#We’re watching the repair shop

[badgerofshambles]

dear god

I’m gonna be 32. And I don’t even have a pot of spare keys 😭

[seoafin]

And I know it's hard enough to love me (But I woke up in a safe house)

pairing: vash the stampede x fem!reader warnings/tags: babygirl vash, Depressing Pillow Talk, slighty nsfw towards the end, sharing one bed trope, title taken from let's get married (MITSKI VERS) word count: ~4.2k

“My husband and I would like a room,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around Vash’s and lean into him. You feel his body startle at your touch, his gaze on top of your head as you play the part of the excited bride. You think he might pass out on you if you don’t get him to room, and fast. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

“In this shithole of a town?” The innkeeper asks with a raised eyebrow, looking from you to Vash, who only lets out a sheepish chuckle as he scratches the back of his head. Despite his sluggish breaths, his slow blinking gaze, and the red slowly staining his shirt.

You shrug, trying hard not to be impatient. “There are worse places.”

There are. You’ve survived them. Compared to the slums of December or September, this shabby, worn inn is paradise.

“Yer right ‘bout that,” he laughs, acquiescing, as he tosses a ring of keys into your hand and takes your pouch of money. Vash is slumped into you now, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to place the full weight of his body on you. To anyone else, it would look as if he was clinging to you, the picture of a loving couple.

“Cheers to the happy couple!” the man calls out, tipping his hat down as the two of you move to the stairs in front of you. 

Vash grins brightly, and manages a cheery, polite, “Thank you!” as the two of you pass.

You can’t resist the huff of a laugh that escapes your lips as you make your way up the stairs, and then into the small, modest dust lined room.

Vash collapses on the bed with a sharp exhale, and you immediately move to take off his shirt but his hand stops you by the wrist before you can.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, eyelashes fluttering. His fingers tightens, just imperceptibly, (even on the brink of sleep, he’s overly conscious about his strength, you think). In a way, it feels like he’s wordlessly imploring you to stay. “Jus’ need sleep. Not gonn’ take long.”

You blink. His fingers loosen, and in a few seconds his breathing has evened out into steady breaths. You’re relieved. He’s already stopped bleeding. From the months you’ve traveled with him, known him, he’s healed quickly enough that any other person wouldn’t understand. You still don’t. Not fully. But you’ve never asked questions. And as long as he never asked you any questions, that was fine with you. 

You stay on the bed, by his side for a few minutes, watching him. You take off his sunglasses and put them on the nightstand after wiping the blood off them. He’s an unusually pretty man. Too pretty for No Man’s Land. You trace his face with your eyes. The beauty mark right under his right eye to his parted pink lips. Then down to the rise and fall of his chest to the plates of the cybernetic prosthesis of his left arm. 

Lost technology. Not many people had access to that kind of technology. Or the knowledge to build that arm, let alone repair it.  

Standing, you give him one last glance, reload your revolver and tuck it into the holster at your side, before you leave in search of medical supplies to patch him up when he wakes. You scope out the town while at it. It’s small; a handful of residents armed to the teeth with guns, and even less children. There are pipes that run through the town that you assume are fed fresh water by a nearby plant. You locate a medical shop at the center of town. 

You buy antiseptic, gauze, and a few other things, before making your way back to the inn. The innkeeper gives you a wink.

When you open the door to the room, Vash is awake.

The sound of his harsh breathing fills the air. His metal hand fisted into the sheets so tightly you think it might tear. You meet his frantic gaze, and almost immediately, he slumps in relief, eyes dropping to his lap. 

You quietly shut the door. “Nightmare?”

Sometimes, in his sleep, you hear him call out for a woman named Rem.

He lets out a loud laugh. You pretend not to notice the shaky undertone of it. “I slept for longer than I thought!” His metallic hand curls and unfurls, catching on the dull light of the room. “I thought you…” he trails off, suddenly embarrassed. He looks away. 

“I brought supplies.” You place the bag on the table, next to Vash’s nickel revolver. You turn back to him: “Strip.”

His arms immediately make a cross on his chest, as if he’s already stripped, face bright red.

“I can do it myself—!”

Vash the Stampede. The humanoid Typhoon. The Sixty Billion Double Dollar Man. The man you originally only followed after to collect the criminals who swarmed to him, like flies to corpses. The man who leaves a trail of calamity and disaster in his wake. The man who continuously, everyday, without fail, begged you to leave the criminals you captured alive. A constant enigma and a headache. A walking contradiction. 

“I’ll leave the room,” you say. “Don’t take too long.”

You leave the room, leaning against the wall, and wait two minutes.

You open the door, and Vash jumps with a yelp, stripped to the waist, arms covering whatever he can manage.

Scars cover his entire torso, running all the way down his flesh arm to his hand. Deep scars, shallow scars, scars that have never entirely healed, leaving the skin dark pink and the flesh caved in. There are more scars than there is unblemished skin, missing chunks of skin replaced with metal plates and seams.

It's not a pretty sight, but you’ve never much cared for pretty. 

His face is flushed. “I thought—”

“I lied.”

“!?”

You shut the door with your heel, and then grab the gauze and antiseptic. “Turn around.”

Wordlessly, he turns, ears reddening. You direct him to sit on the bed, and then you begin to apply the antiseptic. The two of you sit in silence. You, disinfecting his fresh wounds and wrapping his back, while you also ignore the way his body tenses at your touch, his pointedly straight gaze, the constant bob of his throat, as if he’s looking for the right words to say.

He reluctantly speaks up. “You’re…not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you reply. Just a few scrapes and a bruised arm from where you had landed wrong after trying to dodge multiple rounds of bullets from the latest batch of criminals that had schemed to capture the humanoid typhoon. After hauling them to the police, Vash hiding away, you had gained yourself a hefty paycheck before being run out of the city, a bleeding Vash in tow.

You’re nearly done. The wounds aren’t nearly as severe as they had been only a couple of hours ago. The skin has healed enough that it’s already forming a scar. You don’t know much about Vash the Stampede, but you know enough to understand that he isn’t human. Not completely.

But he smiles. He laughs. He detests the very violence that nurtured you. He likes pizza and donuts. He’s moved to tears almost as easily as he seems to get hurt. He’s good with children. They trust him. Children love him in a way they don’t you: pulling him down to their height, climbing him, leading him and all his long limbs along. The way he takes their words seriously, nodding with all the gravity of a legal proceeding as they talk about the weather, their favorite foods, the silly argument they got into with a sibling. He smiles, and when he turns that smile onto you, it makes you think of everything warm and how you had forgotten what it meant to be happy.

He may not be human, but he is. Everything good about humanity that had been lost and forsaken when mankind crashed onto this unforgiving, harsh planet. 

You pull away, resisting the urge to press your fingers down on his skin, to trace the map of his scars and feel him shudder underneath you. He’s as warm as a furnace. The heat of his body stays with you. “How do you feel?”

He beams at you, one hand on his upper arm as he swings his arm around. “Perfect!”

You sigh. “Don’t push yourself now. Let me finish wrapping you.”

He retreats back to his original position, still smiling, all reservations about his partial nudity forgotten as he waits for you to finish.

Vash speaks. “You didn’t kill them.”

You glance up. You can only partially see his expression from your position behind him, but the pull of his lips is unmistakable. He’s smiling. And you don’t need to look at him to see it. That sweet smile of his that pulls at his eyes and softens his entire face. 

Your hands still. You hadn’t killed them. The Archie Brothers, the two brothers infamous for targeting banks and other commercial properties, who had gotten wind of Vash being in the city and emptied hundreds of rounds into the bar the two of you had momentarily settled in for a quick drink. It’s not as if you could’ve killed them in the first place. Vash was nothing if not easygoing, but keeping the criminals you turned in for a paycheck alive was the one thing he firmly enforced. Going as far to shield their bodies with his own.

He’s so troublesome sometimes.

You want to ask if he would’ve let you in the first place. If you had a choice. 

You force yourself to wind the bandage over his arm. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

Vash turns, faster than you anticipate, eyes wide. You can see the pale irises of his eyes. He’s delighted. “Really!?”

You blink, staring at him in silence. He goes red, jerking back, scuttling backwards with his hands like a crab until he reaches the end of the bed and then air. He falls back first, legs raised up in the air. 

He sits up with a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. “I…I guess I got a little ahead of myself…”

“...pffft.”

He straightens just as you dissolve into full blown laughter. And when your laughter dies down he’s looking at you, eyes wide, like he’s seeing you for the first time. You clear your throat and look away, embarrassed. You don’t think you’ve ever laughed in front of him.

“...Something on my face?”

He jumps, frantically waving. “No, no. I just thought,” he hesitates. “You should laugh more.”

Something in your chest gives. You can’t stand it. Not when he looks at you like that. Eyes shining, lips curved softly, face animated like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

People like him aren’t supposed to survive No Man’s Land. They aren’t built to. But you’ve seen with your own eyes how capable Vash is. It didn’t take much to kill a man in these lawless lands, but you had never seen him miss his target. Your didn't need to take pride in your aim to know it was excellent. You just didn’t have the same consideration for criminals Vash did. A life or two wasn’t something you lost sleep over. Casualties happened. And if it was a criminal, then it was simply divine judgment.

You stand from the bed and walk towards the desk. You take a doughnut out of a brown paper bag and throw it to him.

“For me?” He exclaims, easily catching it, even though you had thrown it to him.

You don’t respond. He enthusiastically tears it in half, and offers you the bigger piece.

You shake your head, the quirk of your lips, fond. “I don’t like sweet things.”

“I see…” he says thoughtfully, as if he’s digesting the information. “That makes sense. You don’t normally eat…”

It strikes you that this is the most you’ve ever talked about yourself. You’re unusually talkative today, and he notices. You find that you don’t mind. It’s alarmingly easy to talk to him now.

In the handful of months you’ve been traveling together, you’ve learned that all the crimes attributed to him had been the work of his twin, a man called Million Knives. A man you had managed to steal a glimpse of only once before Vash had locked you in a closet before rushing away. You were still sore over that. Even though he retrieved you soon after, apologizing profusely, accepting your cold shoulder with grace. Until you couldn’t bear the way he trailed after you with a pathetically sad expression on his face, and told him to stop. 

You never asked him for details. Of why his brother was terrorizing towns and cities, stealing plants and lives along the way. You’ve never pushed. You weren’t following the man to learn his life story. You were in it for the money.

Until one day, you realized he knew your exact bar order by heart. The kinds of alcohol you’d drink, and the kinds you wouldn’t touch. It was a small thing. But he looked so pleased when he placed the glass down, as he waited for you to drink it.

You knew his fear of you becoming potential collateral damage, but somewhere along the way you think you had grown on him. Somewhere along the nights listening to him cry out in his sleep for a woman named Rem, somewhere along watching the sliver of light heralding sunrise on the horizon together, somewhere in the silence in the dark of nights shared. 

You think he’s grown on you too.

“Have you eaten?” He asks. 

“Not hungry,” you reply, glancing out the window. Pitch black other than the glow of a single lone street lamp nearly a block down. “I’m going to sleep.” It wasn’t often you got to sleep on a bed, and you planned to make full use of it.

You go to the bathroom to wash up. When you walk out, Vash enters the room with a load of blankets. You look at him curiously.

“I asked the innkeeper for some blankets.” He laughs, recalling the conversation. “I said that my…” he trails off. “My…ah…wife…” Red paints his cheeks, and he looks away, raising the mound in his arms a bit higher to cover his face.

“...”

“...”

You watch as he makes his way to the other side of the room, keeping his gaze pointedly straight, and places the pile down. 

“You’re sleeping on the floor?”

“That’s right!” Vash pats the floor a little too vigorously for your liking. “Just like usual!”

You look at the bed. It’s big enough for the two of you so you had assumed you’d be sharing it… You’ve never shared a bed together before, but you had no problems with it, not with Vash.

He darts into the bathroom quickly enough that you don’t have time to say anything else. You hear the water run, turn off the lights, and get underneath the covers.

Then you wait.

When he leaves the bathroom, he gingerly folds his red jacket and sets it down on the chair. You wait until he passes the bed to strike, grabbing him by the shirt, and hauling him down onto the bed.

He yelps, a surprised, high pitched, noise that tears out of his throat. 

“We can share,” you say to him, his face inches apart from you. You can see his wide eyes, the bob of his throat working, pink lips parted as he stares at you, but your gaze is resolute.

And that’s that.

You figure that it might be easier for him to sleep if you aren’t facing him, so you turn to face the wall. You stare at the wall for ten minutes, waiting for him to settle into his side of the bed. Not even a faint rustle of the sheets. You wait a little longer. You can’t even hear him breathing.

You turn back around to face him and immediately he draws back even farther from his original position, on the tip of the bed where he’s precariously close to falling off.

A nervous chuckle. “I…”

“Sleep. I won’t say it again.” You study him, his slightly panicked expression, the grip of his metal hand fisted into the sheets. Oh. “Is it me?”

“N-nothing like that—!” He inches forward, just a little bit (still keeping his distance), puts his hand underneath the pillow, and squeezes his eyes tight. You watch him for a few seconds longer, specifically at the bead of sweat forming on the side of his temples. Your gaze drifts down, from the delicate slope of his nose to his lips.

You turn back around. 

Silence settles in the room like a muffled blanket. You still can’t tell if he’s breathing or not, and for some reason, sleep doesn’t come to you as easily as it usually does. The bed is too soft. 

You don’t know why you say it. Maybe it’s because you’re awake. Maybe it’s because you know Vash isn’t asleep. 

“When I was a child, a plant saved me.”

A few heartbeats pass.

Vash’s voice is softly hesitant. It feels like something gentle and your stomach coils tight, as if in preparation for the inevitable recoil that always follows. “Were you sick?” 

“I was.” The darkness reveals patterns in the wall, and your eyes go blurry with them. “The entire town was sick. Children were dying.” Religious fervor had taken ahold. Daily ritual acts of praying and calling out for salvation.

Taking you to your town’s plant when you were on the brink of death had been your mother’s first and final act of love. Afterwards, your mother often recounted in a drunken stupor that she was sure you were going to die. That it may have even been a mercy if you had. The plant cured you. Your mother was sure of it, the plant worshiping denizens of the town were sure of it. Nobody knew how. Nothing except for the fact that shortly after—

“The plant died the day after. I’ve never forgotten it.” You killed it. It was the first life you took.

It changed you. On a fundamental level. Something had happened to you on that day you can’t even remember. But that’s something you don’t think you can share. How sometimes, you don’t even need to dodge bullets.

That plant died, and now you are here, sharing a bed with a self proclaimed pacifist who refused to kill under any circumstances. A man who defied all logic and reasoning. A good man anyone would call misguided. A fool. An idealist.

In the end, lives would always demand sacrifice. It was either you, or them. It was kill, or be killed.

You don’t know what face he’s making behind you. Is he horrified to know that your life had ended before it started? That you were responsible for taking away the source of life for hundreds of people? That your existence was predicated on sacrifice and death before you even learned how to walk? You were at inherent odds with the idealism of pacifism. With him. Not out of choice, but because of circumstances out of your control.

Maybe a part of you wants him to hate you. Maybe a part of you is looking to be understood. But you thought that part of you had died long ago.

You shut your eyes, prepared to go to sleep.

Vash exhales. “I don’t…”

You open your eyes.

There’s a conviction in his voice you don’t understand. “You didn’t kill it.” You wonder how he can be so confident. “The plant saved you.” I know it did. 

You face him once more. He’s closer than he was before, close enough to easily touch. “Sometimes,” you start, hating the way he’s smiling at you in a way that touches his eyes, framed in the pale moonlight. “You really make me mad.”

His jaw comically drops open. You watch as panic instantly overtakes his face until he realizes the lack of heat in your words. His lips push back together to form a pout. He says your name.

“Why is your brother stealing plants?”

Money. Power. Recognition. Those would seem to be the most likely answers, but you’ve seen the wreckage that Million Knives leaves in the wake of his destruction. It’s cruelty. It’s too calculated to be careless. It’s pure hatred. You can’t fathom a man like as Vash's brother. Twin brother. 

But then that voice inside you speaks. Are you really any different?

