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msriri030 · 5 months ago

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Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Depressed! Reader

cw: suicidal thought

Masterlist

You stared out your bedroom window, your gaze following a house sparrow as it flitted across the blue sky. Its wings cut through the crisp morning air with ease, yet all you felt was an aching emptiness. A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you peeled yourself away from the cocoon of your bed, the warmth fading the moment your feet met the cold, unyielding floor.

“Maybe a shower will help,” you murmured to no one in particular.

The bathroom felt smaller than usual, the walls closing in as your depression gnawed at the edges of your protective shell. The air seemed heavier, thick like water pooling in your lungs. You turned the shower knob, listening to the rhythmic patter of water as you stripped off your pajamas, waiting for the steam to creep up the glass and warm the room.

When you stepped under the stream, the water kissed your cold skin with a burn that was almost too sharp but just gentle enough to be bearable. The heat wrapped around you, a temporary refuge from the storm raging inside.

You hoped—desperately—that the water would wash it all away. The weight, the melancholy, the intrusive whispers that never seemed to quiet. Even as your mind raced, you tried to anchor yourself. You repeated softly, almost like a mantra, “It’s okay. I… I love myself.”

The words felt hollow.

Or maybe they were a lie.

But it was a beautiful lie, and maybe that was enough. Maybe believing it, even for a moment, was worth it.

You scrubbed at your skin as if trying to care for yourself in the way you knew you deserved, but the tears betrayed you, slipping silently down your cheeks. They blended seamlessly with the water streaming over your face, hidden but not unnoticed by you. You paused, letting out a shaky breath as you leaned against the shower wall, eyes closed.

When you finally turned off the water, the bathroom was heavy with steam, the air damp against your skin. As you reached for a towel, your gaze landed on the neatly folded clothes on the counter—clothes you hadn’t left there.

Your breath hitched, a flicker of warmth breaking through the fog.

Your husband.

He’d left them for you, anticipating the small comforts you might need. As you picked them up, you noticed they were warm, the heat still lingering as if he’d just taken them out of the dryer. A soft smile tugged at your lips despite the tightness in your chest.

He always noticed, didn’t he? You could never truly hide your feelings from him.

You held the clothes to your face, inhaling their warmth and faint scent. The gesture felt almost instinctive, a small attempt to ground yourself. But the tenderness of his act overwhelmed you, and tears welled up again, threatening to spill over.

You sniffed, swallowing hard to push them back. You didn’t want to cry. Not now.

You scolded yourself silently. I shouldn’t cry. There’s no reason to cry. I need to suck it up. The words echoed from years of conditioning, the lessons drilled into you by your parents. But the tears didn’t care. They hovered there, a testament to the feelings you tried so hard to suppress.

Taking a deep, centering breath, you blinked them away, the threat of breaking down receding slightly. Once you felt steady, you dressed slowly, letting the warmth of the clothes wrap around you like an embrace.

Once you were dressed, you shuffled your way to the kitchen, the faint smell of breakfast guiding you. There it was, laid out neatly on the counter—a plate of fluffy pancakes, golden eggs, and homemade hash browns. The meal was carefully wrapped in plastic, a thoughtful touch to keep the food fresh and free from any pests.

You approached it slowly, almost hesitant. You weren’t hungry, not really, but you knew better than to skip a meal. It wasn’t about hunger—it was about taking care of yourself, even if you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

Sliding into the chair, you unwrapped the plate and began eating in quiet bites. The food was good, warm and comforting in a way you didn’t quite expect. Still, the act of eating felt mechanical, your movements slow and deliberate.

The familiar lump in your throat threatened to rise again, and you sniffed, willing yourself not to break down. You closed your eyes for a moment, grounding yourself. One step at a time, you thought, echoing the mantra that had carried you this far.

When you opened your eyes again, you noticed the small card tucked to the side of the plate. It hadn’t been there before—or maybe you’d been too caught up in your thoughts to notice. Picking it up, you read the simple, scrawled phrase:

You got this, Doll!

A soft smile tugged at your lips, fragile but genuine. Simon. Even when he wasn’t there, he had a way of finding the cracks in your armor and mending them, piece by piece.

You sighed, setting the card aside and finishing your meal. Once you were done, you stood and set about tidying up the house. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. Small victories against the weight pressing down on you.

You turned on some music, letting the sound fill the spaces in your mind that the dark thoughts so often claimed. The steady rhythm of the songs became a lifeline as you moved from room to room.

By the time you started washing the dishes, your chest felt a little lighter. But then, without warning, that heaviness crept back in. Like a sudden wave, the weight in your chest pushed down, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breaths grew shallow, rapid, the world closing in around you.

Not now. Please, not now.

You gripped the edge of the sink, trying to steady yourself, but the panic clawed at your mind, refusing to relent. The thoughts came flooding in—your failures, the unresolved problems that loomed over you, the insecurities that whispered lies in your ears.

You tried to focus on the running water, the feel of it splashing over your hands, anything to anchor yourself. But it wasn’t working. The pressure was too much, and the voices in your head grew louder, urging you to succumb.

And then your eyes landed on the knife you were washing.

It was so simple, so easy, the voices whispered. It could all stop. The pressure, the pain, the endless fight—it could all fade away.

Your hand trembled as you held the blade. Tears blurred your vision as you fought against the pull of those dark thoughts. The voices were deafening, the weight suffocating.

“Doll?”

The voice cut through the noise like a beacon, grounding you. Your head snapped toward the doorway, where Simon stood. His broad frame filled the space, his face shadowed with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice calm but firm, his sharp eyes taking in the scene—the trembling in your hands, the knife clattering as you dropped it into the sink, and the way you stumbled back like you needed to put distance between yourself and the thoughts that had almost consumed you.

You couldn’t find the words to answer him, your throat constricted with the weight of everything. Tears threatened to spill.

Simon didn’t press you. He crossed the kitchen in a few long strides, his movements deliberate but gentle. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand explanations. Instead, he reached out, his warm hands steadying you as he guided you to sit at the kitchen table.

“Breathe, Doll,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he crouched beside you. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”

You nodded shakily, focusing on his voice, his presence. Slowly, the storm inside began to settle, the waves receding enough for you to catch your breath.

Simon stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours, as though anchoring you to reality. His thumb traced small circles against your skin, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone in this fight.

Finally, when your breathing evened out, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. His eyes were soft, filled with a quiet understanding that made fresh tears spring to your eyes. But this time, they weren’t tears of despair.

“I’m here,” he said simply, his voice a promise.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears began to fall again. “I tried to hold it together, but I couldn’t. I feel… angry, and hurt. And I don’t even know why.”

The words tumbled out between sobs, raw and unfiltered, like a dam breaking under the weight of everything you’d tried so hard to suppress. You wiped at your face with trembling hands, trying to stem the flow of tears, but it was futile.

Simon sighed softly, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leaned in, wrapping his strong arms around you. His embrace was warm and steady, grounding you as you crumbled in his hold.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let it out, Doll. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

His words were a balm, allowing you to fully release the emotions that had been suffocating you. You buried your face against his chest, your sobs muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you tighter, one hand gently running up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head.

Simon didn’t rush you, didn’t say anything more. He just listened, his steady presence a reminder that you weren’t alone in this, even if it felt like it.

You cried until there was nothing left, the tension in your body slowly melting away as the storm inside you quieted. Your breaths were uneven, but the tightness in your chest had eased.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice hoarse as you pulled back slightly, though Simon’s arms stayed firmly around you.

He shook his head, his thumb brushing away a tear that lingered on your cheek. “Stop that,” he said gently. “You don’t need to apologize for feeling. It’s not weakness to let it out.”

“But I—”

“No ‘buts,’” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “You’ve been trying to carry too much on your own. You don’t have to do that anymore. You’ve got me, Doll.”

His words struck something deep within you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe them.

“Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into his chest again.

Simon rested his chin atop your head, his arms still holding you securely. “Always.”

And in that moment, as his steady heartbeat thrummed beneath your ear, you felt a fragile sense of peace beginning to take root—a small but vital reminder that you didn’t have to face this alone.

Simon guided you to the couch, his hand resting gently on your back as he steered you. When he sat down, he pulled you onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a fortress. You protested at first, mumbling something about being fine, but he wasn’t having it.

“Lay down, Doll,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sniffled, giving him a pout that you knew usually worked in your favor, but not this time. His lips twitched into a rare smile, and a soft chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“It’s not funny,” you grumbled, crossing your arms in mock defiance.

“Sure thing, Doll,” he teased, clearly unfazed by your attempt to sound serious.

Before you could fire back, Simon grabbed the remote and put on your comfort show—the one he always claimed was "mind-numbing" and “rotten for your brain.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, surprised. “You’re really putting this on?”

He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You like it. That’s all that matters.”

Warmth spread through your chest at his unexpected gesture. He wasn’t the kind of man who did things halfway—if it made you feel better, he’d endure just about anything, even a show he despised.

Before you could thank him, Simon laid down with you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. It was unhurried yet intense, a silent promise wrapped in affection. When he finally pulled back, your cheeks were burning, and you quickly buried your face in his shirt to hide the blush.

His arms tightened around you, his hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he murmured, the teasing lilt in his voice making you nuzzle into him further.

For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt the weight on your chest ease. As the show played in the background and Simon’s steady breathing mixed with the sound of his heartbeat, you found yourself slowly relaxing.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly against his chest.

He pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Anything for you, Doll.”

And as his warmth surrounded you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay—because with Simon by your side, you knew you wouldn’t have to face your struggles alone.

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saveyourblood · 6 months ago

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Pretty Boy - Ch 6 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

Chapter Summary: The tension between you and Buck brings you and Eddie closer.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: none

Things between you and Buck are… weird. Awkward. Uncomfortable. The last time you had a real conversation with him, it was a fight, but it ended with you saying how much you care about him. It’s left you feeling like there’s an open wound on your chest, one that exposes your heart. You feel vulnerable, and you hate it. Your hatred of the feeling triumphs over your desire to be around him, at least for now.

In a weird silver lining, your lack of time with Buck has created room for one of your other coworkers — Eddie. Talking to Eddie when Buck was around always felt strange, like there was something in the air that wasn’t supposed to be. Which is funny, because when it’s the two of them, they’re as thick as thieves. Something about you being in the mix feels like adding oil to water.

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Eddie relatively well in the last few weeks. So when he’s staring off into space while the rest of the team is eating breakfast, you don’t feel awkward asking what he’s thinking about.

“Nothing,” he says, turning his coffee mug absentmindedly. “Just… this new school with Christopher.”

“Don’t think it’s a good fit?” You ask.

“No, it’s perfect,” Eddie replies, turning his attention to you.

You smile softly. “Then what’s the problem?”

“They need to do a family interview.”

“Again, what’s the problem?” you chuckle. “I mean, aren’t the divorce and custody agreement papers enough?”

“They would be… if I had them.”

You frown. “What?”

Eddie sighs as he rubs his forehead. He leans closer so you’re the only one who can hear him. “We’re still married.”

Apparently, you don’t know a goddamn thing about Eddie.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out.

Eddie chuckles briefly. “Yeah.”

“Wow. Just… from how you talk about her, you made it sound like things were… over over. Like, officially over.”

“ Shannon and I aren’t officially… anything these days.”

“You’re officially husband and wife.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he smiles as he does it. “Touché.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you ask softly after a moment.

He sets his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. “I don’t know.”

You just watch him and can’t shake the helplessness that washes over you. Eddie’s in a tough spot; no matter what you say, you can’t fix it. All you can do is be there.

“Tell me what I can do,” you say.

Eddie looks up at you with a lopsided grin. There aren’t many things you wouldn’t do to keep it on his face.

“I’ve been told I’m a lot of fun when I drink,” you continue. “Well, when I have three drinks I’m fun: that’s when I get dancy. After five drinks, I get sad. You can pick the number.”

Eddie laughs.

9-1-1 dispatch is down, making doing your job almost impossible. LA is a maze; without GPS navigation, you rely on your phone and eyes to do most of the work. It’s a miracle that dispatch existed before computers.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of the rig, and you tell Hen to make a right turn. When you pull up to what’s supposed to be the scene, though, there’s nothing.

“Dispatch, this is RA 118,” you say into the radio. “There’s nothing here.”

“No pregnant woman?” A dispatcher asks.

“There’s no building. It’s an empty lot.”

“Stand by, 118.”

You hang the radio with a huff.

“What’s going on with you?” Hen asks.

You frown and look over at her. “What?”

“You’ve been… off lately,” she explains. “Like, you’ve got this short fuse now.”

“Why shouldn’t I? We can’t even do our fucking jobs because some moron can’t fix a computer!”

Hen raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, point taken.”

“Buck says you two haven’t talked in a while.”

“Well, he’s a firefighter and I’m a paramedic. We can work the same shift and not see each other,” you shrug. “ I don’t know why he’s talking to you about it.”

“I’m not sure, but… it sounded like I’m not the only one worried about you.”

You play with your hands in your lap.

Hen sighs. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope it gets fixed, because you two are miserable without each other.”

“It’s not like that-”

Hen raises a hand to silence you. “I don’t know what you guys are… best friends, work spouses, or dating. Frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that, for better or for worse, you need each other. “

“118, you're gonna need to proceed to San Vicente, east of the Miracle Mile District,” dispatch crackles over the radio. “The nearest cross street is Sixth.”

You pick it up and push the button. “RA 118, copy that.”

“Where the hell have you guys been?”

When you finally arrive at the correct building, you’re faced with a pregnant woman lying on the lobby floor. A small crowd has formed around them, which you push your way through.

“We are fighting a system outage, sir,” Bobby explains, “we apologize for the delay.”

You crouch next to the patient on one side while Hen starts an IV on the other side.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself and don some gloves. “What’s your name?”

“Sonia. I’m 39 weeks pregnant, and 38 years old, which makes me a geriatric pregnancy,” she laughs a little. “God, I hate that word.”

“Word doesn’t matter: you still get a baby out of it,” you smile. “I’m gonna check how progressed you are, okay?”

She nods.

“10 centimeters, 100% effaced,” you observe. “You’re doing great, okay? On this next contraction, you’re gonna push, alright, Sonia?”

She doesn’t respond, so you look up.

Her expression changed. A moment ago, she was nervous but smiling. Now, her face is flattened, and she’s staring ahead at nothing.

“There's something wrong with the baby,” she says quietly.

Your body goes numb.

There are a few things you never want to hear a patient say, and ‘something is wrong’ might be at the top of the list. It’s called ‘impending doom’ — there’s no obvious threat, but it feels like something is about to go terribly wrong. You’ve seen patients die within minutes of saying something doesn’t feel right.

“Your baby is fine, Sonia,” you assure. “You'll-you'll be able to see for yourself in just a minute.”

“No! No, this was a mistake, all of it,” Sonia cries. “Roger was right to panic. Look, we can't do this. I can't... I can't do this. I shouldn't have this child.”

“Hey! Hey, Sonia, look at me,” you say, patting her knee to get her attention.

It takes her a moment, but her eyes eventually meet yours.

“All you have to do is push,” you tell her. “That’s it, okay? Just push.”

She still looks terrified, yet she nods.

On the next contraction, Sonia pushes. You coach her through the contractions, telling her when to push and when to rest. It only takes a few rounds until the baby is fully born.

“He’s here!” you exclaim as you wrap the baby in a towel.

There’s some happy laughter and a round of applause from the crowd as the baby cries.

“Beautiful boy, it’s time you meet your mom,” you say as you move to place the baby on Sonia’s chest.

She’s staring at the ceiling, her expression slack.

“I’ve got the baby,” Eddie interrupts, taking the baby from you so you can work.

“Sonia?” you say, rubbing your knuckles on her sternum. She winces, but barely.

“I can’t get a systolic above 70,” Hen says as she deflates the blood pressure cuff.

“She’s cyanotic,” you say, noting the blue tinge to her lips and fingernails. “She’s in shock.”

“Hemorrhagic?” Hen questions.

“She’s barely bleeding,” you shake your head.

You press your fingers to her neck. You don’t feel a pulse.

“Lost a pulse, starting compressions!” you shout.

Everything starts to move a hell of a lot quicker. Within seconds, the defibrillator is at your side, and as you compress Sonia’s chest, Hen is placing the pads. Eddie has a finger on her neck to ensure your compressions are effective.

When you get Sonia on the gurney, Eddie tags you out as the compressor to give you a break. Your entire body shakes with adrenaline, yet you help pack her into the rig and climb inside.

“She was fine,” Eddie mutters as he compresses. “Birth was going like clockwork, even for a geriatric pregnancy.”

“Sudden despair and fear and anxiety, rapid loss of BP, subsequent cardiovascular collapse…” you think aloud. It dawns on you. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

You’re reaching for your phone, dialing the phone number of the hospital you’re heading to. “It’s an Amniotic Fluid Embolism.”

Eddie looks over to you. His brow is damp with sweat. “She could be in DIC.”

“She needs Mass Transfusion Protocol,” you agree. You raise the phone to your ear. “LA general, this is RA 118 en route, I need to speak to your ER charge nurse.”

When you’re rolling through the ER doors, you’re kneeling over Sonia on the gurney as you do compressions. Doctors and nurses are shouting directions at each other, but all you focus on is your arms moving up and down.

