#the mugs on my counter that have no cupboard space to live but which i adore for their cute designs

[b1ack-moon]

Just a Nightmare

this is a very self-indulgent fic of some Chris fluff because I love this man so much and he has been through so much, i just want to hold him

minor angst, major fluff, gn!reader

synopsis: chris has a nightmare of your death and when he wakes to find you gone, he panics

word count: 1.2k

"(Y/N)! God damnit, (Y/N)!" Chris yells out into the empty space, running yet seemingly getting nowhere. All he could see around him was darkness, a white fog starting to creep in.

And out of nowhere he heard you let out a blood-curdling scream and a door appeared in front of him. The pristine white door had splotches of red over it. His eyes trailed down the door to find a river of what seemed to be blood, running down to him, covering his boots in the bright red substance.

He felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, a faint dizziness taking over him as he slowly made his way to the door, the sound of his boots splashing in the blood making him feel nauseous.

Once he arrived at the door, he laid a hand on the knob, afraid to turn it. He had a feeling that he knew what was behind the door and didn't want to open it, but it was as if an unknown force opened the door for him. You have to keep going.

He walked through the door, tears welling in his eyes as he saw you laying in the river of blood, completely soaked. Your eyes were wide in fear, mouth agape as blood leaked out of seemingly everywhere. Your eyes, nose, mouth, ears, everywhere. A spotlight was illuminating your body, darkening everything around you to make sure Chris was looking at you and only you. As if to taunt him. You can't look away.

Chris fell to his knees as he crawled to you, only for your body to get dragged under, the blood bubbling where your body once was. Chris screamed as he tried to reach for you, diving in after you.

Chris opened his eyes, quickly sitting up on the bed as he took in deep, ragged breaths. He felt sticky, his forehead glistening with sweat as his shirt stuck to his chest uncomfortably.

It was just a nightmare. He thought, relieved that he was no longer in that realm. He turned to you, wanting to see you actually next to him, to comfort him. But you weren't there. He felt that same panic he felt in the nightmare begin to overwhelm him, his breathing becoming short and labored.

He tossed the blanket off of him, clumsily getting off the bed as he ran out the bedroom, screaming your name. He ran down the stairs where he saw you run into the living room. Your eyes were wide, a scared look on your face as you ran to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, "Oh my god, Chris! What happened, are you okay!?" You anxiously yelled out as you studied him, "Why are you so-"

You were quickly cut off as Chris grabbed onto your arms, pulling you into a tight hug. He buried his face into your neck as he whispered your name over and over. You could tell he was panicked so you wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his hair as you reassuringly whispered to him, "It's okay baby, I'm here. Deep breaths okay?

After a long moment of the two of you just holding each other in silence, the light from the kitchen casting a soft glow into the living room, you pulled away albeit with a bit of resistance from Chris. You cupped his face as you slowly stroked his cheek with your thumb, "Hey, how about we go into the kitchen and I make you some tea, hmm?" You tilted your head as you asked, Chris only nodding as you lead him into the kitchen.

It was silent as you filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, turning on the heat and grabbing a mug, setting it on the counter. You then went to the cupboard which held the tea bags and ground coffee, thumbing through the different types of tea before pulling out a packet of chamomile and lavender tea. The perfect tea to soothe.

You opened the packet and set the tea bag into the mug before turning to Chris, who was sat at the dining table. You walked towards him, pulling a chair close to him as you grabbed his hand, drawing incoherent patterns on his skin, "Did you have a nightmare?"

Of course, it was obvious he did. The way he yelled your name and the way he held you told you he had a nightmare with you in it. You just didn't know how bad it was.

Chris looked into your eyes, his expression becoming sad again as he thought back on his nightmare, "You died. And I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't stop it. I wasn't there to help you, I was too late, I- I-" He started rambling so you placed a hand on his cheek, trying to soothe him and get him to calm down.

"Hey, deep breaths baby. Look, I'm here. That was just a nightmare, this is reality. I'm right here with you."

Chris looked into your eyes, his expression softening as he placed a hand on top of yours, a small smile as he leaned into your touch. Your warmth.

The tea kettle began to scream, making the both of you jump. You then both chuckled as you went to turn off the heat, removing the kettle from the heat and pouring some of the hot water into the cup. As you dipped the tea bag a couple times, you felt yourself begin to feel soothed just by the smell alone. You took the cup to Chris, setting it in front of him as you sat back down, hand running up and down his back.

He thanked you as he took a deep breath, the fragrant aroma of the lavender soothing him a bit. He blew on the water before taking small sips, not wanting to completely burn his tongue.

As he finished his tea there was silence between the two of you, his body relaxing as he felt a slight ache in his shoulders from being so tense. He looked at you, a smile on his lips as he thanked you, "Thank you so much. You always know what to do whenever I'm down or feeling stressed about something. You really have no idea how lucky I am to have you. So, so incredibly lucky."

Your cheeks tinged with a slight blush as you stood, grabbing his hand and dragging him after you up towards your bedroom. "Oh Chris. We're both so lucky to have each other."

As you both crawled into bed, you assumed the big spoon position, arms coming up to wrap around his head as he leaned in your chest, his arms wrapping around your hips. He held you tight as you began to hum, the pads of your fingers lightly rubbing along his scalp. Tingles ran down Chris's spine at your actions, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on your collarbone, "I love you so much."

You giggled, placing a kiss on the crown of his head, "And I love you. To the moon and back. And I'll always be here, I sure as hell am gonna make sure of it."

Chris only nodded in response, tired eyes closing as you continued rubbing his scalp, your eyes soon following suit as you both lay in bed, completely wrapped in each other's embrace.

#resident evil x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil angst #resident evil #resident evil fluff #chris redfield angst #chris redfield fluff

[sssammich]

Platonic breakfast ritual (prompt)

oh what's up anon thanks for sending me this prompt

you didn't give me a ship so i just picked my own to write for so hope it's cool i wrote it for swan queen. if not, just come back and i'll do something else haha

thanks!

---

It’s temporary, this thing. This current arrangement that they have while Emma finds a new place to live away from the loft—cramped and cacophonous; too full a house with a new baby. She doesn’t think too deeply about how she feels about it, pretends her heart doesn’t throb and ache at being displaced and replaced once again. It's a noxious thought to keep, so she does her best to clear it out of her.

So, yes. The arrangement to stay at the mansion until she sorts out her affairs. Yet Emma is not exactly rushing to end it. Not when the choreography of her waking hours brings about a certain comfort that she does not want to relinquish, happening in a place that devastatingly feels more like home than she has ever felt in all the decades of her life. In a place that isn’t hers to claim, but for now she’ll pretend because the walls are present and the sheets are soft. 

It is inconveniently pleasant to wake up rested at Regina’s house in one of her massive guest bedrooms. It is even more so when she languidly makes her way down the stairs and towards the kitchen where she first gets a whiff of food being made, and the lingering scent of coffee in the air. The rest of her senses catches up to her when she hears whatever Regina is cooking just as she inevitably sees Henry already sitting in front of his breakfast plate, fork in one hand and comic book in the other as if it’s the morning newspaper. 

“Good morning, Ma,” he offers, his eyes never once straying from the page. She shakes her head, but greets him in turn. 

“Morning.” Then, she casts her eyes up at Regina and offers her a smile. “Good morning, Regina.” 

“Good morning, dear.” Regina accompanies her gentle morning greeting with an offered plate brimming with food right in front of the seat that Emma has deemed as hers during her stay. Despite Regina’s frequent comments about Emma’s abhorrent appetite and etiquette, she’s there enabling Emma with a full plate. Emma notices, of course, but doesn’t say anything for fear that Regina will change and give her one less hash brown in the stack. 

Still, even as her mind slowly eases into the morning, she doesn’t immediately take her seat at the table. Instead, she heads towards the coffee bar—which is literally just the far end of the kitchen counters where there’s one of those fancy single-serve coffee machines. She sets to brewing herself a cup since that’s the only machine she’s allowed to touch; the Italian espresso machine beside it is off limits. For the best, Emma thinks. 

Once her coffee is done, Emma lets the mug sit to the side and plucks another mug out of the cupboard, repeating the steps, waiting quietly while the machine cranks and whirrs and gurgles before the dark sea of coffee fills the new mug. It is the first full cup that Regina has in the morning, the first dose of caffeine coming from the espresso machine that Regina handles herself upon rising. Emma only skirts the edges of her thoughts at what it means to have Regina trust her to make her first cup of coffee for the day. Yet on that first morning she'd received the request, Regina only arched a brow and exasperated teasingly, "surely, you can't completely flub up making coffee."

Emma doesn’t move in place, uncharacteristically settled on her feet, her arms folded across her chest as she waits. Not wanting to break the tranquil silence, she doesn’t say anything, and neither do the others in the kitchen. It’s a quiet morning, but comfortable and companionable. Normally when things are too quiet, she gets restless as if she must fill the space herself or excuse herself entirely. But the last week at Regina’s place has given her more peace than she’d gotten in months, and she hates that by the end of this upcoming week, it’ll be gone again. Still, she doesn’t think too hard on this. 

For now, she grasps both the filled mugs and places them on their respective placemats as she’s done almost everyday this week. She sits in her chair and she waits until Regina does the same. She offers the other woman a shy grin, perhaps more tender than she’d intended (she’ll simply blame the morning hours for it if pushed) and Regina returns it, the gentle smile across Regina’s face splitting her face so beautifully.

The three of them sit like a family that Emma has always wished for and eat breakfast together.

#swanqueen #swan queen #swan queen ficlet #fic prompt #i reckon if anybody else has a prompt they're free to send it my way lol #samfic

[thegettingbyp2]

Hi!!! May I request a short fem! Reader x Johnny Knoxville?

Like they had a fight over something dumb and they’re on the outs. And after a few hours he sees her trying to reach something and because he’s taller he gets it and then teases her and it’s all fluffy and they make up?

The Top Shelf

You were curled up in the window seat of the study in yours and Johnny’s house, your head buried in your book, doing everything you could to ignore the argument that you and Johnny had just had. It wasn’t often that the two of you got into an argument but that also meant that every time you did argue, it was quick to blow up and wildly out of proportion.

Take the argument you two had just had, for example. You had made a light comment about Johnny maybe cutting back on a few stunts so he wouldn’t get as hurt all the time, especially as he was getting older. He instantly took this to mean that you were saying that he should quit which inevitably led to a heated argument between the two of you.

Not long after you had finally been able to immerse yourself into your book, you heard footsteps climb the stairs before stopping in the doorway to the study. Knowing it could only be one person, you didn’t bother to look up from your book.

‘Baby?’ Johnny’s voice spoke softly, pausing while he waited for an answer that never came. Deciding that he would be better off letting you cool down for a moment, the footsteps began to grow quieter as he went back downstairs and you heard the faint muffle of the TV as he turned it on. You let out a breath before turning your attention back to your book, having to reread the past two pages which you had paid absolutely no attention to while you felt Johnny’s eyes on you.

Realising that you weren’t going to be able to concentrate on your book, you sighed before putting it down on the seat next to you and moving out of the room before making your own way downstairs. As you turned the kitchen light on, you heard Johnny pause the TV as he tried to listen out for what you were doing. You put the kettle on and opened the cupboard to grab yours and Johnny’s mugs; even though you were mad at him, you’d still make him a drink, it was almost second nature to you. You placed Johnny’s chipped mug on the kitchen counter and reached back up to grab your own. You frowned when your hand felt the space your mug usually sat only to find that it was empty. Looking into the cupboard you saw that your mug had been moved to the top shelf; the only shelf in the cupboard you couldn’t reach.

