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ab-crochet-club · 1 year ago

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Basics - Part Two: Standard Stitches and Such

A link to Part One.

Continuing on, once you've got a starting point you are ready to work some stitches. Let us now have an overview of the various 'basic' stitches, those which are most common. Note that all here is in US terminology, perhaps we'll have a later post which can help to translate between US and UK terminology. The format here is stitch-name (stitch-abbreviation): stitch-description/musings. When we describe a stitch we may talk about working 'into a stitch'; for now, let us stick to that, but in future we'll expand on that, one might rather work into the back loop, the front loop, or into a chain space. More on all of that later. Though it now occurs to me that I actually just ended up saying stuff like 'poke your hook through the right hole' rather than phrasing everything in terms of working in a stitch; this is fine, because that is indeed what you'll need to be doing, and patterns and such well tell you what the 'right hole' is. This could be the next stitch, the next stitch after skipping some, a chain space (sort of a hole between stitches), part of a stitch, the hole formed when starting with a magic ring, and maybe some other stuff.

Chain (ch): For a chain stitch you simply yarn-over and pull-up through the loop that is initially on the hook shaft.

Slip Stitch (sl st): For a slip stitch you basically just do a chain, but through another stitch (or chain space or back or front loop or whatever). You poke your hook into the appropriate hole, yarn-over and pull-up through that same hole, and then continue to pull-up through the active loop like you would for a chain.

Single crochet (sc): For a single crochet you poke your hook into the appropriate place, yarn-over and pull-up through that same place so you now have two loops on your shaft, then yarn-over and pull-up through both loops; this completes the single crochet. Note: Much like dividing by six, you may find it best to break this 'pulling through two loops' into multiple steps. Just as it is equivalent and often simpler to divide by two and then divide by three rather then directly diving by six, it is equivalent and often simpler to pull through one loop and then pull through the second rather than trying to pull through both at once. Experiment a bit and see what is best for you; it also may vary according to project or type of yarn or hook that you are using. Keep this in mind especially when working more involved stitches; you may be needing to pull through three, four, five, or more loops, don't be shy to do one at a time for better experience.

Half-double crochet (hdc): For the half double crochet you yarn-over then poke your hook in through the right spot, another yarn-over, pull-up through so you will have three loops on the shaft. Now yarn-over and pull-up through all three loops (remember, you can pull through each loop one at a time which is often much easier to manage, or through the first two and then the third, etc. etc.).

Double crochet (dc): For a double crochet you'll yarn-over, poke your hook through the right spot, yarn-over and pull-up through so that you have three loops on the shaft. Now, yarn-over and pull-up through only the first two loops, so that you will end up with two loops on the shaft. Finally, yarn-over and pull-up through both loops to complete the double crochet.

Half-treble crochet (htr): Also can be called half-triple crochet if you're nasty, which I am in this case (by which I mean, if you are unable to properly say the word 'treble' and rather say instead 'triple'). For this stitch you'll be needing to yarn-over twice, then poke into the right spot, yarn-over and pull-up so you have four loops on the shaft. Next, yarn-over and pull-up through two of the loops, so you now have three loops shafted. Finally, yarn-over and pull-up through all three of those loops to complete the stitch.

Treble crochet (tr): As above, can be called triple crochet because it makes more sense and is easier to say and also it's language and the whole point is clear communication so we can use any term we like as long as we clearly state our meaning and those we are speaking to understand that meaning and the terms that are used. Right, so, yarn-over twice and stick your hook in the right spot. Yarn-over and pull-up so that you have fours loops on the shaft. Yarn-over and pull through the first two loops, so you'll have three loops on the shaft. Yarn-over and pull through two of them, so you now have two remaining. Finally, yarn-over and pull through both loops to complete the triple stitch.

That's pretty much all the 'basic stitches'; there are a large number of more advanced stitches which we'll cover in future posts. Note that by 'more advanced' we don't usually mean more difficult, rather we mean that you'll maybe need to figure out what they mean whereas the stitches above are so common that you'll eventually memorize them probably after crocheting for a while. Note that all of the stitches above are fairly simple at their core, it's just a short sequence of yarn-over and pull-up, together with having your hook in the right place. Advanced stitches aren't really any different, just less commonly encountered. Hence it follows that crochet will be easy once you come to feel comfortable with the following:

Holding the yarn with proper tension while also holding your completed work just below and out of the way of you active work area.

Holding and maneuvering the hook.

Managing loops on the shaft so they are not too tight or too loose and not all bunched up together so you have trouble seeing how many are there or which is in front of another.

Yarn-over and pull-up: this is fundamental to all of the stitches, practice a lot so you always yarn-over in the way that you need (often the way described above, from the back to the front of the hook shaft; there are times when you may like to reverse yarn-over, more about that in a later post), and how to adjust the angle and rotation of the hook so that it is easy for you to pull-up through a stitch or a loop.

The only option is to practice; there are two main exercises:

Create a slip stitch, then chain a dozen or more. Now, starting with the stitch that is second away from the active loop, try out some of the above techniques; maybe do a full row of single-crochet, then a row of half-double, then a row of double, and so on, or just practice one style until you feel really good about yourself. Just keep in mind some stuff: always it looks like a complete ugly mess at the start, it's only once you have a few rows going that it starts to look alright and also that first row or round is generally the most annoying/difficult, once you have a bit worked up it becomes quite easy. Especially when you start with a chain and then do the first bit of working along the chain, it is a bit garbage really, but stick wit it, every row after the first is easier and the whole project looks increasing good as you go. One important note for making rows: you'll be working back and forth, alternating each row, when you reach the end of a row you chain one and then turn your work around so that you will be working back the other way and work your next stitch into the end of the previous row, before you did the chain. Well, to be more precise, you chain enough to get yourself turned around without 'losing stitches'; basically, you match the height: one chain for single crochet, two chains for half-double and double, and three chains for half-triple and triple.

Create a magic ring, then work some number of stitches into the ring, then work into stitches in the first round, then into stitches in the second round, and so on as you like. Depending on your choice of stitch and style you may need to start each round with a number of chains that roughly matches the height of the stitches that you'll be using for that round: one for single, two for half-double or double, three for half-triple or triple. This gets your hook up to the right height for that round. You also have the choice of finishing a round by slip-stitching into the top of the first stitch of the previous round or not; one yields more of a spiral and the other more of concentric circles. The other thing is that you will not end up with a disc, but rather an increasingly crumpled up mess if you do not work increases (two copies of your stitch of choice into a single stitch) into each round; also the increases need to be spaced out (so you only work the increases into certain stitches and do one stitch in each of the others) in a certain way or else stuff will still get weird. We'll discuss this more in a future post but the basic idea is that you need to progress along an arithmetic sequence, with the common difference being the initial number of stitches worked into the magic ring in order to achieve a disc. For example, let us say that you have built a magic ring, and you then work six (6) single crochet into the ring. In the next round you will need to increase in each of the six stitches around, ending with twelve (12) total, the next round increase every other stitch (and one single crochet otherwise) to end with 18 total, and so on. If you had originally worked six (6) double crochet into the ring the pattern is exactly the same, just with a double crochet taking the place of each single crochet. Practice and experiment and such.

At the end of your practice you can either fasten-off by cutting the yarn from the source and pulling up through the last loop or you can remove your hook from the last loop and pull on the yarn so that your entire project unravels and you have all your yarn back to try again later. Cheers!

#crochet #learning #crafts #learning to crochet

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 2 years ago

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So is there, like, a limit to what *kind* of stitches you can take out with a seam ripper? When I try to mend something, usually one of two things happens--either I try to yank a big snarl through the fabric, tear it, and have a new place to fix, which I usually do by just sewing the edges of the hole *to* the snarl since it's already there; OR if I'm being especially painstaking I will manage to catch the huge snarls *before* pulling them through, and then I pass the next few stitches through the snarl to hold it together and down and keep all the loops from unraveling. In either case, while I can usually manage to keep the outside of the garment looking reasonably clean the inside doesn't so much have seams as it has keloids--basically a big running knot of stitches looped back on each other, that I just keep doubling back on and stabbing until the needle won't go through it anymore because that's the only way I know to secure it.

Am I just stuck with them? Or if I ever learned to sew properly, would I be able to unpick those mends and redo them? (Or, more likely, get an actual seamstress to redo them?)

(If it matters--most of the garments I've tried to mend by actually sewing are jersey knit; woven fabrics I usually just use those iron-on patches on the inside.)

Oh boy JERSEY. It's a lovely spoilt brat devil of a fabric. I love it so but it's very prone to problems. I myself have absolutely done the overlapping row-on-row of raddled fabric bunched into a seam. I'm going to go backwards, starting with the assumption that holes will happen, before talking about unpicking methods that might prevent the formation of holes to begin with.

Because I mean, sometimes it is all such a pain in the ass that I just sew a new seam further into the fabric and cut the old seam off with scissors, if that won't mess up the thing I'm repairing. Alas, it often will mess it up, and then getting fancy is required.

The simplest answer is to get a stretchy fusible interfacing that will work like an iron-on patch. Your search terms here are "knit fusible interfacing" and "weft fusible interfacing"; you can buy it off the bolt at fabric stores. I use it when my t-shirts get random little holes in the fabric and I want to prevent them from getting any larger--I just cut a little circle of interfacing and iron it onto the back of the fabric. You could cut pieces big enough to cover your keloid areas, iron them down, and then sew through the interfacing with more confidence.

It is possible to darn knit garments, using thread to catch the loops that have been dropped and create a bridge of new stitches that hold it all together. People absolutely do darn T-shirts and fine fabrics like jersey; I personally only do it for knitted items that are extremely precious to me and have large yarn and a big gauge, because I find it a pain in the ass. There's traditional darning where you catch the loops at the perimeter of the hole, then create a woven web of threads over the gap, and Swiss darning, where you duplicate the knitted structure.

A lot of the problems with knit fabric originate with the needles used to sew them. Ordinary sharp needles have the unfortunate habit of piercing and breaking the threads of the fabric they're sewing, and those broken threads can begin to unravel and create holes. If the thing you're unpicking was originally sewn with sharp needles, you might be SOL and have to accept the holes as inevitable. Avoiding this problem requires ball point needles, whose tips have been carefully blunted so they merely push threads aside as they move through fabric. This is way more likely to be a problem with sewing machines, since they punch down with more force than handsewists generally use to push the needle through the fabric, but, you might benefit by doing your hand-mending with ballpoints.

So, with unpicking, one major secret is serger or overlock stitches. These are made by machines that use three or four threads all at once to completely encase the seam in thread. They're used a lot in modern sewing because they're quick, easy, and make garments machine-washable. Hoowever, if you want to unpick the seam, you might find yourself thinking, "Where do I start?"

There is a secret to it. Here's a tutorial on the process, and here's another. Once you know which threads to focus on, the whole process gets much easier.

Which finally brings us around to unpicking seams, full stop.

The biggest problem with unpicking seams in knit fabrics is the extreme likelihood that you will not just catch the thread of the seam, but the thread of the fabric itself. In that case, your best bet is actually to turn the item out to its "good" or "right" side, pull the seam gently apart until the stitches are visible, and carefully pick them out from there. Here's a tutorial. This works with seams made by serger, sewing machine, or by hand. You just have to be wary of cutting the fabric itself when you're coming in to cut the stitch.

Whew! I don't know about you, but now I don't feel like sewing again for a week. (Lies. I will sew again after lunch.) This is as much as I think is useful. If you have more specific questions, I think I'd need to see photographs of the thing to give any more helpful answers.

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a-simple-gaywitch · 4 years ago

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Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help.

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms.

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key.

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle.

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner.

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries.

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you.

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks.

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could.

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up.

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him.

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly.

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms.

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book.

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate.

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag.

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other.

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized.

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided.

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room.

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room.

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school.

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one.

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door.

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital.

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side.

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded.

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit.

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze.

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss.

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh.

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him.

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

Text

fall apart when it hurts too much

i had like three ideas for this fic so here’s all of them smashed together! ft. carlos and tk actually not being physically perfectly fine after being trapped in a fire, breakdowns in the shower, and an actual apology for that scene.

It's the smallest thing that breaks him, in the end. Ever since the fire, Carlos has been trying to keep a lid on everything, trying not to shatter even though he's been on the verge for hours now. He makes it to the shower, desperate to scrub the stench of smoke from his body, and then he just—

He drops the soap.

ao3 | 2.9k | 2.12 spoilers

Carlos barely makes it five steps from their house before his knees are hitting the tarmac, falling to all fours as his body heaves and shakes with coughing. He can’t catch his breath, and panic lights up in his chest, fingernails scrabbling at the ground despite the pain. Hands are on him, too big and rough to be TK’s, but Carlos doesn’t have a chance to work out who they belong to before they’re shifting under his arms, dragging him backwards even as their house explodes, a blast of intense heat washing over them.

If he had any breath left in him, Carlos is certain it would have abandoned him in that moment. Everything he’s spent years building for himself, all gone in the blink of an eye. It’s too much, and he collapses back down the second whoever’s holding him lets go. His eyes are streaming, a combination of irritation from the smoke, the tightness in his lungs, and a terror that he suspects won’t leave him for a long, long time.

He gasps, forehead pressed to the concrete, and then hands are on him again, but these—these, he knows. Carlos sags gratefully into TK’s arms, allowing him to pull him close and resting his head on TK’s chest, right above his heart.

He still can’t really breathe, and judging by the ragged gasps from above him, TK isn’t faring much better. But his heart is beating.

They’re alive.

Carlos closes his eyes, drifting away from himself as the fire continues to burn and the wail of sirens cut through the night air. TK curls his body around him and Carlos clings to that security with both hands. It means they made it out; somehow, they made it out.

TK’s lips press against his cheek, then his mouth shifts to his ear, voice rough yet still soothing when he speaks. “Baby, we need to move,” he says. “We gotta — They gotta check us out.”

Carlos feels himself nodding, but it’s the only movement he can manage. His entire body is trembling and his mind is frozen, replaying the last five minutes over and over on repeat.

God, had it only been five minutes?

“Come on.” TK tugs at his arm and, after a few tries, Carlos manages to get his limbs to cooperate long enough to begin to rise. A dizziness comes over him without warning and he stumbles, nearly pulling them both back to the ground; it occurs to Carlos that TK can’t be any more steady than he is. They’d been in there for the same time, after all.

Judd catches Carlos before he falls, and he sees through blurred vision Owen doing the same for TK. They’re led - or, rather, carried - to the ambulance, the flashing lights cutting through Carlos’s already pounding skull, and carefully lowered down onto the step. Unthinkingly, Carlos grabs TK’s hand, unsure if the tremor in the touch is coming from him or TK.

Oxygen masks are secured over both their faces and shock blankets wrapped around their shoulders, the soft material comforting. A kind-looking paramedic kneels in front of them, asking them questions about symptoms as she wraps burns Carlos didn’t even realise he’d acquired. He barely manages a nod or a head shake at the appropriate moments, his brain struggling to catch up with it all.

He’s so tired. All he wants is to be asleep in their bed, in TK’s arms, and for this to be a horrible nightmare he’s yet to wake from.

But their bed is gone. Their home is gone, ashes, only the twisted remnants of metal supporting beams left behind.

He’s shaking again, his chest constricting and causing him to cough despite the oxygen mask. Tears fall hot and fast down his cheeks and he practically falls onto TK, hands fisting in the blanket.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobs when he’s caught his breath enough to speak, pulling the mask down. “I’m so sorry.”

TK shushes him, hands running soothingly up and down his back. “It’s okay. This wasn’t your fault. We’re going to be okay.”

“But we almost weren’t.” He pulls back to meet TK’s eyes, the first time since Owen and Billy came bursting in. “I—I thought we weren’t going to make it. I should have had a fire extinguisher upstairs, this should never have… I...”

He cuts himself off, talking becoming an impossibility. TK cradles him close, kissing his head gently and whispering reassurances into his hair. Carlos hangs onto every word, not really believing them, but wanting to desperately.

By the time the paramedic ushers them into the ambulance, Carlos’s tears have eased, but the gaping pit in his chest has only grown.

