#need to talk to my eye doctor about what shade of tint is okay to wear long term

[varian-ross-horror-author]

I finally got some tinted glasses that are helping my light sensitivity, so this means I can use my computer for more than like half an hour at a time.

Which means I can FINALLY do some actual writing and it won't drain every spoon I have for the entire day.

Amazon link to the glasses I got.

[siswritesyanderes]

Ok but yandere carlise x reader x yandere esme

(Not as detailed as I’d hoped to make it, but I quickly realized that if I went into detail then this thing would become very long. Hopefully avoided making the characters too OOC. Let me know if you like it, and how I did!)

…

You first met Dr. Cullen when you spent the day volunteering at the local hospital for one of your college classes.

There was a whole group of students there to help out, and you honestly weren’t sure why he seemed to notice you in particular; it certainly wasn’t because you were doing such a great job. Your work speed, in restocking the closets, was roughly average, and you kept having to ask your fellow volunteers where things were supposed to go. Granted, you at least weren’t one of the students who was transparently doing the absolute bare minimum to get the credit, but you wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a shining star of competence either.

Still, Dr. Cullen approached you personally to say, “Thank you for your help. You’re really doing us a great service.”

He was a beautiful man, with warm eyes that seemed to be beholding the goodness in your soul, for how amiably they glimmered.

“I don’t know if I can take any credit,” you said, admittedly flustered by the attention. “It was our teacher’s idea.”

He smiled kindly. “Nevertheless, we’re glad to have you here.”

You smiled back. “Glad to be here.” Then you continued working.

When Carlisle walked away from you, he carefully kept the reluctance from showing in his expression. He sent Esme a quick text warning her that they might have another soulmate in town: a human. His initial thought was that this would be the end of it; so long as Esme avoided meeting you, she wouldn’t feel the awful desperation currently clawing its way up Carlisle’s throat, and so long as Esme wasn’t suffering, Carlisle was confident in his own ability to let you live your own life, just as he had done with Esme, at first…

But then, he knew how that had turned out for her: years of pain, mistreatment…The thought of anything of the sort befalling you…The world was so dangerous, between humans and vampires and other such things, and you, so small in comparison, so vulnerable…

Carlisle regained his composure (though, to the untrained eye, he hadn’t lost it in the first place). The world could be dangerous, yes, but his awareness of that fact was informed, in no small part, by the fact that he wanted justification for keeping you. And he couldn’t give himself such license; it wouldn’t be right.

He wouldn’t drag you away from your human life.

Perhaps he could keep watch over you, and do you small favors every now and then, but that was the most he could afford to indulge.

He heard your stomach growl from across the room; he detoured to a vending machine and bought you a light snack. (Perfectly timed, Alice texted him your preference. No doubt, she was scouring the future to see how you might fit into it; he would have to have a talk with her, to be sure she didn’t go overboard. And deciding to have a talk with Alice functioned in the same way having a talk with Alice did.)

Dr. Cullen handed you a snack from the vending machine, which puzzled you at first; it didn’t seem like the hospital was handing out food to anyone else, and even if they were, why would one of the doctors take the time for such a thing?

He answered your unspoken question with a polite smile and the words, “You were looking a bit faint; I thought you might need this.”

Had you been looking unwell? You didn’t think you felt that bad, but a doctor would recognize the signs if something was wrong, and you were pretty hungry. “Thanks,” you said, and he dipped his head in your direction. Then he and his kind smile departed.

That wasn’t the last time you met Dr. Cullen.

Your paths crossed in all sorts of places: in the grocery store, he tapped you on the shoulder once to ask if you’d dropped a hundred dollar bill, and he urged you to keep it even once you’d told him it wasn’t yours; you saw him in your school’s science building, one day (He was there to speak to one of the professors, and he asked you if you had drunk any water recently.); and you even ran into him at the library. All incidents spaced out over weeks; not close enough together to really be coincidences worth thinking about. You figured that you had probably crossed paths just as much before meeting him, but only noticed now because you knew who he was.

Anyway, the two of you remained acquaintances. He was a nice man.

When someone slammed into your car, a few months later, he was the doctor who cared for you.

“A hit and run?” he murmured, tutting in displeasure as he moved a light across your eyes. “People should be more considerate, and careful with other people’s lives. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“They probably just made a mistake and were scared of the consequences,” you offered, because the doctor genuinely seemed somewhat upset. You were trying to assume the best about the other driver, because the alternative was getting angry about something you couldn’t change. You had barely even seen the car that had hit you. You just knew that it was some shade of yellow, and apparently much stronger than yours. “I wish we’d gotten to trade insurance information or something, though; my car is apparently totaled.” Despite your best efforts, your voice wavered.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dr. Cullen said, and you were probably delirious, but something about the decisive way he said it made it seem, to you, as if he himself planned on helping you get your car fixed. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

You did.

“Have you...” The doctor seemed to choose his words carefully. “Have you called anyone, to let them know what happened, and that you’re alright?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. The ambulance got there so fast, I guess I didn’t have time to think about it.” You weren’t terribly concerned, though; if your relatives hadn’t been made aware of the crash, then they didn’t know to be worried yet. No need to call them now.

Dr. Cullen stilled at your words, though; the light in his hands shone in the spot between your eyes and did not move. It was as if he was deep in thought. No, as if he were at war with himself.

“Dr. Cullen?” you prompted.

He quickly smiled, setting down the light. “I think you should call them. Now, if you can. I would...just feel better if someone knew where you are, and that you’re alive.”

You called them (as awkward as that felt with the doctor right there in the room, patiently waiting), and Dr. Cullen seemed to relax.

Once you were released from the hospital, you went back to only seeing him every once in a while, around town.

Your car was mended seemingly overnight, under mysterious circumstances, and a part of you jokingly wondered if Dr. Cullen was some sort of fairy godmother, or guardian angel.

Then, another month after your accident, a stranger approached you while you were walking back from your last class of the evening.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted you, somewhat apologetically. She was shorter than you, with a lovely face and spiky black hair and a spritely disposition. “I’m Alice. I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry something to my car? It’s getting late, and I really don’t want to be here after dark.”

“Oh, sure,” you answered, feeling so at ease that you forgot every warning that would normally flood to your mind about the danger of following a stranger to her car. So at ease that your mind somehow just failed to observe the taller guy standing right next to Alice, well in your field of vision. You saw him, but you didn’t really think much of him.

You followed Alice to a bright yellow Porsche, and the shade of yellow stirred something in your memory, but you couldn’t say what; you were too busy looking for what you were supposed to be helping her lift.

A lovely woman with a long blond ponytail leaned against the car trunk, staring at something that she was holding in her hand, and there was a figure sitting inside the car, too; you couldn’t see them through the tinted windows, but you saw enough to be confused as to why you had been called here to help when it seemed Alice had many potential helpers, here.

Your panic, as you began to realize the ruse, had only just begun to climb when the blond woman suddenly moved, swift as a bird, behind you, and there was a hand over your mouth and a feeling like a pinch in the side of your neck.

The thing she was holding. It was a syringe.

The tall guy (the one you hadn’t thought much of, at first) moved to open the nearest door of the Porsche; he moved the passenger seat forward, to access the back row of seats.

“Wait, stop,” you slurred against the hand (the stunningly cold hand) over your mouth, as the woman who had syringed you began to maneuver you into the Porsche with surprising strength. You were already losing control of your limbs.

“This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” the woman griped as she slid you carefully inside, then climbed in behind you. You were sandwiched between her and the person you’d seen through the tinted windows: a sulking young man with bronze hair. Four strangers total, and you were in the back seat of their car.

“Thank you, Rosalie, for your help,” Alice said resolutely. “Will you drive, Jazz?”

The tall one nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat while Alice occupied the passenger side.

You struggled to find your voice, or your fists, through the haze of sedative.

“It’s okay,” said the sulking young man at your side, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m able to hear you, even if you can’t speak. I can read minds.”

“The human is still awake?” Rosalie said.

“Not for much longer, but yes. You have time to apologize.”

“Sorry about all this,” Rosalie said, gently nudging your mouth closed (as it had fallen open). “Don’t be scared; we just…have to bring you to Carlisle and Esme. They’re pretty great people, and they’ll treat you really well. And these guys were going to do it anyway, so I had to come and make sure things went smoothly. Alice and Jasper can’t even administer a shot; they probably would have chloroformed you or something-”

“Wouldn’t’ve had to,” said the tall guy in the driver’s seat- Jasper, apparently. “Could’ve just lightly flicked the back of their head at the right angle. Provided Alice checked the future to make sure we did it right.”

“…and didn’t cause a concussion, or worse,” the bronze-haired one deadpanned.

There was a brief silence. You were sinking against the self-proclaimed mind reader, unable to support your own weight. You were about to sleep. You actually wanted to sleep.

“Don’t worry, Rose,” Jasper added. “I’ve made sure the human isn’t afraid.”

You supposed you weren’t. Why weren’t you?

You fell asleep before you could figure it out.

…

You awoke to the sound of agitated voices, outside the (closed) door of a bedroom that was not your own.

You were in a bed, and it was obscenely soft and pleasant, but it wasn’t yours, and you weren’t home.

Where am I?

You felt weak, and tired. Heavy, confused. But you had to stay awake, and regain your wits, because you had been taken somewhere, and you didn’t know where or why. There was a window across the room. It was nighttime outside the window. Maybe if you could make it over there, you could climb out and run for it, but you didn’t yet have the strength to even get the bedcovers off of you.

“Because it’s been awful to watch how badly it affects you to be away from your mate,” one of the voices outside the door was saying. “All five of us agreed, and we never agree on anything!”

“And it’s not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually,” another voice agreed. “Just like with Esme.”

“Exactly! You were only prolonging your own suffering, for no reason.”

There was a sigh, and a familiar voice said, “Are you all finished?” It was Dr. Cullen; that much you knew, even though you had never heard him sound so tired.

“We did it for you, because you deserve happiness.”

“And now that Esme has seen them, there is no way to undo it, is there?” Dr. Cullen asked rhetorically. “Edward, is the human awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bring some food up, Carlisle,” an entirely new voice suggested. “The children have been…underhanded, today, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t make the best of it.”

“It was for the best.” (Your head was clear enough, now, that you recognized this unabashed voice as belonging to Alice.) “You’ll see.”

Footsteps approached the door, and shortly a woman entered the room. She was soft-looking, with caramel brown hair, and she held a dinner plate in her hands.

“Good evening,” she said, soberly. Sitting on the edge of your bed while you struggled to sit up. “I’m so sorry the kids did this; we didn’t ask them to, but they thought they were doing us a service. I’m Esme Cullen, Dr. Cullen’s wife. Here: eat something.”

You ate a forkful of pasta only because it was too close to your mouth to refuse. “Why ‘m I here?” you asked hoarsely. “Take me home.” Another forkful slid into your mouth.

“I’m very sorry,” Esme said. “I’m so, so sorry, but you see…the trouble is…” Her eyes scanned over you, and she smiled a seemingly involuntary smile and didn’t finish her sentence. As if looking at you was simply a much better use of her time.

“I want to go home,” you said.

Esme sighed, pressing her lips together contritely. “The trouble is, I can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to Carlisle, and Carlisle can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to me. I promise you, though, we will make it up to you.” She fed you more pasta.

It tasted delicious, but that did nothing to assuage your terror. “You don’t even know me. What do you mean, I’m important to you?”

Esme clicked her tongue softly and rhythmically against the roof of her mouth, as if to soothe. “Carlisle can explain that better than I. But rest assured, everything is going to be alright.”

Your skin crawled, at the dissonant cordiality. “Where is Dr. Cullen?”

You heard a flutter of what could have been footsteps, if people were capable of moving that fast. Then, the bedroom door opened again and Dr. Cullen entered.

“Hello again, dear heart,” he greeted you, and his demeanor was about the same as it was in public, or in the hospital. Respectful, polite. Maybe just a bit...off. Too much of something, maybe too polite and kind for the circumstances. “I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

The apologies were making this worse. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you said. “Just please take me home.”

“I can’t do that, angel,” he sighed. He did appear sorry, but not as sorry as he should have. “But I can explain everything to you now.”

He sat down on the other side of the bed, opposite Esme, who was still feeding you. And he did explain everything, in such expansive detail that you fell back asleep before he even got to the part about mates.

…

“You can pretend with them, but not with me.” The voice was quiet, and not so much accusatory (despite the pointedness of his words) as reminding.

“I know that, son.” Dr. Cullen sounded positively serene.

“You knew how much time you were spending with Jasper, in your saddened state.”

“Yes.”

“You knew that we would do this.”

“I…suspected.”

“You meant for us to do this.”

“That’s enough, I think. Thank you.”

Silence fell.

You opened your eyes just a crack. The pillow beneath your face was awash with yellow light; the sun had risen, since last you’d fallen asleep. None of it had been a dream. You were still trapped in a house with these people who thought they were vampires. You closed your eyes again. The two voices had been speaking from the direction you were facing: Dr. Cullen at your level, perhaps in a chair at your bedside; and the other above, as if standing.

“One month,” the first voice suddenly added, and you weren’t sure what it was in reference to. It was as if an inaudible question was being answered.

“That’s her optimistic guess, or her pessimistic?” Dr. Cullen inquired.

“If all goes well, it will be one month. Poorly, and the longest she’s seen is three months.”

“Well, that is good to hear. I’ve waited much longer with hope for much less.”

“I know.”

You turned over, so that your back was to them, and began to open your eyes again, but then you heard Dr. Cullen rise from his seat, take up the chair, and move around the foot of the bed. You kept your eyes shut as he set his chair down on the new side and sat in it once more. He did all of this matter-of-factly, as if he’d changed sides every time you’d turned over during the night.

The thought of anyone wanting to see your face that badly made you shiver a bit.

“Awake?” Dr. Cullen inquired casually. You didn’t hear an answer, but the other man must have nodded, because Dr. Cullen continued, “Good. Esme will be done with breakfast soon. She’s so happy to be cooking again.”

“Jasper is in the kitchen with her,” the other said, as if that was a related statement somehow. “I’m going hunting. Good luck.”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt as if he was talking to you as much as Dr. Cullen.

[thebookreader12345]

Non-Stop Bickering

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x reader

Summary: Being a neurosurgeon, Y/N never thought she'd be spending most of her days in the ED, especially with Dr. Marcel, who she claims she can't stand being around

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of death

Word Count: 1,468 Words

"Y/N," Dr. Abrams shouted to get my attention. "I just got a page about a neuro consult in the ED."

"Okay. And...?" I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"So go down there and deal with it," Sam spoke.

"But the page went to you," I counter.

"And as the Head of Neurosurgery, I'm making you do it," Sam retorted.

"I hate you sometimes, Sam," I tell my boss.

Dr. Abrams cracked a small smile. "No you don't. Have fun!" It didn't take me long to make my way down to the ED, and when I arrived, I found Maggie, who was standing at the nurses' station.

"Hey, Maggie," I greet the charge nurse. "I was told someone needed a neuro consult."

"Yes. Dr. Marcel," Maggie called out and waved the doctor over. "Your neuro consult is here."

"I asked for Dr. Abrams," Crockett claimed.

"Yeah, well, he sent me instead," I say. "Lets just get this over with. I don't want to see your face any longer than I have to."

"For your information, many people find me handsome," Crockett shared.

"Uh-huh," I hum as we made our way to the patient's room. "I'm sure they do."

"It's the truth," Crockett insisted.

"Right. What did you need me for?" I ask.

"My patient, Jaimie, she's 17 years old and was just in a huge car crash with her parents. I took her to surgery a few hours ago and she was fine after that, but all of a sudden she crashed and has been on the vent since," Crockett informed me.

"Got it," I mutter as the two of us entered the room. I pulled my pen from my jacket pocket and ran it up the bottom of Jaimie's feet. When that didn't stimulate a reaction, I swapped the pen out for a flashlight and shined the light in the teenagers eyes while also glancing towards the heart monitor standing off to the side.

"Well?" Crockett posed.

"Sorry," I apologize and shove the flashlight back into my pocket. "She's never gonna wake up."

"What? But she was fine earlier," Crockett put in.

"Yeah, but she's shown no reaction to pain or light. I'd talk to the parents as soon as possible to see if they'd like her organs to be donated," I advise.

"I told them that she'd be okay," Crockett murmured. "I promised them that they'd get their little girl back."

"You did what?" I hiss. "Crockett, you of all people should know that you can never promise that someone will make it out okay. Not when you work in the ED."

"She was fine when she came in," Crockett argued. "I just assumed...no. Jaimie can't be gone."

I scoffed. "So you don't believe me? You're the one who called me down here!"

"No, I called Dr. Abrams down here," Crockett corrected me.

"Whatever! Dr. Abrams would've come to the same conclusion I just did," I declare.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna page him down here," Crockett stated.

"Go ahead. But you're wasting your time," I warn him. "She's gone." And with that, I left Jaimie's room to go back up to the neuro wing. I stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button of the floor I wanted to go to before leaning against the back wall and crossing my arms over my chest. Just as the doors started closing, a voice from inside the ED became clear.

"Hold the doors!"

I leapt forwards and slotted my arm between the tiny open space, causing the elevator doors to spring back open. And there, standing before me, was Will Halstead. His cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink, and he seemed to be almost out of breath.

"Thank you," Will breathed out as he entered the elevator. He then pressed another button on the front wall of the elevator which lit up as the doors slid shut, leaving the two of us alone in the small box. As the elevator ascended, it was dead silent accept for the slight dinging that emitted from the speaker signaling that we had passed another floor. "So, I uh, I heard the argument you and Marcel had down in the ED."

"I'd rather not talk about it," I assert as politely as possible. "He asked for my professional opinion, I gave it, and then he questioned my ability to diagnose a patient. That's what happened. End of story."

"I don't think he meant it like that. I think he was just upset about his patient, and he let his emotions get out of control," Will offered. "And you know how he gets when his patients are kids."

For a split second, I felt bad for yelling at Crockett. I remembered that he once had a child who died, a little girl named Harper. And while she had never reached the age that Jaimie had, his fatherly instincts had kicked in. But that all went away at a moments notice when I also remembered that he had insulted my work.

"Yeah? Well you don't see me walking around talking shit about his work," I exclaim as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. "Just drop the issue, Will. I can't stand to be around Crockett, and I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"But Y/n," Will started, only for me to cut him off.

"It's okay. Things will sort themselves out soon enough," I assure him as I stepped out of the elevator. "See ya later, Halstead." I found Sam standing at the nurses' station in the neuro wing typing away on a tablet, and when he heard me approaching, he looked up.

"How was the consult?" Sam quizzed.

"Next time you get a page from the ED that Dr. Marcel needs a consult or whatever the hell else, you're taking it," I grumble and walk right past him.

...........................................

I thought that after telling Sam I didn't want to do neuro consults in the ED for Dr. Marcel anymore, he'd listen and not assign me to do them. So when I got called down to the ED my next shift, I wasn't expecting to be directed Crockett.

"Not again," I mumble quietly as I approached Crockett, who was standing at the nurses' station putting away a tablet. He looked up as I approached, and a small smile graced his lips.

