#i can't breathe i hope i die that'd be really beat

[cowardlycowboys]

I'm gonna fucking throw up

[pullhisteeth]

hi! i don’t know if you take requests or are taking requests, but i was wondering if you could write a little something about reader telling eddie she loves him for the first time or vice versa. i always feel like eddie would cry upon hearing that someone loved him back but idk. alsoooo maybe a little smut if you’re feeling up for it 👀

(if you’re not taking requests then please disregard this lol i just love your writing 💕)

xxx

thank you for the request my love! I adored writing this - I got very very carried away (it's over 3k words lol). I hope it's what you were after. and thank you so much for being so kind! you're the best <3

contains smut so 18+! minors dni.

-

Lover's Lake is quiet at this time of night. It's the best place to see the stars over Hawkins, and Eddie knows this. He also knows you'd die for the night sky; you've spent enough night-time drives with your head stuck out the passenger seat window to get a better view. He's considered sawing a hole out of the roof of the van just so you can lie in the back and stare up at the sky while he drives.

That'd be stupid, of course, but you have a habit of sending Eddie stupid.

It's so quiet out here that you should be completely at peace. Instead, all you can hear is the blood rushing past your ears; you feel the throb of your heart in your fingertips and the warmth of Eddie behind you is like a bonfire on your back.

"You okay?"

His mouth is right by your ear, and his breath brushes your hair and inflames the skin beneath your jaw. Your back is to his chest, his arms around your waist, the two of you perched in the doorway at the back of his van with your legs dangling over the bumper.

You hum in response, confident he'll hear you since his chin's resting on your shoulder.

"Are you?" you whisper.

"Never been better," he whispers back, punctuating with a kiss to the space under your ear. You feel his sly smile when you shiver.

It's early September. Hawkins is warm, summer ebbing away slower than usual, and you're coming out the other side of a summer that makes your head spin if you think about it too hard.

"Hey," Eddie murmurs, shifting behind you. His arms relent their grip on you, so you turn. Even in the depths of this summer night, skin flushed by the lingering heat and Eddie's affection, you don't dare look him in the eye.

"What?" you ask, eyes dancing around the floor beneath him.

"Look at me," he says, voice firm. You do, ignoring the wild hammering inside your chest, against all your better judgement because it's Eddie, and you'd do anything for him.

"Are you okay? Really?" he asks, and the crack in his voice sends you reeling. With eyes all sad and brows turned down, he looks at you, imploring.

You move quick, legs swung up into the van so you can move over to him on your knees. He's moved himself away from you and you're not sure why, but you are sure that you despise the space between you.

Settled on your knees about two feet away from him, you say, "So okay. Why?"

"Your heart's beating like a fuckin' timebomb, sugar."

"Oh," you breathe. He's trapped you, and there's only one way out of this. 

You reach your arms out to bridge the gap, making stupid grabby hands that he can't help but laugh at. He takes them and pulls you in, helping you lift your knees over his legs, arms returning to their rightful place around your middle. On his shoulder you rest your cheek, mouth close to his neck but not touching it, and you wind your arms around his back.

"I love you," you murmur, scared that if you say it too loud something cataclysmic could happen. Hawkins can't take another chasm.

You feel him relax under your hands. It's as though the muscles are sighing, settling back into their usual spaces. You realise he'd been tense beneath you and you breathe out as you feel him go limp.

But he doesn't say anything. You push yourself off of him to look at him but he turns his head to the side so you can't see him.

As if that's gonna work, you think, bringing your fingers up to trace the side of his jaw you can't see. In fact, his whole face is obscured by his hair. You frown, concerned.

"Eddie, baby," you coo, voice low and soft. "You gotta look at me."

On your wrist you feel the long, slow breath out of his nose. Though you can't see him you know what he's doing - when the nightmares got particularly bad in June you'd taught him this technique, a way to slow his heart and stop his mind racing. Close your eyes, breathe in, breathe out.

It turns your stomach to think he feels like that now.

Your fingers on his face don't apply any force. You're willing him to turn to you on his own, hoping desperately that this isn't the end, that you didn't just ruin this.

You hear the blood more than ever now. It reminds you of the way you feel after sex with Eddie, after he's taken care of you so many times in a handful of hours that it barely feels like your skeleton is holding itself together. You never imagined you'd be the kind of person to have a summer fling, always thought that was something that happened in the movies, to people like Danny and Sandy, but in May you'd found yourself in Eddie Munson's bed and by July you'd fallen deep, deep into the abyss you've come to know is love.

The more the seconds pass, you two sat in stillness in the back of his van like this, the more you convince yourself that for him, this was just that. A fling.

Finally, you feel him stir and his breath falter. And then he turns slowly, a hand rubbing down his face, and as he does you brush the hair out of his face. Your own breath hitches when you see his eyes.

His gaze is fixed downwards, but you can still see that he's all red and wet. There are smudged tears around his lashes. It takes everything in you not to kiss them away.

"Eddie?"

You reach your hand to mirror the other, holding his head in two palms. He brings his own around your wrists where he holds them, gentle but firm, thumb swirling circles into the skin.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and you watch as his eyes rise to meet yours. You damn near kill him when they do, your face all soft and sad. He wants to fix it.

"No, shit, babe, you don't have to be sorry." His voice is as wet as his face, thick like treacle, words like cotton wool.

"But-"

"I love you," he says. His voice is louder than before, cutting you off mid-plea, though it's still full of affection. "But it scares me."

"Why?" You tilt your head like a sad puppy and Eddie all but combusts on the spot.

He does it again - closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out - and then says, words wavering but intentional: "No one has ever told me they love me before."

You can't help the sharp breath you take in at his words. It seems to take your brain a moment to catch up, and it's Eddie's nervous chuckle that draws you back.

"You're serious?" you say, completely unable to compute what he's said.

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, Eds," you breathe, a whine, hovering your lips close to his face. You kiss his cheek three times, then his nose and the space between his eyebrows. His eyes flutter shut under your touch, your palms still either side of his face and his own hands still clutching your wrists. "I love you," you tell him again with a kiss to his brow. "I love you," with a kiss to his temple. "I love you," with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He laughs, and asks, "what are you doing?"

"Making up for it."

His fingers clench tighter around your arms and you pretend that you don't feel the jolt to your centre at the pressure.

"What?"

"Making up for the 23 years you've not had people telling you they love you." Kiss. "'Cos they do, y'know." Kiss. "Just have a weird way of saying it." Kiss. "So I'm telling you: I love you."

He manages to catch your lips with his own and kisses you back, deep and moved by warm, syrupy love.

"I love you, too," he says again, mouth on yours. He moves down your jaw, peppering kisses along it and down the column of your throat. His fingers on your wrist were already sending you dizzy in your post-anxious haze, but now you know where this is going. You know that he knows what this does to you, and when he makes for your collarbones you're sure you're a goner. 

The lock of his fingers releases and he traces them down your forearm until they settle on your waist, skirting the hem of your top. The sensation of them on your skin there, on the hollow of your sides, sends jolts down your spine and between your thighs, where you squirm in an attempt to relieve at least some of the tension.

To distract yourself, you raise your arms, a signal that he should lift your shirt. He pulls the fabric up and over your head, laughing softly with you when it gets caught in your hair.

Eddie has seen you naked more times than you can count since May. The first time, he was a nervous wreck, mind half on not tearing open his two-month-old wounds and half on making sure you had the best time. And you did, and he only got better each time after that.

Here, underneath you, he sits staring at your bare chest like he's a starved man. It's kind of feral, which should perhaps worry you, but he's so loving that it only winds you up more.

His lips are on you before you can think to feel too softly about all of this.

"Eddie," you pant. He groans into the stretched skin of your sternum, where he's kissing down, down, down, as low as his dipped head will allow. With his hands now on your back, one up between your shoulder blades and another lower down, he leans you backwards so he can keep going. You crane your neck back and think, briefly, about how pornographic this must look. The thought drives you completely wild. 

He lowers you slowly to the ground. Sitting back up, he reaches to pull his own shirt over his head, before climbing awkwardly over you to pull the doors shut. There's no one out here, there never is, but he knows you'd spend the whole thing anxious about being caught. All he wants is for you to be comfortable.

