#to ask them if i could just like. feel bad. noticeably

[moonstruckme]

hello mae!!!

if inspiration strikes i'd love to request either a bruise in the shape of a boot print or blood seeping through clothes with spencer x bau!reader? thank you in advance, i hope your weekend was lovely! <3

Hi, thank you sweetness I hope your weekend was lovely too! <3

cw: injury? I'm not sure how to put it exactly but bau!reader gets moderately hurt while working basically. Oh also a squatter is taken into police custody for basically nothing but don't worry he's going to be questioned and released he's okay

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 579 words

You hold your breath as Spencer brushes his fingertips over the discoloration on your ribs. You hold your breath, but you don’t wince. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs anyway, eyes scanning you over. He wants to flick on his flashlight to see better, but he knows you’d run away before he could really look. Or hobble away, whatever you’re capable of right now. “I think he broke your rib.” 

You’re sitting on the curb a few meters away from your crime scene. It’s dark out, early morning, but an anonymous call brought the BAU out to check out a body that may be the latest victim in their case. 

There wasn’t supposed to be anybody around. The squatter caught you all by surprise and you him, Spencer and JJ chasing him down from the second floor. You’d been at the bottom of the stairs. Hadn’t even drawn your weapon before he kicked you down like a door to get you out of his path. 

“Just one rib?” you ask, wry. 

Spencer tilts his head, inspecting the bruising. “Maybe a few.” 

“Ah.” You lean your head back. You’re far enough into the country that you can see the stars, fading one by one as the sky lightens. “Perfect.” 

Spencer wants to reach out his hand more intimately, to touch you, to pull you closer, but he knows better than to make you look like you need taking care of. Not with your team so nearby, not with the reputation you’ve worked so hard to earn for yourself. Instead, he says in a soft voice, “Breathe.” 

You inhale. It looks like it hurts. 

Spencer’s chest aches faintly. He wonders whether it’s due to sympathy pains or something else. “This never should have happened.” 

Now you wince. “I know. I’m sorry, I should have been prepared.” 

“No.” He frowns. “You weren’t supposed to be prepared. JJ and I should have caught him before he got to you.” 

After the squatter knocked you down, Hotch caught him on the way out the door. They’re taking him in for questioning because he was found at a crime scene, but you all know he’s not your unsub. It makes you getting hurt feel even more pointless. 

“It’s not that bad,” you say.

“I can see his boot print on your chest.” 

“Can you really?” You look down. It causes you to bend slightly, the sort of minute movement you normally wouldn't notice, but now you suck in a breath. “Ow.” 

“Ow,” Spencer agrees compassionately. He covers your side with his hand, gentle but steadying. 

You shift, trying to find a comfortable position. “Could you make out a boot size?” you ask. 

“Probably. Why?” 

“Just curious.” 

“You know we already have him in custody. And he’s not our unsub.” 

“Yeah I know.” You shrug, wincing. You’re discovering all the things rib fractures make inconvenient. “It’d just be cool. Like, if I ever did get kicked by an unsub. In theory.” 

“You’d probably just catch them,” says Spencer. 

“Didn’t catch this one.” 

“Well, you were caught offguard. I’m sure it won’t happen a second time.” 

You laugh, then gasp, hand covering Spencer’s on your side. “Ow. Stop that.” 

“Sorry,” he says, genuinely contrite. “You’re going to have to go to the hospital.” 

“Yeah, I know.” It takes a moment to subdue your grimace, but you push out your bottom lip a little, meeting his eyes. “Hold my hand?” 

Spencer knows you’re likely teasing. He thinks he’ll do it anyway. 

[haveihitanerve]

well damn yall just wanna feed me angst today huh

Dick stared at the yellow cape. The yellow cape stared back. Well, no, it didn't really. That was just his imagination. But with the holes ripped into it... it kinda looked like eyes...

Dick sighed, and gave up his fruitless attempt of tapping the ripped pieces together. There wasn't any real reason why he was hiding the cape, per se. Bruce was well off and had made no indication that he would be angry if Dick ripped the suit.

But still. He didn't want to seem... ungrateful or anything. With a huff Dick stood, tugging the neon yellow material up with him. Alfred was busy in the kitchen, and as much as Dick adored the older man's talents, he wasn't necessarily certain that Bat-suit-costume mechanics were one of them.

Quietly, discreetly, Dick shuffled into the batcave, cape tucked behind his back. He wasn't too quiet, or at least, Bruce spotted him right away, tilting his chair slightly to indicate he'd noticed the entrance.

"Dad- ahem- Batman?" Dick asked quietly, hands fidgeting. Bruce turned, a small smile curling his lips.

"Yeah chum?" He agreed easily, eyes already searching for the source of Dick's anxiousness.

"I uh.. Ineedmycapefixed." Dick admitted, quickly, as though saying it faster would lessen the blow somehow. Reluctantly, he revealed the tear, wincing slightly at the damage.

Bruce stared for a moment, gently letting the rip glide through his fingers, before smiling. "Alright chum, no worries." He jerked his head in the direction of the cabinets, taking the cape from Dick. "It's time for a lesson. Go get my sewing kit."

~

Dick noticed the rip two weeks after it'd happened. It wasn't his fault! Not really. Everyone was responsible for their own gear!... Which was exactly what someone would say if it was their fault...

Damian had stiffly admitted to the accident, and claimed there was nothing wrong, nothing he couldn't fix. The jagged staples embedded in the cloth were answer enough of that.

After a bit of back and forth, Damian had reluctantly forked over the cape, and Dick stopped by the batcave before heading off to get changed.

"Hey Bruce-" Dick almost stumbled, a fond feeling of deja vu crashing over him. Bruce was seated at the Bat-Computer, chair tilted in the direction of the door to indicate he'd heard Dick's entrance.

"Hm?" Bruce agreed easily, turning slightly more towards him to show he was listening. Dick's fingers brushed the worn seat, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Dami- Dami needs his cape fixed." The words were slow, even, measured. Bruce's head twitched for a second, as though the same fond feeling had curled up inside his chest, and he turned his full attention to Dick, smiling softly.

"Yeah?" He chuckled, low in his throat, fingers gliding over the muted yellow fabric. He shook his head ruefully, taking the cape. "You silly," He murmured, head nodding in the direction of the cabinets. "Go get my sewing kit."

~

Dick was exhausted. There was no other word for it. Bone deep weariness seemed to lay on him like a suffocating blanket, and he dragged his body home, collapsing on the familiar and worn Batseat.

His hands glided down the smooth material of the familiar yet strikingly unfamiliar suit, fingers snagging in a tear at the cape. Dick sighed, turning his head to examine the rip.

It wasn't too bad, but certainly promised trouble if left unattended. The words were out of his mouth before he could recall them, echoing hollowly around the empty cave.

Dick swallowed, sitting up as he unbuckled the intimate clasps of the Bat-suit, fingers clumsy on himself. The suit came off after a longer time than Dick would've liked, and he tugged the cape around, examining the damage up close.

"Dad..." Somehow the word sounded worse spoken aloud a second time, especially with no one to answer. "I need... your cape fixed..." Different fingers brushed across the dark black material. A splatter of water hit the cape, sliding off as quickly as it'd come. A small, sorrowful smile tugged the corners of Dick's mouth. "I guess I'll go get your sewing kit."

The only adult Dick knows in this manor is Bruce, beside Alfred that now is busy in the kitchen. So, with a ripped Robin cape, little Dick waddles to Bruce in front of the Bat computer.

"Dad– ehm, Batman i need my cape fixed."

Bruce looked at the ripped cape, "go get my sewing kit."

this happened several times til he decided to get rid of the cape in his new costume (yes, the discowing).

years later, Dick comes back to Bruce, who's sitting in front of the Bat computer. he holds Damian's ripped cape.

Dick smiles as he walks to the tired bat, feeling deja vu. he touches his chair, "Dad, i need Dami's cape fixed."

Bruce looked a little surprised, then he's smiling. "you silly," he takes the cape from Dick. "go get my sewing kit."

more years later, Dick gets a seat in front of the Bat computer. he's tired and worn out. taking off the Bat cowl, he looks down to his ripped cape.

"Dad, i.. need your cape fixed.." he sighs in between the silences, "... I'll go get your sewing kit."

[calebsangelbby]

・❥ I TOLD YOU NO , PIPSQUEAK

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: caleb goes through your phone and finds out something he most likely wasnt meant to find out . frustrated , he ignores all your attempts to flirt with him ... that is , until it gets too much .

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+ , porn w/ no plot , dom!caleb , sub!reader , use of y/n , overstimulation , slapping , oral sex (reader receiving)

a/n :: tysm for everyone who voted on the poll for this ! i apologize for taking so long to write it , been busy w/ personal things . hope you enjoy nonetheless 💋

it all started when caleb found out you were sending the pictures of yourself looking all cute to other men. he didnt know what to expect when going through your phone , but it definitely wasnt that .

he should be the only one you're talking to .

he's spent the last few hours sitting in silence & staring at his ceiling , contemplating whether or not to confront you about it or stay silent and let it build up . his time for thinking ends abruptly when he hears his door creak open and views you walk in . it's late at night but it's not rare of you to come in because of a bad dream ... but your reasoning of barging in is a lot more sinister than something so innocent like that .

you close the door behind you and lean your back against it , making eye contact with him before beginning taking small steps toward him , swaying your hips purposefully just to have the pleasure of watching his eyes roam down to look at them .

once you reach his bed , he breaks eye contact as you sit on the edge of the it; too upset to look you in the eye . not thinking much of it , you twist your body to lay a hand gently on his thigh . "caleb," you utter, trying to make him look at you . "caleb, i have a favor to ask .." at that , he props himself up on his arms to meet your gaze with his .

"what is it, pips?" he asks with furrowed brows and a tone with just a hint of irritation , something you can only pick up on . "i dont really feel like talking to you right now , let alone do something for you . " he says and you can see the frustration on his face now , eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a straight line .

your eyebrows rise up to your forehead , your hand flying to your heart . "oh, you're mad at me ? what'd i do ?" you question with mock innocence . at that , he scoffs and brings his arms out from under him so he can fall back down on the bed . "im really tired , could you let me get some sleep please ? it's been a long day . thanks . "

you smirk at his response , letting out the smallest snicker . "woah there , i didn't think you were that mad at me to ignore me .." you mumble , fixing your eyes to look down at the bed and bringing your hands to your lap; gazing up at him through your lashes . "do you want help getting it out of your system ..? i can surely assist with that."

you're almost sure you can see the way his body tenses up once he hears that.

he swallows hard and you can view from where you are the way he hesitantly shakes his head , crossing his arms over his chest . "no , pips . not tonight .. im exhausted and i was about to go to sleep before you came in . leave , please , now ." his voice is asserting , or at least ... attempting to be . after looking over the images you messaged those men , truth be told he has had a boner ever since and instead of going to bed like he told you he was ... he was actually just about to jerk off . thank god you havent noticed .

"oh come on, dont be so lame . we both know thats a lie," you point out , shifting your body completely to make it easier to slip your hand over his thigh once more , sliding it higher and higher . "let me help you , caleb ... if you wont tell me why you're angry then at least allow yourself to let it out in a way thats healthy ."

"my god, y/n, give it up already!" he yelled , the sexual frustration in his voice clear . he jumped up from his laying position into one that was on his knees , standing up rather than sitting down on them . before you knew it , he was grabbing you by the arms and slamming you down into the mattress beneath him. "you want this so fucking bad, huh? you're such a damn slut, arent you? say it . tell me you're my slut."

all that comes out of your mouth is a gasp, your brain short-circuiting at the pace of which things just switched around . you're hastily sliding your eyes over his face , taking in the crazed look in his pupils , the way his nostrils are flared , his lips in a scowl ... taking in how divine he looks when he's angry .

"i-... i dont-" you whisper , your voice box not capable of saying anything above the tone .

"i didnt ask what you know , i asked you to tell me how much of a whore you are . coming into my room , unannounced, in a skimpy little outfit ... trying to make my dick hard by touching me the way you did . if anything , we both know you know what you are," he says , leaning in to whisper in your ear . "a touched-starved little pipsqueak ."

you shake your head in submission, knowing how scary he could get when he's mad . "no... i-i'm sorry, caleb, i'll leave you alone . i dont know why i even messed with you in the first place ."

almost immediately after those words go through his brain , he leans back up on you and slaps you hard enough to definitely leave a mark . you squeal , bringing a hand up to your face to feel where he hit . before you could reach your cheek , he grabs your hand and pins it up above you; swiftly dragging your other along with it .

"quit talking , y/n , it'll only bring you more trouble to lie . be a good girl and stay quiet while i punish your perfect little pussy for being so needy all the time . you can do just that one thing for me , cant you ? don't make a sound . " he purrs into your face , breath hot against your skin before he crawls down lower; taking your hands with him to rest on your stomach . once he meets with your core , he uses his free hand to briskly take off your scrap of lace that you call panties with his pointer finger . looking up at you , he grins when he sees the look of resistance written all over your face . "spread . now ."

he looks down to make eye contact with your cunt again , taking in the wetness glistening in the moonlight . he takes it upon himself to lean down and blow a flow of cold air right onto your needy clit , making you thrust your hips into his face . he doesn't react , though , only laughs a greedy laugh at your attempt .

