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

[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.

[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”

[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?

[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.

[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.

[greg-montgomery]

Ivy - Part 6

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Warnings: this chapter is nsfw - 18+

Minors DNI

Chapter summary: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) lmfaooo

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Relief was such a wonderful feeling.

You were smiling and breathing again; because he was.

“Wild horses, sir. Just...wild horses,” you heard Garcia say. You were so grateful for her. Seeing her hugging him and giving him a kiss on the forehead made your heart swell. Aaron deserved to be loved like this.

She turned around and her smile grew even bigger when she noticed you standing on the door. Your hand was soon in hers. “I’ll call everyone. Sean too,” she said. You had sent Sean home, knowing he was running on a few hours of sleep. “You go to him,” she added.

Penelope winked at you and you wondered if she knew. You didn’t mind.

“Two minutes. I left for two minutes,” you said, walking towards his bed.

“Sorry, I needed some peace and quiet waking up,” he replied.

“I knew you did it on purpose.”

His laugh was weak, but genuine.

You sat on the chair next to him, but pulled it closer so it was almost attached to his bed.     

Aaron lifted his hand to touch your cheek with his fingertips. “What’s that?” he said softly. “Have you been crying?”           

You placed your hand over his and kissed his palm. “Of course I have. I didn’t know if you’d be okay.”

“As if I’d ever leave you,” he whispered.

“It was so scary. I’ve never had anyone I lo-” you held yourself back and stumbled over your words. “Anyone close to me,” you corrected yourself, “In a hospital before.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Aaron let out a heavy sigh and spoke again. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything in the world,” you smiled.

“Jack is coming. I hate that he has to see me like this again. Can you please stay? You’re a comforting presence to him and I think it would be good for him to see you here too.”

“Aaron, of course.” Of course.

--

You stood next to Jessica, watching the way Jack clung tightly to his dad. Their bond was special, and you supposed that Haley’s passing had only made it stronger.

When they broke their hug, Jack made himself comfortable next to Aaron, his short legs hanging off the side of the hospital bed.

“Aunt Jess,” he said and pointed at you. “This is Y/N. She’s my other aunt!” he added with pride.

“Oh, the famous Y/N. He talks about you a lot,” Jessica said and offered you a kind smile.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you said, shaking her hand. “I wish it was under different circumstances.”

Leaving Aaron alone with Jessica to give them some privacy, you ended up with Jack on your lap. Your hand was playing with his blond hair as you were chatting with him.

He had many questions and you couldn’t blame him.

“Is daddy in pain?”

“Not anymore,” you said. “The doctors made him okay.”

“Then why is he still in the hospital?”

“It’s because the doctors have to make sure he stays okay.”

“But is he coming home soon?”

“Of course.” You left a sweet kiss on the top of his head to comfort him.

“Will you come with us?”

“I’m sorry, my angel, I can’t. I have to go home to uncle Sean.”

Jack pouted and rested his head on your chest. “I wish you were daddy’s girlfriend instead.”

--

Sean insisted on picking you up from the hospital himself.

You found him outside, leaning on his car and bringing a cigarette between his lips.

He was wearing a black leather jacket. And he looked good. He looked like a bad boy out of a movie.

It reminded you of your first date. That was exactly how he had been waiting for you outside of your house that night. Back then your heart was beating like crazy.

This time, your heart was just sad.

He took a drag of his cigarette as you approached him. “How is he?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” you said.

“Are you okay?” You couldn’t tell whether his tone was caring or passive aggressive. “Now that you saw him awake?” he added.

You weren’t sure what to reply.

“You were pretty upset.”

“I hate hospitals,” you simply said. It wasn’t convincing. He pretended that it was anyway.

--

You wanted nothing more than to be there for Aaron when he returned home; to take care of him, cook for him, hold him…

But after that short conversation with Sean, you felt like you were walking on eggshells around him. Especially when it came to his brother. You couldn’t risk sneaking out. Not that soon.

So you went back to the thing you and Aaron knew how to do best: phone calls.

The problem was they weren’t enough. They never were.

And now some time had passed and Aaron had already returned to work and you still hadn’t seen him.

“I was just now thinking of you,” you said, answering your phone.

“Hey,” Aaron said. Just one word from his mouth was enough for you to decide what kind of mood he was in.

“Tough case?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just needed to hear your voice.”

“I wish I was there to hold you,” you whispered. You didn’t hide your thoughts from him anymore.

“Come to me then,” he simply said.

“Aaron, don’t say things like that to me because I’ll do it,” you warned him.

“I want you to.”

There was a moment of silence and you had both made up your minds.

You hopped in the shower before wearing your prettiest underwear. Something inside you was telling you that you were gonna be doing more than just hold him.

--

Aaron opened the door and a second later you were in his arms, his lips pressed against yours.

“We’re alone,” he murmured against your mouth.

“Good,” you said and let him lift you up in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He was strong again.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you asked him as he led you to his bedroom. It was more teasing than concern. You knew he was okay, he reassured you about it every single day.

“Don’t worry,” he said and softly laid you down on his bed. He crawled on top of you and looked into your eyes with a smirk. “I’m healed. And I can finally fuck my baby the way she deserves.”