Smiling softy to yourself at Johnny’s attempt to get you to talk to him again, you headed into the living room and leant against the door frame as Johnny’s head turned to look at you.

‘Can you get my cup out of the cupboard, please?’ you asked, not quite meeting his eyes because you knew that Johnny’s face would make you break out into a grin and you were stillmad at him.

‘Isn’t it in its normal place, doll?’ he asked, knowing full well that it wasn’t because he was the one who had moved it.

‘No, and you know it so please can you help me?’

Johnny smiled at you and the two of you headed into the kitchen. Standing directly behind you, Johnny wrapped one arm around your front, holding you against him as his other arm reached up to grab your mug, setting it down gently next to his on the counter. Instead of letting you go, he wrapped his other arm around you as well and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I’m sorry, I blew up, baby,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘I just don’t like the idea that some point, probably soon, I’m not going to be able to be doing this anymore so I want to do as much as I can in the time I have.’

You couldn’t help but lean back into him, resting your head against his chest as one of your hands came up to rest gently on his cheek, smiling when you felt him nuzzle into your touch. ‘I know, I’m sorry too. I just worry that it’s going to go to far and one day you won’t come back home to me.’

‘I’ll always come home to you. I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ you sighed happily, patting his arms lightly to get him to let you go. ‘Now, can you grab the milk so I can actually make these drinks?’

Johnny laughed into your hair, pressing one more kiss to your head before stepping away from you. ‘Of course I can baby.’

#johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader #johnny knoxville imagine

[punkascas]

also, hi.

for all of you who have messaged me and tagged me and texted me and wanted to know if i'm okay and where i've been, a list:

i am very sorry i've been so ghosty and hiding i are bad friend i love you please forgive.

my brain decided to get obsessed (like, really obsessed; like we've not experienced this kind of fandom obsesssion since polar explorers back in 2010 — fckin 14 years ago) with the gay pirate show and that is all i want to talk about or think about autism brain goes gnaw gnaw delicious hyperfixation.

the gay pirate show re-awoke my pre-existent obsession with age of sail and tall ships and the history of that time, so clearly this calls for all the research possible as if i'm going to write a dissertation on some Grand Unified Theory of Pirates.

can you get a PhD in pirates?

the nice thing about the gnaw gnaw is i'm writing again. writing a lot and i've missed being creative and writing metas and fic, even if i haven't shared anything.

my position was terminated and i got laid off from my job. this came pretty well out of the blue for me, and it hit a lot of ouchie spots in the ptsd pinball machine that lives inside my brain. so i've been trying to work through a lot of grief and feelings of powerlessness and i have a bad habit of withdrawing when i do that.

i'm still working through the end of january, which means trying to finish several of the major projects on my plate months and months early because there's no one to pick them up once i'm gone. so work has not only eaten my face but my hands and forearms and it's started to chew on my shoulders now.

right before i was laid off, i adopted a new puppy. my 16-year-old dog died of kidney failure about a month prior. so to help distract from the grief and to always have a tiny tyrant running the hounds ragged, i got a silly floofball. he is very cute and tries to give snuggles by wiggling his entire body against my face and hair, but also possesses a single adhd brain cell and is super into biting and teething. he's figured out how to open the fridge, get up on the dining table and the kitchen counters, and jump any and all doggy gates i bring home, despite being only 4.5 kilos. like even to leave him unobserved for 90 seconds (i've timed it) is to bring destruction and tears. i love him but he is Death and i have no clue how he'll make it to a year old.

i've been in the process of trying to have a kid, and the assorted stress that comes with that, and between health stuff (i had my appendix out but there were complications that i'm still dealing with), mental health stuff (especially meds), job, pup, and other things, it's slow going and expensive and frustrating. and in general, it's just hard and shitty and draining.

i am out of spoons. even if you took every random, ugly, why-do-i-own-this, taking-up-space-but-you-never-get-around-to-donating-it coffee or tea mug from every cupboard in the world and turned it into a spoon and gave it to me, i still wouldn't break zero.

anyway, the point is: it's not you; it's me. every message and every attempt to reach out has meant the world and has helped keep my head above water.

keep reaching out please? let me know how you're doing. if you're cool with letting me babble to you about pirates, even better. i'm love you and i appreciate you and i'm grateful for you. ♥️

#kat talks #ptsd problems

[caffeinegene]

In The Waves

I was 6 the first time I saw a dead body. It also just so happened it was the day I became an orphan. I remember that the body was pale, and smelled worse than rotten eggs. Dried up blood was all over the face, and the head was detached from the body, about 2 feet away. I was standing in the wood chipped part of the park, right behind the slide, right after dusk. I remember my uncle, a dark haired man with a long beard hanging from his face, as he squatted down to the ground, looking at the body through his thick square glasses. I remember he was saying something, but it was drowned out by the fog in my head, and I couldn't stop staring, it was like my eyes were forcing me to look, giving me no choice.

But then I felt a sharp pain cross my cheek, and I looked up at my uncle to see him looking down at me with a stern yet sad expression on his face.

“We don't have time for this nonsense, Anna.” He reached over the body and picked the head up by the hair, resulting in it dangling in the air like a windchime. “Take it.” It wasn't until he was facing me, head in hand, that I realized he wanted me to grab the head. He wanted me, a 6 year old, to grab a decapitated head. But I was too scared of what my uncle might do to refuse, so I took hold of the head, biting my lip and trying to refrain from the blood curtailing scream I wanted to let loose. I held it as far from me as I could as my uncle bent over and grabbed the body, throwing it over his shoulder like it was nothing more than a trash bag, and headed into the forest, me following close behind.

I don't remember much after that, it's all a haze, like my mind wanted to forget, but could only take away small pieces.

My uncle was taken in by the police a few weeks later, causing me to go to some foster home for a while. But they were unable to prove it was him, so he had gotten custody of me again.

“Don't worry, Anna, I’ll never leave you for long.”

The next dead body I discovered when I was 8. I remember because it was september 11th, the day the twin towers fell.

But before then, a few hours before the planes, I saw my second dead body. This time I was in my bed, in the comfort of my home. I had woken early and was laying in my bed, playing out my plans for the day when I suddenly got thirsty. So, I got up, opened my door, and crept across the living room into the kitchen. I walked past the counter, where the knives and mugs were on display, and opened the fridge to grab the milk, carefully filling a glass I had gotten from the cupboard. But as I turned to put the milk back in the fridge, I saw something lying on the floor in the space between the kitchen and living room. I felt myself gasp from the shock of the fridge light, the milk carton falling out of my hands and onto the floor.

The flickering light from the fridge illuminated the body, showing off the light blonde hair of the women. Her chest had multiple stab wounds, and blood pooled around her, the milk from the floor causing the blood to turn a light pink color.

Again, I don't remember much after. I remember my uncle walking in on us, cursing loudly, his hands flying all over. I was scared he would hit me again, but he trapped me in a hug instead. His smell made my eyes water, and the next thing I knew I was sitting at my desk at school while the teacher tried calming everyone down as the news of the towers traveled. But I was already numb by then.

I remember my 11th birthday well. I didn't have many friends, people for some reason did not like me, which caused a lot of bullying. Not necessarily mean bullying, they didn't shove me into lockers or steal my lunch money like on tv, they just tended to ignore me at all costs. But I had one best friend who was always there for me, Isabelle.

It was just me and Isabelle at the fair that day. I remember being extra excited, because I'd never been to a fair before. My uncle had driven us, and bought us 20 tickets each, plus gave us some extra cash for food, then wandered off somewhere else. Isabelle and I had the time of our life. We spent the whole afternoon on rides, eating junk food, and winning prizes.

It was around 3pm, the sun was hot so we found refuge behind a blue tent, away from the crowd. We each had an icecream in hand, but as we turned the corner the top scoop of mine fell off the cone, dropping to the ground and almost immediately turning to a puddle. I was upset, but Isabelle reassured me that I could have some of hers while we sat on the grass.

But, just like the times before, I don't remember much. One minute me and Isabelle were laughing in the shade, and the next she was lying on the ground in front of me, dead. And just like the times before, I froze up, and also like before I couldn't believe what was in front of me.

Isabelle. Her short black hair, always tied up in a high ponytail, was dead. Her throat had nail indents in it, and a red mark all around. Her mouth was wide open, but no air came in or out. But unlike the last two her eyes were closed, did I close them?

I look up, and there's my uncle, like all the times before. Only this time he didn't look angry, instead he just looked sorry. Why, why after so many deaths, was this the time he was sorry? It didn't make sense.

I felt giant tears fall down my face and onto Isabelle's body as I held her close to me. My uncle stepped forward, and I flinched away. He froze, waited a minute, then took another step, and another, and another, until he was standing in front of me.

“Don't look so sad Anna, I'll take care of it.” And the next thing I knew my uncle was tucking me into bed that night, kissing my forehead and telling me, “I’ll always be here.”

I may not remember my first three bodies with great detail, but this next one, this one I remember perfectly.

Unlike the last three, this one didn't happen on any important day, almost ironically, it happened on a very unimportant day.

I was laying in the sand at the beach, an umbrella stabbed into the sand to keep my eyes from the sun's harshness. I was looking out at the ocean when I heard a yelp. I looked to my right to see a little boy, no more than 8, drowning in the water.

I quickly stood up, but before I could do anything a life guard came out of nowhere and saved him. I took a deep breath and thought about sitting back down, but instead walked towards the ocean. I walked out into the water, successfully scaring the fish away, and only stopped when I was waist deep in the water.

I rested my hands on the surface of the water, so my palms were underwater and my knuckles were breathing air. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, soaking in the sun. I don't know how long I was standing there, but the next thing I knew I wasn't alone.

I felt the water's disturbance as someone came to stand beside me, of course I already knew who it was. My uncle had this aura about him for as long as I could remember, an aura that everyone else seemed to also have, one that I lacked.

And out of nowhere I was angry. I was angry that I didn't grow up with a normal childhood, with a mom and a dad. I was angry that my best friend was dead. I was angry that at 6 years old I saw something that would have traumatized anyone else in my place. I was angry that I was different.

I opened my eyes and turned towards my uncle, not even trying to hide my anger as I said, “Why?”

My uncle looked at me with that same sad expression he always had when facing me, and uttered those same words.

“I will always be with you, Anna.”

He always had that expression, he always said those words, but something was different this time, something made me snap.

I grabbed him by the neck and pushed him backwards into the ocean. I watched as his lungs filled with water, as he looked up at me with shock, as he tried to wrestle his way free, and I watched him as he gave up and let fate take him.

I knew that no one would see. The lifeguard was busy with that boy on the other side of the beach, no one was walking around on the sand anymore, and no kids came rushing by to collect seashells.

I was alone as I watched my uncle die by my hands.

My uncle. The one person who was always there for me. He was the one who cleaned up all those deaths. He was the one who always sacrificed himself for me. He was the one who stayed by me no matter what, no matter how many I killed. He believed in me, he cared for me, he loved me, and in the end, that's what killed him.

#short story #writer #writing #writing community #write #murder #mystery #inspiring writer #writers of tumblr

[dirty-brainrot]

(Alien)

Kinda wanna make a series where the jojo villains appear in you home and lives with you.

