#and he goes through like 5 first officers in a year

[glimblshanks]

.

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[bootsukki]

“Hey Reddit, an update”

aita series masterlist previous part

author's note: tysm for the incredible amount of notes, reblogs and likes the series has had. i'm completely amazed by it :D i would love to read your opinions on this! hope you enjoy this part! there is just one part left to the series and that makes me really sad but life goes on (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

this has 5k words!!!! sorry!

warnings: a bit of angst, fluff and SMUTTTTTTTTT (smut will start and finish after this: *****) so please, mdni!!! p.s.: haven’t written smut in ages so……….

The university was buzzing with the usual midday energy when Tsukishima stepped through the front doors. Multiple students were going in and out of the several buildings, ready to go home or get some lunch. Tsukishima fixed his tie, nervous. It was two days after their painful phone conversation and even though he didn't want to admit it, talking to Akiteru about everything made him more aware of (Y/N)'s feelings. He couldn't let things stay the way they were. He didn't want to lose the woman of his dreams just because he cannot deal with his plans and his nerves towards his future proposal.

Clutching the bento in his hand, he made his way through the education building. (Y/N) was in her last days of finishing the first draft of her book so she was likely to be at the small office Fujimoto-san, her mentor, had given her to work on it. The smell of (Y/N)'s favourite food wafted from the bento and, despite the knots in his stomach, he hoped this would be the first peace offering that would get them closer.

He had tried his best to get her to come home, texting her the previous day with little success, only receiving a yes/no answer to his texts. He had even tried contacting Yachi but the smaller girl was completely blinded by rage towards him ("Tsukishima, you're a fucking asshole and if you think I'll let you hurt my best friend, you're terribly wrong about it. I may be 5 feet tall but I know how to punch someone, especially tall guys like you.") He regretted his actions from that night, including the complete silence he gave her when she was just trying to get an explanation from him.

When he reached her office, Tsukishima took a deep breath, stopping at the doorway. He was nervous to even see her as she had been staying at Yachi’s, knowing she had been at home showering and taking clean clothes whenever he was at work thanks to the smell of her coconut shampoo and the missing socks from the pile of laundry he needed to get through. As he was about to knock on the door, a voice called his name and he turned.

"Fujimoto-san."

"I knew it was you, Tsukishima." Fujimoto-san was a 55-year-old university professor that had been (Y/N)'s professor during her first year. He had been with her through every stage of her university degree and he was the one to who proposed writing a book on second language methodologies to her and the one who accompanied her during her research in the US. Tsukishima was grateful that (Y/N) had found someone who was giving her the support she needed to get over the project, almost acting like a father figure towards (Y/N). "What are you doing here?"

"I was bringing (Y/N) some lunch."

"Oh! That's so nice of you, boy. She hasn't been out of the office for the whole day." Fujimoto knocked on the door and without even waiting for an answer, he opened the door.

(Y/N) was sitting at her desk, completely absorbed in her work, clicking the keys on the keyboard quickly as she wrote, brows furrowed in concentration.

"(Y/N)."

"Fujimoto-san, sorry, I haven't been able to find the document you asked me for." She looked up, surprise flashing across her face as she saw her boyfriend next to the professor before her expression hardened slightly. She wasn't expecting him here. "Kei."

"He brought you some food, isn't that great?"

(Y/N) gave her mentor a soft smile and stood up, getting close to them. With a smile, she reached for the bento on his hands.

"I just wanted to let you know that he's here. I'll leave you two lovebirds eat alone."

"Thank you, Fujimoto-san."

The man waved his hands, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

"Kei," she said, her tone uncertain, guarded. "What are you doing here?"

Tsukishima shifted, feeling awkward. "I thought you might be hungry," he said, voice softer than usual. "And… I wanted to talk."

Her eyes flickered to the bento, then back to his face, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, and Tsukishima’s heart pounded in his chest, nervousness gnawing at him. What if she didn’t want to hear him out? What if she was done?

But finally, she sighed, gesturing for him to sit down.

Relief washed over him as he sat down on a chair. "It’s your favorite," he added quietly, watching her reaction.

(Y/N) looked at the food, then back at him. Her walls were still up, and he could feel the distance between them. But she was here. She was listening.

"Thanks," she muttered, but there was still tension in her voice. "But you didn’t have to bring me food just to say whatever you came to say."

"I know," Tsukishima said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "But I wanted to."

There was another long pause before (Y/N) sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I can’t talk right now, I have a meeting in 10.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima shifted on his feet, feeling the weight of rejection settle uncomfortably on his shoulders. “I didn’t know.”

(Y/N) sighed softly, the tension between them palpable even in her small office. “I really can’t talk right now,” she repeated, glancing over at her desk again. “But maybe… we could talk after work? At home?”

Her voice was quieter on that last part, as if she was extending a tentative olive branch. Tsukishima nodded immediately, relief washing over him despite the lingering tension. “Yeah. Tonight, at home. We can talk then.”

She nodded, and for a moment, their eyes met—there was something fragile in her gaze. It made his chest ache. “Okay,” she whispered, opening the bento. “Thank you for the food.”

He didn’t press her further, didn’t try to fix everything in that moment. Instead, he turned to leave, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to find their way back to each other that night.

*****

Later that evening, Tsukishima sat on the couch, waiting, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee as he tried to calm his nerves. His mind was racing, replaying everything that had happened between them—how distant he had become, how his silence had hurt her more than he’d realized.

When (Y/N) finally walked through the door, she looked drained from the long day. She dropped her bag by the door and glanced over at him, offering a small wave.

“Hi,” she said softly, as if unsure of how to start.

“Hey,” he replied, standing up awkwardly. “You want to sit down?”

She nodded, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to him, but there was still a noticeable gap between them. The air between them felt heavy, weighted down by everything they hadn’t said.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on, thick with tension and uncertainty, and Tsukishima felt the guilt gnawing at him. He hated how far apart they felt, how much he had hurt her without meaning to.

Finally, (Y/N) took a deep breath, her voice small and shaky when she spoke. “Kei, I… I don’t even know where to begin.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I know,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I’ve been terrible about all of this. I’ve shut you out, and I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you. I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, looking down at her lap. “It’s not just that you shut me out, Kei. It’s everything… You’ve been staying late, coming home at random hours, and… Mia—”

Her voice broke slightly as she said the name, and Tsukishima’s heart sank.

“You obviously don't notice but I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” she continued, her words trembling. “I've noticed since that time you were out with your coworkers and I had to give you your keys and from that moment, she’s always around, and I just—I couldn’t help but think that maybe you were spending time with her. Maybe… maybe you were choosing her over me.”

Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped away a tear that slipped down her cheek, trying to maintain her composure. But Tsukishima could see how much this had been eating at her, festering under the surface.

“I felt so stupid for thinking that,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking slightly. “But I couldn’t help it. Every time you were late, every time you didn’t answer my texts… I thought maybe I was losing you to her.”

Tsukishima’s chest tightened painfully as he listened to her. The thought that she had been feeling like this—feeling jealous, insecure, like she wasn’t enough—it tore him apart inside. He had completely ignored her, left her on the dark on everything and his words from two nights before were eating him alive, seeing her like that. He had been so focused on keeping the surprise, on managing everything on his own, that he hadn’t even seen how much he was hurting her.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret. He reached out, gently taking her trembling hands in his. “Mia means nothing to me. I don’t even notice her like that. She’s just a coworker. You... You’re the one I love. You’re the only one I want.”

Her lip quivered, and more tears fell from her eyes. She looked away, trying to compose herself, but the pain was too raw, too fresh. “But you...” she whispered. “You never told me what was going on, so I didn’t know… I didn’t know what to think. All those nights at the museum or with the computer here at home... I don't know, I felt so...”

Tsukishima squeezed her hands gently, his heart aching. “I should have told you sooner,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to make you doubt yourself or us. I was just… trying to plan something special for us. That’s why I’ve been working late. I’ve been trying to get everything ready for our anniversary. I've been looking for the best place where we can relax and I've been trying to get days off by just... overworking, I guess.”

She looked up at him through her tears. “Our anniversary?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice soft. “I’ve been planning a trip. Just the two of us. I wanted it to be a surprise, but in trying to keep it secret, I ended up shutting you out. I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough. I'm the worst at these things. I hate surprises.”

(Y/N) blinked, more tears falling, but this time there was a flicker of relief in her expression. “You were doing all that for us?”

“I was,” he said, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “But that doesn’t excuse how I handled it. You shouldn’t have had to worry about Mia or think that I didn’t care. I should’ve been open with you, told you what was going on, not leaving you like nothing was happening. I was a complete asshole with you.”

Her shoulders trembled, and she let out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes. “I felt so stupid, Kei,” she whispered. “I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you, like I was… like I was losing you to her.”

Tsukishima’s heart clenched, and without another word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You’re not losing me,” he murmured into her hair, his voice soft but firm. “You’re never going to lose me. She isn’t even a thought in my mind. You’re the one I want, Y/N. You’ve always been the one.”

Her hands gripped his shirt tightly, and she sobbed quietly into his chest, letting out all the emotions she had been holding in. Tsukishima held her close, his hand gently stroking her back.

After a few moments, she pulled back slightly, her face streaked with tears. “I don’t want to feel like this again,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I don’t want to keep thinking I’m not enough for you.”

“You are enough,” he said firmly, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You’re more than enough. I’m sorry I made you doubt that. I’ll do better. I promise I’ll be honest with you from now on. We’ll talk about everything—no more shutting each other out.”

She sniffled, her fingers curling around his wrist, holding onto him like he was her anchor. “I just want to feel like I matter to you, Kei.”

“You do,” he whispered, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “You matter more than anyone. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I’m sorry I didn’t show that enough. I’ll do better. You are my everything. I won't hurt you like this again.”

She nodded, tears still clinging to her lashes, but the weight between them seemed to lift, just a little. “We’ll figure this out,” she whispered. “Together. I also need to communicate my feelings better."

Tsukishima leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment before moving onto her lips, kissing them for just a second. “Together,” he echoed, his heart swelling as he held her close.

"We really suck at this sometimes," she muttered.

"Yeah, we do."

They both laughed softly, still holding each other tight.

*****

(OP) tsuk113_:

Hey Reddit, an update.

Seems like we just needed to have a long and conversation between us. I took your comments and advice from friends to heart and explained everything to her. I told her about the surprise trip (but not about me proposing on that trip, surprise, I guess) and everything has gone well. WE are working on our problems and I promised her to be better. I need to be better for her because she is truly the best thing that has happened to me.

Anyway, trip is just a few days away and I'm actually nervous about proposing but, I hope it goes right.

*****

The drive up the mountains had been long, winding through dense forests and past breathtaking views, but the destination was worth it. Tsukishima had booked a secluded cabin that sat high up, surrounded by towering trees and overlooking a serene, glassy lake. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, and the sky above was a brilliant expanse of deep blue. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by time, peaceful, and far removed from the hectic pace of their daily lives.

(Y/N) had been in better spirits since their talk. Tsukishima had worked hard to open up to her, to let her in on how overwhelmed he had been. And while she didn’t know the full reason for the trip, she had let herself hope that this weekend away was his way of making things right between them and celebrate their anniversary as well.

After they had settled into the cabin and left their small suitcases by the beautiful bedroom that had amazing views to the lake, (Y/N) found herself touring the place as Tsukishima started to cook them dinner, standing by the long railing at the balcony, appreciating the views and fresh air, the view of the mountains and lake calming her completely. She smiled softly as she took it all in, admiring the leaves on the trees and their vivid shades of gold, red and orange, making the entire scene look like something out of a painting.

Tsukishima had been looking at her from his place at the kitchen, the weight of the ring in his pocket settling in, waiting for the right moment.

As the sun began to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and lavender, Tsukishima suggested they take a walk before they have some dinner.

Taking their coats and putting on more comfortable shoes, they stepped outside into the cool evening air, the path they followed covered in fallen leaves that crunched beneath their boots. (Y/N) held her boyfriend's hand, leaning against him as they walked in comfortable silence. He had found the perfect place to relax and she was grateful for it. (Y/N) breathed deeply, feeling the tension of the last few weeks melting away in the serenity of the surroundings.

As they reached the lake, (Y/N) walked away from Tsukishima, leaning towards it, looking at the sky. "This place is amazing," she said, voice soft as she looked at the lake glimmering under the fading sunlight. "If this were a movie, we would see a proposal right now."

Tsukishima's heart skipped a beat as his hand made his way towards his front pocket.

"Is that so?"

(Y/N) laughed, completely unaware of the scene that was about to happen behind her. "I think we are the only people here, though, but..." She streched her arms out to the horizon. "Wouldn't that be something?"

When she turned back around to make another playful comment, the words died on her lips.

Tsukishima was no longer standing behind her. Instead, he was down on one knee, his tall frame somehow looking both awkward and incredibly graceful at the same time. In his hand was a small velvet box, the lid open to reveal a delicate, sparkling ring.

(Y/N)’s heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at him in disbelief.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Tsukishima, for all his careful planning, looked almost… shy. His usual sharp gaze softened as he looked up at her, the words he had rehearsed for weeks suddenly feeling far more significant now that she was standing there, her eyes wide and her lips trembling in surprise.

“(Y/N),” he began, his voice low and steady, though his heart was racing in his chest. “I’ve never been good at showing how much you mean to me. I know I’ve messed up, more than once… but you’ve been with me through it all. And I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. These 5 years with you as my girlfriend have been the best years of my life. You have taken care of me, loved me and I can't be more grateful that you are mine.”

(Y/N) was already tearing up, her hand still covering her mouth as she let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” Tsukishima continued, his voice just a little quieter now, as if speaking the words made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. “I want us to have forever. So… will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft murmur of the lake below. (Y/N) stared down at Tsukishima, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else. (Y/N) got on her knees, looking at Tsukishima, the man in front of her blushing.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice cracking with emotion. “Yes, of course!”

Tsukishima let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his lips pulling into a rare, genuine smile. He, carefully, took the ring away from the box, slipping the ring onto her finger with careful precision, as though it was the most important thing he’d ever done. Once the ring was in place, he cupped her face in his hands, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

(Y/N) closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him, the taste of salty tears on her lips from the emotions spilling over. In that moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place.

When they finally pulled away, (Y/N) laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I just joked about you proposing.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Timing is everything.”

She laughed again, glancing down at the ring on her finger. It had a parti sapphire as a centerpiece, a gem with a blend of rich forest green and subtle blue hues. The sapphire, in an oval shape, was set in a delicate gold band surrounded by what it seemed like small diamonds. It was, elegant and perfect—just like him, in his own way.

“Wow, Kei... It is beautiful... I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You, the guy who hates surprises.”

Tsukishima shrugged, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. “I figured you were worth making an exception for. To be honest, I thought you were going to find the ring at home.”

"What!?" (Y/N) gasped. "Where was it?"

"I know you hate grocery shopping so I hid the box between the bags I take shopping."

(Y/N) laughed, her heart swelling with so much love she thought it might burst. She reached up to brush a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, her thumb tracing the familiar curve of his jaw.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice full of everything she felt but couldn’t quite put into words.

Tsukishima’s eyes softened, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to hold back. “I love you too.”

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, sweet, and filled with everything unsaid. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was gentle, almost reverent. Her hands slid up to cup his face, his glasses cool under her fingertips as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss just a little. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and forever, a merging of relief, joy, and love so deep it made their heart ache in the best way possible.

Tsukishima’s hands tightened around her, pulling her flush against him, and for once, he let himself be completely open, pouring all the love he had into that single kiss. As they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them smiling breathlessly, the world quiet except for the pounding of their hearts in sync.

*****

(Y/N) hugs Tsukishima from behind, enjoying the warmth of his body as he washes the dishes of their dinner. Tsukishima can't help the smile on his lips as his eyes glance down to her ring, sparkling under the lights of the kitchen. For a moment, he is grateful about the lack of signal of their phones because for once, (Y/N) is not checking her emails constantly (seriously, Tsukishima reckons she has a Gmail addiction) and secondly, because she's been teasing him all night, running her fingers, especially her ring finger, through his arm, chest and neck, kissing him slowly, running her tongue over his lips, well, teasing him more and more as the night went on.

Tsukishima dried his hands and turned around, pulling (Y/N) flush against his chest, cupping her face as he slowly leans down to brush their lips together, hands around her hips, massaging the eposed skin between her sweatshirt and her soft pajama bottoms. Without a second though, (Y/N) pulls away, taking his arm, leading him upstairs. As soon as she reaches the bedroom door, she opens it, pulling Tsukishima by his T-shirt to get him inside.

As their kisses grow deeper which every passing second, the man quickly takes off his glasses and T-shirt, leaving them at one of the bedsides tables before running his hands through (Y/N)'s body, undressing her slowly. First, her sweatshirt, leaving her bare from the waist up.

"God, you're so beautiful."

(Y/N) blushes but doesn't waste a second and takes off her pajama bottoms and underwear, pushing them aside with her foot before siting down at the end of the bed and spreading her legs.

Tsukishima can't help it and his eyes slowly make their way towards her most intimate part and he slowly, gets down on one knee and grabs her leg, kissing her leg and inner thigh, before, after what it seem like an incredible amount of time, delving in like a starved man.

Tsukishima lifted one of (Y/N)'s legs up, placing it atop of his shoulder as he parted her lower lips and started to lap his tongue in her.

He moans out, the vibrations of it sending a shiver all over (Y/N)'s body as she cries out his name, hands making its way towards his blonde hair.

Her breath hitches when Tsukishima makes a slurping sound as if he was tasting the most delicious meal in the world.

Tsukishima, eyes closed at the taste of his fiancée, cups her heat, one of his long fingers pressing against her walls.

"Oh, Kei..." (Y/N) opens her mouth, a loud moan leaving her throat, chest heaving. "Right there, baby. Jesus...."

"Right there, pretty?"

"Uh-huh, please! God, yes."

The combination of his mouth and fingers curling inside her shocks her with a wave of pleasure and she pulls on his hair, a gasp leaving his lips as he looks up at her. He can't believe it. He can't believe that the beautiful woman in front of him, so overcome with plasure, is his, forever. Tsukishima smirks, adding another finger as (Y/N) glances down to look at him as her body goes still, climaxing in a long and wonderful orgasm, moaning a mixture of what it seemed like Tsukishima’s name and several curse words.