His lips were finally on yours again and you pulled him close to your body using both your hands and legs.

“Need you…” you whined.

“I’ll give you everything,” he said. “Everything.”

You helped him out of his clothes and he did the same until you were both in your underwear.

He kneeled between your legs, looking at you, staring and admiring. You had never felt prettier than you felt that moment under his gaze.

“I bought them for you,” you said, running your hands over your chest and down to your panties.

He smiled.

“He’s never seen them.” You didn’t need to say his name for him to understand you were referring to Sean.

He leaned in and kissed your lips. “Good girl,” he said and your tummy felt funny.

Aaron started pressing kisses against your cheek and then your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, your stomach…until his face was between your legs.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He mouthed you over the fabric of your lingerie. “You were just as desperate the first time I touched you,” he said. He lifted his gaze to look at you, removing his mouth from you for a moment.

You held back a whine at the loss of contact, as if it would cover up the desperation he had just mentioned.

“Can I take them off, baby?” he asked sweetly.

You nodded your head and he grabbed the sides of your panties, pulling them down.

Aaron was taking his sweet time and the anticipation was killing you.

“Aaron…” you said with urgency.

He wrapped an arm around your thigh and brought it over his shoulder. “A bit impatient, aren’t we?”

He left a few kisses on the inside of your thigh. You thought that he was trying to drive you crazy – and even though he was doing just that– you soon realized that he was simply trying to savor every moment of your first time.

The feeling of his tongue on you made you arch your back and shut your eyes. Your hands went immediately to his hair, tugging at it at every wave of pleasure that went through your body.

Aaron’s hands were gripping your thighs, and you would be worried about your skin bruising if you weren’t feeling so damn good.

You opened your eyes to look at him. Seeing his black hair between your legs reminded you of your first fantasy about him.

“Fuck…” you moaned at the feeling of him sucking on your clit. “Mm Aaron…”

His hands went to your bra, cupping your tits; your nipples hardening under his touch.

“Take it off,” he ordered and you did without wasting a second. His hands grabbed them again.

Aaron moaned with you - his voice muffled since his mouth was occupied – and that was exactly what you needed to finally let go and cum against his tongue.

He gave a last long lick to your pussy that ended at the beginning of your stomach and then he kissed his way up to your neck. “You’re perfect.”

You cupped his face and made him look at you. “I want you finally inside me.”

His lips were shiny and it was all because of you. You couldn’t resist tracing his lips and then slipping your thumb into his mouth. Aaron sucked on it and then took it out of his mouth, kissing the pad of your finger.

“I want you so bad,” you admitted. “I’ve never wanted anyone like that before.”

“Me neither.”

Soon he was out of his boxers and with a condom in his hands that he had just grabbed from his nightstand.

You stared at him as he put it on. You wanted to see him, observe him, memorize him. You could finally see all of him. That was all you ever wanted, to see and know all of him; know the man that was so closed off and serious, in ways everyone else didn’t. You weren’t the first woman to see him naked but maybe…maybe, you hoped, it was different with you.

He towered over you and lowered himself to kiss you. You wrapped your hands around his neck, deepening the kiss. You could feel his cock pressing on you and it made you even more impatient so you used the heels of your feet to push him closer to you.

“Now, Aaron,” you said.

He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead and suddenly he was inside you.

You were moving slowly at first, his hand was wrapped around your neck but not with the intention of chocking you but more to keep your face in place so he could keep staring into your eyes.

You never knew you could love eye contact that much.

Aaron then grabbed your hands and pulled them over your head so he could intertwine your fingers. You kept looking at him even though he wasn’t forcing you to anymore. Pleasure looked good on him.

“Go faster. Please,” you said breathless and you didn’t need to ask twice.

“Fuck, it’s so good, baby,” he sighed. “It’s so good, it’s perfect.”

He wasn’t going to last long, it was obvious, but you didn’t mind. You were close too.

“I wish I didn’t have to wear a condom,” he said, his hands now on your hips, pushing you harshly against him. “I wish I could fill your pretty pussy with my cum and make you mine.”

“I’m already yours,” you moaned. “Yours.”

You wrapped your arms around him as he came, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. Your own orgasm followed right after his.

He collapsed next to you and you both turned your heads to the side so you could look at each other.

“Shit,” you said with a weak breath and the two of you started laughing.

He kissed the tip of your nose and threw the condom away as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you came back he was waiting for you with a glass of cold water.

“My prince,” you joked, taking it from his hands and bringing it to your lips. It was exactly what you needed.

Aaron lied down and stretched out his arm, signaling you to join him in bed. You, of course, wanted nothing more than to cuddle with him so you were in his arms in no time.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. “This isn’t enough, I need to crawl inside you,” you said making him giggle.

“Y/N?” he said, playing with your hair.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said it with no hesitation. After almost losing him it was clear to you who your heart belonged to.

“I’m gonna leave him,” you said after a few moments of silence. He didn’t reply so you continued. “I made the decision the moment your lips touched mine for the first time. I was gonna do it the next day I swear.”

He used his finger to tilt your chin up so he could look into your eyes.

