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starrshaddow · 4 months

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part 2 of that university mizu i wrote

So you have her hoodie right?

Its so big on you btw (reaches your thighs) but it's also very comfy.

You're on your way home, on the bus. She waved at you goodbye from outside the window. Of course you waved back. Without her hoodie, she's just wearing a plain tee shirt.

It's not even cold in the bus.

Hell, its not even that cold outside too.

So u cant help but smile at her caring gesture.

Your hand goes up to your lips to suppress the big smile on your face.

then you realize her hoodie smells like her too.

Now her perfume is stuck on you too.

You could still smell her perfume even after you've taken off her hoodie

___

You texted her that you'll return it tomorrow. You both have your respective classes. she has morning class while you have afternoon classes.

Lmk if your class is done, im waiting outside ur building :))

That was your mesage an hour ago. She didnt respond.

You constantly looked at the time and checked her schedule, double thinking whether or not this is her actual building.

Ding!

I'm omw

it wasnt too long until she walked out of the building with her bag slung over her shoulder. You smile.

Then you notice there was someone else with her.

Whoever he was, he was creating years amount of stress on mizu's face

"Why'd you keep telling me to go away? Not like i'm going to scare her off! Or maybe you're scared. You scared she'd ditch you for me once she sees me? What? You scared?"

"shut up." mizu said through gritted teeth

Then her serious and annoyed expression quickly shifted to a more softer and gentler when she sees you.

Her brow relaxes and she stops walking fast, trying to escape her chatterbox of a 'friend'.

You smile at her and you wave.

You look at the man beside her a polite smile and an acknowledging nod.

You walk to Mizu to give her a paperbag

"thanks"

She looked confused as she peaked inside the paperbag

"its- uh, your hoodie," you point yourself, "the one you let me borrow? Remember? Yesterday?"

She huffed a laugh at your stammering

"i was hoping you're not going to return it."

Huh?

She gave you back the paperbag

"keep it."

You look at it in uncertainty, you glance at the man beside her who also seems kinda surprised, then to mizu who looks at you encouragingly.

Take it.

Is what she seems to say.

So you did, but unable to look her for long in the eye from being flustered.

"Thanks?" you laughed. "Do you want to have breakfast?"

"It's eleven."

You rolled your eyes

"then brunch."

Then you remembered her friend,

"oh,- uh, he can come with if he wants to! What's your name, by the way?"

"Taigen!-" "Absolutely not."

Taigen looked at Mizu like she just told him to go to hell. (she kind of did, in her mizu way)

even you were taken back by her cold COLD COLD voice.

"he's busy." mizu said with finality.

Taigen frowned

"What's with you? Can't i atleast meet your new friend? Its not everyday you get a new friend! Dude, come on!"

Mizu turns to him with a sharp glare behind her glasses.

Taigen huffs and walks away.

"Whatever. Fucking rude." then he smiles at you, a very good smile that probably has the intent in looking handsome. "My names Taigen by the way, if you ever get done with Mizu's bitchiness my number is-"

Mizu just pushed him away by his face and went to you, grabbed you by the hand and speed walked out of there (it was hard to keep up, she walks fast).

"he's something."

"something to get rid of, more of." she responded quickly, it made you laugh.

That was when you started asking her if she have other people in the uni she's close with. She said yes and told you about akemi and ringo.... and taigen.

"out of all of them, i like being with you the most."

GIRL COME ON

SHE'S SUPER INTO YOU BUT YOU DONT WANT TO JUMP INTO CONCLUSIONS

THIS UNI READER AND MIZU IS MAKING ME PULL OUT MY HAIR

Mizu: i am literally in love with you

Reader: oh haha i love my friends too

___

Mizu started introducing you to her friends one by one after that. She wasnt surprised to see you and ringo get along since you both share a very calm and kind vibe.

Akemi, you were a bit hesitant at first. I think you felt somewhat insecure? She just looks so pretty, and...

"Oh, this is (Y/n)? It's nice to finally meet you!"

But when she spoke to you and you start talking to her, she's a very interesting person. She's kind, have that fierceness in her, but honest and polite. She's cool, and you got along well with her.

Then there's taigen.

You didnt hate him, but he does get overwhelming at times. He does say funny comments.

You thought him and mizu's interaction was the best it can be but man, is seeing him, mizu, and akemi banter is the best.

It's like a sitcom. Insults thrown here and there which usually ends with taigen with his ego or face bruised.

___

the most memorable thing you two had was during a party

Its so full of people, like touching shoulders at how many there were and you were both just there to pop in and say hi to akemi, wish her a happy birthday. Stay a few hours and leave to hang out somewhere.

You two love doing that. going in a very extroverted place just to say you went only to leave early to do whatever introverted stuff you two want to do (like stop by the grocery because you needed to restock, or stop by the park on mizu's way home because there are cats there)

anyways, so there were so many people right?? And they were havng fun, its loud, they're dancing. and you're starting to feel bothered by them. You and mizu are holding hands to get through the people. You both want to go home but you still have to find akemi.

She stops to make sure you're close behind her, and just as you were about to catch up to her, the crows moves like a tidal wave you end up being caught in it like a fish caught in the currents.

You get shoved so hard that you let go of mizu's hand and end up stumbling forward.

Youre pressed up to someone

and youre too embarassed and too scared to look.

Then you smell their perfume

Mizu.

Your heart thumps.

And you stopped breathing when she shifts, so your head is tucked under her jaw. Her hand finding its way around your waist

it was like she was shielding you away from the people, a crowd that you hate so much.

She's warm. super warm

Or maybe its just you and your lesbian disaster tendencies?

The fact that your height difference was even made more obvious in this situation wasnt helping

Then the crowd shifts and finally there's space again.

And even when there was space, she didnt pull away.

So you did.

You pulled away because you didnt want to make her uncomfortable, not knowing she cherished every single second of it.

That was the first time you two even made physical contact. Like straight up somewhat intimate physical contact that goes more than hand holding and arm touches.

None of you mentioned it on the way home.

But you were both thinking about it.

(i bet mizu felt giddy over it but her face remained stoic lmao)

___

i think mizu thinks you dont like her back the same way she likes you. (come on, she might as well marry you at this point)

So i think what she did was she wanted to enjoy your presence and convesations and decided she'll tell you when she can see that you feel the same way. if you still dont reciprocate her feelings then she'll definitely court you (in a non obvious way) until you do

___

when she came over to your apartment it was when you definitely trust her lotsa to be there.

You guys watched movies in a projector. Overtime it made mizu sleepy and she drifted off.

You were so invested in the movie you just noticed it when you heard her low soft breathing. (she's quiet during the movie, she made little comments and remarks like "why would she go there? Is she stupid?")

SHES SO CUTE WHEN SHES ASLEEP OKAY

She looks so unguarded.

So you took your phone and snapped a pic. You even replaced her contacts picture to it.

Her hair was down today (rare times). You think it looks great on her too.

when she woke up, she was super embarassed and apologetic

"no, its fine! Dont worry about it." then you showed her her picture. "you look really cute by the way."

Mizu didnt know how to react??? But she did march towards you to grab your phone but you easily held it away and dodged her.

She gave up

so she stood there and looked you directly in the eyes. Face half amused and adoring

"you're such a fucking brat."

Then she left and went back to your couch. Her long hair swaying behind her.

i'd be lying if i said that statement lived rent free in your mind

That was the first time you heard her curse

___

if she went in your home, you did too in her dorm. it was during a school break. Her roommate was away visiting her family.

Turns out she lived closer to the uni than you. It's just a few minutes walk away.

it made you feel warm knowing she had to walk maybe ten minutes? just to wait for the bus with you, and walk another ten to go back here again.

She never mentioned it too

Mizu's a real clean freak kind of person, she wants everything to be organized. But you also learned she cant cook. She even burned a pasta, how do you burn a pasta?!

"i didnt know i had to boil water first."

"well what did you do first?"

She was silent then she turned away from you

"...i placed the pasta in a pan with oil."

You dont know what to say anymore

I think youre the one to teach her (other than ringo) how to cook.

Also when you both were cutting vegetables, mizu held her knife wrong so you'll correct her and teach her how.

"here, let me show you."

You held her and positioned the knife properly on her hand. While you explained and taught her how to easily slice a cabbage, you missed how she cheekily smiled.

We all know how great mizu is with a knife.

She just wanted a reason to hold your hand.

"ringo, i dont think i'll be going to your cooking lessons next week."

"what? why? Is my teaching skills not good?" ringo asked worriedly

"no, you're great, ringo. I just..." she smiled, "want to learn from someone else."

___

I think the gang had enough of you two pining each other like a bunch of idiots, so they all had the plan of getting you both drunk after exams under the excuse of 'celebrating'.

But it didnt work

Because you were incredibly responsible and drink slowly (two hours have passed and you're still drinking from the same glass)

While mizu didnt drink at all (she knows what they're doing and she doesnt like it because she wants you or her to confess during the right time and place while being sober. hell no is she going to drunkleny confess to you at the sidewalk).

The gang (mostly taigen) tried to force either of you to drink but it didnt work.

Akemi nudged taigen from under the table. And that was their cue to go to Plan B.

Plan B? Taigen starts hitting on you (was supposed to be inconspicuously but he's bad at being inconspicuous)

compliments you, jokes that made you laugh, and jabs of insults to mizu.

anyways, i think mizu got annoyed and went up to go to the bathroom.

You notice and excuse yourself from the group. You go after her.

She was cleaning her glasses with the end of her shirt when you got there.

You see the slight furrow in her brow and the tightness on her jaw.

You smile comfortingly at her.

"Wanna ditch this place with me?"

"You can stay. You look like you're enjoying yourself, anyways."

She doesn't return your smile like she usually do. She wasn't joking.

your smile falters and you slowly approach her.

"What do you mean? Of course i am, they're our friends."

I think mizu's upset because she's starting to think you really dont like her at all. Or maybe you just don't like a 'her' in general. You don't giggle the same way as you did to taigen, nor do your eyes shine when he compliments you.

She wants to leave and think.

Mizu sighs and turns to you

"i'm going. Tell them that for me."

"what?" you grab her hand when she walks past you. "Mizu, what- where are you doing? What's wrong?"

Should she say it?

Say how much she likes you that it's absolutely breaking seeing you not realize it?

She wanted to scoff.

Hell no. She's not going to admit just because fucking Taigen started hitting on you.

Then she looks at you, and just like that all her frustrations and annoyance washes away.

You looked genuinely upset and worried for her.

Your eyes are sad, and you're looking up to her like she just told you she's leaving forever.

She sees it now.

That all this time you have been looking at her differently, but she wasn't able to see it because she sees you all the time.

You look at her with so much longing and care that it made her feel weak.

So she holds your hand that's gripping her wrist and offers you a gentle smile.

"I'm going to tell them we're going. How's that?"

There it is.

Your heartfelt smile.

"Okay."

