#after gettin home from work yesterday i tried Everything. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bumblepony · 2 months

Note

Kiss it better, Tommy or Maria (or both!) and baby Miller

Part of my Kiss Ficlet Prompt's on Tumblr Ameerawrites for this lovely Tumblr prompt. I ended up going a lot longer then a normal ficlet but oh well.

“Mateo?” Tommy calls, frustrated as he balances Tilly on one hip and the laundry basket on the other. “Mateo! What did I say about leavin’ your toys on the floor in the hallway?” Tommy huffs and hikes the basket higher as Tilly starts to sniffle again, one clammy little hand wrapped in the fabric of his shirt and the other in her mouth as she sucks despondently on her thumb, fat tears falling down her cheeks. Tommy softly tries to soothe her, but she’s teething and has been weeping on and off all day.

Tommy pulls her up a little higher on his side so he can give her messy curls a quick kiss while he tries to avoid the toy landmines at his feet. At least there aren’t plastic building blocks. Those fuckers hurt. “Goddamn it, Mateo,” Tommy swears under his breath. He’s having a hard enough day without having to worry about breaking a leg or dropping a child. He huffs when the boy doesn’t respond and continues through the hallway into the living room.

The day was turning out to be a disaster. Maria had left yesterday morning for an overnight trip to a nearby community for a trade agreement issue, leaving Tommy at home with the kids. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue. But today, everything that could possibly go wrong has. Tilly is teething and the washing machine conked out just as she spilled milk down the front of her last clean onesie. Tommy accidentally burned Mateo’s grilled cheese because of the milk incident, causing Mateo to throw a tantrum, which leads to him and Tilly both being too wound up to take naps. Then, just as Tommy was getting ready to send Mateo outside in the backyard to play so he can get a few moments of peace to try and hand wash the laundry, it started raining. Meaning Mateo has to stay inside, which inspires another tantrum. Tommy is at the end of his rope, and he’s counting the hours till Maria is supposed to get home after dinner.

Dropping the basket of clean laundry on the coffee table to fold later, Tommy makes his way toward the kitchen to grab one of the washcloths he’s got in the freezer for Tilly to chew on and to see if he can locate his wayward son.

“Mateo?” he calls again, and this time, he actually hears some shuffling and scuffing and hastens his steps. “What are ya doin’ in there, Mateo? I swear to god, if you are gettin’ into those cookies like I told you not to, I am…”

The scene he walks into would be comical if they were in a 90’s Friday night sitcom, but unfortunately, they're not so all it does is freeze the blood in Tommy’s veins instantly. Mateo is trying to get up to the top of the refrigerator where Tommy had placed his little toy guitar that he’d taken away this morning after Mateo refused to stop playing it and woke up Tilly from her morning nap. Matteo’s managed to get up on the counter and is reaching out to grab the handle of the fridge when Tommy comes through the door. Tommy watches in slow motion as Mateo’s hand doesn’t quite get a grip and slides off the handle, and because he’s leaning so far forward, he can’t pull himself back before he starts to fall head-first toward the tile floor.

Tommy feels like he’s moving through molasses as he pushes himself towards his son. A squeak of surprise comes from Tilly at his sudden movement, and a shout of terror prizes itself from Mateo’s lips when he realizes he’s going down. Tommy reaches out his free hand desperately towards Mateo and just manages to grab him at the elbow of his trailing arm and yank as quickly as he can upward to try and stop his face from hitting the floor.

Tommy just barely makes it.

He adjusts his grip on his son, pulling the boy to his chest as his legs give way and he crumples to the floor, back resting against the kitchen island. His breath is coming fast from his lips, and he can’t hear anything over the pounding of the blood in his ears.

Once his heart starts to slow down, he finally registers Tilly’s high-pitched cries of fear and confusion and Mateo’s wails of pain.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He tries to put Tilly down, but she immediately goes to crawl back into his lap, her little nails biting into the skin of his arm as she screams, snot and tears mixing together on her face. “Oh honey, honey, I just need to look at your brother, honey. Please, baby, just a second,” he croones to her, his voice wobbling, but she won’t stop. “‘M sorry honey, I’m so sorry, baby, but I gotta look at your brother.” He ends up having to turn his body away from her so she can’t climb into his lap as he tries to gently manhandle Mateo to look at him. Tommy’s large hands tremble as he cups his son’s face, looking for an unseen injury as Mateo continues to wail between great sobbing breaths.