“But then he started talking,” you said. “He said all these things about finally being happy. About how grateful he is to have me. And I couldn’t do it, Aaron. I couldn’t. And I hate myself for it, because what I’m doing to him now is much worse.”

“Hey…” he whispered and moved his thumb back and forth against your cheek. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. But his voice was so soft and sweet that you believed him. Even if it wasn’t okay, it would be, as long as you had him by your side.

“I’m never gonna leave you alone,” he said as if he had read your thoughts. “We’re gonna figure everything out together. I promise.”

“Why didn’t I meet you first?” you whined, hiding your face on his chest.

“I wish I had a time machine,” he said. “I would walk into that bar the night you met him and I would tell you ‘Hello, I’m Aaron. You don’t know me but I’m saving us from a lot of trouble right now.’ Then I’d pick you up, throw you over my shoulder and steal you away.”

You giggled. “What’s concerning is that I’d show no resistance ‘cause I’d think you’re so handsome.”

He laughed loudly and pulled you so close to him you were on top of his body.

“Is that right?” he smirked.

“Mhm…” you nodded and kissed his lips with a lovesick smile. He kissed you back with the same smile on his face.

Part 7

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[pinkcoffeecup]

three doors down, part three

part 3, the nickname

story summary: In which Spencer’s terrible cooking skills almost burns down a building, but also gives him a chance to get to know the girl who lives three doors down.

masterlist

word count: 2,491

Spencer was exhausted. When the clock struck 4 am, Y/n ushered Spencer out of her apartment and into his own, telling him how important sleep was, and how crime would skyrocket unless Spencer got a couple of hours of sleep at the very least. She had apologised for keeping him up, and despite his polite reassurance that she in fact was not to blame for his sleep schedule, Y/n could not help but feel bad.

When he stepped out of his apartment that morning, he was once more met by Y/n as she came back from her morning run. Spencer had already established her loyalty to the various routines that her days consisted of, but he couldn’t help but be shocked by her standing in the hallway. “Oh, good morning,” She breathed, still somewhat out of her breath.

“Good morning Y/n,” Spencer greeted. “I can’t believe you went on a run after only three hours of sleep,”

Y/n let out a laugh and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how carefree she seemed. There was something about her, and just being around her gave him a burst of energy, like he could concur the world. “I always go for runs in the mornings! I can’t let a little lack of sleep stop me,” She laughed, “I’m no baby, Dr Reid,”

“We could use a little of that mentality in the FBI,” Spencer joked, “I swear, the annual fitness tests we have are un-passable, Morgan has to be the only one who still manages,”

She raised her eyebrows at the supposedly “impossible” fitness test, secretly curious if she could ever pass it. “How hard can it be?” Y/n challenged, “I mean, if this Morgan guy can do it, it’s not impossible,”

“As I said, we could use that mentality in the FBI,” He repeated, “Derek Morgan is no average Joe, he’s absolutely massive,”

Y/n looked Spencer up and down. He was dressed in a black suit, looking as formal as ever, a vast contrast from last night's scruffy hair and wrinkled shirt. “Are you sizing me up?” Spencer laughed, “I’m taller than him you know,”

“So you’re just weak then? Is that it?” She teased, watching as he let out a painful scoff.

“They make exceptions for me,” Spencer said, “What I lack in muscle mass I make up for in brains,”

“Aren’t you cocky?” Y/n laughed, “Hyping yourself up there Dr Reid,”

Once more Spencer scoffed, “I can’t win here” He chuckled, “I'm going to be late because of you, which I was fine with by the way, until you start completely shredding me to pieces,”

Y/n smiled at his choice of words, which I was fine with. “You’re a menace Y/n,” He joked as he walked past her, turning around and walking backwards so that he could still see her. “Have a good day Lucifer,”

“Good luck with your case Sherlock!” She called as he turned the corner.

----

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer muttered as he sat down in his seat. He was the last one to arrive, everyone was already seated around the table.

“Who’s the pretty girl?” Morgan cooed, a wide grin on his face.

He had probably said it as a joke, but Spencer’s mind travelled directly to Y/n and their conversation in the hallway. “Shut up,” Spencer sighed, causing Hotch to quickly begin the briefing.

The day was long. Every so often Spencer would find Y/n at the forefront of his mind, having to force himself to focus on the case in front of him. But he just couldn’t help himself. He wondered if she’d be in the hallway when he came home, asking him about his day. Or if maybe he’d run into her in the parking lot, where she would crack a joke and invite him in for another night of leftovers and wine.

Eventually, the team cracked the case. It was the combined effort of Spencer’s mind and Garcia's computers that had found the final puzzle piece. In the satisfactory haze of success, Spencer had even found himself agreeing to drinks with the team, something he rarely did.

As he sat down in his car, he contemplated ignoring his promise to meet his colleagues at the bar and just going home instead, remembering how badly he was wondering if he’d cross paths with Y/n. But he didn’t, instead, he turned the keys in the ignition and headed towards the bar.

“You just lost me ten bucks!” Morgan exclaimed as Spencer walked through the doors, handing ten dollar bill to Prentiss. “I didn’t think you’d show up,”

Emily gladly accepted the money and shoved it in her pocket, “I never doubted you, Reid,”

Even Hotch had made it to the bar before him, another participant who usually sat these things out, “I never break a promise,” Spencer smiled, trying to ignore his urge to turn on his heels and drive back home.

