#for til Sunday so I don’t have anywhere to be in the morning

[candycorncandle]

FUCK IT WE BALLLLLLLLL

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Four

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 4241

“So what did you two talk about?” Lorelei asked with a wink as she took a sip of her massive margarita.

I gave her a look as I dove into my nachos. I chewed my bite slowly and deliberately before placing the remaining chip back on the plate, wiping my mouth with the cloth napkin and reaching for my water glass, taking a long sip through the straw while I surveyed the area.

“Stacey!” Lorelei whined.

“Whaat?” I mimicked.

“Tell me. At least a little bit. Please?”

“We um...we talked about music. And the book. I told him about the book tour.” I picked up my nacho again, dabbing guacamole on top.

“And?”

“And...he made me laugh. He’s really funny.”

“Funny’s good,” Lorelei nodded. “Funny’s really good.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything,” I scowled. “Tod used to make me laugh.”

Lorelei glared at me incredulously. “Why the hell would you wanna bring up Tod? What on earth would he have to compare with Harry Styles?”

“Shh,” I sounded, pressing my finger to my lips.

Lowering her voice, she leaned over. “You’ve done this before, Stacey. You expect the worst. You need to allow yourself to be happy.”

I shrugged. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t build myself up to be let down.”

“He likes you.”

I blinked, looking down at my plate.

“He wouldn’t be calling you and sending you flowers and a catered lunch if he didn’t.”

I licked my lips and swallowed. “I like him too,” I muttered.

“Mmm hmm,” Lorelei sat back in her seat. I lifted my head to look at her.

“I like him a lot,” I confessed.

“I know you do,” she commented. “It’s written all over your face.”

I felt myself blush as I chuckled nervously, grabbing my napkin. “I feel so silly.”

“Why?”

“Because...he’s...him...and I’m...me. I’m not a kid.”

“So what?” Lorelei rolled her eyes.

“I’m nearly twice his age,” I added.

“So what?” she repeated. “He’s an adult. If he had a problem with it, he wouldn’t be contacting you.”

I nodded. I knew she was right. The truth was I had a hard time accepting the fact that someone like Harry would be interested in someone like me. Even after the lovely evening we’d shared, topped off with that amazing kiss, and the fun phone conversation last night, I still couldn’t believe this - whatever this was - could go anywhere. And that Harry was just being nice.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Lorelei inquired?

I pondered her question for a moment, my bottom lip jutting out. “No,” I finally shook my head. “I guess not.”

“Did he mention if he wants to see you again?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay. And do you wanna see him?”

I grabbed my water glass again, taking a long slow sip. I felt myself grin as I set it back down.

“Yes,” I nodded. “So much.”

Lorelei threw up her hands with a smirk. “Well, there ya go. Done deal. Now let’s celebrate.”

I laughed when she waved the waiter over and ordered another margarita for me.

I hadn’t expected to hear from Harry again so soon, and I knew he’d be traveling and most likely exhausted, so when I got home from dinner with Lorelei, I decided to just send him a quick text before heading to bed.

FYI - wine is much better than tequila. Hope St. Louis is treating you well.

I ended up sleeping til after ten Sunday morning, waking with a slight headache. I was also greeted with a few words from Harry.

Rough night?

Saw this and thought of you.

Below was a photo of the Buckingham Nicks album on vinyl, the album Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks recorded before joining Fleetwood Mac. It had yet to be released on CD and was considered a collector’s item. My own copy was given to me by my brother in my teenage years and was still one of my most prized possessions.

I smiled as I inspected the photo, clearly taken at some sort of used record store or thrift shop. I imagined Harry browsing the racks, coming up with rare gems to add to his own collection.

Quickly typing a response, I hit send.

I sincerely hope you bought that if you didn’t have it already.

Prepared to climb out of bed, I set my phone down only to hear it chime almost immediately.

I do have it. And I assumed you do too.

Of course. One of my favorites. It makes me happy that it made you think of me.

I think of you often, actually.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat. My hands shook as I typed out my response.

Same here.

Good to know.

I blushed and allowed myself to giggle before picking up my pillow to muffle the sound. I most definitely felt young, but I refused to think it was silly. He thought of me often. He liked me. I was going with it.

How are you Stacey?

I’m great now. How are you?

I’m fine. In the car, headed to the hotel. What was with that text last night?

Embarrassed, I replied hastily.

Too many margaritas. I was loopy, forgive me.

Ha. Hungover?

Just a smidgen ;)

:) You’re cute. Can I call you later?

Yes

I’m busy the rest of the day so it might be late.

That’s fine

Bye love x

Bye xx

I must have scrolled through our conversation ten times that day. No real reason, other than to just look at it. It put a smile on my face. Even Emery noticed after dinner when we were sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Mommy, what are you smiling at?” she asked, leaning over my shoulder to look at my phone.

“Nothing,” I said, pressing the phone to my chest.

“Let me see,” she insisted, trying to reach for it.

“It’s none of your business, silly girl.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the television which was airing It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

“Mommy,” she said again. “Will you take me to get a costume this week?”

“Didn’t I just buy you a new one last year?”

“It doesn’t fit me anymore.”

I gave her a look. Well, she had had a growth spurt or two in the last year.

“Alright,” I said. “What do you wanna be?”

“Lapis Lazuli,” she beamed.

“Do what?” I raised my brows in question.

“From Steven Universe. Or maybe Rose Quartz.”

“O-kay,” I replied slowly.

“Or maybe a Pokemon character,” Emery added.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to find something at the store, Em,” I shook my head. “You know I’m leaving on Tuesday for San Antonio with Lorelei. I won’t be back till Thursday night. We can look tomorrow, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Maybe Daddy can take me to get something.”

I pursed my lips. “Maybe.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. But I knew Tod’s schedule and he wasn’t about to cancel his lessons to take our child shopping. I’d just have to take her when I got back.

After I put the kids to bed and cleaned up in the kitchen, I changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth. I was just about to crawl into bed when my phone rang. I jumped, thinking it might be Harry, but was disappointed when I saw it was my mother.

“Hello,” I answered, trying my best to sound cheery.

“I forgot to tell you The Great Pumpkin was coming on tonight,” she said.

“I know,” I chuckled. “We watched it.”

“Okay good. I know the girls always enjoy that. You do too.”

“Of course, it’s my childhood.”

“How is Jasmine doing?” my mom asked.

I was surprised. Not that she didn’t care about my children’s well-being, but usually the conversation was veered toward her.

“She’s fine. I think Tod is taking her to the doctor this week to see if she needs to her increase her dosage on her meds.”

“Why is Tod taking her?”

“Because I’ll be out of town, remember?”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yes I did, mom,” I groaned. “I’m going to San Antonio for another book signing.”

“Oh. Well you said you were thinking about it, but you didn’t say you were for sure going.”

“Okay, then I’m for sure going. On Tuesday. I’ll be back Thursday.”

“Are you driving?” my mother asked.

“Yes. But Lorelei will be with me.” I felt like a teenager getting permission to take her parents’ car for a quick weekend trip with her friends.

“Okay. Be careful.”

“I will.”

When I finally got off the phone with her, I was emotionally drained. As usual. With a sigh, I placed my phone on my nightstand and crawled under the covers. Then I turned out the light and laid staring up at the darkness.

Please call.

I didn’t know why I was so anxious. If he didn’t call that night, it was no big deal. He was busy. Plus he’d said it would be late. I looked at the clock. It was barely ten.

I rolled over onto my side, tucking my hand underneath my pillow, lying in a fetal position. I listened to the sounds of my own breathing as the minutes ticked by until I must have finally drifted off to sleep.

The house was quiet as I walked up the stairs toward my bedroom. I knew Tod would be in the studio. I hadn’t bothered to stop in there because I knew what his attitude would be. It was the same every time I went shopping. I laid the bags on the bed before turning for the bathroom.

“What did you buy?” I suddenly heard behind me.

I jumped. “Oh! You scared me!”

“I told you we didn’t have any money, Stacey,” he scolded, ignoring my fear.

“I didn’t buy much,” I shook my head. “Just some clothes for the girls. Emery needed new jeans and there was a good sale at-”

“Stacey, goddammit!” Tod’s face flushed to a fire engine red as his voice boomed through the house. “You don’t listen!”

“I do listen,” I argued. “I know you said money is tight. But the girls needed clothes and I swear I didn’t spend that much this time-”

“I’m trying so hard, Stacey,” Tod interrupted again, this time with a whine in his tone. “And you just throw our money away.”

“No, I don’t!” I yelled at him. “I buy things we need. And it’s usually for the girls. I haven’t bought myself anything in months.”

“Whatever, Stacey,” Tod shook his head, turning for the stairs. “This is never gonna change.”

I stood wringing my hands, the tears about to escape from my eyes. “Fine. I’ll take everything back. Emery will just have to wear her same jeans that are too tight for the rest of the year.”

“Don’t DO THIS TO ME, STACEY!” Tod whirled around, his voice getting louder with each word until he was gritting his teeth. “DON’T MAKE ME FEEL GUILTY!”

“Well, what do you expect me to do, Tod?” I cried. “This is one of the few things I enjoy!”

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”

“No,” I dropped my shoulders. “Nothing ever is.”

Tod continued to glare at me, the veins in his neck nearly popping. Just then, I heard another voice, though it was so quiet, I almost thought it was in my head.

“Honey?”

Tod and I both looked down the staircase to see a petite brunette woman. I couldn’t quite make out her features but I knew who she was. I stood frozen as I watched Tod descend the stairs toward her, then kiss her right in front of me. Then he took her hand and walked around the corner to the kitchen.

“Tod!” I screamed, finally finding my voice and chasing after them. “Tod! Where are you going?”

Tod looked over his shoulder at me, a smirk on his face. His said nothing as he wrapped his arms around his ex-wife, gave her one more kiss, and walked out the back door.

My ringtone sounded ten times louder in the middle of the night. Or whatever time it was. I just about jolted out of bed as I reached for my phone, Harry’s name displayed on the bright screen. My back and chest were both drenched in sweat, and I tried my best to even out my breaths as I rubbed my eyes.

“Hello?”

“Oh, bloody hell, I woke you. ‘m so sorry.”

“No, no it’s okay,” I said groggily.

“Are you sure? You should sleep.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I argued, sounding almost desperate, I knew. “Please don’t hang up.”

“Alright, I won’t. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I sighed, lying back on the pillow. “Just...was having...a bad dream.”

“Oh love, I’m so sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” I swallowed, barely able to get the words out. “God, no. Don’t wanna relive that, please.”

“Jesus, Stacey, you sure you’re alright?”

“I am now,” I breathed. “Just glad to hear your voice.”

“Okay,” Harry said softly. “‘s good to hear yours too. How was your day?”

“Boring. How was yours?”

“Same.”

I chuckled. “That can’t possibly be.”

“Not everything I do is exciting, Stacey,” Harry claimed.

“I beg to differ,” I retorted.

“How are the girls?” he asked, changing the subject.

“They’re fine. I-” and just then, as though she knew I was talking about her, I heard a sound coming from the hall.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Harry, can I call you back?”

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah. Jasmine,” I replied hastily, rising from the bed. “I’ll call you back.”

I didn’t wait for his response as I dropped the phone on the mattress and threw open the bedroom door. I didn’t have to to make it to Jasmine’s room. She was sitting in her doorway on the floor, her gaze straight ahead as her body shook with jerky spasms.

“Jaz, honey,” I whispered, crouching down next to her. “It’s okay.”

I took her hand, and I felt her squeeze it. “Bad spasms!” she cried.

“I know,” I said softly. “Take a deep breath.”

Jasmine did as she was told, breathing in and out slowly. The spasms started to come less frequently, and within a few minutes, I felt like she would be okay. However, it was hard to lift her up myself, as she was at least as big as I was, so I waited a little longer until she was able to stand on her own.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” I asked her.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I did!” she emphasized.

“Okay.” I knew her reply meant that she must have made it to the bathroom, but not back to the bed. Once I had her tucked in again, she turned away from me, pressing the corner of her duvet to her mouth. I gave her a quick kiss next to her ear before leaving the room and returning to mine.

I sat on the corner of the bed with my phone in my hand for at least five minutes, darkness surrounding me like a literal metaphor for my life. Finally pressing the home button and bringing up his name, I felt myself begin to relax.

“Hi,” I muttered when he answered.

“Is Jasmine okay?” Harry asked, concern dripping from his words.

I wasn’t able to respond. The tears sprang from my eyes in buckets and my heart twisted in my chest. My shoulders trembled as I sobbed.

“Stacey? Baby, talk to me. Did she have another seizure?”

“No,” I cried. “No, she’s...she’s okay.”

“What happened?”

I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. “She was sitting on the floor in her doorway. She must have gone to the bathroom and collapsed on the way back. She was having big spasms, but...I was able to calm her down and put her back to bed.”

I heard Harry sigh loudly. “I’m so sorry.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s okay. I would say I’m used to it, but...I’m not.”

“Nobody could get used to it, love,” Harry remarked softly. “But you’re doing great. You’re a great mother, Stacey.”

“You’ve said that before,” I muttered.

“I meant it.”

I blinked away the rest of my tears and laid back on my pillow. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “No. I’m far from it.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Harry argued. “Look at everything you’ve done. You’ve written a wonderful book, you’re making a good life for your kids who love you and look up to you. You’re so strong. You have people who care about you. And even though we haven’t known each other long, darling, that includes me.”

I bit my lip. “You do?”

Harry let out a deep sigh again and I imagined him running a hand through his mop of curls. “I wish I could be there...to show you.”

My breath hitched in my throat at his words. He paused and I thought perhaps he was going to continue, but he didn’t. Instead, he returned the focus to my daughter.

“Has Jasmine had a seizure recently?”

“Um…” I cleared my throat. “Her dad told me that she had a spasm this weekend, but not a full seizure. I suppose it was like tonight. So that’s good, I guess. But he’s taking her to the doctor this week while I’m gone to San Antonio.”

“Does she go regularly?” Harry inquired.

“Every couple of weeks or so for now. But she might need to increase her dosage on her medication.”

“Oh I see. When are you leaving for San Antonio?”

“Tuesday morning. After the girls leave for school, I’m picking up Lorelei.”

“Are you excited? I’m excited for you.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made me giggle.

“Thank you. I am excited. But mostly because I get to take a road trip. I haven’t been anywhere in years.”

“Are you going anywhere after that?”

“We’re supposed to go to Dallas the weekend after, but I’ll know for sure by Friday,” I said. “I’m hoping I won’t be gone for Halloween. Emery loves Halloween, and I wanna be here for that. It’s...kind of our thing.”

“Does she have a costume?” Harry asked.

“Not yet,” I sighed. “I’m going to take her tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be able to find what she wants. She wants to be some Steven Universe character. And I doubt her father is going to take her shopping.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I hesitated. “Actually, I take that back. I could see it going both ways. Tod is one of those people who waits until the last minute. Every Christmas he’d wait till the day before to go shopping. And I was usually the only person he had to buy for. I never really got what I wanted. A couple times I just got a book. With that being said...sometimes he tries to outdo me. So, I could expect him not to buy something for the girls, but if he knew I was doing something, he’d have to one-up me.”

“So you think he might buy one just to spite you?”

“It’s possible. Now, I’m not saying he’s a bad father. He’s actually a good dad and my girls love him. But...well, it’s like with Emery’s bike. It wasn’t until after we’d divorced that he decided to take her out and teach her how to ride. Like he was trying to prove something.”

Harry was silent for a moment, though I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to continue or just had no comment.

“I’m sorry,” I groaned. “I didn’t mean to turn our conversation into a rant about my ex.”

“No worries. I told you that I wanna know all about you. If you’ll tell me.”

“Hmm,” I sounded.

“I’m a good listener, Stacey,” Harry added.

“I can tell,” I said with smile. “And I really appreciate it. I just…”

“You just what?” he asked, dropping the sound of the T.

“I just don’t wanna scare you off.”

“How do you reckon that would happen?”

I licked my lips, gathering my words in my head. “Don’t guys hate it when girls talk about themselves all the time?”

I heard Harry chuckle, that sexy sound he’d made several times during our last conversation. “Stacey…”

“Harry...” I mocked.

“First of all, baby, I don’t consider you a girl.”

I laughed out loud, though I tried to side-step the fact that he’d just called me baby for the second time. “Then what am I?”

“I meant I don’t think of you like that. You’re a woman. A beautiful, incredible woman that I’m trying to get to know more about. I chose to put the focus on you because I wanna know all I can. I’m...interested. In you.”

I let out a breath, and I thought I might’ve mumbled “oh my God”, though I wasn’t sure. It might’ve just been in my head.

“Does that shock you?”

“A little? I mean…” I bit my lip. “Not shock really. Just...nobody’s-”

“I still wanna take you out,” Harry interrupted.

“What?”

“I plan on seeing you again, and this time I’m gonna take you out.”

“Oh...okay,” I muttered, goosebumps rising on my skin.

“And I’m gonna kiss you again,” he added. “‘Cause Lord help me, Stacey, I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.”

That time I knew I mumbled “oh my God”, and Harry chuckled again. I remained silent for a minute or two while I tried to even out my breaths, my brain telling me crazy things and painting insane pictures.

“Stacey?” Harry finally asked.

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Um…” I swallowed. “I’m thinking...that I shouldn’t be thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Hmm,” Harry sounded.

“Why?” I barely whispered, my throat suddenly feeling like it was filled with cotton balls. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” he paused slightly, “that this big hotel bed feels lonely.”

“Harry…”

“I wish I was holding you right now.”

The ability to find any kind of speech was completely gone. I could hear Harry breathing through the phone, but otherwise he remained silent as well. I swallowed hard as I pulled the covers over me, the darkness once again reminding me of how alone I was. Alone and lonely.

“You’re quiet,” Harry finally commented.