Tsukishima looks at her once again, soflty massaging her thigh for a few seconds, letting her relax a little bit before rising to his feet and pushing her into the mattress, laying on top of her as her arms make their way around his neck.

From then, (Y/N) slowly reaches to take off his sweat pants, the sight of him that hard making her mouth water, still feeling a bit hazy from her orgasm. Teasing, she fondles with him for just a few seconds, hand slowly inside his boxers, touching him. Her hand moves up and down as she keeps her eyes on him, Tsukishima's eyes closing due to the feeling of her soft hand and the coldness of her new ring on him.

"I love you."

Tsukishima nearly comes at the sound of that and he inhales sharply, smiling. He can feel her everywhere, her hand moving the way he likes it, her lips moving and kissing along his jaw, neck and lips, the sight of her bare pussy... God, he is in heaven.

She pushes his boxers down, straddling his lap as she slaps his throbbing tip on her clit a few times before alinging it with her entrance, slowly making her way down, the sound of his name leaving her mouth as he fills her up.

"Fuck..." Tsukishima bites his lip as (Y/N) slowly moves her hips slowly, splaying her hands on his chest as she moved up and down, an animalistic look in her eyes as she watches him whimper. Without thinking, she grabs two of his fingers and places them inside her mouth, biting and licking them.

"Jesus, fuck."

"Tell me... Tell me what you want, pretty boy."

"You... So bad."

(Y/N) smiles, leaning down to kiss him slowly, the eye contact between them so suffocating that Tsukishima feels like he is going to explode. The feeling of her body on top, the pressure and warmth of her walls. It's too much. Tsukishima doesn't let her move and he cups her cheeks, sucking on her tongue as they both sigh in pleasure.

"Baby..." Tsukishima grabs her breast. "You're so pretty. You're so pretty when you fuck me."

(Y/N) pants, laughing and her hand wraps itself about his throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah?"

He nods, biting his lip.

"You're mine, Kei." (Y/N) hisses, bouncing on top of him with more strength. She was close, so, so so close. "You're mine forever."

"Forever."

(Y/N)'s back arches for just a second and Tsukishima notices her movements are getting sloppy and without even thinking about it, she grabs her by the waist and rocks their hips together, thrusting into her at an alarming pace, bed shaking a bit due to their movements.

"Oh, fuck!" (Y/N) moans, her hands touching his chest, reaching for his shoulder. "Like that, baby. I'm so..."

"I know, me too."

(Y/N) leans down to tug on his earlobes wit her teeth as she growls something not even him can't understand. Tsukishima quivers at the feeling of his cock reaching even deeper and for a moment, he feels like he is seeing stars.

"I'm going to cum, Kei!" Please, please, keep going!"

"Cum with me, baby. Cum with me." His voice becomes deeper as he feels his own orgasm approach him, looking at (Y/N), who had her face on his shoulder, sweat running through her forehead. Tsukishima kisses her slowly, hands moving her hair out of her face. "Fuck, (Y/N), where do you want it?"

"Inside, please." (Y/N) begs, her lips still brushing his. "Please, baby. I need it so bad."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, yes!"

Tsukishima's cock twitches inside of (Y/N), gasps leaving his mouth as he cums inside of her. They both jerk, the feeling of their orgams making them feel dizzy and light-headed.

"Fuck."

"Yeah..."

"That was..."

"So fucking good."

(Y/N) laughs as Tsukishima kisses her cheeks repeatedly, lips swollen from all their kissing.

"If I knew we were gonna fuck this good after proposing, I would have done it at 18."

"Kei!"

Tsukishima laughs loudly and (Y/N) melts, the sight of him like this... So happy and perfect... She hums, hiding her face on his neck for just a second.

"I love you so much."

"Me too."

"No. I don't think you understand." Tsukishima adds. "You really taught me what is like to love and even though I may not be perfect at it, I promise I will love you every single day of my life and even after death."

"Kei..."

"You are my everything, you know that, right?"

"You can't say things like that!"

"Why?"

"Because..." (Y/N) blushes, placing her hands on her face and getting up from the bed. "Because! I'm going to take a shower."

Tsukishima laughs, looking at her as she walks towards the bathroom door, biting his lip.

"Don't look at me like that and come shower with me."

"Yes, (Y/N) Tsukishima."

"Shut up!"

*****

(OP) tsuk113_:

I'M GETTING MARRIED FUCK YES

User 1:

Congratulations! After 20 years of being married, let me give you a piece of adivce: listen to each other. Enjoy the little moments together. I am sure your love is pure.

taglist: @lavanderdreamve @lizzymizzy-blogg @quilyzayaki @uhnanix

[anorlondo00]

⛅ White Beard Pirates : Morning Routine Head Canons ⛅

Newgate’s Commanders are typically forced to wake up early. Here are my thoughts for how that usually goes.

Eddie Nuggs

7am.

In his youth, he was a chronic over sleeper. Through his years of being captain, he’s realized how much he can get done while the kids are still asleep.

He eats breakfast in his office with the windows wide open so he can feel the ocean breeze while he works.

It’s an unspoken rule not to bother Pops until after he’s eaten. It’s just seen as a bit disrespectful by the crew to do otherwise.

His morning routine almost always includes a fifteen minute chat with Marco while he takes his meds. Newgate refuses to discuss business during this time.

“Relax and share a damn cup of coffee with me. I’m still waking up.”

Thatch

6am.

This is solely because he needs to start working on breakfast.

Easily the most chipper. If you need someone to talk to, anyone is welcome to sit at the kitchen bar top and keep him company while he cooks. (You’ll certainly get first dibs on the food if you do.)

He often sends crew members on missions to deliver food to the chronic meal-skippers.

He’s only over slept once and after half the crew nearly formed a mutiny over the lack of breakfast and coffee— he swore to Pops it would never happen again.

Marco

4-5 am.

Regardless of what he has scheduled in the morning, he’s almost always the first awake. You can find him drinking coffee or tea on the upper most deck.

Before the sun has risen, Pops has been given his meds, the morning shift has been checked on, and their route for the day has been finalized.

Marco works like a god damn machine and nothing pisses him off like nonsense throwing off his precious schedule.

New crew members fear him the most in the morning. His focused face makes him look scary.

Forgets to eat breakfast 89.999% of the time.

Marco isn’t immune to a nasty hang over. The morning after a party will guarantee the First Commander sleeps through his alarm at least once.

Ace

Ace would call his wake-up schedule “vibe dependent.”

If he’s needed? Yes, he’ll be up at any time, day or night.

It isn’t a rare occurrence for members of the Second Division to wake him up because the currents very suddenly changed at 3am.

If he’s scheduled first thing in the morning, he’s gotta fight tooth and nail through his narcolepsy to wake up on time.

Sometimes he overcompensates so much, he’s up a full two hours early, drinking coffee, half conscious with Marco on deck.

If neither Pops nor the navigation team need him, Ace will happily sleep until noon.

Ace is the only crew member who can get away with falling asleep in the middle of the day. The newbies that don’t know about his narcolepsy just assume Marco plays favorites.

[ma1dita]

buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion. 

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like a sailor lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs. 

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?” 

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already, so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, Trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. Both of you took up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointed you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), so there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk, pretending not to hear.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?” 

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke. 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, Trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind. 

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong. 

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…” 

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing. 

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, Trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable, I guess.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… so I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

 I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive.

You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, Trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. You ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, with a purple Zippo lighter in hand (the smoke grants temporary illusions through any space you blow it into, and it smells like grapes---thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror every so often, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he covers them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries running headfirst back into battle and towards to you, with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up, hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend.

But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two. 

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, Trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

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[evie-sturns]

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

part 2 (part 1 here)

summary: you and your best-friend matt, have decided to sign up to be a summer camp counsellor for your school's summer project! will you two stay as just friends? or will this summer turn out different for you guys.

a/n: theres going to be smut in the next part, hope you guys like this, read part 1 first, linked at the top! fuck danielle

contains: swearing, fighting (physical at some points), kissing/making out

—------------╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝------------——

abrubtly matt pulls away, he saw me. his face drops as dani stares at me. my heart thumps as i freeze. matt tries to walk over to me, but its too late, i've already took off in the other direction.

i've found myself in the empty staff bathrooms, hiding in the stalls. matthew wasted my time, i spent half the fucking roadtrip up here comforting him, then he goes and makes out with her a few hours later?

i can't even understand why im feeling like this, why am i so.. jealous?

the door to the bathrooms swing open, probably matt, coming to explain himself.

"hey, come out of the stall please." a female voice calls out, "who's this sorry?" i say, still on the verge of tears.

"danielle."

my breath hitches in my throat, before i swallow hard. "oh." i mumble, unlocking my stall. im met with her face, shes still wearing the same outfit she was wearing while kissing my best friend.

she suddenly interupts my thoughts, "look, i don't know who the fuck you think you are? but don't go snooping into me and matts personal business, unfortunately hes mine." she says while crossing her arms, i scoff.

"funny you say that, because the whole car ride up here matt's been dreading seeing you, his exact words were, 'fucking hate her' so if i were you i'd back away hm?" i say in a 'sympathetic' tone.

she clenches her fist, running her spare hand through her dark brown bob before smashing her fist into the side of my face.

"what the actual fuck!" i yell before jumping at her, throwing her to the floor. the next 5 minutes are a blur of screaming, punching, hair pulling before she gets pulled off of me.

its jessie, the owner of the fucking camp.

she looks pissed.

(15 minutes later)

ive been sitting alone in the nurses office for 10 minutes, its now 11:30pm, i have to be awake in 7 hours for breakfast setup.

the door to the room im in swings open.

its matthew.

"y/n, are you okay? i heard what happened" he says frantically, sititng down on the chair beside the medical bed.

"oh please matt, dont act like you care." i mutter out.

"what?" he says cluelessly.

"look, go find out how danielles doing, oh! or you could fuck her while your there, go back to your cabin with her!" i yell, matts eyes widen as he looks at me.

"we aren't sharing a cabin, im with lincoln, shes with paige." he mumbles as he fidgets with his hands.

i laugh out of disbelief before standing up, pushing past him out of the room im in before swinging open the door to the nurses office.

the cold night air hits my fresh wounds as i approach my cabin, the lights are on inside meaning Xavier is still awake. i swing open the door, xaviers face drops "babe what the fuck happened!" he says, running up to me and hugging me, "danielle happened." i sniff as he lets me go.

"you gotta get some rest, we're helping the kids do kayaking tomorrow okay? gotta be up at 6:30." he whispers, as he pulls the covers down on my bed, letting me crawl in.

(6:30am the next day.)

a loud honk blares through the campsite, before jessie on the megaphone starts "shark counsellers! the shark kids are lined up outside the breakfast hall, go help out in the kitchen"

i groan, my face still throbbing from dani's punches. xaivers sits up in the bed opposite me, "you feeling better.." he says, his voice raspy.

i nod, "mhm, not too excited about dealing with about 25 nine year olds." i mumble getting out of bed "you'll be right, theres 6 of us to control them we'll do it." he says optimistically.

i finish up getting changed, tying my hair into two braids. "you coming?" i say, looking at xaiver over my shoulder.

the hall is only a few hundred meters away from the staff cabins, which is now filled with 200 children. matt and lincoln are walking through the doors, dani and paige follow close behind them, too close for my liking.

i step inside, the smell of oatmeal fills my nose as i look around, theres countless tables filled with friend groups, in the back corner matts sitting alone on the last empty table, picking at his dry toast. i sigh loudly before walking over to him, he looks up at me, his eyes are puffy and red, he looks upset.

i sit down opposite him, his breathing picks up before he starts unannouced,

"dani and i.. have hated eachother since middle school. when i saw you get into your cabin with xavier i got fucking jealous. hate to admit it but i did. while i was walking towards my cabin dani approached me, she started touching up on my arms before pulling me off the path into the bushes. she kissed me, i don't know why i kissed her back, i think it was a jealousy thing, i wanted to get back at you?"

he sighs loudly as silence grows.

"look y/n, i really like you, and-" hes cut off by jessie on her fucking megaphone.

"helloooo campers! this is the first official day of summer camp and here are what each group is doing today!, crabs are doing rock climbing, which means it is mandatory to wear closed toe shoes. Sharks will be doing kayaking, please wear your swimsuit and your counsellers will take you down to the lake!"

i barely take in what jessie says, the only thing i'm thinking about is matt's previous sentence

look y/n i really like you.

look y/n i really like you.

(20 minutes later)

we've been sitting by the lake for a few minutes now, watching the kids attempt to kayak, im wearing a triangle white bikini with daisys printed on it, matt's sitting to my left, his eyes have been on me the whole time.

abrubtly he stands up, looking down at me. "come with me." he demands "huh?"

i stand up anyway, he takes my hand and starts to walk towards a shed, he opens the door and switches on the light. the dim warm lighting fills the room, revealing piles of wetsuits and life jackets.

he turns around and closes the door to the shed, locking it behind him.

he looks me in my eyes, his eyes dart down to my lips. "can i kiss you." matt asks, barely audible.

i gulp before nodding my head.

matt's hand holds my cheek gently before connecting his lips with mine. after a few seconds it turns into a makeout, his veiny hand holding my hair.

he pulls away slowly as his phone lights up, he scrolls through it before letting out a soft laugh "no way" he scoffs, rubbing his eyes.

"tonight were sleeping in the kids hall, like me and you, supervising.."

"you're kidding matt"

"nope, apparently theres a small cabin that connects off the kids hall, its got 1 bed that we share" he laughs

my cheeks flush, sharing a bed with matt, after this?..

—------------╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝------------——

hope you guys liked this, like i said there will be smut in the next part!!

taglist:

@iammattsturniolo @iloveneilperry @tatumrileyslover @chrisstopherfilmed

[footygirl114]

Corajuda (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

So Part 5! This one is for the handful of you who actually care to read it and make me want to keep writing. So thank you for sticking with me and continuing to read my series.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4

When the alarm goes off the following morning the first thing you were alerted to was that the alarm wasn’t the sound you use, and the warm body pressed into your side. Turning your head you opened your eyes and were met with a sight you could get used to, Alexia was leaned on her side, with her arm bent under her head looking down on you. 

You could feel the smile grow on your lips as she says softly “Buenos dias hermosa.” 

“Hi” you smiled up at her as you tangle your fingers with her hand that was sitting on your stomach. 

The alarm goes off again and she looks towards the clock and with a groan says “We need to go, we woke up late.” 

Echoing her groan you say “I don’t want to get up” 

“me either, but we gotta go.” she finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips and she rolls off the other side of the bed. Your eyes track her movement as she gets up and gathers some clothes and disappears into the bathroom. 

You take a moment and cover your face and whisper to your self “time to get up.” 

Before you can sit up she leans her head out the bathroom door and says “You need to go get changed gorgeous, I gotta be at the field early” and she finishes with a wink as she disappears back into the bathroom. 

Smiling to yourself you hop out of bed, grab your clothes you changed out of last night and move to leave shouting out “I am keeping your clothes Ale, but I will see you downstairs shortly.” 

You can feel the smile on your face the whole time you are getting ready, and when you meet her downstairs she’s on the phone but you keep meeting her eyes with a smile in the rear view mirror. The usual drop off occurs with the new added bonus of her adding a wink before she disappears into the building. 

Once you park and move to enter the building you pause for a moment outside to gather your breathe and push all thoughts of being in Alexia’s bed this morning to the back burner. You needed to focus and do your job to ensure her safety going forward. When you step into the lobby you are met with the head of the security team. You had organised this meeting the day prior and knew was necessary to keep Alexia safe. 

“Jorge, Hi, thank you for meeting with me” You say to him and hold your hand out to the older man. 

He smiles and shakes your hand with a “of course Y/N, I am always happy to help keep out team safe. Now come with me to my office.” 

Nodding you follow the man down the hallway, into the security room. His office is off the back of the camera room and as you walk through you immediately note the team in the weight room on the cameras. 

He point you to the chair across from his desk and when he sits down and relaxes like this is a joke to him it starts to make your blood boil. “So Y/N, I am not sure what we need to discuss, I have been keeping this team safe for many years.” 

“As much as I want to agree with you, I can’t, not with how I have seen things organised in this federation” you tell him as you sit there, rigid back and keep your eyes locked on his. 

He shifts like you hit a nerve and he says “What are you saying to me?” 

“I am saying that I have been at 2 events where I was told that the federation has taken over the security and I wouldn’t need to worry and at both events Alexia was the target of some sort of attack” you tell him with a stern tone. 

“Nothing happened yesterday” He says as he shifts and sits up to lean over his desk closer to you and he finishes snarling “you overreacted little girl.”

“I reacted exactly how I was trained. There was a threat and I got Alexia out of there before it could become worse” you start with him, you shift to sit straighter and say “You hired security yesterday, and I bet you didn’t screen them, cause if you did you would have found that the one of them was the same one that the police identified as being involved in the recent stalking of Alexia.” 

He shifts back in his seat and says “How am I supposed to know that?” 

You stand up and reach into your bag handing him a file “This is the file I emailed to your team, after the first situation, I sent a brief to your team so you would all have pictures and images of these guys and whats going on. If you didn’t care to read my emails that says more on you and how seriously you take your job than me.” 

At this point he’s significantly shrunk back into his chair and he asks “What do you need from me?” 

“I need you to take this seriously and care. I have the training and the background in this, just let me help.” you tell him with a smile. 

He stands up and holds his hand out and says “Welcome to the team Y/N.” 

Smiling you shake his hand and ask “Can we now go over the plans for the away trip?” 

The next hour is spent pouring over the plans for travelling. The team was hopping on a plane later in the afternoon to fly to Germany for their first away champions league game. You were going with them but it was a purely work trip. 

The travel goes smoothly and everyone makes it to the hotel safely. You barley got to speak to Alexia but every time your eyes met it was like there was this underlying secret you both share that you both cant help but smile about. She smirks and meets your eyes as the team disperses to bed, but you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. The whole day made your body feel off and you knew it would be a hard night to sleep so you disappeared into the gym and exhausted yourself before you went to bed. 

