#i can think of twenty-seven right now and i'm not even trying

[keerysfreckles]

sparks fly — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: “drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain. kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain” — or when y/n goes to lando's childhood home in england, after her night turned for the worst.

warnings: abusive relationship, cursing, not proofread

a/n: shoutout to pookie nat for finally getting me into taylor 🙏

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n knew from the moment she watched her first rom-com, she would find a love like the movies. how to lose a guy in ten days. thirteen going on thiry. ten things i hate about you. twenty seven dresses.

the list could go on. she was more than positive she'd find someone to love her the same way these fictional men loved their partners.

y/n met her first love during her spring break of her second year of uni. she could've sworn they were meant to be. they had plenty in common. they were studying the same major, both loved hockey, both wanted to study abroad someday, in paris or germany.

she thought it was perfect. until the fairy tale castle started crumbling.

during their third year of uni, y/n noticed patrick changing. he got more focused with his school work, but became more aggressive when y/n was involved.

y/n thought at first it was just the stress from exams coming up. she justified it as everyone's on edge, getting antsy for the year to be done with.

however it only fell downhill. the words of aggression turned into loud yells heard from their shard apartment at late hours. the yelling turned into patrick throwing any item he could find, which soon turned into y/n dodging almost everything patrick threw.

he hasn't hit her yet, which was possibly the only thing keeping y/n in the relationship. she really believed he could change. but as days passed, and his anger only progressed, she wasn't sure the old patrick was still inside.

sure, the man would always try to make it up to her. a million open eneded apologies could only do so much.

on the twenty third of october, that's when shit hit the fan.

"patrick please, just let me go to bed. it's late, we're both angry and not thinking right," y/n tried reasoning with him, knowing her words don't mean a thing to him.

"no, you're going to tell me what you were doing out so late."

y/n only lets out a scoff. it was the same fight almost every time she went out with friends, or simply went to the library to study. patrick never believed her.

"for the last time, i was out with jess. all we did was go shopping," y/n explains again. her own anger starts rising. she feels the bottle inside her shaking, getting ready to explode.

she stands from the couch, walking to their shared room.

"you think you can walk away from me?" patrick quickly follows, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

"what is your problem!" y/n finally shouts, "you never believe me. what do you think i'm doing? cheating on you? how can i do that when you barely let me leave this goddamn apartment?"

y/n's breath heaved. she felt a small pressure release as she finally got the courage to yell at the man standing in front of her.

"who do you think you are?"

as patrick spoke, he stepped closer to y/n. causing her to step back, eventually becoming trapped between the him and the wall.

"who gave you the right to talk to me like that?" patrick seethed, before reaching out and grabbing y/n's wrist.

his grip only tightened when she let out pained sounds, as tears started forming in her eyes.

she tried prying his hand off her wrist with her other one, "let go," she begged.

y/n started kicking. she didn't know where her feet were ending up, but was grateful patrick had started backing away from her movements.

she managed to release her wrist from his hold, and ran towards the bedroom door. grabbing anything she could before leaving the apartment, she was able to grab her phone and her shoes.

patrick tried grabbing at her again, yelling and begging for her to come back. she was still struggoing to slip her shoes on even when she got outside.

y/n swore she still heard patrick's yelling from where she stood.

once she got at least a block away, the tears couldn't help but fall. her vision became fuzzy as she kept walking. she kept tripping over he untied shoe laces, stepping in the puddles from the rain beginning to fall from her sky.

as if the rain was matching y/n's mood.

in the ten minutes she continued to mindlessly walk, y/n couldn't believe how stupid she had been. scolding herself for staying with the man who only made her the worst version of herself.

y/n kept walking, until she seemed to find herself in an all too familiar neighborhood. she couldn't even begin to count the times she's been here.

she tries ridding her tears, knowing its no use as her eyes are probably bright red and puffy.

she begins to knock on the door of the house she knows too well. as her hand leaves the wood, her mind only begins to spiral.

what are you doing? they might not even be home. this could be too much for them to handle. they won't want to see me. they can't do anything–

the sound of locks turning brought y/n back from inside her mind.

cisca stood on the other side of the door, in the warmly lit house. her heart broke at the sight of y/n drenched from the rain, her shoes barely holding onto her feet, and her shaking hands.

"oh darling," cisca starts.

"i didn't know where else to go," y/n's voice shakes as cisca lets her inside. she's gone for a moment, before coming back with a towel for the girl.

"you know you're welcome here any time," cisca brought y/n towards the living room, not caring if the couch gets wet. she can always fix it later.

"you dry off some more, i'll be back with a cup of tea," cisca rubs y/n's arm before leaving for the kitchen. the older woman's mind wanders to all the possibilities for why y/n was at their home at the late hour.

minutes pass and cisca sets the warm cup of tea in y/n's hands, instantly receiving a thank you from her.

cisca gasps slightly at the bruise already forming around y/n's wrist. "sweetheart, what happened?"

she rubs her back as y/n explains everything to the woman. from the point patrick began getting verbally violent, to the events that happened no less then half an hour ago.

cisca couldn't believe her ears. the sweet y/n she knew would never have stayed with someone like that, but cisca hardly knows her at any more. ever since she started uni she rarely comes over to her best friends childhood home.

after pulling y/n into a much needed hug, cisca began setting up the extra bedroom. while y/n stayed on the couch, finishing the cup of tea in her hands.

"hey mom, i heard noise from my room. everything okay?" lando peeks his head into the spare bedroom, instantly confused to why his mother is setting up the bed.

"y/n is out there, and she just needs to be comforted right now, okay? she's had a rough night," cisca explains as lando nods in understanding.

lando walks through the hallway towards the living room, and just like his mother, his heart sinks at the sight of y/n. she's hunched over on the couch, finally getting warmer from being out in the rain.

"i thought i heard noise out here," lando chuckles, hoping a light hearted mood might fix the atmosphere around y/n.

once their eyes meet, he knows one slightly fun comment won't make anything better. he sees her bloodshot eyes, and worried expression.

"oh, baby," the nickname slips through his lips. one he's called her many times in the past.

he kneels in front of her to wrap his arms tightly around her waist, as hers reach for his shoulders.

he didn't know how much comforting she needed, but could only guess it was a lot after she started crying against his shoulder.

he continued to hold her, rubbing his hands up and down her back. his heart started to break once she started shaking in his arms. a mixture from the crying and her body finally letting the stress and anxiety get to her.

"i should've listened to you," y/n mumbled against his shoulder.

lando doesn't respond, knowing exactly what the girl meant.

her grip loosened slightly on his shoulders, now just resting her hands there as she looks at him.

"you were right. he wasn't a good guy. you had a feeling and i should've listened to you," y/n rambles on, knowing lando's been right about patrick since the first time the two men met.

"what did he do?" lando asks, moving his hands to hers. however, his fingers brush over y/n's brusing skin. the action makes her flinch slightly, and lando's heart breaks for the second time that night.

"i shouldn't have come here," y/n states, beginning to shake her head back and forth. "i'm sorry."

"you have nothing to be sorry for, you can stay," lando tries to reason with her.

he continues to try even when he follows her back out in the rain.

"y/n! just come inside!" he runs after her, his socks getting damp from the drying puddles outside. he looks up, the rainfall definitely slowed, but y/n's hair was beginning to get wet again.

"no lando, it's fine. i'll go back there for the night. he's probably calmed down by now."

lando reaches y/n, "you can't possibly want to go back there. he hurt you. you can barely move your wrist because of the bastard."

y/n turned to see lando looking at her, his curls falling slightly from the drizzling rain.

"you can't go back there y/n."

"i've already ruined yours and your mom's night."

lando laughs, "that's the last thing you've done. you and i both know you're more than welcome to stay the night."

after minutes of silence, lando speaks up again while stepping closer to y/n.

"i want you to come inside. i want you to be comfortable and safe."

it's as if a switch went off in y/n's head. a switch she's surprised didn't go off sooner.

seeing lando like this, standing in the rain in front of her. wanting nothing more than to make sure she's protected. something patrick would never have done, during any circumstances.

he watches her eyes flick between his own and his lips.

he lets out a shuddered breath as she simply begins walking closer to him.

"y/n, you went through way too much tonight. i don't want to add to any of your stress."

y/n shakes her head, "lando i've never been more sure of anything."

lando's hands find their way to her waist as she finally steps in front of him.

"take away my pain lando, please. you're the only person who's been here for everything. you're the only one i need. i'm so stupid for not seeing it earlier. i should've never went on that stupid date. i should've listened to you, and– and if i did i would've been here so much sooner."

y/n catches her breath. her heart hammers in her chest waiting for lando's reaction.

tears begin to blur her vision once more, her emotions getting the better of her as lando doesn't respond.

"lan, please say something. you're what i want, not h–"

y/n stumbles back slightly from the impact of lando's lips pushing against hers. her hands hold onto his face, scared that if she let's go, she might just be imagining this.

"please, let me take you back in–"

now y/n cuts off lando's words, making the man laugh into the kiss. the sound and feeling sending shivers up y/n's spine.

lando breaks the kiss, but feels y/n's breath fanning over his lips.

"now can you please come back inside?"

"one more," y/n mumbles against his lips before he has the chance to reject her offer.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Treat You | Jeon Jungkook | One Shot

Summary: You wanted to take Jungkook out this time around but things don't go according to plan Paring: f!reader x Jungkook (established relationship) Word Count: 1.6k~ short and sweet Warnings: Just some suggestive language but nothing crazy p.s. I wrote this in one sitting so hopefully it's okay lol Requested by an anon 💜

"Baby" Jungkook answers the phone, his gravelly morning voice sending shivers up my spine. "Did I wake you?" I coo, not expecting him to be sleeping this late making him hum in response. "I should probably get up now though" he says as I start to hear movement in the background. 

"Did you work late?" I ask, knowing he like to put in overtime when he can. "Yeah, just a few hours though" he says, making me hum. "Can I take you out today?" I offer, my heart fluttering even after all this time we've been together. "You wanna take me out?" he chuckles, the sound making me bite my lip. 

He's so fucking sexy in the morning and I'll never get over it.

"Yeah why not? It's been a while since I treated you" I say, hoping he'll bite. "You sure? You don't have to spend your money on me love" he says and I shake my head before remembering we're on the phone. 

"You always pay for everything so I wanna pay this time" I say, making my argument and he chuckles again, telling me he's giving in. "How could I say no when such a pretty girl is asking me out?" he agrees making me smile, the praise unexpected. 

"I'll pick you up at seven" I say but he tries to protest. "I can pick you up princess" he offers but I decline right away. "No. I'm taking you out so I'm driving" I say and he sighs. "I guess I forgot that my girl is so independent, letting me take care of her all the time" he says, his tone laced with something dangerous making me blush. 

"Um, I'll see you then...bye!" I rush to end the call, not wanting to give into asking to see him sooner. 

I want this date to be perfect, I want everything to be perfect.

~~~~~

After getting ready and giving myself a once over one more time I check my purse and see that I can't find my wallet. I furrow my brows, trying to remember the last time I saw it leaving me digging through my closet but after twenty minutes of searching I still come up empty handed. 

I pace back and forth in my room, trying to figure out where I could've left it if not in here but I can't seem to figure it out, leaving me huffing in defeat, looking at the clock and seeing that I'm gonna be late. 

I check inside my purse to see if I have any cash but only manage to find a twenty which is nowhere near enough to take him out to the restaurant I placed our dinner reservations at.

I do another once over and decide to admit defeat, seeing that I'm gonna have to make a change of plans and see if I can manage to take him out with what I have...

~~~~

"I was beginning to think you forgot about me" he chuckles when he sees me standing outside my car and holding the door open, showing up thirty minutes late. "You? Never" I tease leaving him giving me a kiss before sitting down, giving him the passenger princess role for the night.

I close the door once he's all settled in and take a deep breath, giving myself a small pep talk about how everything will be okay even if I can't take him where I wanted to. 

Once I get in I look over at him, the brave face that I told myself I would sport is replaced with a slightly pouty one making his brows pop up and immediately going to caress my face. 

"What's the matter baby?" he asks, brushing his thumb along the apple of my cheek. "I'm sorry, I should've been more responsible but I..." I start, cutting myself off, completely embarrassed that this is happening. "It's okay, just tell me" he coaxes me, making my eyes water. 

"I can't take you out tonight" I say, my voice so quiet he could barely hear it. "Why? What's wrong?" he says, worried that something might've happened. "I...I don't know where my card is so I don't have enough money to pay" I admit, looking down at my lap, trying to hide how upset this made me. 

I wanted to do something nice for him, something to show him how much I appreciate everything he's done for me but I couldn't even take him out for a nice dinner.

"Hey, it's okay" he says and brings my face back over to him. "No it's not okay. I wanted everything to be perfect! I wanted you to have a good time and I just messed it up. Now all I can afford to get you is some fast food burger like this is so embarrassing" I groan, slumping back in my chair and covering my face, hating that something like this is making me so upset. 

"Get out of the car" he says making me look at him like he's grown two heads. "Wha-?" "Come on get out of the car" he urges me and I do as he says. "What are yo-" "Switch places with me" he says and I follow without much of an argument since his behavior has caught me completely off guard. 

"Get in" he says, making me sit down and closing the door for me just like I had done for him a few minutes ago, completely motionless and confused, waiting for him to get into the driver's seat. 

"Jungkook what are you doing?" I ask he he hands me his phone. "Put in the address" he orders, his directions short and to the point. "Jungkook I don't have enough money to go there" I finally argue back. "And I don't care" he says making me question what's gotten into him.

"I don't wanna see you that upset over money ever again. I'm your boyfriend and I work hard to take care of you" he says and when I go to argue back he stops me. "You're my girlfriend and I take care of what's mine. We both dressed up to go out tonight so we're going out and that's final" he states but when I go to try tell him I don't want him to pay he jumps over top of me again. 

