#but i’m running on 4 hours of sleep so blame it on that

[leeluvsyoongi]

DIE 4 ME —  | Studyholic! Reader x Underground rapper! Yoongi | 

Synopsis: You’re invited to an underground party, and the invite is sent from an unknown number, you accept the invite, and spend the wildest night of your life with a notorious rapper who goes by the name of  Gloss.

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | author's note — It's been a minute babes!! I took a long ass hiatus, and now I'm chillin' after finals fucked the shit out of me. I hope ya'll are taking care of yourselves xx (this was kind of a last-minute thing so pls ignore the shitty writing)

⋆.˚ | Mentions of body portions (curvy fem! reader), this is for everyone, I ain mentioning no skin color, hair texture, and none of that “she blushed like a tomato” ahh shit. (I’m an actual whore for yoongi guys)

✧˖° Word count: 3.3k

| Warnings: (sixty-9ing, fingering, blowjob, marijuana, brief mentions of cocaine.)

It's filthy, it's descriptive. For entertainment purposes only.

𓂃⋆.˚

The week after finals often came with an akward rockiness. Getting back to the usual lazy beat of not being shit deep in PowerPoints, and notes, running on four to five hours a night. Nobody to blame but yourself of course; you decided to take six courses this semester, a dumbass move. Not that your studies affected other aspects of your life that much, you didn’t exactly party, and had a small circle of acquaintances, who much like yourself, prioritized their GPA over social life. It wasn’t how you envisioned your college life to be. You’d hoped to attend at least a few parties on occasion or go out drinking with friends. Shit went down, hopes got crushed, and stress piled up. 

You were one of the last people to leave the testing center, your legs hardly holding you up as you dragged yourself along the concrete. You mentally cussed out your decision, your head throbbing with the after-effects of the seventy-five questions. Fumbling for the keys to your apartment, you shove yourself through the door, kicking off your sneakers, and flopping over the couch. A low groan escapes your lips at the sweet relief that engulfs every inch of your body, nestling your face against the fabric pillows. “Fuck.” You palm at your left pocket, fishing out your phone, before scanning through your texts. Sitting up straighter, your brows furrow at the unknown number, your thumb glides over the texts. 

Crashout Party, 4567 Judas Ave.  Saturday, Dec 13th  11pm - 6am Code: 78V9ZX

“The fuck?” You mutter, glaring at the tacky black flyer, clearly rushed on Canva or something. The rational part of you takes it as a dumb joke. Why the fuck did they have a code?  You scoff at the thought of it being some cult shit. Some of you urge yourself to take a nap and recharge, then get up, get dressed, and have a little fun. You tried to shrug off the stupid idea,  maybe at least text one of your friends and see if they got the invite too. 

Jen, did you get this? Image sent Yeah, you goin’? Prolly, you? Yeah, idk tbh.  Alr, I’ll pick you up then. Alr.

“We goin' I guess.” You sigh, dragging your limbs off of the couch, and making your way to the restroom. A couple of hours later, you off of your ass again scrubbing your skin clean and washing the sleep off of your face. You pick and pluck at every bit of hair, making sure you’re all prepped up, just in case you decide to catch some proper dick. It’s funny honestly, the thought of you going out to get drunk, and party, considering you spent your evenings watching sad Thai BLs or munching on mozzarella sticks. The life of a borderline crippled introvert. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out there and have a blast, you did. You just weren’t sure if you were cut out for fun. Every inch of you was mundane, hell, you screamed plain. You weren’t built like Adriana Lima or Anok Yai. Sure, you had a small pooch you often poked at, chubby thighs, and a pretty nice ass. You didn’t hate your body.

Gazing at your reflection made you feel good about yourself, after a long time. Your eyebags concealed, your makeup and lashes on fleek. Your hair is styled so it enhances your features, decorating the strands with a lacey white bow. You tentatively ran your hands down your figure, admiring how the black satin dress hugged your curves in all the right places. Lacing up your boots, and grabbing your keys, you made your way out the door. 

“Damn, Okay cute,” Jen remarked, flipping her fingers airily as she gestured to your outfit. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you spun. 

“Preesh.” You chuckled, admiring her black wife-beater, baggy jeans, and grey sweater hooked over her arm. Your eyes flickered down to her silver cross-chain and rings. 

“You bouta drown in pussy tonight huh?” You playfully tounged at your cheek, as she got into the passenger seat. 

“Damn, you make it sound like I have a social life?” She scoffed, clicking her seatbelt in, before running a hand through her cropped brown hair. “Homegirl plans on eating out her GPA, remember?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “But tonight, ion mind getting a little messy.” She lazily grinned, making a display of her blunt nails. “I locked in heavy for finals, between you and me, I deserve to drown in sweet cunt.” 

You raise a brow at her brazen remarks, before staring at the engine. “Whatever you say.” You hum, “Pop in the address for me.” You plop your phone onto her lap, steering onto the main street. Jen adjusts your phone in the cupholder before kicking her feet up the dashboard.

 “Any hookups for you?” She yawns, gazing out the window. “I don’t know, whatever happens, I guess.” You sigh, stopping at a red light. “I mean I shaved and shit, just in case,” You click your tongue, softly chuckling. “I just wanna feel good, you know?” You turn to face her, before bursting out in laughter at her expression. “Dude, what?” “I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that, y’know?” Her fingers roll over a steel ring, “Like, yeah, I know we all don’t party much and shit, but damn, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a virgin.” She snorts, a grin tugging at her lips when you roll your eyes. “Okay, Jen. I’m not a virgin.” You scoff, pressing down on the gas before making a sharp turn and parking your car in a dark lot. 

“You got your gun on you?” Your eyes drift around the sketchy alleyway, eyeing the graffiti littered on every wall, and the flipped dumpsters. 

“If they fuck up my car, I swear to god-” You grumble, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you step out into the chill air. 

“Of course, I got my gun on me.” She mutters, shrugging on the grey sweater. “Do you not see this place? We’re prolly in the hood.” 

She grabs your hand, before catching a sign over a flight of stairs, leading down. “This is lowkey sketchy huh?” She chuckles, keeping her hand over the holster. “If we die, I pray I get some good dick up there.” You point to the sky, as she bursts out in laughter. “You’re fucking sick.”

“We've been known.” The two of you make your way down the stairs, before standing in front of a heavy door, loud music thrums through the barrier, making you expel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A slot opens up, revealing a pair of shades.

 “Code.” A gruff voice sounds, hardly audible through the thrashing boom of the speakers. Jen tugs out her phone from the back pocket. 

“78V9ZX.” She smirks, and the door glides open, revealing a tan-skinned bulky man, dressed in a thick black hoodie. 

“Get the fuck in.” He laughs, reaching out his hand to dap the two of you up. He leans in close before muttering, “

We got coke in the back, a line for 15.” 

Jen grins. “Damn, I see why this place is fucking underground, did everybody get invites?” “Just a few randoms.” He grumbles, before taking his stance at the door. 

Your eyes scan the dim setting, a myriad of blue and red dancing over sweat-slicked bodies. Drunken laughter sounds over the ear-bursting beats. You turn to Jen, but before you can open your mouth, she’s gone. Disappearing with a girl with bright green box braids into the crowd. “Damn, she’s fast.” You mutter, squeezing yourself through the throngs of people, nearly gagging at the sharp smell of whiskey and sweat, finally, you find an empty seat at a bar. The barista, a bubbly woman with the brightest blue eyes asks something you can only assume is what you’d like to drink. You blink, a little dazed. “Water’s fine, thank you.” You respond, with a nod before turning your head to the crowd who explodes with cheers. “FUCK YEAHHHHH AGUST D!!” Some dude roars, pumping his fist. You look confused turning your attention to the high DJ stand. On the screen is the most gorgeous fucking man you’ve ever seen in your life. You take a sip of water, watching a buzzed-blonde guy appear next to the hyped-up figure. 

“TONIGHT, WE GOT GLOSS FLYIN’ FROM SK TO NYC!!” The crowd tears in an ear-piercing surge. You could only assume he was some god figure in the whole underground ordeal. 

“Fucking hell.” You mutter. 

Gloss smirks, nodding modestly. “Ready?” He speaks into the microphone, Only resulting in more shrill cries. “You gotta be louder than that New York.” 

He chuckles, and Lord above does the sound hit you right between your legs. It’s insane how transfixed you are on him. From the way his wavey-ish charocol hair was parted right down the middle, to the heavy silver chains hanging off of his neck. To every fucking syllable that rolled off of his tongue, thick and rich. You swallowed a lump lodged in your throat. The blonde man from earlier took over Mixboard, and suddenly the fastest bars you’ve ever heard in your life sputter out of his lips. People were jumping up and down, vibing with a renewed fervor, and this Gloss motherfucker didn’t even stop for a single breath. His voice was deep and steady molding around words you were pretty damn sure weren’t English. 

The crowd burst into another tempest of cheers, you exhaled, loosening your grip on the glass that threatened to shatter. 

“Holy shit…” You whispered, watching as he made his way down the steps, only to be bombarded by people. He complied, taking a few selfies and sighing at some girl’s arm. You watched him make his way to the bar. Your head turned away as you grabbed your phone, opting to focus on anything else. 

Until he took the seat right next to you. 

You turned to nod at him, a small tight smile on your lips before you got back to scrolling through your apps. The barista smiled at him, before taking note of his order. Four shot glasses of Hennessey. You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you, so you finally decided to turn around and face him. “Sorry, just wondering why you’re scrolling back and forth through the apps.” He smiled, it was small, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What’re you lookin' at my phone for?” You had no idea where that response clawed out of, but goddamn you sounded like a serious asshole.

He softly chuckled and raised a brow before lifting his hands in defense. “Slow it down.” He thanked the barista, before downing a shot like it was straight water. “Just curious.” You set down your phone. “Just cuz.” You take a sip of your water. He noticed. “Don’t drink?” His eyes flickered back up to your own. You crossed your legs tighter. 

“Not when I’m driving.” You shook your head, setting down the empty glass of water. “Smart.” He muttered, looping his fingers into his pocket for a fat roll. “Mind if I smoke?” “Nah.” You shook your head and carefully slipped your fingers into his pocket for another. Who knew what possesed you, to act so boldly in all honesty? 

“Mind if I smoke?” You slowly pushed the stick past your lips. His eyes flickered down to the soft flesh before hooking his fingers under your chin.

 “Think we should smoke somewhere quiet huh?” A smile small crept along his features, and for the first time, you noticed he had a very cat-like nature about him. Your brows slightly quirked, as you held his gaze.

 “So is it Agust D, or Gloss?” You muttered, the blunt hanging loosely between your fingertips. 

“Gloss, Agust D, Suga, but for you…” He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Yoongi. Just Yoongi.”

 You released a shuddered breath, your fingers tightening on the cigarette like your goddamn lifeline. “[your name], and somewhere quiet, I’m down.” You nod, and you watch as he runs a hand through his hair, downing another glass, before stepping up and taking your hand. 

The two of you weave through the throngs of people before making your way up the steps of the DJ stance and behind a hidden door. The room was dimly lit, with a black leather couch, against the wall, with a coffee table centered in front of it. A large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a poor table to the right.  “Damn, who the hell invested in all that.” You mutter, looking around the small furnished space. “The Owner, of course.” Yoongi chuckles, plopping himself over the couch, before pulling over his lap. “This okay?” He glances up at you, his hands planted firmly on your hips. “Yeah.” You mutter, taking the space in. “I mean, it’s a fucking sketchy place, you get me?” You wave a hand at the entire setting. “I mean, it is underground.” He raises a brow, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his hands running over the satin fabric of your dress. “No shit.” You grumble, eyeing him sternly. “I mean, I’m surprised the cops haven’t caught up, you get me?” “People don’t make a show of knowing, you get invited, and you keep your mouth shut.” He hums, a slender finger training down the column of your throat. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you get your brains blown off.” A heavy chill runs down your spine at the thought. “And how would they know?” You whisper, snatching the lighter out of his pocket. You spark a flame, inhaling deeply. “Eyes and ears everywhere, yeppuda.” Yoongi tosses his head back, exhaling thick plumes of smoke. “You’re not from here though.” You lean your body back against his chest, getting comfortable. “How the hell would you know?” A rough chuckle escapes deep from his chest. “Who said we don’t have shit like this in Korea?” His cold hand slowly creeps up the soft material, resting on your bare thigh. A chill rolls down your spine. “So you’re an outlaw huh?” You tease, slowly rotating your hips over his growing bulge. A satisfied smile tugging at your lips when a low moan vibrates against the back of your neck. “Underground rappers are outlaws.” His other hand tightens on your hip, rocking himself against the curve of your ass. “We just don’t get caught up in drifts.” You take another gulp of smoke before burning out the blunt. “And how would you feel if I told you I’m studying law?” You turned to face him, angling his jaw upwards. “I like a game of cat and mouse.” He mutters breathlessly, “But you wouldn’t open that pretty mouth, would you?” “Depends how wide.” You whisper, your other hand slowly trailing up his t-shirt, smoothing your palm over the firm lines and dips of his torso. “Show me.” He lazily smiles, running a thumb over your bottom lip. You slowly grin, before leaning into his ear. “How about we both show each other, I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious about that tongue technology.” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, to kiss you. His lips molded firmly into your own, restless on the soft plush of your mouth, as his hands squeeze at your sides, before lading a sharp firm slap to your ass. Your gasp is silenced by the warm feeling of his tongue, running over your bottom lip before ravaging your mouth. Your eyes fall shut until he tears his mouth away, his dark eyes pinning you in place. 

“Take off your dress, and sit on my face, since you wanna see it so bad.” He instructs, watching you undress, down to your undergarments. He softly chuckles, before slipping off his jacket, followed by his baggy shirt, and everything under his thick black belt. Your eyes drink in every inch of him, from his sculpted upper body, to his toned stomach and legs. Your eyes flicker back to his own, and he’s taking in every inch of you. “Fucking gorgeous.” He whispers, getting comfortable on the couch before positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Fuck…” you whimper, feeling his thumbs slowly spread you apart. Your hand hangs over his length, before slowly wrapping your fingers around the warm flesh, carefully jerking him, grasping onto his thigh to still yourself. Breathy moans spill past your lips as your stomach quivers with every harsh suck against your puffy button. “Fuck, just like that.” He groans, pressing open-mouthed kisses before running his tongue along your slit. A sharp gasp claws past your throat, your voice muffled around his cock, as his hands slowly kneed at the doughy flesh of your ass, sucking obscenely at your cunt. “Yoongi…” You sigh, lowering your head and pressing reverent kisses over his leaking tip, sucking at the head. A deep groan buzzes against your clit, causing you to jerk forward, your legs trembling at the effect. Yoongi lowly chuckles, running his thumb over the tight ring ass, before prodding his tongue into your hole, curling the muscle to stretch you out further. 

You take him in deeper, your eyes stinging at the burn in your throat. He’s quick to add a finger, twisting the digit before fully pushing it through. You can hardly moan, your throat lodged up with his cock as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. “Taking it so good, pretty.” He mutters, slipping a second finger into your dripping cunt. “My fingers and cock. Were you made for me or what?” He nibbles lightly on your clit, as you double over his legs, gripping him fiercely, your stomach contracting at the sensation. Your head spins as you take him in deeper, gagging around him.

“Fuck…Fuck!” Yoongi groans, curling his fingers deeper, prodding until you spill over his mouth. You whine, feeling him twitch deep inside your throat as he falls apart. You pull away, swallowing thickly as you gasp for air. “Fuck…” You shudder, feeling his lips around your clit, his fingers slowly pumping, bringing you down from your high. The fog in your head slowly clears up, and you become aware of your surroundings. The thrashing music beats outside the walls, the heavy vibrations that fill the small space from the speakers. 

Yoongi groans, slowly sitting up and gathering you in his arms, before laying back down. Your eyes feel heavy and dry, the weed already settled in. 

“Need some water?” He murmurs against your hair, tracing soft lines over the smooth span of your back, before pressing a few brisk kisses to your mouth.

“Nah, I’m okay.” You whisper, your voice a little hoarse, resting your hair against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m flying back to Daegu tomorrow.” He says, brushing back a few strands of hair off of your face.  “You want a pre-flight fuck or something?” You mutter, smiling. You’re sated, basking in both your after-glow and high.

“As great as that sounds, I was wondering if you’re free. I leave at 8:30 pm, you could show me around, just chill, get to know each other.” He chuckles. You notice how red his eyes look, fuck he’s baked as hell.

“Sound like a plan Gloss.”

[wintersoldiersoul]

Drowning

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one but I'm currently going through this situation with my boyfriend and I thought that writing about it might help me feel better. Haven't gotten to the part where I talk to him about it but maybe this will inspire me.

It was late. Too late. You should be sleeping but it was impossible with your mind racing. You and Bucky had been together for almost a year now but you never really felt secure in your relationship with him. Maybe it was the way that your last boyfriend had broken up with you out of nowhere. You wish you knew why, but you always felt like Bucky was going to run. 

As much as you loved him, you also wanted more from him. More reassurance. More romance. More small gestures to show you that he cared. And you couldn’t blame him for not giving them to you when you hadn’t asked but as much as you preached the importance of communication to your friends, you were a hypocrite. You could never apply that to your own relationship.

Everytime you tried to express your feelings, you couldn’t do it. What if I’m right? What if I tell him that I’m afraid he’s gonna leave and he finally takes it as his chance to do so? You would think. Or what if I plant the idea in his head? 

All of this was made harder by the fact that you were younger than him. While he was established with a career, living on his own, you had just graduated college and were back living with your parents. Finding a job felt nearly impossible despite the countless resumes and cover letters that you sent out every single day. Your brain constantly flashed back to a conversation you had in May, where you asked him if you would stay together when you moved back home. Your hometown was less than an hour from where Bucky lived in Brooklyn, so in your mind it was a no brainer. But when your question opened up a conversation that blindsided you.

Bucky explained that he was ready to be settled down. You were shocked when he had said the words, “Sometimes it feels like we have an expiration date.”

The next morning he said he was being ridiculous. That he loved you and of course the two of you would figure it out. But ever since then, you hadn’t been able to relax. Even now, a month into you living back at home you still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to change his mind. You saw him just as often as you had when you were still living in the city. You didn’t mind taking the train to go see him 3 or 4 times a week. But the stress and anxiety was weighing on you. Combined with adjusting to post-grad life, you were not doing well. 

You had never felt so lonely in your life. All of your college friends had also moved back to their hometowns while most of your friends from high school were still dispersed around the country. The job search left you feeling defeated every single day. And the lack of things to do and structure made life feel meaningless. It was safe to say that you had hit a low point. 

But you wanted to hide it all from Bucky. Because what if you brought up how hard it was to find a job and he realized that this wasn’t going to work? What if you told him how lonely you were and he was offended that he wasn’t enough? He knew that you struggled with anxiety and he was no stranger to mental health issues of his own but you just found it impossible to open up to him about all of this.

So there you were, in the midst of another sleepless night overthinking everything. Laptop opened, frantically searching on LinkedIn for jobs in the hopes that one thing just might work out. You read back your text messages from the past few days. Does he seem distant, or is my stupid brain playing tricks on me? As your spiral continued, you could feel a panic attack brewing. You tried your best to focus on your breathing but it became impossible. You just wanted to talk to Bucky. You needed to talk to Bucky. 

Fuck it, you thought. Losing him would be horrible, but so is living in this fear. Through your tears and shaking hands, you typed a message.

Y/N: Are you awake?

You shook your legs and bit your nails as you stared at the screen waiting for those three dots to show up.

Bucky: Yeah.

You took a deep breath as you sent the next message, trying to not go crazy over the dry single word he had responded with.

Y/N: Can I call you?

You desperately wished you could be with him right now to have this conversation. To analyze his body language in person. But you weren’t with him and you wouldn’t see him til the end of the week and you needed to get this out. Now.

Bucky: It’s late. I’m trying to get some sleep. 

You knew work had been kicking his ass lately. He was putting in insane hours, usually waking up at 6 and not finishing up til midnight. You knew he needed to rest and you almost responded back saying nevermind, and goodnight. But no. You needed to be a little selfish or you would crumble. Tonight felt like a turning point. Or a breaking point.

Y/N: Please Bucky. I really need to talk to you.

Bucky: Ok

Pressing dial on his name, you felt your heart rate increase even more. You tried to take deep breaths to calm your tears but it didn’t help. You were practically sobbing by the time he answered the call. “Bucky…” you said into the phone. 

At hearing your voice, Bucky was alert. He could tell that something was wrong. You had never cried in front of him. “Y/N? Baby, what's wrong? What's going on?” His desire for sleep was completely gone. All he cared about was you. He knew that he wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew he could treat you better. But the years of trauma he had experienced made it hard for him to be vulnerable with anyone. He loved you so much that it hurt him and he hated himself that he couldn’t fully give himself to you. 

“Bucky, I’m not okay. I’m really really not okay,” you practically hyperventilated. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t.”

“Shhh, can you take some deep breaths for me?” He said calmly. “I need you to calm down and tell me what's going on.” He listened quietly as he heard you breathe deeply.

“Bucky, I’m terrified,” you finally spoke after a couple of minutes. “I don’t feel secure in our relationship. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells constantly because I’m petrified that you’re gonna leave. That one day you’re just gonna decide that you’re done with me because I’m too young and I live with my parents and I don’t have a job. And trying to find a job has really been taking a toll on me. I’m trying so fucking hard but it feels impossible. It’s so defeating waking up every single day to an email inbox full of rejections and I feel worthless and stupid. I’m not doing well not being in college anymore. I don’t have any structure to my days and life feels really fucking pointless right now. I’m so lonely. Fuck, I’m so lonely, Buck.” You took a pause, bracing yourself for his response. 

“Baby, why haven’t you brought this up sooner? Why haven’t you told me any of this?” There was genuine shock in his voice. 

“Because!” You cried. “I don’t want to remind you about how hard it is to find a job right now. I don’t want you to think about the fact that I live with my parents now while you have your own independent life. I never want to remind you of it because I don’t want you to change your mind and leave. And I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough for me because I’m lonely. I love you so much but I just… I really fucking miss my friends.” 

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me. Like, really listen to me. I am well aware of your situation. I know it’s hard to find a job right now. I’m not gonna leave you, okay? I’m committed to this. To you.”