You sit up to pull your sneakers and shorts off, so that when he's back you're lying down again in just your pants and white tennis socks. He lowers himself, knees either side of your thighs, hands on the flesh there, kneading it like dough, and bends over you. He kisses across your collarbones, back up your jaw, retracing his steps. When he kisses the corner of your mouth, he says, "I love you."

You say it back, pushing the words back into his mouth, kissing him softly.

Sex with Eddie is always tender, sure, but it's also almost always quick, rough and time-efficient. Not in an unsexy way; it's how you've both liked it for the last few months, stealing moments when you can between pool parties and movie nights and shifts at work.

You'd known tonight was different when Eddie had asked you up here. You're not not exclusive, though the question's never been explicitly asked - if anyone was to pry, you'd always refer to him as your boyfriend - but this feels like a real date.

And so this sex is different, too. Softer, warmer, slower. You help him pull his jeans down, all the way off, and then you hook your fingers over the waistband of his underwear. But he comes to grip your wrist again, stopping you, and he huffs a laugh when you whine.

"Not yet," he breathes, lifting himself up.

"But Eddie-"

"Stop being impatient," he teases. His fingers are still locked around your wrist. "We have all the time in the world."

You melt. Is this what you think it is?

"Really?"

"Really."

He kisses you again, and you keen into his mouth. You feel his touch against your hip bone, and his fingers curl around your underwear. Tugging them down, his other hand runs down your thigh and under your knee, helping himself undress you completely.

"You," he breathes, "are so fuckin' beautiful."

You giggle, biting your lip to suppress a grin. You turn your head to one side, cheek brushing the old blanket that covers the floor, and he seizes the opportunity to kiss under your ear and down your neck.

"Look at me," he says again. When you don't, instead craning your neck to wind him up, he digs his fingers into your sides and you squirm beneath him, laughing.

Your eyes meet his and as they do, you feel his fingers on the skin right above where you want him most. He plots a dance across your hips and down between your thighs, teasing and cruel, but his eyes are so gorgeous and dark and all lovesick and it's so hard to be mad at him.

Finally, they find your clit, find purchase on the skin despite how wet you've become. He hums a smug, proud noise when you arch your back at his touch.

You feel euphoric at these light swipes alone; God knows what you'll be like when he's inside you.

As you think this, the thought consumes you. It swallows you whole, filling every space with thoughts of Eddie.

"Need you," you whimper.

"Oh yeah?"

You groan at his cockiness, at his teasing and the fact his fingers still aren't inside you.

You try to say, "please," but the word comes out strangled. You're desperate, aching, caving in from the inside out.

"You're asking so nicely," he croons, tone mocking. And then he moves, leans down over you so your bare chest presses to his, and he says in your ear with a new breathlessness, "you're so good."

The praise is like gasoline on this incredibly torturous fire. You can't bear it, your hands are everywhere, all over his back and down to his underwear which you want rid of immediately.

"Please, Eds," you say again, and you smile when you hear him groan at the petname. You are the only person who calls him that, and you reserve it for when you want something from him.

"I'm trying to be romantic," he says with a breathy laugh.

"I don't care," you bark out without thinking.

"Fine," he says back, resolute. "You wanna be like that? You'll get what you ask for."

The switch in his tone is like a firecracker. You're all wriggly and about as impatient as a person can get by now, enthralled by the prospect that he might finally get inside you.

He sits up on his heels and manages to get his underwear off. You sit up on your elbows to look at him properly, wonderstruck.

"You're so pretty," you breathe out.

He laughs at you, and says, "y'really know how to get a guy goin', huh?"

You just reach one arm up, shifting your weight onto one elbow, and make those same grabby hands at him that you had earlier, before you'd bared all to him and told him you love him.

"Alright, alright," he says, leaning back over you. Your impatient fingers coil around his cock, at which he hisses out air through his teeth. You flick your thumb over the tip and pull your hand up and down a few times, before he covers it with his own hand and pries it away gently. He locks his fingers with yours and you think you really might melt from how happy you are.

"You ready?"

"So ready," you plead.

But he doesn't move, even when you scratch his back lightly with your other hand. Instead, he looks down at you with a strange expression.

"What?" you ask.

"I love you," he tells you again. It makes you flush; you feel a warmth spread up your scalp and across your cheeks, and you can't help the way you smile back at him.

Finally, he adjusts himself at your entrance, and slowly pushes in. Even now, after months of this, you need time to get used to him and he knows it, relishes in it. Arching your back you dig your nails even deeper into the flesh of his back, grip his hand even harder, and moan a sound that makes him answer your call with his own.

That's all you can hear: your own breathy moans, Eddie's groans, and skin on skin. It's otherworldly; you'd be happy here forever.

In and out, he thrusts slow and firm. He's being gentle; you can tell that even though he'd feigned a roughness that usually excites you, he'd been intent on tonight being like this since the beginning.

It's unlike any of the sex you've ever had with him before, and you could see yourself getting used to it.

"Eddie, oh my god-"

"I know, I know," he pants. He's squinting, eyes tight shut, so you reach up to hold one side of his face. He opens them and looks at you as he slows his thrusts, and comes down to kiss you. As he picks up the pace again, it becomes a mess of lips and teeth.

"Eddie, I- I-"

"I've got you, sugar."

In answer to your unspoken request, he relinquishes your hand and moves his fingers between your bodies to your clit, drawing quick circles that make your eyes roll back into your skull. You're close, so close; there's a fire within that is spreading, your walls are clenching tighter, your vision's burning brighter.

You know he's there, too, close to the edge you're both about to fall off. Just a few more thrusts, a few more deft movements of his fingers on your clit and you burst, a supernova, bright and hot.

You scream his name as you come undone, limbs limp and mind blank. He pants above you, concentrating, murmuring sweet nothings that make no sense but send you dizzy anyway. 

"Good girl," he says through swift breaths. "So, so good."

He's riding you through your orgasm, bringing you to the very edge of sensitivity, until he goes, too. You feel him go rigid and with a groan he comes, warm and familiar inside you.

As he rests on you for a moment, still inside you, you brush his hair out of his face and kiss him gently on his cheek.

"I love you," you tell him again, for the thousandth time that evening.

"I love you, too," he repeats.

-

[acescorazon]

I LOVE YOUR FIC CHANGES!!!!! I HOPE YOU UPDATE SOON!!!!!

THANK U BBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. ILY MUAH. I was updating like every day but then i got my period... i mean i fell into a pit of darkness and didn't have the energy to climb out. How bizarre. ANYWAYS, HERE'S YOUR FOOD.

Title: Changes Ch: 5/?

Rating: M (I'm just putting that as the rating in general for every ch lol)

Word count:2291

Warnings: Depressed clown :(

Chapter excerpt:

"Mihawk keeps asking about you," Mohji announces all of a sudden, "He keeps asking if you're okay and if your illness is something serious." Hawkeye keeps asking about him… Why? To know if he's died yet? What a joke! That man doesn't care about Buggy, why is he even wasting his breath asking about him? "I just keep telling him that you have the flu, and he's always like, 'Ah…is that so? Tell him I hope he feels better.' Isn't that…ridiculous?!" Yeah, that is rather ridiculous.  Buggy has a hard time believing that Mihawk is genuinely concerned about him, but at the same time, he can't imagine why he'd just pretend to care either. It's weird.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|

The next several days are on an endless loop for Buggy. He stays in bed all day, unwilling to come face to face with Mihawk after his little drunken rant from days prior, afraid of what Mihawk will say to him now that he's completely sober. So, he stays in bed, either sleeping or lost in thought. He should be preparing men, supplies, and their new flagship for departure, but he can't bring himself to do it. At the very least he should be making sure everything on Emptee Bluffs Island is going smoothly, and yet… he doesn't care about that either. 

Being in Cross Guild is so…exhausting.

Crocodile has called for meetings every single day, and every day, Buggy has one of his men lie and say he's sick. He's missed about 10 meetings now, he thinks. He can't remember, everything is starting to blend in together. All he knows is that sooner or later Crocodile is going to get pissed and come looking for him, and then what? Beat him up? Threaten him? Actually, kill him this time? 

Man, who cares?

