#like I called my friend the other day and they didn’t answer

[strang3lov3]

Hot Date

Roman reminds you of who you belong to after your date.

Tags - stepdaddy!roman, stepcest, manipulation, toxicity, usual roman sexism, usual dubcon, jealousy, roman just has a lot of feelings, crossing some weird familial/romantic lines here, unsafe piv, lack of foreplay, rough sex, multiple cream pies, panties shoved down readers throat, inappropriate use of a vibrating phone. If the succession writers can go there then so can I. Fic Help - @beefrobeefcal @endlessthxxghts thank you for your eyeballs!! A/N - heddo! Fic inspired by this ask from @thesummerpetrichor 💜 Summer, thank you for this because this is my favorite part of stepdaddy so far! I hope this is feral enough for you 😌 love you love you!

Also, because all of you who read my Roman fics seem to be very on the same page as me, putting it out there that I’m open to writing more of your ideas/thots 🥰 make ‘em icky my friends

Important!! If anyone wants to join a succession thirst/discussion server, please lmk 💜 you can comment or message me or send an ask, I just wanna talk about this silly show and everyone with you all 💜🩵

Stepdaddy!Roman Masterlist

You’re in the spacious walk-in closet of your mother and Roman’s bedroom, pulling a pretty, eggplant-colored dress over your body. “Fix your boobs,” your mom says from behind you, tugging on the zipper at your lower back. The small piece of metal and her sharp nails scratch your back.

“Ow, Mom,” you complain, reaching under the fabric of your dress to adjust the way your breasts sit. 

“I know, I know. Zipper’s stuck,” she mumbles. “Here-” Your mom opens the closet door and calls out her husband’s name. “Roman!” she yells, “Can you come help us?”

Your stomach drops. You’ve avoided him all day, purposely. Your mom looks through her shelves of shoes for a pair of heels to match your dress while you toy with the fabric of your dress anxiously. Roman makes his way upstairs, then joins the two of you in the closet. You timidly look at him through the long mirror in front of you. 

“Her zipper’s stuck. She needs a big, strong man to zip her up,” your mom teases.

“Ah, does she now?” Roman doesn’t break eye contact with you in the mirror, just raises an eyebrow. Where are you off to? “Good thing I’m built like a brick shithouse, right?” Roman’s eyes fall upon your bare back as he walks toward you, your skin tingling as he puts one hand on your hip and uses the other to grab hold of the zipper. “Let’s see here,” he murmurs, inspecting the zipper. “Looks like it’s stuck on the dress.” 

 Your mom’s phone begins to ring as Roman works on freeing the small bit of fabric from the zipper. She excuses herself to answer the call, her interior designer Erica is on the other end. Once again leaving you alone with Roman. 

“Hot date?” he asks, waiting for the sound of your mother’s footsteps to disappear. He hopes that’s not the case. Christ, please let it be a girls’ night or something. 

“Mhm.”

“What’s that? I didn’t, uh…”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Ouch. Roman masks the pain with what barely passes as a smile and a single nod. “That’s new. Didn’t know you were…” he trails off. 

You shrug. Roman struggles with your zipper a bit before pulling it up slowly, smoothing out the fabric with his hand. He watches you pull yourself together the rest of the way, putting two diamond studs from your mom’s jewelry box in your ears. You go for a necklace next, but struggle to clasp it around your neck with your freshly manicured nails. “Fuck,” you curse under your breath.

 “Let me.” Roman takes the chain between his fingers, brushing over your neck and causing you to shiver. “Relax. I’m not doing anything. Not here.” He opens the claw clasp with his thumb nail and loops it through the chain, then lets the necklace fall. You adjust the pendant so it lays flat against your chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

 Roman’s hands rest on your shoulders, he watches you fix your hair and catches a whiff of your perfume, something sweet and hypnotic that has his balls tightening and his stomach fluttering. “You, uh-” Roman’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. He’s being so soft, so gentle it has you thrown off. “Fuck. You look really beau-”

“Erica’s gonna be here Tuesday at three to give me an estimate on my office,” your mom interrupts from the bedroom. Roman nearly trips as he backs away from you, your mom walks into the closet just seconds later. You watch in the mirror how he scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head awkwardly, and how his expression changes from sheepish to defensive - brows knit together, a scowl on his lips. He’s angry, embarrassed with himself. Roman leaves and goes back downstairs. 

As your mom picks out a pair of kitten heels for you to wear along with a beaded evening purse to match, your phone lights up with a text from your date. Here. You met him on Hinge a couple of weeks ago and hit it off as well as any two internet strangers could. He seemed funny and charming and genuine, and you found him attractive. He was just a few years older than you and had dark, curly hair. Thick eyebrows, deep brown eyes and a sweet smile. You texted him, played iMessage games together, even had phone sex. You’ve been looking forward to this date. 

You slide on your mom’s heels and slide the purse over your shoulder, then leave the closet. You stop at your room and stuff your purse with a condom and a lip gloss, then go downstairs. You find Roman waiting by the door, peering out of the small, decorative window at your date in his car, holding your wool coat in his arms. “Think you’ll both fit in the backseat of that Honda?” 

His softness is gone. Somewhere between the closet and in front of the door, Roman built up his walls again. So you do too. “Quit stalking him, you fucking creep,” you spit. You open the front door and pull it open, trying to hit Roman with it in the process. He stops it with his hand, then follows you onto the porch.

“Nuh-uh, get back here.” He grabs you by the wrist before you can pace down the porch steps. “Jacket,” he says, dropping your wrist so he can hold open your warm, wool coat.  “You’re gonna catch a cold.” 

Reluctantly, you slide your arms through the sleeves and Roman turns you around to button it and straighten out the lapels. “You’re not gonna fuck him, right, kiddo?” he murmurs softly, holding on tightly to your coat.

“Let me go, Roman,” you seethe. He’s so handsome tonight, scruff grown out a little and his hair messy. His eyes look so dark, so predatory - a stark change from the sad, warm way they looked before.

“Because that would be unbecoming of a young lady.”

You twist and wriggle a little, but Roman only grips you tighter. “I’m serious. Roman–”

The car’s window rolls down, and Roman waves to the handsome, younger man with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Dude’s not even gonna meet the father, huh? He’s gonna miss out on my shotgun speech. You know, the whole ‘whatever you do to her, I’ll do to you’ thing.” 

“You couldn’t handle a shotgun. Goodnight, Roman.” 

“Ouch. Good one. Night, sweetheart.”  Roman hugs you then, and presses a kiss against your cheek, pinching your ass as he does. “You be good.” 

Roman watches you pace quickly down the steps and into the car. Fucking asshole doesn’t open the door for you? If you can brave the cold drizzle outside, so can he. Prick. Whatever. Roman watches the red glow of the car’s brake lights illuminate the wet asphalt below, thin white vapor pouring from the exhaust. And then you’re gone. 

Roman goes back inside, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly toward the shelf in the walkway as he huffs in irritation. He flops on the living room couch and pulls out his phone from his front pocket, opening DoorDash. He pulls up your favorite Indian restaurant and orders the same entree you always get, plus something for himself. It is Friday, after all.

Your mom comes down the steps and joins Roman in the living room. “I’m going out with Erica,” she says, her head tilted as she puts in an earring. “Bye.” 

“Yeah, alright. See ya.”  

Today’s probably the most Roman’s spoken to your mother in about a week. Not that it bothers either of them, though. He watches her leave out the front door the same as you did just moments before, and can’t find it in himself to feel anything for her. No guilt, no remorse for cheating on her with you, her daughter. He likes to dangle his marriage to her over your head to torment you but he knows that honestly, she probably wouldn’t care that he’s fucking someone else, fucking you. And that makes him a little sad for you; do you realize this too? She’s so hollow inside. No real substance there. You deserve a better parent than that. 

Your mom leaves and Roman’s left with the house to himself and fuck all to do on this Friday evening. It used to be that on Fridays, you and Roman would order takeout and watch movies together, or you’d play games on the Nintendo switch until your mom, who was always out drinking, would come home. Roman always felt that it was a nice routine, but it’s seemingly over now. And for what? Why are you so fucking pissed at him all the time? You wanted him, and he gave himself to you. He was the one to pursue you and he knows that technically, he was the one to cross the line, not you. But is sex between two adults really so terrible? He wishes you would get the fuck over it already.

 Jesus, he’s hard thinking about the times he’s made you come for him. Roman reaches for his growing erection and groans, rocking his hips into his palm. He thinks of your arousal on his tongue, and how thankful he was that he hadn’t shaved in a while. He waited as long as he could before showering just so he could smell you in his scruff, and be reminded of the taste of your pleasure. 

How you writhed on top of him, underneath him, how he split you open. Roman thinks of those perfect, creamy rings you left on his cock, the way your cunt pulsed around him. Eyes rolled back into your skull, mouth open, his name falling from your lips repeatedly, beautifully. Roman, Roman, Roman.

A knock at the door and Roman snaps out of it. He picks up the tightly-tied bag from the doorstep and places the it on the table, the same table he fucked you on, and tears it open. Roman takes your order and sets it in the fridge, then grabs himself a plate and utensils. He spoons some food onto his plate and wonders if you’ve eaten well tonight. He hopes wherever this asshole took you, that you didn’t order just a salad. That’s not enough, you need protein. You’re cranky without it. Are you moaning your new lover’s name right now, and if so, how loudly? How sweetly? He can’t even stomach the thought of eating right now. Not when you’re probably laid out in the backseat of his car, fucking someone younger, stronger, kinder than himself. Slut. And you’re doing it just to piss him off, undoubtedly. Roman’s food sits uneaten as he ruminates, biting his inner cheek as he sits at the table.