You sniffled. “But you said that you wanted to be settled down. That we might have an expiration date.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for that. I never should have said those things. When we had that conversation I was tired and not thinking clearly. And I spent that whole night wide awake thinking about how stupid I was and how stupid I would be to let you go because you need some time to find your footing after college. I hate that those words affected you so much. I’m so sorry.”

You talked to him for a while longer, pouring out all of your insecurities that you’d been holding back. After a while, the conversation started to shift to more normal things.

“Baby,” Bucky yawned. “I love you so much but I gotta go to bed. And tomorrow after work I’ll come see you, okay?”

“Okay. I love you too.”

Your worries wouldn’t fade overnight. You wouldn’t suddenly be able to get a job. Your friends wouldn’t all come back to you. College was over and life was drastically different. But at least now Bucky knew. And he wasn’t going to leave.

[pedroscurls]

christmas confessions (pt. 4 - day 4)

summary: it's christmas eve and you and logan reveal your true feelings for each other. pairing: origins!logan howlett x fem!reader content warnings: n/a. word count: 1.4k a/n: we're almost at the end of the story everyone. i've had so much fun writing this and absolutely love love love origins!logan. next and final part will be posted on xmas! pt. 3 - pt. 5 | series masterlist.

DAY 4 — The weight of Logan’s words linger throughout the night into the following morning. You hadn’t slept all night; your mind racing over and over again at the thought of Logan’s feelings for you. It was mutual. He loved you too, but his scars just ran too deep. The trauma he experienced was just too much. 

And you couldn’t blame him, but you were determined to change his mind. He had avoided you the entire night last night, resorting to staying in his bedroom. Even when you knocked on his door to tell him that dinner was ready, he just said a quiet thank you without even opening the door. 

His words continue to repeat in your mind as you step out of the bedroom. 

“I’ve lost everyone I ever loved and I’m not losing you.”

There’s an eerie silence that encompasses the cabin; it doesn’t feel like he’s here. So, you tiptoe over to his bedroom and knock on the door. No answer. You let out a sigh and then turn on your heel to walk into the kitchen instead. You take a quick glance at the front door, taking note of his missing keys and coat from the rack. 

He isn’t here. 

You shake your head to yourself and walk into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. You grab your phone and send him a quick text, asking him where he’s at and if he’s okay. He doesn’t respond, just reads your message. It upsets you because you didn’t even get a chance to tell him how you felt, how his fear of losing you is completely valid. 

But Logan made a decision for the both of you without even giving you a chance to make your choice. 

You don’t even bother to eat, the emptiness of the cabin making itself known. It’s so much bigger than you thought, even as you walk around the living room with your mug of coffee. You look at the decorations Logan had put up for you, the fire that’s going that he probably put on before he left. 

It pains you to know that nothing might ever happen between you and Logan. You feel the safest with him and these last few days have just proven to you that he also feels like home. Despite not being able to spend the holidays with your family, there isn’t anywhere else you’d rather be but here with him. 

You sit on the couch and bring your legs up to your chest, glancing down at your phone to see that he hasn’t yet replied. You try to give him a call, but he doesn’t answer. You let out a heavy sigh; Logan always liked to run away from his problems and you hated it, but you know that he probably needs to cool down, needs to reevaluate what he needs to do moving forward. 

—

Hours pass before he finally gets back home. He walks in and doesn’t find you in the kitchen or living room like he thought he would. Assuming you’re still in your room, he removes his coat and boots and then makes his way into his own bedroom, making sure to pass your door without hesitation. 

It isn’t until he opens his own door that he sees you lying on your side on his bed. On his bed. You’re curled up in his sheets and he can tell you’re sleeping, the sound of your soft breathing filling his ears. He bites his lower lip and walks over to you quietly, grabbing the blanket to drape over you. When you feel the weight of the blanket encompass you, to move to lie on your back, his name escaping your beautiful lips. 

Gently, he reaches out to brush his thumb along your cheek. Logan watches you lean into his touch and he leans down to lightly place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you,” he whispers almost inaudibly. “And it scares me.” 

Logan fully stands and walks towards his closet, grabbing a change of clothes. He walks into his bathroom, stealing another glance at you in his bed. He wants so badly to climb in and pull you into his arms, tell you that he loves you, that he’s willing to give this a try with you. 

But he can’t. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. 

Because if he ever did, he’s sure that it’d break him. 

Logan’s shower doesn’t take long, but when he steps out of his bathroom, he finds you beginning to quietly climb out of the bed. He clears his throat, bringing the towel to run through his damp hair as he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom door. 

“Hey,” he calls out. 

You stop in your tracks and slowly turn to face him, eyes gazing up at him. “I’m sorry. I just–”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Logan interrupts. “Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” 

“No,” you answer. “Was up all night.”

He sighs and moves to sit on his bed, gently patting the empty space next to him. He moves his eyes down to his hands, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t– I just–” he sighs. “I care about you, you know?” 

You slowly walk over to him and sit on the edge of his bed with him. You bring your legs up underneath and turn your body so that you’re facing him. Hesitantly, you reach out and take hold of one of his hands. “Logan…”

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers. “I need you to understand that.”

“You won’t,” you answer as you slowly play with his fingers. “I do understand your fear, Logan, but you– You can’t make that choice for me.”

“Baby…”

“I love you,” you blurt out, stopping your movements to look up at him. He turns his head to look over at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he stares into your eyes. “And I think I’ve loved you for years now. I’d take every risk with you, Logan.”

He stares deeply at you, eyes moving down to your lips and then back up to gaze into your eyes. Logan slowly reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your jawline. He can hear your heart rate pick up, sees your eyes drift down towards his lips and slowly, he leans in to press his lips lightly against yours. 

Just as your lips touch, he hears you let out a quiet gasp and it only urges him further. Logan slowly moves his hand from your cheek to cup your neck as he moves to hover over you. His free arm wraps around your waist and lifts you further into the middle of the bed, settling himself between your legs. 

You card your fingers through his long hair, feeling the dampness of his hair. You part your lips for him, feeling his tongue slide in as your legs wrap around his waist. 

Logan pulls away for a moment, resting his forehead against yours. “Tell me again,” he whispers. “Tell me you love me…”

“Only if you tell me the truth too.”

Logan looks into your eyes as he contemplates the consequences of telling you how he feels about you. He tries to push away the lingering thoughts, the memories that he had tried so hard to forget, and even as he gazes into your eyes, all he can see is the possibility of losing you.

He feels your hand move to cup his own cheek and he realizes just how meaningful and grounding that simple action is. He leans into it, keeping himself propped up on his forearms as he continues to gaze into your eyes. 

Soon, the thoughts that linger transition into the memories he’s shared with you. The laughter and joy he’s felt ever since meeting you, the hope he feels whenever he’s around you, and the way he’s only ever felt at home with you. 

“I love you,” he whispers quietly. “And it scares the shit out of me, but I love you,” Logan repeats. “I think I loved you the moment I met you.”

“Logan…” you smile, tears filling your eyes. “I think Christmas Eve might be my favorite day now.” 

He chuckles. “Oh? What about Christmas?” 

You shake your head. “Christmas Eve will hold a special place in my heart now… it’s the day we told each other how we felt.”

“I love you. I really do and the fear will always be there–”

“Then we handle it together, baby,” you finish for him.

---

taglist: @kellyxo1 @misscrissfemmefatale @mooneyloveydovey @oatmilkriver @steviebbboi

[kimaixun]

[It is what it is] - [SKZ Bang Chan X M!Reader]

‼️Trigger Warning: Depression, Rape‼️

It is what it is - The art of Acceptance

“Hi, you’re F/N M/N right?”

M/N stared at the red headed standing in front of him. He was a head shorter than him yet he could see the muscular build of the latter. He was smiling, widely may you add, enhancing his dimples. Cute. He was dressed in a simple black jeans and white pullover, the black backpack sling on his right shoulder. “I am. Do I know you?”

“Name is Christopher Bang, you can call me Bang Chan or just, Chan.” The latter holds up his hand.

Hesitantly, M/N took his hand giving it a firm shake, “so, do i know you?”

“Oh, sorry.” Bang Chan chuckled, “I’m your new roommate. I think our dorm leader, Lee Know should’ve mentioned about me.”

Oh. Roommate. M/N hasn’t had any roommate since he lived in the dormitory, or he did, twice but both of them declared M/N was a horrible roommate.

“I hope we get along and I’ll see you tonight back at the dorms. Gotta catch up with my friends.” Bang Chan flashed a genuine smile to the latter and M/N couldn’t help but stare at the retreating man as he walks away.

That was the first time M/N met Bang Chan.

“M/N! I got yo—WOAH,”

BUMP

M/N’s mouth twitched and a heart filled laughter echoed within the four walls of their room. Bang Chan had came running into the room with a piece of cake, excitedly may he add to which he didn’t realise the duffle bag in the middle of the entrance (Bang Chan left it there). The red headed had tripped over it, stumbling into the room, falling flat on his face with the cake smashed into his face. The moment Bang Chan lifted his face, M/N couldn’t help but laugh his heart out.

He wasn’t sure if it was the spur of the moment but, Bang Chan felt heat rushing to his cheeks. His heart thumped, skipping a beat looking at M/N’s widen smile and the sound of his laughter. It was unique. It’s been two months they’ve been roommates and Bang Chan still wondered why M/N was declared a horrible roommate. The latter did almost nothing but, study and sleep in their shared room. Bang Chan did most of the talking considering M/N was a much more introverted person than he was. They chat, at times but, just a short and simple one. It was just a hi-bye relationship you see.

That was the first time, M/N had laugh his heart out and the first time Bang Chan felt his heart flutter.

“I told you the temperature will drop today.” M/N scolded as he tugs Bang Chan into his bed.

It had been cold recently and M/N never failed to remind his roommate to dress up warmly on a daily basis. Bang Chan was a little hard headed thus when he caught a cold, there exactly isn’t anyone he could blame. M/N had voluntarily stepped in to nurse the latter. Bang Chan let out another sneeze, snots dripping down his nose. M/N grimaced looking at the disgusting green snot but, he cleaned it up nonetheless. Bang Chan felt himself drifting in and out of slumber, M/N sat just beside him, on the floor, his back leaning against Bang Chan’s bed frame. M/N accompanied him throughout the night. It was in bits and pieces but, Bang Chan knew M/N fed him medicine every 4 hours as the instruction directed. Bang Chan knew M/N helped him out of his sweaty clothes into something clean and warm. Bang Chan knew M/N complied on whatever he had whined.

That was the first time Bang Chan realise M/N was finally warming up to him.

“How are you good at everything?” Bang Chan whined as he walked alongside M/N.

They had spent the day out together since the school announced an urgent closure for the day. Initially, M/N, of course, refused but after Bang Chan continuously gave him the ‘puppy eyes and pouty lips’, M/N gave in and let the latter drag him everywhere. They ended up going to a nearby mall. Bang Chan dragged M/N into the arcade, challenging him to all the games that existed. Unfortunately for Bang Chan, he had lost against M/N on all the games. Bang Chan refuse to accept his lost and so, he dragged M/N to the ice skating rink. Bang Chan expected M/N to fall on his butt on first try but, no. As graceful as a swan, M/N skated across the rink and Bang Chan felt his heart flutter again. Of course, yet again, Bang Chan was not going to admit defeat. He dragged M/N out of the mall, this time to a basketball court just 5 minutes away from the mall. They played against each other with M/N winning effortlessly. Slouching, Bang Chan finally admit defeat.

“I’m not good at everything. I have flaws too.” M/N replied, “how about i treat you dinner so you can stop pouting like a baby?”

“I don’t pout like a baby!” The red headed denied, face turning red within seconds.

“Sure Channie. Sure.” M/N chuckled as they walk into the restaurant.

That was the first time M/N called him by a nickname.

They lay on the picnic mat (Bang Chan stole it from economy class) beside each other looking into the night sky. The night sky. A vast, endless, and unknown universe beyond the human eye. A whole new world. Bang Chan and M/N has been getting closer as the day goes by and in a blink of an eye, it had been a year since they met each other, became roommate, developing a whole new level of friendship. Bang Chan knows M/N was comfortable with him and he knows M/N likes him. Even if he didn’t say it, M/N was so obvious in showing his act of love to him.

“Hey Channie?” M/N softly calls out. Bang Chan hummed in response, “thank you for existing. Thank you for being my roommate. Thank you for being my friend. Ever since you suddenly emerge into my life, it feels like i can breathe again, i can see colours, i can live. You saved me from myself.”

Bang Chan could feel his heart skipped a beat on the latter confession, he tilted his body towards M/N seeing the flushed cheeks despite the darkness, “You’re most welcome M/N.”

“I….I like you Channie.” M/N confessed, “you…you don’t have to like me back or reply to me. I….I just needed to get it o—,” M/N was cut off when Bang Chan pulled him into a gentle yet heated kiss. Their lips moulded perfectly against each other, tongues tangled in their locked mouths, battling madly for dominance. They finally parted lips to catch their breath and at the moment of time, The love they shared was beyond explanation.

That was the first time M/N realise he had fallen for Bang Chan, hard.

F/N M/N, to sum it up, he wasn’t really looking for anything in life. He didn’t have a goal, an ambition or even a will to live. He was just an empty shell wishing to shatter away from the world. That was until he met Bang Chan. The excitement he felt waking up to seeing his roommate snoring away, oblivious of the rising sun, was just indescribable. The fluttering heart every time Bang Chan would simply smile or just, talk to him was absurd. No words can explain how he was feeling towards the latter or how he was developing a sense of will to live, for him, for Bang Chan.

He didn’t come from a good background to begin with. He didn’t know who his parents were, only knowing that someone left him by the trash can, bloodied, only wrapped in a ruined piece of clothes, he was only an hour old. Growing up in an orphanage, M/N wasn’t a bright kid. Whilst kids his age play together, enjoying the sunshine, M/N stayed in the room, simply reading. He was at the age of twelve when the caretaker told him that he was getting adopted. M/N thought perhaps there was going to be a change in his life but, reality was cruel. His adoptive parents were criminals. M/N was forced to sell his body to whoever his parents sent him to. He became a sex slave for his adoptive parents for a consecutive of three years.

At the age of fifteen, M/N have had enough. He was numb. He lost everything, he lost himself. He stood, towering over the bodies that lay in front of him lifeless, a gun in his trembling hands, naked. Everything was a daze. M/N couldn’t feel anything but, numbness. He couldn’t feel the throbbing sensation from the beating he had gotten earlier. He couldn’t feel the gushing blood that flowed out of his lower region from being forced to take in three men simultaneously. He couldn’t feel the tears that stream down his face drastically. He was just numb. That was the last thing M/N remembered before hearing sirens and authorities came running into the house and falling into a deep slumber.

The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes were the clouds painted on the room ceiling. He was in the hospital. Someone came into the room but, M/N refuses to look at the person. He couldn’t find himself to. Surprisingly, the person didnt make an attempt to talk to him, he just sat on the chair beside the bed, silent while he reads a book. It went on for a week, M/N counted the days.

“It is what it is.” The person said, surprising M/N.

That was the first time M/N finally looked at the person.

Hwang HyunJin. That was his name. He was 7 years older than M/N, a police officer who happened to be the one who responded to his case. HyunJin had took him in after his discharge from the hospital. HyunJin wasn’t much of a talker like M/N so there were barely any words shared amongst them but, what M/N knew indefinitely was that HyunJin became the reason for him to have a will of life. HyunJin cared for him deeply even if it was not verbalised, his actions said otherwise. Those times M/N would just have nightmares, he would always wake up to HyunJin sitting on the floor just by his bed, their hands intertwined. Those times when M/N would just hide away in his room, staring out of the window lifeless, HyunJin was there sitting beside him, accompanying him despite having said no words. Those times, M/N didn’t know what he was feeling but, tears kept escaping his eyes yet no sound was heard, HyunJin was there embracing him tightly. It took a year when M/N gradually open up to HyunJin. It took HyunJin by surprise when he came home one day, M/N came out his room upon hearing the doors.

“W…welcome back.” M/N shyly said before going back into the room. HyunJin still stunned, smiled widely.

That was the first time M/N realise HyunJin was his will to live.

Their relationships grew stronger than ever. Two birds of a feather. Almost inseparable. M/N finally felt as if he was himself for the first time in forever. He went back to school, made friends, lived his life as should a ‘normal’ seventeen year old. Everything was okay. Everything was perfect but, oh was he wrong. He was at home, waiting for HyunJin to come home after being promised that they were going to have a movie night. He had popcorns, soda and a various of movie cds readied. All that was left was Hwang HyunJin. He could hear the front door unlocking and opening, M/N excitedly got up from the couch, running over to the entrance and he froze. Hwang HyunJin stumbled into their house with not one, but, two gun shot wounds. He was pale, trembling as he struggled to take a step forward. M/N catches his frail before he could drop to the floor.

“M/N,” HyunJin breathed, “I…. I’m sorry, I couldn’t stay with you long enough. I need you to promise me something. I want you to live your life as you are now just, without me in it. I need you to accept the reality of life. It is what it is.”

M/N trembled as he held HyunJin’s frail tightly, his eyes clouded with tears that threatened to fall any time soon. HyunJin’s hand that once caressed his cheeks dropped lifelessly. HyunJin’s eyes fluttered as he heaves his last breath. As if M/N’s soul could bleed an ocean through the eyes, that was the enormity of his sobbing.

That was the first time M/N cried his heart out.

“Agh…. M/N….agh, i’m cu…mming,” Bang Chan moaned as his body reach its high. His legs spasming as it was wrapped around M/N’s waist. M/N let out a sinful moan as he came into Bang Chan, falling into the red headed embrace after. Their bodies tangled in between the sheet of their combined bed as they calm themselves down. “That was…. Wonderful. You’re so good in bed.”

A chuckle left M/N’s lips as he nuzzled his head into the red headed chest, “Channie.”

“Yes baby?”

“I love you.”

Bang Chan felt his heart thumped as his cheeks grew hot. Cupping M/N’s face, he softly plants a kiss on his lips. “I love you more M/N. W—-wait, why are you crying? D…don’t cry, baby.”

M/N sniffled as he giggles, “I’m just so happy. I love you Channie. I really do love you.”

There were no words that could describe how euphorically beautiful the moment was.

That was the first time they made love.

“I’ll be back a little late tonight. I’m going to get some drinks with my friends at the restaurant just across the street.” Bang Chan said as he puts on his jacket, “I’ll text you when I’m done baby.” M/N nodded as he plants a kiss to Bang Chan’s forehead, hugging the latter goodbye.

It was a Saturday. Bang Chan and M/N had spent the day cooped in their room, tangled in bed watching Netflix, ordering take-outs and just, spending the day together, enjoying each other company. It was just an hour ago when Bang Chan’s friend had invited him to get a drink. Initially, he didn’t want to go up but, M/N reasoned that he should since they had been spending so much time together that his friends may think that Bang Chan might have thrown them away. Not like M/N didn’t enjoy his time with Bang Chan but, he didn’t want to seem to be so possessive. They were in a relationship, yes but, it was okay to have some alone time still.

It was 15 minute after Bang Chan had left when M/N realise that the latter had left his phone on the study table. M/N chuckle at how forgetful his cute boyfriend could be. He got himself dressed, grabbing Bang Chan’s phone and left. M/N intended to drop his phone over at the restaurant and probably stop by the convenience store to get some snacks along the way. That seems like a plan. He walked into the restaurant, eyes scanning through to find Bang Chan and there he sat, his back facing him, happily chatting with his group of friends.

“I told you i could win the bet! Come on!”

M/N stopped on his tracks just a few feet away from when Bang Chan sat.

“Seriously how?!” One of his friends whined, handing over a few hundred of dollars to Bang Chan. M/N knew him. It was Seo ChangBin, one of his classmate. “The first two who i gave a bet couldn’t even stay in the same room as him!”

“It was easy.” Bang Chan shrugged, slipping the money into his jacket, “it was so fucking easy to get him to fall in love with me. It just took patience.”

“Bet you can’t get him to fuck you.” ChangBin challenged.

“Already did!” Bang Chan smirked, “he wasn’t even that good and oh, he cries right after it. He was all ‘I love you’ here and there then cried like a fucking baby.”

M/N felt his heart throbbed as if someone had stabbed him right where it was. A bet. A fucking bet, that was what it was all along.

“Can you believe it that there was once when he said that i save his life? I almost laughed so hard. I mean, what? Is he depressed or some kind of emo kid or just a fucking weirdo? It’s not like life is so hard to go through. It’s life. It’s pretty much normal yet he made it sound as if he’s living a horrible life. That’s so pathetic. It is what is it.” Bang Chan ranted as he pours himself a drink. He looked up wondering why ChangBin was silent and looked as if he had seen a ghost. It was then a phone, his phone was placed on the table side.

Bang Chan turned to see M/N. His eyes widened. Did M/N heard what he said?

“You left your phone, thought you might need it.” M/N monotonously said and he turns to leave.

Bang Chan quickly got up, grabbing his hand, “Wait M/N! I can explain.”

“No need.” M/N smiles as he tugs his hand out of the grasp, “It is what it is.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Author’s Note: it’s pretty lengthy but, anyways, I might write a part two where Chan chases M/N. Should I?

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- All My Fault Pt2

“You need to go home” Erin tells Jay as she leans on the doorframe of YNs hospital room with her arms crossed

“I’m staying here” Jay replies not looking at Erin, instead he just focuses on his sleeping wife. He brings her hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles

“When was the last time you ate? Showered?” Erin says leaning against the door to YNs room

“I can’t leave her”

“You need to stop blaming yourself. None of us caught it”

“But I knew she bumped her head, I should have forced her to get it checked”

“She said she was fine. Jay, YN is just as stubborn as you are. Now YN hates when your facial hair is unkept, so go shower, shave, get something to eat and I will sit here with YN. If anything changes I’ll ring you” Jay sighs and finally gives in

“Ok. I’ll be back in an hour. I love you” Jay stands up then bends down and kisses YN on the forehead. Erin is quick to take Jays seat beside YN and takes her hand in hers “phone me if anything happens even if it’s small”

“I promise I will now go”

Taking one last look at his wife Jay finally leaves the hospital and rushes home so he can quickly shower, shave, eat and then be back at the hospital as soon as he can, but not even 30 minutes later, Erin is phoning Jay

Ending 1- Sad

“Erin what’s going on?”