Pairing: Kars x Reader

It was an average cold night. The perfect temperature to snuggle up in your warm blanket and pillows and watch a random movie on Netflix until you pass out. On the 2nd movie, you felt your eyelids get heavy as the sounds on tv get fuzzy and distant. As you were succumbing to sleep, out of nowhere, a loud boom came from your backyard along with a small earthquake. You jolt up with eyes opened wide.

Slowly getting off your covers, you looked around your room to see if anything had fallen and possibly break. Luckily, nothing broke nor fell. You quickly turned off your tv, slipped on your sweater, and ran to the source of the boom.

In your backyard, there was... A man? A man on a vast crater. He seems to be the one who caused the earthquake and the crater. It left you with many questions while he stood there, perfectly fine. You could feel his menacing aura from where you stood. With caution, you called out to the mysterious man that could possibly be an alien from outer space. "Um... Sir?" You don't even know if you could call it that.

He looks at you and you approached him. "Do you... Need help?—" He interrupts you by chuckling. "Finally... I'm back..!" You watch him monologue something about a Joestar bloodline and getting stuck to space that you didn't really pay attention to. You were focused on his loincloth and horns (and his abs plus his huge tiddies too). "Bizarre." You thought as he approaches you.

"Human... Where am I?" The man or alien, in bizarre clothing, questions. "Oh, well you're in (country)." You respond as he stood in front of you. 'Man. He's really tall.' Is what you thought as you crane your neck upwards to his towering figure. "I really like your hair, funky alien man." He was taken aback by the random bluntness but he shook it off by smirking.

"I'm rather hungry but I'll spare you and make you my pet, human." 'is he kind of some alien overlord?' You giggle quietly and decided to go along with whatever this man had to offer. It's not every day you get to see a man-looking alien that possibly came from space and will take over the world. "What's your name, funky alien man?" He struck a pose, you swear you could hear faint music playing but that could just be your sleepy brain. "My name is Kars, last of the pillarmen. Use it well human." Holding in your laughter, you nod.

"So... Do you want human food? I don't know what food you eat but maybe human food works too." ‘Hmm.. Maybe he eats plants... Or rocks!’ He stops posing to look at you with visible disgust on his face.

"Whatever man. I'll just make food for myself." You head back inside, leaving the backdoor unlocked so he could get in. Opening a cupboard, you grabbed your bread, peanut butter, and jam. As you peacefully make your PBJ, you hear a loud sound, which is similar to a door getting ripped off, you swiftly looked at your backdoor. It was removed from its hinges.

The man threw the door away into your backyard. "Hey!" You shouted while glaring at the man. "Do you know how much to get a door fixed?!" He looks at you with a bored expression. "No." You pouted. 'Man... He probably did it by accident since he's incredibly buff." You sighed and shook your head then continued to make your sandwich as the man wandered around in your kitchen. "Please don't break anything else." You comment as he grabs the toaster and shakes it.

After a while, you finished making 4 slices of PBJ. Two for each of you. You walked to your dining table and called him. "Kars!-" "It's Master Kars for you, Human." He appeared behind you, making you yelp from your seat. "Holy shit... Don't do that again." You said as you clutch your hand to your chest trying to steady your breathing. With a sigh, you offered him a sandwich. He rose his eyebrow but still accepted the offer. "It's really good since I used the best brand of peanut butter!" You grabbed your own piece and merrily took a bite out of it. He cautiously eyes his sandwich and took a bite. You watch him eat his sandwich with caution then suddenly spat it out. "Hey..!!"

"This is unacceptably horrible, human." You glared at him and ate your sandwich. 'Now I'm gonna have to clean that later.' "I'm sorry that it doesn't fit your alien tastes." He places the sandwich on the counter and looks at your fridge. You watch him as if he was a tv while you ate your sandwiches.

He touches the door handle and stares at it. Catching up on what he's doing you quickly stop him. "H-hey wait! Maybe it's best if I open it instead." You place your sandwich back on your plate and quickly shuffled beside him and opened the fridge. "Just open it gently. I don't want to pay any more damages." He ignores you and went straight for the meat in the freezer. “This’ll have to do.” He comments as he devours the fresh meat in one go.

'Oh... He...eats meat. Neat.'

With that knowledge, you feel slightly terrified 'but he looks like he's fond of me... So I guess there's that...?' You gulp and walk back to your table and nervously eat your sandwich as he rummages around your refrigerator. "Human, what is this?" He points toward the ice dispenser on your fridge. "Oh!" You grab a mug and walked beside him. "It's an ice dispenser!" You say while you place your mug in it and watch it dispense ice. "Ta-da~" You gave him the ice-filled mug. He grabs a piece of ice and eats it (which was pretty cool. ) "Humans are innovative nowadays." He hums and looks at your small figure.

You stare back at him.

He rubs his chin. "Maybe I'll give you humans one more chance. You spark my interest and... I want to see more of this... technology." 'Oh... well that's cool? Kinda hoping for an alien invasion' You tilted your head and gave him a goofy grin. "Neat!"

Well, you just made an alien buddy! That probably has a power that can erase humanity in a single attempt but that doesn't matter because he's your alien buddy now.

JoFoe in your home series: Diavolo, Kira

#jojo #jjba #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure battle tendency #battle tendency #jjba part 2 #kars #kars x reader #okuyasu x reader #jojobaoil

[taetaespeaches]

“You know I prefer apple jacks.”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.3K

a/n: Eeeek ok this is actually nerve-wracking posting this because like, it’s min and kid!!!! Anyways, you know the drill- they’re soft and in love and nothing is different here. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! :))

Mornings with Yoongi were always your favorite. The stress of the outside world was yet to intrude upon you both as you slowly moved about the apartment. It was quiet, peaceful, serene.

Or maybe you loved mornings with Yoongi so much because of his adorable bed head that he waddled around with, yet to comb out the evidence of a heavy slumber.

With a coffee cup in hand as you sat on the kitchen stool, you fondly watched Yoongi water your small patio garden outside the glass door. He was especially stunning under the glow of the warm rising sun, making it a challenge to look away from him. So you didn’t look away.

Emptying the watering can, his puffy sleep-filled eyes looked toward you through the glass barrier, a cute honey boy smile overtaking his features as he realized you were watching him. Ducking his head, he bashfully evaded your stare as you giggled from inside.

“Stop staring,” Yoongi complained in a playful grumpy tone the moment he stepped back inside the apartment.

“You’re so cute though,” you told him with a pout, the man scoffing as he set the watering can on the table next to the patio door. “My favorite movie,” you added with a smirk.

Avoiding your gaze, he walked across the living space toward you. “Speaking of, you fell asleep again last night,” he pouted adorably, you giggling as he easily slotted his legs between the v of yours.

“It was late,” you defended as he took the mug from your hands, bringing it to his lips to take a drink despite your glare. “And that movie was boring,” you whispered under your breath, the man meeting your words with an exaggerated gasp.

“That is one of the best movies ever made,” he pointed out, handing your coffee back to you. “Why didn’t you tell me you put sugar in that?” He questioned, nodding down to the beige beverage with a small winced expression.

“Why would I?” You teased, Yoongi chuckling lowly as he leaned toward you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Thanks for watering my plants,” you told him softly.  

“Someone has to,” he joked in a whisper against your skin. You tried to hold back your laugh but a single giggle left your lips before you used one hand to reach around his frame and playfully smack the side of his ass. “Do you want breakfast?”

Looking down at you as you sat on the stool, he raised his eyebrows. “Are you cooking?”

“I can make you something,” you told him with a smirk, acting cocky all of a sudden in your average cooking skills.

“If you really want to,” he chuckled, triggering you to push him away just slightly so you could stand. “Ok, Kid, show me what you got,” he teased.

Setting your coffee cup down on the counter, you then stepped behind your boyfriend, placing your hands on his hips as you directed him to sit on the stool. “Watch and learn,” you bragged, appreciating the way Yoongi’s shoulders shook slightly in laughter. Placing a kiss to the back of his head, your lips touching his messy hair, you stepped away and made your way around the kitchen island.

“Welcome to Cooking with Kid,” you announced, your arms held out to your sides as you showed off the space. “I’m Kid,” you said with a smile, Yoongi flashing his own gummy grin at you as he watched you in amusement. “Today we’ll be cooking a bit of a controversial meal, as many disagree on the order in which you prepare this queen of all breakfast foods but first,” you paused, Yoongi’s eyes widening in response, “coffee for grampa.” The smile on Yoongi’s face only widened as he shook his head at your antics. Pouring him a cup, you placed it in front of him. “Made by my boyfriend, of course,” you informed him.

“Ah,” Yoongi said with a nod as he chuckled lightly. “Thank you, Kid”  

“No flirting, I’m working,” you told him in feigned offense, Yoongi’s mouth falling open just slightly as he scoffed at you because that was hardly flirting. “See me after the show,” you winked before moving right back into your act. “Ok, for this meal, we’re going to need two bowls,” you continued, Yoongi’s eyes intently watching you as you moved around the kitchen, fetching the ceramic bowls from the cupboard. “Any guesses on what the main ingredient is?” You pointed to your boyfriend, the man opening his mouth to respond, but you cutting him off before he could. “That’s right, it’s cereal,” you said enthusiastically with a nod. “But what kind?” You exaggerated the excitement of the decision.

Bounding over to the cupboard, you opened it to display a box of fruit loops. Raising his hand, your eyes widening. “Audience participation, love it,” you called out excitedly, gesturing at him to answer.

“I’m gonna guess fruit loops,” he played along with your act as he scanned the cabinet and saw just one single box of cereal, a wide smile spreading across your face in response to his cute playfulness.

“That would be correct!” You cheered. “Because I forgot to go to the store yesterday so it’s literally all we have,” you added in your celebratory voice, Yoongi silently chuckling at you.

Grabbing the cereal, you set it on the counter next to the bowls before going to the refrigerator. “Anyone who has made cereal before knows that milk is absolutely necessary. A crucial ingredient,” you noted, Yoongi giggling as he took a drink of his coffee. Raising his hand once more, you gasped. “Yes, Mr. Min?”

“Does the cereal or milk come first?” He asked curiously, leaning forward to hear your answer.

“Ah, that’s what makes this meal so controversial,” you noted, trying not to smile at the feigned seriousness in Yoongi’s face. “Some idiots like my good pal Jeon Jeongguk will do stupid things like pour the milk first, but that’s wrong,” you said, Yoongi nodding as if he was actually interested. Well, perhaps he was. “The cereal should come first if you have any common sense, I mean milk first? Why would you do that?” You ranted, falling out of character for a moment. “You know, that’s actually so annoying of him, you should douse the cereal, what good does putting cereal into mi-”

An adorable giggle left your boyfriend’s lips, his glowing face stealing your attention and cutting off your rant as you both stared at one another. His eyes were amused and fond, and as soft as ever. Biting your bottom lip, you shyly looked to the bowl on the counter in front of you. “Let me show you how this is done,” you commented quietly, feeling Yoongi’s adoring gaze still on you.

As you poured the cereal into one bowl, you watched as Yoongi’s hand came into your vision as he closed it over your free one that held the bowl lightly. Your orbs settled on his hand as you began slowly trailing them up his arm toward his face. “I said no flirting until after-” you started to playfully protest.

