#that’s just a kid. and he’s done so much since then to make up for what he did before

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE ALL I EVER WANTED | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [bonus chapter]

Description: The one where you realise you like Spencer.

Length: 6.2k

Warnings: mention of when Penelope got shot, but other than that not much. Mentions of sex + body count though there is NO judgement OR SHAMING. Bugsy could be Bisexual/attracted to women if you choose to read it that way, but you don't have to!

authors note: this little bonus chapter is set the week before Emily 'dies' so right before the final second of Chapter Two. Or you can just read this if you'd like to see two morons dancing around their love for one another. Since I’m uploading today, I realised you needed to read part of this for the next big chapter so that is going to take an extra day or so but it is coming! I hope this satiates the bugspence cravings!!

‘You’re the one, you’re all I ever wanted,

I think I’ll regret this,’

It was warm considering it was one of the last days of Winter, one of the warmest Virginia had in years.

Caseload had been ramped up with the amount of children out on the streets with their friends where any nefarious hands could simply snatch them, or young adults got drunk, or worse, in preparation for Spring Break, their inhibitions lowered to zero making them prime prey. And yet, on a random Saturday at the end of February, the sun peeked out from the dishwater grey clouds, the wind died down, and their phones stayed quiet with the promise of a real day off. 

And how better to spend a day away from their office than to meet their co-workers in the park for a game of soccer. 

“Morgan, quit marking me,” Bugsy yelled, dribbling the ball down the small field they’d commandeered as a pitch, four water bottles stood upright on either end as goal points. But Derek’s laugh was menacing, and she heard his footsteps pounding behind her, advancing on her as if they were kids in a playground, and before long he had swooped in front of her, despite her hand waving out in his direction to shove him away.

Emily was about to call her out for contact, not that she expected her little sister to give a shit, but Derek was too fast for even her where she sat on the side lines with Penelope. The ball went careering away from her, Morgan’s quick feet keeping it under much better control than she’d been able to, even with her hot on his heels, and before long he was shooting to where Aaron stood as goalie, just about rolling it past Hotch’s muscled legs into their goal. 

Derek whooped, Will jogged over from the other end of the pitch to fist bump his team mate as the younger woman huffed, her college jumper and shorts clinging to her sweaty body. 

“Sucks to suck, baby Prentiss,” Morgan jeered, shoving her shoulder lightheartedly when she glared at him, “Guess you owe me that drink, which I will be redeeming at the next convenience-” 

“It’s easy to win when you’re two hundred pounds of muscle and your opponent is a girl who hasn’t done sport since high school,” She snapped, her expression grumpy as she fingered the hem of her fleecy top. Derek chuckled, Will returning to sit with JJ as Henry climbed over her legs wanting to play with her long strands of honey blonde hair. He shoulder bumped the girl, hoping to perk up her mood, but she shoved him back as hard as she could, not that it did much since she’d said herself she was sort of out of shape compared to his rock hard abs. 

“Oh, come on now, Bug, don’t be like that,” He said, unphased when she damn near threw her whole body against his, trying to even knock him in the slightest off his feet, her face screwed up in annoyance. “Bugsy.” Derek tried again, only for her to ignore him and try even harder. He didn’t so much as flinch, “Bugsy, you’re being unreasonable,”

She huffed, drawing away from him and glancing at him with a scathing glare. “Okay, terminator, you won this time but I swear one day I’m going to make you pay for taking advantage of such a fragile little woman like me,” 

Emily scoffed, handing her sister a water bottle, “Didn’t you take down an unsub alone yesterday? I mean you didn’t even have cuffs until Spencer showed up-”

“Oh, whose side are you on?” Bugsy snarled, downing a gulp of water and walking back over to where Spencer and JJ were relaxing on a picnic blanket, the former laying on his back with a book spread open using only one of his spindle-like hands. 

“Good game?” He mused, trying to hide his smirk when she groaned in response, throwing herself down on the grass beside him. She wrestled her sweater over her head which left her in a band tee, her chest still rising with panting breaths as she lay down to his right, glaring at the clear sky. 

“Remind me to never play him in sport ever again. The man is a Spartan Warrior,” She huffed, barely glimpsing to where JJ chuckled at her defeated expression. 

“Did you know that the Spartans were actually banned from the Olympics for some time for violating the peace treaty between Sparta and Athens? But one of their athletes entered a chariot race pretending to represent Thebes, a city above Athens in Boeotia, and only when he won did he announce his true identity,” Spencer asked, his nose still buried in his book like he was reciting the very same information off the page. Bugsy’s lips quirked in interest. 

“That’s pretty cool,” She murmured, head flicking over to him where he glanced back at her, finally ripping his attention away from his novel. She blinked at him, his ‘boy band’ hair as so affectionately named by their unit chief, swooping over his forehead with a few soft, chocolate curls that she moved to fix almost immediately. 

She missed the way his eyes rounded in puppy love as she did so, a camouflaged smile twitching at his lips, an onset reaction of the butterflies that swarmed his chest. 

“I like your hair like this,” She said, even though she’d told him a dozen times already his new hair was dashing, as she’d put it, “It makes your eyes look really pretty,” 

He cleared his throat, his cheeks heating up because he couldn’t handle his reactions when she was so forward, “Really? I always thought they were the colour of dirt,” 

Her mouth dropped open, and she shuffled up onto her elbows so they were similar heights, “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now,” 

“Wow, the government name. I must be in trouble,” He mused, gaze falling to the grass beneath them, dropping his book into his lap even though he felt her annoyance poking holes in his skull.

“They are not the colour of dirt, I’ve never heard something so ridiculous,” She scoffed, nudging him with the back of her hand in a soft chide and he snickered, looking back up to where she was staring him straight in the muddy hues of his very plain hazel eyes. “They’re like, they’re like-” She tried to come up with an answer, squinting in the soft sunlight that turned the brown shades into liquid honey running off a spoon, her face  leaning towards his to catch a closer look at the exact pigment of them, “They’re like looking up at a forest on a Summer’s morning, you know? Like when you can see every single one of the leaves because of the light,” 

He nodded wordlessly, because no one had ever said something quite so poetic about any part of him before. He fought the urge to look away, wasn’t sure he could even if he tried because for a second they were both in a trance, dissecting the other’s gaze like they were imprinting their colour palettes to memory. 

“Buggy!” Her head whipped away from him as the blonde headed child came running over to her as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. He launched himself at her stomach, and her hands quickly caught him before he could wind her, his cheeks rosy behind his bumble bee pacifier. She giggled as he slid down her side, his knees staining with grass as he reached muddy hands out for her face. 

“Woah, not so fast mister. Who knows where these grubby little paws have been,” She teased, and he laughed behind the plastic sucker, his bluebell eyes a near match of JJ’s blinking over at her. 

Spencer watched her and his godson with besotted eyes, imagining for a split second what she might be like as a mother, if she ever chose to be. He knew she would be soft and yet not lose one drop of the Bugsy playfulness he cherished, just instead parting everything that made her extraordinary onto a mini her. 

He saw it, like a flicker of a dream, like deja vu, a girl with her hair, her skin, her smile; the one that was impish and guilty like she had a secret, giggling behind a ladybug dummy the way Henry was doing when she forced his dirty hands together to clap; “Clap your hands if you smell like fairy farts- Henry!” 

The child laughed harder, so hard his pacifier dropped out his mouth with a little dribble, his milk teeth pearly with and tiny in the sun. His chest seized with giggles, his face turning pink as he panted to catch his breath, “You’re so silly, Buggy,”  

JJ swooped in to grab his dummy, giving his hands a quick once over with a baby wipe and packing the sucker back into his bag. Henry’s gaze quickly slid up his mother’s arm to where she lingered over his pack, and he was eager to make himself comfortable leaning against Bugsy’s stomach, legs stretching out onto the blankets, his shoes brushing against Spencer’s trouser leg. 

“Juice, mama!” He shouted, his little voice sweet knowing just how to wrap everyone around his pinky finger, “Juice and Bi’kits!”

“What do we say, Henry?” Will reminded gently, holding the Ben 10 satchel open while his partner rooted around the bottom of it with a loving smile. 

“Please, juice and bi’kits,” The boy replied politely, his feet knocking together out of excitement when JJ produced two red pouches and animal shaped cookies. Stepping over where Spence lay sprawled out, watching Bugsy idly stroking over the back of his godson’s white blonde curls, JJ handed the two of them a drink and snack each, Bugsy’s eyes flying up to the woman in interest. 

“For me?” She asked dumbly, wondering if she was to give the second helping to the boy once he’d finished his first or if it really was hers.

JJ shrugged, moving back over to sit beside Will where he wrapped a lazy arm around her waist, squeezing her gently, “I always pack extra for the other kids,” 

Bug’s face flattened into something unamused as Henry handed Spencer his juice pouch for him to push the straw in, “I’m twenty six, I’m not a kid,” She grouched, ripping open the packet of biscuits and shoving a lion in her mouth, “God, whoever invented these animal shaped pals is genius. Like, why does everything taste so much better when it looks like a monkey smiling up at me?” 

The three of them chuckled at her, Emily and Penelope starting up a new game of soccer with Hotch and Derek, David reffing from the sideline. Penelope was ofcourse with Morgan, looking a little pale where she stood in goal, as Emily ran at her in full force with the ball skipping between her feet.

Spence handed the drink back to the boy, picking his book back up as the two of them crunched on their goodies happily. 

“Story time, Uncle Spencer,” Henry demanded, pointing to the copy of War and Peace in between bites of a zebra cookie. 

And instead of telling his godson that he would almost certainly hate the complex, adult writing of Leo Tolstoy, Spencer smiled down at him, feeling Bugsy’s eyes roving over his face.

“Yeah, storytime, Uncle Spencer,” She jeered, her elbow getting dirty where it dug into the grass as she rolled onto her side to watch him properly, “Never too early to teach the kids about French invasions,” 

Flicking her a smirk, he cleared his throat theatrically, and pretended to read from his book, “Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White,” 

“That’s a real magic book you got there, Spence,” The woman snickered, and he smiled into the pages, not daring himself to look at the devilish look she had on her face. 

“Chapter One; Before Breakfast,” Spencer ‘read’ clearly, his memory still clear as a bell when his mother had read it to him when he was five, “‘Where’s papa going with that axe?’ said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast,” 

Bugsy felt Henry’s head slump against her hip, the boy slurping on his juice pouch happily as she punctured a hole in her own carton to take a sip, the two of them listening intently to Spencer recounting the children’s book to a scary degree of accuracy. 

His slender arms looked good with his sleeves rolled to his elbow, she thought offhandedly, his right elbow taking the brunt of his weight as he leaned on it, the other flicking through the Tolstoy novel as if it were the real thing, his long fingers splayed out on the back of the book to keep it open. His eyes kept darting up over the top of the page to see if they were both still listening, which they were, though Bugsy suspected Henry was starting to get tired as his head felt heavy against her skin. 

Propping her head on her hand, her eyes scanned over the profile of his face. She’d always known he was attractive, ever since she opened her dorm room door at John Hopkins and saw him and Morgan waiting for her. Her stomach twisted thinking about how long ago that seemed, that she couldn’t remember quite what her world had centred around when it had just been her at college; her mother and father were distant as ever, her sister was a stranger that had all but raised her, boys were just a passing face if she ever let them through her door. She’d had her books and maybe two friends, acquaintances would probably be the better term, and her coffee. And that seemed to have been enough, or at least it was enough that she couldn’t outright complain about how lonely she felt.  

And then she met Spencer. And that feeling had disapparated entirely.

Her heart swelled when she looked at him, recounting the beginning of chapter two by now, his forest hues glancing up at Henry’s sleepy, round eyes that watched him in interest. She thought for a moment that whoever his kid was going to be was going to be the luckiest boy in the world. She let herself imagine a boy Henry’s age already devouring books twice his reading age, one with wild, almond curls he’d let grow around his neck like JJ did with Henry’s. She imagined how he would sit him on his lap and let him read the books for himself, so that if he got stuck his dad would be right there to help him behind a proud smile. Spencer; a father. She realised how out of field the thought was before she shook it out of her head, though it had planted itself right in her hypothalamus the second she’d seen the vision of it. 

A small smile twitched at her lips, a warmth in the pit of her stomach flickering as she sipped the juice, giggling when Spencer changed his tone slightly so Henry knew someone new was speaking, seemingly enjoying the book almost as much as his audience was. His eyes snapped to her when he heard her, a devious little smile creeping up his lips like they shared the same thought. She wished she could do this every day, lay on picnic blankets and listen to him read, his voice was heavenly, and she thought she might never get tired of hearing him tell her things. 

Every part of her was consumed when she thought of him like this. It had happened once or twice, like when she’d driven him home from the doctors after they’d cleared his MRI’s, when she’d held his head in her lap on his couch and stroked his scalp, a cold compress over his eyes because his head writhed with a pain he couldn’t squash out. When she’d heard his soft snores as he finally dropped off to sleep and she allowed herself to look at his resting face, perhaps even more angelic than usual, a small indent right between his brows where his expression had been scrunched in discomfort for weeks, one she smoothed over with the soft pad of her thumb. She’d felt something then, like her whole body was full to the brim of him, her chest spasming with a feeling like she was coming down with a cold but one that made her feel good, but she’d brushed it off as seeing him vulnerable and soft compared to the quick as a whip FBI agent she was used to these days. She’d do just about anything for him, anything to make him feel better, anything to just make him happy.

Or when they’d eat breakfast together at his desk, her chair rolled up beside his as they sat together, taking it in turns to do crossword puzzles together because they realised they got competitive when they were allowed to answer all of them at the same time, and Bugsy did not like losing. There had been one morning when they’d descended into madness because they were both trying to write the answers as fast as possible, their hands smashing together over the boxes, her hand shoving his lithe body away as he had called her a cheater through red cheeked laughter. Rossi had confiscated the paper when things had gotten too physical and she’d pulled the lever beneath his chair, lowering his seat quick enough he nearly slipped right out. His coffee spilled all over his desk as his arm flew out to grab his desk, and the sight alone made her laugh so hard she almost peed. He’d pretended to be annoyed at her for all of two minutes as they cleaned up the mess together, but he too had found himself laughing hard enough he was almost in tears because she could barely get two words out without creasing over and holding her stomach in aching barks of noise, the two of them leaning against one another for support. She thought then, if she had breakfast with him every day, whether it be with quizzes or coffee or even a plain bowl of oatmeal, she’d wake up every day happy. 

And she thought it then, her heart swelling fat enough to burst as he looked up at her over the top of the leather binding again. Even in the split second he did so her skin had turned to gooseflesh, like he’d grabbed her at her soul and squeezed her whole being affectionately. And it was like she remembered every time he’d made her feel like that, times she thought of it as the fact a girl who received little to no attention growing up was of course going to revel under the gaze of an attractive man with a heart sweeter than cotton candy, it was just psychology. One big Freudian-slip of nonsense. At least that was what she shoved it off as. 

But looking at him, his hands big enough to grab her face whole, his body long and lithe as he spread out on the blanket, his hair falling so delicately, his tone soft and pandering to the little boy who was dropping off to sleep against her stomach. His whole essence was so Spencer it made her feel at home, like this was what she was created to do, feeling so fulfilled sat with him sipping on a juice pouch as he read to her she could die tomorrow and feel accomplished for only twenty six years. 

She knew in her gut that wasn’t what friends felt for each other; the thought creeping up her spine and over her shoulder like a virus that seized her brain as its own, her expression unwavering as she watched him with adoring eyes. 

She knew it was wrong, but with him she felt worth something. She felt complete. Like she had everything she ever needed, everything she’d ever wanted on the nights loneliness had snuck in and she’d felt like no one would ever understand how the muddied water of her mind worked. 

But he did. He always had. 

And it was like she heard a screech in a track record as it came to a stop, her head working overtime with the thought of it. 

She bit her lip in guilt, as he continued reading, hoping she wouldn’t ever ruin whatever it was that she’d felt, because she might not ever be able to forgive herself if she did. 

