#i think i fucked up cleaning this old rolling chair my dad brought home from his workplace

[piplupod]

i think we should get an undo button in real life, because sometimes you do something on impulse and realize "ah. fuck." and theres just noooo undoing it

[propertyofwhitney67]

My Dork

M!Whitney x F!Reader (mama is used)

Words: 448

Tw: talk of pregnancy

Note: Thank y'all so much for 500 followers!! I never thought my silly lil blog would get this big. I've met so many wonderful people and made so many friends. I love all of you :)

While washing the dishes from breakfast, I heard squealing and laughter coming from the girl's room. I smiled, they’ve brought me more joy than I could ever imagine. I finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen before making my way to the girl's room. The closer I got, the louder the laughing got. “I’m gonna get you.” I heard Whitney say before Sarah squealed.

I stopped at the doorway, watching Whitney play would our baby girls. Sarah is a little over a year old and Lara is just a few months old. It’s been hard having two under two, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Whitney is pushing for more, but I told him we should wait at least a few years. But that hasn’t stopped him from trying, the little shit. He wants a big family and so do I, but I want the girls to be a bit older before we have more.

Watching Whitney interact with them always made my heart swell, he’s such a good dad. I stood there silently watching and wishing I had a camera to capture the moment, but my memory will have to do. Sarah squealed, “Mama!” and jumped from her father’s lap and ran over to me. Whitney chuckled, standing up and going over to Lara’s bassinet.

She reached her arms out, and I picked her up. “Hi baby.” I smiled and kissed her forehead. “Are you having fun with daddy?” She nodded excitedly and babbled about what they had been doing before I walked in. “That sounds like so much fun, baby.” She started to wiggle, wanting down. “Ok, Ok.” I laughed, putting her down. She ran off to play with her toys while I went over to Whitney, who was now holding Lara in the rocking chair. “You look comfy.”

He smirked, “I am.” He kept rocking the chair and staring down at Lara, “I never thought I’d settle down and get married, let alone have kids.”

I smiled and sat down on the foot rest, “Look at us now, a former slut and a reformed delinquent.” Lara cooed in Whitney’s arms, stretching her arms before settling back down. “We’ve proved them all wrong.” I whispered, watching Lara fall asleep and thinking of how much we’ve accomplished. 

“Yeah, I’m a fucking doctor and you’re a stay at home parent.” Whitney smirked at me, “Soon this house will be filled with more kids and-”

“And we’ll live happily ever after?” I interrupted him with a big smile on my face.

He rolled his eyes playfully and grumbled, “You’re such a dork.”

I laughed quietly and softly kicked his leg, “I’m your dork.”

“Yeah, you are.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[swtki]

Nothing - C. D

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem! Reader

Summary: Fears arise when Y/N wants to tell Cedric how many people she’s been with.

Warnings: mentions of sex, angst, swearing, not virgin reader.

A/N: yes this is based off of my feelings and Y/N is me but also this ones for my high body count bitches <3 ur sexy luv u xx.

He was perfect, absolutely flawless. The Golden Boy of Hogwarts stood tall and lean in his quiditch uniform, talking to some mates. I watched from the stone archway as I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, not that he would have minded much. Cedric was always happy to see me, he loved dropping everything if it meant I was beside him.

His conversation ended once he spotted me and his face lit up in a smile. He did a small jog over to my place on the stone pillar, he immediately pulled me into a warm hug; which despite it being September and warm outside, I accepted with open arms. The scent of his cologne filled my head, replacing the world around me.

“Hey,” he lifted his head and kissed the top of mine, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”. I smiled, he was in love with me and we both knew it.

“You just saw me like two hours ago.” I laugh and pull away. Six months of seeing each other and our relationship was exciting and we longed to see each other constantly. As we walked, our hands linked together, it was natural for us.

“You know,” Cedric said as we tossed our books onto the plush grass, “Christmas break is coming up.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. “You’ll go home, I stay here as per usual?”

“Actually, I’ve convinced my Dad to go visit some relatives in America, so I’ll be here.” He noticed my confused expression. “I just want to spend this year with you, since you never go home and your owl isn’t the best at flying to a location.” I laughed, he wqs right; my owl was a poor bastard.

“I see...are you sure you won’t miss home? Theres not going to be anyone here - I mean except the handfull of other Hufflepuffs that stay. Its awfully boring.” I watched his face soften, leaning in closer to me.

“Thats exactly why I wan’t to stay.” The air outside was cold, but his warm body made it bearable. “You’ve never spent the night with me - sleeping in my bed, I mean. I dunno, just kind of thought you might like a sleep over in the prefects dorm.”.

“Oh.” I looked back down at my feet, avoiding his eyes. He was right, we’d never been in the others room, never mind going to sleep in it. I knew he would never expect me to have sex with him, he genuinely just wanted to see me - to hold me for just one night.

“I know we haven’t ever...y’know, so I of course don’t think this is my lucky chance or anything. Although, if it were I would love it - because you know it would be my first time-“ he quickly shut up when he realized I had gone stiff. There it was, the truth that he could tell me and I couldn’t tell him; He was a virgin, I was far from it.

“I need to um...I need to think about it. Okay, Ced? Don’t think you’ve said anything wrong, I’m just afraid that I might.” Kissing him on the cheek, I stood and walked towards the library. “Fuck.” slithered out of my mouth as I made my harsh steps.

The library was dim, candlelight and sounds of quills filling it. I spotted my closest friend, Mae, and thumped myself down into the wooden chair next to her.

“If you’ve come to arrange Hogsmeade plans I’m afraid Professor-“

“Cedric’s a virgin.” I said quietly, she relaxed and looked sympathetically at me.

“Haven’t we known that?”

“Well...yes, but he confirmed it. He wants me to spend the night with him.”

“And you don’t want to?” there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

“No!” I whispered, “Of course I do. Everytime I see him in that quidditch jersey I wanna give him a proper shag.”

“He is absolutley fit, who wouldn’t?” I glared at her. “So, whats the problem then?”

I huffed and rolled my eyes to the back of my head. “I haven’t told him how many I’ve had. He thinks I’m as pure as can be.” Maes face fell along side my own.

“Honestly, Y/N? Cedric loves you so I don’t think it will be too much of an issue, if it is then he’s not worth it. Besides its not like over three, yeah?” I quickly lost eye contact with her. “Oh.”

“Over five, to be honest.” I shamefully admit.

“Listen, whatever number it is won’t matter to him. He cares about you, not how many lads you’ve shagged.” Mae stood and collected her belongings, “I’ve gotta run, I’ll see you at dinner in a few.” We waved goodbye to each other.

The next Saturday soon approached, and most of the young witches and wizards departed in its place. Mae had gone home for the holidays, offering me her long distanced support for the talk I needed to have with Cedric. I desperately wanted to avoid it, telling him could ruin everything I’d come to love.

I softly knocked on the smooth wooden door, listening to the shuffle behind it. Cedric opened it and ushered me in, taking my jacket off as soon as I was. His room was warm, rather small yet clean as could be. It could only fit his twin bed, a dresser, and a desk, all the necessities.

“Would you like to borrow one of my sweaters? I don’t want you to be cold or anything?” He said nervously.

“Oh, I’m alright, this is one of your sweaters actually” I pulled at the hem of my top, we both gave a soft laugh. “Its sort of strange,” I looked around the space, “being in your room, I mean. Nice, welcome of course, yet its still a strange feeling.”

“Theres not much option for seating, so I’ll let you have your choice.” I smiled and studied the chair, it was old and wooden.

“I’ll take the bed, I suppose.” I sat down on top of the yellowish orange quilt and he made himself comfortable on the chair. “Cedric, I need to talk to you about something.” His smile turned to a worried expression. “Do you want to be physical with me? I of course want you more than anything, but I know you’re a virgin so I want to wait for you to be ready. I want you to trust me, and I don’t know. If you don’t want to be intimate yet then we can leave this discussion til then, its not pressing.” I looked down at the floor, feeling the bed dip next to me as he sat. He took my hand into his, tilting his head down so he could look me in the eye.

“Y/N, of course I do. Nothing you tell me is going to change how much I love you, nothing. Please, don’t feel like you must hide yourself from me.” His eyes were gentle, his voice smooth as honey.

“I’m not exactly first in line for the chastity competition, well - actually, I’m probably not even tenth. Its not in the hundreds or anything like that, but there are a number of lads who have seen me in compromising positions. I don’t have anything, but if you want to hold off on being intimate I completely understand.” He brought his hand to my cheek, bringing my face to look at his. He kissed me gently and squeezed my left hand.

“Like I said, nothing is going to change how much I love you. I don’t care if its three or three million, you know it will never be the same with them as it will be with me, because I love you, and you’re the woman I’ve been waiting to give my virginity to.” he wrapped his warm arms around me, pulling me into his chest. “I love you, Y/N”

“I love you. Would it be a bad time to ask if you have a johnny tonight, just for future reference of course.” we both smiled, the room being filled with a mixture of love and warmth.

taglist:

@annasdani @rosemallow10 @dystals @mellifluous-cosmos @wizardwheezes @endlessymphony @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

[finelinevogue]

Omg yes of course! Though I would like to see a dad Harry or a wedding related blurb and/or imagine :))

Have a great day!!

dadrry is my favourite! let’s go!!

September 14th. The dreaded day.

This day had been a long time coming and one that you hadn’t properly prepared yourself for. Harry was very relaxed about it all, teasing you when you cried for being such a wuss. Your emotions just seemed to overrule your mind and the tears were out once more.

“I don’t want her to!” You sobbed against Harry’s chest like a big ol’ baby.

Both of you were cuddled up on the couch, you snuggled tight into Harry’s side. His arm was around you back and laying rest on your waist, whilst he constantly gave you forehead kisses to soften your cries. The TV was playing some quiz show, but neither of you were watching anymore.

“Lovie, she has to.” Harry softly laughed at how ridiculous you were being, but at the same time keeping himself strong because he, too, wanted to cry now.

“But she’s too young!” You whined louder than a 3 year old being denied sweets.

“Y/N, love, she’s five. It’s time okay?”

“No. She’s my little girl.” You pouted, tears in your eyes but no longer streaming down your face.

“And she still is your little girl. Mine too. She’s just going to little people school now,” Harry kisses your cheek as you looked up at him, “she’s going to learn so many new and exciting things, yeah? She’ll make so many friends - if she’s anything like her parents, which believe me she is.”

You laughed at his attempt to cheer you up a bit. You weren’t ready to admit to yourself that your baby was going to school. It felt like yesterday you were taking her home from the hospital and beckoning to her every cry, now she was so independent for a 5 year old that you sometimes felt useless.

“She’ll be graduating university before we know it.”

“Baby, I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself there!” Harry chuckled, catching a tear from the corner of your eye and wiping it on his joggers.

“Maybe.” You rolled your eyes in agreement with him, but not wanting to admit that out loud.

You tucked your head back against his chest and hugged him tighter, not wanting to feel like you were losing anyone else. You hiccuped your cries away as you finished watching the end of the crappy TV show, before going to bed together and dreading the next day.

••••

“Uh oh.”

The house was frantic this morning and it really didn’t need to be. You were preparing Poppy’s snacks for the day, whilst Harry was double checking the checklist for things she needed and Poppy was eating her breakfast. Well, trying to eat her breakfast.

“Oh Poppy!” You sighed when you saw that the milk from her cereal had gone all over her jumper. Luckily, you were a prepared mum and had bought two of everything. “Ok arms up.” You told her and she did, pausing herself from her Coco Pops.

You threw the dirty jumper into the washing machine and pulled out a clean one from the airing cupboard.

“Here, let me.” Harry offered, seeing as you were still cutting up fruit and vegetables for her.

“Thank you.” Kissing him on the lips before getting back to your station.

“Alright little miss, arms up.” Harry ordered his daughter. “You’re a right messy eater aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” Poppy said, quite flat and quiet.

“Hey Hops, what’s wrong sweetheart?” Harry had forever called his daughter Hops as a nickname, because when she was first trying to say her name she couldn’t pronounce the ‘P’ so would call herself ‘Hoppy’ instead.

Poppy looked down at her cereal as Harry was adjusting the jumper on her accordingly.

You were quietly putting the snacks inside a container as you listened to their conversation.

“Just scared daddy,” she pouted, “I don’t think i’ll make many friends.”

“Hops, listen to me,” Harry made his daughter look at him and crouched down on the floor - so he was now looking up at her, “you’re going to have the best time of your life in school, okay? You’re going to make so many friends and every day is going to be an adventure—”

“Like the ones me and you have, daddy?” Poppy asked excitedly, making you smile to yourself.

“Exactly like that, baby. Except they won’t be as good, because I won’t be there.”

“Well I don’t want them to be as good if you’re not there.” Poppy cupped her dads cheek so softly, it brought tears to Harry’s eyes.

Pull it together, Harry thought.

“You’re going to be safe there Hops, and you’ll just love it.”

“Okay daddy.” She nodded. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now go brush your teeth and then we’ll go.” Poppy hopped off the chair and went upstairs to brush her teeth - carefully this time.

•••••

Harry just had to bring his fucking huge Range Rover.

You would’ve been quite happy to turn up in your civil Mini Cooper, but no. Harry said first day impressions are the most important and so ‘go big or go home’.

As Harry finally found a parking space big enough to to fit his asshole car in, you were finally at your destination. The first trip to this school of many.

“Alright baby, let’s do this.” You had no idea whether Harry had said that to you or Poppy, but both of you listened and began to climb out of the car. Poppy waited for Harry to open her door and hoist her out of the car - seeing as this stupid car was far too high up for her to climb.

Could you tell you hated this showy car?

Poppy took ahold of both your hands, walking in between you both. She was happily humming to herself whilst you and Harry sussed out the playground. Some children were stood cowered behind their parents legs and some were already playing tag with each other by the swings.

The sound of screaming children was so loud, but it created an atmosphere of happy chaos.

“You okay Hops?”

“Yep!” Poppy was more than excited now - she just wanted the day to start.

You and Harry went to go and stand over by some other parents who were just as lost as your family was.

“Hi? Excuse me,” you waited for them to turn around, smiling with happy faces - their daughter stood behind one of her dad’s legs in fear, “do you know where the Reception students are supposed to go right now?”

“Someone said they’d be out in five minutes to round them all up, I think.” One dad spoke back.

“Thank you!” You reached out your hand to shake theirs, “Hi i’m Y/N Styles. This is my husband, Harry and my daughter Poppy.”

“Nice to meet you. Archie and Felix Johnson. This our daughter, Millie.”

Everyone introduced themselves by shaking hands, but what surprised you all was the interaction between your two, seemingly, timid daughters.

“Hi Millie! Would you like to be my friend?” Poppy walked up to her and asked politely. Millie had appeared from behind her parents and excitedly nodded her head in yes.

•••••

After school Poppy was a bundle of energy and happiness. She couldn’t wait to talk about her day with her two favourite people.

“So how was school then, sweetheart?” You asked her on your car journey back home.

“It was so really good,” her grammar not being entirely correct, but you not having the heart to correct her yet, “and there’s this boy in my class…”

As she continued to talk you looked to Harry with a smirk, seeing his face full of disgust and soft anger. Harry spoke one final time, before your attention was fully dedicated to Poppy.

“She’s moving schools.”

[mxchellesworld]

Get with me

spencer reid x reader

synopsis; in which you get two sets of news and a happy ending 

warnings; mentions of cheating, pregnancy scares, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink (im sorry lmao), praise

pt 2 of ysbuwybf

a/n; patting myself on the back for not bailing on fic requests lmaoo anyways yall were so outa pocket with ideas, all i wanna say is that i am respecting our sweet prince anderson and letting him down gently (i’m writing this before the fic so i could completely switch it up) see end notes for final thoughts :)

hope you enjoy!

*also pls don’t cheat its so icky and a horrible thing to do

***

If your suspicions were correct you were fucked. Part of you would be ecstatic no doubt about it. But if things were true then you were utterly surly fucked. 

Your period was late. 

Which meant either one; your birth control was acting up or two; you were pregnant. 

However being pregnant wasn’t a bad thing, far from it. The bad thing was that there were two candidates in the running to be the father. Your boyfriend, Agent Anderson who was nothing but a sweetheart even though he was about as exciting as a wet paper bag. 

Or Dr.Spencer Reid. Your best friend who you had also been sleeping with outside of your relationship. The best man you’d ever known who was also aching to become a father some day. 

For a week you had been avoiding both of them in the office. Unfortunately for you there were no cases. While yes a lack of serial killing was always a plus it also meant you were stuck in the same building as them for give or take eight hours a day. 

For days on end you stuck in your earbuds and kept your head down while doing paperwork trying to ignore both sets of eyes which would look over to you every once in a while. 

Were you even pregnant, was the biggest question. So you had decided that it was time to get your shit together. At lunch on Monday you had made a quick doctors appointment and went on your way. The little old nurse had told you she would call you in a few days with results. 

In that time you had gone over every possible scenario or possibility. Who would you tell first? How would you even bring it up? Would Anderson hate you for cheating? Would Spencer be upset that the baby isn’t his? It would be like another JJ situation for him. 

The thoughts plagued your mind throughout the week and the more you thought about it the more you thought about who you would have preferred to be the father of your child. Which then led to the guilt of picking and the realization that you in fact would have to break up with Anderson. 

If the child did end up being his you would have to make it work, however you knew it was time to come clean and apologize for going behind his back. He deserved to know the truth. 

Deep in your thoughts you barley heard your phone ringing. It was now Friday and you weren’t expecting any other calls besides the one from your doctor. You looked around and made sure no one was paying attention before you clicked the green button. 

“Hello?” 

You heard the voice of the nurse on the line, she sounded almost sad, “Hello am I speaking with Y/n Y/l/n?”

“Yeah this is her,” you said dryly. Your nerves were eating at you. 

“Oh sweetie I’m calling with the results of your test. It turns out that you are not pregnant at this time honey.” 

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you held in. It felt as is a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

“Oh, um thank you for informing me,” you said looking down at your nails. 

“Of course. If you have anymore questions you can call back at this number or come in and set up another appointment. Have a good rest of your day.” 

With that the line cut off and you fell back into your chair. Your hand subtly moved onto your stomach. Huh. You didn’t think that would be as hard to hear. 

“Y/n?” a voice called from behind you. 

“Oh hey Andy. Whats up?” you said putting a smile on your face. 

He combed a hand through his hair before he sat at the corner of your desk, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I think it’s best if I say it clearly and honestly.” 

Your brows furrowed. Oh shit did he already know? You had to stay calm. 

“Yeah go ahead.”

“I think we should break up. It’s not you, I think we’re just missing a spark. At first it was fun but I don’t think this is gonna work anymore.”

Pot meet kettle, you thought. 

“Plus I think Charlotte from Cyber Crimes is into me so yeah,” he trailed off. 

You bit your lip to try and hide the laugh you wanted to let out. This was an unseen turn of events. “Yeah I get it. But hey no hard feelings. Go for it with Lotte, she’s a total sweetheart.”

“Thanks Y/n/n,” he said leaning down to give you half hug then gingerly turned and walked away. 

Behind you Spencer couldn’t help but listen to the whole interaction. Once he saw Anderson reach the elevator he got up and made his way over to your desk. 

You looked up and saw the small smile on his face, “Is it party at Y/n’s desk today?” you asked causing him to giggle. 

“I think the news I just heard calls for celebration in the best way we know don’t you think,” he said looking around the bullpen nodding his head towards the hallway which was home to the spacious supply closet. 

You looked around and made sure no one was looking. Emily and JJ were gone in Garcia’s lair. Derek was gone visiting his mom and the dads of the BAU were in a meeting. 

“Lead the way doctor,” you said standing getting up form your chair. 