He wishes he could wake up now.

They’re at the hospital for a few hours, run through a myriad of tests before they’re both declared fit to leave. A smiling nurse gives them the news, telling them that they’ll be home before they know it.

Neither of them have the energy or the ability to correct her.

Carlos’s parents come to pick them up, his mom producing a bag of fresh clothes for both of them. Where she got them from, Carlos doesn’t know, and he doesn’t ask. He hasn’t said much at all since the fire despite TK’s many attempts to get him to talk, leaning into the doctor’s advice not to do anything that might irritate his throat. He’s not sure what he’s even supposed to say; their house is gone, and that’s… That’s that.

His mom loops her arm through his and walks him through the corridors and out of the hospital. Carlos only half-listens to her talk about fixing up his room for them and what she’s planning on cooking for dinner tonight; he still feels the stench of smoke and ash clinging to his skin, even though they were able to clean up a little at the hospital. He itches with the need to wash it all off, to scrub until his skin cracks and bleeds and the pain eclipses that which lingers in his bones.

TK seems to sense how he’s feeling, constantly providing support in one form or another the entire drive to his parents’ house. Carlos feels guilty for not checking on him, but he’s seconds from shattering. If he tries to focus on anything other than holding himself together, he knows he’ll break.

He realises that makes him a shitty boyfriend, but… But.

His childhood home soon comes into view, a part of Carlos relaxing at the sight. He’s beyond grateful that they came here instead of going to Owen’s; he needs every comfort he can get right now, his mother’s cooking and his abuela’s stitched blanket second only to TK on that list.

He turns to TK as the car comes to a stop, squeezing his hand gently. “This isn’t how I’d imagined bringing you home for the first time,” he jokes, trying for a smile, but it falls flat. TK gives him a token smile anyway, the same weariness Carlos is feeling heavy in his gaze.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what teenage Carlos was like.”

“You already know,” Carlos points out. “I’m pretty sure my mom spilled every story there is the other night when we were… Well, you know.”

TK nods. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a mere whisper. Carlos doesn’t get it, how even the slightest thought of their house can send him spiralling, but he guesses that it’s just another thing he’ll have to deal with now. As if there wasn’t already enough.

He doesn’t get a chance to think on it any longer, his parents calling for them to come inside, his mother practically shoving the two of them upstairs. Carlos leads TK to his old room by the hand, the decorations almost untouched since he moved out.

“You can just…” He waves around, gesturing vaguely to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. I’m going to shower, you can go in after me if you want, or I won’t mind if you just want to sleep. Bathroom is the door at the end of the hall.”

TK chews on his lip, not letting go of Carlos’s hand just yet. “I can join you?” he offers, but Carlos shakes his head.

“It’s pretty small in there. Better not.”

TK doesn’t look like he believes him (and why would he? it is a lie, after all) but he nods and lets go. Carlos lingers for a second, then leaves, grabbing the bag of clothes his mom left on his way.

He manages to scrub himself fully once before it happens. There’s still a slight tremble to his hands as he reaches for the soap again, the feeling of being unclean sticking to him, and he just—

He drops the soap.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Carlos stares at where it’s fallen, willing himself to just pick it up and carry on, because that would be the sensible thing to do, right? The normal thing?

But he can’t. Everything—the fire, the house, the goddamn soap—is suddenly all too much, and Carlos has to brace himself against the tiles as emotions he’s tried so hard to ignore pour out of him in a wave of grief and sorrow and despair. He presses his fist to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, cries wrenching from his mouth, so loud that he doesn’t hear the gentle knocking at the door.

“Carlos?”

Carlos gasps, straightening as TK’s voice cuts through the noise. “I’m okay, I’ll just be a second,” he calls, but obviously he’s not convincing enough as the door creaks open, TK’s face falling when he catches sight of him.

“Oh, Carlos.”

TK steps into the room, silently undressing and stepping into the shower with him. He bends and grabs the soap from where it fell and creates a lather on his hands, looking to Carlos for permission before going any further.

Carlos wordlessly nods, so TK begins rubbing the suds over his body, touch soft and feather-light. They don’t say a word, and it’s not… It’s not relaxing, exactly - Carlos doesn’t think he can relax tonight - but it’s… It’s something. It means he’s not alone, which is all Carlos could ask for in this moment.

A slight pressure on his shoulder tells him to turn around, so Carlos puts his back to TK, facing the spray of the showerhead. He doesn’t know why, but not having to look at him makes it easier, somehow, to say the words that have been spinning in his mind since this nightmare began.

“I’m so sorry, TK,” he whispers. “If we had just had an extinguisher, then—”

“Then, nothing,” TK interrupts, not pausing in his motions. “I used to be a firefighter, Carlos; I know from experience that when a fire burns like that, nothing can stop it. My dad, Billy, and Judd all had extinguishers, and they barely made a dent.”

“I still should have done more. You were so calm, and I was just panicking.”

“Firefighter. I’ve been in plenty of burning buildings before; you haven’t. And, trust me, I was scared too.” TK sighs, his hands stilling on Carlos’s shoulders for a brief second before resuming. “Listen to me,” he whispers fiercely, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You have nothing to apologise for, you hear me? Nothing.”

When Carlos wakes the next morning, TK is sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him, his hands twisting together in his lap. The set of his shoulders is tense, and Carlos can imagine the look on his face right now. He pushes himself up onto an elbow and reaches out, intending on comforting TK the way he’s done so many times over the course of their relationship.

What he’s not expecting is for TK to flinch away like his touch burns. Carlos frowns, sitting up fully and crawling over the bed to sit next to him. “Babe?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

TK shakes his head, subtly—though, not subtle enough—shifting away from him until there’s a clear gap between their bodies. It’s so far removed from last night when they could barely stand to let go of each other, and Carlos has no idea what’s causing it.

“TK?” he tries, keeping his hands to himself this time. “Please, TK, talk to me.”

It takes another agonising minute before TK finally, slowly, turns his gaze to Carlos. His eyes are wet and red-rimmed, and he can’t seem to look directly at him for longer than a few seconds. He clears his throat roughly, rubbing the material of his borrowed sweats between his fingers.

“Remember last night?” he says quietly. “When I said you had nothing to apologise for? I meant that—you don’t, but I do.” TK takes a trembling breath, then turns to him with a gasp. “Carlos, I—”

“Stop,” Carlos interrupts, shaking his head. He thought they’d moved past this; he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. “I already told you, it’s okay. You were in shock, you were angry… I get it, okay? You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Yes, I do.”

“TK—”

“Carlos, please.” A couple of tears slip down TK’s cheeks and he doesn’t bother to wipe them away, a desperate look in his eyes. Carlos hesitates, then sighs and nods, gesturing for him to continue. “Thank you. I… If I thought it meant anything, I would say that I’m sorry a thousand times over. I mean, I am, of course I am, but they’re just words, right? The same as saying I wish it had never happened in the first place, because the point is that it did happen and I can’t ever take it back. You had done nothing but support me, and I just—I hit you. There’s no excusing that. I don’t even know if there’s any forgiving that.”

Carlos frowns. “Of course there is.”

“Well, maybe there shouldn’t be.” TK looks down at his lap, shoulders curved inwards. “I wanted to use so badly that night,” he admits. “I was going out of my mind over my dad, and I’d convinced myself that I’d lost you. That I was going to lose you both. It was so tempting to go to the nearest bar or dealer and make it all go away for a while.

“Then I realised that I would only be hurting more people if I did, and I couldn’t do that. I’m not… This isn’t me trying to excuse what I did to you. You don’t deserve that, and I understand completely if you can’t trust me anymore, or even if you want me to leave. I’ll do it, whatever you want, just say the word. I can’t take it back, but I’ll do anything so that you feel safe.”

TK sniffs, his head bowed so low he’s almost folding in half. Carlos hesitates, then slowly reaches out, taking TK’s hands in his own. “TK, look at me?” he asks softly.

TK does, pain written all over his face, and it breaks Carlos’s heart again.

“I forgive you,” he says, squeezing as tight as he dares. “I forgive you. You might not think you deserve it, but I promise you that you do. I won’t pretend that what happened didn’t hurt me, but I understand why you did it.” He pauses, weighing his next words carefully before he speaks, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Not that he thinks TK will react like before again, but he refuses to make him feel any worse about the situation.

He makes sure he has TK’s eyes on him before speaking, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “But,” he starts, sighing heavily, “you are right. It’s not an excuse, and we are going to have to deal with this soon. Maybe not right now, but we need to have a conversation about these defence mechanisms of yours and how we can make sure you don’t feel the need to fall back on them again.”

TK nods. “I’m going to go to a meeting tomorrow, and I’ll talk to my therapist as soon as I can. I’ll… I’ll be better, Carlos, I swear.”

“I know you will.”

Carlos shifts closer so he can wrap an arm around TK. He stiffens at the touch, but slowly leans into it, carefully resting his head on Carlos’s shoulder.

“I don’t deserve this,” he mumbles.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Carlos counters.

TK snorts. “I think you’ve given me about thirty.”

“And you’ve deserved every single one.” He kisses the top of TK’s head and strokes his side. “I don’t think you could ever do anything bad enough to drive me away. That’s not who you are, TK. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but I love you and I will keep loving you even if you think I shouldn’t because I know my boyfriend and I know he’s a good man.”

TK sniffles, his arms coming up to wrap around him. He hesitates a second, a palm hovering over Carlos’s chest, trembling in mid-air as the seconds drag out. Carlos holds his breath, waiting, then smiles as TK slowly brings it down, letting it rest just over his heart.

The touch is light, barely there, but it’s something. It’s progress.

They’re both more than a little broken, more than a little hurt, but they can heal. They will heal, as long as they’re together.

