#but he desperately wants to be one of them again because thats all he knows

[redrobin-detective]

I keep thinking how sad Quill Kipps' whole deal is. He's brought up as a child soldier and he becomes quite good at it, good enough to work at one of the best agencies. He works hard, suffers, loses people, carries on because it's all got to be worth it. He ages in a system that prioritizes youth and feels everything special about him slowly starting to slip away. He has put everything into being an elite agent and he's about to age out of everything he's ever known.

He gets tangled with an unruly bunch of independent agents. They're annoying rule breakers but god they're amazing. Part of his beef with them is he can feel their talent rolling off them in waves making him acutely aware of how his is almost used up. When it becomes unsafe for him to pretend any more, he does what other agents do and becomes a supervisor. He keenly feels the separation from himself and agents in the field and finds he now can't just sit on the sidelines and watch others put their lives at stake when he can't help.

He's adrift, nothing to his name but his old reputation and a set of skills that are no longer useful. He ends up tangled back with the independents because they trust him - need him - and by god does he want to be needed. He wants so desperately to be part of their world again. They find some goggles that allow him to see visitors again and he's like a kid at Christmas. He can finally be involved again! It doesn't have to be over!

While working with them he learns everything he was taught to believe in was a lie, the prestigious agency he gave his entire being for is causing the rise of spirits. Once his involvement is found out, he loses his pension and privileges. He is cut off entirely from his old support system. With nothing left, the independents take him in. He's useful but he knows it's more out of pity. He works hard, almost dies and fights to dismantle the very establishment he spent his best years serving. The battle is won but things stay the same for him.

He is still a young adult clinging with aching fingers onto his childhood and teen years because that was the only way he had purpose. His closest friends are still young teens, five or more years younger than him. He chastises them for their childishness even as he desires more than anything to be one of them. He is Peter Pan, refusing to grow up because there is nothing for him as an adult in haunted England. He does not even look towards his future because he cannot let go of his shining past where he was actually needed.

[strwbrymlkshake]

I feel like there's an obsession in me waiting to burst out, but so many horrible things have happened due to that, it's rotting in there. I'm worried.

[earlyspringtranscendence]

Smth that I always come back to in the pee Nureyev experience is like. My view on Peter and Mags relationship and how I disagree with like 99% of the fanon interpretation of it (and also perhaps the canon starting in S4) (and so will ignore it henceforth) like Mag is . Nice. He's nice. I fucking know he lied to peets ok but he also like killed Mag so it evens out but it's heart wrenching to hear the audio when they're duping that New Kinshasa woman and they laugh so raucously (AND FREELY!!!! WHEN HAVE U EVER HEARD PEE SO FREE...) and well it's like. They love eachother . Kinda all I even have to say about that. I refuse to believe that Mag was a bad parent beyond the usual bad parenting of someone who isn't by any means ready or even nec willing to be a parent beforehand, but like anything that extends beyond that is so depressing to me... There's strength in numbers, even on Brahma, and pee used to have that with Mag. and anyway you cant take that away from me im putting my fingers in my ears and yelling if u try to reason w me GOODNIGHT & GOODBYE

[irregodless]

.

[omarcitoloves]

simon has lost everything that made wille fall in love with him and wille doesn't even notice.

it's a heartbreaking story to watch but in a brilliant way i'm fixated on it. and not in a simon deserves better than wille way but in a they both need to find themselves again in order to be happy.

simon is proud of his morals and who he is as a person, he's never been apologetic of it and wants people to know because it is deeply important to him to have a strong self identity in a world where he comes from a broken home, where he's gay, where he's lower socioeconomic class, where he's poc in a hugely white community, and where he has leftist ideals in a monarchist country. when wille tells him he can't post on socials because it reflects on something the crown can't have a position on, he feels he's losing his voice. and all wille can see is trying to minimize a headache.

singing has been simon's lifeline throughout the show, and something thats important to him because it is one of the good memories he has with his dad. when wille sees he posted himself singing all he can see is simon drawing more attention, it needs to be deleted. he doesn't even comment on simon's singing or let alone the lyrics which they make it seem he clocks what simon is saying this season as apposed to last but he's too focused on himself.

and then when simon admits to wille outside he feels he's losing his voice and confidence, everything has become too much. he can't enjoy singing, he's not pursuing a solo this season for the first time and he can hardly string together his song. but it goes over wille's head, he can't even notice the gravity of what simon is trying to say to him

at the sit in simon initially stands his ground and calls out all of their hypocrisy and rightfully points out wille only takes a stand when its low risk for him, but he caves lated because he doesn't want to disappoint wille and doesnt want wille to be mad at him. and despite wille saying he likes that they learn from the other's perspective, he doesn't make a move to understand any of simon's pov.

simon had to throw up a white flag in ep 5 becuase not only had simon shriveled into a shell of himself and wille not noticed, this change of simon was enabling the way the monarchy breaks wille. previously, and in glimpses this season we have seen simon show wille where the monarchy goes wrong and tries to pull wille into safety a bit but wille can not see past the status quo this season. he got simon so why should he worry right? but this is not the simon he loves, there is no point to this simon. if this is the guy you wanted to love you could've found anyone who was ok with a private relationship why go after the proud boy who is the antithesis to you?

this gives me hope for ep 6. i think wille needed a rude awakening desperately because he was depriving simon of the oxygen he needs to flourish and letting himself drown at the same time. wille needs to see why he fought so hard for simon, why simon was so important to them. they are so special, wille needs to get past the weight of the crown

[neochan]

GOLDEN HOUR (M)

PAIRING | mean dom!mark x reader ft. hyuck (briefly)

SYNOPSIS | the kitchen isn't for cooking, didn't you know?

WC | 1.8k

WARNINGS | oral fem receiving, cocky!mark, jealous!mark, some golden hour inspired dialogue, kitchen sex (a bit)

A.N | i haven't posted anything in a while but after the concert (and the release of his song) i needed to write about him <3 send feedback, and enjoy

the kitchen counter digs into the skin of your back but you don't even notice. all your thoughts are directed to the lips suckling your clit. hands push at your legs, grabbing and pulling the soft flesh apart so he can taste more of you.

"m-mark, fuck. thats- that's good, just like that."

from on his knees, your boyfriend looks up at you, tongue still swirling around your clit. he hums something sweet and the vibrations send you into a frenzy.

clutching the back of his head, you thread your fingers in his long, black hair and tug him closer. he can't go anywhere so really you just end up rocking your hips into his jaw.

he doesn't mind because fuck, you taste so good. so fucking good, and it's all his - you're all his. no one else can have you. not even that boy haechan. the one who's always trying to hang out with you. the one that's currently on his way over to you and marks shared apartment.

the food you were cooking for the three of you is left on the stove, all but forgotten thanks to your boyfriend.

you didn't even have time to greet him when he opened the front door. he immediately made a beeline for you after dropping his bags on the kitchen table.

sweet lips attached themselves to your neck, dark bruises blooming in their wake. his hands were urgent, needy - desperately pulling at the large sweater covering your frame from his greedy eyes.

"let me taste you." he had asked, dropping to his knees and pressing his fingers to your panties.

you had dropped the spoon back into the pot of spaghetti sauce, "right here?"

his eyes never left yours, not even when he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to pull the lace down your thighs, "right here."

now you were all but clambering up on top of the marble countertops, trying to squirm away from your boyfriends prodding tongue.

"stop moving." he mumbles, fingers pressing bruises into your hips to keep you in place. "unless you want me to stop."

"n-no don't stop. mark, if you stop i swear to god i'll-"

he pinches the inside of your thigh which makes you yelp in surprise, "you'll what baby?"

sitting back on his heels, he moves his hand to replace his tongue and draws small, agonizing circles with him thumb over your folds - just barely brushing your clit.

"if i stop eating this pretty pussy, i'm just gonna bend you over and fuck you on the counter."

two fingers dip into you, and involuntarily you clench around them.

"you'd like that huh?"

the question has a deep blush rushing up your spine, and you nod your head slowly - too focused on the way his breath is slowly ghosting over the skin of your belly now that he's leaned forward.

his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, and all the sensations were leaving you with a euphoric head high.