You hop off so they can move her off of the gurney and onto the hospital bed. In the process, you notice that the defibrillator is showing Sonia’s in Ventricular Tachycardia — a shockable rhythm.

“V-Tach,” you say normally at first, then shout. “V-Tach! Everyone clear!”

The ER staff has no idea who you are, but when someone shouts those words, anyone with a medical background knows to listen. Everyone backs away with their hands raised. After hitting the ‘charge’ button, you do a quick survey to ensure no one is touching Sonia. Then, you hit the lightning bolt to deliver a shock.

Sonia’s body jerks at the electricity. The EKG tracing goes from tombstone shapes to a flatline. Then, there’s a beep and a QRS complex. Then another, and another.

“Got a pulse!” a random voice shouts.

You make your way out of the trauma bay and into the hallway, where Eddie’s waiting for you.

“That was… amazing,” Eddie says.

You stand next to him wordlessly. You nod but then let out a sob as you collapse against the wall.

Eddie helps lower you to the floor. He keeps a hand on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“God, this is embarrassing,” you remark between a few sobs.

“It isn’t,” Eddie immediately responds. “We’ve all been there.”

“It’s, uh, it’s how my mom died,” you say with a sad laugh. “They didn’t catch it in time. She bled to death internally. I just… I don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t pull through.”

“She did,” Eddie says, moving his hand from your shoulder to your knee. “She pulled through because of you.”

You nod again, wiping away some of your tears. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods in return. You notice that his gaze goes from your eyes to your lips and back up to your eyes.

It happens in the smallest of movements, but before you know it, your forehead is pressed against Eddie’s. You can feel his breath on your mouth. You quietly gasp at the sensation, and it makes him sigh.

You press your lips together. “You’re married.”

“She wants a divorce,” Eddie whispers.

You smile sadly. “You’re still married.”

Eddie sighs again, but this time, he moves away from you.

“I’m not saying it can never happen,” you say quietly. “All I’m saying is that I’m not that kind of girl. And you definitely aren’t that kind of guy.”

Eddie nods, his mouth shifting into a few different expressions.

You rise to your feet and offer Eddie a hand. “Let’s get back to work, Edmundo.”

Eddie laughs genuinely at the use of his full name. He takes your hand and uses it to help get himself up, but he continues holding it when he’s standing.

“Back to work,” he agrees and squeezes your hand before letting go.

You’re heading out a scene call, fire in progress with multiple victims suspected. You’re driving the rig while Eddie sets up the back. The 118 is the nearest firehouse, so your unit will be the first on the scene. It comes with a lot of responsibility, but you know you and Eddie are ready for it.

That is, until there’s a massive ‘BOOM’ from behind you.

You immediately pull over and look in your rearview. The engine following behind you is now on fire and lying on its side in the middle of the intersection. You can see a few firefighters lying on the pavement.

“Eddie, grab our bags!” you shout as you unclick your seatbelt.

You fly out of the rig and meet Eddie in the back. Instead of handing you your bag, he sets a hand on your shoulder and pushes you both to the side of the ambulance.

“What the hell?” You ask.

“There’s a bomber,” he says in a low tone.

“What?” you ask again, peering to the side of him.

Sure enough, there’s a kid — no older than twenty — with several pipe bombs strapped to his chest. He’s holding what appears to be the detonator in his hand. Someone is laying at his feet, his leg pinned under the passenger side of the engine.

Buck was sitting in the passenger’s seat.

You try rushing forward again, and Eddie grabs you by the waist this time.

“It’s Buck!” you scream as you struggle against him.

“I know,” Eddie says, his arms wrapped around you as he presses your back to his chest.

“We have to do something!” you cry, still thrashing against Eddie.

“We have to wait for the scene to clear,” Eddie explains. It’s more than a little annoying how calm he sounds. “If you go in now, both of you could die.”

“So what, we just let him die?” You ask, but you’ve stopped fighting.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but his grip around you loosens. Eventually, you feel his arms drop back to his sides. That’s when you make a run for it.

You make it far enough to catch the bomber’s attention. You raise your hands in the air.

“I’m not who you want,” you explain, “I just want to help him. He has nothing to do with this. He has friends and family… he’s my family. Please, just let me help him.”

The bomber looks from you to Buck, then back at you. “He’s collateral damage.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Bobby interrupts. He approaches with his hands raised.

The bomber’s attention shifts to Bobby, the person he’s been after this whole time. You use it as a window of opportunity to approach Buck slowly. When you finally reach him, you crouch down by his head.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” you say softly. You set a hand on his head. “How’re you feeling?”

His left leg is the one that’s pinned, and he’s lying on his stomach. He tries to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” you joke. You move your hand to his neck. “Are you in pain?”

“No, just kind of numb,” he says. “That’s not good, right?”

Your heart sinks. “You’re in shock: it’s normal.”

Bobby manages to distract the bomber long enough to subdue him. As the bomber gets rushed off, the rest of your team rushes in.

“Eddie, start two lines, wide open,” you instruct. “Hen, get him in the C-collar.”

You dig in the medi bag for a tourniquet. As you apply it, you try to drown out the sound of Buck crying out in pain.

“How are we doing?” Bobby asks as you stand.

“We’re out of time,” you mumble. “We need to get him out and to the nearest trauma center.”

Any extra body moves to the truck, waiting for the count to lift it. You place yourself in front of Buck, taking both of his hands.

“We’re gonna get you out,” you promise.

He nods slightly.

“Okay, my count,” you say as you move your hands to underneath his arms. “1… 2… 3!”

As everyone begins to push, you start pulling on Buck. He isn’t budging.

“It’s too heavy,” Bobby says.

“We got anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” Eddie suggests.

“No, we need more people,” Chim says, picking up his radio. “Dispatch, this is 118…”

There’s some clattering from across the way. Bystanders are pushing through the barricades to help. This time, you’re able to get him out.

You get him on the backboard, then onto the gurney. The whole time, you’re telling him that he did a good job and that he’ll be okay. As you’re running with him to the ambulance, he mumbles something. Once you’re settled into the rig, you ask him to repeat himself.

“You’re my family, too,” he mutters.

You wait in the waiting room the whole time Buck is in surgery. When he makes it out of recovery and to the ICU room, you don’t leave his side. You’re sure visiting hours are over, but you stay out of the nurse’s way. She doesn’t say anything; she just gives you a sympathetic look every once in a while.

You hear him stir a little bit. You look up from your phone to see Buck blinking awake.

“Welcome back,” you smile.

“You’re here,” he says, voice rough.

“Where else would I be?”

Buck looks around the room, slowly orienting himself. His eyes eventually land on his leg, which is in a cast and suspended in a sling. His eyes widen, and he lets out a few breaths as he tries to sit up.

“Okay, okay,” you set a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” Buck asks. “Did you talk to the doctor? Did he say anything about how the surgery went?”

“Just that you made it through,” you say softly. “And you're now the proud owner of one titanium rod and four beautifully cobalt-chromed screws.”

“Before they wheeled me in, he, uh… he said he didn't know how it was gonna go.”

You take his hand gently. “You’ll walk again, Buck.”

“Yeah, h-he said… he said he was pretty confident about that. He, uh, he just... he didn't know if I would ever… work again.”

You run a hand over your face. “Okay, I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you everything will work out how you want it to. But what I will say is that we should take this moment to be glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m really sorry about our fight,” Buck apologizes.

You laugh. “Buck, that is… so far from being important right now.”

“No, it isn’t,” he insists. “It wasn’t fair, how I reacted. I’m proud of you. I was just… scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Losing you,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah, well, I was pretty scared of that today, so we’re definitely even,” you joke. Your smile softens and you squeeze his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You move your hand to his forehead. You trail it down to his cheek, letting it rest for a moment. You turn your body to face him better. His eyes are closed, which you’re grateful for because if he were looking at you, you wouldn’t have the guts to do what you want to do.

You kiss him. It’s hesitant at first, and when he doesn’t react right away, you start to pull back. Before you can, Buck has his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Your hand moves from his cheek down his neck and eventually rests on his chest. You only pull away when your lungs are burning from lack of air.

Buck traces his thumb over your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You blush, laugh, and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Ch 7

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #Buddie x reader #buddie x reader #i can write #pretty boy fic

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moonstruckme · 2 years ago

Note

i’m obsessed with everything you write! you write our boys so well 🖤🖤 could I request poly!marauders maybe with some casual dominance and just taking care of the reader? like picking out her clothes, making sure she eats, just being protective but also so soft with her

Thanks lovely! Here you go :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Morning, angel,” James chirps as you step into the kitchen. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good, thanks.” You take the coffee he hands you, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “You?”

“Phenomenally. How do you want your eggs?”

“I’m alright without, thanks though.” You sit down next to Remus at the table, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s just the way you like it, with heaps of cream and sugar.

“Can’t skip breakfast, dove,” Remus says, hardly looking up from the newspaper as he speaks to you.

“I don’t feel like eggs,” you reply, watching him warily over the top of your mug, trying to gauge if he might let it go. “And I’m not really hungry anyway.”

Amber eyes flick up to yours as Remus turns the page. “You’re not going to work on an empty stomach. You need to eat something.”

“I’ll make you something else,” James offers sweetly. “Whaddya want, my love?”

You smile at him, batting your eyelashes. “Could I have some toast please, Jamie?”

He flips his spatula expertly, winking at you. “Might be above my skill level, but I’ll do my best for you, angel.”

You laugh, and Remus rolls his eyes at the both of you. Sirius trods in still wearing his pajama bottoms, a smirk coming to his lips as he reads the room instantly.

“In trouble already?” he drops a kiss on the top of your head, reaching over to squeeze Remus’ shoulder in greeting. “What’ve you done now, hm?”

Your eyes dart nervously to Remus, waiting to see if he’ll rat you out. Though Remus is the sternest of your boyfriends, Sirius delights in being in charge, and you know he’ll rub it in the most. You imagine it’s the older brother in him.

“It’s resolved,” Remus says simply, and you think you detect the faintest twitch of his lips when you grin at him in relief.

“Siri, have you seen the leaves outside?” you ask hastily, going for the distraction before he can attempt to pry further. “It’s like they finally turned just overnight.”

He takes the bait, leaning back in his seat to peer out the window. You’d been ecstatic when you’d cracked the curtains in your bedroom this morning to see your street had taken on a whole new color palate, everything red and orange and golden. “It does finally look like autumn, doesn’t it?” He gives you a critical once-over. “That isn’t going to do for the chill out there, sweetheart.”

You look down at your skirt and blouse. You quite like this outfit. “You think? It’s not supposed to be that cold yet, is it?”

Sirius raises a brow just as Remus finishes with the paper, folding it and looking up to see what the two of you are on about. “It’s September, love,” he reasons. “If it got cold enough last night to turn the leaves, it’s cold enough to at least wear a jumper.”

“I’m thinking fleece tights and a sweatshirt,” Sirius says contemplatively, more to Remus than to you. “Don’t run off after breakfast, dollface, and I’ll go pick them out for you.”

You start to protest, but then Sirius’ mouth drops open, and you turn to see James teetering toward you, balancing four plates across his arms.

“Fucking hell, Prongs,” he breathes, but James manages to distribute all four dishes safely, setting your toast in front of you last with a flourish.

“Good idea,” he says, picking up the previous conversation as though nothing has happened. “Can’t have our girl shivering out there in the cold.”

You roll your eyes but munch happily on your toast, ignoring how Remus eyes you watchfully as you eat.

Since you finish first, you offer to wash up while Sirius goes and selects the additions to your outfit as he sees fit, changing into them afterwards. You have to admit, the day does look promisingly crisp outside your bedroom window, and the tights and sweatshirt he has you layer with what you already have on are soft and comfy.

“Let me get those for you,” James offers as you pull on your shoes, and you place your foot on his knee obediently, letting him tie them both with a firm pat on the side of your shoe once he’s done. “There y’go, angel. Double-knotted and everything.”

You press a rewarding kiss to his cheek, and Sirius comes in from canoodling with Remus to oversee his handiwork. He hums, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in your tights and adjusting the sweatshirt on your shoulders unnecessarily while you and James exchange glances, each fighting to keep a straight face. “Might need a scarf too,” he muses, and James bursts into laughter.

“Siri, come on,” you protest, unable to contain a few giggles of your own.

James grabs Sirius around the waist, throwing him onto the bed beside you. “Work on your own outfit, Pads.”

“You’re all going to be late if you don’t get going,” Remus says, smiling at the scene as he comes in. James detaches himself from Sirius, his expression morphing into that well-practiced facade of angelic innocence.

“I was just on my way out,” he says, giving Remus a goodbye kiss. “See you all later.” He pats you on the head as he passes, and then he’s out the door.

Remus moves to the bed, leaning over Sirius, who props himself up on his elbows to meet him halfway. “Get dressed,” Remus says as he breaks the kiss, tucking a piece of silky black hair behind Sirius’ ear. “You can’t afford to be late again, love.”

You stand as he moves to you next, wrapping a long-fingered hand around the side of your hip, and you let your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you sweetly. “Be good,” he says softly, placing an additional kiss at your temple. “I’ll see you tonight, dovey.”

“See you tonight,” you echo, and then it’s just Sirius and you, his eyes playful as they meet yours.

“Be good,” he coos mockingly. “Think you can do that all day long?”

You grin, picking up your bag from the end of the bed. “Hey, at least I’m dressed.”

“Oi!” Sirius says as you leave the room. “Where’s my kiss?”

“Sorry,” you reply gaily, “can’t be late. You can’t afford to either, remember?”

“Oh, feeling bold, are we?” he calls after you. “We’ll see how bold you are later tonight.”

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starkerobsession · 8 days ago

Text

Peter gets drunk at a party - part 2

Part 1 here

Peter woke up the next morning feeling like utter shit. His head was pounding and his mouth was extremely dry. He also wasn’t in his own bed, which was alarming. He sat up as quickly as his hangover would allow, scanning the room, trying to remember where he was and how he got there. It took only moments for him to gather he was at Mr Stark’s place, in the spare room he’d longed to stay in for months now. There was also a large glass of water and some aspirin on his bedside table, which told Peter that Mr Stark must have brought him here last night.

Last night, last night… there had been a party. He’d been drinking. Then it was a blur. What had happened? He felt a sudden panic when he realised that Aunt May must be pulling her hair out with worry. He quickly took the aspirin and finished his glass of water before grabbing his phone which Mr Stark had kindly put on charge for him on the bedside table. He opened his messages. Aunt May was right at the top.

Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him when he saw that he’d messaged Aunt May last night saying he’d be staying at Ned’s place and May had replied in a very calm, non-suspicious way. He definitely didn’t remember typing that message but he’s thankful he did, in his drunken state.

He was about to put his phone away when he glanced at his chat with Mr Stark. He’d been messaging him last night. He was wary to open the messages, but he forced himself to. He needed to know more context about last night.

As his eyes scanned over the messages he became more and more horrified at what he’d said. Daddy? I love you?

Peter tossed his phone onto the bed next to him, feeling nauseous. Mr Stark had said ‘when you’re sober we’ll have a discussion about this “daddy” thing’. Well, Peter was sober now. Painfully so. And he did not want to discuss this “daddy” thing. But he was stuck in Mr Stark’s spare room. Sure, he could escape through the window but somehow that would be worse. He’d have to explain why he made a sneaky escape. No, he had to face Mr Stark. Today. Now.

As if on cue, the bedroom door opened. Peter didn't have time to lie back down and pretend to be asleep. Instead, he sat, staring sheepishly at Mr Stark, who was standing in the doorway holding a tray of food.

"Good morning," Mr Stark said, stepping inside the room and placing the tray down on the bed next to Peter. "I made you breakfast. Eggs, toast, pancakes, waffles, cereal, fruit... hey, I didn't know what you like for breakfast so I made everything. You hungry?"

Peter stared down at the food and then up at Mr Stark, face red. He wasn't planning on bringing up the messages unless Mr Stark did first. "Thanks. Yeah, I'm- I'm hungry. Thank you, Mr Stark."

Mr Stark smiled. "No problem." Peter noticed him glancing at the empty glass on the bedside table before speaking again. "How are you feeling, Kid?"

Peter let out a shaky laugh as he started eating. "Uh, pretty bad. Thanks for the aspirin and the water and the... the bed. I must have been pretty out of it because I don't even remember getting here."

"To be fair, you were asleep during the drive here," Mr Stark said. "After that, I carried you inside bridal style."

Peter felt his face redden even more and he started shovelling food into his mouth to distract himself and to give himself an excuse not to respond to that comment.

"I'll leave you to eat your breakfast. When you're ready, we'll talk, okay?" Mr Stark said, getting up and heading for the bedroom door. Peter nodded his head quickly as Mr Stark left the room, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, he felt like he would throw up if he ate any more.

We'll talk.

Talk about what? The "daddy" thing? Peter desperately hoped that Mr Stark would take pity on him and not bring it up, but he doubted that would happen.

After a very long ten minutes of fear and apprehension, Peter got out of bed, carrying the tray with him. He walked out of the room and headed to the kitchen to dispose of his leftovers, where he found Mr Stark sitting, drinking coffee from a large mug. Mr Stark looked up when Peter entered, gesturing for Peter to sit down opposite him at the breakfast bar.