"you're only making this worse for yourself , baby . stay still and silent for me and this will be over before you know it ." and with that , he brings his head down to suck on your clit .

it's such a perfect feeling you cant help but moan , tipping your head back and allowing your eyes to flutter shut . the moment of bliss is stolen as quick as it came when he slaps his hand on your thigh , making you jump .

"make a sound and i'll stop ."

------

over an hour has he been torturing you . an hour . sixty minutes .

it's long after you've cum (multiple times) on his face , but he still won't stop . you're thrashing and squirming , crying and screaming , kicking and begging at him but nothing works . you're convinced he's committed to making you pass out ... and maybe he is .

he won't talk to you , won't stop you from pulling at his hair , all he does is pull your thighs closer around his face; using all the strength he has to keep you there .

you can see how hard he is and the evidence of his release on the bed , but he refuses all your offers to make him cum in an effort to get him to stop . he refuses everything and anything , all hes focused on is your core and making you pay for all the hell you've put him through . especially those fucking pictures you've been sending to people .

at this point , his jaw hurts , and he's almost incapable of going on for longer . he finally lifts up off your poor abused core , giving you a moment to breathe and relax your muscles . he drags himself on his hands and knees over you to meet your face , moving a hand to touch under your chin; making you meet his gaze .

" have you learned your lesson yet , pips ? or do you need me to go a little longer ?" you quickly shake your head at his question, you normally would answer with a string of nononononos but you're too fucked-out that you cant . he brings the hand on your chin to your eyes and wipes a tear there . "i'm sorry , baby . i know i'm cruel . i know you'll never do that to me again ." he says , a sincere tone in his voice .

"lets go get you cleaned up ."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ in conclusion :: caleb is without a doubt a 'fuck around and find out' typa guy .. :3

[t1red-twilight]

masterlist s. r. masterlist blurbs

when you had left the scene you had thought you were okay, honestly. you hadn’t even noticed the stiffness in your leg until you were getting back into the suv. no one had noticed anything, and you figured that you were alright.

getting back on to the jet was a different story, however. the stairs proved to be very difficult with you stiff leg. spencer, who was behind you did take notice of your uneasy steps.

“are you okay?” he asked quietly, surely not to attract too much attention. you waved him off. “alright, if you say so.” his voice was assuring and non-accusatory.

you did, however, still feel the gentle caress of spencer’s hand on your lower back as he helped you up into the jet. you made sure to mumble a “thank you” to him as you sat down.

the relief you felt when you sat was immense and instantaneous. you tried to recall when you could’ve gotten injured, but the only thing you could think of was when you lost your balance and fell over. derek had pulled you up, only teasing a little.

the initial pain wasn’t that bad, so you thought that you’d be fine. maybe after the ride home you’d be good enough to walk to your car and get home.

the throb in your leg lulled long enough for you to get an hour or two of sure on the way back to quantico. by the time the jet landed, spencer was nudging you awake. you moved to grab your go bag and the rest of your things, but a pain shot up your leg.

your eyes closed in a wince and you stayed stationary for a few seconds. you felt spencer’s eyes linger on you for longer than you liked, so you grabbed your things and muscled through the pain. perhaps you had pulled a muscle or something?

you stood up and looked at spencer, forcing a smile. you motioned toward the exit and he raised a brow slightly. trying to make your gait as even as possible, you attempted to minimize any kind of limp that you might be showing.

spencer stood dangerously close to you. suddenly, you slipped a tad and another sharp sensation of pain flooded your nervous system. spencer caught you, his free hand grasped your forearm. you stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. “i thought you said you were okay?”

“i am,” you emphasized you clenched your eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside. you took another deep breath.

“it sure doesn’t look like it,” spencer responded. despite his choice of words, he was far more sympathetic and not aggressive at all. luckily the rest of the team had left already, eager to get home and go to sleep.

you sighed, and shifted your weight to your good leg. “does it look bad?” you asked, only pouting a little.

spencer reached for your bag and chuckled at your sad expression. “no, just like you need to take an anti-inflammatory and lie down for a little.”

you reached for your things, but he pulled them out of your reach. “you don’t have to hold that,” you stated. he just shrugged.

spencer swung your bag over his shoulder, and placed his free arm around your waist to pull you up straight and help you walk. you put an ark around his shoulders to balance the weight. “i’ll take you to my place, if that’s okay. i’ll make you tea and get you some ibuprofen.”

[takimakiiiii]

what if? (i told you i loved you)

pairing - ollie bearman x fem!reader

themes - PURE FLUFFFFFFF

summary - ollie tells you he loves you but not before getting awful advice from kimi

word count: around 300?

a/n: just something small i wrote last night after listening to how would you feel by ed sheeran - it’s lowkey bad because my writing has been pretty sucky lately and im trying to write so many things at once (bad idea yall do NOT do what i am doing ✋😭) anyways enjoy!

<———————————————————————>

“What could possibly go wrong?” was quite possibly the worst this to say to Ollie in this moment as he frantically paced his living room. His hands were buried in his hair and his face scrunched up in a way which called for desperate measures. Kimi eyed his friend partly amused, partly concerned, as he walked back and forth across the room like a video on loop. 

“What if you just wait?” offered Kimi, Ollie paused his pacing and stared at him as he faltered under his glare, laughing nervously. Kimi cleared his throat before he spoke, “What I meant to say was, maybe wait a while, you don’t want to scare the poor girl away.” he put delicately. 

“But. . . I don’t want to wait. I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect right? It’s just saying. . . I love you.” 

The words heavy yet light sat on his tongue. Ollie looked to Kimi for help who’s hands shot up defensively. He pointed at him and clicked his fingers, a widespread grin on his face. 

“Don’t look at me, Eli was the one who said it first.” he pointed out, watching as his friend finally stopped pacing. Ollie sat across from him, burying his head in his hands. Personally, Kimi thought he was overreacting big time. Not that he could speak from much experience though.

“How do I say it, do I say it casually like an in-the-moment thing? Or maybe-“

“Do you want to practice?” Kimi asked teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Ollie glared and threw a pillow at his face in reply, Kimi caught it with a huff.

“Look, just say it because you mean it. It doesn’t have to be fancy, if you tell someone you love them it’s because you want them to know.” A moment of silence passed between them and Ollie raised his eyebrows. Far too heartfelt and touchey for them. Kimi cringed at his own words and offered an unhelpful sympathetic glance to Ollie who glared at him in reply. 

“You should’ve called Arthur instead, he’s 10 times better at this.” Kimi grumbled, sick of playing wingman for his friend. 

“For all we know he’s probably partying on a yacht somewhere in the middle of the ocean.” Ollie grumbled in annoyance.

“The lucky bastard.” Kimi scowled, throwing the pillow back. Ollie caught it and let out a groan, leaning as back as he could into the armchair. He buried his face in the pillow. 

“Maybe I’ll just wing it.” he spoke, words muffled. 

“Famous last words.” Kimi acknowledged with a chuckle sending Ollie spiralling.

*

You laid back pressed Ollie’s chest, one hand shielding your eyes from the rays of the sunset that glared before you. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you glanced up at him. He’d been sitting nervously since you’d arrived at the park. You’d noticed the way he ran his hand through his hair every few seconds, he way he kept glancing over at you, even the sweat that had began to form on his forehead. You smiled fondly, watching as his jaw tensed under your stare. 

“Everything okay, Bearman?” you asked curiously, breaking the silence. The chatter in the park began to die out as the sun set behind the skyline. Ollie eyes flickered over to you, startled by your voice. He swallowed, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he cleared his throat, looking down at you. His eyes skipped over you before he looking back up at the sunset.

“Maybe because you skipped the sim today to come pick me up from work?” you suggested, noticing the way his eyes reflected the sunset as warm pools of honey. Subconsciously your mouth ticked up in a smile, heart skipping a beat in your chest. 

“Hey, I do that all the time.” Ollie protested, a light humour to his voice. You rolled your eyes playfully, “Sure you do, handsome.” Silence passed between the two of you as you watched the sunset, its colours dancing across the sky above you. You let out a deep sigh, allowing your eyes to close.

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes opened slowly and you glanced back at Ollie. You sat up and turned to face him, oblivious to the way he looked at you so fondly. 

Your heart fluttered under his gaze.

“Yeah?” you beckoned, awaiting his question. You noticed the way his fists clenched and jaw tensed as he sat up, looking for his words. 

“I know we haven’t been dating for long but. . . I really uhhh,” Ollie tripped over his words before groaning. You watched him take a deep breath in.

“I love you.” 

A warm feeling exploded through your chest and your heart felt like it was beating a thousand times faster than before. It felt like your brain had short circuited. Much to Ollie’s surprise, you burst out in laughter. He watched horrified as you rolled onto your back, clutching your stomach with laughter. 

Was this a normal reaction to telling someone you love them? Ollie wondered before he realised this was exactly why he did. He loved everything about you. He loved the way you smiled all the time and it made him feel like he was flying up in the clouds. He loved the way you went out of your way to make everyone feel special, especially him. He loved you, and it couldn’t have been truer in that moment. 

Ollie lay beside you on the grass and looked over at you, a gigantic smile on your face. You let out a chuckle, “So that’s why you’ve been sweating so much? I thought it was because of the walk here, no offence.” 

“Woah, offence taken.” He scrunched up his face, sending you both into fits of giggles. After the laughter died out you turned on your side to face him. You half expected him to be anxious since you were yet to say it back, but you were taken by surprise when you saw him relaxed and smiling back at you. 

Your eyes glazed over him, his rosy cheeks, honey eyes and that smile that made your head grow dizzy. 

That one Taylor Swift lyric blasted at the back of your mind - “In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.” 

“Creepy much?” you teased, poking him in the shoulder, rolling your eyes playfully. Your stomach felt like you were on a roller coaster, heart beating so loud it felt like it was going to shoot out of your chest. 

“I’m hurt.” he placed his hand on his heart dramatically. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” you spoke poshly, attempting your best at mimicking Ollie’s English accent. He poked you back in the ribs playfully, sending you into laughter until your stomach ached. 

Out of breath, you turned to him, eyes catching his and everything felt right. 

“I love you too.” you whispered, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek before jumping to your feet. Ollie sat up and watched as you held your hand out to him, eyes glinting mischievously. He slowly took your hand and stood up cautiously, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“What?” you asked, doing an awful job at holding back a laugh at his reaction. He studied your face for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

“What?” Ollie countered, the corners of his mouth pulled in a grin. 

“Last one to the car has to clean the dishes tonight!” you yelled as you shot off in the direction of the car. Ollie ran after you, the park filled with both your laughter as the sun disappeared behind the buildings. 

a/n: it’s super short but i hope you enjoyed!

[whambambatfam]

Wing of a web

Chapter 4

Uuugghh, so late... I'm so sorry!

I cut this chapter down so many times, and despite its normal length, all the cutting down makes it feel incomplete. I just hope it's not bad ⁽͑ʺˊ˙̫ˋʺ⁾̉

The thing that really messed me up is that there's only a few months before Tim comes in?? This is not enough time for grief or my plotline.

15 - ... That's it.. so much is happening to this poor child in such a short amount of time..

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

The sun cuts through Gotham's smoggy morning skies. An almost ever-present fog settled softly over the city, pierced only by the dark skyscrapers it lays over. Bruce is doing the one thing he's feared since bringing in the first Robin.

Burying his child.

Yet, he's stopped at the door, the old butler standing firm in his way, "Alfred what are you doing? We've got-"

He's cut off with a tut, "I won't allow it, I will not let you hurry off this time. Master Bruce, you must spare a moment of your time. Just this once." Arms crossed and face set in that fatherly disapproval Bruce always faltered under. He would usually have at least an idea of what he was being scolded over.

Now? He's not feeling like a great detective; he's just lost and hurting. "What's this about? You know what today is—Jason's funeral." Again, he's cut off by an increasingly frustrated Alfred.

"Exactly, sir. You ought to know how much they meant to one another." Besides them, Barbra and Gordon had planned to meet at the cemetery. The grimace over his face only grows as Bruce wracks his brain for a clue.

Giving in, he asks exasperated, "Who?"

Alfred's glare deepens, but before he can open his mouth, there's a commotion. Hurried feet, half covered, race down the hall until you slam to a stop at the banister. "I'm here! I'm so sorry!" Hobbling down the stairs, you huff, pulling on your other shoe fully.

"Oh, you're coming?" He blinks down at you, brows knitting together.

You turn your face so fast it feels like you're on the verge of whiplash. Lips nearly falling agape as you look incredulity at him. "What are you even saying? Of course?!" How could he even ask you something like that? Hot anger grips at your ears, raking down the back of your neck to dig its fingers into you deeply.

"No, you're right." He clears his throat, shame flitting across his face. You've never raised your voice at him. "Of course you're coming."

"Shall we get going then, Master Bruce?" Alfred seems mostly satisfied, finally opening the door.