"yeah i bet you would baby." sharp teeth nip at the skin below your navel. "but what about your little friend that's coming over?"

your fingers dig into the marble so hard you're afraid you'll break it. "who? h-hyuck?"

"yeah-" he spits, "hyuck."

his fingers move faster now, building the tension that was lingering in your belly. again, his tongue darts out to lick at your exposed clit - though unsatisfied with the angle, mark grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder.

now you were supporting your weight with one leg on the ground and both your hands gripping the countertops. despite the fear of falling, the action has you whimpering for your boyfriend.

"what would he say if we fucked on the very table he's about to eat on?" you can't even focus on his words, too caught up in the sensation of being split open on his thick fingers.

his hair is matted on his forehead when you look down at him. "why would we -"

mark pulls back, "it can be our little secret baby. he doesn't have to know - or maybe he does."

"mark-" you whine, wanting his lips back between your legs.

"cum for me first and then we'll talk about it." rhythmically, his fingers drive into you. "or i'll talk - i don't know, your mouth might be full." a satisfied hum leaves his lips when your head tilts back in ecstasy, "my turn first though."

and then he's back to suckling on the sensitive bundle of nerves. tongue swirling and licking and lapping at the arousal that leaks onto his hand and down his wrist.

you were so wet for him - so fucking perfect. and he ate it up like a starved man.

soon enough the incessant lapping of marks tongue, and his taunting words - "this sweet pussy is all mine yeah?" "don't want me to stop? fucking cum on my fingers then." has your body locking and doing just what he wants you to.

you ride out your high by grinding against his face, and he took it all. he loved watching you enjoy yourself. it meant he was doing his job right.

"felt good?" he murmurs as he gets up off the wooden floor.

you nod dizzily and fall into his embrace once both your feet were on the floor. who knew he could make you this weak?

"aw baby, don't tell me your done yet! we're just getting started." he frowns, circling his arms around your waist and pulling you flush again his body. something pokes at your stomach.

" i think you got a bit of a problem." you point out.

he smirks, lips attaching themselves to yours, before pulling back, "a really big problem." your eyes lock, his still clouded with lust, "you can help me solve it if you bend over the counter like we talked about."

"but babyy" you drawl, "hyucks gonna be here any minute."

mark grits his teeth and pokes the inside of his cheek before fluidly spinning you around and pressing your hips into the counter opposite of the one you were up on earlier. the bulge in his pants presses against the swell of your ass and somehow you end up arching back into him.

"i really don't give a fuck about that guy." the growl rips from his throat so low you almost miss it. "and you shouldn't even be thinking about him." he sighs almost comically, "i guess i didn't eat this pretty pussy good enough."

his fingers dip between your legs again to swirl around your swollen, overly sensitive clit.

"yes- you did." you whimper, legs shaking.

"then why is another man in your head, hm?"

mark didn't show his jealous side much, but when he did, you knew the next day you weren't walking anywhere. just from the snip in his voice, you knew tomorrow was going to be one of those days.

the sound of fumbling can heard from behind you and soon enough the blunt head of marks 'problem' is pressing up between your folds.

'maybe i should fuck the thought of him away - you think that would fix it?"

one of his hands snakes up your spine and grabs the back of your neck. out of the corner of your eye, you watch his bicep flex when he pushes you down flat against the cool marble. your nipples are stiff peaks against the glossed rock and it makes you shiver.

mark knocks your knees apart and pushes his cock into you; slowly at first. he needed you to feel the stretch - feel how big he really was - feel how hard you made him.

pfft. and you were thinking about another man.

"you think he can make you feel like this?" helplessly, you let mark rock his hips into you. erratic moans pour from your parted lips, "oh i know baby, i know it feels good. just take it okay? i know you can pretty girl. take it just like you did when i was devouring this pretty pussy." the lewd words dripping off his lips like honey leaves you spasming around him and scrambling on your tip toes. "ah, you liked that huh?" you go to shake your head but he tsks at you, "don't deny it now baby, your body gave you away."

"mark, f-faster please. i need you to go -"

"faster, i know baby. i'll fuck you real good in just a second. wanna get adjusted first."

from over his shoulder mark takes note of the time.

seven twenty eight.

"say, what time was your little friend supposed to show up?"

you can barely register his words, but through a dreamy, cloudy voice, you whimper out, "seven thirty."

like a string of fate, a knock sounds at the door. both you and mark jolt and look towards the white wood.

"punctual. of course he's punctual." mark seethes. "what do you say we give him a show? let him see just how much you truly care about him when i'm the one fucking you."

the idea is appealing, so appealing in fact that your body betrays you again. a gush of arousal floods around marks cock, making his shallow thrusts slippery.

"why are you being so-"

"because he can't have you. and i can't have him thinking he can."

another knock sounds and your phone laying just out of arms reach lights up with a text message from haechan.

"and you know what baby?" the question is saturated with a cockiness you've never heard from mark before.

you whimper, his hand snaking between your legs and flicking your puffy clit. "what?"

"i didn't lock the door." you gasp when he pinches the bundle of nerves, "so i think i'll just invite our little guest in, yeah?"

"yeah?" you breathe, dazed and fucked out and pliant.

"yeah." he solidifies it and reaches for the hem of his shirt. ripping it over his head, he flexes his biceps - some form of male competition forcing him to show off his girl and his muscles.

"okay baby, get ready to put on a show."

you nod, choosing to focus on the driving force between your legs instead of his words that ring out into the apartment air.

"It's unlocked! you can come in!"

tentatively, the handle turns and pushes open. a young man mark can only assume is haechan steps through the threshold. his doe eyes go wide when he takes in the scene before him.

"nice to meet you. i'm mark, the boyfriend. dinner might need to be postponed a bit."

a/n | did you like it? if you did, consider leaving me a like, a reblog, a review, or some feedback in my askbox :)

[weebsinstash]

I'm on my betrayal loving bullshit again thinking of some shit like, the typical hero plot where one lies to an ally to intentionally mislead them and keep them away from danger, but it's hidden under the guise of, something that can be REALLY shitty on the surface, and I'm thinking about a yandere coming to "collect" you after revealing the truth and you're all "oh, ok, I understand! I'm still staying here and not coming back with you though :)"

Batman showing up at your apartment, "listen I know I started voicing complaints and even initiated the vote to kick you from the Justice League BUT it was all part of my contingency plan, there was a mole in the League connected to Darkseid and--" and you just hit him with "ok great thats awesome good for you um, I destroyed my costume and threw it in the garbage and I'm an alcoholic now and also thanks for making me realize how much I hate myself and how I never belonged anywhere, you can go now ok thanks byeeee :')" and here therein commences the mass surveillance on your phone/house/walking routes/internet use/the inside of your bedroom--

Same idea twice really but, Miguel coming back from those one ideas I had, "hey, I'm sorry I kicked you out of the Spider Society because you weren't trying to date anyone in your universe, also maybe we fooled around a little and had mutual feelings and I broke your heart by kicking you out and trying to get you to date in your own universe, but it turns out canon isn't real, so, 👉👈🥺❤️?" and here you are, "oh cool, I wish you happiness with whomever you choose :) I'm glad I'm 'allowed' to be single since, you know, you proved to me i dont belong anywhere :)"

Gojo "I'm sorry I bullied you and called you weak when you wanted to go up against this one curse but it was actually way stronger than you and you would have died if I hadn't talked you out of it" Satoru standing there with disbelief as he sees you've gotten rid of anything to do with Jujutsu Tech (uniform, equipment, or otherwise), "being a sorceror is stupid. You were right, I'm NOT cut out for it. I think I want to settle down. I'm gonna give Nanami a call"

You gotta take the character that's totally down bad for you and have them absolutely break your heart and then when they come back for you and reveal, actually, they may have had an extremely good reason for doing so and never wanted to anyways, you're just like "actually you know what? You opened up deeper psychological wounds inside of me and fundamentally damaged me and I don't think I can be the same person you remember me as anymore" and leaving them DESPERATE to keep you, any version of you, in their lives at all costs

[nathaslosthershit]

Off in His Own Little World

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Reader

Summary: When two people love each other very much…

Warnings: Talk of baby makin’ and the beginnings of it

A/N: This was originally a Quinn fic but I just realized I already have a Quinn fic about him getting baby fever and his brothers being annoying so I had to change most of it to fit Jack instead.