Peter put the tray down by the sink and sat down, almost robotically. To say he was terrified was an understatement.

"So," Mr Stark said. "The "daddy" thing."

Shit, Peter thought. He really just came out and said it.

"Hm?" Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Tell me about it."

"Tell you about what?" Peter said, trying his best to sound like he genuinely had no idea what Mr Stark was talking about.

"Don't act so innocent, Kid," Mr Stark said. "You can look back at the text messages you sent me last night if you need to jog your memory, but I know full well you know what I'm talking about."

Peter knew he was bright red with shame and embarrassment. He still refused to make eye contact with Mr Stark, when he spoke in a quiet, mortified voice. "Why are you making us talk about it?"

"Punishment."

"Punishment?"

"For the underage drinking."

"It's not your place to punish me for underage drinking, dad," Peter said, feeling annoyed.

"I think you mean daddy."

Peter let out an embarrassed whine and folded his arms, staring - no, glaring - at the fruit bowl next to him.

"What do you remember from last night?" Mr Stark asked, his tone softer than before.

"Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

Peter sighed. "I remember going to the party, drinking... then it's a blur. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in your guest room."

"Would you like me to fill you in?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean... yes? Actually, no. I don't want to know. Don't tell me."

Mr Stark snorted. "I'm telling you. More punishment."

"GOD, Mr Stark, don't," Peter groaned. Mr Stark however, appeared to completely ignore Peter's request.

"So after your very interesting and enlightening texts where you called me "daddy" multiple times and told me you loved me, I turned up at the party to pick you up-"

"-The short version, Mr Stark. I beg you. Keep it short."

"Fine," Mr Stark said. "I found you. You were crying about how much you loved me and how "hot" I am and how you want me in you-"

"-OH MY GOD, STOP!"

Peter felt like he would die of embarrassment. He decided in that moment that he'd never drink again.

"Then you called me hot again," Mr Stark continued.

"Great."

"You told me my beard would feel good against your thighs."

Peter groaned again. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Okay please stop. I'm begging."

"I'm almost done," Mr Stark said, speaking annoyingly calmly as if he wasn't totally humiliating Peter. "You then thought I... how did you put it? That I "fucked" you. You asked me if I really had. You must have hallucinated me fucking you or something."

Peter tried to ignore how hot it sounded hearing Mr Stark talking about fucking him. He just continued glaring at the fruit bowl in embarrassed silence.

"Then you called me "daddy" some more and I helped you to my car and put your seatbelt on and you... well, you... started trying to kiss my neck. I say try because it was more like you were slobbering all over my neck."

"I didn't."

"Oh, you did."

Peter could feel a tingling in his lips at the thought. His lips had been against Mr Stark's neck. He'd have to make a note to never wash his lips again after this.

"Hm. So? I was drunk. Is that all?"

"Then you fell asleep in the back of my car and I brought you here. I sent a message to your aunt on your behalf so she wouldn't worry."

"Right. Thanks. So, can I go now?" Peter asked, getting up quickly and trying to make a quick exit. Mr Stark stood up abruptly and blocked his escape route.

"Not so fast, Kid," Mr Stark said, placing a firm hand on Peter's chest. Peter hated the fact Mr Stark could now feel how fast his heart was beating.

"Look at me," Mr Stark said, voice full of authority. "Peter. Look at me."

How could Peter resist when Mr Stark was asking him in such a daddyish tone? He looked up at Mr Stark, catching his gaze and blushing harder. "I'm looking," Peter responded weakly. He was starting to realise he'd have to talk about this, as much as he didn't want to.

"So," Mr Stark said. "Let's talk."

(There will be a part 3)

#starker #ironspider

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gejo333 · 11 months ago

Text

SPIDER ROSE🌹🕷️

Father Miguel x Mother Reader

Warning: Mentions of death. Might need tissues for this one🥲

I got a request for this from someone, but it’s taken me a while to get around to it. Sadly the ask disappeared so I don’t know who asked for it🥲.

I hope you enjoy this one-shot.🥰

Wc: 6.6k

————————————————————————

The sky was a vibrant blue, and the sun was bright white as its heat beat down over Nueva York.

It was mid-morning on Saturday when your body felt ready to wake up. You took a deep breath as you sat up in bed. A smile graced your lips as you looked out the window from your brownstone. You looked down at your sleeping husband, arm draped over you. You leaned down and kissed his cheek, gently moving his arm from around you as you got out of bed.

A boost of energy you hadn't felt in a long time washed through you as you got up and dressed. You walked to the bedroom down the hall and gently opened the door. Your heart warmed when you saw the silly way your 8-year-old daughter was sleeping, snoring slightly, just like her father.

You then went to the kitchen, wanting to make a large breakfast for your husband and daughter's two bottomless pit stomachs.

When 30 minutes went by, you heard your husband waking up. You smiled when you felt arms wrapped around your middle and lips on your neck.

"Everything smells amazing, mi amor. How are you feeling today?" Miguel took a piece of bacon from the plate before you could smack his hand with the spatula. "I guess you have some energy today. I'm relieved to see it."

"Actually, I feel really great today. I haven't had this much energy in a while. We should do something fun today, like go to Coney Island. We can go on rides, play games, and go to the beach! And let's just let her eat whatever she wants today." You are suddenly turned around as your husband's hand caresses your cheek as you lean into his touch.

You looked up at him with a small smile, and he looked down at you with worry and fear in his eyes. "Y/n, maybe I should take you—" You placed your hands on his face to stop him from finishing his sentence, shaking your head. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and your breathing started to quicken. Fear started to fill the pit of your stomach.

"Honey, I don't want to. We've talked about this. Let's just have an amazing day together as a family. Please." You pleaded as you looked up at him with tearful eyes.

Miguel took a deep breath, tears threatening to leave his own eyes. His heart trying its best to stop it from shattering. He forced a smile to his face as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you against him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, look up, and kiss his lips deeply, "Thank you."

Moments later, you heard your daughter wake up and walk into the kitchen in her cat PJs. You smiled lovingly at her as she yawned and rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

"Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?"

You place a plate of waffles with a whipped cream smiley face, berries, bacon, and scrambled eggs on it.

You saw her brown eyes light up at the feast before her.

"Good morning! Yay! Waffles! Thanks, Mom." She hugs you tightly from her seat on the stool as you happily hug her back and kiss the top of her head.

"Of course." You smile as you make a plate for Miguel and you as you both sit across from your daughter.

As you eat, Gabi smiles as she sees her father give her mom a piece of his bacon and strawberries, which both her parents love to eat.

She looks at her mom, who gives her father a look only the two know before she kisses his cheek in thanks.

"Hey, Princesa, do you want to go to Coney Island today?" Miguel took the empty plates and put them in the sink.

"Really? Yes, yes, yes! I'll go get ready." Gabi quickly jumped from her chair and rushed to her room. "Don't forget to wear a bathing suit!" you yelled down the hall.

After getting ready and managing through traffic, you finally made it to Coney Island. Gabi excitedly runs ahead with you and Miguel, telling her to stay by your side since it was crowded and you wanted her to stay near you.

"Can we go on this one?" Gabi tugs on your hand as she points to the wooden roller coaster.

"Princesa, I'm not sure-"

"Of course we can!" You interrupt Miguel, who gives you a stern look. You take his hand and give it a love squeeze to reassure your very protective husband that you will be fine. Miguel sighs as he smiles.

"Alright. I'll hold your stuff while you two go on it."

You kissed your husband's cheek as he held the items. You and Gabi happily went on the roller coaster, skipping to the front because you bought fast passes.

As you get situated on the ride and it starts to move, you can see Gabi become nervous as she holds your hand and clings to you. But after that first drop, she became more brave, only needing to hold your hand.

After you left the ride, you made sure to purchase the photo taken while the two of you were on it.

"We look so silly!" Gabi giggled as she looked at the photo. You laugh with her as you see the startled look on both of your faces. You both returned to Miguel, who walked over to you when he saw you in the crowd.

"Dad, look!" Gabi shows Miguel the photo, bringing a wide smile to his face.

"So that's where I heard the screaming from." He chuckled.

"Ooo, let's go on this one next!" Gabi says as she pulls your hand again to move in the direction she wants to go.

After riding all the fun rides, you watched as Gabi and Miguel sat at the chairs with the water gun game. When the buzzer went off, they raced to see which stuffed bear attached to the machine would get to the top first. Of course, Miguel purposely messed up a few times to let Gabi win, as she jumped from her seat when the siren went off.

Gabi chose her prize: a medium-sized, bright blue stuffed animal, a cartoon cat.

"I'm going to name him Sky!" Gabi smiled as she hugged her stuffed animal. She then saw another game in which you use a mallet to try to hit the bell.

"Oh, Dad, can we win something for Mom?" Gabi said as she pointed to the other game.

"Of course we can." Miguel smiled as he winked at you, making you smile with tinted cheeks. Even after being married for 15 years, he still knew how to make you flustered. When it was his turn, he lifted the giant mallet and hit it as hard as he could. Even though his workout regime was a lot less than when he was in his 20s and 30s, his athletic build now, with a dad bod, still could make the bell ring.

After winning a prize, Miguel handed you a stuffed red rose pillow with a cute, happy face.

"Here you go, Hermosa." Miguel wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he victoriously kissed you. His prize for winning the game.

After playing every game possible and eating some carnival food in between, the three of you were now relaxing at the beach.

As you and Miguel watched Gabi play in the water, you leaned your body against him, feeling tired.

You forced your eyes open, the light stinging your eyes a bit, as you saw Gabi hold something up in the air that she had found in the water.

"Mom! Dad! Look what I found!" Gabi happily ran up to the two of you as she sat on the beach blanket, showing you two a beautiful clam that was still shut.

"Wow, princesa, that's a good find." Miguel smiled as he held.

"Can you open it? Maybe there's a pearl!" Gabi couldn't sit still as Miguel opened the clam with a kitchen knife brought for the picnic.

"Here you go."

"Thank you!" Gabi set it down on the blanket as she looked to see if there was a hidden treasure. "Look!" Gabi held up a beautiful white pearl before handing it to you to look closer.

"Oh, it's so beautiful, Gabi. Do you want me to make it a necklace?" Your smile widens when you see her face.

"Yes! Can you keep it safe for me, Mom?"

"Of course, sweetie." You put the pearl in your wallet so it wouldn't get misplaced. As soon as you get home, you will make her the necklace.

After spending a couple more hours at the beach, plus grabbing dinner at your favorite local pizzeria, it was time to head home.

You helped Gabi wash up after playing in the water and sand all day, and then she got into a new pair of pajamas. Then, all three of you got comfortable on the couch watching a movie.

As you were sitting there, you smiled as you heard Gabi's laughter from the movie, trying to imprint it in your mind while you made the necklace. You had taken a sterling silver chain from your jewelry box and made a hole towards the top of the pearl with a needle. You made sure to add stoppers so the pearl stayed in place.

You felt tired after the third movie credits rolled by. "OK, princesa, time for bed."

"Aw, OK." You stand up, take her hand, and walk her to bed. You chuckled when you heard her yawn.

You sit on her bed and help tuck her in for bed. As she sits up, you open your palm to see the necklace in your hand. "Here you go," you say.

"It's so beautiful! Thank you, Mama!" Gabi wrapped her arms around you and hugged you, to which you happily returned. A tear fell down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly before she could see it.

"You'll grow into it as you age; that's why the chain is a bit longer now." You helped put the necklace on her.

You brush some of her hair back from her face as you take in every detail of her. "Sweetheart, you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah! I love you, too. Can you read me a story?" Gabi takes one of her books and hands it to you. You happily take it from her as you sit fully on the bed next to her, as she places her head on your lap.

After some reading, you notice she has fallen asleep. You carefully place her head on her pillow without waking her, kissing her cheek, "Good night, my baby girl." You look at her for a moment before you slowly walk out of her room. You turn around and look at her one last time.

As soon as her door was closed, you leaned against the door. Exhausted beyond compare, you lean your body on the wall, feeling like you'll collapse to the floor. Before you do, Miguel helps you by letting you lean on him. He was leading you to your shared bedroom; however, you stopped him and gave him a weak smile. "Can we sleep out on the terrace tonight? The sky is so beautiful."

Miguel smiled in agreement as he grabbed all the blankets, pillows, and comforters and brought them outside to the super-soft sofa bed. After making it comfortable, you and Miguel got cozy under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you against him.

"Thank you." You smile as you look up at him. Leaning your head forward, you place your lips on his. His fingers find their way into your hair as he deepens the kiss. You feel water drip on your cheeks. Once you pull away, you see tears fall down his face.

You gently wiped them away with a sad smile as he took your wrist and kissed it. His tear-stained eyes met your teary ones.

"I'm sorry."

"Please, Hermosa. Let me take you to the hospital so you can get treatment. Please."

"Miguel, we've talked about this. When we found out, my cancer came back, and my odds were not good even with treatment. I would have been barely able to get out of bed, sick and miserable, and still would have died. At least I could spend time with you and Gabi like normal. So that the last few months with me wasn't filled with memories of me being sick, but happy memories."

"But there was a small chance." Miguel barely said above a whisper as he began to shake a little, the reality of losing you coming to his mind.

"Miguel, look at me. The chance was less than 5%. Even the doctors were not hopeful. This past year has been an amazing one. And...And you and Gabi will have so many amazing years. Please, Miguel. Don't willow away when I'm gone. Promise me. You won't." You look up at him as your thumb caresses his cheek.

"I promise."

"OK. Now, let's end this fabulous day on a good note. Let this be...let this be a final good memory."

Miguel took your chin, lifting it as he kissed you deeply. Tears fell down your face as you wanted to remember the taste of his lips, the smell of his shampoo and cologne, and how beautifully they mixed together.

For the rest of the night, you talked about memories from the past twenty years—the five years you were college friends and dated and the fifteen years you were married, with eight of them being with your beautiful daughter. More tears were shed, and some laughs as well. You felt him one last time inside you before you ended up cuddling again, looking at the starry night.

Miguel had sworn he would not fall asleep, wanting every second left with you.

You smiled as you brushed some of his hair from his now sleeping face. Your eyes grow heavy as you fall asleep next to your husband.

You woke up to the early rise of the sun. You took a deep, shaky breath in the beauty of the various colors across the sky. Your gaze turned to your still-sleeping husband. If only you could see his beautiful brown eyes one last time. But you decided against waking him.

Your lips met his one last time as you whispered, " I love you, Miguel, in this life and in the next."

You looked to the sun one last time before a sudden wave of fatigue and peace you never felt before washed over you as your eyes closed, entering the eternal slumber.

An hour passed when Miguel's eyes opened. He looked at the sunrise before turning to look at you. The eerie stillness of your body made his heart skyrocket.

"Y/n?" He gently placed his hand on your face. His stomach dropped when he felt how cold your skin was. It was too cold.

"No...no, no.no, no!" Miguel sat up as he lifted your limp body and cradled you in his lap.

"It wasn't time yet. I wasn't ready. Please come back, mi amor. I'm not ready." His breathing couldn't be controlled as panic and pain filled his entire being.

He caressed your face as his forehead was on yours. Brown eyes staring into your closed ones. If only he could see your beautiful eyes one more time.

"Please, mi amor. Please come back to me." Tears fell uncontrollably down his face as he yelled out loud in pain.

...

Gabriella woke up late in the morning. She gently sat up in bed as she rubbed her eyes. Her lips turned into a pout, starting to feel grumpy as her mom usually came in to wake her up.

The house was eerily quiet except for her father's voice and Uncle's. She grabbed her stuffed animal she won yesterday and walked out of her room towards the sound of people talking.

When she entered the living room, she saw her father on the sofa, hands resting on his knees as his face was in his hands. He was crying. And next to him was her Uncle Gabe, who was consoling him.

"Dad? Why are you crying?"

Her father's head shot up as he looked at her with tearful red eyes. "Gabriella? What are you doing up?"

"Mama didn't come in to wake me."

Her words seemed to bring more pain to her father's face. "Gabriella come here."

She went to her father as he sat her on his lap. He wrapped her in his arms as he cried.

"Dad, what's wrong? Where's Mom?"

Miguel looked down at his daughter as he took in the features she had gotten from you.

"There is something that I need to tell you."

...

Gabi held her father's hand as she watched her mother's coffin get lowered into the ground. She looked up at her father, who had tears running down his face. This past week, since she found out about your passing, her father couldn't stop crying.

She couldn't stop crying, either. She missed you terribly—the way you held her, your smile, your voice, the way you comforted her when she was sad, like now. But now you weren't here to comfort her.

...

7 years later

"Gabriella! Come on! Get up! You're going to be late for school!"

Gabriella woke up startled as she heard her father yelling from the kitchen. She winced in pain as she got up too quickly. Grabbing her clothes to get dressed, she groaned out loud. She had stayed up too late last night.

After getting ready, she reached the kitchen, where her father passed her a plate with eggs and toast.

"Shoot. I'm going to be late for work. Are you going to be OK getting to school yourself?" Her father looked at his watch in panic as he quickly moved around the kitchen to find and grab his things. Gabriella's eyes went to the chain around her father's neck, dangling on it a wedding ring.