“Sorry.”

“Too much?”

I sighed. “No.”

“Am I frightening you?” he continued.

“No, it’s...it actually makes me feel good to hear you say that.”

“I just...I reckon with a woman like you, you gotta say what you’re thinking. Be direct. I want you to know, I’ll always be honest with you. I’m not playing games, Stacey.”

I let out a tiny chuckle as I felt my muscles relax. “Good.”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you too, Harry.”

“It’s late, love, I’ll let you sleep.”

“Okay. Are you still in St. Louis tomorrow?” I inquired.

“I fly to Chicago in the afternoon,” he replied. “Not sure if I’ll be able to call you, but I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to call me every day, you know,” I remarked.

Harry laughed and I felt my stomach flip. “Jesus, Stacey.”

“What?”

“Will you just let me woo you?”

“Woo me?” I giggled. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“I’m trying.”

“God, you’re adorable,” I groaned.

“Yes! I’m getting somewhere.”

We laughed together until Harry startled me by shouting, “Hey! I just remembered something. You were gonna sing some Stevie Nicks for me.”

“Oh shit,” I muttered.

“It’s okay,” Harry chuckled. “I won’t make you do it now.”

“Thank God,” I quipped.

“But you know you’ll have to next time. So, start practicing, Barnett.”

“Ugh, don’t use last names, Styles.”

“Oh, but I like the way you say mine,” he teased. “So cute with that accent.”

“Shut up.”

“Stiiiiiles.”

“Stop,” I demanded, though I was holding my stomach while laughing.

“Staaaaaop,” he mimicked.

Trying my best not to be too loud, I turned my head toward the pillow and covered my mouth.

“I’m warning you, Harry,” I whispered into the phone.

“Ooh, that sounded sexy,” he said, his voice lowered as well. “Warn me again, please.”

I shook my head and took a couple breaths, getting my bearings. When I didn’t continue with the teasing, I heard Harry sigh.

“Alright then, love-”

“Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom. Well who am I to keep you down.”

I started singing the well-known Fleetwood Mac tune, silence on the other end of the line.

“It’s only right that you should play it the way you feel it. But listen carefully to the sound…”

I didn’t sing as loudly as I normally would have, and I only continued through the first chorus before I stopped. But Harry’s reaction was lovely nonetheless.

“Baby…” he cooed when my singing ended. “God, you’re amazing.”

I grinned. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. For singing to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll sing more for you later. And maybe you’ll sing some for me?”

“You bet.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” I said softly.

“Goodnight baby.”

Although I was completely giddy after hanging up the phone, it didn’t take me long to fall back to sleep. And this time I didn’t have any nightmares. Only good dreams.

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[fiddler-sticks]

Kwik Trip Trip (745 words) by fiddlersticks Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: LEGO Ninjago (Cartoon 2011-2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lloyd Garmadon & Morro Characters: Lloyd Garmadon, Morro (Ninjago) Additional Tags: green cousins, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Rated T for swearing, lloyd has a candy addiction, and he needs to feed that addiction, no beta we die like sensei g Summary: Lloyd gets candy cravings at 3AM and drags his very gracious and understanding cousin along with him

“Remind me again why you woke me up at 3AM to go with you to Kwik Trip?”

“I want candy and I ate the rest of my stash this morning.”

“I know that. I just wanted to know why the method of waking me up you chose was flicking cold water on my face. You could’ve just shaken me.”

“Awww, but where’s the fun in that?”

“You little-”

Of all the things Morro could be doing at 3AM on a random Sunday, walking to Kwik Trip was somewhere near the bottom of his list. Number 1 was sleeping.

“What if someone notices us and calls the cops? We look pretty suspicious,” he said.

“We’re literally the ninja, we can just tell them we were on a mission. And when did you become so paranoid?” Lloyd asked.

“Since my baby cousin thought it was okay to wake me up in the middle of the night on the weekend and drag me to the gas station to replenish his candy stash. You could’ve just done this in the morning.”

“I’m not a baby! And I want candy now, my cravings can’t wait ‘til the morning.”

“You’re younger than me and have a candy addiction, you’re a baby,” Morro stated.

“Ugh, whatever. We’re here. Do you want anything? I’ll buy, since you so graciously came with me of your own free will.”

“Shut up.”

“Guess you don’t want anything then,” Lloyd said, and started walking away.

“Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t want anything!”

“Okay, well go pick something out then.”

Morro looked around. Energy drinks were out of the question, since he wanted to be able to make the most of the night after their little outing was over. He could get something from the hot spot, but he wasn’t really that hungry. Then, his eyes locked onto something.

Perfect.

He made a beeline over to the smoothie machine, and pulled out the largest cup. Might as well, since Lloyd said he’d pay. There was a piece of paper taped to the screen of the machine, but Morro paid it no mind and tore it off so he could see the whole screen. It was kind of glitchy, but it still worked. He made his choice, stuck his cup in the slot, and walked away. He wanted chips.

Lloyd was picking out his candy when he heard the smoothie machine start. Typical of Morro. He always got a smoothie or slushie everywhere they went. He was pretty much done raiding the candy section, so he started over to watch the machine make the smoothie. Those things were entertaining to watch.

Morro was contemplating which chips he should get when he heard it. An explosion sound, and then the sound of liquid splattering, all coming from the drinks station. “Shit,” he muttered, and jogged over to the source of the sound. And boy was it a sight to see.

Before him stood a smoking smoothie machine, and what looked to be Lloyd, all covered in fruit syrup, chocolate syrup, milk, ice chips, and whatever else was previously in the machine. Morro burst out laughing.

“Seriously?” Lloyd said, not looking happy at all.

Morro was in tears and practically on the ground laughing. “You- You!”

“Yeah, me. What the fuck did you do to this thing?!”

“I-,” Morro wiped the tears from his eyes. “I just pressed the buttons and put my cup in the slot. I’ve done it dozens of times!”

“Yeah, well apparently you didn’t see the huge ‘Out of Order’ sign taped to the machine.”

“Oh, that’s what that said? Oops.”

“Oops? Is that all you have to say?!”

“Yeah?”

“FSM, why do I take you anywhere?”

“Uh, you were the one who dragged me out of bed because you didn’t want to come by yourself,” Morro said.

Lloyd scoffed, and dug in his pocket. “Here, take my wallet and pay for the stuff and let’s get out of here.” He handed Morro his wallet and shopping basket full of candy.

“FSM, how much candy do you need?!” Morro exclaimed when he felt the weight of the basket.

“Hey, I’m replenishing my stash! I told you on the way here that I ate it all up. Now go and pay for the stuff so that I can go take a shower.”

Morro snorted. “I think it’ll take at least three to get that stuff out of your hair.”

Lloyd glared at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!”

A/N: Kinda unsatisfied with the ending, but it's now actually 3am and I'm tired and lost my momentum. Might update this later with a little epilogue thingy

[bucksfucks]

“breakfast in bed” “define breakfast” with roommate bucky hehe

— pancakes. || b. barnes.

WARNINGS || teasing, banter, oral, fingering, thigh kink (?) — 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI

Sunday mornings usually started with waking up in Bucky’s bed.

Sometimes you were naked and sometimes you had a shirt of Bucky’s slung over your torso.

Most of all, Bucky’s arm was always thrown over a part of your body and today is happened to be your ass.

“Get up,” you groaned, trying to shove the heavy metal arm and fuck did it look heavier than it was.

“No,” Bucky whined. “S’too early. Plus, it’s Sunday.”

You shook your head, “well it’s your turn to make breakfast and I want pancakes with chocolate chips.”

Bucky perked up at the sound of that.

“What if,” oh this couldn’t be going anywhere good. “We just did breakfast in bed.”

Bucky had that look on his face.

The one that said he was up to no goddamn good but he was going to get what he wanted.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “define breakfast.”

He shuffled, turning on his side as the sheet fell down his hip exposing himself and it made you suck in a harsh breath.

“I was thinkin’ of eatin’ you out, actually. ‘Cause you see,” he leaned in closer, “been havin’ constant dreams about it.”

How could you say no to that?

“Only if you promise to make me pancakes after,” you giggled, relaxing on the pillow as Bucky pinched your thigh.

“Always so greedy, Sweets.” He teased, opening and spreading your legs so he could get a good look at his breakfast.

He hummed, head moving towards your core as you tangled your fingers in his hair and enjoyed the feeling of his hot tongue on you.

Bucky fucking loved eating pussy. Could do it for fucking hours if you let him.

“With a cunt so sweet,” he looked up with a wet chin. “It’d be a goddamn crime not to eat you right up.”

And he was fucking good at it too.

Taking the time to learn about what makes you tick, those sweet spots that you unique to you and only you.

The things that make your back arch and thighs clench around his head.

“Baby I don’t think you understand,” he looks at you with seriousness in his tone of voice.

“‘M fuckin’ obsessed with the way you taste.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before his fingers plunged into you and his lips sealed around your clit.

“Think you can come for me, Sweets?” He cooes, “think you can make a mess all over my face?”

Yes, yes, and yes.

Your fingers curled deeper in his hair, thighs clenching.

“Oh fuck yes, baby. Squeeze my face, fuckin’ suffocate me I don’t care I jus’ wanna see you come.”

Bliss fills your veins as your walls flutter and pulse around Bucky as he ruts his hips into the mattress, lifting his head.

“I could just sink in, fill you right up and fuck you ‘til my bed breaks,” he purrs and that’s exactly what you want.

But the fucker jumps off the bed, laughing as he says “but someone wanted pancakes!”

[neoheros]

moving in — seijoh 4 x gn! reader

it’s been exactly two weeks since you’ve made the decision of moving in with your best friends, and so far, everything’s been a bit better than you expected.

when the idea was first pitched to you, you admit, you thought it was a very poorly written out joke shared over a few beers and the pitiful nostalgia of graduating— you were wrong.

they were alarmingly serious about this.

“just a few months ‘til we all head off for college.” hanamaki told you, his arm casually over your shoulder and you’ve known him long enough to know that pushing him off is futile.

“then do it without me.” you said, a lazy smile on your face as you continued to walk. “i’ll visit literally every day.”

“no, you won’t,” matsukawa said, his words laced with a soft chuckle, “you don’t ever go anywhere without being physically dragged off.”

“you don’t understand,” you smiled, “i have such a lovely room.”

iwaizumi fell next to you, his voice blunt, “you can have the biggest room.”

“that’s not entirely better.” you shrugged.

“at least think about it,” oikawa told you, his charming smile coating his tone and you found a bit of warmth in the reserved gaze you realize he only had for you, “for me.”

“as if that’s the selling point, shittykawa!”

“i am always the selling point, iwa-chan!”

you ignored their usual banter, moving away from the four as you quickened your steps and you sighed. “i’ll think about it.”

you don’t miss the shared grins they all give each other, knowing you well enough to understand that they’ve successfully wore you down and before you knew it, you were signing a lease to a four bedroom loft that you were lucky enough to afford.

it didn’t feel weird or anything, you’ve known these guys since forever and more, really the only problem you’ve had with this was the fact that you knew how much of a slob they’d all be to live with — not that you were any better — but hey, surely you were neater than four sweaty athletes.

which brings you to where you are now; just a few weeks after graduating from aoba johsai and barely even a few days since getting comfortable in your new temporary apartment.

you figured it was better than you expected.

hanamaki’s nice to keep around. he’s almost always just lounging in front of the tv, sometimes a controller in his hands, most of the time, his fingers running through his short trimmed hair as he shifts over numerous college application essays.

you’ve found yourself waking up at three am a few times to get yourself a cup of water only to see him to have fallen asleep on the coffee table with folders and envelopes around him.

sometimes you’d sit with him, sometimes you’d wake him up to help him trudge to his bed. either way, he’d always end up pulling your head close, giving you a quick kiss on the temple as he sleepily mumbles something along the lines of “thank you” or “good night”.

iwaizumi’s somewhat the same; buried in college prep and sorting through plane tickets as he made the ever so impressive decision to take his future abroad. you’d told him numerous times how proud he made you and he’d always give you back the warm grin he seemed to have reserved just for you.

he isn’t the last one you see off to bed, but he’s always the first to get up in the morning. no matter what time you wake up, he’s already there in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee (much to your dismay since his blend is a tad bit bitter to your liking but you’ve never had the heart to tell him that).

(though truth be told, ever since iwaizumi found out you woke up at the crack of dawn, he’d begrudgingly fallen into the habit of waking up before you just so he could make you coffee before seeing you off for the day.

he hates waking up that early.

but he does like the smile you give him when you walk out the door.)

you spend the most time with matsukawa. his schedule was freer than the rest of the boys so if you ever needed to go anywhere, he’d already be there to insist that he came with you.

he’d pick you up from your day job, a lazy grin encasing his face the minute he sees you from the car window— you looked tired, worn out from the ruthless retail, and though he couldn’t say that to your face, he sure is glad he’d have an excuse to take you for coffee before heading home.

oikawa’s the busiest. his taxing schedule now so much worse after his decision to go to argentina. (you told him you’d miss him, he told you you didn’t have to, and begged you to try and fit in his luggage.) all that aside, you barely got to see him; you’d wake up finding him already gone for the day, and come home to him passed out on the couch.

some nights he’d come home later than you, too tired to know which is left or right, and more than once, he’d end up in your room, clocking out the second he crashes on your bed.

you don’t push him off, you never had the heart to. you missed him. not that you’d ever say it to his face, but he hasn’t even left for college and you were already missing him.

it’s a sunday morning— one of the few times a week all of you had a free day, and normally you’d all just end up sleeping in, most days you’d get up and enjoy breakfast with the other four, but when the bed felt too warm and too peaceful, you’d rather just waste the day away in your room.

a pair of arms pull you out of your sleep, your head softly falling against someone’s chest and you blink— you went to bed alone last night.

“what the hell, shittykawa!” you yell, sitting up and pushing him off of you.

oikawa groans, having just been brutally woken up, he pouts, “... you spend too much time with iwa-chan, you sound exactly like him.”

“go sleep in your own room!”

“but — you have the softest bed!”

“no?” matsukawa says, leaning on your door frame looking like he’d just woken up. his voice is groggy, almost annoyed, “i have the softest bed.”

oikawa pushes you away, ignoring your groans as he laid back on your mattress and he says, smile wide, “that’s not true— feel this.”

matsukawa narrows his eyes, walking up to him without even acknowledging your constant complaints of ‘no! do not feel this, go away!’

he sits on the edge of your bed, taking a second before falling on his back and taking in your white comforters.

“what the fuck?” he says, “what the hell, why do you have the softest bed?”

“because i’m me.” you tell them both, rolling your eyes as you realize that you probably won’t be getting your bed back anytime soon.

hanamaki walks in barely a moment later, his hand tiredly rubbing his left eye as he yawns away the last of his sleep.

he blinks, unsure what to make out of the scene in front of him. matsukawa and oikawa pulled on your duvet, pushing each other off every second as they fought on who got a bigger part of the blanket, and you, well — you had your head propped up on your headboard, muttering under your breath as you tried to push the two off your mattress.

“what’s going on?” he asks, a smile already forming on his face as he recognized the early morning chatter.

you look up, eyes brightening at the sight of hanamaki, he was going to help you.

“makki! my love!” you yelped, “get them out of my room, please.”

“no. makki will not.” matsukawa grins, “did you know this is the softest bed in the apartment?”

hanamaki frowns, “i have the softest bed in the apartment.”

oikawa grins, “feel this!”

you take it back. oikawa tooru might not make it to argentina after all, not when you were going to kill him in cold blood after this.

before you could even protest, oikawa pushes you more to the side, clearing some space for hanamaki who (so traitorously) plopped down on his side beside you.

“what the fuck,” he says, eyes widening as he moved around for a more comfortable position.

matsukawa nods, “that’s what i said too.”

“why do you have the softest bed?” oikawa groans, “we’re the ones who play volleyball— we’re basically sore all the time.”

you blink, “i was sleeping.”

they ignore you.

“you want the bed?” you ask, getting up from your mattress, and you glare. “fine. keep it.”

“wait, we were just joki—”

you ignore what they were going to say, slamming your door on your way out, and you curse under your breath every step of the way to the room right across from yours.

iwaizumi’s room. somewhere cold, peaceful, quiet. you ought to remind him to keep his door locked, but right now, as you stood by his doorway, drowsy and almost desperate to go back to sleep, you’re thankful he doesn’t.

you don’t say another word, walking directly up to his bedside and plopping down on the open space next to him.

he stirs, and you take his movement with a sigh.

“move.” you tell him, a pillow in hand and he looks up at you with sleep plastered on his face.

iwaizumi does as you say, moving deeper into his side and he yawns, “what’re you doing?”

“we are going to sleep.” you tell him, snuggling deeper in his covers as you got yourself comfortable.

you look at him, “unless you want to join those three idiots outside.”

iwaizumi ignores the warmth coming up on his face, pushing his pulsing heart aside, he shrugs, throwing an arm over you, and he mutters, “not even gonna ask what happened.”

(you fall back asleep quick after that, but that doesn’t last long as iwaizumi’s door opens again, oikawa going on and on with complaints about how iwaizumi was obviously your favorite, matsukawa barely caring as he pushes past him and just crashes in between you both and hanamaki declaring a dog pile as he so ruthlessly jumps on top of you.

it was horrible.

you wouldn’t have it any other way with them.)

[halfway-happyyy]

With You Now

AN: i am momentarily emerging from hibernation! this is based off of a request, it’s full of fluff, but it’s rather long so it’s going under a read more. enjoy, lovelies!

disclaimer: a simple canadian gal whose never been to New York, fake it til ya make it, right? 

New York City was loud.

