.”

Hey, he could do the internet charm, when he wanted to.

“What are they sayin’? They pumped to see us live?”

“Definitely! And then the usual: speculation on Lee and Pam, people begging you to father their children—” you laugh fondly, like at a child showing off a well known skill. “Kevin is starting to get a sort of following, and the younger crowd brings more enthusiasm. Plus, people are already speculating how long during each set before Sam loses his shirt.”

Dean cackled. “Sweaty bastard, even with all the box fans.”

He pulled them onto the freeway and wedged in where he could amongst the chaos, careful to leave breathing room for his girl.

“When you’re all done with that, we can talk Bela at the shows. I’m guessing you meant you want her backstage and easily seen from the audience and all that?”

“Pretty much, but also what works around what she’s doing. She can’t exactly tour with you guys, but we gotta make it look like she’s doing her damndest to.”

You spent a few minutes going through your notifications while Dean turned up the radio a bit to keep him occupied through the stop and go traffic. Must be a game somewhere, he thought passingly.

“So, uh—- how much longer do you think we gotta do this act? Seems like I’m looking pretty good these days in the eyes of the public. And if you’re sure Meg’s article will be good press—”

You put down your phone and turned on the bench seat to lean your arm along the back of it, putting Dean entirely in your focus. He swallowed and looked back at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Where’s this coming from? I thought it was working out good with Bela?” You were trying for neutral, he could feel it. But you were upset. Or alarmed at least.

“It is— just not really sustainable for the long run. Eventually she’s gonna find somebody she actually wants to date and I’m gonna be gone for like the next year.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Bela’s aromantic, Dean. She isn’t interested in relationships at all.”

“Wait— what? That’s a thing? Chicks do that?”

You glared at him. Shit.

He licked his lips and wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans. “Okay, but people probably know that, right?”

“Yeah, but people have a way of thinking that eventually she’s gonna meet the right person and ‘settle down’.”

Dean groaned. “Are we playing up a shitty stereotype? Am I being a bad ally?”

You rolled your eyes. “Dean, shut up. You didn’t know, which I find odd, but I’ll talk to Bela about that.---- And we’re not getting graded on your allyship, because frankly that is an entirely different conversation.”

Dean closed his eyes against the accusation but got back into driver mode quick enough to remain safe. He sighed.

“Anyway, I was just curious if there is a timeline or an escape clause or something when the label won’t cut off my nuts for being officially single again.”

You turned back to face the dashboard and picked your phone back up. “I cannot believe you can’t keep it in your pants for one tour, Dean. Groupies and fucking syphilis boosters cannot be that fun.”

Dean swerved, but righted the car.

“HEY! Nobody said anything about wanting to get my dick wet! I was just asking a question. You don’t gotta be shitty about it.”

Dean swallowed back his retort about not needing easy hook ups because Bela was more than on board for helping fill that particular outlet, but he had already dug himself into a hole tonight.

He inhaled and worked on calming himself down. He realized he was more hurt than anything, that that’s where your mind went for his reasoning.

That was how you saw him.

He wasn’t a dog, not anymore at least. And if he had been for the few years after Jo’s death, it was something he had to get himself through. He should not feel ashamed for enjoying life.

But apparently somewhere along the line you’d grown a superiority complex.

Your opinion shouldn’t matter. He only had to answer to himself at the end of the day. But shouldn’t didn’t equal doesn’t.

Which made him feel even more pathetic.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

#spotless series #dean winchester x reader #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean x reader #dean angst #dean fluff

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tickles-tea · 2 days

Text

Glass

Happy birthday to my number one, the light of my life, and the cause of the low numbers currently in my bank account ❤️ This fic is a little different from my usual writing but I really wanted to put something out for Izaya’s birthday so I hope you all enjoy ;u;

Shizuo used to hate Izaya’s laugh.

It was like glass shattering into a shower of sharp edges and unapologetic cruelty, every broken piece expertly aimed to hurt. It dripped in a poison so potent Shizuo could taste it- that vicious cocktail of cyanide and deception. That deception was what made it so bitter, Shizuo was sure.

Because at its core, Izaya’s laugh was completely and undeniably fake.

For all of Izaya’s smirks and snickers, not once did that glee ever reach his eyes. Every smile perfectly fixed in place, every laugh rehearsed and performed, all coming together to form the mask of Izaya Orihara.

As the years passed, Shizuo began to believe that perhaps there was no face behind that mask at all.