"You just couldn't stay away, could ya?" Crockett questioned.

"Just let me do my consult and I'll be on my way," I mutter. The consult only took a few minutes, and I was glad that I'd be able to leave ED, but just as I started walking away from the nurses' station, Crockett grabbed ahold of my arm.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Crockett seethed. "You didn't talk or even look at me the entire consult."

"Yeah, well, sorry if I don't want to be near the man who insulted my medical abilities," I retort.

"What? Come on. You're still mad about that?" Crockett asked.

"Of course I'm still mad about that! You can't just offend someone's career and expect everything to be okay after that! I mean, that really hu-"

I was cut off as Crockett surged forward, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me towards him before placing his lips over mine. For a second, I was frozen where I stood. I didn't know what to do. But then my body reacted by kissing Crockett back. Crockett and I had always had a strange relationship. One minute we were fighting, the next we were flirting. And now here we were making out in front of the whole ED staff. After a few seconds, Crockett pulled away from me.

"I didn't think you'd kiss back," Crockett spoke.

"I didn't think you'd ever work up the courage to kiss me," I counter. "After all of our non-stop bickering, I thought you'd pick up that I liked you sooner."

"Believe me, I did," Crockett admitted. "I was just hesitant about approaching you because I didn't want our work to get in the way of what we could have."

"Well, I think I'll actually enjoy coming down to the ED now," I say.

Crockett smiled. "I'll look forward to seeing you. It'll probably be more often than we think since Dr. Abrams never comes down when I page."

I laughed softly. "Yeah, he doesn't like people interrupting his work, so he'll only come down if he's got absolutely nothing to do."

"Right, well, I'm off the clock in an hour, and I'm assuming you are too. What would you say if I asked you to grab a beer with me after work?" Crockett implored.

"I'd say I would love too," I reply.

"Great. Then I will see you after shift," Crockett claimed.

___________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett

[geminidentitycrisis]

The Scent of Leather and Hairspray

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x F!reader ONESHOT

(WARNINGS! - swearing)

---------

Sooooooo, I have a new favorite Pro, I guess haha

I hope you enjoy, and if you're underage, pretend you're older because I get it, I'd be Hot For Teacher too, but he's not a pedo sorry......

----------

You sighed as, upon exiting the store where you just purchased a frozen drink, the men you passed to enter that store started catcalling you. Just what you needed at the end of a rough day...

"Hey Honey, you'd be cuter if you smiled...!"

"Don't listen to that shit, babygirl, you're sexy as hell, c'mere and hang out a while...?"

Ignoring them the best you could, you kept walking, but they didn't take that very well. "You think you're too good for us, that it, stuck up bitch? Where you think you're goin'?"

You could hear their footsteps approaching behind you and turned to face them after sipping from your drink.

"Guys, please, I've had a hell of a day today and my quirk would probably scar you both for life and what do you say we just don't do this, huh?"

They exchanged glances before fixing you with threatening glares. "You think you're tough, babygirl? We'll see how tough you are when we get through teaching you some respect..." the first one said.

"HEY!"

A voice called from behind you and suddenly an arm was draped gently around your neck. You froze, being caught off guard tended to prompt a panic response when you were so tired.

You smelled leather and an overwhelming scent of hairspray.

"What's the trouble, my homies? Pretty sure ya heard the lady, she ain't jammin' to the vibe ya layin' down, ya dig? Beat it."

Heart skipping a beat or two, your eyes grew wide and a blush flooded your cheeks. "That voice...?!"

You whipped your head up to see the one and only Present Mic.

"Ah! I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice, I catch your radio show every day! You're the Sound Hero, Present Mic!" he flashed a grin down at you, winking.

"Oooh, you've got good ears, Listener! Thanks for Hypin' me up like that! Always great ta meet a FAAAN!" he responded in his commentator voice.

One of your would be tormentors interrupted angrily. "Hey, peacock head, why don't you mind your business?"

"PEACOCK...?! You boys best get ta steppin', aight?! Don't make me beat you up in fronta this pretty girl!" he replied in annoyance after his attention was so aggressively stolen from you.

The blush came back in full force and you couldn't contain a dreamy sigh as your lashes fluttered, eyes lidding contentedly now that you felt safe again.

*he said I was pretty~!* you thought.

"You believe this banana hair lookin' motherfucker? You're about to get your ass whooped, fruity!" the other threatened.

"Hey bro, watch your language! There's a lady here!" with the arm around your shoulders, Mic carefully raised it and guided you behind himself as the two started walking towards you both.

"Enough..."

Another voice came suddenly from the other side of the parking lot and everyone, with the exception of the blonde who was guarding you, turned to see Eraserhead.

Suddenly these jerks weren't so confident.

"Get lost, both of you, and go straight home or I'll bring the two of you in right now for loitering and harassment." he said calmly but with deep authority.

Mic crossed his arms, glaring at the duo as they ran off after a mere moment of hesitation, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "What a couple creepozoids! You okay, Pussy Cat...?" he quickly spun around to check you out, striking a dramatic pose while pointing at you, the trademark grin already back in place.

You smiled up at him with admiration sparkling in your eyes, clasping the cup you held in both hands and tight to your chest, stepping closer to him.

"Yes, thanks to you! You're my Hero~!"

Mic felt his own chest swell with pride a bit, the grin on his face getting bigger as he relaxed his stance and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

Usually by now the damsel has already flung herself on Aizawa, but not only were you praising him, you recognized him from just his voice and he was impressed at that.

"I can't believe I was just rescued by my favorite Pro, I am your #1 fan! Please, are you patrolling the city tonight? Please let me buy you a coffee or tea or something?? Just as a thank you...?"

Hizashi laughed rather loudly, one hand emerging from his pocket to be placed over his chest.

"HAHA! Aaaww, how can I say NO when you ask so sweetly?! Coffee sounds like a rockin' idea right about now!"

"Ugh, we don't have time for this, Mic..." Eraserhead complained tiredly.

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the blonde groaned twice as loud. "ugGHHH!! Don't be such a buzzkill, yo! I'll get you one, too, just chill!" with that, he trailed after you back into the store.

You watched as he doctored up the coffee you poured for him, blushing again when he threw a hint of a smirk your way, using the tip of his finger to lift the gold tinted shades he wore and showing you his emerald green eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay for my boring friend..."

Smiling, you bounced on your heels. "Damn right you will, I'm not HIS fangirl, after all..."

This promoted a slight blush to his face, but he maintained that knockout grin. "Ha! Well, good thing his best friend is here at least, lucky for him I tagged along tonight, huh??"

"Lucky for both of us..." came your soft reply from over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying temptingly had definitely not escaped his notice.

He followed you to the checkout counter and placed some money beside yours, his ungloved fingertips brushing against your own when he does. Leaning down closer to you, he cocked his head, pushing his shades down his nose this time and raising a brow.

"Does my #1 fan have a name...?"

Your smile bloomed again, blushing up at him. "It's  _______...but I might prefer you calling me Pussy Cat...~"

Saying that last bit, you applied a sensual undertone which he picked up on instantly, making his blush spread over his face and grow darker as he chuckled in amusement.

When you guys walked out the door, you noticed Eraserhead seemed really annoyed but tried to ignore him, looking up at the Voice Hero hopefully.

"Listen, I know you're both busy, but if you have just one more second to spare, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if I could get your autograph..."

Looking away awkwardly, he made a pained expression. "Aw, man, I dunno, we are kinda in a hurry here and stuff..."

You felt your heart sinking when he startled you with another loud laugh. "Hahaha, gotcha! JK! Of course I will, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' like that, no way, that ain't my STYYYYYYYYLLLE!"

Giddy with excitement, you let out a tiny squeal, quickly fishing out a small notebook and pen from your purse as he set the cups down. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours again, making you bite tenderly at your bottom lip.

They were so warm and soft...

He had started to whistle a cheerful little tune as he spun the pen between his fingers before starting to write in your book, it took longer than you expected, clearly longer than Eraser expected, too.

"Say goodbye to the girl, Mic, it's time to keep moving!" he didn't yell, exactly, too lazy, but he had raised his voice since last.

"YEAH, YEAH, I HEARD YA!!! Gimme a sec, ALRIGHT?!" the volume of the blonde's reply actually made your eardrums flinch and quiver this time, but you smiled anyway as he defended you again.

"There ya go! And hey, just to spite my buddy over there, I wouldn't mind walkin' ya home ta make sure ya get there safe."

The blush came right back, clutching the book to your heart, you gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's okay, really...I took up too much of your time already, and I only live around the corner from here..."

Eyes closing momentarily while you gathered yourself, you took a deep breath before confessing. "...I cannot express how grateful I am for you...not just for saving me tonight, but also for your talk show, hearing your voice over the radio gives me strength and motivation every week...it means the world to me...thank you..."

Beckoning him by flexing a finger, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek when he leaned in curiously.

Eyes widening, his whole face became scarlet red and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "AW, YEAH!"

He jumped, pumping his fists in the air and then proceeded to shoot you with his finger guns while  winking again. "Listen, I dropped my digits on that piece'a paper ya got there, Shawty...hit me up sometime if ya wanna chill! I'm down for whatever!"

You were caught off guard by that and checked the page he signed for you, finally reading what he wrote down as he rambled on as background noise about how he wasn't a creep like those other guys and you could say no without worrying about him making a scene, he just had to shoot his shot, I mean you DID kiss ME first ya know...

"For my #1 fan, _______...Thanks for the coffee and stay outta trouble! ...and maybe call or shoot a txt, if your feelin' this funky vibe, too? Live loud, Pussy Cat ;) don't ever let anyone try an put the mute on ya! XOXOX PRESENT MIC!!!"

Followed by his phone number, and there were little hearts drawn around the page.

You were already blushing when he surprised you again by returning your gesture and swooping in to plant a kiss on your cheek this time.

Reaching up to touch the spot, you smiled up at him shyly. "I can't wait...please be safe out there..."

"You got it! SEE YA SOON!" The Pro nodded vigorously, giving an enthusiastic wave of goodbye before grabbing his and Eraserhead's drinks, practically bouncing with every step.

It made you giggle, but you were trying not to get your hopes up too much. For all you knew, he gave his number out to every girl that asked him for a signature.

"Are you happy now...?" Shouta grumbled, taking the cup being offered as he turned to resume patrolling. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HECK YEAH I AM! I'M ON CLOUD NINE RIGHT NOW, I JUST MET MY FUTURE WIFE!!!!!!!!"

You heard him very clearly, the blush traveling all the way down your neck this time, and you couldn't help another small giggle, your heart fluttering with happiness like the wings of the butterflies in your belly.

He just had that effect on you.

Glancing down at the notebook in your hand as you sipped your quickly melting frosty, you noticed in the bottom right corner was a little arrow, below which was written the word "flip".

You looked up again but the two Pro Heroes were already gone.

Curiously, you flipped over the page.

MARRY ME?!?!!

a. YES!!!!!

b. a

c. b

That smooth sonuvabitch had you blushing and giggling all night.

[rekrappeter]

Good Enough || s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: overthinking | cursing | low mood | insecurities |  lmk if I have missed anything ♡

word count: 1.9k

a/n: thank you for the love on my first fic, I hope this one loves up to expectations. i pretty much just wrote this in order to comfort my own insecurities so maybe other people can relate. my requests will always be open  ♡

That evening your phone had gone off every couple of minutes, blasting your obnoxious ringtone over and over again; yet it was still on your kitchen counter where you left it that morning. You refused to pick it up, not wanting to look at the numerous text messages and missed calls that were on the home page. It was Sunday and your boyfriend was due to return from work, but over the last three days that he was gone, you had fallen into an awfully big hole of overthinking. 

Seventy-two hours was a long time to have your brain constantly telling you that you weren’t good enough for the man that you called your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. Take away the few hours that you were sleeping in between, the last three days have been nothing but torture for you. Hence, the reason that you were ignoring his phone calls. He had just finished a case with the FBI, the last thing he had to deal with was you being low and insecure. It had taken six months for these feelings to start surfacing within your mind but once you started shedding the tears, there was no going back.

Spencer sighed in frustration, his phone indicating that he was running on low battery. He quickly clicked into your name again, watching the phone dial your number before the screen went completely black. Spencer hissed a number of curse words that gained the attention of his male companion, who was sitting closest to him in the bullpen. Derek’s brows creased together and he dropped the pen that he was playing with to focus his attention on the young doctor. 

“You ok, kid?” He asked, turning in his office chair to face Spencer’s desk.

Spencer looked up from his dead phone that he tossed by his pile of files, his curls hanging loosely over his face. His mouth opened and closed for a minute, reluctant to get advice from Derek before he shrugged it off. “Nothing.” He simply replied. 

Derek hummed in acknowledgement, “Very rarely do I hear Dr. Reid curse, but if you would rather me get Penelope or JJ to question you, I can do that.” 

“Please don’t do that,” The skinny brunette whined softly, weighing out the options in his head before deciding to trust Derek on this one. “It’s Y/N. She hasn’t been answering my calls all day.” 

“Ah, girl problems.” Derek teased, his pearl whites gleaming under the bright lights in the bullpen. 

Spencer groaned, standing up from his desk. “Forget about it.” He snapped, starting to pack up his belongings to head home for the night.

“Kid, I’m joking. Look, you’ve been gone for three days. Just pop by her apartment on your way home, okay?” Derek suggested which earned a grimace from Spencer, “Bring flowers, tell her you missed her.” 

“I did miss her.” Spencer sighed, his hand brushing his hair from his face.

“Exactly. You have been going out for six months, it shouldn’t be strange just dropping by.” 

“Um, okay… Thanks, Derek.” The younger boy replied, forcing a shy smile in his direction. 

Spencer started walking out of the combined offices before Derek’s voice halted him, he looked over his shoulder. “Behave, you minx.” This only resulted in Spencer rolling his eyes and stalking out of the room towards the elevators. On the way to your place, his thoughts began to linger, maybe it was a bad idea just to show up. He shouldn’t be this nervous going to be his girlfriend’s house but deep down, he knew there was something wrong. You always replied to his messages and never once sent his calls to voicemail. His thoughts started to jump to different conclusions, did he do something wrong and not realize it? 

 The sudden silence was oddly irking you; your phone had stopped ringing and you didn’t notice that you were taking comfort from your ringtone until it was gone. You couldn’t say you blamed Spencer for giving up trying to contact you, it wasn’t your intention on keeping him on the ropes all day. It was just that you weren’t sure that you were going to be able to answer the phone and pretend like everything was fine. You couldn’t pretend anymore that you lived up to his standard; he was the most intelligent man you have ever met, with a number of PhDs and BAs, and you just about got your BA degree. It was silly for you to compare yourself to an actual genius but it was more so the fact that he deserved someone that he could hold an actual factual and statistical conversation with; not someone that had to research nearly everything that he brought up. 

The empty feeling in your stomach from not eating all day came alive and you climbed out of bed, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were puffed and your hair was a bird’s nest, the fact that overthinking caused you to look and feel like this made you even sicker. You had just reached your kitchen door when the sound of your doorbell blasted around the apartment, grimacing you knew exactly who it was going to be. You weren’t expecting anyone else to appear at your door at eleven in the evening. 

You slowly walked to the door, your sock-clad feet sliding across the wooden floors. You peeked through the peephole and your heart soared with the sight of an exhausted looking Spencer standing there, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp. 

Opening the door, you hid half of your body with it but worry immediately covered Spencer’s expression. “Hi…” He said, his voice soft and he tried to step forward but you didn’t budge the door, “What’s wrong?” 

“Spence, I just want to be alone for a little while.” You whispered, avoiding his begging honey-brown eyes that were drooping. His heart tugged at the sound of your voice croaking, and it confirmed his theory that you had spent hours upon hours crying. “I’m sorry-” You attempted to close the door but Spencer stuck his foot in the way and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this drop.

“I can’t leave here knowing that you’re hurting. Let me in, talk to me.” Spencer begged, and you couldn’t deny him entry anymore. It killed you seeing him looking so worried. As soon as Spencer stepped foot into your apartment, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers brushed the back of your head and you collapsed into his embrace. He was warm and you were thankful that he was wearing a grey sweater, it felt soft against your skin and when you breathed in his scent of coffee and cotton detergent, you felt grounded again. His lips pecked into the side of your head, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as he pulled away. “Why are you crying, princess?” 

“I’m not crying now…” You replied, a pout evident on your face. 

“Why were you crying?” Spencer corrected himself, no hint of the worry lessening on his features. 

“I… It’s nothing.” 

“Clearly it is something. Tell me.” Spencer pushed, his thumb rubbing up and down your cheek gently. You sighed, your eyes closing which resulted in a tear escaping down your cheeks, running onto his fingers. “Oh, baby.” 

“Spence…” You started, reaching to cover his hand with yours and you peeled it off your face. “I have spent the last three days thinking and thinking and thinking…” 

“About what?” Spencer wrapped his fingers around yours, a feeling of heaviness erupting in his stomach. 

“You deserve someone so much better than me-” 

“Don’t start, Y/N, please…” Spencer’s head dropped, sadness radiating from the pair of you. 

“No, no, let me finish. Please.” You begged, he nodded in response and watched as you took a shaking breath in. The rant that you had created in the shower two days ago flowed off your tongue in one breath. “You deserve someone that matches your personality more than I do, someone that reads more books or watches old films in different languages. You need someone to challenge you in an intellectual way and I… I just can’t do that. I’m average when it comes to general knowledge, hell, I don’t even know what my IQ is. A… And I don’t want you to wake up one morning bored and regretting ever starting this.” 

Spencer whimpered softly, stepping closer to your shaking body. You avoided eye contact again but he reached behind you to place the flowers on the locker and he cupped your face with both of his hands. “Look at me.” He snapped softly, it was forceful but filled with love. He used his thumb to wipe the fresh tears away. 

“Spence…”

“No. Listen to me. The last six months have been the happiest days of my life.” You tried to object but he shushed you, “Listen to me.” He repeated, squeezing your face slightly and you sunk into his touch again. His lips were trembling but they remained their pink shade similar to the tint in his cheeks. “I don’t want someone to challenge me, I challenge myself enough. I want someone that makes me laugh, makes me happy, makes me feel like a kid again. You bring out a side to me I didn’t know even existed, you brought light back into my life and I enjoy teaching you things. I don’t want you to recite the whole Bible for me, I don’t need that. I just need you, I need you being happy and yourself because I love you and you are too good for me.” Spencer whispered the last sentence, and he sucked in a breath. 

“You’ve never said that before.” You replied, your heart beating rapidly against your chest. 

“I never thought I’d make you feel that you’re were not good enough.” 

Your heart sank at his words, regret cursing through your veins. “It wasn’t you, Spence. It was all up there.” You muttered, pointing to your head and for the first time that evening, Spencer shot you one of his smiles. The one that showed that he understood. 

“Just promise me one thing.” 

“Anything.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

Spencer smiled at the gesture and brought his lips down to yours, connecting them gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, embracing every erupting feeling that he was setting off. His hand slid into your mess of hair, bringing your closer and he deepened the kiss. His tongue danced around yours, and you were melting into him with every passing second. Just as a moan escaped passed your lips, Spencer pulled away. “Talk to me if you ever feel like this again.” 