“Jay you, you need to get back to the hospital now!” Erin says panic stricken watching doctors and nurses run into YN’s room “her heart it’s…. fuck Jay it’s not good. Just get here safely please” Jay has never moved so quickly before. He throws a clean hoodie on and head back to the hospital, breaking many road laws. What should have taken 10 mins took 4

“Jay” Will sadly greats his brother

“What happened?” Jay angrily shouts storming into the hospital

“Jay you need to calm down” Maggie says pointing at him

“Don’t! That’s my fucking wife and no one is telling me what’s happened”

“Ok ok” Maggie sighs “follow me” Maggie takes Will and Jay to YNs room where Erin is stood with tears streaming down her face. Dr Brown comes out of YN’s room

“What’s going on?”

“YN went into cardiac arrest. She stoped breathing, we restarted her heart, but the only thing keeping her alive right now is the machine”

“What are you saying?” Jay frowns

“He’s saying she’s in a coma Jay. She not going to wake up” Will sadly says

“No. No. She’s fine, she will wake up and…”

“Jay, she’s gone” Will pulls his brother into his arms, letting Jay break down in tears.

Ending 2- Happy

“Jay you need to come to the hospital!” Erin shouts down the phone not even letting Jay say anything

“What’s happened?” Jay nervously says

“YN’s awake. She’s asking for you, just get here safely ok?” Jay has never moved so quickly before. He throws a clean hoodie on and head back to the hospital, breaking many road laws. What should have taken 10 mins took 4

“Maggie!” Jay says running over to the nurse

“Come with me. Wills already with her” Jay follows Maggie to YN’s room where he sees YN laughing with Will and Erin “YN Jays here” YN turns her head slowly to her husband

“Oh thank god your ok” Jay rushes over to his wife and places a kiss on her head “I was so scared”

“I’m ok. Well other than feeling like I could throw up”

“That’s the anaesthesia wearing off. I’ll see if you can get some antisickness put in your drip”

“Thanks Will”

“I’ll go ring Voight and Boden” Erin says. Jay takes the seat again and takes YN’s hand in his

“Erin said you were going to shave” YN places a hand on Jays face

“I was then you woke up. I promise I will have a shave later. I’m just glad your ok”

“Me too. Sorry I didn’t say anything about feeling so unwell. I should have let you take me to the hospital in the first place”

“Promise me from now on if you get hurt you will get checked out”

“Only if you make the same promise”

“I’ll do anything to make sure you stay safe and healthy”

“Even if you have to have a needle?”

“Even then. I love you so much YN”

“I love you too Jay”

[bleucaesura]

WAITING TO WANT YOU LESS - 4 / ?

Loona couldn’t get to sleep. She’d fiddled on her phone for a while. Then threw on headphones and listened to loud music to drown out the sounds of Blitzø’s sobbing in the shower. She felt ashamed that she didn’t try to help, but she knew the last thing he would want was for her to know he’d been crying…

It was hours before she knew he’d finally gone to sleep and even then she couldn’t shut her brain off. She stared at the ceiling and let the world of thoughts spin around her.

Blitzø had come home the night before. He hadn’t come home on a Full Moon night since he’d started his whole thing with Stolas. And, if she was honest, she knew Blitzø looked forward to his time with Stolas (not that he would fucking admit it).

And yet, the last few months they’d canceled on each other… Blitzø claimed they were both busy and it wasn’t a big deal, but Loona could tell he’d been ‘off’. He’d been weird ever since M&M’s anniversary. And Loona couldn’t really blame him. Fatty wouldn’t let Blitzø live it down that he’d crashed their dinner. And Millie kept pulling him aside - when she thought no one could hear - and asking if he was ok because of how he and Stolas had been treated.

Loona still didn’t know what exactly had happened. Blitzø refused to talk about it. She only knew what fatty bitched about - Asmodeus and Fizzarolli ripping into him, then Blitzø and Stolas in front of the whole club - and even that was very little.

She did know that whatever happened with Asmodeus and Fizzarolli seemed to have been resolved since then though, because Blitzø had done some bodyguarding gig for them and was now texting with the weird robo-clown all the time.

But things with Stolas hadn’t gotten better and Blitzø had been wallowing - even if he wouldn’t admit it. So when they finally had plans this month Blitzø had been really excited to see him.

And of course my emotionally traumatized ass had to go and run my fucking mouth… Why the fuck did I say Stolas was getting tired of him? Fuck… Did I screw something up? Why the fuck do I have to go and ruin things…

Loona groaned and threw a pillow over her face.

Were they fucked now? Did Blitzø lose the grimoire? Were they out of business cuz they had no way to Earth? What were they going to do if they were out of business? What would they do for money? For food? Blitzø wouldn’t be able to afford to take care of her anymore. Was he going to get rid of her?

Was this why Blitzø was so sad? Cuz he lost the grimoire and their business and he’d have to get rid of Loona? Was he out today trying to fix things and wasn’t successful?

Tears stung Loona’s eyes and she choked back a sob. She didn’t want to think about any of this. She didn’t want to be so worried and afraid. She finally had a home. Finally had a family. She didn’t want to lose it.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Loona smacked herself in the face a few times with her pillow. When she felt sufficiently braced, she rolled over and grabbed her phone off the bedside table, deciding to doom-scroll to take her mind off of things.

She was only moments into scrolling on Sinstagram when she came across a trending tag: #kysblitzo.

“What in the actual FUCK?!” She snarled, sat up in bed and clicked on the tag. It didn’t take long for her to find out about the so-called “Fuck You Blitzo” party from earlier that night.

Loona clutched her phone and vibrated with rage as she scrolled through the photos and tags. There was so much. She knew Blitzø was a jackass, but he’d been nothing but a dopey saint to her. She couldn’t fathom how so many people could hate him this way.

“I’m going to hunt these mother fuckers down and rip every fucking one of them to SHREDS.” She growled to herself.

Her scrolling faltered when she came across the highest trending video with the tag.

“Is that…?” Loona clicked on the video, making sure to plug in her headphones so she wouldn’t wake Blitzø.

The video was taken from a phone in a crowd around a small stage; a big banner with BLITZO SUCKS hung at the back. There was lots of cheering and hollering. Then Verosika walked on stage.

Loona sucked in a breath. Of course… She knew they’d dated in the past. Blitzø had made it clear they hated each other now, so it shouldn’t surprise her that Verosika was there.

She couldn’t make out too much of what was being said but it was clear Verosika was welcoming someone else on stage.

What in the ever loving FUCK?!!

Loona stared at her phone screen in shock. Fucking STOLAS was at the party?! Wasn’t he, like, in LOVE with Blitzø?

Shit…

And was that Tex on stage?

No fucking way…

Stolas began to sing. Loona listened as closely as she could to the words of the song. She stopped paying attention to the crowd or the shitty shaking of the phone’s video. She was transfixed by the words.

How. Fucking. DARE. HE!

Loona could feel her fur bristle and stand on end. Her anger rose with every word; every note.

And then she saw Blitzø. Her poor father - standing in the crowd.

He was THERE?!

Loona’s anger went from what could have been called mere annoyance to outright. Blinding. RAGE.

Not only had these people thrown a party to hate on her father, but the fucking Prince who supposedly LOVED him went on stage and fucking HUMILIATED him! And of course it was recorded, posted online, and now all of fucking HELL would see the video!

Loona struggled to calm her breathing and steady her racing heart. She was vibrating with rage; it was a monster in her gut clawing at her insides to be let out.

And fucking TEX! She thought he was a decent guy… But THIS?! ‘Not paid enough to care’ her ass!!! He was right up there with Verosika calling Blitzø a mother fucker like he fucking knew ANYTHING about her dad or their fucking life!

Oh… Oh, boy…

Loona snarled, threw herself out of bed and tossed her phone across the room. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her claws biting into her palms.

Murder’s on the fucking menu today…

*****

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am aware the song was not meant to humiliate Blitzø. Yes, I have listened to the lyrics. It has been burned into my soul…

The point of Loona’s anger, and missing the point of the song is that:

- she sees a party of people who hate her dad; thrown specifically for that reason

- she hears him being called a “mother fucker” (repeatedly) by an ex that she knows there’s bad blood with (Verosika)

- then by someone she knows her dad really cares for (Stolas)

- and THEN she sees the reaction of her dad in the crowd

It’s a hat tip to those with rage monsters inside who are blinded by what they perceive is happening around them, maybe act on impulse, and end up doing something they may regret because they didn’t stop to really find out what was going on.

[spinecouture]

— chapter one: we all start somewhere ⋆˙⟡

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word count: 1,384

synopsis: we begin around season 4, right after the governor destroyed the prison, after the group is separated. our original character: tommie, takes beth’s place in the story. poss show spoilers, graphic content. intentional lowercase.

“you okay?”

daryl scoffed, but said nothing. what was he supposed to say? the two had been sleeping in a car for days. well, tommie slept, he sat up for hours, watching. waiting. stuck in a storm, daryl’s eyes had been locked on the driver’s side window for nearly an hour without a word spoken.

“y’can’t be silent forever,” tommie snapped.

daryl and tommie were never close. that’s just how it was. it wasn’t personal—maybe an age thing? tommie was a little younger. either way, it made things difficult when it was just the two of them against everything.

“what do you want me to say?” daryl finally spoke.

tommie adjusted in the backseat, the knitted blanket falling off her lap. “jus’ want something other than grunts and eye rolls.”

daryl turned his body to face her, eyes cold, paired with dark bags underneath. he knew tommie was right, but fuck, what did she want from him?

“i don’t roll m’eyes atcha,” daryl grumbled, before sitting back in the driver’s seat. “jus’ how i look.”

tommie’s face fell, unimpressed, but dropped it. she knew pushing the gruff man would only add tension to their already stressful survival situation. the harsh rain battered the roof of the old car, gave at least enough noise to keep tommie from losing her mind. she leaned back, watching the falling rain on the window.

daryl’s eyes flicked to the way her fiery red locks framed her face, skin pale and glowing in the foggy moonlight. he saw her pain, her fear, her exhaustion. it tugged on his cold, stiff heartstrings. he rolled his eyes.

“you okay?” he asked in an almost tender voice.

the gravelly sound jolted tommie back to the present, looking at him from between the front seat and the window. his curious little gaze, she could see a husk of the bold bastard child he once was. all she could offer was a tired smile, “truckin’ along,” she murmured in response.

daryl wasn’t necessarily satisfied by her reply, but didn’t exactly have anything to add. he couldn’t blame her. he almost spat back, instigated an argument, on instinct. he was trying to learn to bite his tongue.

he couldn’t help but sneak glances as tommie’s eyes began to flutter. there was a peaceful look painting her face as she fell asleep, an expression daryl longed for, was envious of. how could anyone sleep so soundly after what they went through? made anger bubble up in his chest, and he had to swallow down bile.

he let her rest, though, knowing at least one of them had to.

until he had to wake her up abruptly, shaking her and babbling. “c’mon, get the hell up, we gotta move!”

“w-what? hey–“

“shut up an’ move!”

tommie was scrambling out of the car, following daryl blindly. it didn’t take long to register the horde of walkers trudging behind them. her pace picked up quickly, soon running alongside daryl. the gurgling growls of the dead caused their blood to pump harder, until daryl yanked tommie to the side, racing towards a random cabin. it was their only chance to avoid the herd. her back slammed against the splintered wood, with daryl quickly pressing a hand over her lips, shushing her silently. her breathing was heavy, but she didn't dare make a sound, eyes wide and focused on the man in front of her, not daring to see if any of the snapping rotters had spotted them. daryl's free hand eventually slid from her bicep, to her forearm, squeezing, almost silently reassuring her.

eventually, the heavy feet of the dead faded, and the two took a breath. a beat of silence, and daryl stood up straight, as if that sliver of vulnerability meant nothing. “stay here. don’ move. i’m gon’ scope it out,” he stated simply before clambering up the porch of the cabin.

tommie leaned against the wall again, taking shaky breaths, trying to calm down. she’d seen it before, a handful of times: the hordes, groups and clusters of walkers. but she always had a group. a place to run back to. now, neither of them had any idea if their people survived. for all they knew, it was just them left. the thought made tommie anxious.

after a loud crack of the door being broken open, daryl called: “clear!” signaling for her to follow him inside.

wearily, tommie pushed herself up onto the porch, eyes bobbing around her head to be sure nothing had followed her.

“close the door,” daryl called in a bitter, harsh tone as he picked up some firewood. “look for some matches, would’ja?”

tommie nodded, her nimble fingers grasping the doorknob, pushing it to latch. she wandered around the cabin, the scent of heavy dust and old fabric flooding her nostrils.

it took a couple minutes of scrounging, but she eventually found a couple matches. “here,” she walked over to daryl.

he nodded a short ‘thank you,’ before lighting a fire inside. the two of them huddled around it for warmth, silent. it wasn’t an awkward quiet—in fact, it was almost peaceful. almost.

daryl got up, too restless to sit still for long. he was like an anxious dog, constantly pacing, glancing out the window. tommie glanced over her shoulder, watching him walk back and forth.

“you’ll drive yourself crazy like that,” she blurted.

daryl spun on his heel, eyes daggers of judgement and bitterness. he was angry. not at her, specifically, just angry in general. mad at the way things happened, mad that he felt responsible for her.

“y’don’t know nothin’,” he grunted, throwing his arm out in emphasis.

“i know ‘ventually you’re gonna have to learn to lookit me without seein’ the dead,” tommie spat, her words more firm this time.

it was unlike her to argue, to spit such venom at anybody. she kept to herself most of the time, was polite and honest. this was a new side, one daryl had never seen. it felt like a challenge, but was oddly more comfortable to entertain.

“the hell did you say?” daryl bit back, stomping forward. “say it again.”

tommie sat up taller, eyes dark and bold. “you’re gonna have to learn to live with what happened to us. to live with me.”

the man towered over her, huffing and puffing like a damn bear. “shut up,” he growled.

“quit actin’ like i don’t know what’s goin’ on. like i can’t see what’s happened. i’m a grown woman,” tommie continued.

“i said shut up,” daryl repeated, more angrily this time.

he raised his hand to smack her, almost out of instinct, and tommie flinched slightly, turning her head to the side. daryl’s hand froze in the air, lip twitching, as he decided against it. his arm lowered back to his waist, and he grit his teeth. the two shared an odd look, unsure what to think of each other.

on one hand, daryl felt bad for lashing out. it’s all he ever did. but on the other side, he was just trying to keep them both alive. why couldn’t tommie be satisfied with that?

daryl sighed, eyeing the way tommie’s face fell to her lap, curling in on herself into the couch. he sat next to her, taking a breath. he had to think about her, too. not just keeping her alive, but keeping her morale up—or they’d both crash and burn.

“listen,” daryl grumbled, tapping his thumb on each of his own fingers to self-soothe. “i’m sorry fer yellin’. ain’t mad ‘atcha.”

tommie nodded, giving a short smile. “i know.”

daryl tried smiling back, but it looked more awkward than anything else. his eyes fell back down to his hands, cut and dirty. he heard the rumbling of tommie’s stomach, realizing how long it’d been since they’d eaten.

“once the storm settles, i’ll, uh… i’ll head out. getcha some food,” daryl murmured. “somethin’ other than canned beans.”

tommie chuckled softly, throat raspy and weak. she nodded, knowing he was trying to make her feel better. “sounds nice.”

daryl paused, twisting his knife into the wood floor mindlessly. he felt the guilt running through him, flooding his lungs, drowning him. he expected you to hate him, to run away and scream and kick. but you didn’t. that made him uncomfortable.

[possibilistfanfiction]

happy new year! maybe a prompt for sleep/nap bc i need one lol

bea 🧑🏻‍⚕️🐝❤️‍🩹 (4:27 am): If you’re done with your post-op and would like to stop by, I’m in the on-call room. 

it’s so late it’s almost morning, and you really should be headed home because, technically, your shift is over and you’d been at the hospital for, like, too many hours to really want to keep track of at this point. but bea — beatrice choi, md, the resident in charge of you — is, like, so handsome, and kind, and an incredible teacher, with her perfect handwriting and her free gender-affirming clinic and all the languages she knows fluently. you think you’re a little in love with her, but who can blame you — you’re sleep-deprived and sometimes in awe of the skill and calm she has, even in just her third year. 

Dr. Ava Silva (4:31 am): sweet yah omw :)

when you open the door, a little harried, you immediately still and quiet as much as you can. bea has the room darkened, the only light coming in from a sliver under the window curtain, blue and red from the ambulances and easy white-gold from the street lights in the hospital parking lot. you’ve spent so much of your life — way too much of your life — in dark rooms in hospitals in uncomfortable beds that, for years, you could barely even feel, so you should want to run away. you should want to leave as soon as your shift is over and go home to your cramped apartment with its rickety table you found on the side of the road and its lumpy couch and the chipped mug in the kitchen — it’s not much; you can’t afford more, but it’s yours.

but you’re starting to think in some way maybe beatrice is yours too. all of the tension in your shoulders from the day — from countless central lines and three boring laparoscopic surgeries and one fatal stabbing in the er, from sutures and journals and so much to learn — melts away when you see her fast asleep. bea is on her back, scrub top off, one arm over her head, the blanket pooled around her waist, her phone face down on the flat plane of her chest — scars you haven’t seen before there that make you smile, just a little, beautiful — like she’d fallen asleep texting you. based on the fact that it’s only — you check your watch — 4:35 am, you’re pretty sure she did. 

camila keeps pestering you, and probably bea too, knowing her, to just talk to chief superion about your feelings so you can be on another resident’s service, so that there won’t be any issues and you can kiss bea if you want, but it’s, like, totally terrifying to imagine not only telling beatrice your feelings, let alone dr. superion, who puts up with your antics but just barely. 

you could leave. you could sneak out the door right now back to your apartment. it feels like a cliff to jump off, or a knife’s edge — but maybe it’s not that. maybe it’s something warm and easy and not really a choice at all, to love the steadiest person you’ve ever met. 

it’s easy to pull your running shoes off and discard your white coat and climb into the small space in the small bed next to her. she stirs a little, and so you say, ‘hey, i’m here.’ and she puts out her arm so you can lie down. it’s an invitation, albeit a sleepy one, so you make sure: ‘is this okay?’

she hums and nods. ‘hi ava.’

her voice is heavy with exhaustion; later you’ll come to find out that the hardest part of residency for beatrice — beyond literally everything else you personally find abhorrent and impossible — was just a lack of sleep. 

‘hey bea,’ you say, close enough to count her freckles and take in the warmth of her skin. she curls into you when you scoot closer to her, and it’s cramped and these beds are horrible for your back but it’s still basically heaven. you feel such deep fondness for her, small and in the dark like this, so different from her ramrod straight posture and clever hands in the light. 

she mumbles something incoherent and pulls you closer, and you fall asleep just like that. you’re awakened by the sound of her pager — a crime in your book, totally homophobic — just as the sun has risen. she’s disoriented, seemingly, as she wakes up painfully, and you kind of expect her to panic upon seeing you. but she smiles apologetically, a little nervous but apparently happy you’re there.

‘i don’t remember you coming in,’ bea says, searching for her scrub top until you hand it to her from where it was discarded over the side of the bed. she looks at you questioningly for one second, the tiniest bit of trepidation crossing her face, and so you just smile. 

‘you were very asleep, mere minutes after texting me. kinda rude to knock out after inviting me, don’t you think?’

her little blush is worth everything as she checks her pager and slips into her clogs. ‘you’re lucky i even managed to get that text off.’

’the er was that bad?’

she groans. ‘worse than.’ 

you’re ready to just lay around for a few minutes before you go home, but then she pulls on her quarter zip and you think about the scrub cap she’d had on earlier, blue with little otters all over it, unexpectedly adorable, and you decide to get up anyway. ‘have time for me to grab you a coffee as i head out?’

‘i’m sorry i kept you here. that can’t have been comfortable.’

you have to physically hold back the urge to tell her about how good she smells, even smooshed near her armpit. you’re, like, the best at all things self-control though, obviously, and so you don’t. instead you just shrug and stand, thankful for the last round of jillian’s shots that seem to be helping your back. ‘well, if you weren’t so ripped.’

she rolls her eyes, but her blush remains. camila is right, you think, because all you want to do is kiss her right now. but you don’t, you’re good for once, and you get ready too, as quickly as you can, and then hold the door open for her. she blinks a few times at the light, rubs her eyes behind her glasses, but then smiles at you — just for you.

‘maybe, soon,’ she says, taking a brave little breath after you’d waited in easy silence at the coffee counter, ‘you might want to join me on a hike? i go most days off if i can.’

and, like, that’s a terrible idea for you maybe, but whatever, some of your most ambitious terrible ideas have earned you an md and a phd and this very cool person in front of you, offering. ‘i’d really love that,’ you say. ‘text me.’

she nods, definitely pushing the time it would take to answer a page — lilith is going to be pissed, a delightful detail — and then reaches out to squeeze your hand, just once.

‘have a good day, dr. choi.’

she smiles. ‘see you soon, dr. silva.’

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 4 - BAD LUCK!

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: OPLA Buggy x f!Reader

Synopsis: No good deed goes unpunished, right?

Word Count: 7.2k

Notes: I have a spotify playlist that all of the chapter titles come from + what I listen to while I write this if you are curious- Flashbang

“You're not like me, I'm not like you. I'm not who these things happen to And that's exactly what you say before it catches up to you Before you play with knives and find yourself in two”

xxx

“Come in,” Crina called within seconds of your nervous knocking at her door. You opened it and stepped in. 

“Good morning, Crina,” you said, forcing a smile past your exhaustion. “I was wondering-”

“-if I had anything for the captain’s hangover,” Crina finished for you with a knowing smile. 

“He had a lot to drink last night.”

“Of course,” Crina said, turning around to look through her bottles. “What about you?”

“I’m alright, thank you.” In truth, a sharp sort of headache had poked itself deep into the left side of your head, a reminder of your late night. Running on only a few hours of sleep was uncomfortable, but it would get easier throughout the day. You just had to keep going. 

“I saw some of your show last night,” she said in a would-be casual way. 

You winced. Last night, Captain Buggy had been laughing, but it wasn’t as funny as it was humiliating. Maybe that’s why it was funny. 

“You don’t have to let him embarrass you like that,” Crina told you, turning around with a bottle in hand. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said awkwardly, not meeting her eye.

“If you can’t set boundaries now, you might not get the chance later.”

“It’s fine,” you told her. “I didn’t mind, really.” 

Crina gave you a hard look, but she let it pass, handing you the bottle. “Give him two of these and make sure he drinks plenty of water with his breakfast.”