Vash blinks, and then his face falls, gaze downcast. It feels odd to see him like this. You rarely catch him without a big, sheepish smile on his face nowadays, especially when he catches you looking at him, but you had seen him with a forlorn expression, shoulders slumped, in your early days of traveling together. When there were no children to demand a ride on his back, when the two of you momentarily passed an overcast shadow, in the darkness of the night when he thought nobody was looking.

You almost regret asking him in the first place. But he’s so close you can count his pale eyelashes, and you lose your train of thought.

“You could say it’s…” his mouth twists, “revenge.”

Revenge.

He’s not the first misanthrope in these lands. You think the occasional mass murderous thought, and you resist acting on it more often than you didn’t, the days before you met a blonde pacifist gunman. There’s only so much a human being can take.

You think of the kaleidoscope of scars that line his body. You only saw the ones on his upper body, but you don’t doubt the existence of countless others everywhere else.

It must’ve hurt. It must’ve been other people. People intent on capturing him. People who wanted to hurt him. You hate them all. Every single person that has permanently marked him a way that wasn’t theirs to do in the first place. You hate whoever severed his arm, whoever had repaid his kindness with violence.

Desire strikes you, hot and sudden. You want to count them all, trail your fingers over the heat of his body, the uneven layers of skin, and feel his breaths underneath you. You look at him, as his gaze lifts, remeeting your eyes, pleading for your understanding. Ball and chain to his brother. Shouldering the sins of family. You don’t understand it. Why he’s looking to you for acceptance, as if it’d even make a difference.

He is the only good thing in this harsh world, and you’ve found him.

“Maybe,” you tell him, as he hangs onto your every word. “We deserve it.”

You see the split second sadness weighing in his eyes, at your words, right before you curl your fingers into his shirt and pull him to your lips.

His eyes go wide, and something that sounds like a mixture of an exhale and gasp leaves his lips. You separate, your lips a hairbreadth away from his, as he stares at you.

“Is this okay?” You ask. If it wasn’t, you’d go back to sleep, and forget it ever happened in the first place. You made your move. It wasn’t reciprocated.

But then he nods, so vigorously that his blonde hair flops into his eyes.

You smile, and Vash lights up.

You kiss him again, drawing his face closer with your hand on his cheek. He complies with his entire body, closing the distance immediately, like if he can’t help himself. His lips are clumsy against yours, too eager, too desperate, wet and messy, as he pants into your mouth. Heat pools in your stomach, and you want more. You run your tongue over the seam of his lips, and he lets out a sigh of something that sounds reverently like your name against your mouth.

Then your tongue is in his mouth, and his flesh hand jumps. There’s a breathless, throaty whimper, the entire weight of his body pressing tight against you. So you can feel every part of him. How he’s willing to give you everything in the name of desire, of love. And when you pull away, his lips follow yours, spit slicked and swollen.

You easily lay him flat on his back as you move to straddle him. You kiss him again briefly, tenderly. Then you sit up and pull up his shirt, just enough to expose his torso. His metal fingers fist into the sheets when your finger goes to a scar of pink skin right about his hips, lightly following it to right below his chest.

He chokes with a shudder that wracks his body. You can feel him, heavy and hard pressing against you. The slight jump of his hips, barely restraining himself from rutting into you.

“It’s not…” Vash struggles with the words with heaving breaths, face bright red, embarrassment splayed out. He looks to the side. “A pretty sight.”

You think of heated irons and blistering pain. Thousands of blades slicing you open, needles penetrating flesh, blind white heat enveloping your body, and the mindless oblivion that would follow.

You realize you’ve been silent a beat too long when Vash looks like he’s preparing for your inevitable rejection.

“I’ve got scars too,” you say, finally. Quietly. You take his mechanical hand in yours and slowly slide him up underneath your shirt. “You want to see?”

[wallflowerwritesstuff]

You Chose: Zayne

border credit goes to cafekitsune here on tumblr 🖤

We’re sorry for the delay, please remain seated while we do our best to resolve our current—

You’re nearly half asleep as you hear the same recording for the fifth time in the last hour. Your body is in agony at this point, your mind scrambling to solve this problem as you do with all the others. Ignoring it is no longer viable, so, swallowing your pride, you pull your phone from your pocket. As if the universe knew what you were about to do, it begins to ring before you can even reach the contact screen.

You accept the call from Dr. Stranger, your arm protesting as you lift the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“So you answered. I had an inkling you would. It isn’t in you to miss a call regardless of your situation.” 

You frown. Rather than greet him as usual, you find yourself stuck on his first statement. 

“Did you expect me not to answer? Why call instead of text, then? And I like to make sure people don’t think I’m ignoring them,” you grumble in a hushed tone, still very aware you are in public and not everyone wants to hear your riveting conversation. 

“I called to leave a voicemail since you didn’t answer my earlier texts, though this is better as now you have no reason to try to avoid your next check-up.” 

A groan leaves you as you nearly slam your head against the bus window. 

“You could have easily called me in the morning, Dr. Zayne,” you insist, pausing before sitting up and biting back the groan that wants to escape. Even with the pain, you’re aware he wouldn’t have called just to leave a voicemail if there wasn’t something else important to say.  “Is something wrong? Is it a Wandere—”

A huff that you assume was meant to be amused left him, but it almost sounded mixed with something heavier—annoyance, maybe. He would deny it to the moon and back, however, claiming his patience was hard to wear down. 

“Even when you seem ready to fall asleep, your mind goes to protecting Linkon,” he sighs. “Look out the window, silly girl.” 

You do as told, getting close to avoid seeing your own reflection and seeing a familiar silhouette standing with a bag that you automatically recognize. You wave hesitantly, Zayne nodding once to show he had seen. 

“You went to the sweets shop again, huh?” you tease, relaxing as best you can. It was nice to see a familiar face when mere minutes ago you were contemplating life as you knew it. “You know we have a dentist appointment coming up, too. They’re gonna be so mad at you~”

“Funny enough, I understand their frustration,” he says, not bothering to elaborate and instead walking toward the bus. You watch curiously, surprised when he steps on, ignoring the driver’s warning about it being repaired to walk toward you. “It’s difficult to have a patient that doesn’t listen to even the smallest advice,” he adds, voice echoing as it came through the receiver. You lower the phone and hang up, attempting nonchalance as you cross your arms. 

The wince takes away from your act, but you proceed despite the narrowing of his eyes. 

“For someone that claims it’s funny, you don’t look too laugh-y.”

“I suppose you’d be right in that regard considering laugh-y isn’t a word.” 

“So I guess this is a bad time to claim I have no idea what you’re talking about?”  

Zayne doesn’t answer, instead holding out a hand to you. Watching it, you find yourself bouncing between his stern expression and his outstretched hand. You take it almost automatically once your brain catches up, unsure if the way his shoulders relax is because he won’t have to argue or because of something else. 

His hand is cold, and yet when he squeezes, you feel yourself warm from head to toe. 

He turns and you scramble to follow, legs like lead but seeming to have an autopilot feature that hides the fact you feel like falling over. It’s when you two arrive at his car that you find yourself wanting to ask the hundreds of questions threatening to slip off your tongue. 

“Dr. Zayne—”

“I believe I clocked out for the evening,” he says, opening the passenger side door and being patient as you maneuver your way in. He shuts the door carefully, walking to the driver’s side as you chew on your lower lip. You were thankful that area was uninjured, sure it would have stung had you dug teeth into a busted lip. 

“Zayne,” you correct, coming face to face with him as he leans toward you, causing you to blank on what it is you wanted to say. You watch him closely, his eyes flickering down before meeting your gaze again with a calmness that has you holding your breath. Zayne’s brow lifts as the soft click of a seatbelt has you realizing why he’d leaned over in the first place. 

You shrink away, clearing your throat but not missing the slight curve of his lips at your reaction. 

Jerk. 

He put his own on before starting the car, the ride silent until you remembered that you had been on your way to interrogating him—in a friendly manner, of course. 

“You lied to me.” 

“Did I?” Zayne questions, keeping his eyes forward. 

“Yes! You said you called to leave a voicemail, but you had seen me on the bus and that’s why you did it, right?” 

Staring at the road, he doesn’t meet their eyes as he responds. “Consider us even, then.”

“When did I lie?” you ask incredulously, glad Zayne was preoccupied lest you risk folding under his intense gaze. 

“I’m glad you asked. Should I begin with you saying you’d be home early today to rest after that last concussion you received last week?”

You part your lips, the promise having been made before you were called in to replace your fellow injured hunter. 

“But that—” you begin, already dreading letting him know you technically have another and this one was particularly nasty. You were cleared to sleep, but had ignored the ‘no screens’ rule due to your report. 

“Or should I remind you of our brief but telling phone call where you insisted you were fine despite barely being able to walk without looking as if breathing hurts?” 

You blink, wondering if this is the most you’ve gotten him to speak in the last few months. 

You wished it was under better circumstances. 

“But that was—”

“Or, if you want something that hasn’t happened yet, I can play fortune teller and tell you about a future where you undoubtedly attempt to convince me that you’re fine right now by doing something that most definitely would end up hurting you more.”

Deflating, you groan in defeat. 

“I get it! I’m the worst patient, but it’s not like I try to do this on purpose. The wanderers are getting so much worse and Hunters are falling left and right—” 

Zayne has a particularly hard stop at one of the street lights and you're thankful for the seatbelt that keeps you firmly in place. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to be one of them. You are my patient,” he says coldly. “What happens to anyone apart from you isn’t my concern.”

“But right now, you aren’t my doctor,” you snipe back, “You said so yourself. You clocked out for the evening.”

Zayne didn’t answer immediately, but he did drive more carefully which was a sign he had heard you.  After some time for you both to breathe and the atmosphere to cool, he hums, his version of conceding to your point. 

For now. 

You know for a fact that he isn’t done talking about this, but the remainder of your ride together is quieter: slow to the point you find yourself drifting off. 

“You can sleep if you need to. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

“Mmhm,” you murmur, your sleep-addled brain deciding that if he wanted to talk, you’d show him you weren’t easily silenced. So you let him know through slurred words that you weren’t done discussing tonight with him, either.  

You swear you hear the infamous Ice King chuckle, but when you awaken in your apartment the next morning with a note at your bedside and a cup of water and pills, you’re positive it was nothing but a pleasant dream. Zayne rarely laughed, a part of you curious if it was even in his programming.  

“Maybe one day,” you say to yourself, though you aren’t sure if you believe it or if you’re attempting to convince yourself of it. 

Surprisingly, you’re feeling pretty decent. You grab a shower, change into clothes that allow your bruises and cuts both some breathing room, and head to the kitchen to see what you can have for a late breakfast. 

You stop short of your destination, however, Zayne sitting on your couch with a cup of coffee in one hand while the other pressed against a page of the book he was reading. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, seeming to have heard your sharp breath at the sight of him.

“You’re awake.”

You nod, stuttering out an agreement as you ask why he was still here. 

Lifting his head, he places down his cup and shuts his book, twisting where he sat to stare at you while he speaks. “I believe you said you weren’t done with me just yet, correct? It would be rude to leave without hearing what it was you had on your mind.” 

You nearly fall to your knees with how tense your body becomes, even more so when you see that dangerous flicker in his eyes: the immediate switch from Zayne to Dr. Zayne obvious as he took triage of every visible mark on your body. 

“So. Talk.” 

A nervous laugh leaves you as you rip some skin from the inside of your cheek. 

You and your big mouth. 

Want to explore some of the other routes?

Click here to return to the main post for a refresher.

Or, pick your other favorite love interest below:

Xavier

Zayne

Rafayel

Sylus

[buggyjuggie]

the skater punk is so cool i just read it !!. can you do the mk1 earthrealmers with a reader who does rythm/jam skating on roller skates? and they're like punk/metalhead and suped extroverted?

──★ ˙ ̟ Mk1 Earthrealms x GN! Rhythm/jam skating reader

「 ✦ Liu Kang ✦ 」

* He’s absolutely mesmerised by your skills, watches you with a love stricken look.

* Is down to give it a shot and long as your the one teaching.

* I feel like he’d have those rgb skates with the flashy lights.

* It doesn’t matter if he likes your taste in music he will listen to it regardless, wants to show that you are important to him.

* If people start talking about you negatively he’ll just give them a beaming death stare ( like in the mk1 story mode when he looked at Raiden and Kung lao)

* He doesn’t judge people by they’re looks, personality ect. He judges them by they’re actions. So when you started dating people we’re surprised that Liu kang would date someone with a style so opposite to yours, but he’s the happiest he’s ever been because he sees you have a pure and good intentioned heart.

「 ✦ Shang Tsung ✦ 」

* *In mc80sentertainment Shang Tsungs voice* „Mmm Liu kang look at what my partner can do isn’t it fantastic ? Much more impressive than your little farmer.”

* Tries to act dismissive and like it isn’t fun for him but in reality he REALLY likes it .

* Its calming for him to just be in a ring with you and spin, move your legs and just unwind, being a evil sorcerer is tiring.

* I feel like he’d get really creative with how we wants his rollerblades to look would probably add all sorts of little spikes, chains, maybe even use some magic so that green mist would follow him.

* Speaking of magic he sometimes messes with you by casting a spell on you roller skates (its his love language)

「 ✦ Johnny Cage ✦ 」

* Johnny is 50/50 when it comes to skating in general but because he loves to perform he tries to learn and practice as much possible.

* His flexibility comes in handy for certain dance moves.

* Sometimes he rents out the whole place just so you could have the whole ring to yourself. He makes specific playlists consisting of songs both of you enjoy.

* Absolutely LOVES your style and brags to everyone how cool you look.

* Both of you were made for each other: extroverts who perform match made in heaven.

* As always yes he post’s pics of you on his socials and you do the same back.

* When he sees you permofrming he gets struck with ideas for movie/scenes.

「 ✦ Kung lao ✦ 」

* If he ever sees someone judging you he’ll side eye them HARD.

* By the time both of you are done skating the ring will be full of cherry blossom leaves (they just sorta apear when Kung lao’s around)

* Helps you paint and customise your rollerblades as well as going shopping with you if they need repairing.

* Bring snacks for him even if he’s not roller blading he’s gonna be hungry and cranky and he never remembers to bring himself food.

* Shares the same taste in music so anything you put on he’ll like.

* Like Johnny both of you get along great thanks to your extroverted personalities.

「 ✦ Raiden ✦ 」

* He’s a natural at it he finds it really relaxing and fun to participate in your hobby.

* He sometimes invites his sister to join, it tightens your bond because he trusts you with important people in his life.

* Raiden is more introverted so if there’s a lot of people in the ring he’ll just sit on the benches and admire you.

* If you make him a playlist of your favourite songs even if he doesn’t like all of them he’ll still give it a shot.

* You mess with Raiden while skating by going behind him and taking out his hair tie (i wanna see him with long hair SUE ME)

*Uses his lighting powers to make little particles that just zab the ground, or makes mini fireworks to elevate your performances.

「 ✦ Kenshi Takahashi ✦ 」

* I feel like Kenshi would not be into roller blading not because he can’t but it’s just not his thing he prefers to just watch you.

* He enjoys the music you listen to but the side effect of that is when he can’t fall asleep he’ll blast it really loudly trough his headphones.

* He’s very supportive of the things you can do ,brings you water and snacks.

* At first Kenshi’s ancestors weren’t on board with him dating you until they saw how happy he was.

* You sometimes steal his red coat because its suits your style and you even customised it.

* He ended up buying a new one, if he ever catches you napping he’ll put his coat over you to make sure you don’t get cold.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Im so sorry this took so long to post but it’s here. I might start posting a bit slower because im already behind schedule (i was in another city for a concert) and winter break is ending so I’ll be busy but I’ll still try my best to put something out at least one or two request a week.

Thank you for reading :3

[freds-one-piece-fics]

Straw hats x reader: How it begins hc

-you first meet the straw hats when visiting a town, looking for a place to work and have stability.

-today was your first day of your job, after a lot of convincing that you could handle the tough activities you’d be paid to do.

-your large figure definitely drew eyes but it wasn’t what caught the crew’s attention.