“You should marry me,” he suddenly spoke, cutting you off, your heart racing instantly as your gaze met his stunning features. His hand enclosed over yours, holding it sweetly, his eyes dripping with honey sweet affection and a sincere intention.

“What?” You asked just as a small breathy laugh left your lips while they spread into a smile.

“Will you?” He asked, letting you know it wasn’t a slip of the tongue. He meant it. He wanted to marry you. “Marry me?

“Really?” You questioned him, setting the box of cereal down as the man chuckled fondly.

“It would make me very happy,” he told you sincerely. To emphasize his point, he scooped up a fruit loop from the bowl with his hand that wasn’t holding yours. Holding it up to you as if it was a ring, he asked once more. “Will you marry me, Kid?”

As tears gathered in your eyes, a smile spreading on your face, you cocked your head to the side. “You know I prefer apple jacks,” you teased, Yoongi’s gummy grin growing affectionately.

“I can get you apple jacks,” he assured with a fond grin. “I’ll make that happen,” he added with a tiny nod.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Min,” you told him, tears forming in his own orbs.

You both started around the kitchen island quickly to get to each other, meeting at the side of the counter as Yoongi’s hands found the sides of your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss. Fruit loop ring, or apple jacks, a real ring or no ring, you wanted to marry that man. Before you knew Yoongi, you hadn’t thought much about marriage, or what it all meant. But now, you just knew you wanted to marry him.

It wasn’t until later that night that you realized his proposal that morning wasn’t quite as sudden as it appeared. Yoongi took you out to celebrate your engagement, returning to the café where your second date took place; an impromptu meeting in which Yoongi had trekked several blocks in the snow to surprise you with a visit simply because he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

As you sat together, Yoongi suddenly interrupted your mindless but never meaningless conversation by saying, “I know you don’t mind, but I’m sorry it took me so long to propose.” Shaking your head at him, you disagreed with the apology because he was right, you didn’t mind. However, before you could say anything, he reached across the table and you expected him to intertwine his fingers with yours. When you didn’t feel their touch, you looked down at his hand to find a ring sitting in his grasp, your jaw dropping open. “I’ve had this for a few weeks now,” he admitted.

Pulling your gaze from the jewelry to inspect his features, you found him smiling at you with that soft gummy grin you adored so much. His cheeks were plush, a pink tint upon them as he chuckled at himself.

“I was on my way home from the studio one afternoon and you called me just to tell me that Holly had actually eaten some celery,” he smiled as he recalled the conversation. “Then you told me to hurry home because you missed me and I just- realized I want to be your husband.”

“Yoongi,” you whispered in surprise as he slid the ring on your finger. Both of your gazes bounced to the ring, you and Yoongi appreciating the way it looked at home on your digit.

“I started ring shopping the next day,” he informed you, you giggling as tears formed in your orbs.

Despite the touching moment, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease your now fiancé, shooting him a smirk as he sighed, knowing something was coming. “Who helped you?” You joked, Yoongi feigning offense as he sat back against his chair and scoffed.

“You think I need help picking out a ring for the love of my life?” He asked through a pout, you laughing as you leaned across the table, grabbing his hand in yours, the ring twinkling beautifully on your finger.

“The ring is stunning,” you assured him. “I love you so much,” you continued, a soft smile overtaking Yoongi’s features. Standing, you made your way to Yoongi, hovering over him as you stared down at him fondly.

Brushing your fingers through his hair, his hand grasped your waist. “I love you more,” he confessed, you smiling as you lowered your head toward his, kissing his lips softly.

“I still want my apple jacks ring,” you teased against his mouth, Yoongi chuckling as he squeezed the flesh of your side in response.

“Whatever you want, Kid,” he mumbled before deepening the kiss just slightly.

Though a marriage proposal didn’t change much in regards to the feelings you shared for one another, you were thrilled to be able to spend forever with him, devoted as husband and wife.

You both finished the day a few hours later, wrapped up in bed in one another’s arms, your bare skin pressed together as you dozed into slumber. And it was then that he revealed with a gummy smile that he didn’t just recruit the help from one or two people for ring shopping, but rather had an entire posse made up of Jin and his soon-to-be wife, Jungkook and his girlfriend, and Taehyung and his girlfriend.

“They were no help at all though,” he insisted.

“Oh my god, you had a whole ring shopping gang,” you giggled against his chest, staring at the jewelry adorning your finger.

“I actually took them all at different times and had them look at the same rings to ensure I was making the right decision,” he laughed at himself as you kissed his chest before your lips spread into a massive smile. “They all chose different rings though, but Tae and Peachy Keen agreed with me on this one.”

“You’re so fucking cute,” you beamed, trailing kisses up his body, pressing them to his neck alluringly. “You made the right choice,” you assure him as you glanced once more at the ring. “Just slightly better than an apple jack,” you teased, Yoongi groaning as he suddenly pushed you so your back was against the mattress, the man hovering over you.

“Would you shut up about the fucking apple jacks?” He beamed, unable to even feign annoyance.

“Make me,” you flirted, the man chuckling as he brought his lips to yours. And he did make you. At least until the next morning when you woke up and ate fruit loops for the second morning in a row.

Everything was different but the same; better but as good as ever. Watching him eat his fruit loops as he zoned out looking at your ring on your finger, you once again realized, for the millionth time since you’d met him, that you would be loving him for a very, very long time. But sooner rather than later he’d be your husband, and that was pretty fucking cool.

#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #suga fic #yoongi drabble #yoongi scenario #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fic #bts reactions #engagement fics

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door. 

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide. 

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box. 

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said. 

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said. 

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?” 

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

[reidingdays]

the miserable ones

an: for moose @homoose, aka one of the loveliest, most talented writers with the goldest of hearts

summary: spencer thinks reader’s out to get his book and shenanigans ensue, as fluffy as a disaster morning can be!

pairing: spencer x gn reader

warnings: broken glass, one curse word

word count: 1k

You know better – you really do – but you’re taking what fun you can out of straining the perfect blend of coffee, dancing around, and whipping a towel around like a rhythm gymnast at the most miserable hour. It’s only as the coffee pot smashhhhes across the countertop that you realise you may need to tone it down at 7:30 in the morning.

“Oh no,” you squeak, placing what remains of the coffee pot upright on the counter, using the towel to sweep the broken glass into the rubbish and praying that Spencer’s slumber remains undisturbed for at least a few more minutes. But while there’s no sign of him just yet, the damage is still extensive in another way. You have to splash through puddles of coffee to the sink to wipe down the kitchen – there’s coffee everywhere. All over the countertops, all over the stack of pancakes, all over the – oh no please not that, not after all the times you’ve –

“Good morning, honey,” Spencer rasps as he stumbles into the kitchen. Crap. He rubs at his sleepy eyes with the heel of his hands, lets out a soft grunt after bumping into the table. Your tummy flips at the sight of him: hopelessly endearing, eyes squinting against the light, soon to be even grumpier at the coffee-saturated loss of one of his most treasured books.

“Mmmfg coffee smells good,” he comments, and you’re seriously questioning his profiling skills because he’s yet to notice the crime scene. On autopilot, he opens the cupboard and fishes out his favourite mug. He stifles a yawn in your hair, wrapping those arms around you from behind and resting his head atop yours while your brain silently spirals.

“Can hear you overthinking,” he mumbles, “too early for that.”

“The coffee. It, um, well, I knocked the pot over. And now we have coffee flavoured pancakes?” You scrunch your nose as he picks his head up to survey the damage.

“Sounds delicious,” Spencer smiles easily, unperturbed, taking the towel from you and cleaning up the spillage. He kisses you softly as he passes, wiping down the fridge. “You okay?”

“What – yeah, I’m fine,” you say.

“Your blink rate just increased.”

There’s that familiar twinkle of humour in his eyes and your shoulders sink in relief. Why did you ever think he’d be upset? You sigh, almost forgetting, when he sees the book –

He stills. You wince. A tattered Les Misérables lies, soaked and pitiful, in a pool of coffee.

It’s excruciatingly silent for several minutes. You half expect a funeral march to begin when he takes it in his hands.

“Well you’ve finally won. I bet Fantine got a shock,” he muses, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

He lets out a snicker, meeting your eyes across the space. You watch with bated breath as he tentatively lifts the sodden front cover with a finger. A trickle of coffee spills off the cover and splashes onto the floor. There’s a beat in which you both stare at the puddle, and then you both lose it.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” You gasp between laughter. He’s doubled over, forearms resting against the countertop and it’s all he can do to keep himself upright as he laughs.

“Look, here – I can fix it – I can –” you dash over and pat the book uselessly with the towel. Spencer’s crying laughing as he watches, so when you move to wipe his eyes with the damn thing, he throws his head back and cackles.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought…” Spencer chuckles, then snatches the hopelessly drenched towel from you. “But, love, what’s this going to fix now?”

He tosses it at you playfully. It smacks you in the face and hits the floor with a splat. Those Supervisory Special Agent instincts kick in at the look on your face; his lips tug to the side, he grabs Les Misérables lest you inflict any more damage and then hightails it out of the kitchen.

“Get back here, genius!”

“Leave Les Misérables alone! Haven’t they been through enough?!” He yells, darting around the couch, cradling the book to his chest.

“It was an accident! And Fantine’s drowning in coffee, she needs medical care!” You bat at him with the towel as you scamper through the living room, hallway, bedroom, bathroom, bathroom, bedroom, hallway, living room.

“Medical care from that thing? I know you’re just out to get her! It’s been years of this kind of behaviour!” Spencer shoots the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen at the towel and you lose it all over again, leaning against the living room wall to steady yourself. He’s not wrong. Throughout your relationship, you can’t count the amount of times you’ve damaged or been damaged by that damn book. He leaves it everywhere, after all, and you’ve stepped on it, tripped over it, even kicked it out of bed after Spencer slept with it. His grin lights up the room as he jogs over and places the book on the radiator beside you.

As your laughter peters out, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“You’re really not upset that I finally ruined your book?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, the pair of you staring down at the book like it’s a baby in a crib.

He kisses your forehead to smooth the crease between your eyebrows and his large hand finds yours. He makes a face when you press the soggy towel into his palm instead and you let out a peal of laughter when he launches it back into the kitchen.

“Of course not. You invented coffee flavoured pancakes! And besides,” Spencer shrugs, cheeks rosy and smile bashful, “no matter what awful thing you do to one of the greatest books of all time…”

You duck your head, sheepish. “I thought you’d forgotten the time I accidentally ripped that page out.”

“It so was not an accident,” he goads and checks his hip with yours.

“It so was,” you mumble, but you can’t meet his eyes and he smirks triumphantly.

“No matter what awful thing, no matter how many stains or lost pages, I’ll always love this copy,” it’s his turn to be sheepish, “because you got it for me.”

You scrunch your nose, looking up at him. “You remember that?”

He looks at you, incredulous, brown eyes shining in sincerity. “I remember that 1253 days ago we met and I threw out my old copy.”

You nuzzle into his neck to hide your smile.

“Why? Was it the wrong edition?” You tease, kissing just under his ear.

Spencer smiles, heart leaping up to his throat – which he knows is impossible, but impossible things happen on the daily and also happen just now, as your teeth graze his ear and you allow him to hold you. His arms wrap around you tighter to tug you into his chest. “No. I just knew I’d never need another. And while this story’s about the miserable ones, ours never will be.”