“I know,” you said, putting it in your pocket. “Thank you, Crina. I’ll bring this back later.”

“Keep them, I’m sure you’ll need them again.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. “Thank you.”

Your next stop was to the galley where you approached the intimidating cook—whose name, you had learned, was Gorr—to ensure that Captain Buggy’s got a proper breakfast. Eggs, coffee, fresh fruit, and bread. It was strange to think the tray was piled with goods stolen from Barley Village, from the people you had known all of your life. But that thought led nowhere good, so you dropped it.

There was a chance you were overpreparing, that Captain Buggy’s hangover wouldn’t be as severe as you feared, but you wanted to be braced for anything. He was awfully drunk last night. Drunk enough, you hoped, that he wouldn’t remember much of what he said. 

Balancing the tray against your hip, you knocked on his door, although you weren’t surprised to get no answer. You had to wake him up every morning. So you unlocked the door, using your back to shut it behind you, and set the heavy tray on the table before gingerly approaching the divide between the anteroom and bedroom. 

Buggy laid on his stomach in a sprawl across his bed, his cheek smushed into the pillow and his limbs stretched to all four corners. To your great relief, you didn’t see or smell any vomit. The only noticeable changes were that he’d removed his pants at some point—though, thankfully, not his underwear—and emptied the cup of water. 

“Captain Buggy?” you said. “Captain Buggy, I’m sorry, but I think… It’s time to wake up.”

He groaned, flopping an arm over his head. You frowned. He would most certainly get angry if you were too pushy, but you had a feeling that if you let him sleep in too late, he’d also blame you. 

“I brought you breakfast, Captain Buggy,” you told him. “If you don’t eat it soon, it’ll get cold.”

He mumbled something that sounded a bit like ‘I don’t give a shit.’

“Captain Buggy,” you said, tentatively touching his shoulder, “you’ll be upset later if you don’t wake up now.” 

He groaned, almost growled, with irritation, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. For a second, you thought for sure that he would yell, but instead he rolled onto his side, reaching up. “Come—c’mere,” he said, getting a firm grip on the front of your sweater before you could think to escape, “no—just, come-c’mere-”

The only type of fight you put up was to go stiff as he pulled you onto the bed and pinned you against him, his hand over your mouth. Once you were there, he relaxed, keeping you in place with his own weight. 

“Much better,” he said, his voice gravelly, vibrating against you. 

You tugged on his wrist to move his hand from over your mouth, but Buggy didn’t budge, his breathing already evening out. He was warm, almost feverishly so. You squirmed, trying to ask him to stop, but the only thing you got was for his palm to clamp down that much harder to muffle your voice, threatening to suffocate you. His other hand settled flat under your neck to keep you still. When you stopped trying to talk and relaxed, so did he. Enough to let you breathe, at least. 

Buggy’s breathing was getting deeper, you could feel his body move with it, pressing hot against your back. In response, you could feel your heart beating faster, picking up in speed as his hand dragged lower, passing over your chest to settle against your ribs, and then your stomach, rubbing slow circles as if he was petting a dog. You squirmed with more urgency to escape his hold, whining to express your discontent. Buggy’s hand kept getting lower. It was an idle movement, maybe he wasn’t even aware of it.

You squeezed your eye shut, so tense that your muscles trembled. Physically fighting him was out of the question, but you absolutely could not handle the way his hand was continually sliding down. 

There was only one thing you could think of doing, but that seemed almost as bad as trying to elbow him or something. You tried again to complain, but all you got was his hand pressing harder on your face.

Buggy’s other hand reached the waistband of your leggings, and that was it.

“Ew, what the fuck!” Buggy suddenly exclaimed, pulling his hand away like you’d bitten him. “Did you just lick me?” 

“Your eggs will get cold, Captain Buggy,” you told him, twisting out of his hold and onto the floor, falling with a painful thud. He watched you scramble to your feet like he was in shock, his mouth open and eyes squinted. “I’ll… I’ll…” You pointed at the antechamber, putting your head down and scurrying out of his room as fast as possible.

With shaking hands, you poured him a cup of water. You had no idea if he was going to get up now, but you didn’t think you could handle going back in there, flushing hot with embarrassment. Luckily, you did hear a thump, and then some grumbling, and then heavy, upset footsteps. You were prepared to apologize, your head down and the words ready.

“Why the hell did you let me drink so much?” Buggy demanded as he came in, frowning and disheveled with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. He didn’t seem to care that his robe was hanging open and revealing so much skin, too concerned with holding his head dramatically. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you told him. Did that mean he wasn’t upset about what you did? You relaxed slightly, trying to stomp out your awkward nerves, trying to get rid of the skin-crawling memory of his body against yours, of his hand on your belly, creeping lower and lower. “Crina gave me medicine that will help your head.” You shook two capsules from the bottle into your palm, holding them out like a peace offering. 

Frowning, Buggy took the medicine and sat down, knocking the lid off his breakfast tray to swallow them with a mouthful of coffee. 

“I ordered you something different, I hope you don’t mind,” you said, sitting across from him. “It’ll help with your hangover.”

Buggy grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t hesitate before picking up his fork, shoveling eggs onto it and then into his mouth. He ate so fast you weren’t even sure if he tasted anything. It was, if you were honest, pretty unappetizing, but being a messy eater seemed to be the pirate norm. 

You sat across from him, focusing on finishing your own meal quickly. You didn’t think about what happened, or last night, or anything. Buggy seemed equally disinclined to engage, although the glazed-over look in his eyes made you think it was more out of exhaustion. 

That, at least, was something you had in common. 

Eventually, Buggy dropped his fork with a loud clatter, downing the rest of his coffee. “Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. “I’ll let you give me a shave.” 

“What?” you asked, looking up. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” he snapped. “You were so eager the other day. Here’s your chance. Don’t mess it up.”

“Oh, um… Yes, sir.” 

Nervously, you stood up, going into the other room. You knew where he kept his shaving supplies, they were lumped in with his makeup. Buggy wasn’t an especially organized man. Even when you tried to tidy things up, it was all out of order by the time you came back. You set up everything on his desk, just like when you removed his makeup, before throwing open the drapes and filling his bedroom with bright sunshine. 

Every piece of the matching set was engraved with a flowery M. Whoever M was, he had great taste, or perhaps a very sentimental loved one. The razor was as fine as the one you had bought for your dad on his birthday last year. Buggy clearly hadn’t taken as good care of it as you would, but that was fine, nothing a bit of polish couldn’t help. With familiar, practiced strokes, you stropped the blade, ensuring it was as sharp as possible. Dad liked a perfectly clean shave, he said that anything less was unprofessional and slovenly. Buggy didn’t seem as particular, but you very keenly felt the weight of his standards. 

“I can’t believe you let me sleep in so late,” Buggy said, stomping his way into the room to drop into his chair, his face scrunching up with displeasure at the light. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said absently, checking the blade and deeming it ready. Buggy watched with his seemingly fixed scowl as you set that aside to whip the shaving cream into a thick foam. It had a simple, clean scent. Familiar, even.

“May I?” You held up the brush loaded with shaving cream. Buggy lifted his chin, letting you coat his face and neck. You wondered what changed that he wasn’t afraid of letting you near his neck with a razor. Did that mean he trusted you? Or was he just too tired to do it himself? 

Either way, you had to force yourself to calm down before using the blade to carefully draw a line out of the cream, starting from the sideburn. It was fine. You had done this hundreds of times, every other day or so for years. Just like when you removed his makeup, Buggy held still, closing his eyes and letting you take care of it.  

You wiped the razor, changing the angle to get the contour of his jaw. It was difficult to not notice in general, but now you had to actively assess the structure of his face, and how could you not admire it? Even Buggy’s nose barely registered as strange and his cheekbones, his jaw, his chin, his neck—so pretty, so different from dad’s features which, although once had been noble and strong, drooped and bloated from age and liquor. 

Stupid, useless thoughts. 

Buggy helpfully drew his lips taut when you shaved around them, allowing you to angle his face to make sure you didn’t cut him.

“Raise your chin?” you asked, wiping the blade. He did, exposing his neck, and you felt a moment of embarrassed doubt. You saw him in so many states of undress, the sight of his bared neck shouldn’t have affected you, especially not when it was only so you could do your job. There wasn’t anything sensual about it, not really. Cursing yourself, you focused on the task at hand, paying no mind to the lines of tendons or his Adam’s apple or the angle of his jaw or anything other than not messing up.   

You finished up on the opposite side of his face from where you started. Double checking that you hadn’t missed any spots, you nodded in satisfaction, wiping his skin clean of any remaining cream to apply aftershave. It had a nice warm smell, although Buggy pulled a face at the sting.

“There you go, sir,” you said, stepping back.

Buggy exhaled harshly, like he was waking up all over again. After yawning and rolling his neck, he picked up the hand mirror on his desk to check your work.  

“Is that okay?” you asked hesitantly. You had done a good job, you knew you had. It was one of the few things that dad rarely ever got upset about.

Buggy shrugged. “It’ll do.” 

Your shoulders drooped a little, but that was dumb. Trying to fish for compliments was childish and cheeky, you had done a job as he asked. He stood up and stretched with his arms above his head, and you ignored his near-nudity, your eye firmly fixed on your hands as you cleaned up. 

“Guess I’m lucky, huh?” Buggy asked. “I mean, the last guy who let you at his neck with a knife got a little more shaved off then just some hair.” You went still, those words freezing you all the way inside out, your breath catching on the chill. Buggy seemed ignorant to your reaction, continuing on without missing a beat. “I gotta piss, go do… I don’t know, whatever your job is.”

Your shoulders drew up defensively, your eye fixed very firmly forward. “Yes, sir.” 

A knot darkened a little eye into one of the wooden planks in Buggy’s office, the imperfection remaining even after it had been cut down, nailed into place, and sanded into uniformity. One eye, that’s it, the only thing that gave it any personality now that it had been chopped out of its tree and cut into shape, separated from its whole to be put to use. Boot prints tracked across it, filth and age wearing down the grain. You stared at its eye and wondered if it was happy with its lot in life, or if it missed the forest. Being a ship seemed more fun than being a tree, but somehow you got a feeling the eye disagreed with you.

“Hey, idiot,” Buggy said, snapping his fingers in front of your face, startling you. “Are you even listening to me?” 

You blinked quickly, shaking your head as you looked over to him, confused. Distantly, you realized he had been talking. How long had you been sitting there? After you left his cabin that morning, you had been a little out of it. Too little sleep, too much excitement and exertion. 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy. I guess I… ” You blinked again, his unhappy expression finally registering. “I’m sorry, Captain Buggy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go mope somewhere else. Your shitty attitude is making it hard to think.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, standing up. “I’ll, um…” He raised his eyebrows, the expression clearly prompting you out of the room. You nodded and left, shaking your head to try and wake up. 

How long had you been in that daze? Sometimes it happened so suddenly, so harshly, and then your day was eaten away with very little to show for it. Being quiet didn’t make your thoughts any more or less tolerable, it was the state of existing separate from the actions of your body. If anything, it was to be overwhelmed by the bad things, by the thoughts you didn’t want to think and the feelings you didn’t want to feel. A little like drowning, watching those little bubbles rise up to interact with a world you couldn’t handle. 

You squinted at the violently bright sunshine, thinking about what to do. You considered finding Crina and asking if she needed help, but the little interaction you had that morning made you hesitate. She saw too much, asked too many questions, made assumptions about you that you didn’t like, and your feelings were confusing enough without her using her mystic divination to make you open up. Since you hadn’t especially endeared yourself to any other member of the crew, there was only one person who could possibly give you guidance.  

When you finally found Cabaji, he was training with a few of the other pirates. You hesitated rather than approach him, hanging back and watching. There was a graceful ease to his movements, a nonchalant elegance. Cabaji made it look easy, swinging his sword around like it was a toy as he practiced different forms and attacks. It was the same as when he juggled. You remembered trying, and failing quite terribly, to juggle the night before.

Juggling, cards, singing, acrobatics, sword fighting, knot tying—the list of your failures had only grown since you joined the crew. And even that was a loose thing. Nobody saw you as a member of the crew, or even as a pirate. 

Cabaji looked up right when you were about to turn away, his dark eyes fixing directly on you.

“Is there something you need?” he called, drawing the attention of the other crewmates he was training with. You shrunk back, pulling your bandana down. 

“No, sir,” you said. “I was just…” Your nervous explanation trailed off as Cabaji approached you. His skin shined with sweat, drawing attention to his exposed chest. He was handsome, you could admit that to yourself if no one else. But he was also intimidating, and you would rather die than be accused of staring at him in any untoward way. 

“Yes?” Cabaji asked, his eyebrow quirking. The other pirates he had been training with stood behind him, watching you with varying degrees of amusement.

“Do you… um, do you think you could teach me how to do that?” 

That wasn’t what you intended to ask, but it felt right. Captain Buggy had made no mention of teaching you how to fight. He was too busy anyway. Crina said it was too dangerous for you to even try. Because you were frail and weak. Because you were easily tired and as breakable as glass. Compared to everybody else on the ship, you were practically an invalid. For so long, you had seen your eye as the thing that kept you from being equals with other people, but now you realized there were a lot of other reasons too. 

But you didn’t want to be like that anymore. You would either force yourself to be better, or you would be left behind.

“How to do what?” Cabaji asked, his expression impossible for you to read.

“Fight?” Your answer made the little group behind him laugh. 

Cabaji shot an irritated glance over his shoulder, shutting them up. 

“I’m sure you’re too busy,” you said. “I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“No, that’s not a bad idea,” he allowed after a moment of thought. “You should be competent enough to avoid embarrassing Captain Buggy. Come over here.” 

Cabaji casually flipped his sword and sheathed it as he turned back into the makeshift training area. The other pirates didn’t laugh at you when you followed, but their eyes were heavy on your skin. He showed no concern for them, stopping and whirling around to face you, his scarf flaring dramatically. 

“The first thing you need to know,” Cabaji told you, “is that if it comes to a fight, you’ll lose. Always prioritize avoiding confrontation or escape. I’ll show you how to hold a sword properly because it could buy you some valuable time, but make no mistake, a real fight will end in your death.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, swallowing your anxiety. “I understand.” 

“Good. We’ll start with your stance. You have to brace yourself so you can maintain your balance while swinging the sword. Like this.” Cabaji drew one foot behind himself, his knees bending a bit as he took a defensive stance. 

You tried to copy him, but your body was stiff and awkward. Behind him, the group stifled their laughter and you immediately stopped, your body snapping back into your nervous posture.

“Ignore them,” Cabaji told you. “This is important. Try again, I’ll help you.” 

“Yes, sir.” You took a deep breath before stepping your feet out, trying to copy his pose. 

“You have to stand with your feet at least a shoulder’s width apart,” Cabaji said, walking behind you to kick your feet further, grabbing and turning your hips. “Like this. If you’re too stiff, you’ll get knocked off balance.”

“This feels awkward,” you said, trying very hard to ignore your skin-crawling discomfort. This sort of physical contact was normal. You were being weird, Cabaji was only helping you. 

“It will be for a while, you have to practice. Eventually, it will become second nature.”

You nodded, trying to relax into the pose. He worked with you on that for a bit, having you find the stance from different positions, showing you how it would help you stay on your feet when he pushed at you. Even though it was just standing, it was oddly tiring. The sun shined so bright, and it was hot. Cabaji was patient. You knew he could tell when you got dizzy spells, but he didn’t say anything, letting you take breaks to get water so you didn’t collapse. Most of the onlookers grew bored of it, realizing you weren’t going to be entertaining, and that made it easier.   

After he decided you were able to stand correctly, he drew his sword and held it out to you. 

“I’ll let you borrow my sword for this,” Cabaji said. 

You looked at the weapon. It was longer than a knife, and you weren't going to use it for anything. It wasn’t similar in any way at all, completely different. You weren’t going to hurt anybody. Taking a big breath, you gingerly accepted the sword. And then nearly dropped the weapon when you realized how heavy it was. Cabaji circled around you to help again, saying nothing about your weakness. 

“Both hands—yes, like that.” You held your breath as he guided your hands on the hilt of the sword, his chest against your back as he showed you how to hold your arms. You could smell his skin, feel the warmth of it. A memory existed there, in the physical impression of being guided from behind. “The sword is an extension of yourself. You have to let it move with you, and know how to move with it.” 

“It’s heavy,” you said, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

“You’ll have to train your muscles,” Cabaji said. “Assuming you can.”

“I can,” you said quickly, turning to look at him only to realize how close he was. You had to look up to meet his eyes. They were so richly dark, a complete contrast to Buggy’s pale gaze.

“Woah, woah, woah, what do we have here?” A familiar voice called, almost as if summoned by your thought. Cabaji quickly stepped away. You almost dropped his sword, only barely avoiding letting it fall as you turned. Buggy’s steps as he approached were slow and steady, but his smile was tight. A pit of sickness tightened in your stomach when you thought about how that might have looked. 

“Cabaji is teaching me how to fight,” you explained.

“Why?” Buggy asked, clearly amused by the idea. “I’ve seen kittens with a better chance at winning a fight than you.” 

“It was my idea,” Cabaji said. 

“No, that’s not true,” you interjected, frowning. “I asked him to show me.”

“Really?” Buggy asked. You didn’t understand his tone of voice, or the tension in the air. 

“I want to be stronger,” you told him. “Like you, Captain Buggy.” 

He scanned you from head to toe in a very obvious, borderline theatrical way before cracking up. Other people, the loose crowd of pirates who had crept closer to watch the scene, laughed along with him. It wasn’t even like it had been last night. He laughed meanly, inviting the others to laugh along with him. 

After a second, Buggy held up a hand to stop the laughter, shaking his head. “Cabaji, get me a sword.” Buggy smiled at you. “I want to see what he’s taught you.”

“Nothing yet,” you said, nervous and insecure beyond words, your ears buzzing. “I don’t think I can-” 

“The only way you can ever improve is through experience,” Buggy said, taking the sword Cabaji handed him and raising it like a challenge. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Stand like I showed you,” Cabaji instructed. There was nothing he could say or tell you to help, not when you only learned how to hold the weapon a couple minutes ago. “Swing the sword down and forward while stepping into the attack with your dominant foot.”

Buggy came to a stop opposite you. You had no idea what he meant by doing this. Embarrassing you? You didn’t understand. Everybody was watching. Your heart beat frantically in your chest, a fresh, prickling sweat breaking out on your brow. 

Feeling more awkward than you ever had in your life, you stepped forward, awkwardly slashing in front of yourself. Buggy didn’t even try to parry your pathetic attack, or dodge it. He seemed to reach into it. Before you could think to draw back, the blade sliced through his wrist. There wasn’t any resistance, but his detached hand hit the deck with a dull thump, his sword hitting with a dull crash of metal.

Your weak, sweaty fingers immediately went limp, dropping the sword with a loud clang. Buggy’s eyes went wide before he shouted in pain, doubling over and cradling his arm while letting out a string of obscene words. You weren’t even sure you knew what half of them meant. 

“Don’t just stand there, idiot!” He yelled hoarsely. “Grab my hand! Pick it up!” 

Unsteady and more than a little sick, your mind whirling with raw panic, you stumbled forward to pick up his detached hand. There was no blood. In fact, the place where it had detached was unnaturally smooth. But it couldn’t have been a prop either, it was warm through the glove. And it was moving. From pinky to pointer, the fingers curled and uncurled. It wasn’t like twitching, it was the deliberate movement of a regular hand. The wrongness made you yelp, dropping it. Instead of hitting the floor again, his hand flipped through the air, meeting up with the stump at Buggy’s wrist. Reattaching as if connecting to something magnetic. He wasn’t shouting and cursing in pain anymore, he was laughing. Everybody who had gathered around was laughing too. 

You felt dizzy enough to pass out, or maybe be sick. The hand you picked up was a real, human hand. Buggy’s hand. But it was right there on the end of his arm, fully intact. 

Even Cabaji was smiling. 

It was a prank? A joke? Your hands shook violently, your ears ringing. Even though it was different, it was the same as it had been. The hollow thump of flesh, the violence, the coldness of fear. 

Buggy grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his body shaking with laughter. “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.” 

“How?” you asked softly, staring at his hand. It was attached fully, like it had never been separated. Buggy was fine. You hadn’t hurt him. 

“You know what a Devil Fruit is, sweetheart?” Buggy asked.

You shook your head no. 

“Thought not. Basically, I ate a funny lookin’ fruit and now I’ve got a super special trick up my sleeve.” He held out his arm, detaching it in segments before all the pieces popped back together. 

“Oh,” you said faintly, the only thought you could really articulate.

“Sheesh, that got you good. That’s what you get for wandering away when I needed you. Not only that, but distracting poor Cabaji.” Buggy clicked his tongue, leaning down closer to speak soft enough for only you to hear. “I’ll let it slide this time, but from now on, you leave him alone.”  

You cast a sideways glance at Cabaji as he picked up his sword, inspecting for any damage and very professionally ignoring you.

“That’s an order,” Buggy said, his arm tightening. You looked up to meet his eyes. So bright, so intense. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Great,” Buggy said, releasing you before addressing the gathered group with an annoyed scowl. “Everybody, back to work!” 

The pirates dispersed, some of them still smiling or laughing. You did nothing, standing there freezing beneath the hot sunshine. 

Buggy shot an irritated glance over his shoulder. “Babydoll,” he snapped, whistling at you to follow. By now, you responded to the term of endearment like a name, hurrying to catch up as he stalked towards the quarter deck. “Maybe I oughta put a leash on you, keep you from wandering away.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat. You couldn’t trust that if you spoke, your voice would remain steady. It was like, all at once, your lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, and humiliated pain caught up with you, and you tripped, landing hard on one knee, your shin painfully banging into the edge of the top step. Your vision darkened on the edges before you got your arms propped up beneath you, wincing at the pain.

Staring hard at the ground, you saw Buggy’s shadow double back, and then his hand entered your field of vision, outstretched. 

“Need a hand?” he asked. You looked up, a little confused about the kindness. But you weren’t about to reject the help.

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing his hand and using it to get onto your knee. Buggy pulled his arm away as soon as you started to stand, letting you fall back onto the deck with a yelp, his detached hand limp in yours. 

“I know you only got one eye and all,” Buggy said, laughing, “but how did you not see that coming?” 

You frowned, finally feeling the sting of tears in your eye, your chest aching with the little betrayal. After everything else, it just felt so cruel. With a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, his detached hand hauled you up onto your feet before it snapped back into place on his arm. You stumbled forward a few steps before getting your balance, but Buggy was already walking away, heading towards his office. You followed, wincing at the sharp pain lancing up from your shin. 