The next day was spent following the team to the training field and then to the stadium they were playing at the following day. You had a focus on the team and keeping your eyes peeled for the day. At one point you were standing on the side of the field and a ball came flying in and without thinking you controlled it on your knee and settled it to your feet and kicked it right back to Claudia who was running over for it. 

You thought nothing of it and continued to do what you were doing before the ball came in. What you didn’t notice was Alexia watching you, she had her lip bit between her teeth as she watched you control the ball like it was nothing. It took Kiera hitting her on the back of the head to get her to focus back on the training session. 

When it was over you were leaning on a wall near where the team would come out to get on the bus. You immediately met Alexia’s eyes as she walked out of the change room, and she walked closer to you and said “I didn’t know you could play?” 

You smile at her and say “there’s a lot you don’t know about me Ms. Putellas.” 

She takes a sneaky look around and darts forward and whispers into your ear “I can’t wait to find out more” and she tugs your ear with her teeth. She’s gone in a second walking towards the bus and as you watch her give her hips a little extra shake knowing your eyes are on her ass. 

The rest of the trip goes smoothly. The team wins an easy 5-1 game, and goes out to dinner to celebrate. On the walk back from the restaurant to the hotel you and Alexia were the last to leave and were walking slightly behind the rest of the team. Alexia used the cover of darkness to keep rubbing her hand on yours. 

After the third pass you chuckled and hooked your pinky with hers and say “Ms. Putellas it is very obvious you want to hold mu hand.” 

She chuckles and moves closer so her shoulder is pressed to yours “I feel like I have barley spoken to you.” 

“I’ve been working” you tell her.

She chuckles and pushes you into an alleyway and press your back against the wall and her again your front. You wrap your arms around her hips and keep her pressed close to you. “I had you in my bed for one night and overnight I want you back in it” she softly says looking into your eyes. 

Smiling at her you lean down and press a kiss to her nose and say “we should catch up Ale.” 

She smiles and leans up pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth and says “lets go.” She chuckles and pulls away moving in the direction of the hotel and you follow her and catch up with the rest of the team. 

The following morning after landing and transferring back to the bus and to the field. You are back driving Alexia home, when you go to drop her off she asks “Can you just park the car and we can walk in together?” 

You meet her eyes in the mirror and nod pulling into the underground parking. You move and open her door and when she gets out you close the door and press her against it. “I want to take you out Alexia, I want to know everything about you, all the details that make you you. I want to know your coffee order, and what kind of wine you drink. I want it all” you tell her looking deep into her eyes.

She smiles and moves to wrap her arms around your neck and she says “I would like nothing more than that Y/N.” 

“Tonight 7pm? I will pick you up?” you ask her. 

“Let me check if my hot security guard can make that work” she chuckles and when you stick your tongue out at her she says “I will be ready for 7pm Y/N.” 

You meet her eyes and look down at her lips and then back up at her eyes. “Alexia you need to leave now, or I wont be able to wait until later” you smile at her.

“What if I don’t want you to wait?” She asks. 

Groaning you pull back a bit from her saying “I want to do this right, and if I kiss you right now we wont make it till 7pm Ale.” 

She nods and leans up pressing a kiss to the corner of your lip and pulls back. She turns walking backwards and says “I can’t wait to see you later” with a wink she disappears behind the doors and you stand there smiling at the door for much longer than you admit. 

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Sorry its been a while, last month was crazy! Not too crazy for my emotional support fandom, though! You guys are giving me life. So please have another fic rec list. :)

We two boys together clinging by Aliquis

Charles and Edwin explore their romantic and sexual hangups and also help Crystal search for Niko. This fic has everything: excellent writing, developing relationship, rituals, first time, Beltane, a hot priest. This is already a fandom classic and now I've finally read it, I can confirm it's very good! Read the rest of the series too!

The stranger the better by ghostinthelibrary

Everyone's alive and basically the supernatural version of the Men in Black. I love the whole series, but this installment has the boys' first meeting, Edwin insisting he doesn't need a new partner, office gossip and an intriguing case. The prequel also has palasaki and background catwin! Anyway, I'm obsessed with this AU.

Partridge in a Pear Tree by Vamillepudding

Cinderella AU! Charles is basically a Disney Princess and Edwin is Secretly The Prince, it's wonderful. I also loved the worldbuilding and nods to old school Cinderella lore, like the gift-giving tree. So charming, highly recommended.

Wunderkammer by dear_monday, two_ravens

Edwin and Charles (and later Crystal) are functionally immortal and running a magical museum. This fic has a fantastic sense of place (the Athenaeum is a character in its own right) and an intriguingly gothic horror vibe with its sentient exhibits, doors into other planes and unnerving nonchalance about disappearing staff and guests. I would probably die, but I would absolutely go there.

pinch me (I don't want this to be a dream) by shadowquill17

The pince-nez fic! Charles finds a pair of glasses that show him a person's desires. Then he looks at Edwin. It goes about as well as you'd expect. It was inspired by this wonderful comic by technically-human so check that out too!

Let Me Follow by LikeMmmCookies

Time loop fic! The boys get trapped in Crystal's mind, replaying the day of Charles' death. Only Edwin is the New Boy in school and he's alive... Fantastic concept, so intriguing. Plus Crystal being a badass, The Sandman crossovers and Niko!

Oaths of the Forsworn by e_va

Vampire AU! The boys meet while Charles is dying so Vampire!Edwin agrees to turn him. The story is ongoing, but so far it's been focusing on Charles coping with being a fledgling vampire. Compelling.

lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate by KiaraSayre

Edwin is in Hell. Or is he? Fabulous writing, Hell worldbuilding and gut-wrenching detail. Cw for body horror and torture.

'Cause You Cut Through All the Noise by DontOffendTheBees

Edwin doms Charles in a therapeutic and non-sexual way. That's it and it's great. I loved this for its exploration of intimacy, trust and kink.

Instructions on Being by thewritingotter

Everyone is Alive Modern AU based on an AITA post featuring Charles convincing himself he's homophobic when he realizes he hates Edwin dating other men. It sounds like a funny premise, but really brings the angst and poignancy.

in an alternate timeline's light by plentyghost

Charles finds comics!Edwin hiding in the office. Sweet.

Become So Numb by snowkatze

AU where the Night Nurse doesn't help Charles and Edwin spends another 50 years in Hell. Loved Edwin's mechanism for escape, kind-of-dark Charles and the angsty reunion.

unidentified affectionate object by lyres

Edwin is struck by a curse that manifests his feelings as random objects. Good thing Charles isn't also effected... Very cute with mild angst and a happy ending.

between you and me, suddenly something is on my mind by lolotr

Beach episode! A proper one. Just fun, friendship and emotional support. Plus Edwin in an Edwardian swimming costume, complete with a handy visual aid.

Other Types of Intimacy by Asidian

After a tough case, Edwin takes care of Orb!Charles. (Chorb? Is this chorbwin?) I guess I have a thing for non-sexual intimacy. Seriously, though, what could be more beautiful than someone cuddling your soul?

(black is the colour) of my true love's hair by ObsessedWithFandom

Charles has long hair: the fic. Interesting ghost lore with Charles' hair kind of working like his mood-ring polo and growing when he's happy. And this is an established relationship payneland fic, so lately he's been very happy. 😜 Honestly, as a child of the 80s, Charles deserves to have long hair. I need more fanart!

@ghostinthelibrarywrites @shadowquill17 @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lolotr @technically-human @dont-offend-the-bees @neurodivergent-fangirling @fishy-lava @many-gay-magpies @cordelia-noir @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shazziez @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @tragedy-machine @guardianspirits13 @colourmornings @herebehunters @dearheartdont @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @handwrittenhello @every-moment-a-different-sound

I've added some tags for people who left fun tags/comments on previous lists. Let me know if you'd like me to add you on the next one. :)

[moody-alcoholic]

Chapter 5 - The Bait

Summary: 5.1k words. 141 decide what they're going to do about your ex, leave it to the police or get themselves involved. Either way they're going to need your help. Also Simon has feelings...

CW: Smoking, language, abusive ex, stalking, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of a suicide (Not reader or 141), violations of privacy, physical violence, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, mental health, mentions of trauma.

Previous - masterlist - Next AO3

Enjoy <3

She hasn’t moved from the spot at the table, her fingers still running over the photos. Simon was stood by the door waiting for Price to arrive. Simon told him not to knock, he left the door open telling him to just walk in.

As soon as he does Simon locks the door behind him. Her head snaps up to look at Price then back down to the photos. Price sighs looking at the damage to the window.

“You stayed the night?” Price asks him quietly so she can’t hear. 

“He came to her door.” Simon replies just as quiet, Price sighs.

“Not getting to lost in the mission are you?” 

“No sir.” Simon replies, it’s a lie. Simon turns to look at Price. He knows Price can tell, Price can read him like a book. Truth is he’s in way too deep, there is something about you he can’t quite put his finger on. He want’s to be around you all the time like he can’t get enough of you. Johnny would say it’s something silly like ‘it’s love at first sight.’

It’s been years since Simon has had any kind of feelings he would relate to love. Maybe that’s what this was. There was something burning inside him a need to touch you, be near you. At least at work he could avoid you, push the thoughts away focus on the job. Being here in your flat, talking, opening up, watching you sleep. It was a good feeling, a feeling that made his heart skip. Maybe Johnny was right. 

“What’s the problem?” Price asked crossing his arms looking back over at her.

“She wants to call the police.” Simon says. 

“Okay then let her.” he replies.

“Then we have to back off.” Simon says through gritted teeth. Price sighs. 

“Throwing bricks through windows this isn’t just a simple stalking problem anymore.” Simon says thinking back the colourful letter that came with the photos. Price hums, he’s thinking. 

“Don’t think a simple talk will sort this one?” He asks eventually. Simon shakes his head. It’s been a while since they’ve had such an extreme stalker case. Most of the time a stern word and a few vague threats are enough to get most people to back off. If that doesn’t work a little bit of blackmail and a few knocks to the head usually do it. This time it’s different.  

“Let her call the police, get the restraining order I’ll talk to Soap and Gaz.” Price says smiling at her as she looks at him. At least he’s trying to put her at ease. He looks round the flat one more time before going to leave. 

“Actually, you should get Gaz here to check for bugs, wouldn’t be surprised if you found some.” Shit he hadn’t even thought about that. Simon pulls his phone out to text Gaz as Price leaves. He goes back over and sits at the table. 

You watch as Simon types on his phone, he sits down looking up at you.

“What did Price want?” You ask. 

“Checking to make sure you’re okay.” Simon says putting his phone away. 

“Do you still want to call the police?” He asks, you nod reaching for your phone. Simon nods and moves to get up.

“Stay,” you say looking up at him. He must be able to see something in your eyes as he immediately sits back down.

“I’ll stay,” he says, nodding at you. You almost want to reach across and grab his hand, you swallow instead calling the non-emergency number.

It’s about another 20 minutes before two officers show up. Simon lets them in, they’re nice enough, one is a woman and that puts you at ease. You answer their questions while they collect evidence including the brick, the letter and the photos. By the time they’re done you feel drained, they talk to Simon too taking his details, witness statement.

They explain with the evidence they have they might be able to make an arrest. That makes you feel better knowing he’ll be locked up. Getting the restraining order might take some time. If he is arrested you’ll be granted an emergency one for the time being. You listen to what they’re saying and thank them when they leave. You turn back to Simon letting out a breath. The smashed window has let the cold in and you shiver. 

“You should take a nap, you look exhausted.” He says, you shake your head. There is no way you would be able to sleep now. Or at least not a sleep that won’t be riddled with nightmares. There’s a soft knock at the door. Simon is already on his feet before your head even gets a chance to look. He opens it and you see Kyle, with a laptop under his arm.

“What happened?” He asks when he sees the state of the flat. You were not looking forward to cleaning all the glass up. You stand going to the bathroom where the cleaning supplies are while Simon explains the situation to Kyle. You wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t have to wonder for long as when you come out the bathroom with a dustpan and brush Simon is already waiting for you. 

“Gaz is going to check the place for bugs, cameras, what not.” Simon says. You feel sick, you hadn’t ever thought about that, your hand grips the broom tighter. 

“D-do you think he’ll find anything?” You ask your mouth suddenly dry. Please say no. 

“I hope not,” He says his hand finding it’s way to squeeze your arm. He sounds sad about something, you look up at him. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, you like feeling his hand on you. 

“I’ll start in the bathroom.” Kyle says, Simon drops his hand. You nod at him and force a smile going over to start sweeping the glass. Simon says he’ll call a someone to replace the window, apparently he knows a guy.

The cleaning is a good distraction and Simon comes over to help finding a box for you to put the glass in. You’re on the balcony when you see Kyle come out the bedroom into the living room. You sit down on one of the patio chairs as you tip the last collection of glass in the box. You look up at Simon. 

“I could kill for a cigarette.” You say letting out a breath, Simon smiles and heads back inside. You watch as he goes over to his jacket pocket coming back out with a packet and a lighter. He smokes the same brand as you. He passes you one and you’re almost shaking trying to light it. You take a deep suck in letting the smoke warm your lungs you watch Simon light one too leaning up against the balcony wall. 

“You don’t have to stick around.” You say eventually. Simon looks at you almost like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Simon asks.

“No,” you blurt out a little too quickly. You don’t want to be alone right now, not that you’ll ever admit that. 

“I mean if you have work or something.” You take another puff of the cigarette. 

“Right now this is my work.” He says looking back inside as Kyle’s walking around the room. You suddenly feel exposed being out on the balcony, the photo’s you saw earlier flashing back in your head. You rub the rest of your cigarette out on the wall and throw it in the box with glass. You want to get out of this flat even if it’s just for a few hours. 

“I think I’m going to go into work.” You say as you head for the balcony door. 

“I’ll come with you.” Simon says flicking the cigarette butt on the floor and stamping it out. 

“Gaz stay here, there’s a guy coming to fix the window in about an hour.” You hear Simon say as you go into the bedroom closing the door. You sit down on the end of your bed putting your head in your hands. You don’t want to go to work, you want to just curl up in bed and do nothing. But you need to get out this flat, even if it is just for a few hours.

 If nothing work will be a good distraction. You let yourself take a second to processes what’s happened. The brick through the window, the searching for hidden cameras. Spending the night with Simon in your flat. Your emotions are all over the place. You’re starting to feel overwhelmed. You stand up pushing the feelings away. You’ll deal with them later.

——————————

When you get to work Simon leads you straight up to John’s office. He drags you in without knocking and you stand there sheepishly not quite knowing what’s about to happen. You hear John sigh as he puts down whatever he was working on. 

“We need a plan and I want her to be involved.” Simon says. You’re taken aback by how direct he is. You try to remember what he was telling you last night about how he met them but you were so exhausted, you fell asleep after a few anecdotes. John looks over at you then back to Simon. He stands up, you feel like you can see something in his eyes. Annoyance? But not at you at Simon. 

“Come on.” He says as he walks past Simon out the office. Johnny is making his way up the stairs as you all pile out. John tells him to turn around and you’re being lead to the storeroom. You grip Simon’s shirt and he turns to look at you. 

“It’s okay,” Simon says and before you know it you’re in the room. It doesn’t look as scary as you remember. There’s a smell you can’t quite place, a smell of metal and rubber. Everyone walks over to the table in the middle as John brings a laptop over from one of the counters. 

“What’s the plan then?” John asks as he stands back folding his arms. Johnny catches your eye and smiles at you, that puts you at ease. 

“Let’s lure him out, grab him before the police do.” Simon says. 

“So the police are involved?” Johnny asks. Simon explains what happened this morning as well as the police saying they think they will have enough evidence to charge him. 

“Why not let the police just handle it?” Johnny asks looking at John, who’s still standing over the laptop with his arms crossed. 

“It’s not just a simple stalker anymore, he’s violent throwing around threats. If he get’s bail who knows what he could do.” Simon says. Johnny nods. The storeroom door opens and Kyle walks in. He looks surprised to see you in there but he comes over to the table anyway. 

“Your guy was late.” He says dropping something on the table. You don’t quite know what it is it looks like a bunch of wires. Simon picks one up in his hand you can see it’s a tiny camera. 

“Where?” You ask Kyle as he moves to put his laptop away. 

“You don’t want to know, trust me.” He says.

“I do, I want to know please.” You ask almost begging, your mind going to the worst places they could have been. The bathroom, in the shower, looking at you on the toilet. In your bedroom, watching you sleep. The thought sent shivers up your spine. You look over at Simon he’s still inspecting the camera in his hand. It’s small, they all are. 

“These two were in the bathroom, this one was in the bedroom.” Kyle says picking them up.

“That one was in the kitchen.” He says as he takes the camera from Simon’s hand. 

“Do they record?” You ask swallowing the lump away. Kyle shakes his head.

“Live feed only, and you would have to be close to access them.” Kyle explains. That’s some comfort at least. Or is it? You’ve still been spied on your privacy violated. Knowing he only had to be a wall away from you to view them. You feel sick. 

“Should we tell the police?” You ask to the room. 

“Yeah, we’ll tell them, after we’ve had a chat with him.” Simon says, he sounds angry. John sighs, you feel like they want to talk about something but they can’t with you around. Johnny seems to pick up on that too. Walking round the table to meet you. 

“C’mon lass let’s get something to eat you look like you could use it.” Johnny says, you mindlessly follow him out the room, watching Simon’s eyes dig into John like they’re mentally communicating something. 

Johnny takes you back to the same sandwich shop. You’re not hungry but you get something anyway, because if you didn’t Johnny threatened to force feed you. He leads you back to work and you both sit on the sofa’s upstairs. 

“You don’t do deliveries do you?” You ask Johnny, while you pick at the bread on your sandwich.

“Sometimes we do, we have to keep some kind of cover.” Johnny chuckles. “Cannie file our taxes as ‘blackmailed a stalker.’ Easier as ‘delivery to some office.’” 

“Is that what you do blackmail stalkers to get them to stop?” You ask before he changes the subject.

“Sometimes, sometimes we have to be a bit more aggressive.” He says taking a bite out his sandwich. 

“What kind of things do you do?” You ask. Now is the time to push him, he might give you some answers.

“Nothing you need to worry yourself with lass.” He says, you sigh. You’ve lost your chance.

“What about me?” You ask. “What would you do for my situation?” Johnny hums, he looks at you thinking for a second. 