"End of discussion" he finishes, his jaw set and his eyes dark, daring me to argue with him but I just gulp and put in the address. 

~~~~~

The car ride is a bit quieter than normal after that, the low hum of the engine and the melody of our playlist coming through the speakers being the only sounds to keep us company. I turned to face away from him this time, my legs resting against the door instead of the center console making it impossible for him to rest his hand on my thigh, not wanting to give in after the way he talked to me. 

"Baby what's wrong?" he finally asks once we pull up to the restaurant, my silence going on for a lot longer than he had expected. "You didn't let me say anything" I mumble and he sighs, knowing he was definitely a lot more harsh than he needed to be. 

"I'm sorry honey I was...I was just really mad seeing you so stressed and upset over something that I could easily solve for you" he says and I hum, understanding his perspective but not appreciating the way he went about it...even if he did look really hot doing it. 

"You always pay for everything though. It makes me feel useless, like I'm just here to spend all of your money" I huff, finally admitting what's been bothering me for a while. 

"I don't see it as you spending my money. If anything you hardly ever ask me for anything so whenever you do say something I jump on it. I like getting you things and seeing that adorable look on your face when I know you love it makes it all worth it. Taking care of you makes me feel like I'm doing right by you so, please let me" he asks, explaining himself now, making me see things from his perspective. 

After taking a second to think about it and seeing the sincere look on his face I nod, accepting defeat because he'd do it anyways even if I said no. "Okay, just don't do it all the time" I say, poking his cheek and making him smile. 

"Deal, now let's go have a nice time together and forget about all of this. Then after we're done you can treat me tonight" he says, confusing me again. "But I told you I don't have money right now unless you want a milkshake or something after dinner" I say, offering that up but he chuckles darkly. 

"I wasn't talking about money princess" his eyes scan my body, taking in each and every inch of it making my skin crawl. "Did I tell you you look really pretty tonight?" he asks and I shake my head, unable to breathe with this heated tension that's grown between us. 

"You'll look even prettier on your knees for me tonight" he says, running his thumb across my bottom lip before getting out of the car and coming over to open my door for me.

"You can't just say things like that and expect me to sit through a whole dinner afterwards" I mumble before getting out of the car. "But I just did" he taunts and pulls me in by my hips before shamelessly feeling me up and kissing me before taking my hand and leading me towards the entrance. 

"You're impossible" I grumble making him laugh and snake his arm around my waist instead. "Impossibly handsome" he teases and kisses me on my cheek making me roll my eyes. "That too" I grumble and spend the rest of the dinner mentally preparing myself for the very, very long night ahead...

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[sluts4matt]

y/n cops an attitude with Chris while they argue so chris bends her over the table and fucks it out of her by overstimulating her? idk. just an idea.

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

pairing: rough!dom chris x latina!reader

summary: chris had been a bit jealous of yours and matt's relationship lately, the two of you seeming closer than before. this irritates you however, and you're not afraid to voice it.

warnings: SMUT, pet names, slight praising if you squint, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, slight dumbification (sorry not sorry)

word count: 1207

author's note: boys being jealous of another guy and fucking you so good as a reminder that you're only theirs will never NOT be attractive to me. (if you saw this poll this was originally called attitude problem 🤪)

"are you serious right now?" you ask walking into the kitchen. chris is sitting on a stool by the counter, a can of pepsi in front of him while he scrolls through his phone.

chris looks up at you, a neutral look in his eyes. "what?" he mumbles as if he didn't hear you.

"are you seriously jealous of my friendship with matt?" you ask, annoyance rising in your tone. he scoffs, "when did i ever say this?" he asks.

you walk closer to him, crossing your arms. "you don't need to say it for me to see how fucking obvious it is," you groan, "i mean shit, kids your fucking brother and the only thing i hear anymore when i'm around is snide remarks and comments that don't actually need to be said."

the look on chris' face irritates you even more, "its the fucking passive aggressiveness towards him for absolutely no reason."

"he's not the one dating you," chris snaps, "he shouldn't have your twenty-four-fucking-seven attention," he states, "but guess what? he fucking does," his voice growing louder.

"and you wanna know why?" he asks rhetorically, standing up, towering over you. "because he's the perfect gentleman. he's fucking nice to you, and kind to you, and does all this stupid little shit that he knows you fucking like."

you kept your mouth shut, craning your neck to look up at him. "if you like him so fucking much," he states, "why don't you go fuck him instead?"

he was trying to piss you off, and it was working. you felt yourself get annoyed. "maybe i will since my actual boyfriends being a little bitch," you snap.

it took a minute for chris to respond, the look in his eyes showing anger. he was pissed, and you didn't know whether to feel satisfied or afraid.

he leans closer to you, and your back presses against the table, the corner digging into your skin. you didn't move, staring back at him with a similar glare.

"you wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going to the edge of the counter, trapping you between his arms.

"maybe i will since my actual boyfriend being a little bitch," you repeat. the look on his face darkens and before you knew it, he flipped you around, bending you over the table. his hand lands down on your ass, hard. a whine escaping your lips at the sensation.

"is that a fucking attitude i'm hearing?" he growls, leaning down to your ear, "because if so, i think it's time someone gives you an attitude adjustment."

you whimper, feeling his crotch press against your ass. his fingers grip your hair, yanking your head back, "you know, maybe i should call matt in here, since you love him so fucking much."

you didn't respond, feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt, pulling your panties aside. he was pissed, and the way his fingers rubbed at your cunt were proof of that.

"chris-" you start, only for him to cut you off. "shut up," he growls, unbuckling his belt. you felt his hard cock pressing against your pussy, "if i'm not getting my girl, no one else is," he states, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "'specially not fucking matt," he growled.

he slams into you without warning, and you scream, not expecting it. "fuck!" you yell, feeling him immediately start to pound into you. the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

"yeah, i forgot to tell you, baby," he grunts, one of his hands holding your hips, while the other gripped your hair, "i'm gonna make you forget everyone's name but mine."

you felt tears pool in your eyes, his fingers tugging at your hair, and the feeling of his cock repeatedly ramming into your tight cunt making you cry out in pleasure. "who's your fucking boyfriend, huh?" he asks, the hand holding your hip moving to your ass, landing a harsh slap. "you," you pant, "it's you, chris," you cry, your orgasm nearing.

"damn fucking right," he grunts, his cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon, "and what's matt?" he asks, spanking your ass again. "n-nothing," you stutter.

"that's fucking right, baby," he states, his hand letting go of your hair and slipping between the table and your body, rubbing at your clit. "shit," you curse, a sob escaping your lips, "i-i'm close," you whine.

"then cum slut," he states, the coil in your stomach snapping as your release takes over. "oh, fuck!" you scream, chris' thrusts never slowing.

"we're not fucking done, sweetheart," he states, continuing to slam his hips against yours. "fuck, chris, its s-sensitive," you whine. "shoulda thought about that before saying you'd fuck matt," he grunts, grabbing at your wrist with his large hand, holding them in place behind your back.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over again. the sound of skin against skin, and your moans filled the room. "fuck, fuck," you moan, "please, chris, please," you beg, not sure what you're asking for.

his hips slam into you with a newfound aggression, chasing his own high. "i'm close," he groans, his hand making your hair a makeshift pony tail, just to yank back, your back colliding with his chest. "look at you," he cooed condescendingly, he placed sloppy kisses against your shoulder blade.

"getting fucked so good by the little bitch boyfriend, hm?" he asks, his cock still slamming into your dripping cunt, "you just love when i treat you like a fucking whore, don't you, sweetheart?" he asks.

you were unable to form any coherent thoughts, his thrusts hitting deep within you, the overstimulation making your body go limp. you let out a series of babbles and cries, begging for him.

"i'm cumming," he states, his voice low and gravely, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. you could feel his cock pulsate inside of you, the feeling of his warm release coating your walls triggering yours.

you could feel him pulse, your walls clenching around him, milking him for all his worth. your head rolls back onto his shoulder, your breath coming out in heavy pants.

"did i hurt you?" he asks softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips, and back. you hum, "a little," you squeak out, "but it was nice," you reassure him, and you could feel him kiss the shell of your ear.

"i didn't scare you did i?" he asks, and you could tell he was concerned.

"no," you state, "not at all," you add, and his hands go turn you around, lifting you onto the marble counters. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to hurt you," he states, his lips ghosting over your bruised neck, from the previous nights.

"i know," you state, smiling up at him. "did it work though?" he asks, his finger tracing your bottom lip, "forgot about matt?" he questions.

you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, "wasn't a thought in my head anyways," you whisper, your nose nudging his.

"good," he smiles, "i'd hate to have to do it again," he adds, pecking your lips.

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[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 呪術廻戦 ; gojo satoru x fem reader (1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ valentine's day is approaching; and with a valentine comes love...or for worse...heartbreak.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, angst, mentions of fluff idk, there’s some swearing i think author's note; happy (almost) valentine's,, i’m projecting

1 day, 9 hours, and 47 minutes.

your last conversation wasn't anything out of the ordinary. there was no dry spell. no plateau. no failure to communicate. just you and satoru, plus the typical banter, talking about something as simple as what you were planning on making for dinner; to be more precise, what you were trying to make for dinner. you're a pretty awful cook according to him.

everything seemed to be going so well...really well...almost perfectly well— and with valentine's day right around the corner, you'd instinctively assumed that he'd ask you to be his. instinct is a difficult emotion, though. is it even an emotion? you're not quite sure, but your heart believes it is. your heart— which is practically pounding out of your chest at the current moment, stretching your skin, eager to feel the limitless fresh air and freedom that comes with floating on cloud 9— instinctively wants to believe satoru is your soulmate. you love him don't you? is the answer yes? it should be no.

you've known him for...what? four months? four months of your twenty years of life is seemingly small. that's only one point six-seven percent of your entire lifetime...one point six-seven percent of your life that you wish you could relive forevermore.

...he isn't going to text you back is he?

2 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes.

each second passing is another flicker of hope that misses the candle wick. instead of lighting the path that leads to your eventual relationship, it lights a fire beneath your feet. your socks feel warm. there's coal beneath them. hot, burning coal withering away the sense of feel in your toes; breathing in the aroma of heartbreak until it becomes a roaring fire that consumes all of you.

why is he doing this? what did you do wrong? you haven't done anything wrong. he's just a man. a man who can't seem to stop playing with your heart.

you can hear his voice in the back of your mind. the part of your mind that connects to your heart. "can you facetime, right now? i'm having a bad day and i just want to see your face." he had to have meant that. "you don't need to apologize for talking over me, i love hearing what you have to say." a guy wouldn't just say that to say that. "don't be too hard on yourself, i know you'll figure everything out becuase you're you. you always know what to do." it couldn't have all been bullshit.

it can't have been bullshit.

because if that's all it was, then you're just a fool in love.

and fools in love are no better than clowns.

3 days, 14 hours, and 22 minutes.

you did what you hate doing. the thing that makes you want to scream into your pillow at the mere thought. the very thing that screams desperation and neediness and clinginess and insecurity all in one. you sent another message.

in the past, you've never had feelings strong enough to elicit such a response. your heart hasn't tied itself to another person's with a red satin bow. the fated string of fate hadn't found you yet. it allowed you to maintain a stable head and remain grounded with no hopes of love on your radar. you hadn't yet learned how to fly; until that day you met satoru and suddenly you had a hundred pilot lessons lined up day-after-day.

it was so easy being with him. everything was so easy.

for the first time ever you had no doubts. you weren't afraid of waking up one morning to find him gone. disappeared. nonexistent. you full-heartedly believed he'd never leave; and you believed he reciprocated those thoughts. now, though...now you may never know what bits and pieces he reciprocated— because your plane crashed. turbulence flew beneath the wings and drove the flight off course. the oxygen masks bellowed down upon the passengers, every seat being filled with your pounding heartbeats, and each and every one of them blew out of the window with no parachute. he didn't even try to cushion the fall.

4 days, 1 hour, and 39 minutes.

if there's one message you never expected to receive, it's surely 'seen 14 hours ago'.

you'd given him space and assumed he'd been busy with a million other things and hadn't had any time to send you a quick message. your last text wasn't even anything out of the ordinary, just a quick "are you okay?", you think that's pretty reasonable. it's reasonable, isn't it?

something could be seriously wrong with him. why else would he leave you on read? he's never done this before. usually, you're the one who's more distant between the two of you. that's how your relationship began, after all. he'd send five texts in comparison to your two; which later evolved into five rivaling five, and now to zero rivaling two. the scales have tipped. how do you rebalance them?

you trust satoru. there must be a perfectly good explanation for this odd irregularity that's occurring in your otherwise perfect relationship. after all, all of your friends love him— they think he's the greatest catch of the 21st century. he's never done anything in the past to warrant such strange behavior. this is simply a difficult week for him...and you'll be there whenever he's ready to vent.

5 days, 22 hours, and 7 minutes.

a broken heart isn't for the weak...but unfortunately, you're not one of the stronger warriors.

he's at another girl's birthday party. he hasn't messaged you back in almost six days...and he's with another girl? celebrating her? he could be holding her close and you wouldn't even know, because god knows he wouldn't tell you. he won't even say good morning anymore. he won't even answer your fucking three word message that you sent out of desperation and concern for his well being. instead, he's at the club with his friends, getting drunk and taking shots, having the time of his life; and you're sitting in your room watching his social media stories...believing that everything that went wrong is all your fault.

but it's not your fault.

it's not your fault you fell for someone like that.

someone like satoru gojo.

[writingmeraki]

i heart u !

a min ho drabble !

genre : fluff. ( disgustingly cute )

pairing : minho x gn!reader, established relationship.

warnings : none except Minho is a menace but he's your menace :D ( not edited or proofread. )

author's note : this was a pretty random idea I got 😭 but also a little gift as a celebration to xo kitty getting a season 2 !!!! 🥳 ( praying for more minho screen time but also dae my boy deserving better :( confused on yuri & kitty endgame 🤞or minho & kitty ) anyways enjoy this minho brainrot i offer u and let me know what you think !!! let's also ignore the quality of the minho pics thanks xx also this is my third time trying to upload this i will cri if this doesn't upload now

word count : 1.1k

It'd been exactly two hours, twenty seven minutes and four seconds, five seconds, six seconds…

"You know I can feel your eyes burning into my face."

Putting down your biology textbook aside for a minute before you turned to face the one who’d been looking at you as though you’d disappear at any given moment.

Minho stared at you, now narrowing his eyes as he scoffed lightly,

"I'm not staring."

You deadpanned him as you raised an eyebrow.

"Okay then, do what you called me here to do. Study."

You nonchalantly said, ignoring the slight pout forming on your boyfriend's face because today you definitely didn't need to waste any time.

"Oh come onnnn it's been almost 3 hours!"

He said in a whiny tone that even if you didn't want to, made you bite your inner cheek to prevent yourself from grinning.

You wouldn't think he would complain about not getting attention because he didn't ever have to actually. If he wanted it, he'd get it unasked, be it from your friends or you.

But lately, both Q and Dae had been busy with their own studies, hence that also meant spending less time with their other best friend.

And as for you, you weren't one to deny your oh so lovely boyfriend of attention, in fact you'd welcome him with open arms when he would suddenly hug you tightly or when he'd kiss you at any given moment.

Unfortunately for him, you'd also been busy with your own studies, having to work a bit harder since you struggled in a few subjects.

Still, you paid no mind as you continued to read over the text about chromosomal disorders even if you could see from the corner of your eye that Minho had moved closer to you.

You had both decided to study together, having done your studying alone in your dorm but on his insistence to study together, you agreed to come over to his place, currently sitting at his desk with all your necessary items laid out.

"Why do you even need to continue studying when you have the most handsome, amazing, fantastic and bloody hot guy right by your side?"

Snorting at him, you turned your gaze to look at him from the corner of your eye,