A painful ache covered her body as she looked at it. It was her mother's ring. Even though both she and her father have gotten the strength to keep on going after these seven years, it still feels like a fresh wound sometimes.

Sometimes, she would lie awake at night, tears streaming down her face as she looked at a picture of her and her mother together.

"I'll be home in time for dinner. Do you want me to pick up Ricky's Diner on my way home?" Miguel kissed the top of his daughter's head as she hugged him.

"Sounds good!" She said with her mouth full. Miguel chuckled as he looked at his daughter's silly face. Gabi smiled when she saw her father smiling. It's not that he hasn't smiled or laughed in a while; she just knew it was the only moment she knew her father briefly felt joy.

Before her father left, he stopped at the front door as he turned around, " Princesa, remember. Be home by dinner. N-"

"No later. I hear you loud and clear." Gabriella finished his sentence as she gave him an extra cheery smile.

Miguel chuckled, opening the door: "Don't be late. Love you."

"Love you too!"

After eating, she grabbed her bag and returned to her bedroom. She opened her window as she hopped out into the escape landing.

"Another day, another place to protect. Isn't that right, Mom?" Gabriella smiled as she looked at the pearl necklace around her neck with an additional piece. She opened up a silver rose locket as her thumb grazed over a photo of her mother.

She pulled the dark purple and light pink mask over her face before she stretched out her arm web, shooting from her wrist as she shot off into the skyline.

...

After a long day at school, which included skipping early when she found out there had been a major robbery, Gabriella swung through the city, almost falling and bumping into a few places.

It had only been 6 months since she was bitten by the radioactive Spider when she visited her Father at Alchamex.

Of course, she hasn't told her father, as he would worry to high heaven that she has been putting herself in constant danger. The only person who does know is her Uncle Gabe, who had accidentally seen her stuck to the ceiling.

She was on her way home with an hour to spare before her father would get home with dinner.

The radio earpiece went off: "Send all available vehicles to Alchemex HQ. A large explosion occurred on the north side of the campus."

Gabriella's stomach dropped as her heart began to beat a mile a minute. She shot out a web towards a building, turning opposite from the house.

Her father worked on that side of Alchemex.

Under the mask, her eyes widened as she saw the massive ball of fire and smoke coming out of the building. She found a way in through a broken window.

She coughed as a gust of smoke blew towards her. Running through, she saved anyone who was stuck or unconscious.

"Help! Please help me!" Gabriella heard a woman's plea as she made her way over there. As she turned the corner, she saw a woman trapped under a fallen ceiling...and a man in a white lab coat trying to lift it off her.

"Da- I'm mean, sir, let me help you lift it."

Gabriella stood by her father as she easily lifted the rubble, thanks to her super strength.

After the rubble was removed, the woman thanked you and Miguel before running towards an exit.

Her father turned to her as his eyes widened.

"What are you doing here? You need to leave immediately. This place is dangerous." Her father grabbed her hand as he tried to lead her out of the burning building.

"What do you mean. There was an explosion." She stopped, making him stop with her. "There could be others in there. Sir, you need to get out safely. I'll be fine."

She removed his hand as she was about to go further into the burning building when she heard a crack above her. Before she could register it, the ceiling collapsed, and everything went black.

Her head was pounding as they opened. She coughed as she slowly got up from the ground. Her body ached everywhere. As her vision returned to focus, she saw the rubble she was supposed to be under.

Her eyes widened as she saw a body lying underneath. "No, no, no, no!" She lifts the fallen ceiling off of him. She checked his pulse and sighed in relief. It was slow. She needed to get him out of here.

She grabbed his arm and hauled his upper body on her back, making her way out of the building as quickly as possible.

She laid him on the ground when she was far away from the building. Her eyes scanned to see how much damage was made.

He then coughed. "S-sir, you'll be alright. I'll take you to the hospital." Gabriella felt a hand on her face as tears streamed down it.

"No need, Princesa. I won't make it in time."

Her eyes widened as she heard the name her father called her.

"Princesa? Sir, I don't know what you-"

"I know, Gabi. I've known for a while." Her father removed her mask, showing her face. He brushed her tears away with his thumb.

"You'll be fine, Dad. Promise me you'll be fine."

"You look so much like her. She would be so proud of you like I am." Gabriella held her father's hand against her cheek as tears streamed faster down her face.

"Please, Dad. I can't lose you too."

"You'll be fine. It might hurt for a while. But I know you'll do great things one day."

"No, please don't say that."

"It's OK, princesa. No matter what, I'll always be with you and love you even if you can't see me."

"I love you too."

...

1 year later

Gabriella sat on the damp grass as her tired eyes gazed at the marble slab before her.

Here lies Y/n O'Hara and her husband, Miguel O'Hara.

Around the carved stone were pink roses, her mother's favorite, as she placed a fresh bouquet in the vase.

Gabriella turned around, surprised, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her gaze briefly moved towards the man who resembled her father.

"You can't run away like that, Gabi. I was worried sick about you. You've been here for hours in the rain. You'll catch a cold. I promise we can return to see them once you get some rest and food."

She sighed as she wiped away her tears. "Alright. Bye, mom...Dad."

Listening to him, she reluctantly stood up from the grass, wiping away mud from her legs.

"You promise?" Gabriella asked her Uncle, the one her parents named her after. Her Uncle smiled and nodded, placing a hand on her upper back to guide her out of the graveyard.

They arrived at her Uncle's apartment, her home for the past year.

After washing up, she sat on her bed, knees tucked against her, and stared aimlessly at the picture frame on her bedside. It was a picture of her parents on their wedding day.

She heard a knock on her door, followed by her Uncle walking in. "Hey there, Gabs, I have your dinner here. It would really be great if you ate some of it tonight." He set the plate on her desk before standing by the doorway.

"Thanks."

"Is there anything you want to talk about? Getting things off your chest is better than holding them in."

Gabriella lay down away from her Uncle and whispered, "I'm OK. I think I just need to go to sleep. Good night."

Gabriel sighed, "OK. Good night." Before he closed her door, he walked to the sofa and sat down.

"I have no idea what to do, Miguel. What would you have done?"

...

When Gabriela finally woke up and got ready, it was midday. She forced herself out of her room to at least eat something since she hadn't eaten her dinner last night.

"Hey Gabi, how'd you sleep?" her Uncle said from the living room sofa as he sipped his coffee and watched the news.

"Alright. I'll try to get better. I promise." Gabriella took a bite of an apple.

"Hey, don't worry. You have gone through a lot for just a 16-year-old. The only thing I want is for you to be able to try to live as normal of a teenage life as possible." He smiled at her, to which she returned a small smile. "Speaking of not-normal, the news says there is a disturbance by the Brooklyn bridge."

"Shoot!" Gabriella rushed to put on her suit. Before she jumped out, her Uncle yelled, "Please come back home safe!"

"Will do!" She shot her web out as she headed towards the bridge.

When she arrived, she saw people and cars trying to escape the scene as the vulture was creating havoc. But when she got closer, she noticed it wasn't 'her' vulture, which was hard to register in her mind.

The new vulture threw a car off the bridge with people in it. Luckily, Gabi shot a few of her webs out to save the car. Taking all her strength, she pulled the car back on the bridge. A man and a woman rushed out, and the woman went to the back to get something. When the door was closed, she saw it was a little girl. The sight made her heartache.

"Thank you so much Spider-Rose." The man said.

"Of course. Now, please get to a safe distance."

The man then guided his family away as Gabriela went to deal with this weird vulture.

"Hey! Why are you ruining everyone's day today? And it's a bright blue sky and sunny, too." Gabi dangled from her web in front of the vulture, who was freaking out while flying.

"Are you made of clay? Like, what are you?"

"Where am I? What is this place?"

"It's Nueva York?" Gabriela laughed as she swung about and tried to stop the vulture. But he got out of her strings.

"Nueva York? It's New York."

"I think you must have hit your head or something, man. Maybe you should take a chill pill." Gabriela chuckled as she tried again to obtain him. She failed again as he slammed her against the wall.

"You're starting to annoy me." He pushed her more against the wall, which started to hurt her head.

A weird warping noise appeared in the air, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a weird orange portal open.

A woman in a white and pink suit flew towards her. And did she see a web-shoot from the woman's wrist?

Within seconds, the vulture was thrown off her, knocked out, and captured.

"I didn't think that would be over so quick. This guy is a pretty weak vulture."

Gabriela stared at the woman in awe. The woman noticed as she walked over and offered her hand, "Hi, I'm Gwen."

Gabriela shook her hand. "Gabriela, but everyone calls me Gabi. You're like me."

Gwen chuckled, "This is your first time meeting another Spider-person?"

"I didn't know there were others like me."

"Oh, there is an infinite amount! It's so cool! We have an HQ and everything, and we go on missions to help save the multiverse."

"The multiverse? I thought it was only a theory."

"I haven't seen a spider like you before. You should totally join us." Gwen said as she opened a portal.

"Really?!" Gabriela's eyes widened in excitement as she smiled underneath her mask.

"Sure! I don't see any reason why not? It's weird going through the portal for the first time. But you'll get the gist of it."

As Gwen said, going through the portal was nauseating, but the feeling disappeared as soon as she saw the beauty of Spider HQ.

Everywhere she looked, there were Spider-people. Knowing she wasn't alone brought tears to her eyes.

An older Spiderwoman in a black and red suit walked up to you and Gwen, not happy.

"Girl, You're in big trouble. Recruiting someone? You don't have the authority to do that." The woman scolded Gwen.

"H-how did... this just happen," Gwen asked, astonished that Jess already knew.

"it was Lyla. You're wanted at his office. Both of you. The name's Jess, by the way. It's nice to see another spider woman, even though it wasn't done through proper protocol." Jess glanced at Gwen, who had taken her mask off.

Gabriella decided to keep it on while trying to dry her tears.

"I know it wasn't done the right way. But she has amazing talent! She has to join! Plus, I know you will be on board once you see her skills!" Defended Gwen.

"Well, since you didn't follow protocol, it's not up to me to decide anymore."

Gabriela couldn't contain her excitement as they walked through HQ. She really hoped she could join, and she thought being here could help heal her pain.

They entered a large office filled with projects. Her eyes turned toward an orange glow. A series of computer screens hovered over a large desk where a very large man stood.

The lenses in Gabriella's mask widen when the man turns around.

She thought she was going to burst into tears. It was her father. But a younger version.

"Gwen." He said with a stern voice.

"I know I'm sorry. But my gut was telling me to bring her here."

"You know the rules. I expect you to follow them." The man who looked like her father walked closer.

He really did look like him. Except his eyes were red. He was definitely younger, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s. He was larger than her father, which was shocking as he was already a large man. It must have been from the Spider's DNA.

"She shouldn't be here." He looked towards her, her father staring at her like she was a stranger, which she had to remember that she was.

"Miguel, honey. They're just kids. And everyone makes mistakes. So give them a break."

Gabriella breath hitched when she heard your voice.

It was her mom. It was really you. She hadn't seen you in years. All she wanted to do was run into your arms, but she knew you weren't 'her.'

The woman walks over to Miguel, whose face turns to a loving smile as she wraps around her waist.

"Alright, mi amor. I will."

Gabriella smiled. They were married in this universe, too. Maybe they had a version of her back home that they adored and loved.

Gabriella's breath became uncontrollable as she couldn't handle seeing them anymore.

"I-I'm sorry." She rushes out of the room and goes somewhere where she can be alone to cry.

Little did she know that in you and Miguel's worlds, you had lost your Gabriella. Before joining Spider Society, you were a single mother from a one-night stand. It was your world's Miguel, but he was an asshole. So when you met Miguel at Spider HQ, you assumed he would be the same. Of course, you were very much mistaken as you got to know him. He was only sad after he had lost his version of Gabriella when the world collapsed. Your world collapsed, too, so you live full-time in Miguel's world with him. Of course, now married. But your Gabriella had died long before from an outbreak of a virus.

You gave Miguel a stern look, thinking he had upset the young Spider. But you, being the mother you used to be, ran after her.

Gabriella sat in a corner of the dining hall so that very few others could watch her cry. Maybe she shouldn't be here. Seeing her parents' faces and not being able to run up and hug them would be too much.

"Hey"

Gabriella's head shot up when she heard your voice. You sat right next to her and placed your hand on her back to console her.

"I'm sorry if my husband was rude. He means well but sometimes doesn't show it in the best way."

"No, it's OK. It wasn't that...I saw something that brought up some sensitive memories of my past."

"You know, sometimes it's good to talk things out instead of keeping them locked in. It always helped me," you smile at her.

Gabriella's heart ached from those words. Something her mother would say to her. "It's pretty weird..."

"Trust me. I've seen some pretty weird things." You chuckle, remembering the time you had a mission with the Spider T-Rex.

Gabriella exhaled a shaky breath as she took her mask and lifted it off her face. Her brown eyes took a long pause before looking at you. Your eyes were wide as your gut dropped, and your heart lifted as you placed a shaky hand on her cheek.

"Gabriella? I-I've never seen a version of you as a Spider. I-I've rarely seen another version of you at all. You're older than my Gabi." You pull her into a hug. Gabriella couldn't resist as she wrapped her arms around you, tears streaking down her face.

"I never thought I would see my daughter grown up. She was so young when she died."

You smiled as you looked at your 'daughter.' "

After all these years, I never thought I would see your smiling face again."

"I didn't think so either about you."

Her words made your brows furrow.

"Both my parents are dead. My mother died from a relapse of cancer when I was 8, and my father died last year from saving me from an explosion at his job." Gabriella bit her tongue as she tried her best to hold back her tears as that aching pain began to throb in her heart.

You held her in your arms longer than you realized as you heard large footsteps walking towards you before coming to a sudden halt. You looked up with a happy smile as you saw your husband's shocked face.

"Miguel, our baby girl, came back to us."

Miguel took a few steps forward, not believing who was before him. He fell to his knees before Gabriella, and she couldn't help but wrap her arms around him as she cried louder. Miguel wrapped his arms around her as he combed the back of her hair to calm her down. You go on your knees as you hug her, too, again.

Gabriella cried out loud, as did you and Miguel, not caring what scene they were causing. Miguel kissed the top of your head and Gabriella's as he smiled down at his family, once all broken but now brought together through the mysterious wonders of the multiverse.

"I've missed you both so much. I felt so alone without you."

You and Miguel exchanged a look as if you were communicating with your minds as you smiled at your daughter.

"I know we aren't your parents. But if you wanted, we would love to spend time with you." You wiped away her tears with your thumb.

"Does that mean I'm in?" Gabriella looked at you and Miguel with joy and excitement in her brown eyes.

" Of course." Miguel smiled at her.

" I know I'm not your daughter-"

"Gabi, no matter what universe you're from. You will always be our daughter."

Your words melted away Gabriella's walls and warmed her heart as tears threatened to spill again as she hugged you and Miguel.

...

A month later

"I can't believe in another universe you also tripped into the pond in Central Park on your guys' first date. That was always a funny story my mom would tell, embarrassing my father to high heavens." Gabriella laughed as she placed another dish on the dining room table.

Miguel chuckled as he finished plating the rest of the food from the pan. "What can I say? I was on a date with a beautiful woman and was a little nervous."

"A little? Really, honey? You're in front of family. You can admit you were a nervous wreck on our first date." You laughed, getting a playful glare from your husband in return.

"Ah, I remember my brother walking into our shared apartment drenched to the core after the date but still walking in through the door with a goofy grin." Gabriel laughed as he sat down next to his niece. Gabriella almost spit out her water by her Uncle's comment as she tried to hold in her laughter.

"Did that happen to you too?" She looked up at Miguel.

"Yeah, it did. I thought I had ruined the date, but when I got out, and Y/N kissed me and said she couldn't wait for our second date, I was over the moon happy." Miguel smiled as he looked at you, took your hand, and kissed your knuckles.

Gabriella smiled as she looked at her new family sitting around the table. She looked at her necklace, which now had a photo of her father on the other side of the locket. Gabriella's heart felt a warm sadness wash over her. She smiled to her self. She was finally healing.

As she looked up at the younger versions of her parents talking with happy smiles across the table from her, she thought:

'Mom...Dad. Thank you for helping me find my way back to you.'

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this one-shot!💕

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kerjaath · 8 months ago

Text

Singin' In The Shower

you thought the house was empty.

OR, you were taking a shower and started to get a little loud, unaware Yumi was still home.

reader lives in tgc house

no reader gender specified

word count: 1.1K

AN: hello everyoneeeee!!!!!!!!!!! first actual full fic posted on tumblr :333 if u wanna see more i gotchu!!! my fanfic suggestions r open and ready :3

AO3 LINK

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the house is always loud. whether it be breakfast time and everyone is huddled in the living room, stuffing their faces as they laugh at whatever is possibly playing on the t.v., or if it's the middle of the night and everyone is still streaming together.

quiet moments are rare, but the volume of the house never really bothered you too much.

It was your average, slow Thursday. Nothing was really going on all day, but when you left the shrouded comfort of your room to scavenge for a snack, you weren't too surprised to find the cabinets completely empty. Well, besides a stack of gamersupps and two empty granola bar boxes (damn you, Tanner, for taking the last ones without throwing out the boxes..)