She supposed that if she had given herself enough time to really feel the city out- anything longer than a couple of whirlwind days- she could have grown accustomed to the pervasive cacophony of it all. In fact, she could have easily imagined herself in it's blissfully chaotic setting; she could picture squeezing past throngs of people to get to the nearest subway station. She could imagine being able to tune out the noise until it became nothing but a low background hum, the every day soundtrack to life in a city as vibrant and breathtaking as the big apple. But then, and with a rather sharp pang, she remembered the second last text message on her phone, and her heart sank low in her chest. This trip, as with most other things in life, had failed spectacularly to live up to her expectations.

Can't wait to see you! Should be around to pick you up from the airport just before your plane lands xx

She had read the words over again with bated breath, sheer hope brimming the rim of her proverbial cup and threatening to spill over any second. And then she walked into a bustling John F. Kennedy airport, and she certainly wasn’t alone, but the one person that could be counted on for a familiar face was nowhere to be found.

Just arrived! Going for my luggage. Hope to see you soon!

And as she followed signs that led to baggage claim there was some sinking feeling inside of her that simply told her he would not be coming. She couldn’t put a finger on it except to say that there was a lingering unpleasantness that kept her company while she waited for him. Then an hour elapsed and when she still hadn’t heard anything, she slid into the cracked leather seats of a taxi bound for her Manhattan hotel.

The first night there was the hardest. To be in a city so rich and full of life, all she really felt was loneliness and anger- and not even so much at the man who let her down, but at herself for falling for it in the first place. They had met in Michigan a year prior at a black-tie work function that she had hardly even wanted to be at. He worked in pharmaceutical and told her all of the right things, and then they spent a blissful couple of Autumn weeks together and when she dropped him off at the airport on a sunny Sunday morning, he begged her to come visit him in New York sometime. She resigned herself to the weight of these feelings tonight; they certainly weren’t going anywhere but come tomorrow morning, she was determined to make the most of the time she had left in this wondrous city. In spite of her resolve, as she drifted from this world into dream, she couldn’t help but hear the gravelly voice of her dear departed grandmother somewhere in the darker reaches of her mind-

What a damn fool.

Birdsong and the blaring of car horns in the distance roused her from her fractured slumber and she stretched her arms high above her head to limber up. For a few moments before her sleep-induced fog dissipated, she forgot where she was. And then a copy of the New York Times on her bedside table reminded her, and she smiled softly to herself. Reaching for her phone, she glanced down at the text message there and swallowed back the lump of despair rising in the hollow of her throat.

I don’t know how else to say this, except that I’m not interested in pursuing whatever this is any longer. Wishing you all the best xx

She wondered briefly- and not for the first time, if she was simply too much for people. Too loud, too curvy, too… herself. And if that was true, when would she (if ever) just be enough?

Two options became glaringly obvious to her: she could let this man (see: child) ruin her entire trip- she could convince herself that because he didn’t want her, that meant the city wouldn't either. Or, she could take a deep breath and try to convince herself that she deserved to be here. That perhaps someone or something would be better for her having stayed. So she thumbed away the stray tear that had managed to escape from the corner of her eye and got out of bed with a renewed sense of hope.

This culmination of events led her to a worn-out wrought-iron bench in central park, a half-drunk latte in one hand, and a bagel from the nearby deli in the other. After a morning of window shopping and the occasional tourist trap, she was content to rest her feet for a little while and to watch people pass, but when a trendy young woman walked by with a Guggenheim tote bag slung over a shoulder, she got an idea. A friendly local informed her that the museum was about a ten minute walk from where she was so she finished her lunch and set off in that direction. To her relief, the museum hadn’t been hard to find at all and she peered up at the architectural wonder in awe as she waited for the light to change. Admittedly her knowledge of art and its vast love affair with history was limited, but she could appreciate the all-encompassing magnitude of a building solely dedicated to it. The interior of the museum was spectacular in its scale, with seemingly unending levels that spiraled to the top and eventually gave way to an ornate glass dome ceiling. An information pamphlet handed to her upon arrival told her that among other ongoing exhibits, a new one on Vasily Kandinsky was being shown around the circle and she headed there first. After a while of wondering around, she found herself stopped in front of a painting so breathtaking in its use of shape and colour, that she was rendered speechless for a moment. It was titled Dominant Curve and it was painted in April of 1936.

“Sofia! wait-”

The distinct twinkle of girlish laughter, followed by the booming voice of a man concerned caught her off guard and she turned just in time to see the child trip over her own two feet and land hard on her knees. It was deathly quiet as both her and the child’s presumable father waited with bated breath for the meltdown that might or might not ensue at any moment. The little girl, too stunned to speak at first, picked herself up and glanced at the ruby-red liquid that started to seep from a small scrape above her knee, and began to wail loudly. The man immediately knelt down to survey the damage, saying something to her that she couldn’t make out. Without a second thought, she reached into the front pocket of her purse and dug around for an alcohol swab and the pink Hello Kitty band-aid she knew was there. When she found it, she stepped forward tentatively and asked if she could help.

“Yes please, if you wouldn’t mind.” He murmured, his tone weary.

“Not at all,” She beamed down at the little girl, who couldn’t have been a day over five or six, and whose eyes were entirely too unsure. Ripping open the foil packet, she informed the girl that the alcohol would likely sting a little bit and the man then relayed this information to her in a foreign tongue, pressing his lips to the apple of her cheek as he did so. Under the tender touch of her protector, the child’s sobs were soon reduced to muffled hiccups, and she barely batted an eye when the swab was wiped over the shallow scrape. “Almost done, you’re doing great…” She reassured her, and was relieved to see the tears drying on her freckled cheeks. She then placed the band-aid over the scrape and stood from her position with a sure smile. “I hope that feels better honeybee.” The child peered shyly up at her, her glacial-blue eyes wide and still extremely uncertain.

The man stood from his position, gathering the girl into his arms as he did so, his smile grateful. “English isn’t really her strong suit yet. She’s uh… super Swedish.” He winked at her and leaned over to whisper something to the girl in their native tongue.

“Thank you,” Her tiny voice murmured, and then she offered her up a small, tentative smile.

“You are most welcome.” Turning her attention back to the man, she gestured to the child. “You’ve got a pretty brave little girl on your hands.”

He rolled his blue eyes playfully. “Oh she's a real riot until she decides not to listen to her uncle Alex. Isn't that right Sof?” Sofia burried her tiny face into the crook of his neck in answer. He chuckled heartily, patting a large hand against her small back and turned his gaze back to her. There was something undoubtedly familiar about him and yet she knew with a finite certainty that the likelihood of them ever having crossed paths was slim. “You’re good with kids,” He murmured after a beat.

Her cheeks grew warm under his observation and the soft, Swedish lilt he had. “I’d hope so. I'm a nurse back home.”

“I reckon that makes you a nurse everywhere.” His lips turned up into a grin and she had no choice in that moment but to smile back just as wide.

“Yes, I suppose it does.” She laughed easily.

“I’m Alex, by the way. And this is Sofia.”

She offered him a handshake which he obliged happily with an unmistakable strength; his impossibly warm hand dwarfed her own and caused her to swallow hard at the notion. “It’s been lovely to have met you both.” And she meant it.

They stood in thoughtful silence for a moment before he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at her, a knowing smile tugged the edges of his lips skyward. He had been about to ask her something when his phone rang, interrupting him, his expression apologetic as he answered the call. He spoke in perfect Swedish, the soft cadence of it immediately enchanting to her. Ending the call on a finite note, he dropped the phone into the back pocket of his dark jeans and glanced at Sophia. She leaned forward just then to cup a miniscule hand around his ear and he responded to her hushed whisper in muted Swedish and then set her back on her own two feet. Clearing his throat, he scratched self-consciously at the back of his head. “Please forgive her boldness, but Sofia here was wondering if you’d like to join us for ice cream at Serendipity 3.” He sensed her trepidation and rushed to fill the silence in his wake. “Please don’t feel obligated to say yes- I know you don’t know either of us from a hole in the wall. She could eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner and we’re actually about to meet her dad there now.”

Seconds felt like years in that moment and when she could think of no solid reason to object, she simply nodded her head with a small smile. “I’d be delighted to join you two for ice cream.”

One hour and a frozen hot chocolate later, she found herself bidding goodbye to the charming young girl. A ring of melted chocolate decorated the space around her lips and the unabashed glee on her face spoke novels of just how happy a sweet treat and time with her uncle had made her. The pink hello kitty band-aid that peeked out from beneath the lace hem of her blue dress had all but been forgotten, and she supposed that ice cream had a marvelous way of doing that for someone of the tender age of five.

“She’s a sweet girl,” She marveled to Alex.

He smiled around the rim of his coffee cup. “She’s alright, old Sofia. We have fun.” They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he said, “Are you familiar with Andy Warhol?”

She swallowed back the rest of her frozen drink and flipped through a mental rolodex of prolific artists. “Do you mean the silver-haired soup can man?”

Alex grinned at that. “That’s the one. Legend has it that this was one of his favourite haunts back in the day, and you just treated yourself to one of his favourite orders.”

“Do you know what I think?” She sighed, contentedly. Alex quirked an eyebrow in question. “I think that every single nook and cranny of this city is overflowing with a treasure trove of wondrous stories to tell.”

“Absolutely. It’s one of the endless reasons I love living here. I never get to stay as long or as often as I’d like to, but it’s always a wonderful time.” He scratched at the underside of his stubbled jaw in thought. “I think it’s the not knowing that makes this place magical. I feel like I’m always on the precipice of an adventure; of meeting new people.”

Her cheeks warmed as she pondered that. “I told you earlier what I did for a living, but I never got a chance to ask what it is that you do?”

A light somewhere in the depths of his glacial orbs dimmed, and his smile became marginally less blinding. “Among other more important things, I act for a living. I’d say it’s one of the least exciting things about me,” He finished with a self deprecating smile. When she didn’t immediately follow that statement up with, ‘Oh really? That is exciting! What have I seen you in?’ the boyish glitter returned to his eyes.

Glancing up at the clock above their heads, she realized with an inexplicable pang that they would probably part ways soon. She was in awe of how easy it was to talk with him, of how content she’d be to let this moment drag on for hours. And then she considered that this was one of her only chances to take a risk in this magical city- so she took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “I don't really have anywhere to be tonight and I was wondering if you’d like some more company?”

You are too loud, too curvy, too yourself.

Alex cocked his head to the side, that same knowing smile from a couple of hours ago that seemed to say so much but also nothing at all in equal measure. “I’d like nothing more.”

And she believed him.

They ventured on in comfortable silence for another twenty minutes before Alex faltered in front of a charming green stone building, the awning above the entrance was weather-worn with black and white stripes. A wooden sign next to the door read ‘GEMMA’ followed by bits and pieces of Italian. The all-enticing aroma of sautéed garlic and Italian spices hung heavy in the air before them and made her mouth water hungrily. Alex glanced at the watch on the underside of his wrist and turned to her, “Are you hungry at all?”

She nodded eagerly. “Very, actually.”

“This is one of my favourite spots in the city. Come on,”

She followed him into the restaurant, and was pleased to see that he was well-liked there; servers waved happily at him as they passed by. Finding a quiet booth at the back of the bar, she settled into her spot before him, gladly. After receiving their first round of drinks, she set her menu down and gazed at him, her expression curious. “What brought you to the Guggenheim today?” She finally asked.

Alex smiled around the rim of his pint glass, and shrugged. “Bill- my brother, needed someone to watch Sofia on short notice today. I was already going there anyway, and figured I’d bring her along. Never too late to start them early, I suppose.”

“She’ll remember these adventures with you fondly, I think.”

He smiled softly at that. “I hope so.” Clearing his throat, he cocked his head to the side, his expression curious. “And what of you? How is it that you’ve found yourself in this city’s clutches?”

She swallowed hard and took a long sip of her rosé, savouring the flavour of it on her tongue while she cast around for what to say. “I followed a hunch,” She admitted, finally.

They sat in silence for a moment before he simply murmured, "I reckon it's entirely his loss."

She smiled wryly. "Some would disagree."

"They'd be wrong." He shrugged, easily.

His honesty was a sharp knife she wouldn’t mind being cut to shreds with. “And while it didn't work out the way that I had anticipated, I’m certainly not upset at the current turn of events.”

He watched her with unabashed adoration and raised his pint to her in toast. “Neither am I.”

She couldn’t be sure how long they stayed tucked away in that booth for. She listened with rapt attention as he spoke of his second life in Sweden; of his siblings and his mother, that no matter how far away he strayed, his home would always be there. She told him of her life in Michigan, of how much she loved to take care of people; how she was certain that that specific gift had been passed down to her through a faraway haplogroup. She liked to imagine a distant line of her ancestors as healers, people good with their hands and open with their hearts. 

They stepped out into the balmy September evening a little while later to an eruption of dazzling fireworks as they exploded overhead in the distance. She was struck absolutely silly at how breathtaking he looked just then, and she asked (rather tentatively) if she could take his picture.

Just in case that big old sky ever falls on our heads.

“I'll let you take mine if I can take yours.” He bargained.

“Deal,” She smiled.

She went home with Alex that night. Knew in her heart that even if it wasn’t going to go farther than a blissfully lovely day- followed by an equally lovely evening, that would be fine with her. Sometimes it was enough to know that perfection could exist in the finite space of twelve hours, between two perfect strangers.

When she awoke in the morning’s hush, she could just make out the outline of the rising sun as it shone through the part in his linen curtains. She swallowed hard and turned to the sleeping man next to her. His impossibly long blonde eyelashes seemed to fan out over subtle freckles, and delicate wrinkles, and he was utterly breathtaking in his simplicity. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his muscles as they stretched the fabric of a coffee-coloured cashmere sweater, still entirely sound asleep and she wondered for a moment if she should leave. She pulled the weighted duvet from her body and sat up to lean her legs over the side of the bed, shivering as her feet came in contact with the cool, hardwood flooring.

“Hey you,” Alex cleared his throat and she hesitated a beat before turning to view him in the growing morning light.

“Yeah?”

He propped his head up beneath the palm of his hand and beamed at her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Alex.” She smiled back. Though still fully clothed from the night before, she felt inexplicably naked under his penetrating gaze and the sudden urge to bolt was strong.

“This is going to sound crazy, and maybe we’ll never see each other again after today, but I-” His voice bore the weight of recent sleep as he trailed off in search of the right way to frame his thoughts. “I’m not sure how else to put this, except to say that I feel like I’m better this morning somehow… for having met you yesterday. I’m really glad that I did.” It was an honesty usually reserved for old friends, people who knew the fragile ins-and-outs of a weathered relationship. Except that he wasn’t an old friend at all, and somehow she felt as if she’d known him her entire life.

She crawled back into bed next to him, and laced her fingers with his beneath the sheets. “I am too, Alex.”

[omgreally]

Ghosts

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/F!Reader, past Santiago "Pope" Garcia/F!Reader

Rating & Warnings: M for references to really good sex

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Frankie introduces you to his friends - the next step in your relationship - and to your surprise, that step includes somebody that you used to know.

“I really don’t want to do this,” you grouse, sitting in the cab of Frankie’s pickup truck like a petulant teenager - arms crossed, bottom lip thrust out in a pout. You know it’s not going to get you anywhere - Frankie is already laughing, his scruffy features creased into a grin as he mashes his baseball cap onto his head, flattening his unruly hair. He sticks the keys in the ignition and flashes you a grin.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you later, bonita.”

You roll your eyes - the Spanish nicknames never fail to get him what he wants, but you’re far from complaining. You always are. This is all just for show, your reluctance to meet his friends; inside, you’re vibrating with excitement.

You've been seeing Francisco Morales for a few months and up til now it’s been nothing but fantastic sex, late nights staying up pretending to watch movies and ending with fucking on the floor, the couch, the bed, against the wall - anywhere you end up. Neither of you were really aware things had transitioned into something more permanent until one Sunday morning, when you suddenly realize you’ve spent more time over at Frankie’s than you have in your own apartment for months. And you're surprisingly okay with that.

You don’t even know what he does for a living. You know he was in the military, and he’s mumbled the phrase ‘government contractor’ after that a couple times, but the rest? A mystery. It doesn’t seem to matter. Whatever you and Frankie have, it’s about you and him, not his past.

So when out of nowhere he asks you to meet a couple of his friends, you’re surprised, and while you know you should be running for the hills by now, here you are. On your way to some seedy dive dump of a bar to meet his old military buddies.

You’ve always been drawn to Army men, Navy men, dangerous men. And while at face value Frankie looks anything but in his ratty t-shirts and ballcap, you know from firsthand experience that he could probably throw around whoever he wants to. Could probably kill whoever he wants to. There’s something grim in his gaze sometimes, and he’ll stare off into that void, and when you ask him what’s wrong - a kiss pressed to his shoulder, his neck - he’ll stiffen for a moment before he brushes it away. Yeah, there are ghosts in Frankie’s past; and now you’re about to meet three of them.

The first two are nice enough. Ben - “Benny,” he introduces himself with a slow, lazy smile, and his eyes are a brighter blue than you’ve ever seen before - and Will, more reserved but with a shit-eating grin that could rival Frankie’s as he offers to buy you a drink. Frankie tells him to fuck off, but fondly, and the three fall into a kind of easy camaraderie that you feel out-of-place in.

“Are we waiting for someone else?” you wonder aloud, because you swear Frankie said three and it’s just Benny and Will so far, downing beers like water.

“Yeah - Pope,” Will speaks up, slamming down his third (fourth?) glass and wiping his beard on the back of his mouth. His teeth are too white, his smirk too pronounced for you, but you find yourself liking him anyway. He’s like Benny with more edges. “But he shows up whenever the fuck he wants-”

Pope, the name echoes in your head, a shadow of remembrance dogging you until a voice sounds from behind you, “Yeah, he does.”

You half-turn, and Pope moves around you, slapping Will on the shoulder with a half-hug that he repeats with Benny. He’s just turning to greet Frankie as he returns with another pitcher when you finally see his face, and your guts drop into your feet.