#mizu x reader #modern mizu

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ladylooch · 6 months

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What if you’re recently going out with Nico and you can’t go to the game but you have plans to go out to eat after? But after the defeat he is feeling sad and tired and cancels, and you feel bad for him so decide to get him takeout from his favorite place ♥️. Once you get to his house he is just sad looking at replays of the game so you cheer him up! (You can do whatever it can be fluffy and cute or hot l) love your writing!! 🥰🥰

A/N: Okay Nico girlies, it’s time to heal. 🙏🏻

You’re five minutes into the third period of the Devils game when it dawns on you that you have not heard Nico’s name in quite sometime. Your eyebrows lower as you pause from wolfing down popcorn and M&Ms - your guilty pleasure snack. Tonight, you are trying to hold off your hunger long enough to meet Nico for a late-night snack. Eating at 11:00pm isn’t your normal dinner procedure, but for Nico Hischier you’ll make any exception. Curiously, your head tilts to the side while you grab your phone, scrolling through Twitter, looking for an explanation.

“Nico Hischier is missing from the #NJDevils bench.”

Ten or so more tweets follow that one. You bite your lip. The Islanders pressure on him has been intense since puck drop. You hope he is okay, but resist the urge to reach out to him. He will when he is ready.

At least you think so.

Things with Nico are new. You aren’t sure what to expect from him tonight.

You watch the rest of the game, curled up under your weighted blanket, hoping it will relieve some of the anxiety you feel pressing into your lungs. Breathing is laborious as your airway tightens. Tingles of uncertainty practically numb your fingers by the end of the game.

A little ping brightens your dark living room to your left. You grab your phone, seeing Captain Nico 😈 pop up with a text (his doing, not yours).

Hi 😘 I’m so sorry to do this, but I have to take a rain check for tonight. Doctor’s orders are to sit on the couch and not move until I leave for practice tomorrow. I am so sorry. I promise I will make this up to you. I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight. I’m sending you some pizza through DoorDash.

A lump forms in your throat from both the frustration of not getting to see him, but also the sadness for him being less than 100%.

It’s okay! I completely understand. Your payment of DoorDash Pizza will be enough for now 🤪 You’re so sweet and do not have to do that. I’ve had enough popcorn and M&Ms for the two of us! But, I hope you are okay. I am here if you need anything.

You sigh, tossing your phone back onto the couch and leaning down to scream into the fabric. Fuck. You wanted to end the night falling asleep in his arms again. He has this way of calming the entire world with his touch. You needed that after a stressful week at work. Now, you’ll be tossing and turning all night, worrying about him.

Now, I’m definitely getting you pizza. No girl dinner for my girl. I am bummed, babe. Trust me. Wanted to get my hands on you. It’s been a long week.

An idea pops into your head, but first, you’ll need to wait for that pizza.

The pizza is still warm in your hands when you walk towards Nico’s apartment door. Thank god for the nightly activity in Hoboken, so you could easily piggy back into the main entrance. Plus, who looks scary with pizza in their hands? No one.

Your boots scuff at the floor beneath your feet until you get to Nico’s door.

“Hey did someone here order grabby hands and pizza?” You call out after a soft knock. You chuckle at the movement you hear beyond the door.

“I did.” He chuckles as he opens the door. Your body relaxes when you see his dimpled smile. He is definitely happy to see you. He’s wearing a backwards hat and comfy, Devils sweats. He looks okay, but his right shoulder seems to have extra padding around it. You tentatively reach for it, feeling the coolness. “Ice.” He winces slightly when he tries to shrug.

“Back on the couch, cap.” You insist.

“Can I have a kiss first?” He asks, puckering his lips. You lean up, going slightly on your tip toes to connect your faces. Your eyes close as Nico gives soft, gentle pecks that awaken your body. Pink dusts your cheeks as a soft moan escapes his mouth. “I’m afraid the hands will have to wait. I look better than I actually feel.” He tenderly adjusts the ice on his shoulder. You frown deeply, staring at his hand there.

“Are you… going to be okay?” You finish hesitantly. You aren’t sure if he will tell you, or if you really even want to know. But you’re a little scared and more information would be better than being in the dark.

“It’s too swollen and sore to know the extent of what’s going on.” Nico says. “Could be a sprain, could be a tear.” You nod, then bring your eyes back to his.

“Whatever it is we will work through it together.”

“I’m so glad you are here.” He murmurs, reaching to caress your face. His thumb strokes your cheek in soft swipes that have your heart growing in your chest. “I bet if we each have like five slices of that pizza and fall asleep together, I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I stay the night one time and now you’re so presumptuous Mr. Hischier.”

“I can’t help myself. You’re a great cuddler. I’ll beg if I have to.” There are his dimples again, just for you.

“And here I thought I was going to have to beg you.” You chuckle, poking his stomach then walking towards his kitchen. “Can I get you anything?” You ask him.

“No.” He murmurs back, looking lost in thought as he scans your face. “Have I said how much I love having you here?”

“Literally two seconds ago.”

“Okay, well, that was too long ago. I love having you here. A lot. I usually have to go through these moments alone and not having to do that tonight is nice.” You nod because you understand how comforting it is to have someone take care of you too.

“I love being here, Neeks. Now put your butt back on the couch. I’ll bring you pizza when its warm again.”

#nico Hischier x reader #nico Hischier blurb #NHL blurb

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orthodoxadventure · 5 months

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If I could please have some prayers, I would really appreciate it.

Tomorrow, my family are coming and taking away most of my things to store at their house. They'll also be taking my cat away, and I don't know when I'm next going to have the chance to live with her. On Saturday, I'm going to be moving into the house of the woman from Church into her spare bedroom. In the new year, if things go well, I might be able to move into the spare bedroom of someone else as a joint-tenant which would be some housing stability until I can get a place of my own from the council but this depends on their landlord agreeing to a new contract. Things are really tough and stressful right now, and it especially hurts to part with my cat not knowing when I'll be able to live with her again. And there's still so much uncertainty and waiting around and praying for things to work out well.

#prayer #prayer request #prayer req #christianity

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cambria-writes · 2 years

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it is sunday my dudes!

a bit of a later update because i did, in fact, go see heilung last night and stayed up way too late and then got sick. (stress and tired sick not like, sick sick.) i think i was able to proofread this two or three times, but if i missed anything please let me know!

also who’s guessed what the chapter titles are

pairing: eddie munsonx reader rating: T warning: mention of minor character death, vague mention of attempted suicide, loose mention of severe depression, lots of swearing, underaged drinking (because this is still the states), spicy topic but only if you squint and only for a fraction of a second word count: 4,129

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊: 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔖𝔭𝔢𝔩𝔩

You don’t sleep.

You spend Eddie’s entire watch with eyes wide opened looking at the ceiling. Chrissy Cunningham is dead and some kind of inter-dimensional asshole is responsible for it. And for some god-forsaken reason, you and Eddie both have to rely on a bunch of kids and their glorified babysitters to keep you out of trouble.

It’s literally the worst idea you ever could’ve thought of, but considering you and Eddie are the ones the least knowledgeable about whatever the fuck is going on... you don’t really have a choice but to accept to be sitting ducks.

You can hear Eddie pacing in the hallways. Has been for the past several hours. Sometimes you hear him slide down a wall to sit on the floor, only to get back up a few minutes later to resume his pacing. You absently scratch at the raised scar on your left arm. You’re wondering if maybe you should give Eddie the full story behind it when you hear him walk in the room again.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, worried, sitting up and scooting back to have your back against the well.

“What, you mean besides the fact that I’m the prime suspect for the murder of a seventeen year old cheerleader?”

You pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around them. “Shit, sorry I asked.” You mutter, resting your chin on your knees.

Eddie sighs, and you feel the foot of the bed dip when he sits down. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t...” You see the shadow of his arm when he covers his face with his hand.

“I know,” you say quietly, drumming your fingers against your legs. “All of this is fucked.”

“Super fucked,” he agrees, and you can vaguely see him lay back on the bed. “We shouldn’t have run away.”

“Ed, there’s nothing we could’ve–”

“We don’t know that!” He shouts, and you can’t help but flinch at the volume. “Shit, sorry. Sorry I, fuck.”

You uncurl and crawl forward and feel around until your hand finds a shoulder. Grab it a bit more firmly when he flinches.

“Eddie, there’s nothing we could have done. We didn’t know anything,“ you say, hoping that your voice sounds as firm as you want it to. ”You heard Max. Nancy’s gonna try and snoop around Forest Hills tomorrow to see if she can find anything out. Steve and the kids are gonna try and see if they can figure out why it was Chrissy. The best we can do is just...“

“Wait,” Eddie finished for you, after you trail off. “I know. I fucking hate it.”

You pull your hand away and pull your legs under you to kneel on the bed. Bite at the inside of your cheek for a second before you speak up again.

“I could try to do it,” you say hesitantly, and the uncertainty you feel makes it sound more like a question.

Eddie sits up and turns to look at you. “Try what again?”

“The whole plane shifting,” you say, digging your fingers into your knees. “If I bring the guns with me–”

“No,” Edide cuts you off, pulling a leg up on the bed to face you. ”Absolutely not.“

“I think Vecna’s the one who kicked me out.”

A second of silence.

“You what?“

“When I did the thing earlier,” you continue, balling your hands into fists to stop the shaking. “There was a man who talked to me before I landed face first on the floor. I think that was Vecna.”

You can hear Eddie swearing under his breath. “And that’s not an even bigger reason to not do that again because?”

“Maybe I can talk to him again or something, I don’t know. I just...”

You feel Eddie getting up and off the bed before you see him.

“Fuck this, I’m too sober for this shit,” is all he offers in the way of an explanation before walking out of the room. You hurry after him the best you can, trying not to trip over anything or run into any walls. You slam your hand against the fridge door when he reaches for it.

“Are you insane? We’re basically wanted fugitives and your genius idea is to get drunk?”

Eddie sighs and turns around.

“Look, neither of us can fucking sleep, I’m losing my mind, you’re suggesting doing the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, so yeah, in comparison, getting drunk and passing the fuck out sounds like a fantastic idea,” He says, putting his hand back on the fridge door handle. “Get your hand off.”

You stare him down for a second. “Fine. Make sure the fridge light stays off.”

You take a few steps back. Eddie opens the fridge slowly, swats at your shoulder for you to hold the fridge’s light switch down while he grabs what’s left of a twelve pack of beer.

“How did you even know that was in there?” You ask, once the fridge door is closed and Eddie puts the case down on the counter.

“He’s a dealer?” Eddie says, that like that shoulder be self explanatory. He grabs your hand and places a cold bottle in it. You feel his hand cover yours for a second while he seems to use one of his rings to pop the cap off.

You stare down at the bottle with equal amounts of incredulity and suspicion. You hear Eddie pop the cap off his own bottle and knock it against yours.

“Cheers to the town freaks,” he says, before taking a very long and audible gulp.

“Cheer to that, I guess,” you say, and chug as much of the bottle as you can before the carbonation starts to hurt your throat.

“Woah there,” Eddie says, bringing your arm down. “Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick.”

You shrug him off and take another more reasonable sip of the beer, and turn around to sit on the kitchen floor, against the fridge door. You hear Eddie take another drink before sitting down next to you, legs stretch out in front of him.

“Wanna play twenty questions while we wait for this to kick in?�� you ask, leaning your head back and turning slightly to look at him.

“Sure,” he snorts, putting the bottle down on the floor between his legs. “You start?”

“Alright,” you say, taking a second to think. “Okay. Favourite Band?”

He chuckles. “Corroded Coffin. Yours?”

“Hold up, who the fuck?”