You nodded in response and he was happy with that. Spencer untangled himself from you and picked the flowers back up, he walked deeper into your apartment but you stood there, your eyes following his every move. “Spencer,” You called out before he disappeared into the kitchen, he turned to look at you, his eyes sparkling and he waited for you to speak, “I love you too.” 

The smile he returned sent your heart soaring and he shook his head, a chuckle erupting from his stomach. “I know.”

🌻 🌻 🌻 🌻 🌻

please please please let me know what you thought of this! It’s my first s.r fic so I would love some feedback!

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 7 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: thank you all for being patient with me and for reading my series! Happy Sunday to you all and I think that if I update every Sunday it will work out fine! If school gets in the way I will let you all know! Please take care of yourselves and be happy!!

Warnings: Overall fluff, two dorks being dorks, etc.

Plot: Things start to feel better with Spencer around. Spencer and you enjoy a nice spring Saturday and Spencer gets an enticing invitation. 

Word Count: 3.1K

It was childish to want to look cute for a friend, a cute friend, but still a friend. You were trying on outfit after outfit, eyes always drifting to the black boot stuck on your leg. In the end, you settled on a simple tee-shirt and jeans combo. You wanted to admit that the tee-shirt didn’t have a slightly low v-neck, and you also wanted to admit that your hair wasn’t a beautiful mess of brush out curls. You were trying your hardest to look both casual and stunning, the way heroines did in romance novels, but the longer you looked in the mirror you felt painfully obvious.

Spencer told you he had the upcoming weekend off, and lucky for him you had another two months off, so it worked out perfectly. You tore your eyes away from your reflection, confidence falling as you stared at the clock propped up on your desk. It was twenty minutes till noon, and you had suggested a near-by cafe.

If you didn’t count the time spent with your mother this would be your first time out of the house since the incident, a shiver caressed your spine. You drew in a calming breath, eyes closing as you exhaled. You didn’t have the mental capacity for a mental breakdown today, you needed him to see that you were fine. Stable.

Your lips turned up in a nervous smile as you limped over to your purse and crutches, trying your best to keep the strap slung over your shoulder. You had called a cab ahead of time, you would’ve walked, but you didn’t want to arrive with sweat dripping down your back.

The cab dropped you off early, giving you ample time to find a place to sit and wait. The wait also gave you plenty of time to silently panic; did this seem like a date? Did you look like you were ready for a date? What if he thought you looked bad? You rubbed your palms against your jeans, sweat clingy to them desperately, so much for the cab ride.

Spencer spotted you before you spotted him, a smile taking over his face immediately, watching as you talked to the waitress with a kind smile. It wasn’t until she was gone that you saw him, waving him over with a loud giggle. Spencer felt a familiar feeling swimming in his chest, the feeling of beating wings, a small gust of wind brought him back. Spencer sat across from you, smiling wide, “Hi,”

A nervous laugh erupted from you, “Hey,” you took in his appearance; messy hair, clean face, beige slacks, and a dark blue sweater-vest. “Blue looks nice on you.” you hear yourself say unexpectedly, surprising yourself and Spencer simultaneously.

“Blue?” Spencer repeats as he looks down at the sweater vest covering his chest, a tiny laugh escaping his lips.

You feel your mouth open against your will, words spewing out, “I don’t know why I said that, I just noticed that your eyes look nice in dark blue, and the sweater-vest is a nice shade of navy,”

“Thank you,” Spencer cuts you off in a gentle tone, eyes meeting yours quickly.

“You’re welcome,” you muttered softly as the waitress made a reappearance. After having a glance at the menu, Spencer ordered a peppermint tea, and you ordered a coffee. As she left the two of you alone, you tilted your head towards the side.

“Is peppermint tea your favorite?”

“I would say it’s in the top three,” Spencer joked lightly, trying to relax under your gaze. Even if the two of you were here just as friends, the way the sunlight was illuminating your hair made Spencer’s throat tighten with anxiety. “It calms me down to drink something nice and,” Spencer noticed how fast he was talking, “Warm. Something nice and warm,” he repeated slower, calming himself down.

You leaned in slightly, “I loved the tea and the book, it was very thoughtful.” you resisted the urge to reach for his hand that was resting on the table, retreating into your seat nervously.

“I’m not a big coffee drinker,” Spencer paused, “Well, actually, I am! I just need the coffee to be extremely sweet.”

“Oh, you’re one of those.” Your voice carried a playful tone as you trailed off.

“One of what?”

“Those people. They need to have cream, sugar, and a dollop of coffee!”

Spencer looked at you, eyes wide, “A dollop?”

“A dollop, yes.”

“That’s the word you’re going to use?”

“Do you have a problem with it, Doctor?” you teased him, tension leaving as you heard Spencer chuckling across the table. The wind blew his hair into his face and you swore you could smell the faint smell of peppermint and aftershave. Your eyes darted towards his lips for a second before the waitress set a cup in front of you. “Oh, thank you.”

Spencer gave a quick thanks to the waitress, eyes staying on you as your cheeks became a tinted pink. You were looking around, eyes never focusing on one thing for too long. Something was making you nervous, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he had done something wrong. “Is everything alright?”

You poured a small amount of cream into your coffee with a false smile, heart-pounding inside your chest, “I’m fine,”

“You seem tense,”

“I just had an intrusive thought,” you lied as you stirred in some sugar. You couldn’t tell him about your dreams, the two of you were friends and it was the first time the two of you were together under normal circumstances. You didn’t want to ruin this, you couldn’t ruin this.

Spencer noticed the lie and let it slide as he nodded. He blew on his tea carefully, eyes peeking over the rim to stare at you. When you looked up from your coffee, he simply blocked his vision by taking a sip of his tea. When he brought down his cup, he noticed that you were staring out onto the street. He followed your gaze slowly, children walked hand and hand with their parents, the wind shook budding trees and a couple was kissing on the sidewalk.

“Sorry,” you broke Spencer away from his thought, head turning to look at you. “Sometimes I get distracted,” you explained, the light hue of your cheeks turning a shade darker. Whenever you looked at him, the only thing that you could see was his eyes, his lips. Then all you could think about was how wonderful those lips would feel pressed against yours.

Spencer could feel your eyes on him, he watched as your eyes would dip between his lips and then his eyes, repeating the movement over and over again till he felt his cheeks heating up. He convinced himself that you saw the couple and thought about him for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for things like that to happen, and the idea of you liking him flew over his head effortlessly.

You took a calming sip of coffee, closing your eyes as you sipped the beverage, letting the warmth of the liquid warm your chest. Once you felt less flustered you opened your eyes slowly, setting down your cup with a tiny sigh. “Spencer,” Spencer’s eyes were already on you “Describe your perfect day,” you demanded gently, hands moving as you spoke.

Spencer let out a chortle, “What?”

“Tell me about your perfect day!” you urged, a tiny giggle escaping you for a second. “Do it Miss United States style,”

“A beauty pageant?”

“A scholarship program according to the movie ‘Miss Congeniality’,” Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you let out an audible gasp, feeling like a teenager. “Come on! The movie! Sandra Bullock is this F.B.I agent and she has to go undercover!” You explained desperately as Spencer only shook his head ‘no’.

Your hands covered your mouth, hiding the beaming smile on your face as you giggled. “Oh you would hate it,” you teased gently before letting your hands drop back down onto your lap.

“Do you still want me to describe my perfect day?”

“Very much so, yes!” you answered, scooting closer to the edge of your chair.

Spencer nodded a little, looking off to the side as he tried to think. Most of his days were spent chasing after murders, sometimes he wondered if he would ever have a perfect day; a day where he didn’t think about death. He clicked his tongue gently, “ I think it would be a Saturday,” he began, watching as you closed your eyes. He smiled as he continued, “I wouldn’t wake up before the sunrise and I would be able to sleep in, the phone is off, and by ten o’clock I’ve had breakfast.”

You opened one eye, waiting for him to continue, “Spencer, I need more than that.” you declared, closing your eyes once again.

“Fine, fine!” he hummed gently, fingers tapping against the table. “I’m with someone, maybe someone who cares about me?” Spencer questioned himself gently. “We’re not going anywhere, not talking to anyone, we’re just staying inside and watching ‘Doctor Who’.” He said, his cheeks burning as he watches you hold back a sound of adoration.

You open your eyes, clapping your hands together quickly. “I love that!”

“You do?”

“It’s very cute and relaxing. I imagined you in your pajamas, I’m thinking plaid?”

Spencer shook his head in disbelief, laughing with you. As the laughter died down, he decided it was your turn. “Okay, tell me about your perfect day,” he said, leaning forward to rest his head on his hand.

“Mine?” you said, motioning towards yourself quickly. “Well, I pick Saturday for my day as well. It’s wintertime and it’s snowing, not in a crazy blizzard way, but in a calming way. I would probably think about playing in the snow, but the heater would win that battle.” You played with the coffee stirrer, “I would stay inside, most likely watching adaptations of books turned into a film, before giving up and watching some ‘Doctor Who’.” you finished confidently, lifting your head to look back up at Spencer, a giddy smile on his face.

“You said ‘Doctor Who’ because that’s what I said didn’t you?”

“Don’t tell me that you think  you’re the only one who watches that show, Spencer.”

“Well, obviously not,”

“Good,”

Spencer sent you a playful glare as you rolled your eyes at him, “You stole my perfect day, Y/N.”

“No, I simply made it better,”

“Sure,” Spencer scoffed as he watched your smile fall into a comfortable grin, feeling his face doing the same.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“No, it’s my turn!” Spencer snapped back at you in a playful tone, biting his lip as he tried to think of a question. “Would you ever want to be famous?”

“Oh, Doctor Reid!” you exclaimed, tapping the rim of your coffee cup as you gave the question some thought. “No, I don’t think I would ever want to be famous.” you paused for a second, “The money would be great and I would like the recognition, but I don’t think I could deal with the paparazzi and all the drama.”

Spencer nodded slowly, agreeing with your reasoning quickly. Spencer would hate the attention and he would hate the dramatics even more. “I couldn’t do it either,”

“But, if you were famous, what would it be for?”

“Hopefully, something intellectual,”

“Like a Nobel prize?”

“Probably,” Spencer watches as you relax in the chair, feeling consciously better that you seem better now. He knew that it could have all been a mask for him, a mask to cover up how you were actually doing. He wore a mask for a while, sometimes the mask would fall and sometimes it would get harder to take off. He knew what it was like to pretend that everything was okay, to pretend that everything was going to be okay. Spencer debated asking how you were for a second, but if you wanted him to know how you were, you would tell him.

You took a long drink from your cup, silently trying to come up with more questions to ask Spencer. You wanted to know more about him, you wanted to be a good friend. Yeah, a good friend. “Are you happy that you’ve got the weekend off?”

Spencer nodded quickly as you set down your cup, “Usually the weekend is paperwork or taken over by another case.”

You bit your lip, mulling over a question, “Do they ever get to you?”

Spencer inhaled slowly, thinking about the best way to answer, “They get to all of us, but it’s the job. It’s not easy and we try our best.” he answered, feeling satisfied as your lips turned up into a gentle smile.

“I can’t help but think that you’re amazing,” you confessed sweetly, cheeks heating up instantly. Spencer could feel heat rush towards his face, feeling very hot all of the sudden. You laughed, trying to cover up your nervous fidgeting, “No, I know that you’re amazing. Especially you, Spencer.”

Spencer felt his mouth go dry, he brought the cup of tea to his lips, trying to remain calm. He wasn’t the best when it came to compliments, he would always find himself rambling and the team would send him a look. People said he was smart and that he was intelligent, but he never heard the word amazing, it didn’t seem like he was amazing. Morgan was amazing, Prentiss and Hotch were amazing, Garcia was incredibly amazing, while Spencer was just … Spencer. “Thank you,” was all he could manage.

Your smile grew, teeth showing, “I can’t express how much you’ve helped me,”

“I didn’t do anything amazing,”

“Spencer, you sent me your favorite tea, and Oscar Wilde, you’re my white knight.” You said, laughing as you watched Spencer’s face grow a noticeable shade of red. You had to admit that he was your savior. He had helped you through the dark parts of the night and sometimes the darker parts of days. You knew that if you needed him, he would help you. He was amazing.

Spencer’s mind was still repeating the words ‘white knight’ over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. “Peppermint has great healing effects and tea, especially, has great benefits!” he babbled, the sentence coming out at the speed of lightning. “In fact, the amino acid that teas carry, theanine, helps with balancing your hormones as you drink it.”  You nodded quickly, not seeming to mind that he was spewing random facts.

“Did you know that ancient civilizations, like ancient Greece and ancient Egypt, used to use peppermint as medicine?” You giggled lightly. “I googled some things about peppermint tea after you sent me some,” you admitted to him cheerfully.

Spencer felt the tension in his back dissipate, finding it comforting that you didn’t seem frustrated with him for babbling. Instead, you seemed to have enjoyed it, it didn’t seem to bother you at all. He heard your laugh and found that the sound was butterfly-inducing, a giddy smile reaching his face as he laughed along with you.

---

Spencer insisted that he walk you back to your apartment, as well as insisting that walking would be good for you as you hadn’t been out of the house in a couple of days. So, how were you supposed to refuse, he won you over with the offer with those beautiful brown eyes, you were sure of it. Your crutches made a soft clicking sound every time you moved, but you were too busy listening to Spencer talk about Oscar Wilde.

This was every librarian’s dream, to have an intelligent and dreamy man walk you home as he talks to you about the symbolism in Oscar Wilde’s ‘Nightingale and the Rose’. He demanded that it’s the story for true romantics, while you argued it was a story for hopeless romantics. Whenever you said that he would say that they were the same thing, making you laugh.

As your apartment building came into view, you felt your legs become weaker, almost like jelly. “Spencer,” you muttered as the two of you stopped outside of the lobby, “Thank you,”

Spencer’s brows knitted together in confusion, “For?”

“Being with me today,” you admitted, feeling lame as he stared at you. “I already owe so much to you,”

“You don’t owe me anything,”

“I do,” you pressed quickly, standing straighter with the help of your crutches. “I owe you some much, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you motioned between the two of you with a grin, “but you did, you’ve been such a great friend and so helpful. I can’t thank you enough.”

Spencer smiled at your thanks and simply shrugged before saying, “It's what I would want if I was in your position, I’m sorry the only thing I can offer you is a helping hand.”

“Your helping hand has been the best thing to happen to me in a long time, so, again, thank you.” you conceded, your legs no longer feeling weak as you finished. Your mind reminded you gently that the two of you had been here before, in a dream once. Shoving the thought down you smiled up at him nervously, “Would you want to come up and maybe watch an episode of ‘Doctor Who’?” you offered, your voice breaking slightly due to anxiety.

Spencer tried his best not to looked shocked at your offer, every bone in his body screamed that he should accept, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or for it to be weird,”

“Why would it be weird? It will be like your perfect day,” you assured him sweetly, heart beating fast at the thought of his rejecting your offer. Spencer swiped his tongue over his lips nervously and you knew that it was probably a bad idea to invite him up. It was probably a bad idea, yes, but you found that you didn’t really care. You wanted him to be around you, you wanted to be with him, just as friends.

Spencer slowly nodded, “Okay, sure,” he settles, feeling slightly more confident as you break out into a bright smile. “Who’s your favorite Doctor anyway?”

“What a silly question, you’re my favorite Doctor, obviously,”

“No, I meant in the show-”

“I know, that was me messing with you, genius.”

Spencer felt his heart crawling into his throat as he watched you get into the elevator. You frowned at him, waiting for him to get into the elevator, “Come on, Doctor.” You urged him quickly as he shuffled into the elevator. A small thought came to mind as he listened to you hum along to the elevator music, maybe he lied earlier, maybe today was the perfect day.

[teamhappyme]

warmth

sonny carisi x reader

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is a short little self-indulgent drabble. my family had a health scare today, and i just needed something to help get my mind off of it. everyone is okay, but i feel much better now after writing for my favorite stringbean.

****

You were sleeping in the uncomfortable wooden hospital chairs, old blue padding doing nothing but numb your backside. Your elbow had already slipped off the arm three times, waking you from your light slumber.

The nurse had kicked you out of your mother’s hospital room three hours ago, so you relocated to the waiting room. Considering it was eleven o'clock, there weren’t too many people in your presence. 

Before your elbow slipped for the fourth time tonight, you readjusted yourself to face the entrance. You started to close your eyes when you heard the automatic doors whoosh open, your favorite gangly detective walking over to you. You straightened yourself up, rolling your ankles as he sat next to you.

“Sonny, What are you doing here? How did you,” 

“Liv told me. I was worried about you.” His cheeks tinted the slightest shade of red, but he ducked his head before they could get worse. “We all were. You ran out of the squad room like a chicken with it’s head cut off.”

You let out a small chuckle, still somewhat aware of your surroundings. Leave it to Carisi to make you laugh despite the less than ideal circumstances.

“Yeah well, I didn’t really know how to react at that moment. I just needed to get here.”

“How’s she doing?”

You sighed, uncrossing your left leg to swing the right one over. “She’s doing okay for having a heart attack. They said it could have been worse, but it was still bad enough that she passed out from the pain.”

Your mother was the healthiest person you knew. She took care of herself, worked out six days a week, and was always in tune to her body. The last person you expected to have a heart problem was her.

“Did you get to talk to her at all?”

You shook your head. “Only for a few minutes. She’s really tired, they want her to rest up. They said she’ll be better tomorrow.”

“So she’s going to be okay?” He asked, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. He truly cared about her health and wellbeing. Hell, he cared about anyone that you cared for.

A small smile rested on your face. “Yeah, she’s gonna be okay.”

He matched the expression on his own face before standing and extending a hand to you. “In that case, it’s time for you to go home and get some rest.”

“No, I can’t leave her here all by herself. I’ll be fine here, the vending machine is down the hall and I’ll just put two chairs together to sleep.”

“Y/n, she’s got nurses and doctors monitoring her all night. You can come back first thing in the morning. C’mon, you’ll feel better sleeping in your own bed.”

His left right hand was still extended to you, and you accepted it with a sigh. “Fine.”

He helped you stand up and led you out of the hospital, pointing to where he parked the squad car. 

“Carisi, would you mind if we walked? I just want to clear my head, get some fresh air after spending the whole day in there. It’s only ten minutes.”

“ ‘Course I don’t mind. C’mon.” He nodded his head to the right, knowing which way led to your apartment. 

You’d been at SVU for three years now, joining the squad a few short months after Carisi. As the two newbies, you guys stuck together and helped each other navigate the world of special victims. It was rough, and could be pretty disturbing at times, but you had each other. And it really made a difference.

You felt a weight on your shoulders, followed by a warmth spreading down your back. Sonny had draped his jacket over you, and you noticed he had on a quarter zip to keep him warm. He looked down at you, a little smile on his face, and you thanked him with a nod.

You walked in a comfortable silence for two blocks, no need for conversation to fill the air. The two of you talked enough at work, Rollins and Fin regularly reminding the two of you to pipe down. You could usually control yourself after a reminder, but Sonny and his Staten Island accent couldn’t keep quiet longer than five minutes.