-nope. It was the absolute unit of a massive tree you were carrying with one arm while the other was occupied by a cart full to the brim with logs that would normally be pulled by 4 horses.

-it wasn’t hard to miss either with every town dweller making space for you while side eyeing you nervously.

-Luffy was the first (and at the moment only person) to approach you with such enthusiasm.

-it surprised you for sure, but you tried to mimic half the enthusiasm out of politeness.

-“greetings sir, lovely weather we’re having?”

-“it’s really cold actually.”

-his bluntness was another little surprise, but you found it amusing nonetheless. It’s nice to have a friendly chat with someone for once, outside of work, of course.

-speaking of, you couldn’t stay too long, and although you could hold these logs all day, you’d rather not waste time.

-so you leave him be, thinking it’d be the last time you two would speak.

-well you were wrong.

-This time you’d meet the straw hat’s crew consisting of a red head navigator, a long nosed sharp shooter, a blonde chef, a mossy green swords man, and a cute little reindeer.

-turns out their boat was a little worn, nothing too expensive, but definitely wouldn’t survive the places they’d be going.

-the swordsman, reindeer, and the long nosed man were skeptical when meeting you, the deer and long nose were for fear reasons, the greenie was mostly suspicious but also somewhat uninterested.

-you didn’t find this weird though, you were use to it, however you didn’t know that they were judging your every move because their captain put you on the “going to make my nakama” list.

-gotta make sure your future crewmate isn’t bad news, y’know?

-after they hang around, waiting for their ship to get some small repairs, some of the crew members eventually start talking.

-the blonde chef man was one of the first (other than Luffy) to actually introduce himself. He was very courteous, always offering to bring you and the red head a drink even after you declined politely the 5th time.

-the skittish man and deer would test the waters, waiting for Luffy and Sanji to start the conversations before getting comfortable enough to have small chatter.

-Chopper was pretty happy to not be called a little dog for once, and appreciated you not treating him like… an animal? Even though he is technically an animal, he appreciates not getting treated as less…

-and Usopp found a lot of what you are working with fascinating, adding his own tidbits and insights about certain tools you were holding in that moment.

-you knew nothing of what he said.

-although it seemed like it, you weren’t an engineer, but you were useful when it came to positioning hard-to-move parts.

-but despite not looking at them as you held a large, heavy beam for another coworker to hammer on tight, you listened carefully and answered every other question.

-you were actually pleasant to talk to.

-each day, the crew would get comfortable, hanging out in the ship area to overlook the process despite the town having more than enough activities.

-you weren’t sure why they would hang out here when there wasn’t much to do other than to watch, but you appreciated the company.

-the red head did leave to check out the shops the first few days, but she did get to talking to you, and she mentally regretted not talking to you sooner.

-you were so nice despite doing all this work, getting your ear talked off, and she actually felt heard. You understood her frustration with the men throwing away money getting everyone into trouble.

-it was nice to be around someone who isn’t yelling 24/7 despite being within earshot.

-then you reach the last day.

-the goat boat is finished with some nice touches.

-you’re prepared to send the crew their way, telling them the ship was in good condition thanks to your coworkers before Zoro finally speaks to you directly.

-“why not go out for a drink, eh? A little thank you for helping with the ship.”

-you almost decline, saying you only move stuff around when the others start to chime in enthusiastically.

-“yeah! I wanna go eat at that restaurant I spotted near the food market area! It’s fun chatting with you and we don��t wanna leave without a send off!” Nami said with a lot of cheer in her voice

-“plus… I’ll pay.”

-well shit. When she puts it like that…

-you accept, while she turns to tell Zoro that the feast would be added to his tab.

-he didn’t like that.

-anyways, y’all go and get drunk and fueled up.

-Zoro challenges you to a drinking contest, which you accept out of politeness (much to the dismay of the other more sane crew members).

-much to their shock, you actually out drink Zoro.

-he’s heavily drunk but is conscious enough to not pass out or make a completely stupid decision.

-and you sat there, only buzzed.

-“it’s genetics.” You dismissed.

-it wasn’t a lie, it definitely was, but it wasn’t naturally occurring…

-anywho! You’re just about ready to leave to get back to your workplace to catch some sleep when Luffy stopped you.

-you know what comes next…

-“become my Nakama!”

-you sit there, almost stunned.

-how do you answer that???

-“…no?”

-cue the silence.

-“…you don’t wanna be our friend?” your veins completely iced over when the little deer looked at you tearfully.

-“n-no- I mean I enjoy being your friends, but I just started a job here.”

-“the job where you only follow orders and do nothing else? Sounds boring.”

-there’s the bluntness once again. Typical Luffy.

-but it does make you uncomfortable for a few different reasons…

-“it doesn’t seem like much of a life if I’m completely honest. It doesn’t seem like others are interested in having a conversation with you outside of work”

-Sanji immediately snaps at Zoro for the comment, but you did take in what he said.

-you listened. And you knew it was true.

-this job… wasn’t really what you wanted. You escaped with the intention to never follow orders like a trained dog ever again.

-you only wanted it because you needed to have… something.

-so you find yourself mildly convinced.

-mildly.

-“you have enough beds, correct?”

-it really didn’t take much convincing, did it?