The team sat together in a booth. They always did, at least for the first part of the night. After thirty minutes, Morgan would spot a girl he liked, and pretend he was going to get a drink. Then shortly after, Garcia would pull JJ and Prentiss out of their seats to dance. Once everyone had dispersed, Rossi would complain about the music and go home. And once he had made sure everyone had a safe way of getting home, Hotch would leave too. “Spence,” JJ said, “It’s your turn!”

She glanced at the empty glasses on the table and back up at Spencer who rose from his seat, heading towards the bar. He ordered a round of drinks for the table, about to turn back to the team when he heard a voice next to him.

“Hi, could I please get one beer and two margaritas?” The voice politely ordered, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the girl order. The bartender muttered the total amount, and as the girl fished through her purse for money, Spencer reached his card to the bartender.

“Wha-” She interrupted herself as she glanced up at the man next to her. “Spencer!” She pulled him in for a hug, and despite Spencer’s shock, he gladly wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t know the famous Dr Raid was a party animal!”

Spencer let out a laugh, “I very much am not,” He admitted, “I’m here with work,”

He nodded towards the booth in the corner, watching as they all laughed at some joke Morgan had made. “Shit, I have to warn everyone the feds are here!” She joked, starting to hurry away.

Spencer placed his hands on her shoulders, as to keep her from running, “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” He said, “Being one of the feds and all,”

She laughed, leaning her head against his hand on her shoulder. It was clear that she was already somewhat drunk, tipsy as Garcia would say. But Spencer didn't mind, he couldn’t help but find it adorable. “What? Is snitching a crime?” She grinned.

“It can be,” Spencer informed her, “And if you commit a crime I have no choice but to arrest you,”

Spencer’s flirtatious tone even surprised himself, it was a tone he didn’t think he was quite capable of. “I was called Lucifer by my neighbour this morning,” She said, referring to Spencer’s words, “So for all you know I might be a criminal,”

Right as Spencer was about to open his mouth to speak, another voice interrupted him. “Hey Reid what the hell is taking so long?” Morgan called from behind him. It wasn’t until Morgan was close enough to peer over Spencer’s shoulder that he could see Y/n. “Oh hello there,” He grinned.

“Is this that Morgan guy?” Y/n asked Spencer, holding back a laugh as she earned a nod from Spencer.

“Wow pretty boy, you’ve told her about me? I’m flattered,” Morgan joked, Spencer already annoyed with his best friend for interrupting his time with Y/n.

“Yeah,” Y/n laughed, “Spencer thinks you’re jacked,”

It was as if Y/n had made it her personal mission to embarrass the man in front of her. “He called you massive and muscular,” She giggled, only lying a little bit.

“Thanks, Reid, I’m glad you feel that way,” Morgan grinned, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a hand that Spencer quickly shoved off.

Spencer let out a sigh, “this is Derek Morgan, as you know,” He said, deciding to introduce the two, “And Morgan, this is Lucifer,”

Y/n reached her hand out, “I’m Y/n,” She shook Morgans's hand, an innocent smile on her face, almost as if she was trying to dispute Spencer's nickname. “Nice to meet you Y/n,”

“I’m gonna leave you two alone,” Morgan grabbed the drinks on the bar, heading back to the booth and the team, earning a small cheer once he arrived.

Spencer only now realised how very close he and Y/n had been standing to each other. She had to tilt her head up to be able to look at him. Looking down at the girl in front of him, Spencer's flirtatious tone returned. “Massive and muscular, huh?”

Y/n let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back slightly. “Is that not what you said, Doctor?” She teased, batting her eyes up at him.

“You really are Lucifer,” Spencer grinned, “The worst of the worst,”

Spencer shook his head playfully as Y/n laughed once more. It was a sound he loved to hear, and he loved that he made her make it. “You know me so well,” She giggled.

She turned her head for a second, gazing at two girls behind her, “I have to give them their drinks,” She said, a small flash of disappointment on her face. “Could you help me carry?”

Spencer nodded, grabbing two of the drinks, and letting her hold the last one. Y/n led the way, Spencer following close behind. It gave Spencer an opportunity to get a good look at her and the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was a short blue dress, the fabric flowing beautifully around her thighs as she walked. Half of her hair was clipped up at the back of her head, but a few strands of hair had escaped the clip and were resting softly across her face. “I come bearing gifts,” Y/n handed the beer to a dark-haired girl, and through the process of elimination, I handed one of the margaritas to the other girl, earning a small thank you from them both. “You come bearing more gifts than drinks I see,” The dark-haired girl grinned, glancing between Spencer and Y/n.

Y/n turned to Spencer, grabbing the drink from his grip and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Yeah,” She smiled, glancing up at Spencer next to her. “This is Spencer,”

“Oh this is the hot neighbour,” The dark-haired girl said, “I’m Astrid, this is Violet,” Astrid motioned to the girl next to her, who gave a shy wave.