You were in luck to find something in the fridge, though, and it wasn't long before you finished eating and headed back towards your bedroom.

unfortunately, before you could even slink into your room Isaac shouted towards you,

"Hey, we're all gonna go hit up Raising Cane's for dinner, you wanna come?" He held his hand on a corner of the wall, leaning towards you. Your cheeks slightly flustered up,

"Oh, I just ate, you guys can go without me," you laughed lightly to yourself. The chances of you eating right before everyone suddenly wanted to go out to eat - just your luck.

" 'Kay, well we're all gonna head out in a few minutes." Isaac already headed for the front door, where you assumed everyone else was waiting. You made a small hum, turning back to your bedroom door.

But, for a moment, you stopped.

Everyone else going out for dinner… you staying home, alone… home. Alone.

You smiled to yourself. You could do and be as silly as you wanted while everyone was gone without the fear of someone being nearby! Like… singing in the shower.

You already needed a shower anyway, your hair wasn't particularly in its best state, so why waste this chance to sing your heart out?

You turned on your heel, heading for the bathroom and setting a towel out. You waited for a moment, though. You couldn't just jump in the shower and sing your heart out…

You briskly walked back to the kitchen, turning to the front door. No one stood there… you quickly skipped your way to the window next to the door, moving a blind over to check to front yard. No one in sight.

You backed up, listening to the house… silence.

You shuffled to everyone's bedrooms, listening at the door before peeking in to check for anyone. But your search came back fruitless. You smiled, letting out a cackle, as you rushed to the bathroom.

Ushering the door closed, you started the water as you opened your phone, opening Spotify to find a fitting playlist 2000's girly hits… your 2023 Spotify wrapped… maybe even a playlist you couldn't stop listening to 24/7???

you paused for a moment. Yumi's album sat in your reccommended artist's playlist panels. You cracked a smile, clicking the playlist as you grabbed your speaker on the bathroom sink, hooking your Bluetooth up.

You never really sat and truly listened to Yumi's music on your own. There were the few moments you did, but it was never really a common everyday sort of thing. It was rarely even a monthly thing. But you liked his music. A part of you really only liked it so much because you could endulge in your guilty pleasure - just sitting and listening to Yumi's voice.

When you climbed in the shower, you just couldn't hold back your voice. Screaming along with Yumi, it felt almost… requited. As if he was really with you.

You barely even washed your hair, too busy flailing your hands around, dancing as the music got louder and louder.

...

When your solo concert finished up, your skin soggy and wrinkly, you climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your chest. It draped down your stomach and past your waist, stopping around your mid-thigh. As you left the bathroom, you hummed a section of a song you didn't finish before you got out.

You were walking peacefully back to your room, but you froze in fear as you heard a light chuckle from behind you.

as you turned around, it was none other than the man himself - Yumi - standing in the hallway, cupping his mouth, his face flushing as he tried to hold in laughter.

"I thought you guys went out to eat.." you stumbled on your own words, your face flashing pale before beating a bright red. You realized your state of clothing, or really the lack of such, and made a minor yelp noise as you pulled your towel to cover yourself. It didn't really cover you any further, but what else were you to do in the moment?

"Yeah, they went out," Yumi stiffled another laugh, "but I decied to stayed home."

"And you didn't bother to tell me??" You practically muttered your words, mentally reliving the previous 45 minutes or so in the shower.

"You know, I didn't know you liked my music that much…" he grinned.

"Oh, don't get cocky.." you turned around to not face him, shaking the red off your face before you looked back at him.

"You cannot tell anyone about this." you tried to give him a serious look. He just laughed at you further.

"Stooop, I mean it!!" You shouted at him, annoyed. You felt as if you were back in elementary school, the older cool boys teasing you...

"And why should I do that?" It was as if he couldn't smile any bigger.

"Because.." you thought for a moment, glancing at the ground in thought before looking back up, "I'll strike you a deal."

"and that is…" he turned his head slightly, an eyebrow rising. It was obvious you had intrigued and caught him in your trap...

"If you keep this a secret…" you inched closer to him, leaving a small space in-between you two. His face grew a shade of pink, and you noticed how he glanced at your towel. "I'll give you a treat."

he thought for a moment, curious as to what this "treat" was.. he slowly, ever so slightly, nodded his head, but before he could even get a word in, you jumped to action.

You quickly threw your arms up and around his head, tugging his face down to your level, and kissed him.

Before he could even react, you turned on your heel and increased your pace to get back to your room, an uncontrollable smile taking over your burning face.

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itscloudsocks · 15 days ago

Text

Time and Time again - chapter 6

life is crazy but I´m still alive

cw: none, Jayce visits his Ma and has a good time <3

It takes Jayce another day to shake off the strange feeling of loss pressing down on his shoulders. Cait stays with him but, knowing the way his brain works, forces him outside the next morning. He hates it, but it helps, so he hates it a little less. They take a long walk in the sun, looping around the still empty Academy park before settling down on a bench. It´s early - an hour or two before noon, early enough for university students to still be in bed after a night out - and Jayce stops being mad at Cait for dragging him outside. The sun is warm and gentle on his skin, the stone bench they´ve settled down on is still cold to the touch but Caitlyn next to him turns her face towards the light like a flower.

“´s nice,” she hums. She´s no longer dressed in her Enforcer uniform from last night but has changed into one of Jayce´s shirts that she always steals when she stays over because it´s large and soft from washing it one too many times. For a moment, Jayce is hit with the knowledge that just years ago, the shirt would not stay on her shoulder, it´d slip down over her hands and annoy her to hell. Now, after the ongoing physical training to become an Enforcer, her shoulders have become broader, her arms stronger. She´s grown. She´s no longer the little sister who´d run up to him, asking him to cut an apple for her to eat. She no longer needs help putting on her shoes, she no longer asks for a bandaid for every tiny cut on her finger.

“I can hear you thinking,” Caitlyn continues, eyes still closed, face still turned to wards the sun. “Share with the class?”

“Hmh,” murmurs Jayce, shuffling until his hands are pinned between the bench and his thighs. “You´ve grown, is all.”

“Well, I´d hope so,” she snorts, turning back to look at him. With a raised eyebrow, she pokes at his back, reminding him to fix his isopod-like posture. “Where´s this coming from all of a sudden?”

Shrugging, Jayce sits up a little, nudging a small pebble on the ground with his foot. For a moment, they both watch him kick it around before it rolls too far out of his reach.

“Don´t know. My shirt fits you better. I guess I just…realized that you don´t need me anymore?”

Frowning, Cait whacks his shoulder, hard. It hurts, but he says nothing, just huffs, amused, and starts searching for another pebble with his eyes.

“That´s crap and you know it.”

“Yeah. I just mean that - I guess you don´t need my help anymore. You can do it all without me, better than me.”

“Yeah,” agrees Cait. “Doesn´t mean I don´t need you anymore, idiot.”

“Promise?”, murmurs Jayce, hoping for the soft morning breeze to carry his words away before Caitlyn can hear them. He´s out of luck, of course, because she lets her head drop against his shoulder and softly pinches his arm.

“Promise.”

They sit for another hour, until Caitlyn´s grumbling stomach tells them to get breakfast. The Academy´s lunch halls are closed, so they go back to what they used to do growing up, when they wanted to be alone but still needed food in their stomachs to keep going.

The little bakery at the corner of the large market square is still there, seemingly frozen in time. The window shutters are still painted in a coat of dark green, cracked paint, the front door is still the same orange colour, the flowers beneath the windows - while no longer blue and white but instead pink and yellow, are still blooming. Upon entering the tiny little store, Jayce feels catapulted back in time. He´s no older than twelve now, with just enough coins in one hand and four year old Cait holding onto his other one. His Ma and Cait´s dad are right outside the door, waiting for them with their baskets filled from the market. The sun is shining, Jayce has gotten more tan and Cait has gotten a little red on the bridge of her nose. They wait in line and, once it´s their turn, order two cups of cinnamon milk and whatever treat the leftover money from his Ma could get them. The woman behind the counter is old and wrinkly, she laughs softly when Jayce thanks her and ruffles his hair, putting two more cookies into their paper bag with a secretive little wink.

“Two cinnamon milk and two honey pastries, please.”

Jayce snaps back out if it and watches Caitlyn handing over a couple of coins. The woman behind the counter has gotten even smaller, even more wrinkly and old, but she has the same playful twinkle in her eyes when she packs their order.

“I haven´t seen you kids around in a long time,” she complains softly, handing over the paper bag. “Greet your parents from me, yes?”

“Of course,” Jayce promises with a nod, ever the people pleaser. He doesn´t remember her name but he´s sure Cait still remembers, he´ll have to ask her outside. “Thank you, ma´am.”

They leave with her soft laughter leading them out the door. Bringing bring little breakfast back to Jayce´s place, Cait pulls two chairs out onto the balcony and pulls Jayce after her so they can start eating. The first bite almost brings tears to Jayce´s eyes. It doesn´t fill the hole Viktor´s harsh response has left but it soothes the burn, takes away some of the sting. The old womans name is Fynnje, Jayce finds out with a softly teasing comment from Cait. He takes another sip of his drink and decides to visit his mother after dropping Caitlyn off at home. He misses her, suddenly and painfully. Cait, again, notices his shift in moods without having to ask. She nudges his arm, offers her last bite of pastry and then moves to wash her hands, leaving him be for another minute. When she´s back, she´s dressed in her uniform again. They clean up together and head out.

Cait hugs him goodbye in front of the gates leading to the mansion that is her family home. They linger for a few more minutes, share a few more meaningless words, before Jayce pulls away and continues his walk. His feet carry him down the road without needing his brain to pay attention. The streets turn from large and wide to smaller, more narrow and with the neat stone plates slowly but surely being pushed away by uneven cobblestone. Where neatly trimmed bushes have decorated the sidewalks just mere minutes ago, there´s now wild grass and tiny blue flowers pushing through the cracks and gaps in the road. Streets turn into alleys too narrow for carriages to push through, the people he meets on his small journey greet him with either a soft nod or a couple of words. Jayce falls back into the gentle, easy lull of conversation, comforted with the knowledge that here, this close to his home, he can let go of the proud tension in his shoulders and the careful, confident construction of sentences.

His family home is just one more house in an entire row of houses, located at the end of the street. The old tree in the front yard is craning its crown to greet Jayce and, barely noticing it himself, his feet speed up. The two-story house has not changed in the twenty-five years he´s been alive. The window shutters are still painted red, the steps leading up to the door still slightly crooked. It stands out in the broad picture of Piltover, but his Ma had told him as a child that the houses all used to look like this where she and Pa had grown up, that they´ve tried taking this small piece of home with them when they´ve come to the city. Jayce had never seen his parents birth place but he´s familiar with the language, has grown up surrounded by warm spices and the loving dance of colours and music. When he´s been little, he didn´t have the knowledge to appreciate the fact that his Ma had taught him the language of her own mothers mother but now, with age, he´s learned to love the foreign speech reserved for only his mother and himself, the ghost of his father living on every time his Ma greets him with the press of her forehead against the palms of his hand.

Upon knocking on the door, it only takes Jayce a second to hear his mother´s footsteps rushing down the hallway. When she pulls the door open, Jayce can´t help but smile; crooked, bright, real. His Ma´s grey hair is pulled back into a bun, her right cheek and the front of her usually neat appearance is covered in flour. Her dark eyes light up when she sees her Jayce standing on the doorstep.

“Jayce!”, she calls out, pulling him down and into a tight embrace.

“Hey, Ma,” he greets her back softly, hugging her back and, in a sudden burst of affection, carefully lifting her off her feet, making her blurt out a laugh.

“I didn´t know you´d come! You should´ve told me beforehand,” she scolds softly, reaching for Jayce´s hands to gently press her forehead against his palms. “I would´ve started cooking earlier!”

“Ma, it´s fine, calm down,” chuckles Jayce, softly reaching for his mothers hands to greet her in return. Her prosthetics feel cold against his cheeks when he leans his forehead against her palms and stays there for a moment. When it takes too long for him to pull away, his mother softly cups his face in her slender hands and makes him look at her, tilting her head to the side.

“My heart,” she sighs softly, the familiar sound of her own mothers tongue immediately calming him down. His latest mental breakdown suddenly feels less significant, less serious with his mother´s gentle, concerned frown. “You look tired, my son. Come, let´s get you inside.”

He follows his Ma inside and lets her softly fuss over him. By the time he´s taken off his shoes and walks down the short hallway into the kitchen, his mother has already placed a cup of steaming tea on the table in front of his chair. The entire kitchen smells of sweet pastries, of cinnamon and herbs and Jayce sinks into the chair without complaints while his mother is preparing her own drink.

“How have you been, Ma? I´m sorry I didn´t come to our last dinner.”

“Oh, my love, it´s okay. Do not worry yourself, yes? I have started cleaning out the garden again, the grass has taken overhand.”

“Ma,” Jayce scolds, slipping back into Ximena´s mother tongue once again, knowing that it´ll have more of an effect. “I told you I´d do it the next time I´m coming over! You have to take it slow, I´m here to do the heavy lifting.”

“Oh, my sweet, I´m not that old. And you, with your fathers strong hands, are a lot better at fixing the fence around the vegetable garden instead of planting my seedlings.”

Knowing that he´ll never win this fight with his mother - he hasn´t been successful ever since his father passed and he tried taking some of the load from his mothers shoulders - he changes the subject, talking about the Academy and his classes.

When it´s dinner time, they cook together. His Ma lovingly teases him when he rips the dough pockets for the third time, filling spilling out over his fingers, so he gives up and works on setting the table and preparing small portions of dough to assist his mother. Their conversations are easy and light, not even brushing on the topic of why Jayce didn´t come to dinner earlier this week. They end their day on the couch with the soft tunes of his Pa´s old records playing in the distance.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?”, his mother asks after some time, her hands never stilling in their travel through his hair. Growing up with a very physically affectionate mother, Jayce had never noticed that he´d relied so incredibly heavily on physical touch to ground him until he moved out to study and couldn´t just ask his mother to hold him or let him rest his head in her lap. Turning to lay on his side, head resting on a pillow on her legs, Jayce curls up, feeling like a child again.

“Just a rough day,” murmurs Jayce, staring out into the living room beyond their small island of comfort. “You know how I get sometimes. No particular reason. But Cait was there, it´s okay.”

Sighing softly, his mother nods. “I wish you´d go back to that doctor, Jayce, the one that helped you after Pa. I´m sure I could ask Cassandra for…-”

“I´m fine, Ma, really. Some days are just a little hard, but I´m okay, I promise.”

“I don´t like the thought of you living all the way in the Academy, I can´t be there when you need me.”

Over the years his mother has gotten older, of course. It´d felt wrong to Jayce once he´d noticed her slowing down during walks, needing more breaks, struggling to get up from the sofa from time to time. Isn´t his mother supposed to be always here, always healthy, always happy? The first time he´d noticed his mother being someone other than Ma, a person with hopes and dreams and fears and worries had been just after his father had died and he´d seen her break down in tears for the first time. It had brought the two of them closer in a lot of ways and, while Jayce misses his father deeply and permanently, he´d give everything and his life to keep his mother safe and protected.

“I´m here now,” Jayce calms her softly, reaching for his mothers cool hand and pressing it against his cheek. Chuckling, she lovingly pinches his cheek.

“You´ve always been such an affectionate boy, even growing up. My big, gentle son.”

Jayce stays the night in his childhood room upstairs. He wears an old shirt that used to belong to his father and takes a glance at the selfmade plushie Cait had gifted him for his fifteenth birthday, when she herself had just turned seven. It´s an ugly little thing, an animal with two unequally long arms, long ears and big button eyes. He´s loved it ever since he´s gotten it. It protects his room while he´s at University - and he doesn´t want anything to happen to it. At home, he knows it´s safe.

Involuntarily, his eyes drift over to his bookshelf. His mothers books have taken over over the years, most of the toys have been gifted to Cait or donated, the childrens books have become sparse, only the most meaningful ones have survived one of his Ma´s many obsessive cleaning episodes. In the midst of all of it, on a small stack of childrens books that used to belong to his Pa, sits the metal airplane. It´s in impeccable condition, shiny and without a trace of dust. Jayce suspects his mother is keeping it clean, like everything else in his room. She might not even connect any memories to the little toy anymore; for her it might be nothing more than a little, impractical toy. But Jayce still vividly remembers the day he´s gotten it, still remembers little Viktor´s timid expression and his relief, when Jayce had thanked him so enthusiastically. The pain Jayce had felt when his father had taken it from him, the sting on his cheek when he´d hit him, the many failed attempts to get it back. The fact that he´d never gotten it back while his father had still been alive, that he´d passed with a part of Jayce still mad, still resentful towards him. Now, it just sits there, mocking Jayce. Look at you, complete failure, no wonder Viktor pushed you away, it seems to be saying. Jayce turns his back towards the room and closes his eyes, trying to sleep.

Life moves on and Jayce, out of breath and in a constant state of anxiety, tries to keep up. He goes back to the Academy on Monday, goes back to taking notes until his hand aches and working on projects with people he doesn´t like. The supplies bought in Zaun find their new space in a little locked box beneath Jayce´s workspace. Heimerdinger comes one night to remind Jayce that sleep is essential, despite Jayce not wanting that to be the case. Jayce nods and waits for his professor to leave before turning back towards his projects.