Until tonight. It was nice to be around him without having to worry about a case, finding evidence, or witnesses. You would accompany him to Amanda’s house most times to help her out with the girls while he cooked, and sometimes you guys would stumble down to the bar by his house for Saturday night trivia. It was always so easy with Carisi, like you’d known him your whole life.

Without really thinking about it, you looped your arm through his and rested your head on his shoulder as you were about halfway to your apartment. You felt his arm tense the slightest, before he let out a breath and relaxed again. 

With his coat around your shoulders, and your arm linked with his, you were warmer than you’d ever felt in your whole life.

You stayed linked together until you reached your building, and he offered to walk you up. You got off at the fourth floor and made it about halfway down the hall when you saw a brown bag at your door. 

“What’s this?” You picked it up, and could faintly smell your favorite chinese food order. 

“Oh, I ordered you some food once I left the precinct. I figured you hadn’t eaten, and knew you’d be too tired to cook. Or you wouldn’t have any food to cook with.”

He was right about both of those things. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I definitely would’ve eaten swedish fish and water for dinner.” He let out a laugh and raised his hands, knowing he was right.

“Alright, get some sleep y/n. I’ll call you tomorrow to check in and see if you need anything.”

You nodded and leaned against your door. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this, but I’m glad you did. It means a lot.”

He had a tight lipped smile while stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Don’t mention it. You’d do the same for me.”

You took a second to look, really look at the man standing in front of you. He was amazing, and the sweetest person you’d ever met. And you wanted him to know.

Taking a step closer to him, you tilted your head up and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm, and he was so close to you. It took everything in you not to bury your head in his shoulder.

You pulled away, feeling your cheeks grow warm at your action. His own cheeks turned rosy red, and he couldn’t wipe the small off his face.

“I know this is the most inappropriate time to say this, but I really like you. I mean, I more than really like you.”

You were the one to smile now, as he reached out between you, hoping you would hold his hand. You wasted no time in grasping it, twining your fingers with his own. “I more than really like you too.” You quietly admitted, and watched his smile grow. God, was he handsome.

“Once this is all settled and back to normal, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You hid your mouth behind your free fist, your growing smile starting to cause pain in your cheeks. “I would love to, Sonny.”

“Good. Great.” You let out a laugh at his stammering reaction, which quickly turned into a yawn. “Alright, enough excitement for one day. Go eat and get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Sonny.” He gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go. “ ‘Night y/n.”

He waited until you got into your apartment and he heard you lock the door before he left. You put your keys and food on the counter, and braced yourself on the stone. Did that just happen?

You brushed your fingers across your lips, remembering how soft his skin was underneath you, the smiling ache in your cheeks returning.

Oh yes, that did happen.

****

[babybakuu]

Hey I have to request for Bakugou x reader prompt: 11 & 18 pls

request from this prompt list!

11. Wow, you look..amazing. & 18. That was kind of hot. 

A/N: im so sorry these are taking so long to come out lmaooo i have writers block and im really hating editing rn so this will be half way unedited,, thank u for requesting and waiting babie,, also its under a read more bc i can’t believe i wrote mfing 3k words for this 

“Wow,” Katsuki says almost breathlessly, “you look..amazing.” 

Your eyes narrow in on the blonde who’s currently standing in your doorway. You can’t tell if he’s lying or simply just pulling your leg. Did he always have to be so sarcastic? “Haha, very funny Katsuki.” You’re rolling your eyes with a pink tint on your cheeks and your hands start to fidget with the bottom of your dress. “Can we just get this over with?” 

“I’m being serious you know. You look good.” He says as he holds out an arm for you to grab and you do. But you were waiting for it- the punchline, the teasing- “I didn’t know a gorilla could dress up so nice.” 

There it was.

“Shut the hell up.” You deliver a solid punch to his arm as he leads you to his car but he doesn’t even flinch. “Remember I’m doing you a favor, if you’re not nice to me maybe I’ll slip up and tell your parents during dinner that we’re not really dating.” 

He pauses and glances in your direction. “You wouldn’t.”

You shrug. “Maybe I would. How long has this been going on for Katsuki? 6 months? 8? How disappointed would they be to hear-”

“Alright, just shut up.” He huffs, holding the car door open. You’re cocking an eyebrow at him, arms folded against your chest, and the expression has him hesitating. “I mean uh, please..shut up?” 

A scoff slips past your lips and you find yourself rolling your eyes. “Better.” You sigh, while climbing in. “Not the best but better.” The door closes with a thump next to you and you’re scanning his car. It’s spotless like usual, the leather seats didn’t have a speck of dust on them, and it smells just like burnt caramel- a scent that was growing on you a little too much. 

“Brief me.” You say as he climbs in. “What have we done since we last saw your parents?” 

“You tell me.” 

“How come I have to think of everything in this fake relationship?” A prominent pout is on your face and for a second, you swore you saw him staring at your lips. Was your choice of lipstick too much? Not good enough? You’re suddenly self conscious but he turns away, buckles his seat belt, and starts driving.

“Well, if we were really dating- what would you like to do?” He catches a glance from the corner of his eyes and you’re sitting there, arms folded against your chest and that pout on your lips fades. 

“If we were really dating huh.” You absentmindedly repeat. The sentence settles in your mind and the butterflies in your stomach start fluttering. 

If you two were really dating..how nice would that be? You wouldn’t see him every once in a blue moon when he asked you to come to dinner with his parents. You’d probably get to eat more of his cooking. And maybe, just maybe- he would hold your hand just because he wanted to, not for show. 

“Hello? Earth to planet dumbass?” He questions, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh..camping..” You reply. “I’d really like to go camping.” 

“Camping..huh. I didn’t expect that from you.” 

“Well, I’d want to do something you enjoy and I’ve never been so..” 

“Maybe we should go.” He pauses, throwing another glance in your direction. “Just you and me, it’ll be fun.” A small smile spreads across your face and your stomach is doing backflips at the thought. Just you and him? How many days would you spend together completely alone? “Can’t wait to see you eat shit while hiking.” 

“Fuck you asshole. I take it back, I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” He does this ugly laugh snort thing and you can’t help but smile as your heart flutters a bit for the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. Maybe you should go see a doctor for that. 

“Seriously- clear your schedule for next week, I’ll take you for your birthday.” And suddenly, you find yourself holding a hand against your heart and you’re warm, so so warm. 

“You..remembered?” 

“Why would I not remember my girl’s birthday?” He asks as if it’s the dumbest question ever.  

My girl. 

Your head is spinning and that smile tugging at the corner of your lips won’t go away no matter how hard you’re trying to make it disappear.

“What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” 

Oh.

Right. 

This wasn’t real. And like magic the smile on your lips is gone. 

“Yeah..haha.” You’re forcing a laugh but the disappointment on your face is evident. Your gritting your teeth and mentally cursing at the fact you are so so so head over heels in love with him. Curse him for being so handsome, for being so tall, for being so charming but at the same time annoyingly sarcastic, for being-

“Are you okay?” Katsuki asks breaking you out of your thoughts. He gives you this look. His eyebrows are furrowed, his head is tilted, and there’s genuine concern in his eyes. “We’ve been parked for ten minutes and you haven’t said a word.” 

“Sorry, I was uh, thinking about something.” He’s staring at you with those red eyes that make you squirm in your seat with an intensity that rivaled the sun itself. Those eyes could pierce through metal just with a glance and he was looking at you with them? You’d probably die if you made direct eye contact. 

“You know you can talk to me right?” 

And when those words slip out of his mouth, you have an urge to confess right there and then. You want to tell him you’ve been in love with him since you’ve started this whole charade. But you don’t. Instead, you nod your head at his comment and reassure him you’re fine. He sits there, staring at you with those piercing red eyes and lets out a sigh. You know he doesn’t fall for it, he knows something’s not right, but he gets out of the car anyways.

“Watch your step.” He says. His hand is outstretched, inviting, big and warm. You take it and when your hand intertwines with his, you feel better. 

“Thanks.” You mutter while attempting to memorize the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. What if this just ended tomorrow? What if he finds someone else that he genuinely likes? His fingers are laced perfectly between yours as if they were built, molded, and created just for you. But you don’t notice your head getting a little too close to the car frame because you’re so memorized by the warmth radiating from him and-

clunk. 

“Ouch.” You wince. 

“I guess I should’ve warned you to watch your head.” He laughs. 

“Shut up.” Your hand is rubbing your sore head and there’s this adorable expression on your face but Katsuki would never tell you that, not in a million years. Instead, he places a large hand head on your head, he pulls you in close, and kisses the sore spot on your head. It doesn’t hurt so much after that. 

“Aren’t you two just the cutest?” His mom’s voice rings from behind you two. 

Greetings are exchanged alongside a few hugs and kisses and you’re laughing while watching the poor boy next to you get smothered in his mother’s lipstick. He swears he’ll get you back later and mutters something under his breath about “smothering you in kisses to see how you like it” but you ignore his empty threats and wipe off the prominent red on his face with your thumb. “My handsome baby.” You coo, imitating his mother, and pinching his cheek. He tells you to knock it off as he swats away your hand and that he “hates being treated like a 5 year old” but that smile on his face tells you otherwise. So you poke a little more fun, tease a little more, and he’s on the verge of leaning down and peppering your face in kisses but his father clears his throat when his hands are roughly cupping your face, and he remembers- he’s in public, in front of his parents, about to kiss the shit out of your face. 

He lets it slide this time. 

Everyone’s sitting at a table now. You two are poliety taking sips of your water and his mother is going on about their jobs, their daily lives, and maybe even possibly having another kid. Katsuki practically chokes as soon as he hears this comment and you’re attempting to hold in a laugh and at the same time juggle the liquid in your mouth while watching the blonde boy attempt to hide his coughs with a red face. 

“Just kidding.” His mother says while folding her hands and placing her elbows on the table. For a minute, she’s sitting there with her head resting on her folded hands watching you attempt to gulp down the water but choking at the same time. She’s watching Katsuki point a finger at you and choking a second time on his spit. So now, you’re both looking at each other having a laughing and coughing fit, all the while struggling to just breathe. Ah, just how cute could you two be? But when she opens her mouth to say something, her husband cuts her off taking the words right out of her mouth. “You two really love each other, don’t you?” 

And suddenly you two are caught like a deer in headlights. Katsuki’s cheeks are burning red and yours are a matching shade. “No need to be embarrassed!” Masaru exclaims. “It’s just that- you two look at each other with..uh..” 

“So much love.” Mitsuki interjects. 

“W-what?” Katsuki stutters. 

“It’s the same way your father looks at me.” She says. “Don’t be embarrassed, tell your girlfriend how much you love her. I mean, you must’ve said I love you to each other already. It’s been about 7 months, right Masaru?” Katsuki’s reaching for his glass, pretending to be incredibly thirsty in hopes someone changes the subject. 

“He’s said I love you already, hasn’t he (Y/N)?” 

“Oh- are we ready to order?” You’re attempting to change the subject, you really are but Bakugous are relentless. You would know. 

“Has he not?” Mitsuki gasps. 

“I- uh-” 

“Don’t meddle so much!” Masaru interjects. And for a moment you thank the lord for making Masaru Bakugou. 

“We’re ready to order!” Katsuki yells for the waiter halfway across the restaurant, turning multiple heads in your direction and earning several glares. 

“Smooth. Real smooth.” You whisper low enough for him to hear. You’re stifling a laugh as you land a playful smack on his thigh.

“Shut it.” He’s biting back a smile and before you could pull your hand away, he takes it in his, giving it a little squeeze. 

Ah.

Dinner was always fun with the Bakugou’s. 

Before you know it, the night is over. You’re hugging his mother goodbye and she invites you to a family gathering in two weeks, which you politely accept. His father on the other hand is in the corner giving him what seems to be a heart to heart talk but the way the blonde keeps on glancing in your direction every so often has you curious. What were they talking about? 

“You know he loves you right? That boy won’t shut up about you.” Mitsuki laughs. A blush forms on your cheeks. “And you know how hard it is to get him to talk about anything.” 

You’re simply nodding your head as she continues to talk about anything and everything and at the same time you’re absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Why was it so cold today? “I think it’s time to go.” Katsuki appears behind you, dropping his big coat on your shoulders. Thank lord he was practically a human heater thanks to his quirk. You’re burying your face into his jacket. 

Was your face cold? Yes. 

But did you also want to engulf yourself into his scent before the night was over? Yes.

 “Come on, let’s go before you freeze to death.” You both say your goodbyes a second time and make way to his car. “Don’t hit your head.” He muses holding the door open. You shoot him a glare but he’s chuckling at the sight. “Cute.” He snorts. You’re sitting the car now, his jacket around your frame, and you look up at him- your mouth ready to shoot back a sarcastic remark but you freeze. His eyes are soft, he’s wearing this small smile that could probably melt the sun itself, and at that moment, he just looks so..content. Your heart is swelling at the sight. 

“What are you looking at idiot?” He snaps but that smile on his face grows wider and you feel your heart skip a beat. You gulp. Why did he just have to look so handsome- so perfect? It was almost as if he was asking you to confess-  to let him know how much he meant to you, how much you liked him. 

“You’re a little ugly looking.” You reply. He does that ugly snort laugh again and he rolls his eyes while slamming the door shut. 

“Yeah fucking right.” You hear him scoff through the car door. “Me? Ugly?” He’s inside now, taking his seat and placing his hands on the steering wheel. “You just have really bad taste in men.” 

“Yes, exactly why I’m dating you at the moment.” 

For a minute he’s taken back at the fact someone could match his energy- his sarcasticness but a smile is on his lips nevertheless. “I am not fucking ugly.” He says, he’s half joking half serious and you can tell he’s actually concerned..? But the Great Katsuki affected by your comment? Wow, dinner and a show. “Right..?” 

“Mhmm, yeah sure. You’re the handsomest man out there.” 

“You just have shitty taste in men.” He repeats. “I was voted the sexiest hero of the year- of the decade! Any woman would be happy to have me.” 

“Okay Katsuki, whatever you say.” You’re giggling at how hard he’s taking this, it was almost as if his pride was being ripped to shreds by one small comment. 

“And I was voted the best dancer, singer, kisser-” 

“Kisser? How the hell did they come to that conclusion?” 

“Word of mouth.” 

“You? Kissing a girl? I’m your first girlfriend and our relationship is fake.” 

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t kissed someone before.” His tone is cocky, his chest is puffing out a little, and what was with that annoying ass smirk on his face? 

“Yeah right.” You laugh. “Come on, just take me home so I can watch my show and eat ice cream.” 

“You don’t believe me?” His raising an eyebrow and his eyes had a little glint in them. What was that? Cockiness? Pride? You didn’t know but whatever it was- it was making you nervous. 

“I don’t know if I would believe a teen magazine.” Your eyes are rolling and you’re getting semi annoyed with how adamant he was being. Did he really have to insist he was the best at everything? How the hell did you even measure how good of a kisser someone was? 

“Kiss me then.” He says, your heart skips a beat and your cheeks instantly flush. 

“W-what?” 

“I said kiss me you idiot. I’ll show you I’m the best fucking kisser in all of Japan.” You’re laughing, you’re laughing so hard to the point tears are brimming in the corner of your eyes but when you look over and his face is as serious as can be, you gulp. “I think I’ll just take your word for it Katsuki.” 

“What? You scared or something?” Damn that blonde always knew how to push your buttons. 

“Me? Scared of what? Kissing? Pfft.” 

“Seems like you’re scared.” He says relaxing back into his seat and then his eyes grow wide and realization hits him. “Could this be..your first kiss?” 

“WHAT NO- I mean- I’ve kissed plenty of boys before.” 

“Then what’s the problem with kissing me?” 

“You really want to do this?”

“I’m just trying to prove a point.” He shrugs. 

You’re sitting there, cheeks flushed as you chew on your bottom lip and then you look up at him. His arm is now resting on the side of your seat and he’s dangerously close. Why was he ten times more handsome up close in a dark parking lot? Did the waiter spike your drink? Why were you suddenly dizzy and unable to breathe properly?

“Let’s get it over with then you idiot.” You sigh. You have to put up this fake act. You had to beat that cocky blonde at his own game. And you had to show him that he wasn’t the best at everything.

So he leans in and you do too. The smell of burnt caramel is stronger than ever and you swear it was intoxicating. Also, where did he get a mint from? Was he planning on doing this all along? Pressuring you into some kind of kissing competition because he knew you wouldn’t refuse? But that meant he would probably like you too. That couldn’t be..right? 

But when his lips are on yours and your mouths are dancing together, there’s one thought that pops into your head.

Fuck. He was good.

One hand is under your chin, tilting your head up and the other is pulling you in deeper- closer, and you’re desperately trying not to melt into his hands. If he wasn’t careful, you’d probably let him know how head over heels in love you were. 

He pulls away, his lips now pink and swollen, and he cocks an eyebrow. His face just screams it-was-great-wasn’t-it-? and you’re sitting there unable to even think straight. 

“So?” He asks, folding his arms against his chest. He knows he won the argument and he knows he proved his point, so did he still need to ask? Oh. Because he’s Bakugou Katsuki.

“That..was kind of hot.” You admit. He’s laughing as your cheeks flush a bright red but you can’t get the feeling of his lips on yours out of your mind.

“So now that we’ve officially kissed, we should officially date as well.” He’s throwing you a glance as he buckles in his seatbelt but you’re too dazed to hear what he said. 

“Hmm?” You question, your finger is on your bottom lip and your mind is attempting to wrap around the fact that you and the boy you’ve had a crush on for the past 7 months just kissed you. 

“I said,” He leans over a second time, this time placing a small peck on your lips, “be my girl.” 

[isis-astarte-diana]

Milk and Honey: Day 3

Day 1 ‖ Day 2 ‖ Day 3 (Fin)

Summary: “I think we need to talk about yesterday.” Inches are lost; miles are gained; things are said that can’t be unsaid.

Warnings: Tiny bit of non-sexual nudity and also, separately, a sexual reference. Dodgy dynamics (I tried to fix them!). Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3880

NB: This chapter was such a struggle to figure out and I think it shows (!!) but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, yes, I did write another ‘Missy and reader watching a horror film’ scene, and no, I won’t apologise for it. (Maybe there should be a seasonal Hallowe’en film night fic?) I consider this the end of the story!

You think it’s the rain that’s woken you.

It’s deafening against the window, a downpour that floods the road outside so that the sound of each passing car is turned into a crashing wave. The room is black as pitch. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and make forms of the shadows.

“Go back to sleep.”

Missy’s voice close behind you makes you jump. You twist around awkwardly, tangling your legs in the duvet, and almost smack your face into her elbow. She’s reclining on top of the sheets beside you. In the inky gloom you can just make out the pillows propping her up against the headboard, the open book she holds in her lap.

What time is it? The first hazy thought shakes loose in your mind. Almost immediately afterwards, how long has she been awake?

What comes out is thick and groggy. “Too dark to read.”

“Hmm.” It’s not quite a chuckle. She turns the page, a slow, rasping sound near your ear. “Is it dark to you?”

