#i am so high on caffeine right now

[beautifult999]

I am so high on caffeine right now

[saintedbythestorm]

Not dad trying to tell me about some big fallout news he heard about from some work colleague 😂 oh what the poor man just subjected himself too.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

could you do some fluff about spencer and reader sitting together on the jet? maybe like a time where it’s late and they’re on the way home from a case, and they’re the only ones awake and just chatting and being all cute?

mile-high | spencer reid x reader

wc: 680, rating: everyone

tags: mutual pining, mutual crushes, idiots in love, best friends, (un)requited love (they just don't know it yet)

a/n: hello anon! apologies for taking a while to respond to your lovely request. i was thinking for a while about what would work with this request and got inspired when i was writing this extremely tired lmao. i hope this is fluffy and cute enough for u!! can be read as gender neutral reader too since i didn't specify any gendered pronouns hehe. do not be misled by the title for there is in fact no mile-high club type tropes in this lmaoo

Your eyelids are heavy by the time the jet takes off back to Quantico. The team had been working overtime with a particularly enthusiastic spree killer, with so little cooldown time between kills that you all had no choice but to keep working the case until you had cracked it, culminating in an early morning raid of the UnSub’s ranch house-slash-lair. Spencer had a particularly satisfying moment of cuffing the UnSub, after being perplexed by his erratic movement as he was crafting the geographic profile.

You had watched Spencer down mug after mug of coffee for the past couple of days, and now, amidst the rest of the team dozing off, a still-awake Spencer still flips through his book rather quickly.

“Not tired?” You ask softly, trying not to wake the team.

“No, there’s still caffeine in my system.” Spencer purses his lips as he looks at you.

“I’m surprised you haven’t developed a tolerance toward caffeine yet,” you grin, shaking your head.

“It takes about a month for your body to get used to caffeine and its effects, which makes your body basically perform the same as when you aren’t caffeinated. But abstaining from caffeine over a couple of days usually resets your body’s response to it.”

You tilt your head. “Dr. Spencer Reid abstaining from coffee? I couldn’t imagine that happening.”

“I just opt for decaf,” he smiles at you, grin growing when you giggle.

Your eyelids feel so heavy, but all you want to do is talk to Spencer. You don’t often get time alone with him, which is maybe a blessing considering your crush on him. Maybe Hotch can tell how much you like him and doesn’t end up pairing you two off too often because he doesn’t want his best agents distracted – that’s what Emily always tells you, but you always brush her off.

“You look tired,” Spencer states, matter-of-factly.

“I am, but I can’t really fall asleep. I don’t wanna fall asleep.”

“Why not?” Spencer asks.

“Wanna talk to you,” you answer, a little too honest, and you don’t notice the surprised look on Spencer’s face, like it’s surprising that you want to talk to him. “I also usually need something to cuddle when I sleep.”

“But you’re tired,” Spencer repeats, even though you’re painfully aware of the fact. “You should rest.”

“I like talking to you,” you huff, perhaps a little petulant, but you’re secretly preening at all the attention Spencer is giving you right now.

Spencer nudges you with his shoulder. You whine, and look at him. Spencer says gently, “You can hold onto my arm. And lay your head on me if you want to.”

You slip your arm around Spencer’s, and it feels so right to be holding him close like this. It’s a little awkward, since Spencer’s not totally used to physical touch, but you’re taking any chance you can get to be close to him. “You’re comfortable.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Spencer chuckles. “Especially if it means you’ll get some rest.”

“No,” you retort. “Just because you’re letting me cuddle you does not mean I’m going to fall asleep.”

Spencer snorts. “Sure.”

“I’m not going to fall asleep, Spence,” you say, snuggling closer to him.

Spencer just hums.

“I’m a drooler, just so you know,” you say, like you’re trying to scare him off. Frankly, you’re just trying to tease him.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m–” you cut yourself off with a stifled yawn, and you glare at Spencer when he casts you a knowing smirk. “I’m not!”

“Okay, you aren’t falling asleep,” Spencer echoes. “But do you want me to read you my book?”

You close your eyes, smiling as you nod. You don’t see the sweet way Spencer smiles down at you, and before he’s even done with the first two pages of whatever he was reading, you’re out like a light.

You don’t feel the way Spencer pushes your hair out of your face, and the way his thumb gently brushes your cheek.

Maybe one day, he’ll have the confidence to do that when you’re awake.

[saul-goodboy]

so. i think i’m dependent on caffeine

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Final Piece of the Puzzle

Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mostly fluff

Summary: Peter has been trying to find his way after Dr. Strange erased him from everyone on the planet. He goes to college, does his work, and tries to get by without the people from his old life. That is, until he meets you. No matter what kind of spell was done, you can’t forget Peter Parker.

Squares Filled: lost for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

All you need for this weekend is a lot of caffeine and a ton of silence. You have this term paper that is due next week and you haven’t started on it. This weekend will be free of distractions, friends, and everything else in your life. In order to get in the zone, you need coffee and lots of it. There is a coffee shop right next to your dorm that has your favorite iced coffee that only they seemingly know how to make. If you go anywhere else, someone manages to fuck it up. Not them. They know how to do it right. 

You walk into the coffee shop that’s not busy and put your order in for two iced coffees, one of which you’ll keep in the fridge. Today is Friday which means you just have to get through two classes and you can start on your paper afterward. After acquiring your coffee, you head for the front door with your head down. You’re not watching where you’re going and almost run into someone, causing your coffee to almost spill all over him.

“I am so sorry,” the man says.

You look up and see chocolate brown eyes and curly outgrown hair. The man has a sort of baby face that makes him look a lot younger than he is, but based on his university sweatshirt, he attends this college like you do. There’s something familiar about this man but you can’t quite place it. Maybe you don’t know him and he has one of those faces.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Nothing spilled so you’re okay.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You nod once before stepping aside and walking out of the coffee shop. He turns and watches you walk off with a longing look on his face. Your first class goes by without a hitch, and you’re inside your second class before you know it. Your first class got out later than usual so the only open seats were located in the back. You look to the person to your right and pause when you see it’s the same man as the one you ran into.

“Hi again.” You sit down and look at his surprised look on his face. “What?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, I ran into you and almost spilled my coffee.”

“Oh, right,” he chuckles in embarrassment. “My name is Peter. Peter Parker.” You stare at him in a way that makes him start to sweat. “What?”

“Have we met before?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he mumbles.

“Are you sure? You look familiar.” He shrugs shyly and you decide not to make the man more uncomfortable. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles.

You try to focus on the class but you keep feeling his eyes on you. You don’t entertain him by confronting him but you know he’s watching you. After class, you quickly leave and meet up with your friends while Peter follows closely behind you. Whatever weird behavior he exhibited during class is out of your mind by the time you meet with your friends. Peter pretends to be busy on his phone, but he’s watching you laugh with your friends.

You look like nothing bad has ever happened to you. You look so happy. How can he ever think to bring you back into his life now that he knows what you look like without him in it? You feel eyes on you and look over at Peter. He quickly turns and walks away from you.

Remember that no distraction rule? Yeah, that went right out the window. You tried to focus on your paper all weekend and got it done, but you kept thinking about Peter. Why is he refusing to leave your mind? You’ve met a lot of people and dated your share of men but none of them has ever stuck to you like Peter has. Have you met him before? If so, where? You’re a freshman in college so high school wasn’t that long ago. You’d remember Peter if he went to your high school.

To celebrate the completion of your paper, you decide to go to the local flower store and splurge on some flowers to liven up your apartment while your roommate is gone. She apprecioates splashes of color in the white apartment, and you both love the smell of the flowers on campus. The only one on campus sells the most beautiful flowers and they’re the only ones who carry your favorite kind of flower, the Franklin Tree Flower. It’s said to only grow on a specific set of trees that are nearly extinct, but this shop has direct access to those flowers.

“Hi, welcome in,” the store owner smiles when you walk in.

“Hi. Do you have the Franklin Tree Flower in stock?”

“Whatever we have out there is what we have. I’m not sure if it’s there or not.”

“Okay, thanks.” You walk around the small store and at every single flower they have but you can’t see the one you want. You’ll take any of these but that happens to be one of your favorites around. Not only is it rare, but it has a super sweet scent to them that you love. You turn the corner and see Peter with some flowers in hand. “Hi, Peter.”

“Oh, hi, Y/N. Pretty flowers, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you looking for in here?”

“It’s a really rare flower; one of my favorites. Not many people have heard of it, but--”

“Franklin Tree Flower?”

You’re stunned into silence. You’ve never met anyone who has loved that flower much less know about it.

“Yeah, actually. How did you know?”

“It’s my favorite, too. I found the last bunch.”

You look down at the flowers in his hands to see four Franklin Tree Flowers.

“Lucky you.”

“I want you to have them,” he says and holds them out for you.

“Oh, I couldn’t. Those are yours.”

“They’re meant for someone special.”

“Why don’t we split them? You take two and I take two?”

“Deal,” he smiles.

He hands over two of the flowers and you inhale their sweet scent.

“Thank you,” you grin.

If you couldn’t get Peter out of your head before, you certainly can’t now. There is no way you don’t know who he is. You feel a sense of safety when you’re near him. There’s something about him that tugs at your heartstrings as if you two have known each other for a long time. No matter how hard you think or how close you are to figuring it out, you can’t seem to get over that hill.

Maybe if you talk to him about this, you might be able to figure out how to cross that hill in your mind. Peter doesn’t live on campus but you two just had a class together so you know he’s around here somewhere. You walk from your last class past the cafeteria and over to where the parking lot is. Peter doesn’t drive but the bike rack is there, and your shoulders sag in relief when you find him there trying to untangle his bike from the others.

He has extra things to carry so he’s trying to tie everything to the back of his bike but as soon as he fits everything together, something falls out and he has to start over.

“You piece of hubble bubble. Come on,” Peter complains.

You halt right there on the sidewalk when you hear his choice of words. You’ve heard that before. There was only one person who would use that instead of cussing. He didn’t like to cuss even though everyone around him did. He liked having friends but only his small circle because he felt safe with them. He trusted them above anyone else. He made new friends in the search to defeat Thanos. After coming back from the snap, he leaned on his friends for support at the loss of Tony Stark and his Aunt May. He tore a hole right into the multiverse and had Dr. Strange erase him from everyone’s mind.

How the hell are you remembering him now? You stumble back from shock and Peter looks up when he hears your outcry.

“Y/N!”

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

“No, you’re Peter Parker. You helped save the world from Thanos. You brought those other Peter’s to our world. You made everyone forget who you are.” Peter drops everything in his hands and rushes over to you immediately. You fall into his arms and look into his eyes with tears streaming down your cheeks. “You were my boyfriend.”

“How do you remember that? Dr. Strange made it so everyone forgot me.”

“How could I forget you? You’re the love of my life.”

“I can’t believe you remember me. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Peter, with all excitement in his body, pulls you close and kisses you passionately. You keep him close with your arms around his neck and kiss him back with just as much passion.

“I told you I’d come find you,” he whispers.

“I missed you so much,” you giggle through the tears. You pull away from him completely  and wipe your tears. “I knew something was missing from my life.”

Peter pulls you in again and kisses you, and everything seems right with the world. It doesn’t matter if everyone else forgets him, you remember and that’s all that matters.

x

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[sharksnshakes]

Night Out (III) - Tim Drake

After discovering Tim is the Red Robin, his behavior starts to make a lot more sense. One confession leads to another...

AN; and we are done!! i hope u all enjoy the final installment of the tim drake miniseries. never done anything like this before and very grateful for the support <33 literally wouldn't have written it otherwise

Wordcount; 1k

TW; cursing, choking, minor injuries, tim being a simp

You don't have to puzzle over Tim's strange behavior for too long. Just days after the incident in the alleyway, you're watching a news report on the Red Robin, who was spotted fighting Dr. Freeze with Nightwing's help somewhere in the Diamond District.