Once in the closet Spencer wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He sighed at the taste of your cherry chapstick. You put your hands on his face pulling him down but while you were savoring the taste of his lips your mind couldn’t help but go back. 

You could have been a mom. Spencer felt your lips slow down instead of returning the passion and stepped away. 

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you said looking up at him.

He tried to hide the look of worry on his features but you could see right through him as he nodded for you to continue. 

“Well earlier this week I uh was supposed to start my period but I didn’t,”

“Y/n-” he tried to cut you off but you put your hand up for him to let you finish. 

“I went to the doctors and got a test done. Before Anderson came over I got the call and I’m not. Which is good right? It saved everyone a world of hurt and drama. I don’t know I just thought you should know.” 

“Did you wanna be?”

“What?”

“Pregnant,” he said gripping your hips and pulling you closer. 

You felt your cheeks get hot at what he was insinuating, “Well- I- yeah. I mean yeah, yes.”

With that he brought his lips back down to yours. This time you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. One of his hands slid to the back of your skirt and pulled down the zipper. You let it slide down your legs and stepped out of it. 

You sat on the table in the room, pushing off the bottles of cleaner. Spencer stepped into the space between your legs, his fingers reaching for your panties and tugging them down your legs. 

“I can’t believe I get this tight little pussy all to myself now,” he said biting marks onto your neck. You mewled tilting your head to the side and pulling on his tie. 

“Spencer please. I need you so bad,” you whined out. 

He stepped away and hastily started on undoing his pants, “What do you want baby? Is it for me to fuck you? Or is that not enough? Do you need me to fill you up with my cum? Want me to put a baby in you?” 

You moaned at his lewd words and quickly nodded your head. Your hand flew down to your pussy, you were practically dripping onto the table and he had barley touched you. 

“Please doctor I need you so bad.” 

Spencer quickly stepped into the space again and took both of your hands in one of his large ones, “I own this pussy. I always have, you don’t get to touch without my permission,” he gritted out. 

With his free hand he tugged on his cock before aligning it with your leaking slit. The both of you sighed as he pushed in inch by inch. Your head feel back with your mouth open in a perfect O shape. 

After a second of letting you adjust Spencer started with rough thrusts. You could feel your hair start sticking on your forehead from the heat of the room. Spencer’s lips were inches from yours, sharing the same breath. 

“Fuck I’m gonna fill you up so good. Let everyone here know you’re mine.”

All you could do was nod and moan in approval. His grip on you was deadly but it was just adding onto the immense pleasure you were feeling. The way he was repeatedly hitting your gpot had your vision blurry with stars. You could also feel him pulsing inside you knowing he was close to his peak. 

“You look so pretty like this sweetheart. So perfect around my cock.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist bringing him impossibly closer, “I want you to cum in me Spence. I need to feel it,” you mewled into his lips. 

This motivated him to start drilling into you. At this point you were panting, aching to feel the sweet release. His hand dipped down to rub on your clit, he groaned at the slippery mess where you both met. 

“Oh god Spence!” 

A high pitched moan escaped your lips as he added on the extra pleasure. Soon enough you were squeeing around him, ready to milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it baby. Keep doing that. I’m gonna stuff you with my cum y/n/n fuck,” he said drawing out the last syllable as he exploded inside you. 

He stayed inside as you both caught your breathes, slowly thrusting trying to fill you to the brim. 

He pulled out and looked for a roll of paper towels for you to clean up. Once that was done you helped each other tame your hair and outfits as you always did, with quiet and loving gazes. 

“Do you think that one did the job?” you said with a smirk. 

“Well statistically the pill contraceptive has a 7% failure rate so with my calculations there is a chance,” he said while smoothing down your hair. 

“Thanks genius,” you said lightly punching his arm, “Lets get out of here. Together.” 

“Together,” he said slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

a/n; so guys what do we think. im not gonna lie i kinda hate it but i think it was a good ending for everyone. kinda feel bad anderson didn’t get the whole truth but the cheating is OVER! also what did we think of what pregnancy scare?? let me know lovies!!!

[little-diable]

Greasy Hands - Spencer Reid (smut)

Written by @playboysbunny​ and little-diable (that’s me - in case you were wondering). Thank you for writing the fluff and letting me have my fun with the smutty part. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: a soft drabble about a broken down car, a confused Spencer and some lovemaking in a garage

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“You don’t understand,” she complained, “my dad used to fix everything! Dishwashers, washing machines, radios - anything that broke, my dad could fix!”

Spencer nodded, trying to calm her. 

“I just don’t see the issue in sending it to the mechanic.”

She threw her arms in the air, releasing a frustrated sigh. 

“It just doesn’t feel right!”

Spencer let her emotions settle. (Y/n) paced her apartment, back and forth, his eyes watching her from his leather reading chair in the corner. He kept his eyes on her with a patient expression, as she slowed eventually she stopped in front of the window. (Y/n) held a hand at her jaw as she watched the sunset; she didn’t want to admit what Spencer clearly already knew.

He didn’t push her, waiting for (y/n) to come to her own conclusion. She spoke in a whisper without turning to him.

“It just feels like he’s really gone,” she said. “He’s not here to fix my car and now it’s real. He’s really gone.”

(Y/n) didn’t cry as she had through the months. Her father had passed in the fall and the green of the trees now brought her some sort of hope and solace; things would get better. It wasn’t the changing of the seasons that brought her peace, though. No, that was Spencer. 

She turned to him then and sighed, his expression was understanding and sympathetic.

“We’ll figure something out,” Spencer said, getting up from his chair. He walked across the room and took her in his arms, placing his chin on the top of (y/n)’s head.

They spent the evening together, since she was lucky enough to have him home for a rare occasion. He unfolded the team’s latest case for her over a bottle of red wine, sparing the gorey details, but giving them to her bit by bit as she begged for them. They made dinner together, danced to music she liked, but Spencer detested, but he went along with it anyway, spinning her around the kitchen and reciting all the words to her as he memorized them instantaneously.

Over dinner, she told him the downfall of her day; on the way home from work, her car suddenly started overheating and she ended up in a strange neighborhood she’d never ventured into before. It was an industrial area without a lot of foot traffic. Every window had a set of accompanying bars. (Y/n) felt oddly isolated and out of place. She was uncomfortable and nervous and then she had to walk away from her car to get a signal to call a tow truck.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Spencer scolded her from across the table. “If something had happened to you…” he couldn’t finish the thought.

“What choice did I have?” (Y/n) countered. “Should I have stayed there and waited for you to come and rescue me?”

“I would have,” he replied. “I will always find you.”

He looked at her over the candlelight, his eyes glistening with truth. His words filled her with exultant joy.

They went to bed together, finally reuniting after weeks apart. Spencer fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the case he’d just returned from. He held her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep.

(Y/n) woke up alone and felt the coldness of his absence, frantically searching for a note; he’d always leave a note if he was called to a case and she was still asleep. She patted her hands around in the dim morning light, finding nothing.

She launched herself out of the bed and threw on whatever she could find. (Y/n) ran into the living room in his boxers and his button down from the night before.

“Spencer?”

The hollow echo of the empty apartment made her heart drop. She scanned the room quickly, looking for him. His go-bag was still sitting by the door, his keys and badge on the table beside it. A cup of cold coffee was resting there too, under the faint light from the floor lamp that Spencer had left on. In his leather armchair, there was a thick book she hadn’t seen before.

(Y/n) picked it up and read the cover aloud. “Haynes Repair Manual based on a complete teardown and rebuild?”

It was for her 1969 Chevrolet Camaro, though she was positive she didn’t own the manual. Why would she? She had no idea how to fix anything. 

(Y/n) grabbed the only pair of shoes she had left at the door - an old pair of tall, yellow, rubber rain boots - and ran into the hallway of her apartment building. She rushed down the stairs with the manual still in-hand. (Y/n) ran out to the back alley, where her car and others were in a long string of garages; of course, her garage door was already open.

“Damn!” Spencer yelled, clattering around under her car.

The hood was propped up and the car was up on jackstands. Spencer’s legs dangled out from underneath and tools and parts were scattered about the garage floor.

“Where did you get all this?” (Y/n) shouted.

Spencer rolled out from under the car and propped himself up on his elbow. He was in ratty blue jeans she’d never seen before and a plain white t-shirt. He was covered with splotches of black grease like a child that had been dabbling in finger paints. 

“All of what?” he said, incredulously.

(Y/n) waved the manual in the air above her head. 

“Spencer!” she laughed, “What are you doing?”

He stood up then, tossing the bolts he held in his hand to the floor. He ran a hand through his messy hair, stopping to pull on the roots. 

“You need your car fixed and that’s what I’m going to do! It shouldn’t be this hard, really,” he huffed. “It’s simple mechanics and mathematics, you’d think someone with a Ph.D in both would be able to do it!”

He continued rambling on, kicking the bolts he had scattered, waving his hands as he struggled to explain to her how his brain and his hands seemed to have a disconnect. Spencer carried on like that for a while and she knew best to let him have his soliloquies. But (y/n) didn’t miss a single drop of sweat that ran down his slightly heated skin. 

She couldn’t help but stare, forcing herself to stay calm, trying to drown out the needy longing for her man.

There was something about the way the frustration spurred him on that made her lose her focus. His intensity and passion had (y/n) biting her lip in anticipation. She couldn’t control the feeling that arose in the pit of her stomach. 

He moved back to the car and attempted to refocus himself, reciting the steps of the manual he had memorized as he got back to work. How easy - she thought - it would be to let him bend her over the car, to allow Spencer to run his oil covered hands all over her body.

“You’re staring.” 

The change in Spencer’s tone recaptured her attention, though he didn’t lift his head to make his remark; his eyes were focused on his task, his expression strained from stopping his smirk from spreading.

For a profiler, Spencer had never been very aware of her advances, to the sly glances she’d cast his direction. But now - with her thighs pressed together, her teeth pierced into her lower lip, the soft humming that she trilled while she was lost in her fantasies of him - he knew all about the heat that took over her senses. 

He didn’t need to be a genius to understand her, to know the arousal that was dripping from her folds, about the way her nipples were beginning to harden, uncomfortably rubbing against the material of his button down shirt hung over her body.

She stumbled over her words, nervously pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. 

A small “sorry” left her slightly parted lips, coaxing a chuckle out of him. Spencer rose from his kneeling position, hand reaching for hers, pulling (y/n) in for a messy kiss, tongues meeting, teeth clashing - clearly projecting the lust that kept them both distracted. 

He pulled her in close, resting himself on the side of the car.

“Maybe I should get cleaned up first,” Spencer said, putting some distance between them, very well knowing that he’d lose control soon. 

But the pleading whine that escaped her held him frozen and gaping as she fell to her knees in front of him, reaching for his belt loops. He braced himself on the car behind him. His usually busy psyche suddenly emptied, thoughts instantly leaving his mind as his tongue wet his lips, enjoying the feeling of her warm hands on his clothed bulge as she rubbed him through the fabric.

“Somebody's excited,” (y/n) teased. 

He turned down to her, a wide smile on his pretty face, his eyes glazed over in ecstasy. Slowly - teasingly - she undid his trousers, kissing up his thighs as she toyed with the elastics of his boxers. Her touches burned on his skin, pushing the genius into a dangerous headstate; the blood was quickly rushing down to his hard cock. 

He couldn’t remember his own name, and best yet, he didn’t care.

As her hands grasped his length, Spencer gasped her name - relieved to finally feel her soft skin pressed against his sensitive one. (Y/n)’s thumb circled his tip, smearing the drops of precum that bearded his skin. She couldn’t help but have a taste, lips parted, allowing him to thrust forward, cock disappearing down her throat.

Every moan that left her vibrated on his skin, pushing him closer to his release - but it was much too soon for Spencer's liking. He wanted to fill her up, claiming her, his lover, in the most sinful way, with his seed spilling out of her as she’d cry out for him.

“(Y/n), I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll-” he moaned, she cut his rambling short as she added more pressure to her movements. 

She couldn’t deny the effect his words had on her. (Y/n) loved to hear his dirty talk and the promises he’d make as waves of euphoria would clash upon him. 

It was no secret that he was close, tightening his grip on her hair, unevenly panting her name. She was eager to push him over the edge - oh, so eager to please him - but he pushed her away before he could reach his peak.

A few moments of silence engulfed them both, the only sound echoing through the air came from the heavy breaths spilling from his lips as he tried to calm himself. 

As if he had heard her thoughts, he reached down, yanked her up by her biceps and turned (y/n) so that she could rest where he had been on the side of the car. His hungry lips grazed her neck, leaving wet trails on her skin as he snapped the hood of the car down with a forceful crash. 

Wordlessly she positioned herself for him, ripping the boxers she had thrown on down her legs, exposing her glistening wetness to his wide eyes. She leaned back as he lifted her onto the car’s hood. 

(Y/n) pledged to take him on a wild ride as she’d beg for her release.

Spencer took in every word, “let me taste you first. I bet you made quite a mess, didn’t you?”

Two fingers of his ran through her slit, spreading her slick on her folds, on her clit. She was addicted to his touch, completely at his mercy. 

(Y/n) was putty in his hands, would do anything he’d asked of her if it meant that she could cum on his fingers. He enjoyed watching her moan for him - she was begging for more, so lost in the fantasy that her words became nonsense.

As he pushed his fingers into her, pumping them in and out of her tightness, her head fell back against the hood as she arched herself off the metal. She was so close, too close, plagued with the wish that this moment and feeling would last forever.

“Feels so good Spence’,” she cried, slurring his name, eyes squeezed shut, her breaths falling short. 

Though just as she wanted to let go, he stopped, smirking at her with the special glint in his eyes. He was toying with her, using her body for his pleasure. Watching her beg for him turned him into a touch-starved, hungry man.

“I will fuck you so good, you won’t remember your own name,” Spencer moaned. 

His words sounded more like a command than a promise, cock ready to rip her in half, to fuck her till she’d cry heavy tears of pleasure. 

Her lips met his in a rather passionate way, tongues fighting, teasing one another, distracting her from the feeling of his cock pressed against her entrance. As their bodies connected in the most intimate way possible, she called out his name, pulling him close, holding onto him for dear life.

Spencer kept his gaze focused on her heat, watching his length split her in half, glistening with her arousal clinging to his skin. She was losing herself in waves of pleasures, slowly forgetting about the world outside, only caring about their love and the pleasure that ran through their bodies.

His pace was ruthless, bruising, keeping her lungs from letting any air flood through them. She was too distracted by the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her. Sounds of praises left them both as they felt themselves climbing higher and higher, ready to reach their peaks.

“I’m so close.” 

Her words didn’t get a reply. He was focused on making her cum, adding more pressure to the speed of his thrusts as her body moved against the hood. Sweat dripped down her skin, pooling on the small of (y/n)’s back. Their lips connected once again all while she tumbled over the edge, fingernails piercing into his shoulders, as she cried out his name.

The way she looked - sweaty, hair in tangles, makeup smudged - pushed him into the arms of his own orgasm. His release spilled out of him, painting her walls white, claiming (y/n) as his.

She laid her head down and let her body collapse onto the hood of the car as he bent himself over her to rest. Forehead to forehead, they gazed into each other’s eyes as they struggled to catch their breaths. They both shared sloppy, quick kisses and murmurs of “I love you’s” as they laughed breathlessly together in the afterglow.

Spencer pushed himself off the car and straightened his pants again before handing her the boxers she’d stolen. She hopped off the hood and redressed herself as they heard nearing footsteps.

”Hey, pretty boy,” Derek chanted, announcing himself before he walked through the wide open door of the garage.

(Y/n) covered her mouth to hide her wide smile, admired Spencer as he struggled to keep himself composed. 

“Hey, Derek, thanks for coming,” Spencer answered, still struggling to breathe evenly.

“(Y/n), you can go back to bed and rest easy little girl,” Derek laughed. “I’m here now, I’ll take care of you.”

Derek’s taunt was entirely directed at the difficulties Spencer faced with fixing her car, but she couldn’t let the moment pass.

She smiled brightly in Derek’s direction as she walked past him on her way out of the garage, “Oh, Dr. Reid has already taken care of me, Derek. Don’t you worry.”

(Y/n) heard Spencer laugh as she sauntered off. She imagined the look on Derek’s face as the realization hit, but she didn’t look back to see it.

“Pretty boy!” Derek yelled in surprise.

She basked in the sound of Spencer’s laughter.

Criminal Minds Taglist: @huntheimpossible​ @23victoria​ @jensenackles512​ @trickassmotherfucker​ @miraclesoflove​ @shrekboobies​ 

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Masterlist

[you-show-me-love]

How Tami Met Mickey

I really just wanted to write a headcanon of when Tami understood Mickey's existence since we were deprived of their interaction in the show okay bye

Tami was going to kill Lip. She was going to kill him and leave Fred on the dirty floor of the Gallagher house and she was going to disappear from their lives, head out west and hide out in a hair salon under a false identity, because Lip swore up and down Fred's teething ring was here somewhere and the kid was screaming his head off and had been for the last hour.

"Where the hell is it?" She whined, feeling like crying herself as she pushed aside random junk on the floor near where they sometimes set up the playpen. 

Mickey descended the stairs into the kitchen, still in his tank top and boxers even though it was well past noon. He grimaced at the sound of the crying baby. 

"Will you shut that kid up? Some of us are trying to sleep." 

Tami rolled her eyes, disrupting her search of the coffee table covered in crayons and paper. She loved Ian, she did, but she couldn't comprehend why the sweetest Gallagher had up and married this surly, foul mouthed convict. She chose to ignore him most of the time, especially after Lip told her he had been in for attempted murder of one of their family members.

"Believe me if I could I would but he's teething and I can't find his teething ring anywhere and Lip said it was here in this mess somewhere..." 

She was rambling, losing her sanity as Fred screamed louder and pulled a fist full of her blonde hair. Maybe Mickey could put her out of her misery since he apparently had no problem killing family members. Afraid to ask in case he took her seriously she shifted Fred to her other hip and pushed her fingers into the couch cushions, trying not to think of what they might come in contact with in the process.

Mickey watched the tall blonde with apathy as he chugged orange juice straight from the carton. He belched loudly and moved back out of sight, running some water and opening the refrigerator. A few more minutes of fruitless searching and Tami decided to give up. She turned to head to the backdoor only to find Mickey there, a wash cloth in hand. She watched, rapt, as Mickey pushed the chilled, damp cloth into Fred's open, wailing mouth, watched as her son clamped down immediately and began to suck. Her ears rang in the blissful silence and she stared at Mickey in awe. 

Mickey wasn't looking at her, he was cradling the back of Fred's head and running his thumb along his baby soft hair, a small almost sad smile on his face.

"How did you know to do that?" Tami couldn't help but ask. 

"My kid used to cry like that, had to keep this shit on standby for him, twenty-four seven."

Mickey seemed to come back to himself, dropping his hand from Fred's head and stepping back from mother and son. He was back up the stairs before Tami couldn't say anything.

==

Tami had stopped by too late to have breakfast with the Gallaghers, Lip giving her the extra hour of much needed sleep after Fred kept her up most of the night. She accepted Franny's hug around her knees and gave Fred a tickle and a kiss to the forehead. He smiled around his squishy teething ring and wiggled in the high chair. 

Debbie paused her cleaning to pull Tami's plate from the microwave and Tami decided to ask Debbie something that had been on her mind since yesterday.

"So, Mickey has a kid?"

Debbie looked up at her, face twisted in confusion, but she nodded. 

"Yeah, Yevgeny. Why?"

Tami didn't know how to answer that. Why did she want to know? Maybe it was because of the obvious.

"But…he's gay."

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"Gay people can have kids." She seethed, indicating to her own mini-me. She shoulder checked Tami on her way upstairs muttering bitch under her breath as she did so.