It wasn’t until they’d begun their…situationship…that this belief was brought into question.

In the darkness of night, hidden between tangled sheets and heated flesh, he found ghosts of sincerity in that mask.

He saw longing in those clever eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and desperation. He tasted restraint on Izaya’s lips where the other would try his damnedest to stay quiet, where he would bite into his own skin to conceal any noise that wasn’t artificial.

Izaya’s mask cracked during those nights and, with it, Shizuo did too.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the thing that finally shattered him was that same glass-crackle laugh.

Shizuo’s touches had grown softer. Bites were replaced by kisses, black and blue flesh making way for goosebumps over pale skin. He had started to explore instead of devouring.

All it took was one wandering hand brushing a little too lightly over Izaya’s thigh to reveal something Shizuo hadn’t known he was looking for.

A giggle- sweet and bright and genuine and everything Shizuo had thought Izaya to be incapable of.

Another crack in the mask had formed and Shizuo desperately needed to see what was behind it.

His hands were his pickaxe as he chipped at its jagged edges. Spidering fingers climbing up a slender rib cage caused Izaya’s face to scrunch up in a wide toothy grin. Thumbs drilling into the hollows under his arms broke the dam and released a flood of helpless laughter. Despite coming from the same vocal cords, this laugh was so different from the one Shizuo was used to.

If Izaya’s usual mirth was a splintered mirror, this was a stained glass window. Bright, colorful, and refracting beauty like true laughter should. This frantic cackling, irregular and imperfect, was the truest reflection he’d seen of who Izaya could be if he allowed himself to.

Shizuo knew of crystal clear lakes that played tricks on your eyes, with water so pure that you could see the very bottom without realizing how deep it truly was. He knew, and yet he still drowned in Izaya’s laugh. He let it fill his lungs with each breath and huff of amusement, drinking it all in. It was intoxicating.

It was surprising for Shizuo Heiwajima to willingly dive into the depths of Izaya Orihara. If anyone were to even fathom the idea, they'd be silenced by others for their own safety. Retribution would surely come for them at the hands of either man. However, the thought that Izaya would welcome him in- keeping his hands gripped around Shizuo’s wrists instead of the handle of a blade -was almost unimaginable.

Shizuo had learned that things aren't always as they seemed with Izaya, though. He’d learned that behind those fierce eyes and acidic grins hid a smile so honest that it made Shizuo’s heart clench. If he could believe this impossible reality, was it really so far fetched to think that one day that mask would shatter like glass? Was it foolish to think that Izaya might one day raise one elegant hand and remove it entirely?

One couldn’t know for sure, but sitting here surrounded by the sugar and sincerity of Izaya’s laughter…Shizuo couldn’t wait to find out.

#durarara #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #shizaya #tickling #ticklish!izaya #my writing #can you tell I’ve been listening to too much sleep token recently lmaoo #All these fuckin metaphors #Anyway viva la flea #Happy birthday Izaya!

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englishstrawbie · 1 day

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Ooh. I really like prompts 9, 11, 12, 29, & 51, so whichever most inspires you of those for Marina would be nice to read!

Thank you for the prompts! I took three of these (9, 12 and 29) and combined them into one ficlet. I hope you like it, I'm a little rusty! 😊

>>>>>>>>>>

Carina pauses just inside the door of Joe’s bar, her eyes sweeping the room as she looks for her wife. She is momentarily distracted when she spots Jack and Travis on the far side, arguing over a microphone as they fight to be heard on the karaoke machine. Vic is nearby, her face scrunched up and her hands covering her ears, while Cutler, Larsson and Kline cheer them on.

Carina bites back a laugh as she resumes her search. She finds Maya at the bar, perched on a stool – her usual spot, the same seat she occupied all those years ago when they first met; the same seat she always gravitates back to subconsciously. Andy sits beside her as they knock back a shot of something Carina knows they will regret in the morning. She resists the pull to go straight to them, holding back as she takes in Maya’s outfit. She is wearing a pair of dark jeans and a simple tee, the already short sleeves slightly rolled to show off the muscles in her arms.

Carina feels a familiar stirring inside of her as her stomach flips – no, not flips. It somersaults, the kind that would win a gold medal at the Olympics.

“DeLuca!”

She turns towards the call of her name to see Ben waving a bottle of wine at her, offering her a glass. She shakes her head at him, her hand instinctively running over her stomach. They haven’t told anyone about the embryo transfer, deciding to keep this one to themselves for now.