Cabaji, Mohji, and Richie, often come by and sit with him, usually overly worried about Buggy's well-being and not believing him when he says he's just sick or tired, but of course, Buggy always tells them that he's fine. 

Today, they're with him again, sitting by his bed and trying to get him to eat some of the sea king the other members of the crew somehow caught and killed today. "Captain…" Mohji sighs, "Come on, at least take a couple of bites." He asks, but he sounds more like he's begging than asking. "You've hardly eaten anything these last few days." While that is very true, it's because Buggy doesn't have much of an appetite these days, nothing tastes right or really interests him, and god knows he doesn't have the energy to make his own food…just… he just wants to sleep.

Buggy sits in his bed, slightly peeved that Cabaji and Mohji insist he sit up in general, and looks down at the sea king on his plate. He's not normally a picky eater, you can't be picky when you've spent most of your life at sea, but… this thing reminds him eerily of a poison dart frog with its vibrant color and spots, yet at the same time, it's got fins and a body like a snake... He doubts his men would actually cook up something poisonous, they aren't that naive…but still, Buggy has no interest in this fish..frog…snake thing. 

But if he did die from ingesting it…that'd just be his luck, wouldn't it? Death seems… inescapable at this point, and he often wonders just what or who will end up taking his life first. "I'm not hungry," Buggy repeats, but Mohji and Cabaji seem determined today.

 

"Just take a couple of bites, please, Captain?" Mohji practically begs, "Just a couple, it's actually really good!" Doubt it, Buggy thinks. 

Cabaji follows suit, "Yeah, just take a couple of bites and if you don't like it, you don't have to eat the whole thing! We'll just feed the rest to Richie, right, Mohji?" 

"Right!" 

Buggy really doesn't want to eat anything, but he hates to make the other two worry, so he ends up taking a couple of bites of his lunch, and yeah, it isn't bad…it's one of the better-tasting sea kings that he's had, this one actually tastes like chicken despite its weird appearance, but Buggy still only eats a couple of bites, just enough to get the other two off his back and then hands Mohji his plate to give to Richie. 

He wants to lie back down, but the others won't let him. "Um, Captain?" Cabaji calls out, seemingly a little nervous, "Uh, how about I run you a warm bath and…uh, How about I help you wash and brush your hair today?" Cabaji suggests with a small grin. Oh, yeah, basic needs are a thing. Man, Buggy really doesn't care about any of that stuff anymore, he's going to die anyways, so what's the point? He'll just ask one of his men to make him look nice for his funeral. 

"Okay?" Cabaji asks, still smiling.

Buggy understands what this really is about. This is a very polite and roundabout way of telling him he needs to bathe, but none of his men would ever outright tell him he stinks so they have to use words like, 'Oh, how about I run you a bath and help you wash your hair today?' Or, 'Wow, you look like you need to relax…how about a nice bath?' 

Whatever. 

Buggy lets Cabaji run him a bath, and he sits and waits in bed while he prepares everything for him. He watches Richie eat his leftover sea king, and can't help but think how nice it'd be to be a lion, well, actually a cat. If reincarnation exists, he thinks he'd like to live a carefree life as a cat, a spoiled one too. Being a pirate isn't something he thinks he'd want to do again unless he could live a life with his old crew again, this time a happy one that isn't cut short, maybe then he'd be a pirate again... Or he could be a star in the sky, that'd be nice. 

"Mihawk keeps asking about you," Mohji announces all of a sudden, "He keeps asking if you're okay and if your illness is something serious." Hawkeye keeps asking about him… Why? To know if he's died yet? What a joke! That man doesn't care about Buggy, why is he even wasting his breath asking about him? "I just keep telling him that you have the flu, and he's always like, 'Ah…is that so? Tell him I hope he feels better.' Isn't that…ridiculous?!" Yeah, that is rather ridiculous.  Buggy has a hard time believing that Mihawk is genuinely concerned about him, but at the same time, he can't imagine why he'd just pretend to care either. It's weird.

"Crocodile has asked about you too, but only once, and when I told him you had the flu, he rolled his eyes at me and went: 'Of course that dumb clown is sick.' And then walked away! I tell ya, I don't know what the others see in those two!" Mohji frowns, "They're so mean to you! I… I think if we all banned together then we could…you know…." He whispers the next part of his sentence, "Show them who's boss."

Honestly if Buggy thought he and or his crew had a chance against Mihawk and Crocodile, then he would have had both of them taken out a long time ago, but he knows even with an army of men, he couldn't take out one of his business partners, let alone both. It's a fun thought though, "Let's not waste our time," Buggy replies, exhaling a long, shaky sigh, "Besides, it's like I told you before, I can handle those two! Do you really think I'd let them beat and bully me?!" 

Mohji just stares at him from his seat, obviously not convinced but he doesn't push the subject any further, and thank God for that.

Cabaji reappears a few moments after that, telling Buggy his bathwater is ready, and in all honesty, Buggy rather not do this, but he doesn't feel like hearing the other two complain either. He follows Cabaji into the bathroom and tells him he can at least bathe himself, and somewhere at the back of Buggy's mind he feels like he should feel more ashamed by the situation, but he doesn't. His former captain always told him that good friends don't judge you when you're at your lowest times and that they instead help you when no one else will, and so maybe that's why he has no guilt about letting Cabaji wash his hair. He'd do the same for him and then some. He and Mohji are more than just subordinates, they're friends, no, they're family, and honestly Buggy doesn't deserve either one of them. 

As he washes Buggy's hair, Cabaji also tells Buggy that Mihawk keeps asking about him. Again, Buggy finds the idea of Mihawk asking all of Buggy’s crew about his well-being almost comical. Did the world’s strongest swordsman grow a heart? Ha, as if. Or maybe Buggy’s earlier suspicions are correct, maybe Mihawk’s waiting, hoping that Buggy’s ‘flu’ will take him out and that he won’t have to deal with him anymore, which honestly seems like a more realistic explanation for everything. 

A hot bath and a nice relaxing hair wash later, and Buggy’s sitting on the small couch in his room, getting his hair brushed by Cabaji as he listens to both Mohji and Cabaji ramble on about this and that, and occasionally bicker over trivial things. It feels like his men are the only consistency in his life, but he wonders if there will be a day when even that changes. Maybe he’ll end up with so many men that their crew will seem more like an army than a family, then again maybe he won’t live to see the day when that’s actually a problem. And if that doesn’t happen, then maybe Mihawk will eventually end up replacing Buggy’s crew with a new, more efficient one that he hardly knows let alone can consider his family…who knows?

Now, as stated before, Buggy’s usual visitors consist of Mohji, Cabaji and Richie, but today Buggy finds himself getting an additional guest in his room. Sometime around late afternoon Alvida joins Buggy’s already boisterous company, and as soon as she realizes Buggy’s perfectly fine, she sighs at him,”I knew you weren’t sick.” she mutters as she has a seat on the couch next to him after Cabaji and Mohji fight over who’s spot she can take, “But oh well, you won’t believe what I just saw.” She says, grinning. 

Hopefully, she saw Crocodile and Mihawk board a ship and sail as far away from the island as possible, never to return again, but that’s just not realistic, is it? “What did you see?” Buggy asks though he’s not particularly curious about her gossip today.

“Mihawk and Crocodile were fighting.”

“Crocodile and Mihawk bicker every once in a while, so what?” 

“No, they were actually physically fighting earlier.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know but they were both heated,” Alvida claims, “I think they reached a draw, but they were fighting for a long time, half the island saw it.”

Despite claiming that he doesn’t care about either of the two, Buggy’s slightly curious about Mihawk and Crocodile’s altercation. Sure they’ve butt heads a couple of times in the past because Crocodile is so damn overbearing and of course, Mihawk doesn’t take being bossed around lightly, but they never get physical with things, it’s usually just threats of possible fights that don’t go anywhere. Maybe that was it, maybe Crocodile just got too controlling again, and Mihawk got tired of it. He did say he was tired of Crocodile’s shit the other day… Yeah, that’s got to be it…Because what else could it be???