The relative dark of the map room left you nearly blind, you knocked your hip against the table before steadying yourself again. Buggy threw open the doors to his office, going right to his desk to fall sideways into the chair, one leg thrown over the armrest and the other on the edge of the desk, his head lolling back dramatically for him to rub his temple. 

“Sit down,” he bid you with a wave of his hand, like a ruler directing his subject. You sat, folding your hands in your lap nervously. 

Slowly, Buggy’s expression of dramatic weariness became a smile, and then a chuckle. He dropped his hand, raising his head to look at you. 

“That was hilarious. You shoulda seen your face when I started shouting. I really had you going.”

You frowned, your stomach twisting. It seemed like something you were meant to laugh along with, but you worried if you tried, you’d just wind up in tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” you asked.

“You never asked,” Buggy answered, like it was obvious. 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded. 

The silence dragged on and on, but the weight of Buggy’s eyes made it obvious that he wasn’t done talking. Suddenly, he stood up, taking slow steps around his desk. It forced you to look up at him. “What I wanna know,” Buggy said, tapping his pointer finger to his lips as if he was thinking seriously, “is why you went to Cabaji for help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“That’s what you said earlier, wasn’t it?” Buggy asked, “you asked him to teach you how to fight. Kinda surprising honestly, I wouldn’t’ve thought you had the backbone. Maybe you and him are closer than I thought.” 

“No, that’s not… We’re not that close.”

“So you asked him to teach you how to use a sword because you think he’s better than me?”

That question threw you off all over again. You had no idea how good of a fighter either man was, but you had a feeling that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

“No, but you’re very busy, Captain Buggy. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Your answer didn’t seem to diffuse his growing displeasure like you hoped. Instead, his head lolled to the side, a casual pretense that didn’t at all match the disconcerting focus of his gaze. “I had no idea you even wanted to know how to fight. Last time I had to hold your hand through the whole thing, I kinda figured you weren’t cut out for that sort of thing.”

“All pirates know how to fight,” you said. 

Buggy laughed, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed. “Is that what you think you are? A pirate?” 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Eventually, you found your voice, but it was very soft. “I am.” 

“Get real, babydoll. You’re barely a woman, let alone a pirate.”

“Then why did you hire me?” you asked, your cold voice nearly inaudible.

“Because when you were strung up, I saw something in you, something exciting. You showed me that you knew what you wanted, and you were willing to bleed for it. You recognized that to achieve greatness, you have to make sacrifices. But now that you’re here, it’s like you’ve got no vision, no drive to be anything more than the pathetic little thing you used to be. You’re just like all the others. I keep waiting for you to get it, but you won’t let me in.” He sighed, disappointed. “I guess I hoped that if you killed that guy, you could become more than the girl he thought you were, but you’re still clinging onto your old life. Until you let that go, you’re practically dead weight. I may as well send you back to your dad.”

“I am trying, Captain Buggy,” you argued, blinking very fast. “That’s why I asked Cabaji-

“What does Cabaji have to do with anything?” Buggy snapped. “You think that you’ll become somebody just because he teaches you how to toss around some balls or hold a sword? Don’t be stupid. You're trying to run when you can't even crawl.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft enough to not risk letting him hear it break. “I’ll… I’ll be better.”

Buggy crouched down in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. “I really want to mold you into something worth loving, but I can’t do that when you’re so… so frigid and frowny and boring. It’s like you’re afraid of being special.” 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you whispered again, blinking fast. You wanted to keep your face hidden from him, but Buggy grabbed your chin, pulling your face up to look at your expression. What was lurking in his pale eyes? Sometimes his expression was so transparent, but all you could see was the sharp edge of his judgment. 

Buggy released your chin, pushing you away from him as he stood up. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and reflect on your failure,” he said, the bite of disdain clear in his voice. “And I don’t wanna hear that you’re bothering Cabaji again, okay?” 

“Yes, Captain Buggy.”

Curling up in your dark hiding spot amidst the storage crates beneath the forecastle, you cried. Even hating yourself for proving Buggy’s point, you couldn’t stop it from hurting. Everything hurt. Everything was scary. There was no place in the world where you belonged. It was the lesson dad tried to teach you over and over. Fundamentally, there was something wrong with you. Your poor health, your hysteria, your inability to get along with people, your ineptitude. You thought your life would change because your circumstances were different, but that was a silly dream. Unless you changed, nothing would ever work out. 

It was like blinking. If blinking carved out several hours from your life that you couldn’t remember and left you stiff from sleeping curled up in a ball on the floor. 

Waking up from an unintended nap, especially waking up in the dark, not knowing how much time had passed or even where you were, was terrifying. At first you assumed you were in the basement, but the smell was wrong. You weren’t at home. You laid on a wooden deck, not stone. The pain striking up your shin was the first reminder of what had happened, and then everything else fit into place. 

You crawled out from the storage area, wincing at the various aches and pains plaguing your body. Wiping the crust of tears from your eye and fixing your bandana, you made your way to the shared living space with half an idea about supper, and a very strong motivation. Buggy was right, you weren’t trying hard enough. You needed to change, that was what you wanted, that was why you ran away. You could be what Captain Buggy wanted you to be. You had to. 

Luckily, Pippa sat on her bed filing her nails and talking with the man who slept in the bunk next to yours. Marty, you thought he was called. 

“You alright, girly?” Marty called as you approached. “You look a little shaken up.” 

It took a second for you to realize that he was, in fact, talking to you. Given the cold reception you’d experienced so far, it seemed a bit unbelievable, but he was looking right at you. 

“That’s just how she looks,” Pippa said, focused entirely on her nails. 

“That was one hell of a shock the captain gave you.” He laughed. “I’m surprised you hadn’t seen his trick before, he musta been planning doing something like this. Those Devil Fruits are something else.”

“You all knew?” you asked, taken aback. “About his—What can he can do, I mean.” 

“Don’t take it too hard,” Marty said. “He did you a favor. Before now, nobody knew what to make of you. Now you’re… I dunno, you’re more like-”

“One of us. Congratulations,” Pippa said glibly. 

You nodded like you understood, still a little dazed, dizzy from sleeping. “Um, are we going to eat soon?” 

“You’re too late for that,” Marty said.

“Oh,” was the only response you could manage. While your stomach did pitch a bit of  a fit, it wasn’t the first time you’d gone without supper. It was, in some ways, a fitting punishment. You took a deep breath, trying to wake yourself up. Focus. Be brave.

“Pippa?” you asked.

“Yes?” she asked, still focused on her nails. 

“You know things about makeup and stuff, right? And clothes and hair and… I was wondering if you could, um, I don’t know… Show me how?”

“Show you how?” she asked, finally setting aside the file to look at you. 

“I want to,” you looked around at the colorful cast of pirates, “I want to fit in more, but I don’t know how to do any of that.” 

Pippa looked you up and down with an icy gaze, studying you like a test subject before pursing her lips. 

“Are those the only clothes you own?” she asked. 

You stupidly looked down at the loose sweater and leggings you knew you were wearing as if to check. “Nn-no, I have other sweaters and-”

“I’m aware of your collection of ugly sweaters. Don’t you have anything that isn’t entirely hideous?”

You adjusted your clothes, your shoulders curling in with insecurity. “No.” 

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You can’t dress like that anymore.” 

“When we get to port I can buy something else,” you offered, although you realized with a pang of unease that you didn’t know if you were earning money. Neither Buggy or Cabaji had mentioned any sort of salary.  

“No, that won’t do.” Pippa stood up to grab her trunk off your bed, hefting down with ease. With a rattle of metal, she flipped the lid, revealing piles of colorful clothes. “You’re small,” she said, glancing up at you with a frown. She picked through the pile before pulling out something with red and white stripes, giving it a hard look before nodding. “This is too short for me,” Pippa told you, holding it out. “Try it on.”

“Here?” you asked, looking around nervously. 

“Promise nobody’s lookin’,” Marty called from the next bunk, watching with a reassuring grin. 

Not knowing what else to do, you accepted the dress, holding it up. Casual as it was, the garment was lovely, more outrageous than anything else you had ever put on. Thinking about calling that much attention to yourself made your skin crawl. If you wore it, you would fit in with everybody else. 

Buggy said you needed to try. You didn’t have any other choice. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned around to hide yourself as much as possible, pulling off your sweater to exchange it for the dress. It didn’t quite fit, although the hem fell around the right place. Pippa came up behind you to tighten the ribbon-like laces that ran up the back of the bodice, tying them in a bow around your waist. When she finished and you turned around to face them, she smiled approvingly. 

“Much better,” Pippa said. “If your legs get cold, you could add some stockings. I have some that would match.”  

“Can’t I wear it with these?” you asked, pinching your leggings.

“Absolutely not,” Pippa said, wincing like it was terrible to even consider. 

“What if the wind blows the skirt up?” 

Pippa nodded, returning to the trunk to dig around before emerging with something lacy. “These should fit you.” She tossed them at you to hold up, realizing they were like shorts.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked.

“For this lot?” Marty asked, laughing at the idea. 

“I assume you don’t have any makeup,” Pippa said. 

“I’ve never even worn any,” you said, tugging your bandana down. Once you experimented with some of mom’s makeup, really just with the lipstick, you weren’t sure how to use most of the products. Dad did not like it.

Pippa sighed. “I’ll get up in the morning and help you. Maybe do something about that hair too. What do you think about twintails?” 

You touched your hair, pulling it forward nervously. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a freak, aren’t you?” she asked, raising a carefully tweezed eyebrow. “You’ve gotta look the part.” 

[rocknrollbabe14]

I Wanna Be Yours (Joseph x Reader)

@josephs-quinns

Author's Note: I did not heavily proof read this as I am posting this before work. This will be 2-4 parts not sure yet. Very cliche' but super cute. So far, no major warnings except maybe some lust. So I will keep the rating adult because it will change. Also, I am not from England so please forgive me if anything is not accurate.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Once again, thank you to @josephs-quinns for the header. 🥺

It was a crazy idea when your friends had first mentioned it. A trip to London in the United Kingdom. You had never been outside of the United States. Now, you found yourself in a completely different country going on a morning coffee run. The time change had really kicked your ass, jet lag beginning to take its toll on you. London was six hours ahead of you, really screwing up your sleep schedule. It took your friends forever to get you out of bed and motivated just enough to get coffee. You somehow managed to put some make up on and look halfway presentable. It would take you at least a day to get adjusted.

Nerves took precedent over you as you opened the door to the coffee shop, the aroma of fresh, hot coffee hitting your nose. Just the smell alone was causing you to perk up slightly. Even though the people in the UK spoke English, you were nervous about your accent. You knew you’d stick out like a sore thumb. 

“What can I get you?”, the barista asked, her English accent very apparent.

“Um, just a venti iced coffee please?”

“Of course.”

She turned to help start preparing your order. Your eyes couldn’t help but look around the quiet coffee shop. Maybe you were just late to the party. Perhaps most British people were early risers unlike you. Your friends could be seen outside, sitting on the bench and waiting for you. There were very few people inside the coffee shop except for you, making small chatter. You weren’t paying attention to the counter when your drink was ready, the sound of the barista’s voice getting your attention. You smiled slightly, thanking her before turning to go. You were looking at the floor—not hardly paying attention to what or who was in front of you. 

Thump. You felt your outstretched arm make contact with something—somebody instantly knocking your drink out of your hand. You gasped in horror as your eyes panned up to notice the man dressed in black pants, a black sweater, black leather jacket, and baseball cap begin to wipe your drink off him. 

“Oh my God—I’m so sorry.”

The British were outspoken, or so you heard. At any moment, you expected to be degraded and yelled at. Which you couldn’t blame him. He was wearing your drink,  after all. You quickly glanced around the coffee shop, feeling all eyes on you. The man had sunglasses on the top of his baseball hat. An employee came to his aid quickly, bringing him a towel. He thanked her, voice soft. 

His attention turned to you, brown eyes soft. “It’s okay—really.”

“No—I can’t believe I did this.”

You were horrified. 

“It’s really okay—accidents happen.”, he gave you a small smile. 

How was he managing to be so calm and collected about this? 

“No—I really am so so sorry about this.”

You were handed another towel by the barista, immediately beginning to dab his clothes off. It was in that moment, your heart stopped. Looking up, your eyes made instant contact with his. He chuckled slightly, giving you a smile. His reaction was totally opposite of what you had expected, catching you completely off guard. You secretly hoped your friends hadn’t noticed, sure if they had, they’d never let you live it down.

“It’s really fine, love.”

Love. That made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. The British were very polite, using terms of endearment. That was normal for them. But you couldn’t help that it made your heart soar. Not to mention, he was good-looking. 

“It’s really not.”

“It’s alright, I promise.”, he insisted. 

There was something calming about his voice, his demeanor. The line cleared out and this handsome stranger finally had cleaned himself up enough to suffice for the time being. 

“What did you have to drink?”, he asked, easily.

You eyed him curiously. “Oh, just an iced coffee.”

“What size?”

“You’re not ordering my coffee, are you? Not after I dumped mine all over you?”

There was a hint of disbelief in your voice, causing him to chuckle. “It’ll be alright. I insist.”’

His voice was very calming, very soothing. 

“No—please don’t buy my coffee.”

Your voice sounded pathetic as it came from your throat. Before you could protest any further, the barista asked him what he’d like to order and he quickly squeezed in his order for your iced coffee and his macchiato. Your mouth was agape, shocked that he would do something like this—a kind gesture even after you dumped your coffee all over him. He gave you a small smirk as you both stood in off to the side, waiting on your coffees. 

“I’m sorry—I never caught your name.”, he turned to look at you.

“Y/N.”

“Lovely name.”

“And yours?”

“Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, Joe.”

“So are you visiting? I couldn’t help but notice your accent doesn’t quite match ours.”, he smiled, a small chuckle escaping from his lips.

“That obvious, hm?”, you finally giggled, causing him to smile.

“Slightly.”, he jested back. 

“Well to answer your question, Joe,” you emphasized his name slightly, causing a smile to spread across his lips. “I actually am visiting.”

He nodded, his brown eyes looking into yours. “I could give you a few suggestions of what to see while you’re here.”

“I’d love that.”, you smiled, brightly. 

“Okay, you definitely want to see Big Ben, the Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey—both of those if you have any interest in the royal family.”

Joe shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you. 

“All of those sound amazing.”

There was a smile so huge spread across your cheeks that it made them ache. 

“Oh—and the London Eye. You’ve got to see it—or ride it unless you’re afraid of heights.”

There was a small chuckle after he spoke the last part. You laughed little nervously, thinking about how high that really was. You were deathly afraid of heights, the thought alone causing a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll definitely have to look into it.”

His brown eyes looked into yours—warm and inviting. Part of you wanted to get to know him better, he seemed so easy to talk to. It was like it took no effort to talk to him just in this little frame of time. It was refreshing to say the least. 

“Here’s your iced coffee and macchiato.”, the barista caught your all’s attention. 

His eyes instantly broke away from yours as he grabbed your all’s drinks, walking back over to you. You watched him carefully, refraining from biting your bottom lip. He looked good all dressed in black, you had to admit it. He outstretched his hand, handing you your iced coffee. 

“Thank you, again. I am so sorry I spilled my drink on you—I should paid more attention.”

“It’s really okay, love. No big deal.”, he touched your shoulder reassuringly.

Love. There was that word again, the one that made your stomach do somersaults. His touched sent shock waves through your body, chills cascading down your spine. You had been out of your last relationship for over a year. It was a very dark time, your last boyfriend being very emotionally, verbally, and even borderline physically abusive. You hadn’t been with a man since and had no intentions of finding one, even feeling guilty you thought this man you met at the coffee shop was attractive. 

It felt nice to have a man’s touch—even if it was a simple gesture like this. You all began to slowly make your way towards the exit of the coffee shop. 

“Well, it was very nice meeting you—just not under the circumstances of spilling my drink on you.”

He closed his eyes, chuckling lightly before opening them again. “It was lovely to meet you even if you did spill your drink on me.”

You could tell he was slightly nervous, a little but anxious. 

“If you need anything around London while you’re visiting, I can give you my number. I’d be happy to show you around or give more suggestions.”

“Oh that sounds great.”, you reached in your pocket, pulling your cell phone out. 

You handed him your phone, allowing him to put his contact in. He smiled, giving you his phone to do the same. Exchanging phones back, he gave you a soft smile.

“See you later, Y/N.”

“See ya later, Joe.”

He grabbed the coffee shop door for you, allowing you to exit first. You could feel his eyes on you. He was being a true gentleman. You tried to keep your goodbye casual, cursing yourself slightly. He gave you a small smile as he went on his way, your eyes glued as you watched him walk away. You hated already to see him go, but loved to watch him leave. 

“What was that?”, one of your friends, Amanda asked.

“What was what?”, you sipped your iced coffee, somehow this one tasting sweeter than any other ever had. “Other than me making a complete idiot of myself.”

“Do you know who that was?”, another friend of yours, Christine asked.

“What do you mean? He was a random English….what do they called them—bloak named Joe?”

Your friend , Amanda rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re really oblivious?”

Your glared at her. “Oblivious about what? So what? He was a cute British bloak named Joe who actually offered to show me some of London. Even after spilling my coffee on him.”

Amanda and Christine laughed, causing your facial expression to switch between confused and agitated. You didn’t see what was so funny. He was a very nice, respectful, attractive looking British bloak. Who was very nice and bought you a drink even after you dumped your iced coffee on him. He also offered to give you help touring London.

“That was Joseph Quinn.”

You heard what Christine said, but your brain didn’t process it immediately. “What?”

“Joseph Quinn, the actor who played Eddie Munson in Stranger Things?”

Your eyes widened, finally comprehending what she said. Your friends began giggling, watching your shocked reaction. 

“I spilled my coffee on Joseph Quinn?”, the words fell from your lips, dripping slow like honey as you tried to process your actions. 

They nodded. 

“Don’t worry though, he seemed to not mind. He definitely liked what he saw. We saw you all exchange numbers.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, he probably is laughing to all his mates about how stupid I am.”

You all began slowly walking down the street, opposite from where Joe had went. You were silently cursing yourself, taking another sip of your iced coffee. Somehow, this taste was slightly more bitter. How could you have spilled your iced coffee on Joseph Quinn? What a fool, an idiot you were. Even if you did text him, you were sure he would ignore it. He should ignore it, after everything you put him through. For the rest of the day, he was all you could think about. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Joseph kept walking. His brain told him to keep going, don’t turn around and don’t take a second look. But he couldn’t help it. He stopped up the street a little ways, turning around and taking a sip of his coffee. He silently cursed himself, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He could see you talking with who he assumed to be your friends. Your facial expressions were very animated, he chuckled to himself. It was the cutest thing he’d seen in a while. Before you had a chance to notice him, he reminded himself he needed to keep walking. 

His best friend, Wesley was waiting for him at his apartment. They were going to spend the day, hanging out. Joseph hadn’t been in a serious relationship since before he auditioned for Stranger Things. He had a few hook-ups and casual flings, but nothing worth bringing home to mom. All the people he passed on the street couldn’t take his mind off you. There was something about you that intrigued him. Wesley texted him, bringing him out of his thoughts by asking what was keeping him.

Joe texted and told him, he’d explain to him later. It was too much to explain over text. The wind had a nip to it, causing Joe to pull his jacket tighter. It didn’t help that he was still a little damp. But he didn’t mind. The walk to Wesley’s felt like forever before he knocked on his door, trying anything he could to get you out of his head.

Wesley opened the door, a surprised look on his face. “Finally decided to show up?”

Joe chuckled, coming inside. “Sorry, I went to get coffee.”

“You smell like coffee shop.”, Wesley joked. 

“Well—that’s kinda what kept me awhile. A girl—I met, she had ordered some iced coffee and accidentally bumped into me and spilled her coffee all over me. She felt so bad.”

Wesley’s eyes widened. “Was she at least pretty?”

Joe groaned before throwing his head back and laughing. “More than pretty. Beautiful—funny.”

“Well, did ya get her number?”

“We exchanged numbers.” 

“Has she texted you?”

“No. I told her if she needed more suggestions or wanted me to show her around to text me. Was that stupid?”

“No, not stupid. So she’s American?”

Joe nodded. 

“Did she know who you were?”

Joe shook his head. “If she did, she didn’t let on like she did.”

“Are you gonna text her?”

“I don’t know—is it stupid for me to text someone that probably won’t ever visit again?”, Joe sighed. 

“You never know.”, Wesley began before going to his room, grabbing some clothes for Joe to change into. “She may come back if she likes what she sees.”

Joe rolled his eyes, sighing. 

Wesley came back in, handing him the clothes. “Try not to worry too much, Romeo.”

Joe glared at him playfully. “I’m not worried about it.”

Wesley laughed before going to sit down in his living room. Joe rolled his eyes again before going to the bathroom to change. Joe sighed, closing the door and beginning to take his coffee soaked clothes off. All he could think about while staring at his shirt and pants was how innocently you were trying to help him dab his clothes, eyes finally meeting. Your eyes were soft, but he could see hesitation in them. Your anxiety was through the roof. 

He could tell you were waiting for him to blow at any second. But he wasn’t going to. It was an honest mistake, an accident. After changing clothes, Joe emerged from the bathroom and took a seat on Wesley’s loveseat, opposite of him. He laid his iPhone on the arm of the loveseat, praying you might just text him. He could see if you didn’t want to text him. His response was a little lame, even the way he tried to ask you out in a round about way. There was no way you didn’t have a boyfriend back home. 

Wesley eyed him. “Still thinking about her?”

“Am not.”, Joe looked off to the side, before looking down at his lap. 

“You sure about that? You seem really distracted.”

“I am sure, Wes.”

Wesley finally dropped it, beginning to bring up other subjects to Joe to talk about. They had been best friends for years. Even as they talked, Wesley could tell something was up with his best friend. But he had a feeling he knew what it was. It had been a while since Joe had a serious girlfriend. Joseph needed to find someone who would love him and want him for him—not his fame or money. 

Day soon turned into evening, the sun beginning to set. Throughout the entire evening, Wesley secretly watched Joe pick his phone up at the slightest ding, hoping it would be you. Wesley rolled his eyes playfully, wishing he could just text you. They had decided to eat dinner at Wesley’s apartment, opting to order pizza. Joe was finally about to give up on you texting him, letting out a long sigh. Wesley eyed him, grabbing his cell phone.