When she looks back towards the bar, Maya is grinning at her, calling her closer. Carina moves through the crowds and greets her wife with a kiss. Her lips taste of salty fries and tequila as Carina sweeps her tongue over them.

“What took you so long? I missed you!” Maya says when their lips part, her words a little slurred.

“You’re drunk!”

“And that’s my queue to leave,” Andy says teasingly.

As she stands up, she reaches out and squeezes Carina’s arm gently, her eyes bright and sparkling. It is easy for Carina to guess what they have been talking about.

“You told her,” Carina says as she slips onto the stool that Maya has pulled closer for her.

“It’s Andy,” Maya says with a shrug, “she doesn’t count. And…” She holds up a finger and points it in the direction of her wife. “I am not drunk.”

Carina chuckles, a small shake of her head as she calls the barman over and orders a sparkling water.

“How was work?” Maya asks.

“Busy,” Carina laments. “Two mamas – twin sisters – who wanted to give birth to their babies at the same time. Except one was crowning while the other was only six centimetres dilated.” She sips her drink. “When I give birth...”

She stops herself, silently berating herself for getting her hopes up too high. After all, the IUIs didn’t take, she isn’t getting any younger and the knowledge that time is running out for them weighs heavily on her.

“I mean, if…”

“When,” Maya says. She reaches out and takes Carina’s hand, waiting for Carina to look at her. “Hey, it’s okay to be optimistic.”

Carina opens her mouth to object, but Maya interrupts her again.

“When.”

A small smile passes Carina’s lips and she nods, but doesn’t say the word out loud again, doesn’t want to jinx them. Instead, she leans in and kisses Maya, lingering a little longer this time as she feels the day’s tension leave her body.

“How’s the party?”

She looks over her shoulder to where Sullivan and Ross dance, ignorant of the celebrations going on around them, their eyes only on each other. They had kept their engagement secret for several months, fearful of the reaction they might receive, not only from 19 but from the powers that be within Seattle FD. They need not have been worried about their family at 19, though, as the team had rallied around them and insisted that they celebrate at Joe’s after work.

As the happy couple move around the dancefloor lost in their own little world, Carina smiles to herself, knowing that feeling very well as she is transported back to her own wedding day when she couldn’t keep her eyes off Maya. Especially in that dress.

“Better now that you’re here,” Maya says.

Carina can’t help but roll her eyes at the corny line, but she melts at the endearment anyway.

“Do you ever think about doing it again?”

Carina looks at her, lost. “Think about what?”

“Getting married again,” Maya says.

Carina laughs. “You’re more than enough wife for me, Maya,” she says.

“No,” Maya says, “I mean… do you ever think about marrying me again?”

“I think you’ve had too much tequila.”

“No!” Maya says. “I mean, maybe…”

Carina quirks an eyebrow, watching as Maya shifts in her seat, turning her body to face her.

“I’ve been thinking,” Maya says. “We rebuilt our foundations. We had a second first date…”

“Twice,” Carina reminds her.

“… we started over and I… I fell in love with you all over again. Every day, every time I look at you, I think I fall a little more in love.” The corners of Maya’s eyes crinkle as they shine at her, so full of love that Carina’s heart swells. “I promised myself that we’d take it slow, that we’d take our time making sure that our foundations are really strong this time.”

“They are, my love.”

“I know,” Maya says. “But all of a sudden there’s Liam…”

Her smile widens at the mention of their son.

“…and a house, and IVF, and I never got to ask you to marry me again. Because I never asked you the first time, not properly, not the way you deserve; and I wanted us to have a second chance at that, too.”

“Maya,” Carina says, taking Maya’s hands in her own, “I asked you, remember? I got out of that taxi and I asked you to marry me. And yes, it was messy, but I love that it’s part of our story.”

“So do I,” Maya says. “And I’m not trying to rewrite our history. But I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime, and I want to celebrate that. Me and you and Liam and…” Her eyes drop to Carina’s belly. “…whoever else might come along.”

Carina’s eyes widen as Maya slides off her stool, her face determined. Definitely too much tequila.

“What are you doing?”

“What if I asked you right now? What if I got down on one knee, right here in this bar, and asked you to marry me?”

“I’d think you were crazy!” Carina laughs.

A few curious glances are thrown their way and Carina grabs Maya’s hand, tugging her closer before they draw too much of a crowd.