Spencer looked down at Y/n, enjoying the way her face turned a bright shade of red. “I am indeed the hot neighbour, a pleasure to meet you both,”

Spencer felt a sense of pride fill his body at the thought of Y/n telling her friends about him, even more so as she described him as the hot neighbour. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been referred to as just that, hot, but the thought of it made a wide grin make its way to his lips. “You’ve made him cocky,” Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes, “Don’t let it get to your ego Spencer,”

“Too late for that,” Spencer chuckled. He peeled Y/n’s arm off his body, deciding that it was time to make his way back to the team. “I’m gonna leave you girls for a bit, make sure you talk more about that hot neighbour of yours Y/n” He smirked before leaving the group and Y/n.

When Spencer had made his way back to the team, the table fell silent with anticipation. “So?” JJ said, waiting for Spencer to tell them all about the girl he’d just been caught with.

“What?” Spencer said, hoping that somehow they’d drop the topic and ignore how his cheeks were slowly turning red.

“Lucifer seems nice,” Morgan grinned, watching as Spencer turned a bright red.

“Lucifer?” Prentiss questioned, yet unaware of the nickname.

Morgan was happy to tell them about how that was how he’d decided to introduce her, and Spencer silently cursed himself for being so wrapped up in the moment.

The team continued to question Reid, but as they realised how little they were getting out of him, they decided to finally drop it. Soon enough, they had all returned to their regular bar-behaviour. Morgan had run off after a girl, Garcia had pulled JJ and Prentiss up to dance, and Hotch and Rossi were long gone.

As Spencer sat by himself in the booth, watching his friends as they drunkenly made their way through the bar, a finger poked the back of his shoulder. Spencer turned around, seeing a surprisingly nervous Y/n behind him. “Are you okay?” He asked, worried about her change of mood.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She smiled, trying to add a careless touch to her body language. “I was just wondering if, uh, maybe you could, I don’t know, I was just thinking, since you’re sober-”

Spencer interrupted her, “You need a ride?” He asked, finding it adorable how nervous she had been to ask him. “If it’s not too much of a bother? We don’t have to leave right now if you want to stay,” She assured.

“No, we can leave right away, sit down here, let me just say goodbye to my friends,” He said, and she did as she was told, sitting down at the booth as Spencer moved through the bar to the dancing women in the middle of the room.

Y/n watched as he said his goodbyes to the women, before moving towards Morgan as he talked to a girl at the bar. Morgan grinned at Y/n as Spencer spoke to him, causing Spencer to roll his eyes before heading back towards a now smiling Y/n. “Let’s go,” He sighed, Y/n standing from her seat.

Spencer looked at her for a second, watching as Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed slightly with confusion. He pulled the suit jacket off his shoulders, wrapping it around hers, “It’s cold out,” He said, earning a shy thank you from the girl in front of him. He watched as she placed her arms through the jacket, shoving her hands in the pockets. The jacket looked massive on her, reaching right above the hem of her dress.

The two left the bar, Spencer ignoring Morgans's smirk as they walked out the front doors. “Thanks for giving me a ride,”

“Anytime,” Spencer flashed her a warm smile, opening the passenger side door for Y/n. “We do live in the same apartment complex after all,” Spencer hopped in at the driver's side, taking a second to look at Y/n in his car, wearing his jacket, before he started the car.

The ride was mostly silent, Spencer could see how Y/n was practically fighting to keep her eyes open as the streetlights lit up her face. She was pretty like that, as her head rested against the seat, her dress inching up her thigh slightly as she got comfortable in her seat.

Soon they had reached the parking lot outside the apartment complex, “Taxi has arrived ma’am,” Spencer joked, earning a tired giggle from Y/n as they both hopped out of the car, heading inside together.

The two walked to Y/n’s door where she stopped. She began taking the suit jacket off but was interrupted by Spencer. “Keep it for a while,” He said, pulling the jacket back up her shoulder.

Spencer looked down at her as she smiled, his expression all too serious in contrast to hers. “What?” She asked, watching as Spencer smiled once more. “You’re really pretty,” He said, feeling nervous despite his coined nickname as the hot neighbour.

“Don’t fall victim to the doorstep effect,” She giggled, only being met by Spencer’s confusion. “The doorstep effect?” He questioned.

“Yeah, it’s when the guy feels like he wants to kiss the girl because of the whole romance cliche about kissing on doorsteps,” She explained, “It’s a very real thing, Spencer,”

“I don’t think it’s because of the cliché,” Spencer admitted, taking a small step closer.

“But you want to kiss me?” Y/n asked, almost as if to confirm.

“Can I?”

Y/n didn’t answer, instead, she placed a hand on each side of his face, pulling him down to meet her lips. Her lips met his, and Spencer was quick to hold her face as he deepened the kiss. He hadn’t been aware of how much he had craved this kiss until her lips were on his.

Slowly, Spencer pulled away, loving the look in her eyes as she craved more. “Good night, Lucifer,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Good night Spencer,”

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[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

[kalopsicanna]

last angel in kyoto

is this how it would end?

no.

she wouldn't make a liar out of him.

pt 2!

pt 1 , pt 3

he's blessed. he has to be by some measure. surely, this can't be purely luck.

she's not gone.

not yet.

his eyes count the tiles on the ceiling, the only thing he can do since coming into the hospital.

he's too anxious to take a breather outside (or even step out for even a second) and he's too in it to talk to Shoko who had managed to catch the very last train to Kyoto.