“It’s my band,” Eddie shrugs. “Answer the damn question.”

“Blue Öyster Cult,” you answer, after some consideration. Eddie makes a sound you register as disgust. “Shut up,” you say, and punch his shoulder. “They’re a good fucking band. Do you still play guitar?”

“You know it baby,” Eddie says, and the pride in his voice makes you grin. He takes a sip of his beer and puts the bottle back down. “Do you still write?”

The grin falls from your face and you take a sip. “No. Not after I... not after what happened. Do you write your own lyrics?”

“Sometimes,” Eddie answers. You see him twisting one of his rings. “What... what happened? For that,” he asks, waving vaguely at your left arm.

“Pass,” you immediately say, chugging down another third of your beer.

“Hey, no, that’s not how this works,” Eddie complains, pulling the beer bottle away from you. “Answer the question or you don't get this back.”

“That’s bullshit!” You whisper harshly, leaning over to try to grab the bottle back. When you see that Eddie’s arms are clearly longer than yours and that there’s no way you can get it back, you settle back in your spot and cross your arms. “It’s... not something I like to talk about.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Eddie acknowledges. “How many people have you talked about it with?” You stay silent. “Yeah. Should probably get that off of your chest at some point. Might as well be now.”

“It was...” You groan, letting your head tilt back and smack against the fridge. “It was three years ago. I’d been having those nightmares so often I just... sometimes I woke up and I couldn’t tell if I was awake or not,” you start, closing your eyes against the sting of tears. “I thought—when it happened I thought that, if I just...” You clear your throat with the intention of continuing, but Eddie pats your knee.

“I’m good. Sorry for...” He trails off, and takes a second to chug the rest of the beer. You look on, speechless, as he reaches over his head for the case still on the counter. Clears his throat, too, and grabs another beer. Grabs a second one to put in front of you. “Your, uh, your turn.”

You sniffle and paw the tears from your eyes and clear your throat again. “Right. Um, okay.” Slap your thighs and lean back against the fridge. “Why do you wear your bandana like that?”

You can almost feel Eddie freeze mid-gulp. He sputters and covers his mouth for a second.

“Wear—my ban—what do you mean ‘like that’?” You can’t help but laugh.

“Wow, okay,” you take another sip of your nearly-empty beer. “I don’t know that I need a straight answer with the way you just reacted, damn.”

“No, seriously, what do you mean,” Eddie asks again, though it sounds much more like a statement and his voice sounds a little bit too steady. When you turn your head to look at him, you almost flinch with how intently he’s staring right back at you.

“Uh,” you flounder, hurriedly looking away. “It just uh. You—do you know what flagging is?”

You hear the bottle being put down on the floor.

“Do you?”

“Is that your question?” you joke, drinking the last dregs of your first bottle and reaching for the second. Eddie stops you by putting his hand on top of the bottle. You slowly look back at him, and it feels like forever before he sighs and takes his hand back and nurses his own beer.

“Sure, that’ll be my question,” he says, and you’re not sure if you appreciate that he’s looked away if that’s what he’s asking you.

“...yeah,” you answer quietly. “I do. How’s Wayne doing?”

You chuckle nervously along when Eddie laughs. “That’s your question. How’s my uncle doing? Seriously?”

“Well yeah, what the fuck,” you say defensively, bringing the bottle closer to your chest. “I haven’t seen him in years, I wanna know how the old man’s doing. What’s so wrong with that?”

Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. “He’s fine, doing alright. As fine as he can be given that he’s housing the town f—”

“I swear on my father’s Elvis vinyl collection you better not call yourself the town freak again or so help me god,” you threaten, tossing the bottle back.

“Don’t need to since you just did,” he replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Oh fuck right off. Ask your damn question.”

You go back and forth like that for a good while. Eddie keeps asking things about what you like, which bands you’ve been able to see live, which college you would’ve gone to if you had the choice, what your major would’ve been. You ask him music related questions, like what his favourite brand of amp is, which key he prefers to compose in, how he even goes about composing in the first place.

It’s the first time in four years you get the sense that this is how normal people your age are supposed to act. And feel.

As time wears on, you unfold your legs and, now that you’ve kicked off your own shoes, knock your foot against Eddie’s for a bit. You slow down on the drinking after the second bottle, so by the time you’ve finished your third, he’s already halfway through his sixth.

“Dude,” you breath, looking up at the kitchen window. “Fat load of good doing watches did. It’s fucking daylight already.”

Eddie groans and lifts his arm, shakes the sleeve up to look at his watch.

“Shit, it’s like, half past six,” he says, and lets his arm drop back to the floor. “Man, I’m dead.”

“No shit,” you snort, waving at the small crowd of bottles off to his right. “You drank half a pack, you raging alcoholic.”

“Yeah, uh huh, whatever,” he mumbles, leaning his head back against the counter. “If no one’s busted through the door yet I’m pretty sure we can sleep.”

“We should probably sleep,” you agree. But neither of you make a move to get up. Instead, you chug the rest of your third beer before leaning forward to put it on the floor with your other two empty bottles. “Problem is that I really don’t wanna get up.”

“Cheers to that,” Eddie says, lifting his bottle to chug the rest of it after you. “We gotta, though. Come on,” he continues, making a show of getting up, using the counter to prop himself up and extending a hand down to you.

You sigh wearily and grab his wrist. You very much ignore whatever it is that hits you in the gut when you feel his rings around your wrist in return.

You both stumble to keep your balance. Walking down the hall, though, you can’t help but laugh at how Eddie needs to keep an arm braced against a wall.

“No one asked the peanut gallery,” he grumbles, swinging himself through the door of the bedroom and heading straight for the bed.

You stall in the doorway, though. Suddenly, sleeping alone on the hard floor with just a pillow doesn’t seem as appealing as it did in the dead of night.

After orienting himself the right way up on the bed, Eddie lifts himself up on his elbows to frown at you. “Hey, you good?”

You open and close your mouth once or twice before finding your voice. “I, um. I’m not entirely sure...”

Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs before scooting over on the bed to get closer to the wall. He pats the space next to him.

“Come on you coward,” he says, though by the time you stand next to the bed, his eyes are closed and he already looks half asleep.

“...yeah, alright,” you say, sitting on the bed for a second before lying down. “Just don’t cuddle me in your sleep. I don’t need to deal with an awkward morning wood situation. I’ve got enough on my mind already.”

Eddie snorts in response, but doesn’t say anything.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper to yourself, pulling the pillow from the floor and shoving it behind your head. “I’m gonna be fine.”

And though it takes longer than you’d like—the sun’s over the horizon by the time you do—but you eventually fall asleep, too.

March 22nd, 1986

“...one of you guys please answer? I’m seriously about to hijack a car and drive over there myself. You know I’ll do it, Eddie.”

You groan and turn over in bed, turning away from the obnoxious sound. Though you try to block out the noise by hiding your head under the pillow, the constant static of the walkie talkie tuning in and out is starting to wear on your very last, tired, fraying nerve. When you manage to get yourself to sit up on the side of the bed, you’re about to grab the walkie and whisper some very unkind things into it. Eddie sweeps into the room with a… dishtowel? Thrown over his shoulder, for some reason? And snatched the thing up from the ground.

“Henderson I swear to Christ if you keep badgering us every half hour I’ll replace every single damn can of hairspray with contact glue,” he growls, pacing around the room with a hand on his hips. “Copy that?”

“Jesus, no need to be touchy,” Dustin answers, and if you weren’t so annoyed you’d actually find his indignation funny. “Wait, no, fuck off! I’ve been trying to get an answer from one of you for like half an hour!”

“Yeah, uh huh,” Eddie starts, turning around to throw you a quick wave. “Ever occur to you that maybe we’d need to sleep considering we’ve just been exposed to fucking Hell 2.0 and couldn’t get a god damn wink?”

The banter leaves with Eddie once he steps back into the hallway. You take a deep breath and let yourself fall back on the mattress. You’re not hungover, not really. But you’re also not exactly used to plane shifting, drinking and running from the law while being sleep deprived all at once.

It’s a lot. It’s a lot to contend with.

You throw an arm over your eyes if only just to avoid looking at the alarm clock on the desk. You don’t think you want to know what time it is. So, instead, after giving yourself some time to breathe and relax—as much as one can given the impossible scenario you’re in—you get up and follow the smell of freshly made coffee.

In the kitchen, Eddie is busy in front of the stove making pancakes, judging by the already sizable stack on a plate on the counter next to him.

“Siddown,” he says, though he doesn’t turn around to look at you.

“You can cook,” you say, a little slack-jawed, as you slowly sit down. You also notice that the table is significantly cleaner than you think you remember it being.

“You can cook,” Eddie repeats back, pitching his voice to imitate yours. “No shit, Sherlock,” he scoffs, taking a step back from the stove and perfectly throwing and flipping the pancake before it lands back in the pan. “How many you want?”

“Ugh,” you groan, sliding the chair back so you can rest your head on the table. “Do I really have t—”

“Yeah, no, eating isn’t negotiable, princess.”

“Did you just call me princess?”

Eddie visibly freezes, though it’s only for a fraction of a second. He scoops the pancake up with a spatula before carefully dropping it on the increasingly large stack.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat. Still hasn’t turned around to look at you once. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You frown but hum in acknowledgement, but remain quiet after that. Eddie doesn’t say anything else until he’s done making another two pancakes. There’s nine on the stacked plate now, and after he puts that down in the center of the table, he grabs two other plates from a cupboard and two forks from a drawer before sitting down in front of you.

“No maple syrup?” you ask, grabbing a fork and stabbing the pancake on top of the stack to bring it to your plate.

“I honestly wouldn’t trust what’s in that fridge,” Eddie says, stacking three pancakes on his plate and immediately going to town on them. “I had to use water for these cause the milk looked about ready to develop capitalism,” he adds, talking around a full mouth.

“Gross, don’t talk while you chew,” you laugh lightly, cutting a small triangle out of the pancake to taste it.

It’s not terrible, but the lack of eggs and milk does make a noticeable difference. Considering you’re basically a fugitive for the next however long, though, you don’t feel like you have too much room to complain. Taking a look around the kitchen, you figure that there are definitely worse places to be stuck hiding out in.

“And worse people,” you mutter to yourself, tearing another piece of pancake to chew.

“Hm? What was that?”

You cough when you try to swallow. “Not-nothing. What did uh, did Henderson give you any news?”

Eddie’s shoulders slump and the change of his expression would have probably been comical in almost any other situation. Puts his fork down and leans back in his chair with both hands flat on the table.

“We are, in fact, wanted murder suspects,” he replies slowly, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table. “Well, I’m a wanted murder suspect, you’re apparently wanted for aiding and abetting.” You stay quiet and nod as you look down at the table. “Wheeler’s—Nancy, she was headed to the trailer park this morning to see if she can find anything out. She was able to let ‘em know about some guy named Victor Creel, and Harrington and his Merry Hobbits are off doing god knows what.”

“That’s,” you start, taking a deep breath and scooting closer to the table. “That's a lot.” Eddie nods quietly and you try your best to eat the rest of the pancake despite the lump in your throat.

“You know...” Eddie’s voice trails off when you hold your hand up to him.

You can hear chiming.