"Please, I'd never say bloody hot, that is such a…British thing to say."

"So you do admit everything else is right?"

He smugly said as he smirked at you.

"I don't have time to feed your ego, I'm busy."

Sighing, you turned away from him as you now moved your chair to have your back facing him.

If you could have been able to see his expression, you'd probably have laughed because he just puffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He felt even more frustrated because frankly he was tired of studying now.

Suddenly he got an idea that he knew would make you give in to him and as much as he found your current ignorance appealing, he'd never admit that to you, he wanted your attention then and there, and with him.

Scribbling on a piece of paper, a cheesy equation he'd found on instagram while scrolling on his explore page, yet he knew you'd find it adorable.

9x - 7i > 3 ( 3x - 7u )

9x - 7i > 9x - 21u

-7i > - 21u

i <3 u.

Lastly, finishing it off by drawing a small heart and adding a " ;) " at the end.

He folded the paper and quietly moved behind you, putting his hand above your head and slipping the note on the page you were reading.

Your gaze shifted to the sudden movement, curiously eyeing the note that was laid in front of you.

Putting your book on your lap, you opened the note with a little suspicion, Minho's face having a small grin upon successfully diverting your attention.

The second you opened the note, you read over the contents still keeping a straight face up until you saw the small "i <3 u” with a little winky face.

Snorting at the cheesiness of the note with an equation you were pretty sure you’d seen saved one of your plenty Pinterest boards,

“Love, we don’t even have a maths exam next, we have biology.”

Turning your chair you faced him, you bit your lower lip to prevent the grin from showing on your face.

It was Minho’s turn to now deadpan you,

“Even after I wrote such a…such a meaningful message portraying my true feelings, yet you’re still worried about studying when it’s almost been three hours already and you’re not even paying attention to me or what I want to say.”

“Babe I’m pretty sure I already saw this on Pinterest...and not to mention this is just 8th grade algebra.”

He glared at your words after his overdramatic speech to which you couldn’t help but burst out in giggles, he seemed like an angry little puppy when he glared at you like that.

“Okay okay fine, what do you want to do? I should take a study break anyways”

You asked putting aside the book, making sure to carefully place the note between the pages acting as a bookmark you’d always cherish.

With those words, it was as if a switch was flipped on his attitude and his eyes lit up as he grinned,excited to finally have your attention.

“So what I'm saying is we should…”

[ A few hours later, still, your ��fifteen-minute break from studying suddenly extended to hours, as usual. ]

Laying on Minho’s bed, you’d both finished watching the final episode of a show that you binged on together, the laptop going into sleep mode since having been ditched after a while.

Minho laid down with his head in your lap, you sitting upright as you caressed his hair, something you loved to do and well who was Minho do deny his lover's affection when he admittedly loved it just as much, maybe even more.

"You know, I know I say you should be lucky to have me but honestly I got lucky having you."

He said randomly while looking at you, a gentle smile on his face and gaze shining with sincerity.

Even if it was quite a simple sentence, your heart still fluttered at the sincere tone and you too now had a small grin forming.

You hummed, now smiling at him, nodding as you pushed your fingers through his hair strands, gently patting them down as well.

"I meant it though. What I wrote in that…note." He said grinning up at you.

"Though I'm sad you didn't take me seriously at first." He slightly pouted to which you giggled at how offended his tone was.

"That's because you're an absolute idiot." You told biting your lip and just as he was about to protest, you leaned down and pecked his lips to shut him up, smiling at the way he complied so easily to you.

Moving back a bit, you whispered so tenderly as if the words should only be between you two.

"But you're still my idiot and I love you too."

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023

links : main navi !

[ageingfangirl2]

Size Does Matter! Red Hair Pirates (One Piece)

Part 1 (Never Have I Ever) Red Hair Pirates x Reader (female)

After the eventful never have I ever game the crew are nicer to you, less teasing and pranks because Shanks was right about you knowing secrets because you were kind and trusting until you were crossed.

You walk onto the deck after documenting a recent attack that went in the crew's favour, and like de ja vu the crew were gathered around. The only difference was that it was the middle of the day and they didn't seem drunk. Before you can turn around and head back inside you catch your captain's eye and he motions you over smirking.

You sigh loudly, 'What fresh hell do you have for me this time?'

You stop in your tracks and raise both eyebrows in shock and surprise, 'err why aren't you guys wearing shirts?' you question, only now noticing the bare torsos of the crew. There was never a dull day on this ship.

Shanks clears his throat, 'We need you to judge and tell us who has the best chest because you have no bias.'

You bite your lip and feel your cheeks heat up, 'and what triggered this contest?'

Yasopp slings his arm around your shoulder and it's not lost on you when he flexes, 'Honestly couldn't tell you, but now we need your help.'

You casually remove his arm and shake your head, 'I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.'

Shanks chuckles, 'We won't judge your opinion. How about a top three instead of one?'

'Make it a top five,' Hongo interjects.

You nod, 'okay I think I can do a top five. I'll start with five and work my way up to one.'

Benn snorts, 'That didn't take much convincing doll. You have been looking?'

You shove Benn and pout, 'You guys use any excuse to strip, so yes I've looked. Do you want to be taken out of my top five?'

Benn's grin reaches his eyes, 'So I'm top five, I'm flattered doll.'

Shanks frowns and sticks out his lower lip, 'This is about physique, not friendship, so no favouring smoking buddies.'

You salute your captain, 'Fine no bias, but there's no denying Benn turns heads.'

'Let's get this show on the road,' Lime Juice calls out.

You take a deep breath and try not to laugh when they line up, 'Okay starting with number five...' you pause for dramatic effect, '...Building Snake because whenever he lifts me up I'm impressed.'

Building Snake winks at you, 'I'll take five.'

The rest of the crew stares at you eagerly.

'Number four would have to be Lime Juice because he works really hard,' you say nonchalantly.

Lime Juice and Building Snake fist bump.

You smile, getting into the groove, 'taking my third spot is Hongo because he's more subtle but catches your eye.'

Hongo beams with pride, 'Only two spots left captain, do you think you've made it?'

Shanks glares at Hongo who immediately shuts up.

'My number two chest goes to my smoking buddy, I mean look at him,' you laugh.

Benn salutes you, 'I'll take second.'

You eye up the remaining crew before pointing at Yasopp, 'Yasopp has the best chest, especially when he gives me gun lessons and holds me close.'

Yasopp rushes towards you picks you up around the waist and starts to spin you around, 'for once I beat the mighty Shanks, he didn't even make the list.'

Benn pats Shanks's shoulder, 'Better luck next time captain.'

Yasopp puts you down and you stumble a little, 'do you want to know why I didn't pick you, captain?'

Shanks nods, 'tell me.'

'Because your chest is on show like twenty-four seven and you have a little too much pride that comes across as boastful,' you answer honestly.

Shanks runs at you and you yelp before running away, 'Leave me alone.'

Mischief flashes behind his eyes and you take a step back out of fear, 'I'm going to make you change your mind love. Come here and touch your captain's chest.'

Shanks chases you around the ship while the others leave you two alone knowing how the chase will end, and it ends as everyone expects with the captain catching his prey.

You giggle loudly as Shanks wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, 'touch my chest and tell me I'm not top five,' Shanks taunts playfully.

You place your hands on his chest admitting to yourself that his chest is equally impressive as the others, 'Top six at best captain, can't show bias towards my captain.'

Shanks growls, 'I'm going to climb your ranks mark my words.'

You pat his chest and smirk, 'Game on captain.'

You knew this wasn't going to be the end of this little competition. Maybe to avoid these situations in the future you should lock yourself in your room more.

[captainsophiestark]

Dance Like Nobody's Watching

Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: DC

Day Twenty-Seven Prompt: "Let me remind you."

Summary: Dick's SO is having trouble adjusting to the new scrutiny of attending Wayne galas as his date, but thankfully, he has an idea to help with that.

Word Count: 1,449

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sipped my champagne, trying to get a handle on my nerves. I could handle fighting the Joker and Scarecrow with no problems, but attending a Wayne gala as the partner of Dick Grayson was throwing me for a loop.

I fought the urge to scowl about it. If one thing could make this night more awkward, it would be some person I barely knew finding me making faces in the corner.

What irritated me the most was that this was by no means my first Wayne gala. I'd grown up with Dick and spent countless hours in the manor with him and his family. We'd been each other's primary entertainment at these things as kids. But being here as his date, and as an adult expected to do more than turn the banquet tables into a fort, was turning out to be surprisingly stressful.

When we were kids, nobody seemed to care what we did much beyond just noticing and thinking we were cute. Now, it seemed like everybody in this room wanted something from Dick, and either saw me as a threat to their ability to get it or as a secret backdoor to him, if only they could get me on their side.

I was seriously on the edge of losing it and going back to the buffet tables kid-style.

Dick had done his best to stick with me, but people kept showing up to pull both of us away from each other for a conversation, and we hadn't been able to do much without being incredibly, obviously rude. I'd finally managed to extract myself enough for some breathing room, but I could see Dick still in the middle of things, a group of old men who almost certainly wanted money from Bruce talking his ear off.

Even from here, I could tell Dick was barely paying attention to them. His eyes scanned the crowd, and after a moment, they landed on me. He raised an eyebrow, and I gave him a reassuring smile. Unfortunately for me, he knew me too well and was too good of a detective to believe it.

Dick quickly made his excuses to the men around him, and didn't take no for an answer as he left the conversation and headed in my direction. He crossed the massive room quickly to stand before me, and this time when I smiled at him, it was much more genuine.

"Hey," he said, returning my smile and leaning in to kiss my temple as soon as he reached me. "How are you doing?"

"Good." I tried to strengthen my smile, but Dick saw right through it. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"...Are you sure?"

I sighed. "It's just... this all feels a little weird. I've known you forever, you know it's never been important to me that you're the famed son of billionare Bruce Wayne. But it seems like that's all anybody else here can think about, and they all either hate me because they want to be with you or want to be my new best friend, all so they can get to you and Bruce. It's fine, none of their opinions matter to me, but... I just didn't expect to feel so weird coming to one of these things again."

Dick took a step closer to me, reaching out to take my arm with a concerned look on his face. He spoke quietly enough that, even if someone had been intentionally eavesdropping (which had happened more than once tonight), they wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Do you want to go? I'm happy to leave if you want to. We don't have to stay here."

I shook my head before he'd even finished his sentence.

"Running and no-showing Bruce's galas isn't a long-term solution. And seriously, it's fine, I'll adjust. I just... I don't know. I miss the days where we hid under the punch bowl giggling out of sight of everybody, you know?"

My boyfriend grinned. "I mean, if you really think about it, there's nothing keeping us from doing that again."

"I can think of a few things," I laughed, swatting his shoulder lightly. He hummed, but sobered quickly as he scanned the room, clearly thinking.

"Well... if you're sure you don't want to commandeer the space under the desert table?"

"I'm sure."

"Then why don't we try dancing? That's a little more... socially acceptable than hiding under the tables, but it's one of the things we used to have the most fun doing at these things. Remember how we'd just take over the entire floor to do whatever we wanted when we were kids?"

I laughed. "Yeah, of course. Although it's a little harder to remember the feeling that inspired us to just run out there before."

Dick smiled softly and extended his hand to me.

"Let me remind you."

My heart did a little backflip, especially when I met Dick's sparkling blue eyes. I huffed a little laugh of disbelief, especially at the thought of stepping into the center of the spotlight when I knew just how many people were going to be watching. But then I looked at Dick again, and I decided that, as long as I was with him, they didn't matter.

I took his hand, and he didn't waste a second before pulling me after him to the dance floor. I laughed, unable to hold back a smile even as heads turned towards us. Dick ignored them completely. He pulled me to his chest when we reached the center of the floor and wrapped an arm securely around my waist, the other taking one of my hands. I rested my free hand on his shoulder, and as we started swaying together to the music, his eyes didn't leave mine for a second.

"You know..." he started after a moment, drawing my attention back from a glance over his shoulder to where people were watching us. "This is nice, but a slow dance wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

I gave Dick my full attention and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but... what did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "Something more like this."

Suddenly, Dick was spinning me out and away from him, twirling across the floor before pulling me back. We'd know each other long enough and spent enough time as vigilante teammates that his steps were easy to follow, even as he started something closer to swing that didn't match the music at all.

I laughed, a warm feeling spreading through my chest as I shared a smile with my partner. In the back of my mind, I knew more people were probably watching and judging than ever. But suddenly they didn't matter like they used to.

Dick swung me around again, then pulled me close and into an exaggerated dip. If I didn't know he was a superhero, I probably would've been a little worried about him dropping me. Instead, it just made me laugh, especially as Dick grinned and led me into something way too close to something you'd do to Cotton Eye Joe.

With every second that passed on the dance floor with Dick, everyone else in the room faded further and further away. It felt like when we were kids, just me and the most important person in the world to me having the time of our lives.

"Feel any better?" asked Dick, whispering in my ear as he pulled me close again, both hands wrapped tight around my waist. I smiled, running my hands up his arms and across his shoulders.

"So much better. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. We're partners, you know I'd never leave you hanging."

I pulled back enough to meet Dick's eyes, and found their familiar sparkle and a smile waiting for me. I gave him a soft smile back.

"I love you, Dick Grayson. So fucking much."

Dick beamed back at me. "I love you too. Now come on, the band's finally catching on to what we want. I want to dance with the love of my life to music that's actually fun for dancing."

I just laughed as Dick swung me out and away from him again, the two of us twirling across the floor, this time in sync with the now-faster music. Suddenly, after a few minutes with Dick, the propsect of all these Wayne galas didn't seem nearly so daunting anymore. Sure, I might have to deal with a few unpleasant strangers whose opinions didn't matter to me. But I'd also get to do this, laughing and dancing and having the time of our lives, with my favorite person in the world.

Worth it in the long run, as far as I was concerned.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos @g0atmansbridge182

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As a single dad trying to start dating again, Bradley feels like he's constantly running in circles. Hiring a twenty-four year old student to babysit should have made things easier, but no matter how hard he fights it, you're too irresistible to stay away from. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hands as he leaned against the bar. He hated being interrogated like this. He knew it was coming eventually, but he really wasn't expecting it today.

"You need a babysitter?" Nat asked with vivid interest. "Who are you going on a date with?"

He groaned. "What makes you think I need a babysitter so I can go on a date? Maybe I just need a couple hours to myself."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Because when you need an hour or two to yourself, you always ask me if I can come over and stay with Noah. And I always oblige, because I am the best person you know. So this must be something else. Who is it?"

"Rebel asked me out," Bradley murmured, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"Rebel! She's only been at Top Gun for a week!" Nat said, eyes wide as she examined his face. "She literally arrived from Lemoore seven days ago, and she already made a move on you? Damn, some of these pilots are quick."

"She just asked me out for coffee. I only said yes, because you keep telling me I should start dating again!"

"Well, you should start dating again. But I figured you'd download an app, find some cute women and get your rocks off. Not go on a date with a coworker!" Nat said, exasperated. 

Bradley just gaped at her as Penny dropped off two more beers. "I haven't done this in a while. Forgive me for not knowing precisely what you intended for me to do here, Nat," he said with a massive eye roll. 

She turned her nose up at him. "You're forgiven. But you need to give me your phone," she said, holding out her hand. 

"For what?" he asked skeptically.

"Just gimme."

Bradley handed it to her and she entered his passcode from memory. "Just don't order anything on my Amazon account, okay? I like my Hawaiian shirts just fine, and I donated all the shit you charged to my credit card last time."

"I'm not ordering you new clothes," she scoffed, tapping away on his screen. "I'm solving all your problems. Now look at me and smile."

Bradley glared at her instead as she snapped a few photos. "These look terrible," she mumbled under her breath as she switched to her own phone. "I have one where you look halfway decent... oh, here it is."

Then she was back on his phone again, and he just gave up trying to understand half of what she did when she wasn't in the air with him.

"Nat, I just don't know that I'll ever get serious with anyone again. Meredith kind of ruined that for me."