“Decided on a kind of pizza?”

“Just whatever you want.”

Wesley was about to dial the number when Joe’s phone dinged, him practically almost falling off the couch to grab it. 

Joe’s face lit up as he read the message. 

-Hey, it’s Y/N. The one who spilled coffee on you this morning. I know it’s late but my friends decided to go drinking tonight instead of sight seeing and I’m just not in the mood to have a terrible hang over. Does your offer still stand? X

Wesley could notice from the kitchen that his best friend’s demeanor changed. “Did she message?” There was no response as Joe texted back.

-Hey, offer still stands. Where are you staying? I can come pick you up, if that’s okay?

He tried his best to keep it casual. Not appearing or seeming like he was waiting in your text. Not like it had drove him crazy all day long. 

“Is it her?”, Wesley asked again, finally gaining Joe’s attention.

Joe nodded. “She’s asking if my offer still stands.”

Wesley smirked. “Told you she liked what she saw. My mate might have him a date.”

Joe glared up at Wesley as his phone dinged again.

-Sounds great. I’m staying at Park Plaza near Westminster Bridge. Just got out of the shower. Should be ready when you get here. 

Joe felt a stabbing, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes fluttered shut, just imagining you fresh out of the shower wrapped in nothing but a towel. He shook his head, remembering he barely knew you and shouldn’t be having thoughts like that. But he couldn’t help it. You were beautiful. Wesley couldn’t contain himself anymore, bringing himself into the living room and peering over the couch to read Joe’s texts from you. 

“Think you might get lucky?”, Wesley teased.

Joe glared back at him. “No—no, we aren’t having sex on the first—whatever this is, Wes.”

Wesley laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Not even if she initiates it?” 

“NO.”, Joe said, more firmly. “I hate to do this—but I need to go get ready. Maybe pizza later this week?”

A laugh escaped from Wesley. “Yeah, pizza later. Go meet your mystery girl.”

Joe rolled his eyes, laughing before responding to you. 

-Sounds good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. See you soon.

“Catch me up later?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let you know how things go.”

With that, Joe left Wesley’s apartment with a spring in his step. He was in a rush to get to his house and change before meeting you. A quick shower would be nice, just to freshen up and make sure he no longer smelled like coffee. He threw the door open quickly, throwing his keys and phone down. He wasted no time running for his bathroom, turning on the hot water. Looking in the mirror, he made sure his beard didn’t look too crazy—he had been letting it grow a little. Just thicker. 

He quickly trimmed it a little bit before jumping in the shower. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm water rush over his body. All he could think about was you—what you were wearing, what you smelled like—he tried to remind himself it was too early to be infatuated with you. Running his hands through his curls, he thought of what to do this evening, but decided he would let you lead. If you asked for his suggestions, he would gladly give them. If you wanted him to surprise you, he’d gladly do it. It was all up to you. 

Turning off the water, he heard his phone ding from the living room. He cursed himself slightly, remembering he had left it in there. He was careful to step out of the shower, afraid if he mis-stepped he’d up in the ER instead of being able to take you sight-seeing. He quickly dried his hair, leaving it in a curly, wild mess before using gel to smooth it down, still leaving the curls.  Blowing air, he was trying to decide what to wear to make a good impression. As the sun went down, it became colder this time of year in London. 

After spraying cologne, he left the bathroom and went to grab his phone. 

-Hey. Just checking in and making sure you’re alright.

Joe quickly began typing a response. 

-Hey, yes. Sorry had to run back to my place. I’ll be there ASAP. Want me to meet you at your room so you don’t have to walk down alone? Or do you want to meet me in the lobby?

He instantly cursed himself as he hit sent. He took his phone with him to the bedroom, laying it on his bed as he raked through his closet trying to find something that would satisfy him. Another ding, causing him to stop his search for the perfect outfit. 

-My room is fine. I’m in 221. See you soon. Be safe. X

Another smile curved across his lips, typing away.

-Sounds good. Getting dressed. See you soon. :)

Instantly, he began questioning himself. Was the smiley face too much? Groaning, he went back to searching his closet for clothes. He finally decided on black slacks, a white button up, and his peacoat seeing as it was pretty chilly this evening. Grabbing his phone and keys, he was out the door. The wind had a harsh nip to it, instantly hitting his warm face in contrast. Exhaling, he watched his breath in the cool, night air. There was a spring in his step, for the first time in a long time he felt eager. There was hope rising in his chest, the closer he got to the hotel. 

-Awesome, see you soon. :)

His brain quickly reminded him that this was only casual, he was just showing you around. The only reason you wanted to see him was for him to show you around his hometown. It was obvious, considering he knew the ends and outs. There was nothing more to this, was there? He turned the corner, reaching for the door of the hotel. The warm air hit his chilled face, him inhaling a deep breath. A small smile spread across his lips as he breezed by the desk. Pressing the button on the elevator, he began trying to talk himself up. 

The elevator dinged, reaching the second floor. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He was a bundle of nerves as he approached room 221. Reaching his hand up towards the door, he could see it shaking as he prepared to knock on your door.  A few broken knocks agains the door was all he could muster. 

He wasn’t prepared for you to open the door so quickly. The moment almost happened in slow motion. The first thing he noticed was how bright your eyes were shining. A smile spread across your lips, his eyes panning down to see you in a white sweater dress, hugging your curves perfectly. His mouth went dry, trying to find the words to say. You smiled at him, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth.

“Wow, you look—amazing.”, he breathed, trying to keep his cool.

Deep down inside, he felt like a little school boy. His nerves were getting the best of him, not quite used to feeling this way. He had been used to women throwing themselves at him lately, but it was different with you. 

“Thank you so much—so do you.”

Those words sounded so stupid coming from your mouth. 

He smiled, laughing nervously as he brushed through his curls. “So, did you have any idea where you wanted to go first? Have you had dinner?”

He was shooting his shot, hoping that it would work. There was a small glimmer of hope. 

You smirked, holding your small jacket folded over on your arm. “No, honestly. Have you?”

“No, actually. I know a really good place if you’re up for it.”

Your face lit up. “That would be amazing, I’m starving—if I’m being honest. And some of this stuff on the menus are—”

“Different?”, Joe finished for you.

“Different.”, you confirmed. 

He chuckled, immediately lightening the mood. “For sure. Let’s go. It’s in Soho, is that too far?”

“Oh no—it would be fun. We can always come back to London. I love a good dinner.”

He smiled, before he quickly frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay. Um, this is a hard topic—”

“Okay….”

What would he tell you? Was this the part where he shared with you a dark secret like having a secret girlfriend? Even if he was famous, you had to remind yourself you didn’t know him. You only knew what your friends had shared with you—causing you to beat yourself up all evening on how you spilled coffee on THE Joseph Quinn. You were surprised when he immediately texted back, offering to show you around London. You thought he would never want to see you again. 

“But um—there is something I do need to tell you….”

A sinking feeling entered the pit of your stomach. 

“Alright….”

“I don’t know if you know, but—”, he laughed nervously, closing his eyes before continuing. “I’m actually a little famous—not trying to brag—definitely not trying to brag, but there may be people who see us together.”

Your eyes lit up, feeling slight relief. “Okay.”

“It won’t bother you?”

“I don’t think so—I just hope it doesn’t cause trouble for you.”

He smiled. “I’m used to it. At least they’ll say I was with a beautiful woman.”

You felt your cheeks becoming red, a nervous laugh rising from your chest. “I’m sure you’ve brushed shoulders with women much more beautiful than me.”

Joe rolled his eyes playfully. “Aw, come on.”

“It’s true.”

You both stopped laughing, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Your smile softened as you made direct eye contact. It was like the entire world stopped spinning in that second—the second your eyes met. You swallowed hard, feeling the connection between you both. He held his out hand, motioning for you to go ahead in front of him. You smirked, immediately thinking about how much of a gentleman he was. The only time he got in front of you was to open the doors, feeling the cool air immediately hit you both.

“Do you want to take a cab or walk?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, what do you think?”

“We could walk to the restaurant, see the sights if you wanted?”

You smiled softly. “Yeah, sounds good.”

He nodded, leading you to through the streets. You all made small talk, beginning to talk about how your all’s lives. He told you about his mom and dad, that he always wanted to be involved in acting. You told him a little about your life in the States, telling him you worked for a doctor’s office. He didn’t poke or prod information out of you, allowing you to tell him what you felt comfortable telling him. There would be breaks in your conversations regarding your personal lives, him explaining some sights. It was so cold you both could see your breath in the air. 

Finally reaching the restaurant, you all entered and felt the warm air hit your pale, chilled faces. It looked very ritzy, nothing like you were used to. You all sat down, sitting across from one another. It gave you an opportunity to take him in, but you tried not to stare long—immediately grabbing the menu and trying to submerse yourself in it. 

“The steak tartare is amazing.”, Joe began. “I think you’d like it.”

  Your eyes panned down to the mains portion of the menu. You were a little surprised by the description. 

“Served with egg yolk?”, you asked, sliding your menu down to view him.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty popular over here…kinda like baked beans with our breakfast.

You nodded easily, but he could tell you were slightly shocked. It made a smile curve across his lips. It was a breath of fresh air to talk to someone who had a different outlook on things. 

“Do you want a shot?”, he asked.

You widened your eyes easily. “Sure.”

The waiter came around, taking your order. He ordered oysters, immediately causing your nose to crinkle up slightly. He ordered you both a shot, your main dinner, and said you’d debate dessert. 

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”, Joe smirked as the waiter took your all’s menus. 

“I’m not sure about oysters.”, you chuckled nervously. 

“Just try one. If you hate it, you can blame me.”

You all continued to make small talk, waiting on your food. The waiter was quick to bring the shots, you immediately noticing they were smaller than the ones in the States. On a count of three, you both turned up your shots, you having no trouble downing it. He smirked at you as you both sat your glasses down on the table with a clink. It wasn’t long before you felt a small buzz, just enough to make you unwind and not feel so uptight. Even though Joe was easy to talk to you, you still felt a little unsure of yourself. You’d never been overly confident when it came to dating. 

“So you graduated LAMDA in 2015?”, you asked, taking a drink of your water.

He nodded. “Yes, had a few acting roles afterwards…nothing to brag about.”

“No, that’s really wonderful—I mean sounds like you were popular over here.”

“I guess you could say so…..I didn’t really gain a lot of traction though until I played Eddie on Stranger Things”, he smirked.

You could tell he wasn’t telling you this to brag about his filmography. 

“That was you?”, you asked, surprised. 

He nodded. 

“Wow….you were amazing….”

“Aw, come on.”, he laughed nervously, raking through his curls.

All he could focus on was how beautiful you looked—even in the lowlight of the restaurant. 

“No, I mean it. I cried over the season finale.”, you laughed as the waiter brought the oysters. 

Joe smiled widely, looking up from you with his deep brown eyes. “You did?”

You nodded, looking up between him and the oysters. He thanked you, genuinely surprised by your reaction.  You can’t believe that you had completely glazed over the fact he played in something you watched with your friends. You felt like such a fool—an idiot, You could only imagine what he was secretly thinking about you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he never called you again or texted—which you couldn’t blame him. 

He somehow talked you into trying oysters. While they weren’t your favorite, you didn’t hate them. Your reaction caused him to laugh, ending with both of you all laughing. There was chemistry between you both, but you tried not to get your hopes up, realizing you had to return home in a few days. Most of the time, nothing long distance worked out. At best, you all could be friends. 

After finishing dessert, you left the restaurant, immediately entering the cold air. The temperature had dropped since you all had came. You instantly cursed yourself for not bringing a thick coat. As you all continued to walk and talk, you did your best not to let him know you were practically freezing.  It wasn’t a long walk back to see Big Ben. Your teeth were so close to chattering, it wasn’t funny. You felt them chatter silently in your mouth, not knowing whether it was from the cold or your nerves—or a mix of both.

“Are you cold?”, he asked, turning to eye you.

“A little.”, you admitted, seeing your breath in the cold air.

Big Ben came into view, illuminated in the dark of the night. You both looked up at it, the clock hands nearing ten. 

“Wow.”, you breathed, eyeing up at Big Ben.

A landmark so simple as Big Ben had you in awe, amazed by the sight. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before. 

“Nice, isn’t?”, Joe smiled over at you, 

“Amazing.”, you looked back at him.

Turning your attention back to Big Ben, you didn’t notice him sliding off his navy blue peacoat. Your body was shocked when you felt the warm fabric around your shoulders. It smelled like his cologne and aftershave, the scent encasing your nose. You felt yourself swallow hard, looking up at him in the pale moonlight, your faces illuminated. 

He chuckled through a smile.

You instinctively put your arms in his coat, the chill melting away.  “You didn’t have to do that Joe.”

“You were cold, it’s what a gentleman does, you know.”, he chuckled, leaning in closer. 

“Yeah, but—why are you being so nice to me? Even after I poured my coffee on you?”, you looked at him.

Your eyes were locked, your stomach twisting and turning at the obvious chemistry between you both.

“I—it was an accident.”, he began. “Plus, it’s easy to forgive such a beautiful girl.”

A smile spread across your lips. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Man, he was really turning on the charm now.

You giggled easily. “That can’t be true.”

“It is, what do I have to do to prove it to you?”

There was something about this romantic rendezvous that made your heart beat a little faster, made you excited. It made your blood pump a little faster through your veins. It was like a wild romance novel where you met this handsome stranger who immediately knocked you off your feet. 

“I don’t know….”

He chuckled again before his smile faded slightly. There was a gleam in his brown eyes, unlike you’d seen before. Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe something was shifting. Was it the alcohol in your systems? His fingers brushed your cheek, causing a soft sigh to escape your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, before opening to view his face right in front of you. Was this some kind of dream?

His face inched in closer to yours, feeling his breath hit your soft skin. In this moment, it was like your brain went into auto-pilot mode. You both inched in closer, his fingers trailing up your cheek to finally meet some of your hair. It felt like time stood still—his lips finally meeting yours. They were soft, sensual and everything you would have dreamed them to be. 

It started off as a peck—soft and small. His eyes fluttered open just as yours did. Another soft, approving sigh escaped your lips. Your mouth gaped open, words wanting to come out but you were unable to form any. He heard the slight stutter but quickly crashed his lips into yours again, this time deepening the kiss. You held back the moan that begged to escape your throat as his other hand rested on your waist.  It had been so long since you’d felt this way, it was uncharted territory.

You both finally pulled away, his hands still resting on your hips as your eyes fluttered open to view him.

“Wow—that was—”, your mouth was dry like cotton.

“Amazing?”, he finished for you, chuckling softly before brushing your hair back.

You nodded, a small giggle escaping from your lips. This felt like a fever dream, like it shouldn’t have happened. Your mind was still reeling from sharing a kiss with him. You couldn’t help but to look deep into his brown eyes, mesmerized and completely enamored with him in this moment. You didn’t want this night to end, knowing you were one step closer to having to return home. Your brain quickly tried to rationalize the situation, reminding you that once you went home you would just be a memory to him. 

He’d probably never even text you, much less call you. He’d forget he even met you, blinded by all the pretty women he met in the industry. There were women much more beautiful than you—models, actresses, artists. The list went on and on. You, on the other hand, was just a normal American girl. What did you possibly have to offer him? There was one of two ways this night could possibly go—allow him to take you back to your hotel or see if he offered to take you back to his place. 

Your thoughts were derailed as he leaned in for another kiss, making this one consist of a few soft and slow kisses. You weren’t complaining—it was probably the best kiss you had ever had in your entire life. It felt like your brain was overloaded, the circuits malfunctioning as he pulled away and took another look at you. Your cheeks felt red and flushed as he smiled at you. 

“When do you go home?”, he asked, out of the blue. 

“Sunday. I fly home Sunday.”

He nodded easily, looking back up at you. “We could do something everyday until then—if you friends wouldn’t mind, that is….”, he stammered nervously. 

You giggled, his arms still around you. “That would be amazing, Joe.”

Without much more thought, you all shared another kiss. It was like one wasn’t enough. Maybe it was the fact you knew you’d never see him again. Maybe it was the fact he was British—you didn’t know. 

“It’s getting late and I’m sure you’re jet lagged. Anything else you want to do?”, he asked softly. 

“This has been an amazing night. I think I need some sleep.”, you laughed, your laugh fading into a yawn. 

Your body shivered as he fixed his peacoat around you. You shivered just looking at him, how was he surviving the cold?

“How are you not cold?”, you asked easily.

“Oh, I’m cold. I’m just used to London weather.”, he smirked. 

“I’m freezing.”, you admitted. 

He pulled you into him, completely shocking you. He smirked down at you, sending shivers down your spine. You dreaded the walk back to the hotel, realizing your amazing night was almost coming to a close. London was beautiful, but at night, it was magical and breath taking. As you all continued to walk, you rummaged through your wallet attempting to find your hotel key card.

“Shit—sorry shoot.”, you corrected as you stopped, Joe halting his steps with you. 

“What’s wrong, love?”, he asked easily. 

“I forgot my key card. It’s locked up in the room.”

His eyes widened easily as he continued to watch you comb over your wallet, checking every nook and cranny. 

“Can’t find—it—could have sworn I put it in here.”

“Maybe try calling your friends?”, he suggested.

He felt guilty as he secretly hoped your friends wouldn’t answer. He didn’t want this amazing night to end with you. He wasn’t sure how long this dilemma would prolong it, but he was willing to take anything else he could get. You awakened something inside of him.

You nodded, pulling out your phone and dialing their numbers. No answer from either. 

“They didn’t answer.”, you groaned, eyeing your phone. 

He felt hope rise in his chest, decided to shoot his shot. 

“Um, my flat is close by…if you want to go back there…you don’t have to stay—just until they answer, maybe?”

He immediately wanted to kick himself for babbling on like an idiot. So much for being smooth about it. 

“That sounds great, Joe. It’s so cold. I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”, you sighed, looking up at him. 

“No-no, I insist. If they don’t answer, you could stay. I can give you the bed and I could take the couch?”

He closed his eyes, immediately cursing himself again. What were you doing to him? He was usually cool, calm, and collected when it came to trying to romance someone—but that went out the window with you. 

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”, he smiled.

[dokidokisadness]

Werewolf training - log 2

summary: A werewolf hunter adopts a werewolf pup in order to make a living weapon out of him.

[btw this is losely based on WoD and werewolf the apocalypse - mostly bc I don't have any of the books yet and honestly never played it, but I really like the concepts and the world. Oh and... I guess it takes place on the early 90's]

Tw: minor wump, dehumanization, ableism, religious themes, living weapon.

prologue | log 1| Notes

There was a reason why the nuns thought this was a case of demonic possession. I thought maybe it had been an overreaction, however, I’m beginning to understand their assumptions.

Moss is already an agitated creature. It screams and flaps its arms around constantly for no real reason. It wasn’t able to stand back when I picked him up, probably because it was kept in that straight jacket all the time. But once it managed to balance itself in both feet, running was a constant. Always making some type of noise and constantly bumping into furniture. It was so careless and desperate with each move, I started to worry there was something wrong with it’s sight. Needless to say, I decide to get it to be more patient. The cage was an option, sure, but I don’t want it to think of the situation as punishment, rather correction. I need it to stay still and wait for my orders, not because there are silver bars preventing from leaving, I’ll need it to stay still in open environments. Oh and no straight jackets either, since I need it to be aware of it’s surroundings and for it to feel able to move, yet also feel the need to wait for my orders.

I checked the book for instruction on it, but it seems to have been written with a much more well-behaved subject in mind. I mean, I could try to “explain the rules and punishment for braking them”, but I don’t think Moss is the type to listen.

In the end, I decided to keep it chained outside, not too far from the house. It tried tugging on the chain occasionally, but after a week it was calmer.

Our schedule has become significantly easier.

5 AM – moss wakes up.

it sleeps very few hours and wakes up by itself. I notice It is up because it starts pacing around by this time. I leave it be for about an hour, it hits the mattress and the walls then paces around a little more for a while.

6 AM – I feed It.

Usually oatmeal or tuna paste.

6:05 AM – I leave it outside.

I usually do some house chores and fix some breakfast for myself, sometimes I train him on the basic commands before leaving to work.

7 AM – I’m usually getting to work by that time.

I think I mentioned before, but you must have gotten it wrong. I’m not an author, only an editor and occasionally translator. I don’t blame you, though. Office work just feels empty when you deal with the supernatural. I would quit, but hunting abominations doesn’t pay the bills. Also, I don’t think anyone expects an editor to double as a vigilante, so I guess it’s a good alibi.

4:30 PM – I leave work.

I usually take some stuff to finish at home later, they mostly don’t care as long as it’s ready by the deadline.

5 PM – I’m home and start training Moss.

For now, I’m focusing in having it know basic commands and basic English, for more detailed instructions.

The book mentions not following through with the second part if your goal is a more dependent wolf intended for simpler missions and tasks or if the beast doesn’t seem capable of developing a further understanding on language (apparently that is common enough to be on the guide) – stay; attack; stop; are probably the only things it should understand. However, I don’t have the budget to take moss in a cage to every mission and dragging him in chains to specific places. I need it to be able to carry itself in a “normal” way, as normal as possible. I need an intelligent weapon.

7PM – I have dinner.

If moss behaved during training, it may have food as well.

7:30 PM – I have Moss work out.

Mostly running exercises, recently I’ve been getting it to learn to fetch, bring it back or kill.

Suddenly near the woods has its perks. I’ve been working on having it sniff a dead rat, identify it and kill others alike it. I just need to get something bigger to try those fighting skills.

8:30 PM – I get Moss on the basement for sleep time.

It doesn’t usually sleep at that time, I want it to understand I’m no longer interacting with it for the day, so I just ignore it. If it is too noisy, I keep it in the cage with a muzzle.

I occasionally get him up in the middle of the night and take him outside for a running exercise, I want it to be used to the setting of a mission. At some point I’ll need it to wake up and help me hunt.

Ok so, that was a very tight version of our schedule, you see… Moss is often unpredictable and very suborn. A defiant wolf as I mentioned previously, sometimes it just wakes up and is calm, but often times it wakes up and is aggressive. It’s small and does little damage for now, but I need it to be fully under control. Because of that I end up wasting time punishing it for little things every day, especially weekends. Having said all of that, it’s been difficult, but I guarantee, you’ll like the final product.