Maya looks at her stubbornly. “Would you say yes?”

There is a nervous lilt in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed and Carina softens. The answer is an easy one.

“Bambina, I would say yes every time.”

She smiles as she pulls Maya even closer, their lips crashing together, not caring that they have an audience. She thinks she hears a wolf whistle from across the bar and doesn’t know if it is meant for them, but Carina ignores it anyway, too wrapped up in her wife’s embrace to think about anyone else. They are breathless when they finally break apart, but Carina keeps Maya in her arms, burying her face into her neck and inhaling the lingering scent of her perfume. She wonders how Maya will propose, and whether it will be a big spectacle or somewhere quiet; if she will be surprised when it happens or if she will see it coming. Her heart flutters with excitement and she tells herself to be patient.

“So,” Maya says with a conspiratorial tone, “since you’re feeling so agreeable tonight, do you wanna sing karaoke with me?”

Carina tips her head back and laughs loudly.

“Absolutely not!”

She ignores the playful pout on Maya’s face, slipping off her stool and grabbing Maya’s hand.

“But I will dance with you.”

As she walks towards the dancefloor and listens to her wife’s laughter behind her, Carina’s hand rests on her stomach one more time. Maybe, just maybe, all of her dreams are coming true.

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #fluff prompt list #slipperygaloshes

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f0point5 · 2 hours

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MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

#max Verstappen x reader

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flyingcakeee · 18 hours

Text

Who wants Logan angst? Nobody? Too bad.

Little snippet of what I wrote here:

(If you read the entire thing on AO3, please read the tags ☹️)

Oscar did fine in the sprint, qualifying and finished P6. Logan, Logan got P10. Of course, technicality again, originally it was P12 again, which Oscar reminded him of on the trip around the circuit after they were both interviewed.

“I mean, finishing P12 isn't bad. You got pretty lucky with Lewis and Kevin trying to fight for most penalties. Maybe you'll get points today.”

“Yeah,” Logan mumbled, “maybe.”

Logan spent the rest of the parade talking to Kevin, unable to muster up courage to talk to Oscar anymore.

When Logan was taken out in the race by the same man he chose to talk to instead of Oscar, he shut his phone off and left to go home immediately. Oscar never texted him, Logan sent a small “good job” that night.

Maybe he was too busy celebrating his teammate who had finally won a race, Logan’s home race.

Jenson Button

“I think Logan's going to be in the seat until the end of the year. Of course we'd all love to see Logan doing a bit better than he was…”

Logan spent the time before quali when Jenson wasn't preoccupied with SkySports duties in the hospitality with him.

“Home race, hustle and bustle getting you tired kid?”

“I guess. It's just, there's a lot going on.”

“James assured you that the rumors about that young kid is all false, don't worry, kid,” Jenson said as he reached his hand over, rubbing Logan’s bicep. “Keep your head up, kid, you've got some pace around here, shut those rumors down like you did with your P10, yeah?”

Logan looked at Jenson with a look he didn't quite know himself. Whether it was a look mixed with fear, doubt, and overall sadness, it wasn't a pleasant look and Jenson didn't like it. He offered Logan a mere comforting smile before standing up, patting his shoulder, and walking off.

“I need to go a reporter, keep your head up, kid.”

Logan never talked to him again for the the week, crashing out and getting home before Jenson can search, if he was going to anyways, for the broken ‘kid’ just so he can act like he's Logan’s dad.

Logan had too many people trying to act like his dad, nowadays. He just wished his own dad would act so too.

Logan Sargeant

Always at fault, never the victim. Always unlucky, never a ray of hope for him. All the broken mirrors in the world cast their eyes on Logan as prey, and what a hell of prey he was.

Logan couldn't do anything about the 10 second penalty, it ruined his race from the get-go.

Logan tried to defend against the “Viking Defender”, shut the door before he stuck his front nose where it didn't belong. Kevin still did as such and drove away with mere damage compared to Logan, his car absolutely destroyed. Good thing they got the brand new spare chassis in, it was Logan’s turn to break the car beyond repair.

It was always Logan’s fault in the eyes of commentators and fans, at least the FIA had his back. Sometimes.

#f1 #formula 1 #logan sargeant #little angst man Logie Bear #oscar piastri #jenson button #miami gp 2024 #also based on China but that snippet isn't included #f1 fanfic

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prostolita · 2 days

Text

Devastation.