…

A couple of more days go by after that, and Buggy’s still stuck in that same loop: Sleep. Overthink. Sleep. Overthink. Sleep. Overthink. Of course, there are brief things that break the cycle like Mohji and Cabaji checking on him and feeding him and making sure he’s being taken care of, but other than that, it’s just sleep, overthink, repeat. He just doesn’t see the point in getting out of bed every day when Mihawk and Crocodile are just going to make his life a living hell, or worse, end his miserable existence. 

Despite all his stress though, there are times when his bedroom is rather comforting, he knows that it offers him no real protection from the outside world, but in his room he feels safe and like he’s miles away from all his problems even though they’re literally just right outside. He thinks he’s missed, hm…12 meetings now, maybe 13 …14? Who knows, he’s surprised that Crocodile is even still calling for them, or that he hasn’t come barging into his room to yank him out of his bed and beat him to death for ruining his perfect schedule.

Buggy doesn’t care about Cross Guild though (or for much of anything right now) he never has and he doubts he ever will. He’s perfectly fine just keeping himself locked away in his bedroom for as long as possible. Mohji will take care of the others and if he doesn’t, then Alvida will, and if she doesn’t, then Buggy’s sure that Crocodile and Mihawk will boss his men around, but they’re strong, spirited, and oblivious, they can handle anything. 

Something breaks his seemingly endless depressive cycle by the time he’s missed 18 meetings…or was it 19?

One of his men comes into his room around midmorning, like always, and tells him that a meeting has been called… But today, Mihawk’s the one who’s called for the meeting apparently, and Buggy instantly tells his subordinate to tell Mihawk that he’s still under the weather and can’t go to the meeting, to which his subordinate replies, “He says it’s urgent, Chairman Buggy, and that if you can’t go to the meeting room, that he’ll bring the meeting here instead.”

That’s got to be the worst, no, actually, the second worst thing he’s been told in his entire life. Why? Why now? Why can’t Mihawk and Crocodile just hold their dumb meetings by themselves? It’s not like Buggy gets to make any decisions or his input matters, why does he have to leave his safe space and go see them?

((A/n: Hate how they didn't add ChouChou to the live-action or Richie. The idea that some of you might not know that Richie is a lion and you might think he's just some guy is funny though lol.))

[roccinan]

Thoughts on LCDP Korea?

I finished the last episode this evening and I'm kinda confused, there are (few) things I found better than in the original, and several which could've been managed better.

Right now I'll surely need at least one rewatch, but I'd like to know your first impressions about it!

Hi Enry! Thanks for asking! I was going to answer yesterday, then decided to wait until I actually finished the last ep. So here we are! Same here, will definitely be rewatching eventually.

In general, I really liked it. I was looking forward to this one for a while and had some pretty high hopes- it didn't disappoint and actually surpassed some expectations. Like you said, they fixed some problems from the original and made the story tighter (and a lot more logical in some areas), which I appreciated. There are also elements I thought could be better (but the pros outweigh the cons!).

I was happy that it wasn't a 1:1 remake because that'd be boring! The show was strongest when there were changes from the original, which made it more fun to follow the same beats. It's like, they got to the same place but did it slightly differently, so for me, it kind of recreated the magic of the first lcdp ;) I even ended up rewatching the last ep of S2 just because I suddenly really missed la banda XD

Spoiler impressions:

The "inspectora," Denver, Berlin, and Captain Cha were standout performances.

Woo-jin/"Raquel" was amazing; the actress gave the role the perfect amount of sympathy. She was level-headed, strong, and also weak- like I could go on forever about her. This is 100% on par with Itiziar's inspectora. And I really felt that the script respected her role more this time- she wasn't forced to be inferior to the professor at every turn, and sometimes she even has the upper hand (which I guess, was also that way in the original, but I liked the way they framed it here- it feels less biased towards the robbers)

Denver was perfect, couldn't have asked for a better Denver. He had the same himbo energy, while still being a guy from the streets- which is pretty much the original Denver lol. But as much as we all love Jaime, I personally think this Denver is hotter XD He's gorgeous, and his face not really matching his personality is what makes him so great. I loved his expanded role and the extra breathing space they gave his relationship with "Monica" (while we're at it, her motivation for being with Arturo of all people makes some more sense here)

Cha/"Angel" was a pleasant surprise. They made Angel a cool, competent guy and I actually love it LOL. His character was strong, and I prefer him to the original Angel (who was actually kinda annoying most of the time)

Berlin was everything I wanted and more LOL. I wasn't really sure what to expect, but he was a great surprise too. Like, this feels like who Berlin could have been if Pina and co. wrote everything out in advance and had time to edit. He's somehow both the same and very different from Pedro's Berlin- like, he's still a sadomasochistic lunatic but now there's a bone-deep sadness about him. He's a walking tragedy with an insanely miserable backstory and a martyr complex that's somehow even more explicit than the original Berlin's, and he says stuff like "I'm the shadow so you can shine"- what else could I ask for!? This is the Berlin who came straight out of my fics asdfasdf. That said, I can't believe I actually kind of want him not to die now asdfasdf after everything he's been through, maybe a shred of happiness would be deserved.

Speaking of Berlin, I'm pretty happy with them getting rid of the Ariadna storyline and the misogyny angle, which just proves that all of that was unnecessary to the plot in the first place. We also don't have to suffer through any more of "feminism, but as written by cishet men who are bad it it" themes.

I will say that there's no Andres in this Berlin though. Or if there was, he got beaten out of him early on lol. This guy is just Berlin all the way, and even though I do kind of miss the pretentious art lover, I don't mind this one. Though it's interesting that he's presumably never been married then. (Also too bad this Berlin isn’t as much of a slut as the original lol)

"Arturo" also captured the EXACT same Arturito energy LMAO. My nitpick is that he shouldn't have been so overly annoying when we first met him (like looking at porno on his computer!?)- he should have started as a normal guy and then revealed himself to be THAT annoying.

I liked the bickering Oslo/Helsinki dynamic lol- it gave them a little more to do. And nothing to say about Moscow because he was great too. I felt that Alison Parker was more sympathetic than Annie Kim, but Annie contributed more to the plot and it was interesting to see a different take on her. The whole subplot with "Suarez" infiltrating the hostages and getting fake-killed also made me go !! A pretty cool change, even though it relied on dumb luck lol. Also liked the change to Alberto's role- it pushed him more into the background and foreground at the same time, and connected everyone.

Lastly, loved the change to the serquel dynamic. This version makes a lot more sense in terms of motivation for both of them, but I don't think the professor's actor is really selling the chemistry enough (the inspectora is though!).

Stuff that I was more "meh" and "eh??" about:

Tokyo is a NICE and NORMAL person with MORALS. She is a problem SOLVER not a problem creator asdfasdf and I don't know how to feel omg. I liked her enough, but the original Tokyo was more fun; also, bit of a shame because the actress is amazing at playing insane evil women.

(That said, I was dying when she said "good job" to Berlin asdfasdf Finally, Berlin and Tokyo besties are canonized after all of Alex Pina's efforts to rewrite history asdfasdf)

The car chase into the lake was ?? It somehow made more sense in the original.

Rio has more backstory and layers here, and Tokrio not being together from the start is a bit of a plus- but I don't think the actor is making him as likable as he could.

Anne Kim's makeup was too perfect- she should have looked sweatier and dirtier as time went on

Nairobi didn't feel like she was "part" of the group; aside from her having a personality closer to Palermo than Nairobi lol, it just felt like she was "there" most of the time and not the one member who was uniting everyone

Maybe it depends on how he'll perform in part 2, but I think the professor is the weakest link among the main players. He has the aurora and it's not like his acting's bad, but he's too aloof as the professor, a little too uniformly "cold" with everyone he interacts with. You don't see the layers and emotions the original Sergio had. Sergio was my favorite in lcdp, but here, can't say I care very much about the professor or his relationships with everyone else.

*That said, I'm dying to know if he and Berlin are still brothers and what their shared backstory is!

SO that's my long rundown of first impressions LOL. What about you? What did you enjoy and what do you think could have been handled better?