“I would let the police deal with this one, if he’s as bad as he seems. They have enough evidence to lock him up for this. Most of the time when people come to us they’ve already been down the police route. That or they’re involved in something illegal and need, discretion.” He explains.

That was more then you were expecting, maybe they were just being open with you now. They let you in the storeroom, they let you listen on how they plan things. Maybe they trust you. Or maybe they can blackmail you into silence. 

“Seems like Simon’s taken a personal interest in your case though.” Johnny says. You frown at him. 

“What do you mean?” You ask. Johnny is about to reply when the storeroom door slams closed. You watch as Simon makes his way up the steps to you both. 

“I need to have a word with her, Price will catch you up with what you’ve missed.” Simon says gesturing for him to get out the chair. He doesn’t seem too impressed being forced to move huffing and wrapping his sandwich up. You feel nervous all of a sudden as Simon takes Johnny’s spot. 

“How's the sandwich?” He asks, casual, like they weren’t just planning on grabbing your ex, whatever that means.

“I’m not really hungry.” You say offering it to him, you’ve never seen him eat now you think about it. Only sip cups of tea, like a lot of tea. He shakes his head, you wrap it up placing it on the coffee table and scooting over to him. 

“We’ve got a plan. All you need to know about the plan is your role.” He says leaning forward. 

“My role?” You ask, trying not to sound nervous. Simon nods.

“The best way to get a stalker out is to bait them out, like what you did with your post. If we want to get him we have to move tonight. Otherwise the police will have him and we don’t know what will happen after that. The easiest way to get him out is for you to set up a meeting with him. You’ll be the bait.” He explains.

You gulp, you would have to message him, then meet him somewhere. You don’t like the sound of that, the thought of even having to do that made you feel sick. 

“You don’t have to do it, but then we’ll leave it in the police’s hands.” Simon says. 

“What do you plan on doing to him?” You force out. 

“Just a chat, like with most stalkers, they just need someone to spell it out for them.” Simon says. You don’t know if you believe him but you trust him. 

“You won’t kill him.” You ask looking directly into Simon’s eyes. He shakes his head. 

“We don’t kill people unless absolutely necessary. We’re not hitmen. If it makes you feel better the last person I killed was over a thousand miles away and I was still a soldier.” He says. You nod, that does make you feel better. You swallow your nerves looking at Simon, you trust him. 

“I’ll do it.” You say reaching for your phone. Simon smiles.       

—————————— 

You’re nervous. You trust them but you’re nervous. You’re on your second cigarette, if you have another one you might actually throw up. At least the smell will keep him away from you. You don’t know where Simon and Price are but you know Johnny is behind you round the corner of the building. He’s the closest to you, you think.

You check your phone you did say 8pm. It’s now 8:15, typical, he’s late and he’ll find some excuse where it’s some how your fault. You hear footsteps behind you. You swallow hard turning as the footsteps get closer. You can tell it’s him from the way he walks, the way he clears his throat. He’s stood a few feet in front of you. You purposely blow smoke in his face. You see a cheeky grin form on his lips, it makes you feel sick. 

“Missed me?” He asks. You take in the last puff of your cigarette and move away from the railing to the middle of the path. Just like you were told to do. Keep him in the open, don’t let yourself be cornered. 

“I don’t know if missed is the right word.” You say flicking the cigarette at his feet. He takes a step towards you. 

“Well I missed you baby.” He says, the smile still on his lips. His arms are outstretched as he takes another step towards you, you’re frozen in place. Move! Your brain is screaming at you. Move do anything don’t just stand there! Your legs are betraying you though and before you know it his hand is on your arm. You freeze tensing your arm as he grips it, his eyes are burning into you when you feel a hand on the small of your back. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Joe asks as he looks past you. His fingers digging into your arm.

“Just some guy.” It’s Johnny’s voice. It doesn’t make you relax you wish it was Simon. You want to look around for him but you don’t want give away that there are other people.  

“Is this the kind of girl you are now, sleeping with random guys? Turned into a right little slut.” Your ex spits. You try to pull your arm from him, his nails dig into your skin. He let’s go taking a step back which surprises you.

You hope it’s over that he’ll just walk away now, you couldn’t remember what was supposed to happen next. You shudder, it still feels like his hand is on your arm. You watch as he looks around almost like he thinks someone is watching him. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun. 

“What the fuck Joe!” You say shocked, he’s not pointing it at you, just holding it against his stomach. You feel Johnny straighten up taking his hand off your back. It’s a show of force, there is no way he would actually use it. You look past him for a second your eyes being drawn to movement. Please be Simon, or John, or Kyle.

“Maybe you should move on, leave me and my girl to sort things out.” Joe says, there is a shake in his voice, you can hear it. 

“‘Course, clearly you love her more then me.” Johnny says taking a step aside. You want to beg him not to leave. You see a shadow behind the bushes moving silently all in black. 

“How long have you know each other anyway?” Johnny asks. He’s trying to be a distraction. The shadow moves closer you try not to look so your ex won’t get suspicious. 

It happens quickly. A body pounces on your ex pinning him to the ground as he shouts. The weapon flies out his hands sliding across to your feet. Johnny picks it up unloading it. You look round as Kyle and Price make their way over. 

“He had a gun?” Kyle asked his eyes looking at you. You shake your head. You had no idea. The sound of zip-ties drags you back to your ex being hauled to his feet by Price and Simon. Simon’s wearing a mask, not the normal black surgical masks or balaclava you’ve seen him in.

This is different. It’s a skull, your hairs stand up on the back of your neck as he won’t meet your eye line. Johnny is by your side again as Kyle takes the weapon out his hand. Joe is still shouting profanities, you can see he has a bloody nose now. 

“We'll take it from here.” John says his hand landing on your shoulder making you jump. You can’t help looking at Simon, he looks scary now, it's not the Simon you know.

“Anything you want to say to him?” John asks. You look up at him not expecting him to ask you that. You don’t know what to say. You’ve dreamt of this moment, for what you would say but your mind is blank.

You look back at your ex, he looks mad, blood running down his face his hands tied behind his back. You have nothing to say to him. You shake your head. John’s hand leaves your shoulder. 

“Pathetic,” you hear your ex mutter under his breath as he spits at your feet. You don’t even register your step forward, your knee thrusting into his groin. He buckles forward groaning in pain despite Simon trying to hold him up. 

“I’m pathetic!?” You shout a wave of anger washing over you. 

“I’m pathetic? I’m sorry, I’m not the one who can’t get over the relationship! I’m not the person who beat the woman they’re supposed to love! I’m not the one who hides cameras! You’re pathetic!” You push his chest with all the strength you have left, feeling your eyes well. You turn away before they spill over. You will not let him see you cry. You don’t even remember what you said, adrenaline is pulsing through your body. You feel an arm wrap round your shoulder, as you suck in deep breaths.

“Quite a set of lungs on you there lass.” Johnny says as you wipe your eyes. It didn’t feel good why didn’t it feel good. 

“Take her home Soap, we’ll see you later.” John says and you hear them walking away. You hear Joe’s protesting. You don’t know what comes next, you don’t care, you just never want to see him again. You stand there for a few more seconds letting the adrenaline wear off as you breathe in the cold London air, but all you can smell is the river. 

“Ready to go home?” Johnny says after a few seconds. You nod and let him guide you to a car. You don’t bother asking Johnny want happens next, maybe it’s best you don’t know.      

——————————

It’s still dark out when you hear the door of your flat open and close. Johnny is gone, you see Simon now. You blink a few times trying to orient yourself reaching over for your phone to check the time. It’s almost 3am. You sit up, looking over at him, he’s standing by the door, like he wants to ask you something. You push the blanket off yourself and go up to him. 

“Did you do it? Will I never see him again?” You ask as you approach Simon. It’s dark in the flat but you can still make out his features, the living room curtains are still open so the outside light is shining on his face. 

“You’ll never see him again.” He says, almost like he’s relived too. A weight you didn’t even know you’d been carrying melts away at his words. You fling your arms round him squeezing him tight. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his chest. He smells good, salt and gunpowder. You learned what that smell was when you were in the storeroom last. You break away realising what you’re doing. His hands rest on your shoulders and you look up at him. His eyes are shining in the light, beautiful and golden brown.

One of his hands moves to your cheek, following your jawline round to your chin. You find yourself moving closer to him, his hands are warm on your body. He leans in slightly, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist. You know what he wants he wants to kiss you. You don’t know if you’re ready, you don’t care, right now you want to kiss him too.

You lean in pressing your lips against his. You have to stand up on your toes to reach him properly as you push your tongue in his mouth. He lets you, moving his hand from your chin to cup your cheek. You feel your body tingle as he starts playing with your tongue his hand gripping your waist as he tries to get you to stand back down. You don’t care throwing your arms round his neck and pulling him down to you.

You moan, he tastes of ash, and something sweet. You’re not thinking, lost in a world of your own as his hands start to move round your body. You grip his neck running your fingers through his hair. One of his hands finds your waistband and his thumb slips under your shirt, the skin to skin contact makes you shudder and you pull away. His hand drops from your waist.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. You look up at him. How do you even explain it? 

“That was the best kiss I’ve had in years.” You say letting one of your hands drop from his neck to rub his cheek. 

“Too soon?” He asks. You shake your head. This is it, you’re never going to be able to have a normal relationship again. You can kiss him but you flinch at the slightest mount of physical contact. He probably just wanted to run his hand up your back? It doesn't matter your brain registered it as a threat before you can even react. 

“I’m sorry,” you say dropping your hands from his neck. 

“Want me to leave?” He asks. 

“No, stay.” You say, grabbing his shirt. Great, attachment issues too. 

“Want me to sleep on the sofa again?” He asks. You look up at him. You press your lips against his again this time his hands stay over your clothes. He breaks away first.

“I know what it’s like.” He says his voice barely a whisper. “I get what you’re feeling, you don’t have to explain it. Just tell me when to stop.” He kisses you again, a quick kiss. It still takes your breath away.

You take him by the wrists and lead him to the bedroom. You can do this at least, or you’re going to try. He stands as you do what you need to do. Rearranging the bedding, getting extra pillows and the spare duvet out the wardrobe. When you’re done you turn to him. 

“You shouldn’t sleep on the sofa it’s bad for your back.” You say leading him over to the bed.

“Believe me I’ve slept on worse.” He says smiling, that puts you at ease. You let go of his arm to climb into bed, pulling your duvet around you leaving the other half of the bed open for him. 

“Mind if I.?” He gestures to his trousers, he wants to take them off. You nod, watching as he unbuckles his belt letting them slip to the floor. It’s too dark to see anything anyway, or at least you hope so, then he won’t be able to see you blushing.

He makes sure you’re okay before moving slowly into the bed. He pulls the spare duvet over him lying on his side so you’re face to face. He reaches over slowly, his hand brushing your cheek, then your hair. His touch is gentle, soft as he tests what your limits are. 

“Want me to tell you this funny story about Johnny?” He asks. You smile nodding. “I’ll let you take the piss out of him tomorrow.” As he tells the story you close your eyes. His hand comes back periodically to brush your hair. It feels nice you let yourself enjoy it as you drift off to sleep. 

You’re woken the next morning by the ringing of the doorbell. You shoot up in bed. 

“I can get it.” You hear Simon groan. 

“No, I’ll get it.” You insist praying that Simon is right and you never need to worry about Joe again. You look through the peep-hole it’s the police officers from yesterday. You open the door.

“Morning, sorry to bother you.” The female one says. 

“It’s okay,” You respond automatically. 

“We thought you might want to know there has been an update to the investigation regarding your stalker.” You look at her confused. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

“When the officers went to arrest him this morning he was found dead in his apartment. We’re very sorry, we suspect it was a suicide.” The officer says. Your hand grips the door harder as you hear the words. 

“He was your ex-boyfriend correct?” The officer asks. You nod swallowing to get the lump away in your throat. 

“He had you written down as an emergency contact, we’ve been unable to locate his family, do you happen to have their contact information?” She asks. 

“I-I have his mothers number, just a second.” You say using all your willpower to let go of the door. You head back into the bedroom to get your phone. Simon’s back is facing you his legs swung out of the bed. You go back to the officers telling them the number. 

“If you have any questions, or anything you need to add don’t hesitate to call us.” She says smiling. You nod and thank them as they leave. You close the door behind you, slipping the deadbolt into place. Suicide. The word spins round in your head. What the hell did they do to him?

Next

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[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 5]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

words: 4.4k

It has been one week since you saw Matt Murdock on the evening news, and it feels like it has been a complete whirlwind. First, you reintroduced yourself to him and let him know he was a father, then you had a nice little outing, and to tie it all up, a trip to the doctors to confirm what you already knew. 

Matthew Murdock is the father of your daughter.

It is nice to have an official statement from a doctor and now you can start the process of changing Minnie's paperwork to include his name. You have to go to the courthouse to file for an updated birth certificate. Matt has very kindly offered to take that task on for you - he goes to the courthouse often for his job and he knows the ins-and-outs of navigating legal paperwork. You just have to go and drop off the right documentation. 

You had a brief call last night, after Minnie had been put down, and decided that you would visit his office today to do just that. You are going to kill two birds with one stone - hand over what needs to be filed and give Matt more time with his daughter. 

To your great surprise, your timid little Mouse absolutely adores him. She was not happy to have to be at the doctor's office yesterday and was on the verge of tears before he showed up. Her whole mood shifted, and she had spent the brief time you were in the waiting room and exam room telling Matt about different things around them. 

You have a feeling, when you sit down and tell her the truth, she is going to be thrilled. 

You told her that you are going to visit Matt at work today, and all morning she has been hunched over her sketchbook making pictures for him while you try to get in some hours at work. Try being the key word, as you've been thoroughly distracted by today's news cycle. 

You were half listening to a puff piece about something or other when breaking news flashed across the screen. A neighborhood in Connecticut has been leveled by some sort of explosion, killing hundreds. They don't know if it was an accident or some sort of attack - the epicenter of the blast was a school, so it could potentially be either. You pray it was a freak accident, some faulty pipeline or a weird meteor, because the world doesn't need any more horribleness in it. 

The idea that it might have been an attack makes you nervous. You've been through two horrible attacks on New York, and you didn't realize another big event so close to home would shake you so hard. 

It scares you that you have to raise Minnie in such a harsh world, where monsters of all kinds are very very real and you don't know who you can rely on. The police and government have been shown to be all kinds of corrupt and people who can shoot laser beams fight each other in the skies. 

You end up clocking out and going to sit with Minnie to get yourself to stop your doom-listening. She's got a few drawings scattered around the table and you pick up the one closest to you, smiling at her handy work. 

You recognize the shapes as her interpretation of people - oblongs with stick arms and noodle legs. Unknowingly, she's made her first new family portrait. There are three blob-people all holding hands: you suspect you're the big orange one with a smile, Minnie is the little pink one in the middle with what you guess are pigtails, and Matt is the black one with red eyes, who is also holding a stick. To confirm, you ask her.

"Is this one Mister Matt?"

Her head shoots up and a big grin spreads across her face, "Yeah!  And that's you and that's me and we're gonna go to the zoo!" There is a little flurry of motion and suddenly you are getting a picture show. She holds up the paper she was working on - there's another family drawing, but this time there's green scribbles all around you and a blue square with zig zags all over it. You guess that is some sort of animal. 

"You want to go to the zoo with Mister Matt?" You ask, examining her masterpiece.

"Yeah!" She says, pulling over another picture that you know are her versions of flowers, even if they are all different colors. "And the park!"

"And the park? Wow, that's a lot of things to do. Do you want to ask him if he wants to go to the zoo with us when we see him today?" Minnie eagerly nods at the question and that makes you smile. "Okay, we can invite him to the zoo. When are we going to the zoo?"

The question makes her bounce in excitement, "My birthday!" 

You laugh at her enthusiasm and give her a little back rub, "Exactly. We're going to go for your birthday. And get a big cake with whatever you want on it." That makes her a giggly mess and you temporarily forget all the bad things in the world. 

You hand her back her drawing before kissing the top of her hair, "How about you finish this one up and we get ready to go see Mister Matt? We can only visit for a little bit, because he's working, but I bet he'll love everything you made him."

Greedy little hands take back the paper and instantly Mouse is hunched back over her zoo scene, purple crayon in hand. You get up and go to make sure that you have everything you need to bring to Matt in order. You are extremely lucky that the doctor has the ability to print out things in Braille, so you don't need to make an extra stop to get things translated. 

You debate bringing Matt lunch, but ultimately decide against it. You don't want to push too much too fast, and you think it might be a little weird for his coworkers, to see a random person bring him homemade lunch. You know he hasn't told anyone yet about yourself and Minnie - he had shyly admitted it didn't feel real until the test results were given and you completely get it. 

You tidy up until you spy Mouse dropping her crayons into her bucket and cleaning up her drawing area. You let her do her thing, then approach, "Let's put your drawings with the other things we need to give Mister Matt. That way they won't get lost or wrinkled."

She nods like you've just said something very wise and gathers up her stack of papers before handing them over. There's five in total; the three she showed you and two more full of colorful lines. You decide you'll listen in on her explanation to Matt on those two, as you're curious as to what goes on in her little mind. 

Once everything is safe and ready to go, it's just a matter of getting shoes on. You go with your sensible sneakers while Minnie opts for her frog themed Wellingtons. The plan is for both of you to walk to the office, and after one final wallet-keys-phone check in your purse, you head out hand-in-hand.

It's mid-morning, so foot traffic is decent, but not heavy - nothing that makes Minnie too uncomfortable. Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, and it makes you wonder if the rain that has been promised in the forecast will be coming sooner than expected and you are glad this outing is the only one you have planned. Taking Minnie around in the rain is never fun. It always seems like everything becomes more bustling in the rain and trying to navigate that with a crying toddler just makes you want to cry as well. 

But the promise of her new favorite person and mild weather has her walking like the born and bred New Yorker she is - a determined little pout with no nonsense steps. No one will be trying to sell her things on the sidewalks once she gets bigger. If she had a different personality, you'd want to teach her to say "Hey, I'm walking here" just to hear a toddler say it. 