“It’s happening again,” you say, slowly standing from the chair. “I can hear the grandfather clock again.” You wait for a bit, closing your eyes to focus on the sound. “Four. Four times. It’s coming from... that way, I think.”

Eddie turns around to look at where you’re pointing, in the general direction of the back of the house. You can see him frown when you sit down, and jump in your seat when he whips around.

“No fucking way, that’s Forest Hills.”

“Yeah, and the rest of fucking Hawkins,” you scoff, leaning back in with crossed arms and tapping your foot on the floor. “We’re at the edge of town basically. Everything’s going to be in that direction.”

Eddie grumbles but leans forward. You can already tell he’s determined not to let this go.

“How close was it? Compared to before?” he asks, sliding his plate to the side to clasp his hands on the table.

“I don’t know?” You frown, biting down on your lip to think. “Last time, like when I heard it driving to your place?”

“Y-you what,” Eddie stutters, and you let your mouth fall open. Had you not mentioned that?

“Shit,” you whisper. “I told—when I met up with Harrington and the kids, I heard the grandfather clock ching when I was with them,” you start, bringing your hands down to wring them in your lap. “But I... I heard it when I got to your place, too.”

The chair practically falls backwards with how fast Eddie gets up and rushes at the walkie talkie.

“Hey hey hey someone better answer because we have something really important going on here,” he says, panic bubbling in his voice with every word, smashing the speak button repeatedly. “Hello?!”

“Oh my god, would you just,” You rush over to Eddie and snatch the thing out of his hands. “You’re gonna fucking break it, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You heard the clock before Chrissy fucking died,” he spits, and it’s in the shocked silence that the walkie crackles to life in your hands.

“Jesus Christ man calm down,” Steve says, and you slowly bring the device up to your face. “What’s so damn—”

“I heard the clock before Chrissy died,” you explain maybe a little too quickly, eyes locked with Eddie’s. “And I just heard it again now.”

“How many times did you hear it before last night?” Eddie asks, taking a step forward and putting his hands on your shoulders.

“I, uh,” you bite your lips and look off into space to remember. There was the time in the woods, there was the school parking lot... “I guess twice? I think? Two or three times.”

“How many times did you hear it before—” Dustin’s voice comes over the walkie, which Eddie snatches from your hands.

“Two or three times,” he answers, walking back until he can lean back into the kitchen counter. “I just asked.”

“How many times have you heard it today?” comes through the walkie.

You balk, because though you’ve heard it once today, you have no idea if you would’ve heard it more if you’d actually been awake.

“Just. Just the one time so far, she just woke up,” Eddie answers for you. You nod at him to confirm. “Yeah, just once.”

“Still no idea where it’s coming from?”

“Quoth the cleric, ‘we’re basically at the edge of town, everything’s in that direction’, so no. Just that it’s closer to you than us, probably.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic reenactment of your previous statement.

All at once, you frown and hold your hand up, stopping Eddie before he can open his mouth again.

“Wait, hold up. The cleric?”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie starts, and despite the fact that you can tell his hands are shaking and his eyes still look a little wild, there’s a smirk growing on his face. “You got Detect Magic, Astral Spell and Plane Shift. What else are you gonna be?”

@anothermunsonsimp @doratheignora

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briamichellewrites · 4 months

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Silliness. That’s what Bria had. Despite everything she had gone through, she managed to keep a sense of humor. Everything she said with her machine was random. Sometimes it caught Mike off guard. She thought those moments were hilarious. What did you say? He was happy to see her silliness. It was very much needed because laughter helped him relieve stress. In the evenings, he was quite amused when she got the zoomies.

She had to release her pent-up energy before bedtime. He didn’t know how long she had left, so he was saving every moment with her. What would have happened if she never came into his life? He didn’t want to know. She made him laugh, let him cry, and was everything he needed her to be. To call her his best friend was an honor he never deserved. Nobody did.

“Stephen Hawking. Where there’s life, there is hope”, her machine said.

“That’s right. He did say that.”

“No matter what happens, everything will be okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. Nobody does. Not even the doctors. If everything changes tomorrow, you have to know that everything will be okay. Michael, I want you to know that.”

He had tears in his eyes, as he came over and hugged her. Thank you. He was very welcome. All he could do was hope that everything would be okay. What if she died tomorrow? He didn’t know what he would do. A part of him would always be missing. Selfishly, he wanted to keep her alive forever. He couldn’t live without his best friend. Eventually, she would die. She would die before him.

He could only hope to be reunited with her in heaven when his time came. The doctors couldn’t give them any answers. They couldn’t even give her a diagnosis. All they could do was treat her symptoms. Epilepsy. He was so afraid she would die from one of her seizures. What if her brain became too weak to fight back? What if she had a heart attack or stroke? Every day was filled with uncertainty. She was going to spend the following day with his parents, so he could go to his therapy session.

He had to mourn her death while she was still alive. While also cherishing every moment he had with her. He wiped his tears before kissing her forehead. Her cats were taking one of many naps. They had to be awake at who knows what time to run around the house. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. They had to get groceries, so he asked if she wanted to come with him. Yes.

She had fun going around the store with him. Even though she couldn’t hold anything, he taped his grocery list to her wheelchair. That let her read off what they needed. Thankfully, the store wasn’t busy so she could move around more easily.

“You have very interesting handwriting.”

He laughed. “Can you read it?”

“Yes, I can. You forgot the baby food”, she joked.

“It’s not baby food. It’s hopefully better than baby food.”

“I have come full circle. Linda would be so proud of me.”

He laughed. They did get some curious looks, but nobody asked them any questions. It was none of their business. It didn’t take very long for them to find everything on the list. They went to check out. She went over to the wall next to the bathroom to wait for him.

He looked over to see where she went before loading the groceries onto the belt. Even though she wanted to help, she couldn’t. Instead, she chose to be out of the way. He could see her getting tired. She could take a nap when they got home. Her nurses weren’t coming over until Monday. That gave them the weekend off. His parents and brother were coming over the following evening, so he wanted to get all of the ingredients together before he forgot.

As he was loading her into the car, she began shaking. He looked at his watch. A paramedic came over and asked if he needed assistance. Since they were there, yes. He had his partner bring over a cot. They loaded her onto it and then brought her over to the ambulance. She was having a seizure. After closing and locking the doors, he rushed over to give them information.

“She’s nonverbal”, he shouted at them.

“Are you her husband?”

“I’m her conservator.”

As they worked on her, they asked him questions. Her seizures usually came out of nowhere. She was on medication to prevent them. They took her vitals. After five minutes, her seizure ended. They assured her she was okay. She was tired physically. Mike took her hand and rubbed it. It was okay. He knew she probably felt ashamed and embarrassed. It wasn’t her fault. They didn’t know it was going to happen. One of the paramedics took a stuffed dog they had.

He moved it in front of her face. Her eyes lit up. Mike helped her pet it by taking her arm. She laughed a little. Because they were sometimes in scary situations, they kept the dog in the ambulance for children. It distracted them from what was going on and it was working for Bria.

Because she was nonverbal, she couldn’t tell them what she was thinking. After clearing her, they were free to go. They brought her out of the ambulance and back into his car. He thanked them for their service. Of course. That was why they were there. Back home, she went into her wheelchair. After putting the groceries away, he came back over to her.

“I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t your fault. Are you tired?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I can put on a movie for you. You can watch it while you eat dinner.”

“I would like that. We can try again tomorrow.”

“Try to focus on the positives of today. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He got her set up in bed with her heart and brain monitor after helping her put her pajamas on. Everything else could wait. It was early in the evening, but she was ready for bed. He didn’t want to push her past her limits. Maybe he would go to bed early, too. That sounded like a good idea. He would check on her in a half hour. Maybe Batman would give her the distraction she needed. He went to the kitchen and he heard the sound of paws hitting the floor. Meow! Meow!

He sighed defeated. The cats could always be counted on to beg for food. He gave them their dinner before going back to preparing hers. Mike, breathe in and out. After preparing her feeding tube, he went back to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Rascal purred and rubbed against his legs. It’s going to be okay. He crouched down and petted him. Thank you. He needed that. You’re welcome, human!

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

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pennies-and-sense · 4 months

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Why You Need to Plan Ahead for Long-Term Care

Long-term care is something that many people don’t think about until they need it. But by then, it may be too late to make the best decisions for yourself and your family. That’s why it’s important to plan ahead for long-term care, even if you’re healthy and independent right now.

Long-term care refers to the services and support that help people with chronic health conditions or disabilities perform daily activities, such as bathing, dressing, eating, and managing medications. Long-term care can be provided at home, in a community setting, or in a facility. The cost of long-term care can vary depending on the type, duration, and location of care, but it is usually expensive and not fully covered by Medicare or other health insurance.

According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, about 70% of people turning 65 today will need some form of long-term care in their lifetime, and the average duration of care is about three years. However, many people are not prepared for this possibility and the consequences it may have on their finances, health, and quality of life.

But for every reason why people do not plan in advance for long-term care, there is a reason why they should:

Independence and choice: Advanced planning for future care needs will allow for greater independence and choice as to where and how the care is delivered. You can express your preferences and values, and select the options that best suit your needs and budget. You can also involve your family and loved ones in the planning process, and make sure they understand and respect your wishes.

Financial security: Advanced planning can mean greater financial security, not only for those who may need care but also for their family and loved ones. You can explore the various ways to pay for long-term care, such as savings, insurance, government programs, and other resources, and choose the one that works best for you. You can also protect your assets and income from being depleted by the high cost of care, and preserve your legacy for your heirs.

Family well-being: Advanced planning can ease the financial and emotional toll on one’s family and release them from the burden of providing the care, if and when it is needed. You can spare your family from the stress and conflict that may arise from having to make difficult decisions on your behalf, without knowing what you would want. You can also ensure that your family members have the support and resources they need to cope with the challenges of caregiving, and maintain their own health and well-being.

Peace of mind: Advanced planning will avoid the uncertainty, confusion, and mistakes that could arise in the event of a health care need. You can have the confidence that you have done everything you can to prepare for the future, and that you have a plan in place that reflects your wishes and needs. You can also have the peace of mind that you have taken care of yourself and your family, and that you can focus on enjoying your life and living it to the fullest.

Quality of life: Advanced planning will promote a continued quality of life, as the person defines it, when care is needed. You can ensure that your physical, emotional, social, and spiritual needs are met, and that you have access to the best possible care and services. You can also maintain your dignity, autonomy, and personal values, and live your life according to your own standards and goals.

As you can see, planning ahead for long-term care is not only a smart move, but also a necessary one. It can make a huge difference in your life and the lives of those you love. So don’t wait until it’s too late. Start planning today, and enjoy the benefits of being prepared for tomorrow.

#qualityoflife #longtermcare #wellbeing #advice #health and wellness #planning

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atianana · 8 months

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Why should we take insurance? - Insurance

The Importance of Insurance: Safeguarding Your Future

Insurance is a topic that often takes a back seat in our lives until the unexpected happens. However, understanding and acquiring insurance is a crucial step in securing your financial future and protecting your loved ones. In this article, we will explore the reasons why insurance is essential and why you should consider it a fundamental part of your financial planning.