The news anchors play a clip of Robin protecting civilians while Nightwing kicks ass in the background, and when Robin pushes an elderly man out of the way of Dr. Freeze's ray gun, you get deja vu; The arm flung in front of the civilian, the reaching for something in his utility belt--the vigilante's motions match Tim's exactly, right down to the damn batarang.

And then Dr. Freeze kicks Tim in the gut, and you can't keep watching.

You're not sure if you're the world's best detective, if Tim's horrible at hiding things, or if it was just plain luck, but ever since you put two and two together things have been making a lot more sense. Namely, why he constantly backs out of plans at the last minute and is busiest at 3am. His vigilante status might also have something to do with the ungodly levels of caffeine he consumes, but you're pretty sure he'd be drinking all that coffee regardless of whether he was Red Robin or not.

Unfortunately, you figured this out days before finals week, and you know that if you don't confront him you'll be distracted the whole time you're taking exams...

...Which is what leads you to where you are now. You're sitting in the passenger seat of Tim's fancy car (it's glossy black with custom upholstery to match--really, the whole 'Batman and Robin' thing should've been way more obvious) and chowing down on Big Belly Burger in a parking garage.

"So," you start, taking a sip of your drink to steel yourself, "I have something to tell you."

He swallows a gulp of food, brow furrowing. "Which is?"

"Y'might wanna put the food down for a second."

Tim huffs out a laugh. "No way it's anything that serious."

"Uh, I know you're Robin?"

He chokes.

Thirty seconds and several gulps of water later, Tim is staring at you with a dumbfounded expression that would be comical if the stakes of the situation weren't so high. Are the stakes high? You're not really sure. While you don't peg Batman as the type to have his vigilantes assassinate randos for figuring out their secret identities, he's a grown man running around dressed up like a bat. Who knows what goes on in his head?

Well. Tim might.

Regardless, Tim doesn't even attempt to dispute you. After sitting in silence for an additional two minutes, he just sort of... shrugs?

"Yeah. You're right."

You blink at him. You're not sure what you expected, exactly, but him owning up to it with zero hesitation was definitely not it. "You're just gonna admit it?"

"I mean-" he shrugs again. "What am I supposed to do? Dispute you? I'm sure you've got evidence."

You say nothing.

"You had no evidence?"

"I had a hunch," you protest, "And you just confirmed it!"

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. "You only had a hunch? No photos? No eyewitnesses?"

"It's almost finals week! What was I supposed to do, drop everything and research you instead of my term paper?"

"No, obviously not. Sorry. I'm just..."

"Shocked? Surprised? Caught off guard?"

"Well, you saw the news," he says dryly. Reaching for the hem of his shirt (also black, it was so obvious), he pulls it up a few inches to reveal a dark bruise splashed across his abdomen.

His incredibly toned abdomen--

You wince. "Ouch."

"Yeah, no kidding." At that moment, Tim's cheeks flush pink, and he quickly pulls his shirt back down. "Uh, sorry. Didn't mean to... you know."

"Nah, it's fine," you say, opting to stare out the window so Tim doesn't catch you blushing, "It's not a bad view, if that makes you feel any better."

Wait, what the fuck did you just say?

Your eyes go wide, and you immediately drop your gaze to your lap. There's a time and place for flirting with your best friend who's also Red Robin, and that time and place is not right after he's shown you his injuries and admitted to having a secret identity.

Except maybe it is, because when you risk a glance at Tim, his lower lip is pulled between his teeth and his eyes look just a touch hazy.

"You think I look good?" He murmurs, and you forget everything that's ever happened, ever.

"Yeah," you admit, looking around his face rather than at it, "And I was gonna tell you about that the other night. But, um, then we got interrupted."

Tim sucks in a small breath.

"So judging by your reaction, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you feel the same way...?"

"No," he deadpans, "I'm just staring at you like you hung the moon because I'm bored."

You blink at him. "You better be fucking joking--"

Tim reaches across the console, cups your jaw in his hand, and pulls your lips onto his.

You gasp. He swallows up the noise, moving slowly, deliberately, like he's been thinking about this moment for a long time; his fingers tremble but he guides your movements regardless, pulling you as close as he can manage with the console in the way.

Tim makes a small, muted noise when you slide your fingers into his hair. It shocks both of you enough to break the kiss--you stare at each other, unblinking. Then someone moves and the cup of ketchup you'd been sharing tips over and launches itself all over Tim's lap.

Both of you burst into laughter.

"You know," Tim says a few moments later, "You figuring out that I'm Robin is, um... really hot," he confesses, cheeks turning the same shade as the ketchup he's wiping off of his pants.

"Really?" you ask, still trying to catch your breath between giggles.

He looks you dead in the eye. "Really."

You dissolve into laughter again, and somehow you just know that your relationship with Tim--whatever form it takes--is right.

[teabutmakeitazure]

Pinprick in the Backdrop (blurb)

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

>Word count: 2k (exactly)

>a/n: this was a heat of the moment writing

Oneshot

You are surprisingly awake considering that you only had 3 hours of sleep in the last 2 days. It’s probably the caffeine but you would rather not admit it. Especially not when you woke up to Chrollo reading beside you in bed after you had flat out refused to share a bed with him. You haven’t slept since.

Despite all that, the exhaustion and deliriousness shows in your movements and conversation. Had you been cheated out of those 3 hours of sleep as well, you would probably have started hallucinating. Regardless, bitterness has been a loyal companion to your words ever since you left home. You suppose the companionship is justified, for when you are snatched away from your home and threatened with heinous things in sugar coated words, that is the only thing you can use to retaliate with.

The marble of the kitchen counter digs into your spine as you lean against it. It’s a dirty shade of dark grey granite that you don’t particularly like, and it also reminds you of Chrollo’s eyes. Other than that, the open kitchen facing the living room reminds you of your apartment. It’s a sad reminder but omnipresent and ever annoying.

Your lovely… partner (because you still can’t bring yourself to verbally give him any proper relation to you) is almost back and you are certain he will be in a good mood. He’s been in a good mood a lot lately. It almost seems suspicious. Chrollo is usually happy when he’s planning something with a very high success rate. Having the suspicion that he is up to something without having any means to find anything further is not fun.

Whatever. You open the door as usual when he knocks the way he showed you, and immediately turn on your heel, all patience gone due to your tired state. Chrollo follows behind you, hair down (something he does in front of you a lot after you compared his hair to the receding hairline that Dory’s father has) and hands inside the pockets of his fur lined jacket. The sofa is where you decide to settle with a book in hand (it’s Kant of all possibilities), clearly wordlessly screaming to be left alone only to have Chrollo settle right next to you.

A few moments of silence pass before Chrollo clears his throat. It fails to gather your attention so he does what he does to get you hissing at him. It works instantly and is 100% effective - so far anyway - in grabbing your attention and focus. Thus, with one smooth motion, he slides up to you, thighs colliding gently. It’s like you got an electric shock, the way you jumped and squealed. You immediately shift to the other end of the sofa, book thrown onto the space between you both, and glare daggers.

“Now that I have your attention,” Chrollo says, elbows resting on his knees, “there’s something we need to discuss.” A comment is already on the tip of your tongue, and you halfway open your mouth to let it out but Chrollo cuts you off. “We need to speak about sleeping arrangements.”

You give him a look that says ‘I would rather not’ but humour him anyway. “There’s no need. I get the bed, and you take the sofa. Like we agreed before.”

“Yes, but you aren’t sleeping.”

“I’ll take the sofa if you want the bed that much.”

“That isn’t the issue.” Chrollo sighs, a sight so rare you had to rub your eyes. “It’s your sleep. Darling, if you don’t sleep, you’ll start hallucinating.”

“I think I already am.” You give him another look with a brow raised. “Did you just sigh?”

He mirrors your expression. “I did.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe my eyes.”

Confusion grows on his face, but Chrollo instantly pushes it aside. “It’s almost sunset. You should go to bed as soon as it gets dark. You can lock the room if you like. As long as you sleep that is.”

Your other eyebrow raises as well. The devil himself negotiating with you? That too with good intentions? How rare. There must be a catch somewhere. “I’m sure a measly door lock won’t ever stop you,” you accuse. Though your words are often honeyed, the bite they have is always delivered.

Chrollo tilts his head, doing that thing he always does when you are being unreasonable. He tilts his head and gives you a smile before reassuring you that he won’t do any such thing. The promise he makes of not ‘pouncing on you’ or anything similar does little to satisfy, yet you agree. If he is offering something sincerely, you would be a fool to refuse it.

-

It’s been four hours in bed.

You still can’t sleep.

If the heaviness behind your eyes is anything to go by, your body is extremely exhausted. Even with so much exhaustion, your body refuses to succumb to sleep. It’s probably due to the presence of your ‘favourite’ person. Not even the door and walls are able to minimise his aura.

You can quite literally feel his existence. It’s agonising. Although the curtains are drawn and it’s completely dark, it still does not help in the slightest. A reminder of Chrollo’s promise comes to mind, and you huff out of annoyance. Who does he think he is anyway? Him and his tacky jacket with an upside-down cross. Sure, he’s some sort of bigshot criminal, but he likes philosophy. Philosophy. The only thing about him that stands out is his perspective.

Another huff, and you turn to the other side. If he thinks he can scare you with his mere presence and take away the peace in your life, he’s wrong. And you’ll prove him wrong by going to sleep! Before that…

You wiggle out a hand from under the covers and tap the empty space of the king sized bed just to be sure as your eyes adjust to little lighting in the room. The only source is the street lights outside behind the curtains, so it doesn’t surprise you when it takes a few minutes. Upon discovering no warm human body with you in bed, you retract your hand and snuggle in. However, a familiar silhouette in the darkness causes you to rise abruptly.

“Mama?!” Eyes widened, you lean towards it, hoping to confirm your suspicions. Though you are now squinting and almost able to make out the figure, disappointment accompanies the revelation of the silhouette’s identity.

Phone’s flashlight now turned on, you are face to face with none other than the man who promised not to enter the room. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Believe me, if I could, I’d turn into your mother only so that I wouldn’t have to see you so disappointed.”

An offended gasp escapes your mouth, and you huff for a third time before going back under the blanket. Bitter betrayal is all you can feel with only a hint of embarrassment (because why should you be embarrassed? he is the one who snuck into the room. how did he do that anyway?)

The mattress dips under Chrollo’s weight, and the curtains are promptly drawn to let light in. You immediately scoot to the farthest edge of the bed, only to be followed by Chrollo. Out of pure spite, you try rolling again yet fail as you take a fall to the floor. However, not even such a thing can deter you as you cross your arms, turn your back to the bed and remain lying on the floor.

There is nothing in this world that holds the power to stop you from being petty. Nothing. If he won’t respect your wishes, then he can have a try at sleeping on the floor with you.

You can hear the springs of the mattress, probably from him moving, and then footsteps. They sound like they’re coming from the other side of the bed and- is he coming your way? Why is he standing near you? You can hear a chuckle before you see him lie down on the floor right next to you, facing you with a smile. That bastard…

You huff for a fourth time before standing up. One knee on the mattress, you manoeuvre yourself to quickly go back under the covers and starfish before Chrollo makes his move. Smug victory makes you smile but the expression is quickly wiped off your face because the fiend has settled on the gap between your right arm and leg.

Another try it is then. This time, you curl into a ball, taking the entire banket with you, and settle on the corner of the bed. The attempt also proves to be feeble because he sits right next to you and rests his head where your shoulder is.

Now you have had enough. With the blanket wrapped around you, you simply get up and head for the bedroom door only to find Chrollo already standing there. How this demon incarnate can move so quickly, you will never understand. Thus, after your betrayed gasp, you make a beeline for the bathroom and lock the door before he can put his foot in the gap like last time. You are successful in this, and you celebrate by calling him an idiot in your head.

But what now? You’re inside the bathroom with a huge blanket wrapped around you. This is no place for a night’s rest, but you also don’t want to go out there where he is probably waiting for you. Goodness, you can already see the smug smile on his face as you come crawling back. Fine then. You’ll stay here until you feel sleepy.