Nat was scrolling along on his phone as she said, "Meredith was a flaming asshat. I never liked her. The best thing she ever did was get pregnant with Noah and then dump you."

Bradley was back to cradling his head in his hand. He did not like thinking about the fact that his ex bailed on him and their son when he was just a few months old. It made him feel sick. And now he was partening alone, which was harder than anything he had ever done. 

"Shit," Bradley said, checking his watch. "I need to pick Noah up from daycare. Give me my phone," he said before finishing the last sip of his beer.

"I'm not done yet," Nat mumbled, a frightening grin creeping across her face. "Just one more minute."

Bradley thought about texting Rebel and canceling their tentative coffee date. Nat was probably right about dating another aviator. He didn't even know her actual first name, and she only ever called Bradley Rooster. What the hell kind of weird date would that be like? Talking Super Hornet specs? Comparing tales of punching out and parachute deployments?

He listened to a rapid string of alerts from his phone. "Is someone texting me?" he asked, reaching for his phone. "That's a lot of alerts. Is it Noah's daycare?"

But Nat was holding his phone tight and grinning. "Not texts. Women. Women who think you are cute and like your dating profile."

His eyes went wide. "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, his voice deadly calm. 

"Got you about ten dates if you want them. You're welcome," she said, handing his phone back to him. 

He scrolled through all of the profiles on his screen. "What am I looking at exactly?"

"Well, here's your profile. I used the only decent photos of you in existence. And that's your bio."

Bradley squinted at the screen. "All it says is that I'm 36, a naval aviator, and I like working out. And I have golden retriever energy? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're energetic. They'll take that to mean in the bedroom."

"Jesus, Nat. Shouldn't I disclose important things? Like the fact that I'm a dad?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. That's second date material. They are going to want to size you up and see if you're a daddy before they need to know that you're a dad."

He shoved his phone in his pocket as he stood. "I don't have time for this," he grunted, pulling out his wallet and waving at Penny. "If I don't find a babysitter, none of this is going to make any difference anyway."

Penny took his credit card and then paused. "You need a babysitter for Noah? Mav and I can watch him if you need a break, you know that, right?"

Bradley sighed. "Thanks Pen. Yeah, I know that. I'm just looking for something a little more regular. Gonna try dating again," he said, glaring at Nat out of the corner of his eye. 

"I might know someone who would be interested," Penny said, handing the card back to Bradley. "She's a student in her early twenties, I guess. Really smart and seems sweet. Noah would probably like her. She's in classes during the day, but she was looking to babysit at night."

"How do you know her?" Bradley asked, already hesitant to leave his kid alone with a stranger. 

"She's renting a house on my street. I ran into her a few times, and we got to talking. She fed Luna, watered my plants, and got the mail when I took Amelia sailing."

Nat placed her hand on his arm. "I know this is a big step, but you could meet her first before you offer her the job."

Bradley stroked his mustache. "Any chance she would come over and meet me and Noah? So I can make sure she's not creepy?" he asked Penny.

Penny just laughed. "She's not creepy. How about I give her your number if she says she's interested in watching Noah."

"Sounds good," Bradley replied quickly, barely listening to Penny now. "I need to go pick him up. Bye, Nat."

"Don't forget to swipe through all your matches!" she called after him. 

He just waved and made his way to his Bronco. Bradley always felt like he was running all over the place. As much as it bothered him to take Noah to daycare on a Saturday, he felt like he was losing his grip on his life. His friends rarely ever remembered to invite him to the Hard Deck, correctly assuming he wouldn't be able to go. But it would still be nice to be invited. 

Everything felt impossible on his own. He wasn't getting enough sleep. As soon as Noah went to bed, it was a race to try to get every chore finished. Then he had to wake up an hour earlier to insure he had time to get Noah ready and dropped off at daycare on time. Every day was a damn marathon, and he really wished he could get some help.

He would never ever admit it to Nat, but he was lonely. Just the idea of getting to spend an evening eating dinner with a woman practically had him popping a boner. Having the chance to get to know someone again, get to have sex again? He couldn't think about it too long. He'd been spending so much time with his right hand and his imagination. 

As he pulled into the daycare parking lot, he sighed. This was the reason he had forfeited dating. His son. His adorable, perfect son. 

"Ready to go?" he asked, and Noach climbed up into his arms. 

"Yep, daddy," he said, and Bradley carried him out after thanking the daycare staff. 

"Let's get home and eat dinner," Bradley said, pushing Noah's dark curls away from his forehead and kissing him.

And this was the reason Bradley would only ever consider dating someone who liked kids and didn't mind dating a single dad. In spite of the daycare schedule, and the exhaustion and loneliness, Noah was his top priority. 

-------------------------

You were just getting back from class and unloading your books from your car when you saw Penny waving to you from her mailbox. As soon as you waved awkwardly with your arms full, she was heading your way.

"Hey, Penny," you said as she walked up your driveway.

"I wanted to chat for a minute. Is it a bad time?" she asked, eyeing up everything in your arms.

You nodded toward the house. "Come inside so I can set everything down."

She followed you in, already going on about someone named Bradley. "He's sweet, and he has an adorable three year old son named Noah. They are looking for a reliable sitter, and I know you mentioned an interest."

"Oh," you replied, dumping everything onto your couch. "This Bradley guy? He's not creepy or anything, right?"

Penny laughed. "He asked the same about you. He's very hesitant to let a stranger watch Noah, but I told him I'd give you his number if you wanted to contact him. Maybe you could just go meet them one day. He's not creepy. He works with Pete. And I swear Noah is irresistable."

You sighed. You really needed some extra income. And you loved kids. And you'd probably be able to study after Noah went to bed for the night. As long as this Bradley wasn't giving off weird vibes, you'd probably want the job.

"Okay, I'll take his number," you said, and soon you were adding Bradley Bradshaw to your contacts. "Thanks, Penny. Hopefully this will work out."

You got lost in your research for the rest of the day on Saturday, and purposely avoided returning texts from Greyson. He only wanted to see you when you were too busy, and he never wanted to see you when you had time for him.

"He's being a douchebag," you whispered as you scrolled through the idiotic things he was sending you. 

Then you opened a new conversation and typed out a draft to this Bradley guy.

Hi, I got your number from Penny Benjamin. She told me you're looking for a reliable babysitter. Any chance you have some free time so I can meet you and your son?

It was late, so you decided to let it sit in your drafts until the following morning. But apparently it wasn't too late for Greyson, who was now asking if you wanted him to send you a dick pic. 

You switched your phone to do not disturb mode after telling him that you would really appreciate it if he didn't send you one. Then you went to bed and dozed off fantasizing about dating a guy who acted like an adult. 

It was so late when you woke up, you decided to skip breakfast and just make yourself lunch. When you switched your phone back to receive messages, you were flooded with a bunch, mostly from Greyson. Luckily there was no dick pic to speak of, but he'd sent you a bunch of nonsense while he was probably drunk or high. 

Then you noticed the draft to Bradley Bradshaw, so you hit send on that one. You had a reply from him before you were even done making a sandwich.

Bradley Bradshaw: Yes, I am looking for a sitter for my son Noah. Penny highly recommended you. I can make time to meet you whenever you are free. Just to be clear, I want to make sure Noah and I are both comfortable around you before proceeding. 

You rolled your eyes. A grown adult man should not be as concerned about you as you should be about him. But, you could see where he was coming from about the prospect of letting a stranger stay with his son. So you replied and started eating your sandwich.

I could stop by this evening to meet you both if you're free.

He wrote back quickly again.

Bradley Bradshaw: That would be great. Anytime after 4. I'll attach my address.

If this guy was creepy or if his son was weird, Penny was going to be hearing about it for the rest of the year.

---------------------------

Bradley was just cooking dinner while Noah sat in his high chair coloring, when he heard his doorbell ring. "That might be your potential babysitter, bub," Bradley told him, kissing the top of his head as he grabbed a dish towel and headed for the front door while drying his hands.

But Bradley almost dropped the towel when he opened the door and got a look at you. As your wide eyes drifted up his body and landed on his face, you smiled up at him. 

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

You were stunning. Beautiful, and so fucking young. He swallowed against the saliva pooling in his mouth. Oh shit. 

"Uh, yeah. Hi," he managed, moving out of the doorway so you could step past him and into the living room. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," you said with a shrug. "I'm looking forward to meeting Noah." You brushed past Bradley, and he closed his eyes. Your lip gloss was distractingly shiny. You smelled like beach grass or wildflowers. You looked like you were barely old enough to drink. 

"He's in the kitchen," Bradley rasped, trying to pull himself together. "Back this way."

You followed Bradley through the house, and as soon as you saw his son sitting in the high chair, you went right to him.

"Hey, Noah! What are you coloring?"

"Dinosaurs," Noah told you, holding out a pink crayon. 

"Cool. I love pink dinosaurs," you replied, starting to color a pterodactyl on the page next to the one he was working on.

"Me too. I like pink and blue dinosaurs the best," he replied. 

Bradley watched you interacting with Noah. You seemed sweet, coloring each dinosaur the color he requested. When Noah mispronounced your name, you just laughed and told him he could call you that. 

When you bent down to retrieve a yellow crayon as it rolled across the floor, Bradley got an excellent view of the backs of your bare thighs as your sundress rode up. He dropped the spatula into the pan, nearly burning himself. He was also nearly burning his dinner.

"Shit," he mumbled as you turned to smile at him before handing the crayon back to Noah. 

"What else do you like to do? Besides color?" you asked. 

Noah started telling you all about drawing with chalk and playing with bubbles outside. "I like snacks and movies. And hiking."

Bradley laughed. "By hiking he means walking around the block if I make it home from work before it's dark out."

"Oh," you said. "I can take you on a hike one day, Noah. I like hiking around the block, too. Maybe we can collect some things like rocks and leaves." 

Bradley listened to Noah tell you about some particularly good rocks he had found last week, and you somehow responded in just the right way.

"You're in the navy?" you eventually asked Bradley, shrugging out of your denim jacket in the hot kitchen, giving Bradley a view of even more of your flawless skin. "Like Pete?"

He cleared his throat, mixing everything in the pan on the stove. "Yeah, I work with him. I'm an aviator."

"Do you want me to call you by your rank? Instead of Mr. Bradshaw?" 

Bradley had to press his lips together, a little scared to know what hearing you call him Lieutenant Bradshaw would do to him. "You can just call me Bradley."

"Okay, Bradley," you said, and unfortunately that did something to him too. "You've got a cute kid. I think Noah and I could have a lot of fun together."

"How old are you?" The words were out of Bradley's mouth before he could rethink them. He almost sounded accusatory, but really he needed to know how bad it was that he couldn't stop looking at your legs.

"Twenty-four," you replied casually. 

Jesus. He was twelve years older than you. But you looked even younger than that. Sweet. Too innocent. 

"I'm in grad school for nursing," you continued. "I'm certified in CPR, and I can treat injuries. I know how to swim. I'm free every day starting at 4. You can run a background check on me if you want to."

Noah looked up at you and asked if you wanted to build blocks with him, and Bradley knew he already felt comfortable enough to leave his son with you while he went on a date with Rebel. 

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He hadn't taken the time to figure out how to use the dating app that Nat installed, and he was being inundated with matches and messages. He also hadn't given Rebel, whose first name was Grace, a solid answer about when he could get coffee with her.

But for some reason, in spite of the laundry list of women from the app who were interested in going on a date with him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. 

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Bradley asked as you built a block tower with Noah on the high chair tray. 

"Oh, no. That's nice of you to ask, but I don't want to crash your meal," you told him over your shoulder. "Here, put this little block on the top. Let's see if we can make it stay," you told Noah, keeping your hands around the sides of the tower until he successfully set down the last piece. Then you tossed your hands into the air and cheered.

Noah turned and looked at you in surprise and you just laughed. "You're good at coloring and blocks?" He just giggled, and soon you were both knocking down the tower and starting over. 

As Bradley scraped his half burned dinner onto a plate, he felt a little disappointed that you were grabbing your jacket and getting ready to leave. Noah looked a little sad, too. 

"Well," Bradley told you, watching you gracefully shrug into your jacket, "you're hired if you think you can put up with the two of us."

You laughed and took a step closer to him. "Noah? He seems like an angel. You on the other hand?"

Bradley's eyes went wide, and you just laughed harder. 

"Only kidding! I'm sure I'll be able to put up with both of you if you think you can put up with me."

You were young and beautiful, and for some reason Bradley wanted to feed you dinner, even though the food he made looked barely edible. 

"I don't think that will be a problem."

---------------------------

I hope you enjoy your Daddy Rooster and babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls !!

PART 2

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[frombloodandfire]

Indigo

“I used to shine bright like gold, now I’m all indigo.”

A woman who tries to escape her past with no hope for the future, ends up on an unknown place playing childhood games to win. A man from her past happens to be there for the exact same reason. Will they escape their haunted pasts? Or they will end up dying in vain?

Just a pilot first chapter to see if you all like this series! It will be an oc x Cho Sang Woo, but I will try to not use her name much either (im avoiding y/n so I’m keeping it simple). Also English is my second language so forgive me for any mistakes and please correct me! Some things are left unknown for later chapters. <3

Warnings: blood, depression, heavy language etc.

She woke to the soft sound of rain tapping against the window. The night had been rough, and the day promised to be no easier. She was already late for a job interview, probably another one she'd never hear back from, just like all the others.

The phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She scrambled across the tiny room, pulling on her clothes as she went.

Who could it be at this hour?

"Can we talk?" came the voice on the other end, low and urgent.

"I'm late for something," she replied, trying to rush through the words.

"Meet me at seven tonight," the man said, cutting her off. "I finish work early."

Before she could respond, he hung up. Not that she wanted to, but she knew she’d go. But why would he want to meet on a random Thursday evening?

The interview had been a brief glimmer of hope "We’ll call you in the next few days.”they said to her. The school was only twenty minutes away from her apartment, a dream job. Maybe this was the universe’s way of throwing her a bone.

The rain had stopped by the time she arrived at the metro station, and she smiled, because maybe it was her lucky day finally after so many years. But as she waited for the next train, a tall man in a business suit, carrying a small case, approached her. She ignored him at first, assuming he'd ask for money or try to sell something, but then he spoke.

"Ma’am."

She glanced up, annoyed, then quickly turned away. She didn’t have time for this.

“Sorry, I’m busy…” she muttered, standing up and moving toward an empty seat.

But the man followed her. “I’d like to offer you a great opportunity.”

She paused, narrowing her eyes. "A great opportunity?" she repeated, confused. What was this some sort of scam? Was he a cult recruiter? Either way, she wasn’t interested.

“Want to play a game?” he asked, his voice smooth.

“A game?” She raised an eyebrow. What was he talking about?

Without waiting for her response, the man pulled out two small pieces of paper, one red, the other blue.

“I'm sure you've played ddakji before, right?”

She shook her head. "Not really..."

"It's simple," he explained, handing her the papers. "Try to flip the one on the ground, and you win."

“What do I win?” she asked skeptically.

He ignored her question entirely. "Pick a color."

Reluctantly, she chose the red paper, placing it on the ground and attempting to flip the blue one. It didn’t move.

"Yeah, not gonna happen..." she muttered, a bit embarrassed. The man, without a word, picked up the blue paper and flicked it with ease. It spun perfectly, landing on its edge.

“You have to pay now," he said.

“Pay? What do you mean, I have to pay?” Her heart skipped a beat.

She had a sinking feeling she was being played.

“How about you pay... with your body?”

“Wh—?” Before she could react, he slapped her hard. The force of the blow almost made her stumble, but she managed to steady herself. Rage bubbled up inside her.

“What the hell? That’s it. I’ve had enough.”

Without thinking, she grabbed the red paper, anger fueling her strength. To her surprise, it hit the blue one and it flicked.

“Ha! Take that!” she shouted, feeling a rush of triumph. “So, what do I win? I get to slap you back?” She was now laughing.

The man laughed, unfazed. Then, to her shock, he pulled out a stack of cash 100,000 won and handed it to her with a smile.

“Congratulations. You were great for a beginner!”

She froze, staring at the money. There was no way this was real. A stranger had just handed her cash for a childish game.

“Take this. There are other games you can make much more.” he said, before giving her a small card. It was marked with a triangle, a square, and a circle. When she flipped it over, a number was scribbled on the back.

What the hell? Should I call this? What does it mean?

By the time the evening arrived, she was standing outside his apartment, exactly at 7:00 PM. Three minutes passed. Then five. She hesitated, unsure if she should have come. Maybe she should’ve just gone home.