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Better Man .

~~~~~~~~~~I wish I could forget, when it was magic~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

How do you know you’re ready for kids?

Is it after you’re financially stable enough? After you’ve partied enough? Got all the wildness inside you tamed? After you’ve grown sick of the freedom that comes with youth and what it implies ? after you’ve grown tired of empty conversations that lead nowhere? sharing ubers with people you barely like because you’re too drunk to drive? When you just crave the comfort of people you truly love instead of strangers who grind up on you ? Or perhaps when you start preferring silence in the evenings to the thrumming bass in some dingy nightclub?

None of these really.

The truth is you’re never ready.

Hoshi had been planned. Taehyung and I had done our homework, studied everything from my ovulation cycle to the entire catalogue of some expensive breast pump , new in the market . Everything had been researched and planned and perfected : the wood the crib would be made of, the color he wallpaper in the nursery would be and the kind of diapers and wipes we would use.

But it still threw us for a loop....how unpredictable he was.

How unpredictable the pregnancy was.

What I wanted : Home birth. Mid wife . Taehyung by my side holding my hand.

What i got : Preeclampsia, a baby born six weeks early, Taehyung frantic on the phone in the middle of the night as he took his private jet from Japan where he was shooting a commercial. The pain of being induced into a labor that lasted for 16 hours only for my body to give up half way through.

A c section that left a scar and numbness that hadn’t faded even now , after four whole years. three weeks in the NICU....tears and terror after learning that the baby in the incubator right next to Hoshi’s didn’t make it. Aching to hold my son but being forced to stare at him through the glass, wires and tubes wrapped around his tiny torso.

And through it all, Taehyung.

Stronger than I had ever seen him. Calm and collected as he watched me pump milk for our baby, barely managing a few measly drops of it after thirty minutes of trying . His arms around me, holding me up as I tried to fight the sheer agony that came from my stitches, tried to stay conscious for the baby. Watching him carefully pour the milk into a sterile bottle to take down to the NICU .

Falling in love with him, over and over and over again throughout the day as he did everything for me.

Hoshi was loved and cherished , not just because he was an expression of our love for each other.

But a reminder of Taehyung’s love for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ He’s growing out of all his clothes. I’m going to take him shopping tomorrow.” Taehyung commented, watching Hoshi get on his tippy toes to point out the pastry he wanted from the display case, while a star struck cashier stared at Taehyung .

Taehyung’s body guards were right near the table and while a crowd of people stood outside, none of them came too close. I was used to the attention that came with Taehyung and his celebrity status.

“That’s a good idea. I have a couple of meetings tomorrow regarding the Christmas campaign and I may not be able to make it on the weekedn either. Is it okay if I pick him on monday evening?” I asked, cutting into the blueberry scon on my plate.

“How about I drop him off at your office. Save you the trip.”

I hesitated, before nodding.

“I spoke to the lawyer....she told me the papers should be processed by the end of next month. My company will make a formal announcement from both of us and we’ll say we don’t intend to answer any other media questions.”

I stared at him, watching his face carefully for something different. A sign that would explain what had changed between us because something had. I was sure of it.

“ Why now, Taehyung?” I asked softly.

He held my gaze for a second, eyes warm and honest. Taehyung could hide his emotions well, but his eyes always told the truth.

“Because I’ve strung you along long enough. You deserve to be free.” He said finally.

I swallowed, looking down.

“I ....you didn’t string me along.” I shook my head.

“I think you deserve to be loved right, without the shadow of my failures hanging over you. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in a limbo because of one wrong choice.”

Wrong choice.

Whose ?

His? When he chose to drink That night?

Or mine? When I chose to walk out?

Or the both of us? For handling the fallout so badly?

I had so many questions but I didn’t say anything.

They were question that had no answers.

“So we move on.” I stared at him intently.

“I will always love you. I will always be there for you.” He smiled, eyes glinting a little.

i watched him, the familiar body. He had been my first. My best. Taehyung’s body was as familiar to me as my own and I wanted to hug him, hold him close and press kisses to his lips again. It wasn’t emotional or even sexual it was just...this urge to let him know that he was loved too. that he was adored. That he would always be loved.

“But, “ he went on, “ yes. Its been two years.... so.... we should move on. Meet other people. ”

“Fall in love again ?” I didn’t mean to sound bitter but my tone certainly was. He gave me a very tired smile and I felt guilt bubble up inside me.

“I’m not going to be that greedy, Mia. I will settle for just feeling a little less alone.” He looked away and my throat closed up.

He stood up, moving to the counter to pay for the treats that Hoshi had chosen.

And that was it.

I watched the small tendrils of warmth, rising up from my coffee, gossamer strips of smoke mingling in the cold air and melting into nothingness.

Here one second gone the next.

Just like my marriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a little past seven when I reached my apartment, my phone ringing just as I dropped my coat and unwrapped the scarf from around my neck. I moved quickly to the bedroom, pulling my phone out of my handbag.

I picked the call, switching it to speaker before tossing my phone on the bed.

“Hello?”

“Jang Mi...its Jungkook. You ready?”

I swore, stripping out of my clothes quickly, fumbling with my bra and yanking my panties down.

“I’m just about to shower. Five me ten minutes!”

He didn’t reply and I frowned.

“Jungkook??” i called opening the closet to grab a hairband and shower cap.

“When you say you’re just about to shower...are you actually in the shower?” His voice sounded a little deeper than usual. Weird.

“What?” I was completely confused.

“Like are you naked in-”

Oh Christ.

I rolled my eyes, hanging up quickly. Sleeping with Jungkook, while extremely pleasurable had definitely been a little too much too soon. It made him take too many liberties, ones I wasn’t particularly comfortable giving him yet.

But I liked him.

He was, at the end of the day a nice guy.

A nice guy who had an actual interest in me. Those were rare to come by.

It was another fifteen minutes before I was ready, choosing a plain black jumpsuit in a flowy georgette material. It had nice flowy sleeves and i added gold jewelry at my wrists and earrings, just for a little bling. I stared at the dress at all angles. It definitely hugged my curves right but was also impossibly hard to take off.

So even if I got swayed by his good looks and made bad choices , by the time Jungkook undressed me , i would be able to come to my senses and stop myself from having sex with him again.

Groaning at myself, I grabbed the small black jeweled clutch from inside my dresser, slipping my phone in.

I steered clear of make up, choosing just a deep red lipstick.

The knock on the door came just as i finished slipping into black pumps .

I opened the door , only to have a dozen red roses thrust into my hands.

“Wow.” I whispered, glancing at him. He looked extra handsome, a blood red shirt clinging to his torso, a think black tie knotted at his neck. He gave me a devilish wink, eyes flitting all over me , licking his lips.

i tamped down the urge to back away, reminding myself that I was supposed to be moving on. Even if it wasn’t with Jungkook, he had asked me out on a date and I had agreed. I would enjoy myself tonight.

“Gorgeous. Ready?”

“Let me just put these in water...” I smiled at him, placing the stems into the cut glass decanter on the nearest table. I emptied the small bottle of water nearby into it , bending over to fix the petals when I felt him press right up against me.

Startling, i nearly spilled the water all over the floor, breath catching when his chest met my back . I felt myself trembling a bit because of how warm he felt, even with the inches between us and I could smell him, the subtle cologne that handsome men wear , just to drive women crazy.

The urge to lean into his body was so strong I had to clench my fists. Apparently, my body was very much on board with moving on even if my heart wasn’t. Jungkook made things worse by moaning into my ear, chin resting on my shoulder as he lightly gripped my waist, before reaching over with other hand, plucking one scarlet bloom from the bunch

I swallowed as he wrapped both arms around me in a backhug , holding the bloom up in front of my face.

“Do you like the scent of it?” His lips brushed my ear and I grinned. I hadn’t been flirted with , like this in years. I bent my head to lightly breath in the air near the bloom, enjoying the subtle scent. “It’s lovely.” I said honestly.

He casually broke the stem off, a couple of inches from the where the petals began.

“Turn around for me “ Jungkook whispered in my ear again. I turned around quickly, my lips inches from his, refusing to back away, staring right at him. He smirked, bringing the flower up to the small upknot on the side of my head.

I stayed still as he carefully pulled a single bobby pin out, sticking the stem into my hair before casually using his teeth to pry open the pin again and slotting it into my hair, pinning the flower in place.

Apparently, watching Jungkook pin a rose into my hair was winning brownie points for him in my brain, because my entire body went warm , my heart beating faster.

“I’m scared to ask why you’re so good at this...” I smiled and he raised an eyebrow.

“I have a daughter remember? Its a lot of ribbons and bows and pins.” He grinned.

The idea that Jungkook did his daughter’s hair for her, with ribbons and flowers was so ridiculously endearing I wanted to coo.

“There. Now we match.... A little.” he smiled.

I stared at him, the black tie on his red shirt and the red rose against my black dress.

“Smart. “ I nodded.

“Shall we leave?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I had fun tonight.” Jungkook hesitated .

The night had been so much more fun than I’d anticipated. Jungkook somehow convincing me to party crash someone’s engagement party near the pool with an open bar and ridiculous ninety’s party music. But I’d danced to my heart’s content, my hair coming undone half way through and I was only a little upset that I’d lost the red rose in the middle of people.

“I had a lot of fun too Jungkook’ah..” I smiled, honest .

“We should do this again. Since we never got to actually talk. It was just you getting progressively drunk and dancing like you wanted to pee.” He teased and I pouted.

I reached out and pressed a palm to his face...his skin smooth under my skin and I felt myself swaying just a little, lethargic and a little aroused from the scent of him.

“Wanna get another drink?” And then because I was completely gone and had no filter, “ If you come inside....maybe I’ll let you cum inside. if you know what I mean.....” I drawled, waggling my eyebrows.

Jungkook’s face morphed into one of absolute shock, lips parted and then he laughed so hard he choked, coughing.

“Wow. You are drunk.” He shook his head, looking amused. “ How about this.... I’ll come in and tuck you into bed and if you drink a couple of glasses of water for me, I will not tease you about this tomorrow.” He offered.

I pouted.

“You don’t wanna come inside...?”

“Oh baby , you have no idea how bad I wanna come inside.....but not like this” He brushed the hair off my brow, kissing my forehead...” Ask me again when you’re sober and we’ll work something out. Now let’s get you into bed.”

I groaned as he dragged me into the bedroom.

The moment my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!~

Author’s note : Not me falling in love with the second lead in my own story ugh. He’s gonna get a separate story. I’m gonna write a whole entire fic for CFO! Jungkook , adorable single dad of cute little girl.

I don’t have a tag list for this fic so please do let me know if you want to be tagged !!!

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #bts au #bts fanfics #bts smut

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

gingerbread spice latté | stuart twombly

word count; 7629

summary; stuart is counting on a little bit of a festive miracle to get what he really wants for christmas.

notes; none, really. nothing to say here.

warnings; none. not a one.

If there was anything that Stuart hated, it was the chalkboards outside of the little coffee shop that he called his place of work. He hated the way the signs always seemed to look sloppy when he did them, and he hated balancing on a ladder - especially in the snow - and he particularly hated the way the chalk marks seemed to get everywhere, all over his clothes in stains and on his face, and drying out his fingertips and the feel of it on his skin. He had a lot of negative feelings about chalkboards, so, yeah, he definitely hated decorating the chalkboards.

If there was anything that Stuart loved, though, it was you. He was completely and utterly infatuated with you, he couldn't help it, not when you looked so insanely adorable as you scowled at a pile of knotted Christmas lights in your hands, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the counter. He’d helped you drag the tree you’d delivered three days ago into the back corner earlier, stabbing himself on a pine needle and almost choking on his breath when you’d rubbed your thumb over the spot on his index finger while cradling his hand to make it better.

The thing was, you’d been his best and closest work colleague for three years now, he’d formed a little crush on you from the very second that you had walked in two summers ago spelling like coconuts and mangos, and ordered an iced tea, before noting the ‘help wanted’ sign pinned up behind him, and pulled a CV out of your purse with an excited grin. You’d been all but hired form the moment you’d shaken hands with the boss, the interview being a formality, and just a week later, you’d been putting on the navy blue apron with the company logo stitched onto it and joining him behind the counter.

He’d kept it in control until now, because up until a month ago, you’d been in a relationship, a long-term one, and he'd been able to find a clear line and he had a great ability not to cross it. You didn’t stay late after the close-up shifts to have a drink with him, and he didn’t tempt himself into growing closer to you by talking to you outside of work. You were just the cute barista he saw four times a week. But, then you’d been single, and you’d started staying behind after work to have a coffee with him, and let him walk you home as it grew darker into the winter, and you’d even started messaging him outside of work. ‘Friending’ one another on Facebook had led to chatting, which was exchanging numbers, and then there were the times you were bored, or he was, and you’d spend hours on the phone just talking.

Since then, he’d been in deep. That was exactly how he found himself in his current situation, watching as you mumbled to yourself and huffed as you undid the lights, looping them in untangled trails around yourself as you went. Maybe he leaned a little too far to see you, maybe he just wanted to get a better look at your face as you sat illuminated by the fairy lights you’d already strung up along the counter that made you glow like an angel, because one moment he’d been writing ‘Christmas Specials - only $4’ on the sign over the door and watching you wistfully, and then next he’d been tumbling unsteadily on the ladder and landing on the snow, head cracking against the concrete as he groaned, thankful for the layer of icy flakes that had cushioned his fall somewhat, even if he had hit the ground hard enough that his vision had gone black for a second, and was still spotting slightly.

His head was spinning, and the second it cleared, you were leaning over him, wide eyes and distressed expression on your face as you knelt beside him, and despite having the breath punched from his lungs with the fall, he was now breathless for an entirely new reason. Heat rose to his cheeks, enough to melt the snow that was landing on his face as he tried to sit up, feeling your fingers snake around to cup the back of his head as you helped him up, shuffling back to sit on your legs as you contained to kneel beside him.

“Oh my God, Stu!” Warm breath was coming out in pants in the cold afternoon air, and his embarrassment only increased. “Are you okay?”

He groaned again, the pain of a nod making him wince, and he paused for a second to clear it, feeling the throbbing pain in the back of his skull getting worse. Your fingers were still within his dark tresses, tracing lightly over his scalp, and he hissed under his breath as the tips brushed across the sore spot on his head. “‘M going to be fine. I promise.”

“That is gonna’ leave a nasty bump. The one day you don’t wear your beanie is the day you could’ve used your extra head protection.” He couldn't help by laugh at your words, hating the way a spike of pain shot along his spine from his skull as he did.

“I know, I know.”

“How’d it happen?” You were staring at him instantly now, your hand slipping down from his head to sit on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against his neck each time you moved it, and he wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing, but you made his mind stutter to a complete halt, blank of any coherent thought as he stared at you.

“Just, uh, distracted. Slipped, I guess. Icy.” He gestured a hand around himself vaguely, hating the way he couldn’t even form real sentences, and you smirked at him, nodding your head.

“Yeah, icy.” You were teasing him, he knew you were, but he couldn't even be mad in the same way he’d be mad at someone else, because as you smiled at him, a glint in your eye and a sweet looking taunt that made him weak, all for him, he just shrugged, grinning back at you. You stood up, hands shaking a little as you brush the tip of your nose, rubbing it to bring heat back to your face as you began to chill, and when you brought it to his attention, he realised just how cold it was, sitting in the mounds of snow. You brushed yourself off, wet marks along your legs from where you’d been perched in the ice, and held your hands out to him. “Let’s get you up and inside. C’mon.”

He didn’t hesitate, hands slipping into your own, and he held on tightly, letting you pull him to his feet before he was brushing himself down of the ice and following you into the building, the bell above the door chiming as the two of you entered, warmth encasing him as he did, and a tingling spread along his skin. The smell of freshly ground coffee, and all the different sweet and spiced syrups that had been bought in to match the drinks, as well as the slightly sweet smell of herbal teas in the background.

You led him through to the back, sitting him down on the boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and he popped the buttons on the front of his coat, pushing it down his shoulders as he watched you disappear. When you came back, you had a towel wrapped around a clump of ice, scooped fresh from the ice machine for frozen coffees and teas, and he reached his hand out for it, before you bypassed him. Instead of stopping before him and handing it over, you stepped up between his parted legs, bring a hand around to the back of his head to press it to the sore spot gently, and while it hurt for a split second, it felt like the patch was on fire, and he was relieved at the cooling pressure, letting out a deep sigh.

He fell forwards, he couldn't help it, forehead pressed to the soft flesh of your stomach through your jumper, and you chuckled, his head bobbing a little as you did, before your other hand was coming up to play with his hair. It was slightly damp, he could tell from the way it stuck to your fingers, but he wasn’t all that surprised; actually, he wouldn't be surprised if he got a chill from going out to do the signs in the snow, but someone had to do it today, and he wasn’t going to let it be you.

He shifted, chin resting on your stomach instead, and you moved his hair away from his forehead, offering him a little smile as he stared up at you. “You’re looking at me from the worst possible angle.”