-

You come home a few hours later, and Roman watches you from his bedroom. Your date gets out of the driver’s seat to open your door, then takes your hand and helps you onto the sidewalk. You kiss him, your hands on his cheeks and his arms around your waist, adding insult when you kick your foot up a little into the air behind yourself. Roman watches the man walk you to the door, hears the faint sound of it opening and closing. You walk up the stairs and into the bedroom, the little smile on your lips falls when you see Roman by the window. “Roman.” 

“Hey, you,” he says, following you into the closet. “Good date?”

“Mhm.” You set your phone on top of the vanity before sitting at it, then take out your earrings one at a time, followed by an attempt to unclasp your necklace. You struggle again, what with the nails. “Help, please.” 

Roman unclasps your necklace. “Where’d he take you?” he asks, dropping the pendant and chain into your hand. He walks back to the closet door. 

“Uhmm,” you hum, “Some Italian restaurant. I don’t remember the name. It wasn’t my favorite.” 

“What’d you have?”

“Soup and salad.”

Roman nods. “And after that?”

“We just walked around.” 

Your blood runs cold when you hear the door lock, you look into the mirror and see Roman jiggling the handle. “Just walked around?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s cold out. You don’t like to be cold.” You ignore Roman and lean over to take off your borrowed heels, tossing them in the general direction of where the rest of your mother’s shoes are. “And I don’t see any marks or blisters on your ankles, so…you’re lying. I think you fucked him.”

“It’s not your business.” 

“Shut up. Don’t talk back to me.” 

Roman’s staring at you in the mirror, arms folded across his chest. Your heart pounds at the way he looks at you, jaw clenched and eyes dark. Predatory, dangerous. Repulsive, even. You shouldn’t be aroused right now but you are. You always are with him. 

“How’d you fuck him, huh?” Roman’s footsteps are heavy as he makes his way closer to you, one of his hands pushing a bit of hair out of your face when you’re in his reach. “Stand up for me.” 

All it takes is a firm squeeze to the back of your neck, much like the way an animal bites its pup’s scruff to subdue it, and you move at Roman’s will. You’re so pliant, so obedient. Your body moves on its own accord, like you’re not really in control of yourself. Your core is beginning to feel hot, tingling with desire and anticipation as Roman trails the backs of his knuckles down your spine, tracing every joint. 

God, you hate Roman and the way he makes you feel. The anger he stirs in you is palpable, yes. But what’s it born of at this point? Betrayal? For taking advantage of you, putting you in this position? Sure. But maybe on some level, you retaliate because you love the way he bites back, how he reminds you of your role to him. His, whether you want it or not. If you were to let go of your anger and indulge yourself in him the way he does you, what would happen?

“Did you let him come in you?” 

Your mouth goes dry as you attempt to stutter out some sort of response. “I - I d-” 

Roman only nods in response, then bends you over the vanity. He hikes the skirt of your dress up over your hips, exposing your lacy underwear to himself. It’s pretty, and the color you picked looks nice with your skin tone. Roman hooks two fingers under the waistband and pulls, tearing the soft fabric off of your body. Fuck, he loves the sound of it ripping, the sound of your cry. It leaves dark marks on your ass that hurt like rug burn, Roman rubs his fingers in circles over the irritated skin. 

 He thumbs the gusset of your panties, seeing the mess you’ve left for him to clean up. “Mm,” he hums, inspecting the little white ropes of someone else’s come that’ve dripped from your cunt. Roman reaches for your jaw and squeezes the hollows of your cheeks, opening your mouth for him. He shoves your come-stained underwear past your lips, taking care to make sure you taste it, using two fingers to gag you in the process. 

Roman worsens the burns he made in your skin by spanking you fucking hard. He listens to the muffled noises of pain you make as he does it again, your skin rippling beneath his palm. “Shh,” he hushes, quieting you while rubbing his palm over the aching flesh. He spanks you once more for good measure, satisfied when he can see the outline of his hand imprinted on your skin, all swollen and puffy. How easily do you bruise? When Roman looks at you in the mirror, your eyes are red, tear tracks spilling down your cheeks. He spreads your legs apart and unzips his pants, pulling them down just enough to pull his stiff cock out. He spits in his palm and coats himself in it, then drags his head through your folds, feeling for your entrance. “Deep breath,” he instructs, notching himself inside you. You breathe in as best as you can, the action made difficult with a congested nose and panties shoved down your throat. 

Roman sheathes himself in you fully in one swift, harsh motion. You cry into fabric, tears falling from your eyes as you squeeze them shut. It hurts you, your already swollen and raw pussy aching at the cruel intrusion. “Ohh, f-fuck,” Roman groans. In the mirror, you watch him tilt his head back and relish in the pleasure. He pulls out all the way before pushing back in again, harder than he did before. You ball your trembling hands into fists.  

“You can take it,” he says from behind you, “I know you can fucking take it.” 

Roman’s words aren’t encouraging, he isn’t talking you through it like he’s done before. No relax or let daddy take care of you, baby. He doesn’t praise you or call you a good girl. He fucks you like it’s a punishment, because it is. He’s angry, threatened, retaliating. Whether you’re hurting or feeling good right now, he doesn’t care. This is for him. This is his. You are his. 

“Did he make you come?” he pants, pounding his hips against your ass, the head of his cock kissing deep inside you with each of his thrusts. “Did he? Yes or no, it’s a simple fucking question.” 

You shake your head, “Mm-mm,” and it’s the truth.

Roman smiles in satisfaction. “See? So you know what you’re missing. Who makes you come, huh? I do. Right?”

You nod frantically, squirming under Roman as if you could escape the feeling, or at least gain some semblance of control here. It’s too much, too painful. He’s unraveled, lost control of himself. He fucks you unforgivingly like he’s an animal, a slave to his own sick need to satisfy himself. 

“You belong to me,” he says. “Me.”  

Your phone on the vanity begins to vibrate, the screen lit up with the name of your date, a little pink heart emoji next to it. Cute. “Is that your Prince Charming?” Roman takes your phone, holds it up in the mirror for you to see. “The one who can’t make you come?” You nod again. “Should I let him hear what it sounds like when you do?” 

Roman wears a crooked smile at the look of fear on your face, eyes all wide as you frantically shake your head, muffled protests coming from your mouth. “But you make such - such pretty noises. For me, at least.” Roman seriously considers answering for a second, his thrusts faltering as his thumb hovers over the green button. “Fair enough,” he concedes, “Some things should stay sacred.” 

You exhale a sigh of relief and wait for Roman to decline the call, but he never does. Instead, he wriggles his arm under your torso and presses the corner of your vibrating phone against your clit, causing you to moan loudly. Roman continues to fuck you and by this point, and with the help of the vibrating, the pain has begun to dissipate, replaced with pleasure. Your eyes roll back into your skull, brows knit together as you focus on becoming close. You groan in frustration when the call times out and the vibrating ends. “Awwh,” Roman pouts mockingly. “My poor baby.” 

The vibrating begins again, and Roman raises his brows in amusement. “Wow. Eager guy, huh? I think he misses you. What a girl.” 

With Roman pressing your vibrating phone firmly against your clit and the steadfast slamming of his hips against yours, it’s not long before you’re coming on his cock, harder than he expected you to. You’re pulsing around him, gushing, falling to pieces as he fucks you through it. A little wrinkle appears between Roman’s brows, he has to bare his teeth to stave off his own release. 

He leans over your body. “You listen to me,” Roman says. “Only I get to fuck you. Pull this shit again and watch - oh, fuck - you fucking watch what happens,” he threatens. “Nod if you understand.”

You’re too lost in it all to respond. You just watch him in the mirror, mouth slightly agape with a dumb, fucked out look on your face. 

“What’d I say, huh?” Roman smacks your ass, “Nod- if- you- fuck-” punctuating each of his syllables with a thrust, “ -ing -get -it. Jesus Christ.”  

You nod, nod, nod. Roman fucks you through the tremors of your orgasm until he’s sure it’s come and gone, then pulls your phone away from your cunt, the vibrating long since stopped. He puts your phone face down on the dresser before abruptly pulling you up, pressing your back against his chest as he pumps you full of his come, moaning as he spills inside you. You love the way his cock twitches, the warm filling of his come painting your insides, how it feels when it drips from your cunt after he’s pulled out of you. 

Roman pulls your shredded panties out of your mouth and wipes you clean with them, then drops them on the floor. Your thighs are twitching, knees buckling and Roman helps you down, sits you on the floor with him, your back still against his chest. You rest your forehead against his cheek, breathing deeply. 

Roman absentmindedly draws his fingers up and down one of your arms, his insecurity setting in again. “So how uh…how was it, really? The date with…what’s his fuck, I didn’t catch the gentleman’s name.” 

You wrap your hand around Roman’s to still his fidgeting. “Do you actually wanna know?”

Roman sighs. No, he doesn’t. He changes the subject. “There’s takeout in the fridge if you’re hungry.” 

“What takeout?’

“Your uh, I don’t - you know. Your fuckin’...veggie thing, the one you get from our Indian place,” Roman answers quietly. He’s uncomfortable with your silence, second-guessing telling you about this. Or maybe it’s guilt. “It like, auto-ordered or some shit. I don’t know,” he lies.  

“Oh. Okay.” 

“I can heat it up for you, if you’d like,” he offers. “If you’re hungry.” 

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[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Super Shy ~ A JWW School-Life Romance Pt. 3

Star Athlete!Wonwoo x Shy Wallflower!Reader

Jeon Wonwoo... THE Jeon Wonwoo is... paying attention to you!?