==

Fred had been just put down and Lip and Tami were laying in bed, trying to decide if they should use this opportunity to fuck or to sleep. Lip made the decision for them when he pulled off his shirt and rolled onto Tami.

They were kissing, hands roaming, but Tami's mind was on someone else entirely. The trail of kisses Lip was leaving down her body stopped as she asked him what had been on her mind.

"So, Mickey has a kid?" 

"Uhhh, yeah." Lip affirmed, looking up at Tami in confusion. "With a Russian hand-whore." He concluded with a light chuckle.

"What?!" Tami sat up, Lip further away from his destination. He sighed and joined her at the head of the bed. 

"You good Tamietti?" Lip asked as he watched his girlfriend's face pass through a range of emotions. She eventually shook her head. Lip licked his lips and leaned closer to her, keeping his voice low even though it was only the two of them.

"Look, it's a touchy subject for Ian and Mickey both. Broke Ian's heart to see him marry her. Then Ian stole the baby-"

"Wait wait wait." Tami interrupted, too loud considering their own sleeping baby was just one room over. "Mickey was married before? Ian stole a baby? What-"

"It's best if you don't know just...don't bring it up okay?"

Tami nodded, accepting a few more soft kisses from Lip before they both settled into bed and fell asleep while they had the chance.

==

Tami couldn't not bring it up, not when Ian was right there, bouncing Fred on his hip and making silly faces. Tami had to get to work but she could spare a moment to ask what had been eating away at her for a week now.

"Ian, can I ask you something about Mickey?"

Ian regarded her hesitantly but nodded. She let out a breath and resolved to satisfy her need to know once and for all.

"He has a kid. He's gay but he has a kid and used to be married to a woman? And you stole his baby? I mean, what is the story here?" She ended with a hysterical giggle, arms smacking against her thighs in exasperation.

Ian went paler than usual, his chin jutting out in a hard line. He stared at his nephew, watched his tiny fingers wrap around one of his own. Tami swallowed at the dark look on Ian's face, sudden regret for not following Lip's advice filling her.

"Back when we were kids Mickey's dad caught us. The homphobic prick beat Mickey bad and forced him to fuck a woman in front of me." Ian's voice was rough as sandpaper only making Tami feel worse.

"Mickey got her knocked up, married her, thought we could still bang in secret, but I took off. I came back and we tried to make it work but then I had a manic episode and took off with Yevgeny. I wanted him to be mine, be ours. My brain just ran away with the idea."

Tami's knees were weak and she backed herself into the nearest chair. She knew about Ian's disorder, but had never witnessed it, never heard them talk about it much at all, and she understood why looking at Ian now, seeing how much guilt and pain he internalized over what he did when he had no control. 

"Svetlana filed for divorce while Mickey was in prison, married some old rich bastard, and disappeared. Mickey's never tried to find them, don't think either of us deserve to at this point."

Ian sighed, finally looking Tami in the eye. She could only stare helplessly back in the wake of his words. Mickey wasn't just some convict Ian brought home after his stint in prison after all. Mouth dry she figured she had already dug herself this deep, what's a bit more.

"He really go to prison for trying to kill your sister?"

Ian made a face of knowing, standing taller and squaring his shoulders, jutting his chin even further in defence. 

"Yeah, he did." And with a bit of softening creeping into his hard features he whispered, "He did it for me. Because he loves me."

Tami left a few minutes later, assured by Ian he was fine to watch Fred until Lip came home. She totally cut a client's hair uneven as her mind drifted back to Mickey and what she now knew about the man before today. Turns out she knew jack shit.

Now she knew he was so much more. 

==

Tami threw open the front door of the Gallagher home, Fred crying in her ear after refusing to take his afternoon nap. Two heads turned at the commotion. Quickly Ian halfway off the couch to rescue his brother's girlfriend. Tami ignored him entirely and dropped Fred in Mickey's lap.

"He needs some more of that Mickey magic." Tami explained as the husbands stared wide-eyed between mother, crying son, and each other.

She left them to take a much needed bathroom break. After she was done she grabbed a beer and leaned against the doorway, watching the way Fred squirmed in Mickey's arms as he held him close and rubbed his back. Ian watched the pair with adoration before looking up at Tami and mouthing a simple thank you.

And that's how Tami Tamietti met the real Mickey Milkovich.

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Fuck, Marry, Kill

Summary: After coming home from college, your parents decide to throw a party. At the party, Bucky Barnes stumbles upon a game you’re playing with your best friend.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: age gap, (reader is in college) making out, inappropriate touches and sexual acts, dirty language

“Noo! There’s no boys allowed down here” your best friend slurred, as she waved her alcoholic beverage in the air. You rolled your eyes lightly, carefully putting her cup down to prevent her from spilling the drink all over herself.

“Come on, sweetie. They’re all talking about kids and shit, I’m sick of it” Bucky announced as he sat down across from you.

“Yeah, well, don’t you think that’s a little concerning for you. Shouldn’t you be settling down...” you blurted, the alcohol already in your system giving you some courage.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, before taking a swing of his drink.

“And what about you? Huh? Last year in college and still no boyfriend” he challenged, shrugging.

He was good at this game. You hummed and tilted your head in response.

“At least I’m getting laid!”

“Fuck you, Barnes—“

“Is that a promise?” A smirk twitched against his lips and you rolled your eyes.

You first learned about Bucky when you came home for Thanksgiving in your sophomore year of college. Seated at the table, you noticed he wasn’t the same age as your parents. But, he was still a good 10 plus years older than you. Working in the same place as your parents and living almost 3 blocks down, they instantly became friends. Now as a senior, you also considered Bucky as a friend.

Your friend scoffed at the playful banter before hushing the both of you. “Anyways, Y/N, Fuck, Marry, or Kill” she whined, she was definitely drunk but you didn’t care.

Bucky’s elbows rested on his knees as he looked at you.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be playing that? Or is this some college bullshit game?” You blushed lightly, flipping him off. He chuckled softly and shrugged.

Yeah, so what if you had a crush on Bucky Barnes. It was harmless anyways. His kind eyes stayed on yours, waiting for an answer but you focused on your friend.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead”

“Alright, let’s make this fun!” Your friend clapped as she giggled lightly at Bucky. “Let’s do— Jake from economics, Nick from the swim group, and Bucky!”

“What?” You and Bucky both said in unison, the two of you staring at each other.

“Oh, come on, Y/N— it’s just a game. Bucky doesn’t even care. Right?” She questioned, as she continued to drink. Bucky cleared his throat and shook his head. “See—! plus, we’re all adults here” she added, looking at you.

Bucky was curious. Honestly. The fact that he would have made a move if you weren’t the daughter of his fellow co-worker was telling. You made him laugh, laugh till tears filled his eyes. Made him even feel younger.

You looked over at Bucky, licking your lips in hesitation. You never fully understood the vibe he gave off. He had brought girls to your parent’s house before. Player? Probably. Sometimes when you visited your dad at his job, there would be a new girl in Bucky’s office. But, that was the first & last time you would ever see them.

“Well, I would do... marry- umm... Jake— because well, his family is fucking rich!”

“Good choice!” Your friend sang as Bucky watched you in anticipation.

“And then I would F-Fuck Nick—” you boasted in a very unconvincing way. It was lie obviously.

“Finally, I would kill you Bucky, sorry, you’re just not my type at all” you exaggerated, making a gagging face. That was a lie too.

“Aw! Sorry Bucky! You know Y/N never really had a type for older men” Your friend teased, finishing her drink.

You looked over at Bucky, your face feeling flushed. You prayed it didn’t show. Perhaps, you could blame it on the alcohol. Your palms releasing an unhealthy amount of sweat as well. But Bucky, He was unphased. Better yet, He smirked slightly. Why the fuck was he smirking , you thought to yourself. You wanted to scream at him. God, and now your back was sweating. This is gross, you thought, swallowing thickly.

“Y/N—? Hello?”

Your friend tried to grab your attention as thoughts ran through your head.

“What?” You snapped as you finished cursing out Bucky in your head. Oh, and he laughed at your mistaken aggression. He’s an asshole.

“It’s my turn” your friend said not realizing that you accidentally snapped at her but Bucky had. He noticed everything.

You started to clean the basement as your friends left one by one. It was almost midnight, and the party was quieting down.

“Missed something” the familiar voice said as he waved a wrapper in the air. You turned around slowly as Bucky stood, leaning against the basement wall. He shot a smile towards you. Of course, he’d be one of the last people still here. After your awkward game of Fuck, Marry, Kill , Bucky had excused himself out of the basement & went back upstairs.

“Oh, thanks. You can just put it in the plastic bag over there” you went back to tidying the items, but you heard Bucky’s footsteps become louder. He began to give you a helping hand in folding the chairs.

“That was quite a show you pulled off...”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y/N, I’m not dumb” he huffed, folding the chair and then stepping closer to you. You looked up and noticed how much taller he was compared to you. You stepped back a bit, tripping on the chair behind you. However, Bucky caught you. His hands firm on your hips.

He chuckled softly... that fucking laugh again.

“B-Bucky—“ You stuttered, looking up at him. His hands brushing over your skin for the first time. Goosebumps shooting across every inch. God, did he always look this handsome up close?

“You’re nervous-“

“I’m not.”

“So, you actually want to fuck Nick...?”

“You don’t even know how he looks!” He caught you off pulling out his phone.

“Oh, but I do—“ he showed you a screenshot from the university’s website. “You can do better than that.” He tsked as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“How did you even find that?”

He caught your lies. But, why? Why did he care? His hands squeezed your hips, running them up your body and then cupped your face. You felt fragile in his embrace. You weren’t scared, but you were nervous.

“Tell me if you want me to stop...” he looked into your eyes waiting for a disapproval. His thumb caressing your cheek before tracing your lips.

Make the first move.

Your hands pressed against his chest before sliding down until it reached his clothed hard on.

He groaned, pulling you against the wall, his slight hard on resting on your thigh, as you looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“Fuck, You know your father is going to kill me, right?” You smashed your lips against his. You couldn’t care less what your parents thought. Right now, you wanted to kiss Bucky. He licked your bottom lip, a way of asking permission as you opened your mouth, the two of you exploring & sucking on each other’s tongues. His hands reached down to your ass and squeezed on it. He patted it lightly, signaling to jump, which you gladly did. Your hands in his hair, Bucky’s hard on grinding against you, and making you wetter by the second. It was embarrassing how turned on the two of you were.

You pulled away slightly to breathe. Your lips already swollen, as Bucky playfully tugged on your bottom lip staring at you. “Tell me, what was the answer you really wanted to say?”

“I’d fuck you...” you admitted as Bucky grinned, leaning in and leaving small hickeys on your neck, causing you to moan lightly. He grabbed your hand and guided it towards his hard on. You blushed heavily, squeezing him which earned a filthy grunt to escape lips.

“You really thought you could keep this little secret to yourself, I would eventually find out—” He whispered in your ear, his hands running up under your shirt to grope your breasts. You whimpered, tugging a handful of his hair. His hands skillfully unhooked your bra before lifting up your shirt and bunching up the fabric till your breasts were on display.

“You’re fucking gorgeous” He licked his lips, before taking off the shirt and bra completely, throwing it on the floor. His mouth quickly attaching on the sensitive bud, as his other hand gave its undivided attention to your other breast. Bucky spared no time in pinching, flicking, and sucking which only made your arousal grow.

“Agh— fuck... Buck—“ his hands slapped over your mouth, his eyes now much darker than before. “As much as I would love to hear those moans, you better keep your pretty mouth shut” he warned as his mouth popped off from your breasts and went to licking a stripe up your neck.

“Or... You can come back to my place... I’ll make that pussy scream... You want that?” Bucky clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Neither were you. The two of you drunk off of each other’s touches without thinking of the consequences. You nodded as your hands started to palm him through his jeans. Bucky groaned, kissing you once again to shield the loud moans coming from the basement.

“Y/N...! Sweetie...! Are you down there?” You heard your mother’s voice and your eyes widened. Your mother was moments from catching you half naked with Bucky.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you began to panic, trying to push yourself off him. Your heart pounding.

“Shhhh.... Relax” his fingers stroked your cheek in the most delicate way possible before letting you down. He passed you back your bra and shirt,  as his hands were trying to move his hard on in a way where it wasn’t too noticeable.

He cleared his throat lightly. “Yeah—! She’s down here with me!”

Your eyes shot back to him still wide as before, as you quickly began to fix your appearance.

“Bucky, is that you?” Your mother questioned, her voice getting closer by the second.

“Sure is! Your daughter and I were just cleaning up the mess down here” your mother eventually coming down to the basement. A smile on her face as she saw the room spotless. Thank god, the room didn’t have the best lighting because your hair was a mess and your lips were swollen.

“She’s such a good girl...” Bucky stated nonchalantly, his arm pulling you in, as his hands rested on your ass. The nickname causing heat to rise in your cheeks. He squeezed your ass and you gasped lightly, quickly covering it with a cough.

“I’ll be right up, I just have to find uh— my phone” you explained, trying to push Bucky’s hand away from behind, but he only continued to knead your ass.

“Alright, honey, thank you Bucky for helping her out. You didn’t have to” she smiled kindly, oblivious to the actions happening behind you and Bucky before she headed upstairs.

You turned on your heel, quickly grabbing your phone. You tried to head towards the stairs but was stopped.

“Y/N...”

You released a heavy breath, looking up at him. The nonchalant attitude that he presented to your mother was gone. His hands running through his hair. More than likely, a reality check was settling in. He scratched his beard nervously, watching your every movement, waiting for you to speak.

“Don’t worry, Bucky, I’m not going to tell anyone” you promised, waving your phone in the air. “Text me when you get home...” you walked over to him and kissed his cheek. Before he could grab your wrist you pulled away and left Bucky in the middle of your basement to recollect his thoughts.

[winterscaptain]

enough.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: here’s a little thing i put together to fill in some holes. it takes place the first week of aaron’s recovery at home, about halfway through his month-long medical leave following faceless, nameless.  

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 2.5k warnings: description of wound dressing, canon-typical injury, language, brief body image mention (scarring)

summary: “not taking your pain meds doesn’t make you captain america. it just makes you stupid, and in pain.” in other words: healing is annoying and certainly non-linear. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You knock on his door, takeout in your hand. “It’s me!”

After a minute of silence on the other side of the door, you take your keys out of your pocket and start to open the door. “Don’t shoot me. I’m using my keys.” You move to open it, and the chain is in place. 

Damn it, Aaron. 

Then - 

Is he okay?

“Aaron?” You call through the gap in the door. You leave the keys in the knob and pull your phone out of your pocket, hitting the first number on your speed dial. 

You hear his phone ring, a smack, and both from down the hallway and through the speaker (with an echo): “Hotchner.” 

“I’m here with dinner. Open the door.” 

His voice is thick with sleep. “You have a key, right?”

“The chain is on. I’m surprised I didn’t trip the alarm.” 

He makes a little dissatisfied noise and hangs up. You can hear him plant his feet and amble down the hallway. 

You smile a little at him as he approaches the door, almost looking inconvenienced as he shuts it, removes the chain lock, and opens it again. 

“Are you seriously upset that I brought you food?” 

He shakes his head and steps back, letting you in before closing it.  “No, sorry. I just didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

You take stock of him as he turns his back on you and sits on the couch, settling with a slowness that looks painful. You set the food down and then return to lock the door. It’s easier for him to answer your question when you’re not looking at him. 

“How are you feeling?”

A sigh. “Alright.” 

You look over your shoulder as you slide the chain lock back into place. “Don’t lie to me. It won’t work.” 

His head is in the takeout bag as he answers, still avoiding your eyes. “I’m sore and I can’t sleep at night and everything is healing slower than I want.”

There we go. 

You sit beside him. “Do your dressings need to be changed?” 

“I got most of them earlier, and Jess came over to help me yesterday, but there are a few that need to wrap around and I can’t -” He stops with a huff. “I can’t reach without -”

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I got it.” 

His jaw is tight, shaky. “Thanks.” 

“First,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes, “food.” 

There’s a grateful little pull of his lips as you dig in. The news is on, but you pick up the remote and change it to some ridiculous reality TV program. 

“I was watching that.” 

“No you weren’t.” 

He wasn’t. 

You avoid his exasperated eyes as you set the remote on your side of the couch - farther than he can reach without stretching. 

You eat together in silence, the trainwreck on the television only marginally holding your attention. When you glance at him, you catch the side of his face twinge when he reaches for his glass of water.

“You know, not taking your pain meds doesn’t make you Captain America. It just makes you stupid, and in pain.” 

He levels you with a glare. 

+++

“Stop squirming.” 

“Sorry.” 

With gentle fingers, you tape and tuck gauze around one of the wounds on his ribs. He flinches, a little pained noise leaving his throat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your fingers flutter for a second before setting back to work. Reaching blindly behind you, you grab the roll of gauze wrapping. “Hang on for just a second - this isn’t going to feel good.” 

He takes a deep breath (as deep as he can, anyway, considering his injuries), and you begin wrapping the dressing around his ribs, passing the roll from one hand to the other. He grits his teeth whenever it pulls the right amount, and your lower lip disappears between your teeth. 

“I’m going to tuck it in front so you can reach it, okay?”

He nods, his eyes closed. 

You’re sitting on his desk while he’s perched on the edge of his chair, his arm resting along the back - up and out of the way. This is the only place in the apartment he’s comfortable removing his shirt. 

Every other room has a mirror or a big window. 

“Okay, one more.”

You’ve saved the hardest one for last, but it has to go in that order. It’s the one just above his collarbone, right off the hollow of his throat, that needs the most attention and frequent changes. 

You tip his chin with the tip of your finger, giving you more space to work. 

Gingerly pulling at the tape, you remove the soiled dressing. Aaron’s breath comes as deep as he can through his teeth. When it quickens, you stop. 

You readjust so he can keep his head where it is and you can sit in his eye line. He meets your eyes with a tight jaw. 

“What can I do, Aaron?”

He closes his eyes again and tilts his head further to the side. “Just keep going.” 

The tears come unbidden into your eyes as you continue your work, but your hands and breath are steady. You can hear him match his breath to yours and you’re thankful for your relative composure.  

The wound still looks wretched - angry and red and black and blue and weeping - but it’s not infected. 

You hold a towel up and he gingerly presses it to his chest while you reach for the wound wash, hiding your face from him. 

“Thirty seconds, thirty seconds,” you assure him. “Do you want me to count?”

He shakes his head. “Just do it.” 

You shoot a gentle stream of the solution across the open tissue, held together by more stitches than you want to count, both internal and external. Anguished noises leave his chest through his teeth and you know he’s trying to suppress them with unsteady breath. His eyes are shut impossibly tight, and you can see unauthorized tears gathering in the corners. 

This is always the hardest part, and you’ve never gotten through it without crying. You hate how much he hurts. It’s like you can feel it yourself, the sting, the bone-deep ache, the throbbing. 

Tears fall down your cheeks, some landing on your shirt and others wandering down your throat. 

Even then, he knows you don’t pity him. 

If he thought that, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him.

You wash and dab, wash and dab, until the wound is clean and fluid-free, apologizing the whole time. You throw both the wash and gauze to the side and reach for fresh wrapping while swiping at your eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Just a second.” 

You’ve touched your face, so now you have to wash your hands. Again. You leave him and go into the kitchen, wash and dry your hands, and return to him. 

He catches your eyes before you settle back down. There’s something behind his eyes you can’t name, and it sends something flying around your body. 

You always feel a little guilty for your tears, but he understands. He thought for a moment, in the beginning, about what he would do if the situation was reversed. 

After scant seconds of consideration, he had decided he could never be as composed as you, as vulnerable and open as you. He could never offer to clean and dress your wounds - the thought of causing you pain of any sort, even helpful pain, was unbearable. 