Financial Security

The primary reason to take insurance is to ensure financial security for yourself and your family. Life is full of uncertainties, and unexpected events like accidents, illnesses, or natural disasters can lead to substantial financial burdens. Insurance provides a safety net, helping you and your loved ones navigate through difficult times without depleting your savings or assets.

Protection Against Health Expenses

Health insurance is a critical form of insurance that covers medical expenses. Healthcare costs can be exorbitant, and a sudden illness or injury can drain your savings. With health insurance, you can access quality healthcare without worrying about the financial implications. Regular health check-ups, hospitalization, surgeries, and medication costs are all covered, ensuring you receive the care you need.

Income Replacement

Life insurance is designed to provide financial support to your family in case of your untimely demise. It acts as income replacement, ensuring that your dependents can maintain their standard of living even when you are no longer around. It can cover funeral expenses, outstanding debts, and daily expenses, providing peace of mind during a difficult period.

Protecting Your Assets

Property insurance, including home and auto insurance, safeguards your valuable assets from unexpected events like accidents, theft, or natural disasters. Without insurance, repairing or replacing your assets can be financially crippling. Insurance policies can help you recover quickly and get your life back on track.

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Business Continuity

If you own a business, commercial insurance is vital for its continuity. Business insurance protects against various risks, including property damage, liability claims, and disruptions caused by unforeseen events. Having the right insurance coverage can make the difference between your business surviving or facing financial ruin during challenging times.

Legal Protection

Liability insurance, such as personal liability and professional liability insurance, can protect you from legal claims and lawsuits. Accidents happen, and misunderstandings can lead to legal disputes. Insurance coverage can cover legal fees and settlements, ensuring that your personal and professional assets remain secure.

Peace of Mind

One of the intangible but equally important benefits of insurance is peace of mind. Knowing that you have a safety net in place for the unknown can alleviate stress and anxiety. Insurance allows you to focus on living your life without constantly worrying about financial risks.

Retirement Planning

Certain insurance products, like annuities, can play a role in retirement planning. Annuities provide a steady stream of income during your retirement years, ensuring you maintain your quality of life even after you stop working.

Conclusion

In conclusion, insurance is not just an expense; it is an investment in your financial security and peace of mind. The uncertainties of life make insurance a necessary component of any sound financial plan. Whether you're safeguarding your health, protecting your assets, or ensuring your family's future, insurance is a crucial tool in managing risk and securing a stable financial future. So, don't wait for the unexpected to happen – take insurance today and build a safer tomorrow.

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#insurance #health insurance #banking #companies #personal finance #funding

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letarasstuff · 3 years

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Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #Emily Prentiss x teen!reader #Penelope Garcia x teen!reader #Derek Morgan x teen!reader #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #reid!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert

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endlessymphony · 3 years

Text

It’s You.

pairing - fred weasley x reader

summary - best-friends to lovers <3 fred finally recognizes his feelings for his closest friend. wc - 1.4k

based on some of these - https://oc-interrogation.tumblr.com/post/647240190963908608/friends-to-lovers-prompts-for-when-theyve-finally

a/n - this is cute, but barely has a plot :,) i’m sorry !

Inseparable.

That’s how people would describe you and Fred since the two of you became practically attached at the hip by the age of five. Your parents had gone to school with Molly and Arthur, therefore resulting in your families being quite close- intertwined almost at certain points, hell, your families even vacationed with each other. It was surprising when one was seen without the other, since everyone started to act like you guys were some sort of package deal.

Well, it did seem that way- You guys did everything together and shared a lot of things as well; having a lot of the same classes, the same friends, you were even both on the Quidditch team since Fred didn’t want to go to the try-outs alone, and you guys were even able to understand each other without speaking.

The feelings remained strictly platonic up until sixth year when Fred went home for the winter break. Molly combed through his hair as your family was coming to visit the Weasley’s for dinner and a gift-exchange. She attempted to make small-talk with him, “So Fred, has anyone caught your eye this year?” she hummed, smiling sweetly as he turned to face her. He pursed his lips. “No.” was the easy answer.

“I heard from Y/N’s mum that Y/N is interested in a boy named Cedric,” Molly started, “but you didn’t hear that from me.” His stomach churned, unknown feelings bubbling up into his chest as he felt his heart start to crumble. A small “oh” was the only thing he could muster, turning away to look down at his lap, fiddling with his hands. “He’s handsome, and good at everything. I can see why Y/N would like him.” He tried to contribute to the conversation.

Fred didn’t know why he was taking that information like this, ‘I don’t even like them!’ he practically screamed inside his head.

Molly pulled the comb away and set it down on the dresser, patting his shoulder before smoothing out some of the wrinkles on his shirt. “They’ll be here soon. Come help me set the table, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The feeling in the pit of his stomach was only growing by that point, consuming him.

maybe he did like you after all...

You were sitting in the great-hall, picking at your food as you half-listened to all the chatter around you. You looked up and caught Fred’s gaze, the two of you sharing a small smile. ‘You okay?’ he mouthed and you nodded, ‘not hungry.’ You both went back to what you were doing previously. Dinner eventually came to an end, and you managed to sneak out early. He walked out of the Great Hall with Lee and George, the same sickening feeling returning as he spotted you and Cedric chatting away in the hall; you were giggling over something Cedric said. It made him feel defeated.

You noticed your friends, starting to walk towards them. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” you called out to Cedric as you hurried to catch-up with Fred and the others. You began to walk alongside them, looking up at Fred and frowning slightly when you noticed that he had his brows furrowed. “You always do that with your eyebrows when you're sad,” you commented, he looked down at you and released the tension that had unknowingly gathered in his face. You continued, tilting your head slightly. “I hate to see you sad. What’s wrong?”

“Just got a shitty mark on a research paper, no big deal.” he shrugged your question off, forcing himself to smile so that you would stop asking questions. “Do you want a cookie? I managed to snag some.” Fred offered, pulling out the napkin-wrapped sweets from the pocket of his robe. You struggled to hide the smile spreading across your face as you nodded, reaching out to take one from him. “You always know my weaknesses, Weasley.”

He couldn’t help but notice how your eyes always seemed to glimmer when you smiled, and the way your cheeks flushed slightly, and your lips…

“this is why we’re best-friends.” that comment snapped him out of his daze. He nodded, “yeah, best-friends.”

He finished walking you to your dorm, cracking a few jokes along the way just to catch sight of that breath-taking smile a few times more.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Fred.”

He ruffled your hair slightly, pulling away to watch the door shut behind you; a small sigh escaping his lips as he turned to walk down the stairs, preparing to spend another night staring at the ceiling- wishing that the pillow next to him was you.

‘How do you tell someone you love them? Especially when it could ruin everything you’ve ever known. There’s safety in the comfort of knowing that at least you’ll always be their best-friend, at the very most. The uncertainty of reciprocated feelings twists your stomach, and could alter everything forever.’

A week had passed since then. Classes were out for the day and Fred was sitting on your bed watching you hold up a million different outfit combinations. “C’mon, I need more than an ‘okay’ or a ‘sure’” you whined, stressing yourself out. “what else are best-friends for if not to be each-others fashion advisors?”

“I never signed up for this.” He rolled onto his back, letting out a small huff, “So, you’re really going out with Diggory?”

You turned away from the mirror to raise an eyebrow, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nah.” Fred faked a smile, “Why would I have a problem with him? He’s a golden-boy, there's no one better for you.” ‘other than me.’ he thought, biting his tongue.

You smiled, turning back to pick up the two outfits you were torn between. “Ripped jeans and the green top, or…” you held-on to the ‘or’ as you picked up the other option. “The jean shorts and white graphic tee?” Fred pretended to be deep in thought, tapping at his chin with his index finger. “What shoes?” he asks. “My Converse, probably.” You look down at your socked feet briefly before looking back up at him. “Then go with the shorts, it’s hot, and… why don’t you wear the green top with them? The colour works with your skin.” He smiles for real this time, imagining how nice you would look in the outfit.

“Thanks Freddy, now look away, I’m changing.”

“Oh c’mon, it's not like I haven’t seen you change before.” He teases.

“Shut up, it’s different now. Cover your eyes!” you laugh and toss the white top at his face.

“Fine, fine. Eyes are covered.” Fred grumbles as he puts his hands in front of his eyes, waiting for the ‘all good’ from you to look again.

You hurry to get changed, eventually telling Fred he can look again. He hurriedly uncovered his eyes, a smile growing as he looks you up and down. “What are you looking at?” you shoot, playfully. “You look stupid.” he replies as he maneuvers himself so he’s sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you start to struggle with the clasp of a necklace. Fred shakes his head and stands up, standing behind you and taking the clasp from your hands. “Let me help.” His voice was low and gentle. You smile to yourself, face flushing slightly as you feel his cool hands against your warm skin. He finishes with the necklace and you turn to look in the mirror, Fred looking in it with you.

“You look gorgeous.” he places a hand on your shoulder, eyes softening as he looks at you. “Oh, shut up.” you muse back at him, turning to face him. “No, I seriously mean it.” Fred looks at you, looking genuinely sincere. “You look amazing, breathtaking even.” He pretends to brush a strand of hair from your face, just looking for an excuse to touch you, hand eventually resting against your cheek. “Diggory is really lucky.”

For a second, you forgot about Cedric- the outside world seemed to fall away. It was just you and Fred, like it had always been, but this time something was different. The atmosphere had changed, and he was looking at you in a way that you had never seen before. You felt your stomach flip as you locked gazes, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. Something took over him.

“Kiss me, Y/N.” he mumbled, leaning down slightly to press his forehead against yours. And you did; It was sweet, and short, definitely not what you would expect from someone like Fred.

“I’ve waited so long to do that.” Fred chuckles, a bit breathless. His heart was going what felt like 300 mph, and his face was feeling red-hot. “No one ever compared to you. I mean, how could anyone compare to you?”

“Forget Diggory.” you said, tone breathy. “Kiss me again.” A smile spread across both of your faces.

Fred had no issue doing exactly what you had asked for.

🏷- @miss-starkov @wizardwheezes @i-love-scott-mccall @hogwarts-1d-drarry-stan @angstology

#harry potter universe #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #hp fic #hp fanfic #fred weasley #fred x y/n #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred x reader

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clusterbuck · 3 years

Note

"I would go anywhere with you."

Please and thank you 💕

50. "i would go anywhere with you."

eddie hangs up the phone, and his hands are shaking. buck wants to know what's going on—needs to know, desperately, what's going on—but he knows rushing eddie won't get him anywhere.

"that was the hospital," eddie finally says, staring at the phone still in his hand. "they, uh—they want me to come in. to talk about the scans."

"is something wrong?" buck asks before he can think better of it, then mentally kicks himself. of course something's wrong. they only ask you to come in when something's wrong.

it's two months since eddie was shot, and they're so close to having their lives back. eddie's doing better every day, almost back to his old self—or so they'd thought. it's only as this one phone call yanks the rug out from under their feet that buck realises just how much he's begun to consider it solid ground.

and now it might be about to split apart and swallow them whole.

"i don't know," eddie says, retreating into monotony the way buck has only seen him do when he's afraid, or very stressed. "it wasn't the doctor, it was—i don't know, some scheduling person. he just said to come in tomorrow."

"that's soon," buck says, moving to sit on the couch next to eddie. "soon is good, right?"