There’s something low and melancholic in her voice that makes you frown. You try to sit up, propping yourself up with one arm, but the duvet pulls tight and stops you halfway. You’d hoped to see her face better by moving; the shadows give no such clarity. She’s featureless in the dark.

“Go back to sleep,” she says again, not waiting for an answer. “It’s early.”

“And you?” Your head falls back to the pillow of its own accord. Wakefulness is still out of reach, a tendril of smoke that you cannot grasp. “Will you sleep?”

No response.

Even as your eyes close and you slip back into unconsciousness, you can feel her gaze on your face, warm and ticklish. Or maybe it’s her hand.

+++++

Missy is brushing her hair.

Eyes half-closed, you pretend not to watch her. She stands in front of your mirror, purple housecoat flowing around her like something from a fairy tale, sweeping a wooden brush through the tangles. Four hairpins jut from her mouth.

I’m glad you changed your mind about the bed.

The swelling there is gone. A ragged line is all that remains, dark through her pale pink bottom lip. She sets the hairbrush down and drags a pin from between her teeth, running it across the scab. Her eye twitches.

I think we need to talk about yesterday.

Red splotches on her cheek mark the place where the graze had been, new skin that looks tight and itchy. Parts of the large cut are healed completely. It’s only by the faint purple scratches - one below her eye, one on her jaw - that you can even find where she was injured. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and pins it at the back of her head.

I don’t know what to do.

Your throat feels tight. She finishes putting her hair up, skilful and unhurried, eyes never flitting from the mirror.

I wish you would look at me.

Slender fingers chart the healed cuts on her face.

I wish you would touch me.

She unbuttons the housecoat and drops it from her shoulders, revealing her chemise. She twists as if to look over her shoulder. It’s no significant state of undress but you clamp your eyes shut all the same.

A long moment of silence passes.

“Could you look at my back?”

Her voice is soft. When you open your eyes, she’s turned back to the mirror, having shrugged off the gown and hooked it over her arm. The white linen chemise ends just above her knees. Her pale calves are dappled with fine, dark hair.

“Please. I can’t quite see it in the mirror.”

You throw the duvet off and sit up, skin prickling with goosebumps as it meets the cool morning air. Outside the rain is torrential. “Of course.” Your voice is still groggy.

She tilts her head as you approach. A single strand of hair hangs loose at her neck. It stirs with your breath.

“Can I-?” Your fingers hover at the embroidered straps on her shoulders, not touching, not asking. Just waiting.

“Please,” she says again.

There is no right way to ease the top of the dress down her arms. You search for something to look at that won’t make your chest hurt but there’s only her bare shoulders, her bright eyes in the mirror. Closing your eyes would be insulting. So would turning your face away.

You can do nothing but watch her shoulder blades twitch as you guide the straps down past her elbows. The fabric droops, falling clear to her waist. She shivers but makes no effort to cover her chest. Your eyes drop to the small of her back.

“Well?”

There’s an indent, a quarter of an inch deep, maybe more. The new skin that lines it is a furious shade of pink. It’s sickle-shaped, with jagged edges, curving to the left of her spine. You catch your fingers drifting towards it and clench them into a fist at your side.

“It looks good.” You clear your throat. “It’s healing. No swelling or anything.”

“But not healed yet?” A strange sort of optimism tints the question.

“No, not- not properly. It still looks...” Painful. “Fresh.”

“Good.” She tugs her chemise back into place hastily. “That it’s healing. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Still cold, you reach for your dressing gown and draw it around yourself. “I’m, uh - I’m gonna go for a shower, okay?”

“Of course.”

She fastens her housecoat with quick fingers. 

+++++

When you find Missy reading on the sofa, there are two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of her.

She’s gotten changed.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before - the dark floral blouse, the wool skirt - but it feels uncanny. Somehow, seeing her in her chemise or in a pair of your pyjamas is less bizarre than this, her usual clothes with a softer silhouette, no corset, no boots. She has her legs tucked beneath her and her back angled away from the cushions in a way that’s startling unfamiliar. She looks relaxed. She looks comfortable.

“I made tea,” she says, and you realise that you’re staring.

“For me?” It sounds pathetically surprised.

“No. They’re both mine.” She glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, for you.” An arrogant, sarcastic sort of lopsided smirk; a faint flicker of her usual self. It makes your heart flutter.

“Thank you, Missy.”

She blinks. When was the last time somebody said that?

You take the cup and sit beside her. Her foot, stocking-pale and peeking out beneath the folds of her skirt, brushes your leg. You don’t flinch. Neither does she. To keep from reaching down and resting your palm on her ankle you wrap both hands around your mug. In times of desperation you can undress her, in darkness or in anger she can lay her hands on you to push you away or pull you close, but by the cold light of a rainy noontime you don’t know where you stand.

You don’t know the rules of this game.

As you drink your tea in silence - save for the occasional drag and rasp of a page turning - the words roll over and over behind your teeth, a tangle you try and fail to straighten out before speaking aloud. There’s too much to unravel. Too many thoughts, emotions, sensations are knotted together, and how do you ask if she feels what you feel when you don’t know what that is?

How do you ask if you can touch her?

How do you explain that you want to?

Missy watches you from the corner of her eye. It’s clear from the set of her jaw that she can sense something of the tumult in your skull. You wish she would put the book down and stop pretending to ignore you. You wish she would speak first.

You wish she would hold your hand.

“What are you reading?” You ask, and immediately wish that you hadn’t when she lifts her eyes from the page and sets them on you. They crinkle at the corners with her smile.

“Immensely dull,” she admits as she shows you the cover. It’s a nondescript black hardback titled in an unfamiliar language. “He’s been telling me to read it for centuries. I let it gather dust in the vault just to get under his skin.”

You can see where this is going. “And now he’s conveniently forgotten to bring you any other books?”

“Clever girl.” You hope she doesn’t see the way it makes your fingers twitch. Dropping her gaze back to the book in her lap, she shifts just enough that her foot rests against the outside of your thigh. She leaves it there.

“I think-”

The words come out before you can stop them and now it’s happening. You’ve lit the fuse. Missy looks at you again, properly this time, and you’d do anything for her to jump in and plug this gap with a derisive, do you? or, try not to strain yourself  but she doesn’t. She just waits. It hurts to meet her eyes.

You do it anyway. She deserves that much.

“I think we need to talk about yesterday.”

She nods, almost imperceptible. Something cracks behind her smile but it stays put, too wide, too false to be comfortable. “Do we?” It’s hollow. Not a question, not a snarl. Maybe a scoff.

Maybe a plea.

The doorbell rings.

+++++

In the doorway to your flat the Doctor proffers a damp plastic bag. The smell of hot oil and chip shop vinegar rises from it in a haze. It instantly makes you hungry.

In his other hand he carries a folded umbrella, wet from the rain.

"I brought food,” he says, and you realise that you’re staring.

“Is that-”

“Yes.” He taps the end of Missy’s sonic umbrella against the ground. “Can I come in?”

Uncertain. Like he thinks you might actually say no. He looks down at his full hands, the chips, the sonic; peace offerings. The closest to an apology you could ever expect, and one you aren’t quite ready to accept.

You don’t know when you got so angry with him.

“Did you do anything to it?”

“No,” he says, fire in his eyes, and it means I would never. You know his vehemence is supposed to be an olive branch, too, but it incenses you. He understands the notion that some things are sacred. He knows that there is a line and this is where he’s drawn it, too far on the wrong side of cruelty.

You stand to the side to let him through the door. When he’s close enough, you snatch the umbrella from his hand.

+++++

Missy is so different when he’s there.

She sits up straighter. Even when he takes your seat beside her, banishing you to sit cross-legged on the floor, she keeps her distance. Her feet are back on the ground. The book that she was reading is, you can see from your low vantage point, hidden beneath the sofa.

The umbrella is propped up against the coffee table in front of her. It doesn’t leave her sight for an instant.

“So,” he inspects a chip on the end of his fork. “You look better.”

“Than you?” A tilt of her eyebrow. “Always.”

He ignores it. “How’s recovery going?”

“Tiresome. Next time I get stabbed I’ll make sure that it kills me.”

Next time I get stabbed. Your stomach twists painfully and you put the remains of your meal aside. Their tight back-and-forth continues for almost half an hour.

When the Doctor gets up to leave, Missy sees him out, closing the living room door behind her. In a bid to ignore the low murmur of their voices in the hall, you tidy up as loudly as you can.

+++++

Four knocks against the doorframe, just audible over the rolling boil of the kettle.

You’ve never drunk this much tea in your life.

Even before she speaks your stomach is dropping. The kitchen feels smaller than it ever has before. Counters and cabinets press in on you, claustrophobic, like the room is shrinking around you in the silence.

“It’s time for me to go back.”

Squeezing your eyes tight, you fight not to make a sound until you’ve steadied yourself. Horror and sorrow and pain tug at your throat. When you finally manage to reply it’s terse, partly with anger, partly because your voice will break if you say any more. “Do you want to?”

“Does it matter?” She asks, and somehow it’s worse than yes. “The Doctor and I- agree, that I’ve recovered enough to travel again.”

“Did you show him your back?” There’s an ember of something too much like jealousy in the question.

“No.” I would never. A trace of disgust in her voice. Some things are sacred. “No, but we spoke.”

You scoff. “You mean, he said jump and you asked how high?”

She doesn’t even argue and god, you’d take being thrown against the bathroom sink over this, any day. “Yes. That’s how it has to be.”

“Does it?” For the first time you throw a glance over your shoulder at her. It’s a mistake. It makes your bottom lip quiver. “Why?”

Her brows draw together, a soft sort of torment on her face. “You know why.”

“I don’t.” Squaring your shoulders, you turn to face her, bracing your hands on the countertop behind you. You set your jaw against the plaintive whimper that races up your throat. “Tell me.”

“I’m not- ready. To be around people yet.” She waves a delicate hand in front of her face. “I thought I was, but obviously I was mistaken.”

“You look ready.” You gesture to her. “You’re standing here with me.”

“I’m not safe.”

“You haven’t killed me, have you?” You indicate your very-much-still-living body. “I’m still here.”

A quick hand wraps around your extended arm, just over your wrist, where she’d grabbed you yesterday. It’s not a tight grip but the joint is stiff and, despite your best efforts, your face twitches with discomfort. Spotting the movement, she loosens her hand until she’s just barely touching you.

“I hurt you.”

Your eyes flicker over her face, the pain written into it. It’s not a question, but you answer anyway. “Yes.”

Her gaze drops from you and she lets go of your wrist, but you catch her hand in yours and take a step towards her. She could pull away easily, you know that; but she doesn’t. Her fingers lace between yours.

“Do you want to go?” You ask again, making a conscious effort to keep your voice soft. She doesn’t look at you.

“I have to,” she murmurs to the floor.

“You don’t.” Closer still, letting your clasped hands swing between you. Less than a foot of distance from chest to chest. “And that’s not what I asked.”

Missy lifts her bright eyes to you and the desperation there makes your breath catch. She doesn’t speak.

“You can stay.” It comes out like a plea. “If you like.”

Her voice is a cracked whisper. “I can’t.”

“Why?” You reach for her other hand and she doesn’t flinch, letting you slot your fingers together with hers until you can feel her heartbeat through both palms. “Why can’t you, Missy?”

“Because-” with a steadying breath, she sets her jaw and twists her lips in contempt that you know isn’t directed at you. “Because I am not a good person.”

“Then be a good person!” 

You don’t mean for it to be so loud. Her eyes widen and you squeeze her hands, closing the distance until you’re almost touching. Your faces are inches apart.

“It’s not something you can learn. You’re not stupid, and you’re not helpless, and, whatever, the Doctor thinks, you are not his pet monster. If you lock yourself up with him until you feel like you’re good enough you’ll be there forever.”

Her face crumples, tears shining glassy in the low light of the afternoon, and it looks like she wants to lunge and pull you close but she doesn’t. She parts her lips and takes a breath and lets you carry on. You can feel a mutinous sob building at the back of your throat.

“You don’t have to save the world. Most people never do. You don’t have to be kind all the time because nobody ever is but you have to choose, Missy. You just have to choose not to be cruel. Every day, you choose. That’s all you do. That’s all there is to it.”

She laughs, low and tearful, a strangled sort of noise. “You say it like it’s easy.”

“On a good day, it is.”

With a shaky breath like she’s drowning, Missy asks, “and on a bad day?”

“On a bad day, you do the best you can.” When a tear streaks down her face you can’t stop yourself dropping her hand, reaching up to cup her cheek. It’s cold. Her mouth falls open with a quivering gasp when you wipe away the moisture with your thumb. You feel your own eyes burning and offer her a watery smile. “And then you try again tomorrow.”

She covers your hand with her own and looks at you for a moment as if she’s waiting for permission; and then she holds it there and tilts her head to press a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

The tears you’ve been swallowing back escape with a choked whimper.

“Stay, Missy.” You crook your fingers and curl them lightly against her jaw. She shivers. “Please. I’m asking you. Stay here with me.”

Closing her eyes like she’s struck with pain, she moves your hand from her face and rests her forehead against yours. Slowly - so achingly slowly - her hands release yours and come to rest on your waist. It makes your breath hitch. You mirror her, just as tentatively, pressing your palms to the line where thin blouse and thick skirt meet.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, the breath of the words ghosting over your face. “For yesterday, I-”

“I know you are.” Her fingers tighten on the fabric of your clothes. “Don’t do it again.”

“Never.” She opens her eyes, so close that you can hear the moisture on her lashes. “I promise you. I would never.”

“I believe you.”

“I want to be good.”

You chuckle through your tears, breathless and high-pitched. “For what it’s worth, I think you already are.”

She makes a fractured sound in the back of her mouth and slides one hand into the small of your back. Lifting her head, she moves closer, pressing her chest to yours. Her fingers are cool and feather-light on your face.

“Everything,” she murmurs, brushing the tears from your cheek. “It’s worth everything.”

The kiss is damp, and salty, and it knocks you breathless.

For a second you worry about hurting her, feeling the rough line of the scab through her bottom lip drag against your mouth, but she has no such concerns. She kisses you like she’ll die if she doesn’t.

You know how she feels.

When, too soon, she pulls away, you can’t help whining and trying to chase her mouth with your own, but she steps back, just enough that you can’t reach. For a long moment you’re terrified that she’s changed her mind, that this has been some mad and frenzied mistake, but she presses her lips to your forehead and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re cold.”

It takes you a moment to even process the words. “Am I?”

Smiling, she reaches back to move your hand from her waist and show it to you by way of explanation. It’s trembling.

You hadn’t noticed.

“Oh. Yeah, I s’pose I am.”

She kisses your knuckles, just once, just lightly, and you realise that you are, in fact, shivering.

“You go and sit down.” Gentle fingers brush the underside of your chin. “I’ll make tea.”

The touch has you ducking your head shyly and you tease, “twice in one day?”

“Only for you, poppet.”

+++++

“It’s obviously the little girl.”

“Is it?” You glance away from the gore on the screen and down to Missy. Her head rests in your lap, over the thick blanket that covers you, her eyes fixed on the horror film playing out on the television. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, first of all, I don’t recall telling you to stop.” She looks up at you with a quirk of her eyebrow, rolling her eyes to indicate her hairline. With a fond scoff you resume gently scratching her head. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Mistress is fine.” Judging by the sharp smile that flashes across her face, she doesn’t miss the choked noise you make. “It’s a revenge film. I mean, look,” she gestures to the screen, “everyone who was nasty to her is dying. It’s poetic justice.”

“Like Carrie?” You prompt helpfully, smoothing a frustrated line from her forehead.

“Exactly like Carrie.” She wrinkles her nose. “But with worse practical effects.”

“I s’pose they all look fairly bad to you.”

“Hmm. It’s like pornography.” Your fingers falter against her scalp and she chuckles. “Pales in comparison once you’ve done the real thing.”

You look back at the television, debating for a moment whether to speak, but curled on the sofa here with her it all feels so much simpler. With forced casualness, you ask, “do you miss it?”

“Pornography?” She snorts. “Sometimes. I had a lot of me time in the vault.”

“No!” Feeling heat rise into your cheeks, you swat the side of her head very gently with your palm. She laughs. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” She takes your other hand - the one resting on her shoulder - and brings it down to her lips, kissing your palm. It makes you melt. “Which answer do you want? The good one, or the bad one?”

“Just the real one, Missy.” You lace your fingers through hers. “I don’t mind what that is.”

With a soft exhale, she clutches your hand to her chest. You can feel her hearts beating. “Like I said. Sometimes.” She throws a sideways glance up at you and you smile.

“That makes sense.”

“Does it?” So much aching vulnerability in the question. You squeeze her hand.

“Yeah. Makes sense to me.”

She nods like she doesn’t quite agree, and the movement turns into a nuzzle against your thigh. Taking the hint, you set up the rhythm of light scratches through her hair once more. “We still have to talk, don’t we?”

“Yeah. I think so.” She presses your palm tighter into her blouse. Her eyes are still red and puffy. “But not right now. Unless you want to.”

“Not right now,” she echoes softly, and ducks her head to kiss your knuckles. Her head twists in your lap as she settles herself again.

“Are you sure you don’t want a pillow?”

“Positive.” Her lips tilt at the corners. “This is perfect.”

Yes, is all you can think, watching the red-and-blue light of the television flashing on her pale face. She hums contentedly when you scratch behind her ear.

This is perfect.

[harrystyleswatermelon-sugar]

Gas station encounter - Part I

I hate this day, I really hate it. It´s pouring, I got soaked on my way to my car this morning because my fucking umbrella broke due to the wind and I arrived late and very wet at the hospital. Luckily I have everything there to fix my appearance just in time for the big meeting with very famous doctors in our hospital.

It didn’t go well is the best I can say about it. I sigh and pull into the gas station. I would rather like to go home directly but I need to get gas.

I get out in London´s cold and wet weather, pulling my coat tighter around my body. I shut the door a bit too aggressive and turn around to get the pistol. As I move, I can feel a rip and the sound of ripping clothes. Oh no, please not my very expensive and very new coat, I think as I turn back around and look at what I ripped.

It is my coat that’s hanging in my closed door. Dangling in the wind and I growl frustrated as I look at my back, to see how much I destroyed my coat.

“Ma´am please hurry up, there are other people here too,” an elderly man says annoyed and I sigh, as I pull the gas pistol in my car. I hate humans and I definitely hate this day. I see a young man in short sports trousers, a T-Shirt and a beanie, who is talking on the phone while filling up his car. This is irresponsible and while the pump fills my car, I walk over to him and say:

“Not to be rude, but you are risking everybody´s lives here when you use your phone. That’s dangerous and most of all, forbidden” the guy turns around and I freeze. Holy shit, this is Harry Styles right in front of me. I look at the car and see a red sports car, probably very expensive. He smiles at me and says:

“I´ll call you back, Jeff” he hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“You are right, I am sorry. Please forgive me” he says and I roll my eyes at him. I still have a bad day and I am not in the mood for an arrogant pop star.

“Fine, just please don’t light up a cigarette, when I turn around” I growl and head back to my car. I try to catch another glimpse of him, but he seems to be done and walks inside to pay. This is a bit odd, to see someone like him do totally normal things like getting gas. My tank seems to be full and I pull the pistol out, as Harry comes back out of the station. He winks at me and I shoot a half-smile in his direction.

He drives off and I sigh, as I walk in to pay.

“Number 4 please,” I say to the cashier and he nods, looking at his screen.

“Actually, it already has been paid. The young man with the red sports car took care of it” he says and I look confused. He paid for my gas? Why?

“Oh…okay then. Eh…have a nice day” I reply and get back to my car. No one will ever believe me, that Harry Styles paid my gas.

 A week later I stop at my usual gas station. Every day, when I drive along this road I watch out for his red sports car but I never see him. Maybe it was just a stop far away from home. Today has been a very nice day. I finished work early, the weather is nice and I have a date later tonight with my friends in a fancy bar. Becca is having a small birthday party there and because she just finished her dissertation, she invited us to this nice bar.

I get my gas, as I see a big black car with tinted windows stopping behind me. While I wait for my tank to be filled, I can see Harry exiting the car.

“Hello there,” he says and smirks at me. I turn a light shade of red and return the smile.

“Hello. Thank you for paying my gas last time, but how comes?” I ask and lean against my Audi.

“I figured you had a bad day and wanted to brighten it up. Did it work?” he asks and puts the pistol in his car.

“Sure did. I really had a bad day, I am sorry for scolding at you. That wasn’t very nice of me,” I say and look at him. Today he wears a normal pair of jeans and a white shirt. His hair is pulled back and put into a bun.

“That´s great. Had a better day today?” he asks and turns to face me. I nod and he comes closer, extending his hand.

“Great, I am Harry,” he says and I chuckle. Of course, I know who you are.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you. Don’t you have staff to get gas?” I ask and he raises an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t. I try to do as many normal things, as I can” he answers and I laugh a little.

“I am surprised you are not already swarmed by fans,”

“They don’t expect me here, like you. It´s kind of funny that we meet again at the same station” he giggles and I shrug my shoulders.

“I use this station every week because it is on my way home from work” my voice sounds a bit raspy and I cough, as my pistol clicks and tells me that my tank is full. I go inside and pay for the gas and on my way out, I meet Harry in the door again.

“Have a nice day, Y/N. Until next time” he winks at me and I laugh, doubting that I will meet him a third time. That would be way too much luck.

“Bye, you too,” I reply and walk back to my car to get home.

 I pull on the hem of my skirt and look in the mirror one last time. I chose a dark green skirt, which ends at my knees and a white shirt with some straps on the back. It is very flowy and I feel good in it, despite it showing skin from behind. I dressed up a bit, put more dramatic make-up on and chose a bit of jewellery to go along with my outfit. I am happy with my looks and grab my dark coat. I am still very sad that I ripped my new trenchcoat, but this one will do.

I arrive a bit late at the bar, but I already texted when I was on my way. My friends are waiting with a delicious margarita for me.

“Hey, I´m sorry for being late. Becca, all the best wishes for your birthday AND your dissertation. I am so proud of you, lawyer” I say to her and hug her very tightly.

“Oh thank you, lovie. I am so grateful you could make it today. Wouldn’t be the same without you,” she smiles at me as I kiss her cheek. After we hugged, I put down my coat and bag and greet the other girls warmly.

“This is really fancy, Becca. Do I need to behave here?” I ask and everybody laughs. We all know that I am very sassy, especially when I have been drinking.

“Isn´t this crazy? A few years ago we sat in a crappy bar and discussed If we could afford another drink and today we are here, all grown up and fancy. No more ugly clothes and horrible haircuts, what a glow-up” Lisa says and we all nod. She is right, this is amazing.

“Just look at Becca and Kate, our lawyers and Y/N our doctor, very successful. I own my own business and Lisa is managing her hotel. We really did it” I smile at the table and remember all those funny evenings in pubs around the corner of our university. It was a great time and I wouldn’t want to miss it for anything. And I love these girls, we grew really close and I am so glad to have these four girls in my life.

“To us and of course to our birthday girl Becca” I propose and hold up my glass. We salute each other and then we hand her our birthday present. We organized a full weekend at a spa outside of London with all of us. She loves it, I can see that before she even says anything. We always complain about not having enough time together and this was the first that shot through our minds.

The bar starts to fill a bit and around 10 pm every table is taken. We giggle, drink and snack on some of the food on our table.

“I really need a wee, who want to come?” asks Lisa and I get up.

“I do, I need to pee as well. You know where?” she nods and we walk next to each other.

“So, how has life been to you?” she asks me and I giggle.

“Pretty good actually. I am happy and no I haven’t met someone, I know you are going to ask,” she grins and opens the door to the restrooms.

“You are right, I was going to ask” she replies and I shake my head at her. Always the same question. When we stand next to each other at the sink and wash our hands I remember who I met today.

“Oh, I have met someone. Twice to be honest” I laugh and dry my hands, while Lisa stares at me very curious.

“Who? Tell me! Who is it you are interested in and how did you meet and is he nice and oh my god, this is crazy. You never meet men, you like. I am excited” she claps her hands and I roll my eyes at her.

“No, I am not interested in him. We ran into each other a week ago at the gas station and today again. I was rude to him the other day, so I apologized and he took it very well he tried to brighten up my day when we first met and paid for my gas while I was still outside” I smile at the thought of him being so nice.

“You like him. What´s his name?” she asks and I look around, to be sure no one hears what I say.

“It´s Harry Styles, I am not joking,” I say and she rolls her eyes at me, walking past me.

“I hate you, you always make fun of me. I just want you to be happy and you make fun of me” she scowls and leaves the restrooms.

“Lisa, I am serious. It really happened” I assure her but she just shakes her head. I never thought that she wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t even think of that, but I get it. I wouldn’t believe her either.

I sit down and feel someone staring at me. I see up and meet familiar eyes and a familiar smirk. I smile at him and feel my heartbeat fasten. What a weird coincidence that we meet again today. While everybody chats and laughs, I try to stay involved in the conversation but I catch myself several times looking at him. And he looks at me, smiles and looks away as if he is shy and insecure. My girls haven’t seen him yet and he seems to be unbothered by fans.

Sometime later we move our little group closer to the bar as other tables do the same. I stay between two of my friends as I feel a tap on my shoulder and I see Lisas and Beccas face staring in shock behind me. I know who it is without turning around and I smile, while I face him.

“Hello Harry, long time no see,” I laugh and he chuckles, while his eyes wander over my face. They are mesmerizing green and maybe they are a little bit clouded from the alcohol.

“Hey, Y/N. Told you, we would meet again. Hello, I´m Harry” he introduces himself with a slight wave at my friends and rests his eyes on me again.

“So is your day still good?” he asks and I nod.

“Yes and yours? You seem to have a good day every day” he laughs and shakes his head.

“Absolutely not but I try to make the best out of the bad days….Ladies, may I invite you all to a drink and to join us at our table?” he asks politely and my friends nod in excitement. He grins at me and we follow him to his friends. We introduce ourselves and everybody takes a seat, mine is next to Harry.

He orders some drinks for everybody and I feel Lisas eyes on me. She looks apologetically and I smile, it´s okay I am not mad at her. We smile at each other and I look at everybody chatting and having fun, when the drinks arrive.

“Cheers to new friends,” Harry says and we clink glasses with everybody.

“I can´t believe we ran into each other again,” he says and I smile at him, looking at his beautiful face.

“It´s kinda funny, right. With which of your cars are you here?” I ask him teasingly and he chuckles.

“With none. I came with a cab” he smiles and I can´t help it but the butterflies in my stomach erupt violently. Oh please don’t fall for a fucking superstar. I beg myself as Becca asks:

“How do you know each other?” the table falls silent and I look at Harry.

“We met at a gas station and she scowled at me for using my phone. Do you want to know, what she said after I apologized to her?” he asks and I turn red and shake my head, but surely everybody wants to know.

“She said quote: Please don’t light a cigarette when I turn around and I was so surprised how sassy she was. She obviously knew who I was but she just mocked me nevertheless. I liked that and surprisingly we met again today and she apologized, that’s how we met” he explains and leaves out, that he even paid for my gas.

“He paid for my gas the first time, because he thought it would brighten my day” I add and my friends say “aaaaaw” very unison.

“By the way, that is just Y/N. Always straight forward and sassy. We love her for being the way she is, she is the best” says Kate and the others agree.

“I like her too” Harry murmurs only so I can hear it and I redden again. Does he really like me? That’s insane.

“You are not bad yourself” I wink at him and he shoots me a crooked grin.

“So, why are you always at the same gas station?” he asks and I look a bit confused. Isn´t that obvious?

“It´s on my way home. I drive home every day so when I need to get gas, I stop there” I explain and he nods. Maybe the workday of a popstar looks more different than I thought. He probably hasn’t the same way home from work every day.

“Oh ok, that makes sense. What is your day job?” he looks at me and I turn my eyes down to my hands, which are nervously fiddling with each other. I am in fact a bit nervous, who wouldn’t be when Harry Styles is talking to you?

“I am a paediatrician” I reply and I can see his eyes light up.

Part II

Hello lovelies,

I hope you liked chapter 1 of this short story. It was planned as a usual OS but I think it has now over 30 pages in word. Sorry not sorry, leave me some replies so I know you wanna read it. I´m not really sure about this one tbh.

Love, xx

Julia

[stefciastark]

Hallucinations ~ Webpril Day 19

A/N: WARNING (briefly mentioned graphic violence, but nothing extreme, just putting a warning in case). After a hallucinogenic gas explodes in Peter's face during a mission, he is plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. Tony steps in to help. Apologies for any inconsistencies or general bad flow on this one, I had to write in a bit of a hurry before an early A.M class tomorrow and I haven't had a chance to give it a once-over. Hope you guys enjoy this one :) x

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Kid, kid! Stop!” Tony grasped Peter’s wrists as they flew once more towards his face, and he staggered forwards with an ungraceful jerk, almost falling onto the bed. How the hell was the kid this strong?

“Get off me!” Peter thrashed on the bed wildly, eyes open but looking feral and petrified. Peter’s response was purely instinctual, and nature had chosen ‘fight’ as his defense mechanism. It was too bad Tony wasn’t in his suit to help contain it.

After an incident a few days prior involving a gaseous compound that caused vivid hallucinations, Peter hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep since. Neither had Tony. The kid had been caught right in the face with the gas during the few seconds that his mask was down, whilst Tony was lucky enough to have his built in air filtration system save him from the hell that ensued.

Peter didn’t talk about what he experienced. At least not to Tony, but Tony couldn’t quite think of anybody else that Peter would go to. Tony really wished the kid would open up to someone.

The dim light from the ensuite bathroom cast light on Tony’s forearms. They were covered in bruises that looked like scattered wine stains with the varying shades of deep red and purple.

Peter’s struggles dissolved in intensity, and his eyes slid shut again. The poor kid was exhausted, and each - almost - sleepless night was taking its toll.

Once Tony was sure Peter was asleep once more, judging by the now even breathing, he slid to the carpet below, back leaning against the side of the bed. Feeling powerless to help the young Avenger, he stared blankly into the wall, suddenly transported back to a time when he suffered much like Peter was.

---------------------------------------

“Good morning, Peter. It is currently 9:30 A.M. Today it will be slightly overcast with a high of 73.4 degrees. You have no upcoming events. Enjoy your morning.”

With a groan, Peter rolled over and covered his head with an adjacent pillow. This was the first time in a long time that F.R.I.D.A.Y had woken him up. Closing his eyes once more, he prepared to re-enter the world of sleep.

That plan immediately was foiled as “Thunderstruck” blared over his room’s speakers.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y…” Peter whined, sounding more like a spoiled toddler than he cared to admit.

“I apologise, but this is part of Mr Stark’s ‘Couch Potato’ protocol. If you do not leave the bed in the next thirty seconds, I will have to initiative Phase 2, which involves-”

“Okay, okay!” Throwing the sheets to the side, he swung his legs off the side of the mattress. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the music stopped, and he sighed in relief. At any other time he would have loved the sound of classic rock, but he felt overstimulated and irritated by almost every sound, sight, and whatever else assaulted any of his senses.

The rational part of his brain told him that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was a probable culprit. Maybe it was spending so much time around Tony “I’m Fine” Stark, but Peter didn’t particularly want to address the issue. He was strong, he could brute force his way through it, no problem. As far as he was concerned, none of the other Avengers were getting psychological help - although in all fairness they needed it - and he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want it to seem like he couldn’t handle the mental duress that went with being an Avenger.

Half-conscious, he went through the automatic routine of having a shower, brushing his teeth, and throwing on a basic outfit. Today’s choice consisted of jeans and a Hawkeye T-Shirt that Clint had unironically bought him last Christmas. Blearily shuffling into the kitchen, Peter considered taking up drinking coffee in the mornings; it seemed to be universally known as the almighty bean juice that provided a form of liquid Carpe Diem.

He half expected the whole Avengers team to be in the common kitchen area. They usually were in the mornings, but today it was dead quiet. Dead quiet except for Tony, who was flicking through the latest issue of Wired magazine. In his left hand was a mug that said “World’s Okayest CEO”. Peter had to guess that that mug was courtesy of Pepper. If it were up to Tony, ‘okayest’ would have been swapped with ‘best’.

“You know, these photos don’t really do me justice. I’m much sexier in person. I mean look at this,” Tony flipped the magazine around, showing Peter an article that summarised Tony’s latest successes and blunders. The photo Tony’s finger was tapping on was of Tony at the Stark Expo a few months ago. His smile blatantly looked like he would have rather been anywhere else.

Peter opened his mouth to send a smart remark in response, but instead he froze in place, air stuck in his lungs, his throat jumping as he struggled to get words out. The sound of percolation coming from the coffee pot dredged up the memory he was trying to forget: the dripping of blood - Tony’s blood - creating a macabre mosaic on the pavement as he hung suspended by cables and wires. Steve’s hand had been wrapped around Peter’s ankle in a silent beg for release from life, a large shard of glass having punctured through his chest. The worst of all of them was Aunt May, eyes staring open and lifeless, neck bent at an unnatural and gruesome angle that was burned into Peter’s retinas for the rest of time. On all sides, marching towards him, had been an army consisting of Doombots, Chitauri, and the remaining Avengers. Those he had come to trust had come to betray him.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re alright, c’mon.” Tony’s brow was furrowed, and although his voice sounded distant and miles away, it was gentle and full of understanding. Peter shook his head, shaking the visions away with it.

“Grab your phone and wallet, kid, I’ve made you an appointment.” Tony swept up his sunglasses - this time tinted orange with a silver frame - off of the coffee table and tucked his phone into the inside of his jacket pocket.

“An-an appointment? For what?” Peter was taken by surprise, fully expecting - and hoping - to vegetate on the couch that day. The TV turned his mind off, the white noise drowning out the visions that replayed in his mind over and over again.

Placing a comforting hand between Peter’s shoulders once Peter had returned from a quick phone and wallet retrieval mission, Tony guided him towards the elevator. Pressing the ‘down’ button, he turned towards Peter. “Taking you to a psych. I don’t know how to-” Tony gestured vaguely, lost for the right words he wanted to say. He sighed, and started again. “I didn’t exactly deal with my stuff the right way. Didn’t think I ever needed a shrink, but let me tell you, one conversation with Bruce and it changed my mind completely.”

“Isn’t he not that type of doctor?”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m trying to have a heartfelt father-son moment with you here and break the whole cycle of shame about…” Tony trailed off again, seething internally at his inability to string a semi-coherent sentence together. “My dad didn’t really believe in that kind of stuff,” Tony continued, eyes darting to the elevator display and then returning back to Peter. “Anyways, you’ve been having nightmares. You can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because you can’t sleep, and,” Tony winced, “I don’t think the whole counselling shtick is my forte.”

As the elevator doors chimed open, Peter stepped forward and promptly wrapped his arms around Tony in a heartfelt hug. Clenching his eyes shut against tears that threatened to overflow, he murmured, “thanks, Mr Stark” into the fabric of Tony’s jacket.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Soft Tunes, Warm Hugs - Worick Arcangelo

(( I hope you enjoy this little thingy with this cute dork, @ittokan​ <3 ))

Nobody knew, and truthfully, nobody even had to know what they were going through. It was none of their business, was it? It was their life, their tragedies, their problems and everything that they had to deal with, so nobody truly knew what was going on behind those cheerfully playful and mischievous facades of theirs.

Y/N knew Worick since before he called himself that...She knew him from his days as the Young Master Wallace Arcangelo. Ah, such grim days...Days that she curses every time she had the occasion whenever she somehow has the misfortune to remember, by some unknown and unexpected means.

It wasn’t fair...It wasn’t humane...None of it was.

They were just children back then.

Her, Worick, Nicolas...

They were just children.

They deserved better.

But that’s the dark world that they live in, and nobody can really change that.

Such a cruel world they had to grow up in...And why...? Because adults made it that way for them. Instead of witnessing all the beauty of the world, they had to be locked up and forced to succumb to a darkness completely void of anything. They were empty. They were just shells of their former selves.

They went on their own ways as soon as they were able to escape that hell. Worick became a Gigolo, Nicolas was a hitman, while Y/N managed to get out of the town to earn herself a proper medical degree.

By the end of it, when she got back in that town, at least she was happy she managed to accomplish something for the first time in her life. Something that was her  doing, that she did on her own, without anyone else on her back.

She was finally proud of herself.

When she started exploring the town again, she realised that barely anything actually changed, and that he absence of 10 years was most likely not even noticed by anyone.

That’s what she thought, at least, not realising how much the platinum haired man was yearning for her, to see her again, to have her next to him again, to hear her voice again.

Worick didn’t realise how much she cared for Y/N until she was no longer there with him every day and every night. It was weird...So weird. So unusual, no unexpected.

But Worick had to earn money, had to build up his reputation around the town, as Benriya, along with his associate, Nic, so his days as Gigolo weren’t over even now, in his 30s, although they were vastly diminished.

Every girl he put his hands on, he imagined her. Every pair of eyes he was gazing on from above, he could only see hers. Every time he would hear his name being called by a woman, he’d turn around, hoping to see her.

But all of these were his bittersweet daydreams going on. He was, at least happy, knowing that she escaped this terrible place and hopefully, managed to find herself a nice guy to treat her like a jewel and can live a decent life, at least.

Sometimes, he wished he would have nightmares, since they were always about his childhood days, when she was present as well.

But who would have thought that one normal day, when nothing was out of the ordinary and he was just walking around the city, he would hear his name being called, and when he returned, he would see a woman looking so much like the girl he once knew.

She had the same hair colour, but the length was much longer than the girl he once knew. She had the same eye shade, but her eyes were sparkling with life and glee, unlike the dull eyes of the girl he knew, whose eyes only sparkled with tears. Her voice was calming and melodic, as if she was speaking honey, unlike the timid voice of the girl that was too afraid to speak. Her smile was dazzling, twinkling like the stars, unlike the little girl who would bite her lips until she drew blood. She wore a beautiful flow-y sundress, showing off just enough of her flawless skin, unlike the girl who would cover all her skin, ashamed of the bruises, scars and wounds she was plastered with. And she...She was radiating...She was glowing...She was happy...Unlike the little girl who resembled a mouse hiding in a corner, afraid to get abused again.