Jack had taken his girlfriend to his parents house for the holidays. He knew one of his cousins had recently had a baby, what he hadn’t expected was for the baby to be so adorable, for the infant to get so attached to his partner of two years, and for it to mess with his head so much. Seeing her with the baby had changed him. All he could think about now was her with a baby, with his baby. 

It had begun to piss her off. Jack was in his own little world so much of the time and he refused to acknowledge the difference in his attitude or explain himself. After a full day of socializing, she was tired and just wanted her boyfriend to stop staring off into the distance.

“Okay what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Her harsh words immediately took him out of his daydream. One with her on a boat, at the lake house, with a sleeping baby in her arms. It was his new favorite thing to imagine. He almost went back into his hazy state but was interrupted again by her agitated voice.

“You have been somewhere else for the past three days, Jack! It has been so hard having to do all the socializing because you have been practically catatonic. What is going on? Where are you going?”

She began to get more desperate the longer he stayed silent till he let out a quiet, “I want one.”

“You want what, Jack?”

“A baby”

“...I don’t know what you expect me to do about that”

“I can think of a few things…” “Jack, we are 22 and unmarried. I think the media would lose their mind if you got me pregnant. I mean seriously, they would think you are irresponsible or that I baby trapped you. People are going to start questioning if your priorities are with the team or your family and frankly-” He cuts her off with a kiss. A passionate one. One she knows is just to distract her. One that will definitely lead Jack to getting what he wants if she doesn’t stop it first.

“Jack, I am serious. Why all of a sudden?”

“It's not all of a sudden! I have wanted this for a while. I just- I didn’t know if I wanted to hear what you would say. Yes, I know we are young. Yes, some fans would get mad but fuck them. People will always be mad no matter what I do and there will always be reasons not to do it.”

Now it was her turn to stay silent.

“...do you really want one?”

“More than anything.”

“...Okay”

“Okay? That's it? I mean if you don’t want one then thats not-”

“I want a baby. I want a baby with you. And if you are ready, really ready, then why not.” He kisses her again. Even harder than the first time, if that is even possible. 

In what feels like seconds they are on the bed, her hands in his hair as he starts to kiss her lips, her neck, then her stomach. He takes her pants off and goes to kiss her thighs right before he hears someone yelling out-

“Jack! Come on man, Quinn, Dad, and I are gonna play pool and we need another person for pairs. Come down!” Luke screams. This stops Jack for a few seconds before he moves up to kiss you again.

“Jack, he won’t sto-”

“He will if we ignore him.”

“Jack! Get off her and let’s go” His brother yells once more. This, momentarily, stops Jack’s assault on your lips.

“I really do not like him right now.” She says.

“I never do.” He is getting desperate at this point. After years of his brothers ruining shit for him, this is the one moment he begs some higher power to give him peace.

She finally pushes him off her neck to make eye contact.

“Honey, he won’t stop.”

“He will. He has to. And I’m trying to get you pregnant so can you please be quiet and let me work.”

Luckily, Luke seemed to have given up after screaming a few more times. He was pissed at Jack in the morning for ignoring him, but the flustered look on your two faces at breakfast stopped him from bringing it up. And a month later when he found out he was going to be an uncle, he had already forgotten about the whole thing.

Jack didn't. He was still mad.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[pixiecaps]

Heres a portion of Maxo’s ending monologue and some meta commentary.

q!Maxo: And what if I stay? At least they won’t have that planned out. How can I be so stupid? Of course, they know about the bomb. They literally know everything, see everything, its an all seeing eye, of course. They already knew about my plan.. But there’s a plan they don’t know. And it’s that I’m going to stay here. It’s over. Besides, I’m a danger to everybody, I’m turning into a code. I know now that I’m not the only one but at least it’ll be one less, right? It’s the desperation of not being able to do anything against the Federation. They always get away with it, man. They always get what they want. I don’t- I don’t know why I’m even still walking. … They’ve taken my bomb and stolen my idea and now they’re exploding it. They don’t care. At least, we found a way to escape. (Timer runs out)

cc!Maxo: (Closes game) And like that is how he dies. “Are you coming back as a ghost?” As of right now I am not thinking about returning as a ghost. (Plays sad music) Rest in peace qMaxo. Rest in fucking peace. I did all I could chat. I did all I could. … If I had reached the boat I would not have gotten on. I think what I would’ve wanted is to reach the boat, say goodbye to everybody, and die. But I suppose due to the timer the bomb blew up before that could happen. … So I’ve died. That is how it goes. This was the only thing I could do that the Federation could really not control. Killing myself.

cc!Maxo: (When a chatter mentioned the people who didn’t reach the boat) Chat I only know that I’ve died, it’s what I wanted for my lore. That I would’ve stayed there with the atomic bomb. In a fantasy world like the QSMP, of course I could revive, finally turn into a code, or whatever but for the moment all I know is that I’m dead. And I don’t have anything else scripted, from this moment on I’m dead and thats final. Thats the reality, and thats why I’m not… happy because I will for sure miss the QSMP. But since I personally take roleplay very seriously, for me there is no going back. I am dead. I cannot return as cubito Maxo. I can return as a spirit that haunts Roier once in a while, periodically, I could, I could but qMaxo is dead. It’s sad, I’m not super happy because obviously I spent a really great time on QSMP but by my own lore, man, I couldn’t do it any longer. I couldn’t handle returning to Quesadilla Island knowing I couldn’t do anything against the Federation. If I made a fucking atomic bomb and the boss of Purgatory goes and says, “Oh you have an atomic bomb? Okay. In fact, that’s a good idea. Let’s explode it, run to the boat, returning again to the island that you were in, because thats likely what will happen, and you’ll continue suffering.” I can’t do it anymore. I’ve lost Trump, my son, I’ve lost- I no longer trust people who can kill each other amongst themselves, by the lore.

cc!Maxo: The players themselves are super fun people and I’ve had a good time. What makes me feel shame is that, that I can’t roleplay with them anymore. To say it one way or another. Well, there could be things in the future the admins offer but as a player it makes me feel shame. Also, while it is true that recently I hadn’t been logging in a lot, the times I did I had a good time. I did a lot of cool things with these people.

cc!Maxo: I lost SOFIA, I lost.. everything. Everything that I’ve done, every idea that I had thought of for myself and others has been taken by the Federation. … I think that the Federation has so much control that is impossible to do anything against them. And everything you do against them they’ll use to further confuse the people. … For me I will no longer play [as qMaxo] because I am dead, that’s serious to me, I’ve decided my character has died in an explosion. Another thing is that I could occasionally log on as a spirit or something. If they allow me that then great! But if dying means not being able to play on the QSMP anymore then so be it. … This was necessary for the roleplay. … I didn’t die thinking, “Wow I found the answer.” I didn’t want to die because I found any type of answer. I died because of desperation. To say, look man I couldn’t find any answers.

Maxo mentioned it did leave him with a sour taste in his mouth that he didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to everybody since he ran out of time. So a chatter suggested he does canonical pre recording goodbye video to everybody. He said he’d likely consider it and do it so that his character gets the chance to tell the other characters goodbye and that he’s gone.

Rest in peace qMaxo, the original founder of the Theory Bros, and someone who gave his all to escaping the island no matter the cost.

[fandomxpreferences]

So Funny Story (I'm Fucking Your Daughter)

Funny Story Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader

TW: allusions to smut, swearing, angst kind of, I think thats it?

Summary: You've had a thing with Jake for a while now. The thing is, your dad doesn't know and your brother is desperate for you to tell him.

Word Count:3.2k

A/N:if you read this on desktop and the bottom is fucked up, please know ive tried 100 times to fix it and Tumblr hates me

It was never supposed to go this far, honestly. This whole predicament started out as friends with benefits, and that's how it was meant to stay. Somewhere along the way, the boundaries got muddy and occasional hookups turned into regular sleepovers. Without either of you trying or even realizing it, the relationship blossomed into something more serious. 

In the blink of an eye, the blonde aviator became integral to your life. It's really not your fault; falling for him was so effortless. Loving Jake Seresin is as easy as breathing once you get past the arrogant bravado. 