"or soon is really, really bad."

buck considers trying to talk eddie down, but he's been where eddie is. he knows how little hey, what's the worst that could happen? and all the other well-intentioned platitudes actually help, how most of the time all they do is make you actually consider the worst possible outcomes, realistic or not.

so all he does is reach across and take eddie's hand. eddie looks up, surprised, but he doesn't pull away.

"do you want me to come with you?" buck asks.

"you would do that?" eddie asks, and buck hates the note of uncertainty in his voice.

"eddie," he says, squeezing his hand. "i would go anywhere with you, you know that."

"okay," eddie breathes, barely audible, and then stronger, again: "okay."

buck drives to the hospital the next day, and they're both quiet on the way over. eddie still hasn't said a word by the time they make it to the waiting area, and buck is just about to tell a truly abysmal joke to drag him out of his own head when the doctor calls eddie's name. buck stands up to follow without hesitation, and eddie nods in quiet, wide-eyed confirmation.

they've barely had time to settle into the uncomfortable plastic chairs when the doctor starts talking. "so, first things first, your scans look great," he says, and buck can practically feel the downdraft from eddie's jaw dropping. "everything is healing just like it should," the doctor continues, like he's unaware of the bomb he's just dropped.

"but—" eddie says weakly.

"yes?" the doctor asks. "is something wrong? are you having a lot of pain?"

"no, i just—" eddie says, and trails off, like he doesn't have the words.

"i think, uh, both of us are just accustomed to—usually if you have to come in, it's bad news," buck supplies, and the doctor's face softens.

"did they not tell you on the phone?" he asks, and eddie shakes his head. "i'm so sorry," the doctor continues. "i'll have a word with scheduling. i'm really sorry for the unnecessary stress."

"so why did you need me to come in?" eddie asks, finally finding his voice again.

"just a routine checkup, really, and i wanted to make sure your prescriptions are up to date..."

buck doesn't hear the rest of the conversation over the relief humming under his skin.

they're quiet as they walk out to buck's jeep, but it's a quiet that is entire universes away from the nervous silence of the drive over. it's buzzing with energy, with potential, with tension, until they reach the car and buck can't take it any longer.

he grabs eddie and pushes him up against the jeep. they're so close their foreheads are touching and buck looks eddie right in the eye, gives him time to indicate this isn't something he wants, one second, two, three—

buck leans in to close the last remaining distance between them just as eddie surges up to meet him. it's tender and frenetic all at once, relief spilling back and forth between them, fizzy like carbonation in their veins; somewhere in the background is something heavier, something slow and sweet like molasses that tastes a lot like love.

they're both breathing heavily by the time they break apart. eddie looks up at buck, his bashful eyes an odd contrast to his kiss-bitten bottom lip. "what was that for?" he murmurs.

"that was for not being about to die on me," buck says, and eddie laughs.

"death was never on the table, you know that, right?" eddie says. "buck, tell me you know that."

but buck just grins. "are you really trying to argue with me right now?"

"definitely not," eddie agrees, and leans in to kiss him again.

so basically what happened here is... you know that bit in the good place where michael wants the file and janet keeps giving him the cactus? that, but the file is fluffy prompts about love and the cactus is angst

i very nearly ended it on the angst bit but these are supposed to be about love lol

send me a prompt from this list of ways to say i love you!

#buddie #buckupbuttercup #thanks for the prompt!!#ask emma #emma writes

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pennyserenade · 3 years

Text

tags: nameless oc x javier peña, nameless oc x javier pena, angst rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language. word count: 3k+ summary: marriage requires sacrifice; theirs takes a little more than most notes: i definitely did steal the title of this chapter from the original scenes from a marriage and you know what? i’d do it again. anyways, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy this installment! if you want to be tagged in this series, just shoot me a message or fill out my taglist form that’s available on my masterlist (pinned post). original gif by: @javierpcna

the art of sweeping things under the rug

scene two, scenes from a marriage

Wedding bands can vary in weight depending on the sort of week you’re having, she finds. Conveniently light, sometimes--nearly invisible, as if intertwined with oneself--and then, impossibly dense at others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she tells herself, but she’s on no throne, and there is no crown. It’s just her and Javi, and the elopement that tied them together.

The ‘70s had faded silently into the ‘80, and it’s easy to feel in love when the future looks promising. Well--maybe promising is too generous of a word for what they had felt then; perhaps uncertain is better. It wasn’t the sort of uncertain that fills one with dread either, the kind that leaves them in the dark with no flashlight. No, it was the uncertainty that felt good; the sort that made them think whatever was offered in the decade they’d not yet painted with plans was going to be great. It was promises of catching Pablo, promises of a promotion, promises of a proper marriage in the country they’d come to love in their own separate and shared ways. It was realists sharing one optimistic view in a world that seemed so void of them, and now, as she sits at the dinner table in her apartment, looking at the thin band on her finger, she wonders if they’d rushed into it

Her mother told her a mal tiempo, buena cara. In bad times, keep a good face. Just grin and bare it, wait for the uneasiness of the life they were living now to trickle into the marriage she anticipated, but she isn’t sure what sort of marriage she was anticipating. She had understood that there were going to be hardships, but she had welcomed them then because she thought they were going to be hardships they would endure together. They weren’t doing a very good job at the together.

It isn’t that she doesn’t love him. She has an unwavering love for him, but the absence of his being in her life has begun to create a festering wound in her heart. She’s torn between asking him to never leave again—to quit it all and stay wrapped in bed with her, pretending the horrors outside of their utopia didn’t exist—and saying nothing at all. Grinning and bearing.

He’s a good man. A great man, actually. He’s gentle, funny. A little too stressed for his own good most of the time, and a bit grumpy until he settles somewhere, but he’s exactly what she needs, and everything that could break her if he so wanted it, too. And she knows he never would want that, but she isn’t sure he knows he can either, because if he did, then he was tiptoeing dangerously close to that line.

Sighing, she shakes her head, dismissing it all.

The afternoon has begun to fade into the evening, and the cool summer wind blows a gentle breeze into her home. Javier said he wouldn’t be working late at the Embassy tonight, and she had told him she’d cook dinner, but the eagerness that had overtaken her then had been worn by the sight of his wedding band on her dresser. It was the thing that made hers seem so heavy. The thing that made her want to cry, really, and it was so silly, but she could not help the angry ball of frustration and confusion that formed at the sigh of it, or the way it had turned into the lump in her throat.

She yearns for the days when it was just fucking—the way they hadn’t exchanged anything personal so nothing could be personal. She misses the way he would call her, flustered, at all hours of the night and the way she’d always open her door for him, and they’d kiss passionately and fuck roughly and explore each other over and over.

But really, she doesn’t want that, either. She doesn’t know what she wants.

She hears the jangle of keys, hears the latch open, but she doesn’t turn to meet him. Instead, she’s lit a cigarette, and she’s staring out the window, looking at how the sun shadows the town. She puffs away at the cigarette and he says nothing when he enters. He just throws his keys on the counter and then moves quietly over to her, hands falling to her tense shoulders. She hates the way she leans into him too; how effortlessly the anger ebbs.

She looks up at him, and he smiles gently. He looks worn, as though he’s fighting something that she won’t learn until the early hours of the morning, when he’s spent from spent from sex and the general excitement that paints all of his days. Javi is interesting in that way—not emotionally stunted, but hesitant.

“You didn’t make dinner?” he asks while pushing her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips there quickly. He nuzzles against her for a beat, taking in her scent, feeling the warmth of her against him in gratitude. He is spent, and he’s wanted nothing more than to come here. Doesn’t even really care that she’s not made him dinner, just said it to hear her.

“I didn’t,” she responds, more softly than she likes. Her heart is tender for him, kind naturally because his being warrants it. She wants to yell, but she can’t because she loves him so goddamn much.

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Javi moves away from her, slipping off his jacket and sitting it on the chair. “We can order something later if you want.”

She nods, putting out the cigarette. “When do you have to go back in?”

“Six tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“I took tomorrow off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “¿Por qué?”

“Because,” she shrugs. “Only so much depressing material you can write until it starts to wear you down.”

“You know I said—“

She cuts him off. “I don’t want to live off your paycheck. I know what you said but I’m happy doing what I do. Just—“ she pauses, struggling to think. “—not all of us can give our lives over to the cause all the time.”

She meant that, meant that entirely, and knows he feels it by the way his features settle into a look of pure nothingness. Stoned face, giving nothing. She’s sorry for it, but can’t say it. He doesn’t ask for her to.

“Cruelty doesn’t look so good on you, baby,” he tries to tease, but it comes out flat and serious. She bites at her lip, and turns her head to the window, back to the city, trying not to cry.

“Are you angry with me?”

He’s a good detective, isn’t he?

“Javi, I don’t want to fight.”

“You are angry with me.”

She sighs heavily. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, and I wish you’d just say why.”

“It doesn’t even matter, Javi,” she dismisses it with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “You’ve been at work all day and—“

“Is it because I work so much?” he interrupts.

“Goddamnit, Javier, I’m not fucking angry with you!” she shouts. Shouts like she is angry with him. Silence ensues and she wants to crawl in a hole and disappear completely.

“You left your wedding ring,” she admits quietly, half out of remorse, half because she can’t stand the way he’s looked down at the table and not looked back up. Or how he sits like he’s torn between fleeing and staying. “But it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much because I know you...you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He still does not look at her, focusing on a line in the table. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Javi, I said it didn’t matter.”

“But it does.” He finally looks up. “It matters if it makes you angry with me. I left it because I forgot, that’s all.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“You never fucking fight me.”

“There’s no reason for it,” she replies.

“There is reason for it.”

“Javi, please. I don’t get you for very long and this is not how I want to spend it.”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?” Confusion paints her features.

“Running from it. Fight with me.”

“Why do you want to fight so fucking bad? When you’d turn into such a fucking masochist.”

She feels that lump in her throat again, feels the way it wants to give way and lets it all go the way he’s requesting. Fills the bitterness creep into her system the way she hates.

“I’m not a masochist,” he replies, “You’ve obviously got shit to say, so say it.”

“Fuck you, Javi,” she chokes, blinking back tears now. She definitely did not want this.

She gets up to move, but he grasps onto her wrist.

“Don’t run away,” he repeats. He’s angry too.

“Let me go,” she spits out spitefully. He has such a loose hold on her that she doesn’t even need his permission to escape from it, but it’s the concept more than anything. He does let go, but she doesn’t move.

“I didn’t want to fight with you.”

Her cheeks begin to heat with anger, and it’s the worst sort of anger, the kind that makes her sob because she can’t contain it. It’s an anger that feels unfair, and she can never beat it; the tears begin to fall rapidly.

Sympathy tugs at his heart; his steely resolution falls as quickly as it has come up. “I know,” he acknowledges. “We’ve got to fight, sometimes, though.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I only see you two days a week and I don’t want to spend one of them yelling at you,” she confesses. “All I want you, Javi. Is that so much to ask?”

It’s his turn for shame to fill him. He knows why that can’t be—knows it’s because there’s things she can’t know and having her in a building full of DEA agents comprises the both of them. She’s in danger just wearing that wedding band on her finger; God forbid any of those fucking narcs ever found out they were married. He shouldn’t have done it, married her, but he could not help it; a sort of selfishness that was not uncharacteristic had pushed the boundaries within him, and he decided the good outweighed the bad. But, maybe it didn’t.