Who was this angel, calling out his name so beautifully, looking at him as if she knew him? She couldn’t possibly be one of the girls he’d hook up with, he’d definitely remember her. So...Who...?

“Worick? You’ve been staring at me for the past 5 minutes or so. Are you okay? Is the heat getting to your head?” she blinked in surprise, leaning closer to his face, her hand gingerly put on his forehead to feel his temperature. “Who are you, miss?” his voice was betraying all his emotions. “Oh...You don’t remember me, do you? Well, a lot of years passed, and I...I guess I changed a lot, huh? You changed a lot too, you know? But your eyes are not something to forget.” she chuckled, a tint of disappointment in her voice. “No...You can’t be Y/N. She’s in a better city, living a better life.” he muttered, looking away, almost as if he didn’t want to believe his eyes. “Wait, so you knew it was me, but couldn’t believe it? Aww, aren’t you adorable...Wally?” she giggled, teasing the man in front of her. “W-Wally...?! Y/N, come on, don’t use that nickname with me! I’m not a kid anymore!” he whined childishly, his fair cheeks becoming the same colour as the pink roses that bloomed. “There we go, that’s the cutie I know! Get here and give me a hug, big guy! You grew up so much, Worick, you’re literally towering over me!” she laughed without a single care in the world, something that filled his heart with so much joy that he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into a tight embrace. “I missed you a lot, Y/Nickname. You have no idea.” he muttered softly into her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I missed you too, Worick. I couldn’t stay forever without you and Nic around me, that much was pretty easy to figure out. You are like some really nice kind of parasites, that are always on your mind and heart, you know?” she chuckled, looking up at him fondly. “I’m not sure how I feel, being compared to a parasite, y’know?” he laughed mirthfully, ruffling her hair, like they used to, when they were young. “Wanna see my new apartment? I just finished fully furnishing it, I’m very proud of it.” she pulled out of the embrace, hooking her arm to his. “Lead the way, my lady.” he flashed her a charming smirk, which he wasn’t sure worked in any way, but the smile on her face was worth everything.

It was great reuniting with Worick and Nicolas, even with little Theo, who also became a doctor, and everything was really nice, there were no more worries, no more problems, no more regrets.

Well, almost everything was nice.

The nightmares were not something from the past’s domain, unfortunately, for either of them, and yet, they were too afraid and ashamed to lean on each other for emotional support, despite the fact that they both knew what the other went through the best.

Neither of them wanted to burden the other with more sorrow than needed.

They tried to be strong, like they’ve always been, but one night it was just too much, and the girl couldn’t sleep at night for a few nights, and the exhaustion was beginning to take a toll on her to the point that she couldn’t focus on anything, and she was becoming weak...Not to mention the headaches were atrocious.

That cold night, the girl left her apartment in only her oversized Tshirt, shorts and a pair of slippers, making her way on foot to the Benriya’s apartment, hurrying and trying to stop herself from thinking, letting her legs go to the set location by themselves.

She already had a spare key, so she got in the house, locking it, and made a beeline to Worick’s bedroom, opening the light and crouching next to him on the bed, poking his cheek and softly calling out his name to wake him up.

As soon as the man opened his eyes, he screamed in shock, being met with another pair of eyes so close to his face, and he used the blanket to shield his body from being exposed.

“Wh-What are you doing here, Y/N?” he asked, confused and surprised. “...Can I sleep with you tonight?” she muttered, standing up. “What happened, Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked, his face washed with worry. “I’ve been having nightmares for years and I thought I was used to them...But these days it’s gotten so bad that I can’t sleep...I look like a zombie, I feel even worse...But I’m afraid to go to sleep because of another nightmare. I guess I didn’t want to be alone, you get me?” she tried to explain herself, but Worick needed no explanation - He understood her so much that it hurt. “Let me get proper sleeping clothes and-” he began, but the girl already turned off the light and got in bed with him. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor, I had to see more genitals than I know how to count...And trust me, that’s not the best thing in the world.” she snorted, making herself comfortable in his embrace. “Okay, you got me. Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” he asked, playing with her hair soothingly. “No...I just want to sleep. Besides, it’s nothing that you don’t already know.” she sighed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, already feeling drowsy from his body heat. “I understand. I wish you sweet dreams, my dear Y/Nickname.” he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head, praying for at least her to have a restless night.

---

And that’s how many of their nights were spent, either Y/N sleeping over at theirs, or Worick sleeping at her place, having no inhibitions and no shame to get in each other’s room, just to ask for a hug or to cuddle to sleep.

Years passed quicker than imagined, and while they never spoke out to being together, everybody knew there was nothing that could pull them apart - Not his part-job as a Gigolo and neither her being busy most of the time with the clinic.

It was more confusing for poor new comer, Alex, a former prostitute that Worick and Nic saved from her abusive pimp. Ah, she was so confused about everything, obviously because of the pills, and because she never had anyone behaving with her normally and treating her like a normal human being, so she mistook some of the signs, believing that she was in love.

That was until one day when she found Y/N and Worick coming out of the same room and she freaked out, not having any idea how she managed to get there without her knowing. Well- Not that it was difficult to go past Alex, since she was a heavy sleeper...

But Nic having to explain that Y/N and Worick have been together since childhood was... An outright shock for her, who knew Worick for being a carefree Gigolo who doesn’t let emotional bonds get the best of him.

Even so, she found them cute together, and could see, at least hypothetically, how they lasted so long together.

At least in theory, since she doesn’t actually know that their feelings strings are unbreakable.

---

One night in particular was extremely bad for Worick, and he couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t even something that happened -  It was something based on a trauma he experienced, but much darker and more gruesome. Worick was shaken to the core.

Just like usual, he hurried to Y/N’s apartment and went to her bedroom, and upon entering, his mind almost seemed to forget every bit of agony he experienced, as her soft sleeping expression vanished everything in his mind.

Almost, but not quite.

The blue eyed man gently woke her up, kissing her forehead, caressing her face and calling her name until she fluttered her eyes open, which was pretty fast, considering she was a light sleeper.

She needed no explanation, she already knew what was going on.

She got up, gesturing to him to get in bed, undressed as usual, since that’s how he would sleep most comfortably, and taking out a music player and some scented candles, she played some soft jazz tunes, letting the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon sooth their senses.

Y/N took off her shirt, knowing how he needed body heat to be able to calm down and relax, and got in bed, hugging his head close to her chest, playing with his long, gorgeous hair, to help him fall asleep easier, while his arms were pulling her to him, caging her in a warm embrace.

“Thank you, Y/N. These damn nightmares are sure something else...” he muttered with a tint of annoyance in his voice. “I know, darling...I know...But I’m here for you. I’ll fight them for you.” she kissed his forehead once again, making him chuckle. “Well...At least one thing’s not bad from all this. I get to feel your soft chest...Ahhh, it’s like a cloud.” he giggled like a school boy, making the girl sigh, but grin nonetheless. “You’re such a dork, Wally.” she used her free hand to softly caress his arm and side, putting the blanket around their waist and back, so they won’t get a cold. “Admit it, you can’t resist this lovable dork.” he sniggered, making her hum in amusement. “I suppose that’s true. I love you, Wally.” she tightened his grip around him, and he did the same. “I love you too, Y/Nickname. I’m really happy that you came back.” he spoke in a voice, barely above a whisper. “So am I, Wally. So am I.”

Letting the music settle a peaceful atmosphere around the room, she unconsciously hummed a soft tune, along the music, as she played with the man’s hair until she herself fell asleep.

It wasn’t much that they did, but for them, every little thing meant the world.

[writingsoftheghost]

Wrong Turn Goes Right Pt.2

Pt. 1 is here.

Based on this prompt by @kawaiikat54

Remus checked on Patton many times throughout the day. More than what were probably necessary, but Patton didn’t mind. He liked talking with Remus. He wasn’t all sexual jokes and violent art. Though, that was a lot of him. He was also vulnerable and caring. Curiousity that ran too deep and became morbid thought.

Patton would often have to reassure him into talking, he’d have to promise not to be too disgusted by whatever Remus was about to say. He’d talk himself into saying something very sweet and very uncharacteristic for Remus. Then, his cheeks tinted red, would run off with the excuse of work to do. Only to return a few minutes later, he brought snacks, water. And he also helped Patton to stumble to the restroom, it took him a few minutes to explain to Remus why he would prefer the bathroom door closed, but other than that, it was no issue.

Remus seemed to like having someone to talk to. However, this time when he came to check on him. The manic spark was gone from his face. Instead, he looked worried.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked before Remus had even crossed the room.

“Uhm, okay. Listen, cookie. I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta change your bandages, okay? I promise I’ll be gentle, and I’ll try to be quick, okay? Just a few minutes, then I won’t touch you anymore, promise.”

Patton frowns, “Yeah, okay. They need to be changed. It’s okay. Thank you for helping me.”

Remus relaxes at his words, “Thank you, Patton.”

Patton cocks his head to the side, “For what?”

Remus starts pulling a medical kit out from under the bed, “Not being fussy, I know having my hands on you isn’t pleasant, and you’ve probably had enough of me man handling your sweet bod. So thanks for not being upset about it.”

Patton’s face turns pink as he shrugs, “I don’t mind. Your hands are really warm, and you’ve been nothing but helpful this entire time. Thank you so much for taking care of me.”

Remus chuckles, “You’re a great patient, cupcake. Now, I’m gonna set you up, okay?”

At Patton’s nod Remus adjusts the spectacled man so that he’s sitting up. He gently starts undoing the bandages across the moral side’s chest.

Patton hisses out a breath as he pulls the final layer from his sweat sticky skin.

Remus pats his leg softly, “Sorry, cookie.”

Patton nods, “It’s not your fault.”

“My creation,” Remus grumbles as he readies a disinfectant wipe.

Patton reaches forward and drags Remus’s face up to look him in the eyes, “This is not your fault. I wandered into your domain. What you do here is not supposed to bend to the will of the rest of us, this is your space. I went into it and now I’m facing the consequences. This is not your fault, Remus.”

Remus nods, eyes wide from the act of Patton touching him. “I’m still sorry you’re hurt.”

Patton nods, “You’re helping a lot and I’m sorry for taking your attention for so long. Thank you for being here for me.”

Remus gives a chaotic grin, “No problem, Daddy. I promise I’ve got nothing else I’d rather be doing. It’s nice to have some company here.”

Patton smiles at him, Remus turns back to his work. The pressure on Patton’s chest hurts a lot, but they manage to work through it. When he’s done Remus puts him back into a relaxed position. He brushes sweaty bangs back from Patton’s forehead.

“All done, sweetpea. Now what would you like to do?”

Patton shrugs, “I don’t know. Do you have any movies?”

Remus cackles, “For you I can get one. What would you like to watch?”

Patton frowns, “I don’t know...”

Remus gives him an encouraging smile, “How about Frozen? I know you love it.”

Patton smiles and nods, “Yeah, that sounds good!”

Ten minutes later Remus and Patton are both in the bed, a laptop between them and a bowl of popcorn in Remus’s lap.

“You burned it!” Patton giggles.

“Yeah, I always do. Sorry, Pat.”

Patton shrugs, “I like it a little burnt.”

Remus gives him a big grin, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s just better this way. Roman thinks it’s gross though. So we don’t ever make it like this.”

Remus groans, “God! Roman and his ‘perfect popcorn!’ It’s awful!”

Patton chuckles, “Yeah, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Remus nods, they turn back as the movie starts.

Patton leans into Remus’s shoulder.

Remus stares at him in shock for only a moment before putting an arm around the moral side’s shoulders. Patton giggles and leans into him some more.

Halfway through the movie Patton’s body becomes dead weight on Remus’s side.

Remus giggles as he realizes Patton’s asleep on him. “Goodnight, cookie.” He takes Patton’s glasses and sets them aside.

Patton nuzzles into his chest. “Night, Remus.” He says to a shocked creativity.

“Night.” Remus whispers.

Patton giggles before allowing himself to fall asleep.

*****

The next morning Remus wakes to find Patton still curled up into his side. He smiles fondly, hand reaching out to stroke the moral side’s brown locks.

“Hm?” Patton opens one eye.

Remus cackles, “Sorry, Patty, thought you were still asleep.”

Patton smiles at him, “Nope. Goodmorning, Remus.”

“Morning, cookie.” Remus allows himself to stroke Patton’s hair some more.

Patton leans into the touch, “You gonna go see Ro?”

Remus nods, “In a minute.”

“Mmkay,” the smaller side nuzzles further into Remus’s chest.

They lay that way for another hour, when Remus finally does get up Patton’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist.

“Everything okay?” He asks Patton.

“They’re not gonna make me go back are they? I mean, I can’t exactly do much of anything right now...and I, uhm, I’d like to stay with you?” The last part is whispered.

Remus cocks his head to the side, “You don’t wanna go back home yet?”

Patton shakes his head.

“Why?”

Patton looks down at the floor, “I wanna spend more time with you...”

Now Remus is sure he’s misheard, “What was that, cookie.”

“Well, it’s just that...spending this time with you was really nice and I’m just...” he sighs, “Not ready for it to end.”

Remus chuckles, “You can stay with me, baby.”

Patton’s face turns a sharp shade of red. “I-I can?”

“Of course you can, but... it’s gonna cost you.”

Patton frowns, “Cost me what?”

“One kiss.” Remus says, a devilish grin on his features.

When he’s met with silence, he quickly tries to back pedal, “I’m kidding, Pat. You don’t have—”

He’s cut off by Patton’s lips on his own. It takes Remus a moment to overcome the shock but as soon as he does he’s kissing back. They break away a little too soon for Remus’s taste.

Patton falls back onto the bed with an exhausted sigh, “So I can stay?” He asks softly, cheeks tinted red.

Remus nods, “Of course you can.” His face is also red.

Patton giggles, “Good, because I’d like to do that again.”

Remus nods, he doesn’t know what else to say. Patton just kissed him. “I would also like to do that again.” He sits down on the edge of the bed again.

Patton meets his lips halfway. This kiss is longer. Cut short by Patton making a noise of discomfort.

Remus pulls back and looks to where Patton is staring at his bandages.

“You okay, baby?”

Patton nods, “I might just need some more downtime. Good thing I’ve got a good doctor.” He flashes Remus a smile.

———————

I hope this was what everyone wanted. I did my best. I just thought it was cute.

[findingtheperfectcharacter]

Rose Tinted Glasses

@unsympathetic-october-2020

tw: Dystopia, poor use of therapy Minor Unsympathetic Patton, Unsympathetic Emile, Mind control, unhappy ending

Very few people had problems in Side City after Patton’s Happiness initiative was approved. The crime rates had were almost 0 percent, and there were consistent reports from the people that they were happy with their positions in life 

There was of course, one exception to that rule. Janus sat in the waiting room, he didn’t look like a shit stirrer, patiently sitting in the waiting room for Emile. But looks were often deceiving, it was why he was so dangerous. He was able to play nice in the morning and at night burn thousands of documents or smuggle people out of the city or commit property damage. 

He figured he could slip his way out of this situation, promise the shrink he’d start being better and eventually just get back to messing with the system as much as possible and helping those who wanted to get out of it while still maintaining a decent social standing. Easy as pie.

The therapist with bright pink hair called him into the room. “Hi there, you must be Janus. I’m Emile Pincini.”

Janus gave a small smile, trying to make himself seem as pleasant as possible, “Charmed Doctor.”

He nodded, “Likewise! So, what do you want to talk about, I have a few ideas based on your files, but I think you’re the best person to lead this off. Remember, what comes into therapy stays in therapy.”

Janus took a deep breath, “Okay than, I’ll tell you the truth. You’re not going to change my mind about Patton. A week ago a friend of mine had a breakdown over his inability to comply with the rules. He felt guilty over his inability to only think positive and good thoughts. That’s something that never bothered him until this project started and there’s something broken... Rotten about the fact that he was convinced that there’s something wrong with him because of that.”

Emile blinked, than clapped his hands together, “I’m so glad you trusted me enough to tell me that. Can I have a name, maybe I could help-”

Janus shook his head, “No, trust me, you ‘helped’ him enough. He’s long gone.” 

Emile sighed and put his hand on Janus’s shoulder, ignoring how he cringed at the touch, “Look, I know you don’t have much of a reason to trust me, but I’m a therapist. My goal is only to make you evolve into the best version of yourself. Like Ash wanted Pikachu in Pokemon Shock Showdown.”

Janus blinked, “But... That’s wrong. The episode ends with Pikachu not evolving because despite it being more convenient to battle with a Richu. Instead of changing who Pikachu was despite his wishes, they worked out a strategy to help him battle more effectively...”

“You sure know your Pokemon!” Emile said with a laugh, “Alright, maybe that wasn’t the best comparison, but you see what I mean right? You can do better and I want to help you with that!”

“Thanks but no thanks.” 

Emile’s eyes narrowed, “I’m trying to keep my cool, don’t want to Exploud at you, but you’re not here for fun. You broke the rules-”

“That’s what this is really about isn’t it?” Janus chuckled, “Stopping the rule breaker. You don’t care about why I’m doing anything that I am, you don’t care about what might be wrong about this place that might make me behave the way that I do. You just want to get rid of the only person who actually cares about the people.”

“I- that’s not true Janus, if I only cared about getting rid of you.” He reached into his pockets, “I’d do this.” He lunged at Janus pushing his full weight against the smaller man’s body as he thrashed and screamed until he shoved a pair of bright pink sunglasses onto his face. His face slowly shifted from rage to blankness to confusion. 

“Dr. Pincini? Why am I on the floor?” His voice was groggy like he’d just woken up- and in a sense he had. 

“Oh you were being difficult for a second there, but you can get up now and sit back on your chair.”

Janus nodded and moved to go back to sit on the chair. Somehow everything seemed brighter now, like the world had gone from shades of black and grey to an entire rainbow of color he’d been missing. It was beautiful.

Emile bit his lip, if the glasses weren’t working totally a direct command would likely set off alarms for him which would set him back unnecessarily. But he needed to do a basic test. He took a deep breath, here goes nothing, “I wish you would apologize for being so difficult Janus, your behavior towards me and other people has not been appropriate.”

Without even thinking about it Janus said, “I’m sorry for being so difficult doctor.” He blinked a few times afterwards, wondering why he’d said that.

Emile smiled, it seemed like everything was working well. “I hope that means it won’t happen again, I’d like to have a civilized conversation with you and I think you’d prefer it that way too.” Janus bobbed his head in agreement. 

“So, let’s start again, I’m Emile and I’ll be your helping hand for this evening.”

Janus smiled, it really did seem obvious now, how little the doctor had wanted in return for him just trying to be better than he was yesterday, it was so much better to stop resisting the new world that had opened up to him.

“Janus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[josephinelouiseobrien]

High School Reunion (1)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Synopsis: Jada Hale was Penelope Garcia’s best friend. They’d been through everything together - high school, relationships, breakups, a stalker, college, getting arrested and then joining the FBI. So when there high school reunion rolls around Penelope refuses to let Jada skip it - even if that means forcing a certain doctor to be her date.