The press couldn't wait to dig their fingers into this tragedy. Chomping at the bits over a false date. All to be the first to shove a camera in the face of someone grieving. Bruce has been working to keep his affairs private.

There is only a handful of people at the actual service. You arrive first with Alfred and Bruce. Gordon comes next, bickering with Barbra as he insists on pushing her wheelchair for her. You hate that you don't know what happened to her. Just like you'll never know what really happened to Jason.

Your father stands between you and the commissioner as they speak in hushed tones. Maybe it's a moment of clarity, maybe it's just pity, but he pulls you into his half embrace. The press of his solidly built side warmed you against the bite from a sudden gust of wind.

Your ears can't take in the pastor's words, lost to your own thoughts. Only days ago, you had him in your grasp, bemoaning his safety. A painful irony that hurts when you can't hold the laugh that turns into a sob. Knees giving out under you, hands wiping fruitlessly at your face.

Alfred grunts softly as he lowers himself to the ground beside you. He rubs soothing circles into your back, "Take your time, young master. I'll be here with you as long as you need."

"Where-?" Looking up, your head wipes around.

With a heavy sigh, he pats your shoulder again, "Your father left with Commissioner Gordan and his daughter." You hadn't even noticed him leave.

Releasing a similarly deep breath, you lean into his comfort. "Right, of course."

Because, of course, Batman has better things to do than grieve. How? How can it be fair? How can he fight on? How can the city buzz around you? How can day turn to night? How can the earth keep spinning? How can it all just leave you behind?

When your world has come to a stop at the foot of a perfect square of fresh soil.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the next. After a week, you stopped asking Alfred to take you. He was busy as it was, and it was starting to feel embarrassing despite his understanding and reassurance. MJ and Gwen have gone with you, both together and separately. Jason had grown close to each of you in the precious few years you all knew him. Pushing on, once a day, after grinding through school and extracurriculars, you bid your friends a good night and head to the graveyard. Coming to sit at the same spot that's worn to a small dirt patch in your regular use.

Just as when he was here with you, you told him about your day, grades, drama, worries, hopes, the things he would have liked to see, to hear, to eat, to do... But he couldn't, and after a few weeks, you weren't sure if this was helping anymore. Thinking of him in everything just to repeat it all back to an empty sky.

Even your usual late-night ornithology had dived. Well, more like a stumble, but... It's different now. The whole thing just felt so unfair. Seeing him suited up perfectly, like your brother's not in a grave. Robin is gone, and Batman moves along.

It's one of those nights when you are more hate-watching than admiring. Still taking your camera with you. What's the point in going out if you don't get at least one pic'? You're on the bus headed downtown when a familiar buzzing in your pocket jostles you from the passing sights of the city. Reading the contact your stomach drops seeing the name Dick Grayson display across the screen. You squeeze the phone in your hand, taking a deep breath before putting on your 'I totally want to be talking to you' voice, "Hey, Dickie, what is it?" God forbid he thinks something is wrong. You'll be tracked down and shipped back to the manor 'for your own good.'

"Wanted to make sure you got home alright." He says flippantly, it sounds like he's out and about somewhere, likely trying to look good for someone.

"I'm almost there. Call you when I get in." Of course, you couldn't escape a call with your Big Brother without a safety lecture. You know he's only doing it because he feels obligated. It's his thing, to be annoying, to nag really, clucking on and on like he's some mother hen. "Yep.. Yeah.. Okay..." But you've lived in the city long enough to know when to cross the street and places with names like 'Crime Alley' are bad.

Funnily enough, it makes you think he's doing too much, for once, but you know.. he just doesn't want to lose anyone else... "Of course, Dick." But it's all fake, purely for show, tricking just himself. You won't be home tonight, and he won't notice when you don't call.

It's obvious how ready he is to dismiss and forget this, you, by the end of his monologue. Then, he says, "Okay, well, I'll talk to you later." liar, "Buh-bye, little bird, love you!" How it must make him feel so good to think you two are so close, whenever he decides you are.

You're almost out of this call, and he's hanging on the other side expectantly for it. So, un-gritting your teeth as best you can, you responded, "Love you, too, bye."

Stepping off the bus, you pull your hood lower. Making your way through the downtown streets unseen. Just as the heart of many American cities, the heart of Gotham City smells like a filthy urinal. If only you could run back to wherever the fuck you came from. Though, for all you know, that could still leave you stuck in the city of crime.

It's not all bad; Alfred and your friends are here with you. Though the latter two are becoming increasingly concerned about your mourning patterns. While the first looks you over in a sad, knowing gaze, he's seen how Waynes deal with grief. He's simply thankful you haven't gone that far.. Yet...

You make your way cautiously through the outskirts of the old ACE chemicals. The gunfire has settled, and you feel more confident in the silence to push through the broken doors. You aren't sure where in the facility Bats ended this fight, but you're itching for one more shot.

The last one, him stalking along a rooftop just before he made his descent, could suffice. Coiled like a spring, ready to pounce. He's had an edge to his movements since the incident. A volatile air that translated into hard hits and meaner take downs. You shouldn't be here, you've seen enough, gotten too close. Yet, you just couldn't help yourself.

I'm the corner of your eye; you catch his figure. He hops from a rail and slips through a broken skylight. Trying to get back out the door again, you trip. A rusty pipe catches your foot, sending you skidding across concrete. Patting across the roof tells you he's made his escape. Confirmed concretely by the rumbling of the Batmobile coming to life.

Huffing at your own inability, you pull yourself up slowly before realization hits. Your camera. Scrambling to your feet, you search for the device that had been flung from your neck. Plucking it from its spot across the floor, you inspect the damage.

Which is brutal, to say the least. Bits of lens fall from place as you turn it over. Retching the SD card from the scuffed device, you settle on a half-set of stairs. Sighing heavily as you rest your aching body carefully against the rusted metal.

Well, looks like you really won't be getting that final picture after all.

Stewing in your loss, you don't notice the small spider descending on you until it nips the side of your neck. With a yelp, you swat it off you, peering down in ire as it lands in the dirt of the factory floor. A body of vibrant red and blue that almost glowed, ferried along by spindly legs that moved like Claymation. You swipe your case, chomping it up in the camera carrier. Snapping it shut and zipping it up quickly. It'll stay, right? If this weird thing just bit you, surely Alfred would want to see it. It could be poisonous.. or venomous? Whichever, you just hope you don't die from this freaky spider.

At home, you drop the little thing in a jar you had fished out of the cupboards. Poking holes in the lid with one of your stray sewing pins. In the bathroom, you yank your shirt aside. Two little puncture wounds are surrounded by aggravated skin. Stippled and angry in color, you try not to touch it but, fuck, does it itch like crazy. You had returned home that night only to discover that Alfred was not home. Leaving you a meal to reheat and note of his return. That's fine! You'll simply run all this by him when he's back. Surely this won't kill you, right?

But, as you lay in bed, writhing around in pain, you reconsider. You're almost certain, as you begged to the empty room for Alfred's merciful aid, this may be your end. Hot pedipalps of agony claw over every inch of your body.

Despite the night when morning came you woke up feeling much better, different even. Certainly not emotionally, but physically. Your body feels different, changing. Not in a puberty way either, well, yes but, no. Your hand immediately reaches to find the mark on your neck. The memory of its irritation trickles through your rousing subconscious only to be met with nothing. Skin only slightly raised and the shade of a long held scare in the shape of the smallest circles are your only proof. Like something that happened long ago and not just last night.

Something stops you from telling Alfred. Maybe it's the teenage audacity to think that if you're not visibly hurt, everything must be okay. Right? Yeah, you totally got this. So, you head to school. What was there to be done about it now?

"This thing bites you, nasty bad, you're dying, but you miraculously recovered and now everything is okay." Gwen rehashes your story suspiciously, "Yeah, I wouldn't believe you either."

Knocking your shoulder with hers, you huff your defense, "Okay, but it did happen, though."

MJ gives you a funny face, hung up on one detail in particular, "Why would you bring it home though? Are you gonna keep it?" She leans into your side, doing your cheek, "Weird lil' pet for the lil' weirdo?"

Deadpanning at her teasing, you muse, "Actually, I was thinking of putting it in your locker."

She gasps a melodramatic, "YOU WOULDN'T." Before ripping herself away like you've physically wounded her.

Unfortunately, she stumbles into the arms of Flash-fucking-Thompson, "Aww, what's wrong, baby?" He wraps his arms around her waist, caging her against him, and he leers over her. "Need me to save you?"

MJ throws wild kicks and elbows until she's released from his grasp, "Haven't I made it clear? I'm not interested. Leave me the hell alone already flash." Huffing, she quickly backs away from him behind you and Gwen.

Flash steps up to your small group, "Don't be so stuck up!"

Gwen meets his step in turn, "She said no, being an ass isn't going to change that." She glared up at him, blocking his way.

Rolling his eyes, Flash moves to pass her. "Come on, I'm just having a little fun." There's a tingling sensation at the back of your neck as he brushes past Gwen. Time feels like it stops when Flash lifts his hand towards Mj.

Reaching out with a swiftness that you've never known, you catch his wrist, "Can't you get it through that thick skull of yours?" You're not sure where it comes from but you can practically hear his teeth grit as he scoffs hot breath in your face. "Maybe there's just nothing in there for it to hold onto."

He grips the front of your shirt in his free hand, "Do you wanna get put in the ground?" You would normally be fucking terrified. Sure, you've got training, but Flash is a lot bigger and could definitely lay you the fuck out. Yet, you don't back down, especially when he tries to pull his wrist from your grasp, and it doesn't budge. Even when he tries again. and again.

As confusion spreads across his face, a grin crosses yours, "I'd like to see you try."

Yanking his arm, you surprise even yourself as Flash's back dents the lockers behind you. Staring wide-eyed and mouth agape you watch him groan as he raises back to his feet.

"Glaring up at you, he grunts out a low, "You're so fucking dead."

The blur of his hand balling into a fist swing towards you and it felt second nature to stepping around each throw. Ducking away with grace that left even you shocked, dodging each move he made was almost too simple.

Mj leans over Gwen's shoulder. "Should we help?"

Panic floods over Flash as he huffs and puffs, trying near desperately now to land a single blow. Until you finally reach out, snatching up his wrist in your iron-clad grasp. His eyes toggle between your hand and your face as if he can't believe it actually belongs to you.

Arms crossed, Gwen watched wide-eyed as Flash struggled in vain to free himself, "Which one...?"

The moment your hand connects with his chest, the force sends him flinging backwards. Past the crowds that gathered to watch, and skidding to a stop across the half way down the hall. While you think he deserved it, you're still standing in this middle of the hall. The flames of shame lick up your spine, climbing higher as an authoritative voice calls out from through your audience, "What's going on out here?!" Standing there as aghast as the people around you, the reality of oh fuck, you just did that, engulfs you entirely.

So, what do you do? Well, you run, of course. Your friends go after you, try to at least. While you commend their efforts, you've never run this fast in your life. Any major obstacle suddenly feels like a minor inconvenience at best. Skidding around corners, you bound over cars like trash cans and swivel past ruffled people in an apologetic blur as you tear down the bustling city streets.

Finally coming to a stop, partway through your recovery from tearing through Gotham on foot, halfway through your school day, after... Alfread is going to be pissed. Beyond pissed. You just know it; you've never been in a fight before. Not like this; you weren't one to cause trouble at school. God, he's going to be so disappointed. Fuck, why did you do that? How did you do that?

Finding yourself bent over and heaving heavily at the doors of Wayne manor but, after hardly a moment of recuperation, you tear the door open. Only to remember too late that they're locked. It doesn't stop the doors from busting open at your commands as bits of metal and wood fly from place at the destructive entrance. Leaving with a broken door, dropped jaw and wondering...

What the fuck is happening to you?!

Tossing aside the useless barrier, your mind is a tangled web of fear and confusion. Simply trying to hide away in your room seems to be a challenge. Nothing can stand a chance against your touch, door handles, faucets, that poor little stool you tripped over... Obliterated under your misplaced foot.

Then, to make it better, while snatching up your blanket to hide under, a silky string shoots out of your wrist. Thin strings of silk connect the fabric back to you, sticking from a small mark on your inner wrist, ripping your hand away another comes from you to stick to the wall. You're already fuzzy, panic-stricken brain raddles uselessly in your head until you've finally wrapped snuggly in your blanket. In that, you couldn't help laughing, while you got what you wanted, you hadn't planned to do so while strung up in silken webs of your own peculiar making.

Stewing in your frustrating and accidental cocoons, you jolt at the sound of a sudden gasp from the main entrance, "Uhh.. Alfred?!" Nervously you cry out from help to the only person who could do so.

Hurried footsteps deliver you the alarmed sight of Alfread. "Young Master-!" Catching sight of you at the end of a line of destruction was one thing, but this. "Oh, my word..."

Squirming in your cage of web and blanket, your muffled voice admits sheepishly, "I think I might... Need some help."

With a deep sigh, the old butler gets to work doing what he can. It takes a while, but you're soon cut loose. Shaking his head, he quietly assesses the damage. He steps away to give you the time to pull yourself and your room together. Tearing the web down and straightening fallen doors with a sulk. It took enormous effort to not cause more damage as you helped clean up your mess.