#mooselovescreators #hoomose #spencer x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #writings

[caramelcal]

Fool for you {Part Three}

word count: 2.1k

a/n: kinda a filler but here you guys go! i’m currently working on a proper calum story on my wattpad but it prob won’t be properly out for a while (ceo!calum um-) anyways-

“We need to talk about last night,”

Y/n followed Calum as he made his way down the corridor to the elevator. He had a small suitcase trailing behind him, containing only a few night’s worth of clothes as all of his other stuff was back on the tour bus. 

He didn’t bother to turn around and look at her as he pressed the elevator button, waiting for the elevator to open on their floor, “What is there to talk about exactly? You were drunk.”

“I was tipsy at best, Hood, you know that.” She spat back in annoyance. She wasn’t meaning to be rude or disrespectful towards Calum, he knew that you were just annoyed, frustrated, and maybe even a little embarrassed at how Calum had left you in your hotel room last night. It was understandable, he would have been too, “Was this just another prank of yours? I know you annoy me and prank me to get me riled up and embarrassed, is that what last night was too? Make it seem like you like me just to  abandon me in my hotel room?”

They were inside the elevator by the time she had finished saying that, Calum’s eyes never once straying from the metal doors in front of them. He gripped harshly onto the handle of his suitcase as he discretely shook his head, “No. It was never like that...”

Calum trailed off into a murmur, and she felt her annoyance still bubbling in her stomach. She didn’t believe Calum, not if he wasn’t going to give her a solid answer.

“Well how is it then, Cal, huh?” Calum opened his mouth, brown eyes glancing towards her as he tried to speak, but no words came out. He was silent. He didn’t know what to say, he knew she was annoyed, and he knew now certainly wasn’t how he should confess anything for her.

He was sober. He hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol, he knew perfectly well what he was doing last night. He had never really thought of it before, of y/n in that manner. Sure, they were doing a PR stunt together but he had never thought of it as anything more than a PR stunt but recently he had been getting a little too attached.

He didn’t miss the way he felt a frown come on his face when he saw you upset, didn’t miss the way his lips curled into a smile when he saw you passed out on the couch with a book that had fallen out of your hands, or when you came to get breakfast with tousled hair and asleep expression. He certainly didn’t miss the way his veins flooded with anger and jealousy when she was dancing with that man yesterday or how in his head he said ‘that should have been me’.

Because it should have been. He longed for it to be, but he didn’t know how to tell her that.

She scoffed in reply as the doors opened to the main lobby of the hotel, stalking out of the small and confined space, “Forget it, Hood. Tour has only got three weeks left and after that, we go our separate ways and end this PR stunt.”

That was how it went. Calum and y/n only ever talked to each other when they had to go on dates or be together, and even then the conversation was strained and awkward; just like it had been on their first date. Calum closed into himself again, and he stopped annoying y/n behind closed doors, too.

Weirdly, y/n actually found it strange without Calum there anymore. She had expected that it would have been peaceful, finally getting a break from the bassist’s annoying nature and pranks but she felt like her life had become dull. Before, she would have basked in the quiet and calm, but now she wanted nothing more than to hear Calum’s voice nagging at her, or even making some dumb comment. She hated to say it, but she missed him.

Sure, she still got to see him, they were on tour together after all but they barely looked each other’s way. They didn’t speak unless they were told to, and admittedly, y/n missed talking to Calum.

Yet, she tried to not let it bother her as her eyes skimmed past the words in her book, one she had gotten months ago but never got around to reading, the boys always being too distracting, or loud, or her just not having enough time. The clock ticked in the background, the only noise other than her playing with the bottom corner of the paper, her lip trapped between her teeth. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the words, no matter how hard she tried, the silence was - dare she say - too distracting.

Her fingers drummed on the now-closed book, frustration bubbling in her chest, her head now tucked on top of her knees that were held against her chest. The bus was soo lifeless without them here, and even when they were here now it wasn’t the same. The laughs, while still present, weren’t as loud and joyous, movements were more lethargic, time spent between them was minimal. In fact, y/n can’t remember the last time she actually spent time with them all.

The room is suddenly filled with the noise of the TV coming on, the bright light from the object almost hurting y/n’s eyes as she squinted slightly, remote in her hand as she sifted through the channels. A yawn escaped her lips while she tried her best to read her book again, now accompanied by the noise of the TV to help her focus. She got comfy on the couch, huddled in a small ball but before she knew it, her eyes were drifting shut and she fell asleep.

  Before she knew it, she woke up in her bunk. With eyebrows knitted together, she looked outside, noticing that the sun was slowly starting to rise. She didn’t remember trudging back through to her bunk last night. In fact, she didn’t remember anything after she turned the TV on. Slowly, she got out of her bunk and walked slowly through to the small mobile kitchen, she noted that she was still in yesterday’s clothes, so it made sense as to her being too tired to remember moving back through to the bunks.

To her surprise, she wasn’t alone in the small kitchen. He stood with his back to her, the rhythmic sound of his spoon hitting against the side of his mug as he stirred the sugar into his tea being the only noise that traveled through the room. Y/n thought better than to ignoring him this early, knowing that when he noticed she was there he would probably think she was just staring at him, “Mornin’, Ash.”

“Good morning n/n,” The man shot back with a smile, turning towards him as he put his mug down on the counter, “You wantin’ some?”

“That’d be nice, actually. Thank you,” The girl shot him a kind smile and hugged him, a gesture that he happily reciprocated before reaching to get another mug out of the small cupboards.

“You have a nice sleep?” The man started an idle conversation while he worked on making the girl tea, something he often did for her. Mornings were often their thing, a time that they spent in peace before the rest of the boys woke up at about noon. The girl hummed as she nodded her head at the question to which he gave a small chuckle, “You seemed pretty tired knocked out on the couch when we got back last night.”

Her lips parted in shock slightly, she didn’t remember them coming back home. Yes, it made sense because she was asleep, but she thought she would have heard them come in, they weren’t exactly the quietest of people, “You guys were here when I fell asleep on the couch?”

Ashton nodded in return, hazel eyes briefly glancing over at the girl before looking back down at the now made cup of tea, “Cal carried you to your bunk.”

Now that was more surprising. It made sense as to why she couldn’t remember going to bed, but she still thought that Calum hated her. So why would he take her to bed? Carry her, no less. He could have woken her up, told her to go to bed, or even left her there to wake up with a craned neck in the morning but he didn’t. “He doesn’t hate you, you know,” Ashton started again, breaking the silence between the two of them, and breaking into y/n’s thoughts. It was almost as if he could read her mind at times, “He just has a weird way of showing it.”

“By leading me on then rejecting me?” Y/n asked, no sense of emotion leaving her tongue; embarrassment or bitterness. She already knew that the boys knew, Calum would have told them and by the slight grimace that appeared on Ashton’s face, she knew he had.

Before he started to speak again, he handed her the mug of hot liquid, that she thanked him for softly and brought to her lips. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and took a drink of his own tea before he spoke again, “Cal isn’t great with feelings but give him a chance n/n. In that brief period where you guys weren’t fighting and were friends, he was really happy. Now he just mopes, I guess. He just isn’t like his old self. You should talk to him.”

Ashton didn’t say anything else, just continued to drink his tea alongside the girl, who was festered up in thoughts about the bassist. She knew Ashton was right, she had to talk to Calum. They were both miserable now, even if she hadn’t noticed he was. This disconnect was not doing good for either of them, and she knew that eventually, they would both grow so distant and miserable that their lives would be awful. She knew she had to talk to him, but what could she possibly say?

  It was days before she finally mustered up the courage to talk to the young bassist, always chickening out at the last minute or not being able to find him. He never looked at her once when they were in the same room, he didn’t even acknowledge her existence, so she waited. She waited for the right time to speak to him, which appeared to be now.

Michael and Luke had already left, Calum in the bathroom and Ashton at the door to exit the bus with y/n, sending her a small glare that told her what she needed to do. His hazel eyes didn’t leave hers before she nodded her head with a sigh, wringing her hands together, “I know, I will.”

He gave her a small nod before wordlessly leaving, and like that, she waited for him to exit the bathroom. She fidgeted where she stood as she saw his frame come into view, not even sparing her a glance before he started to rush around the bus, noticing all the guys had already left.

“Cal I need to talk to you,” She announced, watching him with a rigid figure while he continued to rush around the bus, picking up his jacket and shoes, which he frantically put on.

He barely spared her a glance as he spoke, “Can’t it wait? I’m late.”

“It’ll only take a minute. Please, Cal.”

She almost cringed at the pathetic beg that came out of her mouth, but she didn’t. She wanted things to go back to the way they were, she missed Calum annoying her, and honestly, it was driving her crazy that he acted like she didn’t even exist anymore. The desperate beg seemed to get Calum’s attention too, brown eyes finally meeting hers after so long.

His lips tugged into a frown, yet he keeps his face as emotionless as he could. He’s more closed off to her than ever, and it broke her heart. They fell into a silence, y/n with her mouth open trying to form the words that she needed to say, and Calum glaring down at her, a very irritated expression on his face.

From the simple expression that Calum is giving her, y/n started to regret her decision of speaking to him and that becomes even more amplified when he scoffed, walked towards the door, “I have to get going.”

He didn’t even let her get a word in again before he was slamming the door behind him, leaving y/n staring at the door he had just walked through.

It felt like history was repeating itself because she was left alone. Again. Just like the first time.

#calum hood #calum 5sos #Calum Thomas Hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sauce #calum hood x reader #calum hood x you #calum hood x y/n #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer x reader #5sos #5sos x reader #5sos x y/n #5sos x you

[brokenangelwings22]

Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

#ihweek2021 #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime

[one-boring-person]

i love your works sm!! do you still take terminator requests? if so, i had in mind one where the reader had like, a bad day and the T-800 comforts them c:

Thank you! I'm really glad you like my stuff!And I do take Terminator requests; you're my first!😅 I hope you like this!

No Problemo.

T-800 x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The door slams loudly behind me as I enter the house, my bag colliding violently with the wall as I throw it there, a scowl etched into my features. My coat soon joins the bag, left behind as I stalk further into the house, heading towards the kitchen, intent on grabbing something to eat or drink before going upstairs to wallow in my room, shoulders aching from my tense posture, clenched jaw equally as painful from the hours of biting back sharp replies. There are low noises coming from the lounge, but I ignore them, not quite in the mood to interact with the other members of the household. 

Entering the kitchen, I flick on the light and go over to the fridge, yanking it open to check its contents. A groan of frustration leaves me as I realise we're low on food (again), the cool shelves deserted after a week of feeding the four of us living here. Mentally, I make a note in my head to go to the store tomorrow and pick up some more stuff, knowing full well neither Sarah nor John will go, and Bob is unlikely to take the initiative by himself. Sighing, I close the fridge again and go to the cupboard, opening it to find the shelves yet again void of any edible substance. In their place, I find a few loose scraps of metal and some empty containers, some old spices pushed to the back of the space, the sight of which makes me roll my eyes.

"You have returned." 

The monotone voice behind me makes me jump, the owner of said baritone having managed to sneak up on me despite his generally massive size. Spinning on my heel, I come to face Uncle Bob, the T-800 regarding me quietly, expression mostly blank. Swallowing to calm myself again, I reach for a cup and go to the tap, filling it with cool water as I go to reply.

"Yeah. Finally." I respond dryly, downing the glass of water with a sharp jerk of my head.