~1.5k words

Read Part 1 + Part 2

Series content: fluff, first crush plot line, school-life anime vibes, slow burn/yearning, some light angst, classmates to friends to lovers, fem reader, reader is ~*super shy*~ and has low self-esteem, reader is kind of bullied (?), sweetie pie Wonwoo, appearances by Choi Hansol and more!, all characters are in high school so no explicit content (but probably kissing eventually).

My Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and liked this little series so far! This part reveals more about Y/N’s interests and talents, which she’s afraid to share because she is insecure! But not for long with sweet Jeon Wonwoo around. Also she has a fictional younger sister named Daehee (not after anyone in particular, I just like that name). 😉 These two are so innocent and cute, I’m having such fun writing them! Enjoy!!

Taglist: @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh  @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @lukeys-giggle @cookiearmy @sojuxxi  @vixensss @lixisoul99 @mjpark15 @lelsforlino  @neivivenaj  @blvkkeddcc (lmk if you want to be tagged!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Whoa you’re going all out on that, Y/N—”

Your younger sister, Daehee, had come down for breakfast with her bangs still in curlers, wearing her school uniform shirt over her Hello Kitty pajama pants. She was watching you as you concentrated on preparing various dishes at the stove. A thin omelet, grilled shishito peppers, vegetable tempura; it was pretty simple stuff, but you’d developed an urge to create aesthetically pleasing lunches these days.

You couldn’t really explain it, although somewhere in your heart you knew it probably had something to do with Jeon Wonwoo.

For the past week, Jean Wonwoo had been spending lunch on the roof alone with you.

The two of you barely exchanged words, really. Your longest conversation probably lasted only a few minutes. But not for Wonwoo’s lack of trying! You still wondered why he was spending his lunchtime up there at all—even more so why would he keep trying to strike up conversations with you? You guessed he really was just that nice. But every time you were around him you couldn’t help clamming up somehow.

“Are you in any clubs, Y/N?” he’d asked you the other day, between bites of his kimbap.

“Uh, no...” you answered quietly, your nerves frazzled from your total lack of conversational skills.

“None of them appeal to you?”

“Uh, not really that...” you didn’t know how to answer him. You’d ended up just looking at him blankly, like a fool. However, nothing in his facial expression or his tone made you feel like you had to necessarily come up with an answer... But his gaze was intent, and you found it hard to hold onto for more than about three seconds.

“What do you do for fun? To relax?” he followed up breezily, “You’re the class mystery.”

“Um,” the odd self-consciousness you felt at being called ‘the class mystery’ aside, you couldn’t really think of anything to say to him.

Actually, there was one thing that came to mind... but it wasn’t something you’d ever shared with anyone. Your one ‘hobby.’ Though to you it felt more like... squeezing a stress ball. It was what you did when you needed to turn your brain off.

He wants to know what I do to relax?

You couldn’t say what compelled you, but you pulled out your phone and found the photo album you had saved of your miniature paintings.

You worked with acrylic paint on very small canvasses, using very fine, small brushes to create miniature floral designs, portraits, landscapes... Your style was incredibly detailed. You had hundreds of tiny canvasses in little boxes and frames all over your room. You took pictures of most of these tiny paintings when you finished. You had even recorded a couple of time-lapse videos, showing you creating them in fast motion. You’d never felt compelled to create a social media account to display or monetize them, though. You painted because it was what you had done since you were a preteen—the careful, methodical process of dabbing tiny paintbrushes into your carefully mixed colors, getting the tone and shading of a poppy flower’s petal on a tiny scale just right... For you, creating these paintings was like a meditative practice.

By some stroke of inspiration—or insanity—you handed your phone to Wonwoo. His face became visibly more curious as he took your phone carefully in his hands.

“Wowwww,” Wonwoo said, holding the screen closer to his face. He seemed absorbed in your phone—you even caught him zoom in on a few pictures. You could tell he was looking carefully through the album.

“You’re crazy talented!” he said after a while. He sounded genuinely impressed.

“No, haha,” you somehow laughed, coughed, and gasped at the same time, your heart accelerating out of embarrassment from his compliment.

“No, seriously—Y/N, these are really incredible!” he said. “They’re so detailed, and they’re so small! How do you even do that!?” His eyes were glued to your phone screen. A part of you was screaming inside, why on earth you would show these to him!? and urging you to snatch your phone right out of his hand, throw it over the side of the building even. You couldn’t believe that Wonwoo was seeing this, this... habit. And YOU had been the one to show him, of all things!

“I wouldn’t say they’re ‘incredible,’” you said, filling up with more and more anxiety over coming off as bragging or crossing some social boundary that you shouldn’t have crossed.

Wonwoo finally looked up from the screen, looking directly at you instead. You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you felt his eyes on you. After a long pause, you dared to glance up at him...

But he quickly looked away from you.

Ugh, I’m probably making him feel like he has to be super nice or something...

“Oh, whoa—a time-lapse?” He said, quickly recovering from the somewhat awkward moment when your eyes had met. But his stumbling across the most recent time-lapse video that you’d made prompted you to snap out of your reverie and bolt to grab your phone out of Wonwoo’s hands.

“Ah, don’t watch that!” you lunged for your phone, but Wonwoo reflexively pulled his hand away, surprised by your reaction but still effortlessly dodging your attempt. He smirked down at you, and your heart almost stopped.

“Why not?” he said, and the deep resonance of his voice made you realize how close your bodies were—you were practically sprawled over him after reaching for your phone, his face just inches from yours...

Your whole body seemed to flush a deep shade of red before you catapulted backward away from him. You could have sworn that you saw that Wonwoo smiling to himself, but you were so flustered and anxious about the way you’d completely invaded his personal space that you couldn’t think straight.

“I won’t watch it,” he said light-heartedly, smiling at you as he tossed your phone back to you. “But you are super talented, Y/N. Painting is such a unique skill, too.”

And just like that, he went back to eating his kimbap like nothing had happened. His relaxed, friendly tone mercifully neutralized the atmosphere, but you just stood there clutching your phone to your chest.

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” you started, even though you couldn’t look Wonwoo in the eye, “It’s just—I’ve never shared these paintings with anyone except my family...” Your heart kind of ached for some reason as you said this to Wonwoo, who just continued to look at you in silence. What on earth had compelled you to share that with him?

Agh, say something! You willed for this pause in conversation pass, but it didn’t seem to be budging.

“Thank you for showing me,” Wonwoo said at last. His low, gentle voice seemed to shoot directly into your bloodstream, flushing you an even deeper shade of red than you thought was humanly possible. You looked at him briefly, and something about the way he was looking back at you...  

The moment had played over and over again like a movie in your head for the past few days. The directness of his gaze. The rich, sincere quality of his voice. The way he’d smiled to himself... you couldn’t stop thinking of that particular lunch hour.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Daehee watched you dip veggies in tempura batter and toss them in the pot of hot oil on the stove. You let your mind run through the questions it had been asking all week: why was he spending time with you like this? Did he lose a bet? Is there some kind of hidden camera prank you should be wary of? More than that, why was he being so nice?

“Hellooo, earth to Y/N! I said you’re really going to town on your lunches these days,” Daehee tried again to get a rise out of you.

“Oh,” you said, taking the last piece of tempura squash out of the oil. “I just like experimenting.” You weren’t lying, exactly—you did like exploring all kinds of different food and dishes. Cooking was fun to you, different from the calm of painting.

You would be lying if you said that an added bonus wasn’t Wonwoo noticing and complimenting your work.

You liked it when he praised you. It felt like he meant it.

No one could be that good at faking sincerity, could they?

You couldn’t help but hear that small voice in the back of your head, doubting Wonwoo’s intentions.

But he hadn’t done anything other than come up to the roof during lunch this week, mostly just eating in silence with you—the two of you simply looking out at the sky...

But after you had shown him your paintings...

Maybe it was since then that you had started to put more effort into your lunches.

[winchesterwild78]

A Surprise for a Special Day

Characters: Jensen x reader

Warnings: None, just a fluffy story

A/N: This is just a quick birthday story for my sweet friend, @cheekygirl2309. Happy Birthday, sweetie. 😀

The sun was just beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the city, as you made your way home from work. Today was your birthday, a day you had been eagerly anticipating for weeks. Usually, Jensen would be by your side, showering you with love and affection. But this year, he was across the country, filming his latest project.

A small party had been planned by your colleagues, but as you stepped into your apartment, the weight of his absence settled over you. you missed his laughter, his touch, his reassuring presence. You tried calling him, but there was no answer. you figured he was on set and couldn't talk.

As you walked into our shared home, you noticed a soft glow emanating from the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, you ventured closer. To your astonishment, the kitchen was transformed into a romantic haven. Candles flickered, casting a warm, inviting light, and a beautifully set table awaited you. And there, sitting at the head of the table, was Jensen, looking impeccably dressed in a suit.

Your heart pounded as you took in the scene. He had flown all the way across the country to be with you on your special day. A wave of relief and joy washed over you as you approached him. He stood, a smile spreading across his face.

"Happy birthday, my love," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You gasped, unable to believe your eyes. “Jensen! You’re home.” You threw your arms around his neck and he pulled you into a soft kiss. “Hey, darlin’, I couldn’t stand missing your birthday. I had to take some time to see you. I know I’ve been so busy lately with filming and conventions, but I had to make sure my best girl knew how much I love her.” 

You smiled and blushed, “Thank you baby. You didn’t have to fly all the way out here.” Jensen cupped your face, “Yes I did, baby. It’s your birthday and I need to be here.” 