“you did good, Gojo. you saved her with your quick thinking” she’d told him but he didn't buy it.

if he had only acted fast enough. no. if only he hadn't left her alone. he was always following her around anyway, why didn't he just follow her then?

he tiredly runs a hand through his tousled hair and lets out a sigh. it’s no use dwelling on it anyway. she was in the hospital still.

“coffee?” shoko offers. she's holding a cup that she most likely got from the cafeteria.

his throat is begging, screaming for hydration but he can't bring himself to take it from her.

her hand drops and she plops onto the seat beside him.

“i’m worried too, you know?” she starts, taking a sip herself.

he doesn't even spare her a glance. the blood on his hands is dried now, a mess of red. he's sure his face doesn't look any better.

“why don't you go and clean up a bit?” she suggests. “it’s 4 am. she's still in surgery but you look a mess right now”

he shakes his head, the most she's gotten out of him in all the hours they've been there.

“you need some rest too, you know? it’s no good if she wakes up but you're a sleep-deprived zombie”

‘if’.

the word looms over him. repeating itself over and over in his head like a broken record. he wants to cry but no tears spring up.

“Suguru will be here at first light” Shoko continues. “we’ll be right here if anything happens. you just go get some rest”

a nurse comes into the hallway and his eyes follow her, hoping that, just maybe, she might have some news about Utahime.

his shoulders sag though when she walks past him like she hadn't even seen him.

“please” Shoko adds and then he finally looks at her.

her eyes are redrimmed, just like his he's sure and her makeup is gone. she'd been crying too.

“okay”

the trip back to Utahime’s is a long one. by chance, he gets a cab and the driver can't even hide his blatant stares through the rearview mirror. he doesn't blame him though. anybody seeing him must surely think he's some kind of lunatic, walking around with blood all over him.

her apartment isn’t any better either. there are no piercing eyes, yes but it’s all so ‘her’ that it’s a bit too much at the moment.

he takes a shower anyway. the dried blood had started to disgust him.

he watches as the now reddish water goes into the drain. his fingers deftly work the shampoo into his hair.

her shampoo.

her scent. a mix of berries and vanilla that reminded him of their last group trip to okinawa. they hadn't been together then but even Geto, the ever-loving idiot had caught on to just how much he liked her and had teased him relentlessly about it.

he doesn't even realize he's crying again until his face starts to feel heated.

~

the beeping noise is constant and annoying.

this is what stirs her from her sleep.

the lights are bright too and she winces when she opens her eyes. her head is throbbing and so is her abdomen but it’s a bearable pain. she must be on painkillers now.

she sees a slight movement from the corner of her vision and her eyes dart to it in a panic.

it’s just Gojo. she relaxes when she sees him.

he's asleep, sitting on a stool but his head is resting on the edge of the bed. he looks peaceful.

she takes in his features. his eyes look a bit sunken in and there's a slight frown on his lips. her mood drops a bit, that she's the reason he's even this way.

his frown deepens when a few stray hairs brush against his eyelashes and he twitches in his sleep. she reaches tentatively to brush his hair away but when she's just a fraction away from him, he suddenly grabs her roughly, startling her.

“f*ck you scared me!” she exclaims, placing a hand on her palpitating chest.

the incessant beeping that's now erratic is proof of just how much he had frightened her.

“you're awake,” he simply says, a hint of an unnamed emotion in his voice.

“yeah well-”

the rest of what she has to say dies on her lips when he engulfs her in a hug. it’s tight and warm and although the pain in her abdomen gets a bit worse, she doesn't mind. not when he's wrapped around her like this.

“you missed me huh?” she tries to tease him but her throat feels parched and the dehydration hits her.

he can tell because he frantically reaches for the jug on the bedside and fills up a cup for her.

when she's had her fill, she smiles at him. he doesn't smile back but instead, he looks at her in amazement. like she'd just told him she was a fire-breathing unicorn.

he pulls her into another hug shortly after, like he really can't believe that she's real. she's awake.

“how-”

“don't” he cuts her off.

don't? don't speak? is that what he meant?

“you-”

“don't do that again” he completes. “try to be a hero. please don't. i can’t-”

this time, it’s a sob that racks out of him.

“i’m sorry” she whispers, hands caressing his back.

“please” he begs once more and she nods.

“i won’t”

they stay that way for a few minutes. she lets him cry it all out. it must’ve been hard for him, seeing her bleed out that way. he really did try his best. she believes he did. and she lets him know again.

“you did so good, Satoru. so, so good” she coos into his ear. “thank you for saving me”

Shoko, who had gone to pick up some late breakfast and meet up with Geto at the station, and the aforementioned man find them that way when they return.

they're the ones who let the nurses know the update.

[billythenightguard]

Run Away: Detention (2011) & FNAF Movie Crossiver - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Mentions: weed

Word Count: 985

Warnings: hurt/comfort (?)