Jean feels a burning sensation in his chest. He watches Kevin shift the club from one hand to the other, as he walks in front, and all the cameras capture his face. A face that no longer has numbers on it. Moreau falls, he flies down, dissolves into the abyss and drowns. The feeling of betrayal does not leave his stomach, it remains in his shackled body and grows more and more. It crushes and kills.

Jean knew that Kevin didn't care, he knew that this would be the end of it. After all, what's the point of leaving a meaningless number on your cheek and living with it? Jean touched his tattoo, he knew where it was, although he could not see himself in the reflection. He could feel her physically. Once, when he was only fifteen years old, Rico cut a three-piece on Jean's cheek with a knife. Now the tattoo hid the scar, but it still hurt.

Once there were three of them. Rico, Kevin and Jean. The first, second and third. The perfect court. But despite this, Jean felt the distance between them, the loneliness that gripped and killed him. No matter how hard he tries, he will never become like Rico or Kevin. The tattoo on his cheek made him feel closer to them. Kevin.

Even in the nest, he could reach out and touch the place where the ink was eating into the skin, and then it seemed to him that this day was near. He came back and hugged Moreau. It seemed to Jean that in this way he was no longer alone.

But Kevin dumped him, then and now. Kevin killed him no less than Rico, it's just that the wounds from Moriyama's knife were physical, they were visible. Kevin beat so hard that Jean sometimes got confused in these wounds himself.

Moreau hugged himself by the shoulders, he sat for so long, until the very end, until Rico loomed over Nathaniel. Jean reached out her hand, but he couldn't reach the guy. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't sacrifice himself and put himself in danger again, he was too far away from Rico.

Rico fell to his knees, Jean could hear laughter coming out of his mouth. He watched the tears running down Rico's cheeks. He stared for so long that he started crying himself. He threw the TV hard, smashing everything his hands could reach, and sat down on the floor. The whole world was falling apart. Jean closed his eyes, but he still saw Rico and Kevin in front of him. After all, they were always in the same boat. Despite the uncontrollable cruelty and pain, Jean knew what he was worth, knew what he was needed for.

He didn't have that right now. All he had was an eternal number on his left cheekbone, a brand. He held out his hand in front of him, imagining that Kevin was able to materialize in front of him. He hoped for a miracle, but no miracle happened.

In truth, Jean always knew he would be lonely, but now it has become even more obvious. The only thing that pleased him at that moment was the thought of Kevin Day, who finally proved to the whole world that he was number one in exy. Moreau wanted to touch him, to hug him. I wanted to be closer and never let go. She could still feel that pleasant breath on her neck, those soft lips. He barely restrained himself from slapping himself.

No matter how many years have passed, Kevin will always be Jean's only wish. An unattainable desire.

I came down with poisoning and now that's all I can write at all. I wanted to write something about them so much that I even cried from weakness.

#all for the game #sketch #jean moreau #kevin day #aftg #kevjean

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memoiich · 2 days

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Hey you 🫵🤨

Maul is a complete gentleman around you, you will never have to open a door ever again. You dropped something - don't worry he's picking it up, you need something that you can't reach - you bet your damn ass he is getting it for you.

He is literally the perfect husband...

Modern Husband!Maul and his wife go grocery shopping? And he is just doing everything and being so helpful?

He totally is and i would marry him so quick. Just let me and my man be together please <3

Raspberry’s & Blood oranges

Word count : 1,2k

Going to the store with your husband was already not the norm. Maul worked late hours most of the time and if you had a weekend together it would be spent in your shared house doing …interesting things.

Sadly today you had woken up with a desperate desire for blood oranges and raspberries and your husband being who he was , a saint wanted to go to the store to get them . You tried to roll over and sleep a bit more per maul’s request but that didn’t work. So you tagged along to your lover's enjoyment.

That brought you here to the parking lot ,in mauls black Pontiac firebird that he got from savage as a wedding present. He gave you a quick peck on the lips and walked out to open your door . You remembered thinking that from day 1 , Maul was a gentleman. In the beginning, he tried to hide it a little bit. Slamming the door a bit louder than normal when closing it or pulling his hand away when you reached for it . A month later you would kiss him under the stars . You took mauls hand that he had extended to you and stepped out of the car . “ thank you, my love”you said. He gave you that one grin, he was so proud of himself.