The two of you sat down at the table and began eating the delicious meal Jensen had prepared for you. “Jensen, honey, this is delicious.” You said as you took a bite. He smiled, “Well, make sure you save room for dessert, I got you your favorite cake and some ice cream.” 

“Wow, Jens, you really thought of everything.” The two of you sat and enjoyed your meal, stealing glances across the table and in between bites. 

After the two of you finished eating, Jensen cleared the table and brought out your cake. He put in a single candle and lit it. “Make a wish baby and blow out the candle.” You closed your eyes, made your wish and blew out the candle. 

Jensen pulled you up and flush with his body, and placed a searing kiss on your lips. “I love you, sweetheart.” “I love you too, Jensen. How about we take this party into our bedroom, I’ve missed you so much.” 

Jensen grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the bedroom. You were giggling all the way there. Once in the room, Jensen closed the door to the room and pulled you close to him. He kissed down your body as you both shed your clothes. 

“I missed you so much, sweetheart. I missed your lips, and your body.” You moaned into his mouth and melted into his touch. “I missed you, Jensen.” As Jensen laid you back on the bed he took his time with you. Each touch is gentle and electrifying. Jensen was memorizing every inch of your body like it was the last time he was going to be with you. 

As the evening wore on Jensen and you made love over and over. As exhaustion started to take over you and Jensen laid in each other’s arms. “When do you have to go back, Jens?” “The day after tomorrow, unfortunately.” 

You sighed, “At least I have you for a day.” “You have me forever, my love. Why don’t you come with me to set? Take some time off from work and come spend some time with me in California. You’ll love it there, and you’ll be with me.”  

“Really? You want me to go with you?” “Of course I do. Only if you want to.” “I do, Jensen. I really do. I can’t wait to see you in your element.” “Good! Now, I have one more present to give you.” 

“Jensen, you didn’t have to get me anything. Honestly, coming home was the best gift ever.” Jensen kissed your lips softly, “Nope, this will be the best gift ever. Trust me.” 

Jensen climbed out of bed and got a birthday bag and handed it to you.

You giggled when you saw Jensen’s giddy expression. He bounced up and down, “Open it up sweetheart.” 

You chuckled as you started to open the bag. Inside the bag were some of your favorite things. Your favorite, perfume, lotion, chocolate, popcorn, and at the bottom of the bag were two wrapped boxes. 

Jensen told you to open up the one wrapped in blue first. You opened it and gasped, Jensen bought you a beautiful necklace that had your’s and his birthstones in it. “Oh Jensen, it’s beautiful, thank you.” He smiled and nodded. 

The next one was wrapped in red. “Want me to open this one?” You grinned. “Yes, baby, please.” You carefully opened the other package. Once unwrapped, you carefully opened the box. Inside was a single solitary diamond. You gasped, looking at Jensen speechless.

Jensen was smiling and dropped to one knee. “I love you so much, Y/N. I know it’s cheesy to ask you this on your birthday, but I couldn’t think of a better day to ask, so, Y/N Y/L/N will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?

You threw your arms around him and kissed his lips, whispering against his lips, “Yes!, 1000 times yes!.” He chuckled as he slid the diamond on your finger. “I love you, baby. Happy Birthday!.”

The rest of the evening was a blur of laughter, tears, and stolen kisses. You realized that even though distance could sometimes be challenging, love could conquer it all. And you were grateful to have Jensen, your greatest love, by your side.

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[peppymintdreams]

What If Luca Didn’t Go to the Party

This is my first ever Zsakuva Fanfic so bear with me on this 🙏🏿

masterlist

It was a late Thursday evening. Luca was lying in his dorm room, staring at the ceiling and feeling empty. He had finished all he needed to do, and all that was left was to relax. He had been invited to a party but didn’t feel like going. What would he even do at a party? It came as a shock when someone actually invited him; it must’ve been a joke to get a reaction out of him—who knows? The night was quiet, aside from the occasional ventilation turning on and off, the faint sounds of upbeat music echoing across the campus, and moans of couples haunting the hallways. Here he was, alone in his bed.

Deciding to make a stand, he put on his nice clothes and headed for the door, determined to make his presence known at the university. But when his hand touched the door, something changed. Visions of doubt, insecurities, and the years of bullying he’d endured flooded his mind. He wanted to be strong; he wanted to try something new, but the pain was just too much to handle. What was he to do—stay home and let his insecurities and doubts win, or let himself be free? It took everything in his power to keep his hand on the doorknob and turn it fully. He was almost there, the door beginning to open, his vision starting to blur. It felt like time was running out if he didn’t make a decision. In the end… he shut the door and locked it.

“Weak,” that’s all he could hear in his head. A weak person, he thought. He lay down on the sofa, turned the TV on, and watched whatever was playing, tears streaming down his face. What was he to become if he couldn’t even muster up the courage to just be a person?

His phone lit up with a notification from his mom. She was his safe place, the person he could turn to whenever something went wrong and he didn’t know the answer. He called her and waited as the line buzzed. “Hello,” she said, her voice like a cloud—so soft and welcoming.

“Mom, I—” he stuttered, tears rolling down his face.

“Hey, honey!” she spoke with excitement; just getting a call from her son made her day, judging by the silence and occasional weeping on the other line. “What’s wrong, baby?” Anytime Luca was sad or upset, his parents were there for him, no matter what giant missile life threw at him.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do,” he began to cry, his voice cracking, He had explained to her about his invite to the party and what just happened and the meltdown he had.

“Aww, baby, it’s okay to not know the answer.” Hearing his mom understand him relaxed him, calming his breath. “Sweetheart, I understand how you’re feeling. It’s completely normal to be scared about going to a party, especially when you’re unsure of what to expect. Remember, it’s okay to feel nervous.”

His breath hitched; he began to hiccup. “Maybe you could talk to a friend who’s going and see how they feel about it?” Thinking about what she said, he realized he didn’t really have any friends in university or anywhere in London. So, what was the next best option?

“Think about what you might enjoy about the party—like meeting new people or having fun with friends. If you decide to go, just be yourself. And if you feel uncomfortable at any point, it’s okay to leave. Your feelings matter, and I’m here to support you, no matter what you choose.”

He began to calm down. Just a couple of minutes ago, it felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him, but hearing his mother’s voice was enough to wash away everything. He wanted to change the topic to avoid the emotional roller coaster he had just thrown at her, but then he heard a door open and a heavy grunt—Luca’s dad was home.

“I have to go, Luca; your father just got back from the store. But we can talk tomorrow. Does that sound good?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Luca replied. There was nothing more he enjoyed than unwinding with his mother; she always had the right answer.

“Mom, I do have one more thing to say.” There was something that had been bothering him lately, and he needed the answer to free his mind. “Can it wait until tomorrow, dear? Your father appears to be struggling.” Disappointed, he reluctantly agreed.

“Of course, Mom,” he said sadly. Judging by his tone, his mom could tell he wanted to talk but couldn’t stop himself from waiting. His father did have a bad back.

“Well, okay. I have to go. Mommy and Daddy love you very much, Luca. Kisses,” she said.

“I love you too, Mom.” She hung up as soon as he responded; she was in a rush. He understood his parents had their own lives, but they always made time for him.

Turning off his phone, Luca made up his mind. Grabbing his laptop that was still on the coffee table, he looked for available flights home after his graduation. There was no one he had to stay with; he didn’t have friends here, and he wasn’t in a relationship this town wouldn’t miss him. Luca let out a heavy breath and flipped through the channels, trying to relax. “I’m here,” he thought. He felt comfortable. Soon, in the next few months, he’d be home—there’s no place like home.

Not more than a couple of miles away, a lonely person stood next to a table full of drinks. They seemed dazed and confused. “Ayo ___, come and dance with me,” a friend said. Looking at them, they replied, “Meh, I don’t know.”

Their friend looked at them, concerned. “Yo ___, you alright? You seem troubled.” They were troubled; something didn’t feel right. He took their hand, wrapping his other arm around their waist, twirling them to him. Nothing else mattered but having ___ someone he longed to hold in his arms, someone he was now face to face with, just a few inches apart.

“I don’t know; I just have a weird feeling,” they said, backing up and looking around.

“Feeling? Like what?” he asked.

“Like someone was supposed to be here…”

[lil-frenchfri77]

Begin Again Chapter 2

Summary: Ever since Bella came back to Forks things between y/n and her boys have been different. Embry and Quil stopped answering phone calls and texts, they’ve even been avoiding her everytime she shows up at their house. So y/n does the only thing she can think to do, she latches onto Jacob just like Bella, and when he starts acting like Embry and Quil did, she makes the decision to not put so much effort into a friendship that is clearly one sided. But what happens one day when Sam’s pack is in town at the same time as y/n and her new friends and two certain boys imprint on their former best friend? And what happens when a former best friend doesn’t feel the same way?

Authors note: Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! I am actually so freaking excited that so many people liked the first chapter. When I posted this I never thought that I would be getting any kind of traction or reads but the 20 people that liked my first chapter are really making me feel good about myself and my writing skills. I don't know how consistent my chapter updating will be I have a really hard time with sticking to things but the enthusiasm i'm feeling after posting for the first time is really making my productivity flow.

Not beta read, lemme know If there are any egregious spelling or grammar errors and I will 100% go back and fix it

Word count: 1.8k

Embry Call x Fem!Swan!Reader x Quil Ateara

Slight Stiles Stlinski x Reader

Chapter 1 | Master list | Chapter 3

For the next two weeks your routine is almost exactly the same. You meet Scott and Stiles by your locker every morning and sit with their friends at lunch. It is such a crazy thing to think that if you had gotten to school any later that day then you would have never met them. And looking back, you can’t imagine not being friends with them now. They were filling the void that Embry and Quil had left in your heart. 