“Mateo, where does it hurt buddy? Buddy, where ya hurtin’? Tell daddy, baby.” He sees no obvious injuries, so Tommy runs gentle searching fingers over Mateo’s face and head just in case he somehow managed to bump it against something else on his way down, but finds nothing. “Please, buddy, please, tell daddy what’s wrong,” he begs as Mateo continues to scream, his face scrunched up and turning redder by the second.

Tommy can feel panic sweeping over him like a heavy wave, and his eyes start to burn with his own tears as Tilly continues to scratch at his arm, crying pitifully, desperate to reach him, and Mateo keeps screaming and screaming. Tommy feels himself starting to disassociate, the edges of his awareness becoming fuzzy and faded, so he reaches his hands into his hair and tugs hard at his scalp until it stings and the world around him comes back into view. He can’t do this right now, he can’t slip into his memories. He’s gotta be present here for Mateo and Tilly.

“Okay, okay, we’re gonna be okay,” he says as calmly as he can. “Just… gotta get to you’re Tio Joel, okay?” He settles Mateo against his chest, holding his head momentarily against his shoulder, whispering soft nonsense into his ear. Then securely puts his arm under his butt and scoops up Tilly with his other arm. When he stands with purely the power of his legs and core, he’s afraid he’s gonna fall, but somehow, he manages to keep all of them upright and steady even though Mateo lets out another heart-wrenching sob at the movement. Tommy strides to the front door, kicking it open with a socked foot. He’s suddenly thankful that he’s still so active at 53 years old, riding almost daily, cleaning, training, and working the horses. Because he doesn’t know otherwise if he’d be able to do this. He’s across the street and surging up the steps of Joel’s front porch faster than he’s ever moved in his life. Before he can start to think how he’s gonna get the front door open, Joel spills out of it, eyes wild and shaggy hair flying every which way.

“Tommy, what the hell…” He freezes when he sees the state of the three of them and immediately moves forward to take Mateo from his arms. Tommy stops him.

“No, take Tilly. Mateo was trying to climb the damn fridge an’ almost fell. I caught him, but he’s hurt somewhere, an’ I can’t find it with her needin’ me too.” Tommy explains in a rush as Joel easily pulls Tilly to his chest and starts rocking and crooning quietly to her, using the bottom of his flannel to wipe away the mess on her face. The two men push into Joel’s house, and Tommy gently sits Mateo down on the couch, feeling helpless at the tears still falling and little hiccuping cries pouring out of his baby’s mouth with each breath.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Please, tell me what’s wrong,” Tommy begs the tears he’s been holding back prickling painfully at the back of his eyes. Mateo just shakes his head and whines, his whole body hunched in on itself, his one hand holding his other arm tight to his side.

Joel squints at Mateo and turns to Tommy, “How did ya catch him?”

“I heard him in the kitchen, an’ I…”

“No, no. I mean, how did ya keep him from hittin’ the ground?”

“I-I grabbed ahold of his arm an’ yanked him up.” Tommy looks at Joel, and Joel’s face lightens a touch as he moves to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch. He turns and hands Tilly to Tommy.

“I’m guessin' I know what’s wrong,” Joel says, reaching his big, gentle hands out to lay on Mateo’s face and then sliding down to his shoulders, trying to pull his attention to him. “Mateo honey, is it your arm? Does your arm hurt, honey?” Mateo’s head bobs up and down fast, his eyes glassy and frantic. Joel puts his hands around Mateo’s little face, enfolding it almost completely, and softly wipes away his tears with his thumbs. “Okay, buddy, that's okay. Me an’ your daddy, we’re gonna get you taken care of, don’t you worry, baby boy.”

Joel turns to Tommy and takes Tilly back into his arms, bouncing her on his knees and running a calm hand down her spine. “I think this is a case of nursemaid elbow. We need to take him over to the clinic, an’ they should be able to get him fixed up just fine.”

Tommy vaguely recalls hearing that term before in some book he read or some conversation he’s had, but he can't quite make sense of it at the moment. His heart is still beating too fast, the tendrils of an oncoming panic attack lingering at the back of his brain, and his son is sitting sobbing quietly on the couch, fingers digging into his arm. “What is that again?” Tommy mumbles, running his hands over Mateo’s hair and the back of his neck, trying to soothe him without jostling his arm.

“Means most likely when you grabbed him, you pulled his elbow out of the socket. It’s most likely already back in place, but it can hurt like the dickens, an’ if not, the doc can put it back. It happened to me with Sarah once when she was just a little older than Mateo is now. She tried to run out into the street to grab her soccer ball just as a car was drivin’ by, an’ I grabbed her arm to pull her out of the way.” Tommy’s eyes go wide in horror.