“You look great.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes, and he snorted a little at the way your face screwed up.

“Like an angel.” This made you really laugh, deep and full-bodied, and he wrapped his hands around the backs of your legs. Large palms spreading out over the backs of your knees, pulling you a little closer and he didn’t miss the way your breath hitched and your eyes widened a little. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid, he was well-aware of the way things had been developing between the two of you, he knew you had some kind of feelings for him, he just didn’t know if you were ready for them, only a few months out of a relationship that had lasted years, and he was more than happy to wait for you if you weren’t. “A Christmas angel. My angel.”

“How hard did you hit your head again, Twombly?”

He rolled his eyes, it was his turn to laugh, but you didn’t back away from him, bringing your hand down to place the melting ice pack down on the side as he stood, towering over you now, hands sliding up from your thighs to your waist, a respectable place, no matter how much he wished it was a little lower, a grip just a little tighter, a little more intimate. “Not that hard, I swear. But, it doesn’t mean that it’s not how I feel. You really are an angel.”

Your own hands were on him now, too. Sitting lightly on his biceps, nails dragging against his skin lightly through the cotton of his shirt and he shuddered slightly under your grazes. He could smell the perfume you wore, a seasonal one, spices and berries that you swapped out with the seasons and he felt intoxicated by it already.

“A very pretty angel, might I add.”

“Yeah?” You grinned now, and he could taste the gingerbread-flavoured coffee on your breath still, the drink you’d been sipping on all day, a slow crowd and so you’d busied yourself with last-minute Christmas decorations. The snow had been a blessing, the cold weather and icy temperatures had ushered in large crowds who sought out hot drinks and winter aesthetics, and the two of you had barely any time to set up for the Christmas celebrations. Now, though, as the snow came down in thick storms from fluffy clouds, you had a day of quiet and calm.

He watched as you leaned in, the tip of your nose bumping his own, and he swallowed thickly, his nerves taking over, but he was quick to steady them, trying to soothe his racing heart. “The prettiest, sweetheart.”

Just as he’d garnered the bravery to close that gap, the ringing of the bell at the front door shocked through the air, a startling noise that clamoured in his ears and made you jump back with a little squeak. His eyes went wide, body stiffening and heat was crawling up his cheeks. The same look he was sure was reflected on his own face was present on yours; a little embarrassed, a little flustered, and totally caught off guard, before you were shrinking away from him, a sweet smile on your lips as your hands slid to find his, squeezing reassuringly.

“That’s a, uh, customer.”

You grinned, entertained by his awkwardness once again, and you picked the ice pack back up, pressing it into his hand as you nodded your head. “That it is. I got it, you put that pack back on. Hope we didn’t break that smarty-pants brain of yours.”

With that, you were stepping away from him, turning your back on him with a final cheeky smile, and disappearing out front. Your voice rang out a second later, followed by the fake-laughter he knew you offered up to those who made crappy jokes about he fun names of all of the coffees, before you wee switching on machines, the coffee-grinding drowning out your voice, and he sighed, unable to stop the smile taking place on his face as he shook his head to himself.

He waited a while longer, hearing the bell ding a handful more times, hearing your cheery voice greet them and take orders, before machines were whirring into life, dulling moments later to reveal the sound of the cash register dinging and then the bell was signalled again as they left. When the throbbing in his skull eventually gave in, and he was just left with a slightly sensitive patch on the back of his head that was raised up in a firm and angry bump he was sure would come to cause struggle later that night when he got in bed, he finally ventured back into the main shop again.

He searched for you, concern flicking over his features for only a second, before you were popping out from behind the Christmas tree, a box of ornaments under your hands, and he could see the fairy lights already strung within the branches, yet to be turned on at the socket. You caught his eye, a sweet smile pulling at your lips, before he took tentative steps over to you, holding his hands out to retrieve the cardboard box in your hands.

You let him have it, and he held it steadily for you, following you in circles around the tree until he was dizzy, but you were beginning to be happy with the placements of the colour scheme and the ornaments put up among the branches. It was domestic, far too domestic for his liking, and he couldn't help the way his mind wandered.

He was picturing you setting up a slightly smaller tree in the corner of his apartment, wearing one of his jumpers and a pair of leggings, the fluffy socks he got you as a gift every year, sipping eggnog and singing to Christmas music the way you did when the songs came on over the radio, interspersed with the regular hits that played on loop. He pictured getting to come up behind you, arms around your waist, kissing at your cheek until your face screwed up and you turned to kiss him properly. He was dreaming about Christmas day, not needing an excuse to kiss you, cold days where you’d snuggle up a little closer to him in bed, and on the couch, and getting to hold your hand when you wandered along in the snowy streets with him. He wanted to sip hot chocolate with you, and take you home to meet his parents and all of his siblings as his mom showed you baby photos from the albums, an-

“You remember our first Christmas?”

He snapped back out of his reverie, a blush crawling up his cheeks as you looked at him expectantly, and he wondered idly if you’d been talking this whole time and he’d just missed it all, but he only nodded, a smile taking place in his face as he thought about it. “Yeah, ‘course I do. How could I forget? It was a nightmare.”

He told no lie, it truly had been disastrous. It wasn’t the same kind of icy but dry chill that surrounded you both now, this year was a perfect white Christmas, just enough snow to keep everyone inside, three days of peaceful quiet as the flakes fell down from the sky. That had been a weirdly warm but snowy Christmas. The snow was melting when it hit the ground, muddy ice and slushy trails now that were slippy, the floors were constantly wet and needed to be mopped.

There had been angry customers, frustrated with the weather that snapped when the machines took too long to grind beans, or their order was a little off, or they just didn’t like the prices. The pair of you had been run off of your feet, absolutely exhausted by the end of it all, and more than happy to shut up shop at the end of the 23rd, not to return until the 27th.

“Last year wasn’t so bad.”

“Until I burned the gingerbread biscuits, and we had to call the fire department.” He felt his face screw up again as you laughed, souring as he remembered the burnt spice scent that had lingered around for almost a full week afterwards, and the way he was certain he was going to lose his job when the boss had found out, but he’d just about been spared, on a probationary period. Truly, he wouldn't have been all torn up about it if he’d lost the job, he could easily get another, but he would’ve been begrudging to lose out on all the time he got to spend with you.

“That was very funny. For me, anyway.” He stuck his tongue out childishly at your teasing, dropping the box in his arms down when the final decorations were up on the tree, and letting out a satisfied little sigh as the two of you looked up at your masterpiece. “Holy shit, it looks awesome. I should be a professional Christmas tree decorator. Is that a thing?”

“Probably. For, like, the really rich people who have those fancy trees that always just seem to show up in the living room in movies.” You grinned, shaking your head and gathering up all the boxes and storage, pushing it away towards the counter with your foot. “You’d have to make all your money at Christmas. Think you can fit in that many trees?”

“Nah. I’ll just do, like, three trees a day but charge a grand each time. That’s how good my tree decorating skills are.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, watching as you found the right plug, flicking on the socket as you scoffed.

“What, you don't think my tree-skills are that good?” He shrugged, and you raised your brows, plugging the device in, lowering the lighting of the room a little bit with the switch on the wall, and admiring the glow of the lights as they all came to life. He had to admit, it was stunning. Warm lights were reflecting from gold and silver decorations, the star at the top seeming like it was haloed by the light below, and it brought every other decoration in the little shop together. “How about now?”

You came back over, standing beside him, lifting his arm for you to tuck yourself under, and he chuckled at the action, fingers running gently along your arm as you settled yourself into his side, trying to steady his racing heart as he did. “Okay, fair enough. This would look epic on your tree portfolio.”

“I knew it.”

He only rolled his eyes, leaving the conversation at that, tipping his head to the side a little to rest his cheek atop the crown of your head. Maybe it wasn’t the way he'd daydreamed it, but he was happy to wait until that time came around. You stood there for a while, just like that, and he was more than happy to, just holding you, and letting your fingers play with the front of his jumper, tangling lightly and brushing hard enough that he could feel it all the way through to his skin.

“Been a good two hours since we had any customers, y’know.” He startled a little, the silence broken, and he looked over to the clock, noting you were right, having become distracted with your tree decorating and reminiscing, and the light outside was beginning to fade away.

“I think, if we closed up a little early, nobody would mind.”

You turned, a little glint in your eyes as you looked at him, raising a hand to pat at his cheek with a smirk, and he slapped your hand away. “I like the way you think, Twombly.”

He followed you as you went, the two of you more than used to the routine you’d got through as you began the closedown of the little coffee shop. He was on trash and machine duty, he’d empty all the filters and change all the bins and shut everything down after setting it off on its cleaning cycles. You went through the fridges, making sure every bottle was closed and counted, writing up the stock sheets, and going upstairs to the storage rooms to get more of anything you’d run out of during the day, before wiping down all of the tables.

Just like that, the two of you were off. Working in a perfect harmony with one another, humming along to Christmas music as you worked. You disappeared for a little while, and he was left alone, beginning to get everything finished, and stacking up the various trash bags in the corner, all but one machine now on their cleaning cycle, sterile tablets put into each to make sure they were thoroughly disinfected, and he couldn't help but notice how good the tree the pair of you had set up actually looked as the light began to fade. Only ten minutes until the actual closing time of the shop, and if there was one huge benefit to the winter, it was that people never came out as late.

Summer brought groups of teens who were too young to drink coming to the coffee shop to meet up, drinking iced teas and thinking they ruled the world, and he hated the backchat he got whenever he had to kick them out at closing time in order to be able to gather up the fold-away chairs that lay outside. In the winter, they didn't even bother putting those chairs out. Placing two of the tallest mugs under the spouts of the final remaining machine, he set it off, a generous dash of gingerbread syrup in the bottom of one. He made a jug of hot milk, foaming at the top, and watching as they began to fill up, hearing the creaks of the floorboards over his head as you moved around the stock room and gathered what you needed.

Only moments later, you were making your way down the stairs, uneven steps, before backing your way into the room and huffing, placing the full crate down onto the counter and blowing a piece of air back and out of your face.

“Can we make a deal?”

“Depends on the deal.” He smirked at the way your face hardened a little, even though both of you already knew that he would say ‘yes’, for you.

“Will you put away the last boxes of unused Christmas things if I take out the trash bags instead?” He sighed, seeming to contemplate it, before giving you a cheeky grin, and nodding his head.

“Well, I suppose so.”

You beamed, leaning up to brush a kiss to his cheek as you passed him by, before you were moving away towards the backdoor to find the trash, and he went back to the task he was doing. He swirled in the milk, artfully making sure there was a layer of foam at the top as the coffee poured in, the perfect mix reaching up to the top of each mug, right to the rim, and he placed them both further away on the counter. Leaving them to cool, he did as you’d asked, carrying the boxes up the stairs two at a time, shivering a little at the backdoor that was popped open, and deep down, he was glad he didn’t have to do the task, the industrial waste bins being all the way at the opposite end of the pathway, and there was at last three trips worth of bags there.

It was still snowing, a few flakes gathering in the doorway and melting as they touched the floor, and Stuart made a mental note to heat up some heating pads and put them into his bed before getting ready to sleep tonight, so his covers would be nice and warm when he got into them later tonight. He still had time, and so he put away the box of stock you’d brought down, returning the box to the stockroom and jogging back down. There were no more bags, he knew you must be on your way back by now, and so the timing was perfect, both of you finishing up your set of tasks in correlation.

Using the shape stencil for the chocolate powders, he placed one over the top of your drink, sprinkling the dust across the top until a layer was made, a brown heart sitting prominently on the top of the foamy surface, and he pushed it over to one side of the counter, dusting his own with cinnamon, and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bar, blowing gently on the surface of the drink.

He heard the drag of the metal, the chill being shut out as you closed the door and the sound of locks bolting, before making your way through to meet him. There was snow in your hair that you were trying to shake loose, and goosebumps raised along your skin, and you let out a little huff as you sat opposite him, hands wrapping around your mug for warmth, and he raised his brows, taking a sip of his drink as he stared at you.

“It’s cold as fuck out there.” You smiled a little at the gesture on top, the shape in the foam, offering him an endearing smile, before running a wooden stirrer through it to mix it all up.

“You didn’t think to wear your coat?”

“Didn’t think it was that cold, and by the time I was halfway through, I just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.” You shrugged casually, and he studied you for a moment, before feeling the wicked grin that was cracking across his cheeks.

“You didn’t bring one, did you?”

You paused for a second, before shaking your head with a sigh, and he cheered internally at being right. “I hate that you can read me so well, Twombly. But, no. I didn’t bring a jumper, and I didn’t want to put on my coat because then it would be wet and cold for the walk home.”

He disappeared for only a second, bringing his hoodie back through in his hands, and holding the top of it up for you. You pushed your head through the gap, arms following, and he pulled it down your torso as you cozied into it, before he was sitting down once again, and enjoying the appreciative little noise you left out as the warmth of the oversized hoodie embraced you.

“You are a gift from God himself. You make me my favourite hot drinks, and you keep me warm so I don’t get a chill. Whatever would I do without you, huh, Stu?”

He scrunched up his nose at the nickname, hating the word himself, but loving the way it sounded when you said it, and so he settled for tolerating it in silence, a single shoulder raising and falling in a weak attempt to brush off the gestures, in hopes you wouldn't look too far into them. “Speaking of gifts, check the front pocket.”

He nodded his head to the garment now hanging on your frame, and your jaw dropped, excitement flashing across your features and he sipped his drink to hide his grin, watching as you dug both hands into the pockets, pulling out a small and neatly wrapped box that he’d had ready to give to you for two weeks now.

You placed it down on the tabletop before you, eyeing it for a second before giving in to your curiosity and running a nail underneath the seal of the wrapping. It popped open, and you undid it carefully, before pulling out the box from within. Undoing the latch and pushing it open delicately, there was a little gasp on your lips as you took in the design inside, eyes flicking up to him for a second, and there was something considerably softer and warmer evident in your eyes than had been there before.

“Stuart, this is so pretty.” You ran the pad of a single finger across it, admiring the gem within, before pulling it out slowly by its string. A beautiful charm, silver chain that was shining, a new clasp put on, holding a beautiful charm along it; your birthday stone. “Can you put it on for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, making his way over to you and standing behind you, taking it from your hands and letting you sweep your hair out of the way before he was fastening it around your neck, and letting you admire it on yourself. “I saw it a few weeks ago, in that little vintage charity shop type store down the road, the one you love, and I just knew you’d like it.”

“Correction, I love it.” He beamed, daring to reach a hand out across the table towards you, and you spread your fingers wide for him, enough for him to slip his own digits with yours, holding onto you as your joint hands sat atop the counter. “I got you something too.”

“Well, can I have it?”

“Uh, not quite. Well, not until next summer.” He snorted a laugh, using his free hand to take a sip of his drink. “And, it’s not really something you open, it’s more just something you do.”

“Is it something we can do together?”

“No.” You hummed, squeezing his hand a little at the confusion that flittered across his features. “You know, you’re meant for more than this coffeeshop, Stu. You’re so smart, and so good with all your computers and your tech, and I know you want more.”

“Uh-huh..”

He was confused, he had no idea where you were taking this, and his eyes narrowed apprehensively as he tried to work out where you were going with it all, and what it could possibly have to do with his Christmas present. “You always say you want to go for some amazing opportunities, but don’t think you’re good enough. But, I know you are. So, I may or may not have signed you up to a few things.”

“I feel like this is leading to something weird, like, a tantric sex course, or something.”

You gave him a disbelieving look, a low chuckle emitted from you, before you were shaking your head. “No, not tantric sex. Unless they do that at Google, I’m not sure.”

“Google?”

“Yeah.” You played it off like it was no big deal, but his jaw dropped slightly, and you were staring into your mug with a little smile on your face. “They do this internship thing every year, as you know, since you told me about it, but you didn’t think you had what it takes. I sent in an application form for you, and did some emailing, and there’s a place available for you if you want it. Next summer, six weeks long, I think, but they provide everything. You don’t have to take it, you can turn it down, but I think it could be the beginning of an amazing future for you, Stuart.”

He didn’t know what to say, his eyes were burning slightly as tears formed, and he laughed breathlessly, ducking his head to try and blink them away, before he was taking his hand from your own to wipe at his eyes. His head shook with disbelief, and he felt his entire body deflate with the contented sigh that he let out. “They really accepted me?”

“They did! I’ve been telling you for years how good you are, Stuart, you just have to believe it.”