He stands and envelops her frame in a hug. She sighs into his chest and wraps her arms tightly around him. She only wants to make him happy and to be happy with him. Why did it seem so hard? When this all began, it felt so easy, so nice and now it felt hard.

Javier kisses her softly, just a peck and she feels lighter because of it. As he goes to pull away, she pulls him closer again, pressing their lips together. He responds, a hand resting on her hip and the other on the small of her back, holding her against him. She initiates a deeper kiss, swiping her tongue against his lower lip. They stand like this for a few minutes, kissing and basking in the presence of each other the way they’d both desired.

It is Javi who pulls back from their kiss, needing air and wanting to take it further—just not here. In the beginning of their relationship, when it was just fucking, sex felt something they had to do everywhere; on the couch, on the table, on the counter, in the shower, on the ground, even in front of the window. And they still did that, still let spontaneity sway them, but they’d settled into more comfortable routines too. He liked fucking her in their bed, the one thing they always agreed was undeniably both of theirs wherever it resided. It was their bed so as long as they both fell there to sleep.

He doesn’t even have to speak, just nods his head in the general direction, before she’s tugging him along.

She sits down on the bed and peers up at him, eyes still red from the tears. He feels awful about it, but doesn’t have it in him to say it. Can’t, for some reason. It’s lost between his brain and his tongue, but it finds its way out through the gentle way he presses her onto her back and lets his lips kiss her everywhere. He kisses her face, her lips, then her neck, and then he goes further, pushing her shirt up and pressing his plush lips against the newly exposed flesh. Then he then he’s undoing her pants, kissing the spot where her panties usually begin. He offers her a mischievous grin, and she smiles back at him.

“You really didn’t want to fight, did you?”

She shakes her head. “No, you fuck, I didn’t,” she laughs.

He continues his trail down her body, and she lifts her hips so he can remove her pants. Javier presses his lips on her hips, on the flesh directly above the pubic bone. Then, he presses them on the inside of her thighs, teasingly slow when he gets closer to her core, and she whines out of protest when he spots. Her eyes flicker down to see why, and when her eyes met his, he presses his tongue against her clit. A moan escapes her and she grasps onto the bedspread. Javi is encouraged by this, swiping his tongue against her folds, dipping his tongue into her, tasting her—really, truly admiring every part of her—before pressing his tongue back onto her clit. He begins to suck gently, and she writhes without control beneath him. A trained expert at this now, he anchors her down by wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them in place.

“Javi—“ she manages to say, just as the tension begins to build in her stomach. “Oh Javi, baby, faster.”

He obliges and she is quick to find her release in a matter of seconds. Javi remains in between her thighs, licking up her arousal. He’s gotten good at this, knows the way she likes it, knows how to do it even when she can’t tell him.

She carts a hand through his hair, tugging gently, and he removes his lips from her finally. Despite her worn state, she’s quick to rise and meet him, uncaring about her arousal on his face as she presses their lips together once more. He kisses her back with more need than he previously had, his jeans feel tighter and more constricting than usual.

“I want to ride you,” she whispers against his lips, and he nods eagerly. Her fingers work at his belt, and then the button of his jeans, hardly making it past the zipper before she slides her hand into his pants and palms his already hard member. He winces against her lips and she can’t help but grin; this is her Javi. This is the marriage she wants.

“Te amo,” she says, beginning to tug at his jeans. He assists her, pushing them down all the way.

“Take off your shirt,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. She obeys him, throwing the shirt in the same place his pants fell, before he tugs her closer to him. A gasp falls from her lips as she mounts him, the warmth of his length agonizing so close to her heat. She reaches between them, lining his cock up to her entrance. Eyes connect as she fills herself with him, and his mouth falls open, desperate to moan but too choked by the feeling of her around him. She moves slowly, not wanting to release the warmth of him yet in favor of forming a steady pace to ride him. Javi, however, is growing increasingly aroused beneath her, and can’t help the way he guides her on his cock. “Please,” he begs, brown eyes dark with desire. She nods, and they move together, her hips following his hands instructions.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way he slides in and out of her. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby.”

Distracted by her own desire, she merely nods his confession, grinding herself on him until she fills the beginnings of another orgasm, the sweet release inches away. He doesn’t lift her from himself now, wanting to savor this feeling for a few moments longer. “Te amo,” he finally responds back, a deep groan releasing at the way she squeezes around him. She grinds against him, and he lets her, allowing his finger to undo the bra they’d both been too eager to take off as she does. It falls slowly down her chest, and as soon as it exposes her nipple, he’s quick to wrap his mouth around it. This earns a throaty moan from her, and she swears her orgasm isn’t ever going to end.

He pulls the fabric down her arms completely before turning them over, never leaving her once. He is desperate now, denied his orgasm too long, and the heat is pooling viciously in his stomach. He thrusts roughly into her, a whine emitting from her lips when he does, but she lifts her hips to meet him the second time he does it.

“Faster, baby,” she encourages, and he presses his fingers into her hips so hard that he’s certain the skin will bruise as he thrusts into her for the last time.

He slides out of her, and with a few more rough tugs on his cock, he’s releasing on her stomach. He wants to lay beside her, flat and lifeless as his lugs play catch up (it’s the fucking cigarettes, but he can’t stop them), but he resists the urge. He leans towards the bed stand and grabs a handful of tissues, wiping himself and her clean of his cum. She lays still, watching him intently, a soft, appreciative smile embedding in her features.

“I miss you a lot, you know,” she says. He throws the tissues away in the bin across the room, and she takes in his frame; admires the way his back looks, the broadness of his shoulders, even his ass. He’s a good looking man, on top of everything, and she’s happy to be his wife. She just wishes it was easier.

“I do know. I miss you too.”

He slides back into bed, uncaring of his nakedness, and she uncaring of hers. He pulls her bare body against him, and she wraps a leg around her hip. She traces his lips with her finger and he takes her hand, kissing the palm of it.

He loves her, loves her so goddamn much that the guilt of the wedding ring on her dresser eats away at him. It bites and bites because the way he’s so casually lied about why he left it, acted as if it wasn’t deliberate. Doesn’t want to tell he’s afraid they’ll find out if he doesn’t, doesn’t want to have to worry about if she’s okay anymore than he does already. He calls her every night, checks in at the same time so he knows nothing is wrong, and she knows he does this, but there’s a thousand things she doesn’t see. A thousand things he doesn’t want her to see, either, like the way he left the wedding band because he’s afraid or the way he drives past her house every night before he goes to his, just to ensure it’s still there, even though he knows it is. Doesn’t want her to see the anxiety that fills him every time he hears about a bombing or the way he can’t sleep when he goes away. He wants their marriage to be perfectly normal, wants it all to be perfectly normal. Colombia deserves to be a country where marriages don’t feel this hard, and that’s all he wants to give her, but he can’t.

As she lays against him, she can feel the tension in his body, knowing by the way he holds her a little too firmly that he’s thinking about something. She wants to ask about what, but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment.

They’ve both become experts at sweeping things under the rug—at sacrificing—and neither of them knows whether it’s good or not, but they’ll continue to do it. Lie causally in order to protect, not address the pain and disorder, just for moments like this, moments that feel entirely like their own. Moments that make them feel married and dedicated to one another.

This is scene two from a marriage.

tagged: @filthybookworm

#javier peña x oc #javier peña x reader #javier pena x oc #javier pena x reader #javier pena x nameless oc #narcos fanfic #narcos fic

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lily-themadqueen-andpinky · 3 years

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NSFW Alphabet Daryl Dixon - dirty mindstuff

stupidly without all the gifs... because dumblr is an asshole.... you have to use your mind for that, sorry

want to read more dirty Daryl stuff? FIND IT HERE

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after )

It’s only at this point that Daryl is able to let go and relax completely. After he has reached his climax and snuggling up panting to you like there's no tomorrow, you can feel every time you stroke his hair, how the tension, his fears and worries fall away from him and ideally stay away from him until the next day. Sometimes you have the feeling that he enjoys the after much more than the actual act.

Every time you feel his sweaty forehead and his hot breath on your skin, the world stops for a moment. When he buries his face safely on your neck, there is no apocalypse, no walkers, and no constant danger. In this moment there are only the two of you, and he tries to hold on to that as long as possible.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Every inch of your shoulders and your neck. Mostly because he loves to bury his face in it when you're in bed or when he hugs you, always holding you close.

On the other hand, he enjoys the fact that you melt like butter in his hands when he places gentle and soft kisses on this spot.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The apocalypse, his not very happy childhood, his self-doubts; all this makes him always afraid that you might get pregnant. Daryl will always try to make sure that he doesn't come inside you. He enjoys it much more when you kneel in front of him and suck every drop out of him with a soft moan.

But sometimes (if he is lost in his thoughts or his day has been very shitty) it happens that he miss the moment to pull out of you in time . After that he usually lies frozen in your arms and doesn't say a word. No matter how much you try to talk to him, to explain that everything is okay, he is so obsessed by this fear that it literally paralyzes him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

One thing: His bike

He would love to thrust into you as hard as he can while sitting on his bike, grab your hair tight, pull you to him while he rams into you over and over again without a break.

While you would desperately try to find a hold somewhere on the bike, he would make sure with one last hard push that your moaning is nothing more than a desperate whimper. Without worry, without fear, he wants to come deep inside you and enjoy every second of your twitching walls.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is not inexperienced, but his uncertainty and lack of self-confidence slowed him down quite a bit at first. He was always afraid to do something wrong or to hurt you by mistake.

As a result, he became reluctant and didn't really dare to touch you the way he would have liked to. Over time and with your help, he learned to trust himself and quickly found out that he did much better than he thought he would. And damn, when this man unleashes his talents, you will end up being a whimpering mess.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anywhere where he can hold you close

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He doesn't make a joke of it, but there can things happening , where even he can't help but say a few words and has to laugh.

If you are in the shower and one of you stumbles, or when he keeps ramming into you at a fast pace from behind and you almost bang your head on the tabletop, because you slip away with your hand and lose your balance. There are a few situations where you both have to smile.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don't think Daryl is really interested in how long or how short the hair is. Whether it's on himself or you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He will always hold you close. You are always somehow caught in his firm grip and covered with his kisses, as if he wanted to merge with you.

And if the position allows it, he will always search for your gaze, kiss your lips until they burn, and almost every groan goes down in his kisses.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Daryl has never been one to masturbate often, because he needs the closeness and bonding to get into the mood. It was only when he discovered how important you are to him that he started to feel the need to touch himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a thing for when you moan his name hoarsely, while you painfully cling to his hair when you come, deeply looking into his eyes. This bittersweet pain coupled with the knowledge that he has pushed you over the edge is like an obsession for him and he will try to achieve exactly that every time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It doesn't really matter to him where you do it. For him only two things are important: That you feel comfortable and that you are safe (at least what you can call safe in a world full of man-eating monsters).

An old warehouse, the driver's cab of a truck, an abandoned house: All this doesn't matter, as long as he can make sure that no bad surprises are waiting for you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There are two things that turn Daryl on.