Your life was looking up and you were doing great, even Bella seemed to be doing better. She was hanging out with you and Jacob, and had even started going out with some of the kids from school. You and Stiles were getting closer to each other too. You spent most of your time in class, the ones you shared, talking to him and goofing off. You both had gotten in trouble a few times but that didn't deter you from talking. Like now. 

“Hey, so I was thinking about going into town this weekend, I need to do some clothes shopping and I was wondering, if perhaps, you’re free?” You had been meaning to ask him for the past few days but you had only now just worked up the courage. It was the first time you would be spending any time together outside of school and you were nervous. 

“Oh, uhh. Yeah totally!” His response was almost instant and the way that his cheeks turned a light pink told you that he didn't mean to answer you that fast. “Um, I mean, Yeah. I’m down to go with you.” Stiles blushed even harder and then turned forward to pay attention to what the teacher was saying. 

“Okay, cool. I’ll come pick you up around noon on Saturday?” 

“That’s good.” That was the end of the conversation. It seemed he was too caught up in the fact that you had asked him out to remember to talk to you for the rest of class. 

After school that day Jacob was leaning on your car, waiting for you to come out. He had been doing this a lot lately, waiting for you to get out of school so he could get a ride from you back to the reservation. Which didn’t really make sense to you but you figured if he liked doing this then why change it. 

“You will never guess what I did today.” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth when you got close enough to him. You couldn't wait to tell him about your hang out with Stiles on Saturday. “I asked Stiles on a date and he said yes!” You couldn't contain your excitement.  It was too hard to give him the time to guess what you did so you decided to just tell him. 

“Wow, that's a big step for you.” Jacob smiled, glad to see you happy. He knew that after the last few months you had that you deserved all the happiness you could get. “When are you going? Your sister asked me to go to the movies with her and this Mike guy on Sunday night and I really don't want to have to deal with it all alone.” 

“Well, we’re hanging out Saturday afternoon so I'm totally free to go with you guys on Sunday.” Jacob had had a crush on Bella for as long as you could remember, but you knew that he didn't want to be stuck in an awkward situation with her and some other guy. 

“Sooooo?” Stiles drawled, “what exactly are we looking for? Or what exactly are you looking for?” You two had been out for about 2 hours now and so far all you had found was a puffy green jacket and a pair of fluffy brown socks, which you only bought because they matched Stiles eyes. 

“I don’t know yet. I guess I'll know when I see it.” Your reply was nonchalant but you knew exactly what you were looking for. You just didn't want to let him know before you actually found it. Last week when you and your dad were in town you had seen a book that Stiles had been talking about religiously and with his birthday coming up you thought it would be the perfect gift. 

“Do you want to grab lunch too or do you want to just eat at my house?” you ask him, not seeing the way he turns to look at you with heart eyes. 

“We can go to the diner after you're done shopping.” He suggests. 

“Yea totally.” 

That’s when you heard it, the loud rumble of laughter from a group of boys at the other end of the street. You both looked up to where the noise came from. A slight gasp came from your parted lips as you saw Quil and Embry play fighting with the other boys from Sam’s group. Your face dropped as the two boys seemed to look up in unison and lock eyes with you. 

“Do you know them? They look like they know you.” Stiles asked, looking over at you to see you in some kind of trance staring at them. “Hey, y/n/n? Are you okay?” 

That seemed to snap you out of whatever daze you were stuck in. You looked away from them and back to Stiles before nodding and grabbing his hand to drag him into the nearest building. Which happened to be the bookstore you were looking for in the first place. 

“Sorry about that, they were just some old friends of mine. We don't really talk anymore and I haven’t seen them in some time so it was kind of shocking.” The apology spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it but that make it untrue. It was hard seeing them like that, happy and having fun when they left you feeling the way that they did. But you also couldn't help feeling a sort of resentment at them. 

“Nah it’s alright.” He dismissed taking a look around the bookstore. You had completely forgotten why you were in this store for a second, but when you remembered you had to hurry and spot the book before he could. 

Luckily you were able to find it and discreetly buy it while he looked around the store and grabbed a few things off the shelfs. When he was done checking out you slipped your hand into his, locked fingers, and led him out of the store. 

They had never felt like this before. As they locked eyes with you they saw their future flash before their eyes. You, Embry, Quil, and a happy little family. The euphoria and sense of calm that washed over them as they saw all of this was the most exquisite feeling either of the boys had ever felt. It was like nothing they had ever experienced and they had an inkling that they would never feel it again without you. 

When they watched you grab that boy's hand and run off it was like their entire world came crashing down. Their hearts, now beating in unison, felt like they were cracking. Before they could ever have you, you were gone and with someone else. Embry looked away first, face crumbling under the weight of these newfound emotions. He had never felt anything so fast, and to have it all ripped away from him so suddenly felt like a knife right into his soul. 

Quill was no better. The two boys had always shared everything growing up, they were the closest to each other of all the pack members. So it made sense that they would imprint on the same girl. And of course that girl would be their childhood best friend. The same girl they pinned after for years before turning for the first time and never speaking to her again. It was the hardest thing they ever had to do, and now, because of their actions, they were reaping the consequences. 

The dejection and rejection they were feeling was amplified by each other, every emotion coursing through their veins heightened by what the other was feeling. They wanted to whine and curl up into a ball at your feet and beg you to forgive them for the rest of their lives if that's what it took to make it up to you. 

It seemed as though the other boys around them knew not to say anything. No teasing remarks or mocking jabs were taken at the expense of the boys. All of them could sense that Embry and Quil had just imprinted on you. Everyone saw the way that you ran off like the sight of them would burn you if you looked for too long. 

“Come on, I think it’s time to head back.” it was Sam who spoke up. Always the one to take charge and take the lead in situations where no one knew what to do. But even now, he was struggling to find the right words to say or the right actions to take that could help these boys. He had never heard of an imprintee rejecting their mate. 

“No, but, we should go talk to her.” Embry whined out. Just the thought of leaving you behind after just finding out that he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with you sounded like agony. He would rather never be able to shift again than leave without you. 

“I think it's pretty clear that she doesn’t want to talk to either of you right now. Give it time. Think about how you want to approach her, what you’ll say. Right now is not the time or place for any of this, especially after that reaction.” Sam reasoned. He knew that getting everyone back to the pack house right now was his only option. He couldn't let Quil or Embry do something stupid and impulsive that could put people in danger. 

Everyone could see the way that the two boys hesitated to do what Sam asked. The longing and desire to be with you, so present in their eyes that they were waiting for something to happen. So Sam did the only reasonable thing he could think to do in that moment, and he commanded everyone to head back to the pack house at that instant. 

Begrudgingly Embry and Quil did as they were told and turned around to head back to the house. Looking back every so often, while the shop you had disappeared into was still in sight, to see if they could catch another glimpse of you through the windows or see you leaving. Just as the shop was about to disappear from their view the door gently swung open and you walked out laughing, head thrown back and a hand on your stomach as you full body cackled at whatever the mystery boy you were with voiced. Said boy, who was holding your other hand as he exited the building after you.

It tore their hearts even further in two. So with their tails, real and figurative, tucked between their legs they made their way back. Heads hung low and spirits completely drained.

What had started out as a normal Saturday had officially become one of the worst days of their lives.

[lostsyren]

ᯓ★ perfect a gold-digger!sofia concept

{summary: what if sofia’s primary motive was to live the kook life? and what if rafe was her ticket to that dream?}

{a/n: it was fun to characterise sofia in a different way– i personally don’t think she’s a gold digger, so i added a bit of a softer spin to the concept! let me know what you think and what else you’d like to see from her or rafe’s characters!}

˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙ ˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙ ˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 He was perfect. Massive house, flashy car, shiny watch– Rafe Cameron, the kook king of the Outer Banks.

Sofia initially admired from afar, it wasn’t hard to after all– Rafe was at the country club almost every day and being the club bartender meant she had front row seats to him. The way all eyes gravitated to his person everytime he entered a room, the hundred dollar bills he’d pull out as tips, the way everyone wanted to be his friend.

Sofia wanted that. Desperately. She’d moved from Mexico to the OBX a few months ago, with barely any money; the money she did have, she used to make a down payment of the small house she’d rented. After that, Sofia quickly learnt the lingo of locals. Kook, Pogue. The Cut, Figure 8. 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

She was a Pogue and her house was on The Cut.

And the golden, glittering people at the club were Kooks and the sprawling white edifices were all on Figure 8.

Sofia burned with bitterness everytime one of those rich assholes bossed her around at work–

Two beers asap

Are you deaf? I said on the rocks

I’d like my bill today lady

But Rafe was different. He was…nice. He learnt her name– Miss Sofia he’d call her– and he’d always leave a generous tip. It just made Sofia more resolute– she wouldn’t stay a Pogue any longer.

“You going to Rafe’s party tomorrow?” She overheard a group of kook guys chatter at the bar. Her shift was nearly over, the sky dark already, and her body exhausted. But she perked up on hearing this.

“The one over at Tannyhill? Yeah I’m down.”

That night she was leaving work, trying to figure out how she’d get into that party as she headed to her car. But then it was like fate had thrust her towards the answer. There approaching her, way down the parking lot, was no other than Rafe Cameron.

Her heart soared in her chest. This was her chance.

They were moments away from crossing each other, Rafe locking eyes with her, throwing her a small half-smile.

Do it, she screamed at herself.

“Hi,” she greeted with a sweet smile.

“Hey,” he responded. Sofia could tell he was caught off guard but he still remained polite. Aside from when he ordered drinks, the two never talked. This was new territory for the both of them.

“I didn’t see you at the club today?”