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever met.” He looked back up to you now, a look he couldn't quite decipher flashing over your features, before your head was ducking as you nibbled on your lower lip, embarrassment taking place. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“You deserve it.”

“Maybe, but I don’t deserve you.”

Your lips pursed, head shaking vehemently as you wrapped both hands around the one of his that you were holding. “You deserve everything good in the world, Stuart Twombly. I promise you that.”

Stuart was pretty sure that he had never wanted to kiss you more than he wanted to kiss you right now, but before he could work up the nerve, you were standing up, bringing yourself off a little, and taking the box of his gift and placing it back in your pocket. Throwing away the wrapping paper, you made it to his side, arms wrapping around his middle as your hands smoothed over his back, cheek on his shoulder, and he could feel your short puffs of breath against his neck, and he didn’t hesitate for even a single second to wrap you up tightly in the returning of the hug.

You remained that way for a while, letting him trace his fingers up and down your spine, until you had decided that you’d had enough. He would never get tired of it though. The way you felt in his arms and the way you would cling to him in that unique way that you did, the smell of your varying body sprays and perfumes that changed with the seasons, and your heart thudding against his chest through your own, everything that made each hug one of his favourite moments.

“Do you want me to walk you home tonight?”

“I would love that, actually.” You pulled away from him then, and he regretted speaking, but you were giving him that smile that was reserved only to be shared between the two of you when you were alone, and he’d do anything to see it, to keep it on your face, and so he was willing to let the hug go. “Let me go grab about coats.”

He only nodded, draining away what was left of your drinks and leaving the mugs upside down on the counter beside the dishwasher, ready to be cleaned and restored to the shelves before opening time tomorrow. You were already wearing your coat when you returned, holding his out to him, and as soon as he took it, your hands were buried into your pockets. He fished out his keys, a hand on your lower back as he guided you towards the door, letting you turn off all the fairy lights and main lamps, the building closing down into darkness.

As the door was pulled open, cold air swept in, a groan on your lips as you exited into the icy chill, snow crunching under your feet as you went, leaving your marks in the pristine covering, shuddering a little as you did. He locked up, hearing you kicking at piles of snow absentmindedly behind him, before the building was all locked up and the shutters were pulled down, locking the building up tight to be protected for another night. Then, he was pulling up his hood, protecting himself against the cold weather, and falling into step beside you on the way he was accustomed to walking in the direction of your apartment.

You didn’t have a hood, and he patted down his pockets, finding the item he was looking for, and bringing it up to place on your head, hands smoothing over your hair as the garment was adjusted, before deciding he was happy with the way it looked.

“You had your beanie with you the whole time, today?”

“I always have my beanie with me.” He teased, reaching a hand into your pocket boldly, and lacing cold fingers with your warm ones, feeling you squeeze back and hold onto him tightly. His other hand was tucked into his own pocket, and he had to bite at the inside of his cheek just to be able to contain his smile.

“Well, why didn’t you wear it? You needed it, today of all days.” He huffed a little at your teasing, in reference to the fall he had taken hours ago.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to be different today, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t need to be different. I happen to adore you just the way you are.” He didn’t bother to reply, simply twisting his head to press a kiss to your temple, before a simple silence was taking up around you both. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be in a comfortable kind of quiet, whether you were physically together or on the phone, or a video call, it was just a norm. Sometimes, when he had college work to do, he’d ring you, and let you go about everything you were doing at home, just to have some company. Sometimes, when your anxiety was getting the better of you and you’d feel a little overwhelmed, you’d call him, and he’d talk to you about anything and everything he could think of until you fell asleep, or felt better.

It was just the way the two of you operated, another way in which the pair of you created a perfect balance and harmony together.

It was a short walk, and only a few lights in your building were still lit up, but he knew that most of your neighbours were older couples, but that you’d chosen that purposefully, for a more peaceful place to live. When he reached the bottom of the steps you were cautious to stand in the spots where snow had been cleared and salt laid down, the centres of the steps, as you climbed up onto the first one. You were taller than him by a few inches now, and he was looking up at you, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders.

“Thanks for walking me, Stuart.” He could only nod, swallowing thickly, and trying to gain some confidence. Today had been the best day yet that the two of you had spent together, it had all been one, long, ‘moment’ between you both. Uninterrupted and without anything to shatter it, he’d loved every moment, and he didn’t want to let his chance slip away as a new day threatened to wipe the slate clean. “Out with it, Twombly. What’s going through that brilliant head of yours?”

“Just, that today was amazing. With you, it was incredible.”

“I had a great day too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, and he laughed lightly, watching as your eyes twinkled with your own amusement.

“I know, it’s just that I had such a good day I don’t want it to end. But, I never want days with you to end.” He could feel fear taking over, logic about knowing you must feel the same way flying out of the window, and he felt like a teenager again, trying to ask the popular girl to be his date to the latest school dance. “I felt like there was something special today, though. When you were looking after me after I bumped my head, before a customer came in.”

He took a deep breath, watching the way your lips flicked up at the sides, and he scowled a little, now knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about, and forcing him to say it anyway.

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Maybe I do.” You teased, and he grumbled a little under his breath, but he could never really be angry with you for your teases, not when you looked so cute while doing so.

“I just think that me and you have something special, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t say anything when I had the chance, if some other schmuck came in and swept you up before I had the chance to tell you how I really f-” He was shocked, a gasp on his lips as he felt you push into him. Your hands had moved from his shoulders to rest lightly on his neck, heart racing under your palms and as he realised that you were kissing him, a soft moan bubbled up from within him.

When he finally managed to wrap his head around what was going on, he lifted one hand up to place over your cheek, pressing back into you enthusiastically, and the other settled on your waist. Underneath your coat, his fingers flexed against your waist, pulling you closer and letting you step back down to his height as your chest came flush up with his. It was slow, the drag of your lips over his, soft and short kisses that were pressed in between soft sighs and smiles, gasps for breath before you were diving into each other once again.

He let his tongue poke out, needing more from you as he found himself beginning to drown in the taste of your mouth, and the way it felt to finally indulge in what he’d been wanting for so long, and he needed more. He traced the seam of your lips, and you parted them for him almost instantly, dipping your own tongue out to play with his own, and it felt like an entirely new high. Dragging together, tangling, playing as you learned one another’s mouths, got to know each other in a whole new and more intimate way than ever before, and he was sure his head was spinning.

He needed breath, desperately, but he wasn’t ready to pull back just yet, and then you did, a whine sliding form him as he puckered his lips and chased after you in a way that he really should have been embarrassed about, but couldn't find it to do so. You had swollen and shining lips, hair slightly messy from the hand of his own that had slid into the locks, and you were flushed, panting a little for breath as you stared up at him through darkened but widened eyes.

“That might be the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, dragging the tip of his nose against your own, and stealing a few more quick kisses from your lips, looking down at you once again as you found yourself standing on the ground alongside him. You were tugged into him close enough that he could feel your heart beating against his own, just as fast and unsteady, showing him that you felt the same way he did, and that he affected you just as you affected him.

“You taste like gingerbread.”

He smirked a little, something like a giggle and sigh leaving you as you nodded your head, shrugging slightly before running your hands back down his arms to take his hands in your own. With foreheads pressed together, you pecked his lips once more, and Stuart swore this was what heaven felt like. “Well, you did make me a gingerbread spiced coffee before we left the shop.”

“They are your favourite, you have a ton of them every winter, I knew you’d like one.”

“I didn’t know you noticed that.” You smiled, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek, tipping your head back to catch his eye.

“I’ve had a thing for you for quite a while, I just never knew what to do about it, and you were in a relationship, so I was left learning stupid little endearing facts about you.” He grinned, and you gasped, shoving him a little while never letting go of his hand.

“Stuart, I’ve been flirting with you constantly for like eight months. You never made a move!”

“I just made a move!”

You only laughed more, pursed lips as you stared at him. “Nope! Pretty sure I’m the one who kissed you, actually.”

He could only roll his eyes and smile, nodding his head and leaning back in. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He closed the gap, another sweet and tender kiss being shared between you both. Sensual and soft, he decided that if he could live in this exact moment forever, he’d be more than happy with that, kissing the Christmassy reminiscent taste from your lips as you held onto him so tightly.

When you finally pulled away, you were walking backwards up the steps, tugging him with you a little, and offering him a coy smirk. “Wanna’ come up for a Christmas spiced nightcap?”

He let out a loud laugh at that, louder than he should have when all the downstairs lights were turned off, but he couldn't help it, following you up the steps and weaving your fingers together properly. “Can’t imagine anything better.”

“I’ll tell you all about your internship when we get up there.” You were patting down your pockets, finding your keys and making sure to lock the main door building carefully behind yourself, and he trailed after you, as quietly as possible.

“I can’t wait.”

#stuart twombly #stuart twombly x reader #stuart twombly x reader smut #stuart twombly/reader #stuart twombly/reader smut #stuart twombly the internship #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the internship #dylan obrien stuart twombly #12 Days of AUmas

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ttylfedora · 4 years ago

Text

10th March: 14/19

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREEEEEE (you can find parts one and two here)

All of the thanks to @madsholland for going through and correcting my grammar😂

Part Four will be up tomorrow, but this birthday girl needs some sleep! I’m so glad you all have enjoyed this so far. It has absolutely made my day reading the comments. All of the birthday love from me and my birthday twin, Remus🥰

CW: MENTION OF REMUS INJURY

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Enjoy!!💚

10th March 2014

“Mom, please, I don’t want to do anything big this year.” Remus huffed as he attempted to pull his hoodie over his head, his shoulder jarring as he did so. He willed the tears that threatened to pool in his eyes back down and he battled with the hoodie to take it back off and throw it back over his bed.

“I just think it would be good, even if we just went out for dinner-” Hope started, her heart breaking over how ‘not Remus’ Remus was acting.

“Mom!”

Remus had finally reached his breaking point. His shoulder was in agony; every single one of his hopes and dreams had been crushed; and the last thing he wanted was to potentially bump into any of his teammates at a restaurant.

“Please, just leave me alone! I don’t want to do anything, okay? I just want to be left alone,” he shouted, the tears from earlier finally spilling over. He looked at his mother pleadingly, “please just leave me alone.” It barely came out as a whisper but his mother heard well enough. She decided against saying anything in case the tears that were behind her own eyes spilled over too. She only nodded as she left the bedroom, closing his door behind her.

Remus just stared at the door, guilt overflowing him at the look on Hope’s face. She didn’t deserve that. None of his family deserved the way Remus was treating them. Remus didn’t deserve the way Remus was treating Remus. He brought his hands up to wipe the tears away from his face as he sat down on his bed, resting his shoulder on his knees as he began to properly cry.

He layed back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. When he fell asleep, he wasn’t aware. He wasn’t aware he had even fallen asleep until he felt a small hand shaking his knee.

“Wemus. Wemus, wake up.” Julian whispered. “I have a pwesent for you.” Remus lifted his head slightly to find his younger brother standing at the edge of his bed next to his knees. He sat up as Julian climbed up onto the bed next to him, careful not to crumple the, admittedly poorly wrapped, present he was holding.

Julian held it out to him with all the pride in the world. “Happy Birthday!” the five year old giggled.

“Thanks Jules.” Remus smiled slightly as he took the present. He undid the wrapping, which was actually a tea towel, and placed it behind him, wincing slightly as his shoulder caught. He breathed through the pain, not wanting to make his younger brother aware of it.

Slightly confused, he looked over to Julian as he held a piece of card.

“You have to turn it around!” Julian giggled, jumping up and down on his knees. Remus laughed and turned the card over, revealing a drawing. Julian almost jumped on Remus’s lap as he started pointing to the drawing.

“Look! That’s you, in red and gold because those are your favourite colours,” he pointed to the older figure in the picture, and then moved to point at the smaller figure, “and that’s me!” Julian smiled up at his big brother, who was pretty sure he could feel tears pooling in his eyes once again, but for the first time since his injury, the tears were derived from happiness.

Remus wasn’t aware, however, of his father standing at the door with his phone in his hand, taking a picture of the moment.

10th March 2019

If there was one thing Remus hated more than paperwork, it was paperwork on his birthday. He wanted nothing more than to leave work and curl up on the sofa with a takeaway pizza from Sid’s and a big mug of hot chocolate. He was just finishing up, eager to get going when there was a knock on the door. Remus sighed as he threw his head back. He straightened himself back up as he called the person in.

His breath hitched in his throat as Sirius walked into his office, a bag slung over his shoulder and his hat on his head, allowing his playoff hair to perfectly curl around his ears..

“Hey Cap, what can I do for you?” Remus questioned, attempting to subtly quiet his heartbeat that he was sure the entire stadium could hear.

Sirius shuffled on the spot.

“I uh- my- uhm- my knee is still acting up. Could you have a look at it quickly?” Sirius said quickly. There was nothing wrong with his knee. What was wrong with him was the fact he talked himself into walking into the PT office with the knowledge he was essentially the epitome of perfect health.

Remus swallowed hard.

“Yeah, sure, hop up on the bed and pull your joggers up,” Remus instructed, blissfully unaware of how nervous Sirius was on the inside. It was something Remus always envied about the Captain; his ability to hide his nerves.

Sirius did as instructed. A part of him hoped that he hadn’t actually jinxed himself and there was something wrong with his knee.

Remus looked over it and talked him through a few stretches to ensure his knee was functioning as it should and gave him the all clear.

“It looks all good to me, it could just be your body telling you to slow down a little,” Remus started. Sirius looked up at him as though he had just thrown a million different profanities at his face. “Don’t give me that look, I know it’s playoff season. Just don’t hurt yourself, please, I can’t deal with another Captain injury on my hands.”

“Hey, as long as the Snakes stay in their lane you won’t see much more of me, Fruit Loop,” Sirius retorted. However, part of him hoped he could think up another excuse to come and see the PT.

Remus laughed, thinking the same thing, completely unaware of their shared thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” Remus turned his back to Sirius and started compiling the paperwork together so that he could begin to go home.

“I’ll catch you later, Loops.” Remus looked over his shoulder to find Sirius waving as he walked out of the room. Remus waved back at him and watched the door close, letting out a breath he was unaware he was holding.

Remus looked back at the bed after he had collected his thoughts together a bit more, and on it sat a little box from ‘Flour on Fifth’. Remus walked over, discarding the pieces of paper he was holding onto his desk, and opened the box. Inside it sat his favourite cupcake and a little card. He pulled the card out and turned it over. The scrawl on the back of it was recognisably Sirius’s.

‘Remus,

Happy Birthday! Thankful for you today and everyday!

All the best, Sirius.

P.S. I tried one of these and I can see why they're your favourite. This one’s on me. Enjoy!’

Remus let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t pinpoint when he made Sirius aware of his favourite cupcake or when he told him when his birthday was. Remus felt his cheeks redden again at the thoughtfulness of the Captain; the heat overpowering the dull ache in his heart hurting with the knowledge he would never be able to voice his feelings.

Remus stood there for a few minutes- it could have been hours, really- with the biggest grin stitched onto his face.

He’d remember this small act of kindness for forever.

#loops angst #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #Remus birthday!#Emma reaches level 20 #go her omg #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Julian🥺#Loops injury #CW injury

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bluecloudious · 4 years ago

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would u ever consider making a tutorial on how you make those cute litol crochet grunts? : o

Oh, hell yea, I figured out a very specific technique on making them!

The tutorial is under the cut!

(It's long and as thorough as I could make it.)

Materials you'll need:

Yarn (color of your choice, but more than one ball preferably JIC) (Try to use the most regular yarn you find at craft stores, that doesn't make you itch. Anything thicker or thinner usually makes the process a bit more complicated. Not impossible, it's just a bit of extra work)

Stuffing

Crochet needle (depending on the thiccness of your yarn)

Sewing needle (With a beeg hole so you can stick yarn through there comfortably) (Mine also has a dull end, which I honestly recommend as it keeps away from injury, yet still works like a charm.)

For added details you may use pipe cleaners, buttons or whatever else you see fit. Your plushie after all.

Keep in mind that I am not a professional. I don't even know what the different loops are actually officially called, especially not in English.

Here's a lil image of what I will call the different loops in this tutorial, though:

Also here's how to do a long (the green is yarn, that isn't already part of any loops):

A regular/single is this but skipping over steps 1 and 2.

A double is two singles in one premade loop.