The cyborg's brow creases a little, the terminator still learning to express human emotion as others do, his head cocking to the side, evidently scanning me.

"Your stress levels are very high and your muscles are unnaturally tensed. What is wrong?" Bob questions, coming further into the room, watching as I refill the glass.

Pulling a face at his automated observance, I shoot him a look from my position by the sink.

"Bad day." I eventually answer, pushing off the counter and going to move past him, heading up to my room.

I frown as I hear him follow after me, his heavy boots thudding on the stairs behind me. Paying him no mind, I simply walk to my room, pushing open the door and going in, starting to pull at the smarter clothes I'm forced to wear for my job. My fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt, frustration clouding my mind as I struggle to undo them. From the corner of my eye, I can see Bob loitering in the doorway, watching me carefully, before he suddenly pushes into the room, coming over to me. Confused, I stare at him, backing up a little until his eyes meet mine, somehow managing to reassure me with his carefully crafted mimicry of human reassurance.

Hesitantly, I let him come closer, tensing when he instantly goes to start unbuttoning my shirt, his passive gaze staying focused on the task, even as he starts to speak, his large frame hunched over me.

"What has solicited your negative assessment of the day?" The cyborg queries, easily loosening each button in turn.

Clenching my jaw again, I watch him work, feeling somewhat soothed by his calm actions, enjoying his closeness and unwavering stociness. 

"It's just been a long, difficult day. Nothing went right, my boss is making things harder for me, and none of the things I needed to get done actually got done." I sigh, trying to relax, "I have a ridiculous amount of work due tomorrow, and I've had no way of doing it today. I didn't eat lunch because I had no time, so now I'm hungry, and tired, and just want to go to bed."

Having told him these things, I start to feel a little better, but not by much, having been reminded of the exact reasons why I'm like this in the first place.

"I see." The T-800 recites one of his newly-learned phrases, glancing up at me, "It is recommended that you obtain food and take rest for optimum recovery."

His diagnostic advice comes quickly, a hard contrast to the more human way of speaking we've been trying to teach him, the sound of which almost brings a small smile to my face.

"I plan to do that." I mutter, batting his hands away as he finally finishes his task, turning away from him as I strip myself of my shirt and trousers, pulling on some more comfortable clothes.

"Good." He nods in approval, moving over to me again as I go to sit on my bed.

Quietly, he eyes me, seemingly running through some line of data on his HUD, before he leans down and easily scoops me into his arms. Squeaking in surprise, I wrap my arms around his neck, only to let go when he places me down against my pillows, taking care to make sure I'm comfortable, removing everything that may be considered uncomfortable from the bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, curiously, watching as he neatly folds a shirt and places it on my desk.

"Helping you recover." He states simply, glancing at me, "Stay where you are."

Frowning at his command, I stare after him as he leaves the room, unsure of what he is doing but not adverse to it. It feels nice to be looked after, for a change, instead of looking after others, even if it is by the surly cyborg sent to protect my best friend. He's always been stumped as to how John and I came to be friends, given the large age gap between us, somehow not quite understanding the concept that I had worked at the arcade the teen used to frequent and had come to know he and his friend very well. Eventually, I got roped into a situation that changed my life, and now here I am, living with the Connors, doing a terrible job to keep myself busy, trying to forget that the life I now lead is far from normal.

After a moment, the T-800 walks in again, a plate in one hand a mug in the other. As he comes closer, I realise there are a couple of slices of pizza on the plate, which confuses me.

"Where'd you get the pizza from? The fridge is empty." I ask him, sitting up to take the plate and mug from him as he offers them to me.

"Sarah and John ordered takeout. There was some spare." He fills me in, handing me the items.

Nodding, I place the plate in my lap, cupping the mug between my palms as I sniff it, glad to recognise a tea of some sorts, unaware that we had any. In doing so, I don't quite register that the T-800 has slipped onto the bed with me until his hands are suddenly on my waist, lifting me into his lap. Eyes widening in shock, I tense up, unused to the feeling of his huge, muscular body against mine, though he says nothing, only starting to rub my arms and legs gently.

"What're you doing?" I ask him again, still unsure, though I can slowly feel myself give in to his touch, the gentle sensations highly comforting to me.

"My files state that physical contact between two people can induce relaxation and a lessening of stress." Bob replies, pulling me back to lean against his chest, sitting back against the headboard as he does so.

"Right. Well, thank you." I say to him, hesitantly starting to relax into him, enjoying the feeling of his hands tracing my arms, the scent of motorcycle fuel, metal and the cheap cologne John bought him flooding my nostrils as I start to eat.

"No problemo." He replies, holding my mug still as I continue to eat.

Instantly, I feel my tensions starting to drain away, my hunger soon satiated, my exhaustion taking over as I settle back into Bob's chest, my eyelids starting to droop closed.

"It is recommended now that you sleep to regain your energy." The T-800 states, much quieter than usual, his arms wrapping around me properly after removing the plate and mug from the bed, keeping me against him as he gently manoeuvres himself to lie down with me on his chest.

Turning in his arms, I look up at him, smiling contentedly as I rest my head on his collarbone, nodding at the cyborg.

"Yeah, I will. Thank you." I murmur, closing my eyes properly, totally relaxed in his hold.

He doesn't reply, only tightening his grip on me, a kiss suddenly pressed to my forehead, leaving me smiling like an idiot in my sleep.

#terminator judgement day #terminator #terminator 2 #terminator imagine #arnold schwarzenegger

[wordshakerofgallifrey]

Do you still accept these? I'm late to the party.

If yes, Angsty/Fluff drabble With Màma also being there.

If no, I totally respect that

this got...way longer than I meant for it to. sorry it took so long!

*

Maria's always been a light sleeper.

Between being a cop, a wife to a man who worked for Scrooge McDuck, and a mother to a boy who ran before he could crawl, the slightest noise had her eyes snapping open.

So when a cupboard in the kitchen closes a little too loudly, followed by a muffled curse, she throws back the covers and runs to the door.

"Pollito? Gandra?" she says softly, squinting in the dim light, hand groping along the wall for the light switch.

A sniffle greets her, one that spurs her actions, and Maria flips on the switch, bathing the kitchen in light.

Gandra raises a hand the shield her eyes. "Mar--M'ma," she sniffs, wiping her face with the back of her wrist. "I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry."

"No, no, mija, it's fine. Are you okay?" The question is rhetorical, of course, as her gaze slides from the girl's disheveled appearance and tear-stained face to the clock on the stove that reads 3:20.

"I'm fi--" Her shoulders slump as Maria raises an eyebrow, not in an uncaring way, simply disbelieving. "Yeah, this, uh, this doesn't look too convincing, does it?"

She shrugs a shoulder. "It raises some questions."

Hanging her head a little, Gandra scuffs her foot against the tile. “I was just making some tea, but I couldn’t find it.”

Maria's not surprised. She and Pollito mostly run on coffee, and she knows Gandra does too, but she keeps a light stash of chamomile for after long days at the station that's buried in one of these cupboards.

“I’ll make us some. Siéntate, it’ll just be a minute.” She moves around the kitchen without waiting for an answer, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove before rummaging through the cupboard for two mugs.

One is her ancient, chipping "I'm a mother, what's your superpower?" mug Fenton gave her ages ago. The other is newer, Gandra's, she bought a week after moving in with them.

(She doesn't get the joke--"No flux given"--accompanied by a complex scientific equation, but Pollito and Gandra think it's hilarious)

It's one of the few touches that remind her there's a third person living with them again--the shoes by the door, the extra pillow on Fenton's bed, the growing clutter on the second bathroom's counter.

Maria knows it's far from permanent. Gandra will move out someday, and Fenton will probably--definitely--follow her eventually, if not right away. But for now, having them both here...she likes it. The house feels full again.

The kettle whistles, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she clicks the burner off, pouring the water over the tea bags.

Picking up the mugs, she carries them to the table, sitting across from Gandra, placing it in front of her.

The girl looks a little less miserable, just sullen, dark circles under her eyes as she traces aimless shapes in the wood of the table.

"Do you want to talk about it, mija?" she finally asks after a moment of them sitting there, neither touching their tea.

“Just...bad dream,” Gandra says, tracing the rim of her mug. 

Maria doesn't press. She didn't get to where she was as a detective without learning how to read people. Gandra wants to talk, but she won't with too much prodding.

So she takes a sip of her tea and waits.

After a moment of sipping her tea, and clearly trying to hide her distaste for the drink, Gandra says, "I was back in the catacombs, in the cell. Only, uhm. Fenton was there, too. And he was so mad at me. Like, really mad. And he's...intense when he's angry, you know, he's gotta get that from you. Just, like, yelling at me about it being my fault that he was there, and then he was about to be wiped out of existence and he couldn't call the suit, and--"

She inhales shakily, cutting herself off, fresh tears pooling in her eyes and Maria slides her chair closer to her. “Oh, mija,” she whispers, reaching for her hand. 

“And, like, I know it’s a dream. I wake up, and he’s next to me and I’m not in the cell, but I can’t lose this tight feeling in my chest, like I’m breathing that stale air again and I don’t know if he’s going to be okay. And I don’t know why I can’t just tell myself it’s not real.”

She squeezes her hand tightly, feels the lines of her nanotechnology among her feathers. It’s a sensation she’s still getting used to, but Fenton had told her Gandra didn’t take her gloves off around just anyone, let alone let them touch it without intent to shock them, so she never let on that the wires in any way unnerved her.  

“Honey, you went through something traumatic, even if you didn’t realize it at the time, spending every free moment trying to escape. That’s not something you can just logic away, no matter how hard you try.”

“Then what do I do?” Gandra asks bluntly. “If I can’t logic my way out of it, what do I do?”

Fenton never had this problem--for all his smarts, he had too big a heart to try and think his way through his feelings.

“You have to let yourself feel it. All of it, even the bad stuff. You can’t lock it away, you can’t think your way out of it. You just have to feel it so you can work through it.”

Gandra leans her head on her hand. From her expression, that’s the last thing she wanted to hear. “That sounds shitty.”

Maria huffs a quiet laugh. “Sí, it’s not fun, but we’re here to help you with whatever you need.” 

“Fenton’s really lucky to have you.” Her voice is soft, and she gently retracts her hand; Maria lets her. 

“You have me, too, mija.” Not for the first time, she wonders about Gandra’s past, but even Fenton doesn’t know all that much, it seems. But, even though the tears are at bay for now, the girl looks drained. “For anything. Talks, late night tea. Although.” She nods towards the cooling cup, largely untouched. “You don’t really like tea, do you?”

Gandra snorts a laugh. “I can’t stand it. But I read somewhere it was supposed to be good if you couldn’t sleep. And my mom used to always make it after I had nightmares. Thought it might help.”

“More about the routine than actually drinking it, right?” Maria understands that. After Hamilton passed, she still fixed up his to-go thermos every morning for almost two years.

She nods, but before she can say anything, they hear a muffled voice from the other room.

“Gandra? Gandra!” 

“I’m in here, Suit,” she calls softly. A moment later, Pollito stumbles through the doorway.

He sighs in relief when he sees her. “There you are. Is everything okay, are you alright?"

Gandra slides over so he can share her chair, which he gladly does, wrapping an arm around her. "Just a nightmare, Fen. I came to make some tea and ran into your mom."

Pollito looks to her hesitantly, as though to confirm, and Maria nods slightly, already standing to quietly clear away her mug and give them some space.