A hand lays on your shoulder as you trudge back to your room. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?" He offers in a gentle tone.

Everything that's happened in such a short period of time, for some reason, the first thing that comes to your mind is, "I got in a fight at school..." Your head's hung, but the snort he tries to hide in a cough is still pretty audible.

His hand moves to pat your head. "While that's quite disappointing to hear, I believe there to be a more pressing matter at hand, young master." He lifts the other to present a distinctly batman-branded knife. "This is the only thing that could cut through that... web."

"Right! Yeah..."

Praying to anything that will listen you list off to Alfred how you when somewhere you should have been, hurt yourself, broke your camera, got bitten by an obviously suspicious spider.. took down someone who you were no match for typically.. broke a few more things and... wow, you are so fucked.

Yet, Alfred, your gracious Saviour, waves the fight off as an accident under rather peculiar circumstances. Putting yourself in the situation that led to said circumstances, on the other hand, well... You're lucky your only punishment is to repair the damage you've caused. Which were quite surmountable, made somehow both easier and harder with these new abilities you've come into.

Though you still must deal with the consequences at school, Alfred defended you the best he could. It was surprisingly easy for him to pay them for repairs; what they really appreciated was more donations for school maintenance if everything was swept away. You would both receive a punishment, a week of suspension, for simply causing a minor disturbance on school grounds. Not a word of anything beyond that was said to your father. For once, this was something he was the last person you want to have in attention.

You're advancing in every physical activity you put yourself through far faster than ever before. Gymnastics is a breeze, and material arts- actually, this new strength has begot the need to learn to... Reel it in. You're not trying to actually hurt your training partner, but it was all becoming increasingly difficult to handle. Alfred sneaks you a set of papers titled Super Strength Balance Training filled with helpful tips for your very specific problem and rather cute example pictures. You wonder where he got them...

It doesn't take long for you to try out making those webs again. It hasn't happened again since. So, you're worried that maybe it ran out? Does that excuse you preces on the roof of a scarily tall building? No, but your incredible new ability to jump to mind blowing heights and skipping along building tops is actual as fun as they make it look but still real fucking scary.

As fun as it is to hop around and lift the biggest thing you can find around the mansion, to Alfred's dismay. Glancing over those strange marks, you look up to an intimidating crane and flick your wrist out. Just for nothing to happen, so, you try again, "Up up and away web!" and again and, again, "Go web go!" and finally after contorting your hand in all kinds of ridiculous ways, you give up.

Pulling at your sleeve, you inspect your wrist, poking at it in frustration. It's not until you press your middle and ring finger to your palm that a string of web fly from you. You watch in wide-eyed and dropped-jaw astonishment as it soars over the crane you were aiming for and out of sight. Now, with more purpose, you aim at the metal, breathe deeply, press your fingers to your palm, and shoot.

Embarrassingly, you gasp pretty loud when the web actually latches into place. Grabbing the silk strand, you step up to the ledge. There was so much you still had to do, say, fix, but right now... You just want to know what it was like to fly. Just like they do. "Tallyho!" Kicking off the wall, you swing over the city street. Your landing was.. Less than graceful, slamming into a billboard, but you still made it! Laying breathless, night creeps in to chase away the lingering rays of light over the vacant rooftop, and you stay long after you've caught your breath. For the first time in months, everything else melted away, and you were happy. 

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

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[lavenderhateswritting]

LOWKEY I need Bruce’s reaction when he finds the divorce papers

I'm low-key obssesed with divorcing Bruce. This got so much longer than I thought it would I hope you like it.

If he were to ask himself what he remembers about that night he would say it was the look in your eyes. You were never good at hiding how you felt he could tell what kind of day you had just by staring into your eyes and watchng the way the light bounced off them.

You were sad, of course you were sad he had done it again broken the trust you gave him, over and over again even as past experiences showed, he could not be trusted with it. There was more to it though. You weren't just sad you were determined. He used to love that look on you. The way your eyes would narrow when you had finally found the best path forward.

He knew you had made up your mind as soon as you looked him in the eyes and he saw in you the very reason he had fallen in love all those years ago.

Coming home to the empty bedroom wasn't surprising he knew in a way that he had lost this battle. You were going to leave that night, likely to your parent or friends house maybe if he was lucky to one of the properties you both owned. He could concede this to you learning about a child he had out of wedlock with a woman he had already cheated on you with once before, you were going to need to be alone.

He just needed to think of a plan to get you back like he had before. What had he done before to get you back? To pull your relationship from that ledge he couldn't stop walking it towards. Vacations that never lasted long because there was always a new problem popping up and a world to save. Dates that he planned, going to your favorite restouraunt where he was getting flirted with constantly reminding you why you were out in the first place. Flowers, but you never really liked flowers it just seemed like something he was supposed to do when he failed in the relationship. Likely none of those would work.

In a way the divorce papers had come as less of a surprise than he would have liked to admit. You had been out of the house for a month and not answering his phone calls. He kept tabs though, he had to, to make sure you were safe and that he'd be there when you were ready to move past this together. So he noticed when you started talking to lawyers. So if you asked him, no he wasn't surprised that you had asked for a divorce. It still hurt though. In a way he had never thought a simple piece of paper could hurt in his life.

Twenty years of marriage couldn't be over this quick. With so little fight or care he just needed to talk to you and explain himself. You were always good at understanding him probably the only person who consistently could.

"What are you doing here Bruce." You weren't facing him. You were chopping carrots on the cutting board at the counter, but you had of course heard him come in. You had gained some kind of second sense for people like him and the kids after a while sneaking past you was nearly impossible.

He remembers one of the days when Jason was young and had gotten it in his head that he was going to manage to sneak past you and into the cave even though he was benched for the night because of a cold. He had by the end of the night gotten so frustrated that he had accused you of secretly being a double agent sent to spy on the family.

For a moment he can feel himself wanting to smile at the memory he stops himself he's Batman right now. Maybe coming in the suit was a bad idea, but in a way this was his best defense against you against whatever way you decided to hurt him.

You're waiting for a response, but what should he even say. ' I missed waking up to your smile everyday and holding you close at night.' Or ' I don't know what's wrong with me because you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen and for some reason that's not enough for me'. Or maybe ' I don't know what a life without you in it would look like and I would never want to live in the world where I have to figure that out.' He doesn't say any of that though can't bring himself to.

"You left." He finally says and he can tell by the tension in your shoulders it was the wrong choice.

"I told you I was going to." Your back is still turned towards him. He'd like to think that if he could see your face maybe he could find a road map towards fixing this.

He watches as you scrape the carrots into whatever soup you have cooking on the stove that has left the entire house smelling like those moments of peace you two would share after a rough week.

"I never got the chance to explain myself. You left and now you want to leave everything we built and you haven't even given me a chance to explain myself." He's hoping that if he can just get you to understand in the way you always have that there might be some chance of fixing this.

"What is there to explain Bruce. You've done this so many times that I think I've heard every excuse or explanation you could possibly have. Can we just end this like adults." You stir the pot and then finally you turn around to look at him. You have dark rings underneath your eyes and he's not sure what of that was always there and what wasn't. You were always exhausted running from one problem to the next trying to keep things afloat as best you could. Tryng to keep this relationship afloat as best you could.

"I know that my relationship with Talia has hurt you multiple times and I need to apologize because this isn't fair to you it never has been." He inhales rememders everything he's ever tried to tell you and just assumed you knew and tries his hardest to voice it.

"I can't tell you why I keep cheating on you because I am truly a lucky man. You are the center of my world Y/N and most of the time you're the only thing keeping it running." He looks into your eyes and he can see the tears rushing forward threatening to flow.

"The world before I knew you was a dark one, I wanted to help people, but in a way I never cared what happened to me. You gave me a reason to want to come home at the end of the day. You made me whole in ways I never thought I could be. I don't want to end this I can't imagine a world where we aren't togehter." You're crying now. He cant seem to stop making you cry.

"Bruce I have loved you for so long that, the idea of not having you in my life was something I could never even consider. And maybe that was the problem. I've stuck beside you for so long and tried my hardest to make sure that you and your life were the best it could be I think I've forgotten that I'm a person outside of you." You reach up to wipe the tears out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself like a hug. "You aren't good for me Bruce hell you're not even really good to me and I have to find some way t-to move past relying on you for everything because you don't know how to stop hurting me and I'm just going to keep letting you."

"Don't say that. You know I don't want to hurt you. I don't ever want to see you hurt."

"You say all of this, but you keep hurting me anyways. Maybe you do love me, maybe you actually do believe what you're saying." You're staring him down now. "But that's not enough and I've given you chance after chance to be better and every single time you just hurt me again. Something had to give and I- I need to break this off or this relationship will kill me."

"I'll be better." He's stood up and begun to walk towards you now. "I won't even look in the direction of a woman if you ask me I will do better." You reach your hand up and cup his face. He can see it in your eyes that there's nothing he can do to change your mind, but he'd be a fool not to try.

"Oh Bruce, I wish I could believe you." You take your hand down and lean your head onto his chest. Your eyes are staring back at you in the chine of the bat symbol. You both stand there for a few minutes and breathe in the last of eachother you'll ever get.

"You need to leave Bruce." You finally push yourself away from him and he can tell you mean it.

So he leaves.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

(pre-relationship) Frank Langdon x Reader idea:

These two don't know yet that they like each other yet -- "I only got [Reader/Frank] a pack of sour gummy worms because they haven't eaten yet, their blood sugar is probably low and I wanted to be nice" "What do you mean 'it's weird that I gave [Reader/Frank] a long hug'? They just lost a patient, they needed the comfort" "I'm asking [Reader/Frank] all these in-depth questions because I'm their friend, it's normal for friends to want to know more about each other" etc. etc. etc. Just to set the scene. It's unbearably obvious to everyone else, but not to them.

Anyways. They're at that stage of their (inevitable) relationship. And here comes a patient -- some smarmy dude who thinks he's charismatic, but is really just a creep -- who needs a truly impressive number stitches (or a thousand pieces of gravel that needs to be picked out one by one). Reader gets stuck having to care for this guy, and he's just making it a miserable time for Reader. Reader feels trapped, not sure if they could stop and get someone else to help out instead, when Frank steps in and freaks out a little on this guy (nothing bad, but definitely not professional lmao).

Later, Dana (who's scolding Frank for his unprofessional behavior) tells him "dude. Would you even be reacting that strongly if you didn't have feelings for Reader?" Boom -- Frank's sudden epiphany that oh, maybe I do like Reader.

(Meanwhile Kiara is checking in on Reader, and due to their conversation Reader also realizes oh, maybe I do like Frank.)

Hold Up

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

summary: you and frank realize you have feelings for each other 

pairing: dr. frank langdon x female reader

rating: R for language, pitt level heavyness

word count: 1.2k

warnings: death of a child, man being creepy toward reader, that's it i think 

author’s note: i absolutely love this idea anon, and i hope i did it justice <3

“How many hours left in this shift?” Langdon sighed and leaned next to you against the front desk.

You checked your watch; “Four hours and twenty-seven minutes,” you answered his question.

“So excited to get the fuck outta here,” he said.

“What’re you doing after work?”

“Nothing much; just me, my dog, my TV, and take out.”

“Ah, sounds like a dream, Langdon,” you said.

“Oh, it is, for sure,” he laughed. “I noticed you haven’t eaten in a while, so I got you these from the vending machine and the food cart.” He handed you a sandwich and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“My favorite! Thanks, Langdon,” you exclaimed.

“Anytime,” he replied and got right back to work.

Robby noticed the little interaction and furrowed his brows as he watched you head to the break room for a quick lunch.

“What was that about?” he asked Langdon, walking up next to him.

“Y/n hadn’t eaten yet today,” Frank replied nonchalantly. “Her blood sugar’s probably low, I was just being nice.”

“So you bought her candy?”

“I knew she wouldn’t bother eating unless I lured her in with sour gummy worms,” Frank chuckled. “Smart, right?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you know she likes sour gummy worms?”

“Everybody does.” Frank shrugged before being called to help a patient.

“No, they don’t,” Robby mumbled to himself.

**

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you told him. You reached out and held his hand in yours as you repeated the words. “This was not your fault.”

“I know,” he said, but you knew he didn’t believe himself. Frank had just lost a patient, a ten-year-old car accident victim.

You asked if he wanted a hug, and he replied by wrapping his arms around you. You returned the gesture and squeezed him tightly.

“Wasn’t your fault,” you said again.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

After a minute or two, he pulled away from the hug. He thanked you again before he went to help another patient.

“What was that about?” Dana asked you, her brows furrowed.

“What was what about?” you asked half-heartedly, looking up at the screens to pick out a patient.

“Why were you hugging Langdon for so long?” she asked.

“Oh, he lost a patient,” you replied.

“So you had to hug him for that long?” she chuckled a little. 

“He needed the comfort.” You shrugged. “Ooh, nose job gone wrong? I’ll take that one,” you said and went to go grab the patient.

“These two, I swear,” Dana scoffed with a laugh, shaking her head with amusement.