A negative is two premade loops pulled together with one single.

Also, important side note, leave there a little ending of yarn every time you start or finish a section! It stops your entire plushie from falling apart and in certain parts can be later used to sow parts of it together, if left long enough! And don't worry about the little useless seeming danglies, you can just pull them into the plushie and noone'll know they're even there, yet your plushie stays perfectly in shape :))

Also, don't follow along before reading all of it first! I add crucial details after I first mention doing something! Read the whole thing first and then, if you want to, do according to the proper instructions!

Now, knowing the terms and conditions, on with the tutorial:

So, first things first, the Ball-Head.

It depends on how big ya wanna make the grunt, but for the ones I've already made...

You make the first loop and then you go back into it and create eight (8) regulars, forming a nice compact circle.

The next row continues from the first single of these eight loops. This row will be a double over single aka double, single, double, single, and so on.

Repeat this process about three or four times until your thing (head-ball) starts to curve a bit.

Now, you shall do three rows of regulars. (The middle row is allowed to be with longs, if you think that'll shape the head properly to what you need :>)

After these rows, you start doing rows of negative over regular aka same as double over regular, but with the opposite goal- decreasing the amount of loops rather than multiplying them.

Repeat this process until you have a hole that you can fit three or so fingers in. Stuff the head through the hole to your liking and squeeze the head to see how soft it is. (I usually make them soft enough to kinda squish but firm enough not to lose their form.)

After stuffing, finish the head by continuing the rows you were already doing.

You can do the cross now, if you so desire, but frankly I'm gonna show how to do it later, cause it's usually the last thing I do. Holding onto the body and then sewing the head is frankly easier than holding that ball and having your fingers dangerously close to the needle.

Onto the next body part!

The Torso!

When I originally wanted to make the grunt, I had a whole other plan of attack planned, but I accidentally came across a way easier method, so...

First thing you're gonna wanna do is a chain. How long this chain'll be is up to you, cause this is how long the body'll be + you gotta make two rows extra (will explain why in a bit).

After the chain is done, do not connect it with anything! Start doing back and forth rows of singles instead! Do as many as you think you'll grunt will be thick!

(Touch the last and first row you've done together every so often to see how thicc the lad is so far. You gotta account for stuffing a bit, but only in the mid-section really. The first and last row will be the most resistant to stretching.)

Once you think you're done, leave a long ending of wool past your last loop before cutting. You shall be using this to sew the body together.

Now you just stitch from the top to the bottom, leaving two round holes in said top and bottom, but don't cut the thread yet!

Now, sew the hole that you reached while stitching shut. Closer and more intricate stitches are recommended.

Once that's done, end + hide that end of the thread and start stuffing the body. (Add however much stuffing you want, as long as you think the plushie will look right afterwards.)

Now, grab your sewing needle and a cut thread of yarn, cause you're stitching this bad boy to the head now!

How'll you know you sewed it in the right place to make the plushie look right? Trial and error, I'm sorry to say. I make all of my plushies ever so slightly tilted cause I have barely any sense of centralization!

(Main tip I can give is that you can check the rows on the head to make sure you're centring it properly, as I know nothing else that can accurately tell you that.)

Now onto the next two body parts!

The Feeties!

Despite me drawing only one of them, you will probably be making two, so beware.

Ball-technique as used for head? NO, WRONG! We'll be using the same technique as we did for the body instead!

Start with a chain. Now, keep in mind, this'll be the length of the foot. Not width, lenght. All the way around.

The width will be how many rows you make this time + extra rows for both sides.

Leave yarn to sew with once you're done, but remember- This time you'll sew all the holes shut, so make sure you stuff the foot in between your sewing.

Once that's done, where exactly will you attach the legs?

Well, that entirely depends:

Do you want your grunt to sit?

Attach the legs to the corners that your sewing left.

(Make sure you don't leave them too dangly though. That could make them come off easier.)

Do you want them to stand?

Attach the legs to where you made your seam, a little bit a part from one another.

(You might wanna make sure you left the legs either flatter or just bigger, cause otherwise your grunt'll always need a backrest or some other type of support to stand up.)

Now, finally the last detail I'll be talking about...

The Cross!

This'll just be made by stitching, so get your needle ready again.

First, finding where the centre of the face'll be.

I mean... I already told you I suck at centring shit. If your feeties are in place, then they'll be your safest bet to tell where the face should be, probably. (If, for some reason, you don't have your feet in place, cause you wanted to place the feet according to the cross instead, then you're fresh outta luck from me, friend.)

I usually start from the bottom, as I can leave a little space from the body, and have the grunt's face be in proper place that way.

Now, sew in the way shown in this image:

(The dotted line shows the yarn that's inside the plush/not visible. It's not supposed to connect yet, hold on.)

Now, once you reach where you think the top of the cross is, come back down, but the opposite way, making a little ××××× formation.

Once your back in the bottom, you can grab your crochet needle again and pull that thread through all those exes!

Like this:

If it doesn't look proper, then do a loop around the last X and go back down. That oughta leave you with a proper line right across this grunt's face.

The crossing line do the same way, just on the opposite axis.

Now just hide the thread, and voila! By all means, the base of your grunt is now done!

Hope this was helpful or at least just interesting to read through :))

Edit: Also, forgot to mention that if you want to speed up the body-making process, then you can use longs :))

#madness combat #madness combat grunt #crochet #tutorial #info #if I left anything unclear or ya want extra info then I am happy to help :))

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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2 bathtub and 9 folklore, sternclay, sfw, please!

Here you go! Barclay's design is based on a blue catfish.

He wanted the bigfoot assignment. Days spent tramping through the chilly forests of the pacific northwest instead of sweating off a pound a day in Louisiana swamps. But no, he’s assigned to the Loup Garou case until further notice, because one mammalian cryptid expert is as good as another.

It’s not like he’s devoted most of his career to bigfoot or anything.

Contrary to popular belief, FBI agents do not spend all their time in suits. As much as Stern aims to emulate Special Agent Dale Cooper, slacks and a suit jacket are not suitable for tromping through the mud and staving off the humidity. Between his outdoor wear and the tranquilizer rifle over his shoulder, he looks like he could be in some shitty seventies Sasquatch hunting movie.

His best lead is the strange, black fur he found near the location of the most recent sighting, and the ranger in the nearby national park assured him it didn’t come from any common wildlife. So it could be a human cursed to transform into a wolf every night. Or it could just be someone’s dog.

Dusk has come and gone before he turns back towards his cabin, rented for it’s proximity to the supposedly-Loup-Garou-harboring swamp and the reviews citing good water pressure and a large tub. Nothing like a nice bath or cold shower to wash off the heat and grime of the day.

A crack in the trees to his right. There’s something moving, paralleling him. He stops, nerves taught as a drawn bow.

The growl starts low, draws his eyes to a dark-furred shape creeping from the brush. It’s definitely canine, definitely bigger than him, and definitely sees him as dinner. Stern holds his ground, raises the rifle, not willing to fire until he’s certain this is his quarry. All doubts evaporate when it stands on its hind legs and howls. Human eyes lock onto him as the monster stalks forward.

Stern fires, hitting the werewolf in the shoulder. It doesn’t so much as stumble.

“Shit” He loads another dart, fires, and gets the exact same result. There’s no chance of outrunning it, and while he has his handgun he doesn’t want to resort to that unless he absolutely has to.

The creature lunges and Stern dodges, slipping into the water as a result. It swipes a claw out, which he keeps from his face by blocking it with the body of the rifle. His brief hope that the creature can’t swim is quashed when it prowls into the water after him. Something huge swim past his legs and he winces; if he dies by alligator instead of werewolf he’ll never hear the end of it.

As the monster surges forward, something huge bursts from the water between them, knocking Stern off balance in the process. His head goes under and when he scrambles up, spluttering, the werewolf is limping as fast as it can into the undergrowth. And floating face-down in front of him is a man, four jagged rips in his side tinting the water around them a sickly red.

“Sir?” Stern rolls the man over and, in spite of all his training, exclaims, “holy shit.”

The man doesn’t have legs. His hips give way to a smooth, grey-blue tail that twitches weakly when Stern touches him. The wound is visible here too, marring tail and torso alike. It doesn’t take a genius to put together what happened. Or that the Loup Garou won’t make it far with the bite the merman delivered. He could catch it. But he doubts the mer in front of him will survive without medical attention.

He loops his arms under a limp body and makes a mental note to never, ever tell Agent Hayes about this.

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

Barclays’ whole side is burning.

“Ow, Aubrey, easy with the healing.” He groans, rolling away from the feeling and immediately bonking his head on something cold and solid. Cracking an eye open reveals a white tub and wooden wall. Cautiously, he glances at his stomach and side and finds it bandaged. When he manages another half-turn, he finds a dark-wood bathroom with a human slumped against the wall. It’s the one he saved, though he’s down to a thin white shirt and what he knows to be boxers. For all the blood there must have been, the room and tub are spotless.

He raises up, hoping for a better look at a handsome face, only to catch his side on the edge of the tub.

“OWfuck!”

The man jolts awake, is by Barclay’s side in an instant, “Thank the lord, I was worried you’d lost too much blood to pull through.” He runs a hand through his black hair, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was trying to monitor you for signs I’d have to give up and call the paramedics. I, um, assumed you didn’t want to just be dragged into a human hospital.”

“Yeah, no, not my fave.” His tail flutters awkwardly, “uh, why did you bring me here, then?”

“Because I wasn’t going to leave you to bleed out in a swamp. I learned field medicine for a reason; it’s nice to use it on someone other than myself. Or, well, not nice, but, um-”

“No, I get it. It’s just that, uh, I have lots of friends in the swamp. One of them probably woulda found me. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble or put me in a tub.”

“Oh.” The human sags a little, his confident smile faltering a moment.

“I mean, I really appreciate it. And it looks like you’re good at, uh, stitches and stuff.” He rubs his arms, “uh, sorry. I’m not used to waking up in unfamiliar guys bathtubs.”

“I’m not in the habit of keeping mermen in my tub so, um, I guess we’re even?” His smile is a little shyer, blue eyes reminding Barclay of a spring sky.

The mer holds out the hand on his uninjured side, “I’m Barclay.”

“Joseph” The man shakes it, “it’s nice to meet you. Is, um, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Is the water alright? I can go get some from the swamp if that would be better.”

“As long as I don’t dry out I’ll be fine. Uh, do you have any food?”

“Some groceries, but if you want something specific I can run into town.”

Barclay weighs his hunger and wooziness against the desire not to reveal too much, and his stomach emerges triumphant, “Does this place have a take-out menu for the South Bank Cafe?”

“I...think so? Let me look” The human stands, walking out into another room on long legs that Barclay wants to loop around his waist, continues speaking as paper rustles, “I didn't know merpeople used take-out.”

“Uh, when they live close to humans they do. As long as some of those humans are willing to pick it up.”

Joseph returns, familiar pink menu in one hand and phone in the other, “What would you like?”

“Three fried oyster po’boys please.”

The human orders four of the sandwiches and some coconut cream pie on Barclay’s suggestion leaves the mer to nap while he goes to retrieve it. Charmingly, he puts all the food onto plates and pours the bottled sweet tea into glasses before arranging it on the bathroom floor.

“Cheers.” Joseph raises his glass. Barclay hesitates, trying to remember which human ritual this is, then clinks his own against it.

They barely talk until the plates are clean and Joseph is luxuriating in a second slice of pie, at which point the human explains what the fuck he was doing looking for a rougarou anyway. Barclay has given up on his desire to study the humans face as he eats and is laying on his back, eyes shut, feeling full and content in spite of the nagging pain in his side. Joseph reluctantly gave him painkillers, explaining he was worried about how human medicine would interact with mer biology. So far, all it’s done is made him drowsy.

“Barclay? Why did you get between me and the Loup Garou?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get killed. Like, for starters, I don’t want people to get hurt, and rougarous are nasty fuckers. But also when someone dies in the swamps, a lot of people blame mers for it. So it’s better if we keep humans from getting eaten on our turf.” He feels around for his tea, finds it when Joseph sets cool glass in his hand. His whole body is heavy.

A soft laugh, “Drugs kicking in?”

“Uh huh.”

A scuff as Joseph stands, “I’ll leave you to get some rest. I’m just in the next room, if you need me.” Two steps, then a pause, “actually, let me drain the tub some and put fresh water in.”

Barclay’s pretty sure he says thank you before he falls asleep.

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

Joseph wakes up at the cursing coming through the walls. Rounding the corner into the bathroom, he finds Barclay clutching his upper tail with one hand, gritting his teeth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cramp, really fucking bad one, tends to happen when I get injured and can’t swim. Fuck me if I know why.”

“Here” he kneels next to the tub, water splashing onto his white tank top, “let me try rubbing it out. Is this the spot?”

“YeahOWoh, ohhhfuck” Barclay whimpers, “that’s helping, please keep going.”

He moves his fingers down the smooth skin, muscles spasming under his hands before they surrender to relaxation. Gradually Barclay un-tenses, his whimpers giving way to sighs, and Joseph isn’t really tending to his charlie horse anymore; he’s just petting his tail.

“Thanks, Jo-”

A scratch outside freezes them both. Joseph holds up his hand, signalling for Barclay to stay quiet. It’s the window. Something is opening the window. Worse, a count of five later, the cabin groans as something heavy reaches the floor.

His gun is in the other room, because he’s not about to sleep with it on his person. To get to it, he’ll have to put himself right in the path of the intruder dragging themselves across the floor.

The door creaks open, revealing red eyes in the darkness of the cabin.

“Shit.” He starts to stand, keeping himself between the threat and Barclay.

“There you are. Goodness, we were all worried sick.”

Joseph stays still, but Barclay tries to sit up, “Indrid!”

Their visitor slithers into the room, his upper body human but his tail reminding Stern of a Cottonmouth, “We’ve been looking for you all day; Dani found blood at your watch site but not you. I even swam to the park to ask Duck if he’d seen you.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure that was your only reason.”

“Hush.” He turns his alarming gaze on Joseph, “I saw you ending up with this human in many timelines, but I put off following them for fear of being seen. But he’s taking this rather well.”

“I’m an FBI agent with the UP. Handling strange phenomena with grace is basically my job.”

“Intriguing.” Indrid cocks his head, then his face goes blank for a moment. When life returns to it, he coils his tail to settle next to Barclay, “it seems the most positive timelines occur if you continue your convalescence here. In that case, I’ll leave you be and let the others know you’re alright. I’ll stop by again in a few days. And yes, Joseph, since you’re about to ask, I will knock this time.”

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

Barclay spends most of the next three days eating and sleeping, the combination of pain and painkillers making him sluggish. Joseph is better company than he ever could have hoped for, changing his bandages and sharing meals while regaling him with stories of the world beyond the swamps.

The human rises early, so he’s usually gone to work by the time Barclay wakes up. He’s feeling better this morning, so his internal clock wakes him just as the sound of water in the sink fills the room.

Joseph is bent over, naked from the waist up and using a coffee mug to dump water onto his hair. Beside him is a tube labeled, “compact body wipes.”

“Uh, what are you doing?”

The human starts, but then replies, “getting ready for the day. I have to go into town to meet with the sheriff about this case.”

“Can’t you just use the tub? I can make room, it’s big enough for both of us.”

Joseph’s whole torso is going pink, “I, um, assumed you didn’t want me randomly turning up in your space naked.”

He shrugs, “I’m naked right now.”

“Right.” Joseph gingerly sets the mug down, “right. I guess you are. Um. I don’t mean to be rude, since this is mainly a difference in mer and human culture, but would you be willing to close your eyes while I shower?”

Barclay nods, scoots to the far end of the tub while Joseph pulls the plug to keep the bath from overflowing. Then he shuts his eyes, focuses on the splashes up his legs, the change in the tempo of the falling water that signals it hitting a human body. Joseph showers efficiently, turns the steam mint scented with one of the bottles he keeps in the corner of the tub. Then he’s telling Barclay to open his eyes, towel wrapped around his waist and smile on his face.

“I feel much better.”

Barclay doesn’t bother to hide his staring, “Me too.”

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

Joseph hasn’t liked bathtime this much since his uncle gave him that rubber Nessie bath toy when he was five. Barclay is a much more enjoyable companion, even with his eyes closed. Joseph's also taken to wearing swim trunks and just sitting with him in the tub under the pretense of cooling off from the heat.

It’s not like his morning or evening rinse off lacks competition; Barclay is well enough that, through the use of a wheelbarrow, he can take trips to the back porch of the cabin to swim. His strength has weakened as a result of bedrest, but he’s improving quickly, and Joseph will often end up in the water with him to help him with particular stretches.

The first time another mer pops out of the water, he jumps with a combination of joy and alarm. Courtesy of Indrid, all the merfolk in the area know Joseph is trustworthy, which means he has even more people to question for his research. This is especially good because it means he and Barclay can talk about things other than work when they’re together. Barclay’s friends also offer information about the Loup Garou. So much, in fact, that Joseph determines there is something much larger than a single monster at play and is able to convince Hayes to let him continue the investigation indefinitely until he finds his answers.