–

“It’s over one and below a hundred, and that’s all you’re getting,” Bugsy said with a teasing smile, her fingers resting on the rim of a very sweet Cosmo, as Penelope and Derek sat opposite them, Spencer to her right with a beer on one of the few times she’d ever seen him drink. But it had been a good day, and what would be the harm in topping off the day with a cold beverage, “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like they meant much,” 

“We know it doesn’t matter, baby Prentiss, we’re just being nosey,” Derek chimed, his fingers wrapped around his own bottle of beer, courtesy of Bugsy which she had paid for with a grumble, a tipsy glint in his dark eyes. 

It was just the four of them this evening. Will and JJ had taken a sleeping Henry home so they could spend some rare time together seeing as their son was entirely knocked out. Hotch had taken Emily home after David had given her a red card for trying to tackle both Aaron and Derek multiple times during their game, because apparently competitiveness ran in the family. He had tried to gently remind her Aaron was also on her team, but had received a glare that would make any agent cower, and Hotch had suggested maybe it would be best if they got her home rather than fill her with alcohol. 

Rossi had excused himself home after hearing the colourful things the oldest Prentiss woman called him in Italian, likely contemplating if she meant any of the threats she was making. 

“Any guy would be lucky to make it to your magic number, honey bee,” Penelope added, her pastel painted lipstick making a cute rim on the straw to her own Margarita, “Or girl! Any girl would be too,”

Bugsy shied away at that, blanking for perhaps the first time because the whole topic of her romantic endeavours was suddenly embarrassing when Spencer was sat right beside her. She had spoken to them before about her college days, and had never once made an effort to hide the fact she knew she had a charm about her that meant she usually could take someone home if she wanted them. 

So why was it suddenly so difficult to admit in front of Spencer? She knew why, she knew why every single one of them suddenly felt miniscule in the grand scheme of things because they hadn’t meant much to her, not when he was sitting boring holes into the side of her head with an unusually tight expression. 

“What does it matter if there were girls, none of them really meant much,” She brushed them off, her face heating up when she finally looked at Spencer, his long fingers picking at the label on his beer with a tight lipped smile.

“We’re just teasing, Bug, there’s nothing wrong with any number you could give us. Besides, I guarantee mine is higher than yours,” Derek reassured, squeezing her wrist gently, his eyes sliding to where Spencer seemed to be trying to avoid all eye contact like he wanted the seat to swallow him whole, “Same with you, Kid, there’s no judgement at this table, we’re all human,” 

“I bet you were a real ladies man by that third doctorate,” Bugsy teased, nudging his shoulder with her own because she hated when he went quiet. 

He looked at her like he was expecting her to be cruel, except she didn’t look it, not one bit, instead she seemed a little skittish, no doubt from having the spotlight on her. “What makes you say that?” 

She bristled, “I mean, come on, Spence, you’re very good looking, you’re the smartest person I know, you’re funny and there’s like not a single bad bone in your entire body,” She said, becoming increasingly aware of the weight of her words the more she spoke. But it was like the cocktail had loosened her lips, had made it seem entirely normal to essentially tell him how lucky a girl would be to date him, how she had thought about all the reasons she would find him a worthy sexual partner. She watched him blush, granting her a flustered smile, and she looked to Penelope desperately for help, “Pen, would you tell him?”

“She has a point, Reid. You are the full package,” Penelope conceded, her smile illuminating the whole bar as she reached over to hold both their hands in hers, “It’s a shame you’re both strongly planted in the friend zone otherwise the four of us could have really been something beautiful,” 

They all chuckled, Bugsy shaking her head and leaning against Spencer’s side when he seemed to ease up, just to remind him she had meant no harm by what she said. In fact, she’d meant entirely the opposite.  

She felt his hand lean under the table to squeeze her knee, because he knew what she was thinking, and she felt herself relax at the feel of his touch. 

“Alright, here’s a question; winner gets a free shot on the next round. What was your worst date?” Morgan poked, noticing how the two youngest agents seemed to scooch towards one another almost as if they hadn’t realised, as if they were working off their own orbit, until they were pressed right up against one another, their elbows brushing against one another, “Doesn’t have to be sexual, could just be bad table manners,” 

“I haven’t really been on a date before,” Spencer tried to weasel his way out of the question, Bugsy’s head whipping to him in surprise, “There was that one time I met that girl Austin for coffee, but that was pretty great,”

She bit her cheek in annoyance. She’d forgotten about Austin, the bartender that she’d told Spencer to go after, because she was so sure that a good looking doctor like him deserved someone kind and attractive like Austin had been. She remembered how she’d seen her ocean blue eyes roving over her friend, how at the time it hadn’t meant much to her, because she couldn’t really blame her for thinking he was hot, how now it stirred something in her tummy that she feared felt like jealousy. 

She dared herself to stop the bombarding thoughts of what ‘pretty great’ entailed exactly, and busied her face by looking to Morgan for his turn. 

“My man,” Derek said with a wicked grin on his face, watching Spencer cower away from the attention though there was something guiltily proud in the smirk that grew on his face that said Spencer was somewhat pleased with his answer. In the scheme of things, he’d gotten lucky, pun intended. The only woman to ever say yes to a date with him had been sweet, even if he’d quickly made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything more with her, and even then she’d been understanding. 

“Your turn, Morgan,” Bugsy reminded, trying to be as cool as possible despite the fact her stomach felt flipped upside down at the sound of a woman she hadn’t thought about in two whole years. She didn’t know what had gotten her so territorial in a matter of seconds, but she hated every moment of it. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know ladies, that someone has in fact put Derek Morgan in his place before,” Derek said, with a clap of his hands, and Bugsy and Penelope shared an amused eye roll. 

“Who knows how big your ego might be if this goddess among women hadn’t acted when she did,” Bugsy drawled, Penelope giggling into her lime wedge as Derek laid a hand on his chest in faux hurt. 

“I’m telling you, I’m a changed man. I tasted my own medicine, Sugar, and it was bitter,” He said melodramatically, and even Spencer shook his head with a laugh, because Derek was a diva when he’d had a few to drink. “We go out to a lovely restaurant, I pay ofcourse, being the gentleman I am, and then we decide to go for some drinks after to round the evening off,”

“Any girl's dream come true,” Penelope jumped in, giggling when Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulder, like they were on a date themselves. 

“That was exactly my thoughts, babygirl.” Derek flirted, taking a swig of his beer, “Anyway, I maybe have a little too much of the good stuff, nothing particularly worrying. We’re laughing, we’re vibing, and then we go back to my place,” 

“Here we go, the real good stuff,” Bugsy chimed in, nudging Spencer with her elbow as the two of them snickered like tweedle dum and tweedle dee. “Fifty Shades of Morgan,”

“Pipe down, lover girl,”  Derek barked through laughter, Penelope barely making it through a sip of her own drink without smiling, “So as I was saying, I’m feeling a little worse for wear, she’s a little drunk too, so we move past it, and then we get to my room,”

“Bow chick a wow wow,” Bugsy sang teasingly, to which Spencer chuckled and taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Well, you would think, honey bee, since I am known to the women for my experiences in bed, some may call electric,” Derek slurred, holding her hand gently over the table to which she laughed even harder. 

“Huh, I must have missed that email,” She teased back, taking a long final sip of the dregs of her drink. 

“You wound me,” He replied, shaking his head, and turning to look at Penelope seriously, like he was sat in a confession booth, “So anyway, we’re in my room, about to get jiggy with it, only when I take my boxers off I find my soldier is sort of-” He paused, swallowing and looking at Spencer’s red face where he was trying desperately not to break, “You know. Unable to stand to attention,” 

Bugsy spat her drink across the table, the action alone making Penelope laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes, the younger girl coughing as she choked on her drink, and Spencer patted her on the back until she reclaimed some composure. 

“Oh, god,” She gasped, her hand thumping her chest as she tried desperately to get a hold of herself in between the loud cries of glee and winding herself, “Derek-”

“Hey, laugh it up, Bug, it worked out alright in the end. Our second date really was electric,” He replied with a smug smile, as the girl finally caught a breath, her lash line watering with tears as she grabbed for some napkins on the table to clear up her mess. 

“If you say so,” She said, her voice croaking as Spencer offered her a sip of his drink to wash her throat out. She took a small mouthful of beer, handing the bottle back to him with a grateful smile, and she tried no to think about the fact that germ wise, they had essentially just kissed. 

“Your turn,” Spencer said, something amused in his eyes as she looked at him somewhat betrayed, “What’s been your worst date?” 

She sighed, wiping beneath her eyes with her sleeve, “If you must know, and because I really do want that shot,”  She started, clearing her throat one final time, “I was seeing this guy in New York over Spring break, Sean something,” 

“Sean something?” Derek asked, “You didn’t know his last name?” 

She shrugged, fighting the urge to crawl into a small ball of embarrassment because surely what Morgan said had set the bar for judgement high, “We didn’t exactly do much talking when we saw each other,” 

Spencer hid his frustration in a fake smile, though one look at his furrowed brow would have given him away instantly. Luckily, they had their eyes on her long enough they didn’t catch a glimpse of his expression. It wasn’t that he would ever think less of her for being with someone else, who wouldn’t want her, but hearing about it made his inside boil with jealousy he didn’t even know he would have ever felt. 

“Anyway. I felt like a change of scenery and my mother was bothering me for a lunch date since she was in New York for the month, so I took him and two of his friends out to Italy for a long weekend,” She went on, ripping up a napkin for something to do while she spoke, and she felt Penelope staring at her agog. 

“You took a casual fling to Italy for a change of scenery?” The bubbly woman asked, her mouth dropped in shock, “Can I sleep with you?” 

Derek laughed, and Spencer went bright red when he jumped to ask the same question though he knew it was entirely coarse. Maybe it was the beer loosening his tongue, or maybe it was the fact he wondered what the two of them sitting in a sunny vineyard like a rich old couple would look like, he wasn’t sure. 

“Play your cards right, Princess,” Bugsy teased, clearing her throat to continue, “Anyway. We’re there for two days and the final evening Sean and I get into a bit of a disagreement over something dumb; I think him and his friends were being too loud and we were getting complaints. Anyway, we kiss and make up for the evening, we go out to a club. We go back to the hotel, get jiggy with it as you put it, and when I woke up the next day, the bastard had taken the bag with all our boarding passes and came back to America with his friends without even waking me up.”

Their mouths fell open, Spencer’s brows shooting into his hairline in worry, “That sounds awful, Bug,”

She shrugged again, messing with the pile of ripped up paper she’d created, “It’s nothing. I spoke the language so I got by okay, and luckily I kept all my cash in my purse so I hitched a ride to the airport and got on the next plane, except the only available one landed me in California so I had to wait for a transfer over to Baltimore. By the time I got back, his roommate said he was with some other girl,”

“What an asshole,” Derek said, shaking his head as he said so, but Bugsy raised her shoulders again. 

“I really know how to pick them,” She said, swirling her lime piece around the bottom of her glass, “Anyway, the hotel staff felt bad for me and gave me a free bottle of Pinot Noir on them so it didn’t work out all bad,” 

Sensing it was somewhat of a sticky subject, Penelope jumped in with her usual wit, “As much as I would love to give you the shot, buttercup, this gal took a bullet on her last bad date so I will be collecting that prize if it’s all the same to you,” She said, her bubbly attitude quickly throwing metaphorical glitter over the subject, collecting Bugsy's empty glass and her own together as her and Morgan moved to shuffle out of the table for another round. 

Bugsy’s eyes widened, “What?” She stopped, and she looked at Spencer to see if they were playing some sort of joke on her only to see him unsurprised, “What!?” 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time, sweet cheeks. Right now I have a tequila, salt and lime with my name written all over it,” Penelope chirped, waltzing up to the bar with her muscle two paces behind her as he drew out his wallet to put down for the next round of drinks. 

“Well, I suddenly feel like an asshole for complaining about being left in a nice hotel alone,” Bugsy said, her head resting on her hand as she looked over at Spencer who ran his finger over the emerald green bottle. 

He snorted, “Tell me about it, I said that my last date went wonderfully,” 

They met eyes in the dark lowlights of the bar and shared an amused grin, like they knew it was cynical for them to laugh except they really did feel like morons for complaining about how bad they had it when Penelope had all but joked about her situation. 

“I am sorry that happened to you, though,” Spencer said, his hand creeping over the leather seat to where hers sat on her thigh, “That must have been really scary. Why didn’t you call Emily?” 

Bugsy’s face tensed, “We weren’t really speaking then, and I knew if I told her or my mother I’d get the same lecture about being irresponsible and careless. I think I thought I’d rather do it alone,” 

Spencer pouted, braving enough to move his hand up to take hers in his own. Maybe it was the second bottle of low percent beer, or maybe it was because she’d flickered with something genuinely saddened when she’d said it, and Spencer thought that in every  instance of her story she’d had little to no one to turn to for help.

She had been alone, and the thought of it crushed him. 

He grabbed her hand, her head snapping to him and praying she didn’t find pity there because she hated that. Except she just saw him, those mossy eyes looking rounder and more lovely than ever when she regarded him. 

“You don’t have to feel alone ever again, you know that right?” He asked earnestly, giving her fingers a little squeeze, and she felt her tummy do that stupid turn all over again. It was like she had an upset stomach except that was a complete antonym of what it was, like her stomach was so unbelievably overjoyed that she could barely even hold it together without wanting to ask him what it was he had done to suddenly turn her into some sort of feral creature for every little movement he made. 

Except there wasn’t just one thing, it was everything about him. Everything. 

She smiled at him, more bashful than she had ever felt for him, and against her own instincts she slipped her fingers in between his own so they had their every digit laced together, and it was suddenly so much bigger than two friends chatting in a bar. 

She knew it then, felt it realer than ever, like a stop sign slapping her clean across the face and shattering every bone in her skull. 

She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it. 

-

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

[undercoverpena]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

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[keerysfreckles]

perfect storm — OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x sargeant!reader

summary: oscar's small crush on his best friend's sister becomes something more after a secret is shared.

warnings: nothing too explicit but still sexual themes so 18+ (soft smut), not proofread

a/n: LECLERC FAMILY FRONT ROW IKTR!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

"happy birthday to you!"

the birthday girl leans forward to blow out to two numbered candles on top of her cake. logan sargeant, oscar piastri and alex albon were sitting across from her on the other side of the kitchen island. logan sets his phone down after sending a recording of the boys horrendous singing to his mom.

oscar leans forward to take the candles out of the cake, while alex asks, "so how does being twenty two feel?"

y/n shrugs, licking the chocolate icing off the bottom of the candles before oscar can throw them away.

"the same as before. just another birthday," she smiles.

logan's about to add, but a phone call from the williams team manager takes him away to the living room.

"you're gonna miss the cake!" y/n exclaims, watching as oscar starts cutting it into triangles.

logan waves her off, "it'll be there when i get back."

alex, oscar and y/n are now left in the kitchen, all enjoying their own slice of cake.

"so, y/n," alex breaks the comfortable silence. "do you have any plans of going out and getting laid tonight?"

y/n pushes alex's shoulder as a blush starts forming on her cheeks, while oscar can't help but supress a laugh.

every year since she turned eighteen, alex always asked the girl if she found a special someone for her special day. and every year it was the same answer.

"no alex, and i don't plan on having a one night stand just because it's my birthday," she explains.

oscar can't help but notice the pink in y/n's face hasn't gone away. as much as he hates to admit it, he's thought about how it'd feel to be with y/n for one night. and now it might've been revealed she's never been with anyone before? oscar's thoughts were going a mile a minute.

"so what? you're just going to stay a virgin forever?"

y/n pushes alex's shoulder again, only causing him to laugh. as a chance to do anything to get rid of her growing embarrassment, she starts tidying around the kitchen.

"why don't you and oscar go at it?" he snaps his fingers, as if a lightbulb went off above his head.

y/n and oscar awkwardly look at each other before speaking at the same time.

"alex!"

"what?"

"why do i always walk in on the worst conversations?" logan comes out from the hallway, ignoring what his teammate has just asked his sister.