Older!Clapton/Mike x GN!Reader

You drove to the Pizzeria in silence, Abby buckled into the back of your car, already asleep again in her school clothes, you couldn’t blame her. “Hi, can I get a number 4 with black coffee, a number 2 with an iced caramel latte, and a homestyle breakfast with milk please?” You asked the speaker box of the McDonald’s, ordering enough food for you and the Schmidt siblings.

“Abby,” you softly shook her awake, having now arrived to Freddy’s, “let’s go eat breakfast with Mike.” You carefully picked her up, holding her with one arm as the other held the bag of food, Mike, unfortunately for you, was too busy listening to his old mixtape, softly singing along, luckily it wasn’t hard to get the door open, a smile on your lips as you heard your cassette playing in the security room, creeping into the room quietly, but seeing him singing brought back memories.

“Clapton, oh my god!” You exclaimed from the passenger seat of his dad’s old Beamer, laughing as he sang along loudly to “F**kin’ Perfect” on the radio.

“Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fuckin' perfect. Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect to me.” He sang, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes, focusing on the road.

“Okay, okay!” You exclaimed in a fit of giggles.

“Say it,” he said, a cocky grin on his face.

“No-”

“Okay, I’ll keep singing,” he made a mock face of offense when you had smacked his arm.

“Okay! Okay! I’m perfect!” You squealed, he could certainly sing well, but not when he was teasing you. More focused on making you laugh rather than sounding good.

“There we go, firecracker!” He laughed alongside you. Pulling into the good 7-11, the one with the always working slurpee machines. “Come on, my treat, anything you want.”

“Anything?” You teased, giving him doe eyes.

“Still no weed.”

“Awh! No fair!”

“You can have some on your 16th birthday, just like I did.” He said sternly, ruffling your hair.

“But that’s so far.” You groaned as you two walked into the 7-11, both of you grabbing your snacks and slurpees.

“Not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon,” he said, “best friends for life right?” You looked over to Clapton and nodded, leaning into him when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

Mike’s yelp and a crash brought you out of your daydream. “Shit! Mike, I’m so sorry!” You carefully set Abby, who has woken up now, and the food down. Offering your hand to Mike who was now on the ground.

“You startled me,” he laughed, “I didn’t hear you two come in.” He took your hand, hoisting himself up with your help.

“I didn’t know if you were sleeping.” You said with a slight blush. “I stopped and got us all breakfast.”

“Sleep- you’ve caught me sleeping on the job… great.” He laughed at himself, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m not blaming you,” you quickly reassured him. “You work nights, you deserve to sleep a couple of hours, I don’t know who would even try to break into here anyways.” You chuckled, handing him the food you had gotten him, along with the black coffee, setting Abby up to eat her breakfast. He couldn’t help but to admire you, looking down for a second, he wished you two were back in Grizzly Lake, where he was the one taking care of you. You were something Ione hated, but Clapton/Mike never cared, he was always there for you, always at your call.

“They remind me of the best friend you talked about when I was littler.” Abby said to Mike when they were in the car alone, the three of you having had your breakfast and now it was time to get Abby to school. Mike tensed, though, looking back at Abby through the mirror, she remembered those stories? Has she told you?

“Yeah, they kind of do.” He said, trying to seem nonchalant as he pulled out of the pizzeria parking lot and onto the highway.

“I wonder if they have any cool stories about their best friend!” Abby giggled, unaware of just how much stress she was adding onto the man, he couldn’t let Abby tell you. Not yet. Not before he did.

With Abby at school, and you at work, Mike was bored. The dishes of last night’s dinner were cleaned already, minus a plate in the microwave left for him. He noticed it seemed as though you did some grocery shopping for him. He was about to text you and scold you, and insist you take some payment before he remembered your first babysitting gig at 12.

“Clapton, come on!” You pulled him into the grocery store.

“Dude, they probably have food!” He insisted, not understanding why you were trying to buy your own groceries to cook with.

“They might be like my mom, where everything down to the last tablespoon of salt has a plan.” Clapton flinched slightly at that, he liked your parents, he had no choice, they created his perfect best friend. But your mom tended to be a bit strict, and he noticed it would affect you in ways it shouldn’t.

“Alright, alright. But I’m buying, you can pay me back after babysitting gig number five.”

“Deal!” He never took a payment from you, for the next two years he would constantly help you buy your groceries before you’d go babysit.

Mike didn’t know when he started crying, sitting on the edge of his bed with a polaroid in his hand, his other hand moving to his face and wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. You never left his mind, and even now, having you so close was still too far. He watched and read the news as much as he could, Sander Sanderson was still unfound. Still out there. And to Mike, still a threat.

Tag List: @na-is-salty @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @dessxoxsworld @mad-die45 @cancelledkaley @mschmidt

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #4

part 1 part 2

xxx i see the danger, it’s written there in your eyes

“He’s not gettin’ any better.” There’s no blame in Kaylee’s voice, no accusation. She’s simply making an observation. 

Somehow, it makes Simon feel worse than if she were angry with him (not that she has it in her to be mad at him for this--none of them do).

Mal has had two more seizures in the last thirty-six hours, and he’s been bleeding from the nose and the gums. He’s in and out of consciousness, and has a persistent high fever that Simon has been struggling to keep down. Even when he’s awake Mal is confused, delirious. A few times, he’s called out names that Simon doesn’t recognize (Zoe says they’re from their war days).