"Lyanna!" a voice called from the door.

She turned to see him rushing toward her, a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry for the wait. Let’s get inside. My mom’s not home."

It had been so long since they'd seen each other.

“It’s been a while, Jun Ho. How are you?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hard time at work, but... I’m doing okay. What about you? Did you find any job?”

“I can’t say things are great,” she admitted, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “But... I got a job. They accepted me today.”

He laughed, a sound full of relief. “Ah, finally. After all this time... That’s great news. What about the debt? Will you stay in Seoul now that you got the job?”

She hesitated. “The debt... it’s still there,” she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "But, yeah, I’ll stay in Seoul for now. Until I can make enough to get out of here.”

He studied her with concern. The silence that followed was heavy.

“I don’t know why you called, Jun Ho,” she said, breaking the stillness. “Maybe it’s better to forget the past.”

He reached for her arm, his grip tight. "I can’t. I need to find him, Lyanna. You’re my last hope. You’re the only one who can help me."

Her heart tightened. She wanted to help him, but the past... it was too much to carry. "I can’t help you, Jun Ho," she whispered. "I’m just trying to rebuild my own life. I want to find him too for my friend’s sake... but—"

“She would help if it was to find your husband.”

At the mention of her old best friend, a cold shiver ran down her spine. She thought about her every day, ever since she’d passed. The woman had been everything to her.

“This hurts still, you know? Even after all the years…” She said, her voice trembling. “Maybe one day we’ll find him. But I can’t right now, Jun Ho. I’m not in a place to help you. Not when I can’t even help myself.”

She stood up, her hands shaking slightly. “Give my best to your mother,” she said, turning toward the door. But then she stopped, looked him in the eye one last time. “Thank you for calling. I missed you. And I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Wait!” Jun Ho called, rushing to her. He bent down, picking something off the floor. “You dropped this.”

Shit. The card. She’d dropped it without realizing.

“Oh no. Thank you! I’m such an idiot…” She smiled, forcing herself to laugh. “Stay safe, okay?”

With that, she stepped out the door, her heart heavy with uncertainty as she walked home.

If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.

Lyanna Collet, 1986.

A/n: let me know if you are interested!! It would help me to express your opinion ❤️

[shouyuus]

hi not a request but I want to know how you got to be such a good writer. Practice? Or maybe writing exercises? Did you fall inlove with writing? If so, when and how? Has it always been, i don’t know, a thing you like to do ever since you were a lil kid? Or were you inspired by other pieces and authors. (mind-boggling curiosity is driving me rn)

ASDLFKJSD thank you ?!?!?! so. this is a question that i sometimes got on my old blog as well, and i've always dithered on how to answer bc there's no like... magic potion, right. there's no secret sauce.

unfortunately (and super boringly), how you get "good" at writing is just... practice. just hours and hours and weeks and months and years of practice.

i've been writing almost every single day since i was about 10 years old. i'm 30 now so that's twenty years of practice -- neigh on SEVEN THOUSAND DAYS of practice. i also majored in comparative literature, so i paid like insane amounts of money to an higher education institution, for people who are objectively considered experts in this field, to teach me and help me and coach me. i can't discount at all how important that was in like getting my writing to the next level (i can name the specific professor and course in my freshman year that changed me as a writer like that's how deep of an impression it left on me)

that being said, you don't need to do all that to become a "good" writer. and i think that's the best thing about this craft is that anyone can decide to pick up a pen one day and #Nike Just Do It. (also, good is subjective and like blah blah blah all that stuff)

but if you want actual tangible things you can do to improve your writing, here's some things that have helped me:

read. read alot. read everything. think of your body like a car. you need to put oil in to run. you need energy in to put energy out. in the same way, you need to intake good writing to output good writing. ive always been a voracious reader, and for the longest time, even when i was actively writing fanfiction (both online and just for myself), i wouldn't read any other fanfics, i would only read published books, and published books either from authors that i know i like, OR published books that i've vetted (ie read the first few pages of and said okay, this is a style i like and a story that's interesting to me)

it's impossible not to be "inspired" when you take in a lot of good writing. so read. but don't limit yourself to just fiction or whatever. read narrative nonfiction -- some of the most moving stories and well-written things i've ever read are actually essays, or longform journalism stories -- try a bit of everything and see what you like, and make note of the things you like to read

then, dig a bit deeper. if there's a sentence you find particularly moving, take it apart, try to figure out why you like it. i rmbr in elementary school we did "sentence diagrams" and it seems strange but getting really technical with writing is a good thing! and i'm the kind of nerd that loves stuff like this so u__u. BUT BUT the point of this is -- once you figure out how a "good" sentence is structured, you can take that structure and plug your own words in! and voila! it's another good sentence!!!! kind of like a super nerdy advanced version of mad-libs LOL

i went thru a phase of my life where i thought it was super cool to memorize famous first sentences of novels LMFAO (yes. again. my parents should've KNOWN i had adhd as a child holy fuck) but i did that for a while and i think that also just... ingrained in me specific sentence structures and turns of phrase that have stuck with me to this day.

if you read a thing and you don't like it, try to pause and ask yourself why -- was it the pacing? the structure? the characterization? what about it was offputting? try to be a more active/critical reader.

COPYWRITING. okay OKAY so this is a thing that i discovered only.... a few years ago? i think? but its a writing exercise wherein writers will literally copy out word for word writing that they like from another author -- not to publish, mind you, but just for the FEEL of writing it themselves -- NOW. i know what ur thinking "what the fuck why" but think about it this way -- classical musicians spend their entire lives playing pieces written by other musicians. dancers learn dances from other choreographers -- even choreographers start by learning dances by other people right like. why should writing be any different?

this does a few things -- it makes you an "active" participant in the writing. don't knock it till you've tried it -- reading a sentence (even deeply) and having to write/type it out yourself are two totally and completely different things. the way you pay attention to pacing, cadence, punctuation, line breaks, shit that you don't even think about when you're reading, suddenly, you're paying attention to it bc you're the one typing each and every letter, every comma, every exclamation mark.

i have a whole separate folder in my notion just for copywork. for the days that i don't feel like actually writing anything, i'll pick one of my favorite books from my favorite authors, and pull it up on kindle, and just copy out a few paragraphs, sometimes an entire chapter. and you'd be surprised at how different you feel after!

read/listen to poetry. this is more of a personal thing for me but i love the cadence of poetry -- i love internal rhymes and spoken word, i love limerence and sibilance and alliteration. i love IAMBIC PENTAMETER GODDAMNIT. lmfao but like. alot of times, prose is more "forgiving" in a way -- you have more space, more words to do the thing. poetry is (i think) the essence -- especially metered poetry, or specific forms of poetry where you have to write within a super rigid set of rules -- and sometimes, i think that creativity flourishes the best under "stress" aka under a strict set of rules. the shit that people come up with in very strict poetry is INSANE and sometimes i copy those out too, over and over again, just to feel the words and the rhythm

read your favorites over and over again. i used to never re-read books, but as i got older and my tastes became pickier, i find myself going back to reread my favorite books over and over again -- and it's fascinating because every time i go back, i find something new to marvel at, a new aspect. and i think that's the lovely thing about media after it's been put out in the world -- you can consume it over and over and over again, and each time, because of the way your brain is wired, of your physical setting, your mindset, you'll notice sometime different.

if you want a list of my fav books/authors, i can def make one! or i'll just reblog the list i made on my prev blog but yeah! lemme know if that's of interest to you! and i think you'll find that if you read any of my fav authors, you'll see immediately how they've inspired me LOL

and FINALLY be kind to yourself! you do not have to be good at every hobby you choose. if writing is something that just gives you joy and you don't want to become 'better' at it??? then that's perfectly okay! also, there are TONS of different styles of writing -- and not all of them is for everyone! you might like super dialogue-heavy writing, some other ppl might prefer really rich prose! it varies by person, and you'll never please everyone. so the best you can do is just write the stuff that makes you happy and that makes you giggle (lord knows thats what i've been doing on this blog) and if you want to put it out into the world, then do! but if you wanna keep it just for yourself, then that's good too!

just because you don't put it out into the world, doesn't make you any less of a writer!

[toomuchracket]

haunted house (dad!george x reader fluff)

more promptober! just a fun fic about you and the kids making plans for when george gets home. enjoy! <3

the bell for the end of the day rings just as you make it through the school gates, wet autumn leaves on the ground and the wriggly three-year-old in your arms doing nothing but hindering an already-running-late you. panting slightly, you carefully set cara down and try to catch your breath, ruffling her hair as she clings to your leg.

you're not really sure why you rushed, to be honest; connor's the most laid-back five-year-old you've ever heard of, with a habit of swanning out of school a few minutes after most of his classmates have bolted out of the playground, and you know you would have been there waiting for him in plenty of time had you walked from the car instead of running. still, you don't want to chance it, you'd rather wait for your son than have it be the other way around.

and you do wait - seven minutes (and three games of hopscotch with your daughter) after the school day ends, connor finally deigns to leave the building, chatting away to dylan as they wander over to you. at the sight of her brother and for-all-intents-and-purposes cousin, cara speeds over to them to say hello; when the three of them walk closer to you, you can see the smug little grin on her face at getting to hang out with the “big kids”, even though there's barely two years between her and them.

you grin back at them, amused at the (classic daniel/healy) height difference between the two five-year-olds. “hi, munchkins. y'alright? took you a while to leave school today.”

“dyl couldn't find her water bottle, mum,” connor throws himself into a cuddle, which you reciprocate eagerly. “but i helped her.”

your goddaughter corroborates this, giving you a hug of her own in greeting. “yeah cos we have the same one and no-one else has it because they're from our dads’ work. but mine has an sticker that's pink,” she almost whacks you with said water bottle in her haste to show you the barbie sticker half-stuck over the 75 logo. “it was at the sink and not my seat.”

“oh, well, that's good you got it,” you pat her head. “did your dad tell you this morning that it would be me picking you up because mummy's not feeling well?”

“yeah. he said baby's making her tummy sore, so i'm going home in the car with you.”

“that's right,” you take cara's hand, heading out towards the almost-empty car park. “let's go to the car now, babies.”

“mum!” connor looks aghast. “we're not babies. i'm five.”

“i'm nearly six,” dylan says proudly. “when baby gets here i'll be six. and lena will be four. and you too, cara.”

your youngest looks at you, brow furrowed; you have to stop yourself giggling at how much she looks like george. “i'll be four?”

“yes, angel. you and lena won't be the tiny babies any more, will you? we'll all have an actual baby to look after.”

cara hums, too preoccupied to be excited about the thought of a new friend. “will i get a party when i'm four?”

“oh, i think so,” you unlock the car, scooping her up with a kiss to her cheek before settling her into her carseat. “you know what dad and matty are like. any excuse to celebrate! right, dyl, you get in there, darling, watch your step,” fastening her seatbelt, you shout across the girls to your son. “you alright, con?”

“mhmm!”

you check anyway - he's fine - before getting in yourself. “alright, munchkins, home time.”

what should only be a ten-minute drive to the healy house actually ends up being twenty-five because of traffic, but it's pleasant enough - the kids are good as gold, patiently playing i spy, softly giggling the whole time and warming your heart. you knew all along that your babies would be best friends with your best friends’, but seeing dylan - tiny for her age, shockingly tentative from birth - yap and laugh along with your two like this is a heartwarming (and only slightly terrifying) indication that the kids will genuinely end up being as close (read: codependent) as their fathers are.

their fathers, who are still at the studio working diligently, you learn when your friend waddles (there's no other word for it) out to the car to get dylan despite you yelling “stay there! i'll bring her up!” repeatedly when you reach her house. she rolls her eyes as she tells you, absentmindedly rubbing her baby bump, an air of vague exhaustion hanging around her. “according to matthew, they're working on until half 6 tonight, so they can take the weekend off and do final tweaks on monday, and that's them done,” she scoffs. “can you believe that?”

“of course not. george has been promising to be home at half 4 for the past three weeks,” you snort. “and as for final tweaks…”

“oh, another month, at least.”

“literally. that baby girl of yours might arrive before they send that final mix off.”

“don't, i'm actually nervous about that,” she giggles, cradling her stomach before pulling you into a hug. “i'd better go before elena tries to cut her own hair again. d'you want to do dinner next friday, us and the kids - and the boys, if they ever unchain themselves from that mixing desk?”

“i'll bring starters and dessert,” you kiss her cheek. “take it easy, alright?”

“yeah. hope you get to see your husband this weekend, babe!”

“you too!”

you really, really hope you do; after an hour in tesco, you and the kids get home well after george's originally-planned home time, and your heart sinks when you unlock the door to the lights still off and no sign of him, other than the half-drunk coffee he left this morning and a couple of cigarette butts in the kitchen ashtray. moments like these are sometimes harder than when he's actually away touring, you think - it's less upsetting missing george when there are oceans between you than it is when you're ships in the night in the same house.

still, you've got the kids to keep you distracted from being melancholy; it's impossible to be anything other than overjoyed when your sweet babies insist on group cuddles on the sofa while you watch another episode of balamory, or when the two of them run to get their stepstools so they can watch you make fajitas for dinner with genuine interest (well, connor more than cara), or during dinner itself, when connor collapses into contagious giggles at the sight of his little sister’s face covered in guacamole. but they miss their dad, too, despite all the happiness, as admitted by cara while she's clinging onto you in piggyback while you do the dishes. “when's daddy home?”

you sigh, doing your best to keep the sadness out of it. “m'not sure yet, angel. he'll phone when he's leaving his work, though.”

“‘kay,” she digs her little chin into your shoulder, only slightly uncomfortably for you. “will he read me a story?”

“i bet he will,” you put away the last plate, wiping your hands before swinging her round to hold her in front of you; once her laughter subsides, you speak again. “daddy loves reading stories to you and connor.”

cara nods. “and he hasn't done it in ages.”

well, four days, but to a three-year-old… that probably feels like an eternity. the thought brings a lump to your throat. “he will, though, soon, munchkin. daddy will be home soon, and he'll read you a bedtime story,” biting back a sniffle, you spot a parenting advantage. “that is, if you brush your teeth extra well once you put your pyjamas on. yeah?”

“yeah!”

ironically, coincidentally, whatever you want to call it, the omw home text from george flashes up on your watch during cara's bathtime, the last step in what her dad likes to call “the ‘pre-bedtime routine’ routine”. she squeals when you tell her, kicking her little legs with such enthusiasm that half the bathwater ends up over you, and her brother rushes into the room in a panic. “what's going on? why is cara screaming? is she ok?”

wriggling even as you lift her into a cosy towel, cara answers. “yeah! daddy's coming to read us a story!”

“oh!” your son's face lights up. “really, mummy?”

“yes, darling, he just sent a message,” you confirm. “d'you want to go and choose a book while i get cara into her pyjamas? and then we can wait for him together?”

“mhmm” connor moves to leave, but turns back in the doorway to look at the two of you. there's a familiar smile on his face, and you're not sure whether to be worried about whatever sneaky thing he's about to suggest or pissed off that both of your kids look nothing like you. “or…”

you brace yourself. “or what, con?”

“we don't wait and we hide and then jump out and surprise him.”

the laugh escapes your lips before you even realise. fuck it. “alright. let's do it…”

the cheers you get in response are deafening.

“... but,” you raise your eyebrows pointedly. “only if you pick a book for your bedtime story now, connor,” matching his nods, you turn to your youngest in her towel cocoon. “and you brush your teeth properly, like we agreed earlier.”

cara nods so excitedly that the towel falls off her head. connor laughs, and you can't help chuckling either. “okay, babies - don't get stroppy, con, you're gonna be my babies forever, alright? anyway,” you ruffle his hair. “we'll hide in the wardrobe in your room. d'you want to wait there for me and cara, munchkin?”

“yeah!” he darts off, and seconds later you hear him rifling through the little bookshelf in his bedroom. “i picked a book!”

“good boy!” you call, before turning back to your still-beaming girl. “will you be good, madam?”

she nods sweetly. and she really is - there isn't a peep of a complaint at all. not while you're drying and dressing her, not during teeth-brushing, not even when you've got her sat on the bathroom counter as you brush and braid her hair, which is usually something she prefers george doing “cos it's not sore when daddy does it”. 