Pope is Santiago Garcia, and he’s staring right at you as he lifts a glass to his lips, grinning a grin that could rival Will’s as the spark of recognition passes between you.

Frankie’s introducing you, oblivious - you don’t even notice when he hands you a beer - and then it’s you and Santi, staring at each other across the space.

When was the last time you saw him? Ten, fifteen years ago? Drunk in some bar, you made the mistake of joining him and what followed was a whirlwind of sleepless nights and sex. Much like it is now with Frankie, but honed to a point, a fever-sharp focus of lust that consumed you both for weeks. It fizzled out, though, like a match in the dark, and the two of you went your separate ways - Until now.

Now, you’re fucking his friend.

You avoid speaking to Santi alone. You make perfunctory greetings and small talk and he keeps those dark eyes fixed on you - it seems like whenever you look over he’s gazing in your direction, lips around the neck of a bottle or at the rim of a glass or twisted around a knowing smirk. You hang on Frankie’s side so much he comments on it - threading his long fingers through yours on the next trip to the bar.

“Something wrong, cariño?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you mutter, and hope he gets too drunk and forgets - or that you get too busy tearing each other’s clothes off later to talk. It usually happens that way, although you find yourself looking forward to the morning afters more and more these days.

It happens as you’re all winding down - getting ready to leave. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you emerge, tucking your hair behind your ears and fixing the lapel of your jacket, Santi is there waiting.

“Hey,” he says, hands in his pockets, pushing off from the wall he was leaning against. You hesitate, but there’s only the bathroom to escape too and you’ve spent long enough in there already.

“Hey, Pope,” you say, and it’s late enough in the night that the ire creeps into your voice unchecked. “What do you want?”

“Just to see how you were doing,” he shrugs - casual - relaxed, untroubled. “It’s been a while.” You find yourself noticing the grey in his hair and in his beard, more than you remember, but it suits him well. This close, he looks like a refined version of the Santiago Garcia you once knew.

Dark, compact, dangerous, he’s the polar opposite to Frankie, whose softness is always just underneath the surface. Things with Santi were always...exciting; he was a punishing lover, not selfish but he made damn sure you earned the orgasms he pulled out of you with effortless ease. But no, you can’t be thinking about that right now, not with Frankie and his smile and his haunted eyes waiting for you at the bar.

“I’m fine,” you say stiffly. Then, relenting: “Actually, no, I’m not fine. Did you tell Frankie we - that you knew me?”

He shrugs. “Fish didn’t give me your name. Just said he wanted us to meet his girl. How was I supposed to know it’d be you, princesa?”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, taking a step towards him. Tension crackles between you, as you hold Santi’s shadowed, unblinking gaze, and you’re the one to look away first. “Look - don’t say anything to him, okay? I’ll talk to him once we’re both sober and explain-”

“Too late,” Santi mutters at the same time as you hear Frankie’s voice at your shoulder, “Explain what, sweetheart?”

Frankie shrugs as he puts his arm around your waist. “I know.”

You look up at the ceiling, but it doesn’t offer you any divine help, just mold and darkness. “Frankie, Santi - Pope and I met a while back. Few years ago. We, uh, dated for a bit.”

“Wouldn’t call it dating,” he supplies helpfully, and you catch a flash of white teeth and dark mirth, “But yeah. We did.”

Both you and Santi look at him. He smirks, moving a toothpick around in his mouth. “You’re not the only guy with sources, Pope,” he tells him. “It’s no big deal. That’s why I wanted you guys to meet.”

“Frankie,” you say softly, and he pulls you close - kisses the top of your head. Something in Santi’s eyes softens, along with the edges of his grin. “Well, at least you know she has a type,” he says.

“You fucker,” you laugh, but you can feel the tension draining out of you as you loop your arm through Frankie’s. “I’m gonna get you both back for this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” your boyfriend says as he tugs you away and maneuvers you over to the bar to farewell Benny and Will.

“Can’t wait,” says Santi, and you flush at the wink he shoots you over his shoulder before he’s gone.

[innately-pretentious]

Dating Klaus Hargreeves ❤️✨

A/N I’m back lads, and yes this is very long and super messy! Ik I’m super behind but I literally just finished the newest season of TUA and was feeling super inspired. Here are some headcanons for our favourite mess.

You probably ran into each other during one of his late night drug binges, finding him lying on the ground in your local park whilst you were clearing you head, his eyes were moving around, observing the stars in the night sky.

As you slowly approached him you became increasingly concerned, discovering that he was not only watching the stars but also yelling at the blank space next to him. You almost didn’t approach him, writing him off as another high person riding a wild trip, however, something told you to go and check up on him.

When you got next to him, interrupting his seemingly one-sided conversation, you asked him if he was alright.

Turning to you and muttering out a slightly coherent ‘yeah’, you insisted he sit and talk to you for a while, to unload whatever has got him so stressed out. You had nowhere to be and neither did he, that was how he found himself spilling the details of his extremely unique life to a total stranger until the early hours of the morning.

Nothing could prepare you for what he was about to unload, but when he is finished telling you about his family, his father, his powers, Ben and every other intimate detail he could think of, you knew you couldn’t just leave him here. After minimal persuasion on your part you drag him back to your apartment, making him some tea, putting him in the shower and getting him into bed.

Nobody had ever treated him this well, not even his own family. Now this stranger was showing him the greatest display of hospitality, he dozed off with tears in his eyes.

You watch him from across the room, this was probably the first good sleep he has had in a while. You didn’t know what drew you to this strange boy, but you were determined to help him.

He pretty much lived with you on and off for the next few months, hanging out with you multiple times a week. He discovered (with the help of Ben) his growing feelings for you, but he never wanted to act on them.

He is extremely shy initially with showing any signs of attraction towards you. Having been put down by his family for most of his life, he truly believes he will just eventually disappoint you. Ben has been bugging him to make a move for months, it is the first time he has ever seen his usually-confident brother act bashful. You would find yourself often initiating intimate acts or even talking about dating one another, due to his fear of dragging you into his mess of a life.

His insecurities do seem to fade as your relationship progresses, however, you often have to reassure him that his best is more than enough. You will always be there to pick up the pieces as long as he is willing to help.

However, when you do finally get together and comfortable, he is not shy about his displays of affection in any way! You often find that he always has to be touching you in some way. Placing his hand of your thigh while sitting next to each other, draping his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you when watching a movie, reaching for you in the middle of the night, half asleep. You almost wonder if he does it subconsciously. Pulling you into him for a quick kiss, even if it is in public. Not that you mind, you’re just glad he finally let his walls down for you.

Although he dislikes it in the moment, you make a point not to enable him. Instead you honestly ask him about his addictions and try to understand it, nobody has ever done this before. One of the proudest moments is finding him on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, holding a fresh packet in his hand.

‘Take them, I’m gonna do them and I really don’t want to.’

You teared up at how far he has come, spending the night tangled in each others limbs, telling him how proud you were as he snuggled further into your waist.

Being there for him when his father dies, even though it really doesn’t take much of a toll on him, you tag along to make sure. When you finally meet his other siblings, you truly understand the reasons behind his addiction, often being pushed aside or ignored by his family members. The people that are supposed to care about him most, it takes a lot for you to hold your tongue.

Klaus can be quite a homebody when he wants to be, one of his favourite activities is just hanging around the mansion with you.

He loves finding you in the kitchen, drawn in by the smell of you making something delicious. He will come up behind you, arms snaking around your waist, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

He also loves to play his music loud, so the two of you can scream the lyrics to your favourite songs, dancing around the kitchen like idiots whilst simultaneously trying to cook a meal is a skill you have definitely acquired during your relationship.

Ben is completely in awe of you being able to steer Klaus in such a positive direction, he cannot be prouder of his brother. You often get Klaus to be the middle man in your conversations, even though the two of you have never met face to face, you honestly believe he is one of your close friends.

He introduces you to the clubbing scene, taking you out dancing every other weekend! You notice that he believes getting ready to go out is just as much of the fun, you both take turns picking out each others outfits. Blaring your favourite songs as you paint his nails or he does your eyeliner, leaving your bedroom in a massive mess that you would worry about tomorrow morning.

Dancing together in a packed nightclub, giggling as he attempts to spin you round, sneaking kisses here and there until the lights come on.

When Sunday comes around, you are both allowed to spend the day lazing in bed. Now Klaus is sober, he sometimes finds himself waking up before you. Finding you tucked under his arm in the morning is a dream, brushing your hair gently out of your face as he watches the sun pour in from a crack in the curtain. Nothing could be more blissful.

Occasionally you will wake up alone in bed, these days always make you slightly uneasy. Deep down you know Klaus is probably just downstairs making coffee or running a bath for the two of you, a small part of you can’t help but be scared he has relapsed.

He pretends he doesn’t notice, but his heart aches knowing that you still worry about him, even after all this time.

You always catch him staring at you, he is not really subtle about it either, even if you are concentrating on an important task.

‘Klaus I actually have to work this time!’

‘Hey don’t blame me! I can’t help it if you’re the best thing to look at.”

When you find out about the impending apocalypse, you make a pact to stick together til the end, desperate to get as much time together as possible. During this time he becomes even more protective, never straying too far away from you, even following you into different rooms of to need to go grab something. If any precarious situation arises, he pushes you back, using himself as a barrier between you and the action.

With Five botching the whole time-travel thing, you both find yourself in the 1960s.

When he first arrived in the alley with Ben, he began frantically looking for you, becoming almost hysterical as he felt really alone for the first time in a long time. It took almost everything he had not to raid the local liquor shop to just forget about his predicament for just a moment. Ben is the voice of reason for him.

‘Fuck off Ben, can’t I just feel numb for once, I’ve lost her alright?!’

‘This is the last thing she would have wanted and you know it.’

It’s not until a year later you see each other again. You were revisiting the town where you first arrived in the 60s, picking up some new clothes and planning to get back on the road. Klaus, on his way to the diner for a quick bite to eat could spot you anywhere.

You were shocked when you heard a bang on the shop window, looking up and finding the same hazel eyes you would never forget, Klaus.

He bust through the shop doors, not caring that he knocked over a few clothing racks as he bounded towards you, jumping into your arms. He smelt the same, cigarette smoke masked with fresh cologne.

Landing on the floor together, laughing with tears streaming down your face, you just hold onto each other. (The shopkeeper is yelling, but this is more important than some scattered clothes!)

Having lunch together and catching up on everything you had been up to. He was impressed with you living on the road, finding various jobs and travelling across America. Although the thought of you going out there alone made his stomach flip, scared something bad might happen. When he tells you about ‘Destiny’s Children’ you wish you could say you were surprised, but you really expected nothing less. Of course Klaus would do something as extravagant as this.

That night is one of the best of your relationship. Making up for a whole year of lost time, he holds you closer, your entire body on top of his, head resting on his chest as he lazily rubs circles on your back.

When you are about to pass out you hear soft sobs coming from under you. Sitting up and holding his face in your hands, you reassure him that you’re here, you’re ok, you’re not going anywhere and you’re going to be alright. He grips onto you tighter and sobs into your shoulder, overwhelmed with emotions about how you finally managed to find each other again.

The clinginess does not end there, a year is a long time! Refusing to let go of you waist when you try to get up, always having his hand in yours, picking you up and spinning you round in the pool etc.

He takes full advantage of shopping with you in the 60s, with the fashion being almost as loud as he is. Watching him dance in and out of the racks of clothing, throwing various garments for you to try on. He loves to sneak into your changing room to ‘help’ you change into your next outfit…

When Ben is gone, you are the sole person he goes to for comfort. Holding onto each other and reminiscing about the good memories you all shared. After that day promising not to cry over him anymore, instead you would happily remember everything the three of you went through, looking back at his life positively.

[collecting-stories]

Shane - ep. 12 - Georgia

Summary: Shane hassles you in the diner and you let slip to Daryl that you want to date him. 

A/N: Can’t believe we’re moving this far into it. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You almost audibly groaned when Shane walked into the diner on Monday night. Daryl has been gone all weekend and you were quickly realizing that driving yourself around just wasn’t the same. You weren’t too proud to admit that you missed him, more than someone should miss an ‘in between’ friend as Tara had called him.  

“You know, in between a friend and a boyfriend.” She had explained after coining the term.  

“I get it.”

You were sure your mom was happy, as happy as she could be with you, because you’d been essentially only at the diner and at home all weekend. You’d even been on time for church on Sunday morning, an occurrence that was lacking lately. It wasn’t only Daryl’s absence that had you falling back into that place so close to the daughter that your mother wanted. The one who was perfect enough to fix all the problems she had. Deanna had told your mom, just like Aiden said she would. She’d called her on Friday morning to tell her that she’d noticed you driving with Daryl in his truck.  

“When was this?” Your mother had asked, holding her hand up for you to stop as you were preparing to walk out the door for school.  

“I’m gonna be late.” You stressed.  

She put her hand over the receiver and looked you dead in the eye, “move out that door and I swear to god you will not go out again for a week. School be damned.”

You waited, stood there anxiously by the front door as she cast you glancing and nodded her head and ‘mmhmm’d’ at the appropriate places. Your dad was supposed to be coming home soon from the halfway house he was living in and you’d thought maybe she was talking to him but then she hung up and turned to face you.  

“You wanna tell me why Deanna just called me and told me she saw you with Daryl Dixon.”  

“Cause he was fixing my car. I told you that, remember?” You knew you said it in that way that suggested she was dumb for asking so you weren’t surprised when she smacked you across the face. It didn’t take the sting away though and you flinched away from her when she kept on.  

“You’ve done some truly stupid things before but this really tops it, you know that! Running around town like some whore!”  

And you could’ve said something else, at least that was the inner monologue you gave yourself afterward, when you were sitting in class with Maggie, swearing that you fell in the bathtub during your shower. You could’ve said something else, maybe, but you didn’t.  

“You would know! Why isn’t dad back yet? Cause he’s not better or cause you’re still fucking your boss!”  

Tara told you after school that she had wait the weekend, until she was back from her mom’s house, before you could stay. So you put yourself on best behaviour mode, faking it through a bruised jaw and other, worse injuries, that no one could see. You rolled in late to class with a slip that said you had tripped in the shower and you continued that lie until the last bell rang and you were driving to 7-11 to meet Tara, to stay far away from your mom.  

“Monday,” she promised. “I’m back from my mom’s Monday night, you can come over then.”  

“She told me ‘as long as you’re under my roof you won’t be anywhere near Daryl’. Good then, watch me get out from under your roof. She acts like it hasn’t happened before.” You replied, whispering as you stood in the back of the soda aisle, far away from Jacqui’s eavesdropping. The last thing you needed was her telling everyone what you said.  

“Does Daryl know?” Tara asked, playing dumb.  

“No.” You replied, “and I’m not gonna tell him. If he does like me he doesn’t need to think I’m messed up.”  

“You’re not messed up, your mom is a dick.”  

“Look, I can fake it for a weekend, church, no friends, work. It’ll be fine.” You promised, “and on Monday night, your house.”

“If you need it sooner, I could talk to my dad.” Tara offered. He’d let you stay plenty of times in the past.  

“No, Monday’s fine.”  

You survived the weekend the exact way you said you would. You faked the nice girl you had strived to be in middle school and for the first three years of high school. You didn’t talk back, you were quiet, nice, you went to work and to church and it was like some kind of wonderful transformation that your mother probably attributed to herself. She’d scared you straight out of your rebellious crush on Daryl and back to the girl she wanted you to be.

But Sunday came and you were counting down the hours. Just another day and you’d be at Tara’s. Hopefully a few more hours and Daryl would be back. Tonight, thankfully, your mom had left church, changed and gone to work, which left you at the diner, closing it out with Lori when Shane walked in.  

“I know you got a thing for that Dixon boy but I think you should reevaluate your eyes.” Lori commented, coming up next to you. “Shane Walsh is mighty fine.”  

“First, Daryl’s older than you,” you pointed out. He was 23, same as Rick, and Lori was 21, a little closer in age to you. “Second, you forget your pregnant?”  

“A girl can’t look?” She shrugged, walking away as you pretended to gag.  

Shane seemed oblivious to the interaction as he came up and sat at the counter. You hadn’t seen him since the party, though both Glenn and Maggie had and they claimed he had asked how you were. You weren’t surprised, Shane always did fashion himself as something of a ‘knight in shining armour’ you could only imagine the size of his ego knowing he had effectively ‘saved’ you from Aiden.  

“Hey Shane, what can I get you?” You asked, pad and pen ready, as if you thought he was actually going to order and he didn’t just come here with some ulterior motive like Aiden.  

“You, back?” Shane asked, grinning at you.  

You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to say anything too awful. The last thing you felt like dealing with today was Shane. “Hilarious. Order or move Shane.”

“I’m not joking.” He replied, leaning further across the counter.  

Over his shoulder Lori was shooting you a look that you were sure could translate into ‘jump on that offer’. You groaned, folding the notepad back up and slipping it into your apron. “Listen, Shane, I appreciate you standing up for me at the party and I’m sorry Aiden was a dick, I really didn’t want to be there with him-“

“Then why were you?”

“None of your business.” You snapped.  

“He trashed my house-“

“You both trashed your house! Don’t bitch at me because you got in a fight I didn’t ask you to get involved in.” You said, cutting him off.  

“So first it’s thanks so much and then it’s I don’t need you?”

“Yeah Shane,” you continued, “I was trying to be fucking nice to you but you’re being a dick. I’m sorry I don’t have feelings for you anymore but I can’t change that.”  

“You don’t mean that.” He said, keeping his voice low. He stood up and followed you down the counter as you tried to get back to work. As you lifted the gate on the counter he grabbed the other side, stopping you from going any further. “You got your head mixed up with that loser Dixon.”  

Your jaw tensed as you glared at him, “watch your mouth.” You let go of the gate, shoving passed him to get to your waiting tables.  