-so there you all went, sailing into the unknown. Not knowing just what a mistake you may have made from simply giving in to the smallest of pressure…

~~~~~~~~~~~

Woo this was a rough start lmao.

I haven’t wrote hcs in a long time, so this is gonna be awkwardly written 👍 but I’ll get a hang of it again

[s-4pphics]

a lil meanmechanic!ellie and snobbybitch!reader hc list bc i’m clinically ill and my dark thoughts always win i was gonna write a lil fic but i got tired lol long day 

but hopefully thisll suffice for now😚idk how many imma make for them but the sex gon go crazy

wc;cw: 930 real short n sweet, slutty rude annoying rich!oc, i’m not kidding she’s a bad person, more monologues when will it end, oc is horny and a top letting y’all know rn, imma make this toxic🤭

your shiny brand new pink bentley just stopped working! what the fuck! 

after your dad gifted you your third new car, he instructed you to pull up to the swarovski store and pick up your sparkly limited edition lavender tinted lux chrono watch…. and this happens!

how the fuck were you going to get your new watch without transportation?!

you pulled your phone outta your chanel bag and googled car stopped help…

call a tow truck?!

don’t people just buy new cars when they stop working?! 

you dialed the first number suggested online 

“YELLO!” a friendly gruff voice came through the phone

“ummm, hi, my car stopped working— “

“okay, great! where’s your car located?”

“it’s uh.. near this mall complex.” 

“…okay. i mean…. i mean what’s the address?”

…. you don’t fucking know, you’re stranded!

after spending the next ten minutes asking strangers where the hell you were, you irritatingly whined the address to the man on the phone

why does nothing go your way?!

“okay great! we’ll be there in about an hour to get it!” 

an hour?!

but your swarovski watch—!

“hello?” 

“…yeah, whatever.” you said, hanging up.

this is fucking stupid!

after an hour of angrily pouting in your front seat, you saw a red truck pull up behind you in your rearview 

fucking finally!

you got out your new baby and saw—

oh, fuck

oh fuck!

WEEEEEEWOOOOOOWWEEEEEE—

your brain was sending off red alarms!

behind the man, there was a girl in overalls and a wife-beater, dirty sneakers(yuck!), and a bandana on to keep her sweaty hair outta her face

and your mood immediately got better! 

she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy—

“um, hi! ‘m joel! you called for a tow?” 

oh yeah

“y-yup! that’s me! my cars over there,” you pointed in some random direction as you stared at the girl 

“….okay, uh, we’ll get that loaded and we’ll head over to the repair shop!”

“uh huh,” you were so dazed as you watched her biceps ripple as she got some paperwork outta the car 

“….right!” and he walked away

she’s coming over oh god she’s coming over!

“hey. this your car?”

“mhm!” 

you looked at her name tag 

ellie

hm…wanna fuck?—

“cool. just need you to sign here. we’ll do the diagnosis when we get to the shop—“

you didn’t even care about what the fuck she was saying

you wanna eat her out so bad and buy her whatever she wants 

you work so hard, baby, lemme take the stress away! 

“…are you gonna sign…or?”

you were too busy looking at her freckled face and scarred eyebrows to notice she was holding a clipboard out to you 

how about you sign these damn wedding papers! 

“sorry!”

“it’s cool…yeah, just sign at the bottom.” 

she pointed at the dotted line with her calloused finger and you almost sucked it into your mouth! 

turn her out turn her out!

she finally met your eyes 

you wanted her clit in your mouth—!

“um… you can hop in the truck and we’ll head over, it’s like.. 20 minutes—“

“great! let’s go!”

ride my face!

when you arrived at the dealership, you got…. uncomfortable. 

why was it so loud and… grungy looking?

the nice man that answered the phone—joel— guided you into the garage and ushered you to sit on…. dirty chairs and you wanted god to strike you down now

“we’re gonna take a look at your car! it’s in pretty good condition so it shouldn’t be long!” joel screamed at you from the garage exit

you sat and nodded and 

you looked so outta place in here 

pastel colors, shimmery necklace and bracelets, heels!

you stood out like a sore thumb!

rusted, eggshell walls, dimly lit, dusty floor

you wanna leave so bad what the fuck—

“hey!” 

sike you wanna stay ellie’s so fucking fine—

“your car battery’s connection is loose, we’re gonna replace it—“

“today's my birthday!”

you were biting your lip and looking at her with glossy lust filled eyes and you wanted your head between her thighs—

“….’scuse me?”

“it’s my birthday!”

“happy….. happy birthday?” 

“thank you!” now lemme give you head—

“uh huh….. so, the replacement battery is gonna be $60, i can ring you up right now so you're not waiting when your car’s charged.”

you followed her to the desk and….

her fucking back and her shoulders and her ass—

her back her back! you wanna scratch it and make her scream!—

“cash or card?”

“card. my black card!” she needa know you’ll buy her everything—

“….right. go ‘head and swipe.”

you wanna swipe your tongue on her pussy!

but you swiped your card 

and you also reached in your chanel and grabbed a couple hundreds out

“here you go! for your troubles!” 

“what.”

“you fixed my baby! you should get a huge tip! like a really…. really fat one!

lemme give you this tip!

she must’ve noticed your tone, nastily sweet like honey, because her eyes widened before she let out a shocked scoff

you have her you have her—

“are you kidding me right now?” 

what. 

“hm?”

“i’m askin’ if you’re fucking serious? we don’t accept charity.” and she got up

and she looked mad

what the hell?

“w-what! no, it’s not like that— “

“yeah, whatever, your car will be ready in 20. you can take your money and get the hell out.” 

and she stormed off with a slam of the back door. 

…..

oh my god?

…

you want her even more now! 

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ my little secret (jude bellingham ‘series’ pt.3) ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jude bellingham x female oc (Mariah)

summary: in which Jude tries to do right but has to face his past actions

author's note: part 3 is out, part 4 on friday. masterlist here. tag list: @barcagirly @everlyjay @alwaysclassyeagle @urmotheris (if you want to be tagged, drop it wherever you want: post, repost, in my asks or comments)

series masterlist

word count: 909

4:12 PM

As minutes passed, Jude grew more and more nervous. He and Mariah had arranged to meet at a dessert shop at 4PM, after having a conversation through Instagram. He sensed how she still felt resentment, and he understood why. But he deeply wanted to do right and it started with apologizing in person. If she showed up.

Mariah was 12 minutes late and had not sent him any message. He just prayed she would show up.

His suffering was cut short by the bell ring of the door. Mariah appeared in the doorstep, still looking gorgeous in his eyes. His facial expression changed once he noticed the baby car seat she was pushing.

Jude definitely didn’t expect her to introduce them so quickly.

“Umm, hello” He got up to greet her, only to be ignored as she sat down and placed the car seat next to her. “Alright…”

“So” She started, her annoyance clearly heard. “What am I here for?”

“You might want to order something before- I’m cool, thank you”

Her tone was so soft yet her attitude was so harsh. Jude had hurted her deeply but it could not take away her softness.

“Okay…” said a distraught Jude. “First, how you been?”

“Jude, let’s not act like that” She instantly dodges his nice approach. “We’re here for Tami, right?”

He nodded in response, not letting out a word. He was scared to say the wrong thing.

“Tami is yours if this is what you wonder. I wanted to tell you immediately but someone decided to break my heart that night”

The last part of her sentence brought him back to that night. He remembered she did say she had to tell him something. He also remembered how disrespectful and rude he was towards her. How wrong he was. He could not feel anything else than remorse.

“Mariah, I’m sorry for the way I treated you”

Mariah expected him to apologize, but not genuine. As much as she did not want to believe him, she could only accept them, for the sake of her daughter.

“I appreciate you for that” She simply thanked “I can’t lie, that one hurted deeply but now that you’re here, I can’t take you away from Tami”

Jude saw in her response how much she grew from their relationship. She had became a mature woman who loved her child and was willing to keep thing in perspective for her. She impressed him and he regretted losing such an incredible person.

“Tami’s the apple of my eye.” Her tone got more serious at the mention of their baby. “If you promise to be there, do it”

Jude felt pressured by her words. He wanted to do good and repair his mistakes, hurting her being the biggest one.

“You hurted me, that was enough. Don’t do it to her”

“I’ll be the best, I promise” He looked straight in her eyes so she knew he meant it.

Just as they ended, little Tamara wailed in the car seat. Jude’s head snapped towards her. She had been silent all along, making him forget her presence. Her whines popped their bubble.

He watched Mariah get her in her hands, placing her in her arms. She gave the diaper bag to Jude, who hesitantly took it.

“Can you get me the bottle”

He did so, analyzing the content of the bag. He closed it and lifted her head, looking at Mariah and Tamara. 

The young mother’s soft moves, Tamara’s mouth movements as she ate, her hands trying to grip the bottle, the way they looked at each other, with so much love. The sight touched Jude straight in his heart. 

He suddenly felt like that’s what he wished forever. He wanted their daughter to look at him like that, to feel the love of a little human. He could only blame himself for it. He’s the one who first blocked her before she reciprocated the action. He messed up.

Mariah smirked noticing Jude’s face expression. She didn’t think he’d have matured after a year but was surprised. Seems like they both grew better people apart. Maybe they weren’t meant to be together.

Once Tami finished eating, Mariah burped her before placing her back in her arms. She looked back at Jude, whose eyes still haven’t moved from the baby.

“You wanna hold her?”

“Ye-yeah” He stuttered out of nervousness.

She got up, and went to his side.

“Place your arms like me”

He obeyed and Mariah placed Tami in his arms, making sure her neck was secured.

His eyes met his daughter’s, who looked back between him and her mother. Once Mariah went back to sit, she settled them on him. Jude’s eyes had diverted on her entire face, taking in her features. Her little hair was starting to curl. Her hands were constantly opening and closing as if she tried to grip something.

Jude’s body stiffed as soon as she started stir in his arms. Mariah let out a little chuckle, looking at the scene.

“Don’t worry, she won’t fall” She reassured with a smile on her face. “Long as you got her, it’s all good”

Though she was just talking about that moment, her words made Jude think. He had missed enough time, he needed to be there now. As long as he kept up with his promise, the three of them would be alright. Long as he got her, it’s all good

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masterlist for more

[mochi-owos]

Meeting genshin men at your local grocery store?!

Childe, Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Ayato x Reader

To be honest, the job itself wasn’t too bad. Pretty normal actually. Aside from the few weirdos that have been walking in lately..

Inspired by @abyssruler’s 7/11 Diaries! (One again written in the depths of night, so I apologize for the errors and tbh it’s kinda bad 😰)

Childe:

You could do this! Self belief! Stay awake! Your shift was almost done, 2am on the clock and two more hours to go. Everything was pretty mundane, occasionally mopping the floor, checking the stock, handling the (basically unused) register— all mundane with the lack of people. But today a real odd ball walked in: ginger hair, roughed clothing, tussled hair, and oh- the massive nose bleed dripping down onto his clothes.

He walks through the store so calmly - it’s almost startlingly - he strolls through the isles putting random items, then walks up to the counter. He grins, "Well hello there, I didn’t know such a pretty thing would be working at a time like this." He says, all while blood is still dripping down his nose.

You blink once, you blink twice, you take the basket and start scanning, "It’s too early in the morning for this.." You mumble, tired eyes fumbling with the unreasonably items. The prices of each individual item would send you into cardiac arrest, but all in all? Fucking nuts. How does he even have money? Have you seen the economics state of the world?

Your words only make him laugh, as you look up at him your gaze fuses on his bloody nose, "You’re bleeding."

"I know." He smiles.

"O," You blink slowly once more. "Want a tissues or something?”

He raises a brow, "Ha! You’re pretty funny, you know! Most workers get scared!" He laughs, watching intently as you pack away his items handing them to him.

You look him in the eyes, "I don’t get paid enough."

From that day since he’d often come to the store chatting with you, all while buying odd products. At this point you were starting to think it’s all to speak with you, I mean— Instant rice and pickles? You raised a brow, almost like a mind reader he spoke,

"My friend dropped his phone in the toilet so we’re doing the rice method, and the pickles is for me, nice snack."

Isn’t the rice method supposed to be bad? “Why don’t you just go to a repair shop?"

"Hes quirky like that."

"Just leave."

At some point you started seeing him outside the shop, he also goes to the same university as you. Which did make sense seeing at though he looked your age, but what surprised you the most is that he’s pretty well know. So now you started to wonder how you hadn’t heard about him. Maybe it’s because you have no friends— that’s a problem. You’ll need some of those.. you guess. Now that you think about it, you never got his name. How odd.

Itto:

It was very much valid for you to assume that the man before you was drunk. He was awfully loud (so much so you could hear him from five blocks down), he talked funny, and so did he act the same.

As you tiredly rub your eyes you to try shake yourself awake, there was still so much time until work was over. And with the shouting going on outside it was actually quite easy, most would be worried of a murder being what’s taking place outside but it was awfully normal for such screams, also the sound of drunk laughter easily disproves the thought of murder. A man -easily 7ft tall, White hair, super buff, his hair oddly whisked - trudges in, panic written all over his face. "WHERE IS YOUR RICE?" He asked anxiously.

"Excuse me?"

"I NEED RICE FOR MY PHONE." He jumped around in place, you point him towards the section and he runs off, few of his friends snicker while some look worried.

You wait around at the counter, it takes him a few minutes to gather what he needs, next time he comeback he has at least four small bags of rice and bandages. As you ring him up you hear the man speak with his friends,

"Do you think it’ll work?" One of his friends ask.

"I think so! I got the premium rice, and I think the bandages will work too!" He smiles.

"For.. your phone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing.." his friends mumble, stifling a laugh.

You simply shake your head at such idiocy, but then again you can understand, repair shops are unbelievably expensive and half the time it gets even more broken. But your action seems to have caught the man’s attention, gawking he turns to his friends, “THEYRE SO HOT.”

From that day forward he constantly visited the shop, goofing around in the store in attempts to get your number.

"So, you like jazz?" He has this odd smirk on his face, almost as if that was his attempt to finesse you.

"Yes."

"Ah. You were supposed to say no."

"Sorry?"

Soon, Itto (his name, he had written it on a piece of paper and whilst paying for his newest purchase slipped it in) started being able to spot you on campus, following you around like a lost puppy. Perhaps you’ll slip in your number next time you give him change.. perhaps.

Kaeya:

To Kaeya you were hot, really fucking hot. Though you were kinda invisible that added to your charm, that or he just had a thing for total losers, he couldn’t tell. And for the most part you weren’t entire invisible, often seeing your name on the first board after grades come out, or even seeing you enrolled in competitions, or he’d see you studying in the library - looking so adorable- writing away at your notes. He thought you were utterly ethereal, and the need to get to know you was insatiable. His friends quite literally needing to hold him down from running up to you and scaring you away. So come to find out lovely ol’ you works at one of his favourite convince place he already had a plan brewing.

You drearily watch the clock, your body feeling as if it's numb. Your hands lazily drawing circles on the counter, starting to regret the fact you decided to work the graveyard shift. The ringing of the store bell waking you from your hazziness, a man dressed nicely came in: blue hair, blue eyes (odd combo, to be completely honest), dressed in what looked like ballroom clothing, his expression of.. smugness? Unyielding.

As you wait to ring him up you take out your phone and start scrolling through it, but soon you here light steps approaching placing your phone back in your pocket and take the items and start scanning. All as you do so the man watches you intently, and little too much.

”Can I help you with something, Sir?"

He raises a brow, "Sir? You don't think I'm that old, do you?!" He cried.

"No, Sir. I'm required to do this."

"So you think I look nice?"

"Sure."

"Would you go out with me?" Was that really his attempt at rizzing you up?

"Please just take your items and leave, Sir." (I'm saving you the embarrassment -and myjob-)

He couldn't stand it, no, he was determined-- he will rizz you up. You have to give him a chance! And so whenever you had a free moment you would see him walk up to you, it’s not that you minded his unbreaking tenacity, it was quite admirable actually.

"Hey!" He ran up to you, waving his hand. He stops in front of you weaving, "Trying to run away from me?"

"No. I’m hungry."

"Ah! The allow me to do the pleasure and buy you lunch."

"If you have money, sure.”

You were oh so happy, free food truly did taste the best. So while he got to know you you got full - and happy - tummy. Maybe you’ll actually let him take you out.

Al Haitham:

See, typically you were fine with customers, but this time you were utterly enthralled by this.. this asshole with a stick up his ass. You’d love to hop over the counter and give him a wack, but you refrain from doing so— he looked rich, and he was buff, you most definitely could not take him in a fight.

"It’s 14.55."

"I’m aware."

"I am in a rush, please let me pay already."

"Im sorry, Sir. I’m required to ring this all up."

"But I already told you, it’s 14.55." His eyes looked a bit agitated, his arms crossed.

"Sir, I am just doing my job."

"K."

To be honest, you didn’t really know what was coming out of his mouth after that, nor did you care, you simply nod, most of the “conversation” you looked at his.. uh, breast(s) pocket. You’d never see him again, what’s the harm?

You were wrong, so undeniably, unbelievably, wrong. Exactly 5 hours later you’d see him at the gym, staring at you, approaching you- wait, approaching you?? You look around the room, what do you do? How do you seem like you’re busy? Pull out you pho-?!

"Hey."

"Hello..? Do you need something?"

"Do you need help?"

"No."

"I’m helping you anyway."

"O."

And workout buddies you came to be, often meeting him during your workout sessions. You never really needed his help, but with his insistence you agreed. Sometimes even studying together.

"Are you stupid?"

"I think so, I’ve been talking with my doctor lately and-"

"I didn’t mean it literally."

"Ah."

With exams coming up you’ve been seeing each other a lot more, and the study areas have been a lot more.. romantic? Close, cool mood lighting, cold- sometimes even his own house. But then again, maybe it’s just you.

Ayato:

This was absolutely fucking nuts. This guy was decked out— SO BAD. The Ayato Kamisato, one of the richest bachelors was before you, you couldn’t help but be a bad bit taken back. But regardless you tried your best to scan all his odd items.

For a hot bachelor his grocery items were really weird, and so fucking expensive you felt your heart clench.. you’ll need a break after this, maybe even a smoke (you’ve never smoked in your life and if you were to you were pretty sure you’d have an asthma attack).

His gaze wondered you curiously, has you handed him his groceries he smiled, leaving a.. 100$ TIP?? WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE DOES HE GET THIS MONEY? I THOUGHT WE WERE IN A RESCISSION. WHAT. Your eyes were massive, looking back up at him, "Uhm, Sir. I think you misplaced this bill.." as much as you wanted to keep it, you had morals (sadly), holding yourself to high principle.

"Oh, that was no mistake. I appreciate the fact someone like you is working at such an hour. Have a lovely morning." He waved and left.. someone like me? Is that an insult? Does he think I’m poor?

As you pondered what he meant you started seeing him more, and more. Always leaving a massive tip, does god.. love me? Your reactions always brining a smile to his face, and conversations with you always left him with a swelling in his chest, you were awfully funny.