[roguerogerss]

A Long Day of Saving Your Ass

(gif isn’t mine, creds to the owner!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Plot: “Hi darlin! If you’re still taking requests could you do a Bucky x reader where she gets her ass saved from literal death by Bucky during a mission and she refuses to leave his side on the way back or at the tower? And he gives her a back/foot massage to make her nerves calm down aaand they may or may not share a kiss bc they like each other? I hope that makes sense, tysm! 💞” - requested by anon

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of fights/blood/kinda ptsd but not really? she’s pretty much just really shaken up and Bucky’s cute and protective as hell about it. also kinda sexual themes towards the end, no smut or anything though it’s all fluff!

(A/N: first of all, thank you so much for all of the love on my last fic, it really really does mean the world and that was just totally insane. okay, so, this request only came in yesterday, but I was so in love with the concept and had this wave of ideas for what I could write, and so here it is! thank you so much for this one, bby! as always, requests are open for any marvel boy you want, plus any of the stranger things boys. i do smut too hehe. any feedback is so welcome and appreciated, it really helps! please like and reblog!)

————

The quinjet was ready to take off, engine on, Steve behind the wheel. But Y/N wasn't there yet. They'd been holding off on leaving, giving her time to get out and the opportunity to do it without help, but Bucky had been antsy since he'd gotten on the vehicle and realised that she wasn't there.

It wasn't exactly a secret that he liked her, in a way that he hadn't really liked anyone in over seventy years. He'd never admitted it to anyone, not even to himself out loud, but you have to have a certain level of intelligence and basic sight to join the Avengers in the first place, and it wasn't hard to figure out.

Y/N was oblivious to it, rolling her eyes whenever Natasha teased her about 'Bucky's little crush', never taking it seriously. If she'd known that they were really serious about it, she wouldn't have hesitated to make a move. She was inherently forward, had no sense of shame whatsoever, it was common knowledge that she would've said something, at the very least.

"Hey, Y/N, where are you right now?" Bucky spoke into the intercoms, earning wide eyed glances from the rest of the team. They knew that she hated being rushed, hated being babied even more, and the fact that Bucky was doing both was probably about to blow up in all of their faces.

There were obvious sounds of struggle on her end as she answered back with a grunt, "South side, got ten guys on my case. Think I can handle it, though."

"We're ready to leave, Y/N." Bucky grunted, leaning forward in his seat and chewing at his lip. He was met back with a crash and a strangled groan from the assassin, making him shoot up and towards the exit of the ship.

"Bucky, where are you going? She'll kill you if you try to help her-" Tony was standing now, too, worried about his teammate, but figuring that she'd find some way out. Bucky shook his head and pressed the button to open the escape hatch.

"She's going to die if I don't help her, Stark. Keep the engine running, we'll be back in a second." And he was gone with that. Steve closed the hatch, radioing to Bucky to 'keep in touch' as he did so.

Bucky pulled his machine gun from the holster on his back, shooting two guards that were stationed at the front entrance of the Hydra base that they'd sneakily infiltrated, managing to only cause a few minor scenes. He was inside and backed against a wall, scoping out his route to the south side of the building, without wasting a second.

His feet pounded on the metal stairs as he made his way down to where they'd been earlier, where he knew that Y/N still was, and he looked around himself cautiously, gears in his arm turning.

He could hear the fight before he could see it, and he could tell from the noises that Y/N wasn't doing so well. A lot of crashing, thuds, groans mostly from her. The sight wasn't exactly easy to look at either, she was covered in blood, slumped against a wall and kicking her legs wildly while one of the agents held a gun to her temple.

Bucky knew that he had to act fast, and so he shot the agent with the gun without giving away his position, and then proceeded to open fire on the rest of them, trusting in the fact that Y/N knew how to dodge a bullet.

When he was sure that the agents were dead, each one of them crumpled in heaps on the floor, he slung his gun back over his shoulder and ran for Y/N, who let out a relieved sigh upon seeing Bucky. "Oh my God, Buck." She whispered. She wasn't sure what she meant by the words, what she wanted to convey in them, but he seemed to pick up just fine as he wrapped his arms around her shaking and compacted body.

"You're okay, I've got you." He rested his head on top of hers for a second, breathing heavy, just allowing himself to enjoy how it felt to have his body draped over hers. "We've gotta go, okay?"

"I can't run." She said assertively, knowing that there was no way that she'd be able to get up and run like hell, like Bucky seemingly wanted her to. He nodded once, gave her an apologetic smile, and then scooped her up into his arms without another word.

She scrambled to grip onto his black jacket, a gasp leaving her mouth as he picked her up from the floor, flesh arm supporting the backs of her knees and the metal one around her shoulders. He chuckled at her reaction, the way that she white-knuckled the leather of his combat jacket. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna drop you."

"How do you expect me to believe that?" She croaked, trying her hardest to be her usual, sardonic self, but failing miserably as she realised just how fast and hard her heart was beating.

"Because I just saved you from at least ten guys who wanted to kill you within a minute, I'm not dropping you." Bucky replied as he ascended the stairs and she buried her face in his chest, the smell of his cologne relaxing her. He allowed a soft smile to cross his face, bringing his metal hand to her head and almost rocking her like an infant or a small child who had a nightmare.

For Tony saying that she hated being 'babied', she seemed to enjoy it when it was coming from Bucky.

They were back at the ship within a few minutes. Steve had taken off, and Bucky had gone to sit in the back of the ship on his own. Or at least, he'd wanted to sit in the back of the ship on his own, but Y/N was so shaken up and had looked at him like she was a lost puppy when he'd tried to leave her alone, and so he smiled and told her to come with him.

Everyone else had looked between themselves, grinning like mad. "He really likes her." Steve commented and Natasha nodded.

"She really likes him, I'm well aware of that fact." She said.

"I've never seen The Winter Soldier so caring. And, was that - sorry if this seems outlandish - a smile? On Bucky Barnes' face? Surely not." Tony pitched in, leaning back in his chair while his friends laughed.

Meanwhile, Y/N was curled up in a chair, chewing at her fingernails and dabbing at her bloody face with a wet cloth that Bruce had given her the second that she'd gotten on the ship. Bucky watched her, his heart breaking at the way that her hands shook as she brought them to her face, at the way that her entire body shook.

"Hey." He placed a tender and soothing hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles there. "It's okay, you're safe now."

She gave him a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and placed her hand over his, allowing him to interlock their fingers. "Yeah. Safe now."

————

She still hadn't left his side, apart from briefly so that she could take a shower. He'd offered to come back to her room with her when she'd hovered around the lounge while everyone else had already dispersed, reminding her that no one was going to hurt her.

She was laying on her bed, hair wet and wearing nothing but a big shirt, while Bucky sat awkwardly on the edge of it, twisting the sheets between his fingers. "You don't have to sit there, you know. I have a sofa, or you can sit back."

Bucky shook his head and looked round at her, she was still visibly shaking, eyes darting around to show just how on edge she was. "It's fine, darlin'. M'fine." His voice was more ragged than he'd expected it to be. "I'm just here to make sure that you're okay."

"Well," She held her arms out, "Come here, that'd make me feel okay." It was a bold move, one that told of her feelings towards Bucky, but she didn't mind much, figuring that he probably wouldn't decline her.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her, but still, kicked his boots off and lay down next to her, allowing her to wrap her arms tightly around his torso and press her cheek over his heart. "Hey, you're okay, sweetheart." He stroked her hair. "There's nothing to be on edge about, yeah? I've got you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, I don't know why I'm so freaked out." Her breathing was picking back up again, so Bucky shushed her and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, something that drove the butterflies in her stomach wild.

"It's okay, baby." The nickname just added to the way that her stomach fluttered, and she swallowed hard to try to forget about it. "Hey, how about I do something that'll relax you, yeah?"

"And what would that be, Barnes?" She smirked mischievously and he laughed at her.

"Lay on your stomach." He removed his arm from around her shoulders, and she looked at him with one eyebrow raised, obviously thinking that he was implying something way more forward than what he was actually implying. "Woah, no, no, no. I give good back massages, metal arm and all."

She laughed, throwing her head back into the pillows at the headboard of her bed. "Oh my God, Bucky. I hate you so much." She breathed out, flipping over so that she was laying on her stomach, back exposed to him.

"Can I pull your shirt up, or?" Bucky whispered, running his hands up and down the back of her t-shirt, and she nodded.