As you spy the building Matt's office is in, you realize you should have sent him a text to say you were on your way. You did let him know vaguely what time you planned to stop by and he had assured you that they had no appointments - it was catch up on paperwork day - but that didn't mean walk-in clients hadn't come by. You're so close to already being there that you think the gesture is pointless, so you just keep walking until you get to the building.

"This is where we are going," you tell Minnie as you approach. You scoop her up to show her the business directory on the outside of the building. There aren't very many plaques to begin with, so it's easy to find the Nelson, Murdock, and Page one. "That is where Mister Matt works with his friends."

She leans out and feels over the embossed sign, running her fingers over the different letters. "'M'! For Minnie!" She says, pointing out the letter with a big smile. 

"Exactly. Mister Matt's last name starts with M, too. That word is his last name - Murdock."

That gets her to turn back to the sign, fingers dancing over the letters, brows knitting with curiosity, "How is it spelled?"

You spell out Murdock for her and Minnie repeats each letter after you. You do this a few times until she's able to say it out loud on her own. You don't know how long she'll retain the information, as spelling isn't really on the board yet, but you're happy she's interested. You set her back down and she makes a beeline up the steps, grabbing and pulling at the door with all her three-year-old strength. 

The lobby to the building is sparse, with basically only an elevator and staircase, with a door to what you suspect is a supply closet. "We're going up two staircases," you tell your daughter. 

"Two!" She confirms before taking off towards the stairs. You have a brief moment of panic that she's going to zip up both sets faster than you can catch her, but to your great amusement, she grabs a hold of the banister with both hands and pretends to use it like a mountaineering rope to climb the stairs. She even adds little fake huffs and puffs. You follow behind her, ready to catch her if she slips. She doesn't, and when you get to the floor Matt's office is on, she turns to beam at you, clearly proud of herself, "We did it!"

"We did it," you parrot, offering out your hand again. She takes it and you lead her to the correct door. The same plaque that was on the exterior of the building also hangs beside their door and Minnie astutely points to it.

"Murdock!" 

"That's right, it says Nelson, Murdock, and Page."

"Can I knock?" Mouse asks, raising her fist to do just that.

You hum, then gently explain, "This is business, which means work. For work, we don't have to knock. We can go in if it is open."

As soon as you say that she's opening the door and marching inside and you quickly follow her. 

Matt's law partners, Foggy and Karen, are in the reception area with a man you assume is a client of theirs, talking in hushed annoyed sounding whispers. He radiates intimidation, with a huge black eye and what looks to be a makeshift cast made of duct tape around his right wrist. The three of them turn to look at you and you get the sense Minnie had the right idea in asking if she should knock first. 

Your little one quickly latches onto your leg, turning timid in the space of a second and you can't really blame her. Part of you wants to turn and run. 

Karen recovers first, breaking away from the two exasperated men to step towards you and going into receptionist mode, "Hi. You were here last week to meet with Matt, right?" 

"Uh, yes, that's right. Is he, uh, available?" You ask, feeling like you no longer know how to speak English. The energy in the room is not a pleasant one and you very much feel like you've interrupted something important.

"He's on a call currently but I'll let him know you are here," Karen replies in a voice far kinder than what she uses to address the men behind her a beat later. She turns to them and points to the office you know is not Matt's. "In there. Now."

Foggy throws up his hands, like he's frustrated with whatever is going on and disappears into the other room. The man you don't know doesn't follow, eyes on you and your daughter as Karen crosses the room to knock on Matt's door before opening it and slipping into the office. You quickly decide you are not going to make eye contact with him, instead ducking your head and putting a comforting hand on Minnie's head. She's practically hidden herself behind your legs, clinging to your pants so tightly you fear they might rip.

"I like your boots," the man says into the quietness. You expect him to sound like gravel, but his gruff voice is rather soft, and you get the feeling he understands how to talk to children "My daughter used to have boots like those."

 Part of you wants to tell the man to not talk to your daughter, but that would be rude and just because he looks like he's been through the ringer doesn't mean he's a bad man. You decide to let her determine how she wants to proceed.

You feel Minnie poke her head out from where she's hidden herself. At first, you don't think she's going to reply, as you know how she is, but she surprises you yet again by mumbling out, "They're froggies." 

"Yeah? You like frogs?"

Mouse somehow tightens her grip, "I like animals." She presses her face against your leg, then admits, a little louder, "we're gonna to the zoo for my birthday."

That makes the man smile, and that changes his whole demeanor. Suddenly he looks friendly and kind and not like he's likely to stab you, "That's a good place to go for your birthday. How old are you gonna be?"

Before she can respond, the door to Matt's office swings open and Karen stalks out, followed by Matt, who seems much less agitated than everyone else. The blonde points to the unknown man, a little scowl on her face, "What did I say?"

The man holds up his hands defensively, stepping away from Karen and towards the office he was previously told to go in, "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'm going." That doesn't seem to help soothe her at all, as she grabs the man by the bicep and frog-marches him to join Foggy, closing the door behind them. 

"They didn't make you wait long, did they?" Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him. There is a cut on his lip that wasn't there the last time you saw him, and your instinct is to ask if he is okay, but you don't know if you are at that level with him yet.

So instead, you address his question, "No, no, we just got here."

He motions back to his office, a smile spreading across his face, and you almost forget about the cut, "Come on back and we can review everything." 

Minnie lets go of your pants only to take your hand again and you lead her into the other room. As you pass Matt, she looks up at him and gives a tiny wave.

"Hi, Mister Matt."

Matt's shoulders visibly relax at her greeting, and you can't help but start to smile, "Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing today?"

"Good! I maded you pictures," she says proudly. That causes him to pause as he starts to follow you into his office. You can tell he is surprised by the news - his voice gets a little choked up when he responds.

"You made me some pictures?"

"They are very good pictures," you advise, squeezing Minnie's hand slightly before letting go, "Do you want to tell Mister Matt what you drew for him?" She nods eagerly, so you point to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Go sit like a big girl and you can tell him."

She makes a dash for the chair, and you take the time to address Matt, "I'm sorry, I should have called ahead."

He shakes his head, and as he walks past you to go behind the desk, he reaches out and brushes his hand along your arm. A little shiver runs up your spine at the touch and you tell yourself the action was so he could orient himself. "Not a problem, I knew you were coming. How is everything?"

"Everything is good," you reply, a little shyer than you intend to. "I, uh, have everything for you. Is there anything else I need to fill out?"

Matt shakes his head, "Just a signature and date. You've done all the work for me already. I don't think I've ever had to file where I don't need to actually do anything but sign the document. It's a refreshing change."

"Do you know how long it will take to process?" You ask as you move to join Minnie in sitting. "The website gave multiple timelines and I just want to be realistic."

Matt takes his seat with a cocky grin, "Not long at all, I know a few judges I can ask to push it through."

You flush at the idea of him asking a favor to a judge on your account, "That's not necessary, Matt, I don't mind waiting."

He shakes his head, getting that soft look again, "I don't want to wait. I want it to be official in the eyes of the government."  

His words make you feel even warmer, and you distract yourself by pulling the file with all the paperwork out of your purse and pass it over to him. "Minnie's additions are at the bottom of the stack. The last five pages"

His fingers twitch slightly, and you wonder if he wants to flip right to those. You get your answer quickly.

"Minnie, is it okay if I go over the paperwork with your mom before you tell me about your pictures?"

"It's okay!" She replies, her voice much more cheerful now that you are alone with Matt. "Do you needs help?"

Her sweetness makes Matt smile more and he shakes his head, "Not right now, sweetheart. I need to read, and I can do that with my fingers, but after that you can help with some other things."

"Okay," she says happily, kicking her feet a little bit.

You catch her attention and motion to your purse, "Do you want a toy while you wait?" 

She shakes her head and beams up at you, "No thank you, I'm a big girl!"

Both you and Matt chuckle at her declaration and he moves to open the file. 

"There's multiple copies of everything," you tell him as you move onto business, "One printed text and one in Braille for the courts and the same for you. I have the same at home, as well. They are bundled in packets. The court papers are on top, Braille first."

He thanks you then begins to read the forms. Mouse sits up straighter in her chair to try and see what he is doing. She can just peek over the edge, and she watches in fascination as his fingers move over the pages. You wait quietly, not wanting to distract in any way. 

"Everything appears to be in order. We will just need a signature," Matt says after a minute. 

"Should I do that now?" You ask. The response is him offering you a pen, so you lean in to sign the various forms. As you set each document aside, Matt adds his own signature. It is silly how giddy you feel just having the forms finally completed. You don't know how long you've had just blank copies, waiting to be filed. 

"And done," Matt says with a final flick of his pen on the last page. "I'm going to the courthouse on Tuesday, so I'll get it processed then. I'll push to get an updated certificate as quickly as possible."

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling like a crazy person. This isn't some dream or far off fantasy. Matt isn't just saying he wants to be Minnie's father. He is following through, with urgency. This is something he wants and it's almost surreal for you - you are so used to promises being broken and no one being on the same page as you in your desires. Even if this is all for Minnie and not for you, it is still on the edge of overwhelming for you. 

You never thought you'd be so happy over paperwork. 

"Thank you, Matt," you whisper, leaning back into your seat to sit properly.

Immediately, Minnie parrots you, thanking Matt even though she has no idea what is going on.

"No, thank you. Thank you both," he says, and you wonder if he is also holding back from smiling. He gathers the papers and sets them aside before running his fingers over the folder you gave him and addressing his daughter. "Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to come tell me what you drew?" 

You expect Minnie to stand on the chair and even prepare yourself to balance her, but that does not happen. She hops down and scurries around the desk to be at Matt's side and a moment later, he is pushing his chair back and she is climbing up into his lap. Embarrassment rushes through you - she's only ever behaved like this with you. She actually used to fuss and cry if anyone else tried to hold her. You haven't seen her sit in anyone else's lap since she had a say in who gets to hold her.

"Minnie!" You scold but Matt quickly shakes his head as he helps her up.

"It's okay, I don't mind," he tells you even though he looks completely shocked. If he wasn't her father, you wouldn't allow this, especially with someone so new to her, but he is her father, even if she doesn't know, so you don't tell her to get down.

Instead, you give a stern frown, "Minnie, you still need to ask before climbing on anyone, okay? Can you apologize?" 

Your little girl nods, then looks up at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Matt."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Like I said, I don't mind, but your Mommy is right, and you should ask so I know you are there. Next time, you'll know. Now, your Mommy said there were five pictures. Which do you want to start with?" He asks, scooting his chair back to the desk while wrapping one arm around Minnie's waist to keep her secure. 

Once she's able to, she leans in and picks up the first drawing in the stack. It is the family portrait, and you quickly get your phone out so you can record this interaction as Minnie lays out the picture. She then takes Matt's free hand and guides it to the paper before letting go to point at the circle that represents him.

"This is you," she tells him. He quickly finds where she is pointing and begins to trace the figure. 

"That's me?" And there is definitely more than a little bit of emotion in his voice. 

"Uh-huh, and that is me and Mommy and we're gonna go to see the duckies. Mommy said we can go again. But we're gonna get ice cream too. And a balloon," she says, moving her little finger all over the page. 

You watch Matt's finger follow hers - first over the doodle of himself, then Minnie's, and finally yours. Then, he traces back to the center figure. "We're holding hands?" He asks tentatively.

"Yup!" She answers, popping the p. "Mommy says we gotta hold hands if we go outside." 

Matt licks his lips a little and you see his muscles flex under his jacket as he holds Minnie a little more firmly to his chest, like he doesn't want to let go of her. "That's a good rule." 

"Mommy makes good rules," your little one replies wisely. That makes your ego sing a little. Mouse has always been good at doing what she's told, and you are proud that she understands your rules keep her safe.

Before she moves onto the next picture, you gently prompt her. "Sweetie, was there something you wanted to ask Mister Matt?"

Matt's head jerks up at that, looking right to you with brows slightly knit. Minnie bounces in his lap just a little, squirming so she can turn to look up at him, "I'm gonna go to the zoo! For my birthday! Do you wanna go?"

His lips part in surprise at the question and before you know it, he has both his arms wrapped around Mouse, hugging her to him. She instantly responds, looping her little arms around his neck and squeezing back. He rests his cheek against her head, and you see him slightly rock her from side to side. "I would love to go with you to the zoo, sweetheart."

Minnie giggles into his neck and you one hundred percent know that the transition to suddenly having two parents is not going to be hard for her at all. It might be confusing because Matt won't be living with you, but you have never seen her so comfortable with someone who isn't you. You know it's not just because he gave her a toy. They just click together so well.

You switch from video to your camera so you can sneak as many pictures as you can of Matt and Minnie hugging. They've completely forgotten about you and that is a-okay. 

In this moment, nothing else matters to you - not the strange man in the other office or the devastation a few states over or all the other trivial things that nag you and make your stomach turn. 

Your world is right in front of you and for the first time in a very, very long time, you really, truly believe everything is going to be just fine. 

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

[sappyspeare]

wymack and kevin hcs post-canon

currently writing a 5+1 of kevin and his dad trying to talk to each other without screaming and crying (mostly on kevin's part). so here are some hcs that i cant fit into it

after Kevin goes pro and Wymack retires and moves in with Abby, there is always obviously room for their foxes, but a small, single room for Kevin. it's unspoken that that is for Wymacks son, Kevin Day. he tells everyone who comes into the house that it's his son's room but they can use it while he's gone. Kevin will always stay there and they never talk about it.

They do eventually talk about Kayleigh. Wymack helps Kevin by telling him stories about his insane girl boss mother and they have a good cry about it.

Wymack Abby and some new foxes are watching a pro game where Kevin is playing and there's a moment where Kevin stands with his hands on his hips and yells at a player and all the foxes are like omg. it's mini wymack and wymack threatens to put them through a marathon

Wymack goes to all of Kevin's games. no matter where it is or when it is, he will be there because he is a proud father first and foremost

There is always a front-row seat kevin keeps for his father

Kevin calls Wymack every week to update him on life and stuff. the new foxes realise that wymack is significantly happier after a 20-minute call in the privacy of his office once a week

Wymack walks Dan down the aisle according to EC but have you considered he does it for Kevin too. because those two are his Kids bro

Wymack loves seeing how close Kevin and Abby are because i said so

Kevin and Abby try very hard to get Wymack to stop smoking and drinking and Abby is nice and patient and Kevin is ofc a bitch about it

anytime its a holiday Kevin Andrew and Neil will always come to see him. the others will come too but those 3 will come first and leave last

when Kevin gets his hall of fame moment he dedicates it to the man who taught him how to love the game and himself aka his dad and lets just say wymack needs a moment

kevin gets more tattoos over the years and also looks more like wymack as he gets older

sometimes when kevins in town wymack lets him run foxes practice and its always fun for the kids to see them standing next to each other, father and son because it just looks so Right until Kevin yells at them to run faster or get off the court

Wymack keeps in touch with all his foxes, but Kevin later learns that he also keeps contact with Jean which makes him. so happy because finally Jean has more good influences in his life

ALSO their first father son heart to heart is after rikos funeral where wymack is like 'so. do you want to get blackout drunk' and kevin obviously agrees

Kevin starts calling wymack Dad or sometimes Father after he graduates . sometimes he refers to him as Coach in interviews or in public but everyone knows who he means

Wymack buys the first racquet for Kevin's daughter (she exists in the EC)

(also i dont like thea. sorry. so smth smth kevin adopts a little baby girl and single-dads so hard that wymack is put to shame)

wymack loves his granddaughter like crazy and spoils the shit out of her

Kevin takes a rough hit during a game and Wymack almost charges into the court to take out the punk who tried to hurt his kid

wymack often gets badgered by media trying to get comments about kevin or the other foxes post-graduating and going pro and if hes in the mood he will give them a line about how proud he is of x kid but in such a cryptic way that only that kid could know what he means

this is especially true for neil and andrew but sometimes kevin calls him the next day like 'did u have to talk about the time i did X when they asked u for a comment on my game' and wymack is like. yes. next question

Wymack and Kevin argue a lot it is their love language

but god forbid you talk shit about David Wymack in front of Kevin or in any public space because not only are you bringing down the wrath of the Foxes on you, Kevin Day is a petty bitch and will ruin your life, your career, and your will to live if you fuck with his dad

and vice versa because who the fuck do you think you are messing with david wymack's kid?

TRAUMA ALERT: in the EC it says neil only cries when he gets the call about wymack. but consider: kevin has to make the call. goodnight

ok im done now i just have a lot of feelings

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not. 

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord. 

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts. 

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd. 

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same. 

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to. 

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot. 

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?" 

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't. 

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off. 

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his. 

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it. 

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With  Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a... 

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant. 

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak. 

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop. 

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me." 

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable. 

It goes as quickly as it came. 

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events. 

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you. 

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right? 

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark. 

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates." 

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination. 

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same. 

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again. 

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones." 

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?" 

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream." 

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude. 

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy," 

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts. 

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate. 

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through. 

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

[the-froschamethyst4]

I Will Always Protect You

𖤐Pairing: Step dad! Gaz x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, angst, deadbeat ex-husband, language, married couple, children, arguing, fighting,

𖤐Summary: Your ex-husband tries to 'come back' into your kids lives but your children show that they don't want to go with him, so what happens when their step father Gaz steps in to put this deadbeat in his place

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8:00AM

Y/n's day started out like everyday, waking her children up for school, Skye was getting her school clothes on and Kai was coming downstairs to come eat breakfast.

Gaz was coming downstairs as well, sitting next to Kai as he ate breakfast.

"Skye! Baby, come on!" Y/n calls from the kitchen and she could hear her daughter running downstairs.

"Sorry, mama," she says, sitting next to Gaz.

Gaz has joined the family when Skye was 2 and Kai was 5, a young age for the both of them. Gaz loved Kai and Skye, and the kids treated him more like their father than their actual father.

Their actual father was a fucking deadbeat. He started dealing drugs when Skye was only a baby and Y/n didn't know till a strange man came to her door asking for him and wanting 56k from her deadbeat husband.

Scared the shit out of her, as it should. So, she filed for divorce and he's been bumming off his 19-year-old girlfriend and her parents at the ripe age of 35.

"Come on, let's go catch the bus," Y/n says as the kids got off their chairs and Gaz grabs his coffee following his wife and the two kids to the bus stop.

"Mama, can we go to the store later?"

"Why, baby?" She asked her daughter.