There's just one problem. One giant, monumental, bat-shit crazy issue. Your dad Maverick doesn't know. In fact, when you waltzed into town, the first thing that he told the aviators was that you're off limits, especially to Jake Seresin. Mav knows his type because he is his type. 

The love em and leave em type that can't be tied down. That's not good enough for his little girl, and he won't allow it.

Ironically, that's how it all began. Telling Jake he can't have something is like dangling candy in front of a child, and you love to push the boundaries and do things to prove a point. 

The point being that your dad can't tell you what or who to do. It took all of three weeks to find yourself in the aviator's bed, and you never left. With each day that passes, your anxiety grows, and you know that as you approach your six-month anniversary, you're teetering on hurting Mav when he does find out. 

The only person in on the secret is your big brother. Well, he's not technically your brother, but the two of you have been raised together since diapers, even going on to apply to the academy and flight school together. The way he found out was less than ideal. 

You and Jake are basking in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, your naked bodies pressed together as you come back down. You're less than decent with the comforter strewn over your ankles as Jake drips out of you. 

Jake's breathless laugh fills the room as his hand rakes through the dark blonde locs your fingers were just tangled in. This has been happening for almost a month now, and you've fallen into a comfortable routine. 

You couldn't stop if you wanted to; truth be told, you'd rather pluck out each of your teeth one by one than never feel Jake Seresin on you again. You've found yourself in freefall, plummeting face-first toward love.

You're too wrapped up in each other to notice the heavy footsteps in the hall and you jump as the door bursts open and slams into the wall. 

"Hey, Hangman, I was won-"Bradley's thought is cut short as he lets out a shrill scream and rushes to cover his eyes. 

"What the fuck?! Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!" 

Jake scrambles to cover the two of you up and you shrink into his arms as he wraps you in a protective embrace. 

"Well, I'm not doing anything now." You mutter, and Bradley lets out an exaggerated gag. 

"No, no, fuck no. Absolutely not. Please tell me this is a one-time thing that's going to the grave." He begs, and your mouth curls up into a sheepish grin. 

"I can lie if it'll make you feel better." You offer, and he groans. 

"God damn it, Y/N. This is the one thing Mav forbade! And don't even get me started with you, Hangman. You're as good as dead." He peeks through his fingers before snapping them closed again.

"For fucks sake, can the two of you please put on some clothes if we're going to be having a conversation?" 

Jake rolls his eyes but moves to slip on a pair of boxers as you grab his shirt and sweatpants. 

"We weren't really looking for a conversation, but come on in, I guess." 

You give Bradley the okay to look, and he shoots daggers at Jake. 

"You're not really in the position to be making smart-ass comments, shit for brains." His voice is sharp, and you snap your fingers at him. 

"Hey, watch your mouth. You're the one who came in unannounced. I'm pretty sure that key is for emergencies only." 

Bradley looks at you in shock and sputters for a few seconds.

"Wh- you. Are you shitting me right now? You're defending him?" He asks, and you shrug. 

"That's what girlfriends do." Your tone is casual, and you can almost see Bradley's heart threatening to explode. 

"Girlfriend?! Oh dear god, please strike me down now. Do you think if we put our heads together, we could figure out time travel so I can go back to a simpler time before I knew about this?" He ponders, hands gesturing wildly between you and Jake.

You snort and shake your head at his antics, allowing yourself to settle back into Jake's chest. 

"You're telling Mav, right? Hopefully, the second I walk out the door?" 

Jake smirks, and you already know he's about to say something out of pocket. 

"I actually had other plans, and I think having Mav present would kill the mood." 

Bradley's muscles ripple with restraint, and he points a finger. 

"Tread lightly, Bagman. That's my baby sister." He growls, and you scoff. 

"Put away the tough guy act, Roo. You and dad need to get over yourselves and realize you're not my keepers." 

Bradley's features soften a bit, and he sighs. His shoulders are tense, and he begins pacing back and forth while mumbling under his breath. 

"Okay, so when are you telling Mav?" 

You shift under his gaze, and he can sense by the way you're batting your eyelashes that he isn't going to like your response. You only do that when you want something, and you know exactly how to get your way with him. 

"Well, that's the thing," You start, and Bradley sets his mouth in a hard line. 

"We- I was hoping this could be our little secret." 

Your lower lip juts out, but it does nothing to make Bradley cave this time. 

"No."

You climb out of bed and amble toward him, doing your best to look small and innocent. He eyes you with suspicion, and you stop in front of him. 

"Come on, BradBrad. Please? For me?" 

That seals his fate. 

"Fuck- fine! How long?" 

You squeal and engulf him in a tight hug that he reluctantly returns. 

"Just a little bit longer." 

He sighs in defeat, and you pull back with a bright smile. 

"When you tell him, keep me out of it. I'll be buried alongside Jake if he finds out I knew, and I can't think of anything worse than an eternity next to that dickhead."

You slap his arm lightly, and he turns to leave. 

"I can't believe I got drug into this bullshit."

That was almost six months ago, and it turns out you and Bradley have different definitions of just a little bit longer. He's resorted to calling you every day, pestering you relentlessly about when you're coming clean. 

You're sprawled out in Jake's bed while he gets water in the kitchen, and your phone rings on schedule. You answer the FaceTime call, and Bradley's distressed face pops up on the screen. 

"When are you telling him?" He asks, skipping niceties altogether. 

"Well, hello to you too." You jest, but he doesn't look the slightest bit amused. You swear you can spot a few new wrinkles coupled with gray hairs, and guilt eats at you. It fades quickly when you hear the bite in his tone. 

"Y/N, I'm serious. When are you going to tell him?" 

You groan and roll onto your side, a migraine settling in. 

"I don't know, Brad! The wedding? Why would I tell him when I'm just going to get a lecture? The two of you aren't exactly the most level-headed people when it comes to me!" 

Remorse swims in your brother's eyes, and he takes a deep breath. 

"Wedding? Are the two of you really that serious?" He questions, and your free hand comes up to rub your temple. 

"I don't know, maybe? The thought has crossed my mind." 

A ghost of a smile covers his face, and he rubs his jaw. There's a knock at the front door, but you don't pay it any mind as he starts speaking again.

"Well, little sis, if it's really tha-" 

You cut him off when you hear voices float up the stairs and shoot up in bed. 

You vaguely hear Jake say, "So, funny story." followed by another man's voice.

"Shut the fuck up. Hold on." Your ears strain to hear better, and Bradley frowns when your face blanches. "Oh my god." 

You jump out of bed and start scrambling around, desperate to find an escape. 

"What's going on?" 

Your head snaps back to your phone, and Bradley hasn't seen you this frantic since he caught you making out with your high school boyfriend that you snuck in. 

"Dad is here!" You whisper shout. "Why the fuck is he here?"

Bradley scowls and tries to sort out the situation in his head. 

"Are you sure?" 

You scoff as you climb out the window and curl up on the roof, shivering as a cold breeze whips around you. 

"What do you me- yes, I'm sure! You think I don't recognize my own dad's fucking voice?" 

Your voice is hushed, and Bradley's eyes widen when he realizes you're serious. 

"Well, what the hell is he doing there at ten pm?" He asks and the pointed look you give him causes him to snap his mouth shut. 

"Just shut the fuck up before you get me caught!" You bite, and you vaguely register him moving around. This is absurd. You're not a teenager in high school. Why the hell are you hiding from your dad on your boyfriend's roof?

"God, I have the worst luck. It could be raining dicks, and I'd look up and catch a titty!" You complain, and Bradley snorts on the other end.

You wait with bated breath, praying it's just a quick visit, but you have no such luck. 

You hear the door to Jake's room open, and Bradley searches for his keys. So much for leaving him out of it. 

"I'm on my way." He informs you, and your eyes are wild as you acknowledge him with a nod. Your breaths are erratic as panic claws at your throat; for once, you don't argue with him. 

The second you hear the window slide open, you know you're done for. You're met with your dad's hard eyes and try to muster an angelic smile. His jaw is set, and there's a burning crimson peeking over the collar of his shirt all the way up to his cheeks. 