"well i was just-"

logan immediately cuts alex off, "nope, we have a team meeting to go to."

logan and alex both hug y/n quickly and wish her one last happy birthday. her and oscar start taking down the decorations around the living room of her apartment, both still choosing to ignore what alex asked the girl minutes prior.

"you don't have to stay you know?" y/n offers, "you've done plenty to make this birthday special."

"you sure? there's still three hours left until your birthday's officially over," he looked down to check his watch, making y/n chuckle.

she takes the paper streamers from his hands and brings them to the garbage.

"i'm sure osc."

his cheeks flush at the name. one y/n's grown accustomed to using after being around lando for so long.

she gives him a long hug before he leaves for the night, her fingers brush his back as she let's go of the australian.

"happy birthday y/n," oscar smiles, before kissing the top of her head.

she yells at him from her doorway for him to get home safe, which she receives a thumbs up in return.

however the boy she bid her goodbyes too was sitting in the parking garage, letting his car run just like his thoughts.

the way oscar thought about it, tonight was the only clear shot of telling y/n how he felt about her. he's had a crush on her since they were kids, and it only grew as he did.

the worst she can say is no, oscar thought.

well, the worst she can do is reject you. and never talk to you again.

oscar shakes his head as he thoughts become worse. he couldn't get himself out of this one. he didn't want to get himself out of this one.

he knocks on y/n's apartment door quickly, just as fast as his heart's beating in his chest.

"oh, hey osc. did you forget som-"

oscar takes one step closer, grabbing y/n's face in his hands to bring her lips to his.

he feels her hands moving to hold onto his wrists, but doesn't push him away. although he can't hear anything over the heavy beating of his heart.

only inches seperate them now, as their own heavy breaths mingle with the other.

y/n simply stands on her toes to wrap her arms around oscar's neck. he sways the pair slightly, a smile beginning to form on his face once he registered nothing's ruined between the two.

y/n turns her head, leaving light kisses along oscar's neck.

he simply closes to door behind him, letting the girl continue gliding her lips across his skin.

y/n sets her feet back on the ground, roaming her hands down oscar's arms, letting them fall in his hands. he runs his thumbs over her knuckles.

"you're not doing this just because alex said something, are you?" she let her insecurities get the best of her as she looks up at oscar.

he starts shaking his head before she can even finish the question.

"absolutely not. i want to do this, but only if you want to."

y/n nods, "i want to, trust me i definitely want to," both her and oscar laugh at her eagerness. "i'm just nervous."

oscar takes one of her hands in response and places it against his chest, a little off center.

she feels how fast his heart is beating underneath her hand. she couldn't comprehend that she was the reason.

"i think i'm more nervous than you love," both chuckle again.

y/n moves her hand from his chest towards his neck to pull him down to her, only to connect their lips again. she simply guides them out of the entryway and down the hallway towards her bedroom.

they only break the kiss so y/n can get onto her bed and for oscar to close the door.

oscar's eager to kick his shoes off, and y/n can't help but let a giggle fall between her lips. she watches as he climbs on her bed soon after, catching her lips in his again.

he maneuvers the two so y/n's now laying under him, with one hand pushing her shirt up ever so slightly while the other arm is bent by her head.

his brain becomes fuzzy as she begins running her fingers through his hair, short breathy moans slipping into y/n's mouth.

y/n arched her back as oscar's hand moved over her skin, silently begging to take her shirt off. she nods, moving slightly to make it easier for oscar.

oscar's eyes flutter down to the base of her neck. his thumb brushes over the skinny silver chain with a small bar, with the number eighty-one etched into it.

"you still have it?"

y/n nods, remembering the exact moment she opened the necklace as a birthday gift from oscar. four years later and she's never taken it off once.

"i never take it off," she admits.

oscar's at a loss for words. he's truly had her this whole time, without knowing it.

oscar suddenly comes back to his senses as y/n begins taking off his own shirt.

minutes pass. clothes are thrown on the floor as oscar's still hovered over the girl. his hand inching it's way closer to the spot he knew she needed him in.

oscar made sure to be gentle as his fingers brushed through y/n's most vulnerable area. he places light kisses on her neck and on her lips while helping her through her first high.

"i'll be careful, i promise," oscar moves to line himself up with the girl below him. her hands remain on his biceps, squeezing ever so slightly as he breaks the barrier.

just as oscar stated, he was more than gentle with y/n. he made sure to listen to her if she wanted to slow down, and whispered light praises in her ears as the bed started hitting the wall behind y/n's head.

"osc," y/n mumbles out. her back arches as he continues hitting the perfect spot.

he watches as her eyes close, and feels her fingernails digging into his arms. not caring that there will be red marks tomorrow.

oscar feels her tighten around him. if he could pay to feel that a million times, he would. it was euphoric, making him halt his movements. the pair locked eyes again as oscar helped y/n ride out her high.

oscar was quick to remove himself from the girl, finishing on her bundled up sheets off to the side of her bed.

oscar leaned forward to kiss y/n's forward, before whispering, "you did so good love."

y/n blushes for the hundreth time that night, taking in oscar's praise as she regains a regular heartbeat.

oscar kissed her lips once more before throwing on a baggy pair of sweatpants y/n told him he could have. he helped her clean herself up, sharing a few kisses in between steps.

now he stared in awe as she changed into his shirt he was wearing less than an hour ago. she held her arms out once she layed back in bed, beckoning oscar to follow her.

he rested his head against her chest, eyes closing shut when she started threading her fingers through his messy hair.

"osc?" her voice is quiet, unsure of how the boy in her arms will react to her upcoming thought.

he hums in response, but it's enough to make the girl continue.

"what are we?"

her movements pause as oscar sits up to face y/n. he brushes a hair behind her ear, "we don't have to worry about labels right now. we'll sleep, and i can even make you an amazing breakfast. then we can talk about it, yeah?"

she nods, but a smile makes its way to her lips once oscar kisses her again.

as oscar lays back down, y/n's thoughts come out again.

"we're not telling logan yet, right?"

"oh no, definitely not yet."

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x sargeant!reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri x female!reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x fem reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smut #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x fem!reader #formula 1 #formula one

[aphrogeneias]

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (soulmate!au)

summary: it's new years eve, and as the year comes to an end, so do a lot of other things.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: fluff and a lot of angst. brief sexual assault (by an unnamed patron). a little bit of violence. mention of a gun (as a joke, very quickly). a cliffhanger. stobin (platonic with a capital p) appreciation.

author's note: it's been a long time, but the show must go on. i hope you enjoy it! <3 also, please don't hate after you're done with this, 'kay? pinky promise.

series masterlist

Steve and Robin surprised you with a visit right before New Year’s Eve of 1991.

Surprised isn't the word, in fact. They had both been dropping hints about coming over to see you whenever you'd talk on the phone for a few weeks then, especially since Eddie came back to your life. You were trying to not worry them, to not bring up the subject too often, but they knew you better than you knew yourself.

In the same way Eddie once knew you too.

On the morning of the 30th, you were woken up by several insisting knocks on your apartment door. Those were unexpected in themselves, since no one used to visit you. Especially at that time of day, after a long Sunday night shift. Your roommate was out of town for the holidays, and even then, it wasn’t like there were people coming in and out of your home on Monday mornings.

Mornings were for sleeping in and recovering from the buzzing in your ears left by way too loud live music — Linda would always say you'd all end up deaf, but you couldn't think of a better way of eventually losing your hearing — and standing on your feet since the afternoon. However, that particular Monday morning was different than any other.

Stumbling out of bed, you inwardly cursed whoever was bothering you this early, when you'd just gotten to bed. From the other side of the door, you could hear two people arguing. “Stop knocking! You've already woken up the whole building!”, one of them said, in a frazzled whisper-shout. The other responded, in an almost bored tone, “And she might still be asleep.”

You'd never yanked the lock open that fast in your life.

Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, with bags under their eyes and bags on the floor by their feet, stood on your doorstep. Their matching smiles staring right back at you.

“What are you doing here?” You gasped, launching yourself forward, involving both of them with your arms around their shoulders in an awkward group hug.

“We were long overdue for a road trip to see you.” Steve sounded tired as he squeezed you back.

“The old Beemer almost didn't make it.” Robin commented as you pulled away.

“I’d kill both of you for surprising me like this on my day off but I'm too happy to care right now.” You were already pulling their bags inside and closing the door, leading them in.

“Can we take a nap first? I'd rather be killed while I'm well rested.”

The cold, early morning sun shining through the window curtains made that sight even more surreal. Robin already lying on your couch, and Steve sitting himself on the floor in front of it, resting his head on the seat. You smiled through the sleepy fog that still lingered behind your eyes.

“That can be arranged.”

They slept through the morning and a little into the afternoon, which gave you time to sleep too.

After you were all awake and they'd settled their luggage in your room, showered and changed, it was time for an improvised breakfast for lunch with whatever you had in your fringe. Frozen waffles, scrambled eggs and plenty of coffee.

You sat around the small, square table in your kitchen while you listened to them talk about everything, everyone, you'd left behind. About running into your mom at Bradley’s Big Buy, about the kids going to college, — and how Robin hopes Dustin never follows any of Steve's advice, much to his chagrin — about Robin’s life in the city and Steve’s struggle to let go of the past.

Some things would never change, even when they did most drastically.

You didn't speak about yourself, content in just hearing them talk, basking in their warm presence. Until Robin asked, “What about Eddie, huh?”

“Yeah, what about Eddie?” Steve repeated, trying to act casually while he filled his mug with more coffee. It was never his strong suit.

You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. “What about Eddie?”

“Can't we ask how he's doing? How are the two of you doing?” Robin mirrored your position, grinning at you.

“There's no two of us, nothing’s changed in that regard, before you ask.” You sighed, “And Eddie… Eddie is doing great. The band is doing great, they're getting good traction with the public, the bar has been more and more crowded each weekend. It's just a matter of time until they get a better offer as a resident band, or from a label. I'm happy for him, for them.” You quickly corrected yourself.

“What about you? Are you happy?”

You couldn't help but smile at Steve's question. “It's bittersweet, I think. I grew used to having him around again, some days it's like I haven't even left, but I know it's got an expiration date hanging over us all over again. It's good to have him while I can, you know? I try not to think too much about it.”

“No use in telling him, then?” Robin finally breached the subject, you knew that was where they were trying to get all along.

You shake your head. “No, there never was, really. It's what I told you guys five years ago and it hasn't changed. Eddie doesn't want a soulmate, even if it's…”

“Not even if it's you? I really doubt that.” Steve interjected.

“Especially if it's me. Especially now, after everything I did. It's not fair to him.”

They exchanged a look then, one of those looks Robin and Steve shared that no one but then could really tell what it meant. It was enviable, really, to be that understood by someone. You once knew what that was like.

Before either of them could say anything, something shifted at the table. Subtle, like a soft gust of air, but you knew the feeling. You knew it well, and when you looked down between the empty plate of waffles and your barely touched cup of coffee, sat something that wasn't there a moment ago.

A woven leather bracelet, with a simple silver clasp. It was slightly worn, clearly well loved. There was no question where it came from.

You picked it up, letting it hang from your pointer finger.

“Is that… his?” Steve broke the silence.

A tired sigh left your lips from deep within your chest. “Who else could it be from?”

One more for the box.

As seemed like a pattern that day, you got woken up again, this time by the phone ringing.

Robin was sleeping in your roommate’s bedroom — because what she doesn't won't hurt her — and Steve was dead asleep, snoring on your couch. He didn't budge as you picked up the bright blue receiver from where it hung from the wall.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you up?”

Eddie's tone did not indicate he was even a bit remorseful — you could practically see the dimples forming around his lips stretched in a charming smirk, his body leaning against the telephone booth.

“You didn't call me to ask that.”

Little did he know you had a matching smile on your own lips.

“You’re right. Jus’ wanna hear your adorable, middle of the night voice.”

“Asshole.” You scoffed, and if your face felt a little hot, you tried to ignore it. “What's up?”

“You wanna go help me put up some posters over on the Strip? Linda said we need all the marketing we can get for New Year’s, and I could use some help.”

“And your dear bandmates can't help because…?”

“Didn't ask them. I'm asking you.”

“Why? Missed my pretty face that much? You saw me yesterday, man.”

“Jesus…” He sighed, overdramatic and loud, as you'd expect. “Just get your cute butt over here, I'm waiting at the next corner.”

You giggled, again, not being able to help yourself. “I knew it.”

Most days, you liked to tell yourself you shouldn't get too attached. Eddie would soon be leaving again, on a tour bus to brave the country — with how much people they'd been attracting to The Deuce, it was only a matter of time until one of them was a producer scouting for their label’s next big hit.

You told yourself that, if he didn't leave, then you would. You'd done it once, there was no harm in doing it again.

You realized you liked lying to yourself more than you were previously aware of.

Lying to yourself was what you did when you were crammed into the passenger seat of Jeff’s old car, less conspicuous than the beat-up behemoth Eddie calls a van, scouring the city for the best spot to tack some concert posters. The late night radio tune the background of your laughter, inside jokes returning like second nature, the red string tightening around your pinky finger.

It was what you did when he held your hand to make you walk the streets faster, trying to cover more ground through the night, the same way that he used to when you played together. When he asked you to sit on his shoulders to attach posters to places higher than either of you could reach, and his hands rested warm on your thighs. When you ended the night at the same diner you did every morning, sleepy eyes meeting over hot coffee mugs.

Closer each day, still pretending to be far.

Holidays were never a busy time at The Deuce, which meant that the crowd at that New Year's Eve party was something you'd never seen before.

Being one of the smaller, lesser known clubs at the Strip, your parties were always a bit more inconspicuous. Smaller bands, smaller crowds, a lot less trouble. For some reason — and you suspected it was due to the news of a certain frontman’s charisma spreading through the city like wildfire — everything you expected was turned upside down this year.

Tickets were sold out that afternoon, and the bouncer had manager to squeeze in a few more people waiting in line. All pretty girls, of course. You had drinks to sell, after all.

The beginning of the night went as smoothly as you could manage. You got in earlier than usual, as did the rest of the staff, and by the time people started rolling in, you barely had time to greet Robin and Steve, who promptly found a place to sit further from the stage.

It was funny, seeing all of your old friends under the same roof again, even if it was just for one night. The boys came from backstage to say hello for a moment, and it was almost like being back at The Hideout again, with those same old drunks, and much less history between all of you. If you closed your eyes, it was almost like being there again.

If you looked closely, though, the strained smiles and awkward small talk amidst your closest friends and Eddie told you everything would never be the same again, not even if you tried.

A new year, a new life. Wishes to make, though yours was always the same.

You tried to shake that feeling, though, and concentrate on work. On the buzzing, electric feeling in the air, on the loud chatter and the music the DJ was playing in the background, on the eminent excitement for midnight to come.

Your wish happened to come out of backstage again that evening right before the band came on, wrapping one arm around your shoulder while you carried an empty tray towards the bar.

Your heart raced as he leaned closer, voice lowered for your ears only. “Do you see that guy over there?”

He pointed at a man sitting by himself, close to the stage — as close as he could get without getting into the crowd that was already forming in front of it. He looked like a mixture of Kim Fowley and a Ken doll, nothing too out of the ordinary for the men you saw regularly here, but he was definitely not a regular.

“Who is that?” You whispered back at him as you placed the tray back on the counter. Eddie remained there, with his arm around you, his body learning against your side. You could tell how excited he was by the wild grin on his face.

“He's here for us. Linda called on some favors with an old friend who knows people, and… voi-fucking-lá. We have an in.”

“Good luck, then.” You smiled, turning to fully look at him. “You're gonna need it.”

You were not expecting it when he left a lingering kiss on your forehead before walking away.

If there was a strange feeling growing on the back of your throat, you tried your best to ignore it. It stayed there as you watched Corroded Coffin perform what you thought was their best night there, their music rising and rising the crowd until they broke like a wave, manic guitars and heavy drums working them for their own pleasure.

It stayed until the clock struck midnight, and Eddie threw a kiss at you from the stage, and you pretended to catch it in the air and place it in your heart. Somehow, that felt more intimate than the dozens of couples kissing all around you.