Trigger warnings: talk of stalking, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of panic attacks

Masterlist

——————————————————————————

“Where’d you find this?” Jada Hale questioned as she watched a video of a much younger version of herself twerk on a boy who she now couldn’t recall the name of. Slowly the brunettes gaze traveled to her blonde best friend who sat beside her, laughing quietly at the found high school memories.

Penelope Garcia couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she spoke, “remember Samantha Curtis?”

Jada begrudgingly nodded, “I wish I didn’t.”

“She found it when she was putting together the slideshow for the reunion.”

Jada froze, her eyes widening slightly before returning to a squint in belwilderment. ‘I had to have heard that wrong’. “Wait, like high school reunion?”

Penelope nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I cant believe it’s actually been ten years since we graduated.”

“Only ten?” The brunette mumbled, before an alarming thought came to her. Her entire body lurched forward, her hands grabbing onto penelopes arm. “Wait, Samantha didn’t add this to the slideshow did she?”

Penelope laughed, “no, there wasn’t enough room for videos anyways.”

“Thank god.” Jada let out a breathe of relief as she leaned back in her chair. “Nobody can see this video.”

“She what video?” Derek Morgan’s voice caught the girls attention and both, Penelope and Jada, attempted to exit out of the provocative video. But it seemed none of their frantic tapping could stop derek from seeing it. “Who’s that?”

The man leaned forward to get a better look as Jada sunk into her chair. She’d give anything for the floor to just swallow her whole at that moment. “Sorry.” Penelope winced as she glanced from Derek to her best friend.

“Wait, jay is this you?”

Her coworkers knew very little about what she was like before coming to work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. All they really knew was that her and Penelope got mixed up with some bad people - got arrested and then recruited by the FBI. Nothing more. “Yeah.”

Dereks eyes widened, “you had pink hair?”

“Can we just shut it off now?” Jada questioned leaning forward and effectively shutting the monitor off. “Before anyone else sees it.”

Derek chuckled, not seeming bothered by it in the least bit. Then again it wasn’t him who’s reaction she was nervous about - it was her bosses. Hotch could be pretty forgiving but she highly doubted she’d have a job if he ever saw that monstrosity of a video. “Why didn’t you tell me you were such a party animal, Hale?”

“Because I’m not.” Jada groaned her tan skin tinting a crimson shade in embarrassment.

Penelope raised her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, “well you better put your party girl pants back on because the reunions next week.”

Jada’s eyes widened as she rapidly shook her head, “No. No, I’m not going.”

“What? Why?” Penelope whined, grabbing onto Jada’s arm as she pouted. “Come on, everyone liked you in high school - it’ll be fun.”

Jada shot Penelope a knowing look hoping to god that she’d just drop it. “Pen.”

“Is this about-”

“It’s not about anyone-”

“So it is about him.”

“No!” Jada snapped, her body almost curling in on itself. “It’s not about him. I just - I just don’t want to go, okay?”

The brunette was quick to stand up, heading for the door with her head hung low in shame - she never exploded in Penelope. Ever. “I’m gonna go see if JJ needs help finding a case.” Her words were mumbled but neither Derek nor Garcia had time to question her as she practically raced out of penelopes office.

——————————————————————————

Jada was uncharacteristically quiet as she sat at her desk. Her knees were tucked under her chin as she scribbled onto the notepad in front of her. Sometimes writing down calming things helped her - it grounded her.

So she listed everything and everyone that made her safe. Starting with the two people she was the most comfortable around; Penelope and Spencer Reid.

“Hey, kid,” upon hearing dereks voice, Jada flipped her notebook over. She didn’t need anyone seeing her private list of safety.

Jada sighed, “listen if this is just gonna be an interrogation - I’m not in the mood.”

Derek shook his head, “no, it’s not. But, I think you should talk to someone-”

“Did Penelope tell you?” Jada questioned, her eyebrows raising a sigh leaving her lips. She loved her best friend but sometimes she could be such a big mouth. “I’m fine I’m telling you, I haven’t seen... him in years and-”

“Woah!” Derek was quick to stop her, “Garcia didn’t tell me anything. She said it was against girl code, but I still think you should talk to her about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

Jada’s gaze cast down to her hands that rested on her desk in front of her. “I just feel like I’m letting her down. I know how much she wants me to go to this reunion but I - I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

The brunette ran a hand down her face in exhaustion. Quietly she shook her head - she wanted to tell him but she convinced herself it was nothing. He hadn’t bothered her in years - she had nothing to be scared of.

Yet she still found her palms growing sweaty at the thought of him. Her heart racing at the sound of his name. Her lungs giving out at the sight of a picture of him - why was her body giving out distress signals when, logically, she knew she was safe.

Jada sighed, “I just can’t.”

“Kid, if I’ve learned anything its that it’s better to let down those walls you hide behind.” Derek explained, “let the people who care about you help - if not me at least talk to Penelope.”

Jada sighed, nodding as she stood to her feet. Her fingers twisted in the sleeves of her sweater as she walked towards her friends ‘bat cave’ as they called it. Penelope was quick to pull her into a hug the minute the brunette walked in.

“I’m sorry.” Jada sniffled our sadly, her voice quivering. Suddenly it was all coming back to the surface and she couldn’t stop it.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Jada shook her head, “no, it was my fault. I know you just want me to go and have a good time.”

Penelope sighed, “okay, but I know what he did to you. I shouldn’t have tried to push you into a situation where you aren’t comfortable.”

“But, I want to go.” Jada mumbled, “just everytime I think about seeing him I nearly work myself into a panic attack. We’ve done everything together I don’t want that to stop now.”

Penelope sighed simply pulling Jada into a hug. She didn’t have a solution at that very second but she’d come up with one. The blonde sighed as she pulled away, “well, I mean you haven’t seen him in years right?”

“That’s the weird part.” Jada mumbled as Penelope handed her a tissue. “Sometimes l be walking to my car, or just taking the trash out and I’ll think I see him - but it has to be some sort of figment of my imagination, right?”

Garcia nodded, “yeah, but I still think you should talk to Hotch or something. If he’s still following you-”

“He’s not.” Jada state’s firmly, “he can’t be, it’s been seven years.”

“Jay.” Garcia pleaded, her eyes begging her friend to tell someone besides herself. They made a promise that if he ever popped up again that they’d go to the cops.

“It’s not him.” Her tone of voice made it clear that the conversation was over. Still Penelope was giving her a look, one that screamed ‘stop lying to yourself’. “You know what, just to prove it to you, I’ll go.”

“To the reunion?” Penelope asked a smile coming over her face before she too grew to have doubts.

“What’s wrong?”

Penelope sighed, “well, now you have me getting all nervous. Maybe we should see if derek will go with us, that way just in case something goes wrong we’ll have him there.”

The idea alone out Jada at ease and she quickly nodded. “That would actually make me feel a lot better.”

So the two girls made their way towards where Derek was making a cup of coffee - Reid was with him. “I see you two made up.” Morgan commented smiling at Jada specifically.

The brunette rolled her eyes, “we were never fighting.”

“Whatever you say.” The man laughed, glancing between the two once more. “What do you guys need?”

Garcia glanced to Jada before looking back to Derek, “would you be our date to our high school reunion? Just in case anything happens?”

“What would happen?” Reid questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he realized he was completely out of the loop. “On average only about twenty to thirty percent of your high school class even attends the reunion. And I doubt it’ll get rowdy, it’s a high school reunion - your all adults now.”

Garcia sighed, “it’s more complicated then that.” Her gaze was then returned to Derek, a pout set on her lips. “Please.”

“When is it, babygirl?” Derek asked giving in as he pulled out his phone to check his schedule.

“Next Saturday.”

Derek sighed, “I’m going to visit my mom that weekend, I’m sorry babygirl.”

Jada sighed her fingers fiddling with her sweatshirt sleeves again. She was actually looking forward to going now that she thought someone would be there to back her up. Not that she didn’t totally love penelopes back up but she just wanted someone who could pull the trigger on a gun if need be.

Upon realizing the change in Jada’s demeanor, Spencer realized that Garcia wasn’t the one who wanted backup at the reunion - it was her. “I’ll go.” Spencer found the words leaving his little before he had time to even think them through.

But as Jada’s head snapped up, her gaze landing on him as a smile lite up her face - he found it hard to regret his decision. “Really?” Spencer nodded and Jada jumped onto him, nearly tackling him to the floor in a hug. “Thank you!”

Derek chuckled at the gesture, patting Reid on the back. Only he realized they still didn’t know why Jada was so freaked out about seeing her old classmates again. “We still don’t know why your so freaked out about this reunion, jay. Maybe you should tell pretty boy here just so he knows what he’s walking into.”

All eyes were on the brunette and a sigh slipped past her lips as she nodded to Garcia. Jada still couldn’t speak about what had happened and so Penelope was usually the one to tell others what had happened for her.

“Then we have to start at the beginning.”

[zackcollins]

like a train through a house of glass ch. 3 || carter hart

chapter 1 || chapter 2

Author’s Note: So. Uh. Chapter 3 is done incredibly quickly after chapter 2. For the sake of things, I’ve decided to schedule it again. It’ll be today at 11:00 am again. Once again, if you’d like that to change, feel free to let me know! I’m always willing to accommodate the needs of my readers. GIF credit to the original creator!! 

Warning: Same as the last two: the reader is paralyzed. Though, you should know that by now if you’re reading this. Regardless, it’s good to tell you just in case. I can’t remember if I added swear words to this chapter or not but I’ll put a warning for those just in case. I also mention how the reader became paralyzed. It’s nothing violent or graphic; just a throwaway comment in an internal monologue.

Words: 1.9k+

Title: Crash by Chad Brownlee

Additional: The language is gender-neutral again but I had one of the characters use the word “hun” to refer to the reader. That was the most gender-neutral pet name I could think of that wasn’t necessarily romantic (since it wasn’t Carter calling the reader that); I hope that’s alright for everyone. As for the doctor being named Dr. Owen: Jake Owen was playing on my Spotify when I needed a name for her. Fair enough?

When you arrived at the arena, Carter had nearly fallen asleep on your shoulder. Chuckling softly, you rolled your shoulder to get his attention. Carter jolted a little, whacking his head against your chin. You both cursed softly. You heard Morgan chuckle and Joel scoff.

“‘M sorry,” Carter mumbled, stretching as best he could in the confines of his car. “I didn’t really sleep last night. I was too worried about you.” Blushing, Carter focused his attention out the window on the other side of the car. 

You felt your heartache at those words. The fact that Carter was watching out for you was heartwarming. Grabbing his jaw, you brought his head over to face you. You saw the blush creep along his face as you thumbed his cheek. Before you could kiss him, your door swung open and startled both of you.

“Way to be a cockblock, Farabee,” Carter said, glaring at Joel.

Joel chuckled. “Cockblock implies sex. If sex was going to happen in the back of your car in the parking garage of the practice arena… well. I’m glad I stopped it.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at Joel. Morgan giggled from the front seat, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“I’ll grab the wheelchair,” Morgan said, stepping out of the car. “Is Joel going to lift (Y/N) again? Or would Carter want to do it this time?”

Morgan unlocked the trunk, leaning in to grab the wheelchair. A moment later, he cursed. You, Carter, and Joel looked over your shoulders.

“You okay, Morgan?” Carter asked, stretching again. 

When you heard his back pop, part of you felt envious. You wanted desperately to feel that sensation again. To feel the rush of electricity flow through your nerve endings as you popped a cramped joint back into place. Unfortunately, a drunk driver had taken that away from you. Now, you had to suffer from the possibility that the fleeting feelings you got today when Carter and Joel touched you could quite possibly be the only feelings you ever felt in your lower half ever again. 

“Yeah, fine, fine,” Morgan said, closing the trunk with a thunk. “I whacked my head on the trunk latch.”

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Do you need to go to the training staff? Wouldn’t want you to have a concussion.”

Morgan appeared beside Joel a moment later pushing your wheelchair. “This coming from the guy who cried the last time he had sex.”

Turning red, Joel hastily walked toward the arena with an embarrassed look on his face. Morgan rolled his eyes, chuckling. Carter blinked, looking in the direction Joel had hurried off in and then back to Morgan. You noticed the cogs turning in Carter’s head; the same cogs were turning in your head.

Morgan locked the wheels on your wheelchair before leaning over you and unbuckling your seatbelt. You smiled at him, patting him on the chest. A look of pride washed across Morgan’s face as he scooped you out of your seat.

“Morgan?” You asked, still in his arms.

Yes, (Y/N)?” Morgan replied, slipping you into your wheelchair.

“Are you and Joel…?” You motioned between you and Carter, hoping that got the point across.

It seemed to have the desired effect because Morgan’s face turned eleven shades of scarlet and he stumbled a little with your final placement in your wheelchair. He mumbled an apology as he shifted you to sit properly. You smiled, squeezing his wrist. Carter appeared at that moment, squeezing Morgan’s shoulder as he closed the car door.

Morgan exhaled through his nostrils, glancing between you and Carter. He leaned against the car, putting his hands in his pockets. He cast his head down, looking at his feet as he kicked around a pebble.

“Yes,” Morgan whispered, looking back at you and Carter. His face was frightened, one on the brink of tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” you said, grabbing his wrists and rubbing circles into them.

“We won’t tell anyone,” Carter said. He smiled sincerely at Morgan. Morgan smiled back, taking his hands from your grip to wipe his eyes.

Morgan opened his mouth to reply but quickly snapped it shut when Kevin, Travis, and Nolan walked by. Nolan and Kevin kept walking, talking to each other; Travis stopped, raising an eyebrow. He walked over after a moment, motioning a circle around Morgan’s face. 

“You don’t seem happy,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Joel and I are dating and I’m scared about people finding out,” Morgan blurted before bringing his hands to cover his mouth. His eyes turned glassy with tears as he pushed Carter and Travis out of the way to run toward the arena.

Travis blinked, holding up a finger and leaving his mouth agape. He looked between you and Carter, face comically confused. You and Carter both shrugged, Carter going so far as to pat Travis on the shoulder.

“If he doesn’t want me to tell anyone, I won’t,” Travis said after a moment of palpable silence. The three of you started making your way toward the arena, Travis still looking confused. “That secret is his and Joel’s to let out of the bag.”

Carter hummed, smiling at Travis. You nodded along, thanking Travis when he held the door for you. You bid the boys farewell, Carter leaning down and kissing you as was his ritual before practice. 

You were left sitting in the lobby as the boys walked away; you never knew where you were supposed to go while you waited for practice to officially start. Your wheelchair jostled, making you jump a little. When you looked over, Ryanne was standing there. She was holding two coffees, one of which she offered to you.

“(Y/N), I had time to stop for coffee,” she smiled as you took the cup from her. “Claude didn’t want one today, so I decided to get one for you instead. Chai latte with vanilla, right?”

Nodding, you took a drink. It was still warm as you swallowed it. You made a satisfying sound and smiled at Ryanne. “Thank you! This is wonderful, Ryanne.” You raised the cup in salute.

Smiling, Ryanne raised her own cup in salute. “You’re welcome, hun. Carter beams about you so I thought I’d treat you today.”

You felt a blush creep across your body. Ryanne chuckled when she noticed the red tint rising on your face. She raised her cup in salute again, taking a drink.

“He really does love you, (Y/N),” she said as soon as she was done drinking. You cast a shy glance at Ryanne. “He’s talked about how caring for you has brought him a deeper appreciation for people with disabilities. He’s mentioned wanting to marry you and start a family with you. He’s said he’d love kids but it can be dogs instead if that’s more practical.”

Your entire face was ablaze with feeling; what made you the happiest was the butterfly sensation that had settled in your stomach. You grabbed Ryanne’s hand, squeezing it. She tilted her head, resting her coffee cup on the arm of your wheelchair.

“I…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyelids shut. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of the practice arena. Though, if you did end up crying, Ryanne was one of the few people besides Carter you were completely comfortable crying in front of. “I can feel butterflies in my stomach.”

Ryanne squeezed her coffee cup which caused some coffee to dribble out. It dribbled onto your pant leg. You cast her a sideways glance to which she gave you an apologetic look. 

“I’m—“ Ryanne started, moving backward toward the concession stand for a napkin.

“Don’t,” you said, holding your hand up. “I can barely feel the heat of the coffee.”

A soft smile spread across Ryanne’s face as she planted her feet back into the floor. She cupped the top of your hand with her free hand, squeezing graciously. You took a sip of your coffee, casting Ryanne a soft expression with your eyes the entire time. 

“When’s your next appointment? Dr. Owen needs to know all of this,” Ryanne said, squeezing your hand once more before moving her hand away.

“A couple of weeks. Carter was going to see if he could make one sooner because this was happening this morning, too.”

“Nonsense, (Y/N),” Ryanne scoffed, reaching into her purse. “You and Carter have enough to worry about. Let me change the appointment. What kind of wife of the captain would I be if I didn’t help the team when they needed it?”

Taking another drink of your coffee, you felt a mixture of warmth and butterflies spread in your stomach. It felt amazing to be loved by people that really only had to affiliate with Carter. You smiled at Ryanne as she stepped aside to call Dr. Owen.

While Ryanne was on the phone, you sat and contemplated what she had said about Carter. You already knew he loved you but apparently not the extent at which he did. Carter had never mentioned to you about wanting to marry you; then again, you had been having feelings about wanting to marry him and hadn’t mentioned them to him meaning you couldn’t hold that against him. There was also a part of you that was wanting to start a family with him and you were on board with either the children or dog option; both at the same time even appealed to you. 

“(Y/N)?” Ryanne’s voice snapped you out of whatever trance-like state you had been in. You took a sip of coffee, pleased that it was still somewhat warm. “Dr. Owen said she could squeeze you in tomorrow at noon. We don’t have a game tomorrow, so I can get Vigneault to excuse Carter from training.”

Nodding, you took another sip of coffee. Peeling at the label on the cup, you looked at Ryanne. “Did you mean what you said?” 

“About Carter being able to be excused from training?” Ryanne tilted her head, looking at you with a little confusion. “Yeah, why? Vigneault knows how much you mean to Carter. He’d let him out of anything for you.”

You felt your stomach swoop, heart quickening in pace. “I meant about Carter saying he loves me and wants to start a family with me.”

Ryanne’s expression softened. She rubbed the back of your shoulder, smiling lightly.

“Of course, (Y/N),” she said. “Carter gushes about you more than Claude gushes about the baby.” She grabbed your hand, placing it on her stomach. You felt the baby kick your hand, causing you to jolt a little in surprise. Ryanne chuckled. “Yeah, he’s feisty.”

You gave Ryanne a fond look before you finished drinking your coffee. You thanked her again for the coffee before you wheeled yourself to the garbage can to throw the cup out. Ryanne smiled at you as she walked to sit in her usual alcove.

Left sitting in the lobby by yourself again, you sighed. You now had the information that Carter wanted to marry you and start a family with you rattling around in your brain. It was rattling alongside the information that you wanted to do the same with him. 

You heard a shrill whistle cut through the air. Sighing again, you packed that information away for later. Having an internal crisis could wait.

You had a hockey practice to watch.