"Because I'm out of mouthwash-"

"OH SAME HERE!" Kai interrupts Skye.

"We'll see okay," she kisses her kids foreheads and sent them off to school.

---------

1:40PM

It was around noon now. Y/n usually stayed home on these days to do some chores around the house and also catch up on some work from home.

As Y/n was cleaning the dishes from this morning, there was a loud knock on the door, it rattled the front door and she could hear the glass door in front of it also rattling.

She wipes her hands and looks out through the tall window next to the front door, she sees a man in a hood.

"Fuck no," she says to herself before backing from the door and going to the kitchen to grab a knife just in case. She hides it behind her back and goes back to the front.

She opens the heavy door first and looks through the glass window, seeing this person lift his head and showing a bruised face, a cut lip, and some teeth missing.

"Mark!? What the fuck are you doing here?" Y/n asked, behind the glass door as her barrier to keep this deadbeat away from her.

"Y/n, I am so, so, so fucking sorry for what I have done to you. I am truly sorry-"

"Why the fuck are you here Mark? I will call the police if you don't leave my property," Y/n threatens. She wishes Gaz was here, Mark was terrified of Gaz.

"Please, listen to me first...I just wanna see my kids, and I want to see how, my girl is doing."

"I am NOT your girl, definitely not anymore, you don't have the right to see your kids anymore, you lost custody and you only get supervised visits by the local police, you are not welcome to or in my house now get off my property, Mark," Y/n shuts the door and slides down the door hot tears filling her eyes.

Y/n and Mark were a very happy couple, but when she gave birth to Skye, the drug dealing happened, along with cheating and drinking.

---------

2:20PM

"I'm home!" Gaz yells. Y/n comes out of her home office and looks at Gaz.

"Hi, honey, how was work?"

"Same-old-same-old," Gaz says with a soft smile on his face before pulling Y/n into a hug and kissing her lips.

"MAMA!" Y/n and Gaz turned hearing Kai's voice, it was cracked like he was crying. Soon Skye came in and hid behind Y/n and Gaz as Y/n bent down to her children's level as Gaz looked at the front door.

"My babies, what is wrong?"

"I can give you a guess," Gaz says as Mark stood in the doorway.

"I'm calling the fucking police," Y/n says. "I told you if you didn't leave."

"I just want to see my children, Y/n. Why are you holding them from me!?" Mark pleads.

"Because they don't want to see you!" Gaz steps in, blocking his step children's view of Mark.

"Oh shut the fuck up, Kyle!"

"WHAT!?" Gaz marches to Mark.

Y/n moves her children out of the living room to the stairs. "Go upstairs, okay. I'll come and get you when it's over."

Her children run upstairs to not want to see or be involve what might happen. Gaz takes Mark to the ground, Gaz on top of him and he was just cussing and yelling at him, not swinging any punches at Mark or anything.

Gaz was holding back a lot of his strength of wanting to put Mark in the hospital-no that's too generous, not wanting to put Mark 6 feet under right now.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING COME AROUND MY FAMILY AGAIN! MY KIDS DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU! YOU ARE A FUCKING DEADBEAT, SAD, SORRY EXCUSE OF A FATHER, HUSBAND AND A MAN! YOU ARE A FUCKING COWARD AS WELL!!" Gaz gets off Mark and grabs him again basically tossing Marks dirty ass out the door.

"Gaz?" Y/n watches him slam the door shut. Y/n walks towards Gaz placing her hand on his arm as he was trying his best to calm down and not lash out even more.

"Mama? Gaz?" Kai and Skye peak around the corner seeing their mother and step father.

"Is he gone?" Skye asked.

"Yes, baby," Y/n scoops Skye into her arms and ruffled Kai's hair. Kai looks at Gaz and runs up to him, Gaz bends down picking Kai up and hugging him.

"Thank you, Gaz," Kai says into Gaz's neck. Gaz felt his heart swell and wanting to burst in his chest.

"Of course, kiddo...I will always protect you kids," he says, kissing Kai's temple.

----------

9:10PM

It was getting pretty close to the kids' bedtime. Skye was brushing her teeth as Gaz was telling Kai some stories about his time being in the Military.

Skye walks into her older brothers' bedroom and sat next to Gaz wanting to hear his stories as well. Both children soon fell asleep, Gaz gently picks up Skye and takes her to her bedroom.

Pulling back her covers and gently placing her down, Gaz was about to turn off her little lamp on her nightstand, but she stirs in her sleep making Gaz stop.

"I love you...daddy..." Skye says. Gaz's heart shatters now.

Skye and Kai have never called Gaz daddy, dad, father, or anything other names just Gaz or Kyle. It first started out as them just saying Kyle and when they got use to him then Gaz. It felt like an honor being called 'daddy' now.

"Are they asleep?" Y/n asks.

"Yep..." Y/n could see the biggest smile on Gaz's face.

"What? What's that face?" Y/n asked, getting close to Gaz to examine his face.

"Skye called me daddy, along with an I love you as well."

Y/n was happy for him. "I'm glad they're warming up to you, Gaz," she kisses him before they both headed to bed.

[eloise175]

Headcanon: love languages

How Callisto and Penelope are disgustingly in love and decide to make it everyone’s problem. Their specialty is being smitten with each other no matter how much time has passed since they got together—sometimes it’s too much for the eyes of other people, cavity-inducing sight right there from too much sweetness.

➺ Physical touch:

Simply put, it’s reassuring. They always reach for the other, both as a sense of security and comfort. Hugs are very frequent and last for a good couple of minutes because neither of them wants to separate first, or at all.

When Callisto is stressed or is about to lose his temper, Penelope places a hand on his shoulder or seeks his own out. It helps him calm down and gather his thoughts.

Kisses are the best, Callisto can never get enough, and Penelope gets all warm and fuzzy inside when he gives her all the little soft kisses.

Callisto always has his arm wrapped around Penelope or holds her hand, it makes him feel good—it improves his day too (the palace staff will forever be grateful).

He’s very clingy, so much so that even during summer when it’s very hot, Callisto gathers her all to him even when she tells him that it’s too hot for cuddles, he doesn’t care that they’re both actively sweating waterfalls during nighttime as well. Penelope tries to roll away but ultimately fails to escape her husband’s clinginess.

➺ Words of affirmation:

Between the two of them, Callisto is the most vocal when it comes to expressing his affection through words, however with time Penelope learns too.

A reoccurring thing between them is that they tell each other the first thing that goes through their head, keywords bluntness and honesty.

Penelope could be staring at Callisto for a good five minutes and when he inquires about it, she just blurts out “you’re beautiful” or “I love you” which inevitably stuns him momentarily; it’s the same the other way around only that Penelope sees it coming since he does it pretty often, but inevitably she still gets all flustered.

➺ Acts of service:

This speaks for itself. Callisto would do anything for her and although he doesn’t expect anything back from her, Penny would still do them and he gets very happy when that happens.

The most frequent instance is him carrying her around despite her protesting against it. Penelope won’t admit it out loud but she enjoys being carried like that. Callisto knows and doesn’t miss any chance to tease her for it.

Massages could be classified as another act of service, especially after a long day. When he’s tired, Penny helps him take baths and is the one that washes his hair, he enjoys it a lot because her touch is relaxing.

Meanwhile, Callisto just wants to take care of his wife and often shoos the maids away because of it. It leads to him learning Penelope’s routine for skincare and whatnot. Later on to her insistence, they both end up having facem masks together to his amusement.

➺ Gift giving:

Having held off from splurging for most of his life, finally Callisto has something that he’d gladly spend his money on—or rather someone.

To him, Penelope deserves nothing but the best so he doesn’t think twice about getting her anything and everything she wants.

He tends to buy every little thing that reminds him of her, later offering them to Penelope as gifts—even if it lands him a scolding. She thinks he goes too overboard, but Callisto just wants to see her happy and shower her with riches and pretty things like her.

When they go out, if her eyes happen to linger on an object for longer than 5 seconds, it’s as good as sold in his books and you best believe he will get it for her, despite her protests.

Years later, Penelope is still salty over that handkerchief incident (even if she won’t ever admit it), so she embroiders plenty of handkerchiefs for him, and Callisto is always carrying at least one with him, proudly so. The others end up in the drawers of his office desk or easily reachable spots in places he spends the most time, so he never has to go without one.

Penelope also has some jewelry pieces made, thanks to her mines and assets which she turns into a business; due to this, Callisto is always seen wearing a brooch, cufflinks and earrings that are quite unique, expensive and of high quality. He’s very proud of those and likes to show off the gifts his wife got him, he can often be found bragging about said gifts in front of his vassals and soldiers—anyone really, even during events.

No one is spared from the Emperor’s endless gushing and words of adulation for his Empress and her thoughtfulness.

[flowery-mess]

One of my boys

For my birdie anon🦜💚 I had fun writting this, thank you for your request! Also I don't know anynthing about birds, so of someting doesn't makes sense I'm sorry and feel free to correct me

Noah x reader

It goes without saying, this is work of fiction, don't mistake it for real story!

You and Noah first met at Sumerian Christmas party last year where you talked for a bit, but that was it. Until just a few months ago.

You work at the Sumerian law department, so before their tour started you had to go through some papers with the band and their team. You never got to work together before, so you were happy you finally had a chance to meet with Noah again.

Even tho you expected Noah not to remember you. But he did. When you walked into room full of BO crew he said “Oh it’s you!” with more excitement than you would expect. He gave you a little wave before you went through the things you needed to.

After you were finished with them, everyone slowly started leaving the room as you were packing your papers and things you brought with you.

“I’m sorry for that earlier. I just didn’t expect to see you today. Actually I never saw you around I thought you maybe quit.” You heard Noah behind you when you were zipping your bag.

“Oh, quit my lovely 9 to 5 job, really?” You said with sarcasm in your voice. Even tho you like your job, working with musicians and doing law, it still was office job with lots and lots of papers. Noah just chuckled at your comment.

You two continued to talk for another 20 minutes before you excused yourself for having another meeting in a few minutes. You saw Noah’s face drop a little when you said that, much to your surprise.

“Yeah I wouldn’t want to make you late. I guess I see you around then.” He gave you same little wave as in the beginning of the meeting and left the room.

You felt the same feeling as you felt at the party. Another nice talk and nothing out of it. Girl can have dreams, right? And you kinda wanted to get to know Noah more. He was friendly, polite and hot… who wouldn’t want to get to know more of that.

.

Next morning you sat behind your desk with your favourite coffee from the coffee shop next to Sumerian. You did your morning routine to check and answer new emails. You had replied to 3 emails and opened the next one, surprised that this one had just two lines of text.

“Hi, I’m sorry for bothering your work email, but I didn’t know how to approach you. Would you be interested in dinner or movies sometimes? We could continue to discuss how monkeys aren’t really pets. Noah:)”

Oh. You didn’t realize that you were holding your breath in while reading that email. You didn’t expect that at all. And his comment about monkeys made you laugh, because that wasn’t even from yesterday’s conversation. You talked about pets and animals at the party, and you mentioned monkeys are cute.

Your reply said that you would love to discuss monkeys with him and you agreed on coffee in your favorite coffee shop. It was down the street you lived at, small and private space, because you know that Noah is more and more famous everyday, so you thought that this place will avoid anyone seeing you two together. You made reservation for booth at the back, where you two would have privacy.

-

Week before Noah had to leave for European tour, you had two coffee dates and dinner date at his place. You said it’s only fair to have dinner at your place next time.

You live in little cozy apartment by yourself. You have little bedroom, kitchen joined with living room and bathroom.

Well actually, not really by yourself. You have four little baby roommates.

You warned Noah that you have four little birds at home and made sure he’s okay with coming over. You thought about locking them up in their big cage in your living room for his visit, but decided against it. They are home and he is the guest, so you thought you’re gonna let him have a full experience.

.

You heard knock on your door as you were putting the meat in the oven. You decided for meat and vegetable mix for dinner, easy and delicious. You went to open the door just to see Noah standing there with flowers in his hands.

“Hello there.” You said with welcoming smile.

“Hi. These are for you as thank you for the dinner.” He handed you small bouquet of tulips, gerberas and other flowers you couldn’t name. He matched color of the flowers to your apartment very well. You had pretty colourful place, so those green and yellow flowers went with it so well. And it also matched your birds, which is Noah about to meet.

Talking about birds, one of them, Milo, sat on your shoulder staring at Noah, who was just taking his shoes of.

Noah stood up noticing this little friend on your shoulder.

“Oh hi there. Let me guess your name.” oh cute, he remembers names of your birds you mentioned the last time you saw each other.

“Hmm Simba?” Noah said that more as a question and got loud whistle as answer.

Before you had chance to correct him, Simba flew to your other shoulder.

“I hate to disappoint you, but this is Milo,” you pointed to your left shoulder “and this is Simba.” You pointed to your right shoulder.

“Nice to meet you guys, I guess.”

He earned one little squeeky “Hi” from Simba, but not from Milo. Let’s just say Milo is the most protective one and he takes the longest when it comes to meeting new people.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna warm up to you. Milo is the hardest to win over, but he will come around. Come on in, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

You led Noah to your kitchen slash living room space. He was amused by the big cage you had in there.

“Wow. That thing is big.”

“Yeah, pretty expensive, but everything for those lil bitches you know.” You love them, but they can be annoying if the want to “Mavi, Kovu!” you called out.

They flew out from the bathroom, Mavi straight to Noah’s shoulder and Kovu to his head.

His face was priceless. He stood still, scared to move and scared they’re gonna bite him.

“Okay what do I do?” Noah asked with fear in his eyes.

“They like you! They are birds, they like heights and you are tall person. Those two are the easiest to get along with, obviously.” You laughed at the scene. Noah was like a statue scared for his life.

“And can I move?”

“Of course. If you don’t like them sitting on you, just tell me or you can tell them the word ‘leave’ and they should fly away. I don’t know if they’re gonna listen to you though.”

“Oh I don’t mind it, I want them to like me so I’m going to let them sit there for how long they want to.”

“Okay. Let me show you one more.” You lead Noah to your bedroom, but first you called Mavi and Kovu off Noah, because they can’t go in your bedroom for now.

“This is my foster baby bird that I took as a foster parent for now. Her wings are broken, so she can’t fly and she can’t hang around the boys, because they would take advantage of her state and probably attack her or something.” You explained Noah as you were both watching this little white baby in her cage.

“You took her in? That’s so nice of you. Poor baby, she’s so cute. I mean the boys with their colors are nice, but this is different, all white. Cute.” Noah studied her some more and you took that as a chance to study Noah’s face.

He was cute too. He was handsome and hot. And he was nice person, you liked hanging out with him. You didn’t really know where this was heading, because you haven’t been physical with each other yet. You planned on asking him, but didn’t want to make things between you weird.

“Yeah, we will see if she can heal. I am thinking of keeping her.”

“That’s really nice of you, really.” He said again and this time with his eyes on you, which made you blush a bit.

“Let’s go back, the dinner should be ready.” You went back to the living room and Mavi found his place on Noah’s shoulder again.

“I think he likes me the most so far.” Noah said with proud face on his face.

“Seems like it. He’s the friendliest so it’s no surprise.”

“Wow, way to make me feel special.” You both laughed at how your comment sounded ironic.

“Wow” Mavi talked back to us. I am used to them imitate me, but Noah isn’t and his face was priceless once again tonight.

“Did he just imitate me?”

“Yep he did.”

“Yep” another one of Milo’s words.

“And now he did imitate you.” Noah pointed at you.

“Yes. They do that. They can’t talk like parrots tho, but they can try and imitate what they hear.”

“Those are little interesting creatures.” It was funny watching Noah explore this kind of animals. Most people are amused when they meet them.

“They are, that’s why I picked them over typical cat or dog.” You smiled at the sight in front of you. You wanted to take picture of Noah and Mavi, but you didn’t know if Noah would be comfortable with that. “Let’s eat dinner Snow White.” You couldn't help with that little comment, he was looking like her and you bet his voice would have the same effect.

.

Just a few seconds after you dig into your food, four little creatures flew to the table.

Kovu, once again, on Noah’s head, Mavi on your right, Simba on your left shoulder and Milo sat on the table.

“I’m sorry I can put them in their cage so they don’t disturb us while we eat.” You said rushing from the table. You were used to their company while you eat, but not everyone has to like it.

“No that’s okay. I want them to like me, so I’m going to have dinner with them, maybe even Milo will crack up after this.”

“Oh, okay.” You sat back and started eating again.

After minute Milo hopped closer to Noah’s plate and started eating little piece of carrot.

“Milo!” you shouted at him, waving him back off of Noah’s plate, but Noah took it well and laughed it off.

“Don’t send him away! I’m going to share my dinner with him if it makes him like me, he can have it all.”

“Oh my god Noah. You don’t have to do that, he’s going to like you sooner or later.”

“Well it better be sooner, I don’t want any enemies.”

You couldn’t stop laughing at Noah’s attempts to make Milo like him. Because him letting Milo eat from his plate made others have a bite too. So the dinner was full with laughs and full bellies for all six of you.

.

As the night went on you and Noah sat at your sofa just talking about everything, while from time to time they boys made an appearance to make sure they don’t lose your attention.

At the end of the night even Milo sat on Noah’s head, which was like the biggest compliment Noah could get.

You had great time, so when Noah said he should leave you were a bit sad.

“We’re leaving in a week and I have a lot to do before the tour starts, but we can hang out again the next week?”

“Yeah sure, I’d like that. How about Wednesday?”

“That sounds fine with me, but I’ll make sure the boys won’t need me and let you know.”

You just nodded your head as Noah put his shoes back on.

When he stood up the silence fell over the two of you. You felt something change suddenly.

“Soo.” Noah said.

“Soo?” You didn’t really know what answer you should give him to that.

Before you noticed it, he was standing closer to you, his hand on your cheek.

“I had a great time tonight, thank you.” He whispered.

“Me too, I am glad you met my boys finally.”

“Yeah I think they gave me a pass to be one of your boys too actually.” He said with a smirk.

He leaned closer to your face, looking at your lips, then at your eyes looking for a sign if he could kiss you or not.

Well, before he could see anything in your eyes, Milo flew to you and started whistling at Noah. Which made him pull away with fear in his eyes.

“Milooo stop.” You chuckled. “I said he’s protective. Not sure about your pass though.”