And you do. You pace back and forth in the little space you have, huffing at your situation for the umpteenth time as you curse out Chrollo and the woman who birthed such an imp. Minutes blur as you continue back and forth and every single profanity you know has been uttered  at least thrice. When your legs deflect the curses back at you tenfold, you end up standing in front of the bathroom door with your ear pressed to the wood to listen to any sign of life in the bedroom.

When you feel somewhat sure of the room’s emptiness, you quietly unlock the door. After several seconds of waiting, you open the door just a crack, and when no one has yanked it open in your face, you open it yourself. The hinges creak a little, making you cringe at the noise, but the lack of human presence in the room and the closed door gives you comfort.

You immediately head for the bed, its tempting call beckoning you over. However, you are halfway there when a voice whispers right into your ear. You jump immediately, heart hammering inside your chest and a scream erupting from your throat out of surprise. A shadow stands as you turn to look behind you, no aura and no detected presence. Adjustment of your eyes to the light reveals Chrollo, a hand on his mouth in what you assume is a stifled laugh.

Disbelief and anger make themselves known, and you are quick to curse him out to his face. He, on the other hand, promptly composes himself. It is when your little fit of anger is over that he strikes. A hand reaches for your face, and although you flinch, you do not fight back. Chrollo’s palm cups your cheek as his thumb rubs the skin under your eyes and he smiles at you like he’s admiring a piece of gold jewellery he just polished.

“Get some sleep,” he says. “Your steps are becoming disoriented. I won’t bother you again.” The hand on your face retreats, and the door to the bedroom closes. As you stand in the middle of the room, the blanket still wrapped around you, you think over one question. How could he have noticed such a thing in such a dark room?

[roguelov]

Imagine a reader who has chronic nightmares and is afraid of falling asleep meeting and being comforted by Morpheus! <3

Angst? But with fluff? A bit of hurt/comfort??? HELL YESSSSSSSSSSSSS

At first you were accustom to the constant nightmares, although it was irksome and annoying to wake up with your heart pounding up in your throat, but you eventually accepted this was your fate. However, over the last month these nightmares leave you fearful to even sleep now. You held off sleep, drank an ungodly amount of caffeine, tried meditation and even some over the counter medication but none of it worked. Once you closed your eyes, you were tormented only to wake up minutes later and doomed to repeat the process.

Your disruptive sleep also gained the attention of the one responsible for such nightmares. Morpheus sensed the minor disruption, along with his nightmares moving onto the next dreamer suddenly. Curious, he turned his gaze to you. He watched as you appeared in a warped version of Fiddler Green with a slew of his nightmares lurking about. He watched as your eyes adjusted to the darkness only for you to instantly cower at the crunch of twigs and dried leaves. You swore under your breath, recognizing the place.

Then the hunt began.

A nightmare - a mix of predatory beasts and mythology - charged. Your breath hitched and your legs immediately knew what they must do: run. You ran and ran. But, the running was futile. The nightmare leapt high into the air, landing on your back. You screamed, you pleaded, you cried, then you disappeared.

You had woken up.

From then on, Morpheus was intrigued by you. He watched you a few more times, and each time a small ache in his chest grew. Nightmares were essential. They forced mortals to face their fears, to overcome them, yet this? This was not it. You were being tormented, instead of aiding he was hindering you.

So, when you fell asleep, Morpheus was ready.

This time instead of seeing the gnarly trees with its spindle like branches mimicking claws, you saw an endless field of an assortment of flowers.

“Is this to your liking?”

You whipped around. Your heart leapt up into your throat, ready for the nightmare to begin. It was no nightmare, nor monster. It was a man. He slowly approached you. “No nightmares will plague you tonight,” he said softly, like reassurance from a lover.

“How - how do you know that?” You asked, stepping back from him. “Who are you? Where am I and -“

“I am merely a friend at this moment,” he continued. “Please, allow me to right this wrong.”

He extended out a hand. You eyed it unsure of any of it.

“You will be under my care, let me offer you a sweeter night.”

What do I have to lose?

You stepped forward and slowly put your hand in his. His eyes softened. You cleared your throat, “What … what did you want to show me?”

“So much, my dreamer.”

For the first time in so long, you slept so soundly. You woke up with a long happy sigh, and with the feeling of your stranger’s hand in yours. Later that night, you were eager to fall back asleep. A voice warned you of a possible nightmare, but when you opened your eyes seeing the grand field you knew nothing would harm you again. And when your eyes meet your stranger’s dazzling blue, you felt so at peace. As if welcomed back home.

He extended his hand out again, “Where to now, my dreamer?”

[skwpr]

10 Reasons Why Studying is Hard

1 . You don’t know WHY

You don’t know why you have to study. You don’t know your true purpose.

Let me inform you: You have to study because this is the stage in life where you create a foundation of all the basic knowledge you need and learn all sorts of things.

In the next stage, you get to choose what career path you want to take. That is why you should think about your “WHY”.

I am studying because I want to study every day and be prepared for my exams.

2 . You don’t know HOW to study

If you are like my brother, then you don’t know how to study.

Somehow, when we join high school, nobody really teaches us how to study.

Studying involves using different tactics to understand and remember things for the future, or for exams.

You need to learn to memorize.

This is how I memorize things for my exams:

I condense my notes into a few tiny words (summarizing)

I memorize these little words by:

Writing them over and over again

Closing my eyes and remembering them

Testing myself by writing the words again

3 . You are not studying at the right time

Are you a morning person or a night person?

Do you feel energized at 10 am or 10 pm?

These are questions you need to ask yourself to learn why studying is hard for you.

You need the answers to these questions in order to actually study.

4 . You don’t study every day

Alright, you don’t have to study every day.

But that doesn’t mean you only study at 1 am the night before the exam!

That is not smart at all. How are you supposed to teach yourself 3 months-worth of work in a few caffeine-spurred hours?

Stop making studying hard! Just study a little every day.

5 . You don’t have motivation to study

You can’t study at all because you don’t motivate yourself to study.

That is sometimes an excuse because here is the secret: Action comes before motivation, not the other way round.

Stop waiting for the right moment to come down from the sky like clouds parting and the sun shining down on you.

Just open your book right now and read it.

6 . You have some bad habits

If you can’t study at all, maybe you need to study your own habits.

Get a notebook and begin to track every single thing you do in a day. I would advise tracking habits after every hour.

Then you will begin to notice that you are doing some bad habits that make studying hard for you.

7 . You can’t focus on studying

Studying is hard for you and you can’t study at all because you can’t focus on studying.

My advice for you is to sit down and ask yourself why you can’t focus on studying and find a solution to that.

8 . You don’t have fun while studying

Studying to you is probably boring work!

You need to make studying appealing and inviting so you will feel motivated to study.

9 . You don’t know any study hacks

Everyone has their own study hacks.

You probably don’t. That is why studying is hard for you.

You need come up with a personal game plan for how you plan to get good grades on your next test.

10 . You are just plain lazy

Maybe you are just lazy. Everyone gets lazy once in a while. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get off your butt right now and start studying.

Do the least you can possibly do. Open your book and plan to learn just one thing today.

Remember only you can go deep inside and find out why you can’t study or why you never feel like studying. Ask yourself these questions.

That is how you will begin to create a good mindset that will help you to study.

[zablife]

Favorite Ex

Summary: When Carmy’s stress and anxiety rise to unprecedented levels, he shuts down and pushes you away. However, you can’t stop thinking about each other.

Author’s Note: Inspired by Maisie Peter’s song “Favourite Ex" and lines from S1, E5 which I've italicized.

Warnings: language, mention of fire, angst, break up, fluffy ending

Shades of orange consumed Carmy’s vision, searing heat hitting his face, neck and arms as flames rose dangerously high from the burners. His hands should have reached for the fire extinguisher instead of remaining by his side, arm hairs singing to oblivion. In that moment he wasn’t sure if he was unable or unwilling to guide himself, but he was well aware it wasn’t normal, this lack of concern for his own well being. As black smoke collected around him, the shifting light danced in his darkened pupils, but he wasn’t present, his thoughts were far away with you. 

———————-

The light flickered above the kitchen sink as he watched you fill the coffee pot, the need for caffeine growing after days of getting up before five every day this week. “Carmy, did you pay the electric bill?” you demanded with a huff. You were always short with him recently and he knew he was letting you down, but the days at the restaurant were wearing on him.

Turning back to blow smoke out the window, he rubbed his eyes, trying to recall which bills he’d been able to take care of this month. 

“Are you listening to me? They’re gonna cut you off again. I told you last week about the notice,” you said, reaching for the stack of papers piled high on the counter. Unable to find what you were looking for in the chaos, you gave up, placing your fingertips to your temples. “Look, Carmy, I know you wanted me to move here permanently, but I think that was just the grief talking.”

Carm grimaced as he flicked the cigarette butt out the window. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean, you needed someone here with you after Mikey—“ you began, but he cut you off, jumping up from the window and pushing past you to stalk down the hall.

“Don’t do that!” you warned him.

“What?” he muttered as he kept walking.

“That thing you do where you walk away and don’t talk to me for days. I can’t stand it!”

He turned on his heel, facing you with clenched jaw. “Well, what the fuck am I supposed to say when you tell me you’re here out of pity.”

You furrowed your brow at his accusation. “That’s not what I said. I want to be here, but not if you won’t talk to me about what’s going on with you. You just shut me out and I need more!” You’d finally said what had been on your mind for weeks now, too afraid to voice your own needs when your boyfriend was struggling with major life changes.

“Well, I can’t do that,” he shouted. His words were so harsh it felt like a stab to the back. You’d been there for him since he got the call about Mikey and sat with him night after night when he had horrific nightmares, waking covered in sweat, but unwilling to say a word about them.

“Do you know how many people need me right now? Syd and Tina are at each other’s throats, Richie’s always starting shit and Sugar’s calling me twenty times a day about meetings and talking to Ma. I don’t need this from you too. I can’t do this!” he said, body suddenly going deathly still, eyes fixing on a water stain on the wall just as the lights went out.

Observing his rigid posture, you knew he’d shut down. It was how he coped with stress and even though you hated it, you had to accept that you weren’t going to get any more out of him today. You wiped a tear from your cheek as you nodded to yourself. 

“Okay, Carmy. I’m gonna give you some space then,” you conceded, leaving him in the darkened hallway. He listened to the front door slam behind you as he rested his forehead against the adjacent doorway, knowing he’d fucked it all up and hating himself more than he already did.

——————————

“Carmy! Carmy!” A voice shouted, breaking through his haze and urging him to act. “Fire, chef!” Sweeps warned, moving up to take charge of the blaze. Carm finally moved back, shaking his head as though he were just realizing what was happening. Grabbing the fire extinguisher from the other man’s hands he pulled the pin and aimed the nozzle at the flames lapping at the stove, watching as a thick spurt of white foam issued forth. The fire died out with a sizzle and Carm breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Yo, Jeff, what happened?” Tina asked, popping her head around the corner.

“Fire’s out,” Sweeps declared, hauling the extinguisher off swiftly. Carmy turned to Tina, snapping back into work mode and asked, “Sorry, everything's fine. Did you finish your prep?” 

“Yeah, you alright?” she said with concern, glancing up and down his disheveled form.

“I need to go take care of something,” he mumbled, heading for the alley.

————————-

Your phone rang and you immediately reached to silence it, stopping when you noticed Carm’s number flash on the screen. It had been three months since you’d spoken and you wondered if you should even answer. He’d made it clear that a relationship was not what he wanted right now and you had made peace with that….until now. You had to admit you missed him.

Your best nights had been with Carmy, listening to music in his tiny kitchen as you cooked together. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips as he checked the progress of the sauce over your shoulder. “More garlic,” he’d say with authority. 