All hell broke loose after the band left the stage.

The DJ returned, where he would stay until the bar closed, and as everyone scattered around the bar, it was the usual pandemonium you were already used to, but with much more people. The bar was busy, which meant you were busy, but not too busy to sneak a shot or two with Steve and Robin, or watch the former flirt with Heather behind the bar.

Eddie and the boys were all around, talking to everybody. It felt nice to see them in their element, especially Eddie with his big gestures and loud personality — he was right at home, there. It felt even nicer when you managed to cross each other, his hands always finding a way to touch you, to let you know he was there.

As good nights, though, that one also had to come to an end.

It started to crumble when you had a full tray of beers, and a man bumped into you. You tripped, but didn't fall, thanks to all the practice you'd had. The man grabbed your waist, then, harshly. “Whoa, there! Falling for me already?”

“You wish. Let go.” You responded, curly, already trying to escape. It wasn't the first time you dealt with one of these types, and it wouldn't be the last. Keeping your cool was the best you could do in a situation like this.

“Not yet. Let me show you a good time, baby.”

“I said let me fucking go.” You gritted through your teeth. Some people around started to notice, and it wasn't long until they started staring. His hands started to lower on your hips, whining some you couldn't understand through slurred speech, until you felt someone push the man's shoulder.

“She said let go, man. You heard it the first time.”

“Not right now, pretty boy.” He pointed at Eddie, and you saw an opportunity to pull yourself away, and didn't resist stepping on his foot, hard.

“Asshole. Get the fuck out of here.”

The man’s face grew red with pain, and anger, no doubt. “Bitch!”

You heard Eddie let out a bitter laugh before his face was flying at the man’s face, who upon impact, lost balance and barrelled into you again, but with full force this time, sending the beers on your tray flying, glass shattering on the floor, and beer spilling onto you.

It was like being in the middle of a hurricane. Eddie fought the guy, who was already on the floor, as the boys came running to drag Eddie away. Robin, with Steve on her tow, pulled a startled you by the hand and away from there. Her and Heather lead you towards Linda’s office at the back, but all you wanted was to look back.

In your haste, you'd left the door unlocked.

The bathroom inside the small office room was cramped, but better than the ones outside. Robin had offered to come in with you, but you wanted to cool off alone. She waited outside as you attempted to clean yourself, your black top hanging from the sink as you wiped the drink off your chest with paper towels.

Your heart still beating fast in your eardrums, though the adrenaline was starting to wear off, made you tremble a bit, a cold shiver going through your body. You didn't know if it was relief that nothing worse happened, or if it was the phantom memory of Eddie’s hands gripping your body close to his.

You sighed, looking at your disheveled self in the blurry, dirty mirror.

The door handle rattled behind you, and you answered without looking. “I'll be right out, Rob.”

“Buckley is outside with Harrington and the bartender chick.” There's a slightly injured hand, free of the usual rings adorning it, holding the door a few inches open, and a face obscured by overgrown bangs. “Can I come in?”

Through your daze, you made yourself a reminder to trim Eddie’s hair when you could.

Sensing his hesitation, you smiled as best as you could through your reflection, feeling too vulnerable to look back. “Yeah. Of course.”

Quietly, — too quietly for Eddie — he came in and the door clicked closed behind him, but he didn't move, staying still with his back against it. You realized he was probably trying to make himself smaller, as to not scare you even further. Your heart grew warm while your body still shivered.

“Is everyone alright?”

When you turned, you noticed you were mirroring each other's positions. Trying to stay as far as possible in that tight space, arms pressed to yourselves, as the red string between you pulled and pulled and pulled, strained to the point of breaking.

It didn't, it wouldn't.

“Yeah, they kicked the guy out. Uh… I kicked the guy out, actually, and the guys helped, but yeah.” He chuckled nervously. You couldn't see them, but if you had to guess, the tips of his ears would be bright red. “Linda threatened him to never come back with that pistol she keeps under her desk, you should have seen it.”

You giggled despite yourself, “Man, how could I have missed that.”

“Are you alright?” Big brown eyes stared at you from across the small room and, as they always did, disarmed you completely.

“I'm alright.” You turned again, reaching to give your wet top a thorough squeeze before putting it on again. “Didn't get hurt, just got wet…”

You forced a laugh, but Eddie didn't return the sentiment. When you looked back again, he wasn't looking at you anymore.

He was crouching, picking something off the floor. The ceiling light wasn't on, just the yellow one over the mirror, and you struggled to see what it was until he straightened himself up, shuffling on his boots. The first thing you noticed on his right hand was a silver chain, and at the end of it, a red guitar pick. It must have fallen while you took your top off in a hurry.

You knew it like the back of your own hand. It was slightly chipped at the bottom, the scaly red slowly losing its former glossy finish, the faded Fender logo at the center of it.

You knew he knew it too.

“Where did you get this?”

A hand stretched between you, like a long corridor in a dream. Just within your line of sight, but unreachable. The necklace hung from it, limp, its silver chain glinting in the yellow light of the flickering lamp.

When you didn't answer, Eddie’s voice hardened. “I'm not gonna ask again.”

Your eyes were focused on the red guitar pick, not on his face. You swallowed hard, “I think you already know.”

“No, I don't.” He emphasizes it with your name, and it hurts you to hear it. The atmosphere changed completely, then. “I lost this years ago after a show in Indy, but you were already gone. Where did you get it?”

Eddie's voice trembled with something you only describe as betrayal. There was grief too, somewhere in there. Your shattered heart ached, but you couldn't find it in yourself to say something. Anything.

“What have you been hiding from me?” He had never sounded this quiet. It scared you.

“Nothing you don't already know.” You mumble, staring at the floor. “Like I said, I think you already know.”

Frustrated, he stomps his feet, but you don't flinch. “Goddamnit! Just tell me. Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

“So, you do know?”

Narrowed eyes met in the middle. The red string tensed, and bent — does it break? Could it, ever? Sometimes you wished you could snap it. For his sake, not yours. But all it did was stretch impossibly tighter, like the fist that closed itself around your heart.

“I don't…” Eddie's eyes glistened in the dark, whiskey dark, swimming in murky waters. “I feel like I don't know you like I thought I did.”

You broke first, approaching the door with trembling legs, like a deer in headlights. The two of you stared at each other closely for what felt like more than just a mere moment, unsaid things hanging heavy in the air.

“Did you ever?”

It doesn't break, but bends, and bends, and bends.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst

[buckactuallys]

18 or 25 for the relationship prompts? 💗💗💗

hi and thank you for the prompt! sorry this took me so very long to write, but i hope you like it anyway 💕

18. brushing through the other's hair while talking/25. feeding each other their food

[read on ao3]

It’s a slow shift. Not from the beginning, they get called out plenty in the morning, but the afternoon is slow already and now it’s 9pm and they haven’t had a call since before dinner. 

All the chores are done, everything is clean and fully stocked and put away. 

Bobby is in his office with some paperwork, but he insisted that he doesn’t need any help before heading downstairs. 

No one was in the mood to play a game or anything, so they’re just sort of lounging around the loft, an action movie playing on TV that no one’s really paying attention to. Hen and Chim are on the armchairs, but they’re turned mostly away from the TV, their focus on each other and Buck, and the conversation the three of them are having.

Beside Buck, Eddie keeps sinking lower in his seat until his head eventually comes to rest on Buck’s shoulder. Buck shoots him a fond look and lifts the hand that’s currently on the backrest of the couch to scratch at Eddie’s scalp gently. 

Eddie makes a soft noise and rubs his cheek against Buck’s shoulder like a cat, which Buck takes as encouragement to keep going.

It’s fine – they agreed to keep this on the low for a bit (not really a secret, but they’re not telling anyone yet either. Well, except for Chris, because that would’ve felt like lying, and Bobby, because they didn’t want to risk anything by keeping secrets from the brass), but so far no one’s even looked at them twice. Buck has had his arm slung over the back of the couch and essentially around Eddie for ages now, and no one’s said a word.

They’ve always been close after all, and for the last three weeks, they’ve slowly been adding more little touches to the list of things they do, like a head on the other’s shoulder, or, like today, Buck’s hand in Eddie’s hair. 

It’s been kind of fun finding out what they can get away with before anyone figures them out. 

He keeps combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair absently while talking to Hen and Chimney, and it’s easy like this. 

With his last relationship, with Tommy, they made it public so quickly kind of accidentally, but it was fine, because there wasn’t that much at stake. Sure, it doubled as his coming out to a lot of people, but Buck’s glad that happened so organically and without him having time to overthink or worry.

With Eddie, the situation is completely different. There’s so much at stake for them, everything, that they felt safer keeping it between themselves for a few weeks, to see how they adjust to this change. The two of them – and Christopher.

But it’s been three weeks now, and things have been great, so it’s okay if they want to be a bit more open with it. And Buck wants.

Ever since he realized how he feels about Eddie, about seven minutes before he kissed him for the first time, he’s been wanting to shout his love for him from the rooftops. It hasn’t been easy keeping that in, and his hands to himself.

So it’s easy, letting himself be a little bit more affectionate with Eddie like this, up here in the loft of their fire station, with their friends.

The low hum Eddie lets out and the relaxed lines of his body pressing against Buck’s tell him that he feels the same way. And if anyone asks – that’s fine, they’re ready to share whenever it happens.

But Hen just keeps telling her story about the latest shenanigans Denny and Mara have gotten up to, pretending to be annoyed by them even though it’s obvious she loves that they’re getting along this well. Chimney chimes in with stories from his and Kevin’s childhood, and Buck occasionally shares something he did as a kid just to shock Hen.

“You’re not hanging out with my kids unsupervised,” she says after he finishes telling them about a prank he and some other boys played on a teacher, and gets up from her chair. “I’m making popcorn. You guys want some, too?”

“Yes, please,” Eddie says sleepily from Buck’s shoulder, raising his hand.

Buck smiles at him, endeared, and squeezes the back of his neck gently. Without looking up, he tells Hen, “I–I’ll take some too, thanks, Hen.”

“You know if it’s there, I’ll eat it,” Chimney says. His chair creaks when he stands up too. “I’ll help you.”

The two of them head to the kitchen, bickering quietly, and Buck takes the opportunity to turn his head, brushing his nose along Eddie’s forehead and pressing a kiss to his brow.

“Tired, sweetheart?”

“A little,” Eddie mumbles, turning further into Buck, his knee pressed to the side of Buck’s thigh. “And you’re comfortable.”

“I’m not complaining,” Buck says, and starts combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair at the back of his head again. “Just say the word and we can go to the bunkroom.”

“No, I want the popcorn now,” Eddie says, blinking his eyes open. “I’m awake.”

Buck laughs and kisses his temple. “If you say so.”

Hen and Chim return with the popcorn not much later, and their conversation has moved on to a movie Buck hasn’t seen, so he’s happy to just sit back, one hand always on Eddie, listen to their familiar voices, and snack on his popcorn.

“Gimme some of that,” Eddie says quietly, jerking his chin towards the popcorn in Buck’s hand.

“The bowl is right there,” Buck says, but he’s already extending his hand.

Eddie gives him a smile that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and brushes his fingers along Buck’s hand while he grabs some of the popcorn. “Thanks.”

Buck rolls his eyes, but they both know it’s just for show.

The next time he reaches for the bowl, he pops some in his mouth and offers the rest to Eddie, holding it between two fingers.

Instead of taking it from him, Eddie leans forward and eats it straight from Buck’s fingers, lips wrapped around them for just a second that’s enough to make his entire body go hot, especially his face.

Hen and Chimney stop talking.

Eddie looks at Buck like everything is completely normal, then turns to Chimney and Hen to ask, “What?”

“What is up with you two tonight?” Chimney asks, exasperated. “You got something to tell us?”

Eddie shrugs, jostling Buck a little. His eyes practically sparkle, shining with mischief when he turns to Buck, and Buck loves him so much. “I don’t know, Buck, do we? Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“You’ve basically been,” Hen makes an impatient gesture that encompasses both of them on the couch, “fucking cuddling for an hour. And now you’re feeding each other popcorn? You’re always all over each other, but this is…different.”

“Well, I didn’t expect Eddie to eat it like that, either,” Buck says, and blushes even more when Eddie just winks at him.

“Chim, I never want us to be the kind of best friends they are,” Hen says, and Buck makes the mistake of meeting Eddie’s eye, both of them bursting into laughter.

“I sure hope you won’t, since you’re both married,” Eddie wheezes, and Buck descends into laughter again.

“What does that have to–” Chim pauses. “Hold on.”

“Oh, they’re getting there,” Buck says in a stage whisper, reaching out to wipe a tear from the corner of Eddie’s eye.

Eddie catches his hand on the way back and presses a kiss to his palm before tangling their fingers.

Both Hen and Chimney are gaping at them, and Hen calls out weakly, “Cap, are you seeing this?”

“Yep,” Bobby’s amused voice wafts over from the kitchen. Buck didn’t even hear him come back. “But they told me three weeks ago already.”

“What!” Hen yelps, and Chimney shakes his head like a wet dog, looking beyond confused.

“So are you saying– you’re really—” His eyes flick down to their hands, then back up to their faces, moving rapidly from Buck to Eddie and back.

“Together?” Eddie asks. “Yeah.”

“Since when!” Hen demands, and she somehow looks both appalled and delighted. “How did this happen? How did I miss this?”

“I guess you just didn’t know what to look for,” Buck says, turning his head to smile at Eddie. “I can relate to that.”

#buddie #911fic #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #pia writes #ask #kitteneddiediaz

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Second chance: cbf!soap x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, angst

You placed the moving box down by your old childhood bed and sighed heavily. That was the last box from your apartment, you were going to fully moved in after this.

Th past year had been one your worst...almost topping junior year of university. It was like the universe was playing some sort of sick trick on you with how constant the bad things kept happening to you.

It started because of your ex-fiancé.

You liked him.

He was nice, attractive and one of the more serious relationships you had gotten into since university. He bought you nice things and showed you off, though whenever you looked back on it he often paired his compliments with negatives to subtly tear you down.

You didn't notice then, or maybe you didn't care as much, or maybe you just pretended not to so he'd stay.

He was really only attentive in the bedroom which was a plus compared to a few other loves you had before him.

The sex was so great however that you walked in on him with another woman in your apartment in your bed one morning after a fight.

At that moment you realized maybe you held on too tight to something you shouldn't have.

After you kicked him out and broke things off you decided it was best to just take a step back from any relationships and to completely get off social media, since it did wonders on your mental health after the break up.

You were lucky enough that you had more self respect for yourself when it came to a cheater than a partner who put you down when he tried to get back with you, even if it hurt you a lot.

You liked him.

Things were looking okay but you should've known better than to get your hopes up.

"We're needing to cut back on a lot of expenses." Your boss had told you. "We still want you on the team but we'll be cutting your pay."

In hindsight you should've waited to quit until you found another job, because before long you were out of money to pay rent since no one else would hire you.

Now you were back to living with your parents.

Your throat tightened as you began to unpack the box onto your bed while deep shame washed over you.

You were a failure. Everyone else in your life had things figured out, Your friends had their own places, they were happily married, they had careers that they like and you...

Well you were stuck back in your small hometown with no back up plan and no job.

Alone.

You sniffled and flopped onto your bed.

You tried hard not to give yourself a pity party but you were at your wits end. You tried everything, you pushed down your feelings and tried to look on the bright side and did everything you were supposed to but nothing worked.

You needed someone right now but your friends were miles away and busy. Your parents were visiting your grandparents and you didn't want their pity.

There was one person.

You grabbed your phone without even thinking about it and went to John's contact in your phone. You went to his messages, ignoring the last mundane message you sent him and hovered your thumbs above the keyboard.

How many times have you done this?

You knew he'd let you cry into the phone and listen to you vent. He'd give you advice or at the very least he'd comfort you and tell you that things were going to be okay, that it always ends up working out for you in the end. He'd make everything alright-

Except you didn't know.