PS: a small question: how is werewolf maturing documented? I mean, the book mentions height, weight and sizes, but rarely mentions age and , well, Moss is getting taller each week… not much, but it’s noticeable. I worry I have less time than I expected.

I managed a picture of it last night. Oh and a little sketch I made... this thing never leaves my mind, I guess.

[motelsnleatherseats]

Co-Sleeping

“Dude, c’mon. Why is it weird? It’s not weird unless you make it weird, so stop making it weird,” Dean chided.

“You’re unbelievable. It’s weird because I’m your brother,” Sam stressed, the look on her face one of exasperation and mild bewilderment. Dean had suggested some out of pocket things before, some morally gray scenarios he was keen to partake in, but this was just a little too much for Sam.

“Technically you’re my sister now, but still! It’s not even your body, it’s like one of those Avatar type deals. Like a shell, or a suit of armor!” The ever so smug grin that spread across his face like his explanation was the gold standard made Sam roll his eyes so hard he could have pulled a muscle.

“This is a new low, even for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Barely legal high school girls, girls that are too wasted to barely form coherent sentences – I know you like the low hanging fruit, but just because I’ve got tits now doesn’t mean it’s a free pass for you.” Sam couldn’t believe this was even a conversation she was entertaining at this point. 

When she had come back to the motel room in a body that most definitely wasn’t his, Dean had jumped on the opportunity to make cringe worthy passes at her before Sam embarrassedly informed him that a witch got the drop on him. After a few minutes of Dean laughing his ass off and making jokes about the fact that he must have called him ‘Samantha’ so often that it must have had adverse effects on him, he went right back into the sleazeball tactics like it would somehow work on Sam.

“You’re such a prude sometimes, Sammy, I swear,” Dean sighed before he saddled up next to her on the edge of the bed. “Look, it’s kind of a blessing in disguise, if you think about it,” he tried to reason and Sam shot him a lame look. “I’m serious! We’re obviously gonna get you fixed up, but in the meanwhile, we can take advantage of it.”

“You mean you can take advantage of it. How does letting you use this body help me at all?” Sam inquired, eyebrows raised.

“Oh like you’ve been out there putting notches on bedposts. C’mon man, I know you’re not getting laid, and your bad luck is rubbin’ off on me.”

Sam scoffed, giving a shake of her head.

“I’m serious!”

“You’re blaming me for your dry spell. Nice, Dean.”

“I’m just saying. This way neither of us have to go out and field potential trips to the free clinic.”

Sam grimaced.

“Condoms, Dean.”

“You know what I mean. Plus this way I could hit it raw and not have to worry about anything.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam griped, moving to get off the bed, but Dean was quick to follow, reaching for Sam’s wrist to keep her close. They were more eye level now, Sam’s height having decreased slightly in the biological change.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean practically purred and the change in his demeanor and voice disarmed Sam slightly. “You can’t tell me you never thought about it. What it would feel like to have sex as a woman. I’ve seen you watch me with girls before. You ever wonder what kind of moves I’ve got?” He asked with a grin.

Sam stared for a few moments with an indiscernible expression.

“You’ve told me what your moves are. In explicit detail. Ad nauseam.” 

“Yeah, and now you can find out firsthand.” 

To admit that Dean had made barely passing points almost wasn’t worth the shit eating grin he’d be wearing thinking that he got his way, but he was right. Sam couldn’t recall the last time he had felt the urge to satisfy himself in a way that required exchanging body heat with someone.

He and Dean had skirted the line a couple of times before with getting a little handsy with each other. It was usually in the dead of night, pressed up against one another for either warmth or comfort when one of them had a more difficult time dealing with whatever nightmare refused to give them restful sleep. For the sake of getting more than 3 to 4 hours a night, they had reverted back to the good ol’ classics of sharing a bed and running fingers through hair or caressing backs for the very real physical sensation of human touch.

They never talked about it afterward. Even the nights when the gentle press of lips descended from forehead to mouth. Apparently what was holding Dean back the entire time was the fact that Sam wasn’t a woman, but that was another Freudian problem to deal with another day.

It could just be something they both needed. It didn’t need to be weird.

“I swear to God, if you go around bragging about this like one of your conquests–”

“I’m not gonna brag that I fucked my brother when he was a chick, c’mon, I’m not stupid.”

Sam gave him a look that read ‘debatable’, but heaved a sigh afterward which Dean took as her admitting defeat.

“Alright,” he announced triumphantly. He may as well have been rubbing his grubby little hands together in victory. “So you want the whole pick up experience like at a bar or?”

“God, no, I’d never fall for any of that bull shit,” Sam replied, pulling her wrist free from Dean’s hold before she moved to sit back on the bed. “Let’s just get it over with.”

“Well damn, Sammy, you could at least act like you’re not doing me a favor,” Dean’s expression crackled slightly, knocking him a peg or two off of his ego.

“Sorry,” Sam murmured, rubbing her palms against the worn denim over her knees. “It’s just weird. I mean, not weird cause I feel forced or anything. Just weird cause it’s you. No, not like that. I mean.. It’s weird because I’m like this. I don’t know.”

“We’re just helping each other out. Like when we share a bed. We’re just.. sharing a bed in a different way now,” Dean reassured before he joined the other on the bed again, the outside of their thighs touching. He was right, Sam didn’t need to make it weird. It could just be exactly what it was.

“Yeah,” Sam replied as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she turned her head to glance at her brother. She suddenly felt nervous. He had thought about when something may eventually happen with the proximity they had been sharing in recent nights, but he never assumed that Dean would come right out and ask if he wanted to actually have sex.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re probably one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,” Dean admitted with that softer tone of voice again. Sam’s cheeks grew warm as her stomach gave a little flip. Why did that matter? It wasn’t like Sam had ever looked like this before, and to be fair, Dean was attracted to anything with tits and a willingness to experiment.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean retorted before he moved his hand up and tucked a lock of hair behind Sam’s ear. She watched as his jade gaze swept over her features. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

Sam could feel the tips of her ears grow warm from his words and the intensity of his stare. She could hear the quickening of his pulse in her ears. Was he always this soft with the women he intended to bed? She didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought before Dean had leaned in to push his full lips against her own.

It didn’t feel much different from the kisses they exchanged in the dark early morning hours, giving hushed sounds as if they needed to keep it a secret despite no one else being around. It was out in the open now, their desire for each other, even if it was circumstantial. 

Sam leaned into the meeting of their lips with a push forward of her chest, inhaling deeply through her nose as she brought a hand up and laid it against his brother’s neck with slender, feminine fingers. Lips parted and tongues met, the sensation familiar and comforting, but there was more of a heat behind it this time. She could feel Dean slide his hand along her thigh to her hip as he tried to diminish the remaining space between them, so Sam took the initiative and leaned back bringing him with her. 

Her head hit the pillow, hair splaying underneath her as Dean settled a top of her form. Her arms came up to encircle around his neck as she gave a soft moan against his lips while Dean fit himself between her thighs as they fell open on the bed. His hands were quick and Sam could feel him immediately dive under the material of her shirt, crawling up the expanse of a slender torso before a strong hand found the mound of her breast, groping as his hips rolled forward.

Sam gave a soft gasp against his mouth, the sensation making a heat tingle pleasantly through her. It was a little foreign, but pleasurable nonetheless, especially with the way Dean was kneading against it before he had toyed with her nipple, the bud hardening almost immediately under the touch. She took a deep inhale to arch her chest into the touch, her fingers moving through the short hair at the nape of his neck and up towards the crown of his head, rewarding him with a moan.

Dean’s mouth had parted from hers with a gentle tug of teeth to her bottom lip, moving his down over her jawline and to her throat, the soft plushness of his lips a welcome sensation. Sam let her head tip back some as she exhaled breathy sounds, the warmth that started to blossom in her chest traveling south quickly. There was a throbbing between her legs, different from the usual throb he was used to with different parts, but the pull of arousal was still the same.

Her shirt came up, breasts freeing from the confines of it before Dean’s mouth had latched to a nipple, giving it a suckle and a flick of his tongue, sending little pulses of electricity through her form. Even as a male, Sam had a sensitive chest, but this was 10 times the feeling.

Sam’s hand came down the slope of neck and down his back, dragging her nails between his shoulder blades as he let his mouth become intimately acquainted with her new breasts, lavishing them in hungry attention. A soft hiss was given when Dean released her nipple with a soft pop before blowing a gentle stream of air against the wet surface.

“So sensitive, Sammy,” Dean cooed at her with that stupid grin on his face and it made Sam squirm slightly.

“Don’t tease me,” Sam exhaled before Dean traded that grin to lick a stripe between her breasts before moving down, kissing over her stomach. Those butterflies kicked up again as Sam realized where his next destination was.

Things felt like they were playing in slow motion; Dean had undone the button of her pants, curled his fingers into the waistband of them and wriggled them over her hips and the curve of her ass. Her legs came up in the air as he glided them down her thighs and slid them off, discarding them over the edge of the bed. She laid there, legs bent at the knee, thighs spread with only a thin layer of cotton between Dean and a part of her she had never intended to explore. Had the predicament been swapped and Dean was hit with the spell, Sam was sure he’d have spent the next 24 hours groping his own tits and masturbating. 

Sam could feel her heart hammering away in her chest, and had she slowed her breathing, she probably could have seen the movement rippling over her skin. Dean was just staring, drinking her in, chest exposed and legs parted in a way that made her squirm again. She was about to complain about how awkward it was until Dean moved his hands to caress calloused tips of his fingers along her inner thighs.

She brought her bottom lip between her teeth as they ventured higher, one splaying a palm against the inner most part of her thigh just outside the hem of her panties while the other moved to draw his thumb against the material, up and down slowly, up and down so fucking slowly against her hidden slit.

Sam’s toes curled slightly against the threadbare sheets as heat pulsed under the pressure of his thumb. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment so she closed her eyes and exhaled a shaky breath, trying to just focus on the sensation and not the fact that it was Dean touching her that way.

She gasped, eyes shooting open a moment later when there was a wet press against her panties. She lifted her head enough to witness Dean with his head between her thighs, dragging his tongue along the cotton. Now that was a new sensation.

“O-oh~” Sam moaned before she felt a rumble of a groan against her clothed pussy, Dean very clearly enjoying the act himself. Sam had to keep herself from closing her thighs against her brother’s head the more her panties became soaked, half from Dean’s eager tongue and the other half from her anatomy responding to the pleasurable feeling. Her hips began to move against the bed, lifting towards his efforts as she clenched behind the wet fabric as goosebumps erupted over her skin.

Dean moved to pull her panties to the side enough to grant himself full access to her glistening lips, giving himself a visual feast before his fingers had spread her open. Embarrassment hit again at how intimately vulnerable she was, so she brought a hand up to cover her eyes as she trembled lightly.

“So pretty,” she heard Dean speak before his mouth was suddenly on her. He had latched his lips to the fleshy mound, kissing it the way he was kissing her not but 30 seconds ago. She could feel every move of his lips before he was full on making out with it, tongue dipping to caress over her hooded clit and she brought her hand down to bite into the fleshy part of her palm under her thumb to stifle any more shameful sounds.

Her other hand found the back of her brother’s head again, nails scraping at the base of his skull as she writhed once more as his mouth trailed lower, now dragging his tongue through her slick folds, up and down, circling, massaging. 

Sam had always enjoyed going down on girls, sometimes more than the actual act of having sex, and they seemed to appreciate and sing his praises for it. Now he understood why. Dean had talked a big game about being able to make girls come from his mouth alone, but Sam always assumed he over exaggerated the amount of foreplay he brought to the bedroom. But here he was, living up to the reputation he swore by by writing a love letter with his tongue between her thighs.

Dean let the flat of his tongue glide from her opening to her throbbing clit before he suckled the sensitive folds between his lips, collecting her sweet juices and the build up of saliva before he swallowed it down with a satisfied groan. And then he encircled his lips around her clit and gave slow, deliberate suckles, causing Sam to suck in a breath that hollowed out her stomach, thighs trembling.

“Dean..oh fuck,” she moaned softly, breaths uneven and lewd as she gave up on covering her mouth or subduing the vocalization of her pleasure. It felt incredible, the amount of attention to detail, his thorough process of making sure every centimeter of sensitive flesh was tended to. She could feel her clit throbbing under the flicks of tongue, the pulsating felt all the way through her abdomen. The hand that was at her mouth came down to grope at her own breast, hips now making little circles towards the tongue so hard at work to get her to orgasm as she watched with her pupils blown wide.

And then he doubled down, his equally dark gaze now reaching up her body to hold eye contact, hungrily eating her out like baby brother pussy would be his last meal on Earth. It was too hot, too lewd, and Sam gripped what hair she could before she thrust her hips up, grinding against his unrelenting tongue. Her breath hitched, pleasured sounds rising an octave before that tight coil in her belly came undone, a flood of euphoria throbbing from her pussy, her entire body feeling the blanket of warmth from orgasm. He kept hitting that button over and over, the strong pulsing making her spasm uncontrollably until her thighs did close around his head as it quickly reached overstimulation.

Dean pulled back once Sam nearly crushed his head with her thighs, licking his lips to collect the mess that had collected there. He brought his hand up, running his fingers through the slick mess that earned a soft whine from Sam, the stimulation still too much.

“What’d I tell ya?” Dean asked, that grin back on his lips. Leave it to him to take it as a personal victory rather than just living in the moment.

“Okay, point proven,” Sam replied breathily as she worked on evening out her breathing, her head falling back against the pillow again as she exhaled one more calming sigh, body still pleasantly humming. Her thighs fell open further before Dean had moved up in between them, kissing up her chest again until he had moved to hover above her, getting one more grope of her breasts.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” He asked, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip to subdue a smirk. Sam’s hands came to run along his chest, cheeks still flushed pink as she let her eyes roam over his features. It was never a secret why girls fell for Dean so quickly. He had always been bordering the line between ruggedly handsome and pretty; gorgeous eyes and a pair of full lips, face practically perfectly symmetrical save for the small flaw of a slightly crooked nose, if it could even be considered a flaw.

Sam remembered when he broke his nose. They had been playing by the creek on a summer day, looking for the perfect skipping rock before he slipped on an algae covered stone and went face first into the shallow water. They had to reset it by hand and Dean put on a big macho show to prove it didn’t hurt despite the tears in his eyes.

Sam responded to Dean’s question by lifting her head and dragging the tip of her tongue in a slow curl upward over his lips, the act enough to make Dean’s eyes dilate again. It was a mild taste, nothing different than what he could recall with the women he had been with before, but there was something erotic about having them taste their essence in his mouth.

Dean re-engaged them in a heated kiss as Sam moaned into it, sliding her hands down until she could reach under his shirt and drag it up, breaking the kiss to pull it up and off of him fully. Her leg lifted enough to hitch a knee over his hip, pressing their groins together and giving her enough leverage to shift their weight so they could roll, Sam now straddling him.

“And here I thought you were gonna be a pillow princess,” Dean remarked with a flash of teeth as he tucked his arms under his head. So smug. Sam rolled her eyes before she fully pulled off her shirt, tossing it aside as her hair fell over her shoulders.

“I can still change my mind, y’know,” she warned, moving her hands to settle against Dean’s abdomen before she scooted herself back to let them descend to the waistband of his pants, the threat going unfulfilled as she began to work them open.

“Oh no, no, we don’t want that,” Dean replied as he watched, moving his hands back out from under his head to settle them against Sam’s thighs as she gave a short yank to the belt loops at his hips, bringing the denim down enough to grant her access to his boxers.

Her lithe body continued to shift down his thighs as she gave him an amused look tinged with heat as her palm slid over the outline of his cock under the thin material of his boxers. He was thick, thicker than Sam originally imagined as much as he hated to admit that he casually wondered what his brother was packing. A few firm caresses up and down were given before she withdrew him from behind the cloth barrier, letting the hot and heavy length settle in her grasp.

Her other hand came up to gather her hair, giving a twist of her wrist to put in it a messy bun with a little too much skill, like she had been doing it for years. Dean recognized it as the universal precursor to a blowjob and his dick twitched in her hand as his teeth dragged against his bottom lip, muscles already tensing in his abdomen in anticipation.

Sam leaned down to drag her tongue along the underside of her brother’s cock, slow and calculated, eager to see what kind of reaction and sounds she could wring out of him since he was so damn cocky about his own skill. She was rewarded with a soft hiss as the tip of her tongue teased just under the crown of his throbbing length, making circles with the slick muscle between her lips as she applied pressure below the crease of the head before she took it into her mouth.

Dean had reached to thread his fingers in her hair, but she reached up and swatted it away as she started the slow descent down his length, taking enough of it until it hit the back of her throat, silky head pressing against the give of her soft palette. A low hum was given around his cock before she began to bob up and down, making a show of the pull of her lips every time her head lifted, gazing up at him through her lashes.

She had gotten past the weirdness of it, finding it oddly comfortable to have Dean’s dick in her mouth despite the circumstances. In his mind, he had assumed the natural progression of things would ultimately end them up here one day, he just didn’t count on being a woman when it actually came to fruition. It could go one of two ways; they had crossed the line and sex would officially be on the table, or Dean would count it as a freebie and they’d never talk about it again.

Sam tried not to think of the aftermath of their spur of the moment tryst as she concentrated on working Dean’s cock to the best of her ability. He had considered himself talented with his mouth when going down on girls so it should have translated easily into sucking dick. She attempted to take him deeper and gave a small gag, but that only seemed to get Dean more excited since he lifted his hips and gave a deep groan from the depths of his chest.

Sam powered through the urge to cough or choke, willing herself to swallow down the build up of saliva and the growing saltiness of precome before descending further, allowing it to press down into her throat. She focused on breathing through her nose with her throat crowded, determined to take him all the way to the base. When her nose was pressed against the trimmed hair against his pubic bone, she swallowed hard and Dean shuddered.

“Shit, Sammy.. Wait, wait, don’t wanna come yet,” Dean spoke, voice thick and a little rushed. Sam lifted her head with a lewd slurp, mouth disconnecting as she took in a wet inhale, lips plump and glossy, a thick string connecting her to Dean’s arousal still. Her hand replaced her efforts, giving slow and languid strokes of his saliva soaked length, wet little shlicks audible in her efforts.

“Already?” Sam teased with a grin, licking her lips afterward.

“I always figured you’d be good at sucking dick, but goddamn,” Dean replied with a grin and Sam could feel her cheeks warm. So he had thought about it. How often, Sam wasn’t sure, but it was at least a passing thought at some point. “C’mere.”

Sam leaned down as instructed, fitting their mouths together with each other’s taste on their tongues, allowing them to mingle. She gave a soft moan as Dean’s hands came down to grope her ass, giving it a pull forward as he lifted his hips so that his rock hard cock was pressed against the wetness of her panties, sending another little shock of electricity through her body. She reached down between them to hold under her brother’s arousal, pressing it up better against her for more friction before she slipped her panties to the side.

Dean broke the kiss with a low groan as soon as the head of his cock was sliding between Sam’s wet folds, gliding up and down, eager to be buried in her wet heat. Sam took her time though, shifting to sit up fully now to grind her bare pussy against his aching cock with rolls of her hips that rivaled a porn star. She tipped her head back and shook her hair free, filling her lungs with air to push out her perky breasts.

Dean’s hands traveled from her hips and along the curves of her sides until he had his hands groping the supple flesh of her chest as he rocked his hips up, trying to angle so he could finally press inside, but Sam made him wait. She brought one hand up to grip Dean’s wrist, guiding it further up her chest until she could bring two of his thick digits between her lips, giving them an indulgent suck as they laid against her tongue, finally pressing down to allow her brother’s cock to ease into her wet channel.

Sam had no idea what to expect in terms of sensation, but she was wet enough and still reeling from her first orgasm at the mercy of Dean’s mouth that the pressure was only mildly uncomfortable until he pressed deeper. She sank down to fully envelop his cock, the girth and length of it filling her up in a way that was unexpected. She could feel her canal stretch to accommodate him, tight enough around him that she could feel every little twitch and throb as he fit like lock and key, earning a moan around his digits.

“Holy fuck, Sammy,” Dean breathed, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes appeared black. She squeezed around him to wring another pleasured sound from his parted lips, watching as his eyes fluttered. She slipped his fingers from her mouth and dragged them back down her chest, leaving a little trail of quickly cooling saliva against the flesh before she encouraged him to continue touching as he pleased.

“Feel like you imagined?” She asked equally breathy, her being the one wearing a bit of a cocky grin this time. Dean could only give a nod of his head as if he were hypnotized before he shook his head and licked his lips.

“Better, fuck, so fucking good,” he responded and Sam leaned over him, one hand near the side of his head to balance herself as she lifted and dropped her hips, starting a slow rhythm of taking him into stretched pussy over and over, giving a moan of pleasure.

Dean abandoned giving her breasts attention to slide over the curve of her ass to grip the back of her thighs as his feet planted on the bed, using the leverage to lift his hips as he dragged her down, getting deeper with every movement.

“Dean,” Sam whined softly between little gasps of pleasure, the sound only spurning Dean’s efforts as he moved her faster, giving quick snaps upward to clap his hips against her ass, wet and muffled as her slightly smaller frame bounced with the pace of Dean fucking her.

She could feel the desperation in Dean’s hold and his movements, her toes curling slightly as he brushed against her g-spot, sending white hot pangs of concentrated pleasure through her. She reached her free hand up to brace herself against the headboard, pussy dripping around the onslaught of thrusts she was taking. It felt hot, too wet, and it happened so suddenly when she realized that she came again, still sensitive from the talents of his mouth.

Only a moment or two had passed as she rode out the waves of it before they were moving again, Sam on her back once more. She gazed up at Dean with half-lidded eyes, cheeks flush as she panted before she quickly reached down to his hips, shoving his pants down further to signify she wanted them all the way off. Dean obliged and stilled his movements briefly to wriggle them down enough to where he could discard them without pulling out.

He balanced on his knees, one hand reaching for the thin waistband of her panties at her hip before he gave a rough tug, snapping the fabric free, caught now only on one thigh.

That act alone had her clenching tightly around him again, giving needy rolls of her hips before Dean had gathered one leg up under the bend of her knee, pushing up and back to get her nice and open. Sam’s hands once again shot up, bracing against the headboard as Dean began to thrust into her like a feral animal, using his weight to really make sure he was fully sheathed each time he dove forward.