“Fuck your one star, I’m the chef tonight,” you always told him. His smirk told you he was pleased with your assertiveness, happy not to have make any decisions for the night. However, your need to take charge caused your worst fights as well. You wanted Carm to talk about Mikey and the more you pushed, the more he retreated from you. He said you didn’t understand, but you cared deeply, wanting to help him through his grief. Simply wanting to take care for him if only he'd let you.

The buzzing from your phone continued and you finally decided to pick up, more eager than you should have been to hear his voice again. You cleared your throat anxiously before answering with a shaky, “Carmy?”

“Y/n? Sorry, I know it’s late,” he apologized.

“S’okay. What’s going on?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you picked at your pajama bottoms nervously.

“We had a fire at the restaurant today,” he began.

“Oh, my God, Carm, are you okay?” you blurted, worried about how calm he sounded despite what he’d just told you.

“Yeah, yeah. It was just a grease fire, you know? But the point is, I realized something. I was watching it and I had a minute where I thought—If I don’t do anything, this place will burn down and all my anxiety will go away with it,” he sighed heavily and your heart nearly broke at the sound, listening to him open up to you in a way you knew was difficult for him. 

“And then I put the fire out,” he finished. “I snapped out of it and I realized I’ve been avoiding a lot of things….I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t think I could handle it all. Like I was waiting for Mikey to come back and fix all the fucked up shit he left, but I’m done with that. I want live my life for me.”

You nodded into the phone, lip trembling as you replied, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I haven’t slept without you. I’ve cried for weeks. Nothing feels right without you, but I’m going to start making some changes around here and I hope you’ll come back,” he said, swallowing harshly as he awaited your answer. 

You searched the ceiling, wanting to say yes right away, but knowing how Carmy’s mood could change on a dime. “That sounds really good so let’s start with dinner first, ok?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he rushed out, relieved to hear you would see him again. “You free Thursday?”

“Thursday? Sure,” you agreed. 

Then you heard him breathe into the phone as though he was letting out an anxious breath. “You still like chicken piccata?” he asked and you smiled, knowing he remembered your favorite. 

“Only if you let me help make the sauce,” you countered. “Fucking one star,” you quipped. You heard him laugh and it warmed your heart.

You liked the thought of calling him that again instead of your ex. He was your favorite ex, but that wasn't really a consolation. You hoped things were changing for the better, but only time would tell.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Amidst the Chaos

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  Spencer and (Y/N) didn't get along, and it annoyed the whole BAU. But when a traumatized (Y/N) shows up at Spencer's apartment late one night, their whole relationship shifts

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, references to torture, other canon-typical topics

Word Count:  3827

Author’s Note: not necessarily my best fic, but i’ve been working on it for over a year so... here it is

Orpheus - Sara Bareilles

AO3 Link

“Don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos. Though I know it's blinding, there's a way out.” ~ Sara Bareilles, Orpheus

~

“Guys, I want you to meet our newest team member,” Hotch said to the BAU as they settled around the table. “This is Agent (Y/N) (L/N).”

You gave a shy wave to the group in front of you, but your smile was bright enough to light up the entire room. “Hi.”

“She’s coming to us from Organized Crime. I trust that you’ll all welcome her to the team.”

“Honestly, I’m just happy to be given a chance to work with all of you. It’s been my dream to work at the BAU for years.”

“We’ll have time to get to know Agent (L/N) better on the plane. But for now, we have a case,” Hotch said. “JJ?”

~

“So,” Derek said, taking a seat next to you on the jet. “What was Organized Crime like?”

“Honestly? Boring as all hell. It was mostly stopping money laundering and drug cartels,” you said. “Not as glamorous as Goodfellas makes it seem. Besides, the BAU was always my end goal anyway.”

He chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I get that. We’re glad to have you on our team. ” The conversation between you and Morgan flowed easily and before you knew it, you had become like brother and sister. The rest of the team grew to love you too. Well, most of the team. 

Spencer seemed icy and cold toward you, and no one could offer a valid explanation. By all accounts, you should have gotten along. You loved Halloween just as much as Spencer did and you always had at least 3 books on your person at a time. You had a borderline unhealthy addiction to caffeine and sugar and spent more time in the office than your apartment. But for some reason, you and Spencer just seemed to constantly be at each other’s throats. 

In your defense, Reid had started it. 

For whatever reason, Reid disliked you right out the gate. He tried to be civil toward you, but something about you just bothered him. 

He originally just tried to avoid you when he could, but with the nature of the team’s dynamic, that didn’t work out well. 

Spencer found himself doing small, petty things to annoy you, like putting your favorite mug on the top shelf where you couldn’t reach it or borrowing your pens and “forgetting” to return them. Something about seeing you mildly inconvenienced and annoyed as opposed to your normally happy and bubbly self made him feel better. He knew it was fucked up of him. 

Eventually, the animosity became mutual. You and Spencer were rarely paired together on cases because Hotch couldn’t stand the constant arguing between the two of you. Mostly, Hotch tended to pair you with Derek who you began to see as a brother. 

Spencer would never admit it, but seeing you and Derek be as close as you were stirred some kind of jealousy in him. He figured it was just because he had been friends with Morgan first, that was all. 

~

Local cases were always extra stressful on the team. Something about unsubs being so close to home made the cases more personal. As such, tensions were running high and no one had slept in over 24 hours as the team worked to nail down a profile. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” you muttered as you looked over the crime scene photos. “The crime profiles as disorganized but the victimology and timeline profile him as organized.” 

“How you doing there, Pretty Girl?” Morgan asked, setting down a carrier of coffee cups. 

You sighed and picked up the cup with your name scrawled on it. “There’s discrepancies in our preliminary profile and I can’t…”

“Did you try comparing notes with Reid?”

“Derek, I love you, but are you insane?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N).”

“So am I. Any time I try to have any kind of civilized conversation with that man he turns it into an argument.”

Thankfully, Hotch came into the room at that point, stopping the conversation. “We have two potential leads. Morgan, you’re going with Blake to the first address. (L/N), you and Reid are going to the second.” Hotch tossed you both keys for SUVs. “Reid and Blake have the files. They’ll fill you in on the drive.”

“Yes, sir.” You grabbed your coffee from the table, along with Reid’s, and headed out to the car. When you got to the parking lot, Reid was already leaning against the car, flipping through a file folder. “Reid. Here.”

As you handed him the coffee, he said, “What, was everyone else busy?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. I’m just following Hotch’s orders.” You unlocked the car and climbed in. “Where are we going?”

“21 Rock Creek Road, Somerset. We’re interviewing Linda Walsh, the neighbor of our first victim, Savanna Curtis.”

“Great. Can you type it into the GPS?”

“Why? I can just give you the directions.”

“Because the GPS is more accurate.”

“(L/N), I have an eidetic memor-”

“Eidetic memory, I know. But you’re telling me your memory can predict traffic patterns? I don’t think so. Just use the damn GPS.”

“Fine.” Spencer typed the address in, muttering under his breath.

“Thank you. What information do we have on Walsh?”

“72 years old, she was reportedly in the house when Curtis was attacked and taken to the secondary location. Hotch wants us to interview her and see if she noticed anything that might help us with the profile.”

Soon enough, the two of you pulled up to the witness’s house. Before even getting out of the car, you felt like something was wrong. 

”Wait, Reid.” You grabbed his arm as he reached for the door handle. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the windows. All of them are dark. Not even a television glow. Something’s off.”

“I hate to say it, but you’re right.” 

You hopped out of the car and pulled your gun from your side, following Reid up the path to the house. He knocked on the front door. 

“I don’t hear anything from inside.” He knocked again. “Go around the back, see if you can get in that way.”

You nodded and walked around the house. You could hear Reid continuing to knock as you went around. As you rounded the corner, a sharp pain entered your shoulder. You yelled and turned around, but not before a blunt object hit you in the temple and your vision faded.

~

Spencer was panicking. You were missing, and it was his fault. He was pacing in the front yard of Walsh’s home while the team and the local authorities worked to catch up. 

“Reid, what happened?” Hotch asked. “We need everything.”

Spencer relayed every detail from the moment the two of you pulled up to the house, still pacing. “I shouldn’t have told her to go off on her own, it’s my fault-”

“Kid, breathe,” Morgan told him. “You didn’t know this would happen. What’s important now is finding her and bringing her home safe.”

The team did a thorough inspection on Mrs. Walsh’s home and learned a good deal. Mrs. Walsh wasn’t home, as was reported. However, her son, Devin, was clearly staying with her. It didn’t take the team long to figure out he was the unsub. 

~

When you awoke, you were in a secondary location. Your head was throbbing behind your eyes and your shoulder was in agony. Your arms were tied behind your back, but that was the only restraint to your mobility. You looked around, trying to figure out where you were. It was a large, open space, you guessed a warehouse, probably abandoned. It was dark, except for the glow of the streetlights outside and an industrial lamp in the center of the room. You didn’t have much time to assess your surroundings, though, because Walsh was waiting for you to wake up.

You knew the facts of the case. You saw the photos. He kept the women for 24 hours, torturing them until their bodies were barely recognizable. Then, he’d kill and dump them.

But you also knew your team. They were relentless. And they would save you.

~

“We’ve seen what he does to his victims. We’re in a race against the clock here,” Morgan argued with Hotch.

“But we still have to keep our heads and follow the law. If we don’t get a warrant, any evidence we do find goes right out the window.”

“Guys, Garcia found something,” JJ said. She put her phone on speaker. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“So, Walsh’s dear old dad was the owner of a warehouse in the 80s. The warehouse is still in his name but has since been abandoned. And before you even ask, yes, I sent you the address.”

~

The SUVs pulled up to the warehouse and the team jumped out. The plan was to enter the building slow and quiet, but that changed when they heard you scream, followed by a gunshot. Then, everything went silent. Completely silent.

Everyone rushed into the building. The team was terrified of what they were about to find. What they saw, no one could have expected. 

You were lying unconscious on the floor, in a pool of blood. Also on the floor, with a bullet hole through his forehead, was Devin Walsh. Standing with a gun in her hands was 72 year old Linda Walsh, tears running down her face. 

“I had to,” she said, looking at Hotch. “He was gonna kill her.”

“We need a medic!”

~

The team was sitting around your hospital bed. The doctor had said you probably wouldn’t wake up for a while, but they were determined to have someone there with you when you did. 

“We should take shifts,” JJ suggested. “That way there’s always someone here and the rest of us can get some rest, too.”

“That’s a good idea. Dave and I can take the first shift,” Hotch said. “We’ll do four-hour rotations in pairs.”

They talked through who would pair up and take what rotations before Rossi shooed the rest of the team out.

Eventually, Reid and Morgan were on their “shift.” Morgan glanced over at Reid, who was staring at the same page of a book. 

“You ever gonna flip that page?”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“Kid, you heard the doctor. She will.”

“But what if she doesn’t? It would be my fault. I’m the one who made her go off by herself. We were supposed to be a team and I couldn’t see past-” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Morgan put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “it’ll be okay, Reid. I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Want one?”

“Sure.” After Morgan left, Spencer looked at you and sighed. Your body was wrapped in casts and bandages. “Hey, (L/N),” he said, reaching out and resting his hand on top of yours.

~

One thing you didn’t expect about being in a medically induced coma was to still hear everything going on around you. You could hear the doctors and nurses moving about your room. You could hear your teammates. You heard Hotch and Rossi talking about the paperwork they’d have to file on the case because an agent had been seriously injured. You heard the music Penelope insisted on playing, and you heard Spencer. 

“Hey, (L/N),” you heard him say. “I don’t know if you can hear me but,” he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. Not just for this. I mean, obviously for this. I never should have split us up, I never should have sent you around the back of the house, I never should have-” he stopped himself. You could hear the tightness in his voice. Was he crying? No, Reid wouldn’t be crying over you. Would he? But he continued. “I was awful to you. I mean, I was an asshole,” he said with a dry laugh. “There’s no other word for it. I was an asshole to you and there was no excuse. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I-”

~

“One cup of sugar with a splash of coffee,” Derek said, coming back into the room. 

“Thanks.” Reid took the cup in both his hands, grateful for a distraction from his guilt. 