The resulting noise of the gate felt like it left an echo when Shane let go as well, turning and grabbing your arm. “Just talk to me, please!”

“I said no!” You snapped, pulling your arm away, “leave me alone Shane, I said no. I don’t want anything to do with you.”  

“Shane,” Otis’ voice caught both your attentions and you looked behind the counter to the window that offered a limited view of the kitchen. Otis was standing there, dish on the ledge, staring down Shane Walsh like he could fire bullets with his eyes. You’d known Otis your whole life and there wasn’t a person alive that ever had a bad word to say about him. He was a sweetheart, burly on the outside but teddy soft on the inside. He’d watched you hold your own with Shane in the past, and with Aiden. He watched you flirt with Daryl and told you more than a few times that you had that boy wrapped around your finger whether you thought so or not. And he watched Shane put his hand on you, “Think you should leave.”  

“We were just talking.” Shane replied, looking back at you like there was any chance in the world that you would defend him.  

“Yeah, and now you’re done.” Otis said.  

No further conversation was had. Shane nodded and left, Lori shooting him a sympathetic smile as he passed by her. You wanted to tell her to have at him, you could do without him hanging around. It was good Daryl was away for the weekend cause you were itching to go to his house as you stood outside the diner with Lori while she locked up.  

“You really over Shane?” She asked, as if she gave two shits about your life.

“Why?”

“Just wondering. He seems pretty passionate about you.”

“Passionate? Try aggressive.” You countered. He’d always been that way and you thought maybe there had been a time when you substituted who he was for who you wanted him to be but you liked to think you were a little smarter this time around.  

“What about Dixon?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions Lor?” You asked. You wanted nothing more than to get in your car and go home.  

“Just wondering, I get bored at the apartment, only one there to talk to is Rick and he’s on nights this week.” She replied. He was around whenever she had doctor’s appointments or if she needed something for the baby. She was more than positive that when the little Grimes was born he would be the best dad in King County but he seemingly less interested in being the best fiancé.  

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, answering her question finally, “Daryl and I aren’t dating though so it doesn’t matter.”  

“Think he’s waiting til you turn 18.” She asked.

“No, just don’t think he’s interested in dating me is all.”  

You’d given Daryl a lot of thought since you’d started spending time with him. There were times you thought maybe he liked you. Moments when it seemed plausible that there was something but it always felt like it was right before. This build up between the two of you with nothing to show for it in the end.  

“You have dated before right?”

“Obviously.” You replied, hand on the door of your car. If she would just get in and pull away , you could too.  

“Just checking.” She laughed, finally granting your wish and getting in the car.  

You peeled out after her, driving away from your street and pulling into the parking lot of the Shop’n’Bag. You parked as close as you could for a late night, your Jeep illuminated by the overhead light. The grocery store was practically dead at 10p as you grabbed a basket and walked around aimlessly. Hungry was not the way to shop but your mom was being a bitch and refusing to buy you groceries, going so far as to label the items in the refrigerator that she deemed hers.  

The freezer aisle, flickering from one of the ceiling lights, seemed to be your lucky spot. It wrapped the wall in the far left, two large cases running almost from wall to wall in the middle and a familiar frame leaning over one of them, cart full of other quick meals and beer beside him.  

“Hey stranger.” You greeted, stepping up next to him and leaning against the case.  

Daryl straightened, the faintest of smiles coming and going as he looked over at you, “ya ain’t stalking me are ya?”  

“No, I just finished at the diner, I’m starving.”  

“Ya know they make food there.” He replied, tossing a pack of steaks in the cart and moving along, you falling into step next to him.  

“I wasn’t hungry while I was there.” When he stopped again you pulled the three packs of stovetop mac and cheese out of your otherwise empty basket and dropped them in his cart before leaving your basket under the case.  

“I ain’t buying yer food.” He said, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes landed on the barely visible bruise that was still on your cheek, Tara’s words clear as day in his mind. “What happened?” He asked, hand brushing his own jaw in the same place.  

“Fell in the shower.”  

“Least it ain’t those cats this time.” He replied.  

“When did you get back?” You asked, following him down the aisle.  

“Like ten minutes ago, however long I been in here.” He said, pausing to throw something in his cart, “why?”

You shrugged, “it was boring this weekend, I missed you.”  

“Musta been real boring then.” He joked, turning his face away so you couldn’t see his cheeks going red. “Ya ain’t start any fights this weekend?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you stressed. “Deanna called my mom though, told her she saw us driving in your truck.”  

“Told ya that ya shouldn’t be hanging around me.” Daryl replied, leaning against the handle of the cart. He watched you look through jars of red gravy until you found the one you wanted, sticking it in the cart. “I ain’t buying your food,” he repeated.

“I’ll pay for it,” you insisted, gripping the other end of the cart and smiling at him. “So, how was hunting?”

“A’ight. Got a deer in the bed a my truck.”  

You stuck your tongue out in disgust, “Glad my jeep’s fixed then.” You walked with Daryl through the rest of the store until he finally decided he was finished grocery shopping and turned his cart toward the check out, only one lane open this time of the night. When you tried to put the divider down between your order and his, Daryl put it back. “Thought you weren’t paying for me?”

“Ain’t a lot a stuff.” He shrugged, “bag it yerself though.”

“What a gentleman.” You laughed; scooting passed him so you could start bagging the groceries as the guy at the checkout put them through.  

Tara had told you enough times already that you should invite Daryl to your birthday, or just tell him that you like him and want to date him. You’d thought about both options plenty, positive that they were the only things on your mind these days. But actually, mentioning those things to him were a whole other story.  

“So, I turn 18 soon.” You mentioned as you walked out to your jeep with him. His truck was parked a few spaces down, blue tarp over the bed highlighted by a parking light. “Tara and Maggie are having a party for me.”  

“Ys sure that’s a good idea?” He joked, putting your groceries in the back for you.  

“Stop! No one’s ever gonna let me live that down.” You groaned.  

“Ya gonna invite me to yer party then?”  

You perked up a little, smiling, “well, yeah. And I was thinking too, you know, I’ll be 18.” You repeated at the end.  

“I heard ya.”

“I’ll be legal.” You clarified, as if he couldn’t catch on without you spelling it out for him.  

Daryl sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking at you a little more tired than before. “This ain’t a good idea, ya know,” he said, waving his hand between the two of you, “I ain’t got a lot going on right in my life. Ya shouldn’t be dragged into that.”  

“I’m not being dragged into anything,” you replied, “I really like you, I think I’ve been pretty obvious about it and if not then I’m telling you now. I like you and I’ll be 18 and I think-”

He stopped you by holding his hand up, “it ain’t gonna happen.”  

“Daryl-”

“I gotta get home,” he cut you off, stepping away from your car, “goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” You sighed, watching him walk away to his car.  

-

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[loyaltyworn]

her name was dot. you never remember. loyaltyworn: exclusive headcanon in story format // PERSONALS: DO NOT REBLOG (DNI) //

Dot. For short.

She says her name is Dot and you’ve told yourself that three times in a row so you can try to remember. Cause ya keep forgetting and it’s getting obvious, least in your head, that you don’t really care. All THREE of you are at Coney Island and the boardwalk’s jam packed with couples that give the both of ya the same smiles and grins that she tosses to them when she hugs your arm closer to her side and you barely notice until you feel it brush against her and turn towards the pair as they retreat.

You hold your breath. Did she notice?

She didn’t. She goes back to talking about how much fun it is. How long it’s been since she’s been on a date. But you’re attention’s wandered off again. Towards the head of blond hair at your side who’s got his hands in his pockets and looks like he’d rather be anywhere else other than HERE and you know he’d take you with him if he could. His date’s wandered off again. Some excuse about work early in the morning. But it’s the weekend and she said she worked as a secretary and you both know Sunday’s gonna be a day off.

Doesn’t matter. Cause he’s with you anyway. --He’s not with you but he’s with you and you’ve always had each other and Dot fades away with each step as you lean over and whisper in his ear that the other girl doesn’t know what she’s missin’ and she’s just another one of the crazies who left him to be the unlucky one that’s gotta deal with you for a little while longer. He tucks his hair back out of his face with one sweep of his hand and you smile. You love it when he does that. Because it’s so HIM. 

She’s got your hand and she’s dragging you towards the Ferris Wheel and you tell her you’re afraid of heights. Cause that means you’re leaving him all by himself and you ain’t about to do something like that. Least til you walk her home. The night goes on forever. And both of you just want to go back to Brooklyn.

She thinks you’re such a gentleman when you tell her you don’t kiss on the first date. Her arms hug the teddy bear you won for her, three bucks--you’re gonna have to cook cheap the whole week, and she falls a little harder for you. THEY ALWAYS DO. But there’s disappointment in her eyes and you can see it but it’s not near as close as the disappointment you saw in his when you parted ways to see her to her door and he went home to unlock yours. You promise you’ll see her again. YOU DON’T. Date Number Twos rarely happen. You blame it on having too many jobs, the military training, or whatever other excuse ya got.

“Get a good night kiss at least,” he asks as you walk in and you grin letting him roll his eyes and mumble that of course you did. Your heart breaks a little inside. You always let him believe that. It’s easier than hurting him by confessing you haven’t been kissed or touched long before his Ma got sick. Long before your bed became half his. That the last taste on your tongue was the time you dipped your thumb past his lips after a particularly bad split one he came home with. Blood and him and you can still recall every flavor, every note like the ghost of your favorite wine ya don’t got enough nickels to rub together to buy now that ya blew it all playing pretend.

What good can saying it out loud do? What good can giving him hope be? When there’s a hundred reasons why you had to wait til he walked outside the bathroom before you let yourself taste him? That everything you feel’s gotta be in secret? And you can see in his eyes he’s got his own under lock and, like him, you wear the key around your neck. But you bend down, you rest your forehead against his and you breathe him in and, for a breath, the world spins in the right direction. He smiles. You smile. And he says the words that dig so deep in you, you know they’re in your marrow by now.

“You’re lucky I love ya,” and your heart is soaring so high that when he quickly rushes to follow it up with, “jerk..” cause he has to protect himself? You don’t mind and tell him you love him, too. You go to bed together after. Use the excuse of poor insulation and a crack in the wooden window frame letting in the chill (it’s spring and warm as hell, no sheets on the bed but who’s there to see?) to let him wrap himself around you from behind. Funny how he always has to be the big spoon when he’s so damn small. 

You wouldn’t trade him for the world. Cause that’s what he is to you.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 9/?

You can blame this one entirely on @cosmicclownboy​ and her obsession with Malex+Dog that has led to a lot of long conversations on the necessity to get Malex a dog. If anyone has any requests for this verse, let me know! I’m currently accepting prompts. 

Gif by the lovely @manesalex​

Week 9

Alex is in the bathroom shaving when Michael comes in, fully dressed and full of an excited energy not usually reserved for their lazy Sundays together. 

“What’s up?” Alex asks, looking at him through the reflection. 

“Hurry up, we’re going to the Mexican Market today,” Michael says with a huge smile on his face, which confuses Alex even more than the fact that his boyfriend is already dressed. Usually, Alex is the first one ready and Michael is the one to drag his feet. 

“I know,” he says, looking down at his phone to check the time. It’s barely nine. The market is open until two. “What’s the rush?” 

“I just want to get there before things start selling out,” Michael says, bouncing on his feet. 

“Like what?” 

They’ve already pre-ordered a tres leches cake and an order of pan de elote from their favorite booth that nearly always sells out immediately upon opening. And if they are planning on eating their body weight in tamales from Mr. Hernández today like they’d planned, he’s not sure why they need to get there well before lunch. 

 “Just… stuff,” he says vaguely before waving him along. “Let’s go.” 

Alex rolls his eyes and laughs. 

“Alright, fine. Can I at least finish my face first?” He’s only halfway done. He’ll look pretty ridiculous if he goes anywhere with the right side of his face completely shaved and two days worth of stubble on his left side. 

Michael reluctantly agrees before walking back out of the bathroom, explaining that he’s going to make Alex’s coffee so they can save time. Which is really a win in and of itself because Michael’s coffee is always better than when Alex makes it. 

Alex does his best to hurry through his morning routine, but there’s honestly only so much that he can do. Michael sits on the bed patiently watching him. Or, perhaps not patiently, but at least he doesn’t say anything to rush him along. Instead, he continually glances back at his phone as his leg bounces up and down anxiously. Alex works through his PT exercises as quickly as he can. He would skip the entire thing, but after missing it yesterday, he can’t afford to do so again. Michael wouldn’t ask him to, he’s the one always lecturing Alex about making sure he does them. 

Eventually, Alex is dressed and Michael is breathing a sigh or relief as they both climb into his truck together. Michael’s fingers tap at the steering wheel, and Alex would be worried about the anxiety radiating off of him if it weren’t for the smile on Michael’s face. He’s proud but trying to hide it. Whatever he’s got up his sleeve, Alex is going to enjoy it. 

Michael surprises him often. He’s always saying something romantic off the cuff or doing something so amazingly charming without realizing it. But rarely does Michael actually plan surprises for Alex. So, rather than ask the million questions he has running through his head or try and guess at what is going on, Alex decides to just go with it. 

They pull into the parking lot of the Pony, happy to see that it’s crowded. The market has been growing steadily each week and has been a much needed financial success for Maria and many of the local vendors who pay for a booth each week. They circle the lot a time or two before they find a spot all the way in the back. They get out of the car and Michael takes his hand happily as they walk towards the booths together. 

“We should stop by and say hello to Mrs. Delgado,” he says, gesturing over towards the row of artists. Their elderly neighbor has just recently started selling some of her pieces and Alex wants to ask how it’s going. Michael hums noncommittal though, and pulls Alex in the opposite direction. 

He trails after Michael, who is clearly on a mission. He waves sadly at several of their favorite booths, promising to come back later, since Michael clearly isn’t stopping for anything. And then, just as he’s staring longingly at the esquites, Michael stops suddenly and Alex walks right into him. He follows Michael’s gaze to find he’s staring into a makeshift pen of puppies. Three to be exact. 

They are adorable and immediately pull at Alex’s heart. 

He kneels down to get a good look at the puppies, who all jump excitedly at the pen, trying to reach Alex. He glances around and notices that there are several pens set up, all with dogs in them. The booth is one from the local shelter. 

The man in charge of the booth encourages Alex to pick one of the puppies up. As if Alex is going to say no to that. He’s never met a dog he didn’t immediately want to keep. 

Alex picks up the smallest of the bunch. He’s black with the tiniest spot of white around his nose and forehead. He’s just so inexplicably soft. The puppy licks at his jaw as Alex laughs, pulling the dog even closer to his chest. He’s in love. It’s been less than a minute, and Alex is head over heels in love. 

“What are we doing here?” he asks, turning to look at Michael, who’s smiling at him fondly. 

“That,” Michael says, pointing at him. “That look you have right now is what we are doing here.” 

The puppy begins to squirm in his arms, trying to get him to play, so Alex brings his attention back to the dog. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“You’ve been down for the last few weeks,” Michael says, moving over to pet the dog as well. “And while we wait for your meds to even out, I figured dogs are supposed to be soothing or something, right?” 

Alex pauses, looking up at Michael confused, but trying not to get his hopes up. “I thought you didn’t want a dog.” 

“I don’t,” Michael says. “But that doesn’t mean we can hang out with them for a day, right?” 

It might. Because now that Alex has one in his arms, there’s no way in hell he isn’t taking it home with him. He’s utterly perfect. 

Michael comes over to kneel beside Alex and nervously pets the dog in his hands. Alex watches as Michael’s smile grows as his shoulders start to relax. He’s seeing the appeal. Alex helps Michael hold the dog himself, and while he’s distracted, Alex snaps a picture. He can use it later when they inevitably get into a debate over whether or not they should get a puppy. Michael clearly is, despite all of his protesting, a dog person. 

While Michael is bonding with the boy, Alex takes it upon himself to pull his sister out of the pen for some love. She’s another black one, but has more white to her face than her brother. 

“How old are they?” Alex asks. 

“Fifteen weeks,” the man says. “All of them have been cleared by the vet and are ready for adoption.” 

Alex’s eyes move to Michael who immediately shakes his head in a half hearted protest. 

“Puppies are so much work.” 

Alex holds his puppy up to his face, making sure that Michael can see the puppy’s dopey smile. “Look at her,” he says. 

Michael rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face tells Alex that he’s making headway. They are coming home with a dog today, the only question is, which one. 

Michael puts his dog back in the pen and picks up the last puppy. Another boy. This time tan with a much wider stripe of white up his nose and around til about his shoulders. 

“What kind of dogs are they?” Michael asks the man. 

“Pitbull.”

Michael freezes and Alex thinks for a moment he’s going to say something negative, but instead he turns to give Alex a really sad look. “So they’re not gonna find a home, right?” 

“Depends,” the man says. “We were able to adopt out five of their siblings earlier this month, but these three weren’t as healthy and took a bit longer to perk up. We haven’t had any takers yet. But you never know. Not everyone believes the rumors about pitbulls.” 

That seems to relax Michael momentarily. 

“What’s the deal with their mom?” Michael asks. 

“Ah, that’s the tragedy,” the man says. “She was brought in pregnant. Traumatized. We have no background on her. She doesn’t eat. Doesn’t socialize well. She was alright with the puppies, but not great with others.”

“So what happened to her?” Alex asks, putting his puppy back in the pen and watching her run around with her brother. Michael hasn’t let go of the boy in his hands. He’s holding it close to his chest as the puppy closes his eyes and relaxes completely into the touch. Alex sneaks yet another picture of what he’s sure is about to be their dog with the way Michael is holding it so protectively. 

“They’re putting her to sleep in a few days,” the man says. 

“Why?” Michael says, standing up so quickly that the puppy in his arms whines, and Michael naturally goes to calm it. Alex is surprised how much watching Michael play daddy to this puppy affects him. 