When he gets the okay from his boss, he and Barclay celebrate with a massive dinner on the deck. As the mer hauls himself up out of the water after his final dip he slips, splashing sideways into a muddy patch. By the time Joseph gets them both inside, their skin and clothes are a mess.

“Here, let me rinse us off before I fill the tub for you.” Joseph turns on the shower, awkwardly straddling Barclay’s tail as he reaches to detach the head. He knows the mer is staring at him, his usually gentle gaze gaining an edge the way it always does when Joseph is down to his underwear or swim trunks. It doesn’t bother him; it seems a fair trade off for all the times he’s admired Barclays back and tail as he swam.

He turns, intending to hand the showerhead to the mer, only to lose his footing to a splotch of mud. It’s a graceless landing on his knees and Barclays’s tail, narrowly missing the fresh scar.

“Shit, that was close.”

“No kidding.” Barclay picks up the showerhead, turning it to a softer setting and rinsing off his tail. A teasing edge enters his rumble, “careful, might think you’re looking for ways to keep me here forever.”

“I guarantee none of them involve hurting you” he shuts his eyes as he lets the mer clean his neck. Then snaps them open when Barclay chuckles.

“That mean you have thought of some.”

“Yes. Not, um, not that I’d ever act on them. As much as I love your company, I don’t want you stuck in my tub forever.”

“You just want me to visit every day?”

“Um-”

“Or take you swimming in the evenings?”

“I-”

“Or let me finally watch you shower with my eyes open?” He flicks his tail playfully.

“I’ll admit all those crossed...my...mind.” Time turns to ice as Barclay leads forward, nuzzling his nose before bringing their lips together.

“Crossed mine too. I was so happy when you said you were staying.” He strokes Joseph’s cheek, “there’s so many fucking things I wanna do with you now that I’m getting better.”

“How many of them involve this tub?” Joseph kisses a teasing line across his cheek.

An adoring growl, “Plenty, babe.”

#sternclay #agent stern/Barclay #taz amnesty #mermay #mermay fills

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sugarcomatosed · 4 years ago

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On Miyuki Inaba and Macross:

I’ve heard nothing but love for wave 2-10 of destruction; but I’ve realized that the scene loses some of its magic for western audience because they don’t know it’s a shout out.

So today I want to break down for you today the biggest reference in 13 Sentinels you most likely missed out on; Miyuki Inaba, Lynn Minmay and The Super Dimensional Fortess Macross.

Join me under the cut for massive spoilers for Sentinels of course, and a nearly 40 year old anime you’ve never seen.

I think everyone knows Sentinels is chock full of sci-fi shout outs. From War of the Worlds, to Terminator, The Matrix, heck even GroundHog’s day, the list goes on and on. Most western audiences will be able to spot the bulk, so why haven’t you heard of Macross?

Simply put, copyright battles. In 1985, Hamorny Gold stitched together three unrelated animes to create Robotech. One of the anime series involved was Macross and Harmony Gold has kept a tight leash on the copyright preventing the series from ever getting a real proper English release ever since.

...so what is Macross?

Well, in super blunt Wikipedia stolen summaries:

Macross (マクロス, Makurosu, English: /məˈkrɒs/) is a Japanese science fiction mecha anime media franchise/media mix, created by Studio Nue (most prominently mechanical designer Shōji Kawamori) and Artland in 1982. The franchise features a fictional history of Earth and the human race after the year 1999, as well as the history of humanoid civilization in the Milky Way. It consists of four TV series, four movies, six OVAs, one light novel, and five manga series, all sponsored by Big West Advertising, in addition to 40 video games set in the Macross universe, 2 crossover games, and a wide variety of physical merchandise.

If you asked me to boil the series down to it’s three staples I’d pick the following three elements. Big robot fights, love triangles and music, usually all interplaying together to make some of the most exciting fight scenes in anime.

The series is going strong in Japan ever since its 1982 release, with the most recent series Macross Delta’s newest film “Absolute Live!!!!!!” getting its first teaser trailer days before I sat down to write this post. It’s insanely big in Japan and you’ve probably seen a half dozen Macross references if you’ve watched a sci-fi anime before. Most likely the signature missile blast.

Sentinels pulls specifically from the 1984 film: the Super Dimensional Fortress Macross: Do You Remember Love? The story is largely a shortened version of the first tv series which aired in 82 and is considered in canon a film retelling of the events.

The film focuses on a colony ship adrift through space suddenly being attacked by an alien race called the Zentardi, it’s both a war film and a very quiet drama all tangled up in the three central characters of Hikaru Ichijo, the young pilot, Misa Hayase, one of the bridge officers and then Miss Macross herself; Lynn Minmay. An idol singer aborad the ship who has during its journey become a huge celebrity after starting as a simple waitress at her family’s restaurant.

Minmay is considered something of the face of the series and while other characters may never come up again in its extended universe, the story of Lynn Minmay is akin to legend in later entries in the seires.

When mankind was faced with these invaders, there was one simple thing that managed to send the enemy into disarray, the music of Lynn Minmay shocked the Zentardi who had no concept of culture and music. They end up capturing her and the other two leads during the course of the film and while the others manage to escape; Minmay is trapped behind with the Zentardi.

They eventually ask her to look and exam a relic they’ve kept on board their ship, and Minmay discovers it’s of all things, a song.

So, if isn’t obvious enough by this description alone, Miyuki is modeled after Minmay. It’s not a 1 to 1, but the curls in her hair and the style of her outfit make it even more obvious.

They have a lot of the same general vibes too, Minmay over the course of the film becomes a tragic melancholic figure and a symbol of the war effort against her will. Her sweet dreamy smile and glittering energy become subdued as she faces set back over setback. She remains strong up until a point behind her facade of confidence until she discovers Hikaru now has feelings for Misa. Culminating in the finale of the film where a despair filled Minmay refuses to sing because it all seems pointless.

Miyuki foils this of course with her journey from the plucky Tomi Kisaragi of a prior loop to a ghost in the machine; a somber beautiful figure but a changed person. She only has this role she’s taken on in the end. All she can do to impact the out come of this fight is sing and hope Shu hears her.

In the finale, Minmay is given a wake up call and asked by Hikaru to sing her song and try to save the lives of everyone left aboard the macross. Roused from her despair, Minmay agrees and the final battle is set to the tunes of the song the Zentardi had shown her, now with lyrics Misa had translated. At long last reaching them and halting the conflict.

This is of course, what 2-10 is a direct reference too. Miyuki sings Seaside Vacation until she can’t be heard any longer.

Even if you’ve never seen the film, the clip alone is a treat in itself. It’s a lovely piece of animation

But Macross’s influences go deeper than just Miyuki and the original Macross. In Macross Plus, the primary idol is the artificial intelligence Sharon Apple. She is also it’s major villian as her AI becomes destabilized during the course of the film.

With the illegal modifications installed in Sharon takes control of the capital of Earth with her music and nearly destroys the city. Miyuki’s character is all Minmay, but her role in the story is a heroic Sharon Apple.

And outside of Miyuki, Macross references and influences can be spotted in Tomi’s story in which she and Nenji are trapped in 2025 and he begins to fall for her mirrors the arc that occurs between Hikaru and Misa after they escape the clutches of the Zentardi. The pair find themselves trapped on a mysterious planet, which turns out to be Earth rampaged by the Zentardi. Misa and Hikaru’s hostility towards each other fades as they try to come to grips with this truth. They spend a long time alone in the ruins and eventually fall in love before eventually being saved by the Macross. Which, is roughly what occurs in Tomi’s story between her and Nenji.

Shu’s story as well, with the minor focus on his confusion of his feelings towards Tomi and Yuki are also arguably a tongue in cheek reference towards the series many Love triangles, which aren’t always true triangles but always remain a corner stone of the series.

Does Shu actually have feelings towards Tomi? No but she’s showing up everywhere and it’s left him a little out of sorts and plays into the misinformation sentinels feeds you, leading you to think there’s a triangle of some sorts:

Maybe they’re stretches, but considering it was stated in an interview the film was a huge inspiration for the game, I wouldn’t be shocked. I found the interview on twitter back in November but can’t track it down now and I’m v. sad

There’s also the matter of the Protoculture.

The Macross is a massive colony ship, sent out into space with the goal of returning to earth after a long space voyage to insure humanity’s survival, much like the probes the 2188 colony sent out. Misa and Hikaru return to find this was the only thing that’s had prevented humanity from being wiped by the Zentardi.

While on earth, Misa and Hikaru manages to discover a set of ruins of a highly advanced civilization that had created both humanity and the Zentardi. The protoculture.

The logs they manage to Find reveal that their inventions grew too great and they have all but disappeared from the universe, but humanity in the end are aliens as well. The invading Zentardi were just tools used by the Protoculture to wage war on itself and contributed to the death of their people.

The song Minmay sings is a relic of the Protoculture, an ancient highly advanced civilization from thousands of years ago.

Now Hm. Why does that sound familiar? What was it Fluffy said about 2188 and the Deimos code....

They’re obviously not 1-1 references, but Sentinels was such a labor of love that pulled from so many genres it’s nice to see such an iconic series get a well thought out reference.

I hope this was something of a fun read and gives you a better love of Miyuki and 2-10.

I don’t know if I’d recommend getting into Macross if you liked Sentinels, but if you’re interested send me an ask and I could probably give you a helpful breakdown. I love both series so much and consider them my top two sci-fi!

#macross #13 sentinels: aegis rim #miyuki inaba #lynn minmay #sugar speaks #i almost always listen to macross tunes while working on 13sar fics and am really passionate about both series and ready to shill lmao #i wanted more pictures and tumblr said....no #sugar’s 13 sar collection

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writesowhatnext · 5 years ago

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easier done than said // poe dameron

Summary: Poe does love you - he’s shown that, but can he tell you?

Request: non

A/N: I’ve seen this type of thing around before so I was hoping I could do something cute with it.

Reader: female

Warnings: swearing, injury, hospital

There are many different ways to say I love you without actually saying it: a kiss goodnight; an ‘I hate you’ between laughter; a heartfelt ‘stay safe’. Before Poe said it to you the first time, he’d said it four times in ways you barely understood until much, much later.

The first time Poe had said it, you were sure that he’d been joking; he didn’t really trust you with BB-8, surely.

You stormed towards him, rushing to catch up as he walked towards his x-wing. He was risking his life, again, for the stupidest reason, trying to be the Resistance’s single-handed salvation. You knew that if anyone could do it, it would be Poe, but that didn’t mean you were happy to risk it.

“What the hell are you thinking, Poe?” you hissed, matching his pace. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

His expression was deadpan as you reached the ship, crossing your arms and watching him pick BB-8 up.

“I’m not gonna get myself killed.”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing at the orange and white droid.

“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna look after BB-8 after we fish his little droid body from the wreckage of your x-wing?”

With BB-8 now in place, he turned to face you, placing a gentle hand on your elbow. He stared at you, rubbing his thumb up and down. You were partially taken back but how gentle and sincere he seemed. His eyes were full of emotion, shining in the sunlight.

“First of all,” his voice was soft. “Don’t objectify him.”

You scoffed, shoving his arm off of you as his face broke into a smile. Nerf herder.

“Second, I can trust you to look after him if anything goes wrong, which it won’t.” He began to climb into the ship, shooting you a bright grin.

“Bullshit: you don’t trust anyone to take care of him.”

Poe rocked his head to the side, conceding your point with a shrug. You rolled your eyes, huffing as he continued to prepare himself for the flight.

“You better not get yourself killed today, Dameron. Or this little droid will be an orphan.”

Taking that as a sign of you surrendering, his smile widened. You rolled your eyes, beginning to walk away from him to go monitor the mission with the General. At least there you could keep an eye on him.

“I do trust you!” he yelled from behind you, enjoying the teasing far too much. You didn’t reply, only throwing your hand behind you to send him an obscene hand gesture. You couldn’t help but smile at the loud laughter that followed.

II:

The second time Poe said it had been in thanks to one of the kindest gestures you had ever performed. It was only because of that, you told yourself, that he’d said anything at all.

The night before had been a rough one; you and Poe had spent the night going through battle procedures and ship renovation plans to try and preserve the fleet. Your discussions ran into the early hours of the morning and the next day, he had an early meeting with the General, one you knew he wouldn’t make if you didn’t wake him up. And so, there you stood, at Poe’s door, with a freshly brewed coffee in hand; to make the whole process easier, of course. When he opened the door, he looked like death, and you couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t say anything, just send you an appreciative glance, took the coffee and retreated back into his room like some caffeine-addicted Gollum. You followed him in, smiling as he sat on his bed, smelling the coffee.

“You brought me coffee.”

“I brought you coffee.”

He stared at you for a moment before nodding.

“You know what? We should get married - I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, it’s the perfect solution.”

You raised your eyebrow, sitting down leisurely in the chair opposite him.

“I can understand why you want to marry me but I don’t see what I’m getting out of the whole deal.”

His eyes left his coffee for you for the second time that morning. This time, his gaze held absolutely no emotion, something he’d no doubt practised. After a moment, he pursed his lips and pointed at you.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Oh really?” you asked as he drank some coffee, still nodding.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that for the sanctity of our future marriage-”

“How generous of you.”

“And for the sake of our poor, unborn, future children.”

“We’re having kids now?” you asked, watching him finish off his coffee and throw the empty cup into the bin. He frowned at you.

“Of course, we are.” He jutted his hip out, resting his hand on it. “It would be a crime not to pass these genes on.”

You snorted a laugh, pushing on your knees to stand up. You looked at the clock on his wall and smirked.

“Hopefully they don’t inherit your punctuality.”

He followed your gaze, swearing under his breath. As he began to whip his shirt off, changing the clothes he’d slept in from the day before, you took your cue to leave. Before the door shut behind you, his voice made you chuckle.

“That’s why they have you, Darling.”

III:

The third time Poe said it, he hadn’t meant for you to hear it, really. He thought you were unconscious – that’s what the Chief Medical Officer had told him anyway.

“Y/N, please,” he said gently, holding your hand tightly between both of his. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear that he’d been crying; his voice was croaky and sore. “I really need you to pull through this. I really need this.”

You’d been on a mission when a First Order glider had followed you close to the base. Desperate to not give away the location of the resistance, you’d engaged in a one-on-one shooting match with the other ship. Whilst they didn’t make the surface, you certainly did. Your ship has sustained a lot of damage and you’d crashed to the ground, only narrowly missing the Falcon. Poe had pulled you from the wreckage and all but dragged you to the infirmary.

And that’s where he’d stayed. For three days.

“You always say I’m the reckless one and then you go on this one recon mission and here you are and-“ he clenched his jaw. “Sweetheart, I just need you to wake up.”

He had dark stubble on his cheeks and heavy bags under his eyes and he knew if you could see him, you’d chew him out. But you weren’t there and that was entirely the problem.

“Can you just wake up to spite me, please?”

He lifted your hand to his lips, his other hand running over the stitches on your forehead. He hated to see the scrapes on your skin, hated that he couldn’t protect you. The General had been by a few times trying to convince Poe to get some rest, but he never would. His lack of sleep was getting to him, though.

Somewhere around the seventieth hour he spent sat next to you, he fell asleep on your bed, arms crossed and head resting on them. He needed the sleep so badly he almost didn’t feel your hand in his unruly hair. He thought he’d imagined it at first and when he lifted his face, he thought he dreamt your open eyes and small smile. He couldn’t even speak as you pulled at one of his curls. He just watched with wide eyes as the corner of your mouth twitched and your hand dragged down his face to cup his jaw.

“Someone’s prickly.”

Tears filled Poe’s eyes as he licked at his lip, top lip folding down. His hand circled your wrist, rubbing up and down with his thumb. He nodded, tilting his head to the side.

“Well,” his voice was gravelly. “It’s a new look I’m trying.”

IV:

The fourth time, you were almost sure Poe had meant it.

“How many galaxies do you think there are out there?” he asked, staring up at the sky as you lay shoulder to shoulder.

“At least twelve.”

He nodded, enjoying the mock seriousness of your teasing.

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I bet.”

“I bet you can’t name them.”

“I also bet I can’t name them.”

Poe snorted, nodding.

You were both lying on the damp grass of D’Qar with your shoulders touching and the back of your hands pressed together. His other hand was tucked underneath his head.

“I’m gonna go to all of them.” Poe said, seriously.

“All twelve?”

“All twelve.” He hummed. “I wanna see all of it; everything the universe has to offer.”

“You’re not gonna get lonely?”

“Who says I’ll be exploring the universe by myself?”

“Anyone that’s ever spent any time with you.”

He turned to face you then, resting the side of his head on the palm of his hand. You copied him, feeling the grass press against your cheek. Your noses were centimetres apart.

“I’m hurt.”

“Aw, did that hurt your feelings?”

“I’m deeply, deeply hurt. Everyone loves spending time with me. You’re just jealous.”

“Only because you’re so modest.” He exhaled out of his nose and turned back to look at the sky. You trailed your eyes down his side-profile, biting your lip before looking at the stars again. “I’m sure Finn would go with you – you’re basically married anyway.”

He hummed again before making a noise of protest.

“Not Finn.”

“BB-8 is a given.”

“And you, I hope?”

You frowned, turning to look at him again. He must’ve felt his eyes on you, but he just carried on looking at the empty expanse of sky above.

“You want me to explore all twelve galaxies with you?”

“I know you think there are twelve, and you think you’re always right, but I’m not so sure.”

You didn’t ignore that he avoided the question. You dropped it anyway, though, and brought your attention back to the stars.

“What? You think there’s thirteen?”

He hummed again and you felt his little finger touch yours softly.