Number one is when you are close to him, physically and much more mentally and that happens quite often. When you sit on his lap, showing him how he means to you. When you take him in your arms after a stressful day without words and hold him tight for as long as he needs it. When you understand each other without words, and just sit in silence next to each other, and all of a sudden you snuggle up to him. All these small and yet so important things turn him on more than anything else and turn very quickly into hot kisses and naked facts.

Number two: His bike ( yes again, sorry )

Whenever you are together on the bike, it always comes to his mind what he would like to do with you on it, and that is a great motivator for Daryl, so that it's hard for him to keep his hands off you sometimes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It's clear to me that he would never risk hurting you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both giving and receiving.

He loves it when you kneel before him and moan in a low voice while you suck him off and gently massage his balls. Every time you roll your tongue over his tip, he shivers and grabs your hair even tighter while he enjoys every second of this sight. Which in turn makes you work on his cock all the more energetically and you could make him come pretty quickly. And even if he moans in frustration and begs you with his gaze to continue: He loves it when you tease him, push him to his limits and always stop just before he comes. Until finally, with a deep groan, he spills his warm cum in your mouth.

But he also loves to fix you on the ground with his firm grip on your hip. And in addition to this, forcing your legs to stay open for him while he sucks hard on your clit, while your shaking body keeps trying to bear the overwhelming feeling somehow. And of course also here he loves it when you cling hard to his hair when your whole body keeps on trembling uncontrollably while you come whimpering for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood. Sometimes he enjoys pushing slowly and deeply into you and covering your body with gentle kisses. But in the same way, in some moments he has no problem with just pull your pants down, bend you over the table and fuck you hard and fast, as long as he knows you are ok with it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Due to the fact that the way he fucks you depends a lot on his mood, he won't have a problem with a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves to experiment and find new ways to satisfy you, but he doesn't want to take any risks that could hurt you or bring you in danger, no matter which ones.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This also depends very much on his mood and how he feels. If he is relaxed and not tormented by many thoughts, he can please you the whole night until you can´t walk the next day.

But if he is stressed, it might also happen that after a few minutes everything is over. But that doesn't mean that he is finished. He always makes sure that you have pleasure too. After all, there are still his fingers and his tongue with which he can drive you crazy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I mean, we're in a postapocalyptic world, right? There aren't many toys, and finding some isn't a priority. But Daryl is also very creative and manages to make you squirm with just simple things like a regular candle or something.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is only sometimes teasing you, simply because it is more a torture for him than for you. He desperately wants to hear you moan, feel your trembling, taste your body, so that it´s nearly unbearable for him to tease you really.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Daryl isn't someone who is really loud during sex. His panting is quiet and hectic with his hot breath hitting your skin. Before a loud moaning escapes his throat, he buries his face on your body, biting and somehow clinging to you so that his moaning is absorbed by your skin.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Come on, we've all looked at it, even if nobody admits it. (I mean, why else would there be a scene in Death Stranding where Sam beats you up after staring at his crotch several times?) I mean, you can tell he's well-built. But based on the fact that there are growers and showers, I think he's pretty average and not unrealistic like a porn actor.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even though he usually lies on top of you and cuddles up to you, he is very cautious that you fall asleep before him. Only when your hand is resting heavily on his shoulder or head, and the caressing through his hair has stopped, he allows himself to fall asleep as well.

#daryl dixon #darylxreader #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl imagine #alphabet #dirty mindstuff #daryl dixon smut #daryl smut

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dweetwise · 3 years

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i’ve been kinda quiet while finishing a project over on ao3, but now i’m back with some riconti to share <3

ship: felix x ace (only implied; can be read as platonic if you wish!)

word count: 1640

Someone to Lean On

"—and I thought for sure she wouldn't pick me up! I ran straight into her after being unhooked, but she didn’t even hesitate calling my bluff. Well played, Spirit!"

Felix kept half-listening as Ace rambled on about their latest trial. They were walking back to the campfire together through the fog, having both been sacrificed by the ruthless katana-wielding killer.

It wasn't uncommon for Ace to wait around for him in the plane of nothingness if he didn't survive the trial. Felix had lost count of how many times he'd regained consciousness only to see the familiar, smiling figure calling over to him through the fog.

He wondered if Ace knew how much he appreciated the gesture. The gambler’s friendly banter was always a welcome distraction from the harrowing experience of having every fiber of his being torn to shreds and consequently be reassembled.

But this time was different. Felix could barely make out Ace's words, his own thoughts sounding deafening inside his head despite the silence of the fog. His body didn't feel like his own; it was like the Entity's claws were still twisting and turning around his insides.

Felix’s feet dragged behind him and when they eventually came to a stop, Ace stopped right with him and patiently waited for their journey to continue. Only once Felix made no move to do so did the Argentine’s brilliant smile falter from uncertainty.

"Felix?" Ace asked.

"I can't do it," Felix said.

According to people back at the campfire, it had been over a year since Felix was taken into this horrible realm. It felt even longer than that; with nothing in this world but means to make them suffer, Felix was starting to forget the things he used to enjoy.

"Sure you can, champ!" Ace grinned.

Felix knew Ace was trying to be encouraging. He knew he should go back to his play-act, should plaster on a fake smile and brush off his struggles as nothing more than a bad trial, like he’d done countless times before.

But he couldn’t.

"No," Felix said, a surprising determination in his voice. "You don't understand."

“What do you mean?” Ace asked.

Felix wasn’t sure how to describe it. The more he thought about this world and the absolute wrongness of it, the harder it was to pinpoint its exact cause.

He felt lightheaded and almost delirious. It was like he was in a dream; a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. Nothing in this place made sense, yet all this time he had accepted it as truth. What if it was all a figment of his imagination?

"Is any of this real?" Felix asked.

Ace’s smile made way for a confused frown, and his expression was the only thing in their surroundings that looked lifelike. The unnatural fog surrounding them felt neither damp nor cold, the unending darkness somehow allowed them to see perfectly, and even though there was nothing to guide them they still knew exactly which way to go.

Felix felt his breathing pick up as he only now seemed to realize the vast emptiness of nothing they were standing in. He’d been here countless times before but never fully aware of it, and his heart was racing as he frantically looked around, feeling the terror rising in his chest—

Until a warm hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Hey, deep breaths," Ace said, turning Felix to face him.

The touch helped to ground him and the panic started to fade as Felix looked into familiar brown eyes. Ace felt real, but how could he be sure?

"It doesn't make any sense," Felix said. "The Entity doesn’t exist. It simply can’t."

Ace said nothing. Whether he was giving Felix space to speak or thought he’d finally lost his mind, Felix didn’t know.

"What if this is just a nightmare? What if I'm going crazy—having some sort of episode from work stress, and I'm really hospitalized in an institution?" Felix said, his frantic eyes finding Ace's. "What if I'm in a coma, or—or I died, and this is all my brain shutting down? What if this isn't real?"

Felix realized he was shaking. Ace looked at him silently; like he was pondering what to say. Felix didn’t think he’d ever seen him look so serious.

Abruptly, the embarrassment hit. Felix broke eye contact and stepped back. Even if he was losing it, he didn't need to drag Ace into this—

"So what?" Ace asked.

"What?"

"If you wake up in a hospital tomorrow and realize none of this was real, what does it matter?" Ace said. "It's not gonna change that this feels real."

Felix was silent, mulling over the words.

"I think that, sometimes, it's best to just take things at face value," Ace continued. "Fucked-up things like the Entity exist? Alright. One of them yoinked us into its world for fun? Sure. Whether we like it or not, right now we're stuck here—might as well try to make the most of it."

"Don't you want answers?" Felix asked.

"What I want is to get the hell out of here," Ace huffed dryly.

Felix couldn’t remember Ace ever talking about an escape before. The gambler had always seemed surprisingly well-adjusted to their predicament, but he should have known that even the most optimistic person would be eager for the chance to find a way out of this nightmare.

"But since that's not on the table, I'll take the next best thing of living to see another day," Ace said. "And if I wake up in a real bed tomorrow and it was all a dream? Even better."

"Have you never thought about it? That this could just be a product of your mind?" Felix asked.

"Briefly, yeah," Ace said. Then he smiled. "But then I remembered how shit my imagination is. No way I would've been able to come up with something like this."

Felix huffed out a dry chuckle despite the situation.

"But it's probably easier for me," Ace said. "I know you tend to overthink things. And with the kind of year you've had? I'm kinda surprised you've adjusted so well."

Felix hadn’t thought about it that way. After the numerous panic attacks and freezing from fear in his first trials, Felix never considered himself particularly well-adjusted to his new existence. He owed most of his meager success to the people around him, always there to lend a hand and pull Felix up when he wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

And most of the time, that person had been Ace.

"I had some help," Felix said, offering a hesitant smile.

"Ah, true—almost forgot about Élodie," Ace grinned. "Must be nice, having a friend like that in a place like this."

Felix didn't have the heart to correct the assumption. Having the familiar face of a childhood friend among their teammates had no doubt been beneficial for both Felix and Élodie while they learned to survive this new world.

But it wasn't Élodie who had been by Felix's side those first months. It wasn’t her encouraging words that got through to Felix when he felt paralyzed from inaction, or her who took the time to involve him in the group when Felix was too lost in his own head to participate.

"It really makes a world of difference, having a good friend," Felix said.

Ace kept looking at him, until his face spread into a bright smile at the realization.

"Well, in that case, can I offer you some friendly advice?" Ace asked.

"Of course," Felix agreed.

"Don't get too wrapped up in the 'how's and 'why's," Ace said. "It's just gonna consume you. And…"

Felix waited as Ace paused in an unusual gesture of uncertainty.

"I'd hate to lose you," Ace said.

He was still smiling pleasantly, but his eyes betrayed his real emotion; it was the first time Felix had seen genuine fear in Ace's eyes. And it wasn't from a brutal mori or the hopelessness that they might never escape.

It was from the possibility of losing Felix.

"Alright," Felix said. "I'll try."

"It's a start," Ace said, his demeanor back to the usual playfulness. "You ready to head back?"

Felix realized he felt much calmer now than only minutes prior. There was still an uneasiness in the back of his mind due to the unspeakable horrors that haunted them on a daily basis, but he felt grounded. This wasn't just about him; no matter whether it aligned with the objective truth, this was their reality.

"I think so, yes," Felix said.

"'Atta boy," Ace said.

Ace's hand left his shoulder, and Felix immediately missed its warmth. The moment of camaraderie they had shared was exactly what he had needed. Even Ace seemed more at ease, his smile relaxed as he fell into step beside Felix.

"By the way," Ace said conversationally. "If this is all in your head, could I request you make it a little… I don't know, less guts and gore, more flowers and booze?"

Felix chuckled. "I can try."

"Oh, and while you're at it, can you give me one of those makeovers?" Ace said. "Make me like ten years younger? I think I’d look great in brown hair—ooh, and a six pack too!"

Felix listened to Ace ramble with a smile. It would never cease to amaze him how the seemingly lighthearted man could go from joking to serious and right back to silly banter in just a few short moments. Ace was like a bolt of lightning; chaotic in nature and gone in the blink of an eye, but always managing to calm the storm in Felix’s head.

"Ace?" Felix asked, interrupting Ace still talking about his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Felix said.

Ace’s smile flashed bright and warm in the darkness surrounding them.

"Anytime."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

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