**

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?” Frank asked you.

“Ooh, that’s a tough one. I’ll get back to you on that,” you said before being whisked away to help a patient. 

“What’s up with you and Langdon?” Samira asked. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, focused on the patient and not fully paying attention to Dr. Mohan.

“Why are you and Langdon going back and forth with so many questions?”

“Oh, we’re playing this game where we ask each other a question every time we see each other. It helps pass the time.”

“Huh, strange game…”

“We’re friends,” you started, still fully focused on the patient, “we just want to get to know each other better.”

**

There was one patient no one wanted to take because they’d met him before, and all he did was hit on the women working there the whole time. You reluctantly took him as your patient (without Langdon knowing), and you had begun to despise him. His rude comments and gestures were only getting worse.

“C’mon, sweetheart; you, me, a bottle of wine at my place? Whaddaya say?” He smirked and reached out to touch you.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Frank exclaimed, much louder than he intended, and gained the attention of everyone around him. 

“Nothing–” the man started, but Frank cut him off.

“You listen here, Dr. Y/l/n is not here to date you, and by the looks of it, she doesn’t want to be here at all. Now you are gonna man up and take a ‘no’ like a normal person, or I will escort you out myself.” Langdon stood there, fuming mad. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the man gulped.

“Yes, doctor,” Langdon corrected.

“Yes, doctor,” the man replied.

“Is everything okay in here?” Robby poked his head in. 

“Everything’s fine,” Langdon said.

**

Kiara wanted to talk with you briefly after the incident, although you told her you were fine.

“I’m sure you were happy when Dr. Langdon came to your rescue,” she remarked.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you said.

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about that. You know you’re allowed to date your coworkers, right?”

“Are you asking me out?” you teased.

“I meant,” she laughed a little, “you and Langdon.”

“Oh, we’re just friends.” You furrowed your brows.

“Sure,” Kiara said. She said something else before she left, but you weren’t really listening.

Hold up… did you like Langdon?

Meanwhile, Dana was busy scolding Frank for his behavior with the patient.

“Come on, Dana, you know I was doing the right thing, standing up to that guy,” Langdon scoffed.

“We all know how annoying that man is, but you can’t threaten a patient!” Dana exclaimed.

“I was only doing what no one else had the guts to do,” he replied. “Ask anyone, they wanted to do the same thing!”

“Come on, Langdon, you’d only be reacting like this if you had feelings for Dr. Y/l/n!”

“I–” Frank stopped. Hold up… he did have feelings for you, strong feelings. “I don’t have feelings for her?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Dana said in a playfully condescending tone before she turned to walk away.

“We’re just friends!” he called out after her.

“Well, your ‘friend’ is in the breakroom if you wanna go talk to her,” Dana said, using air quotes as she continued to walk away.

“Shit,” Langdon mumbled to himself. 

“Go,” Robby said to him.

“Huh?”

“Go talk to her, I’ll cover your patients.”

“Thank you.”

**

“So… that was something,” Langdon said, as he walked into the breakroom and found you staring at the vending machine. 

“There are no sour gummy worms in this vending machine,” you pondered out loud, wondering where Langdon had gotten the bag from earlier.

“No, but the one on the second floor has them.”

“You went all the way to the second floor just to make sure I ate something?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Langdon stood in front of you. “There’s a lot I’d do for you.”

“Really?”

“I think I have feelings for you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

“I think it’s exactly what I wanna hear, Frank,” you admitted. “I think I have feelings for you, too.”

“So… what do we do now?”

“You could kiss me, if you wanna.”

His face lit up before he leaned down and kissed you deeply. His hands went to your hips as yours went to his cheeks. You stayed locked in the passionate kiss for what felt like hours before you both broke away.

“I think you might be my best friend,” Langdon whispered, making you smile widely.

“I think you might be my best friend, too, Langdon.”

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

VERSION IX.

(a/n: RAAAH 🔥 woke up to a congratulatory message for 1000 likes, you guys are amazing!! sending lots of love, I’m extremely grateful and thank you for the support ❤️)

Warning-none

wc: 1k

ALSO: @ttheggrimrreaper ❣️ (if you wanna join the taglist lemme know)

��—————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…5, Yukimiya Kenyu.”

As soon as his name was announced, a group of girls squealed from excitement, immediately turning to you with curiosity perhaps jealousy in their eyes.

“Lucky!”

“Oh my gosh, if I knew he was here I would have trained harder!”

“Can you get me a signature, please?”

You were bombed with questions left and right, the room shrinking to the size of a football, so small with barely enough space to breathe. Before you could suffocate, Ego’s voice harshly reminded everyone to back off, letting you make your way to Anri.

“I almost died for you Yukimiya”

Imagine being the 1v1 emperor, Yukimiya Kenyu’s manager.

——————

Yukimiya Kenyu whose tall frame, paired with glasses framing his face, made him easily recognizable among the others. You caught him in a rather intense 1 on 1 match—quickly recalling what you read from his profile sheet—convinced that he’s gonna win the duel. Patiently waiting for the match to finish, you approached him with a smile, handing him his water bottle before introducing yourself to the boy. As expected, he returned a polite smile, shaking your hand while asking some questions. Talking with him made you realize, no wonder everyone was all over him, because damn was he handsome.

——————

•Yukimiya, who you form a strictly professional relationship with, sometimes curious about what he thinks of you. He’s just so polite to the point it’s almost scary, and not once has he offended you in any way. Super nice, but you can tell there’s this certain wall between the two of you.

•He’s easy to deal with, never complaining, always following instructions to the core and he’s really capable on his own as well. You notice how he likes to do things alone most of the time—dealing with exhaustion, injuries, and personal problems without discussing them with you.

•Very mature and loves to handle his own business, but after a certain incident where you prove yourself to be more than just an assigned manager, he lets you in his inner circle. No more distance between you and him, just his pure, unfiltered self.

•FINALLY, someone who shows up on time for events, matches etc. without needing a thousand reminders. Disciplined during practice and training, all while carefully listening to your guidance.

•Yukimiya, who will do some extra training, if he feels like it but you will have to practically force him to rest, otherwise he’s gonna overwork. Likes to help you with paperwork too, turning it into a fun bonding time.

•Always notices if you’re having a bad day, and will gently ask how you are, or instruct you to go back to bed, saying he can manage himself for a day. Perfect at listening to you vent, and gives the best solutions for any problem.

•Yukimiya doesn’t tease you a lot, since he’s such a gentleman, instead he will secretly trash talk and gossip to you. Also, he’s always silently judging someone with the nastiest side eyes known to mankind. (second to Chigiri) LOVES to roll his eyes as well.

•He doesn’t mention his job as a model, but due to his teammates’ teasing, he tells you some snippets of how they scouted him etc. At the same time you tell him about the little incident during the announcements, making him laugh and a glint of pride shines in his eyes.

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Yukimiya becomes more open to others, cooperating during matches and discussions. He also pays more attention to you during analysis sessions, asking even more questions than before.

•You also have to change some things in his diet that could make a slight change in his vision, as well as ensuring he goes for monthly checkups, and searches for treatments on the Internet.

•He appreciates your support silently. Not really the emotional type, but when you’re sitting on a bench waiting for him to finish—it means a lot. Remembers your habits, and never fails to look out for you.

•Yukimiya is EXTREMELY photogenic since he’s a model. Extremely polite with interviewers and always gives clear answers. Really sweet to his fans as well, they swoon every time they see him. To your surprise, they also compliment how cute his manager is, some people even making ship edits about the two of you.

•Definition of unbothered in everyday life. Did he forget his own water bottle? Karasu’s will do. Oops, was this seat supposed to be Isagi’s? Guess he’ll have to sit somewhere else. You are scolding him? “Yes, yes manager-san.” He definitely DID NOT pay attention and was counting how many eyelashes you have.

•You can’t read his emotions off of his face. He has this gentleman image that never seems to leave even if he is angry. Not towards you tho, it’s for his teammates—and the extremely pushy and rude paparazzi. It’s chilling how he smiles when he’s happy AND when he’s mad. You can hardly tell the difference.

•Yukimiya, who will drop random pick up lines out of nowhere without even realizing it—surprised every time you’re flustered, thinking it’s the hot weather. (could be winter doesn’t matter)

•He will also unconsciously (or not) do the most boyfriend coded things ever like—looking over your shoulder with his face dangerously close to yours, or moving you by the waist with a “can you move a bit to the left” while his hands are on your sides.

•Big anime fan, but refuses to talk about it unless you bring it up first. After that he turns into a total fanboy, telling you some episodes by heart and he’s just so nerdy, it makes you smile.

•Nobody suspects him, but he has some UNHINGED photos of the boys on his phone. Otoya with a double chin? Check. Nagi drooling on his own pillow? Check. Bachira FULLY naked? Check, and don’t ask him how he got it.

•Yukimiya is the ideal player, with his attentive nature, all while being perfectly media trained. Thanks to his skills, you don’t have to suffer that much, making your life stressful-free. That is until his very first scandal pops up and the topic is—you and him being involved in a RELATIONSHIP?

[yvesssssssss]

Hello! can you write a scenario about the men (nagumo, shin, uzuki, gaku) having a partner who they trust so much, turned out to be a traitor in disguise, planning to kill them.

a little angst won't hurt (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

also, I love your writings so much. Stay safe always, author! 💕💕

thank you! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing. You stay safe too!(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Nagumo yoichi

Nagumo had always been untouchable, always the predator, never the prey. But as your blade slid between his ribs, something inside him cracked.

His breath hitched, a sharp exhale of pain escaping his lips. His dark eyes, always glinting with mischief, now held only disbelief. He staggered back, pressing a hand to the wound as warm blood seeped through his fingers.

“Damn,” he chuckled, but it was weak. “You actually got me.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. “Was any of it real?”

Your silence cut deeper than the blade ever could.

For the first time in years, Nagumo felt something close to regret. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could smile through it.

Shin asakura

He should have seen it coming. He should have heard it in your thoughts, noticed the flickers of doubt, the cracks in your voice. But love made him blind, deaf, foolish.

The second you moved, he felt it—the intent, the cold certainty in your mind. But by the time he reacted, it was too late.

The knife sank into his shoulder, and pain exploded through his body. His knees buckled, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he staggered back. His wide, betrayed eyes met yours. “You… You were lying to me this whole time?”

Your silence was the cruelest answer. Blood dripped from the blade in your hand, and for the first time, Shin couldn’t hear anything—not your thoughts, not his own.

Even now, part of him wished you would take it all back.

Uzuki kei

Uzuki didn’t flinch when your knife neared his throat. He had seen betrayal before. He had lived through it, drowned in it. But when the cold steel sliced into his side, something inside him shattered.

His fingers clenched around your wrist, stopping you from going deeper. Piercing blue eyes met yours—sharp and calculating, but beneath the intensity, there was something else. Something raw.

“How long?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “How long were you planning this?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Uzuki’s grip tightened, his breath uneven. “I should’ve known,” he murmured, pressing a hand to his bleeding side.

For the first time in years, he let himself feel the weight of regret. And for the first time, he wished he hadn’t let himself believe in something so fragile.

Gaku

Gaku had been stabbed before. He had been beaten, broken, left for dead. But nothing—nothing—had ever hurt like this.

The knife buried deep into his abdomen, and for a second, he didn’t react. His body knew pain, but this? This was different.

He grabbed your wrist, bloodied fingers tightening around you, his breathing ragged. His wild grin was nowhere in sight. “Tell me this is a joke,” he muttered. “Tell me you’re messin’ with me.”

You only twisted the blade.

Gaku’s breath hitched, and his knees almost buckled. His chest ached, but not from the wound. He could take a hundred hits and still keep standing, but this? This was the first time he ever wanted to fall.

His fingers shook as he let you go. “If you wanted me dead so bad,” he rasped, voice breaking, “you should’ve just aimed for the heart.”

But you already had.

[mehwmidklpe]

hiiii, i have a request. So its a Percy x reader where reader and Percy meet up at the beach to go on a little date, but Percy arrived early and waits but starts to draw readere initial in the sand like a love sick puppy (and maybe starts talking about her to some sea creature) and then she comes and sees percy and just smiles and realized yup that's the love of my life:)

Thank you beforehand!!!!

that's so cute!!

Yes, Percy knows the date wasn't planned till after like 10 to 20 minutes. But what's wrong with being early to make sure everything is perfect?

After many years, Percy Jackson, the most oblivious demigod of all time finally got the courage to ask you on a date.

He hadn't expect you to call him out as an idiot for taking so long to ask that question.

But hey! At least you didn't judo-flip him. And he got a date on the beach out of it, too!

After Percy had set everything up, he was sitting on the picnic blanket, waiting for you to arrive. He was so happy, like he's litteraly a lovesick idiot.

So lovesick he found himself drawing your intial in the sand with a cute smile on his face.

But when he heard a sound and looked up, he didn't see anyone. When he looked back at the sand and the intial of the most beautiful name he'd ever heard, he saw a turltle.

"Ohh. Hey little guy! What's your name?"

He frowned as he heard the turtle answer. "No name yet? Well then I'll give you one!" He started thinking.