“She was clearly abused. The vets don’t think she’ll do well in a home.” 

The look Michael gives him is one of clear distress. 

“She’s violent?” Alex asks, standing up as well. 

“More antisocial than outright violent,” the man shrugs. “Incredibly undernourished. If she doesn’t start eating, she won’t last. She had a hard time nursing.” 

Alex’s heart breaks. 

“We’ll take her,” Michael says. 

“What?” Of all the things Alex expected Michael to say, that was the last. 

“You haven’t even met her,” the guy says, equally as shocked. “She might not even make it that long. Wouldn’t you rather have a puppy?” 

Alex isn’t going to lie, though it sounds crazy, it feels right. But still, they should probably talk about this. 

“Can we have a moment?” Alex asks. 

“Sure.” The guy walks away to go talk to a kid who’s eyeing one of the other pens. 

“So they just separated the puppies from her mom and left her to die?” Michael says. He’s clearly agitated. Alex grabs the puppy out of his hands and drops him back into the pen with his siblings, just in case Michael’s powers get away from him. 

“I mean, it’s sad that she’s dying, I agree she needs a home,” Alex says, reaching out to put his hands on Michael’s hips. The touch seems to ground him. “But you knew these guys were eligible for adoption. Where did you think their mom was?”

“I don’t know,” Michael shrugs, defensively. “I didn’t really think about it. So they’re just gonna kill their mom?” 

Alex doesn’t like it either, but this is more than that. The look in his eyes is more distressed than some animal rights issue he’s only just learned about merits. The hurt in his eyes is personal. 

Alex gets it. He knows where Michael’s head is at and Alex empathizes with him. Of course he’s identifying hard with the situation. 

“Alex, we can’t let them do this,” he says, the question clear in his eyes. And Alex agrees. They’ll take the mom in. It’s the right thing to do. He nods his agreement. 

Michael steps out of Alex’s reach and waves the man back over. 

“We’ll take them all,” Michael says, causing Alex to do a double take. 

“What?” he asks. Clearly they are not on the same page here. That’s not what Alex was agreeing to. 

“I mean, we can’t just let them be orphans,” Michael says, waving at the pen with the three puppies. Their three puppies, apparently. 

Alex looks down at each of them, they are all jumping at the pen trying to get out. Each one of them perfect in their own way. Alex looks back at Michael looking for any sign of doubt on his face, there’s none. 

This is the craziest thing they’ve probably ever done, but also the best. 

“We’re taking them all,” Alex says. 

“I’ll make some calls,” the guy says with a laugh as he walks away. 

Several hours later, after a trip to the shelter followed by a chaotic trip to the pet store that Alex hopes to never repeat, they are home and debating names. Mom is in their bedroom, hidden under their bed and they’ve decided to leave her there for now as she adjusts to the new environment. Alex is laying on the couch with the boys curled up on his stomach. Their sister is curled up on Michael’s lap and sleeping. They’ve been debating names since they decided to take all of the dogs home. Alex is dead set on Luke, Leia, and Han for the puppies and Padme for mom, but Michael has problems with naming a pair of siblings after a pair of soulmates. As if it would be the first time Star Wars was incestious. 

Michael pulls out his phone and takes a picture of Alex with their puppies. It had taken less than a few hours for MIchael to go from ‘I don’t want a dog’ to ‘I’m a proud doggy dad and am going to post about them endlessly on Instagram.’ 

“They’re perfect,” Alex says, running his hands over both of his boys. In a single day, he’d become both a father and a grandfather and he’s surprisingly okay with this. He’s always wanted a dog, ever since he was a kid. Now he has four. 

“I don’t even care what we name them, so long as they never grow up,” Michael says.

And that’s how they end up settling on the names: Bell for mom, and Peter, John, and Wendy for the babies. It’s kind of perfect actually. Alex has always felt like Michael and he were the lost boys. Now they all have a home. 

Tagged: @callieramics​ @redstalkingdeath​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

As a special treat- meet the newest Manes-Guerins

^^ Special shout out to @cosmicclownboy​ for the last gif <3

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.10

“Does it taste okay?” asked Agatha, looking up at Nairi across the table. Her eyes looked different without the glasses, a little tireder, less focused.

“It’s really good,” said Nairi, swallowing a mouthful of her pasta. “I don’t really know what I’m doing in the kitchen, so any meal I don’t have to figure out myself is a good one, you know?”

“Well, thank you for the ringing praise,” said Agatha drily.

“I—sorry,” said Nairi, “it is good, I do mean it.”

Agatha’s mouth twitched up with a small smile. “I know. I was only teasing.”

“Oh, well, sorry for being stupid then,” said Nairi, smiling back at her.

Agatha laughed as she pushed herself up from the table, collecting their bowls. “You’re not stupid, Nairi.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shifting so that Agatha could move past her to get into the kitchen. Her apartment was cramped; a single bedroom tacked on to one living space, and her round kitchen table was crammed into the corner. Nairi’s legs were a little long for it. She hesitated, watching Agatha cross to the kitchen. “Do you want a hand with the dishes?”

Agatha smiled at her, running the sink. “No, I’ve got it, I’m fussy about how I wash them. I appreciate the company, though.”

Nairi nodded, getting out of the slightly too-low seat to join her by the sink, leaning awkwardly against the countertop and crossing her arms as the smell of dishwash detergent started to tickle her nose. Nairi watched her scrub the bowls and felt a slight tinge of self-judgement: she’d run her dishwasher to clean three mugs earlier in the week. “So, um, did you get much done today?” she asked instead of thinking too hard about it.

“Hardly anything,” said Agatha, rolling her eyes. “I was in two classes today. I hate dealing with freshmen so much—they’re only barelyenrolled by their own inclination.”

“You don’t like teaching much, do you?” said Nairi, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve where it was tucked under her elbow.

“Not at all,” said Agatha, wrinkling her nose. “Especially now—I’m trying to finish prepping this article for peer review and journal submission and it’s absolutely nerve wracking. It’s only my second time trying to get published and the first paper went through two rounds of rejections before I got anywhere. How was your day? No classes for you, right?”

“No, closed on Tuesdays and Sundays,” said Nairi with a nod. “Weekends tend to be free for more people though, so if business picks up, I might change it.”

“You had a nice sleep in and a lazy veg day, then?” said Agatha, smiling as she rinsed a cup and set it on the rack.

Nairi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I took some lunch over to Linden’s studio and we chatted.”

“Really?” said Agatha, and she paused. “Oh. That’s odd, Linden doesn’t really like taking people over there.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi slowly, trying to figure out the weird note in Agatha’s voice. “I think she wanted to talk about a painting she’s making me, she keeps telling me my living room is too boring.”

Agatha nodded, draining the sink. “That makes sense,” she said, reaching for a kitchen towel. “She’s very firm about art and atmosphere, your bare walls must offend her on principle.”

“I think so, yeah,” said Nairi, trying to keep her tone light. “She keeps telling me I’m going to go insane if all I have to look at is plaster and brick.”

Agatha laughed, stepping away from the sink. “She’s a bitch like that. Do you want to stay tonight? I don’t have to be on campus ‘til noon tomorrow, so I can promise not to rush you out in the morning.”

Oh, this was going to be a thing, wasn’t it. Nairi hesitated. “I’d like to,” she started, trying to pick out her words with care, “but I told Linden I’d stay up so she could check in after her job tonight, and she thinks it’ll be about one.”

“That’s okay,” said Agatha, smiling at her as she rehung the kitchen towel and stepped into Nairi’s personal space. “I sleep very solidly, so if you need to call her you can just step out, or, you know, wake me up if you need to sound the alarms.”

“Oh,” said Nairi, and she smiled awkwardly back at Agatha. “Cool. I guess that works out then.”

Agatha kissed her cheek. “Great. Do you want to watch something? I’m afraid I’m terribly boring—I recorded a documentary yesterday, it’s about giant squid.”

She was smiling as she said it though, and it wasn’t like Nairi found anything interesting when she turned her TV on. She’d gotten a DVD player with it, but she didn’t own any movies. She’d thought about it, but nothing really looked… interesting.

Agatha had a small shelf of DVDs next to her entertainment unit. She could always ask about it later.

“It sounds good,” she said, turning and following Agatha to the couch. “I’m afraid I’m terribly boring, I don’t know anything about giant squids.”

Agatha laughed as Nairi sat down, shifting closer to be next to her, leaning in against Nairi’s side. Nairi thought about it for a second, then wrapped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders. This seemed to be the right thing to do, Agatha kissing her cheek with a warm smile before turning her attention to the remote as she set the recorded program to play.

Nairi tried to pay attention to the show. The voice was soothing and passionate about the topic, well-informed as they tried to educate her on the probable facts about what was apparently a very controversial fish. Cephalopod? Apparently squid weren’t fish.

…Apparently squid weren’t the same as octopuses either.

Agatha’s hand was wrapped loosely around Nairi’s, her fingers a little too warm. Nairi thought about brushing her off, but her hand was really just hanging there, Agatha was the one holding it. Fuck, this was so much more to think about than it should have been. Agatha hummed as the narrator with the smooth transatlantic accent posed a question and laced her fingers more tightly with Nairi’s. Too late, damnit, how was she bad at sitting on a couch?

She’d always been bad at people, though. Staying away had been fine, she’d always been good at keeping people at arm’s length, how the fuckwas she supposed to let someone be close. She wanted this, didn’t she? It felt nice to be touched by people, without judgement, or grabbing. It didn’t hurt, and she missed it when they didn’t. Linden liked touching and being touched, Agatha did too, and god, she just felt lonely when she thought about it—

This was fine. It was fine.

Agatha’s thumb was rubbing a small circle on the back of her hand. Nairi squeezed it gently and rubbed her own thumb in return, making Agatha sigh and tuck her head into the crook of Nairi’s neck. Nairi shifted to let herself sink a little into the corner of her couch, bringing her legs up so that she and Agatha were lying almost parallel. It was comfortable. Agatha’s couch was squashy and good, and a thousand times better than the piece of shit in Linden’s studio. Not as wide as Nairi’s, but she’d just bought the most expensive couch that would fit in her apartment.

Agatha’s pulse against her fingers ticked up a notch and she shifted to lie against Nairi fully. This was actually good; the warm, reassuring pressure through their clothes, the presence of another person against her, soft and quiet. Like this she could pretty much ignore the too hot, moist sweatiness of Agatha’s hand in hers and focus on how nice it was to exist in the same space as her without being on guard.

She had no idea what the show was talking about now, the smooth accent was talking about depth and pressure units, the screen almost black with the ocean. She couldn’t hold onto the words; they slipped through her ears like she was in a dream. It felt like every breath she took was out of sync, a second behind the motion of her chest, like every normal movement was happening on a delay. Like she was just… visiting her own body. It wasn’t bad,necessarily, just… Odd.

“—ri? Are you okay?”

Nairi willed her head to move towards Agatha. It took far too long, but she got there eventually. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling like her mouth was too dry. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.

Did she always sound like that? All distant and weirdly pitched?

Agatha didn’t seem perturbed by it, so maybe she did. She leaned in towards Nairi, her lips moving, she was saying something else but Nairi couldn’t tell what it was. She saw Agatha’s lips connect with hers before she felt them. This was fine.

Totally fine. Nairi couldn’t really focus on what she was doing; it was like she was swimming while still wearing her clothes, or that one time she’d had to wade through chest high mud. One metaphorical foot in front of the other, it was just moving, just touching, that was all she had to do, then eventually they’d stop, and she was going to get clean, and have warm clothes, and there’d be a dark, safe place where she could sleep.

Agatha was nice, nicer than her, and she couldn’t even feel how sweaty her bare skin was anymore, it wasn’t as good as through the clothes, but it was probably nice, still fine—

Soft laughter reached her ears, and Nairi muzzily turned her head, finding Agatha’s face, her glasses-less eyes unfocused and smiling. “Tired, night owl?”

Not really. Nairi nodded anyway. “I have to—” she started to say, but her words were coming too slowly. When had the documentary stopped?

“Check in with Lindy, I know,” said Agatha, kissing Nairi’s bare shoulder. “We should get some sleep first, you can set an alarm?”

Nairi tried to imagine climbing into an actual bed with another human being at that moment and her brain flipped sideways. “It’s okay, I’m not tired,” she said, pulling herself to sit upright. She just needed to clear her head, that was all. She was fine.

“Alright,” said Agatha, sounding faintly amused. She reached down and picked up Nairi’s shirt from where it had dropped, handing it back, and Nairi pulled it over her head, trying not to look too relieved. It was just cheap cotton, but it was like wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, removing some of the tension in her head and her hands. Agatha kept talking without her. “Do you want some tea? I’ve got a box somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, seeing an opportunity to get some space and clinging to it. “Thanks. I’m just gonna, wash up.”

“Of course,” said Agatha, leaning in and kissing Nairi’s cheek before she stood. “There’s fresh wash cloths and proper soap under the sink.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, doing her best to stand up and cross the room at a normal pace.

The cold water was a blessing on her hands. She left the door open a crack so that she could hear Agatha bustling about the kitchen, and she splashed some water at her eyes as she heard the tell-tale clank of a stove top kettle being filled and the gas clicking on. Her face seemed to come into focus as she stared at herself in the mirror over the sink, and she let the water run for a moment, watching a droplet slowly climb down the side of her nose and onto her cheek.

She shook her head and turned the hot tap, letting the water warm as she opened the cupboard under the sink. There was a small selection of bottles too tall for the drawers, each labelled something like “face”, “hand soap refill”, “moisturiser: body”, in identical looking printed stickers. There was a small stack of wash cloths next to them.

Nairi hesitated and grabbed a bottle of face wash and the first wash cloth from the pile. It was soft, and the soap was gentler than hers, smelling of rose and something herbal. She washed her face and hands slowly, rinsing off afterwards. The cuffs on her shirt sleeves were damp, faintly scented once she finished, and Nairi tossed the cloth into the hamper before putting the soap bottle away. She didn’t know exactly why you’d bother to use separate soaps for your face and hands, but it felt nice.

A safe topic of conversation, probably.

It took more effort than she’d care to admit to make herself open the door and go back to the main room. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night though, and the window was too small to climb out of.

When she came back to the kitchen Agatha had changed into sleepwear and a robe, looking very cosy, and she handed Nairi a mug of grassy chamomile tea. The ceramic was almost too hot to touch, setting Nairi’s raw fingertips on fire as she took it. She took a burning sip, giving Agatha an awkward smile in thanks.

“It’s a little late for me,” said Agatha apologetically. “But I sleep fairly hard, so I promise not to stab you when you come in.”

Nairi forced a laugh, not sure how else to respond. “Thanks. Sleep well?”

Agatha nodded, smiling warmly at her. “I will. Tell Linden to get home safe for me?”

“Sure,” said Nairi.

Agatha leaned up on tiptoe and kissed her lightly before Nairi could say or do anything else, then padded across to the bedroom with a small wave.

Nairi watched her shadow move around in the space between the door frame and the floor for several minutes before the light shut off, leaving her alone in the main room of the apartment. She glanced at the couch, and turned on the spot, taking her tea over to the table and sitting in the chair in the corner. There was a stack of books on the counter next to her and she grabbed one at random. It was a well-worn paperback branding itself a ‘classic’, and the decidedly vintage style of writing with the cramped print demanded a high level of focus that Nairi threw herself into, determined not to think of anything else.

Between it and the chamomile her nerves eventually soothed, and by the time her phone chirped with Linden’s text her mug was empty and she was no longer hyper-aware of her own heartbeat. The quiet hum of Agatha’s electronics and the difficulty of parsing what was happening on the page kept her present and relaxed.

She set down the paperback, reading Linden’s dry check in.

Lind A: out safe omw home Lind A: very boring dude no danger except for warts :p Lind A: gonna bleach my feet lol grabbed a taxi no mugging i promise xox

Nairi tapped out a quick response.

Glad I don’t have to kill anyone. Agatha says get home safe.

Lind A: safe and comfy :) Lind A: tell her she’s a bitch lol Lind A: get some SLEEP!!

Will do.

Nairi waited a few moments, but there was no further response. She set the phone down and looked over to the dark door of Agatha’s bedroom, legs tensing a little with the shift to move to stand. She chewed her lip, staring, then picked up the book and leaned back in her chair again.

[thirstforfleck]

you belong to me~Arthur Fleck x Reader

summary: it’s a rainy day in gotham. you and arthur have a romantic dinner at home and slow dance to romantic tunes.

warnings: none? just lots of fluff

word count: 1,774

notes:Hello, all. This is my very first piece of writing I’m posting to this site. I’m not the BEST writer there ever was (some of you are absolutely amazing and my writing does not compare to yours) so please don’t be too hard on me. I was heavily influenced by You Belong to Me by Jo Stafford for this piece of writing. I think my writing went downhill at the halfway point because I’m three glasses of wine in and have just been writing from my feels. Been feelin’ romantic all day. (also I made this as gender neutral as possible) hope you enjoy :)

Gotham City was damp, chilly, and more uninviting than usual that night. The severe thunderstorm warning was not to be taken lightly. Bright flashes of lightening lit up the sky, followed by Earth-shattering rumbles of thunder. You watched out the window as the rain fell at a 45 degree angle. Debris and leaves in the filthy streets below danced in a funnel shape. You loved thunderstorms. The sound of the rain pelting the roof was soothing and the smell of petrichor delighted your senses. 

The sky’s grumbles and the low vocals of Al Bowlly lilted through the apartment. Arthur hummed as he moved about in the kitchen. He was preparing fettuccine alfredo for dinner. Arthur was an amazing cook, preparing some of your favorite comfort foods on a weekly basis: blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings, grilled cheese and tomato soup on Friday afternoons (provided he wasn’t working), and spaghetti with marinara on Wednesday evenings. You usually got off work earlier than Arthur, so most of the time you would fix a hot meal for when he got home from a long day at Ha-Ha’s. 