"Hi, daddy."

You don't even get a chance to stand before a loud crash rings out, and you rush back inside, almost falling in the process. He has Jake pinned against the wall with his arm across his throat, murder clearly not off the table. 

Jake just takes it, his face relaxed and posture open. You know better, though. You've managed to get past that unphased exterior, and you can read the fear in Jake's eyes like a book. 

"What is the one thing I fucking said?" Mav growls through clenched teeth, and you're on him in an instant. 

You try your best to pull him back, desperate for space between the men, but it's no use. Mav only has maybe half an inch on you, but the man is a lot stronger than he looks. The adrenaline pumping through his veins does nothing to help and you resort to pleading. 

"Dad, stop!" 

He turns to look at you, and for the first time in your life, there's no mercy or gentleness on his face when he stares at you. 

"I'll deal with you in a minute."

You've never seen him like this, which sends a shiver down your spine. You knew it would be ugly, but never in a million years did you think he would go this far off the rails. 

Thoughts race through your head at a million miles an hour as you try to think of what to do, but the problem is solved for you. 

There are loud thumps as Bradley bounds up the stairs, and the scene unfolds quicker than you can process. You watch as he picks your dad up and removes him from Jake, your feet carrying you to your boyfriend at lightning speed. 

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry." You weep, and you can't recall when you started crying. 

You try to look behind you as Mav struggles against Bradley, but Jake cradles your face and forces you to stay looking at him. 

"Hey, I'm fine. Look at me, sweets. Don't worry about that right now, let Rooster calm him down." 

Mav fights against the larger man with a valiant yet futile effort. Bradley considers wrapping his arms around him entirely and forcing him to stay in place but decides not to push his luck. 

Just as the thought enters his mind, Mav slams face-first into realization and stops abruptly. 

"Did you know about this?" 

Bradley swallows and retreats with slow steps as Mavs wrath is re-focused on him. He feels like he's going toe to toe with a wild animal and wonders if playing dead would work.

"I may or may not have had a teeny bit of knowledge about the situation." He says cautiously, and your dad's eyes narrow into thin slits. 

"You didn't think to tell me?" He snaps, and Bradley raises his hands defensively. 

"It wasn't my place. Besides, based on this reaction, can you blame us for keeping you in the dark?" 

He immediately wishes he could take it back when Mavs fist clenches at his side. You briefly consider making a break for it and going into witness protection, but you don't have the chance before your dad's attention is back on you. 

"You know how this ends, Y/N. I have told you time and time again not to get caught up with men like him." 

His voice is softer now but still holds an edge, and Jake's arm tightens around your waist. Mav doesn't miss the subtle shift; his jaw ticks upon seeing the man's hand on his only daughter. 

In his defense, he's been through this with you before. He and Bradley are so protective because you've had your heart broken more than once by hotshot military men, and you never seem to learn your lesson. 

You know this time is different, though. You just have to get your dad to see it. 

"He's not like that, dad. He's different. I trust him." Your voice is small and Mav shakes his head. 

"You always think that! They're all different in the beginning, but it always ends the same. Let's go." He motions toward the door, but your feet stay glued in place. 

"No."

His head whips around to look at you, and you almost laugh at how high his eyebrows are raised. You've got a history of defying him, but you've never blatantly told him no to his face before. 

"Excuse me?" 

You stand a little straighter now and take a step forward, but Jake keeps his hand on the curve of your spine. 

"I said no. I'm not leaving, and I'm not wrong. This isn't the beginning when you're still under some spell, and this isn't going to end with me heartbroken."

Your dad scoffs and places a hand on his hip, clearly over this entire ordeal. 

"What do you mean this isn't the beginning?" 

You take a deep breath and try to steady your voice before answering, and Bradley looks like he wants to die. Being buried next to Jake doesn't sound so bad if it gets him out of this. 

He knows your response will send Mav into another tailspin, and he braces himself, ready to jump in again if he has to. 

"Jake and I have been dating for six months. I love him, and he loves me." 

There it is, the nuclear bomb. The words hang in the air as Mav processes the information, and his eyes dart back and forth absentmindedly as he does the math. 

"You've been seeing him since you got here?"

You can see the hurt on his features for the first time since he arrived, making your stomach twist. His shoulders drop, and all the fight leaves his body. 

"It started out as a fling. We never meant for it to get this serious. We were going to tell you but time just kept passing and it got to the point that we didn't know how to anymore." You explain gently, and he sits on Jake's bed before jolting back up. 

"God only knows what's happened in those sheets, can we go to the living room or something?" He asks with his face scrunched in disgust, and you huff a short laugh through your nose. 

The four of you go downstairs and sit in the living room as your dad continues raking over every interaction he has ever seen you have with Jake in his mind. 

"How did you manage to keep this a secret from everyone when you all work together? Or am I the only one that doesn't know?" 

You shake your head and lay on Jake's shoulder. Your migraine has upgraded to a jackhammer doing to town on the inside of your skull, and you want nothing more than to take a painkiller and close your eyes. 

"No one else knows. We haven't told them, at least." 

Mav nods and settles into the armchair, clearly making himself at home as he props his feet up on the coffee table. You feel the waves of displeasure rolling off of Jake. The man is religious about keeping the house clean, and his eye is already twitching at the fact your dad still has his shoes on. 

You're about to say something when a more pressing matter comes to your attention. 

"Wait, how did you know I'm here?" You frown, and Mav freezes. You give him the signature Mitchell look that tells him not to bullshit you, and he shrinks back a bit. 

"I tracked your phone when you didn’t answer my calls." He mumbles, and you lurch forward in your seat. 

"Pardon? You tracked me? How do you even have access to that? No, better yet, why do you have that? You don't think that's a tad invasive?" You half shout, and Bradley winces. 

Two angry Mitchells under one roof is never a good thing. The last time it happened, he had to make up a story to send the cops away. 

You're brought back down when Jake's large hand squeezes your thigh, and you close your eyes while taking a deep breath. That's one thing you love about this man. He's the only person you've ever met that can bring you back from the edge. 

Bradley and Mav share a look at your sudden shift in demeanor, and you know they're both thinking the same thing. Neither of them has ever been able to snuff out your temper once the fuse is lit, and the fact Jake did it without so much as a word speaks volumes. 

"Okay, I'm fine. Everything is fine." You breathe and Jake smiles. He's proud of the way you've grown since dating him. Your spitfire attitude makes him look tame. He never imagined he'd love a woman who encourages his antics rather than trying to control him. 

That's why you two work so well. You bring out his chaos, and he brings out your calm. It's the perfect ratio of give and take. The two of you bring out the best in each other, which is part of why you fell so fast. 

"Listen, dad. Jake and I are going to keep seeing each other whether you like it or not. He makes me feel safe, wild, and loved; I couldn't ask for a better man. If you could try and pull your head out of your ass for more than three seconds, you might be able to see that." 

There's another thing Jake adores about you. You never shy away from speaking your mind, and you never sugarcoat the truth. He's seen you make grown men cry, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you're the only one who could ever put the legendary Maverick in his place with little to no effort. 

Mav goes to bite back, but the look you give him has the words dying on his tongue. You're a clone of him, yet somehow even more of an immovable force. He knows there's no point in arguing; you're not going to budge. 

"Okay. I'll try to get on board." He relents, and Bradley's eyes dart between the two of you. 

Mav turns to Jake, and your boyfriend sits up, ready to take a verbal berating. 

"If you hurt her, I will ensure you never touch an F-18 again. She better never call me crying over you, Seresin, so help me god." 

You feel Jake nod next to you, and some of the tension dissipates from your shoulders. 

"Oh, and for the love of Christ, don't get my daughter pregnant." 

Bradley chokes on his spit and your eyes widen with horror. 

"Dad! Oh my god." You groan, but he stands firm in his statement. 

"I mean it. You're still at the height of your career. The last thing you need is a baby out of wedlock." 

You know it's coming from a place of love and concern, but it doesn't make it less embarrassing. No one expects Jake's response, and Bradley raises his eyebrows at you. 

"What if I marry her first?"

Mav looks genuinely taken aback, and the mouthy pilot is struck silent for the first time. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and you watch with amusement as he tries to make his brain work. 