He drowns himself in his work, gets blisters and cuts, burns and muscle aches from working in the forge and a stiff neck from staring down onto the worktable for hours each day. It takes him another week before noticing that there´s still a ton of parts missing for his secret project. The more he works on blueprints and calculations, the longer his more stuff list becomes. It´s inevitable, he will have to go back to the Lanes, back to Viktor. And he´s not ready at all.

Tag list! (lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3) @frog-fans-unite @jack-of-nearly-all-trades @greatbeautyoflife @potatointhedirt @snowleopardtherebel @m00nsh-ne

#arcane #arcane fic #viktor arcane #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #jayvik #vi arcane #vander arcane #benzo arcane #caitlyn kiramman #ximena talis #ekko arcane #powder arcane #jinx arcane #alternate universe #some stuff´s canon #some stuff´s not #people live

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m-writesstuff · 7 months ago

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undercover - aaron hotchner

chapter 1

lying.

i like lying.

especially when it involves waking up next to aaron fucking hotchner.

we were undercover, playing as the stork killers next victims, jane and aaron hunter, a couple in need of a miracle, preferably one that came in the shape of a human baby. the killer, doctor james hader, who specialized in fertility, had been stalking us for the past three weeks after we visited his clinic, so it wasn’t really a surprise when i saw his white van parked across the street from our bedroom window. doctor hader was a very obvious stalker, which made me wonder if the two couples he had murdered before had caught on to the white van parked across the street for their houses.

i sigh, and get up to go make breakfast, just as a loving wife would do. yuck. so glad my bachelors in forensic science had led to being reduced to a stereotype.

the bed is warm and seems to be enticing me to lay back down as i pull the covers off my legs and stand. i turn to look down at aaron in the bed, he seems calm in his sleep, it makes me smile. he used to look like that awake. calm and kind, but years of stressful cases while juggling the politics that come with the bau had turned him into a very serious man. we started working together 5 years ago, when i became the first woman on the team and unlike the rest of my co-workers, he seemed to actually respect me for more than my looks. we quickly became close friends, but we never seemed to hangout outside of work. now here we were, stuck together in a two bedroom/two bathroom in the fucking suburbs. it wasn’t that this life didn’t appeal to me. i just didn’t love the idea of relying on a man to provide for me. it made me feel trapped, but this was only my life until the case closes, which seemed to never come.

i reached the kitchen and begin getting out eggs, bread and a tomato. while the bread toasts and the eggs cook i cut the tomato into slices and divide them into two plates. soon enough i have a beautiful breakfast plated and i set the plates down on the table. aaron walks in at that moment, in a white tee and plaid pyjama pants.

“thanks.” he mutters as he sits down. he’s not much of a talker in the morning.

“you’re welcome.”

we eat in silence. once he finishes, he takes my empty plate and begins washing the dishes while i shower and get dressed.

“he was here.” i say when i return.

aaron looks up from the plate he’s drying. “hader?”

“who else aaron?” i respond, grabbing the pan and a dish towel.

he rolls his eyes. “i must have missed him, he was gone when i woke up.”

“hmm.”

“what?” he asks, looking at puzzled.

“its just… well, he always leaves after i wake up.” i start. “it’s like he’s only interested in me. maybe he’s after the women but kills the men to get them out of the way.

”“maybe.” he says.

i look at him with a frustrated expression.

“what?” he asks while yawning.

i roll my eyes as i put the pan into the cupboard. “thanks for supporting my theory aaron.”

he chuckles. “oh cmon, janie,” that stupid nickname makes me blush slightly, “we don’t have proof he’s after just the women, he stalks them for weeks and kills them both.”

i sigh, “just a thought.”

he finishes the dishes. and turns his body to face me. “keep thinking, well figure it out.” he smiles at me.

“bring it up to the team?” i ask.

“jane…”

“oh cmon! think about it, he doesn’t follow you to work, he focuses on me when we go in for consultations, and he always leaves when i get up for the day.” he doesn’t seem convinced, we stare at each other for a moment, “please? do it for me, your lovely wife.” i tease.

he pauses staring at me intensely for a few seconds. “fine.”

i break into a smile, which he returns. “thank you aaron.”

he sighs and walks off to get ready for work.

aaron was the lucky one, he got to return to work everyday as the town where we were stationed was only 30 minutes from headquarters. i, on the other hand, got to play house. cooking and cleaning were basically all i got up to during the day. it was dull. but, occasionally, aaron would bring back reports for me to fill out regarding our operation, but other than that i spend my day doing nothing important.

i watch from the kitchen table as aaron grabs his coat and gets ready to leave.

he opens the door, “hey,” i walk over to him, “don't forget we have another consultation at 3.”

he smiles at me, “i’ll be home at 2 then.” theres a pause before he begins talking again, “have a good day jane.” he closes the door.

my day goes by normally, i clean the house, which takes under an hour because i do it everyday. then, i spend the rest of my day on the couch watching the news, desperate to feel like i’m in the field. when i look up from the tv, the clock on the oven reads 1:45. shit, there goes my day.

i decide to make a quick snack for aaron when he gets back. by the time i’m done, i hear the doorknob turn, speak of the devil.

aaron walks calmly through the door and takes off his coat. “hungry?” i ask

he looks at me, sitting on the counter calmly, as he takes off his coat. “very.”

we sit at the table eating the cheese and crackers i had prepared, talking about our days. mine, just as interesting as his. since we were undercover, he was not allowed to be in the field. This meant he was stuck at a desk all day, doing paperwork. exciting.

sooner than i’d like, we hop into his car and begin the 20 minute drive to the clinic.

doctor hader’s fertility clinic was in a small building on main street. aaron and i rode the elevator anxiously. every meeting with the doctor proved more and more useful but also nerve-racking. hader asked the awkward questions, the ones regarding aaron and i’s non existing sex life. i tended to freeze up once asked whereas aaron smoothly spoke of our fake life. it was odd how i feel when he speaks of those things. it’s like there’s a pit in my stomach… a hungry one.

we sit in the waiting room silently, waiting to be called on. i hear the door hinges creak and grab aaron’s hand, putting on the facade of a happy couple. doctor hader is a small, balding man. he avoids eye contact as he invites us in. his office is painted blue, with a couch that faces his large desk. overcompensating much. hader motions for us to sit down as he takes a seat at his desk.

“jane, aaron, wonderful to see you again.” he smiles, that creepy awful smile.

aaron and i smile back, “great to see you too, doctor hader.” aaron says.

“so, let's begin,” hader brings out our file, “you’ve been trying for some time now, yes?”

i blush, “yes, 6 months now.”

“interesting, you’re still trying now correct, with the meds i had prescribed, correct?” he asks.

aaron squeezes my hand to keep me focused, “yes.”

hader looks frustrated, “you’re certain?”

he knows were not having sex, he’s been watching us for weeks.

aaron and i look at each other, “yes.” he says.

the consultation goes on for what feels like forever. when we finally get to leave, it’s not soon enough. i could feel hader’s eyes on me as we head out. i grip onto aaron’s arm.

we ride silently for about half the trip back until i finally speak up. “he knows.”

“what?” aaron says, not looking up from the road.

“he knows were not… you know…” i say.

aaron doesn’t speak for a while.

“aaron.”

he looks at me as we stop for a red light. “i think you know what this means, janie.”

“which is?”

“we have to put on a show for him.”

i freeze, the gears in my head turning slowly as i figure out what he means.

we have to have “sex”.

______________________________________________________________

notes: hello! if you made it this far, thank you!! i appreciate you so much. this is my first story here and i'm super excited to share it with you! it may not be that good but i'm still trying! anyway, have a wonderful day!

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x oc

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cosmicpearlz · 8 months ago

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rainy days

summary: in which practice gets canceled because of the weather and joão has some plans on how to spend the day.

pairing: joão félix x reader

the usual morning routine was waking up, showering, eating together and then going to work/training. expect, this morning, london had its own plan. the weather was not only rainy, but thunder and lightning followed suit. you had gotten a text from your boss stating that you could work from home. being that the current weather condition wasn't suitable for you to drive out.

you started your morning early, not being able to sleep with the weather. for whatever reason, you never could sleep during lightning and thunder. you worked on your laptop on and off in your shared office room, siping your coffee in the midst.

"you weren't in bed amor," joão's raspy morning voice sounds throughout the office room. you look up from your laptop, smiling at your boyfriend.

"i couldn't sleep."

"the weather?"

"you know it. are you hungry? i was waiting for you to wake up."

"you didn't eat?" joão walks to the chair you sat in and hugs the back of it. making sure his arms were around you as well. floki following him and siting at your feet.

"no baby, i wanted to wait for you. i did feed floki and he used one of the puppy pads to use the bathroom. this weather is in no shape for him to go outside."

"y'know that you don't have to tell me anything when it comes to floki. he's yours, just as much as mine. let's go eat," he presses kisses to your cheek, leaving one on your neck.

you stand up, stretching your legs and arms out. immediately, joão's hands are on you again. pulling you in a tight hug. you reciprocate the action and quietly laughing into his chest.

"what's so funny, huh?" joão pokes your sides, making you laugh even more.

"nothing! you're just very touchy this morning."

"this is the one day that i get to spend time with you without anything else interfering. let me spend it how i want to," he proceeds to press more kisses to your face.

"as you wish my king," you jokily say. joão lightly chuckles, guiding you both out of the room and to the kitchen.

"what are you in the mood for princesa?"

"pancakes?"

"sounds good to me," pouting his lip slightly, he shrugs. joão takes out the ingredients to make breakfast.

"want me to help?"

"yes, but only because i love cooking with you." you nodded your head with a smile and went to wash your hands.

over the next thirty minutes, you guys work your way around the kitchen. you make the pancakes, while joão made the sausages. once the pancakes were done, you moved on to making the eggs. being that joão finished the sausages, he settled for enveloping you from behind. pressing his chest to your back and keeping his arms at your waist. his fingers sliding up your sleep shirt, which was really his shirt that you ended up taking from him.

"comfortable?"

"very," he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck. leaving a trail of kisses from your neck down to your collarbone and back up again.

the rain beating down on the windows, your soft humming and the sizzling from the eggs being done were the only sounds that rang through the kitchen. it brought you a certain moment of peace that you didn't know that you needed.

moving the pan to the other burner that wasn't hot, you both began to get plates ready. joão started by distributing the pancakes and sausages onto both plates. you divide the eggs and placing it in the empty spot.

"you go sit down. i'll bring the plates in a minute."

"you sure? i don't mind helping."

"sit." you follow his direction, sitting on the stool that rested under the countertop. joão placing all the dirty pans and spatulas into the sink. once done with that task, he sits both plates on the counter. moving around the kitchen again to get glasses of water.

"smells so good."

"i agree. we should cook together more often," joão kisses the top of your head and sits down next to you. handing you a glass and keeping a glass for himself. he hooks his foot under your stool and pulls it closer to him.

"much better."

for the rest of the morning to the evening, the two of you spent time watching various movies. something that you haven't been able to do in a long time. the rain wasn't as strong but still beating down the windows.

"we should take a nap," you suggest with a big yawn coming from your mouth. slightly breaking up the words.

"you'll be complaining about your sleep schedule again."

"please take a nap with me baby," you whined. joão laughs to himself and pulls your body closer to his. as if you weren't already in his arms, like you have been the entire day pretty much.

"i guess we can take a nap," says joão in a teasing tone. his eyes never leaving yours, smiling as your eyes light up.

"ugh thank the lord, do you have a preference of how we sleep?"

"get on top of me." watching as he begins to smirk, you stare at him with a deadpan look.

"did you have to say it like that?"

"i didn't mean it like that. get your head out of the gutter beautiful," joão chuckles. "seriously though, get on top of me. i'm tired too."

joão moves his body, so that his head was resting on the couch pillow and his legs open for you to lay between. you inch your way up, having your head lay in the crook of his neck and your legs tangled with his. he throws an arm around your waist, making sure to hold you tight. the other hand sliding up your sleep shirt to rub your back. the soft and slow motions on your bare skin began to make you sleepier.

"are you comfortable?" joão whsiper falls to your ear.

"mhm. i love you."

"i love you more meu amado," he moves his head just to place a small kiss onto of your forehead. moving his head back in its original position, he closes his own eyes. continuing the motions on your back, loving the way your skin feels on his fingertips. joão awaits sleep to consume him while the love his life slept soundly in his arms.

#joao felix x reader #joao felix #joao felix imagine #joao felix fluff #footballer x reader

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blackreaderfics · 2 years ago

Text

Hygge | Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Pairing : Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Rating : T

↳ Summary : Nanami breaks his well cultivated routine

↳ W.C : 4.4k

↳ A/N: the voices in my head got me y’all… this is a purely self indulgent fic featuring relatable king Nanami (I, too, do not dream of labor✊🏾) and black girlbossqueen Tiana

↳ Tags + Warnings: xenophobia from a side character, fluff, set in Tokyo, next door neighbors, cultural differences, salaryman x cafe owner, they can speak each other’s languages but not fluently

🎵 A Commuter’s Trip (The Commuter OST) by Roque Baños

🎵 Hello Stranger by KAI

Hygge (n.) | Danish

“the feeling of calm, comfort, and contentment evoked by life’s simple joys”

Nanami had a simple routine. Wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast by 7:45 and be out of the door—at the latest—a minute before 8. He had everything calculated to the T. If Nanami had been a minute too late—let’s say 8:01— he would miss the morning train and therefore be late for work, and he was never late. He had taken into account all contingencies i.e. a train delay, traffic, inclement weather, and made sure he was prepared for any and all possibilities.

That’s why, much to his chagrin, he was “Employee of the Month” every month since he had been promoted from associate to advisor. Most workers would’ve taken pride in that, felt their presence valued at their company. But Nanami didn’t care much for awards or titles, in fact, he just hated working period. He made sure to always clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. One minute more would be overtime and he didn’t want to give his thankless job a second more of his labor.

When he left work, he always went straight home. When his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, thoughts about the next day would drift into his mind.

Did the market close up or down? What reports did he need to finish? There’s a client meeting coming up; the presentation deck needs to be prepared… Just two more days. Get through two more days and it’s the weekend.

And so on and so on. Wash rinse repeat.

He presumed this endless cycle of corporate monotony would continue until the day he turned 40, after which he could retire and live modestly in a country like Malaysia or the Philippines to catch up on all the reading he missed. Perhaps even find a nice woman and marry her while he was there.

The marriage part was new—an afterthought after years of daydreaming—and he didn’t really think much about the kind of woman he wanted to marry. What she looked like or what she did was more of an amorphous thought, a vague idea in his mind.

Until her.

He met her by accident. Nanami had been cooking, a hobby he only indulged in on the weekends, and he was just in the middle of making a rolled omelet when he heard a loud thump outside his door.

His apartment building was more of an office building which meant that his floor didn’t get much traffic. The people who rented rooms were not really tenants who lived there, but workers looking for an extra workspace. He had assumed the thump to be a delivery man outside his door so, naturally, he was surprised when it wasn’t the post, but a foreigner woman standing outside the room next door.

The woman had a heavy bag of groceries balanced in the crook of her arm and another by her feet that he presumed had been the source of the sound. When they made eye contact, he had been so startled that he quickly closed his door. The apartment next to his had been empty for months, but it looked like it had finally been rented out.

He thought nothing more of it until her very presence began to infiltrate his well-maintained routine. Every morning, if he was quiet enough, he could faintly hear her humming as he got dressed. Other times, he could hear upbeat jazzy music on the weekends if he opened his window.

Every night, he was surrounded by the fragrance of whatever she seemed to be cooking. Most of the time it was sweet, other times it was savory. It wasn’t an unpleasant aroma, just noticeable to the point where its absence would feel strange. There were days when they would leave for work at the same time, though oftentimes he would end up holding the elevator door open for her when she left her apartment a few minutes after he did.

In the brief moments they encountered, Nanami made small observations about her: She was an American. Beautiful. Unmarried—Americans wore rings on their ring finger to signify marital status, he’d noticed she didn’t.

He couldn’t infer her job or what exactly brought her to Tokyo in the first place from her appearance alone, however. He’d seen a fair amount of young foreign teachers in the city. He wondered if she was a teacher. She looked young enough. A missionary? She dressed modestly and wore sensible shoes. Her curly hair was often tied into a low bun. From the very slim list of what young American women did for work in Tokyo, he decided on teacher and his curiosity was sated.

One day he found out. After a long day of work, he walked his usual route from the train station back to his apartment building but was redirected due to construction at his usual subway exit. When he alighted from the escalator he was on a different street entirely. The extra few minutes from this detour would undoubtedly cut into the time he’d set aside to unwind, and subsequently, he’d have to make a few adjustments to still get a full 8 hours of sleep.

He loosened his tie and sighed inwardly as he walked on. Since he’d moved to this district last year he didn’t make much effort to visit any new places. For all he was concerned, he only really needed to know his route to work and the nearest Starbucks.