“I-I did this?” Tommy’s vision suddenly tips and tilts as he yanks his hands away from his son quickly. He hurt him. He did this. Joel sees the anguish on his face and grabs onto Tommy’s knee with his free hand, pinning him to the couch as Tommy tries to move away from Mateo, afraid he’ll somehow hurt him again. “Shit, Joel, fuck. I… It’s been such a bad day. Such a bad day. Tilly ain’t sleepin’, which means we ain't sleepin’, and I was tryin’ to pay attention, I was, but the damn washer broke, an’ Tilly she’s been cryin' all day, an’ he got away from me. He just got away. I was just trying to keep him from hittin' his head. I just saw him goin’ down, an’ I- I grabbed him. I did…”

“Tommy, Tommy. Stop, okay, Stop,” Joel says, reeling him back from the brink with a firm squeeze to the joint of his knee. It hurts, but it snaps him back. “Brother, ya did nothin’ wrong. It’s something that happens with kids. They ain’t done growin’ yet, so sometimes it just happens when you grab 'em. I know you wasn’t tryin' to hurt him, Tommy. You were tryin' to protect him.” Joel moves his hand to Tommy’s shoulder and shakes him a little until Tommy’s eyes lock with his, “It’s gonna be okay, hermano. Now go slip on my extra boots, an’ let's get our boy to the clinic, okay?” Joel’s voice is sure and steady, and Tommy’s able to hold on to it to help pull himself all the way back to the here and now. He nods his head, quick and firm. Joel’s already pulling his own boots on with little Tilly laying her head weakly against his shoulder, eyes half closed, and thumb sucked back in her mouth as Tommy cuddles his boy safely against his chest and gets moving.

—

“Tommy.” He feels delicate fingers card gently through his hair, dragging him softly out of the restless slumber he had fallen into. “Tommy, baby.” He blinks his eyes open into the low light of the clinic room and sees Maria standing in front of where he’s sat in the chair next to Mateo’s bed. She’s still dressed for riding: jacket, dusty jeans, and boots, hat off to the side, kerchief tied around her neck. Her eyes are worried, wrinkles standing out around the edges, but her gaze is soft, loving. Her fingers keep gently combing through his hair as he blinks back into wakefulness.

“M’ sweetheart,” he mumbles and pulls her into his arms, pressing his face into her abdomen. Breathing her in, he can smell the early spring flowers from the fields she most likely rode through, the pungent odor of horse and sweat from her long ride, and the lingering hint of lavender she uses in their laundry detergent on her clothing. “M’ so sorry. Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Tommy, why are you sorry?” she asks, pulling away from him carefully. She squats down in front of him with a tiny grunt, takes his face into her small, strong hands, and makes sure his eyes are fully on her. “You were trying to protect him, Tommy. You were doing what you were supposed to. It was an accident, baby. It could have happened to any one of us. I am not mad at you, not even a little.”

His hands clench at his sides as he feels his skin prick under her fingertips. He knows she’s right, knows it with a certainty that he can’t explain, but a part of him can't help remembering his son's cries. Knowing that it was his hands that caused it… “I swore… I swore I’d never hurt ‘em. I swore it,” he says, his jaw tight, tone vehement.

“And you didn’t, Tommy. You didn’t.” Maria moves her hands to his, pulls them open where they are clenched, and twines her fingers with his. “You are not your father Tommy. This is not the same. You were protecting him, and yes, Tommy, sometimes that means you are going to hurt him. But you did not mean to do this. You did not hurt him with intent. You are a good man, Tommy Miller, and a good father.” Tommy stares at her, her words a balm to his bruised and jagged soul, a salve to hurts he had thought long since buried. “Do you believe me?” she asks quietly, shuffling forward so she can rest her forehead against his.

“Yes,” he breathes into the space between them. Her trust in him has slowly started to make him believe in himself. He has no idea where he would be without her, without this strong, courageous woman by his side. She shifts again so she can wrap her arms around him and squeaks in surprise when he pulls her up into his lap, her arms around his neck, his locked across her back, her dirty boots hanging off the side of the chair. He holds her to him as they watch their son sleeping peacefully in the clinic bed next to them, a brace holding his elbow securely to his side.

Joel is asleep across the room on the old couch against the wall, Tilly wrapped safely in his large arms. Her little face is pressed into his flannel, delicate eyelashes fanned out across her soft cheeks and mouth open, drool soaking into the fabric. Ellie, her hair a ratty mess, looks like she came to the clinic straight from stable duty. She’s camped on the floor, her back against the couch and head lolled back against Joel’s side. Her hand is curled over Tilly’s back, Joel’s hand over the top of hers, fingers intertwined.