“Any change?”

He shook his head. “None.”

Derek sighed. “You know, part of me was really hoping she’d wake up in the five minutes I was gone.” He gripped your hand that wasn’t casted up. “We miss you, Pretty Girl.”

~

Your coma lasted for about 3 weeks. The doctors kept you in the hospital for observation for another full week before finally letting you go home.

During your recovery, your apartment was practically a revolving door. Just about the entire team came by to check on you and keep you company, with the exception of Spencer. You couldn’t say you were too surprised. However, something about it upset you. Hell, even Hotch and Rossi took the time to stop by and check on you. 

Derek and Penelope were probably your most frequent visitors. You were honestly grateful for their visits, and for the help it brought. With your injuries, simple day-to-day tasks were more difficult for you, and Penelope and Derek were more than happy to help you out. Derek took your grocery list and all your other errands while Penelope helped around your apartment. You were even more grateful when they forced you to attend a dinner party at Rossi’s. Penelope was at your apartment, helping you pick out a dress for the event.

“I don’t know, Pen.”

“(Y/N), I’m telling you, purple is your color.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want my dress to match my bruises.”

Penelope just rolled her eyes and tossed the dress on your bed. “Do you really think I’d pick out a dress that didn’t make you look good? Let’s go, you haven’t had a proper shower in a week.”

Penelope helped you get ready for the dinner party before getting ready herself. She helped adjust the strap of your brace when your doorbell buzzed. 

“That’ll be Derek,” you said. Penelope answered the door to Derek standing outside, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Well, look at these pretty ladies. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I need to get out of this house,” you said. “I haven’t seen anything but these walls in weeks.”

When you pulled into Rossi’s driveway, you were more than excited to see the team. The team, in turn, was excited to see you. You were smiling and laughing, more and more of your normal self. 

When Spencer saw you walk through Rossi’s front door on your crutches, a lump formed in his throat. Ever since seeing you in the hospital, he’d been wracked with guilt. It was the main reason why he hadn’t visited you like everyone else. He tried to avoid you the whole night. Thankfully, you were so happy to be with the others that you didn’t seem to notice. But Blake did. 

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” she asked Spencer, handing him a drink. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re avoiding everyone tonight. Why?” When Spencer stayed silent, Blake followed his line of sight. He was watching you talking with JJ. “Ah. Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“I can’t, Alex. Believe me, I’ve tried. For months. Any time I try and have just a normal goddamn conversation with her, what comes out is sarcastic and cruel. I-I don’t know why it happens.” He ran his hands over his face and groaned. 

“You’re in love with her.” Blake wasn’t saying it as a question. Seeing the panic in his eyes, she said, “Don’t worry, it’ll stay with me.”

~

The heavy sheets of rain outside pounded against the apartment windows. It was the kind of cold rain that seeped into your bones, despite a warm home. It was late, but Spencer was still awake, reading. He couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t unusual for him. He heard a knock on his door. Spencer set his book down on his coffee table before walking to his door. He glanced out the peephole and took a step back in shock. Spencer opened the door to see you standing there, soaked and visibly shivering, in only your pajamas. Your eyes were bloodshot and you were sniffling. 

“(L/N)? What are you-”

“I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want me here and I don’t even know how I ended up here, I just started walking and-”

“Wait, wait, you walked here? In the torrential downpour?” When you nodded, Spencer opened his door wider. “Here, come in. You must be freezing. What happened?”

You stepped through his door and began to ramble, “I don’t know. I woke up from a nightmare and I knew I-I couldn’t stay in my apartment alone so I just started walking and somehow I ended up here and I’m sorry.” Your teeth were chattering as you continued to shiver. 

Spencer grabbed a blanket off the back of his couch and draped it around you. “No, no, it’s, um-” Spencer cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it? I’ve found that sometimes just saying it out loud helps.”

Once you nodded, Spencer held his hand out and led you over to his couch. You were silent for a few moments, staring out the window at the rain streaming down. 

“I was back… there,” you said when you finally started talking. “In the dark. I-I couldn’t see anything but I knew he was there. Then I felt his hands on my throat and-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Your whole body was shivering, but Spencer didn’t think it was from the cold anymore. 

Spencer moved to put his arm around you but stopped, dropping his arm back to his side. “I know how you feel,” he said. “After Hankle, I couldn’t handle looking at the crime scene photos because I knew what the victims were thinking right… you know… right before.”

“Do they ever stop? The nightmares?”

“I don’t know. Mine haven’t.” When he saw the defeat on your face, he added, “But it does get easier.”

You nodded, still staring out at the pouring rain. You cleared your throat. “Well, uh, I’ll, um, I’ll call a taxi and get out of your hair.”

“You don’t- uh, you can stay, um, if-if you want,” Spencer said. 

“Reid, I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be!” Spencer assured you. “I could use the company, actually. I’ve been trying to find someone to watch Stardust with me. Penelope says I need to watch more pop culture and I know you’re a fan of Neil Gaiman.” He gave you a soft smile. “Please, (Y/N), stay. I promise, you’re not imposing.”

When he saw your face crack into a small smile, he felt a swarm of butterflies rise in his stomach. “Okay,” you said. 

About halfway through the movie, Spencer felt you slump against his shoulder. Before he knew it, you were fast asleep. He was frozen there, not wanting to disturb you. He knew how rough the past few months had been, and it was obvious to everyone you weren’t sleeping. Maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was more, but Spencer felt like it was now his responsibility to take care of you, if you would let him.

~

The whole team noticed the shift between you and Reid. Where you would previously stay as far from each other as possible, you were now actively seeking each other out. You chose to sit next to each other in the briefing room and on the jet, something you had never done before. On the trips back from cases, you would rest your head on Reid’s shoulder and sleep while he read a book. But, no one said anything about any of it. No one wanted to burst whatever weird bubble was surrounding the BAU team. 

That was, until Blake, Derek, and JJ spotted you knocking on Spencer’s motel door one night during a case. The two were sitting up in the lounge going over the case files yet again when they spotted you, in your pajamas, sneaking out of your own room. 

After watching you slip into Spencer’s room, JJ said, “You don’t think they’re…”

“Reid and (L/N)? No, there’s no way. They can’t stand each other.”

“Well, they do say there’s a thin line between love and hate,” Alex noted, turning the page in her book. 

“I don’t know about you two, but I need to know what’s going on,” Derek said, getting up from the couch. 

“I’m coming with you!”

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex warned. “Just talk to them about it in the morning.”

“Do you know something, Alex?” JJ asked. 

“Even if I did know something, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you.”

~

The next morning, you felt eyes on you as you drank your coffee. You looked up from the case file to see Derek staring at you. 

“What?”

“Were you going to tell me about you and Reid or…”

“What are you talking about? Me and Reid?”

“(Y/N), come on. You two are practically attached at the hip when just two weeks ago you couldn’t fucking stand each other.”

You shrugged. “We worked out our differences, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Alright, what about you sneaking off to his room last night?”

Your face paled. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Care to explain then?”

You sighed, looking around to make sure it was just you and Morgan. “You know I haven’t been sleeping since, well, everything.” Derek nodded. “Well, a few nights ago I ended up at Reid’s apartment in a panic. It was pouring out so he let me just stay and I slept better than I had in years. And, you know, he’s not too bad to hang out with either,” your face flushed with your last statement. 

“You’re not too bad to hang out with either.”

You jumped, turning around to see Spencer in the doorway with cups of (good) coffee in his arms.

“Spencer, when did-”

He handed you a frappuccino. “Just now. I take it you weren’t as sneaky as you thought?”

“Shut up,” you whined, nudging him with your arm as you stuck a straw in your drink. Spencer just laughed and took a seat next to you.

“So, you’re just, like, friends now?”

You and Spencer looked at each other, seemingly having a conversation without speaking.

“I mean, I’d say we’re a bit more than just friends,” you admitted, smiling at Spencer. He kissed the top of your head. 

“Damn, I owe JJ 10 bucks,” Derek muttered before saying, “But seriously, I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you realized you were perfect for each other.”

[meandhisjohn]

News from a crazy mind...

Sherlock, mental health and the support from a fandom.

When Sherlock becomes what the doctor ordered....

100 days lie between those moments.

100 days since I wanted to die.

100 days since I emailed Dignitas.

100 days full of struggle and hope.

100 days later I made it out of hell again.

A handful of people who showed me unconditional love during the hardest setback of my disorder career.

I will love them till the day I die.

And once again the Sherlock world saved my soul before I destroyed it myself.

A fandom full of kindness and support and a detective and a doctor who saved me in more ways than they can ever imagine.

Had a doctors appointment on Friday and I have one hell of a doctor.

Not as good as John Watson but highly supportive of anything that increases my strength.

We talked about a little miracle.

A miracle that sounds so incredibly stupid but it is such a huge thing.

For the past five years I have to take besides my regular medication in mornings and in the evenings a little extra cocktail of meds in the afternoon to keep my extreme nervousness in check.

I'm nervous and tense 24/7 and it takes a toll on my body sometimes.

It makes it very hard to sleep and to find a way to sit still.

So the extra meds are necessary..

Ten days ago I started to listen to Podfics and quickly discovered a new way to enjoy the Sherlock universe.

I'm 43 years old and retired since I was 39 because my body couldn't take the stress anymore.

I have some free times during the day and I made it a habit for the past ten days to listen to Podfics in the afternoon and again at night.

And suddenly I could sleep and, and here comes the miracle..

I forgot to take my afternoon meds.

Even more my body relaxed in a way I haven't experienced in decades.

My body was obviously as surprised as I am because since a few days I have to drink a coffee in the afternoon, otherwise I would fall asleep.

I can only drink coffee without caffeine which tastes awful but otherwise my nervousness goes through the roof and I shake like a leaf.

But now instead of taking an extra dose of anxiety relief pills I take a real good old black coffee full of caffeine after listening to Podfics.

And that sounds incredibly ridiculous but for me it is a miracle because for the first time in over 15 years I feel calm and not because of a chemical reaction but because of a human reaction.

I know @totallysilvergirl had no idea what would happen by telling me about Podfics but I will never forget it!

Back to my incredible doctor who saw the change from a person who was determined to end this endless circle of depression and anxiety to a person who smiles again.

Now he ordered a six months try of daily Podfics ( no joke) to see if my blood levels improves and accordingly my medication can be reduced.

He knows that in the past three years my disorder was always better during my Sherlock highs so he is actually happy about the new development.

Long story short ( too late I know)

Do whatever feels right for you!

Invent your own therapy!

Do what makes you happy no matter how unconventional it might be.

Because you matter!!!!

I attach you my new and exciting Podfic collection for you.

Maybe you will find something you like.

Of course everything is available in Reading form as well.

Be happy in your own, weird, wonderful way.

@keirgreeneyes @discordantwords @a-victorian-girl @bewitched-bullet @lisbeth-kk @whatnext2020 @inevitably-johnlocked @barachiki @babaybo @jobooksncoffee @rey-jake-therapist @missdeliadili @helloliriels @podfixx @johnlocky @johnlockpodficclub @johnlockficclub @peanitbear @strawberrywinter4 @chocolate1elise @kettykika78

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Akaza, Kyojuro, Nakime and Giyuu.

Warnings: language, stalking, yandere tendencies, dirty jokes and mention to sex, mention to drugs, sugar daddy dynamics, attempted murder, sapphic love (temporary one-sided), mention to violence, psychological trauma, mention to murder, death, loss of parents.

Plot: Haunted by nightmares regarding your parents’s death, you wake up early in the morning to attend some classes at University. Your feelings for Muzan are controversial and you find yourself yearning for him after a romantic and unexpected reunion. Back at University, you catch up with some of your friends and, while Muzan claimes to have given you so personal space, you soon find out he could not keep his promise. While the Slayers are attending a meeting, the Moons are watching you and your date night with Muzan will definitely be memorable.

part one| part two| part three| part four| part five| part six| part seven

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

FRIENDS.