It had been seven years since you last spoke or saw each other. You're not even sure if he had the same phone number, if he even thought about you as often as you did about him.

John could've forgotten about you. He probably became some big shot military hero who had a wife and kids completely far removed from the small town childhood friend he had.

You didn't know, he wasn't on social media.

The only way you could find out was if you reached out and talked to him.

But he didn't want to talk to you.

You had held him back, like you feared you did since high school. That was the only reason you could think of for why he disappeared on you. Why else would he stop talking to you?

You weren't bitter, not anymore. You used to be angry the first year or so but after the angry subsided you realized you were just hurt.

You just wanted your best friend back. Your Johnny. But he was out of reach and he didn't want to come back, he never really did even when he visited you at university.

The screen became blurry and a couple tears ran down your face before you wiped them away.

You needed a distraction.

You didn't think twice as you sloppily put on whatever clothes you could find and walked to the corner store. You were glad your parents weren't in town to see you get drunk on a Monday evening, especially when they kept looking at you like you were push away from a break down.

Probably because you were but that didn't matter right now.

When you walked into the store you went straight to the liquor and picked out the cheapest one you could afford along with any snacks you thought would pair well with it.

You could just drown in your sorrows for the rest of the evening. You'd put on your favorite show or movie, try to ignore the world and hope that when you'd be hungover tomorrow that you'd have enough strength to look for more jobs.

You turned down an aisle and your heart stopped before you froze.

John MacTavish stood at the very end of the aisle, looking very concentrated on the boxes of popcorn in front of him as if it were a life or death situation.

The very real, tangible, and unmistakable John MacTavish, still with the dumb but endearing mohawk, stood just mere feet away from you.

You wanted to be happy but all you felt was immense shame and nervousness.

Not like this. You didn't want to see him like this. You wanted to reconnect when your life was back together, when you had something to show for and not when you were holding cheap alcohol to get shitfaced on a Monday.

"No." You mumbled to yourself as you stared at him with wide eyes. "No, no."

You stepped back and gasped when you ran into a rack of snacks that crashed against the floor loud enough to make your ears hurt. Your heart raced and you nearly ran away as everything became overwhelming.

"Bonnie?"

You snapped your head towards John and you were met with the bright blue eyes that you had missed for seven years.

Tags are closed!

a/n: yay reunion!

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie @hayleybarnesx @tiredmetalenthusiast @misshoneypaper @sodavrr @ghostslittlegf @glitterypirateduck @comeonatmebruh @mandalover2023 @blush-haze @xxshadowbabexx @cod-z @sadsackssss @fandomsfanficsfantasize @raeyas-ghost

#cbf!soap #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #call of duty

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[reggies-eyeliner]

OKAY AN EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT SENSELESS RAMBLE ABOUT JWCT REGARDING GRIEF AND EMOTIONS AND FOUND FAMILY AND COMPLEX CHARACTERS COMING UP AHEAD WOOP WOOP !!!

i cannot stress to you enough. how much i love the way they write processing trauma. like yeah trauma is all silly and angst and whatever but it's a real thing like genuinely and it's exhausting to see shows just dismiss it over and over again but THIS SHOW I SWEAR IT'S JUST. EVERYTHING IS DONE SO SO WELL AND I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL LIKE

and not to mention that the animation SERIOUSLY DOES IT JUSTICE like the expressions are SO GOOD OH MY GOSH LIKE IT'S I'M THEY'RE YEAH THE EXPRESSIONS. ARE INCREDIBLE. that looks darius got in his eyes when he KNEW the password to brooklyn's phone and kenji didn't??? so good SO GOOD and just the way their eyes all shine before they start crying is actually done so well that if you listen carefully you can feel my heart breaking

also i love how like emotional processing is also written so much. all of them aren't afraid to cry and i feel like that's just. yeah it's beautiful. they cry soft they cry loud whatever it is they're comfortable enough to do so and if they're not they at least know they won't be judged for it ARE YOU KIDDING ME I'M GOING TO BITE A TABLE?????

the characters have flaws. i love that so much. the characters are not perfect but they're still likable and it's executed so well. darius' grief is PALPABLE and kenji's anger, albeit sometimes annoying, is so understandable that you can't actually be angry or annoyed with him because the story writing makes you understand. that's incredible. yasmina struggles with anxiety and ptsd and she gets frustrated and that is !! okay !! sammy ignores her emotions and struggles with toxic positivity but we understand *why* she talks to yasmina that way (because she's worried and scared and concerned for her girlfriend, but she's also just as worried of truly addressing what she's been through) so it's so hard to get mad at her. ben is THANJ GOODNESS not mischaracterized as a cinnamon roll and is actually a complex character with complex emotions and i can't get enough of it. he's like a pain he's so annoying sometimes but it's endearing because he reminds you of that one classmate from elementary that makes you go ohhh yeah no it's him that's fine

okay paragraph was getting long but I do have more to say about kenji. the relationships in this show are executed SO WELL and I'm beyond relieved that Kenji and Daniel's relationship was written INCREDIBLY WELL

like. okay first off the asian rep YEAHGHH IT EAS GOOD !!! WOOP WOOP YRAHAHDH HONK HONK the part about kenji saying he should get his violin after daniel was like telling his sob story was SO FUNNY OH MH GOSH

and just. kenji and daniel kon. im. like his dad was never perfect. far from it and yet kenji just he loves him so much and wants to make him proud and it makes me sick because the writing helps you UNDERSTAND why

daniel keeps giving kenji ultimatums and kenji standing up to him for once just. yeah. that was done incredibly well. and then not even ten minutes after daniel started to change and gave his son something without expecting anything in return other than his presence daniel gets eaten alive in front of him.

okay now this show holy moly i was NOT expecting daniel to just. get ripped apart but um YEAH THAT HAPPENED and the grief was written so well I cannot stress this enough. I loathe in movies and shows when they skim past traumatic deaths and just act like the grief is just non existent and this show does an incredible job at showing that it is VERY MUCH STILL THERE and it makes people out there who are struggling feel a little less crazy and that's so beautiful

i've been a benrius enthusiast since day one and honestly at this point i just hope everything goes well for them moving on. brooklyn's death and Darius coping with her grief was done SO SO WELL and honestly okay as much as i love sibling-type dinostar i think rewatching scenes with the lens that he was in love with her just makes it hurt so much and it's just. yeah. it's written well.

I will say that I think the story could have gone on without Darius confessing his love to Brooklyn, and the scene where Kenji asked Darius about the voicemails could have been used solely as a chance to highlight grief. another way the scene could have gone was if kenji sifted through the voicemails and just heard Darius's voice shatter in a way he's never quite heard it or listened to darius blame himself and that could have been a moment for kenji to realize that grief isn't something people should deal with alone, that *he* shouldn't deal with grief alone

regardless i really do think the idea that Darius was in love with Brooklyn was done really well. I don't know a better way for kenji to have figured out the truth, and for that I am grateful :D!! I hope the hardcore shippers don't get too mad though 😭

also I absolutely loved the lady with the whistle. she's cool. her character design is terrifying and the way she treats the dinosaurs reminds me a of a queen that is very fond of her workers like 😭 she's cool but also i would never want her within a 100 mile radius of me

the found family in this show is actually. yeah. it makes me cry because it's just done so well because it doesn't idealize perfect relationships. there are awkward moments, there are sad moments, characters still feel broken and alone despite having people who've actively said that they'd go to the moon and back for them. it's realistic and it's written beautifully

I think Darius might actually be the character with The Writing ever. his grief and his nostalgia, his awkwardness and fascination with learning and his kindness are all things that exist together and I am so so grateful for that. he's allowed to laugh and make jokes while feeling constant, looming guilt. he is fascinated with learning while also struggling to feel like he deserves to be happy, he enjoys learning about dinosaurs while also being terrified of them on the worst days. he feels guilty and feels like a bad person. but he's loved and he's cared for. can you tell he's my favorite now because

enamored with yasmina and sammy as always. they are just the girlfriends ever and i love so much how openly they communicate with each other. sammy apologizes when she makes mistakes, yasmina doesn't hold it against her. they're always at each other's sides and their love isn't conditional. i love them SO MUCH

okay sorry im making this about darius again but this guy actually is The character ever. I don't think I've ever felt so seen in a character and i just yeah the writers are incredible because all of the characters are written to feel relatable, and if not that, to feel real. it was just a huge comfort to me to know that okay im not crazy for feeling this way because of a character, who was written and animated by dozens and dozens of creators was allowed to be written this way, i'm not messed up in the head, im just processing emotions and it's okay that I need help for that

THIS SOUNDS SO CRINGE I AM SO SORRY

but yeah i. i love this show.

#jwct #jwct spoilers #Jurassic world chaos theory #jwcc #jwcc Darius #jwcc Ben #jwcc yasmina #jwcc Kenji #jwcc Sammy #benrius #dinostar #Brooklyn #Jurassic world chaos theory spoilers #ben Pincus #Kenji kon #darius Bowman #Brooklyn nolastname #yasmina fadoula #sammy Gutierrez #yasammy #daniel kon

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi! I was just reading through all your HCs (love them all btw) and just read the bachelorettes react to your kids being turned into pigeons. I'm so curious to hear how you think the bachelors would react. Have a great weekend!

Oh, that headcanon again... 🥲 (Yay, pain and suffering!). Thanks so much for the question, dear anon, hope you enjoy some angst 💕 Have a great weekend too!

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors react to Farmer who turned their children into pigeons:

⚠️ Warning: angst, mention of blood, mention of violence, loss of children.

Sam:

Whether or not to count it as a blessing, Sam's mind just didn't accept the Farmer's words when he first heard the news from them. Like, total denial. Hey honey, is that some kind of new slang? Hehehe, he seems to be a little behind the trends since he spent so much time taking care of their cute kids! But that's okay, because when they all go to visit his parents together, Farmer will explain the meaning of the slang to them, right?

"....Babe, what do you mean 'we won't waste any more time on children? W- where are the little ones...?"

Alex:

Alex had always thought he saw the personification of evil in the eyes of his alcoholic father, who had made his and his mother's life nightmarish and miserable. But after being struck by the words Farmer said and looking at their emotionless face, he realises that he has only now seen true evil. It would take inhuman stamina for Alex not to run around and smack Farmer in the face.

"Stay away from me, you monster..."

Sebastian:

Sebastian held his obsidian dagger in his trembling hand and pointed it in the direction of the Farmer - the person at whom the point of the dagger was not to be aimed! - lest they should come any nearer to him. He could understand everything. Fuck, he could even somehow understand the choice to relinquish parental rights and give them to an orphanage! But to use black magic to get rid of a child who was guilty of nothing more than coming into the world...?

He couldn't protect their baby. And now, how much chance did he have then, even with a dagger?

Elliott:

"You couldn't do that... Tell me... Tell me you didn't do it! That it was just a bad evil joke! TELL ME!"

As Elliott shouted at Farmer, his back touched the nearest wall and he slid down slowly, shocked, unable to stand up any longer. Their child, their precious treasure.... They had waited so long together for a new family member, and now the little one is cursed forever, hovering somewhere in the clouds, betrayed by their own parent. The thought makes the writer want to vomit. And to die.

Harvey:

Harvey's throat felt as if it were clamped with tongs. He could not say a word, could not breathe; it was inconceivable to the doctor's mind that the Farmers had remained so calm and serene after literally murdering their children... Why? Why had they done this to innocent children? Why did they do this to him?! Harvey's instincts screamed at him to run, but instead he fainted, seeing only darkness before him.

Harvey doesn't want to fight them. He'll let them finish him off too, because he can't live with that thought.....

Shane:

Farmer had expected Shane's reaction to be bad, but even they didn't know he would literally go wild. Although, why should they be surprised? Shane had finally acquired happiness, a spouse and a family he'd never even dared to dream of. He was happy, and he was doing everything he could to make Farmer and their children happy. His whole world had been shattered. And now Shane, furious and grief-stricken, is smashing bottles to use the shards as a weapon against Farmer.

There's gonna be blood on the floor tonight.

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #thanks for the ask! #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv shane

[equallyshaw]

rose's relationship with her brothers + reactions to her coming out! | rutger x rose hughes au! ⚘ thoughts! ⚘ au masterlist.

rose + quinn: - that's his rosie posey - originated the nickname, posey after their parents called her rosie the first time - incredibly close as they both lived in BC for 4 years - growing up, he'd always make sure she played with them and always made sure the two others gave her time to learn the game - rose was his shadow growing up - always told her that she didn't need to play jack's position - a center - to make the positions even, like luke and quinn - also, he always said that if she gave up hockey nobody would be disappointed because there was a time she wanted to quit to be 'normal' at school - flied rose out during his time in vancouver that overlapped with hers, whenever she was able to come out. he also flew out to visit her and see her games at BC + her jr hockey club - she sends him all her poems, before she posts them to her poetry/spam account - always says if hockey doesn't work out, she should publish her works. - quinn is her passenger princess when they are together - always there to be a source for advice, and somebody for her to lean on - will belt out olivia rodrigo, any day of the week - since the moment she was born, he made jack promise they'd always be there for her and protect her. the two take their unspoken role very seriously

rose + jack: - tolerate eachother at best - just kidding but they do butt heads a lot because he doesn't always pick up on her sarcasm and thinks she is serious 100% which...it is typically 75% - nickname for rose is flower - jack is always done for spur of the moment ice cream trips and both have an adoration for brunch dates - when she told him that she was thinking of trying to go for the CHL because they had reached out and asked her and her team about joining the men's league, he was incredibly happy and excited for her. not to mention flattered she wanted his opinion, but ultimately she skipped the chl and headed for college- a year early - he is the easiest to make a meme out of, and will regularly post to her spam account (he can literally breathe, and one appears) - during summer camps growing up, rose would be his winger/forward. the two loved playing together and it meant both her brothers could be on the same line

rose + luke: - nickname for rose is lovie - after quinn, her and luke are closest because of their ages - their favorite season is summer because they all get to be together, and especially for these two, the two have always held a bond that nobody can touch - as a kid she used to play defence because she wanted to be like luke, and then realized she wasn't going to grow much more and shifted to winger/forward - coffee partners for life - at the lakehouse you'll probably find these two together. she'll be reading or writing, and he'll be napping either at her feet or right behind her. or nearby. - definitely a sunshine/black cat sibling duo - interchanging - both love drive around with country music blasting - because she hates golf, the brothers take her to mini golf during the summer which leads to a very heated game between the two young ones

their reactions to coming out as bisexual:

quinn: - incredibly grateful she came out to him first after asking for a plane ride to see him - gave her the absolute biggest hug and shed some tears now knowing how long she'd been holding it in and how much turmoil she went through - told her how proud he was of her and that he was proud to be her sister (cue the waterworks again!) - when she started going out with her ex girlfriend - publicly, he was so happy for her and was one of their biggest supporters in private and on social media

jack: - was incredibly proud of her for coming out to them - was happy that she could publicly be with her girlfriend at the time - gave her the biggest bear hug and said if anybody says something or treats you differently- they'd have to answer to him (all three) - because he is always down for a good time, he told her that if she wants to go to a pride parade - he wants to join her

luke: - was a tad bit hurt that she hadn't said anything to him earlier but got over it real quickly after realizing that it was her own journey and the decision to tell him whenever - the two had a long hug and then long talk about when she knew, how things came about with her ex and then like jack, had said he'll always be there to protect her if she needed him to - she told him that it was the hardest thing to keep from not only the whole family, but him because of the bond that they share (lots of tears were shed during their heart to heart)

ellen + jim: - more than accepting, welcoming and supportive - just like all their children, they want rosie to be happy - ellen could tell there was something on her daughters mind for sometime now, and is relieved to hear what it is - as soon as the words were shared, a minute passes before ellen is pulling her baby girl in her arms. - lots of tears were shed - jim was very quiet but nevertheless supportive and welcoming - he was overwhelmed but not in a bad way - gave her the biggest bear hug and forehead kiss - the next morning, rosie awoke to a small bouquet of hydrangeas, coffee + sandwich, and a card from jim - the card said everything he hadn't been able to share the night before, without crying. tells her how proud he is and that he is proud to have her as his daughter, and that he's always been proud of her. - when she tells the family that she has a girlfriend the same week, a beat doesn't pass before them wanting her to come visit them at the lake house and asking every question under the sun about them

#rutger mcgroarty x sister! hughes #rutger mcgroarty au #rutger mcgroarty x oc #quinn hughes #luke hughes #jack hughes #rut x rosie au #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #hockey au #nhl au #⚘ anna writes

[empressgeekt]

HTTYD/Trolls - Crossover - Branch is Adopted by Gobber au

Okay, so people liked my Branch Winchester Au, so here's another one I've been stewing on for a while.