So when he passed by a small cafe called “Tiana’s Place”, it didn’t immediately click that the jazz he’d heard playing softly from her apartment was the same music that was playing now. It was familiar enough that it gave him pause. Where had he heard that song before? When he finally caught sight of her—his neighbor— through the glass window, it finally registered that she wasn’t a teacher or a missionary, but a cafe worker, and from the looks of it, she owned the place.

He watched her dimples deepen as she interacted with customers, giving each and every one of them a tireless smile. Before he knew it, Nanami found himself inside the cafe whisked into the after-work rush of impatient office workers. She was so busy already, the only indication of strain being a moment when she blew the hair out of her face before the next customer walked up to order. He planned to buy something small and leave; he wanted to give her time to catch her breath but inadvertently in his musings he was already holding up the line.

She was…right in front of him? And speaking to him now? It was the first time he’d heard her voice and he decided it suited her. She spoke in Japanese and, though accented, was clear and practiced enough in a way that impressed him.

“Are you still deciding, sir?” Impossibly large brown eyes waited in expectation for him to order.

He broke out of his reverie quickly enough to make it seem like his stalling was deliberate, his unmarred poker face further upholding the charade.

He scanned the prepackaged foods and retrieved the first thing that looked like bread. “Just this.”

“Good choice,” She looked positively elated as she scanned the barcode and activated the card machine. “Beignets are my specialty.” She was beaming at him. Not in a “thank you come again” customer way but like in a he’d just made her entire week way. She was so laughably easy to please that it discomfited him.

He muttered a “thank you”, taking the package and turning to leave quickly before he met her eyes again. The Fall of Icarus was a cautionary tale for a reason, he wouldn’t risk another trip into the sun.

Nanami’s routine had drastically altered over the next few weeks. Every morning he’d gotten used to riding down the elevator with her. They greeted each other regularly, albeit a bit awkwardly, in the shared space—A slight bow from him as he held the doors open, reciprocated by a grateful wave from her.

The last time they shared an elevator, however, they'd accidentally brushed hands while reaching for the ground floor button. For some reason, that unnerved Nanami. So now, most times, he avoided that, opting to wait and listen to the click of her door before he left the house. For good measure, he started taking the stairs. As a result, Nanami had added an extra 10 minutes to his morning commute.

The detour, having yet to be fixed, took him past the café every day. Though Nanami knew the process of waiting in line would add an extra 15 minutes to his after-work trek, he did so anyway, calculating that picking up a quick dinner bento would be a fair trade to taking the time to cook something for himself.

“What can I get for you today, sir?”

He knew her name now—Tiana, from the name tag she wore, and the sign on the storefront. He noticed from the way her eyes would widen as he approached, that she recognized him now too.

“Black tea. No sugar, please.” He placed his usual prepackaged meal and packet of beignets on the counter, taking out his wallet. Nanami didn’t always plan to add beignets to every order, but he found himself reaching for them every time, dreading her predictable delight when he did. Ordering tea was another stroke of impulse he didn’t account for, but it wasn’t so busy now, he could enjoy it before he went home.

He decided on a table by the window, savoring the warm liquid as the sun set to a melancholy soundtrack of brass and bass. It was like being transported to another time, outside of crowded subway cars and the hustle of his high-powered office.

Nanami closed his eyes and felt something akin to contentment. When he exhaled, the stiffness in his shoulders abated, and the strain behind his eyes subsided. Was this what it was like to finally relax?

He was about to take another sip of his drink when he heard a loud bang. The front door to the restaurant had flown open, a bulky man with greasy hair and a lecherous smile stalking in. Nanami’s eyes trailed after the man’s movements, the cup still raised to his lip.

“I’d like a dozen of those powdered donut things. Ya got any of those?” The man leered at the part-timer manning the counter. He sauntered back and forth at the register, eying the self-serve pastries in the display.

“Sure, would you like them fresh? There aren’t enough ready-made ones for a dozen, but if you’re willing to wait there’s a new batch being made—”

The man picked up a package of beignets that had been warming under a heated case and without warning, ripped open the package and took a bite.

“S-sir! You need to pay for that first!” The part-timer sputtered.

“Well, I’m waitin’ for that new batch. I wanna try before I buy.” The delinquent guffawed and attempted another gleeful bite only for the pastry to be smacked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He whirled around to face Tiana, bursting into laughter upon seeing her. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Call the police,” Tiana stated calmly to her employee as she stared down the man. Her usual polite smile had been replaced with a stony-faced expression. “Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything then it’s best you leave.”

“Huh? What was that? I can barely understand you, foreign bit-AHh” A pressure on the man’s shoulder made him crumple in pain.

“Your ears must not be working. I can understand her perfectly well,” Nanami murmured, his vice-like grip squeezing at the juncture between the man’s neck and shoulder. While the delinquent whimpered pathetically at the deepening pressure, Nanami directed his attention to Tiana, motioning with a slight tilt of his head for her to step away. “It’s not worth your trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded reluctantly and joined her staff member who was now waiting with a phone at her ear behind the counter.

Nanami appeared to be saying something to the man now, but in a volume that Tiana couldn’t hear. His face was calm, betraying no emotion while the delinquent paled gradually in terror, trembling under his grip. The moment Nanami released him, the man scrambled out of his grasp and prostrated himself on all fours.

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE—” He shouted hysterically and proceeded to do a fervent bow of penitence.

Tiana looked at Nanami quizzically but was only met with a mild shrug.

“Alright alright,” she stepped around the counter to placate him. If he could just stop snotting up the floor she just mopped and get out of there, they could just forget this all happened.

The tinkling bell sound of the cafe door opening interrupted the scene; everyone’s attention shifted from the blubbering man on the floor to the police officer who had just stepped in.

Before anyone could speak, the man sprang up from the ground and ran toward the policeman. “OFFICER! IT'S ALL MY FAULT I ADMIT IT! ARREST ME, PLEASE! JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Within 10 minutes the offender was cuffed—willingly, to the cop’s surprise— and whisked noisily out of the cafe just as quickly as he’d burst in. Nanami, suddenly uninterested in the commotion, walked calmly back to his table and gathered his things.

Tiana made her way over to Nanami, eyeing the man through the window. He was currently being escorted to a police car on the curb. Still in hysterics, he’d practically thrown himself into the back of the car.

“Ok…what on earth did you say to that man?” She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde businessman.

That this cafe is his one and only oasis in the heaping pile of shit called life, and if even so much as one insignificant waste of air like him tries to ruin it he’ll have no choice but to chop his fingers off one by one and shove them down his throat so hard he’ll be shitting fingernails for weeks…among other things.

It would’ve been improper to divulge this to Tiana, of course.

“I asked him to apologize,” he said instead in simple English, a far cry from the eloquently horrific threats he’d made in his native language.

“Really?” She asked, accepting the sudden change of language in stride. Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted to the side, face incredulous. “Just like that?”

“I’m rather persuasive.”

After a beat she laughed.

Nanami didn’t consider himself a funny person. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she was laughing now but he welcomed it, if only to see that the earlier disturbance hadn’t caused her too much distress.

“Well, thank you kindly,” she drawled in between giggles, her southern accent now unmistakable when she switched to English. “Mister…”

“Kento.” He offered his first name, aware he was skipping over several customary stages of familiarity. In any other case, anyone less than an acquaintance addressing him by his first name would be extremely frowned upon. But it was common business practice to use given names when dealing with American clients; he thought it fitting to do the same with her.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a silver business card holder, and passed over an impressive looking card:

Nanami Kento, Investment Advisor

“If there are any similar issues please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He repeated an English phrase that had come in handy from past business dealings.

“Mr. Kento,” she repeated to herself with finality studying the card. Tiana faintly wondered why a guy with a fancy title—and the most expensive suits she’d ever laid eyes on— lived in the modest one-room apartment right next to hers. She pocketed the card and patted around for her own business card.

“I would’ve given you my own card too. But if you ever need to contact me—”

“Boss!” Her part-timer called out, waving her over from where she stood next to a police officer holding a clipboard.

“I’d better go, you know where to find me.” She excused herself with an apologetic smile.

Unfortunately for Nanami, this little ordeal had cost him another hour of wasted time.

The next day Nanami waited for the familiar click of her door shutting before starting his commute. When he exited his apartment, he could still see the silhouette of her back walking towards the elevator bank.

She left without an umbrella, he noted to himself as he walked part of the way down the hallway. He imagined walking up to her and bringing it up casually as they waited for the elevator. But as soon as she’d turned his direction he changed course abruptly, legs moving on their own through the emergency exit and down the stairs.

Work went on as usual. He sat at his desk going over the pitch deck, but his eyes could not seem to follow the text. Instead, he found himself gazing out the window, watching the clouds slowly darken in the horizon.

“Fucking weather, right? News said it’s gonna rain like a bitch the next few days.”

His boss had walked up behind him, crouching at his eye level to see what Nanami was looking at.

“Hope you brought your galoshes, rookie, we’re going overtime today for that big client meeting. Dinner’s on me.” His boss clapped a hand on his shoulder and went off to bother a different team.

He tried to return his attention to his work, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the blue light of his computer screen. All he could think about was the rain.

Tiana had hoped that by the time she closed, the rain would’ve stopped. But she found herself outside the doors of the cafe, reluctant to leave. The rain hadn’t let up, and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon.

It was a day of disappointments. On top of forgetting her umbrella, Nanami hadn’t come into the shop that day. She’d gotten used to seeing him enter the store at the same time every day, and perhaps even looked forward to it.

She took one tentative step outside, shivering through the draft of wind. She didn’t live far, maybe it would be alright if she just ran home with a plastic bag over her head. Tiana locked the door behind her and raised the collar of her jacket, clasping it with her hand to protect her neck. On the count of three, she lifted the plastic takeout bag over her head and took the plunge.

After a few strides in the pelting rain, it suddenly stopped—She had run into something or someone. The rain made it difficult to see where she was going so she blindly sputtered a reflexive “I’m so sorry!” in English at whoever it was that she had run into.

When she wiped the rain out of her eyes she could see nothing but an impeccably tailored pinstripe suit in the dim of the streetlights. It was Nanami and he was holding an umbrella over her head. His collar was unbuttoned without a tie, and he looked utterly exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced from where she stood underneath him.

“Mr. Kento? Are you alright? What are you—”

“I figured you could use an umbrella,” he said dryly and pretty pointedly at her makeshift plastic bag hat.

“Yea, I guess I could use one of those,” she laughed breathlessly and took the bag off her head, before giving him one of those heart-stopping smiles he loathed. “You saved my life.*”

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, amused. Perhaps because her choice of words sounded highly literal, almost…cute?, in Japanese. He “saved her life” just by sharing his umbrella? Americans were known to have a penchant for the dramatic. But he didn’t bother to correct her, instead, he only hummed somewhat of an affirmative response.

They walked in a comfortable silence down a familiar tree-lined path leading to their apartment building. She noticed Nanami’s shoulder getting wet, and leaned closer to him.

Feeling the imperceptible shift, he gave the woman beside him a sidelong glance. His eyes settled on the loose wisp of hair he’d always seen her blowing out of her face.

It bothered him.

Maybe it was the fatigue-driven delirium, but he was struck with the inane compulsion to brush that lock out of her eyes. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the umbrella currently occupying his hand, otherwise, he would’ve indulged it.

Tiana reached over and gently adjusted the umbrella closer over his side. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice suit of yours,” she said softly.

“I hate this suit.” The curt statement came off a bit more brusque than he’d initially intended, though, it was true. He hated that suit and everything it represented.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was another aspect of his humor. But from what she could see on his countenance, he was entirely serious.

He glanced at her again, catching the confused look on her face. “I don’t mind if it gets wet,” he reiterated this time with the intended lack of severity, along with a kind of finality that implied an end to the discussion of his suit and his decision to prioritize her dryness. They continued the rest of the way, the umbrella above them biased towards her side.

When they got to the apartment he held the building door open, letting her walk through first.

“Thank you again for yesterday. That man, he was—” she paused to conjure the correct word.

“He was being a nuisance,” he completed, pushing the button for the elevator door. Naturally, he had chosen the same number for their floors, and when they arrived at their floor he waited for her to alight before walking after her.

When they finally reached their neighboring doors, he set his umbrella on the hallway floor for it to dry and began to punch in the code for his door.

“Mr. Kento, wait a moment.”

He stilled his movement and watched as she rummaged into her purse.

Tiana pulled out a paper box from her bag and presented it to him, “I was going to give these to you earlier if you came in. Glad they didn’t get wet.”

It was a small gesture. Even so, he was reluctant to take it.

“You… didn’t have to,” he frowned, eyeing the box.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, either,” she shrugged.

“We’re neighbors. We were going in the same direction,” he said plainly, though, he didn’t entirely believe the words as they left his mouth either. It was unlike him to go anywhere else except straight home after working overtime. He hadn’t run into her by some coincidence or divine guidance. He’d gone there on purpose, and he had a sinking feeling she figured that out already too.

“Then just think of it as a ‘thank you gift’,” she insisted, tugging gently at his wrist and nudging the box softly into his hands. “For being my favorite customer.”

He shifted uncomfortably to receive the box with both hands. It was an unfamiliar concept for him to be anyone’s favorite anything.

“Good night, Mr. Kento.” Tiana’s voice had an amused lilt to it. Nanami must’ve stood there frozen because she was already halfway through her door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He regained his composure and mumbled back a formal “Good night, Miss. Tiana,” —her name a bit alien on his tongue—before retreating back inside.

When the door shut behind him, he immediately shed his suit jacket. His body was much too warm despite one side being wet; his collar much too tight, despite his lack of tie.

Nanami stared at the assortment of pastries that Tiana had given to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he willingly ate dessert though he assumed if he had, it would’ve probably been with Gojo and his infantile palate.

Truthfully, Nanami didn’t really like sweets at all. The first time he bought those beignets, he’d just picked up the first thing in line that day and just…never stopped buying it. Over the past weeks, he’d amassed a bevy of unopened bags of the foreign confection and they were occupying the much-needed counter space of his kitchen.

It was rather ironic for an investment advisor to be so frivolous with his money. Spending on foods he didn’t even eat when was supposed to be saving it didn’t make any sort of financial sense. He had been planning to retire by 40, and now he’d have to add an extra 5 years to his projections over mere fried dough.

Nanami turned over the yellow business card for “Tiana’s Place” that he had found wedged in the box. A simple “Bon Appétit ;) -T.” was written on the back.

He picked up a beignet from the box and took a bite—It was made for him, after all. He chewed it slowly, the consistency not too far off from that of a baguette. It wasn’t too sweet, either. In fact, it was…delicious? Better than any dessert he’s had before. Maybe everything he’d tried before this was just a crude imitation, a poor excuse for the craft of baking.

Perhaps he did like sweets or even dessert right before bed. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be getting his full 8 hours of sleep. If he concentrated hard enough, her faint humming as she got ready for bed filled the silence of his apartment. He could stay up even longer if at all possible.

When he finally closed his eyes, a rush of different kinds of thoughts flooded his mind.

Some were more mundane: Maybe I’ll have a beignet for breakfast or It’s probably going to rain tomorrow.

Some were imaginations: plump glossy lips curved in an oversweet smile meant solely for him. His fingers gently tucking that bothersome tendril of hair behind her ear.

He finally drifted to sleep with one last thought just as simple as the others, a tiny hope that she would forget her umbrella again.

*A/N: Tiana’s words sound like a literal translation/unnatural because she’s a non-native speaker ex. “you saved my life” vs a more natural/colloquial “you’re a lifesaver”

#brfwrites #tianami #nanami x tiana #jjk x disney #idk yall lmao #walk with me #I’m just glad it’s finally out of my head #x black reader #black reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic #jjk fluff

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helpfandom · 1 year ago

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Yandere Stobotnik x Platonic Reader Chapter 1: Chilling

Cross posted on Quotev, I am picking this back up!

The morning light shone through the windows, directly hitting you in the eye as you woke up to a shower that could be heard through out the house. Tom was taking a morning shower before his shift would start, and Maddie was preparing her yoga space for her morning routine. Ozzy was laying at your feet, he had spent the night sleeping with you. Out of the humans, it seemed like they were all active in the house, except you, you just stared at your ceiling for 30 minutes until you had mustered enough energy to get out of bed and get dressed.

As you started figuring out your outfit, Maddie walked in the house, yelling "Good Morning!", You could hear Tom finishing his shower as well. You quickly opted to grab whatever you saw and put it on, causing you to wear a mismatched outfit, which didn't feel right, but this was a safe place so it was okay. As you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen and living downstairs area, Maddie was finishing up making breakfast for you, Tom and her.

She put the plate of waffles down in front of you and in front of her chair, and slipped a piece of meat to Ozzy before sliding into her honorary seat at the table, She brought Tom some donuts she bought yesterday. You meticulously made sure that the waffle had butter in every square hole before eating -it would feel wrong if it didn't have butter-, and Maddie ate hers with a little bit of butter. You ate in comfortable silence with each other. The air didn't feel thick, or like it was forced. It was a pleasant morning, and not much could be heard of the outside over everybody eating their breakfast.

There was knocking on the door, a polite knock like someone who knew that he was welcome, but still knocked anyway. It was Wade, as he liked to carpool with Tom while driving down into the town together. Tom gave a kiss to Maddie on the cheek and went out to the front door. You waved at Wade -it felt to uncomfortable to not be wearing the right clothes to greet someone further than a wave-, and yelled out a "Bye!" to Tom before he closed the door.