"One thing at a time." 

At that, Bradley stands up and shoots your dad a look. 

"We should get going. It's late, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm ready for this to be over." 

Mav nods, and you stand to give him a hug before Jake shakes his hand. 

"Love you, dad. Love you, Roo." 

"Love you too." They say in unison, and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding when the front door closes. 

You turn to Jake with your arms crossed, an arrogant smirk painted on your lips. 

"So you want to marry me and get me pregnant, huh?" 

“Is that okay with you?” He asks and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“More than okay. Why don’t we start practicing tonight?” You suggest and his eyes darken before spinning you around to face away from him. 

“Lead the way.”

[undercoverpena]

epilogue. she might just be my everything and beyond

javier peña x f!reader | epilogue of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: here's the epilogue. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. mention of olivia (steve's and connie's child) ✨ wordcount: 2.7k.

an: at the end.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

you keep flirting with me and ill drive myself over

Oh will you now?

use my key and everything

You have had very little reason to use it lately.

thats cause youre so desperate youre already at the door

Desperate or welcoming?

both

I can be less desperate next time, if you prefer.

dont you fucking dare baby

So when you coming over?

already putting my shoes on

It flies by, time.

One minute, he’s clutching your hands until your fingers slide from his. A promise in the air, one he knows you’ll keep because it's all temporary. Knowing that you’ll be right back, suitcase—and possessions following behind—as you move across the country. 

Within a blink, Javi is asking you where you want things to go, in the little place you chose with so much ease. Spotting you unpack a photo frame, the photo strip from Houston front and centre, sitting on a bed of receipts. 

The next, he’s sweating for reasons he’d rather not be.

His back twinging, protesting as he carries another box to the van. Your smile rises at the sight of him approaching, gesturing to pass it to you—still standing on the edge of the truck.

“Cariño. You’ve lived here six months. How have you amassed so much sh–tuff?”

Narrowing your eyes, taking the box and placing it on top of another, “Nice save.”

Sending you a sink, he smiles as you slide your hand in his to get down. Knowing he doesn’t ever need to feel them slide from his again—hopefully, no emotional goodbyes at the airport. Not ones that don’t involve you visiting someone for a long weekend here or there.

“Are you forgetting that I packed an entire suitcase the first time I saw you? Because knowing that information, I am surprised you’re confused that I’ve doubled my possessions since living here?”

Pulling you close, he focuses on how you feel warm against him—fitting against him perfectly. A feeling he’s had plenty of time to grow used to but finds he never does. How you slot with him, face turned upwards, looking at him like he moves mountains and walks across fire.

If you asked him, he would.

But you never do. You just look at him as though you know he would. Knowing he does.

He supposes it’s why you’re all set to move in with him. Into his home. His room.

This place—as lovely as it has been—will no longer be yours. The little home in the centre of town is tucked away above a video store that you’ve become a frequent customer of, whether he has plans with you or not.

From tomorrow morning, though, you’ll be waking up with him officially. The two of you have had months of it, where you’re there but not entirely with him. Even if, over time, your things have been left amongst his, some even finding themselves hanging alongside his. To the point a drawer was needed—and hangers. Still, for a while, when you said home, you had meant yours.

That was until the last few weeks. Your eyes shimmering, twinkling with the stars in the night sky, curled into his side. His green jacket, the one with the brown collar, wrapped around your shoulders, no longer smelled of old cigarette smoke and desperation but rather sweetness and hope. Your hand entwined with his:

Can we go home, baby?

Yeah, I can take you now.

No, to yours.

You poke him. Light, but purposeful. A little jab to bring him back, and the way you’re smiling at him—fuck. He can’t imagine a look that could make his heart double in size quicker. His thumb strokes alongside your cheek. His pink shirt—the one you had commandeered as your own—rolled up at the sleeves and tied at your waist.

Javi’s noticed you steal his clothes a lot. Fashion them into something that suits you better. He doesn’t moan. If anything, he makes it a purposeful thing to show you how much it means to him—how much he likes it, craves it.

“C’mon, only a few more boxes...”

Groaning, he buries his lips against yours, feeling your smile widen, grinning widely against him as you hold him close.

Your teeth pull at his bottom lip before releasing it with a pop, a twinkle to your eyes. “… think of it like this: once the van is packed, we get more time to say goodbye before I have to return the keys.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, keeping you in place with two fingers under your chin. “And how do you plan on us saying goodbye, baby?”

Sliding your nose against his cheek. “Loudly. I plan on saying it loud, baby.”

You packed me a note in my lunch?

I did

It wasn’t very safe for work.

you said you eat your lunch at your desk

Yes but I’m not a loner, Javi. I do eat lunch with people.

lesson learned then baby

But yes.

yeah?

I don’t think the porch table will cope though, may have to think of a more stable surface.

I think I can think of something

No wood! I am not having you pick splinters out of my ass again, baby.

that was on you

I think it was on you and your speech about how beautiful I looked being a ranch-hand.

Do you fancy coming to my office Halloween party?

do I have to dress up

Yes. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be dressed up too. 

before I decide what are you dressing up as 

That’s the incentive to come, if you say yes I’ll tell you.

do you want me there 

Yes! Want to show you off

then ill be there baby

Because you like being showed off?

yes. but also because you want me there

While outwardly, he’d protested the trip to Miami from the moment you booked it off work up until he was sat beside you on the place, he does see the beauty in it.

Although, Javi primarily suspects that it is down to you. You with your legs out, you in a bikini on the beach, robbing his shades until he buys you your own—a matching pair, something that makes Steve chuckle and Connie aww.

The lazy mornings that remind him of Houston are nice, too. The ones where neither of you are woken by an alarm or his Pop’s awful singing. The backdrop of the airy hotel room and a warm, gentle breeze blowing the sheer curtains as his thumbs dig into the back of your thighs and make you chant, is a bonus. 

Because Javi can make your skin glisten, and your body sing, whenever and wherever he gets the chance. 

What he can’t have at home with you is the sight of you fitting in so easily with the two people who have become a second family. The ones who have seen him go to lengths he hadn't known was possible, him and his old partner seeing things that only appear in occasional nightmares now. 

Connie and Steve welcomed you in with ease and with them, you smiled so effortlessly. Blending in like you were always there—laughter bursting out of you when you’re playing with Olivia. 

It's there, ever-present on the beach, as you chase Olivia around in the sand. The castles the two of you had been making long since trodden on, as the little girl squeals and squeals until she’s caught. 

“You should marry her.”

Turning his head, Steve nods towards the three of you. Connie snapping photos as you roll in the sand. The yellow tinge from his aviators adds an additional glow to the world as he eyes up his former partner-turned-friend—a friend who apparently now gives unwarranted marriage advice.

Scratching his chin, he rolls his jaw. “You giving me permission, Murph?”

“C’mon, Jav. She’s nice, good to you. Clearly makes you very fuckin’ happy.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’m already planning it.”

“Yeah? Fuck. Can’t wait to tell Connie. She told me I needed to convince you.”

Javi shrugs, pushing the glasses up his nose. “It so hard to believe I’d have come to that conclusion on my own?”

“Before you met her? Yeah. Since her? No. Could tell you were smitten—”

Snorting, Javi runs his hand across his chin. “I was not fucking smitten.”

“Yeah, you fucking was. No shame in that, Jav. No shame in enjoying one good woman.”

Groaning, he turns back to the laughter. The corner of his lips twitched, wishing to slide into his cheeks as he watches you throw your head back, neck exposed, as Olivia tries to do a handstand.

“I got the ring last month.”

“Shit.”

Turning his head, he narrows his eyes, watching Steve put his hands up in defence.

“You just said—“

“Yeah, well. Forgot how determined y’can be about things. Surprised me. S’not a bad thing,” Steve says. “Just, y’know. Years ago, I knew you as the man who fucked his way through—“

Elbowing him, Javi smirks as he hears Steve splutter. A sharp look added as Steve holds his hand up.

“I’m not that person anymore, Murphy.”

His friend nods, apology falling. The evidence that he means it stitching into his expression—that he was just joking, teasing. An explanation coming, that he knows how he’s changed—all words he would have once craved hearing. But since meeting you, he’d found even the teasing didn’t upset him as much.