The au starts with a five year old branch running away from another horrible foster home in the newly settled pop village. he just wants to get away, be somewhere ....or more accurately the sea of HTTYD. Little Branch (now human) is left bobbing in the stormy sea, for who knows how long, eventually washing up on the shore of Berk.

At the next Dawn, young Gobber and Stoick would be walking the stony shore, just having a moment of peace between the noises of chiefing and working in the forge, and the never ending dragon raids. Stoick would be griping to Gobber about his and Valka's fertility issues, he's not mad at Valka, he's just worried that he won't get an heir before he's at the gate of Valhalla. Then they find a tiny body washed up on the rocks. The child is clearly not from berk, his hair like coal, and skin the color of tree bark. And somehow alive.

Strange appearance or not both Stoick and Gobber rush to Gothi with the child in hand. They get some odd stares from the village, but other then that they know to wait for an announcement on the discovery. Gothi sees the child right away, and after a few hours allows Stoick and Gobber (and Valka having joined them while waiting) into her healing hut to see the child. His wounds wrapped and bundled up near her fireplace. She scribbles into the dirt that she read the child, and that he was sent by a higher power to be raised as a berkian, after his own tribe and house wronged him greatly. Valka is immediately pissed off (stoick's in love), after all the child couldn't be more then five, what tribe and family could've possible done away with a child so young. Not to mention the fact that she and stoick had been struggling to conceive, only made the whole situation worse. Seeing his wife's distress Stoick immediately begins planning to take the boy in, but Gothi stops him, saying that while the boy was sent to be raised by them, he wasn't to be Stoick's child. When asked who the child belongs too, Gothi points to Gobber.

Gobber freaks out and says he can't handle a kid. He never got married for two reasons, and he only tells people one of them, and that was because of how much drama and worry a family can have. But still he's no match for the combine wrath of Gothi and Valka, and reluctantly, takes the child back to his hut to recover. Stoick stops by that night, with some mild mead, and let's Gobber vent. He does not understand why the gods would send him a kid, Gobber hadn't had a family since he's parents died when he was a teenager, and they never had any children other then him, so Gobber was the last of his house and he was fine with that. He had his job, he had his friends, he was fine. Stoick tries to be comforting, saying the gods must have a reason, and maybe he'd like the kid. That maybe the kid was always meant to be his, but since Gobber never married they had to get creative to get his son to him. Gobber is not comforted.

Branch wakes up three days later and he is terrified. The man he's staying with has a hook for a hand, peg for a leg, and the longest mustache that he'd ever seen. He spends the day hidden underneath his covers, wanting nothing more then to wake up in the warm forests of his home.

Gobber is at a loss of what to do with the obvious terrified child in his hut. What was Gothi thinking, he couldn't handle this. Eventually he resorts to luring Branch out with food, and manages to get the kid to talk over a bowl of stew, cause while Gobber is a great smith he is also a fantastic cook. The child's name is Branch which, given the color of his skin and the green tunic he was where Gobber finds very ironic.

It's awkward those first few weeks, Gobber is basically trying to figure out how to take care of a kid. Feeding, and making sure he's getting to Gothi on time for healing checks are things he can handing. Branch overall is a much calmer wee one then most of the children in berk, definitely a thinker (not that Gobber minds they need more thinkers on berk), but it still feels like there's a wall between them.

Branch is very confused, about everything. Gobber is nice, he doesn't make Branch feel like something is wrong with him. Gothi is weird, and she's weird about wanting to see his tongue, but she's gentle. His new Aunt Valka is very nice, but her husband is big and scary (much to stoick's dismay). It takes a little while but eventually, he gets comfortable enough to ask questions, and heals enough to leave the hut. The first day that Gobber takes him to the forge, Branch is immediately fascinated by metal work, much to Gobber's joy. The wall between them began to crack, as Branch paid close attention to everything Gobber said regarding to smithing. Eventually, Branch asks why they makes so many weapons. All Gobber said is to protect themselves. From what? Well Branch got his answer after an early winter hit berk.

One Night Branch would awaken to screams and the smell of smoke. Gobber is ready to run out to the forge to do his job during the raid, only this time he has a child to think about. He has no choice but to drag the child with him through the chaos and snuff him in the forge while the smith got to work. Branch is constantly asking what's happening, and all he gets in answer is two words "Dragon raid". At some point in the night, Gobber asks Branch to grab something for him, and needed to do something other then quietly stew in panic, Branch quickly becomes Gobber's fetch boy, and was put in charge of keeping the coals warm. The raid last until sunrise, and by the end of it, he just clings to Gobber's too exhausted to be scared. Gobber carries the child home to sleep, any wall between them now broken.

For the next year, Branch would continue to help Gobber around the forge, while at the same time learning to read, and once the boy had written Norse down, Branch ate up any book put in front of him. Gobber carrying him home every night after the boy would fall asleep while studying in the forge. Sometime in Feberary, his Uncle Stoick and Aunt Valka have a baby, and once deemed safe, Gobber and Branch are the first to seeing little Hiccup, and upon seeing the little loaf of fur and baby, Branch was sold, nothing would happen to this kid. Not on his watch. Gobber even lets Branch help forge the baby sized axe that Stoick requested for his son.

Then came one of the worst nights in Branch's life. The raid had been normal at first, Branch helping out in the forge like he had been taught. Until someone screamed about the Chief's hut being destoryed. Not thinking anything but that little Hiccup was in danger, Branch runs out of the forge towards the now burning out...only to see his Aunt Valka being carried off by a stormcutter. For a moment, it's not Aunt Valka, and it's not a dragon, it's Grandma and the bergen. Branch runs back to his hut with Gobber and begins to sob into his bed. Gobber would find him there curled up underneath the blankets, just sad and scared. Some how Gobber gets his boy to open up about his grandmother and Gobber does interperate it like Grandma was carried off by a dragon and not a bergen, but the message was the same even if the details were a little fuzzy. Gobber comforts Branch saying that he'll protect the child, always. This is the night that Branch starts calling Gobber Dad.

Stoick falls off the deep end right after Valka was taken, he goes on crazy month long blind searches for her, and Gobber goes with him to stop Stoick from doing anything more stupid. At some point Gobber has enough and starts to try and talk some sense into stoick, afterall they both have lads at home, and Stoick is missing his son's infant years. It hurts, but Stoick knows that Gobber is right, all that's left of Valka is Hiccup, Stoick needs to protect him now, and he couldn't keep Gobber away from his own son too.

While his father and uncle were away, Branch was put into the care of Gothi, Hiccup was sent to say with his aunt (Valka's sister and soon to be Snotlout's mom), but Gobber and Branch were the last of their house so Gothi was the next best thing. During those months, Branch tries not to be a bother, Gothi is pleased to have a set of hands nearby so willing to help, and like with smithing Branch would pick up on healing rather quickly. He even helps her with patients once's he capable enough.

Eventually though, the searches stop and Gobber comes home for good.

Years seemed to fly by after that, Hiccup grows scrawny, and is quickly made a target by his peers for bullying. Though, the Forge becomes a safe place, Branch has six years on the other kids, and they knew they can't mess with him. The smith's son does not tolerate bullying or teasing when he's working, especially when it comes to Hiccup. He can't hate the other kids though, after all their still kids being kids. One of them he even feels bad for, little Fishlegs clearly didn't want to pick on Hiccup but also didn't want to be bullied either. Branch will throw hands if it gets physical, however.

Though there's one kid that Branch has a special hatred for. Dagur. The berserker heir, is not someone that Branch initially gets along with, especially after a swimming trip that almost ended in Dagur drowning Hiccup. A bitterness between the two only grow from there, and it bring out this cruel protective streak that Branch didn't know he had. Something is wrong with Dagur, and Branch isn't sure what, but it makes the heir dangerous. And unlike the other kids, Branch doesn't intimidate Dagur because their closer in age, and Dagur did always have more muscle.

By the time the movie rolls around, Branch is a smith in his own right at the age of 20. He and Gobber work in the together, with Hiccup joining them after picking up and interest in inventing. A hobby that Branch also enjoys, together they come up with all sorts of gadgets though Stoick almost never lets them test them. Gobber's proud of his boy, though now Branch is his own man. His son is strong, smart and rather good looking, the few suitors Branch has on Berk look at him with a decent level of desire. Sure, Branch wasn't the usual beefcake of a viking, but his figure was lean and strong, the darker hue of his skin also gave him an air of mystery. However, Branch made it very clear he wasn't interested in any of them.

In the meeting hall,

"Trolls exist! They steal your sock but only your left one what's with that?"

"Dad, trolls don't steal socks, and you only have left socks. They keep vanishing when I do the laundry."

"Because trolls keep stealing 'em!"

*sigh*

Branch is the first one to meet Toothless after Hiccup shot him down. When Hiccup is sneaking through the forge after he and toothless got tied together. Branch spots them and follows them back to the cove. There Hiccup explains and begs Branch not to tell his dad, and Branch says he won't as long as Toothless won't eat Hiccup. He helps the younger boy and dragon get unstuck, before marveling at the rigging that Hiccup made for Toothless. Branch wants in, mostly because it could mean finding a better way to keep the people in the village safe. Together the boys, learn more about dragons by studying Toothless, theories and findings Hiccup tests in the training ring.

After the disaster of a final test, Branch tries to follow Hiccup and Stoick and ends up witnessing their fight, and Stoick disowning Hiccup. This cuts deep and Branch looses all respect for the chief. He says goodbye to Hiccup before they leave, saying they'll always be brothers. Branch goes with the others to raid the nest, only to keep his father safe however, the rest of the village Chief included can go burn for all he cared.

Sadly this does mean that Branch is out of the dragon riding part of the battle, but I do plan on giving him a dragon at some point. Not sure which kind though, I'm thinking maybe a sand wraith, or dramillion, or maybe just say screw it and partner him up with Light Fury. I think they could make a fun duo, loner grouch with a very snooty over grown cat, who very protective.

---

It's late I'm going to split this up.

#fanfic #fanfic prompt #dreamworks trolls #how to train your dragon #httyd #crossover au #trolls branch #httyd gobber #gobber the belch #stoick the vast #hiccup haddock #Gothi #toothless #canon divergent au #humor #fic planning #adoption au #trolls #Branch is Adopted by Gobber au

[starry--blossom]

Alright, the special.

The special was SO FUCKING GOOD I'm crying inside because there's SOOOO much to talk about with the kyman moments I am THRIVING right now- ahem sorry got too hyper there ^^'

First of all, the fact that everytime Cartman had a skinny dream Kyle was always at the front of it one way or another, this boy is obsessed with him it's insane that he was in his dream twice and he went to him first at the end after the declaration THAT KYLE MADE.

Second, Kyle was making the conscious decision to help him make his dream real and was initiating almost ALL of the physical contact with Cartman which he would NEVER do and never HAS done until now.

Then Kyle filling out all the medical records and going through all the loops despite not really getting anywhere with Cartman watching him REALLY reminded me of the crack baby episode where he was doing all the legal shit and I am honestly living for it, plus not to mention that Kyle was getting pissed off FOR Cartman's sake because they kept being denied. So good.

BUT THEN it gets to when Kyle and the boys stay in the cycle of make the drug - drug gets taken - order more powder - repeat and Cartman was giving up, Kyle kept giving him the pep talks because Kyle knows that Cartman's never one to give up on anything so seeing him actively losing his will was weird for him to see and he wasn't allowing that, nuh uh. Even going as far as ordering a supply that wasn't their usual after the Indian factory got attacked.

Also when they had the yelling match shaking each other back and forth, those last words from Kyle were so fucking passionate and genuine are you kidding meeeeeee. AND THEY WERE INCHES AWAY FROM EACHOTHER THEY LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT PERSONAL SPACE IS- oh yeah and Cartman was literally staring at Kyle's lips.

And the chase scene... WHERE DO I BEGIN?? Kyle was literally SHOOTING PEOPLE'S MOTHERS so he could successfully make the drug for Cartman (and everyone else) because he didn't want Cartman's hope to run out again THAT IS SOME GAY SHIT RIGHT THERE. He was so determined to make Cartman's wishes come true he didn't care what he had to do to make it happen.

And I have no idea if anyone else even caught this but Cartman pronounces Kyle's name CORRECTLY. THREE TIMES! This just proves my theory I had ALL the way back since Imaginationland that Cartman says his name correctly when he's actually being genuine aghhh bye I'm losing my fucking mind I was literally GIGGLING after watching this special the first time around.

Matt and Trey KNOW what they're doing with every subtle action, whether it's eye placement, name pronunciation ect and those of you who are going to turn around and say that Kyle doesn't give a shit about Cartman and how he is then RESPECTFULLY you are living under a fucking rock because this whole thing is just... Kyle being concerned about him and wanting him to achieve what he wants for himself like a caring friend should and I am so glad this was finally brought to light and shoved into everyone's faces ❤💚

#kyman #sp kyman #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #kyman brainrot #south park kyman #the end of obesity #south park the end of obesity

[breedtheseed]

Adam is charlie mom, oh that would be a good angst idea

For example, maybe before heaven found out, adam had a baby. For the first couple of days, adam would spend every waking meal with charlie. Like singing her to sleep

Years later at the hotel at

Adam humming a song on the outside balcony

Charlie: Hey adam

Adam: charlie what are you doing up?

Charlie: couldn't sleep

Adam: oh okay

1 hour later they both still awake

Adam thinks I haven't done this in a while, but I remember correctly . She fell asleep in minutes: Hey Charlie, you want me to do a tick for you to go to bed

Charlie: sure

Adam started to hum and sing a bit in minutes, charlie fell asleep

Adam: still works like a charm

This AU hurts my soul and I was writing it with someone in a server so some of these parts are theirs and some are mine. Also I just copied and pasted the texts so it’s gonna have some grammar mistakes on my end. (Their Twitter)

Discord idea

(Adam is Charlie’s real mother)

So running on the idea that Lucifer and Adam used to hook up a lot at the beginning of Adam joining heaven eventually they had a hard falling out when Adam found out Lilith and Lucifer were getting married and chose Lilith over him once again.

But Adam found out he was pregnant he hid the pregnancy with eating more and hiding his body.

When he had the baby he was completely alone and if Heaven found out it was Lucifer’s who knows what they’d do, especially because the baby looked just like Lucifer.

He swallowed his pride and gave his baby girl one last kiss before leaving her at Lucifer’s castle to which Lucifer adopted Charlie immediately, especially since Lilith liked the idea of kids but not the idea of having them, part of the reason her and Adam didn’t work out.

So with this AU Adam still falls in a similar way but instead he falls because of Lilith back stabbing him and stuff

And Charlie hates Adam because Adam lead the exterminations

And Adam is just in pain because his kid hates him and he can’t even talk without her looking at him like he’s a monster

When he first saw Charlie the air caught in his throat because his baby girl was all grown up, she looked just like Lucifer. Poor Adam having to deal with the idea that Charlie grew up without him and doesn’t see him as anything more than just Adam the Man in charge of the exterminations

Wondering if Lucifer knows. He couldn't NOT know, Charlie looks EXACTLY like him, and who else would be the mother? Unless Lucifer was fucking around with others too, which only depresses Adam worse.