"Okay. Is there anything I can do?" She hears him ask. "Do you want some more tea? Or something to eat? Or--"

Glancing over her shoulder when he cuts off, she sees Gandra's leaned her head on on his shoulder. "Just...stay here a minute, with me?"

His arm tightens around her, and Pollito leans his head against hers. "Always. Siempre."

Maria smiles softly at the two of them, slipping out of the kitchen, unnoticed.

#i have one more to do but the inbox is always open! #yes gandra's mug is real and it's fabulous #not really angst not really fluff #m'ma cabrera #gandra dee #fenton crackshell-cabrera #disney writes stuff #ask disney all the stuff

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part 2 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU- interns fic). Thank u thank u thank u for the nice messages about the first chapter, your messages and replies seriously warm my lil heart. I’m still basically planting seeds for some future plot points here, but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

You can read part 1 here.

_______

And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up

And I still don't wanna stagger home

Then it's the memory of our betters

That are keeping us on our feet

_______

Everything’s different when the sun comes up. It all comes to light in a different way. The sun rises, and reality settles in. Like sleep is some magic reset button. And all of the thoughts and decisions, all of the fun, all of the mischief, it all seems worlds away. Like that was then, and this is now.

A funny thing happens though, when that reset button gets skipped. When there is no sleep, and no separation of night and day. When you stay awake for 24 hours straight and you watch the sun come up in real time; you watch the sun rise twice in fact, and there isn’t that detachment. It all flows together like a never-ending moment.

It’s strange, Amelia thinks, to have no reset button. To sacrifice the idea of choosing sleep. Because instead of calling it quits after two sunrises, she finds herself in a bar, of all places, sitting across from the people she’d met just 24 hours ago.

“I’m sooo happy you’re moving in with me,” Maggie yawns hugely next to her. And Amelia bites down on a smile at the confession; at what no sleep and a slim two beers has done to this previously panic-stricken intern. The intern that was currently dealing with the impact of being related to a Grey.

Except the panic isn’t worth it. Because there isn’t any fallout. Lexie practically laughs until she cries, when it all comes to light. When Maggie finally lets it slip about who her birth mother is. Between the delirious fits of laughter, all Lexie can manage is a “good luck telling Meredith that.”

And it only gets more chaotic.

There’s no reset for all of the sleep-deprived decisions. Lexie and Jo, in an impressive and almost falsely confident manner, venture off towards the bar, where a handful of residents and attendings claim territory. The rest of the newly formed crew stick together, in their quiet corner of the bar.

Amelia can feel Link’s eyes on her from across the booth as she brings a warm mug of tea to her lips. But her eyes remain glued down, staring down at the crumpled tea packet on the table. One of those cheap brands. Cheap because it’s a rare request in a place like this. The kind of drink that ends up taking longer for the bartender to make. More time-consuming to prepare than one of those fancy cocktails even, because it ends up that the bartender has to go search in the stock room for a tea bag in the first place.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a strong hand occupies her line of vision. It’s jolting, to say the least. For her focus to be intruded on like that. The tea packet she’d been so comfortably resting her eyes on, now suddenly consumed by Link’s grasp. He covers it completely, picking it up and further crumpling it in his fist before dropping it back down on the table.

The action forces Amelia to look at him. Which is probably his intention, anyway. So she does, and it’s equally as jolting. His expression. Because she’s half expecting it to mirror the harshness of a crumpled tea packet. But it doesn’t. It’s warm. And it’s soft. And it’s slightly curious.

“You should all move in with me.” Maggie’s voice chimes in.

And Amelia rips her gaze away from Link’s.

“Okay, slow down there,” she lets out an amused exhalation. “You were barely on board with the idea of me moving in.”

Winston playfully nudges Maggie’s side, from where he’s seated on the other side of her. And Amelia doesn’t miss the way his hand settles just above Maggie’s knee. The interaction stands out to her, and she decides she’s going to bookmark it for later. Revisit it perhaps when everyone’s feeling more awake and alert.

“Who should all move where?” Lexie slides into the booth next to Link, eyes wide with naivety as she sips a full drink.

“My apartment,” Maggie responds matter-of-factly. “I have one more room open.”

Amelia scrunches her nose at this, and she staggers through her confusion. “Wait. Just one more? What happened, I thought-”

“Well, I already promised a room to Link….” Maggie’s voice is laced with exhaustion and something else, as she turns to explain to Amelia. “When you were in the bathroom….I told him, I-” She hiccups slightly, abandoning her sentence. And Amelia tilts her head to the side quizzically. “Anyway,” Maggie gestures across the booth towards Link. “Meet your new roommate.”

Amelia’s gaze returns to Link, and he shrugs somewhat defensively, muttering under his breath, “Sorry.”

But Amelia doesn’t feel sorry. She feels something else. The notion rises in her chest, and she wants to label it as anticipation.

“Okay, but I have to get out of Meredith’s house!” Lexie slams her drink down on the table. “I’m living with a bunch of residents.”

There’s unanimous murmurs of condolence from the group.

“Oh! Speaking of….” She continues, picking her drink back up and nodding towards the bar. “The plastics attending….Mark Sloan? Just bought me this drink.”

“Ugh,” Amelia’s quick to counter. “Do not go there.”

All heads turn to her, and she feels heat rise in her face as she takes in the curious stares. When she doesn’t follow up on her previous precaution, Lexie speaks up again.

“....Have you?” Lexie swallows, a disconcerted expression on her face. “Gone there?”

Amelia doesn’t miss the way Link surveys her expression, following this particular question. She clears her throat, eyes shifting back to the crumpled tea packet.

“No, no. God no.” Her tone is low as she shakes her head dismissively. “I’ve just….known him my whole life.”

“Oh,” Lexie shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. And Amelia quickly surveys any other reactions to her response.

A general quietness falls across the table and Amelia’s eyes eventually settle back to the tea packet. She can’t quite determine why it seems to be the focal point of her evening. Or morning. Or whatever this was. She wants to claim it’s the vivid yellow packaging that keeps catching her eye.

But, her thoughts are intruded once again when Link suddenly stands up from the table. She peers up at him intently.

“Shepherd,” his tone is gentle as he starts moving away from the table. “I think I promised you a game of darts.”

Amelia blinks. Partly in confusion. But also mostly against her sudden bout of exhaustion.

“I, uh,” she mutters, turning around in her seat as she watches Link make his way around the booth.

“Come on.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

And she bites the inside of her cheek, turning around to set her mug down.

“Okay, okay,” she’s not yet facing him when she stands from the booth. “One game and then I’m out of here.” She looks pointedly at Maggie as she exits the booth. “And I can drive anyone home that needs a ride.”

Maggie offers her a toothy grin, and Winston nods in grateful agreement at the offer. Amelia steps away from the table, and tries not to mirror the smug look on Link’s face.

“One game,” she repeats.

And he chuckles a bit, proudly.

“I don’t know….” he lets her lead them across the bar, towards the wall that’s filled with dart boards and other bar games. “You’ll probably want a rematch….when I beat you the first time around.”

Amelia feigns shock at his words. But really, somewhere deep down, she’s suppressing her gratification. Because he’s feeding into her competitive side completely.

“We’ll see,” she says, as she collects the darts and starts separating them.

She hands Link his portion of the game’s pieces and he mimics her words back to her. “We’ll see.”

_______

It ends up that uninhibited decisions turn into concrete plans. Link and Lexie move into the apartment. And Amelia adheres to her pride that she was the first choice in the matter, and that everyone else just happened to follow suit.

She wakes up in the new apartment on this particular morning, and it takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She groggily registers that the unfamiliar space around her is, indeed, her own bedroom.

Her alarm blares again loudly, after it’s been snoozed repeatedly for the last 15 minutes, and she aggressively shuts it off. Sitting up in bed, she throws on a cardigan before shuffling out of her room and down the hall, towards the shared space of the apartment.

“Gooood morning,” Maggie practically sings, her voice an irritating level of cheerful for the early hour.

As Amelia rounds the corner into the small kitchen area, her tired eyes settle on Maggie, where she occupies one of the stools at the counter. All she can manage to mutter is a slight “mhm,” in acknowledgement of the greeting.

She reaches into the cupboard for a mug, before filling it from the coffee pot that’s already been prepared. Once her mug is full of the steaming liquid, she turns back around to face Maggie. She leans against the counter as she brings the cup up to her nose, inhaling the scent and closing her eyes in gratitude.

The sound of Maggie’s bedroom door creaking open eventually shakes her from her blissful moment, and then her expression quickly turns to one of shocked amusement. Because her eyes settle on Winston, as he exits the bedroom and enters into the main room. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before, and Amelia looks him up and down, biting her lip in excitement, like she’s just remembered where she’s hidden the last piece of a puzzle.

“Ha,” Amelia’s delighted revelation sounds gravelly, the sleep still evident in her voice. “You don’t live here.”

She shifts her gaze to Maggie, who offers a pleading look in return. And then she looks back to Winston, who has since halted in the doorway. She can’t hold back the raspy sounding chuckle that escapes her lips. “I get it. You guys are sex friends. It all makes sense now.”

Winston scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. And Maggie blinks, dumfounded. She stands suddenly, stepping away from the kitchen counter, like she’s desperate to remove herself from this situation.

“I’m gonna go shower. Don’t want to be late,” Maggie mutters.

Amelia just smiles further, eyes shifting playfully between the two, before she turns to walk back to her room. She raises her coffee mug slightly above her as she walks away, like she’s motioning a ‘cheers’ to the air. She tilts her head back once more in their direction, before she disappears from the kitchen, and sarcastically repeats Maggie’s greeting from before. “It is a good morning.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but follows after her through the hallway, turning into the bathroom.

“Let me know when you’re done!” Amelia announces when she reaches her room. “I want dibs on the shower next!”

_______

Amelia finishes her coffee, and as she sets her empty mug in the sink, her impatience steadily rises.

“Maggie!” She yells, as she returns to the hallway. “You’re gonna make us late!”

There’s no response, but she hears that the shower is still on, and she even hears music coming from the bathroom. She finds the music choice odd for Maggie, and also finds it odd that Maggie is even the type of person that listens to music while she showers.

“Maggie,” she tries one more time, knocking her fist against the door.

There’s no answer.

She sighs, glancing at her watch. And then she decides to push the door open slightly, stepping into the small bathroom. “Maggie are you almost done?! I’m just going to brush my teeth real quick while you’re in there,” she announces loudly, over the music, as she reaches for her toothbrush on the sink.

“Um, not Maggie.” A surprisingly deep voice sounds from the other side of the curtain as she starts brushing her teeth.

And oh, that’s Link. “Shit, sorry! I thought you were Maggie! Wow, I just barged right in-”

“It’s fine” he interrupts, and then Amelia hears the water get shut off. “Could you, uh, actually hand me a towel though?” A dripping wet hand shoots out from behind the shower curtain and Amelia just stares at it, her toothbrush falling slack between her lips.

“Hello….? Towel?”

“Uh, right. Here.” She mutters around her toothbrush.

Blinking from her daze, she slowly reaches for a towel and hands it to him. And then suddenly the curtain is sliding open and Link is climbing out of the shower, towel around his waist, in all of his soaking wet glory. And holy shit, Amelia thinks, as she not so subtly darts her eyes around the tight space. Attempting to look anywhere but at him. She settles on turning around, and facing herself in the mirror as she makes quick movements of brushing her teeth.