His breath hitched in his throat and he found himself struggling to think straight when he lifted the hem of her large shirt, to show that she was only wearing a pair of black panties underneath. She didn't seem to mind, so he didn't mention it, even though his breathing was hindered as he trailed his hands from the small of her back to her shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles as he did so.

She sighed and could've sworn that her eyes rolled back into her head as she relaxed into his touch, one hand cold and the other warm. She understood what he meant when he said that he was good at giving back massages.

"Feel okay?" He asked softly, swallowing hard. She nodded again.

"My God, Bucky, feels fucking amazing." She moaned, and he hated himself when his stomach flipped upon hearing her. "You're so good at that."

He had to stop when she said that, hands still on her shoulders but unmoving, just sitting still. He couldn't think about anything else other than sex when she was moaning like that, something that he wanted to punch himself for. It was such a tender moment, she was scared and so vulnerable, and all that was going through his brain were those thoughts.

"You okay?" She asked, and when he didn't answer she flipped back over, sitting in front of him. He looked like he'd seen a ghost as his tongue darted out to lick over his bottom lip. She reached a hand out, caressing his cheek gently to bring him back to reality. "Bucky?"

"Can I kiss you?" The words were leaving his mouth before he even knew what to do with them, what they meant and how she'd react. As soon as he realised what he'd said, he had his face in his hands, shaking his head. "Shit, sorry."

"No. No, Bucky, don't apologise. Look at me." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, prying his hands away from his face. "Yes. Of course you can kiss me."

He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if what she'd just said was real. She was looking into his eyes so intently, staring at the light blue rings around his pupils, realising how pretty they really were now that she was this close. "Kiss me." She whispered, and Bucky took no hesitation in complying to what she was asking of him.

His lips were on hers, and they were so gentle and soft, gliding against hers effortlessly. He pulled her closer to him with a hand on her back, the other cupping her cheek lovingly. His tongue had soon slipped between her lips, earning a soft little whine from her, as his tongue met hers and they worked out how to move them together in harmony.

She eventually pulled back, breathless, and simply grinned at him before laying back and pulling him with her. They resumed their earlier position, her arms wrapped firmly around his waist, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest while his hand stroked her hair. "Relaxed?" He laughed and she smiled and nodded.

"I'll get goin', it's late and you look tired, princess." Another nickname, another flourish from the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Just as Bucky was getting up to leave, she grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back to her, snuggling back up to his chest.

"Stay. Please."

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Damon Salvatore x Luke Parker (The Vampire Diaries)

Stretching, Damon blinks his eyes open against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He pauses for a moment once he can see properly, taking in the briefly unfamiliar room. Then he spots the Whitmore hoodie flung over the back of a chair and he smiles to himself.

He glances at the empty space on his right. Assuming that classes have probably started already, he just settles back down, not having any reason to leave quite just yet. As he goes to close his eyes again, the door to the little dorm room swings open.

Damon's eyebrows shoot up as Luke walks in, barely noticing that he's awake. He's got an alert, almost panicked look all across his face. It's more the suit that's got Damon's attention.

"Okay," he says, and Luke's head snaps around to look at him. Damon sits up properly and waves a hand lazily at him. "I'll bite. Why?"

Luke's already turned to the mirror to finish buttoning up his shirt. "Why what? And--" he throws a confused glance at Damon's reflection, "--I thought you said you had to leave early today."

"Change of plans." Damon shrugs. "And why to the suit? You're a college student in Virginia majoring in English Lit and History, not some law student in Harvard."

"You know, I did consider law," Luke says. "But Liv said I wasn't allowed to abandon her and she refused even the idea of taking the LSAT's, so." He gives him a wry smile. "English Lit and History. A fair compromise."

Damon's not oblivious. Luke's told him this stuff before, they both know he has. And his voice is just evasive enough, his expression the perfect amount of please buy it and leave it alone.

He considers doing just that. It's not as if Luke has any obligation to tell him anything, and he really shouldn't care if he's keeping something to himself. But for some reason that he can't quite place, he does.

"Nope," he says after a beat. "Strike one. Two more tries."

Luke rolls his eyes and scoffs. Probably because he knows that Damon can't do anything if he just clams up and doesn't tell him. Compulsion doesn't work and Damon wouldn't even think about hurting him. He'd just be left to stew in not knowing.

But then Luke glances at him, their eyes catching. He sighs and drops his hands from his shirt. Finally, he turns to him.

"I... have to meet someone," he says, still vague, still evasive.

Damon's eyes track him around the room, narrowing. "What does that mean?" he asks, watching him pick up a tie from the chair.

Luke raises an eyebrow, cracking an elusively entertained grin at him. "It means I'm meeting someone? For breakfast?"

He pauses for the first time, actually slowing down rather than looking like he's roadrunner on fast forward.

"Hold on. Are you jealous?" he asks, his eyes wide with delight.

"Oh" --Damon's the one scoffing now-- "please. Like I have anything to be jealous of. You're not my boyfriend. You can go off and have secret breakfasts in a fancy suit with whichever stereotypical jocks you like. I could even set you up with two. You've met Matt and Tyler, right?"

That glint of delight only grows brighter, and Luke laughs in disbelief now.

"Oh my god." His tie is momentarily forgotten. "You are totally jealous. Wow. And I thought I was the one who couldn't keep things casual."

Damon rolls his eyes, his jaw tightening as he looks away from him for a moment. That knowing, prodding stare must have some compelling ability of its own because he finds it hard to lie while holding it.

It's irritating enough that Luke's right. A little pit of jealousy has opened up in his chest like it's a black hole trying to suck him in. But he doesn't do jealousy. It's an off-limits emotion and it is certainly not allowed in casual situations involving blond haired, blue eyed, Gemini witches who wanted to be a lawyer.

"But I really don't think you need to be jealous of me having breakfast with my father and sister."

Damon's eyes snap back to him sharply. "Your father? The one who tried to kill me?"

"Don't have another father, so, yeah, that'd be the one," Luke says dryly.

He moves back to the mirror to fix his tie, clearly getting nowhere trying to do it blindly.

"Why exactly is your dear old dad in town?" Damon asks. His eyes narrow again. "And why do you need to be so dressed up to have a very early breakfast with him and Liv?"

Luke visibly hesitates, eyes fixed on his own face reflected back at him. Damon watches his lips part, taking in a breath.

"Because it's our birthday," he says, almost sighing as he does, his shoulders deflating.

There's a twist in Damon's chest, stopping him dead. He stares at him, partly hoping he heard him wrong. That part fades quickly when he sees the dismayed, daunted look in Luke's eyes and knows he didn't.

"If today's your birthday, that would mean..." Damon doesn't need to finish. They both know what it means.

But Luke sighs properly and draws himself back up, replacing his dismay with firm determination. "It means Liv and I are twenty-two and officially of merging age."

Damon's eyebrows furrow. "So, what, you're going to dinner with your dad so you can give him exactly what he wants? To merge you?"

"No." Luke turns back to him and his eyes are blazing far more confidentally than Damon's seen in that crystal blue before. "We're going to convince him to let Jo and Kai merge instead."

It's a terrible plan, Damon decides right away. Many things could go wrong, and not many good outcomes spring to mind. Just the words Jo, Kai, and merge send a chill through him. As does the idea of Luke meeting with his dad now that he and Liv can merge.

"And your reason for thinking that you can talk Papa Parker into that is...?" Damon prompts sarcastically, but he's genuinely hoping Luke has some trick up his sleeve.

"Liv and I have to try," he says.

The hope deflates. So much for that.

Damon finally pushes the covers back from Luke's bed, swinging his legs over the side to stand up.

"Okay, not to sound like I'm doubting you or this idea," he says, and Luke's expression tells him he's not a great liar. "But what if he says no? And if he does miraculously say yes for some insane reason, have you thought of a way to stop Kai the murderous siphon witch who would absorb Jo in a heartbeat?"

"Jo can beat him," Luke insists with just as much confidence that it's starting to unnerve Damon. "She's stronger now."

A whole load of arguments for why this is not going to work jump straight into Damon's mind. As he opens his mouth to voice them, though, Luke takes a step forward and places his hands on both of his arms.

"It's gonne be fine," he says, so easily like he really believes that, even with the touch of anxiety in his voice. "But I really need to go before my dad shows up here looking for me."