(Me)

Poor Adam knowing deep down no one wants him but little did he know Adam realized Charlie was Adam’s but it was only after Lilith had pointed out how similar Lucifer and Charlie were despite “not being related”

Just...he had no way of bringing it up without it being awkward

And especially because Adam never acknowledged it too

Adam may have gone to that last Extermination drink off his ass just to get through it. Getting lost in the role he had to play. He wasn't actually going to kill Charlie, but he had to pretend. He's always had to pretend.

He especially had to pretend to Heaven

And when Lucifer showed up...instead of just ending it, Lucifer mocked him all over again. Fine. *FINE*. Adam wouldn't even ENTERTAIN the notion of talking it out. Just go scorched earth on this bitch, he was DONE

Just having so much pent up anger that he lets everything happen because he couldn’t man up and say something sooner

And then he was stabbed. Like 26 times, Great. Now he's dying. And no one will know the truth.

Sobbing not cuz he’s dying but because he died lying to everyone, *Sigh* 😔 I know it makes sense to kill him but imagine Lucifer saves him

Now he's alive. But practically a prisoner. Fuck, he might as well have kicked it

Being numb to everything and just accepting his fate as a loser

Even when Lucifer shows him the door opens. It's unlocked. He can come out.

He doesn’t even try just stays where he is holding his arm feeling like shit and Lucifer has to coax Adam. Only then does Adam follow Lucifer but still keeps his distance behind the king

Adam keeping his distance. Last time he got near, Lucifer beat the shit out of him and would have finished him off if not for Charlie

Imagine Lucifer was angry because Adam had the audacity to abandon Charlie and then almost kill her, not knowing Adam was drunk and at the time Charlie reminded him of Lucifer. The one who knocked him up and got away

Adam definitely not welcome at the Hotel so he's stuck at Lucifer's palace. His bedroom might be open but he's locked in when Lucifer is gone. Which gives him ample time to raid Lucifer's bar and get drunk enough to forget how every time he hits rock bottom, life keeps handing him a pickaxe

The first time Lucifer had come home to a very drunk Adam asleep on his bed he was annoyed especially because Adam smelled like too much alcohol.

however one day he had come home the usual, Adam drunk and laying on his bed. Lucifer sighed and walked to his closet only to hear Adam start sobbing and mumbling something that sounded like an apology.

It left an uneasy feeling on Lucifer not knowing if it was the alcohol talking or Adam was actually apologizing, he found out when he saw the man dead asleep with streams running down his face.

In his sleep, Adam had his arms curled like he's holding something

Whimpering and a cry woke him up, Adam’s eyes snapped towards the sound but the room was empty there was no one in his room and no traces of the cry actually being there.

The sound was unforgettable, he heard it in his nightmares or in his dreams. It was Charlie’s, he engraved it in his mind when she was born and he had to shield them in his wings as he held her close and cleaned her off. He remembers how small she was in his arms, how the girls pipes were the same as his other children.

Adam winced at the migraine he had, his skull was throbbing. He must have gotten back into Lucifer’s stash again. Though Lucifer never really seemed mad when Adam would go on his drinking sessions when he was away

Which was good. He wasn't going to stop. He just avoided Lucifer when he could, didn't mess anything up, and resigned himself to being the ghost that haunts the place halls. Because that's what he was. A ghost. Avoiding the north wing because that's where the big fuckoff portrait of Lilith and Lucifer were. He could spend hours glaring at it, remembering how Lucifer said he was marrying Lilith after all this time, and then just days later finding out he was pregnant.

Sometimes he’d debate fucking the picture up or he’d end up curled under it crying, it was best to just avoid it as much as possible.

At some point Adam found Lucifer’s Alcohol storage empty, and he panicked because without it he felt he couldn’t function. He couldn’t even be near Lucifer or even in the castle being sober. There was too much too much Charlie and too much Lucifer. How could he avoid it or even confront it without breaking down.

“Adam that’s enough,” Adam froze as he was throwing things around trying to look for something anything that could take his thoughts away from Lucifer. “Adam this is just sad, you can’t keep running away from me,” Lucifer stepped close too close and Adam found himself trying to get away from Lucifer despite being in a corner. “Adam I told Charlie about your behavior and she’d like to help you in your recovery,” Lucifer’s words weren’t registering in Adam’s head, he was only hearing bits and pieces.

He shakes his head, covering his ears with his hands. His head was pounding and he needed a hair of the dog before the migraine really kicked in. He couldn't process Lucifer, he DEFINITELY couldn't process Charlie.

Despite Adam’s protests he was dragged to see Charlie, and he was fucking sober. He hated it.

Charlie wasn’t too pleased about it either but from what her dad was telling her, maybe Adam wasn’t as bad as she originally thought. Especially after seeing him in person, he looked horrible and Charlie was sure that her dad was the one who dressed him because he did not look capable of doing so. Adam looked his age despite also looking young, he had lost weight in his face making him look like death. The guys hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks maybe even months, Charlie actually felt sorry for the guy.

Adam on the other hand was out of it, his mind choosing to disassociate and go on autopilot which didn’t last long because Lucifer kept bringing him back.

Husk immediately recognized the issue, making up a bloody mary despite Charlie's protests and giving it to Adam. "Look, I've seen the different levels of alcoholism, and if this fucker wasn't an angel, he'd be dead already. He needs to come down gradually, not cold turkey!"

Husk gives Lucifer a look of disappointment before giving Adam the drink, though Adam looks to the other two before drinking. Waiting for their approval before drinking it.

“Look Adam you can join me instead, but I ain’t going to talk about my feelings with you got it,” Husk made clear as they made their way to the bar. Charlie feeling guilty for telling her father to get rid of all the alcohol

Husk being careful to give Adam mixers, preferably with real fruit muddles or puree

As the sessions continue Adam started to associate a little more managing to make conversation with husk and angel, them both managing to find common ground despite not knowing what’s actually going on in his head.

They were both like small anchors that kept Adam from drifting off into his thoughts, eventually Angel managed to convince Adam to join a session of Charlie’s friendship exercises. It was a simple one or at least Charlie thought it was, it was to have everyone say one good thing about everyone.

Adam was doing good, even managing to compliment Alastors cooking. However when he got to Charlie suddenly Adam started to back track, he tried to skip her but her and Lucifer were the only two.

The panic sets in. He had SO many good things to say about Charlie, but every one of them sounded like poison coming from his mouth.

He wanted to tell her how proud he was how she grew into a wonderful person, but he couldn’t, he didn’t deserve to. He abandoned her his baby she deserved to hate him he didn’t deserve this.

Charlie started to panic now, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. If it wasn’t for angel dust getting Adam to focus on him and to give him another compliment she was sure Adam would have had a full blown panic attack.

The fact that Adam would panic when it came to her or her dad made her think it had something to do with the exterminations but she scratched that when she say Adam and Vaggie talking about music together. There was something going on.

Lucifer too thought the same as Charlie, neither of them knowing the first man as well as they thought

Adam just leaves the room after that. He can't do this. He gets another drink and just sits in the corner waiting to go home

Angel dust followed behind him, husk had given angel a couple of bottles of booze. He hoped it would help.

Adam had become accustomed to going to Angels room for some comfort it helped that fat nugget was a sweetie. And despite Adam it felt nice to hold the little pig and just imagine he was back in heaven, with Charlie before he had to give her up.

“So do you wanna talk about it?” Angel asked softly as Adam sat on the floor so fat nugget could crawl into his lap.

“If I do it’s cuz I’m not sober,” Adam sighed out and Angel waved a bottle in front of him

“That can be arranged”

Lucifer and Charlie had a pit growing in their stomachs Adam had been in hell for about a year and still wasn’t on talking terms with them aside from small talk every so often.

A part of Lucifer wanted to get closer to Adam, it had started after he heard Adam apologizing in his sleep. It had reminded him of when he fell with Lilith and how for years he would mumble apologizing to her whether he was asleep or awake. It took a long time for him to get out of that mindset and if he was being honest, the visits he and Adam made really helped. Though Lucifer knew better, he knew those moments between him and the first man were only driven by lust and nothing more. Or at least he thought that, it wasn’t until he was actually married to Lilith did it all come together, him and her they were perfect. Their relationship was amazing up until Charlie arrived on their doorstep, it was like a switch for Lilith. The woman had begun taking care of the girl though it wasn’t as motherly as Lucifer hoped. Maybe because Charlie wasn’t hers, or maybe because she just like Lucifer realized who’s baby the girl really was.

Lucifer knew Charlie was Adam’s, he hadn’t slept with anyone other than Adam and Lilith. It wasn’t like Eve to just leave a baby so it had to have been Adam’s, at first Lucifer was angry with the idea. However those thoughts were starting to shift now that he was living with Adam

Angel was at a lose for words as Adam was in a drunken fit, the man was going through all the emotions

“It was the first time since I entered heaven that I actually felt happy,” Adam gave a shaky smile as he looked at the bottle of alcohol “it fucking broke me to leave her here,” Adam sobbed again, “looking at her now all I want to do is tell her how proud I am,” he bit his lip “but in reality I should be fucking dead, I am horrible I don’t even deserve to live with Lucifer,”

Angel pulled Adam into a hug and just let Adam sob for a good while until Lucifer came to get him. However angel wasn’t about to just let Adam go with the king in fact Angel felt the need to say something or at least give the dumbass a hint. Since whatever Adam was doing was definitely not working for anyone

That’s what we had and honestly idk what to add lol 😂 sorry for the sudden dump

[porcelainmoth]

Lean on me

Warnings: Talks of depression. Nothing too dark though. Mentions of Alcohol. Language, Reader is referred to as "kid" by Husk but the reader's age is undetermined. Nicknames, Fluff/Comfort.

Author's note: This was inspired by a prompt I found on Tumblr. This is my first fanfic so it's not the best but I tried. I really tried to make it give off Dad! Husk vibes but it's up to the reader to choose how they want to interpret it. My Lucifer fanfic is still a WIP but I'll get back to it Asap. I hope y'all take care ❤️

Prompt: "I'm not going anywhere until I know you're okay." https://www.tumblr.com/eloquent-edits/743056289024868352/omg-protection-prompts-yall-feel-free-to?source=share

Summary: When life gets tough you think you're great at hiding your feelings but nothing gets past wise old husker. Perhaps you could use a bartender's shoulder to lean on?

"Breakfast is done!" Charlie chirps sitting down a plate full of a variety of your favorite food on the table.

"Aww, Charlie you didn't have to." You say timidly rubbing the back of your head.

"Well you are a special guest after all. Besides it's no biggie really." She smiles sitting down with a plate full of hot cakes.

"Thank you." You smile back and gather your plate to take to your room when an unexpected but familiar voice cuts in.

"You're really going to eat in your room all by your lonesome again?"

Husk.

You turn around and look over at the source of the voice. There sits husk at the bar. Wearing his usual look of disinterest. He takes a quick swig of booze before going back to the same wine glass he was

"Are you really going to sit there and rub the same glass all day again? I think it's clean by now." You giggle.

"Touché" he smirks sitting down the glass and goes back to nursing the bottle.

You roll your eyes and thank Charlie again before taking off to your room.

"Hey kid?"

You groan stopping once again not even bothering to turn around.

What the fuck do you want? you want to say.

"Yes?" You say through gritted teeth not feeling like talking at the moment.

"You okay?"

Like hell I am.

"Y-yeah I'm good." You lie and storm off before anything else can be said.

Charlie gives Husk a worried glance and Husk just shrugs and goes back to cleaning the bar.

"Hey Husk have you seen squirt anywhere Charlie's group therapy thing is about to start and uhh...." Angel trails off. "Ya know come to think of it I haven't seen much of em' in a week or two." He says wringing his hands. "I tried knocking on their door a couple of times but they won't answer. Think ya could try talking to them for me? Since y'all are close?" Angel says.

Husk raises an eyebrow. "Yeah I S'pose I could try."

"Okay thanks. See you at Charlie's group exercises. Not like I'm going..." He snickers walking off.

Husk sighs and hops off his stool putting a closed sign on the bar and heads up to your room. Stopping at your door he hesitates a minute but takes a deep breath and lightly knocks at your door hearing shuffling behind it followed by sniffle.

"Hey Kid?" He says "Charlie's group bonding is about to start." He says then knocks a bit harder than the first time.

"Kid-" you cut him off.

"I'll be out in a minute...." You say quickly wiping your tears and doing your best to tidy up your appearance combing through your messy hair and putting on a fake grin you open the door.

"Husker! Nice to see ya! As always...." you say with fake enthusiasm.

"Long time no see...." He takes a moment to get a look at you. Your skin is paler than usual. You have bags under your eyes and your eyes are bloodshot red. He can tell you've been crying. He notices your smile slightly wane.

"Hahaha Yeah...." You respond nervously rubbing the back of your head.

"Is everything alright?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me." He says taking a few steps closer crossing his arms.

You gulp trying to avoid looking him in the eye. He sighs and goes to cup your cheek in the palm of his paw. You slowly melt into his touch sighing.

"Baby you know you can tell me if something's wrong."

You pull his away from his grasp and turn around huffing, wrapping your arms around yourself in a self soothing manner.

"You can cut the act. Tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help-"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW OKAY?!" You snap hot tears begin streaming down your already red cheeks.

He winces backing up a bit. He knows you didn't mean it. He knew you were just hurt.

"Baby I-"

"I don't NEED your help! I said I'm FINE." You shouted quickly turn on your heel shutting the door. You slide down with your back pressed against it hugging your knees to your chest crying harder.

He listens from the other side his heart breaks hearing your broken sobs. He kneels down in front of the door this time.

"You're still there? I thought I told you to leave..." You whimper not even trying to fight it at this point.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know you're okay." He speaks up.

"Well clearly I'm not...." You sniffle.

"You know I can get up and leave but we both the truth. You hate being alone."

You calm down a bit listening to him on the other side of the door.

"I remember the first day you arrived here. You were scared and all alone. I could tell. But you still fooled everyone with that sweet smile of yours." He says sighing deeply.

"You know we all love you...." he chuckles. "Charlie's been talking nonstop about how proud she is of you and always tells me every little detail about the progress you've made since you arrived here. Angels even bragged on you about what a good friend you are. Always helping with Fat Nuggets and trying to cheer him up after a bad night. Vaggie, That girl is a tough nut to crack but I see the way she smiles at ya." He says grinning to himself like a proud father. "Hell even Al. He's definitely something else.....but I've noticed he's seemed to take a liking to you as well. And Niff. Well I don't even think you want to know.." He trails off snickering.

"Yes I do! What about Niffty?"

"She may or may not have a collection of your hair that she may or may not keep locked up in her "Secret" shrine of you. Don't ask how I know that...." He says cringing.

You snort and laugh at that. He chuckles.

"So...may I come in now?" He asks. You quickly jump up opening the door and dive into his chest wrapping your arms around him tightly. He gasps but returns the big embrace.

"Careful Kid. You nearly knocked the nine lives outta me." He huffs. "Well nine after lives?"

You giggle and melt into his warmth as he runs his claws through your hair. You sniffle again causing him to perk up.

He looks down at you running his paw down your cheek wiping away a stray tear.

"What's the matter?" He asks his gaze softening.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you and pushed you and everyone away....." You say crying softly.

"Oh baby don't worry about it. We were just worried about you." He replied humming softly while rubbing your back. You play with his wings and he notices this. Slowly he wraps his red velvety wings around your figure. You nuzzle deeper into him content. You yawn and he scoops you up in his arms to lay you down in your room.

Just then Charlie and Vaggie walk around the corner along with Angel dust close behind them. Charlie goes to speak but quickly examines the situation causing her eyes to tear up and break into a wide grin.

"Awwwwwww." Her and Angel coo in unison while Vaggie just smiles putting her hands on her hips. Angel laughs.

"Well well well, guess Ole Whiskers has a heart after all." He snorts.

"Zip it Anthony."

A/n: Well that's it. This ended up longer than I thought it would be. Hopefully it isn't too bad but I finally finished it. I wanted to write something comforting without to getting too deep into the depths of depression. I hope that's okay. As always take care ❤️

#husk x reader #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #writing prompts

[sageourplanetmeow]

I have ideas about what owl house S3 filler episodes would be like, because yes, we were robbed and yes I am repeating it even though it’s been said by everyone else already.