Maria runs her nose along his slowly and gently takes his lips with her own. A sense of peace settles over him with the pressure of her mouth on his. She pulls back, and he pushes one of her locs away from her face. Letting a finger trail down the line of her jaw, “Maria, darlin’, you sure do know how to kiss a man an’ make it all better.”

She laughs quietly and lays her head against his shoulder as they watch their little family sleep.

#tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tommy miller #ellie williams #asks #ao3 #maria miller #prompts

9 notes · View notes

bthump · 1 year

Note

How about Lamb of God or Toy Soldier for the Berserk WIPs? 😄

Thank you!

Lamb of God is my AU fic idea where it's Casca's behelit rather than Griffith's. Essentially a no Promrose everything-works-out AU, some evil noble tried to frame Griffith for an attempted assassination of Charlotte and Casca impulsively took the fall for him. Officially it was stated that she was executed, but she ends up tortured for the requisite year, all her admiration for Griff and his dream turning to bitterness and regret. When Griffith becomes king he discovers her and immediately rescues her and promises that she'll be taken care of in total comfort for the rest of her life etc etc and the behelit opens. She sacrifices all of midland. Guts and Griffith survive (they've been in a relationship for years at this point), Griffith takes over the Black Swordsman angry fucked up role and Guts is more the voice of reason.

Incidentally it's never gonna get properly written, so if anyone wants to take this idea feel free lol. I feel like this goes for all my posted ideas like, if I was gonna be possessive over them I wouldn't talk about them publically lol. But since there's been recent discussion over this general concept, Guts and Griffith together after someone else's Eclipse, I figure it's worth mentioning.

“Look,” Guts said while Casca did her thing with the powder, “I actually did plan to run eventually. It’s not like I killed a hundred men just because I had nothing better to do that night.” The combination of the breeze and the medicine was doing a good job of relaxing him.

“Then why did you?”

“Nothing special. One of them shot an arrow into my leg, and I figured running wouldn’t do me any good after that.” Guts basked in the feeling of the pain fading for a moment, then decided to keep talking. She’d told him her story, after all. “But to tell you the truth, I was thinking about what you told me too. About Griffith, about how he saved you, about his dream. And I guess I get it.”

He looked down at the Hawk camp. The hundreds of little campfires looked like a reflection of the stars in the night sky from up here. It was beautiful. This was what Griffith had made. He’d gathered them all together, given them all a place, a goal - a share of his own blazing dream. Every Hawk who’d died, whose death tormented Griffith, had been happy. Guts knew it. He’d seen enough mercenary camps to recognize something different. To tell a band from a family, a job from a home.

Each of those fires was a hearth. Each of those men was a brother, and Casca was their sister.

“Before I met Griffith, I just wandered. I didn’t have a home, didn’t have a plan except to make it through the next day and maybe earn some money chopping heads while I did it. I didn’t even have a reason for wanting to see the next day besides not wanting to die.

“And back there, in that clearing, it hit me: I was fighting for more than just my life. I was fighting for yours. For the Hawks. And for Griffith. And I didn’t just want to live because dying seemed a little worse - I wanted to live to see you all again. And… and because I think that… other people would miss me, if I bought it there.”

“Guts…” Casca’s voice sounded oddly sad.

“What?” He turned back to look at her. She was leaning against the tree, hair fluttering in the gentle breeze, and eyes bright.

“It’s just… maybe it’s a good thing. That Griffith found you.”

Guts smirked. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that or they’ll think you’re gettin’ soft.”

“Oh shut up.”

But her words made him think of something else too. Why did it have to be you? “Hey, listen, about what you said yesterday -”

“Guts, Casca! Griffith’s back!” It was Rickert’s voice. He was halfway up the hill, Pippin just behind him. “He advanced his schedule a day when he heard you were back safe.”

Guts just smiled at Casca. That said most of what he’d meant to tell her anyway: there was room enough for the both of them at Griffith’s side.

***

Toy Soldier is a post-torture no Eclipse AU where Puck and his troupe show up while they're trying to decide what to do, and Puck tries to heal Griffith and mostly fails, only getting his flayed skin. Then Puck mentions that maybe a witch could do more for him, so they journey to find a witch. Then when they find the witch she can't do shit for him either except offer those magic communication rings as as consolation prize, but along the way they sorted out a bunch of their issues and now they have a good chance of living happily ever after anyway. Yk, the magic healing was the mutually requited pining we finally admitted to along the way, kinda thing.

Here, have a whole scene because again this is pretty thoroughly abandoned. Turns out writing is hard lol.