Besides that, he would be so angry that you were hurt at all and wouldn’t be able to keep his hands steady. 

At the very least, he would probably scare you with the intensity of his fury. Anyone who ever laid a hand on you would be subject to a wrath comparable to that of God. 

And Aaron’s mom is Catholic, so he would know. 

There is not a moment where he takes your execution of this particular task for granted. He knows how difficult it is. He thinks, perhaps, that this is the bravest act of love he’s ever seen. 

But could you love him?

Love?

No. 

Too old. Too broken. Too divorced. Too married to work. Too poor a father. Too many other things that make me wholly undeserving. 

He couldn’t, wouldn’t, subject you to himself. 

He’s satisfied loving you in silence. He’d done it for a while now, he realized, after his conversation with Haley. 

It would have to be enough.

It would have to be enough to watch you carry on with your joyful, vibrant life. 

It would have to be enough to watch your face light up for someone who loves you, who puts a ring on your finger and makes you happy. 

It would have to be enough to spoil your children if and when you became a parent, to hold the title ‘Uncle Aaron’ instead of ‘Dad.’

It would have to be enough to know you would outlive him and die loved. 

It would have to be enough. 

You pick up your tools again, using three fingertips this time to tip his head to the side at the temple. He almost smiles. 

“What?”

He shakes his head the barest amount and raises his eyebrows. “Nothing.” 

With a roll of your still-watery eyes, you get back to work, folding and pressing the gauze to the wound with a light, even pressure. You try to ignore Aaron’s hiss as the smile dissolves off his face, replaced by restraint and pain. 

Holding the pad in place with one hand, you take the tape, hanging the roll on your thumb while you pull with your other hand. You tape all around the perimeter of it, gently warming the adhesive against his skin. 

“Alright. Almost done.” 

You have him hold the end right under the wound while you stand to better get around him. Once, like a sash, around his shoulder and across his back and under his other arm, once around his ribs, repeat. 

Again, you tear and tuck it in front so he can reach, and gently pat it into place. 

When it’s low-profile enough to disappear under his shirt -

“Finished.” 

You turn and gather everything into the little bin that lives under his bathroom counter before he can say anything. He watches you, and you can feel his eyes at your back. 

The first time you came to visit after he got home, he was worried you’d look at him differently, was worried you’d pity him. 

He shouldn’t have.

You showed up at the door looking at him just the same way you always did. He wasn’t sure quite what way that was, exactly, but it was the same. 

The first time you offered to help him with his dressings, he refused outright. It was only when you saw that a wound on his left side had ripped a little and bled through his shirt that you wrestled him down and took care of it. 

Harder still than exposing his pain? Taking off his shirt. You’d reached for the top button the first time and he flinched like he’d been burned. 

He refused to meet your eyes. 

“What on earth are you so afraid of?”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to raise his voice at you, but then snapped it shut, his jaw working. His eyes were trained on the carpet. 

“Hey.” 

He looked at you somewhat reluctantly. 

“It’s just me.”

I know, he thought, that’s the problem. 

“This,” you gesture to his general torso area, “is not going to scare me or freak me out. What does freak me out, however -” You point at him with a packet of sterile gauze. “- is the thought of you trying to do this on your own, ripping your stitches, you not going back to the hospital, getting infected, going septic, and having a generally bad time.”

He finally speaks, the barest bit of sarcasm in his tone. “That’s quite a reach, isn’t it?”

You shoot him a withering look. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you’d willingly go back to get your stitches fixed every time you ripped them, I’ll leave you alone.” 

He won't meet your eyes again, looking like a guilty child as his eyes wander to the corner of the room with a bit of a squint. 

You made your point rather elegantly. 

You pass him his shirt over your shoulder and he takes it, slipping his arms into the sleeves. 

His ridiculous number of button ups were coming in handy, especially considering the increased risk of stains. You’ve soaked more shirts in peroxide in the last week than you care to count. 

Occupational hazard, I guess. 

You pick up the little bin and take it back into the bathroom, your fingers tracing over the framed photos of Haley and Jack in the hall as you pass. 

There’s one of you and Haley, too, at some sort of summer function where you were all together. If you aren’t mistaken, Jess took the photo as you and Haley lounged in lawn chairs, laughing.

Another one of the two of you sits on the dresser in Aaron’s bedroom. You’ve never seen it. 

It’s another Jess-capture. Haley has Jack in her arms, kissing him on one cheek with a smile while you press a kiss to the other, eyes shut tight. One of your hands rests lightly on Haley’s arm, the other makes bunny ears over Jack’s head. The boy’s face is all crinkled like he hates it, but Aaron knows that photo was bookended by a screech of laughter and many, many giggles. 

+++

You bounce into the office in the morning, looking no worse for wear even after spending the night on Aaron’s couch. 

Hey, it’s a comfortable couch.

The pair of you stayed out on the couch watching bad movies far later than you meant to, but it’s alright. 

Not the first time that’s happened. 

You could neither confirm nor deny that Aaron slept, but you saw, through his open bedroom door, that he was still and quiet for most of the night. 

“You look chipper this morning,” Penelope notes. 

You shrug. “I slept well last night.” 

“How’s Hotch?” Emily asks. 

You make a little wavering noise. “About how you’d expect, but alright.” 

It’s later in the day when Dave pulls you aside and thanks you, wrapping you in his arms. 

You lean into him and you’re almost frustrated, but not surprised, when tears press at your eyes again. It seems you’re made of them, these days. 

“We’re so lucky to have you.”

You shake your head, burrowing into his shoulder. “Other way around.” 

He pulls back and kisses you on the cheek, patting your other one affectionately before offering his hand to you. “Agree to disagree?”

You roll your eyes and shake on it. 

“Sure, Dave. Sure.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @sageellsworth05​ @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger 

[beauvibaby]

baby girl- m.tkachuk

requested: [] yes [x] no (I just felt like writing matty with a baby)

You looked down from the stove when you heard your daughter gurgling below you, you gasped softly looking down at the 9 month old who crawled over to you. “Did daddy put hockey on again?” You questioned her, squatting down to pick her up, “how long until he realizes you’re missing, huh Peyton?” You tickled the baby softly, standing up to continue cooking her breakfast as she rested her head on your shoulder. You heard Matthew curse softly from the living room, followed by his rushed footsteps but him trying to be quiet. “Peyton?” He whisper shouted, you bit your lip to suppress your giggles as he looked for her, realizing how quickly she can get away now. “Fuck, Y/N, do you-hi baby girl.” He cut himself off when he saw Peyton reaching out for him from her spot on your hip. You turned to him with a pointed expression, “you lost our daughter.” You chastised, allowing him to take her from you as she happily squeezed his face. “I didn’t lose her, she simply wanted to come see her beautiful mama.” He defended, winking when you looked at him over your shoulder. You rolled your eyes teasingly, unable to deny the smile that his words brought to your face, he walked up beside you and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, he danced around the kitchen entertaining your daughter while her eggs cooled, you raised your eyebrows at him, “I have to beg you to dance, but she can’t even speak yet and you’re doing it for her.” You pouted, sipping on your coffee, you looked at him over the rim of your cup and he grinned, taking a couple of steps over to you. He took the cup and set it down, not before taking a sip for himself, you laughed softly at his actions. Peyton giggled uncontrollably as he pulled you in with his other arm, spinning all of you in a small circle. Your smile fell when Peyton slapped Matthews cheek, he looked at her astonished, “no ma’am.” He tried to discipline, but he wanted to cave when she started crying at the tone of his voice alone.

“We don’t hit.” He stood his ground, looking to you with pleading eyes. You laughed softly, placing a hand on his back, “it’s alright, baby, she would cry even if you said no even in the sweetest way.” You mumbled, pulling him in for a kiss, “I’m sorry, princess.” Matthew frowned when she finally started calming down, he wiped her chubby little cheeks as he placed her in the highchair, her bad behavior was soon forgotten by her as she happily started picking up the scrambled eggs you placed on her table. “What’s wrong?” You questioned Matthew, seeing the way he was watching her so intently, he glanced over at you, “I feel like I’m going to miss so much, with the season starting.” He whispered, absolutely shattering your heart. He was sitting in a dining room chair in front of Peyton while she ate, you took the few short steps to be beside him, you lifted his arm so you could slide onto his lap, he didn’t hesitate to hug you tight against him. “You’re still going to be here, and when you go for away games, we’ll FaceTime every night, you know that.” You whispered, twirling his curly hair around your finger, “and she’s big enough now I can take her to more of the home games.” You added, both of your heads whipping towards your daughter when she coughed. She smiled at the response, doing a fake cough again. “Little stinker.” You commented, tickling her foot that was hanging out, “how were we so happy without her?” Matthew wondered aloud. You grinned at him, “I don’t know, but I’m glad she’s here.” You mumbled, “oh.” You gasped shooting to your feet when she threw up all over herself, her tears soon starting afterwards. “Baby, what happened?” Matthew cooed to her, quickly removing her soiled shirt, he frowned when he picked her up from the chair, while you rushed to grab paper towels. “She’s hot babe.” He muttered, concern taking over his features. You mirrored his face, pressing the back of your hand to her forehead, “she’s probably teething.” You mumbled, sticking your finger in her mouth, to feel for any new teeth, “ouch!” You yelped when she bit you unintentionally. “I’m going to give her a bath.” He muttered, stifling back a laugh at the way you were shaking your finger like the pain would disappear. “Cool, not cold.” You called after him. Earning a grumbled response of, “I know how to bathe my daughter!”

You chuckled to yourself, cleaning up the rest of the mess, knowing you were in for a long day if she wasn’t feeling well. “No, no Peyton!” Matthew shouted, laughing as you heard him fumbling around in the bathroom. “You okay?” You called, padding down the hall, adjusting the strings of the pajama pants you were still wearing. “She was about to poop in the tub!” He gasped, looking over at you as you leaned in the doorway. “You’re just trying to give daddy a heart attack, aren’t you?” You teased the baby who was being held over the toilet by Matthew, “this has turned into quite the morning.” You mumbled, taking her from him, the both of you always worked so well together, but even more so when it came to her. You held her out as he quickly wiped her off before putting her back in the water, her giggles filling the room again when he rubbed some of the cool water over her belly. Matthew sat hunched over, his chin resting on the edge of the tub as his hands moved around in the water playing with her. You stayed, leaning against the wall as you watched them, “aww, I know.” Matthew whispered, quickly washing the soap off of Peyton as she began to fuss. You kneeled down beside him, distracting her with noises you’d never be able to repeat. “Wow.” Matthew laughed, looking over at you, “those were, interesting?” He offered up, his eyes lingering on your for a moment. “You look tired babe.” He mumbled, hands still on Peyton as he glanced at you again, the girl beginning to get antsy in the water. “She kept stirring and it’s all I could hear on the monitor.” You admitted, a soft yawn following. “Go lay down for a little while.” He assured you, all but kicking you out as he undid the drain in the tub, lifting his daughter out and setting her on the towel. She was instantly happier and cooled down a little, easing your worries. “Are you sure? Do you know where the baby Tylenol is? She can only-“ “Y/N, I love you, I know where everything is, and I’m her dad, remember?” He teased, wrapping her up in the towel, holding her close to his chest. “Tell mommy bye.” He mumbled to her, lifting her hand to wave at you. “Just tell me if you need anything, I probably won’t be able-“ yawn “-to sleep.” You blushed, kissing her wet hair, already having curls similar to her dads. “Hmm.” Matthew hummed knowingly, he knew you’d be out like a light when you laid down.

And he was right, he stuck his head in a few minutes later once he had gotten a diaper on Peyton, to find you fast asleep without even pulling the blanket over you. He laughed and went back to the living room before they could accidentally wake you up. He silently sat on the couch, putting his legs up as he positioned Peyton on his chest, bouncing her softly, she was still warm, but not enough to warrant medicine, so he simply left her in just a diaper so she wouldn’t get overheated, besides, he enjoyed still getting time with her so close to him. She started whining against him and he expertly reached over with one hand and stole the pacifier off the table, checking it for any hairs or dust before popping it in her mouth, smiling as she instantly calmed down, her little hands gripping his shirt tightly. “My pretty little lady.” He mumbled when she lifted her head for a moment, looking at him oddly before dramatically putting it back down, he chuckled, patting her diaper covered bottom as she loosened her grip, slowly drifting off. He could stare at her like this for hours, that’s what he told himself, and although it was true, the thought of him being the only one awake in the house made him that much sleepier. So he leaned back against the couch, knowing his back would hate him for it later, but his baby girl was more important, and tightened his arm lightly over her back to keep her in place, even though he’d wake up everytime she stirred, something he didn’t think he was capable of until she was born. The two of them drifting off and being found by you an hour later, life was good.

Taglist: @softstarkey​ @mtkachuk​ @literarycharleton​ @wtfkie​

[biggest-stupidhead]

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Levi bites off more than he can chew by taking in a young street rat.

AN: I’ve been toying around with the POV of this series so around the 8th part the POV changes to third person, I am really lazy rn but when I get the motivation to I will come back and edit these parts to match, sorry if that bothers you! 

Word Count: 1.7K

I remembered feeling cold, laying in my usual alley I clutched onto the rag that I used as a blanket. I was only 9 years old, hungry and homeless, and now I was dying of disease. I was pitiful, balled up on the ground, laying in the mud. I vaguely recalled a boot tapping my hip, I flinched away, certain it was a Military Policeman.

"Oi, are you...alive?" the cold voice sent shivers through me, he sounded mean. I stayed still, my eyes wide with fear as I thought of the stories the other children had told me of men. The men in the underground took what they wanted. So I figured it was better if he thought me dead.

"I can see you breathing, what is your name?" he asked as he knelt down beside me. I allowed my head to turn and meet his eyes for the first time.

"Emory" I said, but it hurt to speak, my throat felt like it was made of razorblades and lined with gravel. The man raised an eyebrow at the sound of my frail voice.

"Where are your parents Emory? Is there somewhere I can take you to get taken care of?" the man pressed, I shook my head my eyes watering as I thought of how lonely I was. He sighed and stood back onto his feet, he rested his hands on his hips and looked back out onto the quiet street.

"I'll take you home with me, but once you're better you'll be back on your own." the man said, he stooped down and scooped me into his arms. I whimpered when he tossed the rag off of me with a look of disgust.

------------

When I woke up I was in a bed, my hair was tied back off of my face, and a warm wash cloth was being pressed to my rosy cheeks. I licked my lips as I tried to sit up, a young girl pushed me down back into the stiff mattress.

"Don't try to move, just let me take care of you." she said, sounding a bit more aggressive than caring. I said nothing as she passed me a mug full of an earthy smelling liquid.

"It's tea, it'll make your throat better." she said as she held the mug to my lips. I opened my mouth and accepted the drink, my eyes widening as the flavor hit my tongue. She was right, even as the liquid went down my throat I already felt better. I sighed as I rolled over, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this warm and cozy. I felt clean, my skin smooth rather than grimy, I was wearing an old but clean night gown, I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric in awe. The girl giggled and gently pushed me back into the pillow.

"If a grouchy man comes in don't be afraid of him, he just has a weird face." the girl said before getting up and taking out the tray of tea.

"What's your name?" I croaked, she paused by the door, her green eyes gleamed in the orange candlelight.

"Isabel." she said sweetly before exiting. When she opened the door I could make out the sounds of dishes clattering and a water pump being used. Odd, I must be in a nicer part of town for the home to have a pump. Usually multiple families had to share a water pump. I strained to hear the conversation through the door, I could at least make out 3 separate voices, one I recognized as Isabel, and another as the man who had collected me. The third voice spoke little but when he did it sent chills down my spine. Finally the pump stopped, and I could hear what they were saying.

"We can't keep her Farlan, she's just another snot nosed brat, if we go around picking up every kid we see we might as well open an orphanage." the voice hissed, silence followed his words and I cowered back into the pillow, pulling the blanket up so I could hide my face.

"Not fair Levi, I'm sure she can be of some use to us! Plus she's rather cute." Isabel said, followed by the sound of footsteps on the old wooden floor.

"I don't care what the brat looks like, we can barely feed ourselves no need for another mouth to feed." the third voice, Levi snarled. The room fell silent and I felt ice run through my veins.

"At least go look at her before you tell us we can't keep her, say it to her face that you don't want her." Farlan, the man who I presumed had initially brought me here said, matching Levi's venomous tone.

"Fine." Levi scoffed, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and burrowed deeper into the covers. My heart raced when the door slowly creaked open, light spilling into the dim room.

"Oi, come out of there." his voice was close, definitely standing off to my left. I flinched when I felt his hand close around the blanket and pull it off of me. I yelped and snatched the corner before he could pull it away from my grasp.

"F-fuck off!" I squeaked, something that I had picked up off the streets, not that I knew what the words meant but other than to leave me alone. His eyes widened a fraction when I spoke, one of his thin eyebrows arching as he took in my appearance. I barely registered the sounds of muffled laughter as Farlan and Isabel chuckled in the doorway.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Levi asked incredulously, I shuffled backwards on the bed to put some space between us.

"It's what people tell me when I get too close to them." I admitted, whenever I would approach adults and sometimes older children they would use those words. Levi scoffed and sat down in the chair Isabel had occupied earlier.

"You shouldn't talk like that." he said, a frown etched deeply into his delicate features. I furrowed my brows, I had never had anyone tell me what I should and shouldn't do, I had grown up an orphan, only vague memories of my parents.

"You're not my dad." I said a wave of emotion overcoming me.

"No I'm not, and that's why you can't stay here, you don't belong with us." he said coldly, he stood and brushed past the pair in the doorway, who stood in shock as you watched him disappear. Isabel rushed into the room and sat on the bed, a sympathetic look on her childish face.

"I- He- I'm sure he doesn't mean those things, he can be a bit... shy when meeting new people." she said as I looked up at her expectantly.

"He does have a weird face." was all I said as she struggled to excuse Levi's harsh words. Farlan snorted and sat down in the chair next to the bed, his blue eyes turning soft when he took in my thin wrists.

"I'm sure he'll come to tolerate you." Farlan said, placing a hand on my back, he grimaced when he felt the ridges of my spine through Isabel's nightgown.

"Man kid do you want something to eat?" he joked despite the sick feeling that blossomed in his gut. I nodded and leaned into his touch subconsciously, he smiled and stood to go get me something while Isabel crawled under the covers with me.

"How did you end up all alone?" she asked as I settled into her side, my head resting on her chest.

"I dunno." I said, too focused on her heartbeat to listen to her question.

"Are your parents not around?" she pressed, I shrugged.

"Can't remember." I sighed as I nuzzled into her. She inhaled sharply when I let out a little sigh.

"Emory, please tell me what you know so I can help you." she said gently, craning her neck to get a glimpse of me.

"I don't know who my parents are, or where I came from, just that I'm here." I shrugged, breathing in Isabel's lavender scent. She tensed at my words and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry... how long have you been alone?" she asked quietly.

"Since forever." I said. Before Isabel could say anything else, Farlan returned holding a small loaf of bread.

"Here, I don't want to give you anything heavy incase you barf, that would be a waste." he chuckled as he handed me the bread.

"Oi you better not be feeding that brat in my bed, she'll get crumbs everywhere." Levi raised his voice slightly to berate you from the other room. Farlan smiled and pushed the bread into my hands, Isabel sat up and pulled me along with her. I bit into the bread not surprised to find it a bit stale. Farlan sat down on the end of the bed and watched me wolf down the bread.

"Slow down little girl!" he laughed as he watched me finish off the bread and wipe my mouth.

"That was good, thank you." I said before nestling back into Isabel. Farlan smiled, already feeling attached to the spirited girl.

"How old are you Emory?" Farlan asked, leaning forwards on the bed to get a peek at my face.

"Uh... I think I'm 9?" I said my face screwing up in frustration as I thought about my age.