“Dean!” Sam cried out, back arching off the bed as her head tipped back, each heavy thrust like a punch to the gut. It felt like he was rearranging her insides, trying to climb inside her, the touch of pain mixed with overstimulation causing tears to well in her eyes. She clenched her teeth, nails clawing at the headboard as Dean continued his rough treatment, earning a series of high pitched whines and stifled sobs.

Plap, plap, plap echoed with the sound of the headboard knocking into the wall, a symphony mixed with Sam’s cries and Dean’s grunts. She was practically spasming, the abuse to her g-spot making her body lose most of the control she had on it. “No, Dean, no, no, please,” she cried out, a broken string of pleas to get him to slow down his unrelenting pace. “S’too much, Dean!” She screamed out before she felt a hot splash inside of her and she convulsed hard, suddenly squirting a jet of hot liquid around his cock. Her eyes rolled back as she came for the third time, body feeling like it was on fire, still twitching and shuddering as her brother continued to pump a potent load deep inside of her. Her hands and feet tingled from the rush to her nerves, pussy an oversensitive mess as she tried to catch her breath before Dean had finally pulled out, globs of his release oozing out of her in a way that felt filthy. 

Her vision was blurred as she laid there like she had just run a marathon, legs jelly, breath ragged and head swimming. Her arms collapsed near her head before she felt Dean’s hands on her thighs once they had come down to the bed and she lifted her head to peer at him.

There was that stupid cock sure grin again.

“Oh my god, don’t say it,” Sam whined, letting her head fall back down to the pillow.

“I made you squirt!” He announced proudly, giving a victorious laugh like it had been some sort of competition. 

“Shut up.”

“I beat that pussy up, put that ass straight to bed!” 

She managed to lift a leg and use enough force to kick him away from her, but it didn’t ruin his good mood. He fell back on his haunches on the bed, giving another chuckle.

“Damn, Sammy. Was it good for you too? Oh wait, I think I know the answer to that,” Dean teased and Sam rolled onto her side, covering her head with a pillow for a moment, mumbling something her brother couldn’t hear.

“What’s that? I’m a sex god?”

“I said you better shut the fuck up if you wanna go another round before I’m switched back,” she announced after lifting the pillow so he could hear her properly.

“Oop-” Dean responded before he cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, sure. Another round would be cool, or whatever. If that’s what you want.” She may not have been looking at him, but she could hear the smile in his words. “Shower? Yeah, yeah, shower, good idea,” he murmured before she felt his weight shift off the bed and heard him shuffle to the bathroom, moving to turn on the shower.

It was good, and Sam definitely needed it, but there was debate about whether or not it was worth it if it meant having to have Dean flaunt his sexual prowess for the next decade or so.

↳ can be found on ao3 here. comments and kudos super appreciated!

[mazzystar24]

I'm bringing positivity (I hope) lol. Top 5 buddie hc on any or all of the following, from eddie pov pls!

1. Waking up together

2. Buck being a dad to Christopher

3. Buck's eyes

4. Marriage...like not just a proposal or a wedding, but the institution of marriage and what it means to commit via marriage to someone you love

Ahhhh hi babe!! I didn’t get to post this yesterday cos my brain was melted post exam so sorry it’s late and thank you sm I love this ask!!!

I’m not creative or artsy enough to give you beautiful descriptions but I can YAP

1. We’ve seen in the show that Eddie is like the organised morning person, wakes up, has a whole routine etc,

Buck gives off goes for a run and cooks in the morning energy but also he’s a disaster bisexual so as a fellow disaster bisexual I choose to headcanon that he is at his most unbearable in the morning, chugs down coffee and is disoriented for a good hour type of thing

So ofc eddie would be endlessly fond of this because he’s been up for ages and has just been giving utter heart eyes at sleeping snoring buck and now is met with awake slightly unbearable buck

2. First of all, the PTA loves him and who can blame them, but back to buddie, I think to Eddie it’s such a calming thing to be able to rely on another person like that, to be able to delegate or anything without feeling guilty or like you’re a bad parent, like he can trust Buck with the fun stuff but also the heavy stuff, but also with some of the 1,000 little responsibilities and obligations of parenthood and it’s just this relief and like equilibrium to it of being part of a unit

3. I’m a SLUT for eyes, I don’t know what I can say though honestly you’ve seen them, Eddie definitely is pro buck wearing light blue tops because they do in fact do the Zoey deschanel in 100 days of summer effect

4. I feel like Eddie will have very mixed feelings on marriage, I think a part of him has a lot of guilt and resentment toward the institution of marriage, I think to him a part of him sees his to Shannon marriage as the start of the end for them.

Buck we know wants to be someone’s husband SO bad, like bro came out of margret’s evil womb probably asking for an apron and some kids of his own, jokes aside I think that Buck’s abandonment issues and lack of self esteem longs for this BECAUSE in his eyes it’s the connotations of being chosen and being kept, like to him marriage is saying “out of everyone in the world I choose you and I’m never gonna leave you” so I think it’s very important to him and the idea of not having that eventually would definitely make his insecurities go brrrr

So I’m an AVID enjoyer of all the fics where Eddie is very aware of this and like it’s a thing™️ in their relationship- before the self healing ensues and Eddie realises it’s different this time

I’m not sure how much I hit the “from Eddie’s Pov” bit of your ask cos idk how to but hope you like this, thanks anon!!!

Edit:

LEGIT POSTED THIS BEFORE REALISING YOU MEANT FIVE FOR EACH OR FOR ONE OF THEM AGJSKFKG HOPE ONE OF EACH IS GOOD COS I NEED TO LEARN HOW TO READ APPARENTLY 😭😭🫶🫶

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: Chapter 4 is such a filler episode and I didn't like how I wrote it after I posted, but in rereading it after Chapter 3, it really does flow together and I can tweak loose ends in this present chapter! (See? Glass half full). Enjoy another mother-daughter moment between Diana and Sue!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1021

Masterlist

PART I || PART II

Friday, November 11, 1983 - SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

The house is quiet this morning as everyone gets dressed for Will’s funeral. I stand in front of my full-length mirror staring at my reflection. After finding evidence of the thing that took Barb, neither Jonathan, Nancy and I had any idea on what to do with the information. How are we going to find it? Are we going to find it? As a group we decided not to tell the police because they already believe Nancy, Ms. Byers and I are crazy for suggesting that Barb and Will were taken by an animal with no face. This is something we would have to handle ourselves. If my parents found out about anything, they would probably move us out of town, far away from this insidious madness. Part of me wouldn’t blame them but, if there was even an inkling of hope in finding and bringing back Will and Barb, I was going to take that chance. The glimmer of hope in finding them burned deep in my gut. Lucas and I deserve to have our best friends back. 

I run my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t sleep and woke up early to take a hot comb to it in the kitchen. It took two hours and my arms burned from the arduous task, but the ease in repetition calmed the spiralling thoughts in my head. I even trimmed my ends a little. With my natural curls, my hair was at my waist, but after straightening it and trimming the ends, it fell past my bottom. Way too long for my liking and heavy. My neck aches. I lean forward making sure the lack of sleep didn’t show on my face. I can’t attend the funeral looking like I am half dead myself. I clear my throat smoothening out any wrinkles in my modest black dress. It seems like everyday something new happens in Hawkins and none of it has been good. Today my little brother was burying his best friend. Despite the glimmer of hope inside me, it is going to be a tough day to get through. 

“Diana, are you ready?” I hear Mom from the other side of my door. 

“Come in,” I say. 

Mom enters my room. She’s wearing a simple black dress, her freshly styled hair combed neatly in a bob cut. She looks very pretty. Mom smiles softly eying me from head to toe. I shift side to side on my feet, wiggling my toes against my nylons. 

“You look pretty.” Mom says, walking to me. She stands behind me, combing her fingers through my hair through the mirror. “I knew I smelled hair product in the kitchen this morning.” 

Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “I couldn’t sleep.” I admit. 

Mom sighs, parting pieces of my hair to lay over my shoulder. She gently places her hands on my arms swiping away any lint on the long sleeves of my dress before squeezing them. Her eyes soften as she looks at me through the mirror. The voice in my head screams for me to tell Mom about the photo, but I ignore it leaning into her touch. 

“I know the past couple of days have been hard on you and I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

“It’s okay,” I shrug, flaring my nostrils to satiate the burn in them. I don’t want to cry, not now.

Mom looks at me, shaking her head. “No, it’s not.” 

Tears immediately swim in my eyes and quickly wipe them away with my fingers before they fall down my cheeks. It’s too early to cry. I clear my throat, sniffing and fix my dress again. “Can you help me pick a shoe? Should I wear flats or heels?”

Mom stares at me for a moment and I know she wants to talk about everything, but decided against it, thankfully. I’m not sure I have the words to express how I’m feeling at the moment or have been the past couple of days. 

“Heels.” she responds. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay, put on your heels and I’ll be right back.” 

I nod my head and go to my closet rummaging around until I found my only pair of black kitten heels. I’ve only worn them for special occasions like Dad’s company dinners. Never for a funeral. I slide my feet into the shoes and walk out my closet just in time for Mom to walk back into my room. She’s holding a little black tube between her manicured fingers. A tube of lipstick. I blink in awe, feeling a jolt of surprise. Mom and Dad had a strict rule about not being able to wear makeup until I was 16. It was the one rule, I hated and begrudgingly followed. Yet here Mom was holding a tube of lipstick for me. I only ever worn lipstick for performances. Mom smiles at my reaction. 

“I think this will complete your look today.” 

I take the lipstick out of her hand, cherishing it like a delicate flower. I open the tube and stare at the wine-coloured lipstick. This was different than the colour I used for performances, darker and more elegant. I walk to my mirror and neatly apply the lipstick on my lips, opening my mouth to get the sides. I rub my lips together melting the wax between them and clean the edges of my mouth with my finger. I take a step back to look at my work. I already look more mature and womanlier, like Mom. Short stature and flat chest be damned. I smile, genuine and true. I smile so much my eyes disappear into my cheeks. Mom chuckles softly behind me and I can’t help but giggle at my reaction. 

“Thank you, mommy.” I gush, turning to give the lipstick back to her. Mom shakes her head, closing my fingers. Her gold wedding band twinkles. 

“Keep it.” 

My eyes widen. “Really?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re almost 16.” 

I squeal happily thrusting my body onto hers and hug her tight around her neck. Mom laughs, her rumbles vibrating against my stomach. 

NEXT -> PART II

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[konniesreality]

I ask for some reassurance. please. ive been here and have had such a bad void and affirming stage. i got rid of those obsession and it’s been almost 2 years since I found out about the law. every time since I learned about states or even during affirming, I would tell myself the 3D would change at some point. i wasn’t accepting it as something permanent even before I read a neville book, shouldn’t something have changed? im freaking out bc I turn a certain age soon and people say it’s supposed to be a fun time in my life but I have no friends. I work a stupid 9-5, i don’t go to college, I just want to revise my age or BE SOMETHING already. i wanted to wake up in the void and be my desired age, be in my desired college, have my desire group of friends. I let go of the need to wake up in the void but even without that, I always ALWAYS told myself that it’s okay it’s not always going to be like this, soon the 3D will conform so why hasn’t it? I tell myself that to reassure myself and then I know it’s a fact in my 4D. idk what to do atp. im scared I’m wasting my life on this. on loa but I keep going anyway. I read edwardart I read neville I fulfill myself when I want to, I imagine to experience and not to get it in the 3D but I can’t help but notice time passes at some point, I can’t blame myself for that.

Woah, I understand where you are coming from. Now listen this isn’t a race. I know you said, “I wasn’t waiting for the 3D to change” but you kind of do want the 3D to change. You’re supposed to fulfill yourself as if you already have it. Play pretend, the game is easy. You’re subconsciously waiting for something to happen when in reality, it already did.

The past, present, and future don’t matter. No matter what happens in the 3D, you already have friends and all of the things you want. The 4D is the only real reality. You don’t need to feel happy all the time when thinking of your desires. Just notice that it’s there. You should try this meditation out for manifesting. There’s great success with it!

And also, tough love but, if you really were fulfilling yourself, you wouldn’t be in my inbox saying how it’s not working for you. You would be fulfilling yourself knowing you have it all. That it’s yours.

About the void state, I really don’t know why this state is so over complicated. Here are the basic steps that you should take and RUN. Don’t read anymore void posts, don’t read all of the success stories. Here are the basic steps and go with it.

1. Lay in any comfortable position of your choice.

2. Breathe in and out at your own pace. Take deep breaths and focus on the sound of air rushing in, or focus on the feeling of air coming in. It’s okay if your mind wanders, just go back to your breathing.

3. When you have no thoughts or aren’t thinking of something specific, affirm for the void. Focus on the affirmations and hear yourself saying them.

4. You should feel symptoms but DON’T FOCUS ON THEM. They are just symptoms, and if you don’t get symptoms, it’s still working. Common symptoms are floating, flying, and feeling hot or cold.

5. Don’t focus on time, then you should be in the void state. Some people say it takes them hours, but that’s because they focus on time too much. In all honesty it should take 10 minutes or less.

6. Affirm for your desires and leave the state when you feel ready.

The void is nothing but a relaxation state that we enter when we sleep, we just aren’t aware of it.

You can also do the SATS/lullaby method, affirm for your desires in the wish fulfilled state as if you have it, then fall asleep in the wish fulfilled state. Or you can visualize them instead. Or you can just vaunt about your desires!

Now you’re right, it’s not your fault that the 3D punches you in the face with circumstances, and it seems like you are very stressed. I recommend doing a meditation like this one or check out their channel, they have awesome meditations. Now when something bad in the 3D happens, take a deep breath and go back to your desired state.

You deserve all happiness in this world, I am rooting for you anon. 💗

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

*deep inhale* ah, yes, the smell of approaching chaos

part thirteen

❝ AQUAINTANCES ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 4:30AM

ASTEN SLEPT ON THE LEFT SIDE OF BENTLEY’S KING BED THAT NIGHT.

He envied the way Asten could fall right back asleep after everything he’d been through. He was all curled up under Bentley’s gray comforter, his black and blue hair sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the dark sheets. 

Asten had been eerily quiet since the car ride. Bentley didn’t blame him, not at all. Bruce didn’t try to make him talk: he only asked him a few things, like if he needed anything to eat, or his preferred sleeping arrangement. Everything offered was quickly declined and he made it clear he just wanted to go to bed.

Neither he nor Bentley changed their clothes, they just crawled up into his bed and laid there, with one lamp on, in silence.

And that’s exactly what Bentley was still doing. Asten had fallen asleep long ago — the sun was probably going to come up in an hour or two. Maybe Bentley would’ve been able to rest if his sleep schedule wasn’t so screwed up.

He’d been sitting up against the headboard, mindlessly playing games on his phone, listening to Asten’s even breathing. There wasn’t much left for him to do but sit there and swim in his own thoughts, which had been a strange mix of what would happen if the Secret Keeper found them, wondering if he upset Dick by leaving the hospital bed, what would’ve happened if Tim hadn’t been able to get to Asten fast enough, and a slew of other mildly unpleasant things regarding their current situation.

His first ever sleepover had been brought about by a horror-movie-level supervillain chasing a kid he’d known for five days around downtown Gotham. Given what his life had held so far, he should’ve expected something like that.

Bruce had poked his head in once, and Bentley just sort of waved at him. They exchanged a few texts afterwards, but it had been a while since then, and Bentley hoped he went back down with Dick. Dick deserved having his dad down there with him.

When the clock struck 4:33am, and the after-patrol bedroom doors had been closed for a while, Asten stirred, humming incoherently.

Bentley glanced over at him, watching him shift around until he pulled the comforter up and over his head.

He mumbled almost incoherently in Portuguese, running all his words together. “Não… não. Por favor, não leve minha mãe embora. Por favor, não a leve embora.”

“Asten?” Bentley questioned, shifting slightly to face him.

“Não. Por favor. Não a tire de mim. Eu não quero ficar sozinho…”

Bentley reached over and tapped at the wiggling blankets. “Asten.”

A few seconds later, Asten’s head popped out, hair a mess, and he blinked. “Huh?”

“You were talking,” Bentley replied quietly. Asten cringed, so Bentley added: “Not in English.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced over at his glowing clock. “Four-thirty-four.”

“Ugh,” Asten grumbled, tugging the comforter back over his head. “You haven’t been able to sleep?”

“No,” Bentley replied. “I slept for a while after school.”

Asten’s voice was muffled under the blanket. “Guess I was really lucky your sleep schedules botched, huh?”

Bentley glanced over at the Asten-shaped lump in the blankets.

“You would’ve been okay,” He tried.

“You and I both know I would’ve been dead,” Asten replied, pulling the blankets off of his head. (Which made his hair even messier.) “It might be scary to think about, Whittaker, but you answering that phone probably saved my life. For real.”

Bentley said nothing. Most of him wanted to disregard that, to say that surely Asten would’ve been fine, but there was a small part of him that knew he was probably right.

“And I realize I’m staying at your house within like, a week of meeting you, and that’s kinda weird.” He continued, bringing the blanket back over his head. “So, sorry.”

“It’s not that weird,” He stated simply, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “I mean, you’re my friend, aren’t you?”

Asten let out a huff of a laugh. “I’d like to think so. I knocked out a bully for you and you kept me from getting murdered, I’d say that surpasses the acquaintance category.”

Bentley shrugged. “I guess I’m just not the best at telling who likes me and who doesn’t.”

A moment of silence passed, and Bentley’s mind lingered on Damian.

“I guess you never really know. People can be fake right up until they’re not,”

Considering that Damian could’ve been fake-liking him the whole time didn’t make Bentley feel any better.

“So, ginger, I’m sleeping next to you and hardly know anything about you,” Asten stated, sitting up slightly against the headboard and pulling the blanket off his head again. “You’re not from Crime Alley or Bristol, you don’t sound like either of those. Where are you from?”

Bentley took in a breath, and let it out. “Drew.”

“That’s the city next to Bludhaven, isn’t it?” He questioned.

“I think so,” Bentley stated, trying to remember all the aerial maps he’d seen on the Batcomputer.

“I’m from São Paulo, a city in Brazil,” Asten explained, pulling his knees up sort of like Bentley usually did.

Bentley shifted against the headboard. “Why did you move here?”

Asten quieted.

“My, uh… parents died a couple years ago. In a car crash,” He said, speaking softer than he had been. “I don’t have any family in Brazil, grandparents or anything. My only relative was my dad’s brother, who lives here. So that’s who I went to.”

Bentley cringed, watching the way Asten’s eyes lingered on his own hands. He really did suck at talking to people, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” He muttered, bringing his knees up, too.

“Hey, no sweat, kid.” Asten reached over and bumped him on the shoulder, quickly ridding his face of any undue emotion. “I’m fine. How’d you end up in Bruce Wayne’s house, anyway?”

Bentley quickly weeded through all the things he couldn’t tell Asten, which was basically everything. What was he supposed to say?

“My dad… got arrested… last December,” Is what he settled on. “And my mom died when I was a baby. My dad knew Bruce.”

“Oh,” Was what Asten replied. And then he snorted. “We are some little pity-fest, aren’t we?”

The word pity didn’t make Bentley feel any better, either. But he forced a little smile on nonetheless.

“Why are you in my classes when you’re older than me?” Bentley questioned, desperately trying to change the subject.

“I was homeschooled in Brazil, so credits and stuff were different when I moved here,” Asten explained, shifting so his position was mirroring Bentley’s. “You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

Did anything his father did count as homeschooling? Bentley wasn’t dumb by any means, and he knew the basics of math and stuff. 

“Uh, yeah,” He replied. Technically he was, right?

Had he been lying to Asten this whole time? He couldn’t exactly tell him his dad was using him to destroy Batman, and he didn’t really think it was a societal norm to tell the first person you meet that you were abused and neglected for your whole life.

This whole double-life thing was hard. Of course, this wasn’t as hard as when he was trying to do his father’s work, but it was still hard.

“You seem like a homeschool kid,” Asten said with a smirk.

Bentley quirked his brow. “How?”

“Y’know, you just… have that way about you that lets me know you haven’t interacted with many people. It’s not a bad thing,” He insisted. “You’re similar to Nico, and he was homeschooled for a while, too.”

Bentley nodded slightly. (At least Asten thought he was homeschooled and not purposefully kept from outside contact by his abuser.)

“We can’t tell him about any of this Secret Keeper stuff, by the way. Nico. He’ll die on the spot,” Asten said, running a hand through his messy hair. 

“Okay,” Is all Bentley replied. With the reactions he’d seen from Nico so far (nearly crying over riding the bus, having an asthma attack over riding the bus, crying in the janitors closet when he wasn’t even the one afraid…) he really wouldn’t doubt it.

A few moments of silence passed. “Hey, Bentley?”

He looked up at Asten, brown eyes meeting green. “Yeah?”

“Have you really not seen her since your dream?” 

Bentley shook his head, pulling the blanket further onto his lap. “No, I haven’t. Not even when we went to pick you up.”

“I don’t think she’s alone,”

Bentley pinched his brows together, glancing over at Asten, who was staring off, deep in thought.

“What do you mean?”

Asten looked up at him, then down. “She was branded. Behind her left ear. I saw it in my dream — A symbol that looked like a weird A.”

Bentley sat up straighter. “Whats branded?”

“It’s, like… where you form metal in a certain symbol, then heat it up and burn the symbol onto someone’s skin. Like a mark that they belong to someone else,” He explained. “Luckily it’s not a common thing.”

Bentley squirmed a little in his spot, thinking about being branded by red-hot metal. “You… think she has a boss?”

Asten shrugged. “It’s just a thought. People don’t usually just brand themselves. Unless they’re trying to trick you and she knows I saw it, in that case, I don’t know.”

Another tense silence passed, but the way the gears were turning in each of their heads was nearly audible.

“You said in the car, you wanted your face to be the last thing she ever saw,” Bentley started, glancing up at him. “Would you actually go after her?”

Asten’s eyes lingered on his for a few moments, and something like a storm glimmered in the back of his green eyes. Similar to at school, but not so prominent. “If she’s going to make our lives miserable, then the least I can do is make her’s a hellscape in return. Why?”

Bentley glanced at his bedroom door, thinking of the family beyond.

“Because I…” Want to be good enough for them.

“… Want to help you.”

Asten searched his face for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll have to beat the police,” He suggested.

Bentley shrugged. “And Batman.”

Asten smirked lightly. “You think we can do it?”

I’ve been trained into a deceptive weapon and living with the greatest detectives in the world, he wanted to reply.

“I think we need a plan,” Was what he said instead.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod