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foreverbase1 · 7 months ago

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Outdoor Pool ❣ Seok Matthew

❥𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: popular!Seok Matthew x gn!reader

❥𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k words

❥𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: High School AU, Angst, Unrequited Love

❥𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Prepare to be sad

❥𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Outdoor Pool by Maisie Peters (tweaked some lyrics to fit with the characters featured in the fic)

❥𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Kep1er's Yeseo & Chaehyun (mentioned), Aespa's Winter (mentioned) and ZB1's Taerae (mentioned)

❥𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Reader falls for the popular boy at school and gets their heart broken

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬! <𝟑

"𝘽𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙗𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩, 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙮. 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚, 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙃𝙈𝙑."

You sat in your Chemistry class, tapping your pen against the desk. You stared at the clock above the teacher's desk waiting for it to signal the end of class. Sat next to you was your friend, Yeseo, who leaned over and whispered to you. "Can you stop tapping your pen, it's annoying" You simply rolled your eyes at her, but obeyed and stopped, your eyes wandered as you drowned out the teacher's words, completely uninterested in this class.

That's when your eyes landed on 𝘩𝘪𝘮, Seok Matthew, the most popular boy in your school. He was the school's star player on the sports team, not only that but he was top of his classes even if he skipped out on studying, he practically had the whole school wrapped around his finger. There were students falling for him with every step he took, had a big group of friends who adored him and not only that, but he was the first student in the entire school to get a driver's license.

You at first had no interest in the boy, he was just popular and you weren't so popular, so you chose to keep your distance. But even with the distance, you found yourself admiring him from afar, he was good looking and he was nice so who could blame you for growing a tiny crush on the boy. But even with that tiny crush, you knew he was far out of your league, cause why would someone of his status be interested in you?

The bell would ring out loudly, it was finally the end of class. You and Yeseo gathered your stuff before making your way towards your next class, while on the way, you and your friend couldn't help but overhear a group of students gossiping between each other. That's when two familiar names popped up in the conversation that caught your attention; Seok Matthew and Kim Chaehyun.

From what you were hearing, Matthew had taken Chaehyun out soon after he got his driver's license and his first car. You don't know why you were surprised, Chaehyun was the most popular girl in your school, she was on the same status as Matthew so why would it be shocking for the two most popular students to go out together? Yeseo would pull you out of your eavesdropping as she tugged on your arm to stop you from bumping into other students.

"Stay focused, who cares about the gossip?" She sighed as you two began ascending the staircase. "Sorry....." You muttered an apology, although she definitely could not hear your quiet voice amongst the loud conversations being carried out by the other students.

"𝙎𝙖𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙩, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙢, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

Your mom had ended up dragging you with her to pick up some groceries for dinner that night soon after you got home, while you wanted to stay home and drown yourself away in studying or catching up on your favorite show, you ended up agreeing anyway. Besides, you could probably charm her into buying you something.

While waiting for her to decide between which fruit she wanted to get, you stood to the side by the cart holding your groceries. You let your eyes scan the store and take note of each shelf stocked neatly with different items, but that's when your eyes landed on a lock of blonde hair that belonged to an all too familiar face. It was Matthew, he was here? You were honestly surprised to see him here of all places, especially with his own mom.

Matthew's eyes locked with yours and you felt your heartrate speed up. Your chest tightened and you felt the butterfly's erupt within your stomach, Matthew smiled and gave you a small wave your own body moving on it's own as if it was natural and waved back, a smile gracing your face too. Right before his mom had dragged him down a different aisle and he disappeared from. your line of sight.

Your mom cleared her throat and you quickly turned around, a blush on your face. She smiled at you having seen the whole interaction "Is that your boyfriend?" She teased, this caused you to groan out and walk off towards the check out area followed by your mom who just laughed to herself at your reaction.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙛 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖 𝙒𝙚𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙪𝙥. 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥."

That night was something you never would've expected to happen, you never even dreamt of it happening. But here you were taking your makeup off in your bedroom when you heard a tiny clink, you paused waiting to see if the sound would happen again and it did, another clink.

You turned towards your window and there it was again, another clink. You pulled open your curtains and your eyes widened at the sight before them. Standing in your garden just below your bedroom window was Matthew, he was tossing small pebbles at your window in hopes of catching your attention. Opening your window, you looked down at him, his face lighting up as a smile spread across his lips. "Wanna come out?" His voice, quiet, yet just loud enough for you to hear danced through the air.

You wanted to say no, after all it was a school night and if your parents knew you had snuck out they would kill you. Especially if it was with a boy. But something inside you told you to take his offer, when would you get another chance with 𝘵𝘩𝘦 popular boy of your school? Here he was asking 𝘺𝘰𝘶 to accompany him, who were you to say no?

So you quickly went over to your wardrobe, gliding your hand through the different array of clothing inside and quickly threw on a light grey long sleeved shirt alongside a pair of shorts. You silently prayed your parents wouldn't wake up as you put your shoes and began to climb out of your bedroom window. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be rebellious for one night.

"𝙒𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙡"

While climbing out of your bedroom window, you ended up getting stuck halfway down and Matthew realized this. "I'll catch you" He spoke up to you, your heart did a front flip, your head turning to look at him. He smiled again, that sweet smile that anyone would fall for. "I promise" and with those final words you breathed in before jumping, falling right into his arms that encircled your torso and held you close to his body.

The world seemed to stop around you as you stared into his eyes, Matthew smiled at you before placing you down onto the ground. "T-thanks" You thanked him as you took a step back, he nodded his head before he intertwined your hands together, your fingers fitting perfectly together. "C'mon, i have somewhere in mind" Your heart did another front flip, your brain short circuting at his hand being intertwined with yours.

He led you by the hand down the street, stopping at a house only about a 20 minute walk away from yours. You stared at him with a confused look and he simply laughed at your expression, his laugh sounded like a choir of angels to you, you would've listened to it on loop 24/7 if you could. "It's Taerae's house, him and his parents are away on vacation and i asked him beforehand for permission. So don't worry" Matthew grinned at you and you couldn't form any words so you simply nodded your head.

Leading you once again by your conjoined hands, Matthew would lead you behind Taerae's house, where your eyes caught a glimpse of the blue water reflecting the moonlight's glow. It was Taerae's outdoor pool. You were once again confused, why would Matthew bring you here? You felt the warmth of his hand leave yours and you missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

Turning to face him, your eyes were met with his bare chest. You quickly covered your eyes, your cheeks burning bright red causing Matthew to laugh at your reaction. "It's okay, you can look, i won't judge" He teased you as he pulled your hands away from your face. Your eyes scanned his chest and you cursed yourself mentally for giving in so easily.

He began to pull you towards the pool, stepping in first and looking up at you expecting you to follow after. "Oh, i.....i can't swim" You said, embarrassed by the fact that Matthew wanted you to join him in the pool and you couldn't due to the fact you never learned how to swim. Matthew simply smiled and shook his head. "That's fine, you can watch me swim" He winked at you and you blushed, clearing your throat as you sat at the edge of the pool, letting your legs sink into the water.

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡."

You softly kicked your legs in the lukewarm water, admiring as Matthew splashed about in the water. You were sure if anyone else was watching, they'd be able to tell you were giving the boy heart eyes. Matthew brought you out of your daydreaming as you felt a splash of lukewarm water hit you.

You gasped as you focused in on Matthew as he splashed about, laughing to himself. "You did not" You tried to sound irritated, but the obvious smile growing on your lips and the laugh you let slip out with your words made it obvious you enjoyed his company. Matthew simply nodded his head at you, a laugh escaping past his own lips. "I did, what are you gonna do about it?" He challenged and you shook your head, bringing your hands into s cupping motion as you leaned forward and splashed water back at him.

"Oh it's on" Matthew accepted the challenge and that's how you two began to have a water fight in Taerae's outdoor pool at night. Hours passed by fast as you and Matthew continued to splashed water at the other, your laughs painting the midnight air. During the water fight, you had failed to notice Matthew had inched closer to you each time he splashed water at you, causing you to flinch and turn away to defend yourself.

When he was just close enough, he grabbed your arms and pulled you into the pool with him. His arms encircled your body and lifted you up, your own arms encircling themselves naturally around his neck in an attempt to look for something to hoist you up in the water. You looked into his eyes and your laughter died out as you both floated about in the water. You stared at him with the most obvious heart eyes, but you were too high on love that you had noticed that Matthew's eyes showed everything but reciprocation.

You could feel his breath on your face as he leaned closer, your own eyes scanning his face, your eyes closing automation as his lips encased yours. You felt fireworks erupt in your chest, the butterfly's once again dancing around in your stomach. As you enjoyed the kiss, the next door neighbor's porch light turned on, causing you and Matthew's lips to part. "Shit" Matthew muttered, he helped you out of the pool as you two scurried away before you could get caught by Taerae's neighbor.

Matthew walked you home and helped you climb back up through your window, you smiled down at him, love bring evident in your eyes as you bid him a goodnight, closing your window and drawing the curtains. You sighed contently to yourself as you went to dry off, change into your pyjamas and get under the warm covers of your bed. A smile on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

"𝙄 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚. 𝙄𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙? 𝙂𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙄 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙"

The next day at school, you couldn't hide the smile on your face. Yeseo was creeped out especially with how you never smiled this much, she looked at you trying to figure out what exactly got you so happy. "Spill" She said, finally giving up after she couldn't pinpoint an exact reason.

You couldn't stop smiling as you looked at her. "I'll tell you at the lockers after class, promise" you said, giggling to yourself. Yeseo only rolled her eyes as she focused on her notes, you sat in your seat with clear excitement, your eyes darting to the door as Matthew stepped inside. You immediately sat up, waving to him as he walked by. "Hi, Matthew" you tried to greet him, but he simply walked past you as if he didn't even know you existed.

You simply shrugged it off as him not hearing you, yeah, that had to be it. There was no reason for him to not greet you back unless he didn't hear you. You kept telling yourself that, to reassure yourself that he liked you too. So you tried to focus as you began to take down notes, trying to ease your mind.

After class had finished, you were planning to walk up to Matthew, but luck wasn't on your side as he was dragged away by his friends. This left you with no opening to talk with him, Yeseo stood up her arm intertwining with yours as she dragged you out of the classroom and towards the lockers, she wanted to hear about what got you so happy.

As you stood by the lockers, you breathed in to prepare yourself to rant to your best friend and you could tell she was mentally preparing herself too. But the words you wanted to say as you would hear the voice of that same group of girls yesterday talking about how Matthew had taken Chaehyun out in his new car. This time, however, it was a completely new topic.

A topic you wished you hadn't overheard, maybe it could've prevented the inevitable heartbreak you were bound to endure either way. Yeseo noticed your hestitant state and turned to face the group of girls too, listening in on their conversation.

"Winter told me that she caught Matthew kissing the French exchange student earlier, i forgot her name, but isn't that shocking?" One of them said, looking between her friends earning nods from the others. "Yeah, i thought he was with Chaehyun? Or are they just friends?" Another of the girls said, adding to the conversation. With each word that left their mouths was just another sharp stab to your heart.

Yeseo rolled her eyes at the gossip, her attention falling back onto you. "So, are you gonna tell me?" She pushed you jokingly, awaiting this big news. You cleared your throat, shaking your head. "Um, i'll tell you another time, i-i forgot i need to handle something" You made up some bullshit excuse on the spot, turning and speed walking away. Yeseo simply watched you leave with a confused look on her face.

"𝙊𝙝 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙘𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙪𝙥. 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥."

That night, you sat on your bed after having arrived home from school. Today was the worst day of your life, you had even ignored your parents greeting you once you walked through the door. You bit your lip harshly, trying to resist the urge to scream. Unfortunately, you couldn't hold it back forever and once you had accidentslly let yourself sniffle that was when it all came crashing down.

You began to sob uncontrollably, you covered your mouth with your hand, trying to silence your crying in some way so that you wouldn't wake up your parents. Dropping to the floor, you couldn't help but shake with each sob you let out.

Memories of that night floated back into your mind, the picture of him fresh in your brain, the memory of him 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 still at the forefront of all those memories. You thought back to that night, trying to find any reason why it would turn out like this. You didn't do anything wrong, so why? Why did he do this to you? Why did he play with your heart and then split it right apart in front of you?

He lead you on, giving you that false glimmer of hope before he ripped your hearts to shred. You felt stupid honestly, how could you let yourself fall right into his hands. He was the popular guy at school, he had everyone in the palm of his hands just by existing alone and you were dumb enough to fall for his charms, let him take your heart, break it and then add you to his long list of hearts he had broken.

You were just unlucky to be added to that list of broken hearts, no happy ending for you like you had wished for.

"𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙪𝙨, 𝙘𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧. 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚'𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙪𝙥, 𝙤𝙣 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙚."

For the next few days you refused to even leave the house, you couldn't bare the thought of seeing him. Cause you knew that the minute your eyes landed on his figure, you would break down again. So you avoided going to school and you refused to tell your parents what happened, so they let you be, supporting you from afar.

You felt like an idiot, that night you spent with him felt magical. Once you had gotten home you began to picture yourself with him, during summer break you and Matthew would spend all of summer together, cute dates, matching bracelets that you'd buy for the two of you and just enjoying the other's company.

Then during Halloween, you'd have matching outfits. You didn't care what you'd wear, just as so long as you got to spend it with him. Then after that, you'd spend Christmas and New Year's together and you'd get your happily ever after with him.

But, love doesn't work like that. Cause Matthew was never in love with you, he just saw you as another heart he could play with, lead you on, make you feel special. Kiss you when the opportunity presented itself and then leave you a sloppy, depressed and broken mess for someone else to come after him and attempt to pick up the pieces.

Unfortunately, you couldn't hide away forever. You still had an education to pursue and your grades were suffering due to your broken heart. Your parents would force you to get dressed, eat breakfast and send you off to school. You were dreading this day, but you knew it would come eventually.

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙄'𝙢 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙡."

You stood at the entrance of your school, wanting to turn and run. Other students from your class were giving you looks, surprised to see you reappear after your sudden disappearance. Finally breathing in, you stepped inside the building and headed to your class.

Entering through the door, all eyes landed on you. You looked around the classroom and your eyes locked into his orbs that stared back at you. You could see the look of surprise on his face at your reappearance to society. Breathing in once more, you closed the door behind you and took your seat beside Yeseo. The girl looking you up and down.

"Y/N, where were you these last few days? You never answered my texts" She genuinely was concerned for you and you were thankful that at least she was by your side, cause without her there you knew you'd crack. You looked at her and smiled, but only a small smile. "I'll tell you after class, promise.....for real this time" Yeseo was hesitant, but nodded her head, choosing to believe that you'd tell her.

Focusing your eyes onto your notebook that sat on your desk, you could hear the other students whispering your name. "Y/N's back?" "I can't believe Y/N showed up again" "Is she okay? Did something happen?" and much more.

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡."

After class had ended, you let Yeseo drag you out by the arm. Your head turning to face Matthew, your eyes catching his once more. And you felt your heart shatter once again when you saw the hint of a tiny smirk on his face.

Yeseo had dragged you all the way behind the school, a spot you and her frequented quite a lot during lunch to avoid large crowds. She stood in front of you, arms crossed in front of her and a determined look painting her features. "Go on, you have a lot of explaining to do"

The pain in your heart was still very much there as you tried to find the right words. As you looked into Yeseo's eyes, you couldn't hold back anymore and you broke down once again, your friend's facial expression quickly changed to one of concern as she took you into her arms. Her hands rubbing up and down your back as you sobbed into her shoulder.

You let everything out to her. You told her shout the night Matthew came to your house and invited you out, how he took you to Taerae's house and you two spent hours at his friend's outdoor pool. You told her about how he held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world, how he caught you when you snuck out of your bedroom window and how he had kissed you that night in the pool.

All Yeseo could do was listen, taking in your words and rub your back comfortingly. She realized the state Matthew had left you in, completely broken and the pieces of your heart scattered every where. He had played with your heart, broke it into pieces and left taking a piece with him. Yeseo knew that no matter what she or anyone else did, no one could fully help you heal and find closure. Cause that night at the 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐨𝐥, Matthew had permanently scarred your heart and left a piece of you missing forever.

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡. 𝙄𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡"

Hope you enjoyed, i loved writing this one. This song is one of my favs, so that's probably why. Make sure to put in a request if you'd like <33

#Spotify #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 matthew #zb1 matthew x reader #songfic #unrequited love #zb1 angst

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midnightmayhem13 · 1 year ago

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Hey May- Mayhem? Midnight? Do you have a preference? Let me know I wanna respect whichever you go by. 🩵 But either way I’ve been enjoying your headcanons so much!! And if you’re taking prompts, if not you can ignore this, I’d love to read some domestic grocery trips with all of the women or a fic with one you’d like to write. I think Carol and Nebula would be an interesting experience to take them with you lmao honestly all of them would be but something abt them makes me think they’d be all grumpy until they pass, aka stop at, the toys section and grab one

On the counter was a cardboard box

love this❕ and call me whatever one you feel like!! thank youuu

carol danvers

danvers hasn't been to a store in a while, and it definitely changed since the last time she when grocery shopping. why is everything so expensive? but she'd be willing to go but she wouldn't be so excited. she didn't like going in the 60's she probably wouldn't like it now. but if she's with you it's okay. she'll b a whiney baby and just like "babeeee when are we going home?". when you can't reach something she'll reach over you or literally lift you to it. then she'll be like "here you go baby". she'll be riding the cart around too, like a child on the loose. but if you buy her twinkies everything is okay.

sharon carter

sharon would actually be helpful omg. she'd hold you're hand the whole time and even make a list. if you ask for her opinion she'll state why one is better. and if you disagree she'll be like sweet and get that one for you. home girl is eyeing the whiskey the whole time judging the crappy ones they have on display, then giving you a full rundown of why to never get that one. she'd definitely offer to pay for you and you gotta fight her with to just not. it's not that it's not nice to have someone pay for you but you got money.

darcy lewis

dr would be so fun to shop with. she'd jam out to the playlist theyre playing over the speakers. she'd take random pictures of you too. and she deff would jump on your back and make you carry her around the store. you two get into arguments about cereal and shes a firm cheerios hater. she's also an almond milk girlie. and as if it were a ritual you two cheek the sweets section. if she seems smt over priced she'll be like "we can literally make that at home babe". then if you guys go past the tots section you definitely get a kick out of them. you guys spend more time in the toys section then the adult section. she also has a very strong opinion on specific pads. darcy definitely gives you puppy eyes if she sees a fuzzy blanket you two could add to your collection.

nebula

nebs is completely lost😭 she's never been to anything that wasn't some sort of space market. and you have to repeatedly tell her she can't just open a bag of snacks or punch a mannequin because they were "provoking her". she'd also be holding on to you super duper tight. to assert dominance over you of course. and she'll glare daggers if anyone looks at you. and if any workers offer assistance she'll be a little mean. you gotta love your blue meanie tho. when she passes by the toy or baby section. how could a thing be so adorable. she's never say anything tho. and she'll only calm down if you buy her a plushie. she'll even smile if you buy her one. if anyone even looks at her blueness you literally jump them.

maria hill

maria's gotta get shit done. so she doesn't really like spending time doing or looking at useless things. so when you drag her to the store she's not very happy. but you try you're best to cheer her up, her pout is so cute tho. you say it'll be a fun couple bonding experience, so she feels bad acting so annoying. she'd definitely geek out in the pen aisle. but if you're stuck between to cereals shes no help. she just says "i don't know love, you chose" she'll watch you in adoration as you pick out stuff and smile when you see something cute. she'll offer to hold the basket or shopping cart. she also loves dark chocolate and always checks out the stores coffee selection.

kate bishop

katie is like a child in the store. she kinda stays glued to you if they're too many people around but if it's rather empty she'll be touching everything. you two spend a while discussing in the snack lane. she also likes to sit in the shopping cart when you've been theyre "way too long". she'll be trying to convince you to by little things like you wouldn't do anything for her. kate also grabs little toys kids have left around after their mom said no. and if she accidentally pokes a toy and the package breaks she'll make her cute little face nd put it back silently.

a/n sorry if maria's and kate's are a little sloppy, i usually run outta ideas when i get to them but gotta do them justice❕❕

#carol danvers x reader #sharon carter x reader #darcy lewis x reader #nebula x reader #maria hill x reader #kate bishop x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #wlw #carol likes twinkies

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maylovesfiction · 2 months ago

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So, I wasn't originally going to post, but today I just felt like sharing a bit. The following scene will be the start of a fanfiction of my (first) OC and Buggy. I have multiple scenes within this whole story already written, and I know how the story will go. I will most likely change this version, when I get a slightly different idea or when I need to include some additional information, but I want the general gist to be like this. I didn't put the whole scene I have written here, because I haven't yet typed it into my laptop (I'm a pencil and paper user - it's easier for me to justify having a pen and paper with me at work than being on my phone haha), but there will be more. I'm at the point where I would like to get your feedback; can be about anything, writing style, writing/spelling/grammar mistakes I made, anything on characters. (There is the possibility that I switch randomly between UK and USA english, I'm sorry) At this point all that's left for me to say is: It ain't much, but it's honest work. Enjoy and Thank you for reading.

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He just fell out of the sky. Kanna looked at him with bewildered amusement. He was just a head with hands and feet, no trace of any legs or a torso. He seemingly had no injuries, but she couldn’t be sure, his fall had been pretty bad. She looked him over once more. His coat was way too big for him and his face was oddly familiar. The man was still unconscious and from his attire she figured he could be a pirate, so she wasn’t going to shake him awake. But she also couldn’t just let him lie around out in the open unconscious. She sighed and cautiously poked him with the tip of her shoe, when he still didn’t move, she slowly and carefully picked him up by his hands to carry him towards her small cabin. It was a short walk up the hill until she reached her home. She had to be careful not to stumble over his long orange coat. When she arrived at the house she tucked him into her bed. Judging by his hat he was a pirate and yet she couldn't bring herself to let him lay out there by himself, unconscious and without protection. Besides, maybe he was actually a nice person. Kanna had heard stories about somewhat nice pirates. Sure, being an asshole came with the job description but apparently there were also pirates that didn't abuse the weak and would just hunt the marines, other pirates or simply just treasure. He looked so peaceful. It was decided. Everything was better than to leave him outside and not keeping an eye on him. Kanna made a sour face as she remembered she still had to get groceries from the town's market. She contemplated if it was safe to go into town and leave the pirate to his own. She watched him for a moment and then chose to go nevertheless. She really needed to restock her supplies.

It was a short walk down the hill to reach town. She finished her tour as quickly as she possibly could. She was almost back on her way home when something caught her eye. It was a Wanted Poster. Her eyes grew wide. So that's where she had seen him. “Wanted Buggy the Clown 15 000 000 Berry” it read. This was the pirate captain who leveled Orange Town!

Kanna basically ran the way back up to her house, hoping it was still standing. Everything seemed calm when she arrived, so she took a moment to catch her breath. After a few moments she set her supplies down on the ground and opened the door to her cabin as quietly as she could and peeked in. The pirate was still in bed where she had left him and it didn't appear that he had moved at all. A sigh of relief escaped her. “What now?” she asked herself. She didn't want to kill him, that was going against her values. But nevertheless at that moment he still needed help and she couldn't just kick him out. No, she had to stay and take care of him, even if that meant risking her life. Kanna picked up her bag with supplies and entered the house to start putting the groceries away. It was time for lunch.

When Buggy came to the memories only slowly came back. That damned strawhat had launched him into the air. He would pay for this! Only slowly he became aware of his surroundings. He was lying on something soft, it smelled like food and… there was a voice. Talking to him? No. The voice was singing. His eyes flew open, looking for the source of the sound. He slowly turned his head and saw a woman with short black hair standing by a stove with her back towards him. It seemed like she was cutting up some vegetables while singing to herself. Buggy looked around and noticed he was in a small wooden house. Who was this person? Why was he in her house? Was she trying to rob him? Or worse, did she call the marines to get him for his bounty? He quietly managed to sit up, only to find the world spinning around him. His head was throbbing from pain.

Midway through her song she felt a burning sensation on her back. The hairs on her arms rose and she just knew her visitor had to be awake. Kanna stopped singing and slowly turned around to face him. She was surprised to find him already sitting upright in her bed. “Who are you?!” he demanded to know and Kanna noticed a dangerous tone in his voice. “My name is Kanna.” - “Where am I?!” - “You are in my home on the island Sensa.” Buggy looked at her funny “You are lying! There is no such island!” Kanna looked at him with a blank expression and shrugged. “We're a small seasonal island, so most maps won't show us.” Buggy's eyebrow rose up but he didn't say anything else. He had heard about some seasonal islands on the East Blue. They were only accessible during certain seasons and after some time the ocean would claim them again, only for them to reappear the next year around the same time. People living on those islands would only build quick to raise wooden houses. Yet he was still skeptical. He didn't trust her. Buggy glared at her with narrow eyes. As if Kanna could read his mind she stated “I didn't call the Marines if that's what you're afraid of. And the next town's people don't know you're here either. You fell out of the sky in the woods just below this cabin. I can show you the exact location if you like.” The pirate stayed silent.

Kanna was tense and she hated the thickness of the air in her cabin. She sighed and tried to relax her stance. He was dangerous but she had to look at it positively, if he was that unhinged he probably would have hurt her already. So maybe he would come around if she was nice. “I was preparing lunch. Nothing fancy, just some plain deer meat with steamed vegetables. Do you want some?” she offered. At the mention of food his eyes lit up ever so slightly, even though he stayed silent. So that was a Yes. A small smile formed on her lips. “I still have some preparation to do, so it'll still take me some time to get the food ready. You can rest and I'll wake you up when I'm done.” Kanna proposed. Not waiting for an answer this time she turned her back to him once again and continued cutting the vegetables into small pieces.

Yea, as if he would rest now. That woman clearly wanted him to feel safe so he wouldn't be prepared when the Marines showed up. She was a bold one, to turn her back to him so carelessly. If only his head didn't hurt so badly. Her bed was… okay. But not as flashy as his bed back on the Big Top. Her bed was somewhat comfortable, though… and it wouldn't hurt to rest his head a little more. No! He didn't trust her. He couldn't let his guard down. Buggy looked around. Her cabin was basically one big room with the bed on the wall across from the front door and the kitchen cabinets and the stove next to the door. Near the center of the room was a table with two chairs, clearly intended for eating only, and in the furthest corner he spotted another small table with a very small and old stool beneath it. Stacks and stacks upon papers piled up on the corner table. Buggy noticed the lack of decoration, nothing fancy, no silver, no gold, nothing even remotely shiny, except… His eyes rested on a small display case hung on the wall next to the corner table. He ignored the pain in his head starting up again when he moved and jumped off the bed to examine the case further and walked towards it. Buggy detached his head to examine the contents up on the wall. It certainly was a set of throwing knives. They clearly had seen better days, but they had to have been expensive when they were new. They were the product of fine smithing craftsmanship, he could tell as much. When he heard something drop, he turned his floating head towards the origin of the sound.

Kanna couldn't believe her eyes. She had heard about Buggy's devil fruit powers, but to see them in action was different. She stared at Buggy's head floating in front of her weapon display. She should have hidden them. Kanna mentally smacked herself. She tried to still appear busy in case he would turn to look at her so she was hastily proceeding to cut some potatoes, but in her distracted state she accidentally cut her finger. The cutting knife dropped from her hand onto the floor. “Shit” she cursed out loud. Blood was already trickling from her left hand where the knife had left a moderately deep cut in her index finger. She quickly rinsed her injury with some water and got herself a clean piece of cloth from a rag hanging above the sink to press on her wound. When she looked up, she noticed that Buggy's eyes rested on her. His face was unreadable. “I’m sorry for cursing, I was just clumsy and cut myself. No big deal,” she gave a weak smile before hastily walking over to the table next to Buggy. Kanna opened one of the many drawers and took out some herbs and bandages. Even though it was just a small cut, she still didn’t want it to get infected. She rubbed the herbs between her thumb and index finger of her right hand until the leaves were leaking their fluids. Kanna discarded the bloodied cloth into a hamper nearby and pressed the herbs on to her cut. The painful sting the plant’s fluids were inflicting made her hiss, but she had to be quick to wrap it up before the blood started dripping onto her floor. She quickly wrapped the bandages around her finger and secured them with a little clip. That should do. Kanna had failed to notice Buggy watching her very intently, clearly interested in whatever she was doing. So when she looked up after tending to her wound and was almost face to face with Buggy's head she jumped. “So, you’re some kind of doctor or healer?” Buggy asked her, while turning his gaze towards the open drawer full of herbs, medicine and first aid utensils.

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#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #op buggy #oc

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eva-knits12 · 1 year ago

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Grocery Shopping with Andy Barber

Trigger warning: Grocery shopping, breastfeeding, fluff

Summary: You, Andy, and Joy go grocery shopping.

You wake up next to your husband. You have your head in his chest, and you both woke up a while ago. It seems that you two had just fallen asleep again, after you had fed Joy, then an hour later, Andy woke up because she needed a diaper change.

It was six in the morning, and you and Andy decided to get up and shower while Joy was still sleeping. She was getting better about sleeping, only waking up twice in the night, once for a feeding, and the other time was for a diaper change, which usually happened an hour later. You usually fed her, and Andy usually changed her.

"Good morning, Daddy," you say.

"Good morning, Mama," says Andy.

You and Andy brush your teeth, and you go down to turn on the coffee pot. You come back up, and wash your face while Andy gathers his clothes for the day. You get your clothes for the day, and check on Joy. She won't be awake for another two hours, so you and Andy won't have to take separate showers. You both shower together, and it feels even more romantic than it did. You and Andy just haven't had a morning to yourselves since before Joy was born.

You and Andy enter the shower stall after Andy turns on the water. You don't have to shave your legs today, so you wash your hair, and shave your armpits. You and Andy suds each other up, and you and Andy make love in the shower, something that you and Andy haven't done in a while.

After the shower, you and Andy are wrapped in towels, and are enjoying a nice, post coital moment and start to make out again. Andy picks you up, and carries you bridal style back to the bed, and kisses you passionately. He rolls on a condom, and he enters you. You let go after a few minutes, and then Andy follows. You and Andy haven't had some adult fun time, and your doctor cleared you for sex weeks ago. You two had just been waiting for the right time to make love again, and this morning was the perfect opportunity.

Andy hears Joy cry, and you both realize that she is now awake.

"I'll get her, sweetheart. You just sit here and drink your coffee, okay?" says Andy as he kisses you on your forehead.

You prepare yourself a glass of decaf iced coffee with vanilla creamer and sugar, just the way you like it. You also make yourself a bagel, and pull out your favorite tub of cream cheese. You leave the pack of bagels out for Andy, so he can fix himself some breakfast.

You're busy eating your bagel, drinking your coffee, and going through the grocery list on your phone. You found that this was much easier than using pen and paper to make your list, like you used to. The grocery list app on your phone helps you organize each item by aisle, and you also organize the coupons by aisle. Luckily, the app also helps you organize your digital coupons, so it makes this task much easier.

Andy comes downstairs with Joy in his arms. Andy sets joy in her infant swing, and turns it on. Joy is happily swinging while trying to bat at the toys that were across the safety bar. Andy fixes the last bagel, and slathers it with cream cheese, and fixes his coffee.

"How is my beautiful wife?" says Andy.

"I'm good, I'm awake, and I'm just feeling wonderful", you say. "I have a wonderful and amazing husband," you say.

Andy smiles, and you mean every word of this. Andy's lips crash into yours and gives you a loving kiss.

"I love you. You are one beautiful wife and a beautiful mother," says Andy.

"I love you, Andy. You are one wonderful, amazing, and loving husband," you say.

Andy smiles and you smile. You haven't stopped smiling since you met Andy, you haven't stopped smiling since your narcissistically abusive ex came back, and Andy helped put him in prison. You haven't stopped smiling since Joy Grace was born.

You stop the swing, and pull Joy out. You lift up your shirt, pull down your bra, and put Joy to your chest, and she latches on to your breast. You feed her, burp her, and then repeat the process.

"Are you ready for a bath, Joy? Yes, you get to have your favorite thing in the world, a nice bath", you coo at Joy, and she is already anticipating her morning bath.

Andy comes down with some clothes for her, a diaper, and some wipes. He pulls out the little tub, then gets out her bubble bath, her baby shampoo, her baby bath gel, and some bath toys. You put in a capful of bubble bath, and fill her little tub, making sure that the water isn't too hot or too cold. When the temperature feels just right, you undress Joy, and remove her diaper. Andy comes back with a towel, and a washcloth. You put Joy in the water, and you and Andy play with her while you're both giving her a morning bath.

Andy and you both play with Joy a little more while you wash her, then rinse her off. Andy applies some baby lotion on her, while you clean the tub out. You love the smell of Joy after she has taken her morning bath, and Joy is finally settled. Andy puts her diaper on, and puts on her little diaper cover and her little onesie and her little jean shorts. You put some socks on her.

"Andy, she's so calm," you say.

"I love this. Daddy loves you Joy. You're so calm and peaceful," says Andy, and Joy has actually fallen asleep.

"Yes, she's calm, just like mama," says Andy, who is now holding Joy, and getting her settled for the morning.

Andy is usually bathing Joy and getting her settled while you showered and then ate your breakfast. He usually left for the office after you've fed Joy, and then have eaten. You got lucky, since Joy slept through most of the night.

Andy goes and loads the infant seat into the car, and you give Joy to Andy. You pack the diaper bag, making sure to have plenty of diapers, plenty of wipes, and plenty of toys and some books.

You and Andy load Joy into her infant seat, and then you both get into the Audi, and then head off to the grocery store.

Andy parks, and Andy pulls out the stroller. You place Joy in the stroller, and you both walk into the store, with Andy placing one arm around your shoulders, He kisses you on your forehead, and you both start in the pharmacy and beauty section.

Andy gets some Motrin, and he gets you some postpartum gummies. He also gets you the calcium tablets. You get some mascara and some concealer, and some foundation, which you will pay for yourself. You also get some bath salts, and you also pick up some moisturizer with sunscreen and some night moisturizer. You will pay for your own beauty items, and Andy likes to make sure that you pamper yourself every once in a while.

"You deserve it, honey," says Andy.

Laurie never let Andy do some of the parent duties. She wanted to do it herself, and wanted to be seen as a strong woman. It was another reason why Andy divorced Laurie shortly before her and Jacob's death. Laurie and Jacob kept pushing Andy away, it had gotten to the point where he packed his belongings and moved into a one bedroom apartment close to his office.

Andy looks at you lovingly, and still remembers the day that you met at that coffee house. You went into the coffee house to get your coffee, and your coffee maker had stopped working. You were going to get one after work, and the doctor's office wasn't too far from his office. Your office was located in a medical pavilion at the hospital, and it was where patients could go for regular checkups and regular visits. You and Andy struck up a conversation because the line was long, it was busy, and everyone seemed to be ordering a science experiment. You and Andy just ordered regular coffee with cream and sugar. You both exchanged numbers, and your first date wasn't soon after. It was nine months after your breakup with Steve, and you never even noticed.

Next up is the cleaning aisle, and you both get the Swiffer wipes, both the wet ones and the dry ones, and you get the laundry detergent. You even get the Delft, which is the laundry detergent you use to wash Joy's clothes.

You avoid the paper goods aisle, but you get the freezer bags, the gallon bags to keep your yarn clean, and you get them to dispose of Joy's diapers.

Next up is the produce section, and you and Andy get the apples, the bananas, the fresh corn, some carrots, and some broccoli and cauliflower. Next up is the bakery section, and you get some donuts for you and Andy to snack on later.

Next up is the bread section, and you and Andy get some whole wheat and some whole grain bread. You also get some peanut butter, jelly, and you even get some mustard, ketchup, and some steak sauce.

The meat section is next, and you and Andy get some chicken, some steak, some hamburgers, and some pork sausage. You also get some bacon and some hot dogs.

Next up is the pasta aisle, and you get some spaghetti to make some spaghetti salad. Andy planned on grilling steaks tomorrow, and you and Andy and Joy were going to have dinner on your deck.

"Andy, that steak is going to be wonderful. I can never tell you enough that you're a wonderful husband," you say.

Andy smiles. "I love you, too. I can't tell you enough that your a wonderful and amazing and beautiful wife," says Andy.

Next up is the baking aisle, and you get a ready made pie crust. You plan on making a no bake cheesecake for dessert, so you can start on that in the morning, after you feed and burp and bathe Joy.

"Don't worry about bathing Joy. I'll give her her bath tomorrow. You just shower, eat, and get going on that cheesecake," says Andy.

"Okay, and we'll have a nice, relaxing Sunday," you say.

"I just can't remember when we had a relaxing Sunday," says Andy.

"I think it was before Joy was born. We've been in baby mode since my last trimester," you say.

You and Andy continue your conversation, while Joy was sleeping. After a while, Joy screams, and you realize that she's hungry.

"I'm going to go to the instore Starbucks, and feed Joy," you say.

Andy hands you the diaper bag, which contains burp rags. You take the car seat, put the bag on your shoulder, and go find a seat that's somewhat secluded. You put Joy under your shirt after you pull down your nursing bra and release a breast. You burp Joy, and then repeat the process. You buy a bottle of water after you're done feeding Joy. As you take a few sips, Joy cries again. You check her diaper, and she's in need of a change. You grab her car seat, put the diaper bag on your shoulder, and take her to the ladies room. You go into the handicapped stall, where the changing table is. You lay down the little pad that is in the diaper bag, then put Joy on the table, strapping her on, so she won't fall. You go ahead and change her diaper, and place the wipe and the dirty diaper in the gallon bag, and then in a plastic grocery bag, and dispose of the diaper. You wash your hands, and then rejoin Andy.

Andy has found some cute bibs for Joy, and a cute stuffed bunny for Joy. He even found cute little bucket hat for Joy. He placed them in the cart. You take one look, and love how cute the items that Andy picked out are. Andy even got black beans and tortillas.

You and Andy go to the dairy section and get some eggs, and some cheese, and some cream cheese. You get some yogurt so you can have some for a quick breakfast. You also get sour cream for the gazpacho and the burritos.

Next up is the cookie and cracker aisle, and Andy gets some Oreos and some Chips Ahoy. You also get some Cheez-Its, and you get some saltines and some oyster crackers. You and Andy were going to make gazpacho for lunch tomorrow.

You get the chips and the tortilla chips. You were going to have the tortilla chips with the gazpacho, and you would also make some black bean burritos to have with it.

"Why don't we have the gazpacho with dinner tomorrow? I'm making some black bean burritos," you say.

"That's going to be wonderful dinner,: says Andy, kissing your forehead.

You and Andy then go to the frozen section and get the ice cream, the Cool Whip, and some TV Dinners for when Andy worked late, which is nothing unusual. He was supposed to take the trial of a murdered teenager, but he gave it to the next D.A. It hit too close to home for him, something you understood. Just spending time with you and Joy was important for him. If he took the case, he would be reliving the past, when he worked so hard to move forward after what happened to Laurie and Jacob.

You go to the checkout, and help Andy unload the cart. Andy bags the groceries, and you are stroking Joy's cheek lovingly. You are singing to her softly, and she is still sleeping. You fall asleep on the way home.

You and Andy then load the groceries into the car, and then you drive home. You and Andy both unpack the groceries and then you put Joy in her crib. You fall asleep, and Andy goes into the bedroom, and watches you sleep after he's done unpacking the groceries.

"I love you so much, sweetheart," says Andy as he's lying next to you in bed, with you in his arms.

After a while, Andy falls asleep. He wakes up after a while, and decides to get dinner going. He's making some grilled chicken fajitas, and has already marinated the chicken. He got the tortillas, and goes to fix the ingredients.

After a while, you wake up and smell something good. You're mouth waters, and all you had for lunch was some yogurt. You weren't that hungry, and feeding Joy wore you out at times. If Joy wasn't sleeping or crying, she was eating. You were thankful that she was eating, and eating well, but breast feeding Joy made you tired at times. Today was one of those times.

You help Andy heat up the tortillas, and he lays out the fajitas on a plate after he has cut them into strips. You get out the cheese and the sour cream and you and Andy just talk.

You feed Joy again, and Andy grabs a burp rag, and puts her to his shoulder. He burps her while you go brush your teeth, and get into bed.

Andy tells you to get to bed, he'll clean up the kitchen. Andy cleans the kitchen, and then he joins you in bed. There's nothing on TV, so he reads his book for a while, then falls asleep next to you, with you curled up on his chest.

#andy barber #grocery shopping #mexican food #love #breastfeeding

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soundsofcicadas · 1 year ago

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Swan Song, part one

Pairing: Koo Junhoe x Reader (f)

Genres: Drama, Angst, Romance, Childhood best friends, Junhoe is a former idol, Friends to lovers

Count: 2697

Warnings: None

Synopsis: After an unexpected encounter with your childhood best friend Junhoe, years after drifting apart, your rekindled friendship blooms anew. However, life takes a turn when he asks you to pen an article for his upcoming wedding. As you become entangled in his personal life, your old feelings of love for him begin resurfacing and the concealed secret behind his decision to abandon his idol career is soon to be unveiled by you.

It was a dreary, rain-soaked afternoon and you found yourself carrying a couple of grocery bags, each lightly dampened by the persistent drizzle. The rain had already drenched your umbrella, rendering it almost useless. You let out a sigh and quickened your pace, hoping to reach your apartment before the rain grew heavier. Upon crossing the street, you noticed an old record store nestled between a quaint cafe and a cozy bookstore. You glanced up and saw its faded sign bore the name “Good Oldies,” and a sudden sense of nostalgia washed over you.

“Should I?” You asked yourself with some hesitation. You looked at the groceries in your hands for a moment before a faint smile appeared on your face. Despite them weighing you down, curiosity got the better of you.

You pushed open the creaky door of the record store. A soft bell tinkled above as you stepped in, greeted by the familiar scent of old vinyl and the gentle hum of music playing on a vintage turntable. Rows upon rows of vinyl records filled the store, their covers adorned with vibrant artwork and the promise of forgotten melodies. You set your grocery bags down and began flipping through the albums, each one a portal to a different era. Lost in the world of music, you finally settled on a Billie Holiday record, its cover portraying the singer’s side view posing behind a purplish background. As you held the record in your hands, your eyes caught a tall figure browsing by the “Rock” section in the next aisle. Aside from the cashier patiently waiting at the counter, only the two of you were the customers inside. You couldn’t help but stare at the mysterious man in front of you. He was wearing jeans, paired with a matching brown corduroy blazer and a baseball cap. You could see him picking up a Bob Dylan record and once he turned around, you glanced up to see his face clearly.

You froze, your eyes fluttered rapidly.

Even if you could only see half of his face, you surely recognized him. A jumble of emotions rushed through you—surprise, longing? A twinge of anxiety.

Is it really him? No, it’s definitely him! Should I approach him? What if he doesn’t recognize me?

Without further thought, you took a deep breath and cleared your throat. He was about to walk towards the counter when your voice broke through the soft veil background music in the sparsely populated store.

“Junhoe?” You called.

Junhoe halted and took a glimpse at you, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Your heart sank, but you pressed on moving closely to him. “It’s me, y/n. We used to live next door to each other when we were kids.”

Junhoe turned to face you completely.

Familiarity dawned on him as he began examining the stranger before him—from the contours of your face to the soft curve of your cheeks. Your long ebony hair, still dampened from the rain. Your eyes were bright, widened in astonishment. You were wearing a long white sundress covered in an oversized baby pink coat, a Lady Satin album in your hands.

“Y/n?” He mumbled.

You were his childhood best friend, until he dropped out in middle school and left for the city to pursue his dreams. You were the one he promised to call and write but never did. When did he forget about you? He couldn’t even remember. Junhoe sifted through his forgotten memories of you and for some unknown reason, found comfort in recalling how you used to exude a carefree spirit when you were both young. You were one of the boys in the neighborhood and never changed your circle of friends, even when you all started attending school up to your adolescence. He fondly remembered how, during your escapades together, you would match your energy with him and the boys in the group effortlessly. Being the eldest among the six of them, you naturally assumed the role of an older sister. You became their protector against mean kids if any of them were bullied.

Junhoe’s gaze lingered on the subtle changes in your style, the way your clothing reflects your femininity. Your posture now carried a touch of maturity, but your features still looked youthful, untouched by the passage of time. Gone was the y/n who hunted for frogs and insects with him in her tees and chucks.

Junhoe noticed how he had almost gotten lost in his thoughts upon hearing you answer him excitedly with a “Yes, it’s me! I can’t believe it’s you.”

“I can’t believe it’s you too.” He responded to you with a warm smile.

************************************************************************

“You didn’t have to pay for it, you know.” You said shyly to Junhoe, pertaining to the album he bought for you from the record store. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you and Junhoe sat across from each other in a secluded corner of the coffee shop. The clinking of cups and hushed conversations along with the playing jazz melody formed as gentle backdrop to your reunion.

“It’s not free! You're paying for my coffee.” Junhoe teased, earning a laugh from you.

“You bet it’s my treat today!” You nodded with a grin. There was a brief pause when you added, “Thank you Junhoe for coming here with me. I’m not taking too much of your time, am I?”

Junhoe shook his head. “Oh no y/n! I’m actually on vacation right now. I was here just a few days ago.”

So this is why he’s back. You mused.

Taking a sip from the hot caramel macchiato you ordered, you had a chance to observe Junhoe over the brim of your cup—the white undershirt suited his ensemble that day. You knew the baseball cap perched casually on his head was not just a simple accessory. It created a shield of privacy around him from the curious gazes of onlookers given the fact that Junhoe was still a celebrity. You didn’t mind ordering for him. You knew he wanted to pick a spot away from the prying eyes of customers, hence to where the both of you are now nestled. It offered a discreet setting to catch up after all those lost time. Junhoe peeked through the misty glass of the cafe’s window, where the rain seemed to have turned into light pattering before he glimpsed back at you.

“It’s been so long, y/n. I can’t believe we’re sitting here after all these years.”

You beamed at him and set your coffee down on the tabletop, “I know, right? Life has taken us on such different paths.”

Junhoe’s expression shifted, a hint of remorse tugging at his sharp features. “Y/n, I feel terrible for not keeping in touch, especially considering how close we were.”

Your gaze softened, but your smile was unwavering. “It’s okay, Junhoe. You were chasing your passion, and you built a new life for yourself outside this town. Not all of us were headed in the same direction anyway. It genuinely made me happy to see you thriving. I’ve always been proud of you, Junhoe.”

Your last statement piqued Junhoe's curiosity.

“Proud?” He repeated.

“How do I say this—” You tried to avoid looking at his face. Your sight dipping into the stain of your lipstick on the cup of your coffee as if seeking solace. You felt a pang of embarrassment tickling the edges of your consciousness, a quiet voice whispering the fear that your words might be misconstrued. You didn’t want him to think you were some sort of fervent, overzealous stalker. A faint blush tinted your cheeks. Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the fabric of your dress.

“I followed your journey as a singer Junhoe. Your rise to fame was like a whirlwind. Your voice was everywhere.” You divulged. “I even went to some of your concerts to be honest.”

Junhoe’s awe hung in the air from your confession, yet he held no judgement from it. He was grateful, flattered to say the least.

“I wish I had known that y/n. Thank you.” He said to you with care.

“But I’m definitely not a saesang or anything.” You reassured him with a nervous laugh. You didn’t dare to meet Junhoe’s eyes because sharing this information with him made you feel exposed, yet you continued, “You were the closest friend I ever had, and I guess I’ve always clung to the belief that your dreams would come true. Regardless of the passing years and not hearing anything from you, you still have a special place in my heart.”

Junhoe began to feel the weight of your words, a surge of sorrow and regret engulfed him. He reflected on how your connection with each other in the past was unbreakable. His inseparability with you was the envy of the other boys in your circle. You had always favored him, making your bond together a more special one. You stood by him, especially during his appearances in school talent shows and local town festivals. You consistently supported him to the point where you recorded his audition tapes sent to entertainment companies. Junhoe got accepted by YG Entertainment eventually, and your joy that day for him was immeasurable. You even brought the boys with you to accompany him on his first day of training to the company.

“I’m really sorry, y/n.” Junhoe stated, his face grim. “You know, during those years, I was so caught up with the hectic demand of my career. I lost contact with a lot of people, including you.” Junhoe was struggling to find the right words, knowing that they might come across as excuses for not reaching out for such a long time. Yet, they were the only words he could muster.

The fervent pursuit of Junhoe’s dream to become a singer resulted in his connections slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. The rigors of his training consumed his time and energy, leaving little room to see or talk to his circle of friends. Gradually, Junhoe started living at the company’s dormitory which made him more detached from them. Their relationship began to fray due to his lack of communication—the letters he’d forgotten to read, calls gone to voicemail and most importantly, the highlights of the lives of his friends he missed out on knowing and witnessing, causing both sides to finally dwindle into silence. As Junhoe marched toward his debut, the overwhelming preparation and anticipation completely absorbed him. The spotlight of the stage beckoned, and the weight of his ambition denied him the opportunity to look backwards. The vortex of his rise to fame kept him farther from his roots. Recording sessions, photo shoots, TV appearances and tours became the center of his everyday life. It cast him into a turbulence of events that seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. The adoration of fans, the flashes of cameras and the cheers of crowds all consumed his focus. The memories of his friends back in his hometown became a blur, their faces fading like distant constellations in the night sky.

The realization of how you held onto your belief that he would achieve his aspirations, had affected Junhoe in some kind of way. Your persistence in tracking his path as a singer astounded him. He was profoundly moved how you cherished your friendship after such a long period of being apart.

However, at that exact moment, a haunting thought emerged within Junhoe, creeping into the recesses of his mind like an uninvited guest. In your presence, a world he had thought he’d left behind reignited, casting a shadow of pain over him. A bittersweet memory of a dream that had once been within his grasp, disappeared as swiftly as a fleeting breath.

You returned your attention back to Junhoe. It was not your intention to cause him any negative feelings.

“Please don’t feel bad, Junhoe.” You pleaded. “We were kids, and circumstances changed. I never held it against you.”

Junhoe had somehow found consolation in your words, although a subtle ache still persisted beneath the surface.

“Thank you, y/n. That means a lot to me.” He said sincerely.

“I know this may sound too much Junhoe, but I knew then you were destined to be a singer. You weren’t meant to be stuck in this town like me.” You declared. “That’s why it made me sad when you retired from music. You were at the peak of your career, but I truly get it and I still support you pursuing other things.”

Junhoe leaned back in his chair and looked at the momentarily forgotten coffee on the table, as if searching for the right answer. He was torn between vulnerability and a desire to protect the fragile facade he had built. He wrestled between overwhelming emotions, a torrent of memories he had forgotten now resurfacing. A cascade of what-ifs and maybes flooded his mind, reminding him of the dreams he had once harbored.

Junhoe offered a fleeting smile, a fragile acknowledgment that your words touched a chord within him. But he remained guarded, his response veiled by the walls he had erected to secure himself from the agonizing truth he had long concealed.

“You’re kind to say that.” Junhoe murmured softly, his gaze now meeting yours. His voice carried a weight of both resignation and yearning, a silent plea for understanding. It was a response that revealed the depth of his struggle, a battle between the echoes of his dreams and the reality he had come to accept.

“I’m into writing poetry now, y/n. I’ve published a few books and it’s been therapeutic for me.” Junhoe revealed. “I guess, I’m still part of the music industry. I occasionally produce music for my fellow artists.”

“That’s amazing Junhoe!” You responded, providing him with warm encouragement. “It’s incredible how you continue to explore and evolve as an artist. I wasn’t lucky to obtain a copy of your last book though, it got easily sold out!”

Junhoe appreciated your attempt to inject a lighthearted laugh into the conversation, as a means to thaw the seriousness of it. But talking about himself had begun to tire him out, prompting him to steer the discussion to you.

“Enough of me y/n, how have you been?” Junhoe asked. “Are you still friends with Hanbin and the other boys?”

“Me? Oh, I’m also a writer like you, but it’s for a local lifestyle magazine.” You shared; your voice laced with enthusiasm as you seamlessly followed along with his transition of topic. “And yes, I’m still friends with the boys. Hanbin now teaches elementary school kids. Would you believe that?”

“Wow! Really?” Junhoe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Yeah. Yun works as a master chef at a fancy hotel in Seoul. As for Jiwon, he has his own family already. Him and Dong both resided in the US after graduation, but they live in different states. Dong has his own dance studio somewhere in LA.”

A comfortable atmosphere began to envelop the two of you, and Junhoe felt his shoulders visibly relax as he listened to your stories about your childhood friends. It offered a refreshing change from his life in the spotlight. Engaging to hear every detail of their lives, he couldn’t help but recognize how much he missed them and how happy it made him that they were all doing so well through the years.

Until a specific event sparked in Junhoe’s mind, inspiring him to extend an invitation to you. He saw this as an opportunity to keep the rekindled connection you both shared, a bond he was determined not to let fade away as he had done in the past.

“Y/n, would you be interested in joining me for an art exhibit tomorrow night? Feel free to bring Hanbin and your other friends as well, if you like.” Junhoe asked you excitedly.

A glint appeared in your eyes upon hearing the kind gesture. “I would love to Junhoe! That’s wonderful because I like art a lot.”

“That’s great, y/n! I’ll text you the address.” Junhoe replied cheerfully, looking forward to seeing you again.

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bebethsas · 3 months ago

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You need to finish your homework, but the only time you have to do it is during the busride to school. So you either press the flimsy sheet of paper to the back of the faux-leather (plasticy) busseat in front of you, or you press it to your lap, praying either way that the tip of your pen or pencil doesn't pierce straight through the page. You scribble out your answers as best you can, trying to work against the bus's shitty suspension and shock-absorbers, and hope that you finish your work before you arrive.

You literally have to raise your hand and ask to use the bathroom. Every time. This is normalized in your little kid brain and you won't realize just how weird this is until you hit college, when the professors tell you that you don't have to ask, you can just leave the classroom if you need to go.

If your parents decided that you were going to run errands with them (b/c you're too young to stay at home alone) apparently you were visiting Staples that day. Or going clothes-shopping at Macy's. Or helping Mom or Dad pick out groceries. Or visiting whatever other retail place they chose that day. And it was up to YOU to keep yourself from getting bored (at least until you were old enough to read, then you started carrying books everywhere).

Oh and also you absolutely needed to do your homework. No matter how tedious-sounding or boring it felt back then (or how boring and tedious it sounds as an adult).

(This is why a scenario where my adult mind travels back in time and ends up in my child body--and I'm given the chance to re-do my childhood--would actually kinda suck; you have to re-do ALLLLL of it, even the mundane, redundant, boring shit that sucked enough when you went through it the 1st time around.)

Looking back, cannot comprehend how I lived a single day as a child. Your best friend now sits across the room from you because the teacher rearranged seats. You have to go to a family reunion this weekend and you’ll be stuck in a car or around people you don’t know for hours. You heard a story about a dude who chewed gum wrong and his tongue fell out. It’s 11 AM.

#childhood isn't as great as nostalgia makes it out to be #to the point where I don't really have nostalgia for being a kid #being a kid was awkward and uncomfortable and felt like a series of awkward moments as I clumsily lurched towards adolescence #don't get me wrong I do hold *some* fondness for some parts of my childhood #but not as much as other people seem to hold #like. why do you want to go back to when you were a kid??#you had ZERO autonomy over anything #yet you were still expected to act a certain way #so it's not like you were free from the societal expectations that weigh you down now #you just gained new ones #idk man. maybe childhood really *is* a golden memory for some people #for me #it was more like I was still a *pupa* and not quite 'human' yet #I wasn't a “person” until I was maybe 11 or 13

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fleetroot-blog · 2 years ago

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How to Become a Professional Delivery Driver

youtube

Who can ever forget the good ole “Pizza Delivery Guy” who shows up at our doorway with a smile and a sizzling pizza? The logistics and distribution industry has been around for many years and touches our lives in many different ways every day.

Now may be the perfect time for delivery drivers to pursue a career in driving. Everything is now at our fingertips thanks to the Digital Economy, e-Commerce, and the growth of our “App Culture.”

However, they would be wise to adhere to best practices and show up to work every day at their best in order to maximize their success as delivery drivers.

Delivery Driver: A Mobile Life

Although thousands of people have always been employed in the delivery industry, it has expanded even more quickly since the turn of the century due to the growth of the e-commerce sector. The “App Culture,” or the usage of apps in modern life for, well, everything, has likewise experienced an exponential surge in recent decades.

You can now have anything delivered to your door with only a tap, swipe, screen pinch, or spoken order, including food, groceries, clothing, household goods, prescriptions, masseurs, and a long list of other things. and expanding!

It is now more crucial than ever to guarantee that your consumers have a great and satisfying delivery experience because of this “everything-at-your-door” way of life. To ensure their Delivery Drivers can do their tasks safely, competently, and financially, Logistics and Distribution organizations must ensure they receive the necessary training.

Here are some helpful hints:

1. Pick Appropriate Delivery Jobs: Driving jobs come in a variety of models; choose the one that best fits you. A fleet driver for a Fleet Management company, a chain of independent restaurants, or a delivery service are a few examples of possible employers.

Naturally, your work schedule will vary accordingly; in some instances, you can work on your own schedule, while in others, you must work according to their shift schedules. The more independent clients you have, such as restaurants, may even be willing to work with your schedule to arrange shifts for you. While some employers may give you a business vehicle, others will require you to use your own. Each will also have unique employment procedures, compensation plans, and benefits.

2. Safety protocol: Although best practices for safety should be a top priority in every industry, the transport and freight sector is especially in need of this for obvious reasons. For driving jobs to be successfully performed and to keep oneself safe, risk management is crucial.

Delivery Drivers are needed to take certain precautions, including adhering to safe driving standards, monitoring traffic and weather conditions, looking out for road closures, making sure the vehicles they drive are in good condition and keeping all necessary paperwork up to date.

3. Navigation: In your work as a delivery driver, it’s crucial that you understand your routes, the roads you drive on, and the communities you serve. Uncertainty regarding your location and frequent getting lost may result in longer drive times, sluggish delivery, and irritated clients — not to mention angry employers!

It is essential to utilize a dependable GPS-enabled fleet navigation system; make sure to download one of these apps to your smartphone and become familiar with all of its features.

4. Carry Necessary Equipment: You may or may not receive basic driver’s equipment from your workplace. In any case, you might think about purchasing some extra tools to offer yourself an advantage as a delivery driver.

For instance, having coolers, insulated delivery bags, and take-away supplies (such as paper plates, straws, napkins, and condiments) may help you better serve your customers if you work in the food delivery industry. Other useful items kept by drivers include batteries, loose change, clipboards, pens, sticky notes, and sticky notes.

5. Customer service: The final metric for every organization is customer satisfaction. You won’t obtain repeat business and won’t be able to help your employers establish a long-lasting firm unless you’re making clients happy. As a result, your position as a delivery driver won’t be stable.

The “face” of the firm is formed by delivery drivers, so keep in mind that your look, attitude, temperament, readiness to assist customers, and gratitude for their patronage can help you get respect and positive comments to advance your career. Oh, and you’ll probably get some nice tips as well!

6. Contactless Delivery: Although “contactless delivery” (such as touch-free credit card payments) has been for a while, the pandemic has now strictly enforced it. And it’s a modification that will now prevail.

Modern approaches to contactless delivery that enhance customer experience include leaving packages at doors, avoiding contact, maintaining distance, donning disposable gloves, taking photos in place of paper receipts, using ePOD (Electronic Proof of Delivery), and sending SMS and app notifications rather than ringing doorbells. You would be a safe, wise, and responsible delivery driver if you developed these habits.

7. Pay: At the end of the day, we need to get paid for our work. As a result, you need to be aware of the variables that affect your income. For instance, the pay and benefits of various delivery jobs, the places of employment, the geographic demand for delivery drivers, the number of hours you can work, and peak versus off-peak hours for jobs (etc.).

Know the best way to file your tax returns as well. Your profits are affected by a number of variables, including whether you are an employee or an independent contractor, what information to offer and in what quantities, etc.

As was previously stated, a delivery driver must invest the necessary time and energy into keeping up with all elements of his employment. Maintaining his level of excellence will benefit his career and financial condition as well as bring in satisfied clients for his employers.

Read More about How to Become a Professional Delivery Driver

#deliver driver #driver #lastmiledelivery #logistics #Youtube

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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Redbox Romance

Javi Gutierrez x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: Food/alcohol consumption, cursing, some splashes of self-consciousness. Javi is an amazing kisser (no I do not take criticism), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, vaginal sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), blink-and-you’ll-miss-it begging/praise. Summary: Bumping into a hot guy in line to rent a Redbox movie after work has never sounded like a better idea than when that guy is Javi G. Notes: Happy Spooktober everyone! We simply couldn’t do this big round of spooky season stories without including a movie night with Javi 🎃🧡🎬

Since he has had his entire world crumble, his perfectly controlled world shifted - Javi has realized how few friends he actually has. There is Nick of course, but he cannot call Nick over to watch a horror movie marathon. Not when he is trying to repair the damage he had done to his relationship with his ex-wife and daughter. Javi was sure that soon that they would reconcile, and Nick would be happier - something that his friend would be very proud of. The concept of going to the store is daunting but Javi has fallen in love with the Redbox location down the road from him at the local grocery store. He wants to buy junk food. All the things that are so bad for him, yet so delicious. Maybe even making cute treats - but his cooking skills are lacking - and watch movie after movie that are designed to scare and thrill him. Sighing, he grabs his keys and decides that he will do it alone, like most things he does now.

******

The line at this particular Redbox machine is always long. It’s in the front lobby of the grocery store right next to your work, though, and it has the best selection of horror movies of any machine in the city, so you wait. There’s only four people ahead of you so you tell yourself it won’t be that bad - fiddling in the pockets of your scrubs to pull out any scraps of paper from the day and toss them into the nearby trash can. Everybody else always has plans of Friday night, but you’re spending it curled up with some horror movies, and the frozen pizza and pint of ice cream that you’re going to pick out once you get inside the store. Maybe even some candy to sprinkle on your ice cream, because the patients you dealt with today sucked.

Three people ahead of him. Javi shuffles his feet slightly and looks around, wishing that he had someone to talk to, to share with. Gabriella hadn’t worked out— it wasn’t her fault. They just found they weren’t compatible like they had imagined. He’d tried dating but half the women he had talked to had flat out disbelieved his tale of how he ended up in the States. He sighs slightly and hums to himself, wondering if he could find a friends group online to be social with.

It was trying to sneak a peek of what the people in front of you were renting that did you in - losing your balance slightly from carrying your heavy tote bag in your shoulder and having the bag slip off and smack the man in front of you directly in the ass. Only to be startled by it and drop your bag, spilling things everywhere. If it were possible to actually melt like the Wicked Witch, you would be doing it right now – right now as you scramble to pick up your belongings, including the two large books that were making it so heavy in the first place. “Oh god, I’m so sorry!” You groan, hoping he isn’t too angry by the accidental accosting he’s just gotten. “I’m just…I’m clumsy. I’m really sorry.”

Javi turns in surprise, watching the purse spill – the only glance of the woman who is dropping down to her knees is fleeting but he thinks she might be lovely. Immediately, he bends down to help. “It’s okay.” He promises, hearing the mortification and distress in her voice. “I too am clumsy.” He chuckles, reaching for a pouch and scattered pens and assorted junk women always seem to carry.

“I didn’t mean t—” You look up, realizing that the man has bent down to help you, and completely deflate. He’s fucking gorgeous, because of course he is. This is LA. Sometimes you feel like the only token big girl in the entire city. It’s just models and actors and ridiculously attractive musicians as far as the eye can see. He’s probably famous, you think with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry. My bag slipped off my shoulder.”

He gives you a smile and nods. “It happens.” He looks down at the books in your hand. “Especially with such things.” He hands you the items he had collected and his hand cups your elbow as both of you start to straighten up. “Are you a student or do you carry books around always?”

“It’s research.” The explanation is immediate, but you cringe at yourself as soon as it comes out of your mouth. Just another pathetic Hollywood wannabe with a day job. That’s what your boss had said. “So, uh…I guess I always carry books.” You sweep the copy of Harold Schechter’s Hell’s Princess and the thick notebook back into your bag quickly.

“Research?” He looks back at the line as it shuffles forward and moves up before he turns back to you. “That I understand. I research a lot of things myself.”

“You do?” Unsure why he’s even still talking to you, you straighten up again and hoist your bag back into your shoulder, trying to smooth out your wrinkled scrubs and look presentable. He’s really…fuck he’s incredibly good looking. Tall and tan with wavy hair and big brown eyes and pouty lips that you just— don’t stare, don’t stare…

“Yes!” His eyes light up happily and he glances around. “I can only learn so much through movies and everything is different. I have to research everything.”

“What are you…researching? Or watching?” It’s like someone flipped a switch in him and turned him into a human puppy, excited to share and play and talk with whoever is around. And you’re more than happy to listen.

“I want to write a horror movie.” Javi confesses, knowing that most would find him ridiculous - even with the success of his collaboration with Nick. “I want to write the perfect thriller or slasher.”

“I’m writing a horror movie!” It’s probably a very weird thing to hear exclaimed in a supermarket anywhere but LA, but right now you’re enjoying the coincidence too much to care.

Javi’s eyes widen happily and he grins. “Really? What is it about? Tell me what your inspiration is.” It’s amazing to run into someone else that is writing even though it’s common in L.A.

“Have you ever heard of Belle Gunness?” Pulling Hell’s Princess from your bag again, you hold it out for him to flip through if he wants to. It’s probably unlikely that this sweet, incredibly handsome man is into true crime, but he asked, so you’re going to share. “She was a serial killer in Indiana the 19th century who lured countless men to her farm and murdered them. They say that the farmhouse was haunted for decades before she got there but I think her crimes started far before she arrived.” It’s not something most people would get excited about. You know that. But you have never been able to resist the oddities of history. “The crazy thing is that she was never caught, so we’ll never really know exactly how all these men and her children died. It’s just an absolutely fascinating character study.”

“Wow.” His eyes are dramatically wide as he takes the book and he starts thumbing through it. “That would be an interesting movie.” He is into it. “There are so few where a woman is the antagonist.”

“Gruesome, I know.” You laugh nervously, realizing that it isn’t exactly standard conversation for a complete stranger. “But like you said, there are so few female antagonists and her story is just that much more unbelievable because it’s true.”

“That would be awesome. Would you frame it as a haunting? Or someone continuing the killing spree?” He asks, curious about how you would tell the story. He's desperate to continue the conversation, and it's not just because you are interested in horror movies and are writing. You're pretty. He noticed that from the moment you looked up into his eyes, it captured him and he can't help but admire the soft features of your face and body.

“I almost feel like the haunting was sort of…fuel on the fire, if that makes sense. Negative influence powering someone who already had malicious intent. But I’m not sure how to frame that without it coming across as hokey, so I’m sort of blocked at the moment.” Shaking your head a little, you offer the incredibly handsome man a small smile and shrug before introducing yourself. “I probably should have started there. First name before favourite serial killer seems like better manners.”

Javi smiles, repeating your name and rolling his tongue over it. It's beautiful and fitting for such a charming woman. He takes your hand and gives you a small bow over your clasped hands. Maybe a little ostentatious for the line at a Redbox kiosk, but he likes the way your eyes flutter. "I am Javi." He introduces him. "Javi Gutierrez."

“It’s very nice to meet you.” The name rings a bell but you can’t quite place it, making you even more certain that you just stumbled onto some minor celebrity at the grocery store and are just too out of the loop to realize it. “So…what is your script about? Do you have ideas?”

"I have toyed with many ideas, but stick to none." He shakes his head at himself ruefully. "It is why I wish to rent some favorites. Acquire inspiration."

“Some of your favourites are here?” Motioning to the Redbox behind him alerts both of you to move up in line - Javi is now next up to the box.

He nods. “I have misplaced my copy of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari when I moved, and this box is said to have one.” It was why he had chosen this Redbox to go to tonight.

“That—” You tilt your head at him and smile at the coincidence, thinking how horribly disappointed you would have been to realize that the man in front of you had just rented the only copy of the movie you explicitly came to rent. “That’s why I’m here, too.”

"Oh." He knows there is only one copy of the movie, the box said that there was only one left. He debates giving it to you, but he selfishly wants to watch it again. "There is perhaps— if it’s not too forward ? Why do we not share the rental?" He asks. "You can join me and we can enjoy it together?" His tone is hopeful, suddenly believing this to be the best idea he has ever imagined.

Typically, this would be the moment where the red flag waves in your mind and you think about safety. You think about every abduction scenario in every true crime story you’ve ever read or heard. This doesn’t feel like that though, and while you know that’s the lamest excuse anyone has ever had for ignoring a normally dicey situation — when was the last time you made a new friend? An extremely handsome one, at that? You can definitely dignify this to yourself and still have a good time. “I was planning on getting pizza and curling up on my couch tonight,” you admit, feeling warmth in your cheeks and a little bit of nerves like you’re fifteen and getting asked to dance by the guy you like. “So why don’t I have something delivered for us? We could…it could be fun.” And that way if you end up dead by the end of the night, someone will have seen you at his place. There. Problem solved.

It's on the tip of his tongue to protest, to insist that he would be a good host and provide the food, when he realizes why you might want to have some part of planning tonight. Instead of arguing, he nods happily, throwing a look over his shoulder to make sure that the person in front of him wasn't done yet and then back at you. "That would be acceptable, if—" He jerks his head towards the grocery store, "you allow me to purchase the snacks and desserts that we can indulge in to go along with the movies?"

It’s such an innocent request - sweet, ironically - and you can feel the broad, smitten smile spread over your face. “I think we might need more than one movie,” you suggest with a soft laugh, seeing him light up with excitement.

"Exactly!" Javi exclaims, nearly bouncing on his toes and turning around to see that the man had finished his transaction and it's his turn at the kiosk. "Shall we pick out the makings of a movie marathon of horror?" He asks, motioning you to join him as he lifts the sunscreen.

“You’re not…a Nick Cage fan, are you?” Just because he’s in your top three doesn’t mean he’s everyone’s cup of tea, but the man makes a hell of a horror movie. “Mandy is an absolute masterpiece, if this machine has a copy left.”

"We don't need to rent it." Javi looks at you bashfully, almost admitting that he is friends with Nick, but you would never believe that. "I own all of Nick's movies and those were with me so they did not get lost."

“Seriously?” Your eyebrows wing up in surprise, but you won’t pretend to be anything less than excited. Bonding over a favourite actor is definitely the foundation for a friendship - or more. “Does that mean you like Color Out of Space, too? Because I swear I can never find anyone to watch it with me and it’s so damn good.”

"Completely underrated. " Javi rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Nick was so in the zone. He said that he had really delved deep, wanting to harness the untapped potential." He grins. "He also smoked a lot of weed during production."

“Where did you find an interview with him? He never does press.” Waiting until the movie pops out of the machine and ends up in Javi’s pocket, you turn together to go into the grocery store. “I mean, I totally believe it. I’d believe if he did a hell of a lot more than just smoke pot making that movie.”

Javi bites his lip, not wanting to seem like he is bragging. Especially since he had given you that little factoid. "It was just pot." He hums in amusement. "But, uh, he told me." He admits, not wanting to make it into some big deal.

“You’ve met him?” The way your eyes widen is nearly comical considering where you live and work. It isn’t so unbelievable to just…run into a celebrity on a trip to the corner store.

"Yeah." Javi nods and gives a small shrug. "We – uh, we worked together on a project last year."

“Oh shit.” You shove your hands in the pockets of your scrubs as you walk beside him, feeling borderline mortified. You’re here fangirling and blabbering on about your little amateur project and he’s a real professional. “That—that’s awesome.”

"It was." He smiles at the thought of the last conversation the two of them. "I bet that if you were to pitch your movie idea to him, he would be interested." He says. "Nick loves the nuance of a good horror story."

"I wouldn't even know where to start." The shrug you give him is honest at least, as you pick up a basket to walk around with. "Medical receptionist by day, amateur writer by night. Emphasis on the amateur."

"I was an amateur until last year." Javi doesn't look down on you for that, grinning over at you before he steers you to the candy aisle. "We must get all the snacks we can possibly crave."

"How do you feel about sour candy?" You're practically already reaching for the bag of Sour Patch Xtreme as you ask, always loving that hit of tart sourness with your sweet ever since you were a kid. If you're going to do this - you're going to do it right.

"I have never had those, but I do love a sour punch straw." He nods, knowing that he will buy whatever you want to snack on during the movies. "Are they similar?"

"They have a pretty similar level of sour." The bag of sour sweets is added to the basket, and the fruity gummy candies give way to chocolate as the two of you walk further down the aisle.

"How do you feel about Reese’s Pieces?" He asks as he holds up a box of the candy. "I love chocolate and peanut butter and these are addictive!"

"Chocolate and peanut butter is the closest mortals get to divinity," you joke, nodding emphatically. "Better get two boxes."

"Two boxes it is." He happily dumps two boxes into the basket and grabs a shareable bag of peanut butter cups and holds them up with a grin. "Double the deliciousness."

"The next question is the most important." Strolling a little further down the aisle, a plethora of popcorn options are laid out in front of the two of you just waiting to make you salivate. "How do you like your popcorn?"

"There is only one answer." He declares with wide, serious eyes. "Buttered."

"Oh, thank god." Smirking at him, you break out into a giggle at the extreme seriousness of his expression. "I was going to have to come up with an excuse to get out of this if you picked up a bag of Skinny Pop." Not that the snack doesn't have its merits - but it has no place in a movie marathon.

"What is 'Skinny Pop'?" He asks, sneering slightly at the mere thought of something that sounds disgusting.

"No butter, no salt," you shrug, grabbing a box of movie theater style extra butter popcorn off the shelf. "No flavour, basically. And definitely no fun."

"So that will not be at our movie night." He decides, shaking his head in disbelief at how someone could enjoy that. "Tonight is about thrill, horror and indulgences."

"Drinks?" Indulgences sounds very good, but you won't let your mind get too carried away. Not when he hasn't indicated this is anything more than a spontaneous new friendship.

“We must.” Javi glances over at you. “I have wine and some sodas, but we can pick out other things.”

"Far be it from me to turn down wine and soda." The whole thing is spur of the moment and a little giddy, and you're sort of feeling like questioning it would be looking a gift horse in the mouth. Why not just go with the flow and enjoy it?

“Are we decided on pizza for our meal?” He asks, giving you a grin of excitement as he sees the plans falling into place almost naturally.

"Seems like the most appropriate, doesn't it?" Nothing in LA is ever quiet, and other customers bustle around the two of you as you linger in the aisle looking over the abundance of snacks available to you. "Pizza is the ultimate comfort and indulgence all at once."

He tilts his head and nods, agreeing completely. “Although you cannot have a comfortable night in your work clothes.” He tells you. “So you must go change into your most comfortable outfit.”

"Oh! Um..." Looking down at yourself, you realize you had completely forgotten that you were in your work clothes at all. "I guess...if you want to give me your address, I can drive over after I change? I just finished work...but I guess that's obvious."

He nods, knowing that it would make you feel more comfortable to be able to come and go as you please and to know where you were going. “Absolutely.” He pulls out his phone to show you his address since it would be easier for you to text yourself from it.

He lives in a very ritzy neighborhood; you notice that right away. It's one of those communities that you hear about movie stars living in, but you say nothing about how very different your situation is from his. It doesn't matter. Not for new friends having a movie night. Instead you just text his address to yourself from his phone and hand it back with a smile. "There. Now you have my number, too."

“Okay.” He brightens as he realizes this and paints a serious look on his face. “How do you feel about ice cream?”

"If we end up in a food coma, it will be totally worth it." You nod with authority, as if accepting a secret mission of some kind.

“Completely worth it.” He hums as the two of you walk towards the ice cream sections. “Are you a vanilla and toppings kind of girl or something specific?”

"I normally get a pint with stuff mixed in, or coffee ice cream with caramel syrup. Those are my two directions." Most girls would demure, or go straight for chocolate, but there's no need for that here. You've both been pretty in line with your preferences so far, so you're curious to see if he'll feel the same way about ice cream.

“Coffee ice cream?” He hums happily and nods. “Only if we add cookies to it as well.”

"That sounds amazing." It's practically a groan from your lips and you're nodding again immediately.

“Are you a chocolate chip kind of girl or Oreos?” He smirks, happy he could make your favorite indulgence a little sweeter. “Or both? Both is also a good option.”

"I mean, I think we have to try both." He's so fucking handsome when he lights up like that, it's distracting and makes your chest tighten just a tiny bit in the best way possible. "For science."