"You think?" Farlan asked, raising an eyebrow and letting a smirk crawl onto his lips.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure but my friends are 9 so that must mean I'm 9 too." I said, quickly tiring of all these questions. Farlan laughed again, Isabel swatted him in the shoulder, jostling me as she sat up.

"Quit laughing at her she can't help it!" Isabel scolded. Farlan stuttered out a feeble apology as he struggled to stop laughing. But by the time he managed to apologize I was already slipping into the best sleep I would ever have. Isabel shushed him as she pulled me closer and rolled us onto our sides.

"I'm sure he'll warm up to her, how can he not? She's damn funny." Farlan said as he watched Isabel hold me close. She nodded in agreement as she brushed her fingers through my golden locks. I sighed in my sleep, feeling safe for the first time in my short life.

I miss them.

[moldisgoodforyou]

jealous

wordcount: 3k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

______

After a little bit of bribery, Rafe convinced Sophie to come with him to a charity event he was representing his dad at in Columbus. Once Rafe had committed to Ohio State, Ward immediately began making contacts in Ohio and broadening his impact, putting Rafe to work - and still keeping him tied to the family business as much as he could. To convince Sophie just a little bit more (even though it wasn’t necessary, she’d stand by his side no matter what), he got the help of Allie and Julia to pick out a new dress for her and surprise her with it the morning of the event. 

Once she learned that Ward wouldn’t be attending, she was a lot more excited for the event. Rafe made a show out of picking her up, coming to the door with flowers in hand. Word moved fast in the sorority house and by the time Sophie made it downstairs, there was a whole discussion in the groupchat about who the cute boy was wearing the suit and waiting outside their door. When she came down in the dress, red lipstick and all, he whistled, motioning for her to twirl. 

Sophie grinned and rolled her eyes but spun for him. “Are those for me?” 

He handed her the flowers, beaming. “Yes they are. You look incredible, baby.” 

She blushed, shaking her head. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Here, I’ll be right back, let me run these up to my room.” She accepted the flowers and turned on her heel, striding upstairs. 

Allie and Julia came back downstairs with Sophie, wearing matching grins. “Clean up nice, Cameron!” Julia called out with a smirk. “Yeah, do you have friends that'll buy us nice dresses and take us to galas?” Allie chimed in, laughing when Sophie gave her a shove on the way past. 

“Ah, this one already tried that. Didn’t end well.” Rafe teased, sending a pointed glance to Julia. Julia’s cheeks heated almost instantly and she flipped him off, shaking her head. “You said we’d never speak of it again.” 

“Pretty sure that was my rule.” Sophie interrupted, taking Rafe’s arm. “Leave my boyfriend -” 

“Sugar daddy -” 

“Oh my god, I told you to quit that -” 

Allie cut both the girls off with a pointed “hey!” and Sophie rolled her eyes. “Julia, hush, Sophie, you go have fun. Snag us a bottle of fancy alc.” 

Rafe laughed and waved goodbye to the girls, escorting Sophie out. “They’re fun. I’m glad they’re your friends.” She shook her head, laughing. “Sometimes I am not. Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“You did a good job on the dress, I’m impressed.” 

He smirked and helped her into the car, then ran one hand up her thigh. “I have to admit, I picked it out more for the slit up the leg than anything.” Sophie giggled and tugged on his tie to pull him in for a kiss. “Think we can sneak away early tonight?” 

“We have my room available from...” He paused, thinking. “Eleven to midnight. The gala ends at ten thirty.” 

She laughed, messing with the radio once he got in to drive. “We’re really scheduling sex like an old married couple?” 

“We won’t have to when we’re old and married.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, then instantly realized and blushed, fumbling with his words. “Uh, I mean. Um. Yes, uh, but only because we have the roommates - I mean, next year, we’ll both have our own rooms, so -” 

She cut him off, amused by his embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you. Besides, that’ll give you more than enough time to finish.” 

“Sophie! Take it back. You know that’s not true.” He pushed her shoulder playfully, shaking his head. 

“It was true after your formal.” She smirked, loving the way he squirmed when she teased him. The rest of the short ride was spent like that, with mindless flirting and teasing about sex, until he had to make her find directions to the venue. 

When he parked, she moved to get out right away, but he reached over and grabbed her hand before she could get out of the car. “Hey, wait. Uh, I should maybe warn you -”

She raised her eyebrows. “Now you decide to warn me about something? Right before we’re going in?”

Rafe winced. “I love you?”

“Uh huh. Not the time. What do I need to know?”

He spoke quickly, knowing he was in trouble. “My ex will be there and she’s liked every picture of us together on Instagram and texted me that she was excited to see me this weekend.”

Sophie sat back in the seat, taking a deep breath as she processed the information. “Who? And you didn’t tell me this, why?”

“Brooklyn. And, uh...that’s a good question, Sophie. You know, I really appreciate your critical thinking skills, have I ever told you that?” He gave her a half-smile, trying to cheer her up without success.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and got out with him, taking his arm when he offered it as they walked inside. Sophie didn’t ask much about his previous relationships, just noted when he brought it up infrequently and tried to reassure him that whatever his ex had told him, they were wrong and he was a great boyfriend. She only regretted not pushing more about it now, when she was about to meet the girl. 

It was almost amusing watching him go into entertaining mode the second they stepped in and the first person came over to greet him - it was the same presence he commanded at parties, just remarkably more professional in that environment. After a solid hour of Sophie just standing by while Rafe made polite small talk, dinner was announced and they glanced over the table arrangements to find their spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, spying his ex’s name featured right next to his and Sophie’s. She noticed her name was written as Sophie Cameron, but decided to hold her tongue on the mix up.

She furrowed her brow, taking his hand. “It’s a minor thing, Rafe, I’m sure it was a simple mistake -”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head and pointed to the name Brooklyn Rowley at the head of the table. She nodded once in recognition, pretty sure her heart was sinking to her stomach at the moment. “Oh.”

“You know what? It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, we won’t even have to talk to her, there’s fourteen people at the table. It’ll be fine.” He repeated, trying to reassure himself more than Sophie.

She let him lead her to the table - that was already full except for their two seats. Brooklyn practically jumped up out of her seat when she saw Rafe, grinning ear to ear. “Oh my god, Rafe, hi! Here, come sit next to me.”

Rafe gave Brooklyn an awkward side hug in response to her attempted bear hug, pulling out Sophie’s chair before taking his seat. “Brooklyn, this is my -”

“I’m Sophie.” She interrupted, giving the girl one of the fakest smiles Rafe had ever seen. “His girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” She reached across Rafe, extending her arm to shake Brooklyn’s hand.

Brooklyn pretended to be surprised as she shook Sophie’s hand. “Oh!” She elbowed Rafe teasingly. “She’s cute, Rafe. Didn’t think you’d jump into a relationship again, after.” She gave him a sly smile and touched his arm. “Well, you know.”

Sophie steeled herself, pouring herself a generous glass of wine from the table. Rafe gave a nervous chuckle and nudged his foot against Sophie’s under the table. “We’ve been together for four months now, there’s no jumping into anything. I’ve known Sophie since we were at least fourteen.”

“So you didn’t meet at school? Sophia, do you go to Ohio State with us too?” Brooklyn’s eyes flitted to Sophie’s fingers curled tight around the wine glass, asking the question right when she took a sip.

“No, we met in high school. We’re both from the Outer Banks.” Sophie explained, ultra-polite. “But I go to Ohio State, we just happened to end up here together.”

“Right, right. So you’ve met the family and everything. Has he taken you to the Bahamas house yet? The view is gorgeous.” Brooklyn grinned, touching Rafe’s hand again.

Sophie resisted from gritting her teeth as Rafe gave her a pained glance. “Um, no. I haven’t been.” She tried racking her brain and vaguely remembered a brief mention of the Bahamas from Sarah talking about their summers, but didn’t realize there was a whole vacation home involved.

“Oh! That’s funny. He took me after, like, two months.” She paused for a second to look Sophie over, pleased her words were clearly taking effect. “But it’s like, more of a summer house anyways, so the timing must not have worked out with you two yet. I mean, we went over Christmas break that one time, but -”

“We stayed home for Christmas this year.” Rafe interrupted, resting his hand on Sophie’s thigh under the table, but in clear view of Brooklyn’s line of sight.

Brooklyn nodded, not backing down. “So, Sophia -”

“It’s Sophie. But go on.” Sophie shot back an equally tense smile, feigning interest.

“Right, sorry, Sophie. There’s this gorgeous little private beach you can go to, you should go. If he ever takes you.” She touched Rafe’s shoulder and Sophie bit the inside of her cheek hard, feeling ready to snap. “Oh my god, Rafe, remember when we were drunk and we almost got caught on the beach?” She giggled. “Good thing we weren’t actually making love that time, but my top was off and everything, it was so embarrassing.”

“Sounds like it.” Sophie replied dryly, stepping on Rafe’s foot with her heel under the table. As much as she wanted to gag hearing about the two of them ‘making love,’ she just swallowed another big sip of wine instead. He let out a pained, quiet groan and Brooklyn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh,” he gestured to their empty plates as they waited to be served. “Hungry, I guess. Hey, you’ve been to Barcelona, right? Sophie’s studying abroad there this summer, I’m really proud of her.” Rafe squeezed her thigh under the table, and Sophie relaxed a tiny bit.

Brooklyn shook her head. “No, I’ve been to Madrid. Spain is like, so much better in the off season. But that’s so exciting! What are you doing, how long will you be gone for?”

“It’s through my architecture major. I’m sure I’ll visit Madrid too at one point.” Sophie reached out and straightened Rafe’s collar, just for an excuse to touch him and stake some possession. “It’s for three months.”

“Three months...” She repeated, turning her attention to Rafe. “Are you going to be able to handle that?” Brooklyn laughed, glancing back at Sophie. “He was always so needy, isn’t he?”

“No. I haven’t noticed. We have a healthy relationship.” Sophie replied pointedly before Rafe could open his mouth. 

“Right, of course.” Brooklyn gave her a grin, like she was sharing a secret with Sophie and Rafe wasn’t literally in between them. “Give him time, it’ll show. You said you’ve only been together for four months, right? That’s like, so soon in the relationship. Like, Rafe and I -” 

Thankfully, the servers came to their table and interrupted them just as she was about to finish her sentence, and Sophie visibly relaxed as the speaker for the night started talking. Rafe leaned over and murmured in her ear. “I’m sorry, Soph.”

She just gave him a tight smile in response and turned her head, kissing his cheek chastely. Thankfully, the rest of the dinner was occupied by the guest speakers and left little room for side conversation, until the dance floor was opened up after the dessert. Sophie had limited herself to the single heavy pour of wine, while Brooklyn hadn’t held back and was clearly tipsy.

When the three stood after the last guest speaker, Brooklyn leaned into Rafe, giggling as she steadied herself on his extended arm. “Oops! Sorry. I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“Oh, I used to not be able to hold my liquor. In high school, I think.” Sophie couldn’t resist the dig and Rafe sent her a warning glance, taking her hand once Brooklyn was upright.

“Not all of us got blacked out at high school parties, Sophia, some of us had priorities.” Brooklyn told her pointedly, and Sophie only rolled her eyes. “But you’re in one of those trashy sororities, right? So I guess it makes sense.”

“Brooklyn, watch it.” Rafe cut in, sliding his arm protectively around Sophie’s waist. Sophie shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on Brooklyn’s. “It’s fine.”

“You could at least not be so obvious.” Brooklyn stated, taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry, it’s just.” Brooklyn gestured to Sophie, to her dress and shoes, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “There’s more to like about him than just the money, you know? Open your eyes, Rafe, you’re being used.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped and she took a quick step forward without even processing all the words that Brooklyn had said. “I can’t believe -” Rafe grabbed her around the waist and stepped in front of her, in between her and Brooklyn. “Sophie, don’t.”

She glanced over Rafe’s shoulder at Brooklyn and her smug smile, then looked back to him with a pleading look. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Meet me out in the hallway?”

She only relented when he kissed her quickly, trying to calm her down more. Sophie reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out the keys, placing a possessive hand on his chest for a steadying breath. “Fine. I’ll be in the car.”

“Aw, you’re leaving? It was nice to meet you, Sophia!” Brooklyn shot her a grin and Sophie grit her teeth, giving Rafe another look again, but he turned her away with both hands on her shoulders. “Ignore her. I’ll talk to her. Go.”

He kept his eyes trained on her until she left the dining room, then turned to Brooklyn, his tone icy but quiet so they didn’t make a scene. “What the fuck was that?”

“Come on, Rafe.” Brooklyn shrunk back a little, pouting. “You’re telling me that’s all real? Seriously? She’s so stiff.”

“Yeah, because she was trying to be polite while you were nothing but rude all evening.” He shot back, arms folded. “I thought you could be civil and finally mature about this. I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re not serious.” She rolled her eyes and reached out for Rafe, only for him to flinch away from her touch. “I mean, look at her. You think she compares to me?”

“No. She’s miles beyond you. She’s so damn clever, she’s fucking gorgeous and she’s loyal as hell.” He paused, a wave of hurt flashing across his face. “Unlike you.”

That seemed to break Brooklyn and her shoulders slumped, face dropping. “Rafe, I...I didn’t mean to hurt you -”

“Am I wrong?”

“He initiated it -”

“Am. I. Wrong.” He spoke evenly, nose flaring.

She sighed quietly. “No.”

“Goddamn it.” Rafe exhaled, nodding once. “Okay. That’s all I needed. Don’t text me again.” He turned sharply on his heel, ignoring her call after him. He strode out to the parking lot and got in his car where Sophie waited in the passenger seat, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Sophie was about to start on an impassioned rant until she noticed his set jaw and tense shoulders, and she reached over, combing one hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You alright?”

“I love you. So fucking much. You know that?” He asked after a moment, pressing his head back into her palm.

“I do. I love you too.” She hesitated. “You don’t believe any of that, what she said. Right?”

“No, god, of course not.” He cracked a grin at her. “If you were with me for my money you’d have let me pay for your jewelry tonight.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, tugging teasingly on his hair. “I have perfectly fine jewelry, it’s ridiculous, not to mention unethical, for you to buy me a new something for every event -”

“I know, I know.” He laughed and leaned over to catch her lips in a kiss. “I’m kidding, baby. You look stunning, no matter what you’re in.”

“I could have taken her, you know.” She squared up in her seat and pretended to punch the air. “Two hits and she’d be out.”

Rafe shook his head, grinning. “I know, that’s exactly why I held you back. Remind me to not get on your bad side.”

“You’ve already been on my bad side.” She informed him, lightly punching his arm. “I think you’re in the clear for a while.”

“Just a while?”

“Yeah, I gotta keep you on your toes.” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “Is she - um, can I - do you have her blocked? I don’t want to overstep, but -”

“No, that’s a good idea. Go ahead.” He handed her his phone once it was unlocked, starting the car and backing out. “All of that was so fucked up, what she said.” He scowled. “And I promise I’ll take you to the Bahamas, it just felt early - I mean, I was nervous to even bring you to the Christmas party, much less family vacation, that’s unnecessary pressure for you -”

“You’re fine, Rafe.” She rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I promise. I don’t care about that. She was just trying to get under my skin.”

“I’m really sorry, I promise. I didn’t think she’d be that way or I would have just gone and switched tables with someone.” He frowned and stretched his arm out, resting it across the back of her seat. “She was so touchy.“

“I would have done something if she touched you again.” Sophie scowled, letting her head fall back against his arm. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah? You jealous?” He resisted a grin, loving the way her nose scrunched up in the scowl.

“No, I know you’re mine.” She slid her hand up his thigh, squeezing once. “I just don’t like other girls flirting with you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re the only one I want flirting with me for a long time.” He reassured her, sending her a smile. 

Sophie shoved his shoulder with a grin, shaking her head. “Cheesy.” 

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

“You know I do.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

[dcforts]

[day 4: cooking and baking]

Now, Bobby Singer didn’t always exactly enjoy having Sam and Dean around – he was used to living alone and he liked his routine; they got loud when they bickered and he always had to make sure they were clean and fed and far from the stuff he had laying around that they weren’t supposed to touch.

He never wanted to be a father after all, nor get stuck running a daycare for hunters for that matter, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to John whenever he asked, even if he had his garage to run and hunting on the side.

He felt bad for them. He might have known nothing about raising children, but he sure knew that they were supposed to have a home, not to be dragged across the country in an old car, exposed to all kinds of dangers.

So, if washing an extra set of bedsheets and hiding his booze and getting a headache or two from their feet stomping upstairs meant giving them a roof over their head for a few days, a familiar place where to feel safe and proper food in their belly – if one could count canned soup as proper food – then he could bite the bullet.

And they were good kids, they always did what he told them and never complained about anything.

Even when one year they got stuck at his place on Christmas Eve. The air was heavy around the dinner table and Bobby had turned on the tv in an attempt to liven up the atmosphere and distract them. Still, they remained quiet, hunched over their plates wearing gloomy faces.

Their father was supposed to pick them up but he’d called and said he wasn’t gonna make it. Bobby knew it was gonna happen as soon as he’d heard the phone ringing that afternoon.

"But it’s Christmas!” he’d hissed angrily trying not to be heard by the kids, “What am I supposed to tell them?”

“Uh - I don’t know, Bobby," John had replied, with that tone he got when he was uninterested in what you were saying and had already uncorked one too many beers. "It’s just this one time.”

When Bobby had delivered the news, Dean had shouted "Why hasn’t he called me?" and Sam had grumbled "You should have convinced him", so they most likely hated him too.

Bobby didn’t take it personally, if he were a kid he sure wouldn’t have liked to spend Christmas with someone like him and without his only parent.

Bobby didn’t do holidays at all. He hanged a wreath on the front door just cause he kept it in the hallway all year round. He made himself a turkey sandwich. He enjoyed a classic movie just as the next guy and he passed out on the couch with a glass of store-bought eggnog. That was it. It was not like he had anyone to share it with. It had been like that for years and he didn’t mind. 

Knowing that the kids would be around though, he’d hanged on the window a string of lights he’d found in the basement and had put on display a weird looking statue of an elf - although if he wasn’t sure if it was Christmas related or just an old dark artifact. The boys had spared those things barely a glance and not brought up Christmas at all so Bobby had just figured that they didn’t do holidays either.

But then a commercial featuring a big holiday banquet came on tv for the umpteenth time, filling the kitchen with its obnoxious jingle and Dean finally spoke up.

“Hey Bobby,” he asked, tearing his eyes from the tv. “Did your mother ever bake for the holidays?”

Bobby didn’t even remember the last time he’d talked about his mother with anyone. It always brought up bittersweet memories he didn’t like to deal with. Still, he cleared his throat, “Sure,” he said, but now Sam was watching him too so he added, “she was a good baker - made a mean blueberry pie.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, and she’d always make two, one for everyone and another one just for me."

“A whole pie? Just for you?" Sam asked with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"I could eat that," intervened Dean immediately.

Bobby snorted, “Yeah, I know that, kid."

Dean smiled proudly, but then Sam said "You couldn’t, Dean. You’d get sick."

"No, I wouldn’t," he shot back.

"Yes, you would. Not even an adult can - "

"What do you know, if you never - ”

“I know - ”

Bobby groaned and got up from the table to start collecting the dirty dishes, "Alright, break it up".

They fell into silence again as he put the dishes in the sink and started washing them.

"Go get ready for bed."

He heard the scraping of chair legs on the floorboards, but he was still thinking about his mother and didn’t realize that only one pair of shoes had left the room and the other one had come to stand next to him.

"Does your oven work?" Dean said, making him jump.

"Wh- my oven? Yeah. Why?”

"Just ‘cause... you never use it," was his reply, a little unsure.

"That don’t mean it don’t work."

"Have you ever used it?”