whatever. at least you still have hair.

hyper-aware of the fact that time is of the essence, you comb through cara's fringe once more, before scooping her up into your arms and kissing her little cheek. “what do we think, munchkin - d'you think you look good?”

“hmmm,” cara squints at her reflection, then grins. “yeah!”

“i think so too. shall we go and get connor and wait for daddy?”

a nod against your shoulder, and off you go on the short jaunt to your son's room. connor's already sitting in the massive built-in wardrobe, book in hand and an eager smile on his face. you smile in return, settling down beside him and pulling the cupboard door almost fully-closed; you're careful to leave a crack in front of you, so you'll be able to see your husband when he arrives. which, actually, should be imminently, so you'd better come up with a game plan. you tug your kids close to you. “so, when daddy gets here-”

“mum, why are you being quiet?” the confusion is evident on connor's sweet little face even in the minimal light. “dad isn't here yet.”

he's got a point. you blink. “true. anyway, like i was saying, when he does get here… wait for me to open the door, and then you can jump on daddy, yeah?”

“can we shout too?”

“i don't see why not. but no bad words, you - just because you've heard matty say them doesn't mean you can,” you point at connor, before turning to cara. “and no screaming from you, you hear me?”

“yes, mummy.”

“good,” your eyes widen at the sound of the front door opening, closely followed by george shouting a greeting as he dumps his bag, and your voice shifts to a whisper. “quiet, now, alright? let's see how long it takes daddy to find us.”

there's a whispered chorus of agreements, and then - miraculously - your kids go silent, aside from the quick little huffs of air signifying silent giggling; these get more frequent when you all hear george wandering around downstairs, calling your names in turn and humming to himself in bewilderment. when his footsteps become audible on the stairs, cara practically wraps herself around your arm, all but shaking with kinetic energy and clutching her brother's hand as they hear their father reach the landing. 

you, too, are laughing to yourself as you listen to george opening and closing doors in search, monologuing as he goes. “nowhere to be seen and they've left every bloody light in the building on. s'like blackpool illuminations,” comes the gravel grumbling so characteristic to the love of your life, as he wanders into what you know is the bathroom; he sniffs loudly, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from cackling. “strawberry shampoo… cara's bedtime routine. maybe everyone's in,” another door opens. “here! oh. empty. must be in connor's room, then.”

three strides across the landing, and there he is - george, his tiredness obvious even through the tiny crack between wardrobe doors. he turns slowly, taking in the emptiness of the room (and making your heart glow when you catch a glimpse of his pretty face), and - as if by magic - stops with his back to the wardrobe, muttering “where are they?” to himself.

partially out of slight guilt for putting him through this, but mostly because you think connor and cara might explode if you make them wait any longer to surprise their dad, you push the wardrobe doors open. the kids fly out, little voices shouting “hi dad!” and “we're here!” as little bodies land on george's massive one; he gasps in shock, and you're extremely thankful for the victorian high ceilings in your house, because your husband's head (and the rest of him, probably) would absolutely have hit anything lower when he jumped in abject terror. he sinks to the floor, head in his hands. “jesus christ,” he sighs, before standing and tucking a kid under each arm, swinging them around and filling the room with laughter. “you meanies, surprising me like that. i thought you'd all run away and left me!”

“we would never,” you step forward, taking cara into your own arms and pecking george on the lips. “we like playing tricks on you too much.”

“yes, that one's obvious,” george rolls his eyes; his face breaks into a big smile, and he kisses your nose. “hi, by the way, angel. thanks for the interesting welcome home.”

“i wish i could take credit.”

“oh? it wasn't mummy?” george dramatically looks from kid to kid. “who's the evil genius among us, then?”

cara giggles, nuzzling her head into your neck. “connor.”

“reeeeeeeeally?” george cocks his head to look at his boy, who's grinning from ear to ear. “s'that right, munchkin? it was your idea?”

connor giggles. “yeah.”

“in that case, then,” george tickles your son through his t-shirt, smiling at the raucous giggles that follow - from cara, too, actually. “say sorry, and i'll stop.”

“sorry! sorrysorrysorry!” connor's laughs fade to little hums, and he snuggles into his dad while they both catch their breath. “mummy planned it though. tickle her!”

george winks at you. “oh, i will, later. but first,” he flicks your son on the nose. “bathtime? and then a bedtime story for the little ones?”

cara nods. “and then mummy and daddy bedtime?”

“once i've redone your hair, munchkin? i think so,” your husband smiles at you, eyes twinkling. “of sorts, at least. you up for that, sweetheart?”

“oh, absolutely.”

[bigfan-fanfic]

You May Sanctuary Find (Winchester!Reader x Winchester Bros [PLATONIC])

A sequel to Brother Mine and Back Into Trouble

The title this time comes from "Little Brother," a poem by Robert W. Service that really, I think, epitomizes the relationship between the eldest Winchester and his brothers, especially the last verse: "Little Brother, how I pray/You may sanctuary find. /Peoples of the world succumb . . ./Fly, poor fools, the WRATH TO COME!"

Anyway, this time, the story takes place after the 1st episode of Season Two, right after John's death.

He's gone. After all that, it wasn't even a direct kill from a monster that did it.

It had been hard - you hadn't been able to see him at the end, because since you actually had insurance, you were able to get some better care. It was only after that you learned about how Dean had nearly passed and John had apologized to him before... taking care of things himself.

Neither one of them is willing to talk. Which makes sense.

This family has never been very good at communication.

Even if he tried his best to make peace at the end, it's still hard not to hate him for what he's done.

Even to save Dean, you hate that he's still messing up your little brothers.

You hate that he never even made an effort to talk to you before it all.

But while you're raw, you know how to deal with this. You've mourned the father you knew better than Sam and Dean ever got to, the one before your mom died when you were seven and he disappeared forever, stolen and replaced by a grieving, vengeful hunter of monsters.

It's rough for Bobby to see you all like this, brought so low after you all had hope that something would change.

That you'd get a win for once.

You call in from Bobby's phone, let your assistant know that you've been in a car accident, that you'll be on the way home soon to recover.

"After all this?" you hear Dean say. "You're still leaving?"

"We did this to find Dad. We found him." you reply wearily.

"What about Yellow Eyes? You're not going to help us take down the son of a bitch that got both our parents?"

He's shouting now, approaching, clutching his side that still hurts from the bruising from the accident.

"I'm tired, Dean."

"Tired? You don't get to be tired! You don't get to leave us again!"

You turn away from him. Trying not to lash back. He's allowed to be angry. It's reasonable for him to be angry...

"You're just scared! You're too damn scared to own up and be part of this family. You never loved Dad like I did! Did you even care that Mom died?"

In a scarily fluid movement, you have him pinned to the wall, an arm across his throat and a hand holding down his wrist, already preventing the counterattack before it happened. The wind is knocked out of him, and for a moment, the hunter you were is back.

Such anger, like it was never dealt with. Like it never left. Like you're still the seven year old who lost his mother. Like the fourteen year old with monster blood on his hands. Like the twenty-one year old who hugged his brothers goodbye without the strength to even pray they'd meet again.

Rage and hate, rage and hate. Monster after witch after demon after trickster after monster.

You let him go. The final monster you kill is that hunter inside you.

"I wrote you letters for your birthday every year. I dunno if Dad gave them to you. I would ask you to visit. To stay." you say, almost whispering. You don't even know if it's loud enough for him to hear. "I sent money for Sam. For college. For a house. For you to settle down."

He's trembling. Anger? Remorse? Sorrow?

"I never wanted to leave you. You're my brothers. And after Mom died, and Dad went hunting... someone had to look out for you. Not just your health, but your futures. I still put money away for you. I keep a couple of rooms ready in my apartment for you two. I can't force you two to come with me. I just have to wait. And hope that I can someday protect you again. It's the hardest thing I've had to do."

You look at him, in the eye, forcing him to look back. "I can't do this anymore. Hunting. It brings out a part of me that... that I fear. A part of me that is angry and hateful, and who likes that because it's easier than facing what he fears. I'm done."

Dean turns away from you, face contorting, and you grab his arm.

"But I will never be done being your big brother, Dean. And when you're finally done too, when you're ready to just fucking rest...

"I will be there. I will be there with a home, and peace, and a life. I promise."

He looks at you, on the verge of breaking. "I can't. I have to do this. I have to protect Sammy."

You pull him into a hug. "Then I'll wait for you."

He melts into you, crying and holding on to you tight.

You remember back when you left, all those years ago - Dean had looked at you with such hate. You were dead to him then, for cutting off the family, for breaking Dad's heart.

And now he holds on, because now he knows what you've tried to do. What you're still doing.

"You do what you have to do, little brother." you whisper. "But when you're done, you come home."

"Okay. Okay, I will." He says, voice distorted with emotion, teeth gritted to try and stop crying.

"C-can I still call?" Dean whispers, when you let him go.

"Of course. I insist on it." You smile at him through tears. "I love you, Dean-o."

"Love you too, big brother."

Dean watches you go to find Sam, to say your goodbyes, and he lets himself cry. Bittersweet. He knows you're growing, that this is good, but already he misses you terribly. How is he going to handle this all alone? This terrible task Dad gave him, to protect Sammy, or take him out.

But though he is full of fear, there's a new sense of hope.

You'll only be a phone call away. You'll be waiting for him.

And to a man that has never once had an alternative, that makes all the difference.

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 4

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader, references to past Colin Shea x Female Reader & past Johnny Storm x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking & implied drug use, explicit language, bad boyfriend (Colin continues to be awful, even though we haven't actually seen him since part 2), self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. She's still having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, here it is! As I currently have it planned, this will be seven parts, so we're officially past the halfway point now. This part's a little shorter, but I'm hoping you'll think it's worth it.

Big thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down the new character here! (If you don't remember doing that Carly, it's because it was ages ago 🤣)

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screaming at me. 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The drive to the restaurant was uncomfortable. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just you. Sitting in the backseat alone, while Curtis and Jensen quietly conversed in the front, you felt ridiculous. You should learn how to drive. You were a grown woman who couldn’t even get herself anywhere—just another way you didn’t know how to be responsible for yourself.

You stared at Curtis in the front seat. It’d been a few weeks since your boundaries conversation. You hadn’t spoken to him much since. He was right. It was better. Cleaner. But you missed being able to talk to him.

Something had changed about the way he watched you though. You would swear that it was more intense now, the way his eyes followed you around the room. And it always seemed like he had something to say, he’d just never say it. He didn’t make any sense.

You took a breath. You were nervous about this lunch. You weren’t entirely sure what the purpose of it was, aside from the fact that Marnie Reynolds had wanted to meet. You hadn’t seen her in years and then she just texted you out of the blue two days ago, asking if you wanted to have lunch. You assumed she was going to pitch you something. Why else would she want to talk? You hoped it’d be something easy to agree to. It would make Wilford and Tanya feel better if someone actively wanted to work with you, at the very least. 

The restaurant wasn’t the kind of place you normally went to. It was nice, but tucked away, not designed for those who wanted to see and be seen. Marnie had chosen it. She was waiting for you at a small table in the back, even more private. She stood as you approached and enveloped you in a warm hug. She was just as glamorous as you remembered, suddenly hit by memories of sitting in her trailer while she let you try on her jewelry. She’d always been so nice to you. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you,” she said as you both sat down. 

You smiled and nodded. “It’s good to see you, too. How are you?” 

“Oh, good, good,” she said with a big smile. “Just got back from a shoot in Greece. Happy to be home.” Her eyes lost a little of their luster as she asked, “How are you, darling?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you said. You could tell she wanted you to say more, but you just nodded and shrugged.

“Well,” she looked at you carefully, “I can’t get over how grown up you are. I know it’s silly, but I think I’ll always see you as the sixteen-year-old I met at the table read ten years ago.”

 “You and all of America,” you said dryly before you could think better of it.

Instead of chastising you, she just nodded. “I’m very grateful I didn’t have to grow up so publicly and then have to make that transition to being an adult. I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

You shrugged again. You didn’t really know what to say to her.

“Which, speaking of, I owe you an apology.”

Panic rose in your chest. Oh, god. Had she sold a story about you? Said something private in an interview? Blocked you from a new role? You weren’t sure you could handle one more thing right now. “Oh?” you asked shakily.

She nodded, seriously. “I should have done a better job of keeping in touch with you after we’d finished the movie. I owed you that much. I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your brow, confused.  “That’s fine. You’ve been so busy. I didn’t really expect you to remember me. I mean, you won an Oscar. I know how much work that takes.”

“Mmm,” she said, “and you sent me flowers.”

You shrugged. You just kept shrugging. “Well, you were always kind to me, and I was so happy for you. It seemed like the least I should do.”

 “You were always so sweet. I’m so happy to see that hasn’t changed.”

At the sincerity on her face, you looked down at your menu. You didn’t know what to say to that. 

“How’s your mom?” she asked, her tone strangely cautious. “Is she still your manager?”

“Oh, no. Wilford helped me get a new one when I turned 18. He thought I needed someone more experienced.”

She let out a breath, almost like she was relieved. “I have to admit, I’m happy to hear that.” You gave her a confused look and she continued softly, “She was always so hard on you. It was part of why I always invited you to my trailer. It seemed like you could really use a break from her.” She gave you another impossibly warm smile. “Plus, you were such great company. I loved making that movie with you.”

You couldn’t hide your relief when the server chose that moment to take your orders. You didn’t know what to do with the fondness in Marnie’s eyes. 

Once you were both done ordering, you decided you were ready to talk business. “So, what’s the project?” you asked.

She looked confused. “Project?”

“Uh, yeah. Whatever you wanted to pitch me? The reason you asked me here.”

“Oh, honey, no, I’m sorry. There’s no project. I just wanted to see you.”

That didn’t make sense. That she didn’t want to work with you again made sense. No one did, so of course she didn’t either. But then why else were you here? “I don’t understand,” you said quietly.

She let out a sad little sigh. “I’ve seen some of what’s been going on with you, online, and it just seems like you need a friend. I want to be that for you. I think about you more than you know.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

She grabbed your hand over the table. “There’s so much going on for you right now. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and then to have to deal with it in public too.”

You didn’t say anything, just looked at your joined hands on the table. Then, finally, still looking down, “Uh, yeah. I’m having a pretty hard time.”

She squeezed your hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever want to talk about it.” 

You finally looked up and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. You weren’t sure you could.

She looked at you carefully. “Have you thought about taking a break at all?”

You were reminded of Curtis, sitting on your couch, looking at you so earnestly, talking about taking a year off. You shook the image out of your head. “No,” you said. “It isn’t a good time. My reputation isn’t great right now, so I need to get back out there and show people that I can do the work. I need to fix it.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “that sounds like agent speak.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “he’s right.”

“Remember, though,” she said, slowly, “that you’re a person, too. Not just a career.”

You just looked at her, blankly. Your career had been the most important thing about you since you were nine years old. You didn’t know how to separate the two. Luckily, that was when the server returned with your food, and Marnie graciously took it as a sign to take over the conversation for the rest of your meal. She talked about the movie she’d just finished, how her kids were doing, and the large garden she was planting at home. It was nice. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a meal out with a friend like this.

Still, you left the restaurant feeling raw and restless. You weren’t sure what to do with that conversation, the hard parts of it. The way she looked at you like she actually saw you. There was an itch in you now that just made you want to run.

Instead, as soon as you got home, you poured yourself a glass of sangria from the pitcher your housekeeper kept in your fridge and took the latest script Wilford had sent you onto your deck. You could feel Curtis watching you as you moved through the glass doors. That was his job, you told yourself. It was just his job.

The script fucking sucked. It was awful. The opposite of what you wanted to do. But you knew what Wilford would say. Beggars can’t be choosers. This was your fault. You were the one who’d destroyed your reputation. You had to be the one to fix it. And if making shit like this would fix it, then that’s what you had to do. Too many people relied on you for you not to do whatever you could, take whatever paychecks you could get. You hated it. You hated it so much. But you would do it.