He would be completely solemn as he grabs the cookies from conveniently place display and places them in the basket along with a bottle of caramel and one of chocolate sauces. “For science.” He agrees, enjoying this shopping trip so much more than his normal ones,

"Do we need anything else?" At this point you're going to have enough junk food for a full day's worth of movies and you only have the night planned, but it's fun to just - as he said, indulge.

“I don’t think so.” Javi watches as you put the ice cream in the basket and grins. “Maybe some medicine for when our bellies ache.”

"I'll be very glad to have tomorrow off work." It elicits a laugh from you, flustering under the beaming sunshine of that grin of his.

“Fantastic!” The two of you make your way up to the front and Javi takes the basket from you, keeping his word that he will buy the snacks. “We will get scared and scream and eat ice cream!”

******

It's a little over an hour later when you pull up to the house halfway up the hill, its typical southern California architecture blending into the upscale neighborhood and palm trees lining the property to give it that picturesque attitude of tropical luxury. The convertible that you saw him pull out of the grocery store parking lot in is parked under the port beside the house and you pull your own little sedan up behind it before checking your reflection one more time in your rearview mirror. While you were home changing you let your roommate know your plans for the evening, gave her the address you were going to and Javi's full name and phone number all out of an abundance of safety. Now it's just you in your favourite jeans and sweatshirt wondering if you haven't made some kind of massive mistake. Are you remembering him as so much better than he really was? Were you imagining the little bit of light behind his eyes when he awkwardly offered you a brief hug before you parted in the parking lot? God you hope not. But the only way to find out is to go up to his door and ring that bell.

Javi's nervously checking everything when the doorbell rings. He'd flown back home and started getting ready for you to come over for the horror movie marathon. Wishing he had an assistant here to make things perfect like he used to have, he had been determined to give you the same kind of experience you would have gotten if he was back on the family compound in Majorca. Candy displayed in easy to reach dishes, he had decided that the popcorn was better popped when you got here, a bucket moved into the living room with ice and sodas available. and he'd doubled checked that the bathroom you could possibly use was clean - it had been a bitch learning how to clean one of those properly. (He had a completely new appreciation for putting the seat down now.) Throw pillows and blankets that the decorator had insisted on where arranged so that the two of you can sprawl out and get comfortable but he wishes he had a dedicated movie room again. Maybe the next house he buys although he knows he most likely won't.

As he walks to the door, he wonders if he's too casual, or not casual enough, shaking his head at himself because this wasn't a date but he was just as on edge as if it was one. Opening the door, he greets you with a smile. "You came."

“You sound surprised.” And it both relaxes and surprises you in your own right. Does he not know how magnetic he is? “I, uh…I almost stopped to pick up pizza on the way over, but we never discussed toppings.”

It might be pathetic the way that his shoulders relax, and he lets out a metaphorical breath he had been holding but he was surprised. "You might have changed your mind." He tries to play it off casually. "I am a strange man to you, and it could be seen as odd that I invited you over."

“My roommate knows where I am.” You tell him honestly, stepping inside when he shuffles aside to let you in. “Besides, people have the wrong idea about things that are odd. Odd makes life more interesting.”

He chuckles and closes the door, stepping beside you and smiling. "So now we can discuss those toppings and we can wait for the pizza before we start the movies? Allow for less distractions and get to know each other?"

“Lead the way.” His house is beautiful, well decorated and airy with high ceilings and fresh paint - but the tidied stacks of things here and there give the impression of what your mother would have called artistic messiness. As though at any moment the whole place might be consumed by a new obsession and the stacks of things created by his current obsession will tumble. Which is…sort of like your place, honestly.

He leads you through to the living room, the door and windows open to the back deck and a luxurious view of the hills beyond the sparkling glass. Sky gorgeous and bright hues of orange and pinks before the sun sets. "This is okay?" He asks, gesturing to the setup of the food and drinks he's amassed so far. He's even thrown things in that he's had on hand and the ice cream is still in the freezer but the bowls and scoop are set out on the kitchen island just steps away in the open living of the back of the house.

“Our very own private screening.” The living room sofa is big enough for three full grown adults to sprawl out on and the tv takes up most of the facing wall. Throw blankets and pillows dot the space carefully and a full stack of movies sit on the coffee table next to the one you had rented together. “It’s…” your face cracks into a grin as you pull out your phone to open your delivery app. “It’s perfect. Way more than okay.”

He's relieved, grinning as if you had just showered him with compliments. "Good." He motions for you to sit down, choose whatever spot makes you most comfortable. That is what he wants, for you to be comfortable.

“So what is Javi’s perfect pizza combination?” Dropping down on his couch is easy – every inch of it is plush and inviting and you pull your socked feet up under you for maximum comfort.

“What is yours?” The debate over pineapple on pizza here is endlessly fascinating to him and he wonders if you will bring it up.

“My favourite pizza is a little unorthodox.” Opening the list of specialty pies in the restaurant’s menu, you offer him your phone to let him read: barbecue sauce, pulled pork, red onion, sweet corn, and the dreaded debated topping, pineapple. “It’s totally okay if that doesn’t sound good to you,” you tell him, knowing that he might be one of the many people totally grossed out by pineapple on pizza.

His brow shoots up and he smirks. “I am willing to try this pizza.” He agrees. “I was wondering if you were a pineapple person or no.”

“I don’t like it with normal pizza sauce but it’s so good with all this barbecue stuff.” It only takes a few keystrokes to get dinner ordered, and you tuck your phone away again with a smile. “Next time we’ll get your favourite. Doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll try it.”

“I am simple.” He gives you an apologetic shrug. “Salami, peppers when I wish to have heartburn.”

“Simple and delicious.” For the life of you, you aren’t sure why you seem so sure that there will be a second time. Tonight could be awful and awkward and you might avoid that Redbox for the rest of your life just to make sure you never run into him again — but somehow you are just positive that that won’t be the case.

“Would you like a drink? A snack while we wait?” He scrubs his palms against the lounging pants he had change into and gives a small chuckle. “I guess I underdressed for tonight.” He had gone a little too casual since you are in jeans.

“I don’t think it’s possible to underdress to sit on the couch and watch a movie.” You assure him. The truth is that you hadn’t tossed on the pair of yoga pants that you usually lounge around the apartment in because you’re a bit self-conscious about showing of your - admittedly round - figure. When it’s just you and your also plus sized roommate at home, you don’t care. “You said comfy, so these are my comfiest jeans. That’s all.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t quite believe that but he won’t push the subject. “Either way, you are beautiful and I am lucky you joined me tonight.”

“I—” Beautiful? You can feel the pleased and slightly embarrassed warmth creeping up your chest and neck and you have to clear your throat a tiny bit. “Thank you. I-I’m lucky you invited me.”

“I have been wanting to have someone to watch horror movies with and fate placed you right in my path. And it’s very nice it is someone like you.” He grins and motions to the collection of movies. “This is what we have to choose from tonight.”

“I think we have to watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, don’t we?” Not that that will bother either of you. After all, it was your individual plan for the night.

"Of course. That should be first." He declares as he set the rented DVD on the coffee table apart from the other movies. "What else would you like to watch? I am open to all of them."

"You have an amazing collection." The stack of movies includes anything remotely spooky that Nick Cage has ever made, plus some classic slashers, groundbreaking pieces like The Exorcist and both versions of Suspiria, and more obscure choices like Let's Scare Jessica to Death. "Oh, I looove Suspiria." It's been ages since you've seen the original - streaming services tending to carry the remake these days. "Dario Argento is an absolute genius."

"I agree completely." Javi grins, quickly adding it to the must watch side. "Let us choose one more - just in case." He doesn't not want you to stay past the time you are comfortable, but it has been a long time since he has indulged in a night of nothing but movies.

"What's your favourite slasher?" Something classic, something artistic, and something gory. That's the key to a horror trio, in your opinion.

"I have a guilty pleasure movie." Javi admits, rummaging in the pile of movies and pulling one that he had deliberately put at the bottom of the pile. "2006's Stay Alive is an underrated movie, although it is not a traditional slasher, so I do not think it counts."

"I've actually never seen it." You offer him an encouraging smile because you can tell he's a little embarrassed to like it, and put it in the to be watched stack. "Don't tell me anything about it. I want to be surprised."

His grin lights up his face and nods eagerly. "My lips are sealed." He promises happily.

"Fantastic." The candy and some drinks have been spread around the room, but you had spotted the box of popcorn in the kitchen on your way through the house. "The pizza will probably take an hour or so." You shrug. Both of you know how busy a Friday night in LA is for a pizza place and how bad traffic can be for a delivery driver. "How does a popcorn appetizer and a drink sound while we get the first movie started?"

"Do you want wine, or I do have some whiskey if you prefer?" He asks, motioning over to the very sophisticated bar that is in the corner of the room. "It does not have to be just sodas."

"Actually..." His place is clean, you feel comfortable, and most importantly your Spidey sense isn't tingling or sending you red flags, so you smile and offer him a little nod. "Wine sounds great."

He nods and quickly walks around the bar to open the wine fridge that is behind it. "I have a Cava from my own family vineyard if you like sparkling wine?" He offers, holding up a bottle. "It is one of my favorite years."

"Your family has its own vineyard?" Your eyebrows wing up in surprise. "That's...killer."

"It is in Spain." He gives you a small shrug as if it is not a big deal. "Majorca."

"Which is even cooler." He downplays it as though he isn't proud, but he would not have even mentioned the vintage if some part of him didn't want you to know. It's the getting to know you phase of things and that's always entertaining. "The coolest thing my family ever owned was a camper."

"There is nothing wrong with a camper." He argues. "You can take it with you and have adventures."

"Well sure," you shrug, watching him carelessly pop the cork from the bottle like he's done it once a week since he was old enough to lift one. "But it would be a lot cooler to take the camper to a vineyard and camp out in the valley."

"Or maybe a tent." He hums. "One of those that are large and have a house set up in them. With the large bed and fairy lights strung overhead while you drink around a fire in vineyard?"

"That sounds absolutely dreamy." Glamping, your mom would call it, turning up her nose at it even while she used every inch of the kitchenette in the camper just like she was making dinner at home. "Like the perfect weekend getaway. Camping and drinking and snuggles. I love it."

"Have you ever done that?" He asks, wondering if you have a boyfriend suddenly. He doesn't think so, surely you would have said something, but he has to ask.

"Weekend camping getaway?" He picks two glasses up from the top of the bar and carries everything over to the sofa while you shake your head. "No...I don't think I've been camping with anyone but my family ever. And it's been years since we did that together."

"You should." He shakes his head and thinks that it is an utter shame that you do not get to indulge in something you obviously love. "I have heard camping in the desert is lovely."

"It's dangerous to do alone." It's not like you've run into a lot of guys who share all of your indoor, nerdy hobbies and love camping as much as you do. It's a unique combination, and you don't really care for the idea of risking your safety by going alone.

“That is something that I have not tried yet, but I want to.” Javi was sheltered a lot and since he had come to the US, he wanted to do things that were unavailable to him before.

"You should." The glass he hands to you to bubbling and cheery and inviting, making the look of wistful longing on his face even more pronounced. "Sleeping under the stars and cooking over a campfire? It's fun." And romantic, but you hesitate to point that out at the moment.

"I will have to find someone to knows how to do it." He wants to ask if you would show him, but that is entirely presumptuous for a movie night between people getting know each other. "Show me the ropes as you say."

"I hope you find just the right person." This would be so much easier if you had any idea whether or not he was flirting...

He bites his lip, slightly disappointed that you did not offer but he cannot make you like him. Instead of moping, he taps the rim of his own wine glass to yours. "To making new friends and movie marathons."

"And being extremely clumsy in line at the Redbox." You have to laugh at yourself, seeing as how it ended up with such a fun night for both of you. The part of you that is normally shakingly self-conscious is a little quieter with him. You're just a little nervous instead of downright anxious, which is the way that meeting new people normally makes you feel. And that is a very big deal to you.

"It was my pleasure to be accosted by your purse." He teases, sending you a small wink before he takes a sip of his wine. "It is not every day a gorgeous creature such as yourself runs into me." He tells you. "My very own rom-com meet cute."

If you hadn't just swallowed a sip of the delicious wine, you might be wearing it, completely floored by the compliment and wondering if it is possible for cheeks to become the temperature of lava instantly. "Believe me," you murmur, sure that you look as flustered as you feel. "The pleasure is all mine."

Javi wants to impress you, feeling very delighted in the way your eyes slide away shyly, like you were flustered. "Would you like to see my collection?" He asks you suddenly. "I have a lot of film memorabilia."

“Sure!” You have a few favourite recreated props and other pieces of your own. Enough to know that the pieces a person collects says a lot about them as a person. “Sounds like fun.”

Javi grins and motions you deeper into the house. "I had a better set up in Spain, but this is what I decided to bring with me when I— when I moved." He wants to go back and get more, but he has been nervous to, opening the door to the second bedroom and flipping on the light so you can step inside.

“Oh wow…” Stepping inside the room makes your eyes widen and your jaw slacken slightly, just taking in the sheer amount of actual real movie props on display in the large re-purposed bedroom. The built-in shelves are chock full of specifically Nick Cage-related items and you go from shocked to ear-to-ear grinning in an instant. “Oh, so you’re a Nick Cage fan,” you tease lightly, even though you immediately go over to inspect the chainsaw sitting on a table against the far wall. “Is this the actual prop chainsaw from Mandy??”

"Yes." Javi grins, catching the pure delight in your voice. "He was impressed with the collection too." He admits. "Although I still need to get my golden guns back from him."

“The golden guns?” When you whirl back around to look at him you’re in awe again. “How did you possibly get ahold of this stuff, Javi? You must be like the single most successful auction bidder of all time.”

He gives another shrug and looks around the room again, unsure of how to answer that. "I guess that anything is possible with enough money." He says finally before he looks back at you. "It is how I met Nick. I paid for him to come to my birthday two years ago."

“I—wow…” Of course you’ve heard of things like that, but never actually met anyone who did it. That kind of thing takes an insane amount of money. And usually an ego - the kind of person who believes they should get to possess the world just because they can buy it. Javi is definitely not like that. He’s sweet, and unassuming, and kind of seems like he didn’t want to even admit it at first. Maybe so you wouldn’t think less of him? “And then you worked together after that?” You can’t help the way your curious eyes roam around the room, zeroing in on the encased copy of the Declaration of Independence from National Treasure with the cipher encoded on the back. It’s cheesy, but you love those movies so much.

"I asked him if he would write a script with me." He admits, looking around proudly. "I think we will take home the Oscar this next year."

"Wait—" You're starting to feel like your head is spinning a little as the eerie feeling being sure that he must be famous somehow slides into place. The puzzle pieces that click in your head nearly make you squeak out loud when you look up at him again. "The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent? That was your script?"

He tips his shoulders up again, self-conscious again and he wonders if you hated the movie. "Guilty." He admits, rushing over to a shelf and pulling out his working script. His and Nick's notes are scrawled through it and he holds it out to you, proud of his name emblazoned on the front.

"You don't understand..." Your fingertips barely touch the pages, like you're afraid it might burn you or release some kind of booby trap. "I love this movie. Like I went to see it five times in theaters and I took notes on the characterization because I thought it was so good. It's phenomenal, Javi." The way your chest tightens, realizing that this man in front of you is the genius behind one of your favourite new films, is fangirling and excitement and definitely a dose of attraction like you've never felt before. "You're an incredibly talented writer, and I—I'm sure any horror movie you write is going to blow the genre right out of the water."

He can't help but blush, flustering as he looks down at the script that he had pour his soul into. "T-thank you." He murmurs softly, touched that you would say such a kind thing to him. Even after reading the reviews, he still didn't believe the success of the film, but he gives all the credit for it to Nick and his brilliant performance.

"Seriously." The way he shies away is endearing, almost blustering. "If you don't win an Oscar, I'll protest the damn Academy myself."

He gives a small laugh, relaxing at your vehement claim and nods. "I might take you up on that if it comes to it."

"Cross my heart," you promise, warming at the smile that spreads across his face.

When the doorbell rings, Javi is disappointed to leave the room in order to go to the front door to collect dinner. Pouting slightly when you insist that you pay, he at least pulls out his wallet to tip the driver, something that he had learned was very important here in the states.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is only an hour long, the 1920 black and white classic being a perfect way to start the night as you both dig into the barbecue pizza and continue to savor the delicious cava that his family's vineyard produces. Things are a little more relaxed between you now, as you've started to get to know each other, and you feel like you're starting to get a clearer version of who this sweet, incredibly talented, and fairly nerdy man really is.

He is drawn to you. You are witty, incredibly knowledgeable and gorgeous. He feels himself starting to develop a crush on you, even as the movie plays and the two of you snack on the treats he had purchased. Enjoying the way that you laugh with your entire being and he wants to make sure that you continue to do that. Your eyes sparkle when you do and your smile is mesmerizing.

By the time Caligari is over and Suspiria is popped into the DVD player, you're pleasantly buzzing from the wine and pull one of the throw blankets off the back of the couch to drape over you as you start to crave that feeling of comfy-coziness that always comes with movie night. It lays over both you and Javi easily, almost putting you in a little cocoon together. He has inched closer to you, drawn to the spicy, floral scent of your perfume and needing the warmth of another body close by as he shivers slightly. His eyes move from the movie over to you and he bites his lip.

It’s a slightly sexier film, although that wasn’t at all why you recommended it, and you wonder if it has anything to do with the way Javi has shifted slightly beside you on the couch. Somehow, over the last hour or more, you’ve inched closer to each other And while you aren’t complaining in the least, it is definitely making you feel like there’s some kind of fire igniting in the place where your arms and sides are pressing lightly against each other. It’s intoxicating in a way that is completely different from the wine and far more distracting - a trick of your mind or wishful thinking making you sure you’ve caught him looking at you more than a few times tonight.

His breath catches slightly and can't deny that there is a sense of eroticism to this that has him thinking about other erotic things that nothing to do with the movie and everything to do with woman sitting beside him.

“Do you—um—” You swear you heard him gasp but you’re not sure why, and you glance over at Javi about halfway through the movie. “Are you enjoying it?”

"I am." Javi murmurs, leaning in more and inching just a little closer to you. "Are you? Anything to do to make it better?"

He’s barely a breath away when he leans in again, and you feel like you might catch on fire if he gets any closer - though you’re too fuzzy from the nearness to know if that’s a bad thing or not. “I mean…” You crack a grin, feeling your heart in your throat. “Did you have something in mind?”

"That is a...question." Javi nearly gulps as he wonders if you are waiting for him to make a move. "One that has several answers." He admits with a small grin.

It would only take the smallest movement to close the space between you, and your eyes flicker to his lips before you can stop yourself. "I—I think I'm very interested in those answers..."

There is his answer. Javi nods to himself, making up his mind as he stares at you softly. "You are?" He smirks slightly and reaches up to cup your cheek. When you nod, he leans in to kiss you in a burst of confidence.

When the moment of hesitation passes, it seems like you both internally toss up your hands. His arms are around you, you're pressing into his space, and the thread of tension that has finally snapped has both of you sighing into the kiss and letting it linger between you. His lips are soft and warm, drawing you in just as assuredly as his arms are around your body.

Javi groans against your lips, shuffling forward and needs to be closer to you. Wishing that he was lying next to you but that can be remedied, the tv and movie completely forgotten.

The only thought left in your head at this point is him - your hands finding purchase in his shirt before one slides up to the back of his neck and eventually ends up in his hair. Your kiss passed any version of innocent about thirty seconds ago and you don't give a single damn, especially not when you feel like tongue drag delicately along the seam of your lips and you open up to let him in without hesitation.

He moans as you let him in. Nothing mattering but the way you taste. He shuffles, pushing off the couch with his lips still locked to yours and moving so that he can climb onto the cushions beside you, his arms wrapping around your soft shoulders and pulling you to his chest. It all seems to happen in slow motion despite how eagerly you’re both grasp for each other. But within moments you’re laying side by side on the overly deep couch cushions, tangled up in each other’s arms with the entire rest of the world forgotten.

Javi slides his hand down your thick side, reaching for the cushion of your thigh and pulls it up, draping it over his hip so he can slide closer. Groaning when he feels the heat that is wonderfully trapped by your core radiating out while he slowly explores your mouth.

It really is the last thing you expected to happen tonight. Nothing could have been farther from your mind when you accepted his invitation. But now that you’re here it feels like it was meant to be. The tented front of his soft lounge pants hides nothing, letting you feel the heat and hardness of his excitement grinding into your core worth every roll of his hips. It’s stunning, and you moan into his kiss eagerly as you scramble to pull him impossibly closer.

He shudders when you drag him closer, happily going wherever you wanted him. A scream sounds from the tv but all he can think about is how you taste, breaking away from your lips so he can kiss down your heated skin.

“Javi—” As soon as he moves down your neck his name is dripping from your lips, a nearly ecstatic moan as you can practically feel him hardening between your legs.

“Beautiful.” He whispers against your skin. His teeth scrap over your pulse and he soothes it with his tongue. Sliding his hand up and down your thick thigh lovingly, he reaches back and slides his hand into the pocket of your jeans and grabs a large handful of your ass. “So fucking sexy.”

You whimper at that, drinking in his praise and rolling your hips up to meet his. “Want you so fucking bad,” you admit breathlessly, so wrapped up in him that you feel overwhelmed and elated all at once.

“You do?” Javi pulls back and gives you an almost surprised look. Half afraid that he had been caught up in the moment or that he was pushing too hard. “What do you want?”

“You.” Admittedly, you’re surprised that he’s surprised, but you’ve got enough self-esteem issues to not question it. “A-as much as you’re comfortable with.” Really, you have to laugh a little, but only a little. “I mean…I’m not opposed to sex in the first date…even if we didn’t really plan for it to be a date.”

“I wanted it to be.” He admits with a shy grin. “But I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wanted it to be.” Reaching up, you brush an errant curl out of his eyes. “But I didn’t think you were interested in me that way.”

“I am not blind.” He grunts, pouting at you and leaning in to kiss you again. “You are a very beautiful woman and I want to take you to bed.”

“Please.” You are in no way above begging, especially when a man this handsome is praising you and wanting you. It makes you want to give it back tenfold.

It is hard to pull himself away, but he does it knowing that he is going to be able to be much closer soon. Standing up and holding out his hand for you, wanting to help you off the sofa. “We will be more comfortable in a bed.”

He’s stronger than he looks. You notice that immediately when he helps you off the sofa with ease, and pulls you directly into him for another kiss that leaves you breathless. “Lead the way,” you murmur when you’re forced to come up for air.

He’s nervous as he guides you down the hall, past the memorabilia room towards the master bedroom of the house. It’s been a long time since he had been with someone besides Gabriella and he wasn’t sure if that was in his favor.

Maybe you recognize that he's nervous because you've felt that way so many times before, or maybe you recognize it because you're also feeling it in this exact moment. Either way, when you reach for his hand just inside the doorway of his bedroom, you offer him a soft smile of assurance. "I'm nervous too. Don't worry about it."

“You should not be worried.” Javi frowns slightly. “You are gorgeous. Men must hit on you all the time.”

"Never." When you laugh it isn't exactly self-deprecating, just matter-of-fact. "I think you're the first man I've been alone with in...nearly a year?" You shrug, lacing your fingers through his in that same steady, supportive way. "You, though? Gorgeous, sweet, funny, and clever? I don't know how you're possibly single." And then you smirk at him, and wink, teasing to hopefully lighten the mood. Because he's too genuine of a man for you to believe he would lie about something big like that. "You are single, right?"

“Very much single.” He promises, although he would like that to change. “I have been used to people caring about me because of my name, my money.” He admits with a small shrug. “The last woman I was with could not handle wanting to put aside those things.”

"Then she wasn't good enough for you." There's a certainty in your voice - a surety - that you genuinely believe what you're saying. Money and fame aren't things you give a shit about, which makes you something of a unicorn in LA. "But all the better for me. Since I'm the one with you now."

He gives you a grin and a small wink. “That depends on how I perform.” He reminds you with a chuckle.

"If you fuck as well as you kiss, I don't think we have anything to worry about." Even if he fucks half as well as he kisses, you'll be in heaven. The man makes kissing seem like the most passionate indulgence on earth and you're pretty much living for it.

There is a slight ruddiness to his cheeks but he doesn’t shy away. Instead he reaches for your hips and pulls you closer. “There is only one way to find out.” He murmurs softly.

From there it's almost a blur getting to the bed, clothes being tossed aside as hands and lips caress every inch of skin as it is exposed. A flurry of grasping hands and needy kisses until the backs of your legs hit against his bedframe and you both go tumbling backward onto his mattress.

“Oh fuck.” Your softness is exquisite, and Javi pushes you into his bed as he clambers on top of you.

Somehow you knew his bed would be soft and luxurious, and the solid weight of him on top of you has you pressed into the mattress so he seems to fully surround you. Your knees part to make room for him in the cradle of your thighs, and every inch of you is on fire with wanting him. There are no barriers left - not a stitch of clothing - and you swear it might be the first time ever that you haven't immediately wanted to hide from sight when you were first bare for a new partner. Something about him just makes you feel safe, in a way you can't say you've ever felt before.

“You are so beautiful.” Javi gushes, his cock hard and leaking against your pillowy hip and he cannot help but rock himself into your skin, luxuriating in the warmth. “Gorgeous, a goddess to be worshiped.”

"We have all the time in the world." As badly as your body might be screaming to cut to the chase, aching for him to be inside you, the time to explore is something you won't take for granted. Maybe it will never happen again. Maybe this is just a one-time thing. If it is, you want as many beautiful memories of him as you can possibly get.

“I want to make you feel good.” He shuffles back to his knees, drinking in the sight of your body spread out for him and he cannot stop stroking your thighs. “What do you want, preciosa?”

Even just a few inches back he's out of your reach, and the impulse to reach for him - to wrap your fingers around his length and find out exactly what kind of pressure he likes with a fist around his cock - melts away to wondering if he's offering to do that. You lick your lips unconsciously, biting the lower one a second later as his large hands knead your thighs gently. "Would you..." You would never make him, but he did ask what you wanted. "Taste me?"

Javi groans in relief, happy that you have voiced your desire and nods eagerly. “Yes.” He practically pants as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. “I want to see how you respond to my fingers, to my tongue. Reenact Blue Valentine?”

It takes you a second to roll through your vague memory of the movie to figure out what scene he's talking about, but when you arrive at it, a smirk forms on your lips. "Do you like to have your hair pulled?"

He bites his lip and flashes you a slightly guilty look. “I don’t know.” He admits. “None of— no one has done that while I—” he breaks off the rest of the comment in embarrassment.

"Would you like to find out?" You won't push him to do anything that he doesn't want to, but you want to give him a chance to experience something new if he wants. And if you remember that scene in Blue Valentine correctly, there was a whole lot of hair pulling.

“Yes.” He doesn’t even hide how badly he wants to find out how it would feel. “Only if you want to though.”

"I definitely do." With gorgeous thick waves of hair like he has, you doubt you would have been able to resist.

You’ve given him permission, now all he has to do is move. Javi can’t until he leans back down again, stealing one last kiss before he starts to blaze a trail of kisses over your skin to his goal. Your head drops back onto the duvet the second you feel his breath on your core, his name a whimper from the back of your throat as you arch your back off the bed to try to get him to move closer to where you want him most.

There is a deliciousness to the way that you squirm towards him. It makes him feel greedy in ways he didn’t know he could. He starts slow, kissing the entrancing flesh over your womb and then both of your generous hips. In no way concerned with the rolls and folds he sees. Actually eager to explore.

Aware enough of yourself and your body to let your legs open wide for him. Leaning up on your elbows lets you watch the flex in his shoulders and the intense concentration on the parts of his face you can actually see when he isn't burying himself in your pussy. It's completely divine, drawing vocal moans and whimpers and gasps from your throat and making you so glad you talked it through so you don't have to hesitate for even a second before threading your fingers through the thick mass of hair on his head and giving a small but definitive tug with your nails scratching along his scalp.

The sensation of you pulling on his hair goes straight to his cock and he cannot help the loud moan that he sounds directly into your pussy. His hands sliding under your hips and wrapping around them before he dives deeper.

"Fuck!" It's like you found an Encouragement Button, and you repeat the action to see if you'll get as eager a reaction the second time. When he moans into you again you keen, loving the way the vibrations roll through your body and make you shiver.

He loves how vocal you are. Every sound you make is pushing him to make you give him more. Turning nearly craven for the praises that tumble from your lips and the sharp tugs on his hair. That he takes his time is both torturous and a virtue. Every stroke of his tongue is bringing you closer to your peak but not quickly - it's like he took your remark about having all the time in the world extremely literally. He is exploring every inch of you from the inside out, devouring you systematically, and you hope he never stops.

Javi slowly learns your body, his hands sliding up and down your thighs, caressing them as he licks into you. Taking brief pauses so he can kiss your inner thighs, right where they rub together before plunging back into your cunt like a favored dessert. Sweeter than all the candy still laying in his living room; he groans into you again.

The rambling, whimpering, begging mess you have become would probably make you a prime candidate for homemade porn but you can’t find a single ounce of restraint in yourself anymore. One hand flexes and pulls in Javi’s hair, tugging a little tighter as that familiar twisting in your belly starts to take over. Your legs tremble a little with the intensity of it, tensing at his ears and telling him you’re close before you can even gasp out the words.

You are so reactive to his tongue. Javi groans and doubles down on how eagerly he licks into you. Begging you to cum with every flick of his tongue. When you crest that peak you’re practically sobbing, your free hand tangled in the duvet and the one in his hair pulling tight the way you - and he - have learned that he likes. It makes you incredibly glad that you’re doing this at his place and not yours. Your roommate would be pounding on the wall and telling you to keep your ’oh gods’ to yourself. But when your thighs squeeze his ears just that much tighter and your back completely leaves the bed, that flood of cum makes you cry his name as loud as you please, and you don’t give a damn who hears it.

He can’t help but grind into the bed, needing the friction to relieve the aching want that is nearly at its breaking point. Unable to do anything but push you through your high, he moans into you as you soak his chin with the deliciously tangy flood of your cum.

“Holy fuck.” You can’t help giggling a little when you get your breath back, looking down at Javi and soothing your hand through his hair gently.

He grins, like a student receiving praise from a teacher or a man getting lavish praises from a lover, soaking it up and nuzzling into your touch. “You taste amazing.” He murmurs, ducking his head again to take another lazy lick.

"I'm glad you think so." That extra little shot of attention to your core makes you shiver. "You ready for more, querido?" The endearment slips from your lips easily when you look down at him, wondering who could possibly let this incredible man slip through their fingers and how grateful you are that they did.

“If you are.” He is aching to slide inside you, but if you are tired from your orgasm or have changed your mind, he will not protest. “What do you want?”

“You.” This time when you say it, it’s practically a moan. “Want you inside me, Javi, please.”

Javi nods, shuffling up to his knees and leaning over you so that he can reach for the nightstand. It’s been some time, but he wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to not have protection.

There's small amounts of shifting - pulling the duvet back and finding the comfortable nest of pillows at the top of his bed, wrapping up in each other for languid kisses, and finally resettling with Javi nestled between your thighs. Neither of you has the mind left for teasing, needing to feel how well you fit together.

The condom on, Javi braces his weight to one side - his right. Taking himself in hand, he strokes himself gently and groans when he presses up against your wet entrance. “Are you sure?” He looks earnestly into your eyes, elated that you are in his bed, but giving you one last chance to change your mind before he slides inside you.

"Absolutely." Your smile is as soft as your hands are when you cup his cheeks, thumbs dragging along the stubble on his jaw when you reach up to kiss him again. It's the surest you've been about anything in a long time, and that is surprisingly more reassuring than anything else.

He goes slow. His body suspended over yours, he fills you one slow inch at the time. In no rush as he stretches you out, his lips part against yours and a low moan is breathed into you as your walls grip him tight.

The moment of pause you both need to adjust to each other is only a pause. By your next breath you're shifting beneath him, raising your leg up to hitch high on his hip and let him sink a little deeper. Both of you groan deeply, messy and eager kisses interrupted only when he starts to move inside you.

Once he starts to move, he can think of nothing but the way you feel. Your walls pulsing around him and the soft cushion of your thighs and hips as he rocks into you. Panting out your name as he bottoms out again and again.

The rhythm takes over, hips rolling and breath mingling together slowly at first. The slow doesn't last long though, as both of you feel that same shuddering need for closeness that soon enough you have both hands above your head to brace yourself against hitting your head on his headboard as his pace ramps up to demanding. It's perfect. Both of your legs are wrapped around his waist as he pounds into your dripping cunt, tits bouncing with every thrust and encouraging praise falling from your lips in an endless ramble.

All Javi can do is grit his teeth, hissing between them at how tight you get. How obscene it sounds as his hips slap against your thighs and ass and your entire body takes the force of his increasingly hard thrusts. “Fuck.”

"So fucking good," you can feel yourself on the edge again, though the shaking in your thighs is as much from the way he's fucking you as it does with your impending orgasm. "Goddamn, baby, I'm gonna cum, fuck."

“Good.” Javi groans, your words just making him work that much harder. Sweat rolling down his face but he doesn’t pay it any attention, to lost in the way your walls are fluttering around him. “Cum baby, cum.”

It’s so easy to give in. To surrender to how fucking perfect he feels pounding you into mattress. You tense up under him, keening in pleasure and letting his name be the sound that falls from your lips as you fully come apart for him again. The only thing that could have been better would be if he had cum at the same time, but as you clench around him and draw him even deeper into your cunt you can feel how erratic his thrusts become.

He pants, a small whine the only sound he makes, his brow furrowed as he follows you into bliss. Gasping out your name as he stops thrusting, grinding deep into you as he can possibly get and pours himself into the condom in sheer relief.

“Fuck.” That small giggle touches your lips again, making you grin broadly against Javi’s shoulder as he holds himself over you. Just a little coaxing from you encourages him to let go and lay on top of you while he catches his breath, letting you ghost kisses across his face and shoulders and comb his hair from his face in the meantime.

He chuckles slightly, turning his head so he can press his lips to yours. He had anticipated renting a movie, coming home, and watching it by himself while he wished that he had someone beside him. Instead, he had literally run into you and was now more relaxed than he has probably ever been. “If this is how we act with horror movies, how will we be with romance?”

You grin at him, beaming in the afterglow of something so unexpected and beautiful. “There’s only one way to find out.”

His own grin matches your and he leans in to nuzzle your cheeks. “We can move the movie marathon into the bedroom and in the morning - I’ll treat you a brunch. If you want to spend the night and fall asleep watching movies with me.” He adds hopefully.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I think I’d like that a whole lot.”

“Good.” Javi flushes from both the kiss and the supreme corniness of his coming comment. “We can cuddle for safety.” He teases with a grin. “Have I mentioned I get scared very easy?”

"Don't worry." You tell him, when you finally stop giggling. "I'll protect you."

Javi grins and rolls off of you, pulling you with him so that you are sprawled on top of him, completely unconcerned with your weight. Actually enjoying the way you feel, grounding him and helping him feel like all of this is really real. “My heroine.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt #plus size reader #spooktober #meetcute

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twst-drabbles · 3 years ago

Text

Leona 4

Summary: You were about to go grocery shopping when you bumped right into the chest of Falena Kingscholar. Oh did Crowley talk about this? You think you might’ve tuned him out. Whoops.

(Another drabble of the house pet AU with Leona. I could’ve went the obvious route but I decided to add a little something to it.)

“Alright,” you said around your pen, closing the fridge door with a firm slam. You gripped your pen and wrote down everything you needed. Most of those things being food for the several pets that you’re pretty sure aren’t yours but they have been here for so long that it’s difficult to distinguish.

Oh and don’t forget food for yourself. Snacks count right? Yeah, yeah they do.

You clicked you pen, stuffed it in your pocket and picked up your wallet and house keys. Good thing the market is within walking distance. There’s always a worry that you’ll be too far away from the pets in here. And it doesn’t help that some of them(namely Azul) hated the sound of engines. Luckily this neighborhood was always a quiet place, even with all the new people and renovations done.

You tiled your head, mentally walking through the house to see if you really did lock everything up. You’re pretty sure you did. You nodded, opened the front door, flicked the locks as habit, and stepped outside.

You walked right into a muscle built torso, a hard button almost bruising your poor nose. You stumbled back with a strangled noise, cradling your face just as you heard a snort. You looked up, finding a sunshine like face struggling to keep his laughter in behind a fist.

“Oh,” you said, nasally, “Mr. Kingscholar.” You sniffed, massaging your nose, “Why are you at my front door?”

Well, yeah that’s pretty rude in the way you’ve asked, but you’ve already shoved your face into him, death is expected at this point. Accepting with grace is the only option.

“Did I catch you in a bad mood?” Falena tilted his head, grin not once faltering in complete contrast to his clothes that clearly scream business, “Ah, but I suppose I did come unannounced, if I know Crowley the way that I do. Did he mention I was going to come by?”

Did he? Crowley’s a chatterbox with an added mumbling problem with the weird habit of mixing his daytime TV shows with important information. You may have tuned him out. Whoops. Oh well, Crowley, he will have to forgive you. “Nope.”

Falena sighed, pushing back his curly hair, “Figured as much. Can’t rely on him for much of anything. I’m guessing, seeing as you’re dressed up, you’re going shopping?”

You nodded, tapping your wallet.

“Oh that’s good. It’s nice to hear you venturing out of your house more often. I was beginning to think you moved away! Cheka would’ve been so sad.” His eyes glowed with fondness, “And Little Leona too.”

That’s when you heard a huff. It was small, clearly made with tinier lungs, and in a light storm of sand, a small land spirit formed on Falena’s shoulder. The edges of his hair, fingers and feet all ended in a sand like texture, little flecks of it being carried off by the wind, but never affecting their shape. He looked at you with lazy yet judging eyes, no longer containing the defiant glare he would show anytime you so much as came into the same room as him. He just looked annoyed at worst.

“I don’t think my moving out would stop Leona from camping out in my house,” he doesn’t even need to pick the lock to come in. He’d just find a sunny place and sleep there all day, ignoring the calls of both Falena and Cheka. Until said little boy started crying. Leona’s weak to his tears. “Did you know he watches me while I’m in the bathtub.”

Leona growled just as Falena bent down a little, snorting into his fist. “He does that to Cheka too! Probably thinks he’ll drown. We do have large bathtubs. He truly has a gentle heart.”

As though getting tired of him, Leona dissolved into sand and reappeared on your shoulder. “I’m guessing you’re here to drop him off before you go traveling again?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Falena straighten up, brushing the sand off his shoulder, “I know Cheka loves him, but I know Leona needs his breaks from him. Oh and before I go,” Falena rummaged through his wallet, pulling out a black card before handing it to you, “Here you go!”

You stared at it, “Uh, but didn’t you already give me a card to use on Leona?”

Falena reached out and patted your head before you could think to dodge the attempt, “Just use that to buy whatever you want. I trust you won’t abuse it.”

“I, but, uh…” Sir that is too much power to have.

“Think of it as an early birthday gift!”

He’s not going to budge on this one. Besides…it’s not as if you hated money. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get myself something good then. Thank you, sir.”

“Falena. Ooo, or Uncle Falena!”

“I, I…Thank you, Falena, sir.”

“Well, that’s a step at least.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #house pet au #leona #leona kingscholar #savanaclaw #reader insert

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wheelsup · 3 years ago

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the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Make a Move

➣ Pairing/genre: roommate!Hobi x reader

➣ Premise: You thought ‘Hope’ was a girl, but looking at the hot dude currently claiming to be your roommate, you might be wrong.

➣ warnings/tags: pure fluff, reader gets a lil sick for a minute

➣ word count: 4.6k

➣ a/n: this was a commission by @hobi-gif for Army for AAPI! Thank you so much for commissioning this, I hope you enjoy it! You guys, check out ways to get involved in this awesome cause by clicking the link!

You look down at the application, and back up at the person standing in front of you. Down, then up.

Twice more, just to wrap your mind around the dumbest mistake you’ve ever made.

“Umm…Hope?”

The man fidgeting nervously before you manages a bright smile. “Yep. That’s me!”

Again, you stare down at the application. “I…you’re the one moving in?”

Hoisting the heavy-looking box higher in his arms, the man – Hope if he’s to be believed, offers a strained nod. ��Yeah, it’s sort of a nickname…Hoseok. I’m Hoseok.” He looks around, poking his head through the doorway to your small apartment. “Mind if I set this down? It’s kinda heavy…”

You step aside in a daze, watching as Hoseok sweeps inside and sets the box down with a thud on the counter. A moment later another head is peeking inside before carrying in another box.

“Hey, I’m assuming you’re one of the roommates?” The newcomer asks, sweeping some of his ashen-blond hair off his forehead and extending a hand out to you. You take it with some trepidation.

“I am. And you’re Hoseok’s friend?”

“Namjoon. Just stopping in with a few of his things. Oh,” Namjoon waits until Hoseok walks back outside before continuing, speaking to you in a hushed tone. “I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for letting him move in. Ever since our landlord found out we had seven people instead of six, it’s been hard trying to find a place but Hoseok was adamant he be the one to move out. Did want to separate the others-”

“Wait, woah,” you hold up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Seven? Seven people living in one tiny apartment?”

Namjoon tilts his head to one side, brows furrowed. “He didn’t tell you? That’s why he moved out; someone had to. Our apartment has a six person limit, so once our landlord found out Hoseok volunteered to be the one to move out.”

It appears that Hoseok hasn’t told you a lot of things.

“I…no, he didn’t mention that.”

Namjoon moves on, unphased. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for taking him on. It’s nearly impossible to find a place this time of year, and we weren’t sure if you would be chill with having a male roommate, but it really means the world. This way he can stay close to us-”

“Close?”

“Yeah, we live just a few blocks away. He didn’t say that?”

At that moment Hoseok walks through the door, still wearing that sheepish smile that he directs at you.

“No. He must have forgotten to mention that, too.”

Once Namjoon has left and Hoseok gets into organizing all of his things, you set up camp on the couch. Book in hand, you can’t help but assess your new roommate.

A part of you wants to get rid of him, but another part of you is interested to see what might unfold from this strange situation. You’ve never had a male roommate before, and if Namjoon is any representative for what this man’s friends look like…

You suppose it’s not too much of a pain to allow Jung Hoseok to stick around for a little while.

Hoseok hums to himself, occasionally making little sound effects as he puts a bowl away or opens a cupboard. Every once in a while he’ll ask you a question, like, “Is this spot free to use?” or “Are you allergic to anything?”

You’re nearly heading to bed when Hoseok knocks softly on your door. Your rooms are on opposite ends of the apartment, something you find yourself being extremely grateful for tonight. The knowledge that a stranger is chilling in your apartment is enough to have you feeling a little worried.

It’s simple. Sure, Hoseok seems nice enough. Friendly even. But he’s too attractive to be normal.

“What’s up?” You ask, opening your bedroom door to see Hoseok with his arms full of shampoo and other shower items.

Despite the large bottle of Pantene blocking his chest, it’s easy to tell that he doesn’t have a shirt on beneath his robe.

Indeed, the sight before you is enough to have you clutching the doorframe until your knuckles are white in an effort to not gape.

Wearing nothing but basketball shorts and fluffy white robe, Hoseok shuffles from one foot to the other. “Oh, I was just wondering if you had any preference about where I put my things in the bathroom. You know, if the left side is specifically yours or something like that.”

“Huh?” You shake your head, forcing yourself to only look at his eyes. That turns out to be even worse, in some weird twisted way. “Oh, yeah. Well, I tend to put most of my stuff on the left side of the vanity. But you can put your stuff wherever. I’m not worried about that.”

Hoseok nods, taking a step back. He bids you a quiet goodnight before retreating back down the hallway.

A few seconds pass as you remain in your doorway, thinking hard.

No, you’re not worried about sharing a drawer in the bathroom or putting the A/C on a lower setting, as he asked you about earlier.

You’re just worried about the fact that you’ve never found a pair of basketball shorts more attractive than just now.

Basketball shorts paired with nothing but a robe?

“This is gonna be great,” you mumble to yourself, closing your door and leaning against it. Only when you hear the sound of the shower going do you allow yourself to relax. “I’m gonna die.”

2 weeks in

“I’m headed to the store, you need anything?”

You pause, assessing the contents of the fridge. “Um…eggs?”

It’s not very often the two of you are in the apartment at the same time, your schedule being polar opposites. However, it’s always relatively friendly. Still a little awkward, but always cordial.

Hoseok – or Hobi, as he’s repeatedly invited you to call him – scans his little list. “Already on the list. Anything else?”

“You already put eggs on the list? Like, for me?” The two of you by no means share groceries.

Hobi shrugs. “Yeah. I figured you were nearly out since you eat them like every morning.”

“Hey, not every morning-”

“Every weekday morning.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Tell me I’m wrong. I’ll wait.”

You groan. “Yah, just go. I’ll text you if I need anything.” Turning back to the fridge, you utter out, “Annoying little-”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You wait until you hear the door close to let out a sigh. “Huh.” You didn’t even realize that he would notice those kinds of things. It’s a strange feeling, having someone notice even the most mundane parts of your routine.

You…like it?

Opening up a few of the cupboards, you realize that you’re nearly out of bread. You grab your phone, pulling up Hobi’s contact and calling him. He picks up after a couple of rings.

“Hey, did you remember something else?”

“Yeah, would you mind picking up some bread, too?”

“Oh, good one. Um…” you can hear him moving around, and you swear you hear the click of a pen before he speaks up again. “Wheat, right?”

Again, that strange feeling stirs in your chest. “Right.”

2 months in

“I’ve never met anyone as obsessed with skincare as you.”

Hobi chuckles darkly, beginning to apply his night mask to the other side of his face. “I doubt you’ve ever met anyone with such oily skin before, either.”

You lean up against the doorframe, resting your head against the side of the door. Hobi continues applying the crème, looking utterly focused on the task. His forehead scrunches up in little lines as he looks up, rubbing underneath his eyes.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s adorable.

To put the icing on the cake, he begins humming to himself and leaning in closer to the mirror, making you chew on the inside of your cheek. It’s horrible enough that he has to be wildly endearing, but does he really have to be so cute?

It’s exhausting.

“It smells good,” you sigh out, eyes drifting shut. Hobi’s good looks isn’t the only thing that’s been exhausting to you lately. School is trying its best to wreck you and you hate to admit that it’s doing a great job of it.

“You want some?”

Eyes fluttering open at his question, you furrow your brows. Hobi is looking at you in the mirror, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He squeezes out a bit of the night mask onto his finger, turning to you.

“You already washed your face, right?”

“Mm.”

“Good,” he nods more to himself than to you. “Close your eyes.”

Giving him a distrustful look, you realize that you’re too tired to bother bickering with him at the moment. Instead, you close your eyes and hold your breath.

A moment later the cool feeling of Hobi’s fingers dabbing the cream on the tip of your nose. He repeats the action all over your face, his other hand coming to cup your chin as his thumb absentmindedly traces your jaw.

You suddenly feel extremely off balance, swaying on your feet. Hands shooting out to steady yourself, you instinctively cling to the front of Hobi’s sweatshirt. He chuckles lowly, making you tighten your grip.

“Don’t fall over,” he mumbles, beginning to rub the night mask into your skin.

You don’t say anything, settling for an annoyed huff. After a moment, Hobi takes up humming the same tune he was before. The two of you settle into a comfortable daze, your shoulders relaxing as the seconds tick by.

“You know,” Hobi muses as he switches to your right cheek. “We’re pretty good roommates. Don’t you think?”

“Mm. I’m still angry you put ‘Hope’ on your application, though. That was a dirty move.”

Hobi’s laughter has you opening your eyes just to catch the expression of happiness he’s sure to be wearing. Sure enough, his head is thrown back and his heart-shaped smile in on display, the sight tugging at the corners of your lips.

Catching your eye, Hobi smirks. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

You purse your lips, melting a little at the concentrated pout that forms as Hobi resumes applying the night mask. He’s moved up to your forehead now, making your eyes drift shut again.

“I vote you make me French Toast one of these weekends.”

“Oh, and that’ll solve it?”

“No, but it’s a start.”

He chuckles quietly, pausing and then tapping lightly against your cheek. “All done.”

Opening your eyes, you see the slightly confused look in Hobi’s eyes as he squints down at you. “What?”

He blinks. “What?”

You nod at him, “You look confused or something.”

“Oh.”

When he doesn’t answer after a long moment, you step back into the hallway. “Alright…I’m heading to bed. Thanks, Hobi.”

His brows are furrowed as he turns back to the mirror, the confusion only growing. “Night.”

3 months in

You’ve quickly come to learn that there are pros and cons to having Hoseok as your roommate.

One very strong pro is the fact that he’s a clean freak. You swear you haven’t had to worry about vacuuming for the past three months, he always beats you to it.

“What are you doing?”

He pauses mid-fold, eyes wide as he looks up at you. “…folding.”

“My laundry?”

He glances down at the shirt in his hands as though just realizing that these are your clothes. “I…yeah. Yeah, I am. It’s just, you left your basket out here by the couch so I figured I might as well fold it and put it away if you’re gonna leave it out here.”

The passive aggressive tone in his voice rolls off your shoulders, knowing that he didn’t intend it that way. It’s obvious to tell that something is on his mind as he continues to you’re your shirt and place it atop a neat pile beside him.

You find yourself sitting cross-legged across from him and silently joining in on the impromptu folding party. Once you finish, Hobi clears his throat and avoids eye contact with you.

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that he accidentally grabbed the same pair of lacy black underwear at the same time as you, which ensued in an awkward match of tug-of-war that you quickly won once he realized what he was holding.

“So, the guys are doing a thing tonight.”

You blink, pulling the folded laundry toward you and getting up. “…ok.”

Hobi’s face lights up in a grin, and he jumps to his feet. “Really? You’ll come?”

Perhaps it’s the utter joy you see in his eyes or the way he’s currently shaking your shoulders and causing the socks on the top of your pile to tumble to the ground, but you burst out laughing.

“Hoseok!” You shout through your laughter. “You didn’t even invite me!”

He immediately stops shaking you after that, scrambling for some form of a response. Swiping one of the pairs of socks that slipped to the ground, he kneels down on one knee and looks up at you with a giddy grin.

“Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to visit my friends tonight?” With no shortage of sound effects, he offers up the socks as though proposing to you with a priceless diamond ring.

“You’re an idiot.”

Hoseok’s smile only grows. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Hobi’s light knock on your door goes unnoticed as you slumber on, completely dead to the world. After you had put your laundry away, you felt a wave of exhaustion overtake you.

He knocks again, and this time you rouse just enough to grunt out something incoherent. He slowly opens the door, poking his head inside.

“You still gonna come with me, sleepyhead?”

His chipper voice makes you wince, your head pounding. “Mm, jus gimme…” you close your eyes again as the dull light filtering in through your blinds is enough to send you spinning. “…a sec.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Hobi must have left. A second later, however, you hear him padding across your floor.

“Are you sick?” He answers his own question as he places his hand against your forehead. “Oh, jagiya, you’re burning up.”

The pet name has your temperature rising a bit more. “Mm fine.”

Hobi chuckles softly, taking care to be quiet. “Have you eaten? Where’s your water bottle?” They’re all rhetorical questions apparently, because moments later he’s scooping your water bottle off the floor and tiptoeing back out of your room.

After what feels like hours later, Hobi sidles back into your room with a full water bottle, some soup he must have microwaved, and another glass of liquid. It’s steaming, the scent making you scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“What…” you can hardly muster up the energy to finish your sentence. Hobi perches on the edge of your bed, carefully placing everything on your nightstand.

“It’s medicine. Drink it, and it’ll help. But first you need to sit up.”

Easier said than done. Your body is exhausted, and your arms shake a bit as you attempt to scoot back against the headboard. Cheeks burning a brighter red, Hobi thankfully doesn’t comment on it. He just patiently readjusts your pillows and tucks your hair behind your ears with meticulous movements that have you smiling softly.

“Ok,” he sighs out once that’s been taken care of. “Now, eat some soup…” his words trail off as he hands the bowl off to you. He watches as you bring the spoon to your lips, mumbling, “Blow, it’s hot.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you follow his instructions. Once you’ve eaten over half of the soup and feel too full to continue, he hands you the steaming cup that has you scrunching your nose up all over again.

“C’mon,” he urges, “my mom used to give this stuff to me all the time when I was a kid. It works like a charm, promise.”

“Mhm.”

“What?” He crosses his arms, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

You shrug, mindful of the full contents of the glass. “It’s just easier said than done, that’s all.”

“Here, I’ll take a sip to show you that’s it’s not bad!” Reaching for the cup, you burst out into a fit of laughter as Hobi stares down at the liquid with unabashed terror. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “Right…just one sip…”

Blowing across the surface carefully, he sacrifices his tastebuds. The instant he swallows, he thrusts the cup back into your hands and dives off the bed. “Ach!” He rushes out of the room, no doubt heading for the kitchen. Indeed, a moment later you hear the faucet running and wonder if he just decided to shove his head under the running water instead of wasting time on grabbing a cup from the cupboard.

With your water bottle on hand, you attempt to chug the medicine. It’s horrid, making you gag, but you continue until the contents are drained. You’ve just managed to drink some water to rid yourself of the lingering taste when you hear Hobi’s phone ring.

“Hey hyung,” he’s still in the kitchen, but you can hear him clearly. “Oh, yeah…I don’t think we’re gonna make it. No, it’s not that, she said she’d come.”

You freeze, holding the still-warm cup close to your chest. For some reason, your stomach does a little flip when you hear the way Hobi’s tone changes as he speaks about you. It’s infinitely softer, something you don’t recall hearing before.

“She took a nap and woke up with a fever-” he pauses. “Yeah, I just gave her medicine. But she needs to rest. She’s exhausted. What? Ugh, really Jin? I’m not-” The sound of Hobi shuffling about has you leaning closer to the open door, trying to hear what he’s saying. His voice is much quieter when he speaks next, but you can still hear bits and pieces of what he’s saying. “I can’t just make a move on her while she’s sick, that’s unethical!”

Clapping a hand over your mouth before he can hear you snort, your eyes widen. Make a move?

On you?

“Yah, quit it. Tell everyone I say hey, I’ve gotta go.” Again there’s a pause, quickly followed by an annoyed hiss. “See, this is why I never tell you anything.”

He quickly says his goodbyes after that, and you scramble to appear normal despite your pounding heart. You hear Hobi’s sigh from the kitchen, and you wish you could know what he was thinking.

“Alright,” Hobi calls, heading back into your room. The second he enters you feel as though you’re seeing him for the first time. “Let’s get it- oh, you already finished it?”

You blink, suddenly blinded by the sight of his adoring smile. As he settles down on the edge of your bed, you manage a feeble nod.

“Jagi,” again with the pet name, “you look exhausted. Let me take the dishes and how about you go back to sleep?”

Despite the fact that you literally live in the same apartment, the thought of Hobi leaving you alone in your room has you stalling. “Uh, who called?”

There’s a flicker of panic that’s quickly replaced with an easy smile. “Jin hyung, he was wondering where we were. Don’t worry, I told him we weren’t gonna be able to make it.”

You’ve heard plenty about Jin – truthfully about all of Hobi’s friends. You were excited to meet them tonight, after hearing so many stories.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, still clinging to your glass. “You can still go, if you want.”

Hobi looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Why would I…? No, I’ll stay here with you. Can’t leave a sickie on their own, you know that.”

Groaning, roll your eyes. “I feel like an idiot.”

“If you’re an idiot, I’m an idiot.”

You snort, setting your glass down before you cause an accident. “Isn’t it, ‘if you’re a bird, I’m a bird’?”

Hoseok shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. “Close enough.”

He holds your gaze for a few seconds too long, but neither one of you look away first. Instead you bunch up your blankets in your fists and offer him a crooked smile. “Thanks, Hobi.”

His eyes linger on your smile, his lips mirroring it. “Anytime.”

4 months in

Nothing has changed, and yet everything has.

Ever since you fell ill, you’ve been jumpy. Anytime Hobi accidentally brushes up against you as he reaches for something in the kitchen, whenever he knocks on your door, even when he calls you from the grocery store. It all makes you jump and sends your heart racing.

“You’re so dramatic.”

You look up at Yuri, your most brutally honest friend. “…ouch?”

She shakes her head, sinking down lower in her seat across from you. You keep boxing up your leftover food to take home, wondering if Hobi would like it.

“I mean it. You’ve been freaking out about this guy for over a month now without doing anything about it.”

You pause, looking at Yuri with wide, pleading eyes. “What am I supposed to do? He’s my roommate!”

“So what? Your lease is up in a few weeks, isn’t it? If it backfires, just move out.”

You snort. “Easier said than done. I can’t just up and move whenever I like, you know.”

“You can’t or you don’t want to?”

“Shut up.”

“I refuse. Now,” Yuri checks the time on her phone. “tell me what you like about him.”

“I never said-” you sputter, but Yuri holds up a hand and cuts you off.

“Actions speak louder than words. He’s literally your background on your home screen.”

Ok, that sounds like a bit much. It’s true, though. A week ago Hobi finally got to take you out to meet his friends. Together you went on a midnight hike (something you’d honestly never do again) and found a breathtaking view at the top. His friends, specifically Jimin and Taehyung, had practically shoved the two of you together for an impromptu photoshoot under the night sky.

The photos are a little blurry and dark, but you love them. Enough to add one as your background. “But you can’t actually see us in the picture, it’s just pretty-”

“Sure it is. You two make a cute couple.”

“W-we do?”

Yuri jumps up, clapping her hands and startling a couple just a few tables down. “Aha! See, you do have feelings for him!”

“Ok, ok,” you hold up your hands in surrender. “Just sit down.”

Once she’s taken her seat again and apologized loud enough for the couple she scared to hear her, you lean in close over the table. She rubs her hands together, looking every bit the scheming friend she is.

“Alright, let’s plot, shall we?”

Hobi checks the window for the eighth time in under five minutes, brushing the curtains aside to see if your car is in the lot yet. It’s not.

“C’mon Jung,” he rolls his neck, bouncing on his feet. “Calm down. Keep it chill. Everything’s fine.”

Everything is not fine.

Things haven’t been fine for months now, something he’s been able to deny to an impressive level. Last weeks, however, the lie came to an end.

His friends loved you. Like, ranted and raved about how funny and cool you were until he was worried he needed to organize an intervention. Then, the icing on the cake.

Yoongi had grabbed him while you were hiking back down, sandwiched between Jin and Jungkook. He nodded down at you, turning a knowing eye to Hobi.

“So…when’s that gonna happen?”

Hobi played dumb, frowning at Yoongi. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hoseok, c’mon.”

You laughed at Taehyung, who jogged up ahead. He was quickly joined by Jungkook. Hobi’s pretty sure his heart stopped beating as you turned around, searching for him. Once your eyes found his, your smile widened.

Yoongi laughed at his side. “You’re whipped, and you don’t even realize it.”

Indeed he was. Dangerously so, if he was going off of the amount of times he’s knocked on your door to ask you out only to change his story at the very last moment to ask you something stupid instead. You never seemed to mind, just laughing at his strange questions and teasing him mercilessly.

“Ok,” Hobi whispers to himself, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’ve got this. Just rip it off like a Band-Aid. Quick and to the point.” He tilts his head to one side. “But not the painful part. No pain.”

He’s in the middle of his pep talk when the sound of your key in the lock alerts him to your return. Hobi is standing in the middle of the living room, looking like an idiot. Naturally, he shoves his hands in his pockets. Yeah, that makes him look less like an idiot.

The second the door opens and you step into the apartment, every thought eddies out of Hobi’s mind.

You freeze, not expecting Hobi to be standing in the middle of the living room impersonating a lamp when you got home.

“Hi…?” Hobi swallows at the sound of your voice, watching your every move as you slowly lift up the bag of leftovers. “I brought home leftovers if you want some…”

“I need you to go out with me.”

Now you’re really frozen, staring up at Hobi as his eyes widen at his own words.

“What? What for?”

“For me.”

You slowly close the door behind you, setting the food down on the counter before turning to face Hobi again. “For you?”

He nods, a panicked look in his eyes. “Yes. For me.”

“Hobi, I don’t understand. Do you need a plus one or something for an event? Is that what it is?”

Removing his hands from his pockets and taking a step towards you, Hobi shakes his head. “What? No, I need- I need you.”

It’s a good thing you already set the food down. “Me?” You squeak out, looking your roommate up and down as he takes another step.

“Us.”

Clearly there’s been a communication error. Hobi brushes his hair back from his face, chewing on his bottom lip before coming to a stop before you.

“Us,” he repeats, voice low. “I need us to be a thing.”

“O-oh.” That’s all you can manage as you try to recall if Hobi has ever looked at you like this before. It’s hard to contain yourself when you realize that he has, however he’s always been quick to mask it with something else. Or, more often than not, a silly question.

“Will- can you…” he stops, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Without his gaze on you, you gain a bit of courage and raise a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes fly open, and he offers you a shy smile. “Do you want to go out with me? On a date?”

Craning your neck, you hold your breath and plant a kiss on his cheek. You delight in the way he instantly flushes, garnering more courage by the second.

“Yes.” Then you arch a brow. “I have one condition, though.”

Hobi’s eyes are half closed as he looks down at you, appearing as though he’s slipped into some euphoric realm. “Hmm, anything.”

“I demand French Toast.”

Dissolving into a fit of laughter, Hobi sinks to the ground, taking you down with him. You protest, but not too much. Holding you tightly, Hobi subsides in his laughter enough to wink down at you. “French Toast it is.”

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#hobi x reader #hobi oneshot #bts x reader #bts sickfic #hobi sickfic #bts roommate au #hobi roommate au #jhope x reader #bts as your roommates #hobi as your roommates #armyadvocatesaapi #armywriterssupport

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somebodycall911onabc · 3 years ago

Text

Spoon me, you idiot

Post ep4x13 Buddie because my brain is just that episode on loop. Hands up if you're not ready for the season 4 finale, folks. Have some cuddling and love confessions in the meantime.

Buck helps Eddie over the threshold with one hand at Eddie’s elbow and the other pressed against his hip. Eddie’s fine, he’s fine, he’s alive, but he’s exhausted. Pain and shock weigh down his shoulders, make him unsteady on his feet.

Carla breathes in sharply at the sight of him. Then she’s stepping forward, folding Eddie into a soft embrace, pulling his head down cheek to cheek with hers. Buck drags his eyes away from his living, breathing, living friend to find Chris, who’s lying on the couch with his glasses askew, mouth open in sleep. Buck’s heart clenches like a fist. He’s going to remember Chris’s haunted, horrified expression for the rest of his life, the light dying in Chris’s eyes as Buck had to tell him… had to tell him that his dad wasn’t coming home that night.

Buck walks over to Chris and kneels down beside him. He’s pretty sure it’s the first time Chris has slept since he heard about it. The first time in more than 48 hours that the kid’s closed his eyes. Buck brushes the curls back from Chris’s forehead, trying to be gentle, not wanting to wake him.

Eddie gets down next to Buck, their knees pressing together. Buck feels the shudder that runs down Eddie’s spine, feels it echoed in his soul. Buck isn’t the religious type, but he feels like this is another miracle. Years after his first brush with death, Eddie coming home once again to his son.

With a hand on Chris’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs, “hey, my little Superman. Chris, I’m here.”

Chris’s eyes open slowly, reluctantly, until he sees his dad’s face and wakes up all at once.

“Dad!” Chris shouts, hands flying up to attach themselves to Eddie’s face. “Dad!”

Eddie’s smiling, huffing out laughter in pure, unadulterated joy at seeing his son’s delighted expression. Chris is grinning and whooping, falling forward to curl himself into his dad’s chest. Eddie lifts one arm to hold Chris close and buries his face in Chris’s hair.

Buck blinks back tears, feeling relief crash over him. He rubs his eyes and starts to get to his feet, wanting to give the Diaz boys some space, until he feels a tug on his shirt. Eddie’s hand twists in the fabric. He’s not even looking at Buck, head tucked against the curve of Chris’s skull. Buck sinks back down and tentatively puts his arms around the both of them, Chris’s knobbly spine and Eddie’s strong back, his cheek brushing Eddie’s forehead. Buck lets out a breath that trembles like an earthquake.

It feels like home. It feels impossible. It’s what he’s always wanted. It feels like something Buck isn’t allowed to have.

When they finally let go of each other, what could be a minute or a year later, Buck notices Carla standing at the end of the couch. She’s smiling fondly at all of them, and Buck realizes abruptly that this is the first time he’s seen her since the pandemic started. He gets up—although it’d be more fair to say he tears himself away—and moves toward her, and there’s always been something magic about Carla because she takes one look at him and she knows.

“I missed you,” Buck says, his nose smashed into her chin. She’s hugging him like she’s trying to pack Buck down tight and snug him into a little box where she can keep him safe. Or maybe that’s just Buck’s wishful thinking. He’s so goddamn tired.

“I missed you too, Buckaroo,” Carla says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Buck swallows the lump in his throat her tenderness causes.

She pulls away and very gently pats his cheek, looking Buck in the eye. “He needs you, you hear?” She whispers, holding that eye contact like she’s bet money on a staring competition. “Take care of each other.”

Buck can only nod.

She lets go of him and Buck shakes himself into standing straight, even though he’d much rather crumple to the floor. But he needs to get Eddie and Chris to bed, he needs to figure out what’s still edible in the kitchen and take out the trash, he needs to call the pharmacy for Eddie’s meds and the station for Eddie’s med leave, he needs to—

“Alright boys, get some rest.” Buck blinks and Carla comes back into focus. She’s addressing all of them, voice firm. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to help out.”

“Thank you, Carla,” Eddie says.

“No need for that.” She bends down to give Eddie a quick hug, and Buck hears her tell him, “just try not to get on the bad side of any more sniper-rifle-wielding nut jobs, alright?”

Eddie’s reply is somewhere between a laugh and a choked-back sob.

Buck walks Carla to the door. Before she leaves, she looks at him, sharp-eyed and commanding again. “You call me if you need anything. Anything. You look just as bad as he does.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Carla.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but this is what Buck has always been best at. He wades through the hurt and the pain and just keeps going. He gives her a tight smile, reminds himself that he wasn’t the one shot (no, just the one sprayed with Eddie’s blood, he can still feel it on his skin, still taste it on his lips), and closes the door behind her.

Getting Chris and Eddie to bed is easy. Buck lifts Chris up, carries him to Eddie’s room, and pulls the covers over both the Diaz boys. Eddie tries to catch Buck’s eye while Buck leaves the room, but if Buck stops moving then he’s not sure when or if he’ll start again. Buck pulls the bedroom door most of the way closed, leaving a tiny crack in case Eddie or Chris need him in the night.

In the kitchen, the clock on the stove informs him that it’s just past 9 pm. It’s jarringly early. It feels like time doesn’t really exist, that he’s been moving in a place defined by the hours since Eddie dropped, the hours since Eddie went into surgery, the hours since Eddie woke up.

Buck opens the fridge and looks into it without seeing anything, like when you’re reading only to realize that three pages have gone by without you remembering a single word. He closes the fridge door and opens it again, and oh, there’s the carton of milk and bottle of ketchup on the top shelf, the egg carton down to its last egg, a container of left-over fried rice from… was it yesterday? Buck folds back the top flap and sniffs it, decides it will be fine for one of the boys to eat when they get up.

He closes the fridge and investigates the pantry next. Two boxes of spaghetti, a can of beans, three cans of chicken noodle soup, an unopened bag of quinoa that is probably the result of Ana because Buck’s not sure Eddie has ever heard of quinoa—like he’s taking inventory of the truck. Thermal blankets, C-spine collar kit, 3L of sterile water, 3L sodium chloride, hug-a-bear. The 118 has a blue elephant courtesy of Athena. Buck could honestly really use it right now.

Buck runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone, planning to make a grocery list. He sees two missed calls from Bobby and eight from Maddie. One from Chim. Hen texted him at 4pm: How you holding up?

Buck very slowly puts the phone down.

He takes a step back and grips the edge of the kitchen counter. Breathe, Buck, he thinks. Just breathe.

His vision is spotty when he opens his eyes, like he’d shut them too tight. He doesn’t remember shutting them. It doesn’t matter. Buck finds a scrap of paper in the recycling bin and a pen from the junk drawer and writes a list. It’s late, so he’ll go to the grocery store in the morning, early, make sure breakfast is on the table for when Eddie and Chris get up. Oh fuck, does he have a shift tomorrow? What day is it?

Buck puts down the pen and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t stand here and pretend like he can take care of Eddie because he can’t stop seeing Eddie die. It’s in the back of his head every moment, it’s what he sees every time he closes his eyes, it’s the memory rewritten by his cells as they multiply and decay, it’s in his fucking genome now or whatever they call it—

it’s in the air he breathes, the reminder that for a moment that lasted an eternity, Eddie’s heart had stopped beating.

It’s a loud silence. Deafening.

Buck thinks, take a breath before you pass out, idiot.

Buck thinks, get a glass of water and pull yourself together.

Buck thinks, your best friend just got shot, you don’t have time for this bullshit.

Buck peels his hands away from the counter slowly, carefully, like if he makes one wrong move he’ll come away with flayed palms. He pours himself a glass of water and makes himself drink the whole thing. He picks up the list he wrote and reads it over and over and over. He thinks: what do I know is true? I’m standing in Eddie’s kitchen. I’m alive. Eddie is alive. And: I should get carrots.

Buck hiccups. Carrots—fucking—

No. Get it together. DAMN IT, Buck!

Buck bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds and does not add carrots to the grocery list. Because apparently they cause emotional breakdowns, and Buck can’t afford one.

He puts himself to work. He ties the trash bag and then he wipes down the counters, and then he unties the trash bag to throw some paper towels in. He transfers the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, quiet as he can, and locates a broom at the back of Eddie’s hall closet to sweep the floor.

When he’s emptying the dust pan into the trash (he’d tied and untied the bag again, but nobody’s counting, so what does it matter), Eddie says: “Are you OK?”

Buck jumps at least three feet in the air. He’s got the quads for it.

“Hey!” Buck whisper-shouts, turning to face Eddie. “What are you doing up?”

“Was wondering where you were.”

“Uh,” Buck looks around at the spotless kitchen and the broom in his hand. “Just, you know. Thought I’d be of service.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “Buck, the last thing I’m worried about is the state of my kitchen.”

“Right. That’s why I’m taking care of it. You know, so you don’t uh. You don’t have to.”

“OK.” Eddie squints at him like maybe a closer look will explain why Buck is sweeping his kitchen at 9:45pm three days after he got shot in the street in broad daylight. Buck sincerely hopes he doesn’t figure it out. He leans the broom against the counter and clips the dust pan to it in a rare display of tidiness. The pan slides down the broom handle until it hits the floor.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Buck shrugs.

“Answer, please.”

God, what a dad.

(Not that Buck would know.)

“Uh… I think I got a few hours while you were in surgery.”

“That was two days ago, Buck,” Eddie says, frowning at him. “You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

“Well, we’re inside.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep.”

“I’m just not really feeling it,” Buck says, folding his arms and resting his hip against the counter.

“Not giving you a choice,” Eddie says, looking extra grumpy because he can’t fold his arms. Unless you count the one in a sling as folded.

“I’m fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about me. You should be with Christopher.”

Eddie lifts his hand to his face and rubs his temples.

“Buck,” he says, “the only thing I need you to do right now is come to bed.”

“But I—“

“Come to bed, Buck.”

And it’s the repetition. It’s the look in Eddie’s eyes like a slow, early flame: the promise of a fire.

Buck’s throat is very, very dry.

“I… yeah. OK.”

Eddie gives him a small smile. Buck’s reeling. Because here’s the thing—they’ve shared a bed before. They’ve shared a too-small bunk at the station and a backseat and even a beanbag once (courtesy of a very poor decision on Buck’s part, but at least Chris likes it). But it’s always been “just bros.” It’s always been necessity. It’s been about efficiency and familiarity. Which maybe Buck is reading this all wrong and snuggling up with your best friend and his son after a near-death experience is totally no homo but… come to bed. Come to bed. Like it’s their bed. Like Buck belongs there.

Buck’s ears are ringing while he follows Eddie down the hallway to his bedroom. Their bedroom? He’s losing it.

The hallway light illuminates a strip of the room as they step inside. Buck can see Chris tucked in the sheets, curled into the rumpled spot where Eddie slid out to fetch Buck. This has to mean something, right? They’ve been dancing around and on the edge of something for so long, Buck doesn’t know how to interpret anything anymore. He loves Eddie, though. And probably the only way he’ll sleep right now is if Eddie’s in arm’s reach. So it doesn’t really matter what this is, because Buck will take any scrap of Eddie he can get, not just tonight, but always.

Eddie slips into the bed and scoots forward, leaving a space behind for Buck. Chris makes a heavy, sleepy sound and turns his head into his dad’s shoulder. Carefully, so, so carefully, Buck lowers himself onto the bed and fills the space Eddie made for him.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, exasperated.

Buck blinks at the ceiling. “What?”

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters. “Spoon me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Buck, this bed is small enough as it is with one person. I know you’re hanging half off it right now.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“Call it intuition,” Eddie says, dry as the desert.

Buck gingerly turns on his side, his chest just a breath away from Eddie’s back. “I…” He swallows. “Where should I put my arm?”

“Buck, you must have done this before.”

“That’s your bad arm, Eds.”

Eddie shifts a little, his calf coming into contact with Buck’s shin. Buck breaks into a cold sweat.

“Shit, well… under the sling, then. Around my waist?”

Dry, dry, his throat is so dry.

Buck lifts his arm up and drapes it over Eddie’s waist. He shuffles in closer, pressing them together from head to toe. His nose is in Eddie’s hair, his dick is nestled in the curve of Eddie’s ass, his ankles are knocking into Eddie’s. Buck feels like he might reverberate out of his skin.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have Ana here?” Buck whispers. His mouth is like, one inch from Eddie’s ear.

Eddie turns his head a little, so his ear actually brushes Buck’s lip. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie says, “There’s no one in this world I want here more than you.”

Buck stutters on his next breath.

“I wish it’d been me,” he says, suddenly. Eddie has to know. Eddie probably already knows. Buck’s grateful, so goddamn grateful, that Eddie survived. And sure, part of it is that self-deprecating shit he’s been working through with this therapist: Eddie has more to live for, Eddie has a kid, Eddie is a better man than I’ll ever be. But mostly, it’s far simpler than that.

If Eddie had died, the sniper may as well have shot Buck too. Because Buck doesn’t know how to live without Eddie. He’d found that out ages ago, when he lost Eddie under fifty feet of mud and water.

Eddie’s next words are nearly a growl. “The only good thing to come out of all this,” he says, “is that you didn’t get hurt.”

“What are you—“

“After it happened, when I was… when I was lying there, I—I looked at you. I looked at you, Buck, and I was terrified. Not because I might die, but because if I did, who was going to protect you? Who was going to keep a sniper off your self-sacrificing, heroic ass, and make sure someone came home to Chris? Who was—“ Eddie cut himself off with a sigh. “I was worried about you.”

Buck feels like… like an unbroken, empty tundra. Like a fried electric socket. Like someone dropped him to the very bottom of a very deep well.

“Eddie, Eddie I—“

“Shh,” Eddie murmurs, as Buck shakes apart. As he bends his head to hide his tears in the nape of Eddie’s neck. As he bites his tongue to stay quiet and not wake Chris up. Eddie presses backward into Buck’s hold. “I know, I know.”

“I can’t lose you,” Buck grits out between several halting breaths.

“You won’t,” Eddie says.

“I almost did.”

“You had my back.” Buck’s throat makes an awful, wheezing sound as he fights a losing battle against crying. “You got me out of there. You saved me.”

“I love you,” Buck says, losing the fight against that too.

“Buck… I…” Eddie sounds like someone knocked the wind out of him.

“Sorry,” Buck hurries to say, chest icing over with panic. “Sorry I just—“

“I love you,” Eddie interrupts. “I do. I know it took me a long time to realize, but… I’ve been in love with you, Buck.”

“Oh my god,” Buck says. I mean, what else do you say to that? No wonder Eddie froze up. Buck is in shock. “Is this real?”

“I hope so,” Eddie says. “And if it isn’t, then I’ll just have to tell you when we wake up.”

Buck feels fit to burst with more emotions than he can name. Relief, joy, fear, disbelief, pin-prickly. It feels like another miracle.

“Deal,” Buck says. And places a kiss to the fatal, devastating spot behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie is the first thing Buck sees when he wakes up. “Good morning” are the first words he hears.

And then:

“Just so you know, I love you.”

#buddie #long post #ray writes #i know nothing about gunshot wounds so sorry if this is wildly inaccurate

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specialagentsergio · 4 years ago

Text

baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

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

tell me what you thought here!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #yes i watch grey's what about it

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