A fashion episode. Since ROTMNT had a whole episode with the turtles dressing up, why don’t the TOH cast do that since we saw a clip of that. Considering that Hunter is notoriously bad with fashion and @moringmark made a comic with Amity being horrified by Hunter’s fashion tastes which makes sense for her, I think they would have a good opportunity to build their character dynamics. I think it would also have them going to the hair salon with their hair cuts and getting their hair done, and they would have had to go to a random Halloween store in town to find fake human ears to stick them on. Of course them falling off would be a lingering threat. Of course Vee was just browsing the whole time so she has inspiration for what she was going to shape-shift into.

Movie night. They would watch a variety of things such as the Azura movies, since Lux and Amity love them, and Cosmic Frontier. Then I have a feeling that Willow would be all over nature documentaries, in particular ones centred around plants. In an episode before the episode where Luz returned to the human realm but in mirrors and phones, Vee was sitting with Camilla watching a documentary so maybe she also like nature documentaries, although she prefers the animal aspect, therefore getting to bond with Willow a bit. Camilla cries a bit from the nature documentaries and feels sentimental over the Azura movies cus Amity and Luz seem to be enjoying it so much and it reminds her a bit of Luz’s dad. She also withholds the urge to spill a bunch of facts about Cosmic Frontier and just reminisces about it.

One or two school episodes to focus on Luz. Aka her bullies if she has them, I mean she’s a neurodivergent bisexual kid who’s obsessed with witchcraft and draws weird stuff (glyphs and stuff from the demon realm) and also reads he Azura books and makes fan fictions, it’s an unfortunate reality. (Plus she does taxidermy). So we see her relationships with the students and the teachers and maybe her having to struggle to pretend like she knows what stuff Vee did with Masha when Vee was pretending to be her. Hence Masha starting to be a bit suspicious considering that Vee seems to bond with her quickly and feels familiar to her. Another thing, if Luz ever gets sick (which will be talked about later) Vee will shapeshift into Luz so she can get a little bit of education and so that she can bring Luz some of her work and all so she can spend time with Masha, plus she volunteers to because she likes school.

An arcade episode. Hunter and Gus go to some space one since it reminds them of Cosmic Frontier and Camilla lingers around them cus again she’s a secret nerd. Luz and Amity go to a magic combat game where you can customise your character, hence Luz spends a long time on hers and Amity helps her decide. Willow ends up acing all the sports games so she gets some alone time so we can see what she’s like by herself. They also all play Mario kart and they customise accordingly. Plus there’s this enclosed space at the arcade in my city and balls fall from the ceiling of it and fill it up as in plastic ball pit balls, and you need to put them in holes. I think Hunter would be a bit clumsy and Willow would ace it. Then Amity would have barely contained rage till it comes out and Luz is mildly shocked considering she’s usually so calm and composed. Willow takes a picture with Gus of Amity and they show it to her later.

THE BEACH EPISODE. The boiling sea means the witches are scared of the water. Luz is apprehensive for a split second cus she’s been in the demon realm for a while. Hunger is more scared since he sank into the ground in hollow mind so he goes with Willow to see the plants nearby that grow there, e.g. palm trees. So the two scale up walls and trees to pick leaves and fruit for Gus to collect as specimens since he joins them for a bit. Later they play volleyball together. However, Willow then goes to swim and encourages Hunger to join in. Luz and Amity just jump off stuff together and splash around plus they have a conversation with Camilla. Vee and Gus then decide to do something together so Vee writes down in Gus’ notebook for a bit but Gus ends up showing her how to do shorthand. Vee also sees Masha and they do stuff together and swim together a bit since Vee plucks up the courage to ask her if she wants to since Masha came alone after her friends were too busy.

An indoor trampoline park episode. Again Hunter, Willow and Gus do tricks and stuff like in grudgby and the two mention Cosmic Frontier so that they both nerd out about it to Willlow. Luz and Amity do stuff and Amity twists her ankle and gets scooped up by Luz as a throwback. Vee invites Masha to join them so she does stuff with her, I have a feeling Masha would like DnD and they both roleplay that they’re in DND as they run about in an obstacle course and jump into the soft trampoline thing from that really tall ledge like they’re escaping something by jumping into a river after a heist or something. They’d also climb like they’re on a cliff on the climbing walls. And they’d use the Tarot cards (I think that’s the name) to decide what they’d do as predictions and stuff. I dunno.

Sick day episode. Since Luz had that in one episode in one the witches are gonna get the common flu along with Luz and her mum. The witches are convinced it’s dramatically bad and is like the boiling isles version and how crazy it made Luz (I’m not sure if that’s what happened with Luz). In this one Vee would shapeshift into Luz to be at school and bring back her work plus cus she likes school as mentioned before.

Luz and Amity getting a dinner date and I dunno stuff like that.

The zoo episode. There will be the giraffe gag as was showed in S3 and they’ll run around and gave fun. Since I have gotten the theory that Vee might like animal stuff I think that she might volunteer at the zoo and therefore gives them special access to the behind the scenes. Camilla is at work in this home so she can’t chaperone them, therefore they get into more shenanigans. Luz stays around the bird section with Hunter as she looks at the owls and Hunter looks excitedly as the birds that look a bit like Flap Jack. Hunter however, gets especially obsessed over the wolves, Luz also says the snake fact with them shedding their skin and Amity looks at the cats and enjoys a cat cafe at the zoo. Gus looks at the chameleons and takes notes before taking notes of the humans themselves. Willow goes to the insect exhibit and looks at the insects, and chiefly the plants. They also accidentally robbed a gift shop.

THE CINEMAAA. I know there’s already a movie night idea but ya know… they all watch an old movie that Luz’s grandparents on her dad’s side take them to watch. Cus I dunno they just visit and I wanna see them watch an old movie kinda like ‘Italian Job’, as an example. Or something with Charlie Chaplin but they probably wouldn’t be that old, those are just examples since we haven’t actually met them if they’re actually alive. There might be a horror movie alternatively and they all get spooked when there’s something that looks a bit like Belos, Hunter in particular shakes and ends up hugging Willow whilst everyone holds hands together (aka the whole group together). Or they watch a romance one and they jokingly tease Luz and Amity for being so cheesy I guess.

Robotics Club Episode. So here’s the context for why I randomly thought this up: I was sitting outside at break, a nice person in my friend group picked me up and yeeted me into robotics club with everyone else and now I’m there with zero experience or knowledge regarding coding. Now I need to reference @moringmark again, look this person just makes such good TOH content- I- I have to. Basically there was a comic with Luz making a vehicle with glyphs in the boiling isles so maybe she has a small amount of inspiration and experience with a robotics club in her town and it ends up being an activity she does with Amity since she is also quite techy due to her dad. Therefore, she can also get into thinking about combining human technology with abomination tech.

An arts and crafts day, everyone at the house is bored and are just scrolling on their phones so Camilla sets out arts and crafts stuff for them to do: Luz draws fanart and does some taxidermy; Gus makes a display and/or a poster/homemade fact book thing about human history and the stuff he’s learnt about the culture; Willow makes plant wreaths, daisy chains and plant sculptures as well as doing her best to paint some pots; this is where Hunter gets to work with a sewing machine and basically sews abominable outfits and a bunch of wolves onto said outfits; Amity creates a technological thing aka where there’s the whole thing with balls rolling down into different slides and triggering stuff but with abomination magic mixed in to help; and Vee makes a couple of character sheets and plot ideas for DND (look I’m gonna admit it, I wish I could figure out how to play it but I don’t know where to look so eh I have no idea).

A convention episode. Now, they’re all nerds, they should go to a comic con convention or something. They will do it and I’m making them do it. Luz and Amity will go to the very small area with one or two artists for the Azura book series where there’s a bunch of fellow fans dressed up as characters from the books showing off fanart and getting it signed. Gus and Hunter will go to Cosmic Frontier stuff and Willow will join with Luz and Amity. Vee does DND stuff with Masha and the rest of their friend group. Gus and Hunter find Camilla at a stall drawing commissions and selling merch for cosmic frontier which she was keeping hidden from them. (She hides various requests for NSFW). Due to the cosplayers, Hunter and Gus think about outfits for the future.

Pride March/Fayre Episode. This is how Luz gets her bi badge and how Camilla gets her LGBTQ+ support badge which was donating to a lgbtq+ charity. They all have fun, until Disney shows up as Belos and screams at them that they’re not the Disney brand.

A Halloween Episode. They showed us it but maybe if we got showed it with more time and then making their cosplays then that would be fun.

Vet Episode. Maybe it would be fun to see Camilla working at the vets but eh.

Cooking episode?

#the owl house #Hunter #Willow #luz noceda #toh #amity blight #luz x amity #gus porter #vee noceda #headcanon #huntlow #hunter x willow #lumity #toh masha #cartoons #disney #I dunno just ideas for filler episodes :/

[cobaltperun]

Congrats on the 500 love!! You deserve so much more❤️

Can I request a drabble or something really short of Lost!Tara and Reader where Tara is about to pick up the kids from school while R is out of town doing CEO stuff and comes to surprise Tara and the kids at school but all the people are drooling over r cause she is still in her ceo attire but R only having eyes for Tara and her kids while ignoring literally everyone else. (It's alright if this is weird and you don't wanna write this.)

Lost (Side - 2) - School Visit

Tara Carpenter x female Reader (Request)

Summary: After a brief business trip all you want to do is surprise your family and pick them up from school. (Set between Lost 29 and 30)

Story masterlist

Word count: 0.6k

If there was one thing you absolutely loved about your job, it was that most of it could be done from home, which meant that you could maximize the time spent with Tara and your children. That being said there were still some occasional business trips you needed to leave them for. This one was supposed to be four-day long, but you managed to get everything done in three, so here you were, fresh from the airport and checking the time as you rushed to the garage.

You still had time to drive to the school and pick the kids and Tara up, as long as you didn't waste time. So, while still dressed up in your navy blue three-piece suit with a white button-up shirt underneath you jumped in your car and got going.

It's been years since Tara drove a car, seeing as you being home most of the time meant she didn't exactly need it, so that meant she wasn't exactly keen on driving for the first time in years with the twins in the car. And they were still just seven, so you picked them up from school, either driving or walking there.

When you parked on the school's parking lot you noticed people coming out of the school with their children, so you were just in time. You saw the three of them immediately. Tara, holding Zack and Susan's hands and laughing with them as she listened to them telling her about their day, and you paused. No matter how many times you got to see the scene in front of you, you were always mesmerized, thankful for the family you wished for all your life, though you didn't quite know it until Tara brought it up for the first time.

"Mom!" Zack was the first to notice you and he let go of Tara's hand and ran toward you, with Tara and Susan still surprised to see you walking to meet them in the middle of the schoolyard.

"Easy buddy, watch your step," you easily lifted the boy up and hugged him.

"Mom!" Susan got over her initial surprise and you dropped to your knee so she could run into your arms as well.

"Sue," you went and kissed both of your children as Tara walked over to you and kissed your cheek as you got up with the twins now in your arms.

Tara looked you over, her eyebrow rising a bit. "Baby, maybe you should be more considerate," she smirked cheekily and traced the collar of your suit.

"Hmm?" you tilted your head a bit.

"Let's just say it's good I'm no longer jealous," she whispered, though she still leaned closer, her hand going up and sliding around your neck, just a tiny bit possessively.

"Just a bit possessive?" you chuckled and finally looked around. Some people were staring at you, and you guessed the suit you were wearing did show off your muscles a bit more than your casual clothes did. You just didn't notice all the attention you were getting.

Tara did though. "Just appreciating what others can only look at," she smiled, winking at you.

"Mommy/Mom!" Susan and Zack complained, making you and Tara laugh.

"Okay, okay, sorry about that," you apologized.

"How about we take you on a picnic this Saturday as an apology?" Tara offered, it was a bit of a habit the four of you formed, at least once a month you all went out for a picnic and the twins loved it.

They looked at one another before grinning widely and nodding.

A/N: Come on, you know I had to write a Lost request before most of the other requests, and Anon, you have no idea how thankful I am you requested this! 😁😁💙💙 Also, thanks!

Taglist: @alexkolax

#tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

[cologona]

The thing about Bruce making Dick Robin is that it can be read as empathy. Bruce and Dick both lost their family in the same way, and so Bruce tries to help Dick by giving him what he wanted as a young orphan. Justice, closure, power, meaning. Something to make the world right again, some way to move forward, someone who understands.

But that same reading is not as easy to apply to Jason

If I were to read Bruce in a particularly unflattering light, I'd say Bruce fundamentally saw Jason as more expendable than Dick. He was so afraid of losing Dick that he totally sabotaged that relationship, but he's fine with this much younger kid playing the same dangerous role? Jason is a tough street kid sure sure, but is he tougher than 18 year old Dick motherfucking Grayson??? No.

If I were to read Bruce in a more sympathetic light, I'd say that in Bruce's mind orphan = craving-for-justice-that-can-only-be-satiated-with-vigilantism, and since he found out Jason's father was dead he was trying to give Jason the same guidance and empowerment Dick got. He genuinely thought it would work. He did this at the same time that he was actively hiding the death of Jason's father, because this intense self-projection is happening at the subconscious level. He simultaneously wants to comfort the orphan and prevent the orphan from becoming "real" by hiding the truth. It is not logical but it is well-meaning.

(This self-projection is also the source of Bruce's bizarre assertion that Jason has anger issues- he isn't a classist asshole he's just sensitive! 👉👈)

Either way, there is clearly an instability to the concept of Jason's Robin. Batman and Robin requires suspending one's disbelief about child soldiers to degree higher than other superheroes, but there's not quite enough to support that suspension here.

Because how exactly is being Robin supposed to help Jason? What about Jason's supposed anger issues lend themselves to being helped by vigilantism? Jason could've just been Bruce Wayne's son, so why is he also Robin?

...Would Jason have just been Bruce Wayne's son?

I.. don't think so. I don't think Bruce adopted him just to offer a good home- not really. Bruce certainly wanted Jason to have a good home, but that's what sending him to Ma Gunn's school was supposed to be. Ma Gunn didn't work out sure, but it's not like she was the only option. Bruce could've just done more research the second time around. If Jason had rejected becoming Robin, would Bruce have still adopted him? If Batman had not intended for Jason to become involved with hero work, could you see him still sending Jason off to Wayne Manor to be adopted?

Bruce didn't just want a son, or even just a Robin. He wanted something specific- he wanted the feeling of having Dick back. Bruce praises Jason for how similar he is to Dick in his head, and based on Alfred's warning and Jason's own behavior, he apparently compared Jason to Dick quite a bit during training. When Dick himself eventually comes to confront Bruce about why there's another Robin, he pretty much lays it bare: Jason is Robin because he missed Dick. That's the core of it.

Now on one hand this is flattering for Jason! It means he was chosen for the Robin mantle because he demonstrated the good qualities similar to the original. In another universe maybe Jason Todd's Robin isn't the angry one or the dead one, maybe he got to develop and he could've become the Robin that came from sharing laughter and life rather than grief. A Cinderella? A little lotus boy.

On the other hand that's not the universe we live in and this reason has absolutely fuck-all to do with Jason.

As for Tim, parentification is straight up the basis of his Robin. It’s impossible to read his “Batman needs Robin” spiel without reading it as a meta statement because in-universe it’s just an extremely frgiggi depressing scenario.

I think Dick might be the only person for whom Bruce's intense self-projection kinda worked out. Not that their relationship was good, but the core of it was okay? Cassandra comes close but Bruce sorta… lives out his dreams of being all-Batman all-the-time through her. He pushed his bad impulses onto her and she didn’t understand the value of not being Batman so it came off really creepy. He was encouraging her to rely him. Like a tool.

#I'll edit this post later #rambling #anti bruce wayne #Bruce has been cruel many times but I've never seen him as creepy as he was in Batgirl 2000 #Jason Todd #Jason: if you send me to CPS I probably won't end up in any decent home so don't do that #Bruce: you will have a good home if you become Robin for me :) #eurughhh