“Darlin’, dinner is ready,” Arthur called to you.

You turned from the window and walked to the kitchen. “I’ll help you set the table.”

You set the table in the corner of the living room while Arthur poured the pasta into a bowl. In the meantime, you aggressively pulled the cork out of your bottle of Chardonnay. You poured yourself a healthy amount. Arthur took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet. Alcohol messed with his many medications so he didn’t drink.

“Artie, this smells absolutely amazing,” you enthused, taking a seat.

“Anything for my love,” Arthur smiled from across the table.

You and Arthur ate in comfortable silence, exchanging sweet glances. The creamy sauce melted in your mouth. You hummed as you savored the meal bite by bite. Arthur was a self-taught cook, serving his mother for many years. There were stacks of recipe books throughout the apartment, from which Arthur took inspiration. 

After cleaning your plate, you helped yourself to another serving. Arthur only enjoyed a small portion. He never had a large appetite. He lit a cigarette for dessert. “This is incredible,” you spoke. “Seriously.” You took every chance you could get to boost Arthur’s self-esteem. You have helped him so much in the past year you’ve been together. He was more confident in his comedy, his cooking, and even just in his daily interactions with the public.

Arthur was glowing. “Thank you, darling,” he smiled. He started to clear the table, when you reached your arm out to stop him.

“I’ll do it,” you insisted. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Arthur paused. “Are you sure?” Arthur hated asking people for help. In the past, he was always denied help from those he asked. He was always used to completing tasks himself. The only time he truly asked for help was from his therapist, and even when it came to her, Arthur didn’t think she truly cared to help. Arthur was still not used to you assisting him, whether it was with housekeeping or ideas for jokes, or even something as simple as trimming his hair. 

You nodded. “Just let me finish eating and I’ll clean.”

Arthur gave you a toothy grin. He leaned across the table and planted a kiss on your lips. The blend of butter, salt, and cheese on your lips tasted heavenly to Arthur. You giggled into the kiss. “I love you,” he sang.

“I love you, too,” you said. 

You devoured your second helping and started clearing the table. Arthur sat on the couch, relishing another cigarette. After storing the leftovers and washing the dishes, you poured yourself a second glass of wine. The thunder and lightening seemed to have left the atmosphere but the rain was still coming down strong. 

The dim light of the apartment combined with the gloomy clouds just barely seen through the windows made for a romantic setting in the apartment. You walked towards Arthur, making intense eye contact with him. His legs were spread, feet flat on the floor. He put his cigarette out in the ashtray next to him. You placed your wine glass on the coffee table. Gently, you climbed onto his lap and straddled him. Your hands brushed the hair out of his eyes and gingerly held his face. His brilliant green eyes twinkled. For a man as young as he was, he had deep forehead wrinkles and crow’s feet carved into his face. You didn’t mind: in fact, it made him more handsome if that was even possible. You adored the scar above his lip, from an accident he was involved in as a child (he didn’t go into great detail). You pressed a kiss to his upper lip, then to the corners of his mouth. “You are so good to me, Arthur Fleck,” you sighed. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, entwining your fingers in his thick, dark curls. 

Arthur’s breathing eased. Playing with his hair was his biggest weakness. He adored your tender strokes throughout his mess of hair and your fingernails giving him light scalp massages. “I could say the same thing about you, Y/N,” he whispered. 

Your lips touched his. Kissing you was the closest place to Heaven on Earth for Arthur. The way you treated him and cared for him made him feel like the only man in the world. He never thought he would find his one and only, but he did. It was you.

You pulled away with a soft smile. You just noticed the Al Bowlly record stopped playing, the fuzz at the end of the record playing on loop. “Oh, geez!” You jumped off Arthur and on to your feet. Shuffling over to the record player, you began to examine the records. There were ancient 78’s from his mother, a few 45’s of his absolute favorite songs, and mostly the standard 33 1/3’s. You found your favorite album: the latest compilation album of Jo Stafford’s greatest hits. Arthur gifted it to you last Christmas and you listened to it on repeat for weeks. You’re surprised you didn’t wear out the needle on the turntable. 

The first song of the album was ‘You Belong To Me,' arguably Jo Stafford’s biggest hit. Her deep, elegant voice sent chills down your spine. This song in particular made you shed tears many times in the past. It reminded you of Arthur. You placed the record on the turntable and set the needle on the first groove. The marimba and Jo’s vocals played softly through the speakers. You turned the volume up almost as loud as it could go. 

“Come on, Artie. Dance with me,” you approached him with your arms extended. Arthur couldn’t resist dancing with you. Every night after Live! with Murray Franklin, he would dance with you to the closing song, ‘That’s Life’. He was truly a romantic at heart, and his actions proved it. 

Arthur grabbed ahold of your hands and you tugged him off the couch. “How can I resist you, Y/N?” he smiled at you. Your right hand and his left hand clasped together. Your left hand snaked its way up his back and clasped onto his shoulder. His right hand found your waist and caressed it. 

See the pyramids along the Nile

Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle

Just remember, darling, all the while

You belong to me

Jo Stafford’s passionate ballad carried through the apartment as you and Arthur swayed to the tune. 

See the marketplace in old Algiers

Send me photographs and souvenirs

Just remember when a dream appears

You belong to me

You held your gaze with Arthur, never breaking the connection. He was stunning, caring, intelligent, gentle, talented, all the positive words in the dictionary. And he was yours. Your soulmate. Your person. The love of your life. Yours. 

I’ll be so alone without you

Maybe you’ll be lonesome too and blue

You couldn’t help but tear up at that line. It was true. Before Arthur, you were lonely. Living a life that consisted only of work and sleep. You didn’t think such a love like his existed. 

Fly the ocean in a silver plane

See the jungle when it’s wet with rain

Just remember ’til you’re home again

You belong to me

Arthur noticed the tears that created a film over your eyes. “My love, what’s wrong?” he spoke softly. His hands embraced your cheeks. His thumbs stroked over the tears that sparingly dripped from your eyes.

You shook your head, your eyes now making contact with his socks. “Nothing, I…” your voice trailed. Your eyes met his once again and you smiled tearfully. You could hear the thunder come rolling back in and echo throughout Gotham City. Jo Stafford’s beautiful voice was building with vigor, overpowering Mother Nature. 

I’ll be so alone and without you

Maybe you’ll be lonesome too and blue

“Nothing is wrong, Arthur,” you spoke softly. “I just… I don’t deserve you and I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do with myself if you left me.”

Arthur’s right hand trailed down your shoulder as his left hand held your chin. He felt the exact same way. Before you, he was the shell of a man. In his mind, he had nothing left to live for. Until, he met you. You sincerely loved him for who he was. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, but he was grateful. He counted his blessings every day because of you. “Hey, silly. I’m not going anywhere. I am never, ever leaving you. You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Letting you go would… well, it would be the biggest mistake of my life.” You chuckled shyly, more tears falling. Arthur kissed away your salty tears. “I love you, Y/N.”

Fly the ocean in a silver plane

See the jungle when it’s wet with rain

But remember, darling, ’til you’re home again

You belong to me

“I love you too, Arthur,” you smiled. You and Arthur locked lips. Arthur’s arms encircled you and squeezed, holding you as close as humanly possible. Your arms found their way around his neck. The warm, romantic embrace gave you both a fuzzy feeling inside, something you both couldn’t describe. Nevertheless, you both knew it was something you never wanted to let go of. You had found each other: you were soulmates. It was as simple as that.

tagging my girl @freewriterofdarkness​ bc she wanted to read it :) also, if you would like to be tagged in future works, please let me know :)

[ofmythsandmadness]

i need a favour - two.

PART TWO - don’t call me baby. or, klaus always knows how to make things a little bit more tense, even without meaning to (but no one can ever hate him for it)

WORD COUNT: 3000 or so. PREVIOUS PART(s): part one

A/N: i was surprised at honestly the good response? i wasn’t considering anyone liking it, but i’m glad. i’ve got a little series tag list going on for those who requested to be updated on this - if you want to be added, just ask and I can do that :) I’m updating this at three in the morning, because I didn’t have much inspo for finishing it til now? if it’s badly written and honestly, i feel that with the ending, i’m super sorry. but on another note, there’ll be more parts if I can get my shit together, at least a couple more chapters because i want to have a proper growth session (yee haw, buckle up i guess). I’m still getting used to writing x reader things, I don’t normally even read them, but this is pretty fun and it’s something I can do. and i’m happy people enjoy reading it. (sorry for the super long a/n.)

FOR MOST, IT WOULD BE STRANGE TO SEE a teacher smiling as they went through a stack of to-be papers. Frowns, or grumblings were more common, only covered by a constant reaching for more coffee to keep them alert. But for Y/N and her creative writing class, it was nothing unusual. She largely favoured the course to teaching AP English, and most of the time enjoyed reading what the students came up with. The prompts were fun and the followup even better - no matter the spelling and grammar mistakes, the students were not without creativity. If she was being honest, it might just be the greatest opportunity a young teacher in her position could get. And she was not without appreciation for that.

The prompt that week perhaps made her marking job even more entertaining. She asked them to tell her about their childhood hero, and a large portion of the class had chosen to write about the infamous ‘Umbrella Academy’. Even if they were on the younger age and only saw the group in the later years, more than half of her students still fawned and gushed about the super-beings. The one in hand just then particularly favoured a certain Number Two - citing him as their first childhood crush, someone that their small self quite adored.

She snorted at their shy confession. If only they knew Diego like she did - maybe the mask and knives would not be so attractive.

Just before she could turn to the next page, her phone lit up and she had to place the red pen down. The number was not recognised by her phone, but she hardly spared a thought on that, sighing before bringing the device to her ear. “Hello, Y/N Y/L/N here.”

“Well, don’t you sound professional.”

Speak of the devil. She fought back a smile. “You really have to get your own phone, you know.”

“Why, so you can get even more excited it’s me?”

“No. So I know not to answer.”

“Ouch. You’d say that to the love of your life?”

Y/N transferred the phone to her other ear, pressing it into her next and jaw as she fixed her piles. “Okay, hold on. Thought you were my fake boyfriend, not ‘the love of my life’. Did I miss that in our agreement?”

“Ain’t that the same thing?”

“No,” she shot back. There was no point elaborating, she knew he was joking - and yet for some reason, the casual question did sting a little. She quickly brushed the thought away, though, and continued. “Why are you calling me? I’m working.”

“I’m calling on your break, aren’t I?”

“Sure, but you’re interrupting my paper-grading.”

She could practically see the teasing smirk on his face, imagining him leaning against the telephone booth with the device pressed up to his ear. Trying to be stupidly suave. What she wouldn’t give to trip him up. “Sorry to interrupt that, I didn’t know you were having such a great time.”

“Well, I’ll have you know I-” she cut herself short as the door swung open. Her frown quickly shifted to a polite smile and Y/N gestured for the student to come in, motioning silently to her phone. She turned back with a lower voice and new sense of urgency. “Do you need something, Diego, or are you just calling to tease me?”

“C’mon, don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m about three seconds from hanging up-”

“-okay, sure. I do have a question.”

She shifted in her seat, sparing another glance to the waiting student just to make sure she was still there. The girl stood patiently - well, in the sense of trying her very best to pick up on just what the conversation was without being obvious. Y/N smiled a little at that.

“What is it, then?”

“They’re moving dinner to Sunday. Can you make that?”

Y/N did not have to rack her brain to know her answer. “Yeah, probably. I’ll have to bump all my plans around, but I guess I can make it work.”

“Oh, right. Cause you have so much going on.”

“Screw off, Diego, ‘else I might just be too busy to show up to dinner.”

He sobered up then, though he did force an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Thanks.”

“Uh-huh. We can talk later about details but-” she shot another glance the girl’s way, gesturing she would just be one more minute, “-I have to actually go. Okay?”

He laughed softly into the phone. “Sure. See you, sweetheart.”

“Bye, loser - and don’t call me that!”

He hung up with nothing more as a response, leaving Y/N to sigh and slam the phone back down to her desk. She smiled apologetically at the teen. “Sorry about that, Trish.”

“Oh, no worries,” the girl grinned. The smile was sly - a look only a curious high schooler knew best. “Everything all good?”

“Oh, n...yes, yeah.” Guess she had to go along with the teasing remark - not that Trisha had been sent as a spy by the Hargreeves siblings, trying to test the validity of their very not real relationship. But it did not hurt to push the narrative. “Yeah, that’s just my...uh...boyfriend. Confirming plans, no big deal.”

Trish’s smile grew larger. “Sounds cute.”

How someone could sound cute, especially when she had not even heard him actually speak, Y/N could not say. But she just laughed it off, played the part she had dealt herself. “Yeah, he’s...great. But anyways, how can I help you?”

||

AT THE FIRST KNOCK, Y/N was throwing the door open, rubbing at her eyes so she could take in the situation properly. Her eyes flitted down Diego, scanning frantically for any wounds or issues that would need serious work, or just any sign in his face of what could be an urgent matter. There was no bloody giveaways on his clothes this time, though, and his face was warped into strangely, a stiff grin, instead of a look of pain.

“Well, at least you used the door this time,” she sighed, opening it wider so he could come in. She stiffened, though, as he moved closer than normally, brushing her into a one-armed hug before pulling away. Y/N’s mouth fell open to question the embrace, but fortunately her eyes fell on the answer before she could be made a fool. “Oh. Oh. Hi, Klaus...?”

“Long story,” Diego mumbled into her ear, disguising the whisper with a kiss to her temple. She tried to focus only on the word and not how the strange shiver shot down her back at his touch, no matter how she felt. “Picked him up, he wouldn’t leave me alone and I really didn’t want him wasted up somewhere bad.”

She only nodded in response and turned her arms to Klaus, wrapping him up in a hug. He felt warmer than he had the last time they hung out - a bit more meat seemed to be on his bones, too, though he was still a willowy, langly man. A somewhat sober nature did suit him.

“My darling Y/N - congratulations!”

“Congr-”

“-you managed to do the impossible - and oh! How happy I am to welcome you to our crazy family!”

Oh, right. That.

“I always had a feeling that there was something between the two of you, but I never knew that the day would come where you’d actually admit it..” Klaus’ arms slung easily around both Diego and Y/N, drawing them close to him with a ferocity neither expected. Their heads very nearly knocked together, before Diego could wriggle out of the hold. “My dear little Y/N, tying down this grumpy asshole.”

She laughed semi-nervously. “Guess that’s me, yeah.”

“You two always looked good together, so adorable,” he continued, letting them go without a second thought. Luckily, he missed her glare to her supposed boyfriend, as well as the mouthed apology, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. “And between all the pining looks and - well, I don’t think anyone should be surprised you two finally decided to bump uglies!”

If there was any water in her mouth, Y/N would have done a classic spit take right then and there. As it were, she could just choke on air and attempt to keep her exposure in the face of a bold-face lie. 

Fortunately, Diego was there to swoop in - somewhat. “I did not pick you up so you could badger Y/N about our sex life, Klaus. Say your shit or get out.” He sank into her couch and Y/N did not miss the flash of pain across his face - there was something wrong. She could already feel the frown of concern forming.

“You’re the one who forced me into your car.”

“Yeah, well,” he shot back through gritted teeth, “you were gonna get yourself killed, dumbass.”

“So now I can’t go anywhere without a babysitter, simply because of a slight issue in the past?”

“You are a recovering add-”

“-the details don’t matter, Diego,” Klaus muttered, only flinching the slightest bit under Diego’s withering stare. “And it’s not my fault everyone’s now so busy with their lives. I mean, you do really show up at the worst of times, just to bust me and not to catch up on all that quality ‘bro’ time we missed out on!”

Y/N gently pushed him forward and into a seat before moving onto Diego. She fished out the little aid kit kept under the kitchen sink and sank into the couch beside him. “Show me what’s wrong. And Klaus, what about Luther? Allison?”

“Both too far,” he whined back.

“Okay...stop squirming Di...uh, don’t you have Five?”

“Five can’t legally do anything except for like, drive. And even then, is he even old enough to have a license yet?” He paused for dramatics, only to sigh when neither gave much response. “I just worry for that boy, I can’t be the only one questioning this.”

“Vanya, then.”

Klaus shook his head once more. “I love the girl, but sometimes, a bit too dry for me. We don’t have the same tastes, and I’m afraid I might be tone-deaf. Severely so. Incurably so, darling.”

“Aw, Klaus.” She poked at Diego’s side, sticking her tongue out when he tried to push her away. “Shirt up, let me see how bad it is.”

He rolled his eyes. “S’barely a scratch. Let it be.”

“C’mon, I don’t want it getting infected, let me see!” She poked again, forcing him to lift the shirt up and reveal the nasty scratch. He still fought her hands away, even when she was obviously going to win the fight. She swatted his calloused fingers off, however, and inspected the wound despite his protests.

Diego was just about to shoot another insult her way, eyes a-flashing in that sly, tired way that only came out in the wee hours, when they were both cut off.

“Oh, don’t tell me I’m going to be interrupting a moment here?”

Immediately Y/N felt herself stiffen and everything feel a little bit colder. She could not lift her gaze from his wound, too anxious to look and see how Diego was reacting to the comment.

“I can leave, if that’s wanted? I understand the whole new couple thing, believe me. Been there, done that, and I’m always ready to try and start that over again tonight!”

She bit back a groan.

In all the fuss of getting them in and dealing with Diego, she had hardly spared a thought to the night ahead. Sure, she had realised it was going to be awkward every time a Hargreeve mentioned their ‘relationship’, but not like this - not where she would be left stammering, trying to defend herself to one of her closest friends. Not even defend, but...well, she was not sure what she was supposed to be trying to do. Aside from not combust from all the hot blood rushing straight to her face.