"Here, a tip."

"Am I.. in more debt?" You tilt your head, "Do you want something from me?" Your eyes widen, "Is this perhaps your way of buying me? Is that what rich people do..? That’s what’s I heard.." mumbling the last part you look into the floor, bringing your hand up to fumble with your lip- in deep concentration.

He was so weird, people said he was cool. From what you can tell all he is a weirdo. Who tips this much? Who buys this much weird stuff? Isn’t he rich? Why doesn't he just get someone to get him groceries? Why does he look at you weird? Honestly, if he kept giving you this much money you might as well become his sugar baby (not that you would mind).

[jaggedhorseteeth]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 1

MASTERLIST

Jake x original female character

When I originally started writing this, it was going to be a short story that was never going to see the light of day. But eleven chapters later, someone talked me into posting it. There probably won't be much of a posting "schedule," and this is a very rough draft, so go easy on me. 😅 (Also, I'm not married to the title so that may be subject to change later on down the road.)

word count: 3500+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language, very vague mentions of sex, mentions of death of a parent, mentions of not having a great relationship with the other, and Jake being a cocky bastard

“Okay, so tomorrow I’ll need you to grab the parts for the amp and pick up the Gretsch.”

“Sounds good, boss man.” I stood leaning against the counter while Richie scribbled down some notes.

He’d been lucky enough to score this nice little space in Nashville to start up a new guitar shop. Another local shop had recently shut down, so it was a great opportunity. It took a few months to prepare everything, but we finally opened a few days ago, and everything was running smoothly. My favorite part was getting to help repair and refurbish antique guitars that had been through the ringer. Hence the Gretsch. That was going to be our first project at the new place.

I’d been flitting around, helping customers, straightening shelves, and whatever else needed doing. The bell at the front door dinged, indicating someone had entered. I glanced up to see Richie greeting the man, who nodded at him and walked over to the wall of electric guitars. He looked like a musician. He carried himself like a cocky, broody, rockstar who couldn’t even be bothered to take his sunglasses off inside. His shirt wasn’t even buttoned all the way up. I rolled my eyes before going back to my work.

I was moving one of the acoustic guitars over to a small area we had set up with a couple of wooden stools, so it would be available if someone wanted to test it out. I strummed a chord or two to make sure it was in tune and gently placed it on the stand.

“You play?”

I turned to face the owner of the voice, not surprised at all to see Mr. Broody. “I dabble. And you? Looking for anything in particular?”

“Well, I was just browsing. Checking out the new digs, you know?” He took the silly round frame sunglasses off, allowing me to get a better look at his face. “But I ended up finding something I do want.” He gave a cocky half smile, and I saw his eyes check me out from head to toe.

Oh, we’re going to play that game. He wasn’t bad looking by any means. His dark shoulder length hair hung loose, framing his features. The navy-blue button up he wore looked really good on him, undone at the top to show off a few silver chains that hung around his neck. His chocolate brown eyes looked mischievous, in a way that just screamed trouble. My favorite. I’d play along, have a little fun with him.

“Is that so? And what makes you think you can handle me?” I cocked my head and crossed my arms, smiling playfully at him.

“What makes you think I can’t?” He took a step closer to me.

“You’re being awfully cocky for someone who doesn’t even know my name yet.”

Another step. “Would you even tell me if I asked?”

“I don’t know that you’ve earned it yet.”

He took another step. I could smell his cologne, something woodsy with a hint of sweet rum. “How about a fair trade?”

“Oh, and what did you have in mind?”

The last step brought him so close we were practically touching. At least he was gentleman enough to keep his hands to himself. The banter was clearly good-natured and flirtatious. I didn’t feel threatened or creeped out, and to be honest, he was piquing my interest. “You tell me your name; I’ll take you out. Coffee or lunch, your call.”

I noticed Richie starting to walk over, giving me a concerned look. I smiled and waved him off, letting him know I was doing just fine. The handsome, albeit slightly annoying man was watching me, patiently awaiting a response. I reached out to touch the silver coin pendant he wore, inspecting it. “Recovered from the shipwreck of Nuestra Señora de Atocha.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”

I dropped the coin, letting it fall back against his chest. “Alright, mystery man. I’ll take you up on coffee. Friday. Gives you a few days to really think about what you’re getting yourself into, in case you change your mind.”

“Not a chance. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

I raised my chin defiantly and looked straight into his eyes before responding. “Kya. And you already know where to find me, so I’ll see you on Friday. Better make it worth my while.”

“Oh, I intend to, Kya.” He said my name like he was savoring it, turning it over on his tongue as if it were a wine tasting. I wonder if he knows how to put that tongue to good use.

“Do I get to know your name, or is that a secret?”

He smiled and winked before stepping away, creating some distance between us and the obvious sexual tension that was starting to develop. “Jake.”

“Jake. I’ll see you soon, then. If you don’t chicken out, anyways.”

He scoffed a laugh, shaking his head before turning to leave. I called his name, making him turn to look at me one more time. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I would never.” He shot me another one of those cocky smiles before putting his sunglasses back on and leaving the store. It was hard not to notice the dirty look Richie had plastered on his face as Jake made his departure.

“Now what did he ever do to you?” I laughed, walking back to Richie, and leaning my elbows on the counter.

Richie shook his head. “I don’t trust rockstars. You gotta be careful around guys like that, kid.”

“You think he’s an actual rockstar?” I snorted, brushing off his comment.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t think. Hang on.” He walked over to a shelf of vinyl records, took a moment to find what he was looking for, and brought it back to the counter. ‘Greta Van Fleet.’ Anthem of the Peaceful Army. He pulled out the insert and pointed to the spot in the corner with the list of the band members and what they played. Right there, clear as day, was ‘Jacob Kiszka – lead guitar.’ It wasn’t lost on me that the lead vocalist and bassist also shared the same last name.

“You’re kidding.” I pulled my phone out, opened Instagram, and typed in the band name, scrolling through the photos. I clicked on a few group pictures, just to confirm what I was seeing. Yep, definitely him.

“Well shit, I guess I’ve got a coffee date with Jacob fucking Kiszka.”

~

I think I had recognized the name ‘Greta Van Fleet’ and maybe had heard a few songs here and there, but I couldn’t name any. I knew next to nothing about them or their music. But as far as Jake was concerned, we had our little game we were playing, and I wasn’t interested in letting him win it just yet. By the time Friday rolled around, I vowed to be prepared for whatever he would throw my way.

I started with their first release; a double EP titled From the Fires. I pressed play and kept it going for my drive across town. I found myself really enjoying it. The singer had an exceptionally interesting voice, and the guitar riffs were so smooth and pure. Jake, you might actually know a thing or two about playing guitar.

I picked up the parts Richie needed for the amp repair and plugged in the address for my next errand. After listening to From the Fires in its entirety, I switched to their first full length album, Anthem of the Peaceful Army, catching myself tapping fingers on the steering wheel in tune to the beat.

I had not met the man I was picking up the Gretsch from, but Richie assured me he was a good guy and an easy customer. I knocked on the door to the house and was greeted by an elderly man. “Hi, I’m Kya. Richie sent me to pick up a guitar?”

“Oh, yes, of course! Come in, come in. I’m Gary.” He moved slowly a little hunched over as he led me into the living room and pointed to a worn-out guitar case on the floor. “Hope you’ll forgive me, sweetheart, it ain’t easy for me to lift that anymore.”

“Not a problem at all. May I?” He gave me the go-ahead and I squatted down to examine the case. It was well worn and damaged on the edges, but it was still functionable. It had a thick layer of dust over the surface, only disturbed by recent finger marks, presumably from it being moved to the living room. I popped the locks and opened it, revealing the absolute treasure inside. This guitar had definitely been through the ringer. The green paint on the body was faded and chipped, and the wood was cracked in a few spots. Pretty much all the hardware would need to be replaced, but it had decent bones. It would be a lot of work, but it would be well worth it, and I was excited for the project.

“Can’t help but feel guilty for letting it fall into disrepair like that.” I turned to meet the man’s sad eyes. I bet he had his fair share of stories to tell.

I smiled sweetly at him, trying to ease whatever sadness he was feeling. “I’ve seen much worse. And I’m confident we can get her looking and playing just like new.” I shut the case and lifted it by the handle, sending him another reassuring glance. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

“I know you will. Thank you, ma’am, and tell Richie I said thank you as well.”

“Will do.” He walked me back to the front door and I shook his hand before leaving, loading the case carefully into my back seat. I waved to the sweet old man watching me from his porch and hit the road, still jamming to Anthem of the Peaceful Army.

~

By the time Friday rolled around, I’d made sure to familiarize myself with the rest of the discography and did some social media investigating. I learned Jake’s twin brother, Josh, was the one with those wicked pipes, their brother Sam played bass and absolutely beautiful keyboards, and Daniel was the drum guru.

Sure, I was excited to continue our silly back and forth but did not want to let myself be disappointed if he didn’t show. Richie never missed an opportunity to remind me that it was a bad idea, to which I would roll my eyes and politely ask him to mind his own business. “I’m grown, and more than capable of taking care of myself,” I would remind him right back.

It was around 11 AM, the store had only been open for an hour and a half. The little bell above the door rang and in walked Mr. Broody Rockstar himself. He still wore his shirt only half buttoned, except today it was white. He wore the same round frame sunglasses, but he took them off when he entered, scanning the store, presumably for me. When his eyes found mine, I smirked at him but didn’t move. I’d make him come to me. He approached me, looking quite smug.

“You showed. I’m impressed. I thought you might disappoint.”

“And miss the chance to gaze upon the beautiful woman in front of me?” He sucked his teeth. “Never.”

How ostentatious. “Well, if I remember correctly, you owe me a coffee date. Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?”

“I always do.”

“Then lead the way, Mr. Kiszka.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond to my use of his last name. I grabbed my jacket and purse, and as we walked past the front counter, he put his hand on my lower back. I didn’t mind. But then he leaned in and, not so quietly, said, “Maybe afterwards I can show you something much more enticing than coffee.”

The implication was clear, and I was not averse to the idea of seeing what he had to offer. However, he made his bold little statement within earshot of Richie, who promptly stepped out from behind the counter and blocked our path to the door. “Watch it, lover boy,” he all but growled.

I shot Richie the hardest glare I could muster. “Settle down, guard dog,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be back later.” The look I gave him relayed the message clearly: ‘Move, and don’t fucking embarrass me.’

He stepped back out of the way but didn’t bother to hide the dirty look he shot Jake, who didn’t seem to falter once. I made a mental note to tear Richie a new one later and we exited the shop.

Jake let out a breath that I didn’t know he had been holding. “Some guard dog you’ve got there.”

I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about him. He’s a little protective, is all.”

“I can tell. You’d think he was your dad or something.”

Laughing, I hooked my arm with his as we walked. “Richie practically raised me. And he’s harmless compared to my actual father, who you’ll consider yourself lucky to never meet.”

“Oh, we have daddy issues, huh?”

He was trying to push my buttons on purpose, but I found it sort of endearing, in an annoying kind of way, and one that probably made me a little bit of a masochist. “You know, Jacob, your flirting methods are very questionable.”

“At least you recognize the flirting. Besides, you haven’t had any problems dishing it right back, sweetheart.”

“I never do.”

“Spitfire.” His laugh is cute.

He led me to one of the local coffee shops. We ordered our drinks and found an empty table next to the window. Jake looked so proud of himself, like he had won some elusive prize by getting me to have coffee with him. It gave me a chance to really look at him through the sunlight that was beaming through the window. He was very attractive, and I was a sucker for how the sun reflected in his eyes. His smile was doing something for me, too.

“So, Kya, are you from Nashville?” He sipped his coffee but didn’t take his eyes off me.

“No, I’ve only been here for about eight months. I was born in Texas but mostly raised in West Virginia. And you, you’re from… Michigan?”

“Did your research, huh?”

“I like to be prepared.” I smirked at him.

“You know,” he leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the empty chair next to him. “I find it really unfair that you know so much about me and I know next to nothing about you.”

“You better start playing catch up, then.”

He took that as a challenge he had no intention of backing down from. He shot off some rapid-fire questions, mostly small talk like what kind of music I liked, hobbies, if I had any pets (I did not). I’d ask some of the same questions, little things that I didn’t know or just hadn’t read about yet. I knew about his brothers, his bandmates, but he shared he also had a younger sister back in Frankenmuth.

I answered everything he asked me honestly. After all, I didn’t have anything to hide, not really. But when he asked me about siblings, I decided I didn’t particularly want to discuss my brother. So, I told him I had none, which was only a partial lie. Luca died when we were kids, and I did not feel like ruining the mood with that story.

He leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table. His sleeves were halfway rolled up, giving me a view of a singular, linear scar on his left forearm. “Middle school. I broke it wrestling.” He looked pensive for a moment, like he was considering what to say next. “Thought I wouldn’t be able to play guitar again, but it actually helped. After it healed, it was easier to reach a fret further than I could before.”

I always found stories like that interesting. I could play some basic chords and riffs, but I wouldn’t consider myself good at it by any means. It wasn’t an easy instrument to learn how to play, and certainly wasn’t easy to play as well as he did, so I admired his dedication and talent. “Well, thank God for broken bones. Seems less dramatic than selling your soul to the devil at a crossroads, anyways.”

He chucked, showing he did, in fact, get the Robert Johnson reference. “Yeah, I think you’d be correct. Might hurt less, though.” He was funny, I’ll give him that, and he was starting to grow on me a little.

“So, tell me more about this ‘rabid guard dog’ and ‘daddy issues’ situation. I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Richie means well. It’s just that sometimes he still sees me as the scared little girl that got dropped off on his doorstep in the middle of the night, which I guess leads into the second part. My dad is… a complicated person whose life can be a literal dumpster fire. I haven’t seen him in a few years, but I’ll get a phone call occasionally, checking in.”

Jake thought about it for a second, cautiously moving to the next question. “Can I ask, is your mom in the picture?”

“No. She died when I was a baby.” Before he could get out an overdone condolence, I shook my head. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago and I didn’t know her.” It wasn’t just an empty reassurance. You can’t miss someone you didn’t even know. Most of what I knew about my mom came from Richie and other family friends, but even those bits of information were few and far between. My dad never wanted to talk about her, surely because it hurt him to do so. Probably the same reason he refused to talk about Luca.

I shifted the conversation to something lighter, asking him about touring and the process of creating albums. I could see him light up as he talked about it; this was his happy place.

I hadn’t been paying much attention to the time, but when I checked my phone, it was almost one in the afternoon, and I had six unread text messages from Richie. I cringed. “I should probably get back to the shop and at least pretend I work there.”

“He probably thinks I kidnapped you.”

“Nah, he can track the microchip implanted in my neck.” We both snickered at the joke as we stood to leave. We linked arms again and he offered to walk me back to the store. He decided not to come back inside, not wanting to push his luck with my personal security guard.

“Have I earned the privilege of obtaining your phone number, milady?” The faux English accent made me giggle, although it didn’t keep me from thinking he was a huge dork.

I held my hand out, gesturing for him to hand me his phone. I inputted my name and number before handing it back to him. He then grabbed my hand, making a theatrical bow before kissing the back of my hand, ever so delicately. “It’s been a pleasure. Until next time.”

I said goodbye and walked into the store, the bell indicating my presence. Richie glanced at me before returning his attention to the customer he was helping. I got started on some busy work until he rang up the man’s purchases and was free again.

“How was your date?” His arms were crossed, and he had a disapproving look on his face.

I beamed at him. “It was lovely, thank you for asking. And before you ask, yes, he was a perfect gentleman. And yes, I will be seeing him again.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your dad ain’t gonna be happy when he finds out you’re dating a musician.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing he isn’t here,” I spit, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. “He is the last person who gets to have a say in who I date.”

Richie could be overbearing at times, but he knew when to back off. He and my dad had been friends since they were young. When my dad got into some trouble, he dropped me and Luca off with Richie and disappeared for three years. I was seven. Luca was nine. When he showed back up in our lives, I didn’t want to forgive him. He abandoned us, and I could never shake the hurt that came with that. He would continue to make empty promises that he would stay, that he would make it up to us, that he would be present. He never kept those promises.

As I got older, the hurt turned into anger, which morphed into numbness, and then eventually became apathy. I stopped caring so much about what he thought about my life or what was going on in his a long time ago.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I couldn’t help but smile at the message.

Unknown number – 1:47 PM

Thanks for giving me a chance, spitfire.

Dinner soon?

[oleander-nin]

The Weight of a Letter(8)

A/N: Apologies if it's not the best, I'm not having a good time right now and I'm also really busy. This is kind of a filler chapter, and I hope it doesn't come back to bite me. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

Taglist? If you want to be added or removed, just say so: @ssak-i @sinister-things @ancreativename @t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d @idiotreblogger @whygz @lexiechr@10yagurlchip01 @rex-ray

Part 1 - Previous - Next

Words: 1519

Content warnings: A scolding, arguing

Chapter 8: A Needed Scolding

I hear the door behind me click open, Irma’s figure stepping in. She waves at me and I wave back, my face pulled into an unsure grin. The entire interaction I had just a few moments ago made me feel uneasy, but I doubted my worry held any weight. I had just seen an old friend again after months between our first meeting. It was cool, even if he seemed more cautious this time around.

Irma makes her way across the apartment, setting her backpack down on the floor next to the couch. She crashes down, her long arms stretching above her head as she pops her back. I stand in the middle of the room for a moment more before sitting next to her, my hands clasped in front of me. My eyes scan Irma, her body collapsed on the couch as she curls into the armrest. “How was school?”