"Can’t remember, honestly.”

"Mum used to bake pies for me too," Dean said then. "Sammy wasn’t there so he gets upset when I talk about it."

Bobby gave him half a smile. "Bet Mary's pies were the best, uh?”

"Yeah", he said, but he sounded thoughtful. He still made no move to leave and Bobby didn’t know what else to say. The last thing he wanted was to make the boy sad, or worse, make him cry for his mom.

He started working faster on drying those dishes.

"Maybe your father remembers the recipe. You should ask him,” he said, casually.

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Dean tugged the hem of his jacket and looked at him with the most scared expression Bobby had ever seen on him. “Don’t!" he said, "Please. Dad doesn’t like talking about these things. Don’t tell him I told you."

Bobby gritted his teeth and tried to not let his rage show on his face. He put down the rag and grabbed one of his shoulder, “It’s okay, Dean. I won’t.”

Dean gulped and quickly nodded and Bobby itched for a drink.

“Now go. It’s time for bed.”

"Yes, sir," said Dean.

“You don’t have to cal-” he started, then sighed, “Nevermind. Just go.”

As he heard the door upstair close he opened the highest cabinet and grabbed his bottle of scotch. He sat down to pour himself a glass, took his cap off and rubbed his forehead.

His hands tightened into fists at the thought of John. How could he leave them like that? What would’ve happened if he’d died on a hunt? Who would have cared for them? Bobby certainly couldn’t – John couldn’t possibly expect –

The tv was still on.

His second glass was already empty when that stupid holiday commercial with that stupid jingle came on once again. Annoyed, Bobby stood up to turn it off and that’s when Dean came to his mind and a thought hit him.

The kid wanted a damn pie.

He just didn’t know how to ask, or even if he could ask. And of course he would think that, with that father of his, his taboos and his rules. Bobby felt anger and stubborness rise in him.

If the kid wanted a goddamn pie, Bobby would’ve given him a goddamn pie. Even if he had to drive for miles at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day for blueberries.

And now where the fuck did he put Karen’s recipe book?

*

The morning after, he cracked the bedroom door open and Dean blinked awake as soon as he brushed his shoulder.

“Don’t wake your brother. Come downstairs," he whispered, motioning him to be quiet.

In the daylight Bobby was willing to admit that he was a little nervous about his idea.

Yet he couldn’t resist watching Dean’s face as he entered the kitchen ten minutes later and stopped in his track when he saw flour, eggs, sugar and blueberries lined up on the counter.

It was like his face couldn’t settle on an emotion. He frowned, smiled, frowned again. Then he just looked at Bobby as if he was asking him what he was supposed to do or say.

"I was thinking it’s about time I make that oven work again. What you say? Wanna bake your own pie?"

Dean surprised himself with a laugh. "But Bobby - I don’t – I never -"

"What, you think I do?" Bobby shrugged, "If it’s bad, we’ll just throw it out."

Dean seemed too overwhelmed to say anything. He just nodded.

Bobby went towards him. "See, I got this book here, it was my wife’s. We’re more than capable to follow a bunch of instructions, right?"

It took way longer than Bobby had anticipated, and surely longer than it generally took other people. And it wasn’t easy. At all. Not just because in the last few years he’d reduced his diet to mostly pre-cooked stuff, but especially for the smells that filled the kitchen and the long string of memories attached to them - Karen and his mom, guilt and comfort, sweetness and fear.

But Bobby went through all of it, the fishing out of the egg shells, the spilling of the flour, the hour long wait for the dough to set and the million questions Dean seemed to have – because the boy enjoyed himself.

Bobby was pretty sure of it, from the way he groaned in disgust as he dipped his hands in the mixture with raw eggs, in his cheeky face when he lied about stealing the blueberries they were using, in his clear laugh when Bobby slipped and almost crashed on the dirty floor; all of that made it worth it.

When the oven door was closed and the timer was set, he even sat cross-legged on the tiles to watch it as it baked.

Bobby moved around him to clean the mess they’d made and then went to wash himself up. When he looked himself in the bathroom mirror he saw flour all over his beard and bits of dough on his flannel. He found himself smiling a little.

He might not be able to bring the boys the spirit of Christmas or whatever crap they sold these days, but he would’ve been be satisfied if he managed to make them happier for half a day.

Dean started pounding on the door right in that moment. “Bobby!” he was shouting, “The timer! Hurry up! We need to get it out!”

Bobby’s reflection rolled his eyes and sighed. “Coming!” he shouted back and heard Dean running away again.

When he entered the kitchen half a minute later, Sam had joined Dean in front of the oven. He was still in his pyjamas and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “Dean’s screams woke me up,” he said.

“Yeah, alright. I’m here, let me through and step back. I don’t want you to get burned.”

As carefully as possible, he took the pie out under the scrutinizing gaze of the brothers. As he sat it on the table he noticed the uneven colour of the crust and the filling that had spilled all over the sides and through the cracks. He made a face. “Well - doesn’t look half bad as far as first attempts go -" he tried to say but his words were drowned by the boys shouting “Whoa!”

"It smells so good," said Dean, wearing a proud smile.

"It’s perfect," said Sam with the solemnity of a renown critic. "Can we try it now?"

"Let’s give it a moment to cool down. You go get dressed. Dean, go wash your hands."

They both sprinted in different directions. Sam immediately ran up the stairs banging a hand on the banister in excitement. Dean bolted in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.

“Be careful!” he thundered.

They both shouted back at once: “Yes, Uncle Bobby!”

A rush of affection washed over him. He shook his head looking down at their pie.

“Merry Christmas kids.” 

 joining @bend-me-shape-me in this!

[suituuup]

Potential angsty prompt? Beca gets a phone call about her mom dying. Chloe offers to go to the funeral with her even though Beca is reluctant. When they get there, Chloe realizes how shitty of a parent Beca’s mom really was.

through thick and thin

rated: T

word count: 2,600

ao3 link

*

“Bec?” Chloe calls out as she steps inside their apartment, dropping her keys in the bowl by the entrance. She shuts the door and shrugs off her coat, venturing further inside on a search for her girlfriend. 

Unsurprisingly, Beca is hauled up in her office, headphones on her ears as she messes with her mixing program. 

“Babe?” 

Beca’s chair pivots, and she lowers her headphones, smiling softly. “Hey.” 

Stepping closer, Chloe leans down to press a kiss to Beca’s lips, smiling against them when Beca reaches up to cup her jaw, keeping her there for a beat longer. “Any special request for dinner?” 

“Nope. I’ll be there in a sec to help you.” 

“I’ve got it, you can keep working.” 

After peering in the fridge for options, Chloe decides to heat up the lasagna leftovers, washing the salad and making a vinaigrette while it’s in the oven. Soft footsteps make her look up, and she smiles as Beca kisses her cheek on her way to the fridge. 

“So um, I need to fly back to Seattle tomorrow,” Beca blurts in the middle of dinner. 

She’s been quieter than usual, pushing her food around in her plate instead of eating it. Chloe was about to ask her what was wrong when Beca spoke up. 

“How come?” 

Beca clears her throat, shifting in her chair. “My aunt called earlier today, um, it’s my mom. She died this morning.” 

Chloe’s eyes widen in shock. “What?” She sets her fork down, pushing her plate away. “Oh my god, baby…” She’s about to go around the island to hug Beca, but Beca is already on her feet, carrying her plate to the sink. 

“So um, yeah. I should be back on Sunday.” 

“Bec…” Chloe murmurs, crossing the kitchen and wounding an arm around her fiancée’s waist. She props her chin on Beca’s shoulder. “I’ll call my boss and ask for a couple days off.” 

“That’s really not necessary, Chlo. I’ll be fine on my own.” 

Beca doesn’t talk much about her mother; Chloe knows their relationship was strained, without ever finding out the reason behind it. But still, she just died, and Beca will surely need someone to lean on. 

“Baby, I don’t think--”

But Beca pulls away before she can finish her sentence. “My head is killing me, I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

Chloe watches her go, her heart feeling heavy and torn as to what to do. She cleans up the kitchen to give Beca some time to herself, then heads down the hall with a steaming mug of Beca’s favorite herbal tea. Beca’s curled up on her side with her back to the door when she steps inside their bedroom, and Chloe rounds the bed, setting the mug on the bedside table. 

She sits down on the edge of the mattress, bracing a hand over Beca’s upper arm. 

“M’sorry I snapped,” Beca mumbles, glancing up at her. 

“It’s okay. Do you want me to pack your bag? What time is your flight leaving?”

“Eleven, I think.” Beca shifts to sit up, Chloe’s hand falling to her lap. “My aunt asked me to speak.”

“You don’t have to if it’s too hard,” Chloe murmurs, tilting her head to the side. 

“That’s the thing; it’s not hard. It’s…” Beca sighs. “I don’t feel anything. And I should, right? She was my mom. I should be sad or something. She just…” Beca’s jaw clenches, her eyes shutting for a moment. Chloe slides her hand into hers in wordless encouragement. “We never got along. She had an alcohol problem when I was a kid, and I never really had the whole love and affection kids are supposed to get from their mom. But she was still my mom.” Beca inhales sharply. “But then... I told her about you. About us. The summer after Worlds, after we got together. I think she was shocked that I was with a woman, but the things she said, Chlo…” she shakes her head, puffing out a breath. “She told me to leave. That was the last thing she said to me. Our relationship was strained ever since I went to live with my dad and Sheila, but it crumbled that day.” Beca’s eyes find Chloe, a mixture of hurt and uncertainty swirling in them. “I don’t have anything nice to say about her, because I don’t think she was a good person. Even in the rare times she was sober, she was just-- she brought people down.” She swallows, squeezing Chloe’s hand. “Does that make me heartless?”

Chloe shakes her head, lifting their joined hands to press a lingering kiss to Beca’s knuckles. “No. Absolutely not. And you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to. In fact, you don’t even have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t, but there’s a shit ton of stuff that needs to be dealt with and I can’t let my aunt handle everything.”

“I can help with that,” Chloe says. “You don’t have to go by yourself.” 

Beca sighs. “You’re gonna regret coming… her side of the family isn’t fun.” She skims her thumb over Chloe’s knuckles. “But I guess it would suck less if you were by my side.”

Beca has always had trouble showing her vulnerable side, so Chloe knows that’s the closest she’ll get to I need you. 

“Okay. I’ll call the airline.” She leans in to peck Beca’s lips. “Right after I draw you a bath.”

Beca groans. “I don’t deserve you.” She chases Chloe’s lips in another short kiss. “You’re joining me, right?” 

“You bet.”

They land in Seattle just after one the next day. Beca’s aunt picks them up from the airport and drives them to Beca’s childhood house. Chloe’s never been there, and she can’t quite suppress her amazement when she first steps inside Beca’s old bedroom. 

“The Spice Girls, huh?” She asks with a shit-eating grin, tilting her chin towards the poster hanging above Beca’s bed. 

“Shut up,” Beca mutters, rolling her eyes. “I’m surprised she kept my room as is.” She walks to her dresser, picking up a picture of herself as a toddler, with her mom and dad. Seemingly catching herself, Beca sets it back down, clearing her throat. “I need to sort through everything. What’s trash and what can be given away.”

“You’re not keeping anything?”

Beca shakes her head. “No. I already took what mattered to me the day she told me to leave.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon packing Beca’s childhood things into boxes and make a trip to the dump for the things that need to be thrown away. 

Around six, they head to Beca’s aunt’s for dinner. 

“I’m sorry if this is awkward,” Beca mumbles as she reaches up to ring the doorbell. “Hopefully it won’t drag on.” 

“Beca, Chloe,” Annie greets with a small smile as she opens the door. “Come on in.”

They’re led to the dining room, where Beca’s uncle Jerry is already sat. “Hey there, Beca.”

“Hey uncle Jerry,” Beca says with a nod, then points to Chloe. “This is my girlfriend Chloe.”

She doesn’t miss the way her aunt and uncle glance at each other, and her skin crawls in discomfort. 

“Have a seat, girls, I’ll bring out the dish.” 

Chloe sits down next to Beca, casting her uncle a polite smile when she catches him looking at her. Beca and her aunt exchange small talk about Beca’s career over the first fifteen minutes, before Annie’s focus shifts to Chloe.

“And what do you do, Chloe?”

“I’m a vet, ma’am.”

“Oh, how fun!” The older woman gushes. “Well you’re such a good friend for being there for Beca through such a challenging time.” 

Beca clears her throat. “Chloe’s my girlfriend, aunt Annie. We’re living together as a couple. Surely mom told you that.” 

Annie purses her lips, setting her wine glass down. “She simply said you were going through a… phase.” 

Beca scoffs, her eyes rolling through the ceiling before she stabs a piece of carrot a bit too hard. “Of course she did.”

“Beca honey, your mom just wanted you to be happy. She loved you.”

“Telling me she doesn’t want to see me anymore isn’t my definition of loving your own child.” 

“She was hoping it would make realize this…” she motions between Beca and Chloe with her fork, as though unable to say it aloud. “Is not something that would last. That you’d come to your senses and go back to dating men.” 

“Fuck this,” Beca mutters, throwing her napkin on the table. “You’re really no better than her.”

The way Annie’s eyes darken shakes Chloe to the core. “Beca, that is not an appropriate way to talk about your dead mother!” 

Beca ignores it, pushing to her feet. “We’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow.”

Chloe follows her girlfriend towards the exit, catching her arm as Beca walks towards the driver’s side. “Gimme the keys, I’ll drive.”

Thankfully Beca doesn’t put up a fight and nods, handing Chloe the keys and wordlessly slipping in the passenger seat. Chloe backs out of the driveway and takes a right, driving for a couple minutes before pulling up on the side of the road when it seems like Beca is on the verge of a panic attack.

She unbuckles herself and twists in her seat, resting a hand over Beca’s back as Beca leans forward, struggling to breathe. 

“It’s okay, let it out, baby.”

A sob wretches itself from Beca’s throat and Chloe’s heart cracks as Beca breaks down, fat tears rolling down her face. 

“Breathe,” Chloe reminds her, rubbing soothing circles over her jacket. “Inhale, exhale.” 

It takes Beca a few minutes to calm down. She sniffles, wiping her cheeks with the hem of her sleeves. “God, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, babe,” Chloe murmurs, reaching out to tuck Beca’s hair behind her ear. “They’re the ones in the wrong here.” 

Beca nods, puffing out a breath. “Can we leave right after the service tomorrow?” She croaks out. “You think— we could drive down to your parents’? We haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Of course.” Chloe smiles. “They’ll love that.” 

Beca has been a part of the family ever since Chloe introduced her just over three years ago, and Chloe’s pretty sure they love Beca more than her. 

(she secretly loves how obsessed they are with her girlfriend.) 

The funeral unfolds as it should the next morning, and a service is held in Beca’s childhood home shortly after. Chloe helps however she can, putting aside her irritation towards Beca’s aunt so things can run as smoothly as possible, because Beca doesn’t need any more drama. 

“Babe?” Chloe calls out as she makes it to the top of the stairs. Everyone’s left save for Annie and Jerry, and Beca disappeared a while ago. She finds Beca leaning against her empty bedroom door frame and wraps an arm around her waist from behind, propping her chin on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Beca whispers, inhaling sharply. “Just… memories.” She turns around, looping her arms around Chloe’s neck and pecking her lips. She looks like she’s been crying, but Chloe doesn’t bring it up. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course.” She rubs her nose against Beca’s sweetly. “You ready to go? If we leave now we should be on time for dinner. Mama Beale is making her famous salmon risotto.”

Beca hums. “Sounds amazing.” 

She hits the lights and shuts the door behind her, linking her fingers with Chloe’s as they head out of the house. 

The first half of the ride is spent in silence, Beca’s playlist drifting through the speakers on low volume while Beca stares out the window, absentmindedly stroking Chloe’s knuckles back and forth with the pad of her thumb as they hold hands over the console. 

“Sometimes I’m terrified of having kids,” she blurts out, cutting through Chloe’s thoughts. “I didn’t have any role model growing up and part of me is scared that being a shitty parent is like-- a genetic thing.” 

Chloe’s head shakes, and she glances away from the road for a second to cast her a soft smile. “It’s not, babe.” 

“The rational part of me knows that, but I can’t completely shut down those thoughts that I’m bound to screw up. But then I think of you and-- how I’m the best version of myself when you’re around and I know our kids -- whenever we decide to have them, seriously there’s no rush -- will have the same effect.” 

These moments -- the ones where Beca cracks herself open -- are still rare despite the trust she holds in her heart for Chloe, and they never fail to bring tears to her eyes. Especially when it deals with an important subject that they’ve never brought up before, one that is very dear to Chloe, as she’s always wanted to be a mother. 

“You’re serious about wanting kids?” She asks, unable to completely tame the emotion leaking in her voice. 

“Yeah. Someday. You know, when you and I married and in a good place with our careers.” 

Chloe’s heart trips at the imagery, and a wide smile breaks across her features. “Okay,” she croaks out, squeezing Beca’s hand. “Sounds like a great plan.” 

They make it to the house a little over an hour later, and Chloe’s mom wraps Beca up in a warm embrace as soon as they make it across the threshold. 

“What a lovely surprise,” Alice gushes as she waves them in after hugging her daughter next. 

“Thank you for having us last notice,” Beca says, smiling genuinely for the first time in the last couple days. “What’s up Mike?” She asks when they step inside the kitchen, where Chloe’s dad is setting the table. 

“Hey!” Mike exclaims, a beaming grin stretching across his features. “You guys have a seat. Beer?” 

“Please,” Beca sighs, shrugging off her coat and scarf and draping them over her chair before easing down on it. She smiles and leans against Chloe’s lips when she kisses her temple, quietly thanking Chloe’s dad as he sets a chilled bottle of local beer down in front of her. “Smells great, Alice.” 

“Fresh salmon caught by Mike yesterday,” Chloe’s mom informs them as she sets the dish down in the centre of the table. 

“Going back tomorrow, if you wanna join,” Mike states, his tone teasing as Beca is not really one for the outdoors. 

“You know what? Count me in,” Beca says, surprising everyone at the table. “I think I could use some fresh air.” She glances at Chloe. “I’ll need spare clothes, did not plan a fishing trip when I packed.” 

Chloe chuckles. “Sure thing, babe. Can I convince you to go for a hike as well?” 

“Let’s not push it, Beale,” Beca mutters, smirking. “But I won’t say no to a walk to the beach tomorrow morning before breakfast.” 

It’s a Beale tradition to go on a morning beach walk after both Thanksgiving and Christmas, holidays which Beca spent in Oregon the last two years. 

After a delicious dinner and helping out with the dishes, they head up to Chloe’s bedroom just after ten. 

“And you made fun of me for liking the Spice Girls,” Beca quips as she slides under the covers, eyeing the Pussycat Dolls poster hanging on Chloe’s opposite wall. 

Chloe giggles. “I had a huge crush on Nicole Scherzinger.” 

“Can’t blame you.” Beca sobers up, curling up close to Chloe and cupping her cheek tenderly. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” She kisses Beca softly, holding her waist under the covers. “Turn around, I’m the big spoon tonight.” 

Beca chuckles and does as she’s told without objection, lacing their fingers. “Night, Chlo.” 

“Goodnight, baby.” 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

I am soft for kid Kai and Pops interactions. Could you please try writing pops and reader taking care of a sick Kai as a kid. I wonder if he would be the same difficult patient as you have written him as an adult. I enjoy your writing and would love seeing your take on it.

"I hate this. It feels like death." Just at the end of the sentence, the boy had a coughing fit as the elder sighed out loud at his stubbornness, wringing the towel wet with icy water before placing it on the sick boy's forehead.

"Stop being overdramatic Chisaki. Is just a flu. Nothing to mourn over." The boy growled back at the elder before he pulled the covers up with the best force he could manage it.