Mostly, though, he talks to Wash, when he’s awake enough to speak.

Hills Fever. It had taken Simon an embarrassingly long time to diagnose--though, in his defense, it’s a disease that’s been near-eradicated for the better part of a century. Simon’s not sure how, exactly, but Mal must have contracted the virus when they’d stopped on Three Hills two weeks ago. Not that the diagnosis helps much. There’s no known treatment for Hills Fever, so all Simon can do is treat the symptoms as they come until Mal recovers. Fluids, fever reducers, anti-seizure meds…All of them are present on the ship in limited quantities. 

Mal doesn’t have forever.

The others have been taking turns sitting by Mal’s side in the tiny infirmary. They’d finally managed to get Zoe to take a break a few hours ago, and now Kaylee is here. She isn’t her usual talkative self. Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t want some of that sunshiney chatter right about now, but he doesn’t blame her for not being in the mood. 

“You ain’t been sleeping much.”

Simon runs his fingers through his hair, letting his hand rest on the back of his head, and he sighs. 

“I’m afraid,” Simon says. It isn’t something that he would have admitted so readily in his early days on the Serenity, not even to Kaylee. Those walls have long since been lowered. “I couldn’t bear it if he needed me and I wasn't here to help.”

Kaylee nods and to his surprise, one corner of her mouth turns up in the ghost of a smile. “You realize you could get from bow to stern in about ten seconds, right? She’s a good ship, but Serenity ain’t exactly big. I’d come and get you if anything happened.”

Simon manages to offer a small smile, despite his exhaustion and worry. “I know you would. I really think it’s better if I stay here, though.”

Kaylee looks like she’s going to argue with him, but doesn’t get the chance. Mal stirs, a low groan escaping him, and his eyes open. They have the same vacant glassiness that’s haunted them these last few days, looking around but not really seeing.

“Cap’n?” Kaylee says softly, putting a hand on the man’s wrist. 

Mal groans again, brow pulling down into a frown. “‘m sorry,” he slurs. His gaze is fixed on a point past Kaylee’s head. “Wash, ‘m sorry…”

He slips back into unconsciousness as quickly as he’d left it. A thin trickle of blood leaks from the corner of one eye, rolling down his cheek like a crimson tear. Kaylee looks up at Simon in alarm. 

“Simon?”

“I know, I see it,” Simon says, grabbing a clean cloth to wipe away the trail of red. 

“Is he gonna be like this much longer?”

“I don’t know.”

xxx 

It’s when Simon falls asleep standing the next day that Zoe finally pulls rank and forces him to go to his bunk for a few hours’ sleep. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to actually get any meaningful rest, but his head has barely hit the pillow before he’s out.

xxx 

“Doc!” 

Simon jerks awake at the sound of Jayne’s voice and he bolts upright, heart pounding. “Is he okay?”

Jayne’s eyes are wide. “You best come quick. He just started shaking.”

“Another seizure?” 

“I think so,” Jayne says. He sounds nervous.

Simon follows him to the infirmary at a near-run. Zoe is already there, standing next to Mal, and she looks up as Simon enters. Mal is shivering, and he’s drenched in sweat. It takes a moment for Simon’s frantic mind to settle as he realizes what’s happening.

“It isn’t a seizure,” he says.

“It’s not?” Jayne says. “Are you sure?”

Simon nods, and he could almost laugh with the relief that floods over him. “I’m positive. Look.” He points at the monitor. “His fever’s breaking.”

“That’s good,” Zoe says slowly. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s very good. I think…” He takes a deep breath and feels some of the tension that’s built up these last few days leave him. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

xxx 

Mal blinks heavily, frowning when he sees Kaylee’s worried face hovering over him. 

“Hey, Cap,” she says. “You in there?”

“I’m here,” Mal says, voice scratchy. Simon is at his side in a flash, fussing over him. Mal largely ignores him, instead shifting his focus to where Zoe and Jayne stand in deep discussion. “What’re you two talkin’ about without me?”

Zoe looks up and smiles. “Good to see you awake, Cap’n. We were just discussing the best way to go about restocking our medical supplies. You nearly cleaned us out.”

Mal blinks in confusion. “Did I?...What happened? I remember goin’ to the bridge, and then…” 

“That was four days ago,” Simon says. “You’ve been very ill. Hills Fever. But you’re past the worst of it, now.”

“Hills Fever,” Mal repeats slowly. “Huh. Never got the shot for that one. Family doc said I was allergic.”

Simon lifts an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why you got sick. Are there any other allergies I should know about?”

“Don’t think so…Gorram, I’m tired.”

“Yes, well, you’ve been through a lot. You need rest.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mal says, closing his eyes. He quickly opens them again. “What about medical supplies?”

“We can figure that out later,” Zoe says. “You should do as the doc says.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Mal mumbles. He looks around, scanning the room for the remainder of his crew. “Where’s River?”

“She’s on the bridge,” Kaylee says. “I can go get her.”

Mal shakes his head once. “No, no. Let her be…” He closes his eyes. He can’t shake the feeling that someone is missing, but he doesn’t get much time to dwell on it before he’s fast asleep.

xxx end