“Fine. I brought your homework back. We learned a new topic in English though, and I very much do not like it.” Irma says, her face scrunched in displeasure. I snicker into my hand and she sticks her tongue out at me. She turns back to her phone, and I reach for the remote that was sitting on the back of the couch. I flip on the TV, scrolling through the different channels until I settle on one I like. 

We both sit in silence for a while, neither of us wanting or needing to start a conversation. I always liked how we could just exist in each other's space, and that was all that was needed to spend time together. Except, we were spending time together because I can’t go home at the moment, rather than us being this close from our own accord. Still though, it was nice.

“Do you want pizza tonight?” Irma asks, her fingers raking through her hair. She looks at me over the top of her phone, her eyes, dancing between the screen and my face. I think her offer over for a minute before shrugging. I sure didn’t want to cook, and I doubted Irma did either.

“Pizza sounds great, thanks.”

Irma nods and messes with her phone for a bit, presumably putting in the pizza order. I turn back to the TV, mindlessly watching the show. I fiddle with my thumbs, sighing. Today was certainly an odd one. I couldn’t help but feel I was forgetting something.

“Hey, how come you never answered my texts.” Irma says, her eyes narrowed at her phone.

Oh, that was what I was forgetting. My phone. I rub the back of my neck, unsure how to phrase all that went down. If I told Irma about the mutant turtles, she wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t want her to think I was any crazier than she already did. It would probably be better to be as vague as possible, or even to lie if I can. “I broke my phone.”

Irma looks at me blankly. “What?”

“I got upset and threw it at the wall, and it uh, it kind of shattered?” I explain, clasping my hands as my leg starts to bounce. Irma groans, leaning back against the armrest.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” Irma takes a deep breath, tapping the top of her phone against her chin. “We can drop it off at a repair shop tomorrow while we’re at school. If they can’t fix it, you’ll just have to get a new one I guess.”

I hesitate for a moment. “Actually, I already have someone who’s working on fixing it…”

Irma blinks at me, confused. She chews on her cheek, thinking my words over. “Did you stop by a shop or something today?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling very stupid for my decisions. “Uh, no. I actually uh, I… Do you remember that guy I told you about? The one I met in the junkyard?”

Irma narrows her eyes at me, clearly not liking where this was going. “Go on.”

“I met him again, and he kind of offered to fix it?” I say, wincing. Irma looks as if she’s going to breathe fire.

“I’m sorry, you just gave your phone to someone who you met at some random junkyard?” She groans, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

While I completely agree with her, I feel the urge to defend myself. Will my argument win? No. Will I gain back some of my pride? No idea, but too late to back down. “He understands tech, and he offered to do it for free. It doesn’t hurt.”

“It does hurt! What if he fixes it, then just mines all your data? Or sells it on the internet of something? Do you even know when you’re getting it back?” I cringe as Irma continues to scold me, her face worried as she starts to pace. I sit on the couch in silence, making sure not to speak. I give up on trying to defend myself. Hindsight was twenty/twenty, and I was an idiot. I fiddle with my thumbs, unsure how to explain. She was right, of course, but it’s not like it would’ve made a difference. They offered to fix it, so I’m letting them fix it. 

“I know who I gave it to, it’s not like I handed it off to someone on the street.” I protest weakly, sitting up a bit. Irma narrows her eyes at me, frowning. I shrink back into the couch.

 “(Y/n), you’ve met the guy twice. And there was an almost four month gap in between each meeting.” I rub my arm, knowing she’s right. I got too caught up in the moment and didn’t think about it enough. Giving them my phone, broken or not, was probably a bad idea. Most likely, I’d never see it again. 

I scooch over as Irma plops next to me on the couch, her arms crossed. She grumbles a bit before glancing at me. “Let’s give it a week. If they don’t come back with your phone, we’ll cut our losses and just get you a new one.”

“Okay.” 

Irma's face morphs into one of concern, her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I was just worried. If you don’t have a phone and something goes wrong, you can’t call me for help. Just, next time, don’t give your phone to the first random guy who asks.”

I snort slightly, nodding. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Irma holds her pinky out for me to take, a wide grin on her face. “You gotta promise, (Y/n). We got too much weirdness going on for you to go handing out possibly privacy shattering stuff. You have everything on your phone, let’s hope this guy isn’t some weirdo.”

I sigh, hooking my pinky with hers. “I promise. But I swear, this guy isn’t bad. He's really cool, and his brothers are super sweet.”

“His brothers?” Irma questions, raising an eyebrow. I smile shakily, my hands moving back and forth next to my head in a ‘jazz hands’ motion.

“Surprise? I met his brothers. They were all super sweet.”

Irma looks unimpressed. I sigh, pouting. “He had three brothers, and they were all around when I saw him again.”

“Where exactly did you guys meet?” Irma asks, looking more confused than ever. My eyes dart to the fire escape. 

“I went on a walk.”

Irma sucks in a deep breath, trying to process everything. I felt bad, knowing this was probably just adding to her stress. I’d tell her the truth eventually, just, after this whole possible stalker thing was over. One thing to deal with at a time. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to push all this new stuff on her just yet. Hopefully she will understand.

“Okay, well, nothing we can do about it now I guess.” Irma’s voice knocks me out of my thoughts. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at the door, contemplating something. Never before have I wanted to reach into her mind and see what she was thinking more than now. I know I made her upset, but I truly wasn’t thinking. I just took the opportunity I was handed. It was fine though. I trusted Donnie. Plus, there really isn't anything we can do except wait.

Irma sits back down grabbing her phone. She curls into the armrest like before, but this was different. I feel my heart sink. Irma was upset, and now she was ignoring me. I turn back to the TV, unable to pay much attention to the screen. I would leave her be for a bit. I could only hope this would all blow over soon. Irma would see it was fine, and we would go back to normal. Irma would see that she was overreacting, and I would apologize again for being careless. 

I pull my knees to my chest, too clouded with thought to do anything. This would all blow over and be fine. It had to.

[rainandandy]

Safe & Sound - Rain Carradine and Andy Carradine OneShot

Summary: Why did Rain owe Mr Finch three months worth of hours? Her synthetic brother was designed to throw himself at the many dangers of Jackson's Star. "Do what's best for Rain"

Warnings: Angst, Hurt Synthetic

Word Count: 680

Characters: Rain Carradine, Andy Carradine

Human Sister and Synthetic Brother Core

In the gritty underbelly of Jackson's Star, Rain hustled through the narrow, cluttered streets of the colony’s market district, her eyes scanning for the familiar, weathered sign of Mr. Finch’s Mechanic Shop. It was a place piled high with spare parts and mechanical relics, the air thick with oil and desperation. Today, however, her visit was urgent—Andy had been injured again.

The incident had occurred deep within the mines, where Andy, always eager to protect Rain, had shielded her from a falling beam. The impact had left his synthetic body crumpled on the rocky ground, his voice faint and faltering as he lay amongst the debris.

“R-Rain,” Andy had stuttered, his optical sensors dimming. “I am damaged… beyond my self-repair capabilities. You must go… save yourself.”

Rain had knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she tried to assess the damage. “No, Andy, I’m not leaving you. Hold on, okay? I’ll fix this.”

His response was a weak attempt at reassurance, the corners of his mouth twitching into what might have been a smile. “You always do.”

By the time Rain dragged Andy’s battered frame to the surface, he had gone silent, his systems shutting down one by one. Now, she entered Mr. Finch’s shop, dragging what remained of her brother behind her.

“Finch!” she called out, her voice echoing in the cluttered space. The old mechanic, a grizzled man with a perennial scowl, appeared from behind a stack of disassembled machinery.

“What’s the damage this time, girl?” he grumbled, eyeing Andy’s inert form with a critical gaze.

Rain’s voice was urgent, desperate. “His core processor’s fried, and his power module’s been compromised. I need a chip restarter, Finch. Please.”

Finch scratched his chin, his eyes calculating. “That’s gonna cost you. Chip restarters aren’t cheap, not in this part of the galaxy.”

Rain swallowed hard, her resolve hardening. “I’ll give you three months of my hours. That’s all I can afford right now.”

The mechanic’s eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it with his usual gruff demeanour. “Three months, huh? You sure about that, girl? That’s a hefty chunk of your life you’re handing over.”

“I know what it’s worth,” Rain replied steadily. “And so do you. Andy’s saved my life more times than I can count. I owe him this. I owe him everything.”

Finch sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years spent bargaining for parts and hours. “Alright, Rain. I’ll get the restarter. But this is a one-time deal. You keep bringing him in here like this, one day I might not be able to fix him up.”

Rain nodded, her eyes never leaving Andy’s still face. “Thank you, Finch.”

As Finch retreated into the back of his shop, Rain sat beside Andy, taking his hand in hers. “You hear that? We’re going to fix you up. Just hang in there.”

Silence filled the shop, the only sounds the distant hum of machinery and the soft, rhythmic ticking of numerous clocks lining the walls. Rain’s head drooped, exhaustion overtaking her, her grip on Andy’s hand tightening unconsciously.

When Finch returned with the chip restarter, Rain was startled awake. She watched anxiously as Finch worked, her heart caught in her throat.

Finally, with a low hum and a flicker of lights, Andy’s systems rebooted. His eyes lit up, confusion and then recognition dawning as he looked up at Rain.

“R-Rain? Did I… fulfil my directive?”

Rain’s eyes filled with tears, relief and sorrow mingling in her expression. “Yes, Andy. You kept me safe. You always keep me safe.”

Andy’s mouth twitched into a smile, weak but genuine. “Good… that is good.”

As they left Finch’s shop, Rain supporting Andy’s unsteady steps, the weight of her sacrifice hung heavy on her shoulders, the chip restarted clipped around her neck, for whenever Andy malfunctioned again. But as she glanced over at Andy, his gaze fixed ahead, a semblance of strength returning to his voice, she knew she would pay any price, give any amount of her hours, to keep him by her side.

[gamemaker-pom]

A BKDK Hunger Games AU ch.4

LINK TO CHAPTER 1

They held hands for the entire walk home. 

Kacchan doesn’t let Izuku hold his hand often. Too worried about the possible contamination of nitroglycerin to let his boyfriend take in the comfort of rubbing his fingers along the lines of his hands. 

But today was different. 

Only 18 hours until the reaping.

It was going to be Eri’s first reaping. Her little name on only one sheet of paper, thrown for the first time into the bowl of so many others. 

‘Eri’s name is not going to be picked.’ Izuku just had to keep telling himself that. It was only one little slip of paper amongst thousands of others. It couldn’t be her name pulled out tomorrow. It just won’t be.

Izuku sighs, smiling gratefully up at Kacchan as he checks him on the hip. 

For once, Katsuki had decided to join him when selling off the squirrels and crows that Izuku had managed to fell. They had both decided against going to the hob today - too worried about the reinforcements they had just seen making themselves known. So they had settled on knocking on the back doors of the line of shops and bakeries in town. At the very least, the main bakery’s owner was always willing to pay a few coins for a squirrel or two. 

After selling what they could, Katsuki and Izuku walked over to their neighbourhood on the west side of District 12, strolling through the weathered streets shoulder to shoulder. 

Katsuki and Izuku had always been neighbours. 

Mitsuki has always been a seamstress, making an extra dime off of repairing old clothes and cutting new ones out of fabric brought to her by peacekeepers and richer folk in town. She’s recently been joined by her husband in her business after his knees got too bad to work in the mines any longer. Whilst Masaru could still move around, he was in a lot of pain when he did so it was good news for all of them when he received his dismissal from the mines. 

In District 12, it was considered lucky to be dismissed from the mines due to health issues. Most people weren’t lucky enough to get to a dismissal before they passed. 

All of Izuku’s clothes have been mended or made by Mitsuki and Masaru. The only thing left untouched by their work is his father’s leather jacket. Izuku could never bring himself to let them mend the cut his father had got in the sleeve before he passed. 

As they approached their homes, Izuku could just about make out the silver head of hair bobbing in the long grass in front of their porch. 

“We’re home!”

The head popped up out of the grass. 

“Nii-san!” 

Izuku opened his arms wide and braced himself for the girl barreling towards him. He would have fallen over if it wasn’t for the hand supporting his back. 

With Eri safely snuggling into his chest, Izuku wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to nuzzle into her hair. 

“Hey! Be more careful with your big brother.” Eri moved just enough to poke out a glare at Kacchan beside him. 

“You should be more careful with him, Kacchan-nii.” 

Even though Eri and Kacchan looked much more alike than Eri and Izuku did, they had never been able to get along as well with each other. 

“Hey… Play nice.” 

Eri huffed and turned her head back around to burrow into Izuku’s chest, placing her feet on Izuku’s shoes and letting him waddle them both closer to the house. Kacchan huffed back louder and said his goodbye to Izuku before heading into his house, leaving Eri and Izuku in their front garden alone.

“Did you have a good day at school, little bird?” 

Eri tilted her head up to press her chin against his chest and smiled sweetly up at him. 

She was still so small…

Bursting into conversation about her and her friends’ new band, Izuku and Eri wandered into their kitchen. Eri perched on her stool at the end of the counter and watched as Izuku gutted the squirrels he had kept for them. Their conversation only paused when Eri ran over to her room to collect the posters she and her friends had worked on that afternoon to advertise their show. 

Bright, loud conversation flooded the kitchen much like the golden light filtering through the back windows onto the wooden counters. Swept up into their nightly routine, Eri placed the pan onto the stove and Izuku threw in the ingredients he had chopped up. Letting Eri season the stew as she saw fit, Izuku was happy to watch her as she stirred the herbs and spices into the bubbling pot. 

Inko came in through the front door as Izuku and Eri were finishing up dinner, humming a tune that only they knew the notes to. 

“I’m home!” 

“Momma!” 

After Inko had been appropriately attacked with Eri hugs, they all sat down to the freshly made stew at the little table in the corner. Inko pulled out the loaf of bread one of her patients had gifted her earlier, and they all dipped torn pieces into the broth of the stew as they ate.

Laughing around the dining table, it was almost strange to think that this might never happen again after tonight. 

Izuku tried not to hold onto that thought for too long. 

Their Momma refused to let either of them help with the washing up, ushering them up the stairs to get ready for bed instead. Izuku and Eri ran up the stairs together, both of them ready to put on their pyjamas and some warmer layers. 

Izuku was pulling his jumper over his head when a knock came from the other side of his door. 

“Come in!” Izuku sat down on the edge of his bed as Eri came through the doorway, her hands tied up in the edge of her jumper. 

“Hey, Eri…” He tilted his head in an attempt to see Eri’s expression better, her hair hiding her face from his view. “What’s wrong?” 

Eri comes to stand in front of him, her hands still tying knots in the edge of her jumper with her face tilted down past where Izuku could see it. Izuku frowns and reaches over to close the door quietly before covering Eri’s hands with his own and holding them gently. 

“You can tell me anything, Eri.” Izuku speaks gently, sensing that something is about to break. “I won’t tell Mom if you don’t want me to either.”

Eri’s chest jerks as her breathing hitches. 

“What if…” Her voice breaks off. “What is it’s me, Nii-san?” 

“It’s not going to be you, Eri.” The words come out before Izuku can stop them. “Your name is only in there once, and my name is going to be on 28 slips of paper in there.” 

When it came to opting in for a tessera for his family members, Izuku hadn’t had much of a choice. Before he could apply for them in his first reaping, they had just barely been surviving on what they could scramble together thanks to the Bakugous. With Izuku’s father no longer there to provide for them, and Inko not really having any options to earn from, it had been their only choice to put Izuku’s name in 3 times. 

Even though he applied for the tesserae each year, he had never been reaped. Izuku even knew people with much larger families who had more slips in the bowl than him and not be reaped. 

But when it came to Eri, Izuku hadn’t let her put her name in there any more than she had to. After this year, Izuku would be working in the mines and they would be able to afford spending on grain and oil instead of using the damn tesserae. Even if Eri had to put her name in twice one or two times, it would be a lot better for her than it had been for Izuku.

Letting go of one of Eri’s hands, Izuku brings his hand up to her cheek to brush away her tears instead. Eri leans into Izuku’s careful touch as she cries. 

“Eri.” Eri looks up at his determined gaze. “I won’t let it be you. So it’s not going to happen.” 

Eri trembles in his hold. 

Izuku has had enough of this world. He draws Eri into his arms and holds her tight. 

“Why don’t we draw in my notebook for a bit, and then you could go sleep in Mom’s bed tonight?” He feels Eri nod against his shoulder. 

After Eri has calmed down a bit, they both settle on the floor of Izuku’s room and share the colouring pencils he keeps in his school bag between them. 

They imagine scenes of a better world and colour them into the worn pages of Izuku’s notebooks.

[wallflowers-garden]

as a disabled person who uses a mobility aid, i am literally begging store owners, landlords, etc. to make sure their handicap doors are ACCESSIBLE AND ACTUALLY WORK

today, i got stuck not once, but TWICE. i went to cvs (i had not been to this particular one with my mobility aid before) and had difficulty entering, as the automatic door had been blocked by stairs. as a cane user, i was able to navigate them, but decided i would take a different route to exit (into a shopping mall). as i went out through the alternative entrance, i was met with two sets of doors with an accessible swing. i pressed the first button and got through just fine, but when i pressed the second on the inside… it did not work. i tried leaning against the door to see if my weight would be enough to budge it but it was not… i was left stuck between the two sets of doors (as the accessibility buttons only worked ONE WAY) until someone came to help me.

the second has been an on going problem. my apartment has a swinging door that has been working great for me…. except for the past week and a half. for some reason the door with the swing is broken and has yet to be repaired. this has left me STRUGGLING to get into my apartment. thankfully, when exiting, i’m able to move the door with my weight, but entering the building is so difficult, as i struggle to keep the door propped open while i move past it with my mobility aid. what makes things worse is when able-bodied people just STAND there and watch me struggle rather than help. it INFURIATES me to no end knowing they have the ability to hold the door and help me but actively choose not to.

i am actually begging. please, please, please advocate for more spaces to be accessible. and if the measures in places don’t work, fix them or advocate for fixing them. and finally, if you see a disabled person struggling DO NOT TURN A BLIND EYE! HELP THEM! if a door is falling on them or they cant find an accessible entrance/exit, use your able-bodied privilege to aid them.

(FOR CLARIFICATION, that does not mean coddle/baby us if we’re doing fine. we don’t need help if we’re moving down the street/existing. only when we’re actively struggling/working to navigate an able-bodied world)

[yaachtynoboat711]

Can We Talk?