“Yeah well how do you ask a bird for permission to ask his mum?” when he noticed what he just said you both started laughing.

“Maybe you don’t ask the bird, but ask the mum.” You sent Milo away and waited what’s going to happen now.

“Can I kiss you then?”

“Yes you can.”

So he did. And it was nice. And you wanted him to stay at your place and never leave. But you weren’t there yet.

“Good night Y/N.” he pulled away, placed last little kiss on your forehead and took his jacket.

“Good night Noah.” You watched him walk down the hall until he disappeared in the elevator.

You closed the door with hope that no one is going to need him on Wednesday because you needed to see him again before he leaves.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 4 Franklin.

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Soft Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Hurt/Comfort, Soft Smut. Use of the n-word. ONE SHOT!

Summary: With life spinning out of control and the war ragging in the neighborhood, you come to find that you are alone more and more under the watchful eye of Peaches. Being without Franklin has started to get to you. Can he convince you that brighter days are ahead?

Word count: 8,083k / Please consider leaving a comment to show some love and support. Like this story? To read other works please check out the Masterlist.

“I was just gon' let sleeping dogs lie, but then you had to go behind my back. Talk about my bidness, and create a whole shit storm of problems for me and mine and I can't have that. Can't lay in bed at night knowin’ that at any minute my future can't get blown up by my past. So, if there's somethin’ you wanna say to me, somethin’ you wanna get off your lil chest then please say it now because after this I promise, I fuckin’ promise you there are no more chances!”

“Alright. There's one thing. Tell me the truth you'll never hear from me again. Admit that you killed my daddy. Be man enough to tell me that I'm not crazy. Give me that at least.” 

“Bye Mel. Take care of yourself.” 

…

When Franklin Saint walked into Dallas Fort Worth international airport at 5:45PM, on Sunday March 22nd, in the year of 85, he wasn’t sure at what point his childhood left him. When he committed his first murder or when he lost his shoes and encountered RayRay and his boys in jail. 

In the end, it disappeared. 

The old Franklin was somewhere blowing in the wind and gone like a distant memory long ago left behind. At times when the world managed to get quiet enough, he thought about Kevin, about the time he’d taken them to the beach. How amazing it was. So amazing. So new for Leon and Kev. Did he miss that version of himself? Or was he okay with the new one? Those questions remained unanswered in his subconscious yet to be challenged, but the point was growth wasn’t it? There was no way he would have remained the same through all of this. All the bullshit. While he may have looked unchanged, the mind matured with strategy. He’d married the game. Formed an unbreakable wow. Such logic justified the journey. Justified everything that led to him straying the course just to find Melody in Odessa to make a point. He would not tolerate being fucked with, even by the girl he once loved.

He never wanted to kill Andre Wright, and made no tangible confession. Only a slight nod of confirmation for the girl next door. 

He owed her more then that he knew, but fuck it. Life goes on. The past had to stay the past, so he never let a word be heard from his lips. She couldn’t handle the truth even if she craved to have it.

Seeing her again amplified the pain of being shot. He did not expect it. But he would carry the scars of her murder attempt for the rest of his life. A cold hard memory, forever edged in his flesh. Keloided in three different places on his back, the reality haunted Franklin most nights, and he would wake up in cold sweats with the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears right after seeing the light leave Andre’s eyes and transport him to whatever came next, that undoubtedly awaited them all. 

He remembered the blank look set to Mel’s glazed hues. Maybe she'd been cracked out on the day of the funeral, but her ominous gaze damn near swallowed him up. He’d left this woman heartbroken without a father, so he understood her hatred. He'd eliminated her protector. Never the intention, but being a police officer, Aundre became a bigger problem than Franklin had been willing to accept. What happened to Jerome, couldn't happen again. Still, walking away from Mel that day had to be one of his saddest goodbyes. Just another one to add to the collection of regrets and hard decisions lost in his path to freedom. 

The game owed no loyalty to the past. 

It changed and transformed faster than the young L.A native could blink an eye. He moved with it, leaving things he once knew behind for better or worse. 

Franklin wasn’t a fool. As soft as the nature of a woman could be, there was no way he could have two. Even in his mind. So, he did what needed doing.  

Franklin learned alot about sacrifices and brutality. A great pain hid behind the action of the will it took to put a gun to Aundre’s head and pull the trigger. The same will it took to stop Kevin from kicking off a race war. Or the tears he couldn't stop when he watched his mother board the plane to an uncertain future without him in it. Pain Franklin kept hollowed. The same pain led him to hit Alton with the back of his gun the night he'd confronted him about the reporter he’d been talking to, which made business with Teddy less than pleasant. Franklin would be lying if he didn’t admit he’d looked up to Andre in some aspects. 

His father was absent for a significant part of his life, either by addiction or choice. To make up for his absence, Franklin collected father figures. Men he could count on for some type of pathway to adulthood. He molded and modeled himself after these examples, taking bits and pieces from different sources in the neighborhood. The old gray head who owned the liquor store, or Mr. Dunkin, who’d been well known for fixing cars at half price. Or Aundre Wright, who although Franklin thought a sellout, had only wanted the best for his little girl.  

Fucking Alton. 

Every now and then, the former Black Panther’s words would roll back in Franklin’s memory like a bursting tumor. 

You are killing us all. Don’t you see that? 

He didn’t like it, but success always came at someone else’s expense. That was the entire foundation of the American Dream. What America was built on. A lie sold to those who never had a chance at it anyway. Someone had to lose in order to win. In this case Aundre and Melody Wright, Fat Back, Courville, Khadijah, and the list went on. The unlucky contenders, and for that he was sorry.

Franklin shut his eyes to drown out the noise. Just business. He couldn’t let the shit get to him. To think that it became personal. He never planned to destroy his own people. His moves all had the same objective. Freedom. A way out of poverty. A better life for his mother, a brighter future for himself. He sure as hell wouldn't get that kind of opportunity at college, and he damn sure wouldn't be anything sitting behind a desk all day kissing the white man's ass like some good house nigga. To help his people once he got his own shit right, that was the goal. It would all just take time, but he'd turn it around. Most never even thought about that when they came up on an opportunity for a little bit of money. He’d convinced himself he’d be different from the majority. He’d be the one to do what others before him hadn't. He never meant to hurt anybody, even if he wanted so desperately to win. 

Family. 

Manboy spoke on family one time. But, the motherfucker said a lot, all the time. He’d talked about how he’d lost respect because right and wrong hailed more weight when Franklin refused to give up his people for the death of Skullys little girl. Manboy on the other hand had been ready to take his own out if it meant standing on principle. 

Leon without a doubt was Franklin’s family, his best friend, and the reality of that truth was the reason he’d made the conscious choice to make Manboy an enemy. Despite that, Franklin would be lying if he thought the niggas words didn’t hold at least some weight. 

You think you gon make it outta this? These niggas, they gon’ turn on you. 

He looked Manboy right in the eye when he pulled the trigger, ending his life. The very first time he felt absolutely nothing. 

The game showed him a lot of things.

Franklin convinced himself that when it came to Manboy, it all boiled down to survival. He had broken his own word to save Leon and to protect the source of his power, the plug. But Lee was his family, and losing Kevin had been enough. Him and Lee, they'd made this journey together ever since their encounter with korvell. So he rendered him protection. 

Still, he wondered who’d be the next one to press the knife into his back. He would never consider Jerome, Louie. 

Feeling rather incomplete without the cane he’d left behind at the church for Melody’s last and final reminder of him, Franklin shifted his stance while he waited in line as his mind settled. Amidst all the chaos there seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel.  

Had he found the one this time? A woman who could help him grow his empire? 

Franklin took out the photograph. He carried it in his pocket. Cissy had taken it in the living room one afternoon. A different version of the moment existed, one that did not belong to him. His eyes drank in everything. From the almond hues, to the beautiful melanated complexion that complimented him so well. Skin that looked painted on. A smile that required nothing in return which greeted him whenever he'd come in from battle. From taking on the world. The best part, it didn’t just exist within a picture. He had something tangible. The living breathing experience of authentic partnership. Real. 

Could a man exist without his appetite? Whether for wealth or purpose-made. A woman. Such a divine combination reminded him of Fire and Smoke. They had a catastrophic attraction. But when it was right. It was right. A compliment to his genetic makeup. Balance. Hard, soft. Masculine, feminine, woman, man. It all aligned. He’d found his peace somehow through all the chaos. Franklin smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to return to it. To peace. 

The airport bustled with travelers. Franklin kept his eyes on the large board of flight plans while searching his pockets until he’d made it all the way to the front of the line and placed his ticket on the counter top. He watched the woman take it and begin to type something into her computer. 

“Oh. I’m so sorry. This flight got canceled.” She placed the ticket on the surface of the counter and slid it forward toward him.  

Franklin took it up skeptically. He needed to be back in L.A. The trip to Odessa was supposed to be quick and easy. “What. You sure?” 

“Mmm hmmm.” She peered down at the register. “Yeah, next time I have is 7 in the morning tomorrow, sir. Looks like you’re making yourself comfortable in Odessa for one more night.” 

She pulled a facial expression. One that articulated this half ass sorry in so few words. Franklin might have found it comical, if the new information hadn't frustrated him. 

He needed to be back.

The young drug lord stood silent. Too long. The person behind him cleared their throat, pulling Franklin back to the reality of the situation. He licked his lips and took the ticket, shoving it in his pocket in a messy fold. He gave the woman a quick grin, forced by the tension in his jaw. 

Franklin moved from the line and walked away as he muttered a low ‘fuck’ through gritted teeth.

….

To most people the space would read as a regular school auditorium. Nothing special. But for you it felt like a huge stage at a big opera house with a million eyes staring at you. And this, almost being what one would call a final performance.

Everyone dressed in fancy clothes and talked in hushed voices. You were nervous, but excited. You had never played for such a grand audience before, or any audience for that matter. A lot of what you'd created never saw the light of day. It stayed very much hidden, away from public scrutiny. Tonight you were taking a chance. That bold opportunity to finally be heard. Only, the words would fall upon deaf ears, to the person who they'd been meant for.

Two distinct times, you could remember two distinct times when the night sat still and Franklin had disturbed the quiet with his jolt awake, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The second time was the worst. It took almost an hour to convince him he wasn’t where he thought. In prison, surrounded. He could never describe to you the haunting images from his nightmare, but you knew that the war in which he found himself had taken its toll. Caught up to him. He suffered this suffocating fear and guilt with memories that threatened to consume him, always. You weren’t sure he would welcome your arms on that one occasion that changed everything, but his guard had lifted with time and trust. Then without hesitation when you saw such a small opportunity, you wrapped arms around him and pulled him close, holding him tight as he trembled. If he ever cried he wouldn’t let you see it. But you knew he wanted to, and often. As some form of release, you became the substitute. He poured his pain into you in the form of intimacy and sex. So from that point forward, all you ever wanted to be for Franklin was Comfort, Safety, and Peace.  

But that meant an even exchange. 

Bottom line. He should be among those in the auditorium. That was all you could think as you stood behind the curtain listening to the tune the current pianist played. You hadn't asked for much. Nor required a great deal. So then, you had to strike the feeling of being let down, although disappointment was not something foreign to you. Truly, you'd known it most your life, but somehow you'd convinced yourself that this time would be different. That this man you’d chosen to invest your time into was different. This man who’s word you chose to cling to. 

You were dressed in the beautiful rose pink gown that you had carefully chosen for the night. You’d been waiting for this evening for weeks and finally the soft chiffon fabric hugged your curves and made you feel glamorous. A special occasion, you spent hours perfecting your hair and makeup for the elegant evening ahead. You even put on silver high heels, which had been unlike you. And your hair was braided in four large french braids that inner connected into a large roped bun. 

“Well maybe he will make it. Maybe if we just wait a little while longer. I can try and speak to the director, just so he has time to get here.”

Remembering the conversation, you hated how annoying your voice sounded with so much hope and optimism. Peaches, his right hand and the one whom he had to stay with you, of course brought you back down to reality. 

“I'm sorry. But he ain't gonna make it.” 

Why did you fight with yourself even when the truth was right in front of you? You shouldn't have let him go to Odessa. Wait. Let him? You had to check yourself on that one. Franklin was a grown ass man. He would have gone with or without an okay from you, and you knew that. You figured that the trade off was the promise he'd made to show up. 

‘Won't take long. Fly there, fly back. Round trip. Simple. Just, somethin’ I gotta do. All this is almost over. Aight babe?’ 

Business. You accepted that sometimes your wants and needs had to be put on the back burner. Fine. Sacrifice happened in any relationship for any couple. That was to be expected. But did give and take happen also? That was where you saw the unbalance when it came to you and Franklin. You gave and gave and gave with little to show for in return. The relationship you’d had with your father growing up was something of a similar occurrence. You’d wait by the window holding on to empty promises of his return to spend time. A return that never came. He thought that time could be made up with gifts, those cold lifeless objects that held no meaning except disappointment. He’d traded you for an appetite he’d had for the women he’d left your mother for, and you of course were no exception to this selfishness. In the end, he left you both. 

Only for this man. This man that had come into your life, Franklin Saint, you did not wait by the window. Instead you tried to search for his face in a sea of onlookers as the allpause mellowed out and the announcer called for you to make your way onto the stage, sparking a whole new wave of anticipation from the crowd. Peaches could be wrong. Franklin could have made it, and to your surprise have found his seat in the vast expanse of strangers to watch you perform a piece he’d encouraged you to finish. A piece of music he’d said had been the moment he fell in love with you when you first played it on a Wednesday. 

A song written for him. 

“There are no words,” you warned as you held the sheet of music to your chest like a well kept secret. 

“That's fine.” 

You were sure to make note of his eyes and the tantalizing grin he held when he said the next part. 

“Some things don't need um.” 

You couldn’t help it, you took his words to heart. So with a deep breath you walked on the stage. 

Maybe not a million, but there were a lot of people already there. A good forty, although your eyes could have betrayed you in the count. You faced forward focusing only on the path. If you looked too hard, the moment would swallow you up and devour you whole. 

When you made your way to the piano and sat down, there came a pounding in your chest. Nervously you adjusted the bench and placed fingers on the keys. You closed your eyes trying to fight back the want, that burning need to look out in the crowd one last time before you began to play.

At first your hands were trembling, but soon the music began to flow from your fingertips.Starting off slow as you followed the sheet music, you allowed the notes to linger in the air. 

People had begun to pay attention. 

You hoped the music would take them on a journey. A journey of your and Franklin’s love story. From the light and airy notes to the deep and soulful melodies, it spoke of everything. The nightmares, and demons that chased him. The compromise and the love it took to hold on. How much you loved him. And a question in certain notes; did he love you just as much? It couldn't be described in words. But maybe if the tune traveled high enough, the wind would carry the song all the way to Odessa, and remind him to remember you were still back in L.A, waiting. 

Your fingers flew over the keys, as if they had a mind of their own. This strange wave of emotion coursed through your body as the notes filled the room.

The crowd, entranced and engaged made you feel more comfortable, so you began to pick up the pace. They must have been mesmerized. The only noise in the room had been your song speaking from the inner workings of a man made creation. As the music grew, your fingers moved faster and faster, as if dancing with the notes.This dedication to Franklin Saint.

When you finally finished, the room erupted into applause. You had played on the piano, yours and his story, and had done it, magnificently. This small surge of pride trickled in as you stood up and bowed. You realized only when you took the second bow that tears were streaming down your cheeks in hot trails of accomplishment and disappointment. 

…

The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow while you drove down the highway with the smell of Peaches joint filling the space in the Lincoln continental. 

It was your favorite time, sunrise, when the city was just starting to wake up.

The palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, the skyscrapers glinted in the sun, and the Hollywood sign loomed in the distance. The city had its fair share of chaos and traffic, but there was something magical about it so early in the morning. It was as if L.A was a blank canvas, waiting for its inhabitants to create something beautiful as the day progressed.

You turned up the radio, humming along to the tune of your favorite song as you took in the sights around you with eyes still delicate and sore from all the crying you had done hours after returning from your performance. Although you tried to stifle your cries into the sems of pillow cases, you knew Peaches had heard you. So that morning when he told you Franklin had paged him that he was back in town, he never asked about the redness of your eyes. The two of you boarded the car in silence and Peaches, like always, only followed instructions. 

It was a winding road that brought you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation as Peaches neared the destination. The airport where Franklin would be waiting. 

The possibilities for the day ahead seemed endless when you pulled up to the sliding doors to find him standing outside of them. 

Peaches got out first, and your gaze drank Franklin down to his shoes. There was something missing. Hesitantly you took hold of the handle on the door and opened it, getting out before shutting it behind you and approaching. 

He’d met you half way and pulled you into a hug. L.A had been warm, but Franklin held a different type of warmth and you basked in it before you sniffed back tears. “Are you okay,” you murmured into his chest. 

Franklin pressed his hands on your back. It was no longer a gentle hug, but one in which he tried to express himself. Say in little words that he'd been glad to see you. His hands spoke as if it had been longer than a day. Like this hug made up for all the times he'd left you. “Yeah,” came out simple, but there was something attached to it. Closure. “How was the-”

You sat up and broke away from his hold. “Fine. It went fine. No big deal really. Didn't mean anything.”

Franklin was staring at you with this look. Hard to describe. Nonetheless filled with emotion in the eyes at least. His face in general remained stoic. “I'm sorry.”

To counter that you smiled through hues under a thin glaze of tears. “Ready…” you said and turned to face the Lincoln Continental. You didn't wait for his response. Only walked. A glance passed between you and Peaches. This time when you got in, you sat in the back. A minute later, Franklin followed. 

It wasn’t the silence that brought on your breaking point, but the fact that one of the songs that made its way from the speakers had a very specific piano break in it. 

“Peaches, can you pull over please. I’d like to get out.” 

Peaches hazel eyes reflected in the overhead mirror before he threw a glance and Franklin who had stared at you. 

“Why?” he said.

The tears couldn’t be stopped. They overflowed and spilled. 

“Because I want to take a quick walk on the beach. When will you ever see it be more beautiful than right now?”

The beach, symbolic for both of you. Just in different ways. 

Franklin and Peaches passed glances between one another with Franklin gently nodding his head. 