"Geez, what's happened to you? Are you sick?" Akaza inquired, glancing at you briefly while filling his mug with some coffee.

Maybe you should have put your make-up on, before showing up in the kitchen. Apparently, the shower you had taken had not helped you look better. However, you did not take it personally. You expected to look devasted. The moment you had stepped into the bathroom and switched the lights on, you had grimaced at your reflection in the mirror. You knew it would have happened: it was the same old story, after all.

"I have barely slept, but I am fine. – you said, grabbing your lavender blue mug from the counter – Thanks for asking" you added shortly, joining him on the kitchen island and choosing a croissant from the silvery tray in front of you. You wondered who always went to buy the delicious pastries so early in the morning.

Maybe it was Kokushibo. He was literally a night owl. You had heard him leaving in the middle of the night since you had moved there. Then again, it had been only three days since you had settled down in that house, it could have been a mere coincidence.

Akaza hummed, taking a small sip from his yellowish mug "Muzan's kept you awake all night long, huh?" he teased you, his eyes lazily glancing outside the window, watching the sky turn purple and how some reddish stripes enlightened the still sleeping city below.

You blushed, opting for the basic pastry filled with cherry jam "I don't know what you're talking about, Akaza" you whispered, grasping the coffee pot to pour yourself the right amount of caffeine you needed to make your brain properly function.

You wondered how long it would have taken for you to finally relax and get comfortable with the radical change in your life. Stressful events made the nightmares come back and, while you were used to it, you thought you had somehow found your balance. There was no way in Hell your heart would have forgotten about that tragic night ten years ago, but during the past years you had held on your mental stability to accept that fact that there was nothing you could have done to save your parents.

They had died before your eyes. You tried to bury their screams of agony in the back of your mind and you succeded in it. Despite that, when the nightmares came back, it was hard to pretend you had come to terms with your trauma. The small scar on your right knee was a constant reminder of what had happened.

A soft nudge on your ribs made you flick your gaze up to your interlocutor and, judging by the concerned look on his face, you realized you had dazed off for way too long.

Wonderful, now he probably thought you were crazy.

"Did Douma give you one of his magical pills?" Akaza questioned you, cocking his head to the side, as he attentively inspected your face in search for a proof that you were high.

You rolled your eyes at him and chugged down your coffee, before settling the now empty mug back on the counter "No, he didn't. But, if the pills can chase nightmares away, I'll make sure to ask him to give me some of them" you bluntly replied, eyes downcast not meet his bright, golden ones.

You did not really mean what you had said. You were upset and sarcasm was your defensive coping mechanism. You did not want to startle Akaza and, to be honest, you did not think anything could really leave him bitter, considering who he worked for and what Muzan had probably asked him to do for him.

Now, however, things were kind of getting awkaward between you two and you did not waste any more precious time in making your getaway from the crime scene to ease the tension off.

"I have some classes to attend. See you later" you mumbled, grabbing your croissant and quickly jumping on your feet with a distraught expression plastered on your face. Akaza, obviously, did not fail to notice it and, although you had already turned your back at him to leave the room, he called you out and forced you to halt.

"Y/N, wait a second. – the bodyguard said, hastily wiping his mouth with a napkin and hopping down from his stool too – Do you want to talk about it? I am not a psychologist, but someone told me I am a good listener" he softly stated, an ounce of nostalgia permeating his words. He took you off guard.

While you thought Muzan's flunkies probably tolerated your presence around not to lose their job, there was something in Akaza's words that did not quite match with the idea you had of him and his formal, detached duty of giving assistance to his boss's girlfriend. There was empathy in his voice, there was genuine interest. Despite that, you had never really talked much about your nightmares. There were only a few selected people who knew something about them and, back then, you had been kind of forced to tell them about your problem. The awful amount of times you had waken your friends up with your screams, during your sleepovers, had caused them to get worried and you had no other choice but let them in.

You turned towards Akaza, a tired smile curling your lips "I don't doubt it, but I am the I-fly-solo type of person. I can deal with it. – you said, flicking your gaze up on the black and white clock hung on the wall – I really got to go now. See you later, Akaza!" you added shortly, whipping your head back to corridor and jogging towards your bedroom.

On your way to your sumptuous room, you chewed on the delicious pastry, slowing down your pace as you passed by Muzan's bedroom.

Muzan... Fuck.

A few thoughts popped in your mind as the coffee started taking over you. First and foremost, your legs hurt. Badly. Secondly, you were subconsciously infatuated by him. Thirdly, he was a criminal. Your soon-to-be-husband was a bloody criminal about to rule your Country.

Although he had scared you to death, you still could not quite see past his façade. You could have never forgotten his murderous eyes, when he ran to the parking lot. You could not forget his words, when he had made you understand not to cross lines when he was around. Did he really care about you? Were just a pretty face and a nice body he claimed not to neglect his duties as your boyfriend?

It was overwhelming and the idea of facing him after what had happened yesterday made you wish to evoke the famous black hole to dive in and never come back from.

Pinching the bridge of your nose in distress, you took the last bite of your croissant and proceeded in your march to your bedroom. A certain someone, however, had other plans. You squealed out in surprise, when you felt the door creaking open and a hand wrapping around your wrist. Before you could even protest, Muzan had tugged you in.

He spun you around, your back flattened against the now closed door as he planted his hands on each side of your head, basically caging you between his body and the mahogany surface behind you.

Every single time your eyes met you felt like drowning into a sea of blood, but it was addictive. Therefore, you flicked your gaze up, your droopy eyes meeting his shimmering red ones. You had not realised you were that close. You could count the different shades of red in his irises and you could spot the droplets of water in his dark eyelashes, a clear sign he had just taken his shower.

A shower. Well, shit.

You had no time to elaborate that he was half-naked, his lips locked with yours in a tender kiss almost immediately and he stole your breath from your lungs with expertise. It did not last long, though. It was fleeting, yet strangely gentle. Nothing like the fervent kisses he had blessed you with until now. Yet, you loved it, and when your mouths parted you found yourself yearning for more.

Asking for it, or pulling him down for another one was out of discussion, though.

He grinned down at you, his fingers running through his locks as he scrutinized your face in amusement. Was it really that easy getting you flustered?

"What was that?" you breathed out, fidgeting with your necklace again.

"Hello to you too, love. – he mused, smirking – I thought you were still upset about what had happened yesterday. Giving you a good morning kiss sounded like a good way to make it up to you" he replied casually, taking a step back to let you have some personal space back.

You blushed, chewing on your lower lip not to embarrass yourself further in front of him. Keeping up with his mood swings was exhausting. In moments like these, when sounded spontaneous and romantic, you felt on cloud nine. You wondered if he really meant what he had said, but you had to protect your haert from breaking down.

Guys like him broke hearts easily and you were not going to let him have the privilege to destroy yours.

"Uhm, well... Thank you – you stammered, rubbing the back of your neck in distress – How are you?" you asked him, watching him ambling towards a drawer and pulling out a pair of black boxers from it.

It was right when he he turned back towards you that you finally got a good view of his pectorals and abs. He resembled a god. His chiseled muscles, his V line and even that... What was that? A scar? How did you fail to see it yesterday? It seemed deep, a neat cut scarring his perfect body from the top of his right shoulder and stopping almost in the middle of his chest.

How did he got it? What had happened to him? You really wanted to ask him about it, but you did not want to break the spell he had casted on you two. Moments like that felt real, you enjoyed them.

"Are you staying for the show? – he abruptly snapped you out of your stream of consciousness – I don't mind, really. But, if I'm not mistaken, you have some classes to attend today. Nakime is probably already waiting for you in the car" he stated, a smug smile crossing his lips.

Nakime? Was she the one he had assigned you for the lift at the Campus? Gosh, after what had happened between you two, you would have rather died than been locked in a car with her.

You rolled your eyes at him "Cocky much?" you chimed.

"Very cocky".

You waved your hand at him, twirling around to reach the door and exit his bedroom "See you tonight, Muzzie" you teased him, only to heard him snort at the new nickname you had come up with for him.

"You too, Muzzie's cumbag" he retorted, right when you had got a hold of the doorknob. You shivered, breath hitching in your throat in shock.

Muzzie's what?

"You take that back" you bluntly said, turning around and folding your arms against your chest.

Muzan winked at you "I don't think I will. – he stated, shrugging – After all, it's true. How many times have I spilled my cum into your cunt? Three, right? How long will it take for me to get you pregnant?" he taunted you, watching the way your irritation grew with every word coming from his mouth.

No. No, you were not going to make a scene about it. You were going to play his own game and beat him on it. Giyuu, your best friend, had always praised your ability to corner people with your quick replies.

"Oh, I beg to differ, Muzzie. In order to get me pregnant, you'd need a dick. – you crooned, biting on your lower lip softly – And, if you keep on pissing me off, I'm going to chop it off and throw it at the alligators in Florida. Wouldn't it be crazy? You'd have to ask Kokushibo, or Douma for an heir then. I think the latter wouldn't mind getting me pregnant, you know? See you tonight!" you piped out, winking at an amazed, abashed Muzan staring at you in pure admiration.

When you disappeared behind the door, he grinned, dropping his towel down to the floor to get dressed "I think she's the right one, after all" he murmured at himself.

He wondered if you two were so different as he thought you were.

♚

You were glad Muzan had allowed you to attend your classes without his dogs watching every step you took. Nakime had driven you to the Campus and you had agreed in meeting her later in the morning, after lunch. You expected the car drive to be awkward, but the woman beside you was almost as silent as Kokushibo and you spent your time texting your friends for your usual lunch break together.

Walking out of your last class for the morning, you made your way to the atrium and, when your eyes locked with a piar of ocean blue orbs, you sprinted towards your saturnine friend and involved him into a tight hug. It was good seeing a familiar face. It was good being the only person in the world Giyuu allowed to be hugged by. You were proud of that privilege and today you were enjoying it too much.

"Hi" you mumbled, burying your face onto the crook of his neck.

Giyuu hummed and ran his fingers through your hair gently, allowing you to get your daily dose of cuddles from the non-affective man.

"Hi, snowflake" he said, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

Snowflake. Although some of your close friends knew about the small tatoo on your left wrist, only Giyuu knew about the true meaning behind it. Your parents had given you this nickname because the day you took your first footsteps without their help it was snowing outside.

You giggled, both for the nickname and the loving gesture "Aww, someone is getting a squishy-heart here. – you whispered, craning your neck to take a look at his face – I've missed you" you said, taking a step back from him.

Giyuu sighed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans "I am sorry. I should have called you, but I was out of town. Family problems, you could say" he ranted, staring at his feet.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. – you reassured him, your grip on your briefcase tightening – I do not want to sound rude, but I am pretty hungry. Let's go to grab something to eat and you can fill me up with the news in front of some good ramen" you suggested, a small smile gracing your glossy lips.

Giyuu was about to reply something, when a boisterous voice startled both of you and some other people passing by. You knew exactly who it was without even turning around to see him. He knew how to make you acknowledge his presence, without you noticing him.

"Y/N, it's good to see you!" Kyojuro beamed from behind you, orange and red hues glimmering under the sunlight seeping from the glass rooftop of the building.

You turned around, a hand still settled over your chest as you recovered from the fright he had given you "Kyojuro... It's good to see you too! We were about to go out for lunch, do you perhaps want to join us? It's been a while since we have spent some quality time together" you asked him, only to receive an unexpected reply from your gluttonous friend.

"Thank you for your invitation! But nor me, neither Giyuu can join you! We've got to go in five minutes!" he exclaimed, folding his arms against his toned chest.

You pouted, your eyes darting on your best friend you simply nodded his head apologetically. Were they serious? What was more important than chatching up with a friend?

"Guys, come on, where are you going? Can I come with you then?" you blurted out, frowning in contempt.

"No!" they fretted as one, eyes widened and a nervous smile crossing their faces. How were they supposed to tell you about the secret meeting of the Slayers? It was out of discussion. What were the supposed to say, when their boss was going to plot another plan to kill your future husband?

Ah, yes! Sorry, Y/N, did we mention that you are about to get widowed?

They knew about you, about Muzan. What they did not know was that you had a deal with him.

You narrowed your eyes at them and jabbed your finger at the two men staring at you awkwardly "Assassins are a better company than you two. Bye, bottom-dwellers" you piped out, before marching to the opposite direction they were about to take.

They blinked at you, trying their best not to flinch at your unintentional allusion, watching you take your phone out of the pocket of your ripped jeans and calling someone. Kyojuro stared at you intently, his eyes boring holes on your back for a few seconds, before he finally spoke out.

"She's hot when she's mad!" he declared without any hesitation.

Giyuu choked, his eyes trailed on his friend in surprise and a slight sting of irritation. Did Kyojuro like you? He should have not felt jealousy welling up in his chest. You were not Giyuu's girlfriend, you had always just been friends with him. Now, however, he was asking himself if he had made a mistake in burying his love for you.

"Do you like Y/N?" he inquired, his fists clenching and unclenching down his sides as he awaited for his comrade to reply something.

"I think I do!" Kyojuro frankly admitted, patting on Giyuu's shoulder and encouraging him to take their leave. A hole started to form into the Wave's chest, his eyes dusted with a dredful feeling of defeat. However, as they exited the University, Giyuu tensed. He felt someone watching them, he felt more than a set of eyes focusing on them, studying each and every move they made.

And you felt the same. You felt someone watching you as you ate your meal alone on a bench, as you went to the toilet, to the library to do some researches and, when you grabbed a book from a shelf, you realized that effectively you had been watched this whole time.

Maybe Muzan had not kept his promise. How could he let his innocent girl strolling down the Campus without his bodyguard following her, if she was hanging out with the Slayers?

You sucked in a breath, the book you had grabbed slipping from your fingers and colliding with the floor with a dull thud, as your wary eyes locked with a lilac one through the empty spot on the shelf.

It was the first time you got to see her eyes and you were surprised to note that she probably could not see from her right eye: a black eye patch covered it, giving her a even deadlier look than what you had been imagining during your convivence at the Kibutsuji manor. What was she doing there?

"Nakime! What the Hell are you doing here?" you quipped, kneeling down to pick up the heavy tome laying at your feet. Did she just decide to stalk you on her own accord, or was it just another order from Muzan? You really needed to have a chit-chat with him later.

The brunette circled the bookshelf, until she was standing right in front of you "Protecting you, miss L/N. Isn't it obvious?" she stated casually, cocking her head to the side at your apparent frivolous question.

You sighed and were about to retort something, when you heard the keeper clearing her throat to draw your attention. Whipping your head towards her, you saw the woman gesturing for you to lower your voices and you bowed your head at her apologetically.

Nakime, on the other hand, had an irk mark popping on her forehead and, in your peripheral, you saw her reaching for something underneath her thigh. Flashes of the first time you met played before your eyes, as you remembered what she always brought with her. You gawked in shock, suddenly shoving her against the bookshelf, your hand blocking her wrist down in the desperate attempt to save the old woman for being slashed by the feral brunette.

"Nakime, Jesus, what are you doing?! She's not the enemy!" you hissed, eyes round as she easily overpowered you and flipped your position over.

You gasped as your back hit the shelves behind you and she held your hands up above your head "Y/N-sama, this woman disrespected you. You do not need to apologize to anyone. Muzan-sama said no one should ever make you bend the knee" she asserted, making your lips part in disbelief.

Why was he so overprotective of you? You were not even a real couple. Additionally, it was in your nature being polite.

"Well, I am the soon to be First Lady and, if I'm not mistaken, my opinion matters! I don't want you to hurt anyone, alright?" you fired back, earning an apologetic look by her. She blushed, her grip on your wrists loosened, as she hesitantly flicked her gaze down at your bodies. You had not even realized your proximity, until you followed her gaze and your breath hitched in your throat.

"Uhm... N-Nakime?" you whispered, earning a bashful glance from her. Why did you always end up in awakward situations with her?

"Yes, miss L/N?".

"Could you please let me go?" you quietly asked her.

The brunette took a step back, eyes downcast as she nodded her head at you "I'm sorry! I apologize. – she muttered, clenching her fists down her sides – Can I ask you something personal, miss?" she added then, scanning the area around you as if to make sure you were safe from prying eyes.

You massaged your wrists, a small smile tugging the angles of your lips upwards slightly "Of course, Nakime. – you chimed, leaning against the bookshelf to collect yourself – And, please, just call me Y/N. There's so need to call me by my surname and apologize profusely" you stated, watching her straightening her back and blushing even more at your words.

"This is going to be hard for me, but I'll do my best. – she stammered, flicking her gaze up to meet your bright eyes – Are you, by any chance, bisexual? Because I would very much like to entertain you, when Muzan-sama cannot do it" she said, making you clamp your mouth shut in embarrassment and palming your forehead in discomfort.

Nakime was going to be the death of you. Did her blushes mean that she fancied you?

You were about to answer her question, when your phone buzzed once, twice, thrice and you were forced to check your phone. As you had imagined, the texts were all from your demanding lover.

MUZAN: I've just made a bank transfer on your bank account. I hope 10.000$ are enough.

MUZAN: I have asked Akaza to leave a box on your bed. I want you to wear what's inside for tonight.

MUZAN: Also, I hope you are down for something different. Perhaps painful, even I apologize ahead of time... But I feel experimental today.

Muzan Kibutsuji was impossible to deal with. You huffed and slumped down to the floor, resting your forehead on top of your knees "Nakime, if you wish to shower me in affection, it would be a good time to hug me right now" you bewailed, batting your eyes close to prepare yourself for what was yet to come.

And as you were about to live an extrasensorial experience with Mr. Kibutsuji, a group of people were polishing their swords as they waited for their Master to grace them with his presence.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there!

Once again, I would love to express my gratitude to my faithful audience for the support you are showing me both on here and Wattpad. You are amazing! If you have noticed, I’m probably going to make Y/N bisexual. I’m still debating, though!Also, I thought I was going to post my Kyojuro one-shot earlier, but I didn’t like it lmao. Have a little patience!

I hope you have enjoyed the chapter and I take the chance to announce that I have decided to open requests for Headcanons… So, submit them!

X O X O

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhasslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf

[boozenboze]

Dose of Caffine

Tf 141 x Male reader

Summary:Being a Captain in the military causes a lack in sleep.Drinking some coffee could convince them to stay awake, while a certain someone encourages them to sleep

Captain John Price x Male reader

Being one of the captains on the base was tough. No matter what you always have papers to sign and recruits to put in line. Feeling his body beginning to relax. He pushed himself out of his seat and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet, as well as some fresh dark roasted coffee beans. Once the coffee finished brewing he poured himself a cup and let it cool for a moment. l took a sip of it and sighed at the comforting warmth traveling down my throat. After I finished, my heart was beating much faster and I felt more awake. “I’ll be able to finish those papers, hopefully.” I said to myself as I went back to my office.

M/n’s body was slouched over his desk. He had fallen asleep and some of his drool dripped onto the papers. Sure the Caffine should’ve kept him awake but it seems that it failed. His light snores could be heard because of the silence in the room,besides the slight crackling noises of a candle that he had lighted. The rhumps of his heart got louder until his eyes snapped open.

.

.

.

The male jolted up, eyes averting in every direction. He looked down at his paper that had small drops of his drool. He sighed as he wiped the excess of, leaving the paper slightly damp. He glanced at his coffee for a moment before sighing. He suspected that he hadn’t been sleep long since the mug was still warm. It was about to be a long night.

.

.

.

How long has it been now... 2 hours? Its 3 am now and I feel tired.I really wanna get this shit done now. I understand im a Captain but jeez, I think my eyes wanna pop out their sockets. I don’t know how much longer i’ll be sitting here, I just hope it’s not for long. My sleeping schedules already been fucked up for the last few days, I think I’ll start going crazy if I don’t sleep.

The male hadn’t slept at all that night. The amount of caffeine he had consumed the previous night made his adrenaline high. Not to mention he was anxious and it didn’t help that his heart was still pounding against his chest. He had dropped off the documents to their respected places and took a breath kf relief. After that he had his breakfast and downed a tall glass of orange juice.It was sweet, not to mention healthy. Despite that, the taste of that french vanilla dark roast still lingered in his mouth, and gave him an itch to drink some.

A sip of coffee wouldn’t kill him right? It’s just coffee,plus it was his favorite flavor. Then with a splash of milk made it so much better. The h/c haired male stood up and went to the coffee machine. Someone must have dumped out the coffee he had made the previously since the pitcher was empty. He sighed and repeated the process he had done the previous night. Just as he was about to take a sip a familiar voice filled his ears.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough C/n?” The voice said, M/n looked and saw John Price. The two knew each other quite well and M/n chuckled lightly, blush dusting his face.

“Hey Price...didn’t see ya there.” M/n said as Price took the cup out his man making the h/c haired male sigh.

“Price come on, it’s french vanilla it’s the best flavor!” M/n complained as Price put the coffee to the side.He examined the males face and saw how red his eyes were, which made his gaze soften.

“Did you sleep at all L/n?” Price asked as he gently put his hand on the males cheek, which made him hum and lean into the mans touch.

“Negative, had to finish those damn files and documents so I couldn’t.” M/n responded as Price hummed to himself, stroking the males cheek before leaning in and kissing him on the tip of his nose.

“Lets bring you to bed eh, your gonna need it.” Price spoke as M/n nodded in response, allowing the man to lead him to his room.

“Can I have my coffee afterwards though?”

“Negative.”

That ended up being the best nights sleep the male had in a while

[horanghxnni]

coffee shop meet-cute. - j.w.w.

PAIRING: Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

TAGS: meet cute, strangers to lovers one-shot, barista!reader, non-idol!wonwoo; pure fluff, oblivious pining

WARNINGS: mentions of food/eating; i tried my best to write as gender neutral as possible, but i haven't proofread this more than once so pls let me know if it's not; other than that none (please let me know if i've missed anything)

NOTES: this is my first post here on tumblr omg. hi! i've been a big fan of work here and i've been writing for a while (i shall not discuss my cursed wattpad days when i was younger) and thought i'd start posting here for fun. i hope you enjoy! <3

You had started working at this local coffee shop when you were 16, at first as a way to earn cash on the weekends to fund your high school escapades, and now, 7 years later, you grew to love the feeling of crafting drinks and managing the shop you now felt was like a second home. You worked every day, and opening the quaint little shop meant that the first hour or so was a quiet peace to yourself, filled with the smell of brewing espresso and baking croissants. 

The morning rush came like clockwork, beginning at 7:15 am and finally reaching a calmer pace around 8 am. Just when the busy atmosphere began to subside and the day reached its first slump, a clearly anxious man made his way to the front counter, hurriedly ordering an iced americano and holding out his card before you could even tell him how much it would cost. You rang him up, and he left the counter to stand in a corner with a polite nod to wait for his coffee, glancing at the clock. You make his simple order as quickly as possible and set it on the pickup counter, calling his name. “Wonwoo, iced americano?” 

He grabs his cup and thanks you quietly, before hurriedly leaving the shop, not even bothering to grab a straw. You don’t think too much of it and get back to filling the pastry case as the curious stranger becomes a distant memory by the end of the day. 

That is, until you notice he comes in every day, always at the same time, just before 9 am. He enters with the same kind of energy, always as if he’s perpetually running late, and orders the same thing: iced americano, and if he was feeling peckish, a blueberry muffin. He never talked much, and the only thing you knew about him other than his coffee order was that his name was Wonwoo, he seemed to have a horrible concept of time, and he must work in some office to be dressed in business casual every day. This Groundhog Day feeling encounter with him remained as a growing routine for you, until 3 weeks later when you began to anticipate his arrival, and you had his order ready and waiting for him by the time he reached the counter. Your interaction grew more efficient as time passed, with a single swap of his debit card for his coffee, and his transaction down to 30 seconds, handing him back his card in record timing. You figured it was helping him, right? He was late to work, or something time-sensitive at least, and you made his caffeine pit-stop easier. It was a win-win: you gained another regular, and he got his coffee without hindering his morning. 