“Yeah– I uh had some business to sort out.” Rafe stopped, taking the moment to talk with her.

She nodded enthusiastically, shining her big, bright eyes at him.

“You missed me huh?” He said with a smirk.

She was in.

“Of course, you’re my favourite customer.”

She watched him as he subtly eyed her.

“Well I guess I’ll see you then, bye Rafe.” She turned to walk to her car, her breath caught in her chest.

“Wait, wait. I’m having a party tomorrow at my house.”

She slowly turned around to face him, feigning unawareness, “oh…ok.”

“You should come by– if you’re free that is.”

“Yeah that’d be cool. What’s your address?”

Rafe raised his eyebrow as if he didn’t understand the questions, “Tannyhill?”

Sofia shook her head, to say she still didn’t know.

“Shit sorry, I keep forgetting that you’re not from here. Just give me your number and I’ll text it to you.”

And that’s how Sofia managed to be the girl on Rafe Cameron’s arm. It wasn’t hard to like him– he was charming, funny, not to mention handsome. She thought it’d be harder to get into his bed, after all she was a Pogue, a bartender– she was supposed to be invisible to him. But Rafe was surprisingly down. Desperate even. Like he was trying to distract himself from something.

Sofia’s heart sometimes stirred for the boy. But she reminded herself of what she truly wanted– this. The satin bedsheets, the crystal chandeliers, the ocean view.

She didn’t feel bad, or guilty– both her and Rafe’s ‘relationship’ was transactional. They both took things.

For her it was the fancy dinners he’d take her on and hefty tips he’d slide her at the bar and for him it was…company. Sofia realised Rafe Cameron was actually quite lonely.

So she played the part. It wasn’t hard. There was something vulnerable about Rafe that made her care. But she’d always quash it down knowing how messy feelings would be– she wasn’t loosing out on the lux and glitz of the kook life to something as trivial as heartbreak.

Sofia was currently taking a bath in the claw footed tub in the en-suite of Rafe’s bedroom at Tannyhill. Inhaling softly, eyes closed, she breathed in the lavender scent of the water, her hands skimming the iridescent bubbles on the surface.

It was late and after they’d messed around for a bit, Rafe had run her a bath.

Sofia sighed softly to herself thinking this wouldn’t be possible back home with her single shower with the shit water pressure.

A soft knock on the bathroom door interrupted her clouding thoughts.

“Hmn?” She hummed, blinking open her eyes.

“Can I come in?” Rafe asked, on the other side of the door.

“Yeah.”

He entered, Sofia smiling up at home from the bathtub. He’d gotten changed into some grey sweats and a T-shirt that pulled across his arms. Sofia wouldn’t have minded going for another round.

“What’s up?” She smiled, the water reaching her neck.

“Nothing– just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Was he ending this? This…situationship?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She simpered, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“That day–” he coughed clearing his throat, “that day on the balcony, after you stayed over, you gave me some advice– do you remember?”

Rafe approached Sofia, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his body turned to face her. Her eyes trailed down to his fingers, the tips of them skimming the bubbly water.

That day on the balcony– that day he was acting…off. He’d been stressed out, terse. It had worried her.

Sofia nodded slowly, noticing how he avoided eye contact with her. “Yeah, what about it?”

“You really helped me that day…more than you know.” He mumbled.

Sofia lifted her hand out the water, locking her fingers with his, “Rafe– is everything ok?” She was seriously beginning to worry now, the feeling of care, that warm sticky emotion, worming its way inside her heart. When she felt like that she’d forget what this was– she’d forget how Rafe saw her as a fuck buddy, and she’d forget how she saw him as a gold mine. Instead she only saw him and how she wanted to help him feel better.

“Everything is fine. I uh just wanted to say thank you for that.”

She gave him a confused, lopsided smile, “you’re welcome?”

“Here I got something for you.” He let go of her hand, pulling out a small black box from his pocket, and giving it to her to open.

Sofia glanced at the box, then back up at him. He had a stupid smirk plastered across his face, the abashed look from before already faded.

“Rafe– you didn’t have to.” She said, internally thrumming with delight. Her fingers slowly opened the gift, revealing a thread of scintillating diamonds resting on black velvet, like stars in the night sky.

“Dios mio,” she breathed. It was beautiful.

“Here let me put it on you.”

“No don’t– I’m in the bath, I don’t want to ruin it.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, “Sof, they’re diamonds– they don’t get ruined.”

She didn’t even know what to respond to that, so she just grinned widely, letting out an excited laugh.

Rafe took out the spool of sparkles, standing up to walk behind her. He knelt down low, bringing the necklace onto her décolleté, Sofia jolting slightly at how cold it felt. She looked down to see the delicate metal rest prettily on her skin, the water lapping up to graze the diamonds.

“It’s so beautiful, thank you Rafe.” She gushed, turning her neck to face him.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispered into her ear, planting a kiss on her temple, peppering more kissed until he reached her lips. Sofia gasped against his mouth, savouring the sensation of the cold diamonds and his hot fingers trailing her neck.

Her broke the kiss, his eyes roving down her face to her chest, “I’ll let you finish your bath.” Rafe stood up, leaving the room.

Sofia felt conflicted. A diamond necklace? For a piece of advice? It felt like an unfair trade. But she quickly got over it when she saw the way they sparkled under the bathroom lights.

This was the life she wanted. And she would bask in it.

“Hurry up alright? I wanna see the necklace on you up close.” Rafe called from the room.

Sofia laughed, “gonna take my time now!” She called back, sinking into the water, closing her eyes once again.

Perfect. This was perfect.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

two weeks of peak season down, thirteen to go! due to some fortuitously timed cancellations i actually did hit my dream of being a week ahead on prep work (well, at least on answer key making) on tuesday of this past week. it didn’t last long lol (partly due to i was being Insane which seems to have calmed down some knock on wood) but i’ve caught up some more and i’m pretty sure i should be able to get back to a week ahead tomorrow morning while catching up on industry.

this past week i worked about 35 hours, which does remain on the high end for me. i have also tutored every day since last sunday which is not my favorite although both my incredibly far friday night student (i’m talking bay ridge… back to queens that is a commute the length of a feature length movie…) & my saturday kid are taking this week off, which is a huge relief lol. meanwhile the content development side gig continues slowly wrapping up, which is the main reason i am still mostly ignoring everything outside of work i can ignore - i’m basically racing the other active developer for claiming the last few available sets, of which there are 6, although i am not racing very fast because i don’t actually have that much time to work on them and i also am trying not to push my brain into the burnout zone… last fall when i was really actively trying to get on more even financial footing i was very ungenerous about giving my brain time off and it led me to feeling very bad inside all the time for a long while! this year i feel like my goal is really just to get through the season without feeling bad. do what i need to do and not freak out about it, which also entails not putting pressure on myself about things i don’t need to do. perhaps next year my goal will be to do that and also stay in touch with my hobbies and bigger picture goals and such lol. but in the meantime i am being very relaxed with myself about if i want to just read people on reddit talking about john mulaney’s ex-wife’s book everybody hates or whatever, although this week i do want to finish the patrick radden keefe book about human smuggling in chinatown i have on ebook hold.

i played mario kart with some friends & acquaintances this week, i didn’t bail on opening free store even though i kinda wanted to. i have not updated my little habit tracker in A While but i worked out 5 times again this week & hit my step goal; i had to take an extra rest day yesterday due to silent migraine keeping me in sitting jail but today’s was a bodyweight routine so hopefully i can go straight into the one i was set to do tomorrow, since i do really like the friday/sunday rest schedule. i am very stressed about two of my kids’ score trajectories lol but the one whose mom made me do a phone call (why) to be like “yes i have seen students in his position improve no i can’t really promise more than that” just kicked ass on a practice test which was a relief. even though i am spending so much time Highlighting and Content Developing and Admin Doing (my least favorite work task that no one makes me do but me is updating their little homework google docs… but like so often i end a session being like well ok i will see if i can find a worksheet to link you on circle graphs….) i still am actively getting a kick out of my cozy fall routine where i can sleep late and do work in bed while drinking coffee until i’m awake enough to work out. my room is still very messy but it’s literally whatever. if this is the week things start feeling crazy it will only be 13 weeks of craziness which is quite survivable! but also i don’t think it will be (although, like, famous last words, so knock wood!).

[crybaby-bkg]

it is so so so so soooo hard to unlearn that a problem not communicated directly to you shouldn’t affect your wellbeing and you can’t keep beating yourself up about something not being told to you!!!!!!!!????????? terrible thing to have to come to terms with. I hate it. (it’s helped so much of my anxiety when it comes to relationships with people.)

[bootyful-seventeen]

Got called mopy and moody and an overall killjoy for not enjoying the one (1) party experience I had in February of last year cuz I kept getting left alone at a party so I just sat and had nachos 🤙🏻🤙🏻🤙🏻

[southislandwren]

I deeply love the freshman but she just called twice to ask if could jump her car at a location 30 minute drive away, I am pajama’d and blind in bed . No I cannot dedicate over an hour of time when it’s already my bedtime because surprise, I wake up at fuckin 4:25 am 🙃

NO FUCKING WAY was I awake typing this godforsaken post and my other friend called me for 30 MINUTES!!!!! You fuckheads I work on a farm do not contact me after 7:30!!!! Arggghhhhhh okay goodnight and anyone else who calls me is NOT getting an answer I am asleep GOODNIGHT !!!!

[badolmen]

Actually I think I’ll die mad at my bros high school girlfriend. I hope she gets stuck in stop-and-go traffic for an hour every time she travels for more than 20 minutes.