The drive had reached the outskirts of the city and the highway opened up to a stunning view of the ocean. The sun was now fully risen, and its rays danced on the water, creating a breathtaking scene. The car pulled over to the side of the road. 

As soon as it came to a complete stop, you got out.

You were able to walk a few paces in the sand before you’d chosen a spot to plop down on and face the sparkling waters ahead. You let yourself cry, and the crying quickly turned into sobbing as you pulled your sleeves to wipe your eyes clear. 

Footsteps began to fill in behind you. Franklin stopped just shy three feet from where you sat. “I meant to be there.” His words flooded in from behind, and you shut your eyes tightly.

“Baby please.” He took the three steps to get to you and took a seat on the sand beside you. 

As your breath caught in your throat you tried to scramble out words that would make sense. “I needed. I just. I wanted you to...” 

You sniffed and found by the next second Franklin had pulled you close and drew his arm around you to bring you into him. 

“I know babe,” He whispered at the base of your ear. “I know…” 

By the time you’d calmed down your eyes were even more swollen and you’d soaked Franklin’s shirt with tears. As his hand moved over the skin of your forearm he watched the people walking by before he focused solely on the ocean view. “Imma make this right. Make it up to you…”    

When you were guided back to the car by Franklin's direction you clung to those words. Words you wanted so desperately to believe in. You would never obtain the same moment, in that same place and time, but you were willing to make new memories, give him the opportunity. 

As Peaches headed back to your apartment, Franklin’s hand stayed locked to yours the entire way. He hadn’t left your side since departing from the beach, and every now and then he would look in your direction and pull your hand up to leave a soft kiss on the exposed skin before directing his attention to the window. When he did this you smiled briefly before your gaze would fall again. Sometimes to the hand he kissed, and other times to the scenery going by in the opposite window. 

Pulling into the available space on the block, Peaches parked the Lincoln and shut it down. 

“You can take off for the rest of the day. I need to handle some things.” Franklin’s eyes found you. 

You held his gaze briefly before you looked toward the front seat. “Bye Peaches. Thank you.” You opened the door and got out. 

Franklin not far behind stopped before he’d made it halfway. The familiar sound of his beeper rocked your eardrums.  

He looked down at the belt where it sat and released a sigh. “Shit.” 

You closed your eyes. Standing with your back to him. You turned and watched Franklin ascend the back seat, close one door and open another. He found your eyes, and let go of the car door to walk over to you. As you watched him, that's when you realized the thing that had been missing. His cane. You were standing on the sidewalk one foot in the direction of your apartment and the other toward him.This destination, unknown. 

“Uh. Look babe I gotta make this call. It’s-” 

You cut him off. “Business. I know.” The smile that you produced this time had been one of sadness unable to mask. You couldn’t tell him to stay. He wouldn’t. So you wouldn’t put on a scene. After all, you wanted to be his peace. 

Suddenly those words of hope had faded for you. The only thing you could utter without totally blowing away like a passing whisper on the wind was, “Be careful.” 

You brushed the side of his face with your fingers, turned and started walking, unwilling to look back and destroy yourself with longing and the depravity that he would not follow. When you got to the door, you unlocked it and went inside leaving the rest of the world and Franklin to his priorities.   

…

Worry would eat away at you everytime he left. You wondered why you couldn’t be more like Louie. It seemed she never left Jerome’s side, always there, always present, taking an active role in business. Franklin wouldn’t hear a word of it. You asked him once, just out of curiosity, and he had shut you down with this stern regard. 

“Naw. I’m not gettin’ you involved in this shit.” 

You protested, eager to try your luck, offering within the words you’d spoken that you would be careful. Play the game.  

“But why not? I’m pretty smart. I think. Besides I would be with you and-” 

“No.” 

So then you would never be like Louie, with time or tact. You hadn’t chosen your fate but settled into it in your little apartment finding things to clean or read, or do. A prisoner of uncertainty. But you found you often missed his presence in finding these things, his laughter filling the rooms and his warm embrace that always made you feel safe and protected. 

Franklin wore two different faces. One for the world and the other that he kept especially for you. Out there he might be cold, detached and focused, but when he stepped across the threshold he was hearty, affectionate and free. 

That was always the hardest part, waiting.

Your little apartment never felt so lonely, until you walked in it that morning by yourself. You sat on a plush red velvet couch in front of a vintage record player. In the corner of the living room, a wooden bookshelf stood tall, filled with old vinyl records. Your love for music was evident in every corner of the apartment. A way to make up for the empty space where you were hoping a piano could one day sit. You didn’t need anything fancy, just something that would keep a tune, convey it well.

Your family had never understood your style, especially when it came to your apartment. The furniture was a mix of retro and modern. These two opposites coming together. You always held the position that a clash was needed to create something extraordinary. Whether that was true or not you wouldn’t admit that you had bad taste. It screamed music, music, music! The walls were adorned with vibrant posters of famous musicians and bands, from Billy Ocean to Cameo.

Looking around, you thought of ways to curb your loneliness. You started with the obvious. Cleaning.

Within the hours it took for the house to be spotless with everything in its proper place, you’d scrubbed, dusted, and organized all with an eager anticipation that better days lay ahead. 

You’d lost friends being with Franklin Sanit. You could remember how one statement used to stay on your mind. 

“Leave him, get a fuckin’ back bone. You really want this to be your life, day after day?” 

You didn’t want it to be, foolish or not, you were willing to suffer, for love. 

Franklin missed dinner. Two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil, one pound of Italian sausage, chopped onions, salt, black pepper, and the noodles and sauce it took to complete the spaghetti dish, not to mention the freshly fried catfish you’d added as a side. 

You made enough to feed at least four. Some for left overs and whoever Franklin decided to bring. Sometimes it would be Leon, and other times Jerome. And if it were Jerome he would always take a plate for Louie. Even Cissy stopped by once. Usually though, Peaches always got a plate. But eatting alone made you tired and the bubble bath you ran after, steam rising to the atmosphere of silence took the last of your resolve. 

As the night fell and the city lights came to life, you entered your bedroom wrapped in a purple towel.The walls were painted in a soft pink hue, with delicate lace curtains on the windows. A vanity table sat in front of a large mirror, with antique perfume bottles and jewelry boxes.The bed was covered in a floral quilt, giving the room a touch of femininity.You remembered when you’d given Franklin the grand tour. He had placed his hands behind his back and chuckled before turning to give you a look. “Damn. Think you got enough pink in here babe?” His eyes traveled and kept that little smile that complimented him. More of a smirk, and you playfully pushed his shoulder for making fun of your bedroom decor. 

That was before the war outside got bad. You remembered him being around more in the beginning. Then little by little, he wasn’t.

You’d found a place on your bed, right in the view of that dress you wore the night before. It layed over a chair with silver shoes close by. 

Falling back on the mattress you let the towel’s hold break its covering. The temperature of the room allowed a chill to cross your naked skin, but with a lazy arm you’d pulled the comforter and shaded yourself in the darkness of its covering. You laid there listening to the silence until eventually you closed your eyes to the temptation of sleep. 

…

Your senses spiked. A faint sound of running water filled your hearing. You could talk in the morning. Say everything you needed to say. All those words left unsaid, written in a song. Instead of surrendering to waking up completely, you stretched your limbs within the softness of the blanket. You had meant to get up and find yourself something to sleep in after laying down that night, but your energy had been displaced from the oils in the bath, the thoughts of whether or not he would make it back in one piece, if this was in fact going to be your life, day after day, and hurt. Hurt because you had been let down. Once again you surrendered to a slumber that was calling you back to it. 

Your dreams could be so vivid. Almost like they were real. Time became a concept unknown to you, and even if you wanted to search for the blinking numbers that would expose an actual answer on whether it was day or night, you didn’t open your eyes to force any discovery. There was no light to guide your way anymore. Someone had turned it off. The yellow glow was void in your tiny bedroom. Instead, all you focused on was the sensations you felt. A Lot of times when Franklin had been off fighting in this war, you slid your hands between your legs and pretended he was there with you, touching you. But these sudden sensations became all too real! 

The distinct difference between thought and matter.

When the protective cloud you’d situated yourself in had slowly pulled from your body, only to be replaced with warm living flesh which covered you, you knew you were not in any dream. 

He must have climbed in the bed already de-clothed straight from the shower. Normally you would be pulling at fabric and trying to free him from it, but not this time, this time those extra implications were absent. They'd been replaced by actions, and the evidence of his oncoming pleasure. Already hot and hard against your thigh, your inner walls desperately wanted something to latch onto.

Franklin’s lips were gentle. They showed up in different places. First your arm, then your shoulder, your neck, your collar bone, then to your cheek before a soft kiss pressed down over your lips. You opened your eyes and your vision cleared to find Franklin staring down at you before he lifted his head so that your noses touched. There was so much you wanted to say. The thoughts you had when he was gone were completely different from the ones you had when he was right there staring at you face to face. 

“Franklin. I -”  

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Your blood pulsed at the command. Aching now, you pressed your lips over his, gentle but firm, and he proceeded to explore your mouth with tongue once you allowed entry before pulling from your lips all together to proceed in exploration. 

His body slid down in an erotic trail over yours and you closed your eyes to acknowledge a breath that hitched in your throat as he moved. It started when he traced the path of your stomach, leaving the light sensation that sent this pleasurable chill racing through your core and up your back. 

You suppressed a shuttering moan when his warm tongue found a different place on your skin and your nipples hardened under his touch. He’d keep hold on one and his mouth would pleasure the other running his tongue in circles before his lips sucked and pulled. Then he’d focus on the other, leaving the first exposed to the air that left a tingling desperation which begged to be spoiled further. Franklin didn’t stay in one place. He pressed on. A soft hum escaped your throat when his tongue touched the delicate skin. One of the area’s where you were the most vulnerable. 

Your blood caught fire, pooling into your lower abdomen, wetting your core unexpectedly as one of his hands caressed the back of your leg. He was teasing you but you were powerless. The sensation of Franklin’s touch was overwhelming so early, or late. You couldn’t hardly think, or even breathe. You felt like you were caught between spaces. Reality and a dream. Sleep desperately clung to you, but Franklin’s words pulled you all the way into consciousness. 

“Let me make it up to you. Let me take the pain away…”  

And you hadn’t even noticed when he lowered his head and his lips vibrated over your mound when he hummed those heated words into your folds. 

A wave of pleasure skittered through your nerves. You felt trapped, but not in the sense that you wanted an xscape. Your body was completely under Franklin’s sovereignty. His tongue, turning your entire form into a quivering mess of heated flesh as he moved forward, fingertips pressing into the inner parts of each of your thighs. His head delved between your legs and he tasted the very essence of you. 

Struggling to hold back the moan fighting its way through your chest, you pulled on the bed sheets. 

Franklin watched you through lidded eyes, and like a man who’d been left unfed there presented to him a favorable delicacy. You couldn’t contain yourself. You moaned when his tongue lapped at your center, his thumb separating the delicate skin to give himself better access. 

He ate. And ate well.  

Your panting filled the air, so sudden that you hadn’t realized you’d surrendered in that moment. Your body on impulse pulled away, but Franklin, alert and determined, wouldn’t let you escape. “Em, Em,” was all you heard filling the room as he protested your departure. That, and the movement on the bed springs giving indication that Franklin had then secured you in place.

With no way of escape you whispered his name in a lust laden tone. “F-Franklin, please p-please, Ahh. I can’t…Uh!” You cried these pleasurable words into the room that contained your many sessions of love making which were mingled in begging him to stop, and also begging him at the exact same time to suck out your very soul! 

You should be angry with him. Upset still, but all that undoubtedly had washed away.

Once you got the opportunity to look at his face for a brief moment, you noticed how he seemed to be delighted by your uneven breaths. Like seeing you so vulnerable gave him pleasure. 

The power this man had over your body and heart was almost frightening.

A soft bite at your inner thigh and you rewarded Franklin with this husky-like moan as your legs shoot. Your body jerked forward when he grazed your clit with the pad of his finger and you bit your lip ever so gently when you heard him hum in this proud satisfaction that he had you right where he needed you. Under his control. His talented mouth had rendered you sensitive to touch of any kind, and as he reached down to stroke his ridgid manhood, to prepare, you closed your eyes and clung to the sensation you'd trapped in your senses.The preparation was always the best part. This anticipation and the moment of entry you desired every time he made love to you.

Another gentle caress across your inner thigh had you clenching your walls. Franklin rubbed the tip of his erection teasingly over your folds. He always liked to cause you some sort of suffering right before, just a little bit. But too long had he deprived you with his business and war, family squabbles and old feelings, so you spoke without ever moving your lips to extend your hand down to grab what you craved until it moved inside you. 

It might be the only time you stole his power. 

Your breath caught at the connection, you could feel yourself being filled up and stretched out. You pulled in your bottom lip as Franklin pressed forward deeper and deeper taking back his position of dominance. 

Your inner muscles quaked and you lifted your head to find your lips hungry to explore his mouth. Either that or you needed a place to shuffle in your moaning, and that had been the first choice. Damn you for being considerate, but you didn't want Peaches to hear. Your small little apartment could get deathly quiet, especially at night, and although there was a good chance Franklin had sent him home after returning, oftentimes he would be somewhere close in proximity. Sure, you wanted to be mindful in the midst of your love making, but your mind wavered. When you kissed Franklin you tasted yourself in the process as he burrowed inside your body only to withdraw before diving back again and that alone ignited a suppressed desire to focus on nothing but him. 

The pace started slow at first but the inner workings of your core instinctively enveloped him begging for more attention. Franklin thrusted in again. You responded by whispering his name. He liked hearing his name. This time it was Franklin who rewarded you with a moan, as he sucked in a breath that transferred back out on shuttering lips. Although he hardly said much, he made up for it with his reactions. You didn't want his words. As he said before, some things didn't need them. His breathing, panting, subtle moans and grunts told the story perfectly. He felt the same as you did. You wanted more of him, and he wanted ALL of you! You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his back and neck, as your fingers traveled over his heated skin while your entangled bodies moved together in a steady rhythm.

Your wet slick flesh quivered around his length and the pleasure filled cries which escaped you knocked against the surrounding space along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Sorry Peaches. Franklin’s breathing had sped up too. You were now lost in eachother. You moved against him, taking him into your body eagerly. This pace tortured him. Slow, deep long strokes that hit every spot in perfect magnetism of the skin to skin contact. You both felt it, but Franklin’s mouth was wide open and a glance before you looked down to watch him disappear into you again indicated that your tight hot hole was right where he needed to be. Now he knew the feeling of being trapped. 

“Fuck.” He lowered his head and muttered your name in what could only be described as an ecstasy filled sigh of relief. Perspiration had begun to form on his forehead, and without warning he picked up the pace of his steady thrusts. Faster, harder, he was now, glistening, covered in your pool of moisture that guided his way in the dim light of the room illuminated by moonlight. 

Sitting back to reposition, he took the opportunity to watch himself disappear. A lick of his lips and you were certain he liked what he saw. Your breast bounced with every beat. Muscles milking him for every sensation, and every stroke that drove you both closer to the peak of climax. He'd gone so deep that your stomach felt the insertion when he sat your legs over his shoulders.

It had to be several minutes before an organism was fast approaching for him like the start of a raging fire to forest trees. You could always tell by that one single twitch of his length. Only this time, Franklin didn’t have an opportunity to warn you. Usually he would prepare you for his release, but tonight was different. Everything felt different. He gripped at your leg for a brief second before toppling over you and bringing you closer by cupping the lower part of your back so that you were partially off the bed, changing the position of your bodies yet again. You breathed into his neck. He held on for dear life and with this deep grunt, let himself go. That anguish you were so familiar with. It expressed itself in a warmness that filled you up and you lowered your head to catch a glimpse of his face.

God, did it look like a work of the most beautiful art when he climaxed. 

His eyes were shut tightly and his shoulders shook. You were lowered back down on the mattress with the little strength he had left before his body all the way collapsed. You took his weight and hung on to him. Franklin buried his face into the crook of your neck. He stayed there between your legs, and you lifted your head to plant one gentle kiss on his shoulder, and he shifted to kiss your forehead. 

Your bodies were heated, sweating, and both of you were struggling to catch your breath. 

Slowly, Franklin opened his eyes and looked at you with a clouded gaze. This tender look of longing. 

While your brown hues searched for answers with little to no success, you took one of your hands to rest it at the side of his cheek, feeling the smoothness with the pad of your thumb. 

“What baby?” 

“Imma make it right. When we wake up tomorrow, it’s your day.”

“My day?” Rarely had anything ever been made entirely about you. A little smile crept up on your lips. You could imagine Franklin waking up early to cook breakfast, messing up your kitchen in the process, but the effort he put into it would be cute, whether or not it tasted the best. He never cooked. So you had no opportunity to judge his skills. Now cooking, that happened to be your specialty, and although you didn't mind and most of the time enjoyed doing so, someone cooking for you would be a nice change. 

“I’d like that,” you said almost in a whisper, making a path over his chest with a single finger, careful not to disturb or cause any unpleasantness to his gunshot wound. 

As gently as he could, Franklin pulled out and readjusted your bodies so your back was lying against his chest. He wanted to hold you. You knew this because you often found yourself in this position. Spooning, they called it. You liked it. His hands moved around your waist and his head came to rest on your shoulder. 

“Mhm. No beeper. No Peaches. Nothin' ta do wit’ bidness. Just you and me.”

The two of you laid there, and eventually time carried on into the late hours of the night with the promise of sunrise.  

From the edge of sleep, you heard Franklin whisper something as he adjusted his arm so it wrapped around more completely. 

“...You deserve the fuckin’ world. I'm gonna give it to you...”

With a lean into his chest, breathing deeply in his scent of faded soap and sex, you shook your head so gently, it barely caused him to stir. 

“Don’t want the world…” you breathed. “Just you…” 

……………………………………………………………….

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr

Writers Note: So FYI this was the first writing for the Snowfall fandom that I wrote. I started off with an original black OC but after jumping into my second story and getting more comfortable with 2nd Person Perspective, I decided to do a revision to this. What did I do? I changed the OC to You and made it a one shot! I would like to thank everyone who supported the original idea I had and I hope you like what I've done with the turn around. Thank you for the love and support. Until next time, happy readings. 💙

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful /Mrs. Saint Writes.