Damon grimaces. "Can't imagine that scenario going well."

Luke laughs and shakes his head. "No, me neither. So, feel free to let yourself out whenever you wanna leave. Assuming I don't die during this breakfast, I might see you later."

Damon's still thinking of reasons why this isn't going to go well. But Luke's convinced, and this plan might not necessarily fail. Hopefully.

He sighs, his lips pressing together. His eyes dart down and Luke arches an eyebrow.

"You're not gonna convince anyone to do anything with your tie like that," he says.

Reaching down, he undoes the practically perfect knot and redoes it himself. Luke just smiles, his gaze strangely soft as it remains fixed on him the entire time.

"You gonna kiss me for good luck next?" Luke jokes.

Damon's mouth twitches. He finishes and pats Luke's chest, acting like he's going to step back. His fingers curl around the tie again, but he pulls this time and presses his lips to his.

Luke's still smiling as he returns the kiss, his amusement passing over to Damon. Then his hands are between them, on Damon's chest, and he pushes himself back.

"For luck," Damon says, winking, letting go of him completely. He shrugs. "And in case your crazy father decides to kill you. It would be cruel to not get one last kiss to remember you."

Luke scoffs, shaking his head at him, but his smile is still in place as he turns away from him and heads for the door.

Damon's positive he's going to have to think of something fast to deal with whatever the fallout of this is going to be but he has some hope that it'll work. If he ignores the clamping sense of dread that's weighing down on him for some reason. He's sure it's nothing. Nothing at all.

[fromheroestodust]

Rose Killer: Pt.5; Calm Before the Storm

Summary: you're the leader of the strongest mafia in London. What will happen when you're forced to team up with your worst enemy?

Warnings: Hostage-ish situation, language, mentions of death

Word count: 3384

A/N: taglist is open!

Slowly you open your eyes, light peeking through the curtains and lighting up a patch of the room, dust dancing in the brightness while Harrison still sleeps in front of you. "Haz." You whisper, gently shaking him. "Haz." He let's out a small groan and turns on to his back, eyes squinting in the light of the morning.

"Good morning." He says, his voice still groggy from sleep as be turns his head to look at you with a small grin grazing his chapped lips.

"Do you have anything planned for today?" You ask, a sudden idea crossing your mind causing excitement to sprout in you.

"Nope. Tom's busy all day though." He answers, twirling a piece of your hair between two of his fingers, his focus on the spinning strands.

"Good." You grin with a bite of your lip, sitting up causing Harrison's arms to fall off of your waist.

"You really hate Tom." He yawns, sitting up in front of you with a tired smile of his own.

"It wasn't supposed to come out that way." You grumble before continuing your thoughts. "We should have a picnic or something in the back yard."

"Sounds good considering this is probably going to be the last nice day of the year." Harrison agrees. "Won't it raise suspicions though? I don't think it's really good to have everyone know about us yet, yeah?"

"Yeah, we can just say we're eating outside. As friends." You say, a troublesome grin on your face.

"As friends." He repeats with a smile of his own. "But it's a little too early to go out now." His eyes glance to the window, the sun waking behind the curtains in the sky.

"Thank you Captain obvious." You sigh with the corners of your mouth raising more into a toothy smile. "So what're we gonna do?"

"Well it's like," he stops to look at the clock, "Another half hour until they normally wake up."

"What're we supposed to do in this extra half hour?" You yawn, suddenly finding it very chilly and pulling the plush duvet around your body to get warmer and conserve your remaining body heat.

"Boardgame?" Harrison suggests, motioning to the multiple boxes that sat in a neat stack on the bedside table.

"Sure."

You both climb off of the bed and to the table, finally landing on Candy Land before sitting on the floor.

-

"Nooo!" You exclaim as you draw the cupcake card while you were three spaces away form winning. Harrison laughs as you place your piece nearly back to the start, a pout on your face. "Shit, it's been like an hour! 'm starving!"

The two of you pack away the game and then step into the hallway, confusion setting into the mood around your duo. "Why's it entirely dark...?"

"I don't know." You mumble, fear clutching at your stomach and squeezing it as you cling to Harrison's arm, your mind telling you someone is going to jump out and take you back to that shitty excuse of a warehouse. You grab the gun attached to a holder around your waist and pull it out, holding it tightly at your side.

"We would've heard something if someone broke in." Haz assures you, though uncertainty laces his words. "Let's go downstairs." You both make your way down the flight of stairs, your grip now on Harrison's hand. Your breathing slows to make it silent just at the chance of attackers as you stop just where the wall stops halfway down the flight. You and Harrison point your guns down, hearing voices from the ground floor-

"Paddy, can you put these on the table?" A woman's voice says, a sigh of relief falling from Harrison's and yours lips before you release his hand from your grasp and finally step in to the kitchen.

"Ah Y/n there you are!" Nikki says giving you a quick smile. "Morning Harrison."

"Mornin." He replies, taking his seat next to you at the table across from Sam while you sit across from Harry. Paddy sets a large plate of waffles in the middle of the table, everyone else reaching for one like a pack of wolves while you wait for the others to get their own.

"By the way, why's it so dark? And cold." Haz asks, a bite of food in his mouth as he looks around at the dark ground floor.

"Power went out." Harry answers. "They've no clue what happened so it'll probably be like this all day."

"That's just lovely." You sigh in a voice barely above a whisper. While you find it easy to talk around Harrison and Tom, everyone else you can hardly talk to them at full volume half the time, only adding a comment in every now and then. You're getting better, but it's still a struggle to hold a five minute conversation.

"Can't be too bad." Sam shrugs before taking another bite.

"Guess." You sigh, cutting your own waffle into bite sized pieces.

-

"Haz!" You exclaim as he takes the fedora off of your head, placing it on his own with a wide grin. Staring up at him, you reach for the hat but Harrison gently grabs your wrist and moves your hand down with a chuckle.

*You reach up to punch your attacker but he roughly grabs your wrist, forces it down, and ties it before continuing to beat you.

You pull your wrist away and hold your hand in the opposite one, fear coursing through your eyes and veins as your empty gaze is set on the wall opposite you.

"Y/n?" Haz asks, the smile fading from his features and instead is replaced with worry as he searches your face for an answer.

"'m sorry..." You mumble, looking down in embarrassment. Why did you keep doing this?

"It's fine darling," he assures you, a light pink dusting your cheeks and ears at the pet name, "Just tell me if something's wrong."

"Okay." You agree, looking up again. He places a chaste kiss to your forehead before placing your fedora on your hair sideways and continuing down the hallway, you running after him after fixing the hat.

-

You're watching the news on your phone, still finding it a necessity to see what's happening while you're on a small break so you know what's happening. "This morning twenty two year old Aniya Roxian was found dead in her apartment. The authorities are still-" your mind freezes and your blood runs cold. No. No, Aniya can't be dead. She can't be. You start anxiously scrolling through the article hoping against hope that you heard wrong, but it says it clear as day. Aniya Roxian.

A suffocated sob comes from your throat and out your mouth as the tears immediately start pouring in streams down your face as you burry your face in your pulled up knees, hugging your legs tight to your chest.

"Y/n?" Harrison's voice asks with worry as he climbs up the bed to you from his spot in the desk chair. "Y/n what's wrong?" You don't respond, only hand him your phone with an incredibly shaky hand before going back to weeping for your friend.

It's your fault she's dead you tell yourself, although you know it's not true. Her father had run a smaller mafia and she was for sure a target of at least one person or mob, but you couldn't help but blame yourself.

Harrison immediately knew who the article was about; your friend had been in your files that'd he'd studied with Tom before you moved in. "Come here." He says, holding his arms open which you immediately fall into, not finding any strength to even sit up by yourself.

You're numb. You feel as if you've caused another death of someone you love. First Tyson. Then your parents. Now Aniya. Everyone you love is slowly disappearing due to this fucking business. How will you be able to survive another major loss like this one? You're in pain but your numb, your body turning to ice with a raging fire trapped underneath it.

"It's all my fault." You sob, burying your face in the crook of Harrison's neck, the stream of tears from your face continuing down his shoulder in a river of grief.

"No. Don't say that. Don't you dare blame yourself. She was part of a mafia too. It's not your fault, don't think that." He says sternly, running his fingers through your hair and working away the knots with gentle tugs.