You picked up your phone. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed. It was well into the evening now. There was a text from Michelle an hour ago, letting you know she’d left. And a few minutes ago, one from Nikki, a girl you partied with sometimes, that just said ‘Fuck them both!’

What the hell did that mean? Panic began to crawl up your throat and your hands started to shake as you typed your name into Google and clicked on News. Your stomach dropped.  Johnny Storm, that snowboarder you’d barely dated over a year ago, apparently had a podcast now. And the latest episode, posted that day, featured Colin Shea as its guest. Shit. Fuck. You couldn’t even look at what they’d said. There was no point. It was all just the same old bullshit.

You felt tears start to prick at your eyes. Why couldn’t everyone just leave you the fuck alone? You weren’t even that interesting. How could they possibly have anything to talk about?

Fuck that, you thought, as you stormed back into your house. You distantly registered Curtis calling after you, but you didn’t pay any attention. You were too focused. You headed straight up to your bedroom. They wanted something to talk about? You’d fucking give it to them! You charged into your closet and grabbed the sluttiest, shiniest dress you had. Fuck yeah. You could do this. You would be exactly who they wanted you to be. If they wanted a show so fucking badly, you’d give them one.

You ran back downstairs, looking for a particular pair of earrings that a costar had given you as a wrap gift a couple of years ago – huge dangly ones that said Fuck on one ear and You on the other. There was nothing subtle about what you were going for tonight. 

You’d have to think of someone to call, too. Someone suitable for the kind of scene you wanted to make, the kind of big mistake you wanted to fall into. You were so fucking tired of holding it all together. You were done. Your mind immediately landed on Lucas Lee, your costar in that dumb action movie last year. He was awful but so hot. Nothing but trouble and always up for whatever. Perfect.

As you entered your living room, your eyes landed on one of your jewelry boxes on the coffee table. There they were! As you picked up the box, you realized Curtis was sitting by himself on the couch. You saw him take in your short, sparkly dress and grimace. You weren’t in the mood to analyze it. “I’m going out,” you announced. “Have Jensen get the car ready.” 

You were already moving through, headed back upstairs when you heard Curtis rasp, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You turned on a dime. “Excuse me?”

“I think,” he said slowly, so calmly you wanted to break something, “that going out right now, in the sort of mood you’re clearly in, would be a very bad idea.”

What the actual fuck? “Since when,” you asked, your voice quiet with seething anger, “is it your job to tell me what to do?”

He shook his head and you didn’t know how to react to how sad he looked. “I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m asking you to stay home tonight. For your own safety, which very much is my job.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded. You didn’t understand him. He told you you weren’t friends. He was the one who said he was just your bodyguard. So what the hell was he doing now? 

In the moment you stood frozen, just staring at him, he took a cautious step forward. “Did something happen?” he asked barely above a whisper.

You shook your head furiously. You felt like you could barely form words. You were so angry and lost, and scared, and sad, and confused. You were feeling more than you thought your body could contain. And you knew, you knew, the only way to get these feelings out would be to go out and get as wild as you could. And here Curtis was, not letting you. You were afraid you were going to explode. “That’s fine,” you finally got out, ignoring his question. “You don’t have to come with me. Jake neither. I’ll get a fucking Uber.” You took a step towards the opening of the room. “Go home Jake!” you shouted through the house. “I won’t need you tonight!”

Curtis sighed your name. “I’m not going to let you go out by yourself,” he said firmly.

You threw your hands in the air. “Then make up your goddamn mind!” 

Jake appeared in the doorway, looking confused and Curtis turned to him. You took the opportunity to get back to the safety of your room, leaving your security detail to figure their shit out. Once back in your room, you dug through the jewelry box until you found the earrings you were looking for. You heard your back door open and close. Good. Jake, at least, was gone. You knew Curtis would be harder, but you were fucking determined. 

Just as you were opening Uber on your phone, Curtis appeared in your doorway. “What,” you growled.

“Would you just listen to me for a minute?!” He said, not quite a yell, but not not that either, as he barged into your room. All of his practiced calm from downstairs was completely gone. “Something bad is going to happen if you go out tonight! It is, I know it is. And I know you can feel it too!”

“Why do you care?!” You shouted at him. “No one else does! Why do you care so much?!”

“You know why!” he shouted back, and took another step toward you, but then suddenly stopped. Much, much quieter, much softer, and with eyes so pleading, he said “You must know.”

You didn’t. You really don’t think you knew until that moment, when the realization slammed into you. Every look, every sigh, all of the moments of him that hadn’t made sense. You took a step back. “What?” you breathed, barely realizing that you were shaking.

He took a step forward to follow you, then stopped. He opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head at him. “No,” you said. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?!” he asked, incredulous and upset again.

“No!” you shouted, but it was so much weaker now. “I just– Why would– I’m such a fucking mess!” You were starting to cry, the adrenaline of the last half-hour finally leaking out of you, replaced by that same bone-deep exhaustion that you’d had for too long. “I barely have a high school education. I don’t know how to do anything for myself. No one wants to work with me. I am barely keeping it together and everyone knows it. I’m a trainwreck! Why would you–” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that you knew he meant. “Why would you have feelings for someone like that?”

 The sadness was back in his face. You looked away, unable to bear it. In your periphery, you saw him take a cautious step forward, then pause. When you made no move to run, he eliminated the distance between you, standing directly in front of you. He slowly, gently, carefully brought one hand up to touch your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I know all that and I still love you. Because I also know that somehow, despite everything, you are one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. You are so kind. And thoughtful. You let everyone see your soft spots, even when all they do is hurt you. You have every reason to be awful or bitter or mean or any of a thousand things. But you aren’t. It’s all of it, it’s all of those things and the ones you said too. All of it together, that’s why I love you. I love you because you’re you.”

You wanted to sob. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to you before. Not anyone in your family, or a single one of your exes. No one had ever cared enough to say any of that. Except for Curtis. He’d always cared, hadn’t he? Since that first day he’d showed up, when you’d been so scared about the possibility of a stalker, he’d taken such care with you. He was the most caring, thoughtful, beautiful person you knew. You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.  You could see his worry, but also the deep conviction with which he’d just said all that to you. You couldn’t help yourself anymore. You surged forward and you kissed him. 

He made a noise of surprise—you didn’t know how he could possibly be surprised after all that—but after just a moment he was kissing you back, bringing both hands up to cradle your head. You were getting your tears all over him, but he didn’t seem to care. He was soft and gentle and passionate. You needed more. You needed all of him.

You took a step back, breaking the kiss. You did what you could to brush the tears off your face. You grabbed the bottom of your dress and pulled it over your head, then tossed it on the floor. You stood in front of him in the lingerie you’d picked out to fuck Lucas Lee of all people and couldn’t understand how you’d ever been able to think about anyone but Curtis. But you did know how when you stopped to think about it. You’d never been able to fathom that you might deserve this man. That he might actually want you.

He stared at you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re–” you braced yourself for what might come next. So hot or fucking sexy. You’d even gotten beautiful once or twice. He only took a second before he finished his sentence “–incredible,” with such awe on his face that you actually felt your knees go weak. You had to look away. He was too much.

He took your face in his hands again and placed a soft, short kiss on your lips. “But would it be ok if we slowed down?” he asked.

You couldn’t keep the disappointment out of your voice. “Why?” 

“This is real for me,” he said. “And if we do this, I want it to be real for you too. I want you to be sure. And for now,” he stroked one thumb over your cheekbone, “right now I just want to hold you. Is that alright? If I just hold you tonight?”  

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Sex had always been the best, most important part of any of your relationships. It’d been the biggest thing that any of your previous partners had wanted from you. You weren’t sure you knew how to do it any other way. But he was holding you so gently, looking at you so softly, all you could do was nod. 

He kissed you once more. Then stepped back and started to take off his clothes. You made your way to your bed and got in, watching him as he shed his clothes. He really was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Nothing on any movie set you’d ever been on, any party you’d ever been to could compare to him. 

Once he was down to just his boxers, he crawled in next to you and pulled you close. Your lips touched his shoulder as you asked, barely audible, “You really love me?”

He kissed your forehead. “Yes,” he whispered. “I really love you.”

Taglist is open

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[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

The Waiting

Prompt: Greed | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: M | CW: Brief Sex Scene | POV: Gareth | Relationship(s): Gareth/OC, Gareth & Eddie | Tags: You Can't Have Your Cake and Eat It Too, Right Person Wrong Time, Missing Your Chance, The Waiting Is The Hardest Part, Second Chances

"She's not answering," Gareth says, holding the room phone up to his ear. 

"Believe it or not, her life doesn't revolve around you, kid," Eddie says, writing in his little notebook, not even looking up. 

Well, yeah, Gareth knows that. He does. But she also knows his tour schedule. She knows that when he gets within 100 miles of Omaha, they always find a way to meet up. It's been this way for two years. 

Nights spent together, holed up in hotels, fucking and laughing and having a good time together. Because while they like each other, they know that trying to make this work while he's on the road is a non-starter.

So, they only get nights. Great nights, a few times a year. Her in his arms, his bed, his heart. When she's there, she's the only one he wants.

It's the most comfortable and predictable thing in his life, besides music. They have an arrangement. Non-exclusive. Don't ask, don't tell. And it's worked. 

But now, she's not answering or returning the message he left on her machine, and that's never happened before. She always calls back. 

When she finally calls back, it's not what he expected.

"She has a boyfriend now," Gareth says, flopping down on the bed. "Can you believe that?" 

"Uh, yeah? She's a fucking doll. Maybe you should've committed when you had the chance."

"You know I'm not doing that until I'm at least forty. She knows that, too. I never lied." 

"I didn't say you lied, but you definitely got greedy, kid. You wanted her to wait while you were off fucking around. Did you seriously think that she'd wait forever, just on the off-chance you'd settle down with her someday? Get real. I'm sure she weighed the odds if you'd ever settle. And if you did turn forty, and magically decide it was time, what were the chances that you would marry forty-year-old her, and not some twenty-eight-year-old groupie?"

Eddie's monologuing at him. Which is nothing new. But it still makes Gareth bristle. 

"That's not. I wouldn't. I wanted her. My endgame plan was always her."

Eddie raises an eyebrow, "Well, maybe her endgame plan wasn't you."

Gareth still calls. Every time they wind through the Midwest. Two years later, he's nearly two hundred miles away in Bonner Springs, and that's further than their agreement covers, but he tries anyway. He'd make it work. But when he makes contact, she finally tells him not to call again. That if she ever wants to, she'll get a hold of him, not the other way around. 

She never does. 

After five years, they play right in Omaha, and he doesn't whip his head around with the arena lights, searching every face his eyes can find. 

But he does wonder if she married the boyfriend. If she has kids that aren't his. 

He wonders that a lot. 

They take a break from touring. He's thirty-one, and alone every morning when the sun comes up. Everybody's beat up and worn down. One year off turns into three. He's not sure they'll ever get back on the road. 

Everybody's settled down. Happy. 

Everybody but him. 

So, he pretends. Gets a girlfriend that's probably too young for him, but she doesn't give a fuck about what he does on the side, because she isn't interested in anything other than his money. 

It's not a terrible deal. He gets to fuck around, and his house isn't empty. 

Two years in, sitting across from Eddie at breakfast, he says, "I could marry her, I guess."

And Eddie drops his fork. Deliberately. Like an asshole. 

"Don't you fucking dare. You don't love her. You barely like her."

He's pretty sure he's not capable of love. Because the only time he thinks he felt it, he didn't do a damn thing about it, instead trading his happiness for his freedom.

His engagement makes the news, but so does the messy break-up, later. 

"At least you're only out a diamond, for fuck's sake," Eddie says, yanking open the blinds. Gareth hates him right now. 

"I miss her," Gareth says. 

Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh, "No, you don't. You're just lonely." 

Gareth rolls over, face in his pillow, mumbling, "Not her. Di."

There's a beat where he thinks Eddie didn't hear him, but he's not that lucky. 

"Jesus H. Christ. That again?" 

Again? Always. 

"You don't want Di. You just want what you can't have." 

That's not true. 

They book a stretch of shows. Gareth isn't sure it can be called a tour, it's so small. And he's pretty sure it's just to get him out of the house. Either way, they're on the road again, and he's back to his old habits. It really is like riding a bike. 

He has Steve order the condoms he likes in bulk, and fucks his way through the cities they hit. He's good at this. He's never gonna settle down. He says he's getting a vasectomy, and Eddie tries to talk him out of it. Eddie's just scared he'll start raw dogging around, after. 

Fair enough. He's overdue for a downward spiral. 

The shows are fine. But they always are. They are well-oiled and in sync, even after years off. 

Then they land in Omaha. 

There will always be a pang of hurt coming here, but it's been over ten years. She's not his, and never really was, because he never let her be. 

The arena is playing music before the show starts, as always, but tonight three out of the last five songs have been Tom Petty. It's an extra twist of the Omaha knife. 

Di loved Tom Petty. 

The Waiting starts up.

That's it. 

"Steve," Gareth snaps, "for fuck's sake. Tell them to knock the Petty off, it's putting me on edge." 

Steve just shrugs, like he has no control over it. As if he couldn't put a stop to anything with one look, hands on his hips. 

So, he's letting this happen. Asshole.

On stage, Gareth's still in a bad mood. But there's a looker in the front row, and maybe he can make that happen tonight. 

After the set, he runs off-stage and right next to Steve, is Di. Older, with different hair, but definitely her.

His heart stops. 

She's here. 

He's thirty-seven. And she's here. 

He holds the door of his dressing room open for her. He figures they're gonna talk. Maybe close this chapter for good. 

But he sits on the couch, legs spread, and she crawls right on his thighs. Then grips his shoulders, and pulls herself forward, flush against his crotch. 

Oh fuck. Goddamn. 

They tear off clothing, desperate, fingers grazing. A condom is found, and then she's sinking down on him. 

He groans, and tilts his head backwards. 

"I wanna know," she says, and he looks at her. Waiting to see what she wants to hear as she's rocking on him. Tom Petty was right. The waiting is the hardest part.

Then she smiles, "Are you still a slut?" 

He laughs. Not Petty, Chili Peppers, then.

And he is. Nods. But, maybe?

Maybe, he doesn't want to be. 

"Not if you'll stay."

"Right answer," she says, teasing, caressing his stick calloused fingers. "You're not forty yet, you know?"

"Forty isn't even old." 

She laughs. 

"I was single for the first time in years, and thought, now? Then I read you were getting married."

"Not anymore," he says. 

"I know. That's why I'm sitting on your cock," she teases, and he laughs. "I didn't know if I even remembered you right. Or if you'd remember me at all. It's been years."

He touches her hair, her face, "I want you. I love you. Not telling you that, not acting on it way back then, haunts me. I lost fucking years with you."

And, yeah, he's not forty. 

But he's ready.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Well, yeah, I might have chased a couple women around, All it ever got me was down, Yeah, then there were those that made me feel good, But never as good as I feel right now, Baby, you're the only one that's ever known how, To make me live like I wanna live now Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, The Waiting

Notes: Title is from The Waiting by Tom Petty (shocker, lol) but this was also heavily influenced by the songs I Should Have Married You by Old Dominion and Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers.

[c-h-i-m-es]

gojo satoru

in honor of my man getting sealed but looking pretty the whole time and chapter 236

"i can't come tonight." you speak into your phone to geto suguru, one of your friends from college. "i heard you the first time. i asked you why." something about his tone tells you that he isn't gonna believe whatever you're gonna say next. "my car.. is in the workshop. i left it there this morning for servicing and i was too tired to go get it in the evening. so i have no vehicle."

you hear him laugh, you hope he believes you by some miracle, "sweetheart that's one of the dumbest excuse i've hear come out of your mouth." you bite your lower lip, thinking of what to say next, but he continues, "but even if that is true, don't worry i can come pick you up."

"suguru even if the car part is not true, i really am tired and don't wanna get ready right now." it is almost seven, not so late for a party, but still late for you, who got home less than hour ago.

"woah what happened to the girl that was always down for drinks?" he chuckles lowly and you do too after hearing him, "i'm not nineteen anymore suguru."