"So what are you planning on doing today?" Maddie queried to you before taking a sip from her glass of water. "W- well, I was planning on going d- down to the library later today when I walk Ozzy, a- and maybe watching a movie or something." You said, still a little bit anxious about being in the wrong clothes to see people. "That sounds good to me, You feeling okay?" You felt a little off, like something big was going to happen, but that could be that you were going to school soon. "I f- feel okay. Just a little anxious cause' I was in the wrong clothes."

She looked up at you in pitying eyes. Both her and Tom didn't know how to help when these things happened, and you didn't know how help yourself, so it was hard to know what to do for everybody. "Aw, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you going to be okay for now though?" You sat down the fork with the second to last bite on your plate, and replied, "I think so, I don't want to bother you or anything. I'll be fine." She looked away and towards her plate, which was now empty. "Okay, if you say so."

She got up and picked both plates up and took them over to the sink, where she asked you to wash the dishes while they were gone. "I'm going to go to work now, Have a nice day." You hugged her, and said "Have a nice day." She left, leaving you alone in the house with Ozzy.

You checked the time, 6:34. You could probably watch a few episodes before Ozzy needed to go pee, or you could get started on the dishes. You chose to get started on the dishes, that way you had free time for the rest of the day, and could watch without guilt. You then got changed into the correct clothes ,at around 7:12 you finished, which was good timing, because then Ozzy needed to go. You took Ozzy out for walk, and stopped by the library when you walked into town. You leashed Ozzy to the nearby bike rack, and walked into the library.

One of your favorite smells, the smell of old books and dust quickly assaulted your nose. The teen at the front desk looked up from her book and waved to you, the button that said He / She on his shirt reflected into your eyes for a moment as he waved. "Hey, came here to talk?" You walked over, and shook your head. "No, I'm here for a few books, Ozzy is waiting outside for me." He clicked her tongue, "Aww. You know I miss you, right?" You chuckled, "Of course, I'm awesome, Why wouldn't you miss me?" She rolled his eyes, "Whatever, what you checkin' out this time?" "I don't know, any updates on the series?" He shook her head. "No, unfortunately." You sighed, "What a shame, well I gotta go find the books and get going soon or someone may steal Ozzy." "Alright."

You roamed around the library, checking out a few books that caught your eye, albeit you knew you probably wouldn't finish them in time. You checked out quickly, and unleashed Ozzy from the bike rack when you walked out of the library. In the corner of your eye you could see a duck with a bagel in it's mouth. Weird. You walked around a little bit, but you decided to go back to the house at around 9:23.

You and Ozzy walked up the gravel pathway to the house, a couple books in one hand, his leash in the other. You opened the front door and saw a flash of blue momentarily. You blinked a couple times but didn't see anything. Well, if there was something, you were sure that Ozzy would have barked or something of the sort. You unleashed Ozzy and he jumped onto the couch to lie down.

You set the books down in your room, and you stared at them deciding which to read first. You decided to go for the one on the top, because it was the book that wasn't part of a series -or at least, you hoped wasn't- and finished reading both books at around lunchtime. You walked down the stairs and made yourself a sandwich along with some chips.

You plopped down on the couch pretty hard by accident which woke Ozzy up, so you scratched his head in apology. You then, washed your hands again because you didn't want dog fur getting in your mouth. You turned on the television to Yes Man and ate your lunch.

As you watched, you started to notice something in the window via the reflection of the television. You started staring intently, as it was some weird looking thing that was blue. What if that was the thing I saw earlier? You turned around to face it and momentarily caught some weird looking hedgehog thing. Ozzy got spooked when you got up quickly, suspicious of what was going on.

You ran outside with Ozzy in tail behind you, and could see the thing run away. You ran after it saying, "I SAW YOU!" "NO! YOU DIDN'T!" You stopped running, out of breath from doing mostly nothing but sitting down all summer at the computer. Ozzy stuck by you, waiting for his owner to catch their breath. You decided to ask Tom or Maddie about what happened, depending on who came home first.

You waited for your nerves to calm down before trying to do anything, and decided that watching TubeYou was a good idea to get calmer. You got distracted by the talk of "Why Yandere's are bad and You shouldn't romanticize it ..." You fell down a rabbit hole of yandere content, which caused you to lose sense of time. Soon, you heard Maddie yelling about an envelope.

"Whoo! San Francisco police department wrote back!" You clambered down the stairs, wanting to know more. Maddie turned to you, "It's a small envelope, which means it's good, right? Or is that just college letters?" You smiled, infected by her happiness, "I think it applies to both?" She slapped the letter down on the kitchen island, and the announced to you: "I will go grab some cakes, tell him to wait if he gets back before me."

She shut the door as she left, leaving you alone for a second time in the day. You walked over to the letter, interested. You looked it over, it seemed like this could change your life, was that the weird vibe I have been feeling all day? Did some part of me know that this letter would arrive today?

You mentally shrugged and sat back down on the couch, unpausing where you left off. Soon, you could hear Maddie getting back to the house. You ran outside to help her, where she gratefully handed you one of the cakes to carry inside. You put the cakes in the cabinet inside the kitchen island -so it would be a surprise for Tom- and Maddie got onto her laptop to pull up apartments in San Francisco.

You decided to ask her about the hedgehog thing that you saw earlier. "Hey, Maddie?" She hummed what sound like a yes, so you kept going. "H- Have you seen anything weird lately?" She titled her head to think about it. "No, I don't think so, Have you?" You started to fidget with your fingers, "W- Well, I saw this thing in the window, a-and it kind of looked like a h-hedgehog?" She turned to look at you better, "Hmm. I wonder what it was then, do you remember more about it?" "It was blue, and a little anthropomorphic, like it was kind of human looking, but it had too big of eyes, and hedgehog spikes in the back of the head." She tapped her lip in curiosity, "Maybe it was aliens?" She wanted to give you an answer, but that was the best she could do. "M -Maybe, it was." You joked, it hardly calmed you to know that she didn't know what it could be. "Let's ask Tom about it." She agreed, and went back to looking for places to stay.

You went and sat back down at the couch with Ozzy laying beside you, you mindlessly pet his head while reading fanfiction. After a few hours, and around ~6:21, Tom pulled into the driveway. The gravel was crunchy underneath the tires, and he could be heard yelling at the racoons. Ozzy jumped up from the couch to greet Tom at the front door. "Leave them alone, Tom. They're not doing anything." Maddie scolded him. Tom, feels differently about the racoons. "They are eating from our trash, you have nothing to say about that?" Maddie put her hands to her hips, "They have to, Tom." He held his hand up as if he was swearing, "I promise I will be nicer to the racoons, Okay?" She pursed her lips, "Okay."

She then showed him the letter that arrived earlier, "Open it Tom, We've been dying all day to know!" You closed down what you were reading, and greeted him with a hug. "Yeah, Open it." "It's small, is that bad?" Make a that's what she said joke. "No, I don't think so, Tom, think about college admission letters." You said to calm his worries.

He stood at the kitchen island -you all had moved to be more comfy-, and opened it. You drifted a little bit thinking of San Francisco, but you quickly stopped. "...Pending background check" You cheered along with Maddie who said: "You got the job, Baby!" And she flipped open the cake box to reveal a cake that had the Golden Gate Bridge on fire with the words "Forget those losers, San Francisco sucks!" "San Francisco sucks?" You giggled a little bit, which earned you a dirty look from Maddie.

"Oops, Sorry." She brought out the other cake which said "I never had a doubt" and featured Tom as a San Francisco police officer. Tom gave her a little smirk, "Never had a doubt, huh?" She smiled back, "Nope, never had a doubt that you would be taken by the police department." Tom sat down at the table. "Pending background check." He pointed to her in defense. As she sat down, she said "Oh no, I hope they don't find out about the time you used the neighbors Wi-Fi." She said in mock concern, amused that Tom thinks that he won't be taken in. "Correction, Still using the neighbors Wi-Fi." You piped up, "Correction, We're still using the neighbors Wi-Fi."

"Ah, that makes more sense now." Maddie said. A moment of silence happened, which caused you to think that you killed the mood, and then Tom announced "Well, this is cause for celebration. Olive Garden and Hot Fuzz?" You voiced your agreement, to the choices, and got your favorite food and drink from Olive Garden. You watched Hot Fuzz and other action movies well into the night, enjoying yourselves and life.

Then, Maddie dropped the ball that she had to catch a plane ride to San Francisco in the morning, so she wouldn't be there when you woke up. You looked at her in shock, "What? Where will you stay?" She replied, "I'll stay at Rachel's with Jojo and her." Tom also looked a little surprised, but not by much, as he slightly expected this from Maddie. "Okay, what time do I need to drive you there?" "3 o' clock." You sat up in alarm, "O- oh, It's like 1 in the morning, you need to get packing Maddie." You got up quickly and started pacing from an overwhelming sense of dread. "You're right, and you need to go to sleep, do you want us to wake you up when I leave?" Tom stated and asked, "N- No, I'll see you again, it's not like we're going to be apart for a long time, unless you want me to hug you bye?" She laughed slightly, "No, sweetie, it's okay. You're right, we'll see each other again, so you should catch up on your sleep."

You hugged her before saying "Good Night." and heading to your room. You looked at the ceiling, anxious for what's to come of your life. You couldn't sleep with all of your intrusive and anxious thoughts, so you settled for tossing and turning all night. Eventually, however, you felt your eyes burn from exhaustion and you closed your eyes.

A flash of blue appeared, and there was a power outage, which you knew cause your nightlight turned off, Tom quickly ran in and assured you it was probably nothing and he was going to take care of it.

You closed your eyes again.

The

Last

Thing

You

Saw

Was

Vermillion.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #platonic x reader #tw yandere #x reader #yandere #platonic #headcanon #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere jimbotnik #Yandere stone #yandere stone and robotnik #yandere stobotnik #helpfandom's writing #helpfandom

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fuctacles · 8 months ago

Text

Here's an excerpt from chapter 2, chapter 3 will be posted later today :) once again, dividers by @penny00dreadful, beta @dragoon-ze-great | read on Ao3

After a walk around the overgrown backyard, and strolling down the musty hallway, it hits Steve, that all of this belongs to him.

He owns a house.

He's been vague with Robin about his decision for the past two weeks, dodging questions while packing his life into boxes and wrapping things up with their old landlord. Maybe in some way, he wanted to prove he could do it by himself, no world-saving party needed. The urge to spill it all to his best friend had been eating him from the inside, and now he could finally give in.

He rushes to the phone to dial the number he has memorized, regardless of the early morning hour, but when he puts the receiver to his ear, he doesn't hear the dial tone.

He jabs the numbers anyway but puts it back on the cradles when nothing happens. The landline was supposed to be set up for his arrival, and while it is an inconvenience, he doesn't let it piss on his mood. He fixes himself a quick breakfast and starts the list of groceries and necessities he's missing. Add's 'contact the phone guys' at the bottom. Tucking the notepad into his pocket, he climbs upstairs to start his journey in house flipping.

After opening the windows to let in some fresh air, he removes the paintings, deciding to relocate them to the library, where their fantasy theme would be more fitting. Maybe he'll find something more to his tastes, so he could leave the nails in and simply replace them. With a sudden thought, he pulls out the notepad to add nails to the list. He should have some simple tools in one of the boxes and get whatever will be needed as he goes.

The walls used to be a dark burgundy color, as the squares revealed by the paintings would suggest. Steve never gave much thought to what color he'd like his bedroom to be and Robin would kill him if he decided without her. He refrains from adding paint to the list and writes down ' contact Robin ' instead.

He likes the canopy and manages to take it down gently to wash it later.

laundry soap

look for a lighter bed canopy (white?)

His first and obvious thought is to throw the bedding away, but upon touching the fabric, he can't bring himself to do so. It goes into the laundry pile along with the canopy, because while the dark colors may not be his thing, sleeping in silky smooth sheets certainly could be.

The shelves are mostly empty, and he'd need a box to put the few items away, so he rolls the round black carpet, puts cleaning supplies on his list, and walks to the laundry room.

The machine seems to be in working condition, but he won't know until he actually attempts to wash something so he leaves the sheets there and takes a lazy stroll around the house to put down anything else he might need. When he goes to close the bedroom windows, his fingers catch on a remais of a cobweb. He shakes his hand in distaste and gets a better look at the window screen. It's old but seems to be holding up well.

He remembers the amount of bugs he'd encounter on camping trips and writes down 'bug spray, check the screens'.

He should have expected the loud, undignified screech that shakes his eardrums. But all he can do now is appease his friend.

"I promise I'm only buying necessities to clean up and fix whatever needs fixing. The porch is falling apart and I spoke to this nice guy at the hardware store who could come over and tell me what I need. But of course, you can pick the colors."

"I fucking better," Robin seethes into the receiver. "How was sleeping in the haunted house?"

"Uneventful." Steve shrugs, leaning against the side of the phone booth. He briefly considers mentioning the fridge magnets though he feels insane just thinking about them, let alone speaking of them. But then again... "Hey, do you remember what the magnets on the fridge spelled?"

Robin is quiet long enough that he thinks he's lost the connection, but eventually, she speaks up.

"'Get lost' , I'm pretty sure. Why? Has it changed?" Her tone is not worried enough to Steve's liking. She sounds like a thrilled conspiracy theorist. Nancy has been a bad influence on her.

Steve hums, a sense of worry creeping up on him.

"I'm pretty sure it said 'get out' before I left today."

"I could have remembered it wrong," Robin offers, but both of them know it's unlikely. She clears her throat, and Steve can hear the springs in her bed creaking as she straightens up. "Do you think it's actually haunted?"

Steve sighs.

"I hope it is. We could call the party and they would science it out of existence. I'm afraid it could be a good old-fashioned squatter." He rests his head on the side of the booth with a thud. "I still don't have the key to the basement, after all. Anyone could be down there."

They stay silent for a while until Robin speaks up again.

"You could take the door off its hinges, you know?"

Steve promises he'll pick her up as soon as she's free on Friday, so she can help out with the renovations. He gives her his landline number, in case it starts working later (the company claims it's been set up and should have been working this morning), and checks off the rest of his list, along with some groceries.

Soon, he's back, watching the laundry spin in the washing machine that is, thankfully, working despite its age. He won't have to get a new one just yet. He gathers all the cleaning supplies into a bucket, and walks to the master bedroom, determined to spend the next night in a real bed. But when he enters, something isn't right.

He can't put his fingers on it until he opens the windows and turns around.

The paintings are hanging on the walls. He could have sworn... He could have sworn he took them down to carry to the library later. Led by a strange feeling, he leaves the room and walks downstairs to the kitchen, to stand in front of the fridge.

Rude

Steve stares at the word for an embarrassingly long time, processing the implications of it. Someone was in the house when he was gone.

He's dealt with squatters before, so he doesn't panic. Hell, he's fought literal monsters, so even if it is the rumored ghost, he feels a sense of purpose washing over him. Because he already has a whole group, a Party if you will, of people ready to deal with the otherworldly stuff. And if it is a squatter, well...

He has a bat in his trunk.

And there's only one place in the house where someone could still be hiding.

He walks back to his car, keeping on high alert and quietly cursing the washing machine that started making a ruckus upstairs. He'd rather be able to hear whatever is happening around him and not just a thud thud thud of it bumping against the floor.

Regardless, he approaches the door to The Dungeon , his bat in hand, and bangs against its sturdy surface.

"Hey! Anyone there? I just want to talk! I'm the new owner and if you need a place to stay, I can help! We can have lunch and a beer, we can talk it out!" As he expected, there was no answer. He shifts his grasp on the bat and looks around for something to leverage the door.

"If you don't open up, I'll have to take the door off!" he warns, grabbing a crowbar from his box of tools. It's shiny new, just bought today, and he's not one hundred percent sure how to use it for such a task. Regardless, he rests his bat against the wall and inspects the hinges. They are a bit different from the ones he's seen in his life - sturdy, stylized to look more rustic, like the door itself - made with visible planks of wood instead of a singular, heavy piece.

"Last chance!" he warns, slotting the crowbar under the door. When he gets no answer, he pushes on it, making the door pop up. They're heavier than he expected, but with some maneuvering, he manages to get a grip on them and haul them up and off the hinges.

He rests the door against the wall, wary of the darkness he just uncovered. He quickly grabs the handle of his bat but realizes, he doesn't have a flashlight. Cursing himself, he backtracks, trying to keep his eyes on the basement. Once in the entry to the living room, he jumps to grab his duffel bag before rushing back to the hall. There's been no movement from the darkness he's eyeing. With his left hand, he rummages through the necessities he's packed in his bag. Among them, he can finally feel a flashlight, and he grabs it with a wave of relief before straightening up and walking up to the doorframe.

"Okay," he breathes out, leveling his heart rate. He turns on his flashlight and it reveals surprisingly pretty wooden stairs, some dust, and cobwebs. He sees a hint of a green rug below them, but nothing more.

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#haunted house au #steddie #steddie big bang #cj x big bang #mine #sex drugs and a haunted house #steddiebang24 #ghost eddie munson #ghost!eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction

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