... until he sneezed and overhauled the blanket to mere pieces.

"Well, at least is only the third one until now..." the old man chuckled before frowning at how abruptly Chisaki was trembling... poor thing.

"I wanna die..." the boy mumbled as he again come up with a new blanket as Popps chuckled.

"What happened to the prideful future leader of the yakusa?" He chuckled at the glare Kai gave to him "Will you at least collaborate on getting better?"

"Just make this go away for once."

Pops only shook his head and grabbed the bottle the doctor recommended to give to Kai and one spoon before poking shaking his shoulder.

"Cmon. Sit up boy, let's end this." Just when his golden fuccy eyes locked with the bottle he inky narrowed his gaze at the elder and turned his head away from him.

"You're kidding me arent you kid?" Pops arched one eyebrow. Kai only mumbled something incoherent as Pops's one vein appeared.

"Take. This. Medicine. Chisaki Kai."

"Try me."

Pops chuckled at the audacity of this kid before calling one of his subbordinates.

"Bring Chisaki's little friend that I guess it will ease down him just a bit while I stay."

"Yes sir." And with that the man walked out of the room and closing the door. Pops only gave the boy a look as Chisaki only glared back.

"You will take this boy."

"Heck no."

.

.

.

"Thank you so much Yukuchi-san!" You bowed to the man as he left you to enter the room... widening your eyes at the scene as Pops had one of his hands on Chisaki's chin to force open as Kai gritted anos teeth together and holded the man's hand with the spoon far away from him, miraculously not spilling the green liquid on it.

"Uh... What's happening?" You asked as both looked at you, Pops with a relieved look and Chisaki with wide eyes.

Just when he opened his mouth to say your name, Pops chugged the spoon on his mouth.

You flinched at the shout Chisaki gave the elder as soon as he manage to swallow but soon he put his hand on his mouth as if he wanted to puke.

"Dont you dare puke this after all the work I had to do.."

"tHAT'S BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS DISGUSTING!" the kid almost puked again at the end and he sighed before looking at you with grateful and welcoming grey eyes

"Hello (Y/n)-chan. I apologize that you couldn't see Chisaki those days but as you can see-"

Chisaki brutal series of sneezes broke the elder's talking and as soon as he finished Kai had the most tired out look and plopped back down, lying on his bed miserably.

"He is incredible sick and wont follow his dad's orders no manner how much I try to. You know how prideful he cam be." You giggled at the funny look that Pops before Kai groaned.

"I'm sick yet not dead old geezer."

"See." Pops showed his hand at the sick kid "He becomes so grumpy that even I cant handle it sometimes... " he sighed before crouchind down to whisper to you "Care to give him some company as I go make sure my subbordinates did already the dinner? You can be his nurse and besides, my boy holds a soft spot only for you."

"Really?!" You whispered in exciment as Pops nodded and chuckled, patting your head while getting up as Chisaki chuffed... coughing later.

"I will be back soon. Obey to (Y/n) Chisaki."

"You're kidding?" He muttered before sighing when the elder closed the door. Closing his eyes a bit and when opening them again when he heard you walking towards his bed and sitting next to his body.

"How you're feeling?" You asked and Chisaki glassy and gold eyes locked with yours as if you were the most stupid creature in the world.

"What do you-" he coughed on his hand "Think?"

"Not good." You giggled "Sorry."

He stayed quiet before looking away from you. Praying mentally that the blush on his pale cheeks on his fever.

He stiffed when you took off the towel off from his forehead, he jolted away from your touch as you widened your eyes at his distressed state.

"Sorry Kai..." you mumbled as he went to scold you to touch him before another coughing fit hitted.

You hesitantly rubbed his back while he coughed as he looked at you with teary eyes later.

"What are you-" he coughed "-doing? You're going to get sick you idiot." You smiled at him and simply and gently brushed his bangs out of his wet forehead.

"Well, I can deal with it later. After all my mom said I have a good immune system! Different from yours!"

"Take that back before I-" he sneezed so violently that some snot come out of his nose. His face went white in horror at the snot it dropped on his hand... hives immediately started to appear on his face and arms. He started to pant before feeling your hand on his shoulder and offering him a napkin.

"Its okay..." you cooed and he hesitantly grabbed the napkin and started to rub on his hand and under his nose.

"My head..." he groaned after cleaning the snot out, clenching on both sides of his head, tears started to form before he felt warm... arms around him as his head was met with the crook of your neck.

"My parents usually hug me when I feel distress... sorry if it bothers you, but it helps sometimes being held." You mumbled.

His heart skipped one beat on his chest... how warm and invinting you were. Heavens forbid that you found out how many times his mind was invaded by thoughts of you. Your laugh, your smile... hell, your touch. He despised touch, but yours... just seemed so... heavenly. A blessing.

And... oh god he was falling. He fell on your lap. And your giggles didn't helped his embarrassment either but he was so weak and tired that he simply allowed your fingers on his scalp to ease him to a slumber.

"Dont think this will be a constant thing..." he mumbled as his eyes though to stay awake.

"You're such a baby when you're sick Kai." You giggled as he grumbled and prefered to bury his face on your tummy.

.

.

.

He awoke to the sound of the door clicking open and he quickly shot up from your lap as the elder brought some food.

"I see you got some rest finally boy." He put the tray on the bed as he sniffled. The effect of the medicine finally kicking despite him taking a nap.

"I know you dont hold a liking on soups but is the best way to sooth a sore throat." He ruffle Chisaki's hair as he only could grumble a thanks.

"Thanks for coming today (Y/n)-chan. I think your parents must be worried now, I will call a subbordinate of mine to carry you home and-"

"NO!" He shouted, only feeling mortified at the shock look Pops and you gave to him.

Well, screw his youthful pride.

"Chisaki, (Y/n) has to-"

"N-not yet. Is... early... and I can't.." he tried to form words before you laughed, causing his cheeks to turn vermillion red.

"Can I call my parents to stay a bit longer Pops?" You smiled up at the elder as he looked at the embarrassed boy and chuckled.

"Well, I dont why not."

The boy felt a tingle of relief and happines growing on his chest as you crawled back on bed on his side.

"You want feeding too?" You giggled as he immediatly snatched the spoon and glared at you.

"Dont push your luck." He went to take the soup and flinched at how hot it was, which left Pops with a unused look.

"Next time blow it kid."

.

.

.

He felt he could even do a backflip on the other day.

When he got out of his room, Chisaki got called by Pops when he was almost on his way out to school.

"Hey brat. Looking better I see. You needed a special medicine so eh?" The man chuckled at how red Chisaki got before tsking and rolling his eyes, his grip tightening on his backpack

"Hate to tell ya kid, but just preventing you throw a fit in your school, (Y/n)-chan wont be attending today."

".. care to explain?" The boy tried to contain his shock and worry as Pops sighed and turned off the phone.

"Got the flu."

This fucking idiot-

.

.

.

You coughed before sneezing on a napkin and throing on the trash along with many others.

Suddenly your door burst open as you gasped at Chisaki abruptly throwing some bags of medices and other things you didn't know yet.

"K-Kai what the-"

"I told you were getting sick." He spoke under his mask while putting on gloves and grabbing one chair and sitting near your bed. Arms crossed and a look that send you shivers "Good imune system huh?"

"Hey at least you look better!" You exclaimed before sneezing on the napkin you grabbed quickly.

You saw through blurry vision the way he furrowed his eyebrows and picking a bag and putting on your lap, evicting eye contact as always.

You giggled and opened only to gasp at seing your favorite dessert there.

"Kai... you didn't had to." You spoke as Kai only shrugged and sitted back on the chair.

"Better be grateful for it you brat."

"We have the same age or close to Kai..." you deadpanned as he only glared back at you more.

"Eat."

You only lifted up your hands in surrender until his phone started to buzz on his pocket... picking up and answering the call he had to get his phone away from his ear from the yelling.

"CHISAKI KAI DID YOU DITCH CLASSES-?!"

[puckyeahobx]

they tried to sweep us into the cracks in the wall

not my gif

a/n: i really hope you guys aren’t getting tired of my rafe apologist behavior because it’s just gonna keep coming. this one is a little long but i really like how it turned out! i just hope rafe gets some form of redemption arc or SOMETHING because he truly is just a product of his toxic, abusive environment and i know he’s good at heart. (it helps that drew is my dream man tho) *title inspired by chapstick by hippo campus*

summary: there’s a huge storm in the obx one night and y/n is stuck at the diner she works tirelessly at. little does she know that her beloved diner is about to become refuge for the last person she’d ever dream of feeling empathy for.

warnings: none! fluff overload 

word count: 7.6k (meep)

You had been working at this cafe by the beach for a couple of years now, ever since you had turned 16. You needed the money to save for college and get the hell out of your house and, one day, the Outer Banks. It’s not that you didn’t love it there, because of course you did. It was home after all but you just knew that you were meant for more. But, it had been almost four years at this cafe, two at the closest community college, and things weren’t looking good on the whole “meant for more” front. Lost as ever, you just kind of took every day as it came and tried to keep a smile on your face as you did so. It wasn’t a particularly hard life, nor was it ridiculously painful, but you couldn’t help but think of what sixteen year old Y/N would have thought of you four years older in the same shitty apron and clunky work shoes.

Much like your life hadn’t changed much in the last four years, the cafe hadn’t changed since before you were born. The same old people came in on the same days at the same times, which was good because it meant you got to know them really well, usually meaning bigger tips for you, but it was kind of a slap in the face with the whole complacency thing. You were the youngest people ever in that building, besides Mildred’s granddaughter Celia who came in for brunch every Sunday at 10:45 (right after mass), and since this is where you spent pretty much all your time, your dating life was also suffering. This obviously wasn’t the most pressing variable in the situation, but it was a variable all the same and it wasn’t like you could pretend like you didn’t notice. Because you did. Every time a love song from the 60’s came on the cafe playlist you noticed. Whenever Ester and Charles came in for their Monday morning coffees and Thursday evening dinners, you noticed. Sometimes you’d be doing nothing at all and you’d notice. It was kind of impossible to ignore. You weren’t one to obsess over boys because, frankly, there weren’t any you were interested in. This was a small island, you knew your options and you were far from impressed. Sure some of them were attractive, but that usually also meant they had rocks for brains and that was just not something you were willing to indulge just because you were desperate for a warm body. This was your life for right now and you were just going to have to be ok with it. And you were. For the most part.

The good thing is that you didn’t hate your job. Food service wasn’t glamorous but the cafe was sort of like a second home to you, and since you had been there for so long the owners really trusted you. The couple that owned the place weren’t as young as they were when they opened it 25 years ago so any chance they got to hand the keys over to you for the night, they took gladly. Tonight was one of those nights. It was pouring outside as you started the closing duties. Sweeping, wiping down the tables, polishing the glassware, typical restaurant stuff. It was actually kind of relaxing. 

You were on your fourth set of mugs when you were startled by the bell above the front door jingled delightfully. It was only 9 PM so you didn’t technically close for another hour, but your usual crowd tapped out at around 7:30. But, then you realized that this customer was a part of your usual crowd. Oh no, this 6’4” twenty something in board shorts and a half-buttoned shirt was far from that. He was soaked from head to toe, his horrific Sperry’s squelching as he made his way toward the counter, looking around. He couldn’t see you from your spot hidden around the corner to the kitchen back by the dishwasher, but you could see him bright and clear.

“Hello? Is there anyone here?” His tall body and broad shoulders did not match the apprehensive tone of his voice, and it certainly was a far cry from the way you had heard him speak before. 

You stepped out from around the corner wordlessly, your towel and mug still in hand. He jumped in surprise before you could say anything. 

“Jesus Christ!”

You jumped back at his mini outburst, “You’re the one that asked if anyone was here!”

He rest his hands on the counter and huffed out a laugh, “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he looked up, his hair (as well as the rest of him) completely soaking wet and dripping all over your freshly mopped floors, and his eyes closed in on you, “Do I know you?”

“We, uh, we went to school together. Class of 2018. You’re uh Rafe Cameron, right?” You tried to be casual, but you knew exactly who he was. Rafe Cameron: public deviant and resident party boy of Figure Eight. Needless to say you never ran in the same circle, but it was impossible not to know who he was. Some may have called in infamy.

Straightening up he smacked a hand to his forehead and then started pointing at you, snapping. “Yes duh! And you’re-” more snapping, “God it’s been so long….Something with an ‘M’?”

You knew he had never known your name, but you kind of liked that he was pretending. “It’s Y/F/N Y/L/N. I think we had geometry together sophomore year.”

“That must be why I don’t remember you, I never went to that class. Mrs. Reynolds was a bitch.”

Normally you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes at a man calling a woman a bitch but in this instance he was absolutely correct. “She was the worst,” you laughed nervously. 

There was a beat of awkward silence when you remembered what you were being paid for, “Oh so did you, um, did you want something to eat?”

He looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language until he also seemed to remember what your job was, “What? Oh, uh, no. Not really.”

“Ok...do you want coffee or anything?” You asked, confused. 

“I actually only came in because this was the only place within like ten miles that had its lights on. You do know there’s a tropical storm coming, right?” 

You did not know there was a tropical storm coming. At around 7 you turned the radio off and took aux, simultaneously cutting off any and all emergency weather reports. You could tell that the storm was rough, but it was rare for a tropical storm this time of year.

“Is that why you’re soaking wet? You got that bad just from walking inside here?”

He started to rub the back of his neck and looked down at the ground, “No, actually, I got this bad from riding my bike for the last hour.”

Wanting to avoid another awkward pause you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Well that’s pretty stupid.” You immediately covered your mouth with your free hand, a hot, crimson blush creeping up your neck and taking refuge all across your cheeks. The awkward pause would have been favorable.

However, instead of flipping you off and calling you a dumb slut like he and his friends had been known to do in high school, he looked back up at you and laughed. You hoped it was with you instead of at you, so you forced a laugh back. It was hard not to, his face completely changed when he laughed. It was as if all of his features shifted into something softer, rounder, open. You had gone to school with Rafe Cameron your whole life and never before would you have ever dared to describe him as warm, but that’s exactly what the person laughing on the other side of the counter was. It was almost off-putting. 

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking stupid. But, in my defense, it wasn’t raining when I got on my bike. And I didn’t have much of a choice.” The last sentence fell off his tongue a little harder, a little darker. 

“What happened?” You weren’t sure why tonight was the night you had decided to speak on impulse, but you were really starting to question why lobotomies were frowned upon. It seemed like you could use one. 

He clearly didn’t want to answer, with the way he sighed and focused his attention on the cup of coffee stirrers on the counter in front of him, but he did anyway. “You know how parents are. The old man was just sick of looking at me tonight, I guess.” His tone was casual, but his gaze on the coffee stirrers was anything but. Happy people don’t look at inanimate objects like that.

You let his omission sit in the air for a moment, making sure you didn’t say anything stupid again before settling on the one thing you knew to be a sure fire antidote. “I think you should drink some hot cocoa.”

He looked up at you and tried to wave the suggestion off, “Nah it’s ok. This storm will be over any minute now and then I’ll head out. Besides, you’re cleaning and I’m interrupting you.” He went to turn around and sit in some of the chairs but you had already turned on the machine. 

“Don’t be stupid, this storm is going to stick around for awhile. You might as well get comfortable.” The hot cocoa finished and you topped it off with whipped cream and brought it to his spot at the table closest to the counter.

He looked from the mug to you and back again, doing that thing with his neck again. “This is really nice, Y/N, but, uh, I don’t have any money.”

You scoffed and walked away, “Yeah, ok, Mr. Tannyhill.”

He got a little quieter, “No, uh, I’m serious. My dad cut me off. None of my cards work.” You turned around and saw him looking down at his shoes. His broad frame slouching over onto itself, making him look almost small. 

“Don’t worry about it. I was never going to make you pay for it anyway. Just promise I can have a sip, yeah?” You tried to keep the conversation light so he didn’t freak about the amount of honesty he was sharing with you. Why was he being so honest? Why was he talking to you at all? You suppose it would have been awkward if he had just walked in, not ordered anything, and sat down without a word, but that still didn’t explain the brutal honesty about his homelife.

He smiled at you and laughed, “Yeah, I promise. You can have as many sips as you want.” 

You returned a soft smile back and pointed to the kitchen, “I, uh, I have some other stuff in the back I need to finish up real quick. Make yourself at home, I guess.” And you turned around quickly, hoping he couldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way back into the safety of the dishroom.

Back in the safety of the dishroom you had time to actually process what was happening for the first time all night. There you were, desperate for something in your life to start, and then all of a sudden something jolted you awake. Maybe you were being dramatic for the sake of entertainment, but as a big believer in the universe and the purposeful things it sends our way, you were not about to take this for granted. He was being so kind - so very the opposite of the Rafe you had heard the stories about for years and years. But there was more to it, the kindness didn’t even seem like an active choice. He just was. From the way he tentatively looked around for another soul in the storm, to the guilty look on his face when he couldn’t pay for the drink you had made for him (it was true, by the way. You really were never going to make him pay for it. His surprise made you wonder when was the last time he had been shown a random act of kindness like that. You felt your heart hurting for him), he was just kind and scared and considerate. Although, you might have just been romanticizing the one interaction you had had with a guy in God knows how long. It didn’t help that his shirt was almost all the way unbuttoned and completely soaked through. You weren’t even letting yourself think about the way his hair was stuck to his forehead and in his eyes, because if you thought about it you were afraid you might offer up your hand in marriage.

All this not thinking about his hair had really distracted you from your cleaning, so you were even further behind. You still had four racks of mugs to wash and dry as well as three containers of silverware to sort. Normally, you would have been by now. But normally, there wasn’t a soaking wet boy in your cafe. 

Just when you were almost done not thinking about him, you heard his voice coming from somewhere much closer than the table by the window. “Um, do you need any help?” He asked from the doorway. 

You jumped, almost dropping the mug in your hand.

“We should probably stop sneaking up on each other, you might end up breaking a mug,” He chuckled as he walked towards you, tugging a dry towel off the rack by the door. “So, where do we start?”

You stared blankly back at him, not trusting your brain to come up with something intelligent to say. 

He chuckled offhandedly at your agape mouth, taking the wet mug from your hands and drying it before setting it on the rack with the rest, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer. And, even better, it might just restore my image,” He paused and held his hands out in front of him with a grand gesture, “‘Outer Banks Playboy and Coke Addict Rafe Cameron Attempts Manual Labor’ That’ll be a hit for sure. Do you have any more washed mugs or should I do that too?”

Snapping out of your trance, you cleared your throat and pulled out a rack of freshly washed mugs and set them in front of you both. He was standing so close to you that you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him through his soaked shirt. 

“You know, we have extra uniform shirts in the back. I could get you one,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“A job offer, huh? I’m impressing you that much already?”

You felt yourself start to blush again, “No, uh, I just meant because you’re probably cold. It’s not good to stay in wet clothes. If you don’t want one that’s fine I just thought-”

He stopped your train of thought when he rested a hand on top of the one you had been using to scrub the same spot on the mug you had been scrubbing since you started talking, “I’d really appreciate that, Y/N. Now, set the poor mug down. It never did anything to you,” it could have been teasing, but it honestly didn’t sound like anything other than him trying to ease the tension you were so obviously feeling. 

You nervously laughed and walked out of the kitchen to get the shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. Returning with what you hoped was the right size, you stepped into the kitchen still not looking at him, “I didn’t know what size you would want, but it was between this and a XS and that just seemed unrealistic.”