And all she had wanted was to sleep.

But there was no way she would kick either or both of them out, not in their states. Diego would end up staying anyways just like he always did, grumbling as she fussed over him - and she would not just kick Klaus out like that. She adored the both of them and had made a promise. 

So, Y/N sucked in a breath and forced a gentle smile. “You’re not interrupting anything, hush.”

“Oh, I don’t mi-”

“-you wanna stay a while, Klaus? I have a feeling Diego’s not gonna be moving, and I don’t want you wand’ring the streets alone in your state.”

Diego’s eyes immediately shot to her, but she ignored the pointed stare.

“Oh, I’d hate to intrude on your relaxation session. Truly, I’ll just go!”

Gross, Klaus, she mused to herself - the guy was injured, for hell’s sake. “Seriously, you’re not. Please, just stay. There’s plenty a’room and I had nothing going on, anyways.” Aside from sleep - but that had been thrown out the window the second the pair had shown up, anyways.

A smile broke out on Klaus’ face and he shot up, moving to awkwardly hug Diego’s shoulder - much to the man’s chagrin. “I don’t know how you managed to convince her to like a prick like you. She’s an angel - you’re an angel, Y/N really.”

“You’re too sweet, but seriously, I don’t mind the company,” she grinned, swatting Klaus’ hands away. Hers were pressed against Diego’s torso, trying to wipe away the blood already drying around the wound. It, luckily, was not too bad- though serious enough to need serious attention. “Make yourself comfortable, just please don’t touch the booze!”

As his brother’s laugh floated away, Diego groaned. “Can’t we kick him out?”

“The more the merrier,” she sang back, ignoring the glare shot her way. “C’mon, I promise I’ll make it up to you later, baby.”

Diego did not bother to even try and hide him flipping her off. If anything, he brandished the action proudly. She just grinned back, trying to fight back her beating heart and flushed cheeks. She just had to deal with this - it was what she agreed to and it was just them. She hung out with the two of them for years and years. The only difference now was that she and Diego were supposed to be ‘bumping uglies’, but she could deal with Klaus’ comments.

Right?

||

“YOU COULD TRY AND BE A LITTLE NICER,” she said, swatting at him with a towel. “He is your brother.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “He’s an asshole, is what he is.”

“Why, he interrupted our quote-on-quote ‘alone time’?”

“No,” he grumbled, “but I didn’t really come here to put on a show.”

Y/N wanted desperately to then ask, ‘well why did you come’, but the words just would not come out. Instead, she just shook her head and played along with ignoring the implication. “C’mon, dummy. Would you rather we kicked him out and left him to do...well, whatever Klaus does? That wouldn’t be good.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Y/N watched as he absent-mindedly stroked the silvery scar carved into his head, a motion she thought probably was not even intentional. “I know. I know. S’why I brought him here.”

“So…”

“...all I’m saying is, I didn’t expect to have ‘im here all night.”

She shot him a teasing smile before twisting away, reaching up towards her top cupboards. Her fingers grazed the wood but could not quite reach the glasses pushed to the far back. How had she reached them before? 

“If you wanted to just hang out with me, Diego, you could’a just said. I mean, I get it. I am irresistible and adorable in every which way.”

“I agree. You are super irritating and annoying.”

“Oh, wow, those are some big words!” Y/N gritted her teeth, stretching as far as she could forward to grab the glass - but ended up just sinking back to her toes with a sigh. “You been reading that dictionary I bought you?”

“You really just carry that teacher voice around wherever you go, don’t you,” he grinned. With ease, he reached up and brought down the glass she had been reaching for, earning a muttered ‘thanks’. “And for your information, I don’t even know where that thing is.”

“Liar.”

“Not kidding.” 

“You lost my heartfelt gift to you?”

“Nah, I probably used it as target practice.”

She rolled her eyes, even if he could not see her face when focused on her hands. She poured a little more than halfway, pausing before shrugging and bringing it up to her lips. Still turned away, she swallowed. “You’re maybe the most insufferable boyfriend I’ve ever had, you know.”

“Oh, come on. That can’t be true.”

“No, I mean that. I don’t normally date people who bicker with me and lose my hard thought-out gifts like that. Assholes like you.”

“Yeah? What about Ty?”

“What about him?”

“He was an asshole.”

Y/N shrugged and focused her gaze on the cupboards opposite her. Better that than his face, right then. “Sure he was. But I think he took care and kept the presents I gave him. I mean, ‘til shit hit the fan, but still. They were appreciated.”

“You’re really comparing me to one of the biggest dicks because I didn’t value your joke gift?”

At that, she chuckled and finally looked his way. One glass of wine down and her sense of smart humour was already fleeing fast. “Can’t compare what I don’t know, can I? Though, he, he was packing, I will tell you that.”

That did not even make much sense, but her messily dirty joke still took a jab his way. Immediately, Diego’s face fell into a look of disgust - though, funnily enough, his cheeks shone red in the dim kitchen light - and Y/N could not keep her laughter in. 

“Sorry, that didn’t even make any sense...”

“You’re gross,” he grinned back, shaking his head in fake disgust. “Don’t know what I see in you.”

She giggled mercilessly at him, ignoring his mumbles to keep quiet, caught up in the adorable face he made.

Wait, she interrupted, not adorable. Not in the adorable nature as - well, it was cute, but like in a little kid sort of way. Yeah. Was that a better way to look at it? She was not sure, but it still left her sobering up pretty quickly.

Her eyes fell down to the counter, tracing the swirls of wood before lifting once more. A low hum left her lips. “Nah, you’re right. He sucked. And you do too, don’t get me wrong, but not as much as Ty, or Todd. Or - pretty much all of them.”

“Well, I’m flattered.”

She grinned, but it was softer, weaker as she sipped her second glass. “Sure. Not like it’s much of a competition - I don’t think I have very good taste, sadly.”

“Sure you do,” Diego shot back, bending to pick out a bottle from the fridge. He leaned against the counter across from her, eyes slightly squinted as he took her in. “I mean, you’re dating me.”

“Ha, ha. This - this is a business arrangement, darling, not a relationship. And I didn’t even choose to be in this!”

“Well shit, tell me how you really feel, Y/L/N!”

“I mean nothin’ against you, ‘course,” she hummed. Why was she feeling awkward, all of a sudden? “It’s just not the same as actually having someone who genuinely cares about me - in the like, romantic sense.”

Diego nodded somewhat solemnly at that. “Mm. Sorry, I think?”

“Eh, don’t be. I agreed to this. And I still appreciate you, even if you aren’t interested in me past what benefits you.”

Her words were supposed to come out teasingly, a joke in the most bitter, light-hearted sense, but that was not the case. Instead, they came out all wobbly and unsure, like she had been biting them back but could not hold onto the feeling any longer. Which, was not really the case, she was not desperate for a hand to hold and certainly not from him - but she could not change the words said.

His eyes averted and hers softened, half from embarrassment and half unconsciously at the face he had pulled. She pulled away from the counter. “You still hungry? I can get you something.”

“Nah, I should - get him home.”

Y/N glanced back at Klaus’ silhouette, sound asleep and slightly snoring on the couch. “I think he’s okay, Diego.”

“Yeah, but it’s late. You’ve got work tomorrow and I got shit to get to.”

“Do you have to get to it?”

His smile was tired, like he was barely holding back a sad secret behind the pretty grin. Honestly, with a look like that? He was already half out the door and there was no point to arguing. “Who else is gonna keep this city from burnin’ down?”

She did not bother to argue with him - there was no point to giving him logical points, because he just deflected them all. Diego Hargreeves was a lot of things, but reasonable, he rarely could claim. At least not when it came to his own wellbeing.

Instead, Y/N just leant back and watched as Diego moved to his brother and in surprising tenderness, woke him up. It was rare to see him so gentle, but also a sign that made her smile - no matter what the man said, he truly loved his siblings. Especially Klaus.

“Hey, Diego?”

The man stopped, holding a half-asleep Klaus carefully upright in her doorway. She fought back the urge to smile at his lolling head.  “Yeah?”

“Be safe.”

“Sure-”

“-no, I mean that,” she interrupted, “truly. You’re too reckless sometimes and it’s gonna get you killed.”

Diego grinned. “Aww. You gettin’ soft on me, Y/N?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, trying to will her face to not heat up at the accusation. “I’d just rather not have to pretend to cry at your funeral and play the grieving girlfriend role.”

“Ha. Love you too, baby.”

Y/N did not bother to throw any comeback after his retreating figure. She was too shaken by the way those four words had left his lips - sure, they were sarcastic, but they still sat heavy on her tongue as she silent repeated them. They made her feel weird, tingly in a sense she could not quite understand.

The door slammed shut, and she let her forehead fall after it, resting on the cool wind with fists at her side and questions swirling in her mind. Maybe she could do with another glass and miss out on attempting to sleep - not like she ever could after nights like this.

She sighed and made a mental note, one she knew she was going to forget in minutes, to yell at him about calling her baby again. 

TAGLIST: @rangotangomango @fandomsandmore394 @thatkidofwarandpeace @antoouu (let me know if i missed you/you wanna be added)

[jokeson-u]

hawkeye squared as taylor swift lyrics (cus i did it for junksen so its time for fav ship #2)

I Wish You Would: 'I wish we could go back and remember what we were fighting for. Wish you knew that I miss you too much to be mad anymore, and, I wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would. You always knew how to push my buttons. You gave me everything and nothing. This mad, mad love makes you come rushing.'

King Of My Heart: 'Up on the roof with a school girl crush. Drinking beer out of plastic cups, say you fancy me, not fancy stuff. Baby, all at once, this is enough. And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for. King of my heart, body and soul.'

You Are In Love: 'Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt.' 'You fight and you talk. One night he wakes, strange look on his face. Pauses, then says, you're my best friend. And you knew what it was, he is in love.'

Afterglow: 'Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves, chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us. Why'd I have to break what I love so much?'

This Love: 'Your smile, my ghost. I fell to my knees. When you're young, you just run, but you come back to what you need. This love is good, this love is bad, this love is alive back from the dead, oh. These hands had to let it go free and, this love came back to me.'

Call It What You Want: 'And I know I make the same mistakes every time, bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right. I did one thing right. I'm laughing with my lover, making forts under covers, trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right. (Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night.)'

New Year's Day: 'Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. There's glitter on the floor after the party. Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby. Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor. You and me forevermore. Don't read the last page, but I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong or we're making mistakes. I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day.'

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blessing *Tommy Shelby

Request:  I’d love to see a one shot where Ruby Shelby gets married and Tommy has a hard time dealing with it

           There was something fishy going on. Tommy could pick up on it the moment his daughter gave him a shy smile. At nineteen, Ruby Shelby was a heart breaker. She had her mother’s alluring looks, her father’s clever wit, and the education of a young Lady. Many men had clambered over themselves trying to get a shot with her.

           But it took the soft gaze of a pilot in the British Royal Airforce to win her over. Fresh off his service in the Second World War, Nicholas Farrier instantly fell for Ruby at a dance club in London.

           Lizzie was very supportive of the relationship, saying that the two young adults were clearly in love. Tommy, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. Upon first meeting Nicholas, he scrutinized the pilot’s every move. Looking, scouring for any misstep, for a reason to kick the boy out of his house.

           Annoyingly, Tommy couldn’t come up with anything that Ruby or his wife would accept as a valid reason. So, Nicholas stuck around. And before Tommy could do anything, they were deeply in love.

           “She’s not going to be your little girl forever. You need to let her be her own person.” Lizzie had insisted after Tommy and Ruby got into a shouting match about her taking a holiday alone with Nicholas.

           “She’s nineteen and still lives under my roof.” Tommy retorted. “I’ll not have her romping about with some boy who cannot take care of her.”

           In response, Ruby moved out and moved in with Nicholas. Tommy had a fit.

           Eventually, father and daughter rekindled the relationship and began speaking to one another again. Then, one Sunday morning, Ruby and Nicholas came calling.

           “Daddy…”

           Tommy frowned. His daughter only ever called him that when she wanted something, was in trouble, or wanted to sway his opinion on something. “Yes?” He sparked up a cigarette. He had a feeling he would need one.

           “Nicholas wanted to ask you something.”

           The young pilot cleared his throat. He was clearly nervous about something and Tommy had an unsettling feeling that he knew what it was all about. “Mr. Shelby, I know it’s only tradition that as Ruby’s father I would ask for your blessing in asking for Ruby’s hand.”

           The Shelby girl couldn’t help but let out a little giggle as she clung to Nicholas affectionately.

           A blush spread over his cheeks and he couldn’t get the smile off his face either. “I’m afraid Ruby already found the engagement ring I’d picked for her. Still, I thought it would only be fair to ask for your blessing.”

           Tommy felt like he’d been turned to stone. All he could do was stare blankly at his daughter and Nicholas. The cigarette burned slowly between his fingers and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to move again. The news had struck him so hard that it was akin to a gunshot. Something paralyzing, in the spine perhaps.

           Ruby’s cheerful and excited face dimmed a little the longer her father sat absolutely stoic across the desk from them. “Well say something, please.” She begged.

           Tommy’s lips parted but he still couldn’t muster the words. Not even Charles was married yet. How could his little girl be thinking about heading to the altar? It was unheard of. In fact, he was nearly sure that it was only yesterday he’d held her in his arms for the very first time. Her deep brown eyes peering up at him, a tuft of black hair already growing. How she cried when he put her down for a nap. Her little hands grasping at the air, trying to grab a hold of him so he wouldn’t let her go again.

           Now she was sat there, pushing him away.

           “No.”

           Ruby’s jaw fell open. “No?”

           “That’s right.” Tommy found his voice and put on a firm expression. “I said no.”

           Her eyes narrowed in distaste, just like Lizzie’s did when she was about to go at it with Tommy. “Well, I don’t care that you’ve said no. I’m getting married to him anyway.” She replied. “You don’t control me.”

           Oh, how perfect were the days when she was legally still a child. He could say that when she was an adult, she was free to make her own choices. But until then, his house, his rules. Now he was scrambling for an excuse.

           “Mr. Shelby,” Nicholas began to speak again. He looked a little unnerved by Tommy’s icy glare but love was a powerful thing. “I can provide for Ruby and I promise I would never harm her or-”

           “I’ve said no and I won’t change my mind.” Tommy interrupted.

           “I don’t need your blessing.” Ruby stood up and pulled Nicholas along. “Wait ‘til mum hears what you’ve said.” She snapped.

           Tommy shut his eyes tightly and slammed his fist down on the table. “Wait.” He blurted.  

           Ruby stopped from walking out and turned back around. “What?”

           Her father opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’ll have the wedding in the church down the street. Where I married your mother.” He spoke steadily even though his insides were tearing into shreds.

           Ruby crossed her arms over her chest but nodded. “Fine.”

           “And the reception here.”

           His daughter rolled her eyes. Always the man to try and control everything. “Yes, that’s fine.”

           “Alright then.” Tommy ceded. Obviously, he would much rather have Ruby married at home rather than elope God knows where.

           The joyful smile returned to her face and she dashed across the room to hug her father tightly.

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

           Tommy didn’t spare expenses when it came to Ruby’s wedding. Whatever she wanted; she could have. If things weren’t perfect then there was hell to pay. Even Lizzie was worried he was taking things a bit too seriously. Going from a man who refused to see the wedding through, to the man who demanded nothing but the best for his daughter.

           Lizzie wanted to remark at the hilarity of it all but Tommy wasn’t in the mood. As the big day grew closer, he was growing more and more fearful of the task at hand. Giving his daughter away. He promised early on that he would do it. He'd be damned if anyone else would try and take his place.

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

           The night before the wedding, Tommy woke in a cold sweat. He startled his wife awake who tried to figure out what was going on.

           “Tom? Tommy!” Lizzie grabbed him by the shoulders as he fought against the sheets. “Calm down, what’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

           “Ruby. Where’s Ruby?” He asked frantically, his chest heaving with panic.

           “She’s in her room down the hall.” Lizzie soothed. “Sweetheart, relax.”

           Tommy took a few shaky breaths as he gathered his bearings. After a moment of a reality check, he realized where he was. Running a hand over his face, he recounted the subject of his nightmare to Lizzie. “I-I’d lost Ruby in the forest.” He mumbled. “I couldn’t find her. I could hear her but I couldn’t find her.”

           “Oh, Tommy, you’re just worried. That’s okay.” Lizzie said softly.

           He shook his head and got up anyways, despite his wife’s reassurance. He headed down the hall to Ruby’s bedroom. Nudging open the door; he poked his head inside to make sure she was safe in bed and his nightmare hadn’t been some sort of omen.

           But Ruby was awake and turned around when the door opened. “Dad?” She was sat on the edge of her bed, curlers in her hair for the next morning.

           “Sorry, I was just checking in on you.” He mumbled his excuse. “Try to get some sleep.”

           “Will you come lay with me?” Ruby called after him as he started to leave. "Just for a little bit at least?"

           Tommy paused. “Everything alright?” He stepped into her room.

           She nodded but wrung her hands together. “I know it’s what I want, the wedding I mean. I’m just a little nervous.” She admitted sheepishly. “It’s silly.”

           “It’s not silly.” Tommy sat down on her bed beside her. “Natural to be nervous even before exciting things. I was nervous before my wedding day.”

           “Which one?” Ruby asked teasingly.

           Tommy chuckled and shook his head. “Both of them. Because at both of them I had a new baby or one on the way.” He reminded her. “It was a lot of responsibility. Not responsibility like work but…”

           “Emotional responsibility.” Ruby finished for him.

           “Right.”

           She curled up to his side, trying to fit in his arms the way she used to. “I’m afraid of growing up sometimes.”

           Tommy wrapped his arms around his daughter, holding her close. “I know. It’s scary. But your mother, brother, and I aren’t going anywhere. No matter how old you get. You’ll always have us.”

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