"you know what i'm gonna have shoko drag you there. so i'll see you in a bit." you almost think he's joking, but you know he's not when you hear him speak again, "if you're thinking i'm joking, i'm not baby."

you groan, "jeez you're so damn stubborn. don't bother shoko, i'll surprise her myself there. and come pick me up in an hour." he lets out an amused chuckle, "of course y/n, i'll be there in a bit."

you hang up the call then get up from the couch, putting your phone on charge, you quickly start getting ready.

an hour and twenty minutes later, you are with geto suguru, at his best friend's birthday party. you look at him besides you, "i don't really feel so good about this."

he laughs, finding you actually coming to gojo's party really amusing, "oh baby, i do though. i can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees you."

you grab his arm before he takes another step, "what the fuck? he doesn't know i'm gonna be here?" he looks at you with that fake innocent smile on his face, "didn't i tell you?" you scoff, knitting your brows together at him while he just smiles, not looking away from you, "i don't understand why you're so tempted to ignore him. but you know that he would love to see you again."

"you know damn well i was avoiding him suguru." you sigh and feel him put his arms around you, "you worry too much y/n. come on, if it feels too much, i'll take you back home, yeah?"

you smile at him, nodding your head as he takes your hand, guiding you through the crowd and to the bar, where shoko would always be. "guess who i have with me tonight?"

without looking at him, she replies, "probably one of your girls." ;)

"you wound me, babe." she turns her body back as soon as she hears your voice, face full of shock, "y/n? oh my god how did he bring you?" geto lets out a scoff, "why wouldn't she come with me?" but ignoring him, she comes and gives you a tight hug.

"gosh i missed you so much." she mumbles, not letting you go. you feel nice knowing that you still have your friends who actually care for you. "yeah? i missed you too baby."

geto lets you two have your moment while he orders a drink for himself and you. shoko lets go of you, making you seat in on of the high stools besides geto and sits next to you.

geto puts your drink in front of you, "drink up y/n, you finally are out with us again after forever." you chuckle at his words and thank him. "girl you really need to get out of your house more. everyone misses you." you take a sip of your drink knowing that gojo also comes under her everyone.

she chuckles seeing the look on your face, "you need to stop feeling bad about that one time babe. i shouldn't say this but she wasn't even important to him. and you know it."

"right! that's what's i've been trying to tell her but this dummy doesn't believe me." you let out a sigh, your mind going back to that one random night.

before you reply, shoko nudges you, "he's coming here babe." you snap your head at her direction, hoping she'll get you away but she doesn't and just chuckles at you.

"when did you people get here?" you hear his voice and pray he goes away without paying any attention to you. "just got here, but hey i got you a present. look who i have with me." geto speaks and the next thing you know, he has his arms around your shoulders, making you turn back and face him.

"uh- hi?" you say when you finally face him, him looking at you as if he doesn't believe that you're actually in front of you, which he actually doesn't. he has a shocked look on his face for a few seconds, you hear geto and shoko chuckle and gojo's face bursts into a huge grin.

"woah y/n! i didn't think you'd be here!" he pushes geto from your side and wraps his arms around you. geto and shoko look at you two in front them and then at each other, chuckling and looking away, leaving you two be. "i knew they'd be like this." geto says to his friend as they get into their own talks.

it takes you awhile but you do wrap your arms around him as you take his scent in. oh how much you missed it. he rubs his palms on your back, "i missed you."

"..me too." you pull a little away from him, just enough to look up at him, who looks down at you after feeling you move and smiles at you, "you look as beautiful as the last time i saw you."

you chuckle at his words, "oh yeah? well you look as dashing as always as well, satoru." his heart flutters hearing his own name come out of your lips after years.

he finally lets you go and you both take a seat besides each other. he orders a drink for both of you then turns his body fully at you, eyes lighting up after seeing what you're wearing.

"would you look at that, we're matching." you look down at your own outfit, you are wearing a little above knee length bodycon dress which had black base but had some navy blue details, which weren't visible until light shined on them. (i hope you get it) and then look at him, wearing a navy blue shirt, top few buttons undone with some black bottoms. (yk like that one popular fanart, if you search for his fan art you can find it easily)

"you know, maybe we're just destined to be." you laugh at his words, "this is just called coincident." you look at him, his usual grin on his face.

"i believe whatever i wanna believe, baby." he winks at you with a smirk while you just roll your eyes at him. "anyways.. what came over you to stop ignoring me today?"

you chuckle and look at him, his face has that smirk on his face but you know he is talking serious now. "your bestie forced me actually." you take a sip of your drink, "he also said you'd love to see me, which i guess is true." you tilt your head at him with a smile on your face.

"oh yeah? guess i better listen to him from now then." you two just look at each other, your eyes speaking more words than your lips.

"wanna get out of here?" you smirk at his words, "i don't think people would like the birthday boy leaving the party." he chuckles, getting up from his seat, "honestly, i don't really care about what they like." he takes a step to you, bending to your level, "tell me what would you like."

you let out an amused chuckle, "how about you break up with your girl first this time?" he smirks, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your lips, "oh baby i haven't dated anyone from the day you ghosted me."

"really?" you feel some kind of pride or whatever warm feeling you're having when you hear his words. because you know those aren't some idle words, he really hasn't dated anyone these past years. shoko and suguru have been keeping you updates in his life.

"so tell me y/n, wanna get out of here?" he is looking at you, has not looked away since the moment he asked you how you ended up here tonight.

you grin at him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. you feel him smile onto the kiss, moving your lips together. oh how much you missed this.

even after all the years and among everyone you kissed, he'd still be the best kisser.

you pull back with a smile on your lips, "let's go." he holds your hands in his own, looking behind you, "have fun you two, we're going."

"see i told you this would happen." shoko slaps suguru on his arm, them both look at the two of you with a knowing smirk on their faces. "yeah, have fun." satoru chuckles while shoko winks at you, "tell me everything tomorrow."

"will do." you wave at them both and walk out the club, he guides you to his car, opening the door for you, "look at you being a gentleman." you get in and he get on the other side himself, "where do you wanna go?"

you narrow your eyes at him, "didn't you drink?" he laughs at you, taking you hand in his, playing with your fingers, "my place is five minutes away." you laugh at him, "whatever as long as we don't have to spend the night at police station."

he starts the engine, driving to his place which was actually more than five minutes away, making you anxious the whole ride that he might crash it (you are overreacting) or that you might get pulled over (don't drink and drive babes) but he finally reaches his apartment complex. parking his car in his spot, he turns off the car and you both get out, him coming over to your side to hold your hand.

he pulls you in for another kiss before you walk to the elevator, making out the entire time while you wait for the elevator. once you get in though, you try to keep him off of you in case someone gets in. but he just pulls you to him, placing kisses all along your collarbone, neck and jaw.

once it reaches to his floor, he rushes out to his door, unlocking it in a rush. as soon as the door opens, he pulls you in, pinning you to the door, kissing you desperately as he locks the door.

his free hand roams all over your body, keeping you pasted on him while the other is rested on your jaw holding your face close to him. you clenched your fists around the cloth of his shirt in his back. your mind getting blank as well as overfilled with all the emotions and feels.

"fuck i missed you so much baby." he whispers as he pulls away from you. you look at him, feeling shy about all that is happening. seeing the look on your face, he chuckles, holding your chin with his thumb and pointer finger as he making you look at him, "don't get shy on me now, baby."

you scoff, rolling your eyes, "i forgot how annoying you are." he  lets out a amused chuckle, bring your lips on his, kiss them roughly before pulling back again, "that is because you chose to ignore me." 

you raise your brow at him, "oh? and why do you think i ignored your lying ass?" he takes a step back, but his playful smirk still on his lips, "what lie did i even tell for you to disappear on me for years?"

you gasp, dramatically putting your palm over your chest, "your girl messaged me saying i ruined your relationship, you dumb face." his smirk wavers for a split second, which you don't miss, and you continue before he could open his mouth, "you disloyal piece of shit, i had to be the type of girl who'd use 'i didn't know he had a girlfriend' excuse you know. that is so not me. and that's all your fault."

he takes all your words in and only speaks after staying quiet for a few seconds, "what? you talked with her?"

"duh. i don't know how she knew that fooled around but she messaged me the next day." he comes close to you, cupping your face to make you look at him, "aw baby, but i broke up with her the first thing after dropping you home the next day."

you groan, feeling irritated with having to explain everything to him, you rest your head on his chest, he quickly holds you on either sides of your waist, "satoru.. why don't you get it that she thought you broke up with her because she thought you like me." which he did though. "and i don't know how she found out we slept together, but she messaged me calling me a homewrecker." you let out a chuckle at the end, thinking how silly this everything seems.

 i mean you slept with gojo, you actually didn't know he had a girlfriend and he never said so himself, so it's not really your fault? and the next day, you get a text from this random girl saying you're the reason her boyfriend broke up with her and that you're a homewrecker. then feeling guilty and angry at the man, you avoid him for years. yet here you are again, at his place, knowing where this would head.

he strokes your back until you look up at him, "i don't know why she blamed it all on me and not you." he chuckles, pressing a quick kiss on your lips, "i'm sorry baby, i didn't know that. i'm sorry you were put in that position."

"uh huh, you better be." you say that but wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into yet another kiss. slow and soft this time, moving your lips together like they were meant to be together.

he pulls back a little and sighs, "you ruined the vibe we had going on, pretty." he chuckles looking at your frowned look on your face, pulling you in for yet another kiss.

a little gasp comes out of you, pulling back, you cup his face, "it almost slipped my mind, happy birthday satoru." you pull him down and place a kiss on the tip of his nose, "thank you y/n." his face in a genuine smile the whole time, "now my present?" you roll your eyes but let him continue kissing and sucking on your skin along your jaw and down your neck and collarbone after your lips.

you're gonna be the best present he's ever got.

[the-ace-with-spades]

little snippet from a buddie outsider pov future fic that i probably won't ever finish because its part 3 of a series, or aka the Bobby-fication of Buck

"I was told to report to Captain Diaz?"

The man, with Diaz clearly written on his name tag, stares. It's not the most friendly of stares but it's not that kind of a stare and Kori had his fair share of them as a brown boy who consistently used public transport and worked night shifts. He'd expected to have a welcome that wasn't the warmest but he at least wanted some kind of verbal acknowledgment. 

Well, this is awkward, he thinks, why is he not saying anything?

Kori woke up bright and early today, excited and anxious for his first day, over an hour before his alarm started blasting, and then made sure he had his bag packed with all the essentials he would need on a twenty-four shift. Four different sets of clothes, five meals in Tupperware, protein bars, a book, headphones, towel, shampoo and shower gel, the basic firefighting manual from the academy and his paramedic textbooks. He prepared to be too prepared rather than embarrass himself by asking to borrow shampoo on his first day.

He arrived at the firehouse via Uber because public transport in LA couldn't be reliable and he also couldn't afford a car and then he had stood panicked on the side of the truck bay for about fifteen minutes before checking his email again for the right names — Captain Diaz, 118 Ladder Company — all along to the schedule in his head.

And now the guy, he's just—standing there. Staring at Kori like he's debating whether he should eat him alive or roast in the oven beforehand.

The thing is, Kori knows he’s disappointing for a firefighter. He’s barely five foot seven, five foot six without the boots, really, and he’s lean and slim, in a way that would make some people doubt whether he can carry a person out of a burning building — he can — and he’s, well, he’s average.

But the One-Eighteen is stuck with him for the year, he might be average and disappointing, it just doesn’t matter. Because they are stuck with him.

He still hasn’t seen Firefighter Buckley.

"Are you Captain Diaz?"

He looks a bit young, for a captain, but he is pretty sure there have been younger ones in the history of LAFD. And Diaz is a common surname, in California, or common enough that it wouldn’t be impossible to have two people with it in the firehouse even if still a bit improbable.

"Oh," he says, looking down at the nametag on his chest, finally noticing where Kori's been glancing at the whole time. "Sorry, kid, that would be my husband. I'm Lieutenant Paramedic Diaz."

Kori, he must admit to himself, blinks at him like he had just spoken in Mandarin and not English. Because there are two Diazes in the firehouse. And both of them are his officers. And they’re married.

The—The lieutenant crosses his arms over his chest, puffing up like a peacock, and narrows his eyes. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir,” he says, immediately. “I didn’t know they allowed married couples to work together, that’s all.”

The lieutenant still looks at him like he's trying to assess the deepest secrets of his soul and raises one eyebrow at him like he expects a fight but his shoulders fall slightly. He's, uhm, very handsome, even this angry, in that foxy dad kind of way that Kori's never been interested in but knew it was a thing.

"My husband and I worked together for seven years before we married, I think we've proved we can stay professional," he says and it sounds a bit like a threat. "He's in the office downstairs. You should report to him before you're late to your first shift."

He smiles but Kori has a feeling it's a mean smile.

Kori does go back downstairs, passes the rest of the loft and walks past the kitchen where he sees three other firefighters, quietly eating breakfast. The conversation stops and they all collectively look up at him. He probably should say something or wave or anything so it's not awkward but no, he just speed-walks into the narrow corridor that — he hopes — leads to the offices.

He passes two doors before he finds the right one. There is a brand new plate hanging on the side of it, shiny and not dusty at all, with Capt. Diaz and Lt. Diaz written on it and the door is wide open — someone is in the closet in the back, from what it seems, going over documents or something that makes a similar rustling sound. Kori moves into the doorframe, going for a knock, when he realizes.

There's no door. Nothing, just an empty door frame with taped down hinges. There's no way for him to knock.

He clears his throat as loudly as he can.

There are two desks inside, one with a brand new plate of Capt. Diaz and one with slightly less shiny Lt Diaz on it. It looks like any other office, slightly bare on the shelves but also full of diplomas and official pictures of past officers hanging on the walls. There's also a framed drawing made by an elementary school kid, or Kori guessed it was an elementary school kid, of a firefighter in bunker gear, dead center on the wall behind the captain's desk, and a couple of photos of what he assumes is the station's crew, all in their dress uniforms — he can't see it very well.

The captain's desk is full, with another frame standing on the edge, three pencil holders filled to the brim, multiple kinds of colorful stationery, and stacks of documents and folders cluttering the countertop. There's even a freaking fidget spinner on it — he hasn't seen one since freshman year in high school. It's a mess but Kori knows that even being a probationary firefighter would mean way too much paperwork for a job that was technically blue collar. The new captain wasn't just a new captain, he was also newly-qualified to be a captain so Kori suspects he probably is barely keeping up with the forms and documents as of right now — it's a learning curve.

The lieutenant's desk also holds a couple of frames but there's only a small pencil case and a neatly arranged stack of folders lying in an even more neatly arranged corner.

And wow. That's Firefighter Buckley, even more awe-inspiring than he was eleven years ago

He looks at Kori with a half-smile stuck on his face but with a frown on his forehead. There are wrinkles around his eyes, forming like laughter lines. He tilts his head and Kori thinks—Kori thinks this is it, he remembers me, he—

"Khorshed Patwari, was it?" he asks and his grin looks the same, almost — there’s more wrinkles, around his eyes and on his forehead, and his face seems a bit softer, but it’s like a memory refresher. "Am I pronouncing it right?"

It's stupid — Firefighter Buckley saved probably hundreds if not thousands of people, he's been a firefighter for at least twelve years, probably, and Kori is just one of those faces he had seen for a minute or two. Easily forgotten. Average. It's understandable that he doesn't remember him, he would probably be more surprised if he did remember him.

"Everyone calls me Kori," he says, after clearing his throat. He knows he’s gaping like a fish, a bit, but he can’t help it — Firefighter Buckly looks almost unchanged and he can’t believe he’s here.

"With the h?"

He blinks. "Sorry?"

"Do you keep the h in Kori?" he clarified, huffing a small chuckle out.  "I want to know how to spell it correctly in the future."

"Just Kori, uhm, K-O-R-I, is okay," he explains, still star-struck.

"Uhm," he says eloquently. "I'm looking for Captain Diaz? I was supposed to report to him?"

"That would be me," Firefighter Buckley says and—Oh. He’s a captain and he’s—he’s married to a man that’s the station's lieutenant. He's not really Firefighter Buckley anymore, is he? "Although most people just call me Buck, or Cap, if you really must."