"Ooh! How about Leo- No, wait, not Leonardo. I know a boy named Leo. He's pretty cool, but you deserve the best ninja turtle name out there. Michelangelo." He decided.

"Yeah he's totally my favorite." He then said as he watched the turtle crawl towards the pizza he had set on the blanket.

"Woah there buddy. I know turtles love pizza. So do I. But that pizza is reserved for a special lady."

Percy felt a smile growing on his lips as the turtle spoke to him again. "Yeah.. I have a date with this amazing girl. It's our first one. I still can't believe she said yes."

The son of Poseidon hadn't even noticed a sea star coming up to him. "Oh, another friend! What's your name? Also none. Mhmm.." The boy started thinking of a name again.

"Patrick. You're definitely a Patrick." He nodded.

"Wait? About my date? You heard that?" He asked the sea star as the turle crawled atop of him.

A giddy smile rested on his lips at the thought of you. "Her name is Y/n." He looked at the turtle once he heard his voice.

"I know Mickey, that's a beautiful name. But not as beautiful as she herself." Once the star asked about you, Percy knew there was no way back.

So now he found himself talking to at least 18 sea animals. Some of them were in the sea, but you could still see them, others were sitting right infront of Percy.

And Michelangelo, of course, sat in Percy's palm.

Gods did Percy feel like a disney princess.

"Yes, Flounder, she took all of them out. Singelhandedly." Percy confirmed to the fish at the edge of the sea.

"Squidward! Language!" He said to the octopus. "But yeah she's a fucking badass." He silently agreed, but every creature heard it.

Percy turned to the other fish. "Nemo. What did I tell you? She's not going to marry you. I will be her future husband, okay?"

"Don't worry, Alberto. We'll do two weddings. One in land and one in the sea. You can all be there, I'm sure she'll love you guys!"

He then looked at the crab. "Yes Sebastian. Y/n is the most beautiful, gorgeous girl you'll ever see! She's breathtaking! Divine! Aphrodite loosk like shit next to her! I don't understand how she's not full goddess, but I can totally see her godly half."

"Why thank you, you don't look too bad yourself."

Percy froze at the sound of that voice. The voice he'd recognize anywhere. He gulped and turned around to see you in all your glory.

"Y/-Y/n." He stammered.

When he heard the voice you couldn't hear, he leaned in closer to Michelangelo on his hand.

"Yes Mickey, I told you she's breathtaking." He wishpered to the turtle, agreeing to what the turtle said about your appearence.

Oh yeah, this boy is totally your endgame.

You stiffled a giggle as you walked over to him.

It was only then that Percy let his eyes rank over your body, taking in your outfit, your hair, your eyes, everything about you.

"You look–" "I heard you the first sixteen times, Percy." You said as you sat down next to him.

You tilted your head, lookign at the sand. "Is that my name?" By now, the intial had turned into your full name with hearts and stars around them.

Percy had done that while he rambled on about you to his new sea friends.

"No? It's your dyslexia who's fooling you." Percy lied. "I can read, Percy." You state.

He stayed quiet for a bit, before his head turned back to look at you again.

"I uh.. I got us pizza! Well actually Connor traveled to new york and get me some for us. He wanted to go to Italy first, I don't really know why the plans changed." Percy said, adjusting the two boxes of pizza.

"And uh.. I got us some cola, too. Don't tell Mr. D that I stole the from him though.. Uhm.. And I got some other snacks if you–"

"It's perfect Percy. Thank you." You assure him, taking his hand in yours.

The son of Poseidon fel the heat rise up to his cheeks, and you didn't hear it, but the animals were all 'ooh-ing' and 'aah-ing'.

"Now back to the whole 'talking about me to some animals' topic. You said you wanna marry me." You recalled with a smile.

Percy froze, he had no idea what to do.

"Uhm.. Well- I didn't- I mean we're still young, a-and we're not even an actual couple so.." His voice trailed of, noticing how stupid he sounded.

You bit your lip. "If you ask me we might just be one."

Did you just say that?

Like actually?

"Uhm.. Y/n.. would you want to be my girlfrie– Wait. You're not messing with me, right??" Percy asked you. "I'm not, Seaweedbrain."

Percy shot a look at the octopus. "Shut up squidward! Only Y/n gets to call me that!"

And you giggled. "You're cute, Percy Jackson. And yes, I would like to be your girlfriend." You smile again.

His heart was racing faster than a black marlin can swim. "That–That's cool–yeah.. cool." He tried to play it off, but even the animals weren't buying it.

Then Percy's eyes randomly widened. "No, we're not gonna do that!" Percy shot back at Patrick. "What'd they say?" You ask him. "He said. that we should kiss."

You frown at that. "And you're not gonna listen to him? C'mon Perce, he's a star." You say to him.

The sea anmilas were probably encouraging him cause he looked around at them.

Then finally, he scooted closer to you. "Is this okay with you?" He asks you, tone soft. You nod. "Yeah."

And so his lips found yours in a soft, loving, sea-animal-proof kiss.

The animals cheered, but it honestly sounded like a ton of gibberish to you, especially the sound that came from the dolphin who's name you did not know.

It didn't matter though, cause Percy Jackson was kissing you.

When you pulled away, he smiled. "Was that okay?" You nod again. "More than okay."

This time, you both blushed.

"So..?"

"Yes Percy. They're invited to the wedding."

And the animals cheered again.

[matchpointfaist]

anobrain x art donaldson au

a/n:: tw for drugs/alcohol abuse mention, descrption of preexisting injury, art is just really sad to be honest, age gap but nothing crazy! gonna make this 2 parts :)

once upon a time, art donaldson had it all. a great tennis career, a best friend he'd known for a decade, a girlfriend with an even more promising career than his own. he'd been on the straight path to success, with a 4.0 gpa at stanford and a sure spot in the US Open.

that was all before. before the injury that rendered his shoulder useless, before his girlfriend left him for his best friend in the world, before he dropped out halfway through his senior year of college and went from a household name to a bad example.

he'd moved back to his hometown after everything to clear his head. one year, to get his life back on track, turned into two. then five, and then next thing he knew he was 30 and living off of the remains of his sponsorship savings paired with mediocre income from selling party drugs to rich kids with daddy's credit card.

that was where he met you. you were different from everyone else he'd sold to. he never got the impression that you had daddy's money, or that you even had parents, to be honest. you had the sort of face that could be in a magazine, but an air about you suggested that you'd never cared, or maybe even noticed.

monthly meet ups in his car turned into weekly, and you seemed to linger a little longer each time, like you'd rather be sitting in the passenger seat of his car than anywhere else. you seemed perpetually stressed, lips bitten raw and shadows under your eyes each time he saw you. he found himself, stupidly, wanting to fix it. you seemed worse than usual when he finally let himself ask.

"are you alright?" you seemed to bristle at the question, avoiding his eyes and straightening your shoulders, "yeah, i'm fine. why?" "you just look tired," he shrugged, lighting a cigarette and cracking the window, "you always look tired, i guess," "how sweet," you mumbled, but your posture relaxed slightly, "just have some shit going on, i'll be fine,"

"like what?" he couldn't help himself now, you had him. "working a lot, trying to make rent and my roommate just told me she's moving so i have to find a way to cover her half, too," he was surprised you were even telling him any of this, "it's not a big deal," he wasn't sure where it came from, what fucked up part of his mind, or if it was his compulsive need to fix things, but the words spilled out of his mouth quicker than he could think, "do you need some help? i could pay it this month, help you get on your feet,"

you went tense all over at that, shaking your head before you could even consider it, and opened his car door, "i don't need a hand out, jesus. you barely even know me," and then you were gone, the crumpled $50 in the cupholder the only evidence that you'd ever been there.

he knew what it was like, to feel like some charity case, really. but he did know you. he knew you were 22, and that you'd moved out as soon as you turned 18, and that you had a roommate you borderline hated and an ex you definitely did. he knew your favorite color was purple (you had a streak of it in your hair and you almost constantly wore a dark purple sweater), that your favorite band was the 1975 (you put them on every time the two of you smoked in his car), that you worked at a coffee shop in the mornings and bartended in the evenings.

he knew you wouldn't let him get close, despite your odd sort of friendship you'd formed over shared, messily rolled joints and cheap cigarettes. he knew you were scared, for whatever reason, and that you never seemed to be completely comfortable. he just needed to learn how to fix it, that was all.

the next week, he pulled up to your usual meeting spot, despite never receiving a text from you asking him to. and there you were, purple sweater and cutoff shorts and threaded converse, climbing into his passenger seat with an apologetic smile. "hey," you said quietly, and he knew immediately something had to be wrong. your voice was hoarse and raw, and your eyes were rimmed red with smeared mascara, but that small smile stayed on your lips, just for him. "hi," he held out the joint he'd rolled just for you, smiling slightly as you took it, "what's wrong?"

it all came out in a mess after that. all the walls you'd seemed so hellbent on keeping up crumbled, your shoulders shaking with silent cries as you pulled your knees into the seat, teary gaze focused on the view outside the window. he wasn't sure what to do, he just knew he needed you to stop, to feel better. his hand went to your knee, rubbing circles into the skin, shushing you gently. "just talk to me," he murmured, "what's going on?"

you finally caved, telling him all about how you’d fallen behind on bills and your roommate moved out and you’d have to move back home if you didn’t figure shit out real quick, how you were terrified that you were failing at life when you’d just barely gotten started. he’d listened to every word, his chest aching for you, wishing he could take it all away, or at least some of it.

“you’re not failing,” he said softly, reaching out to hold as much of you as he could across the console, “you’re gonna be okay, alright? everybody gets a little behind sometimes,” “it’s not just a little behind, art, i’ve got no savings and no plan and my job is shit-“ you started up rambling again, your voice shaky. “hey, hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up, brows knit in concern, “i’ll help you sort it out, okay? we’ll figure it out,”

“i can’t ask you for help, it’s hard enough i’m sitting here crying to you,” you sniffled, “i didn’t mean to drag you into all this, you’re just so sweet,” “you might be the only person in the world who thinks i’m sweet,” he smiled slightly, brushing a piece of hair from your face, “why don’t you just stay with me tonight and we’ll sort this out in the morning, yeah? if you need to move back home i’ll help you,”

“are you sure i wouldn’t be overstepping?” you asked, more timid than he had ever heard you. “of course you wouldn’t be overstepping,” it was ridiculous, the thought of you inconveniencing him in any way, “buckle up, kay? you can sleep in my room and i’ll take the couch,”

the ride to his apartment was quiet, but not awkward. it never seemed to be uncomfortable between the two of you, just static silence filled with occasional glances and shy smiles. “it might be a little messy,” he laughed apologetically as he unlocked his front door, despite knowing he preferred to keep his space clean. you glanced around as he walked you inside, and he was struck by the intimacy of seeing you in his space, surrounded by his things, like you were truly a part of his life.

"it's nice," you finally said, gazing out the balcony window, "how long have you lived here?" his mind fleeted back to memories of a younger version of himself, full of ambition, hopes and dreams that never came to fruition. "uhm, about five years," he cleared his throat, suddenly all too aware of the space in the room that you occupied, of the way he'd chased the feeling of being known only to struggle with the idea of you knowing him, "do you wanna smoke before i head to bed?"

he was grateful you agreed, glad to have something to do other than watch you trace the lines of his life throughout the apartment, but he wasn't sure this was much better. you sat across from him in the windowsill, your eyes hazy and soft as you exhaled smoke, and he thought in this light you looked more and more like someone he could fall in love with. but that was insane, and he'd only known you for a few months, and you were probably unavailable, he reasoned with himself. that didn't stop him from watching your every movement, entranced by the way the smoke cast a veil over your features, by the simple motion as you passed him the joint.

"you can borrow some clothes if you need to change before bed," he offered, voice thick, "i'm sure i have something," "i'd appreciate that, thanks," you gave him a small smile, following him to his room hesitantly, eyeing everything like you needed to commit it to memory. he'd never regretted anything more when you emerged from his bathroom a few minutes later, his old stanford shirt hanging loose on your frame, brushing your thighs as you walked. he nearly choked, his eyes going anywhere but to you, terrified of what he might say if he lingered. he was grief stricken for a life that didn't exist, seeing you in that tattered red shirt. he could've been the sort of man you deserved, could've been someone you'd be proud of, good enough to get you out of any problems and into the safety of a nice life. his eyes were stinging, and he blinked tears away, clearing his throat.

"well i'll- i'm gonna go to the couch," he gestured awkwardly to the living room, "there's a white noise machine on the nightstand, if you need it," "i think i'll manage without it, but thank you," you laughed, and he wished desperately to eternalize this moment, "thank you again, art. for everything," "it's really no problem," he ran a hand through his hair, anything to distract himself, "i'll be in there if you need me, okay? goodnight,"

he almost couldn't tear himself away, but he forced himself out to the couch, eyes lingering on the doorframe despite you being long out of sight. the mental image of you curled up in his sheets was enough to keep him awake for what felt like hours, his jaw tight, head clouded with bad judgement. he'd finally started to doze around 2am when the floor creaked slightly, and he looked up to see you only feet away, tip toeing through his hallway. you were so beautiful that way, totally oblivious to his gaze, all alone in your head as you snuck back to the windowsill, a cigarette between your fingers.