"W-what if you you... What if you d-die too...?" You whimper, your sobs stopping but the waterfall from your eyes staying strong.

"I know what I signed up for when I joined this business. So did you. We both know there's a risk one of us will die, but we're both strong." He replies instead of giving a straight answer, but you can't and won't ponder over that now, to focused on your emotions in the heat of the moment.

"Thank you." You sniff, pulling away slightly so your faces are not even an inch away from each others. "Like I said. I'll always help you." Harrison says with an ever so slight smile. You look into his bright blue eyes, the iris's seeming to gently wave like a body of water. You find an odd calm in staring into his beautiful orbs, watching the blue waves lap up onto an invisible beach. Slowly, you lean forward until your lips are on his, electricity erupting in your face then through the rest of your body sending your mind into a peaceful bliss, all of your attention focused on the feeling of his lips on yours. He nearly immediately returns the kiss, arms going around your waist and pulling you closer as you cup his face with one hand. The kiss is slightly needy as if both of you have been waiting for another chance to kiss the other, but also soft and slow, not to rough to intend anything sexual, it's just right. The small interaction clears the grief, disbelief, and sadness from your thoughts and replace them with a peaceful emptiness, your head empty of all thoughts, your body taking control of your actions.

You only break the kiss when your lungs can no longer suppress the need for air. The two of you stare at each other, lips slightly swollen and eyes filled with adoration as you study each other's features. His perfect lips that seemed to be perfectly made for yours, his crystal blue eyes, his sharp jaw line, the scar running from where his cheekbone meets his nose to the center of his cheek. Your hand goes up to again craddle his cheek, this time your thumb running down the mark. An emotion you're not able to read consumes his eyes as he stares at you, your brows furrowed in concentration. He gently nudges his face more into your hand, a warm feeling filling you and kicking out the guilt that once occupied your stomach from this boy you love having a scar because of you.

Harrison's hand rests on your calf, the other fiddling with a group of strands of your hair while you went back and forth between tracing the scar and rubbing small circles into his cheek. How you got here it doesn't really matter - and to be fair you're entirely fine with forgetting it - but both of you felt strangely calm with the other randomly drawing shapes or tracing lines or playing with their hair. As odd as it sounds, though, it works for both of you so you weren't going to say anything about it.

"How is everyone here's hair curly?" You ask, hand moving from Harrisons cheek to one of his curls that sit atop his head. A light chuckle falls from his mouth, causing a microscoptic smile to form on your face.

Harrison's hand drops your hair from his hand and moves to your face to wipe off your dried tears, warmth sprouting from the spot where his palm cradles your cheek. You copy him and gently push your face more into his hand as if that were possible. Bringing your hands down to your sides, your eyes flutter shut for you're suddenly drastically tired - probably from fighting your own mind to push out the overwhelming sadness of the death of Aniya.

"Tired?" Harrison asks, and even though you can't see you can tell he has a smile painted on his face, the smile that brought light to your darkest days. "Maybe..." You mumble, lips barely parting with your words as if you were just breathing instead of having a conversation. He doesn't say anything more but hands slip under your arms and then lifts your figure up earning a small squeak from you before they lay you onto the mattress, they themselves laying down, pulling the duvet over you both.

"Thanks." You say quietly, shrugging into the warmth of the blanket, for the room was freezing due too there being no heat except that from your bodies. "No problem." Harrison replies, sleepiness evident in his mashed together words and heavy eyes.

You scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his middle, a tired grin splitting across both of your faces before He drapes an arm over your waist then up your back, pushing gently to move you against him. You oblige without question, your forehead now against his chest while the rest of your face is angled away.

Again you feel protected, like Harrison's embrace can shield you from everything dangerous and horrible thing in the world. Only one other time had you been this close to someone. Tyson

And he feels like he's your guardian with your much smaller body nearly surrounded by his own, your breath lightly fanning onto his skin. His head rests with his chin on top of yours, and after sensing your breathing pattern change he follows, still in disbelief at this unlikely relationship.

-

"Y/n." A voice says pulling you out of a nightmare filled with dead loved ones. You blink your eyes open, fresh tears shedding from your hardly awaken eyes. A sigh of relief falls from the other person's mouth. "You were having a nightmare."

"Y...yeah..." You reply quietly, not knowing how to respond guilt and more embarrassment coursing through you.

"You okay?" They ask, neither of you moving to look at the other, fine with just feeling of the others heart. "... Yeah." You say, ignoring the soundless tears falling onto the bedsheet and instead focusing on Harrison's breathing. A small shudder falls from your quivering lip as you place a feathery kiss to the bottom of his chest before pressing your forehead against the spot and letting your eyes fall shut again.

"Night." You mumble, half asleep but managing to mutter the word. "Good night darling." Haz yawns, his chin pressing into the top of your head before his jaw closes. You sigh in contentment before allowing sleep to take you into it's grasp and hopefully not into another night terror.

-

You wake up into the dimmed room with the sunlight shinning in slightly through the part in the blinds, the golden rays being the only light. Great. You think. The powers still out.

Your eyes go to the figure in front of you, the sound of Harrison's soft and even breathing filling your ears. You press another soft kiss to his skin, him almost immediately waking up at your touch.

"That's a lovely way to wake up." He mumbles, arm moving off of your waist to stretch taking most of his warmth with it. You turn on your back and scooch upwards into a half sitting position so you're head is at the very back of the pillow, Harrison's head next to your chest. "I'll be right back." He sighs before getting up and walking towards the bathroom, a hand running through his hair.

Your eyes again flutter shut, causing you to fall half asleep though your attention is brought back to the world by the sound of something slipping off of the table. Immediately, you sit up and see a hand slowly grabbing your knife, a mouse stealing cheese from a trap. Rage boils through your veins as you snatch it out of the small figures hand and spin them around so their back is pressed against your front with your arms secure around the small shoulders, the side of your knife on their neck but not to hard to draw blood - Yet.

"M'kay do you wanna-" Harrison starts before seeing the situation. "Y/n...? What're you doing with Paddy?"

"He was trying to steal my knife." You hiss, venom drenching your words as you look down at the head of red, his hands holding your forearms to try to pull them down.

"Let's put the knife down..." Harrison says slowly, his hands up as he walks cautiously towards you. "And then let Paddy go."

Slowly, you ease down the knife so you're holding it at your side, but your arm remains around the frightened teen. Harrison makes it to you and, with great difficulty, removes Paddy from your grasp. He nods to him to go, him quickly running out of the room, a gazelle running from lions he narrowly escaped.

"What was that all about?" Haz asks after Paddy's out of earshot.

"He was trying to steal my knife!" You exclaim in defense, setting the blade down and grabbing your rose from the previous day, tucking it neatly behind your ear. "It's kind of my instinct to attack if someone tries to steal my stuff."

"That doesn't seem like something he'd do..." He mumbles, brows furrowing together in thought as he ponders over the actions.

"It's his fault he was attacked." You state with your hands on your hips, pacing back and forth in front of your boyfriend with a pissed off look clear as the fact that the power is out.

"We can figure this out later." He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled curls again. "The power is driving me insane."

"How much longer will we be in the dark?" You ask, brushing through your hair with your fingers and watching your motions in a tall, thin, mirror in his room.

"Who knows. They still haven't figured out what's wrong." He says softly, coming up behind you while wrapping his arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder that doesn't have your hair flung over it. You smile softly and continue to detangle the knots, letting out a small squeak when he pulls you closer to him. The slight smile grows as you reach up, mess up his already messy hair, and go back to your own.

"Hey!" He exclaims, removing one of his hands from your waist to brush his curls out of his eyes. You grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. "You'll regret that." Harrison hands reach to your sides and start tickling, causing you to yell out and fold into him, both of your laughter ringing through the air like music to your ears.

"Harrison!" You giggle, the two of you falling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. His fingers stop moving to make you laugh, instead both of your laughter fades as you stare at each other. Harrison had landed on top of you after you fell and now has one hand on either side of your head to prop himself up. You cradle his face with both of your hands before pulling it down to yours, lips meeting in the middle and moving in sync.

"Hey Haz!" A voice calls out.