She doesn’t know where the sudden panic comes from. She’s a confident person. Never timid. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she retaliates against the idea that she’s lost any of her game. Or that she’s the one creating any awkward tension.

Link enters her line of vision through the bathroom mirror, and she feels frozen where she stands. Because, for some reason, he starts inching even closer.

He clears his throat.

“Just need to, uh, grab something…”

She practically jumps out of the way as Link reaches around her for the medicine cabinet.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll get out of your way,” she exhales a sheepish laugh at her own reaction, and tries not to cringe at the way she sounds with her mouth still full of toothpaste.

Link finally moves to exit the bathroom, and Amelia wants to sigh in relief, as she resumes her position in front of the sink. But she doesn’t. She holds back. And from her peripheral, she can see him pause in the doorway.

She turns her head in his direction. And he smirks at her before he leaves.

“Shower is all yours.”

The bathroom door clicks shut and Amelia spits harshly into the sink.

_______

Carpooling is apparently a thing they do now. They arrive at the hospital, and everyone piles out of Maggie’s car, beginning to cross the parking lot.

“Hey!” Jo’s breathless voice sounds from somewhere behind them as she locks up her own car and jogs to catch up with the group. She steps into pace with them, walking next to Link. “Whose service are you guys on today?”

“Neuro. With Shepherd,” Winston responds.

“Same here!” Lexie actually sounds excited.

“Okay, but why are we all on Shepherd’s service?” Jo mutters.

Everyone turns towards Amelia, as if she knows the reasoning behind her brother’s request. She just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Someone a little let down that they aren’t with Karev today?” Link nudges Jo playfully, and Jo feigns shock at the accusation, swatting at his shoulder.

As they enter the hospital, Amelia slows a bit behind the group, letting everyone else venture off ahead of her.

“Not excited about neuro?” She hadn’t realized Link had slowed down with her. “Not exactly my first pick either, but-”

“No, no,” she cuts in. “That’s not it.”

Link just stares at her for a moment, and Amelia almost feels scrutinized by it.

“Oh,” he continues. “Not excited about your brother, then?”

Amelia sighs, questioning to herself when they started getting so personal with each other. And then she cringes at the direction of her thoughts. Because maybe the getting too personal thing had started this morning, following the shower incident.

“That’s not exactly it, either.”

“Not exactly?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, what’s with-”

“Amy Shepherd?!”

Both Link and Amelia turn around, following the voice that’s interrupted their conversation.

Mark Sloan is walking towards them full force, a huge grin on his face.

“Mark?!”

“Amy?!”

“....Amy?” Link mutters under his breath, chuckling at the nickname. And Amelia glances sideways at him in warning.

“The only person that still calls me that is Derek,” she raises her eyebrows at Mark, matching his grin.

“Well, Derek didn’t mention you were in town,” He finally approaches, and Amelia pulls him into a tight hug. They pull apart and Mark looks her up and down. “You look….different than the last time I saw you.”

“You look different, too,” she smirks.

Link looks between the pair curiously.

“And I’m not just in town,” Amelia adds as she steps out his embrace. “I work here now.”

“You work here?! Why didn’t Derek say anything…” Mark gets momentarily distracted by something, or somebody behind them. “Derek!” he yells. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister works here now?!”

Derek approaches, his demeanor reflecting his overall impatience. He completely disregards Mark’s question.

“Why do you people not answer your pages?”

“....And this conversation’s no longer entertaining. Catch up later?” Mark glances at Amelia a final time before stepping away. Then Derek turns towards his sister expectantly.

“When I requested you all on my service today, I expected punctuality.” He raises his eyebrows, and when Amelia offers no response, he continues. “I have a patient being admitted today. She’s had a sudden onset of seizures. We don’t know the cause. But we need to figure out the cause.”

There’s slight hesitation at his instructions.

“Okay, you! Dr….” his eyes shift down to glance over Link’s ID badge. “Dr. Lincoln. I want you to grab the rest of the interns and head to the library. Starting now, you all are in charge of research. Anything, I mean anything, you can find on this. Case studies, research papers, all of it. Just….find something for me.”

Link nods respectively, and he begins to turn towards Amelia.

“And Amy,” Derek’s eyes settle on hers, in an almost disdainful way. “You’re with the patient.��

Amelia is stunned for a moment, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“You want me to do what, exactly?” She steps forward towards Derek, who mutters under his breath in frustration. “Babysit your aneurysm? Because my time is worth way more than-”

“An aneurysm, is the last thing this is-”

“And what makes you so sure of that?!” She looks between his eyes incredulously.

“You think this woman’s just been walking around with a ruptured aneurysm-”

“I didn’t say ruptured-”

“Well if it’s not ruptured, she’d likely not have any symptoms at all, so your logic makes absolutely no sense.” Derek raises his eyebrows, like he’s won the argument.

“I’m just saying! I did a research paper on this. Similar case. Sudden onset of seizures. No prior history. But, this woman fell and-”

“I never said my patient had a fall.”

“Well did you ask her that?”

“Amy,” Derek breathes, exasperated. He tries to move around her, completely done with the conversation.

But she blocks his movements. And he gives her a blank stare. While Link stands off to the side, looking between the two uncomfortably.

“Derek.” She retorts, the frustration in her tone highly evident.

“Take my patient to CT. And then stay with her, while she gets transported to a room. You can manage that, right?”

Amelia bites her tongue, nodding numbly. She refrains from voicing everything she wants to say, and she tries to fight off the emotions that arise as Derek steps around her. She feels defeated. And small. Which was typical lately, following any interaction with her older brother. She curses herself for thinking it would be any different, now that she was here under specific circumstances. Professional circumstances. Hand picked for this surgical internship out of a large pool of equally impressive applicants. But it’s not different. If anything, it’s even more demoralizing, to be met with this discouragement both personally, and now professionally.

Derek steps away and she’s left standing there with Link.

“Your brother is….kind of a jerk.”

Amelia rolls her eyes, pushing past Link.

“Shepherd, wait-”

She ignores the way he calls after her, and she keeps walking. Because she has a patient now. A patient who needs a head CT.

_______

Link finds her about a half hour later. She’s walking from CT with a stack of scans in her arms. She nods a greeting at Link as begins walking with her.

“Hey! So, we've all been in the research library, could probably use your help-”

“I was right,” she says simply, shaking her head. “It’s an aneurysm. It’s tiny, but it’s there.”

Link doesn’t hold back his surprise. “Wow, how’d you-”

He’s cut off again when Amelia turns to him, forcing the scans over into his hands.

“What are you-”

“Make sure Derek gets these.”

“....You don’t want to hand them over yourself?” Link objects, trying to give them back to her. “Tell him you were right?”

“Nah,” she breathes, turning away from him. “I want off his service.”

Link comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, watching her continue in the opposite direction. She turns around, facing him once more before she’s off again.

“Just please, hurry. He needs to see those now.”

_______

Several hours later, after her shift has ended, all Amelia wants is a peaceful evening. The first thing that comes to mind for her, when seeking this, is chamomile tea.

After changing into her sweats, which includes her favorite Harvard sweatshirt, she wanders down the hall to the kitchen to begin her evening routine.

The kitchen is dark, so she flips on one of the dim lights before she starts rummaging through the cupboards. To her left, from the balcony attached to the small kitchen, she can hear the sound of Jo’s exuberant laughter, mixed in with a couple of other voices.

A moment later, the sliding glass door is opening and Link is stepping inside. He slightly grimaces at the difference in volume to the quiet kitchen, as the voices outside get cut off with the door sliding shut again.

“Oh, hey,” he mutters, as he sets an empty beer bottle on the counter. “Didn’t know you were up. Are we being too loud?”

Amelia shakes her head, her focus still on her tea set-up.

She knows she’s being standoffish, and probably to Link’s notice, too.

“Weird day, huh?”

Amelia shrugs. And then realizes she has yet to say anything out loud here.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You seem like someone….that would want to talk about it, no?”

Amelia smirks at this revelation.

“It’s a long story,” she murmurs, listening to the water in the electric kettle start to boil, and then the comforting sound gets interrupted by Jo’s laughter from outside. “Shouldn’t you get back out there, anyway?”

“Sounds like Lexie’s keeping her entertained.”

Amelia leans her back against the counter, peering across the kitchen at him.

“Derek….he’s not a jerk,” Amelia says simply. “I know it seemed that way earlier. But really, there’s more to it.”

Link shrugs, moving to lean against the opposite counter.

“It just seemed like he wasn’t taking you seriously. When you happened to be right, so. Maybe he should have.”

Amelia nods to herself.

“Do you have siblings?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Only child.”

Amelia grins. Something about this piece of information makes sense to her.

“I think sometimes it’s hard to....I don’t know,” she trails off momentarily. “Take the baby of the family seriously?”

It’s probably obvious to Link that there’s more to it. Reasonings that she’s conveniently leaving out. But he nods along with her explanation anyway.

“Anyway, I don’t want you to go on thinking my brother is some bad guy….” she mutters as she turns around to face the kettle again. “Because he’s not, he’s….one of my favorite people, actually, so.”

Link watches as Amelia starts drumming her fingers against the countertop, her eyes glued to the tea kettle.

He steps towards the fridge, because he’d originally come inside to grab another beer.

The kettle clicks off and Amelia’s fingers against the counter come to rest. She places a tea bag into her mug and pours some of the boiling water over it. She turns around just in time to see Link shut the fridge door, empty-handed.

“Aren’t you heading back out there?”

“Yeah, I just….” he gestures towards the kettle. “That looks pretty good, actually. Is there any left over?”

Amelia holds back her surprise, but quickly nods. She reaches over for another tea bag and hands it over to him.

“Knock yourself out.”

She watches Link hesitate, turning the packet over in his palms.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she grins. “Just use the water from the kettle.”

Link nods, reaching for a mug.

“I’m going to bed. Think you can handle it?” Amelia gestures towards the mug in his hands.

And Link rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ve got it. Is it that obvious that I’m not really a tea guy?”

Amelia bites her lip, and shrugs, turning on her heels and back towards her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Amy.” She can hear Link snicker from the kitchen. And the use of the nickname causes Amelia to halt in her tracks. She slowly rounds the corner back into the kitchen.

“Don’t even.” Her voice is tight with astonishment. “Do you want me to start referring to you as Atticus? Because I will.”

The threat causes Link to falter only a little. And then he grins.

“Try again,” she mutters.

“Okay,” he’s laughing now. “Goodnight, Amelia.”

She thinks it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. Or called her by her first name at all. She’s been so used to hearing him refer to her as ‘Shepherd,’ that the sound of her first name falling from his lips actually stirs something inside her. She convinces herself that that’s it. That’s the reason it stuns her a little. It’s simply because she’s not used to it. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that she enjoys the way it sounds.

She can’t help the smirk that crosses her face, as she repeats his sentiment. She turns back towards the hallway, an amused edge to her voice.

“Goodnight, Link.”

//

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #if u see me continue to reference cases from the actual show no u didn't <3 #i have to steal my medical shit from somewhere ahaha #my writing #if the sun comes up #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy fic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fic #maggie pierce #winston ndugu #magston #jo wilson #lexie grey #mark sloan #derek shepherd #TOOK ME FOREVER TO POST THIS ONE BC IM JUST NOT IN LOVE WITH IT BUT I POSTED ANYWAY