[sluttyten]

Fucking wild day at work today like what the fuck

[slushycoookie]

What's That Smell? ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 3.1k

✩ Content: Worst!Logan and Hairdresser! Reader. Wade acts like he's innocent in this, but he's not. Pheromone perfume. Logan doesn't go feral, but he gets there. P in V. Vaginal Fingering. Squirting. MINORS DNI!!

✩ A/N: I had to write about my man reacting to pheromone perfume. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Commissions

“Happy birthday!”

Wade hands you a pink gift bag stuffed with sparkly tissue paper. “It's not my birthday.”

“You're so silly.” He waves you away with a sensible chuckle. “It's someone's birthday somewhere. Anyway, I saw this and thought of you.”

You pull out a small bottle of perfume decorated in a crystal clear color. The design looked oddly familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint where you saw it. “Oh, thanks. I've been meaning to get some more perfume.”

“Well, the gods answered, and as your friend, I am known for reading my friend’s minds.”

You're pretty sure Logan brought it up to him one day, but you didn’t question it. You thanked him with a hug, and he mentioned something about doing a fashion show for Mary Puppins when he left your apartment.

It was nice of Wade to give you a gift. He's always been generous towards you since you were with Logan, but you didn’t expect something like this.

You even mentioned Wade's generosity to Logan later on, who gave a questionable raise of an eyebrow.

“Really? He bought you perfume?”

“Yeah.” You pull out the bag and show him the bottle. “Wasn't that sweet of him?”

Logan squints at the bottle, still not convinced. “I guess so.”

“You guess so.” You rolled your eyes. “Can’t you believe that he wanted to be nice? He doesn't seem like the type to play a cruel joke.”

“Cruel isn't the word I'd use.” He grumbles.

You place the pink gift bag back on your dresser, reminding yourself to use it the next time you go out.

That next time was for running errands. You had to restock the kitchen, enough to last you and your superhero boyfriend, who loves to eat and drink, for a couple of weeks. Plus, you needed to get more supplies for the salon. Logan would meet up with you at the store since he spent the night back at Wade's to prep for Mary Puppin's first day at doggy school. You could tell from the brief phone call last night that he was worn out.

You throw on an oversized t-shirt, leggings, and sneakers. Not the most attractive outfit. Before you left, your eyes landed on the gift bag. Harmlessly, you sprayed Wade's perfume behind your ears and the space between your bicep and forearm.

Running errands was serious for you. You weren't the biggest fan of spending hours at the store, wasting time grabbing groceries. Logan agreed with you on that front, as he didn’t want to waste time either.

Once you stepped foot inside the store, you were ready. With a list in hand, you were filled with total concentration. A few minutes later, there was a shift.

You received a lot more attention.

Many people coming up to you to tell you smell good. You just started in the produce aisle, and four people approached you. It surprised you the multitude of compliments you were getting despite having the appearance of a bum. Others were making conversation while you were trying to shop, asking you simple questions about good salad dressing brands. Or how many spices you have in your home. Trying to get closer to you.

One man didn't seem to get the hint that you were busy. He offered to help you with your groceries while you were in the cereal aisle. Logan's favorite brand of raisin bran was on a high shelf, causing said man to grab it for you. You were polite, but maybe you shouldn't have been, as he constantly hovered around you. Drawn to you for reasons you can't explain. Talking your ear off about whatever he could think of.

“You probably have your own shopping to do. I don't want to distract you.” You say, hoping politely declining him would make him take the hint.

“No, no, it's alright. I don't want to leave a defenseless person like you.”

You hold back at getting annoyed, “…it's a grocery store.”

“Still, I just think-”

“You got cotton in your fucking ears?” In a blink, Logan grabs the intruding guy by his shoulder, effortlessly pushing him away. “She didn't need any fucking help, bub.”

The guy scoffs, rolling his hips to make himself look more arduous, “And who are you?”

“Her boyfriend, who isn't afraid to make you a pathetic stain on the ground.”

You knew he meant it, but you also didn’t want to get banned as you really liked this store. The guy took the hint, leaving the cereal aisle like a defeated puppy.

“My hero.” You kiss Logan's cheek and see him sniff the air. He turns towards you, pupils almost blown. Before you can ask if he's alright, he grabs your wrist, smelling the space between your bicep and forearm. The action makes you laugh a little.

“What's that smell?” Logan takes a few more sniffs, and you feel blood rush to your cheeks. “It's sweet. Really fucking sweet.”

“O-Oh, I put on perfume today.” You didn't need to ask if he liked it as he was glued to your form, sniffing behind your ears, his breath fanning your neck.

“Is this new? I've never smelled this before.”

“Yeah, it's the one from Wade.”

Logan lets out a groan that sends straight to your core. Goosebumps coat your flesh, and you shudder when his hands creep under your shirt to feel your bare skin. His touch was hot, almost making your back arch. You had to remember you were in a grocery store. There were eyes on you two, and you had to regain some control, or else there'd be two new names on the sex offender list.

“Baby, we got things to do.”

You pull away from him, trying to ignore Logan's dejected face at the fact they had errands to run. He hardly said anything else after that. He delegated his role to being the silent shopper, pushing the cart and responding briefly whenever you talked to him. To anyone else, he gave off the appearance of a man not wanting to go grocery shopping. You knew it was something else when you noticed his knuckles turning white from gripping the cart. Everything in your body warned you not to get close to him until the errands were done.

An unsettled feeling arose inside your stomach when the two of you were outside, a cart filled with groceries. Logan mentioned he brought Althea's car, which is one of the few words he's said since then.

He told you to wait in the car while he put the groceries in the trunk. You wanted to help, but he pushed you to go inside, almost gritting his teeth. There, you sat on the passenger side while waiting for him to finish. Logan was taking his time and acting completely different from your usual outings. At one point, you saw him with his head towards the sky, taking heavy breaths, hands on his hips.

You had a feeling this was your fault somehow.

When Logan got inside, you ask, “You okay?”

“No.” He doesn't start the car yet. You could see the veins across his hands when he gripped the steering wheel. “You don't know how fucking good you smell right now. It's everywhere. My nose, my head, my thoughts. You don't know bad I'm trying not to rip your clothes off and fuck you in the backseat. ”

You didn't know what to say, but you liked it. Your thighs squeezed together at how a couple of spritzes of perfume were affecting him.

“Is it that bad? Do you wanna go home instead?”

Logan shakes his head, “You still have to go to the beauty store.”

“I can get those things another day-”

“No, sugar. I'm not ruining your plans because of a damn perfume.”

Butterflies tangle in your stomach. This man still had ways to make you shiver. You just needed to be a responsible adult for a bit longer.

The beauty store was five minutes away, but being in the car with Logan felt like an eternity. His large hand rested on your thigh, creating heat through his palm. Your thoughts wanted him to go higher, near your sex, to feel how horny you were getting. The car started getting warmer too, sweat forming on your brow. If Logan hadn't smelled you earlier, he would probably have smelled you now.

“I'll go in with ya.” He offers when pulling into a parking spot.

“No need! I'll probably be a bit anyway.”

You rush out of the car before he can say anything else. Practically running inside the store so you can get your mind straight. Your boyfriend's words were hovering in your mind, and you resisted the urge to turn back around and have him go by his word.

You needed to calm your mind. Hopefully shopping for more supplies would help and Logan staying in the car.

“Now, what kind of man would I be if I let my lady go in alone?” Logan's gruff tone sent chills across your spine and his arm around your waist to press against your back. No words escaped you as he sniffed behind your head. “Say something.”

“Logan…” You let out a shaky breath, trying not to falter at the proximity. He couldn’t resist copping a feel on your breast, which made you bite your lip. “There are cameras.”

He grunts, burying his face in your neck as you two stand awkwardly in the shampoo aisle. Thank goodness there was no one nearby to witness it.

“I'm behaving.”

“Barely.”

When you were usually out to restock, you were quick, decisive, a separate list on hand to make sure you had everything you needed for the salon. This time, you were slower and more distracted as Logan was glued to your hip. Giving you extra hugs after picking up an item you need on your list. A gentle kiss to your neck. His arm possessively around your waist. The man wasn't even a massive fan of pda either. Whatever this perfume was had him forgo his usual self.

When people were nearby, he didn't leave your side. His large pupils were on them as if they were a threat as if they were going to take you away from him.

If you had any more errands to run, that would have to wait another day. Once you two checked out from the store, your man was about to snap.

Logan was dead silent when he started the car, his knuckles almost turning white again. The apartment was only fifteen minutes away, and you weren't sure if he would be able to hold on that long. You only noticed deep, heavy breaths that overshadowed the radio you turned on to distract yourself. You weren't sure if you wanted to ask if he was okay again. You had a feeling he was going to go true to his word to fuck you in the backseat.

Once pulling up to your apartment, you were ready to get out, but his hand held yours to stop you.

“I'll get the bags.”

“There's a lot of them, I can help-”

“No.” He cuts you off, bringing your wrist up to his face and taking a long sniff. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight. A whimper almost escaped your lips. “Go wait in our room.”

You had nothing else to say after that.

You did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the bed while holding your hands. Your heart pounding in your chest as you heard Logan bring the bags inside. You weren't sure why you were nervous. You were doing what you were told.

Maybe he told you to wait because the scent was becoming unbearable. That he couldn’t focus, or your scent was dampening his enhanced abilities. Did you mess up? All you did was put on perfume. Or did Wade mess up? Did he accidentally bring you something that affected mutants? You should’ve thought twice before accepting a gift from him.

Slow and heavy footsteps made it's way into the room. You watched Logan close the door and lock it as if there was anyone around to disturb you.

“Take off your clothes.” He starts pulling off his own shirt.