"leavin me already?" he asked, smiling to himself as you jumped, startled by his voice cutting through the silence. "sorry, i didn't mean to wake you," you frowned slightly, "not leavin, just couldn't sleep 'nd needed to smoke," "it's okay," he waved a dismissive hand, stretching before coming to join you, "can't sleep either. d'you want me to make some coffee? "i can do it, feel bad enough stealing your bedroom. might as well make myself useful," you looked hopeful, eager to help, and his chest warmed at the thought of you wanting to do something for him.

so there you were, in his kitchen, humming to yourself as you steeped coffee in his french press, looking like you belonged there. he'd never realized how lonely he'd been until you came into his life, taking up empty space he'd once been content to leave hollow. he could get used to it, he thought, and that terrified him. the idea of doing anything to run you away, to disrupt this relationship, friendship, whatever the two of you had, he couldn't take it.

you settled onto the couch next to him, sipping your coffee, watching as the sun slowly rose through the curtains. "did you think any more about what you're going to do?" he asked after a bit, disturbing the peaceful silence, "about your apartment, i mean," "i think i'm gonna move home," you sounded so disappointed, it made him sick, "maybe that'll give me a chance to save up, get my bearings and just restart," "ah," he busied himself circling the rim of his mug with his fingertip, his mind racing with thoughts on how to fix this, how to take all your anxieties and pass them on to himself, "and you're sure that's what you want?"

the story was all too familiar to him, a mirror of what he'd been through years prior, bringing all the memories to the surface once again. maybe your fall from grace wasn't as high as his, but he was sure it would scar just the same. "i don't think anyone wants to move back home, but i don't know that i have much of a choice," you shrugged, "i'll get used to it," "you could stay here until you're back on your feet," the offer hung in the air again, just as it had last night, "i mean it, i don't mind at all. you shouldn't have to move away just because you're having a hard time,"

"art, i can't ask you to let me move in here," you frowned slightly, "it's so nice of you to even offer, but i need to figure this out on my own," "you're not asking," he said it like it was simple, and he supposed in his mind, it was, "i'm offering. i wanna help you, and i'm telling you is not an imposition, okay? or i can just pay your rent, whatever you owe. we'll call it an early birthday present,"

"i can't let myself be in debt to you," you said quietly, looking anywhere but his face, "don't you see that? this isn't just some casual amount of money, this is a lot for me, and i appreciate you but it's just too much," "you wouldn't be in debt to me, okay? what can i say to make you see that? i want to help you, i'm not expecting anything in return, just let me be there for you," "i'm not gonna let my dealer pay my rent, art. let's be serious about this,"

that stung, just as much as if you'd slapped him. "right, yeah. i'm just your dealer," the words felt bitter on his tongue, like his body was rejecting the very thought. "that's not what i meant, art, i'm sorry," you reached for him as he stood from the couch, your hand cool against the flushed skin of his wrist, "i'm not good at this, i don't know how to just take help from people, okay? i'm sorry, please come sit back down,"

"i'm not good at this either," he sighed softly as he sat back beside you, eyes trained on your fingers still lingering on his arm, "i just- i hate the thought of you struggling, okay? and i could have this all wrong, so please tell me if i'm overstepping, but there's something more here," he gestured between the two of you, "don't you feel it? if you don't, just tell me and i swear to you i'll never overstep again,"

you hesitated, the tension between you palpable enough that art could feel his heart racing, could feel his face flushed in anticipation, preparing himself for rejection. "yeah, i feel it too," you finally said, "that's part of the reason i can't just accept handouts from you, i don't want anything we might have to be built on me owing you something," "i would never make you feel like you owe me anything," the very idea of it was ridiculous to him, "you know me better than that,"

"i can't afford to chance it, art," your voice sounded so small, then, and the idea that you'd been through this before finally occurred to him. this wasn't the kind of hurt that just materialized itself. "okay," he finally sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender, "will you at least stay here while you work things out with your parents to move back home?"

"i'm starting to think you just want me in your bed," you smiled over at him, and the relief he felt was a rush, like he could breathe again now that you'd relaxed. "maybe," he laughed softly, "just wanna know you're safe, that's all," "how come you didn't tell me you went to stanford?" you asked curiously, tracing your fingers over the hem of the t shirt he'd given you. "oh, uhm- didn't seem important," he shrugged, any relief he'd allowed himself to feel immediately replaced by shame, "it wasn't a big deal,"

"i couldn't sleep, so i looked you up," you said, tone casual and light, the opposite of what he was feeling, "you were famous, art," "i wasn't famous, i just played tennis," he said quickly, "and it doesn't matter anymore, anyway, so that's why i didn't tell you-" "i'm just asking," you laid a hand on his shoulder, looking over his flushed face, "most guys would've bragged about that," "i don't have a fuckin' thing to brag about," he shook his head, "i'm sure above all the articles about my success you saw the articles about my failure,"

"who cares about failure?" you rolled your eyes, "i read that you had an injury, and then i stopped reading to give you privacy," he glanced over at you then, the sincerity in your voice striking him, "yeah, i had surgery on my shoulder," he admitted hesitantly, "had a really bad breakup, kinda lost my shit. dropped out and moved home," "oh, art," you said softly, "i'm so sorry,"

"don't-" it came out sharper than he intended, "please don't feel sorry for me," "i don't think it's fair for you to try to fix me but i can't even feel sorry for you," he knew you didn't mean anything by it, but it unsettled him nonetheless, his jaw clenched as he bit at the inside of his cheek. "my entire career, my life, going out the window is not the same as you having to move back in with your parents," he knew as soon as he said it he'd gone too far, could tell from the way you jerked your hand away from him, your eyes steely.

"i didn't say it was," your voice was level, like you'd closed yourself off, "i need to go, i have a shift later and i should call my parents," "you don't have to go," he hated how he was immediately pleading, "let me drive you, at least," "i'd rather walk, thanks," you disappeared into his bedroom, returning in your own clothes, the stanford shirt folded neatly on his bed. "thank you for letting me stay here," the words sounded difficult for you to form, "i'll just call you later or something," "i'll pick you up from work," he offered, looking up at you from the couch as you lingered by the door, "i'm really sorry-" "don't apologize," you shook your head, "you were right, it's not the same thing at all,"

he watched you go, as he watched most of the good things go from his life, complacent and sidelined. he ran the conversation back in his mind, combing through all the chances he had to fix it, to explain what happened and why he was so touchy on the subject. he'd just have to work harder next time, have to figure out some way to keep you.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Day 36: Byler's Common Romantic Tropes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

There are many many times where I get asked what is your favourite byler proof or what is the most convincing byler proof. I could talk about light and imagery and symbolism but y'know what's even more convincing and simple to me? The fact that Byler literally has these extremely common romantic tropes attached to it, but nobody seems to notice because they're two boys. It cannot be a coincidence that they have all these different tropes attached to them -- its clearly planned out to help the pairing's romance come to fruition, otherwise it would make no sense.

1. Playing Cyrano

Definition: Traditionally in film, to "play Cyrano" is to have a more physically attractive person (Person A) hit on the object of their desire (Person C), but the words that are winning them over are being fed to Person A by someone else who is in love with Person C and knows them better (Person B). In every case, Person C originally falls in love with Person A because of the words they say, but upon finding out who really said those things, they end up falling in love with Person B. Some examples include Cyrano De Bergerac of course, Friends, Modern Family (though it's played as a joke), Back To The Future.

This is literally the painting plot, but it's not played out in the exact same way, though it's similar. Will (Person B) is obviously in love with Mike (Person C) but doesn't feel he can actually tell him those things because he doesn't think it will make him happy. This is a misbelief.

Now, technically, having Will refer to his feelings as El's feelings (Person A) is not the same as the original Cyrano trope. However, Will believes that he is helping both Mike's self-esteem and Mike and El's relationship by doing this, as he thinks that is what they both want. This is obviously an extremely selfless act. Now, these words obviously make Mike feel like he can finally say "I love you" to El, because Will reminds him of them right before the confession. So in S4, we have part 1 of the "pay-off" to this trope.

If we follow along with the trope, then hopefully, Mike will find out that those words are really coming from Will, he will actually fall in love (or realise he's in love) with Will, all because he's always been touched by those words. He'd also be touched by the selflessness of the act, and this selflessness usually inspires some loving feelings in Person C toward Person B.

So if Mike looks like he's falling in love with Will here, it because he literally is, he just has no idea yet.

2. First Girl Wins

Definition: Commonly in romantic plot lines, the first girl introduced — either overall or as a potential love interest — has a very good chance of ending up with the protagonist. She's often presented as someone who knows the protagonist better, stays in love with the protagonist despite his obvious non-reciprocation, etc. The First Girl will rarely be the first one to confess her feelings or admit them. In fact, she's much more likely to be the one who does it last. The logic behind this is that she's the one whom the main character loves (even if he doesn't realise it himself), if she showed him romantic affection, then he would immediately choose her.

Will being in love with Mike is literally the classic 'I know you better than she does' trope but it's gay. There are so many times in S4 especially where Will is presented to have a better understanding of Mike than El and the audience is supposed to feel bad for him. For example, when he's the one Mike goes to about all his problems, and when Will judges whether they should go to the movies based on Mike's body language. The viewers are supposed to feel frustrated that Mike isn't seeing what is right in front of him.

Having Will be in love with Mike from the beginning and having their first scene together literally show that Will can't lie to him, and that he's selfless, is insane to me. What would not make sense is for all this to happen, for Will to be presented as such an ideal match for Mike, just for him to be used as a tool in their relationship. As if that's a reward.

There is a reason that the writers haven't shown Will make any real moves toward Mike -- they're saving it for the climax of the show, aka when Mike ends up 'choosing' Will.

3. The Promise

Definition: When characters call a "promise" into the spotlight as something that can never ever be broken, this always backfires for the character that says so or the characters involved in the promise. (The most famous example of this I can think of is literally in Tangled lmao) This can backfire in a number of ways, but the most common are: the promise was never going to pan out, the promise would end up hurting the protagonist or sacrificing them, the promise will start out as something good but end up trapping them.

I've touched on this trope much more in this post, but as a summary, basically in this scene above, Mike draws attention to the definiton of a promise as "something that you can't break. Ever." This immediately dooms Mileven for me. It's clear that Mike is going to make some huge promise about their relationship to El and this is either going to hurt Mike or it will trap both of them in something that they feel far too invested in to go back on. Which is exactly what happens.

Mike promises to go to the Snow Ball with El. He says those words when she seemingly is about to die (in S1). This promise does not pan out because she 'dies'. UNTIL season 2, when the Snow Ball actually happens. Which means this promise can only happen in the other sense: it is trapping the protagonist. But Mike isn't just promising to go to the Snow Ball with El, no, he's promising to be with her, keep her safe etc. What he thinks is keeping her safe so that he won't lose her is by being in a relationship with her.

I really recommend the post I linked, because it goes way more into depth, but yeah. Insane parallels happen.

4. Interruptions

Definition: I'm sure you can safely assume what this is, but this is when two characters seemingly have a romantic interaction and seem to be building up to something intimate, but something out of their control stops both characters from doing this. This interruption is often paired with both characters looking embarrassed/ acknowledging the interruption to further romantic tension. These moments are made with the intention for the climax of the romantic plot to seem more satisfying.

This happens to so many ST couples after romantic moments, including Lumax and Jancy, but this happens to Byler in S4 four times. Yes, you heard me right. Four TIMES. They really really wanted us to make sure we see them as romantic didn't they?

Pictured above, Mike and Will both have a slightly flirtatious moment before they get interrupted by Jonathan who they are shown to swing their heads around and look at.

After Byler have an intimate moment of gazing into each other's eyes, they get shocked and gasp because they hear something outside the house that could possibly interrupt them.

On top of the car in the desert, after Will says something that might imply that he has a 'truth' that Mike won't like, Argyle interrupts them, showing a shot of Mike and Will stopping looking at each other.

In Hopper's cabin, after Mike grabs Will's shoulder and reassures him, they hear people outside and there is a shot of Mike's hand still on Will's shoulder before they look at each other one more time and leave the couch.

I mean this trope is as literal as it gets. In the script of the "cool, cool" scene, it literally says "this intimate moment is interrupted". HELLO???

Anyway, as I said before, you don't accidentally write this many commonly used tropes into a story without the characters actually doing something about it. There are also even more other common tropes that I didn't talk about here because it is not worth going into for a whole post (these include the holding hands trope, the selfless confession trope etc,). Basically, I just can't believe they would do all this for no reason. It also makes no sense for this to be done for queerbait purposes. Writing Byler this way is no easy way out.

[eddiazx]

close call - eddie diaz x reader

Based on this request: Ooh! Secret relationships?! What about a Buck's little sister dating Eddie. They manage to keep it secret for at least 6 months until she gets in a really bad car accident like it takes them a bit to get her extricated but when she's pinned and scared she asks for Eddie and he calls her baby and that's how Buck finds out. She ends up passing out and then it's real touch and go like they’re pretty sure she won't survive. Buck ends up just being really happy she has someone especially if this is the end. Fluffy ending when she finally wakes up in the hospital. 👀🥰 please?

The 118 is en route to the call about a car accident when the street and buildings start looking extremely familiar.

“Isn’t this where..” Chim starts, but Buck finishes the sentence.

“Yeah. Yeah it's where my sister works.” The words come out barely above a whisper, Buck’s heart slamming against his chest and his ears ringing. He tries to breathe in deep breaths - just because it was in front of your workplace doesn’t mean you were the one involved in the accident. 

“Maybe you should stay in the engine during this.” Bobby looks back, eyes on Buck, but directing the statement at the two friends sitting next to each other.

"Don't ask me to do that, Cap." Buck grits out, swinging open the doors to the engine before running to the scene.

His worst fears come true. You're lying on the sidewalk, eyes glazed, punching out laboured breaths.

"Y/N!" Buck runs over to you. He doesn't know what to do - this is Hen and Chim's domain, but he grabs your hand and holds on tightly, murmuring reassuring words to you.

"Buck." You squeeze your brother's hand tightly, before you eyes flit to behind him. "Eddie? You're here, too." Your words are barely audible before your eyes flutter closed in pain. Eddie can't help the tears in his eyes. He reaches forward instinctively to take your other hand in his.

"I'm here, baby." Eddie replies, uncaring who hears, because he feels like his heart is being torn in two watching you in pain. Buck's head whips towards his best friend at the term of endearment. "Of course I'm here. You're going to be okay, my love. We're getting you to the hospital."

"Do the two of you want to ride with her in the ambulance?" Hen asks softly. They both nod, albeit Buck's nod was more stilted, eyes boring into the back of Eddie's head.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Once at the hospital, the entire 118, Maddie, Athena, and Karen sit in the waiting room in a tense silence. A nurse had run into the room hours ago with a crash cart, and there had been more than a few moments where everything seemed critical, but the doctors had since reassured the group that you were stable and could accept visitors.

Buck and Maddie get up to go into the room. Maddie looks back at Eddie, beckoning him to join them.

Once the three of them are in the room with you, Eddie hangs back. He and Buck haven't exchanged a single word yet, so he doesn't know where his best friend's head is at. He wants to initiate a conversation - to explain, to apologize, to defend his love for you, but he doesn't think now is the right moment.

Your siblings sit next to your bed, smoothing your hair comfortingly. "You gave the three of us a fright." Maddie whispers softly.

"Three?" You croak out.

Maddie tilts her head towards Eddie, who looks awkward at the door, scratching the back of his neck.

"Eddie." The name falls out of your lips like a prayer, five letters packed full of love and relief.

Eddie takes that opportunity to stand on the other side of your bed, pressing a kiss onto your temple. His eyes are soft, concerned, and full of adoration.

"Wow." Buck says.

You and Eddie look at him, questioningly.

"I can't believe I didn't notice how you look at each other. Did you know about this?" Buck asks Maddie.

"Everyone but you did, Buck."

"Are you angry?" Eddie asks his best friend. He knows there is some sort of unspoken bro code, but the two of you falling in love months ago had been inevitable.

"I thought I was...but seeing how well the two of you fit? Knowing that two of the closest people in my life love each other? It just seems natural." Buck admits.

Eddie rounds the bed to pull your brother into a tight, warm hug.

"Okay, I'm the one in the hospital bed, attention on me please." You joke but your eyes are full of happy, unshed tears at seeing two of your favourite men embrace.

As laughter rings throughout the room, you couldn't help but be thankful for the close call.

[xislyns]

Hello! I absolutely loved the Benn Beckman HC'S you wrote! 🩷 could you do the same thing for Marco please? Thank you so much 💗💗💗

ofc dear!! (i actually rlly enjoy making hcs)

MARCO THE PHEONIX

op masterlist : 𐙚🧸ྀི || ⋆·˚ ༘ ASK STATUS IN DESC

FALLING FOR YOU

Marco isn’t someone who falls in love at first sight. it creeps up on him slowly, One day, he just knows, and there’s no turning back from there.

the moment He realizes , is when he catches himself watching you more often than necessary, memorizing your little habits.

He tries to act nonchalant about it, but his crewmates definitely notice. especially the teasing from Thatch , it is relentless.

When he confessed to you, it was a casual but tender moment, maybe a simple “Yoi, I think I like ya.” No dramatic speeches, just a quiet statement that you belong together.

LOVE WITH HIM

Marco isn’t the type to fall in love quickly. it takes time for him to open up, but once he does, he’s incredibly loyal and dependable.

He has a quiet but undeniable way of making you feel special , Marco loves teasing you, but it’s always gentle and never crosses the line. He enjoys seeing your reactions, especially when you get flustered and confused, he thinks you're adorable.

HIS AFFECTION

Marco is all about small but meaningful gestures, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, carrying things for you without asking, or placing his jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold.

His phoenix abilities come in handy when you’re hurt or sick. He’ll gently place his warm hands over your injuries to soothe the pain, always with a soft and genuine smile.

He’s not one to be overly verbal about his feelings, but his actions always speak louder than his words. He’ll silently fix something you’ve been struggling with or surprise you with little things he knows you love.

DAY TO DAY

He has a bad habit of overworking himself, so you have to physically drag him away from his responsibilities to make him rest.

Despite his laidback demeanor, Marco is extremely observant. He always knows when something is bothering you, even before you say anything to him

He enjoys watching sunsets with you. Something about the sky turning orange and gold reminds him of freedom, and sharing it with you makes it even better.

LOVE LANGUAGE?

Marco isn’t overly clingy, but he shows love through subtle gestures. perhaps a cup of tea ready for you when you wake up, a blanket draped over you when you fall asleep on deck.

He rarely calls you by your name when you’re alone. It’s always “love” or "Dear.”

He loves playing with your hair not even on purpose, his fingers just find their way there when he’s lost in thought.

He doesn’t need words to express his love. The way he looks at you, steady and full of quiet devotion, says more than anything he could say out loud

PROTECTIVE NATURE

Marco isnt the type to suffocate you with his protectiveness, but if he senses real danger, he won’t hesitate to step in.

He’s calm, but if someone hurts you, there’s no mercy for them. his usual laziness vanishes, and he becomes cold, calculating, and deadly

If you’re injured, he goes full doctor mode, patching you up while scolding you in a relaxed tone "maybe try not gettin’ slashed next time, Yoi.”

He trusts your strength but hates seeing you hurt. so if he sees you push yourself too hard, he’ll carry you away without a word, ignoring any protests you make

Jealousy ?

Marco is a confident person, so he doesn’t get jealous easily. But if someone flirts with you, he’ll casually wrap an arm around your waist, smirking as he makes eye contact with the other person. making it clear, youre his.

If you tease him about being jealous, he’ll just raise an eyebrow. “ why would I be? You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

[lil-bitty-lubdubs]

The Basement Series:Septima pt.1

OK SO IM RESTARTING MY BASEMENT SERIES. IM DETERMINED TO FINISH IT. IVE HAD SOME IDEAS FLOATING AROUND MY HEAD FOR LIKE 3 OR 4 YEARS NOW. SO ILL REPOST THE OG WRITINGS AND THEN HOPEFULLY CONTINUE ON WITH THE NEW ADDITIONS. PLEASE ENJOY AND LIKE AND COMMENT. REBLOGS REALLY HELP TOO.

Always remember my stuff is dark cardio and resus!

~~~

She awoke slowly, the world coming into her consciousness at snail speeds. Her brain felt heavy as if cotton was stuffed into its membranes. Her vision foggy though every light about her shimmered too bright for her to directly look at. Her strength was sapped, too weak to even raise her head up off the floor…

            Table. It’s a table… or bed,  she told herself. She was too far up for it to be the floor. Where is this? It was a dark room. Windowless. High celling. A basement. She tried to remember. Glove. A black glove covering her mouth. She remembered as fractured pieces of her past her coming into her consciousness. Rag. The glove was holding a soaked cloth. The stench- awful. Then darkness took her.

oh shit! She tried to panic but her heart was slow. Abnormally slow though steady. She turned her head to look around. There was bright earth blinding lights above her but the rest of the room was in shadow. It was a dark, dank place with no windows, no soul. It was the kind of place Bundonians would go to pay homage.

            “Oh God…” she crooned softly to herself, but someone heard.

            “Ah! You’re awake darling.” A man’s voice startled her though her heart only elevated slightly.

It was as if her heart was carrying a wide load behind it reacting too little too late, but the longer she was awake the more the weight was lifting. “Good. I’m glad to see those eyes.” His shadow appeared approaching from the left. That’s when she noticed it. The heart monitor just next to her bedside. She peered at the lines moving and shifting on its screen. She was confused a moment. Then she saw the wires attached to it. She traced them with her eyes from the machine straight to their source. Her chest. She realized she was unclothed save a thin white sheet covering her nudity. Her awakening heart picked up its beat, fear setting in. “What the hell…?”

            “I see you’re beginning to understand the fun we’re going to have together.” The man’s voice was cheerful, calm, and slick as a snake’s skin. He was out of the shadows now. He was not very tall though a bit heavyset, but muscular probably around 35. Brunet. He wore a white lab coat like a doctor would on a bad TV show. He took her wrist gently, pressing in to feel her pulse.

            “What?” She asked. “What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about? “Who are you?” she spoke each phrase louder than the next until she was yelling. “You’re crazy. You’re insane! Let me go!” she whimpered trying to get her other hand out from under the sheet.

            “Oh but you will see …uh…”he looked at a plastic ID card…”Septima is it darling? I’m Cal. Dr. Cal if you will. We’re about to embark on a journey, you and I, and have so much fun along the way. He reached down under the sheet and slid a hand between her legs as she wiggled. “Mmm. Wet.” His eyes glistened lust.

            “Nooo!” she let out a scream. “Don’t you touch me!!” she yelled as loud as she could. He remained unphased. Taking his hand out as he yanked off the sheet uncovering her completely.

            “No!” She screamed again, feeling exposed and vulnerable. This is not going to end well.

            “Now, now, its alright.” He murmured and patted her hand locking his whole palm over her wrist while pulling her arm well above her head, holding it down.

            “Let me go!” She railed. “Stop. Let me GO!” she thrashed weakly.

            The doctor used his free hand to turn a nozzle and a sizzle was birthed into the air. An oxygen mask descended towards her face.

            Septima willed her heart into overdrive and flailed one handed even harder. She tried bringing her legs up to kick him but found they were already strapped to the table. She held her breath as he fixed the mask over her head and attached it with the elastic straps holding it in place with his hand as she tried to claw at it. In the pool she had a 4 minute breath hold. She could probably hold out for 2-3 now with all the energy she was exerting.

            Clearly the doctor was surprised how long she could hold it and began to feel impatient. Perhaps even angry. Good.

            “No. No. No darling Breathe. You need to breathe in Septima.” he urged. She refused.

He turned and grabbed a toilet plunger looking thing with his free hand as he locked her other arm together with the one above her head. He settled the contraption right in the middle of her abdomen, just underneath the ribs. “Breathe in. Breathe in. BREATHE!” He willed her, but she stubbornly held out.

            By now her heart was thudding in her chest right up against her sternum. She could feel the urge to breathe rise up, but it didn’t overwhelm her. Yet. He held out a moment longer giving her a chance to comply before thrusting his weight behind the plunger. It riveted a shock wave of air from deep within her chest all the way up her esophagus. It resulted in what sounded like a grunt as air left her lungs. A significant amount of air, but she refused to take a breath. He thrust again. More air leaked out of her. “Come now darling.” he said through gritted teeth. Yep. He’s angry. That strengthened her resolve. Maybe he’d run out of gas soon. He thrust 3 more times in quick succession though these weren’t as forceful as the first 2. But now, her lungs were empty. The burning in her chest grew every second. Spots danced before her eyes.

She needed to breathe. She had to. AIR. It was all that mattered. She gave up the fight and inhaled. A pure deep, clean lungful of cold oxygen tainted with sweet tasting gas. Relief flooded her chest, her eyes rolled back. She took another shallow breath. Her head already spinning.  But she was still intent on resisting further.  Clearly he knew what she was thinking because he leaned into the plunger contraption again. The breath left her inflated lungs. Too soon!  she screamed inside. She breathed in deeply again mouth open, desperate for air, her resolve failing.

One more time he thrust. By now she was barely conscious though still aware, lungs automatically filling in half bursts. Her body just stopped responding. Her precious heart slowed its rate again. Abnormally slow. It was calm and steady no matter how much she wanted it to kick into gear.

What the hell did he give me? she wondered. “Wrraanmrg…” was all that escaped her mouth.

“Yes. That’s it darling. That’s it. Give in to it! That a good girl. Gooood. That’s right. Take a deep breathe. Just give in. Good girl! Yes darling, that’s it! Breathe! Just breathe in.” he crooned into her ear, one hand sliding right between her breasts to feel the surge of her chest rise and fall.  She was no longer in control and she was losing consciousness. She yielded herself to him, no longer caring as his two fingers nestled into her carotid pulse.