When you finally looked up you fully almost passed out. There was Rafe Cameron, in your cafe dish room, topless. He was standing over the drain on the ground, wringing out his other shirt. His biceps tensed with each twist of his arms and you swear you heard yourself gulp. He looked up at you as you finished talking, straightening up and giving you a full view of him. While you had run in different circles in high school, you weren’t blind. And you definitely weren’t stupid. Rafe had always been good-looking. This wasn’t a shock. It was completely a context thing. But that didn’t change the fact that suddenly your mouth had gone dry as you tried to somehow drink in the image of his entire body without coming off as some freak with zero social skills.

“Just toss it here, thanks,” he caught it with one hand (sexy) and slipped it over his head, doing that thing where boys shake out their hair after putting a shirt on, and smoothing it out over his chest and stomach. “Fits like a damn glove.” He shot back another one of those uncharacteristically enthused smiles before setting his wet shirt on top of the washing machine and getting back to work on the mugs. “Are you just gonna stand there, Y/L/N or are you gonna help me?”

You slowly made your way back over to him, too nervous to make any sudden movements. What if you just blinked for too long and suddenly he was gone? Finally getting back to work, you stood further away from him this time

“I don’t bite,” he whispered to you as he leaned in close to your ear. 

Laughing nervously you scooted to the side a little closer, “Sorry. I’m just, surprised, that’s all.”

“Not everyday someone so good looking turns up at your door and offers you free labor?” 

“I was more so thinking about it being you specifically, the ‘Outer Banks Playboy’ and all. This doesn’t really seem your speed,” you shrugged as you placed another dry mug on the rack.

He sighed, “Yeah, well, the outer banks playboy hasn’t really done me any favors recently. I think I’d much rather move at this speed.”

You scoffed, “I hate to break it to ya buddy but the speed you’re referring to might as well be a standstill. Nothing about this place has changed in the last 25 years and that includes the customers. I’d take Playboy over Groundhogs day any time. Much more glamorous.”

“I’m not so sure about glamorous, Y/N...you did hear me say that I’m completely broke, right? Doesn’t really scream luxury.”

You faltered, surprised that he brought this up again on his own accord. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” You started after a pause, “But what happened that was so bad that your dad kicked you out in the middle of a tropical storm?”

Stopping his motions completely, he set the halfway dried mug down and sighed, closing his eyes, “To be honest, this happens like every week. Nothing really happens, it's just like, he remembers I exist and picks something to be mad about. This week it was because I didn’t go to college, one of his personal favorites,” He laughed in spite of himself and shook his head, focusing back on the mug, “The one thing that changed was that I couldn’t take it anymore. I just got on my bike and left. I’ve been staying at Top’s since but then his parents kicked me out after Ward told some lies about how useless I was and how they shouldn’t enable me...maybe they weren’t lies, but it’s still fucked.”

You had long since forgotten the mug you were supposed to be drying, too focused on looking up at him to make sure he wasn’t going to crack at any moment. He didn’t seem emotional about all this but that just made you even more nervous. You reached out to set your hand on top of his gently, a sign of camaraderie. “Rafe, that- that is so fucked up. I’m so sorry. I had heard stories about Ward but that...wow…”

“Pretty fucking unbelievable, huh?” He scoffed, “What a stand up guy. I haven’t even done anything to piss him off in months. He didn’t even notice that I stopped doing blow…”

You tried not to show any visible signs of that news shaking you to your core - you thought the coke addict thing had been a joke. 

He shook his head and started working on the mug again, finishing off the last in your guys’ stock. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you all of this. I’d be super fucking weirded out if I were you...sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind,” You said sweetly, tossing your used towel in the hamper. “I don’t get a lot of company around here, so I take what I can get. Daddy issues be damned.”

He let out another one of those honest-to-God laughs again which you were relieved by. It was amazing how easy being with him was considering everything you had thought you had known about him. Some people really do change after high school, huh. 

“You’re funny,” he remarked as he finished up laughing, swinging his towel over his shoulder and running his hands through his hair, “So...what’s next boss?”

“I still have some silverware to bag up but you really don’t have to help me, I’m a big girl I can handle it myself. Besides, you’ve had a long day of being homeless.” You joked, grabbing the silverware and setting up to sort them. He made no sign of moving. You rolled your eyes, “Rafe, I’m serious. I can get this done in like twenty minutes,” and turned away from him to focus on the task at hand.

Almost as soon as you were done talking though, he was already right beside you, “But if I help we can be done in ten. What kind of asshole would I be to let the beautiful girl I burdened with my presence work while I sat and did nothing?” And, with that, he pulled out another tray of silverware and got to sorting. All you could do was smile to yourself and try not to look at him. If you did you were sure you’d embarrass yourself with the blush and giant smile stretched across your face. This truly seemed like a dream. Too good to be true. It was no passionate affair, but it was more than enough for you. As you finished the silverware (he was right, it did take ten minutes), you found yourself hoping that the storm was raging even harder than before, with no signs of stopping. 

Once you finished the last chore of the night, it was time to face the fact that it was too unsafe to travel anywhere for the time being. It was creeping further into the night and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tired, but you would seriously be damned if you did anything to miss out on the absolute miracle unfolding before you. So, you tried to plow through it regardless of how completely exhausted you were. 

Rafe was in the middle of trying to build a pyramid out of the menu cards from the tables while you sat opposite of him, rotating through the same three apps on your phone like you had been for the last 45 minutes when you let out the most dramatic yawn of your life. 

The pyramid toppled over and Rafe sighed, “This is stupid. We need to talk about a game plan.”

“What-what do you mean?” You struggled to ask through your second yawn.

“You’re clearly exhausted so we should probably decide who is sleeping where since I doubt there’s going to be any chance I’m getting back on that bike any time within the next eight hours,” He paused to survey the small cafe, clearly trying to come up with a solution. “There’s a booth over in that corner that looks like it might work, and the stools at the counter have some cushions we could remove for pillows….I’m sure my shirt is probably dry by now for you to use as a blanket…”

“First of all, you can keep your shirt. Really, I’ll be fine,” You pretended to be annoyed but truthfully, the thought of curling up with something of his made you want to sob. “Second, I can just sleep on the floor. I’m the one that cleans it so I don’t really mind.”

He was already up and gathering the cushions off the stool, “Just shut up and let me be a gentleman. It’s handled.” And, before you could say no, he was arranging a couple of cushions on the booth, fluffing them for dramatics. “It’s beautiful.” Truthfully, it was a 25 year old glorified couch cushion with two paper thin cushions resting on top of it. But sure, beautiful would work. 

“Well this is very sweet but I can’t let my guest sleep on the floor…”

“Guests are usually invited, I don’t think I count. Now! Into bed you go. You’ve had a long day.” He gestures towards the booth.

“Where are you going to sleep?” You asked tentatively, hoping he’d say right next you.

He shifted his weight back and forth between the heels and balls of his feet, “Erm, probably in that corner with the rug. Don’t worry, I saved a stool cushion for myself though.”

“This is so stupid-”

He put a finger on your lips and shushed you, your eyes surely popping out of your skull. Once he was sure you were done talking, he rested both of his hands on your shoulders, easing you down onto the booth. Convinced he had cast some sort of spell, you didn’t put up a resistance and sat down, still looking up at him with a stunned expression.

“What’s stupid is you refusing kindness from Rafe Cameron. People aren’t going to believe you when you tell them so you might as well milk it for all its worth, sweetheart,” His voice was a little breathier than before and your mouth seemingly had gone dry because of it. 

Sweetheart. Shit. 

When you didn’t say anything, he squeezed one of your shoulders and laughed to himself, “I’m trying this new thing where I put good in because I heard that’s how you get good out. How am I doing so far?”

You tried to speak but nothing came out at first which made you want to crawl in hole and die of embarrassment, but then you cleared your throat and nodded, “Um...yeah! So far so good.”

He smiled and straightened up (you already missed the feeling of his hands on your shoulders, on you period), “That’s what I like to hear. Well...I’m gonna turn off the lights and head over to my corner.” He paused for a second before turning around and then again before he got to the lights, this time turning back towards you, “Thank you, uh, again, for being so cool. Sorry for ruining your night.”

He turned the lights off.

You heard yourself halfway whispering “This has been one of the best nights of my life” before your eyes started to close on their own accord.

“Mine too,” you heard from an even quieter voice as something linen was draped gently across your back and shoulders. 

And then it was quiet, and you fell asleep praying to God you wouldn’t wake up in your bed in the morning. 

--------------

When you woke up suddenly, jolting straight up in bed - well, booth - after a particularly loud thunder clap you truly had no idea where you were or whose shirt was draped over your shoulder. It wasn’t until you heard a voice from a disembodied lump in the other corner that the memories of the previous four-ish hours hit you like a truck.

“You snore.”

It was pitch dark but you knew you were red as a beet. Death seemed preferable.

“Don’t worry, it’s the cute kind. Like the little ones, not the chainsaw ones.” There was a tenderness in his voice that would have made you fall over if you weren’t already sitting down.

“Is that why you’re still up? Because I was being loud? I’m so sorry-”

You heard him shift and groan, his body adjusting against the stone floors, “No, no. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Too much going on up here, ya know,” he paused, “I’m uh pointing at my head...it’s dark.”

You let out a laugh and laid back against the cushion, “I kinda figured.”

“Yeah that was stupid I don’t know why I felt the need to clarify,” he laughed back.

A comfortable silence fell over you two for a moment once the laughter died out. 

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered “Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed and shifted again, “I’ve already kind of talked your ear off I think.”

“I don’t mind.” 

When he didn’t respond immediately you started to get nervous that you had overstepped. You were just about to tell him to forget it, that he didn’t owe you any sort of explanation, when you heard what sounded like a sniffle. Rafe Cameron was fucking crying.

“It’s just uh,” you could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and your heart shattered, “I’m just tired of being the bad guy, I guess. I just wish I could do the right thing, ya know?” He paused, “Do you ever just- just you know, wish you could change everything about yourself?”

You turned on the booth towards the direction of his voice and sighed, “Every day of my life.”

He let out a wet, pathetic laugh, “Yeah. It sucks.”

Another pause, this time not so quiet as you heard him try to catch his breath. 

“Rafe?” 

“Yeah?” He sounded nervous.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” The fondness you had discovered that you had for him was seemingly filling you up completely. Every corner of your body was full of it. You hoped he could hear it. You hoped he believed you. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said through another wet laugh, “But you might be the only one.”

This time, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you grabbed his shirt and the cushions he had used to make your bed and walked to where his voice was. The light from the security lamp on the corner of the building filtered through just barely so you can see the outline of his trembling body. There was a broken boy at your feet and you set the cushions down beside him, draping the shirt over him like he had for you and laid down next to him. It was intimate, your front pressed against his back as you held him through the cries he still was hoping you couldn’t hear, but that was it. You didn’t need or want anything besides him being able to feel the tenderness coming from you. 

After a few moments he gave, turning to face you as he rested his head on your chest and let out a real sob. He grabbed onto you as if you could get up and go at any moment and your fingers threaded through his hair gently, doing anything you could think of to soothe him. He kept mumbling apologies to you but you just shushed him and held on tighter, trying not to let your own tears fall. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he sobbed into your chest, your work shirt becoming soaked.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” 

------------

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you woke up the events of the night before immediately popped in your head. Partly because they were arguably the most exciting things to happen to you in years, but also because it was sort of hard to forget with there was a sleeping boy on top of you. 

His arms were wrapped around you and half on your side, half on your back, and fully uncomfortable. The stone had not been kind to your back, and the weight of 6’4” Rafe Cameron didn’t really help, but hell would freeze over before you dared move and disturb the peace before you. His eyelashes were so long they rested on the top of his cheek as he snored just the littlest bit, his bottom lip pouting out as he did so. The storm had caused his hair to get soaking wet just for it to dry chaotically around his forehead. It wasn’t his normal slicked back look, but rather unkempt and surfer-like. It was falling on his forehead perfectly and every time you breathed it shifted just the tiniest bit. 

By some miracle it was a Sunday which meant you didn’t open until 10 am and judging by the way the sun was barely creeping above the ocean, you guessed it was probably somewhere between 7 and 8. You knew that eventually you both would have to move, but not yet. Please, God. Not yet. Because if he moved, that meant he would leave, and you weren’t prepared to cope with that kind of loss so early in the morning. Or ever, possibly. 

It was almost embarrassing how much you cared about this boy that you were almost certain was a sociopath twenty four hours ago. But now it was as if everything had ever known had changed. Everything seemed brand new: The sun, the stone beneath your spine, the shape of his lips. This might have been some fluke that he would pretend never happened, but you knew in your heart that nothing could ever be the same for you after this. What a crushing blow to know that your life was able to change without your permission. 

Before you could get too philosophical before noon, your worst fear was confirmed as you felt him shift. It was endearing to see him be so human in those first few moments of awake-ness. He removed himself from your skin, resting up on one of his elbows, as he wiped his eyes and tried to piece together exactly what had happened to make him end up in this very position. After he had looked around and decided he was in no mortal danger, his tired eyes fixed on you. They were still a little puffy from all of the crying, but they hadn’t lost the softness you caught yourself getting lost in. 

“Good morning,” His voice was gravel in the morning and you jotted that down as a fun fact to bury deep in your memory in case you never got to hear it again. 

“Good morning,” You couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed by how small your voice sounded. He was goddamn breathtaking this early in the morning. 

He looked around again, shaking his head slightly as if to shake off the exhaustion, “What time even is it?”

“I’m not sure, my phone is dead, but I’m going to guess sometime before 8.”

To your surprise, his elbow dropped and he rested himself right back against you, nuzzling slightly, “Too early. Need sleep.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you apprehensively threaded your fingers through his hair, “I can’t argue with that logic, but the cafe does open in two hours and I think my smell might offend some of the customers.”

He put his face against your chest and sniffed slightly before resting his cheek again, “You smell great. Screw the customers.”

You wanted to stay there all day but there was just no way. If it wasn’t Fran and Neil banging on the door at 10 AM sharp like they do every Sunday, it was going to be your parents sending out a search party. You may be 20, but you still lived under their roof and they never let you forget it.  “Rafe…”

Rolling over onto his back he sighed, “I know, I know. I should probably go.” He started to get up when you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down. 

“No! No that’s, uh, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you don’t have to go anywhere. You can hang out here all day if you want for all I care. It’s a free country!” You were rambling. “I just need to get some clean clothes and shower before this six hour shift, that’s all.”

“Y/N, I’m not going to stay here while you go home. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He started to get up again and this time you didn’t stop him, conceding to defeat. You were already burying this whole night deep in the recesses of your mind where the memories of it couldn’t hurt you when he held his hand out, “Need help up? That stone is a bitch.”

Once he had helped you up you both just sort of stopped and stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat and started to look around, “Besides, I uh have some things I need to take care of anyway.”

You nodded and crossed your over your chest, “Yeah, yeah I get it. Good luck, with everything.”

He nodded awkwardly back at you, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, need it,” He tried to laugh but it sounded so forced it just made you even sadder.

You were about to respond when he leant down and gave you the quickest kiss on the cheek known to man. Another awkward nod and he was turning on his heels towards the door. “I’ll see you around?” He asked as he swung the door open.

“You know where to find me.”

And with that, he was out the door and one his bike. You didn’t know where he was going, but it was away, and that was just enough to break your heart. 

----------------

The rest of the day was torture. Your usual Sunday morning customers were not as charming as they usually were, the sun wasn’t bouncing off the coastline as it usually did, and the mundaneness of your life wasn’t as easy to ignore as it once was. After he had left you set the cushions back where they belonged and got into your car and headed home. Before you left though, you saw his shirt laying on the floor where your two bodies had shared sleep and you took it with you as you left. You knew it was best to forget that this had ever happened, but you’d do that after the smell of him mixed with the rain faded from the cotton. Upon returning home you were lectured by your parents for not telling them where you were, and during the middle of a storm, for crying out loud! But nothing they said had any meaning. You hated yourself for how melodramatic you felt, but you couldn’t help it. What were you supposed to do after a night like that? Move on? Seemed unrealistic, in all honesty. 

You got ready for work and managed to trudge through the work day until close again. The cafe closed early on Sundays, thank God, so by 6:30 you were locking the doors and were back in the kitchen sorting silverware drying mugs (both of which made you want to cry whether you wanted to admit it or not) when you heard a bang on the glass doors out front. Scared out of your mind, you grabbed a dirty knife and slowly turned the corner. But when you saw the person on the other side of the door, the knife was forgotten as you dropped it and hurtled toward the lock. 

As soon as Rafe saw you his face broke open, his smile just amplified by the sunsetting behind him. He was in different clothes now, but his hair looked the same and he looked so much happier than the last time you saw him. You fumbled with the lock until you finally got it, swinging the door open and letting in a giant current of ocean spray, wildflowers and him, him, him. 

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face but you tried to come off as casual anyway, “Back so soon? We’re closed you know...This time it actually is an imposition. If this is just your master plan to get free hot chocolate you are sorely mistaken sir.”

He waited for you to stop rambling to ask politely, that smile still all over his face, “Can I come in?”

You wordlessly moved out of the way as he stepped in and turned back to you. 

“So what do I owe to this great pleasure? Did you forget something-”

But before you could get the whole sarcastic remark out, your lips were being crushed by something soft and desperate. His hands cupped either side of your face as he kissed you wildly. Your hands immediately found the nape of his neck and you leaned in even closer to him, trying to make it clear that he could wield you any way he wanted. 

He pulled a part far too soon, his breath completely uneven in a way that made you feel like you were dreaming, “Uh yeah, actually. That. I forgot that.” 

His hands were still on your face, yours still in his hair, “Well what took you so long then?” You laughed, just as breathless as him. 

“I was too busy trying to convince my dad that I was a good person. It took a couple of hours, but I don’t think he hates me anymore. He reopened all of my cards and is letting me live in the guest house-”

“That’s great Rafe!”

“On one condition...” He sounded nervous, but the faintest trace of a smile still danced across his lips.

Your voice lowered, “I’m nervous.”

“I have to get a job…” He paused waiting for you to catch on, but you just stared blankly back at him. You were still reeling from that kiss. “And I guess I was hoping that this very cafe might be hiring?”

Your smile got even wider and your whole body felt like it was glowing, “You know what I think we are,” You all but giggled.

His hands fell to your hips where he squeezed slightly, laughter bubbling off his tongue, “Perfect! When can I interview?”

“Right now!” You enthusiastically pushed him into the chair behind him and he fell back less than gracefully. “Who is the best employee at this cafe?”

“Hmmmmm I don’t know, Y/N, you did give away free hot chocolate...That doesn’t seem very business conscious.”

“Do you want the job or not?” Your eyebrows raised at him as a warning. 

He laughed again and looked up at you again and grabbed your hands, pulling you between his legs, “I think you are not only the best employee at this cafe, but the best looking employee at any cafe that has ever been built.”

You scoffed and threw one of his hands off yours, pushing his shoulder. 

“So did I get the job?”

You looked down at him and smiled, unable to even pretend to be annoyed, “Well, Mr. Cameron, I have reviewed the facts and it looks like you’ll be the perfect fit. Luckily for you, flattery will get you everywhere.”

He smirked at you and pulled you into his lap, “Oh yeah? I like the sound of that.” His voice was slightly teasing but there was no mistaking his hot breath against your neck.

“Get your mind out of the gutter! I was strictly speaking professionally.” The blush was creeping all over your body when he pulled away. 

“So was I, boss. What do you take me for?” He feigned hurt and you saw right through it.

Deciding to tease him right back, you raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you seriously want me to answer that?” 

With that he scoffed and rolled your eyes at you, giving up on your games. You laughed in his face and wrapped your arms back around his neck, assuring him you were just teasing. It didn’t take much convincing because soon he had forgiven you, his lips back on yours in an instant. 

You went to sleep that night thanking your lucky stars for that worn down cafe and the tropical storm that brought him to you, still not being able to believe your luck. Sleep came for you as images of his smile fluttered past your eyelids, a smile permanently tattooed on your lips.