You did so, albeit a bit slower than him. Your thighs clenched as you knew your cunt was wet from all of the waiting, the touches, and kisses from the stores, his filthy words. Logan's eyes scanned your naked body when he got closer. You tried not to focus on his hard cock, red around the tip, cum leaking from it. You wondered how long he was holding that in.

“You got some type of power I don't know about?” He doesn't give you a chance to answer when he presses against your naked body. Heat coming from his chest that was making you flustered. “You secretly a mutant, and you decided not to tell me?”

“No! No, I'm not a mutant. I swear all I did was just put on some perfume-”

Logan silences you with a kiss. Hands on your sides while groaning between your lips. You thought he was mad at you, yet he was sticking his tongue down your throat. His rough hands on your sides. You hold on to him for dear life when he parts, sniffing the air, and you feel yourself getting wetter.

“Motherfucking perfume should not make you smell this good, Jesus fucking Christ.” Logan swears while he's buried against your neck again, licking and sucking along your skin. You whine at how rough he's getting, as if he needs more of you. “I won't get mad if you tell me you are a mutant right now because fuck…”

Logan picks you up and tosses you on the bed. You barely have time to recover when he flips you over on your stomach. A hand presses on your back, keeping you firmly against the mattress. His lips kiss behind your earlobe before giving it a gentle nibble. That makes you shift underneath him, causing him to shush in your ear.

“Hold still.”

You do as you're told, whimpering at the touch of his lips against your nape. A light kiss, one that makes you want to put your head back, which is followed up by a nibble. Logan does the same while trailing down your back. You feel his hands palm the globes of your ass while he does so, creating tiny circles with his thumbs.

You moan into your pillow, and you know you're embarrassingly wet now. Your cunt is pulsing with the need to have him inside you already. His fingers dip inside you, and you gasp in surprise. Logan's able to pump his thick digits into your aching hole while leaning over you again, taking another whiff of your perfume.

“Lift your hips up for me, baby.”

You struggle to move your hips as he’s still two fingers inside you, but he helps you, a firm hand on your hip. When he does so, he moves down to your clit. The two fingers coated with your wetness parted your folds, rubbing that sensitive bud. It was getting harder to do as you were told. Keeping still as he played with your pussy. Taking in how delicious you smelled with the perfume.

“Logan.” You murmured against your pillow, “Please…”

“Please? My lady's begging for me?” Logan lets out a short laugh, not stopping his fingers. “You want me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours, huh?”

“Please…” You were on the brink of tears, that familiar feeling in your stomach about to tip over. Logan didn't show you any mercy, making you sob against your sheets. His fingers rubbed your sensitive clit until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You ached for him to be inside, cunt pulsing for him to slip his cock in. Once again, the tip of his nose brushed against your ear lobe as well as his cock in your sex. Your body quivered as his chest was on your back, hovering over you for complete control.

“Think you can give me another?”

You didn't have time to answer as he started pounding into you. Sticky, wet sounds in your ears as you were pinned. Not having a single thought every time Logan's hips met with yours, mouth wide open as you were being fucked dumb. A hint of your drool staining the sheets.

The headboard banging against the wall, mattress squeaking as Logan kept going. Grunting in your ear, saying that your scent was even better after your orgasm. That he wasn't going to come until you squeezed around his thick cock. And he meant it when he rubbed against your pulsing clit. You shook, moaning at his touch and how his cock pistoned into you.

Logan was angled perfectly to where he started hitting your G-spot, causing your vision to get blurry. Still not stopping on the assault on your clit.

“Lo…Logan…” Your body was getting hotter, another climax on the horizon.

“You almost there, princess?” Your answer was only a whine, and that was good enough for him. “That’s it, that's it. Do it for me, baby.”

This orgasm was different. As you came undone, wetness coated Logan's cock, some dripping down your thighs and his own.

“Oh fuck-” Without warning, he shot up inside you. Grunting in your ear while his seed filled your cunt, mixing with your own arousal and trailing down your thighs as well. Logan lazily pumped into you to make sure you got it all while groping your ass.

You could hardly move with Logan on top of you. Thank goodness he didn't rest his total weight on you, or you'd be crushed. He waited a few moments before pulling out, leaving you to lie on your side, completely docile.

No words were said when he cleaned you up, towel between your legs as he kissed your forehead. You started getting coherent enough to realize the groceries were still out, but Logan said he already put them away for you.

With a sigh of relief, you glanced over at the perfume before reaching for your phone to look up the label. That's when your eyes went wide at the reveal.

Wade gifted you pheromone perfume.

No wonder Logan was acting unhinged all day. With his heightened sense of smell, of course something like this would affect him. That is definitely the last time you take a gift from Wade.

As you showed Logan what the perfume was, his brows furrowed in slight annoyance, calling him an asshole.

“But,” Logan folded his arms, glancing away from you. “I wouldn't mind if you wear this more often…”

[roanofarcc]

WORTH YOUR WHILE

pairing. Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom. 

warnings. dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornados, a curse word or two, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info.

word count. 2.9k || masterlist

a/n. hopping on the glen powell bandwagon bc he and daisy absolutely killed it in twisters!! feel free to send me requests for tyler, kate, and javi!

“If you keep looking at him like that your face will get stuck in a scowl, which is really bad for television,” your friend said, leaning into your side. With a roll of your eyes, you managed to pull your attention away from the self-titled ‘tornado wrangler’ who had stirred up a fuss in the line for funnel cakes. People buzzed all around him as he signed shirts and took photos, never dropping his smile that you often dreamed about smacking right off of his face. 

You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them. 

That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair. 

“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them. 

“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.” 

Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences. 

“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.

His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night. 

Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. 

“Do what?” 

“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you. 

Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos. 

It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds. 

The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet. 

You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people. 

“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!” 

You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?” 

The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it. 

“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes. 

“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter. 

It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast. 

It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing. 

Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk. 

You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion. 

Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run. 

In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound. 

“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.

His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?” 

You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow. 

You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey. 

Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir. 

Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances. 

You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces. 

You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you. 

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly. 

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap. 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?” 

You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.” 

“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.” 

“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.” 

His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. “Not to my face.”

“Oh, no. Never.” 

Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home. 

“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him. 

“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest. 

Bonus! 

Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt. 

You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased. 

“What I can say,” Tyler said on the other line. “I know when I find something worth my while.” 

[oceantornadoo]

bad day (simon riley x reader, best friends to lovers)

honestly, you should have seen it coming. staying in a safe house with four men who have never ending stomachs? but today, it was the last straw.

“you ate my last cookie?”

soap’s face dropped, jaw open. your voice was on the verge of breaking, tears forming in your eyes. you never showed this much vulnerability in front of the team, and he was flabbergasted. he shot a look at gaz, who was equally as confused. “‘m sorry, bonnie, i didnae ken-“ you pushed your hands on the table, shoving your chair back and out. “it’s ok. gonna take a nap.” you were wiping your eyes furiously, feeling unstable. first you got your period four days early (asking price to add pads to the shopping list was something you never wanted to experience again), then you couldn’t find your heating pad, and now your cookies were out? maybe it was the hormones, but you were done.

“oof.” you had ran into a thick wall. scratch that, the wall was moving. your vision was blurred by tears you refused to shed that you didn’t even realize it was your closest friend ghost. “dove?” you hiccuped. why did he always have to be so nice to you? gruff and mean-sounding to everyone else, but an avid listener and sweet talker when it came to you. “jus’ trying to get to my room, didn’t see you. sorry l.t..” you tried to maneuver around him, but unfortunately a 6’4 machine of a man did not move easily.

“why you cryin’, baby?” shit, simon did not mean to call you that. he did not want to have this conversation right now, especially when you looked like you were about to break down. you were always so strong, having to work ten times harder as a woman in the military, and he was always careful to not undermine you or your struggles. unfortunately, that landed him firmly in the friendzone for the past year, unable to confess his feelings without breaking your trust. he maneuvered you to the closest room, which happened to be his. he sat down on the bed, intending to sit you down next to him, but instead you still stood, walking in between his parted legs.

“‘m sorry, just on my period and everything hurts and it’s all hitting at once.” your eyes were red, avoiding his. he could see you were in pain, and as someone who had endured enemy torture and the hardest forms of training, his heart never hurt as much as it did now. he reached a gloved hand towards your face, brushing away your tears. his other hand came to your lower belly, rubbing circles over your clothes. “shhh, ‘s okay. you wanna sit down?” you shook your head in disagreement. you felt like a child, but you were never allowed to be weak outside of your own room. for some reason today, you let simon riley see you weak.

you walked around his body and laid on top of his covers, curling into a fetal position. he let you get comfy, finding a way to lay down that lessened your cramps. finally, you were done moving. “si?” you never called him that unless you absolutely needed him. he got up and locked the door, not wanting to disturb your peace. “yeah, baby?” might as well use it now, you hadn’t complained. if anything your face softened when he said it, and simon riley would die a thousand deaths just to see a moment of relief on your face. “will you lay with me?”

he eagerly stripped out of his gear, climbing on top of his bed to lay down with you. he placed a hand on your arm, letting you choose where you wanted him. you dragged his hand under your sweatshirt, using it like a heating pad for your cramps. you let out a soft moan of pleasure and he answered it with a low growl, pulling you into him by the stomach. his thumb caressed your bare skin with small circles, memorizing every dip and valley. he strived to commit the moment to memory, not knowing if you’d ever be this vulnerable again. “feel better, dove?” you nodded, finally succumbing to sleep that had evaded you the past night. he smiled under his mask, placing a small kiss to the back of your head.

finally you were at peace, and all because of him.