A/N: Hey y’all! If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect y’all really like Karis and Kevin, probably because we’re deprived of Kevin being happy on the show. School has been beating my ASS and had taken all bits of skill (writing included) from me. Hopefully, I can create more this summer! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy Karis and Kevin’s first date!!! Once again, shout out to @awerkofart for enabling this series! Love you 🥹.

Warning(s): Language, Drinking

Word Count: 2814

Like many other Milennials, one of the staples of Karis Brown’s social life was weekend brunch. Sunday Brunch, specifically, was for recapping the times of fun from the night before. However, this Sunday Brunch was no usual outing. It was a date with Coffee Bae, Kevin. He’d called her 20 minutes before to set it up and it was up to her to solidify an unforgettable second impression.

*buzz* *buzz* Incoming Group FaceTime Call from Sisterhood of the Traveling Scrubs

Loren and Jada were waiting on Karis to answer. “Heyy—oop! Hold on…,” Jada watched Karis as she propped her phone on a shelf, “…girl, what you got goin’?!” Loren brought her attention to the screen. Essence, Rose, and Rochelle all staggered into the group call, all shocked to see their friend searching for an outfit.

“Who you gettin’ cute for, bitch?,” Rose demanded. Everyone seconded her question.

Karis laughed to herself, “I never got a chance to bring it up, but I met a guy at Jahva on Friday. He asked me out for brunch, so I’m taking him up on his offer.”

“WHAAAAAT?!?!? Karis Zhanai Brown…going on a DATE?! He better be the finest man in the city,” Essence added, the girls agreed, “Does he have a name?”

“Kevin,” Karis replied fighting a cheesy grin. The girls had been Karis’s girls since med school orientation, but they still knew how to grind her gears. It didn’t make it any better that they were neighbors with key access to each other’s houses. They were going to be over there when Karis and Kevin returned from brunch. She was certain.

Karis paid her friends no mind as she changed into her sweatsuit. The girls threw out hypotheses and theories about this mythical Kevin. Little did they know, they were on mute as Karis tamed her coily hair into a half-up half-down style.

Karis finally unmuted herself as she laid her edges, “Y’all done?” Her friends looked to each other in silence, shocked that she’d just spoken after 5 minutes of unbridled chaos. “I just want to have a good time…for once. Let me just go to brunch and enjoy Kevin’s company. I appreciate the uproar around him, but let’s take this one moment at a time, aight?” Karis got up to pick out some shoes, “Sacai’s or Yeezy’s?”

Karis couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date. She couldn’t even remember going to a pleasurable business dinner. Studying and practicing medicine drained her of a social life and the opportunity to go on dates. Her family worked tirelessly for her to be the first doctor in the family, not be another wife. But this brunch date was different.

Karis sat in the car 10 minutes ahead of schedule, chest tight, and palms sweaty. Every social skill she possessed suddenly ceased to exist in this moment. She couldn’t even read the menu she’d just Googled. How amazing was the sight of the incomparable Dr. Karis Z. Brown herself—the surgeon that could do CABGs with one arm tied and repair carotids for breakfast—nearly hyperventilating at the thought of going to brunch with someone she met in her godparents’ coffee shop earlier in the week. “Get it together, mane,” she encouraged herself as she opened the car door to the slap of the sharp October Chicago wind at your face.

“What if she ghosts and makes me look like a fool?,” Kevin asked Kim as his leg bopped to the beat of the overhead music.

“Based on what you’ve told me about her, she doesn’t sound like the ghosting type. Besides, she’s 5 minutes early. Just breathe, Kev,” Adam instructed him over the phone. “Hey…,”he caught his attention, “…she might be as nervous as you are, if not more. The way you talked about her yesterday, it sounds impossible that she’d flake. Go enjoy yourself.”

Just as the call disconnected, the elevator door opened, revealing a nervous Karis looking down at her phone. Kevin’s face lit up as he saw her walk towards him in her khaki sweatsuit, brown fleece coat, matching chocolate Telfar, and Yeezy Foam Runners. She noticed his jeans, grey hoodie,navy flannel shirt, and wolf grey retro Jordan 12s.

The two embraced for the first time ever. She wasn’t certain of the cologne he wore, something with tobacco…maybe musk and leather… but whatever it was made her melt into his embrace. Lord, he smelled like a grown ass man.

After reluctantly pulling from his embrace, he offered Karis the seat in the booth. “A gentleman,” she complimented. The smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth spread to a full smile.

Karis got a corner glance at his shoes before he sat down, impressed at his shoe choice, “It could be my exhaustion, but are those the wolf grey 12’s?! They’ve been sold out here since I’ve moved here.”

His jaw dropped, “Girl, what you know ‘bout that?! Lemme find out you a sneaker head and a surgeon?!,” he remarked.

She threw her hands up, “Guilty as charged. It’s like the one thing that keeps me sane.” Karis felt her gapped smile betray her once again as she nervously fiddled with the gold necklaces around her neck. Kevin took notice; he was already entranced by her smile. He bit his lip, thinking of what to say next. The waiter coming to send the mimosa and water carafes gave him enough time to conjure something.

He looked at the caduceus and anatomical heart necklaces, “You always knew you wanted to be a heart surgeon?”

Karis glanced down at her heart necklace, shaking her head, “Nope. Wasn’t even in the cards until my med school rotations.”

Kevin’s eyes bucked open, “For real?!”

“I initially wanted to be a trauma surgeon or in sports med,” she admitted, filling both stemless flutes with passion fruit mimosas.

Kevin took a sip, noticing the potency of the drink, “So…shit that’s strong…what was that ‘a-ha’ moment?”

“My mom. She’d gotten sick from past trauma and I almost lost her. She had a cardiac tamponade—fluid from a sac in the heart fills the veins and blood and decreases oxygen flow, amongst other things. I wanted to help find a cause and solutions for her, so I went deep in my cardio books and found something. It saved her life.”

“I take it you and ya moms close?”

She pondered, “I’m her only child and there was a point that we were all we had. With everything we went through, we became trauma bonded.”

Kevin didn’t think he and Karis would have somewhat similar upbringings. His raising himself and later his siblings in Chicago and her being basically raised in Memphis by her mom before she met Karis’s stepdad. He had her figured out until they conversed.

It was easy to talk to each other. The conversations with one another felt familiar, as though they’d been friends for ages. With the aged feel of those conversations came the novelty of learning about one another. Karis quickly learned that Jordan and Vinessa—Kevin’s siblings—were the center of his universe. He showed her pictures of them, the smile on his face getting brighter the more he talked about them. In the same vain, Karis’s nieces and nephews (her step-sister Mary Margaret’s kids) were the lights of her life. Karis showed him the picture of her, Mary Evelyn, Luke, and Jacob at Jacob’s baptism. They were her “loaner kids” whenever she was back in Memphis.

Kevin’s gears began turning. He noticed how much Karis was active in church, based on the baptism picture and the mention of receiving Eucharist earlier this morning. He had to ask, “You Catholic?”

She huffed, “Close. Episcopalian. My mother is married to the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of West Tennessee. Charleta Duncan, the blackest of women, married the whitest man in all of Memphis, Patrick O’Doughtery Brown. Yet it somehow works,” she caught herself holding back a loud laugh. Kevin laughed with her.

Karis finally checked her phone, which revealed that an hour and a half had passed. Where did the time go? Karis also saw the group chat was abuzz for updates and her whereabouts. Loren and Essence were asking for Kevin’s Social Security number, while Jada asked for his dental records (ironic since she was a DDS) and most recent background check. Karis prayed an “I’m fine. Lemme have fun” reply would suffice.

The DJ had been playing 90s R&B all day. Banger after banger after banger, people found themselves dancing in between tables and singing their hearts out.

Then it happened. She heard the three piano chords and 808 beat of her favorite song, Can We Talk, and that was all she needed to hear. Karis dramatically dropped her phone on the table, hands high in the air as to submit to the beat of the song.

“Girl whatchu know bout this,” Kevin joked as he watched her dance in her seat.

She didn’t respond. Karis waited for the lyrics to start. As Tevin Campbell began to talk his shit, so, too, she began lip-syncing to the words. Kevin, also singing, scooted out of the booth. He reached out for her hand saying, “Let’s talk then, mamas.” Karis accepted his offer, sliding out of the booth.

“Lemme show you how to step,” he offered. He took her free hand into his. He began twirling heg around, while moving his feet front, back, front, side, side, left, and right. She did her own combination, surprising Kevin.

He twirled her away from him, “I thought surgeons couldn’t dance,” he pulled her back in close.

“You ain’t met one from Nawf Memphis with an uncle and aunt in Chicago, mane,” she retorted. The pair continued stepping, working in tandem with the rhythm. He maneuvered her away and close to him while still singing with her.

They sang the final bridge at the top of their lungs. Everyone else in the restaurant became a choir as they all sang aloud. As the song ended, Kevin escorted Karis back to the booth. Luckily for them, the waitress had finally appeared with their entrees. Kevin remarked about the fun he had and how ready he was to eat. Karis seconded.

As Kevin ate the sample of salmon and eggs she offered, she found the right moment to ask, “Y’know, you’ve asked a lot about me. I wanna know about you. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”

He choked on a piece of egg, “I’m a uh…business consultant,” he replied after gathering himself.

Her gut turned as he replied, “Is that your final answer?” He knew she knew something. Not quite that he was an undercover cop, but something.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“What’s your life goal?,” she asked without skipping a beat.

Kevin pondered, “Being a househusband.”

“You’re joking,” he wasn’t. There was a smirk held back, but he was about 45% serious.

“I mean, you’re a surgeon. Jackpot, right?,” he winked and licked his lips.

Karis re-adjusted herself, tilting her head before she spoke.

“To call yourself a househusband implies that we got married; to be married implies that we were betrothed; to be betrothed implies that were courted; to have courted implies that we went on other dates besides this one. Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Atwater, but it appears that you’re enjoying yourself and want to go on a another date?,” she observed as she downed her final mimosa, proud of her Sherlock-level deduction skills.

“Somethin’ like that. I do like being around you and I’d love to see you again,” Kevin offered her another bite of his chicken and red velvet waffles as he looked at her, clearly flustered at his charm and suave nature.

“I’d love a second date.”

He insisted on following her back home. He was concerned for her safety and wanted to see his date get in the house. He jogged to her door from his Hellcat, being sure she didn’t touch the handle. After the fight over the check (which she won), the least he could do was open Karis’s door. Karis usually went through the garage into the house; but since she had an audience in the foyer, it was her obligation to give them a show.

Karis led Kevin through the pathway in her front yard to the door. The rustled curtains confirmed Karis’s suspicion of nosy ass friends awaiting her arrival.

Kevin looked behind his date to see curtains rustling, “You must have someone over expecting you.”

Karis kicked the front door and adjacent wood panel, an attempt to shoo the girls away, “Oh, Kev, don’t pay they nosy asses no mind,” she said loud enough for them to hear inside. The two of you guffawed. The fact there were doctors listening to their friend’s conversation behind the door and foyer wall was so childish, yet comical. In the midst of the laughter, Kevin found her hands and held them between the two of them. Smooth fucker.

Once more, their eyes connected and simultaneously bit their lips, smitten with each other in the moment.

There was an obvious connection between the two love birds. For once, they mutually felt a sense of relief to be themselves. How is it that two strangers that met in a coffee shop by happenstance, were already so close after one brunch date? The romantic tension around them was nearly physical. It seemed as though they couldn’t be too far away from each other. Every once in a while, two people meet and in that initial meeting, it’s apparent to the Universe that they are meant for each other. They weren’t able to put their finger on it immediately, but this was Kevin & Karis. For once, they were able to enjoy someone’s company and immediately want to go somewhere else before their first date ended. They were destined.

“Karis, I really enjoyed you today. Seriously,” Kevin flashed a smile that made Karis’s feel an unfamiliar warm sensation radiate through her body.

“Same here, Kev. This was a breath of fresh air. We should do this again. Hopefully soon?”

He gently placed his large hand over her chin, peppering her lips with a meaningful, yet brief kiss, “Yeah. Real soon. I’ll holla atcha when I get to the crib?”

The sensation of his kiss, though temporary, weighed on her lips. She’d gone a hot minute without a kiss on the lips, yet his satisfied the long-ignored absence.

“Yeah,” was all Karis could muster.

He flashed one last wink before ducking into his Hellcat and driving off.

Karis couldn’t focus on getting your key into the door. Between the kiss, the cold, and the mimosas, she was literally stuck. After struggling to turn the key into the ever-moving lock, her friends were pushed out of the way by the 70+ year-old wooden door. Karis silently made her way to her usual spot on the L-shaped sofa. The girls filed into their usual seats in the den, all grinning with anticipation to ask about the date, parts seen and unseen. The minute Karis looked up, they all shrieked, startling her. “Don’t start allat bullshit, now,” Karis warned as she took her bra off, sighing in relief.

The warning went unanswered; the girls attacked their slightly buzzed friend with a group hug, to which she immediately swatted away.

“GIRL!,” Essence began, “He is FOINE AS HELL! Look at you!”

Loren added, “I gotta say, Kare, you did good. The fact I’ve never seen him before shows me that you’re real good. You gotta tell everything! I mean…ev-ver-ree-thang!”

Karis recalled what she could, from the call to the kiss. The whole time, she grinned, showing how smitten she was with Kevin. Seeing her elated made them happy. They knew the insecurity she had about being alone.

A few hours passed and everyone had returned home to get ready for work. Karis showered, did her nightly skincare routine, and prepped her work bag. Finally in bed, she turned to cut her bedside lamp off.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed. Kevin was trying to FaceTime.

“You must’ve seen me get in bed,” she jokingly answered.

Kevin chuckled, “Nah, just calling to let you know I got home 40 minutes ago. I had to help Vinessa with somethin’ and forgot to call you.”

“Oh really?,” she yawned, “Welp, I gotta be at Med at 4:45 a.m. for a surgery. Talk to you afterwards?”

“Sounds good, mamas, sounds good. Night.”

“Night, househusband-in-training,” she concluded, both laughing at her recall of their new inside joke.

Karis chuckled to herself as the sounds of crashing waves lulled her to sleep.

Kevin is going to be here a while.

DAAAAAAMNNNNNNNN! TAGLIST GOT ME PARKED IN DOWNTOWN AT-LANNUH 😭

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @goddessofthundathighs @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals-writes @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bakarilennox @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @ljstraightnochaser @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @turn-thy-paige @darqchilddaydreamz @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @itsjustyazz @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @jellybean531 @awerkofart @storibambino @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @certifiednatural

[cloveroctobers]

Love me like you — Joe x OC | Ginny & Georgia

A/N: I always wanted to write for joe aka SAV but also didn’t want the diehard joe x Georgia Stan’s to come at me lol — although I’m also a stan. However after seeing that BS for Joe & Mrs. Redhead I had to do something of my own. (We’re not rocking with Cynthia like that over here.) Something that makes sense ☕️ but this will also feel like you’re getting your heart stomped on :) I have a few episodes left of the new season so I’m still holding my breath lol! And if you don’t know, now you know—angst is what I do. So get ready to scream at me but here’s to also cheering for Joe’s happy ending someday👏🏽

S|N: OC’s name is pronounced like Sienna just without the “i” lol & Lior is just like Dior—not liar lmao. She’s not physically described in this so it also works for x f! reader as well.

WARNINGS: bad judgment & Language.

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‘How did we get here?’ No Paramore! Senna-Lior thought to herself as she sat in the driver’s side of her car, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that she started to lose feeling in her hands.

The rain pelted hard against the window shield as Senna took in a shaky breath with a damp face.

What she was going through with Joe was a whole lot.

Actually let’s run that back.

“How did we get here?! When I used to know you so well!” Senna-Lior screamed the lyrics that vibrated throughout her parked car, “How did we get here? Well, I think I know.” Then she went crazy to the beat, letting the lyrics basically attempt to soothe the heartache she was feeling right now.

What she didn’t notice was Joe locking up for the night, ready to go home. When he turned around, he stood across the street at his own business, underneath the tarp which shielded him from the rain. He watched her flailing her head around, hair whipping as he could faintly hear the beat of music bouncing from her car over the raindrops.

Joe wasn’t sure if he should make that move across the street, not after the rough discussion they had in his café a week ago. While he was pondering over these thoughts, her head slightly turned to see him standing there, watching her.

Great, now he felt like he was being a complete creep.

His eyes went wide in embarrassment at being caught. Should he wave? That probably wouldn’t be appropriate and lucky for him he didn’t have to think too hard about what happened next. Senna-Lior did the honors of turning her head to face forward, started the engine, followed by her headlights shining as she pulled away from the curb and away from Joe.

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It really shouldn’t have been a question why Senna-Lior and Joe were in this place now, looking back on things. They were always the best of friends, which didn’t come without the shit-talking and slight competition in the beginning. Senna-Lior owned a brew-pub right across the street from The Blue Farm called The Bronze Pantry.

So when Joe did his first walk-through as the official owner of the blue farm, Senna-Lior was the first to greet him on the street, telling him his building was haunted—just for shits and giggles…mainly. Of course he didn’t believe her, especially after learning from the shoe repair shop guy next door to him, that the building Joe now owned, was originally supposed to be The bronze pantry. However he entertained her interest in the paranormal, just to show that he was good spirited about her teasing.

It was more of a love and hate type of thing at first, between Senna-Lior and Joe. She really wasn’t out to get him like the people in Wellsbury thought. In fact Senna-Lior wanted to see Joe win from the very moment he showed his parents and big sister around The Blue Farm for the very first time. Senna-Lior couldn’t recall seeing them there at the grand opening; Joe confirmed that when he came over to The Bronze Pantry for a glass of whiskey before he went home.

From there they gradually got to know each other, piece by piece. Joe even placed a order with Senna-Lior for her manufacturer to distribute some of their beer (not exactly the same beer she distributed in the bronze pantry per say, since Joe didn’t want to completely take all of her business!) for a limited time only. Senna-Lior even did a collab with Joe for a couple of months, bringing the bronze pantry to half of Joe’s café, since her place suffered water damage and brew damage.

Joe’s joke not her’s.

Although Senna-Lior and Joe mostly worked on different time frames, they often spent their free time together. Even more now that her scumbag of a ex, who was in a successful metal band overseas, decided to stay international after she learned about his infidelity, along with finding the wedding ring he accidentally left behind, was actually for the redhead he fallen for and not Senna-Lior.