“I don’t pretend to know the secrets of the universe.”

You lifted your little finger and he looped his around it. And so, technically, you were holding hands.

“You didn’t guess because you knew you’d be wrong.”

“I’ve never been wrong in my life.”

“What about when you bet you could eat more pudding than Chewie?”

“That-“

“I recall you spent three months emptying the squadron toilets for that.”

He pursed his lips, shifting his jaw from side to side.

“What? The great Poe Dameron has nothing to say?”

“No.” he said stubbornly. “I just know how much you like to be right; I’m doing you a favour.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re obnoxious.”

And whilst you argued until the sun rose, your little fingers still clung to each other.

When Poe actually said it, neither of you had expected it.

“Why did you do that?” Poe yelled as you lifted the cover of your x-wing. You groaned, standing up as technicians swarmed the ship, putting out the fires and getting ready to fix it.

“Poe-“

“No! I’m the one talking right now.”

You sighed, jumping down from the cockpit, brushing your hands on your knees.

“Did you think at all before you did that?” he pinched the bridge of his nose with a hand on his hip. “Because it doesn’t look like you considered it at all! You just flew in there and what? Started shooting?”

“Oh, come on-“

“I’m not finished-“

“I don’t care; you’re being unfair.”

“What? That’s not the point!”

“The point is that you do reckless shit all the time and suddenly if I do something necessary-“

“Necessary? You could’ve been killed.”

“And that’s the risk we take, Poe, you know that. All of the crew-“

“You’re not like the others!”

“I fucking knew it!” you erupted, poking at his chest. “I knew you treated me differently to the others: less hours, less dangerous missions. What are you playing at, Poe? Am I not good enough to be part of your squadron? Why won’t you treat me like-“

“Because I’m not in love with the others!”

You shut your mouth quickly, your retort locked in your throat. You leant back, blinking at Poe who seemed just as shocked as you were.

“I love you.” He said, much softer. He swallowed, as if realising what he’d said. He clenched his jaw, hands on his hips as he bent his head downwards. Then, he turned away from you. “I love you, Y/N, I just need you to be safe because I couldn’t- I couldn’t cope if you weren’t.”

The silence between you was louder than anything else in that moment. Poe, with tears in his eyes, nodded, accepting rejection.

“That’s alright.”

He turned around and began to walk away before you caught his arm with your hand. He spun him round to face you.

“Always with the dramatics, Dameron.”

And then you were kissing him. And he couldn’t think of anything but the fact that you were kissing him. And it was everything he never knew he wanted, saying everything he never knew he meant.

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars #Star Wars imagine #imagine #writing

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burnedbyshoto · 6 years ago

Text

Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?”

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years ago

Note

“Hold still.” for Sprace? ♡

I’m going back to my favorite headcanon for Spot . . hope that’s okay anonie! Without future ado, here’s an update on Nurse Spottie and Doc Plums. This part of my Life in the ER Series - you can catch up here. Warnings, blood, stitches, hospital visit, cussing.

March 15, 2020 2:00pm

“You suck, Conlon!” A chart was dropped on the counter as Albert collapsed into a chair, giving the head nurse a look. “Why?”

Looking up from his own chart, Spot raised an eyebrow. “It’s actually Higgins-Conlon and has been for almost two months and what did I do now? If I remember, it’s been only a few days since I switched to days, instead of nights. I couldn’t have gotten into that much trouble since then.”

“You’re giving me all the shit cases today.” Albert shook his head, flipping open a chart. “What did I do to make you angry?”

Spot chuckled, shaking his head. “Fortunately, you haven’t done anything to piss me off . . . it’s just how the cards have fallen today.”

“Boys . . . do we have to argue?” Plums asked, collapsing into a chair with a sigh. She was five months pregnant and already complaining about the extra weight she was carrying. “I’m not in the mood to pull you two apart.”

Spot bit his lip, looking over at his longtime friend. “How you doin’ momma?”

“This child is already causing me fits and they’re not even born yet.” She sighed, rubbing her hand over her expanded belly. “Something else to hold over their head.”

Albert slammed that chart he was looking at closed before looking over at Plums. “You and Jack finding out what you’re having?”

“Jack doesn’t want to but I kinda do.” She shrugged. “It’s a daily conversation in the house . . . so when I know I’ll let you know. But we’re working on the nursery this weekend . . . Jack is going to be painting something-”

She was interrupted by the bay doors being thrown open and a stretcher was being pushed in. Grabbing his stethoscope, Spot hopped to his feet with Plums right behind him. Listening to the paramedics fill them in, they sprung into action, getting the patient to centerstage with several other nurses and physicians behind them.

2:45pm

“How about we go down to the café to get something to eat?” Plums asked, giving him a look, snapping her gloves off her hands, sighing loudly. “I know you haven’t eaten anything since you came on at 5.”

Avoiding her look, Spot shrugged, snapping his gloves off his hands. “I’m off at 5 . . . I’ll be alright.”

“Spot, come on.” She tugged on his arm, her eyes sympathetic. “Just grab a coffee . . . take a few minutes. That was a rough one; you need a break, even for a few minutes.”

Nodding, he allowed her to loop her arm through his arm as they made their way down to the café. The patient that the paramedics had brought in was pronounced dead soon after he arrived in the hospital. They tried resuscitation efforts but there simply wasn’t anything they could do.

Grabbing a coffee and a pastry, Spot quickly paid, going to find a table. Kat joined him shortly with a bowl of mac and cheese and a Coke. Spot raised an eye at the Coke as she grinned. “I have mostly given up coffee so this is my one for the day.”

“Your child is going to be wired with all of the caffeine you consume.” He cracked a grin as she laughed.

Kat’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Jack’s going to have his hands full.”

“Ha that’ll be a sight to see - you sleep deprived and your baby hyper.” Spot chuckled. “Luckily this job has prepared you for sleepless nights.”

She groaned. “Ugh . . . I’m just glad I got switched to days. Nights were killing me. Speaking of days, how’s Racer liking your new schedule?”

“He loves it . . . he’s actually happy that we see each other more now than we did before.” Spot smiled. “It’s an adjustment though; my body is still out of whack with sleeping.”

He watched her take a bit of her mac and cheese before sipping on his coffee. “Agreed . . . that’s the worst part. Luckily, I’m exhausted after my 12 hour shift.”

“Yeah but you have more days off than I do . . . I’m working four 12 hour days with three days off. You’re only working three 12s with four days off.” Spot gave her a look, sipping his coffee.

Shrugging, she took another bite. “Perks of being a PA, I guess.”

He couldn’t say anything because at that moment, Albert came running into the café, scanning the area frantically. “SPOT!”

Spot was already on his feet when Albert slid to a stop at their table. “What’s wrong?”

“Race and Jack just came in.” His eyes were wide as he looked between Spot and Plums.

Spot’s heart fell to his stomach as he glanced at Kat. She gave him a look as they ran out of the café heading towards the emergency room, Albert at their heels. “What happened?”

“Race cracked his chin open.” Albert said, glancing over his shoulder at Plums. “Jack’s fine . . . just brought the idiot in.”

Pushing open the doors to the emergency room, Spot gave Albert a look. “Where are they?”

“Bay 4.” Albert said, walking over to the curtain, before pulling it open revealing Jack in a chair and Race in the bed with a dish towel pressed up to his chin.

“Hi Snookums.” Race grinned, wincing as his lips pulled upward. “How are you?”

Snapping on a pair of gloves, Spot shook his head walking up to examine Race, pulling away the dish towel, whistling at how deep the cut was. “Hi yourself . . . What did you do?”

“He’s an idiot.” Jack sighed, as Plums made her way over to him. “We really should look into wrapping him a bubble wrap bubble anytime he goes out. Hi love.”

She sighed, her gaze landing on Race. “Hi babe. Now tell us, what happened?”

“You know I’ve been having that cold and I took some medicine that made me dizzy and I fell.” Race grimaced. “When I got up, I noticed blood on the floor and realized I had busted open my chin.”

Kat joined Spot next to the bed to look at the wound. “What medicine did you take?”

“Sudafed.” Race looked between the two.

“Tilt your head back a bit.” Kat said, pressing near the wound as Race pulled back and hissed at the pain. “How often are you taking them? What’s the dosage? Have you been staying hydrated?”

Race looked over at Spot with wide eyes at all the medical questions. “Spottie told me to take them. They’re the red ones and I take them every four hours. And I’ve been drinking . . . some.”

“You’re probably dehydrated which caused you to get dizzy and fall.” She gave her brother-in-law a look. “What have you been drinking? Water? Gatorade? Coffee?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Race replied, grinning cheekily at his sister-in-law.

Groaning, she shook her head, pulling her pen light out of her scrubs before flashing it in his eyes, watching his pupils dilate. “Quit being a smartass. Now, what’s the date?”

“March 15, Saturday.” Race grinned.

“When was your wedding?” Kat continued to flash the light in his eyes.

“January 17, 2020.” He moved his eyebrows up and down, looking over at Spot.

Spot snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Behave and just answer her questions.”

“Who’s your favorite sister?” Kat asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Race snorted, immediately after his hand flying to his chin as he whimpered. “You, you . . . can I get some pain meds and stitches?”

“Go ahead, Spot. Clean that out and stitch him up.” Looking at Race, she gave him a look. “You’re lucky . . . I don’t think you have a concussion but let Spot stitch you up.”

She turned and looked at Jack. “Where were you two when he fell?”

“I was at their house . . . we were working on something.” Spot’s head popped up from where he was getting the supplies when he heard Jack’s response.

“What were you two working on?” Spot asked, dropping the supplies on the bed beside Race as he gave his husband a look.

Race looked at him, as he lowered the bed so that Race was lying back. “It’s a surprise . . . don’t worry about it.”

“For me?” Spot asked, flushing out his wound with saline, watching the bloody water flow into the basin he held up to Race’s chin.

Race smirked. “Nope, for Sassie.”

Nodding his head, Spot continued cleaning out the wound. “Enough of your sassiness. Hey Race?”

“Yeah Spottie?”

Spot grinned. “I need you to look over at Kat . . . keep your eyes on her and don’t look at me, okay?”

“You’re going to shoot me up now aren’t you?” Race asked, giving his husband a wide eyed look.

“I’m going to be quick about it but hold Kat’s hand and keep your eyes on her.” Spot gave Kat a look as she grabbed Race’s hand.

As soon as their hands were laced together, Spot quickly numbed his chin, letting the wound become numb before he started the stitches. “Hold still, Racer. I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

Nodding his head, Race gave Spot a look. “Love you Spottie.”

“Love you too Racer. Now hold still.” Spot gave him a look as he started stitching him up.

Fifteen minutes later, he was tying off the last stitch before cutting the thread. Gathering up all of the supplies, he threw them away along with his bloodied gloves before grabbing a new pair. “How do you feel?”

“Super glad I have a nurse and a doctor in the family.” Race grinned, wincing at the pain in his chin. “How long is this going to hurt?”

Spot looked over at Kat who grinned. “You’ll be in pain for the next few days. It’ll be tender but Tylenol should help. Stop taking the Sudafed and drink more than you normally do, avoiding coffee. Gatorade, juice, and water should be fine. Spot, you know what to look for.”

“When can the stitches come out?” Race asked, looking between his husband and sister-in-law.

Spot tilted Race’s head back gently, using gauze and some saline to clean up the excess blood from Race’s chin before dropping a kiss on his cheek. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Yea but I’m tired Spottie.” Race whined. “When are you off work?”

Looking at the clock, he saw that it was 3:45 and sighed. “I’ve got another hour before I’m done.”

Whining, Race groaned. “I want to cuddle.”

“We’re both off at 5 . . . how about you guys hang out here and we’ll take you home after we clock out?” Kat asked, looking between her husband and Race.

They nodded agreeing as Spot and Kat took off their gloves. “Also Race, Jack?”

Jack and Race looked up at her amused tone. She locked eyes with both of them, her pointer finger sticking out. “No more Emergency Room visits . . . this has happened too often now.”

Sighing, they both looked at one another before looking at their spouses. “We can’t promise but we’ll try.”

Spot chuckled at Jack’s response before shaking his head. “If you continue on this trend, I’m all for the suggestion of getting bubbles for you both when you go out of the house.”

They left, closing the curtain around the bay, heading for the desk. Collapsing into a chair, Spot started charting everything that had just happened in the room, sighing loudly. “They’re going to be the death of me.”

“You and me both.” Plums collapsed into a chair beside him, looking over her own chart. “I wish I could drink . . .”

Spot laughed. “I’m sorry. Mocktails not cutting it?”

“No but it’ll be worth it in the end.” She laughed, rubbing her stomach, suddenly grabbing his hand and putting it on the right side. “Your niece or nephew is saying hello.”

Spot grinned, feeling the baby kick just below his hand. “That’s absolutely amazing, Plums.”

“It really is.” She grinned, as he removed his hand, continuing to chart. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Spot looked up at the bay doors opening, but didn’t see anything but a few people walking in. “Well, I’ve got to figure out dinner now so we’ll probably order in and chill. Race is going to be a baby with those stitches the next few days so I’ll have to deal with that.”

“If he gets too bad, we’ll take him.” Kat said, smiling sympathetically. “When do you work next?”

Spot printed off Race’s discharge papers before giving her a look. “Uhhh . . . Monday and Tuesday. I have tomorrow off and Wednesday and Thursday off.”

“Bring him over Monday. I’m off but Jack is working. He can hang out with me and fold baby clothes.” She grinned, eyes dancing with excitement.

Spot laughed. “Will do. I work 7-7 on Monday so he’ll be with you most of the day.”

“That’s fine. By Monday night, he’ll be begging to stay at home or going back to work.” She laughed, being way too excited to hang out with his husband while he worked.

“Part of me is scared by your excitement but part of me is relieved that he’ll be with someone while I’m working.” Spot shrugged, pulling another chart over to review. “Thanks Kat, I appreciate it.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what family does, Spot. I’m sure my husband is going to be a dumbass soon so he’ll need someone to watch him while I work.”

Spot hummed, grinning at her affection for his husband along with her own. They fell into their own charts for a bit before Spot looked over at her. “I’m going to do one more round before shift change. You coming?”

“Nah, pull Rush. He’s taking over for me when I leave.” Plums grinned. “Make sure you stop by Bay 7 and kick them to the curb.”

Spot laughed, saluting her before making his rounds. He quickly filled Rush in on the patients that were currently in the ER before making his way to Race’s bay, throwing open the curtain. “You’re sprung . . . get outta here.”

“I can leave?” Race asked, feet hanging off the side of the bed with a hopeful look on his face.

Spot nodded, holding up a few papers. “Discharge papers are printed and you’re free. I’ve got to clock out so you can head to the desk. Jack, Kat’s just getting her stuff from her locker so she’ll meet you guys up there.”

He walked over to Race, kissing him gently before offering his arm. “Come on hotshot, let’s get out of here.”

Spot walked him to the nurse’s desk where Kat was standing with her coat and bag. “Kat, can you stay here a few minutes while I get my stuff?”

She nodded, looking over at Race. “You’re looking better than you were a few hours ago. How do you feel?”

“Like I could go tap dancing right now.” Race spatted sarcastically, giving his sister-in-law a look. “Tired and sore.”

Nodding, she gave him a once over. “Take it easy these next few days. You’re hanging out with me on Monday and Spot knows what to look for. Love you Race.”

“Love you too Kat. Thank you.” He gave her a gentle hug as Spot returned with his bag and coat.

Hugs were given before the two left heading to their own cars. Helping Race into the SUV, Spot made sure he was okay before going over to the driver’s side, hopping in.

The drive home was silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Pulling into the driveway, Spot could hear Sassie barking, excited that her humans were home. Parking the SUV in the garage, Spot hopped out, helping Race down from the car. “You doing okay?”

Race nodded as they neared the door. Spot opened it, revealing a very excited puppy, barking loudly as Race groaned. Spot maneuvered Race into the house, down the hallway, before depositing him on the couch with a groan. Dropping a kiss on his head, Spot went into their bedroom, quickly changing out of his scrubs before donning a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, grabbing the same for Race. Walking out of the bedroom, his face softened seeing Race and Sassie cuddling together on the couch. “Do you want to get changed?”

Looking over at Spot’s comfiness, Race nodded, making an attempt to stand up from the couch. Spot quickly joined him, steadying him. “Careful Racer.”

Together they got Race changed before collapsing on the couch once more. Race cuddled into Spot’s arms, sighing in contentment. “Thank you Spottie.”

“You’re welcome. Just rest. What do you want for dinner tonight?” Spot asked, running his hand through Race’s hair.

Sighing, Race looked up at Spot. “Something that’s not going to jar my jaw every time I take a bite.”

“So pizza is out of the equation.” Spot said, looking at his husband. “How does noodles or Chinese sound?”

Yawning, Race shrugged. “Either sounds good. Soup might be good.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Spot nodded. “You rest, I’ll figure something out. Racer?”

Peaking open an eye, Race looked at Spot. “What?”

“What’s hanging above the other couch?” Spot said, noticing the canvas hanging up for the first time.

Race smiled, lacing his fingers with Spot’s. “That’s the surprise Jack was helping me with. I took him one of our wedding photos and he painted it for us - it’s a belated wedding present from me to you.”

“Racer . . .” Spot wasn’t one to have nothing to say, but he was truly speechless at the sweetness of his husband. “It’s perfect.”

“We have photos up all over the house but you have been talking about wanting to get some paintings to switch things up.” Race shrugged. “Figured that would be a great place to start.”

Squeezing Race’s hand, Spot dropped another kiss on his forehead. “Thank you Racer. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome, Spottie.” He yawned again, closing his eyes, sighing as he laid against Spot’s chest. “You’ve taken care of me more times than I can count so I just wanted to say thank you and that I’m really happy you’re my husband.”

“Love you Racer.” Spot murmured, sinking deeper into the couch, enjoying the warmth of Race on his chest.

“Love you too Spottie.” Race murmured sleepily, falling deeper into a sleepy state.

With his puppy on one side of him and his husband on the other, Spot sighed, happily. No other place he’d rather be . . . though if his husband wasn’t injured, it would be the perfect end to a perfect day.

Thanks Anonie for sending that in. This was fun to write! Feedback would be wonderful!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #newsies drabble #Life In The ER Newsies Series #sprace #nurse spot

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