You noticed it immediately when you walked into the store . People were staring. At first you thought it was pretty normal, you normally shopped alone and were a bit of a regular . Then you thought it was because Maul was such an attractive guy. if he wasn’t your husband you would hit on him in a heartbeat . That's in fact exactly what you did all those years ago. But then you spotted something in an old lady’s eyes, Judgment. You looked over to your dearest and he grinned back.

The red zebrak in question was way too alternatively dressed now that you were looking at him . He clearly wasn’t used to grocery stores and the way u dress for them . He was wearing one of his favorite band t-shirts that was slightly ripped on the side showing a fair amount of tattoo and waist , you were definitely not complaining about it. On Top of that was his metal spiked leather jacket covered in homemade pins , that hugged him just right. The metal didn’t stop at his clothes either, He also had multiple studs and a nose ring and a very secret and hot tongue piercing. Patches were covering about 90% of his pants and chains were hanging from every loop he could find . He definitely stood out .

It didn’t help that Zebraks were still a bit more uncommon but Maul and his 2 brothers had been living here longer than the 2 of you were together . They even had their tattoo/piercing parlor here. You took Maul's hand in yours and gave her a bit of a judgy look back and she scurried away.

Maker ,your husband was the most beautiful creature alive no judgy looks would ever take that away. You heard an amused giggle coming from your left. “ Normally you aren’t so feisty, my love “ Maul said while grinning at you . You felt a bit embarrassed by Maul's notice. You took one of the blood oranges in front of you , they needed to be as red as possible. You liked them that way . You also took them in hopes of ending mauls joking and getting him back on track for the mission of grocery shopping.

A red hand covered yours and took the red-orangey fruit out of your hand. “ Blood oranges are believed to bring power and wealth to their consumers by the people of Dathomir” Maul said to you with that hint of wisdom to his voice. You took the fruit back from him ,” I need to eat plenty then , in case you divorce me “ you said jokingly. Maul rolled his eyes , he hated that little joke of yours. Not only were you one hell of a person , that could perfectly support herself. He would NEVER divorce you , you were the best thing that happened to him.

While Maul was mopping ,You tried to reach for one of the bag dispensers that were set unreasonably high for you and you weren’t even getting close to it . Maul came up behind you, you felt his chest against your back and saw his long tattooed arm reach for the beg . He had laid his other hand on your hip and you forgot what you were even doing until the man turned you around while dangling the little bag in front of you with that smug look on his handsome face . “You needed this right ?” He spoke so smoothly. You let out a giggle and walked back over to the blood oranges display. You took about 16 oranges and put them in the cart.

You looked over to where your husband had been standing mere seconds ago but he had disappeared in thin air . Glancing past the corner, you saw him standing at the berry bar .you walked over to him , only to be met with Maul staring intensely between a couple of boxes full of raspberries. The annoyance was clear on his face, nightbrothers were know to see colors a bit duller mainly reds and oranges since dathomir would otherwise be a bit overwhelming.

“ Don’t torture yourself, Maul” you grinned “ That's my job” . He looked at you utterly in love “ I was trying to find the reddest”he said, a bit defeated “ Why, are they sweeter?”. Maul knew you liked your fruit sweet “ they are, but that's not why i want the reddest fruit “ “ Then why” You were quite curious right now. “ Dathomirians believe that raspberries strengthen bonds, how redder they are the more romantic they become “ maul uttered a bit embarrassed . You thought it was adorable how your scary looking husband was so soft and sweet .” You don’t need raspberries to strengthen our bond, maul . I love you regardless, my dear “ You grabbed 2 boxes out of the 9 lined in front of him” These are the reddest “ you put them in the cart.

The check out went extremely fast and you and maul were outside in about 5 minutes. You were looking at the masterpiece of a husband you had , you wanted to tell him that you deeply enjoyed the trip to the grocery store and how much you loved him but the rights words wouldn’t come to you and when they finally did…

he said “ you are dearer to me than all the blood oranges and raspberries in the world “ . The exact words you had thought of . Again at a loss of words you just leaned into him and kissed his cheek. Maul flushed a deeper shade of red immediately , which was ironic since you two had been married for more than 5 years and had done a lot more than that. Grocery shopping would definitely become a together thing.

I hope this was what you had in mind , it was a bit hard to make grocery shopping appealing so i made new Dathomir lore up ( i love doing that teehee).

#star wars #darth maul #maul #maul opress #my babygirl #pookie #writing #darth maul fanfic #darth maul x reader #maul x reader

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