On Sunday’s the bronze pantry was closed so Senna-Lior spent her time going for jogs at the local park with her sheriff father, then when they got home to their two family home, she’d head to her side of the house to the right and do laundry, while her father prepared Sunday dinner to the left for her and her little sister Flora. Joe would eventually make his way over after being at the blue farm, for sometimes a leftover plate or to mainly watch the game with Senna-Lior’s dad.

Mondays were usually slow days for Senna-Lior but fast-paced for Joe as everyone was getting back into the swing of things for the week. The bronze pantry opened at 12pm and she would arrive anywhere between 1-1:30 as she had her assistant manager open for her most of the time—thats the perks of owning your own business people! You show up when you want while still putting the work in.

Everyday was a routine once Senna-Lior and Joe became really close, yet they still had their own lives to live where it didn’t feel clingy.

Senna-Lior swore to herself that she wouldn’t fall for her best friend. It was the typical cliché  that she didn’t want to be part of but once she was healed and considered the possibility of dating again, Joe was surprisingly what she envisioned. They actually went speed-dating together, since she was always the one that told Joe that he needed to put himself out there! He had all the qualities of what made him a great partner, yet his response was being solely focused on the blue farm.

It was a fun event but they both knew they didn’t hit it off with anyone there. They had better fun going for gelato afterwards and watching rom-coms at Joe’s ranch.

Their story felt like a brief moment, like she blinked and it was over for good. At least that’s what Senna-Lior felt and began to regret ever entering the cafe that night.

“I—I love you too.” Joe breathed, as he held Senna-Lior by the waist.

She had stumbled her way in just as Joe was locking the front doors. Senna-Lior had a lot on her chest and tonight was the night that she was going to admit that she loved Joe…more than a friend. Part of her hoped he felt the same but she knew about the small page he took up in Georgia’s story. Senna-Lior listened to Joe rant about this on Game night Wednesday’s and she wished that Joe would keep this same energy and just tell Georgia.

Which was a bit hypocritical as she realized now she has feelings for best friend, long before this Georgia Peach came back into the picture. If she was still included, since Georgia was engaged to the ken-doll looking Mayor and Senna-Lior was there to get Joe back on his feet. She hated that the southern woman with the good hair, held a good portion of Joe’s heart when she’s been right there, this entire time!

Granted, Joe watched Senna-Lior care for someone else but he never felt out of place on the sidelines. Perhaps Joe knew that Senna-Lior was not in love with her rockstar boyfriend and preferred being by her side. Not wishing for things to crumble for his best friend but to continue uplifting her when she needed it. He was fine being in his designated spot, however when Senna-Lior saw Joe with Georgia she realized maybe that’s what he’s always been waiting for.

Yet she would be damned if she didn’t at least test the waters. She was always the type of person that felt: if you didn’t try then you won’t know. Sure she had a bit of liquid courage and bounced her ass a bit with her assistant manager, Kennedy before heading over to the blue farm but hey you can’t say she didn’t put in the effort.

And that was her own fault.

She gave her whole speech about not waiting around for miracles when you can just look at what’s in front of your very eyes.

Joe snorted as he sat at the bar stool facing the woman, “I think you’re tipsy, venting and will probably hate that you got emotional about it when you remember in the morning. Yet…I kinda want you to carry on.”

Blowing a raspberry, Senna-Lior fanned her hand at the man, “Make fun of me all you want, Joey. But there are real feelings in here,” she patted her chest, “and I need you to hear them before it’s too late and you choose a different soulmate that’s not me.”

Joe raised his brow at that. So this was a serious, serious conversation right now and Joe wasn’t sure how to go about this. Senna-Lior wasn’t drunk, so she knew what she was saying but it was all rambling out too fast for her brain to process.

“I just want you to know,” Senna-Lior waltzed up to joe, resting her hands right on his sturdy shoulders, “that I love you.”

Joe couldn’t believe this. It’s not like she was normally this overly affectionate person but Senna-Lior knew when to say it when the time was right. It was not the first time that she has ever said the L word to him, being his best friend and all…but the look in her eyes hinted that this time was different.

This means something.

It really sucked watching life and love flow on around Joe, being on the sidelines and when the days were hard, it felt nice to hear that somebody loved him—other than his parents.

So Joe said it back but…he realized that he may not have meant it the way that Senna-Lior meant it. He hesitated with his hands on her waist and the words were automatic from his brain but his heart felt like it was being squeezed.

It was her eyes that got him in trouble along with his mouth because the next thing he knew, Senna-Lior’s lips were right on his. His grip on Senna-Lior tightened as he pushed off the bar stool, his lips were moving fast against hers as she gripped his face.

This should have been wrong instantly but he knew Senna-Lior. Knew her for years and sure this felt a little strange—new but with her hands traveling over his body, and gripping dangerously low, Joe had to rip his lips away with a groan.

“What are we doing?” Joe breathed, forehead pressed against Senna-Lior’s.

She swallowed, “trying something new in the new year?”

Joe couldn’t help but to chuckle and knew he really should have stopped this right there. However part of him didn’t want to and that had to mean something, maybe selfishness?. He realized it all the next morning that he didn’t want to be this guy as he watched Senna-Lior sleep in the back room.

He had the only coffee that Senna-Lior liked ready for her, he was dressed, washed up and ready to go, just to turn around and come back here in a couple hours. She was always beautiful and when she slept she looked like a total angel, like she didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Joe was ready to wake her but the smell of the coffee must have wakened her first, as she stretched her arms above her head, wincing slightly before a eye popped open.

“Joe,” she started almost as a warning as he carefully approached her, sitting on the cot in the back room, slowly reaching over to pull up the sheet across her bare chest, before handing over a mug, “thank you for this.”

She leaned on her elbow, covers tucked against her chest as she sipped at the cappuccino with extra foam.

“You’re welcome,” Joe sighed as he watched her take a sip.

She hummed in content, licking her upper lip before she peeked at the bearded man. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” He was quick to answer which already made him guilty.

“You sure?”

“Yup! I was just coming to wake you, I know we both have to start getting ready for the day. It is Friday after all.” Joe responded as Senna-Lior nodded.

“How generous of you, waking me up with the only thing I like on your menu.” Senna-Lior teased with a wink.

Joe rolled his eyes as he counteracted, “that’s not necessarily true…you seemed to like what I had on the menu last night, if I remember correctly? Mind pointing out what you see on my neck?”

He revealed the dark patches on his pretty brown skin as Senna-Lior laughed to herself. She was sure there were plenty other marks on his back but these were nice too. “Shut up, you’re corny.”

“Which you love.” Flew out of his mouth so fast, that he had to sit up straight, like he’s just been shocked.

Senna-Lior groaned as she used her free hand to rub at her eye, “I did say that didn’t I?”

“A few times, actually.”

Silence was met and part of Joe felt maybe she was starting to regret this. Then that way this could make this a little easier for what was about to come.

“Do you want to talk about this…” Sienna-Lior glanced at the Roman numeral clock on the wall above the door, “over dinner tonight?”

Joe inhaled, “I actually can’t. Why don’t you swing by here, Saturday night? Give us some time to get our thoughts together…since I feel, both of us are a little unsure what to say about all of this.”

This wasn’t Joe’s intention to prolong this but he didn’t want to have this conversation so early. He didn’t know how this would go and he didn’t want to potentially ruin Senna-Lior’s day.

Relax, he already knows how this sounds.

“Okay,” Senna-Lior nodded, “Saturday night works for me.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, downing the hot beverage down and used the spoon to scoop the leftover foam on the sides up.

As she collected her things, Joe kept quiet giving Senna-Lior the privacy she needed while she did. When she turned back around she laughed at Joe a bit saying, “are you seriously hiding yourself from this glorious view this morning? C’mon, joe! You’re acting like we’re on trial here!”

It would soon feel like it.

Joe gave a small smile as he rubbed at his beard in thought, “I’m just…being respectful.”

“Riiight, lighten up! It’s a brand new day,” Senna-Lior cooed, wiggling her hips as she finished buttoning her jeans, “I’ll see you soon then, weirdo.”

The man gave a small wave as Senna-Lior was now on her phone, leaving the spare room trying not to think about Joe’s actions for the morning after. Soon Joe had to follow her out, listening carefully to make sure she left the building to lock up.

Now Joe wished he could lock himself away for longer than a day, to erase the fury Senna-Lior’s spewed at him that Saturday night.

“It was all a lie then,” Senna-Lior said after a long period of silence.

Joe exhaled as Senna-Lior gripped the wine glass. He was expected her to throw it right in his face and he wouldn’t blame her but she just chugged the contents in the glass.

“No, it wasn’t.” Joe started, “I do love you, you’re my best friend in this whole snobby town.”

She visibly flinched.

“…I just never thought you would be one of those guys, Joe. To lie to me to get me to lay with you.”

This was exactly what Joe didn’t want this to look like.

“That wasn’t my intention,” Joe sighed, “it really wasn’t. I-I don’t want to take advantage of you like that. I just needed you to know before this carried on any further, romantically, that I can’t love you like you need me to. Not in that way or at least…not right now.”

Senna-Lior did not want to hold her breath on the last part of that statement. She didnt ever want to be anyone’s second choice.

“What do you want me to do with this, Joe?” Senna-Lior asked, “I confessed long time feelings for you and you kinda led me on, thinking that this could be more. If you just wanted a night with me as strictly your best friend, we could have discussed that.”

“You seriously would have been fine with me asking that of you? Like some sort of pact?” Joe scoffed, “I never thought of you in that way, as a one time only kinda woman. I value this friendship too much—despite how shitty this situation is turning out to be.”

Senna-Lior tossed her head back with a cackle, “Joe! Just cut the bullshit. You weren’t thinking with your main head, which is the problem here and wasn’t expecting me to be vulnerable or rather desperate for you.”

“You’re not—i fucked up and I’m sorry. I empathize with you saying that you love me and I’ll always care for you. It’s just—

“I’m not your true soulmate. I’m not the one.” Senna-Lior pressed her nails into her palms.

Joe tried to reach out for her hand but she pulled it back. The man closed his eyes briefly at this, he was hurting her and that’s not something he ever wanted to do.

“We were connected way before that Thursday night, that I’m sure of. It may not be romantically but that could simply be because my heart isn’t ready yet and i accept that. I think what that was…was convenience on both parts.” Joe slowly explained, coming to terms with his version of events.

He watched as Senna-Lior huffed out a breath.

“Hear me out please,” Joe raised his hands, “don’t get me wrong, I felt shitty as soon as I woke up but you’re right, I wasn’t thinking when it happened and that was wrong. I’ll always be sorry for that, not thinking about the consequences of it all. However, it’s only been half a year since things ended with Ruben…”

A sharp inhale was heard at the mention of his name in the dim quiet café, that Joe had to tread lightly.

“Although you told me you didn’t know what the future held for you two, you still loved him. You’ve been together before we became friends and that’s not something you can just get over, especially with how it ended.”

Senna-Lior was pointing now, “Are you trying to convince me or do you genuinely feel that’s true?”

Joe held the woman’s stare as he spoke, “I do. And that’s okay to feel that way. You haven’t really coped as far as I can tell? You carried on as if nothing happened, cut him out of your life completely without acknowledging that it’s over. You needed to and found that comfort in me, which i can’t be mad about by the way. It was a—

He caught himself, knowing now wasn’t the time to be joking around or be insensitive.

“Do you have a fucking degree in psychology that I don’t know about?” Senna-Lior questioned, “I don’t need you to analyze me. I needed you to love me back.”

The way her voice cracked made Joe want to sink into the floor forever. He couldn’t imagine what Senna-Lior was feeling right now but he could tell you he equally didn’t feel well.

There maybe some truth to what Joe was saying, as he was always on the outside looking in but Senna-Lior didn’t like how he chose to be honest now compared to two days ago. Before she was stepping out of her jeans for him and opened up in a whole new way that friends normally don’t.

“I’m so sorry.”

That was all Joe could say.

Senna-Lior swallowed, “I know and it does nothing for me. This hurts because now I have to lose you.”

“No,” Joe shook his head with a frown, “it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Senna-Lior scrapped the chair back, smoothing down her long length dress, “how else can it be, Joey? I’m unfortunately, secretly desperate for love and like you said…I haven’t healed from Ruben. So now I guess I’ll just add you to the list.”

She had to get out of here before the tears started falling, although Joe could see them brewing for awhile now. He also stood as Senna-Lior grabbed her purse and began making her way to the front door.

“Don’t leave,” Joe called out to the woman who kept moving forward, “w-we can figure this out, I’m sure of it.”

She hesitated at the door, shoulders tense before she turned back to Joe, leaning against the door. The back of her hand pressed against her nostrils as she tried to encourage herself how to breathe. Friendship breakups—if you still considered this that! were so damn hard and the worst you can possibly face.

Joe took long strides to get to the woman who was trying to catch her breath. He tucked her underneath his chin, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she allowed him to hold her for the last time tonight.

Things would never be the same.

And when she pulled back to stare up into his kind but sad filled eyes, she caressed his growing beard, before tugging his head down to kiss his nose.

“I love you, take care of yourself, Joey.” Sienna-Lior was able to get out before she exited, breaking down once more.

Joe wanted to grab her and not let her go but he knew he couldn’t fix this, no matter how sorry he was. Not when his heart was still waiting on someone else.

The love was there but the damage was already done.

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Continue along with my winter prompts here.

[ankhmutes]

A Charming Journey Home (Part 5)

Okay, I just had to put this up just because. the rest of the story is below, but just because. Nothing that anyone would find untoward in this chapter I believe but better to be safe than sorry?

“T & M Automotive.”

“Can y’all look at my Jeep? It ain’t running right again.” you said with an annoyed huff, leaning on the bar, making sure your boobs were on display appropriately. You needed all the tips you could get. This crowd opened wallets the more you showed boob.

“Uh- sure. Cherokee, right?” the voice at the other end asked..

“Yep, that’s the one. I’ll go pop the hood for y’all.” you say with a nod as you make some noises of affirmation, watching some men in the back party room that you were pretty sure had been the ones talking from earlier. They were wearing leathers, but no sign of any cut, or anything. You knew the boys would know who they were the minute they popped up. You went out to the parking lot and put on the best show you had in you of having a broken down jeep and knowing shit what to do with cars, when in reality you were a mechanic’s daughter and knew how to rebuild the son of a bitch.

“Can we help ya, sweetheart?” one of the men that had been eyeing you asked. You smiled and shook your head, playing stupid. You knew he was with that crowd that you had heard talking about the Sons, and you didn’t want to get mixed up with them. Sure, you could milk him, but you didn’t want him recognizing you or anything at all associated with the Sons.

“I just called the first thing I saw on the board. Someone put up a business card. I got lucky.” you said as you poured on your best southern accent, talking as close to Dolly Parton as you could without sounding tacky. “Some guy said they would send someone over.”

“Well little lady, if you want some help, we’re always happy to help you.”

“Thanks, you’re a real gentleman, I’m sure.” You said as your phone rang, and you waved a cute goodbye wave, not wanting to piss him off. “Gotta take this, sorry.”

“Gemma said your jeep ain’t working?” Chibs asked, getting right to the point and not bothering with a hello. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, but… I think it’s something you and Tiggy need to listen to.” you said with a sharp huff. “I heard some funny things coming from its downstairs, and … something ain’t right so figured I’d find someone who could take a look at it, ya know… “ you hoped Chibs could pick up on what you meant, since you could feel your anxiety bearing down on you, making everything heavier, faster, just MORE. You ignored the fact that you didn’t know how Chibs got your number.

“I’m on my way darlin’.”

“Just come on in the back, ya know where the back patio is?” you asked, explaining to the boys where the alley entryway was, you didn’t want anyone to see them. Your heart in your throat, you waited for the T & M truck to arrive with some men you didn’t recognize, and you had them “repair” your car right in the parking lot and then leave with the car, telling you that there were a lot of issues with the car and it had to be taken back to the shop, stranding you without a car. 

“It was just a spark plug, silly me.” you said to the men at the bar, their eyes watching you with mild interest, as you refilled their drinks and took orders. You had hoped they hadn’t seen them take away your jeep as you made sure you were still quite lovely and approachable, walking back to the kitchen, dropping off their orders and then sliding back into the storeroom and opening the door that led to the patio where Tig and Chibs stood. 

“Boys, I’d love to do this another time, but let’s just focus on business.” you said as the Irish slid into your words. “I gotta play Daisy Duke, but figured you’d want to listen in. c’mere down here- you can hear everything. I can’t stay, but figured y’all would want to hear it.”  you whispered as quietly as you could, leading Tig and Chibs down into the storeroom and showed them the corner where you could hear everything in the party room, arranging some boxes and handing them some pint glasses. They appeared vaguely surprised, not quite expecting this turn of events.  “Believe me, I wasn’t expecting this either.” 

You moved back up outside, chatting up the cook and other workers, making sure to act as normal as you did. You didn’t want to set anything off. You took the orders around, filled drinks, and then the big back room’s order was ready. You took the trays and took your time, walking in carefully. 

“I got your drinks, boys…” you made sure to ask for names, getting as much information as you could from them, about who they were, playing it dumb and innocent, putting on your best Daisy Duke persona. “Oh that’s really wonderful, I know this place up near Sacramento…” you said after someone commented about taking you somewhere. “It ain’t too far from here is it?” you feigned newness, not knowing the area at all. 

The group eventually left, and you got a hefty tip, probably because you had worn the right T-shirt today, and your Daisy Dukes. Putting the money in your shorts, you went back down to fetch the boys once you were sure the last associate of anyone in that bar room had left. 

“Here’s the room they were in, complete with everything. So y’all can kinda see…whatever I can’t see.” you said as you ushered Tig and Chibs in, making sure no one could see their vests, walking right up behind them. You watched them whisper quietly and make phone calls, pointing out various things. You were glad you had chosen to stay out of the politics of it all, just knowing when to blow the whistle.  “Fuck, sweetheart,and you’re okay?” Tig asked, his blue eyes soft as he wrapped you in a hug. You exhaled a long sigh, shaking your head as you let the anxiety take you over, your body trembling and shivering.