Clapping his hand on his shoulder, Javi looks over his shades. “I know. Alright. Just, I don’t like the reminder, that's all. Feels like… feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Y’telling me.”

Snorting, Javi slides his hand off. Moving his eyes back to the sight of Olivia grinning at the two of them. Her small hand trying to cover her mouth as she whispers something to you, something which Javi suspects involves him from the way she’s running full speed towards him.

“She’s grown up so quickly.”

He’s about to reply, but Olivia interrupts—skidding to a stop in the sand, kicking it across his feet. Swiftly, her hand—all small and delicate—wraps around and tugs on his hand.

“Uncle Javi, can you come play?”

Over the top of her, he spots you. Leaning your weight on one side, hand covering your brows to watch his expression.

And fuck, how can he say no to either of you.

hows pops?

He’s good. In fact, enough to be getting your Mom’s cookbooks down from the shelf for me.

I hope you know thats him saying he loves you

He has told me how much it means to him that I wanted these. Also keeps telling me that he’s happy they’ll be staying in the family.

bet that made you cry didn’t it 

Yes! Obviously. 

youre so cute baby

In my defence he caught me off guard with the comment, I was busy staring and deciphering the handwritten notes.

not gonna be able to read them now if youve cried all over them

As always, you’re hilarious. I obviously didn’t cry into the book! I cried in the bathroom.

you turn the tap on to try and hide it again

Shut up, Javi.

i should be back soon, just grabbing the parts now

Don’t rush, he’s fine. Promise. He even says his back is barely giving him any problems since I told him I’d cook from the book.

what you cooking?

Come home safe and find out.

youre such a tease 

Learned it from you baby. 

At one stage, Javi had been good with people.

Persuasive.

Now, he’s unsure if he even knows how to ask for a favour without giving something up or flirting.

He’s still charismatic, or so you tell him. But, he's pretty sure his tact has gone, impatience bubbling as he tries to pretend to give enough of a shit to be able to ask for the favour he wants.

For you, he decides to push through. To not walk back through the door he came through. He does stuff his hands into his jacket, the man staring at him, still wearing the same confused expression he had when Javi first stepped through the door.

Because even if he’s explained three fucking times, the man still doesn’t understand why he asked him to create the crossword he’s got clutched in his hands. 

The one that would never even go to print—just a single request. A favour. All personal, just for him. Not to be published in every newspaper, but just one.

The one for him, and him alone.

It didn't matter how many ways he explained it, the man remained confused. Only reluctantly accepting, he's sure, to get him to leave.

That had been days ago. Now, you're ahead of him. Your fingers brushing over the tops of long stands, occasionally looking over your shoulder at him, making him feel like he's stepped into one of the movies you've made him watch. 

Even when you look ahead, he can tell you’re grinning from behind—taking the view in. It's 'one of your favourites', something you’d told him the first time he brought you here. 

It’s why he brought you here, now.

Second to you, of course, baby. 

You stop some distance ahead, beginning to place down a blanket, all chequered and soft, as he comes to join you. Placing the basket in his hand down on the edge of it, before your fingers are swatting at him and undoing the ties before you grasp the bottle, food and other bits.

Not that he can eat, needing more than what the wine you’d grabbed would do.

Nerves bubbling, dancing and fluttering like the flies further down the hill. You don't notice. You're focused on the newspaper, the crossword he's not let you see for the last few hours, taunting you, making you wait.

He almost wishes he hadn't when it adds to the knot in his stomach, it tightening more when you become irritated at his coyness as he's reading out the clues—

Javi, what are you up to? You always do down, across, down. Always.

You’d have made a good detective or DEA agent.

Likely given him and Murphy a run for their money—something Steve had even said to you both when the two of you were in Miami. Sand in your toes, sea air in your hair—grin brighter than the sun.

“Give it here,” you say, not sharply, but not playfully either.

His hand wipes his lower mouth, hiding his smirk, having wanted you to do that for the past fifteen minutes.

When you take the crossword, you’re chewing. 

Distracted, barely able to spot him sliding the remainder of your punnet from reach. Because Javi remembers how you feel about being asked any critical questions when you are eating.

He supposes it's the one benefit of you making him watch so many romcoms. It allowed him to do market research and ask questions without raising your suspicion, such as where wouldn't you like to be asked and if you want him down on one knee. 

Mainly, I don’t want to have food in my teeth when I’m being asked. Don't want to spit any leftovers at you in my shock.  

“Hey,” he whispers, stealing your attention—watching you smile, glancing at your clean teeth. “Eres preciosa.”

Your lips slide, curling up into your cheek. “You’re such a flirt, Peña.”

Kissing your cheek, he keeps his arm around you. Fingers playing with the fabric on your hip—balling it up before smoothing it out. Thumb and index brushing, calming, soothing him as your eyes glance over the page.

Occasionally, asking him things, avoiding the clues he desperately wants you to solve.

Until.

Fuck, until.

“Javi.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, pretending indifference, head tilted down, resting his chin on your shoulder—knowing from the high-pitched way you said this name that you’ve already cracked it.

Your fingers slide over the paper, smothering the white and black boxes from view. “Javi?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I think that’s my reply, isn’t it?”

Lips curling, he wraps his fingers around your chin, turning you to face him. Watching it happen in slow motion, how you smile before you grin—tears all but filling your eyes as you clearly try not to get ahead of yourself.

“You wanna make me less lonely, cariño?”

Swallowing, you drop the paper. Let it fall to the blanket, twisting your body until your knees are between his thighs as you take both sides of his cheeks.

“Sí.”

“Sí?”

Nodding, a tear falls. It's one shimmering with joy and happiness, his thumb swiping it, spreading it across your skin.

“I don’t know… I don’t know the translation,” you laugh, it spluttering, fingers stroking his skin. “But I’ll marry you. I love you. Yes, Javi.”

And he whispers it.

The translation. Pressing it, as well as I love you, to your lips as his arms snake further around your waist. Hearing you, all quiet, it almost buried in kisses, repeating the translation back.

Before he falls backwards into the grass, with you on top of him—his fiancé. His world.

you fancy coming to laredo in autumn

Any particular reason?

been told I need a best man and I only know you

an: gosh, here we are. i began writing late night texts one night after a chaotic chat with @guyfieriii because i was manic/sad/anxious all at once and it was the only logical thing i could focus on. as much as javi and reader saved one another, they saved me too. thank you to you lovely lot. not only did you welcome this in with open arms, but you cheered me on every single week (also, btw, how cool is it we didn't miss a single week omg). i owe you so much, and i cannot believe we made it here together. to the old followers, i see you. to the new ones who just discovered me, hey, welcome. to all of the friends I've harrassed over the last few months, i love you. to the new ones I've made, i also love you omg. i'm already missing this pair so much, and i cannot wait until we get to hang out with them sporadically. i'm going to go cry in a corner, but just know my heart is so full and so happy and it's all down to you all 🩷

[quirklessidiot]

title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact. 

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still. 

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating,  “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, ��I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling? 

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.” 

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand. 

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.