He ruined your flow one Wednesday afternoon. Once again, he arrived just before 9 am, but he walked in much slower this time, and he was wearing much more casual clothes, a faded gray t-shirt and jeans, a brown messenger bag slung on his shoulder. As usual, his coffee was already done, and you almost dropped a tray of apple tarts as he entered almost as an entirely different person. You set them in the pastry case with renewed care, and met him at the register. 

“Not in a rush this morning?” You asked, clearly confused but friendly, as you pushed his cup towards him. 

He chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes roved over the rows of pastries and sandwiches you had displayed. “Nope, we started a hybrid schedule so I’m working from home on Wednesdays.” He met your eyes for a moment before shifting back to the sweets, thinking. “I’m thinking about trying something new, what do you recommend?” 

It took you a moment before you adapted to the fact that you’d heard more than two words from him. His voice was smooth and deeper than you expected, and it seemed to sink into your bones. “Um, well the apple tarts are new, and we make pop tarts in house.” 

He nodded and took one more glance before meeting your eyes. “I’ll take one of each, for here.” He gave you a small smile and slid over his debit card, once again catching you off guard. For here? He was staying? You nodded silently and began to warm his sweets as you rang him up. He thanked you and took back his card, settling in a seat a few feet down the counter, pulling out his laptop and beginning to type quietly. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him as you made his little pastry plate, not used to his presence. You were so used to his rush of energy that seeing him so still and calm was confusing. You decided just before you gave him his plate that you’d slip a cake pop next to the tart, you had made extras today anyway. With a nod, you place it beside his laptop and don’t even wait for an acknowledgement, leaving the pretty stranger to his work and busying yourself with cleaning some dirty cups from earlier this morning and wiping down the counters. 

“The poptart is good. Do you make them yourself?” His voice cut through the quiet lo-fi music playing over the speakers as you paused from your cleaning. You turned to see him already looking at you, the half-eaten poptart in his hand. 

You nodded and put down the rag in your hand. “Yeah, every morning. The flavor changes depending on what fruit I can get my hands on.” You see him nod in approval, and he sets it down on his plate as he turns his full attention to you. 

“Thank you for the cake pop. And for making my coffee so quickly every day, it really helps me out.” He appears more bashful now, almost bordering embarrassed, as his cheeks flush an almost imperceptible pink. “I know I seem pretty pressed for time most mornings.” 

You laugh at his comment, thinking back to the quiet whirlwind of his stressed aura that appears in the shop every day. “Of course, I don’t want to make you any later than you already seem to be.” You pause for a moment before speaking again, wondering if you should ask the innocent question in your mind. He seems open to conversation, and it’s not like anyone else was demanding your attention at the moment. “Where do you work anyway?” 

“Oh, I work at the Pledis building, I’m a writer there for content creation. I’m not technically late ever, but I like to get there at a certain time and I definitely overestimate the time I need to commute.” He answers sheepishly, and you smile. A writer for such a big company? Impressive. 

You spoke for a little bit longer before another rush began, learning he’d been working at Pledis for a few years now, and his friend Joshua had recommended this coffee shop to him a few months ago, but he hadn’t had the chance to come until a few weeks ago. Of course your favorite regular would have pushed him here, and little details seemed to fit into place as your small chats throughout the few hours he remained at the bar revealed more and more about each other. Around 4 pm, he left with a wave, trying his best not to distract you too much. You waved back, and with an offhanded, “See you tomorrow!”, he left the cafe, the door jingling behind him. 

_____________ 

The next morning, Wonwoo surprised you again. He came in at 8:30, standing at the register while you finished the last of the morning rush orders, you hadn’t even seen him walk in. You turned to take the order only to see a face that wasn’t supposed to be here for another 20 minutes. 

“Oh, you’re here early! I’m sorry, I haven't made your coffee yet.” Of course you hadn’t. You had timed your routine almost down to the second, and he had thrown off your entire groove. He simply smiled and shook his head. 

“It’s okay, I have some time this morning. I’ll get my usual and another poptart, it doesn't matter the flavor.” He points to the plate and pulls out some cash. “You can keep the change.” Wonwoo, without another word, moves to where he sat the day before, settling in and pulling out his phone. 

You make his coffee and warm his poptart, placing it in a to-go sleeve, placing both in front of him. “So, I finally get my routine down with you and you all of a sudden decide you want to switch it up?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

He looks up from his phone, a small smile growing on his lips. “Figured if I got here a little earlier, I’d relieve you of the time constraint.” His smile shifts into a frown after a moment. “I’m sorry if it threw you off that bad, I didn’t-”

You wave a hand at him, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it, I was just messing with you.” 

His body visibly relaxes as he reaches for his coffee. “Thanks, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but grin as you hear your name in his voice, and you nod and turn before he can see just how wide your smile could get. You make small talk as he finishes his coffee and pastry, asking about his work and new recipes brewing in your head for the next 20 or so minutes before he declares he is leaving to head to work. 

“This was nice, actually sitting down before work. Maybe I’ll do this more often.” He hands you his plate as you agree, placing it in the sink to deal with later. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me this morning. You’re welcome anytime, obviously.” You say your goodbyes, and with another small smile, he leaves, and you’re left thinking of the way his smile lights up his face for the rest of the day. 

_____________ 

For the next few weeks, Wonwoo arrives around 20-30 minutes early. Your new routine involves pleasant conversation as you work, and him becoming a taste tester for new recipes before they hit the pastry case. You become used to each other’s presence, and with every new interaction, he grows more and more talkative. He tells you about frustrations from work from the day before, or a movie he had just watched over the weekend. You tell him about your roommate endeavors and outings you’d gone on recently. You consider yourselves friends at this point, and it was nice to have someone like him around when the morning felt like too much to handle. 

You had offhandedly mentioned taking a few days off one day and Wonwoo encouraged rest, but through all the chaos of pushed forward deadlines at work, he had completely forgotten until he arrived at the cafe one morning to see someone completely different behind the counter. He was confused to see his usual coffee was still sitting waiting for him in its normal place with his name on it, set aside on the counter, yet he did not recognize the barista currently finishing up a latte. As he slowly stepped up to the pickup counter and grabbed his drink, the employee looked up and met his gaze. 

“Oh, you must be Wonwoo. There’s your iced americano, there’s a muffin in the bag beside it.” His demeanor was nonchalant, as he placed the other drink on the counter and called out the order. 

“Is Y/N not in today?” It was the first thing he could think of, despite the answer being obvious. 

The younger boy looked up from his work. “No, they're off all week. They left me a note saying a guy named Wonwoo would come in at 8:30 and that was your usual.” He shrugged and looked down again at his brewing espresso shots. “I guess that’s you. I’m Chan, I usually work afternoons but I’m covering for Y/N this week.” 

Wonwoo nods, still processing what he had just heard. Y/N’s gone all week? Why hadn’t they said anything? He suddenly felt stupid as he remembered a conversation from two weeks ago, where Y/N finally decided the week they would take a solo trip to Jeju to visit their grandmother: this week. “Right. Thanks, Chan.” 

Chan nods back at him and Wonwoo leaves the cafe still in a semi-daze after setting down some cash, suddenly feeling as if he was thrown off balance, an unfamiliar budding feeling of disappointment settling deep in his chest. He makes his way to work, suddenly feeling like his predictable coffee didn’t taste the same. 

The rest of his work day was surprisingly only getting worse: he had printed the wrong files, was late to a meeting he was supposed to lead, and currently Joshua was trying (and failing) to speak to him about a conference they were attending the following month as Wonwoo unintentionally tuned him out. Suddenly, he felt a light shove of his shoulder pull him out of his trance.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? Have you heard anything I said?” Joshua raised an accusatory eyebrow at his friend and coworker. Wonwoo’s eyes suddenly gained focus as he looked up to see Joshua leaning against his desk. 

“I-” he attempted to think of an excuse, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little distracted, my whole day feels thrown off.” He frowned and turned his chair toward the other man. “What were you saying?” 

Joshua’s mouth crept into an almost dangerous smirk as he took a glance at Wonwoo’s still full coffee cup, an unfamiliar handwriting scrawling his name on the top. “You didn’t see Y/N this morning.” 

Wonwoo almost choked on his own spit. “What? How- how do you know that?” 

The older boy rolled his eyes and pointed to the cup. “That’s not Y/N’s handwriting. I see them before you do most mornings, and they're not in town. They told me last week. I thought you knew.” 

“I did know, I just forgot, with everything going on at work.” Wonwoo couldn’t help but frown. Had not seeing them really thrown him off that much? “What does not seeing them have to do with anything though?” 

Joshua scoffed. “Dude, every time you come from that cafe, you walk in like you just won the lottery, and you see them every day. You like them, don’t you?” 

It was the last part that struck Wonwoo to his very core. He’d never even considered that to be an option before. Sure, Y/N was stunning, and kind, and he’d found great company in the barista, but like them? Romantically? Maybe it was more possible than he imagined. His face seemed to drop, as Joshua laughed at his rapid change in expression. 

“It’s okay if you do. They seem to make you happy. I think you should go for it.” With a grin that would rival the Cheshire cat, Joshua claps his friend on the shoulder before leaving his desk to return to his own, as Wonwoo’s brain settles on entertaining this thought that seems to bloom an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, replacing the heavy stone of disappointment from earlier. 

_____________

You were back after a relaxing few days with your grandmother, spending time in the sun and looking out on the ocean. Although the time off was needed, you couldn’t help but think about not only your cafe, but a specific regular you hadn’t seen since last week. You hoped Chan had made his usual for him as she said on the note, and you were excited to catch up with Wonwoo about the last week, and honestly, just to see him again. Spending the last few days without seeing each other triggered the realization that he was more special to you than you had initially thought, and though he may not feel the same, you were content with the friendship you had formed already. 

You opened the cafe without issue, and a sense of calm washed over you as you fell back into your routine. The morning rush felt like a breeze as you fell into a groove and before you knew it, 8:30 rolled around and the man you’d been thinking of walked through the door. He was early, as he now often was, but his anxious energy was back. He stepped up to the counter as you handed him his coffee, a fresh pop tart on a plate sliding his way as well. 

“It’s on the house today. I’m sure you missed my magic touch last week.” You joked, your smile widening. His mouth opened before it shut once more, mirroring your grin as he said a quiet thank you as he took his seat. You caught up on missed stories, with mostly you telling stories of your vacation as he sat quietly and listened as you multitasked. It wasn’t until you asked him a question and received no answer that you looked up at him from the espresso machine to see him simply staring at you. “Wonwoo?” 

You saw his eyes clear as his face rapidly turned a deep shade of red. “I’m sorry, I was listening. I just-” He paused, and your brows furrowed. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, putting down the espresso shot and giving him your full focus. 

“Do you want to, maybe, go to dinner sometime?” His eyes couldn’t meet yours at first, until suddenly the dark brown of his irises met yours and you melted at the adoration you felt behind his gaze. 

“Wonwoo, are you asking me on a date?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. You watched his cheeks redden further as he nodded and you couldn’t help the way you seemed to beam at him. “I’d like that very much. Maybe this Saturday, if you’re free?” 

You watched the anxiety leave his body in an instant as he agreed. He handed you his phone as he stood up, coffee cup and plate now empty. “Put your number in and I’ll call you?” 

You punched your contact information in and handed him the phone in exchange for his dishes, and watched as he clumsily pushed in his seat and grabbed his things. “Have a good day at work, Wonwoo. It was nice to see you.” 

“It was good to see you. I’ll call you later tonight, if that’s okay.” You nodded and if he smiled any wider, he thought his lips might start to crack. With one last goodbye, he left out the door, and his eyes didn’t leave your beautiful face through the window until he lost line of sight.