[cringefail-clown]

Jakehal is very fun. But why dirkkri? I dont understand what's appealing about it :? confused

theres a lot of things i like about dirkri and honestly i dont even know where to start lmfao

first of all, and its mostly a funny reason - davekat on crack. like some traces of davekat are still there - the arguing about shit, stoic facade vs emotional mess, all the good stuff, but its also so much more exaggerated it makes it this much more ridiculous. gets even better when you consider them under the lense of swap aus like alphaswitch or tbau, where they land on the meteor together. theyre most likely hunting each other for sports by the year two

second of all, the funney. theyd be so fucking funny together. their smallest arguments would take like twenty pages of non-stop flow of red-orange text to resolve, and not because they came to a consensus but because some third party physically dragged them away from their electronics. it doesnt do any good, since it only gives them both time to think over new arguments to use, and theyre back at it as soon as they get their phones back. like if we had a tournament about which ship would do the most collateral damage to the overall group, i think these two would be Up There. karkat would gauge his eyes out from frustration, because now not only does he have to deal with his piece of shit, know-it-all other self, but now theres also Fucking Dirk thrown into the mix. their home life is absolute insanity, a small jab about the other forgetting to buy sugar once again devolves into a screaming match about the merits and flaws of communism or some other inane shit. and theyre doing it for fun, they enjoy debating with each other, because often times they have vastly different opinions, and comparing their beliefs challenges them intelectually and morally. from the outside perspective theyre one of the most dysfunctional pair in the paradox space, when in fact thats simply how they want their relationship to be, and it makes them better people overall.

third reason is that theyre thematically delicious. dirk is a control freak, micromanaging his and his friends constantly. hes terrified of losing control, but hes also desperate for someone to just tell him what the fuck he should do. dirk doesnt think he should be in control of others, because he believes hes a naturally evil person capable of horrible acts, at the same time he doesnt trust anyone else to get things done but himself. hes a whole collection of contradictions.

kankri desperately needs to be in control as well. hes constantly injecting himself into conversations he has no business being in, trying to find someone thatd listen to what he has to say. hes wants to guide others, but his efforts are flawed, because he doesnt listen to other perspectives - hes got tunnel vision, as he thinks hes the one in the right while everyone else is wrong or ignorant (cringefail seer literally). he doesnt trust anyone else to make decisions for him, and becomes defensive when he thinks others are attempting to coddle him. his ass was definitely culled on beforus.

theyre also both so fucking lonely. dirk conciously tries to put difference between himself and his friends, worrying hell "corrupt" them. kankri tries to connect to his friends, but his behavior alienates him from them to the point of no one except maybe porrim want to have anything to do with him.

my point is, kankri wants to guide people but has to learn to listen to others and reflect on his own flawed opinions. dirk has to learn to trust that people closest to him can get shit done on their own and loosen up, as well as realise hes not evil at the core. them helping each other out - dirk teaching kankri about different perspectives, kankri teaching dirk about letting others do their thing - is something i think about a lot.

also i like to think theyd spar for fun a lot as well. its not really a reason and wholly my own personal headcanon but i wanna mention it as well bc its so funny to me. i like the idea of kankris behaviour being a complete reverse of karkat - where karkat is all bark no bite and doesnt like fighting or violence, kankri puts up a front of the beacon of love and peace and tolerance, but in his free time he gets his rifle and goes shooting at the fucking squirrels or some shit. i think he wouldnt have the same qualms about strifing as karkat. like dirk would try to jokingly jab his finger at kankris side and he would just fucking flip him over his shoulder and onto the table breaking it in half, because he doesnt like being touched unexpectedly and by gods dirk when will you fucking learn. he goes from 0 to 100 real fast. its such a hysterical concept for me.

[strwberri-milk]

Midnight Blues

Rafayel x Reader || Mild Insomnia, Comfort || 1 184 words

a/n: my toxic trait is pretending im a singer and compiling songs into albums and naming them and midnight blue is the name of the hypothetical album that encapsulates falling in love with rafayel and i guess i could make a playlist bc thats the normal thing to do but i just name fanficitions after them ig. also this is based off his treasure secret time - idgaf about the mensturation i only care about the fact that hums your ass to rest and the lore drop that is rafayel calling you at night when the two of you first start met bc it would help you sleep

You can hardly remember what nights were like before without the sound of his voice in your ears.

You sigh as you sink into your bed, staring up at the ceiling after doing another quick lap around the house to try and tire yourself out. Your body is tired, you know it is. You just wish that you could sleep, not at all excited about the prospect of having to go to work tomorrow after being unable to sleep all night.

You’re about to start your nightly routine of tossing and turning when your phone suddenly starts to ring. A smile makes its way onto your face as you recognise the caller ID, putting your phone against your ear and humming lightly to alert the other side to your presence.

“You’re still awake, huh?” Rafayel’s teasing tone asks through the phone. The two haven’t known each other long but that didn’t seem to bother Rafayel in the slightest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, putting your phone on speaker next to you on the pillow.

All it took was falling asleep one time in a conversation with him for Rafayel to pounce on that and decide to take advantage of it. You swore up and down that it was a mistake, that it wasn’t because of Rafayel that you fell asleep but deep down you know that something about that silky smooth timbre of his voice made your worries go away. You’d never slept so soundly, mortified at the teasing text that he sent you when you read it in the morning.

However, you had to admit defeat and let the man do whatever he wanted. Even before you met him it was clear that Rafayel didn’t care much for whatever the people around him want. He does as he pleases and now, it seems that he’s convinced you won’t sleep without him talking to you.

“If you wanted me to call you all you had to do was ask,” he says after a while, letting you get settled in bed.

“I’m grown. I can take care of myself,” you reply, Rafayel imagining a slight pout on your features as you did so.

“Ah, I see. So you don’t need me to talk you to sleep then? I’ll hang up then.”

“Wait!” you shout quickly, shooting out of bed and grabbing your phone.

“Don’t…don’t go. Please?”

“Begging now? I guess if you’re that desperate for my company I’ll give it to you.”

You can hear how smug he is, rolling your eyes at how obvious his tells are. You wonder how Thomas hasn’t figured him out yet – Rafayel isn’t nearly as sneaky as he seems to think he is.

“Are you driving?” you ask after a second, settled back into bed again and listening carefully to his end of the call.

“I’m heading back from an exhibition. I could have booked a hotel but I didn’t feel like staying the night there so I’m making the long drive home. I called you to see if you’d keep me company.”

You tug your blankets around yourself, losing yourself in their warmth as you yawn. The exhaustion begins to sit on your shoulders again but this time, it feels more manageable. His voice swims around your head as he starts rambling about the exhibition. You’re glad to hear that it went off without a hitch, having declined his invitation yourself due to a more urgent task of the day.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“Hmm? Yeah, sellers bullying you, people hitting on you, same old same old,” you mumble, burying yourself further into your bed.

“If you didn’t like it that much, why didn’t you just make something up to get out of it?”

“I couldn’t bail on Thomas again. I felt bad for him constantly fielding off journalists and this show was supposedly a big deal so I decided to do him a favour. Plus, I blew off all the shows so far this month so I might as well make myself seen at a more important one.”

Leave it to Rafayel to make doing his job seem like a favour to someone else. Even if he acts like he’s got his head in the clouds you know he’s genuinely kind – if you’ve got the patience to go digging through the layers that make up the enigmatic artist. You feel thankful that the world brought you to him, even if you weren’t sure what the budding feeling in your chest is.

“You had a long day, huh? I can hear it in your voice.”

You give him another hum, not wanting to bother with any words.

“Even if I ask you a question you don’t need to reply. It’s getting late and I won’t be home for at least another hour. I really did just want your company you know. I’m glad that you answered my call. It would have been miserable if I had to drive home all alone.”

It doesn’t take Rafayel much time to start rambling at you again. You don’t know how he manages to find anything and everything to say to you and keep himself entertained, laughing at his own jokes and taking the soft noises you make as jumping off points to completely go on a new tangent.

When he hears your light snores and steady breathing, he smiles to himself. The sound of your breath surrounds him in his car and if he weren’t such a responsible driver, he’d close his eyes just to pretend that he’s laying in bed with you.

Normally, Rafayel was perfectly content driving home in silence, finding the long expanse of road the perfect opportunity to ground himself after all of the cameras and people in his face. Honestly, he only left when he did to make sure he’d be able to call you at the same time he did every night. Your inability to sleep well worried him and even if you didn’t fully understand the extent of his feelings towards you, he wouldn’t let that get in the way of taking care of you. You make him happy after all, especially when he hears you try to rouse yourself from sleep in a desperate attempt to show him that you’re listening to him. The mental image of your sleepy eyes trying to focus on his face makes his heart melt, impatiently tapping his finger against the steering wheel at the annoyance of being unable to call you his just quite yet.

Even when he gets home, he doesn’t hang up on you. He’s careful to do his nightly routine quietly, using the sound of your breathing as his favourite symphony and he settles down for the night himself. He even continues to speak to you softly, wanting to make sure that his voice lulls you into a truly restful slumber. He thinks about you a lot and being able to help you in any form always makes his heart feel so full.

He won’t admit that talking to you on these late nights makes him sleep well too, putting his phone on the pillow beside him before falling asleep to thoughts of you.