Casca climbed out of the wagon, taking care not to wake the two men sleeping within. Her heart ached unpleasantly at the sight of them in the dim grey light of dawn, of Guts curled protectively around Griffith’s comparatively tiny form, and while this was a feeling she had grown used to since she’d first met Guts, she’d been hoping it was one she’d finally left behind.

It was silly. She was silly, she was irrational, and she was very disappointed in herself, but she could not deny what she felt. It was like when Griffith had ridden back for Guts that very first time and she simply could not understand why - no. No, she’d known why, even naive as she was. She’d tried to convince herself that it was because of Guts’ usefulness, but even then some part of her had known it was a lie.

But she still didn’t know why it had been Guts, of all people, and four years later she remained none-the-wiser.

She wanted to scream at the sheer unfairness of it all. When Guts had entered their lives she had been serving Griffith with utter faithfulness, honed in body, mind, and soul as his second-in-command and sword for three years, and some upstart asshole he’d met a week earlier, who’d had to be beaten into submission for God’s sake, was the first person she’d ever known for whom Griffith would risk his life.

She had given herself to the Hawks as their leader for an exhausting year full of terror and confusion, she’d spearheaded the plan to rescue Griffith, she’d spent days on end without sleep pouring over maps and messages and listening for the raids that never seemed to stop, all the while Guts, whose bull-headedness and pride had been the very reason they’d lost Griffith, had been gallivanting around fighting and philosophizing. And Guts was the one in the wagon now, comforting Griffith.

Guts, and not her. Griffith, and not her.

It was too much, too complicated. Feeling slightly dazed she walked off and found herself heading towards the one point of light in view, which turned out to be Judeau’s campfire. She slumped down beside him, glad he was a fellow early riser, and glad of the circle of heat in the chill morning air.

“Hey,” he said, amicable as he ever was. “You all right?”

“Just tired,” she deflected with a smile. “It’s been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?”

“I’ll drink to that.” He saluted her with his waterskin before taking a sip.

“Have the others shown up yet?” she asked, ever aware of her duties as leader.

He shook his head. “I took the liberty of sending out a couple scouts to see if they spent the night somewhere nearby. Figured you have a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah, I do at that. Thanks,” she said sincerely. Judeau was a second-in-command any leader would wish for.

“Anytime. Hungry?”

“Mm, sure. I haven’t eaten yet.”

His smile grew wider. “Good, water’ll be boiling soon. How are they, anyway?” He inclined his head towards the wagon, which was planted near the centre of their camp, tents and fire pits circling it and radiating out like petals of a flower.

Casca started in surprise. “How did you -”

“Saw Guts go in last night, never saw him come out, and this morning his tent wasn’t even drawn closed when I walked past.” He shrugged. “I can put two and two together.”

“One of your many talents,” Casca muttered, slightly irritated at being taken off-guard. Then, louder, “they’re still asleep.”

He shot her a grin, and added in a suspiciously light tone, “you know, sometimes everyone, especially a leader, needs a shoulder to lean on. You don’t have to make the big decisions totally alone. So if you wanna talk…”

She sighed. “Thanks, Judeau. I appreciate it, really. It’s just - there’s so much. I don’t even know if I can put it into words. Everything’s changed, all at once, and -”

“Where do we go from here?” he finished for her.

“Yeah.”

Judeau looked at her, meeting her eyes for a moment, and then looked away and into the fire. “I’m about to overstep my bounds,” he said with uncharacteristic hesitance, “so please try not to break my nose for it. But after all this time, all your work and dedication and nights without sleep - before and after Midland turned on us - everything you’ve done for the Hawks, and for Griffith - maybe it’s time to do something for yourself.”

Instead of outrage, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She’d tried, hadn’t she? She’d been poised to accept Guts’ offer, to rescue Griffith, see him safe and recovering, and leave with someone she… maybe she didn’t love Guts, but she could. She could feel the potential within her, the spark anticipating kindling.

“Like what?” she asked, and, instead of decking him like she ought to, continued, voicing her thoughts. “You know Guts asked me to leave with him?”

“Ah. I’d wondered.”

She did hit him then, but no more than a playful, if painful, punch on the shoulder.

“Shut up,” she said with affection as he winced and massaged the sore spot with just a hint of theatricality. “It was before the rescue mission, before we found Griffith. I thought maybe… but it’s impossible now.”

Judeau dropped his arm and looked her in the eyes, gaze focused and intent. “Is it?”

“He wants to stay. I want to stay. I spent most of my life at Griffith’s side… I can’t leave now… now when he needs me more than ever.”

He sighed, leaned back, and glanced up and away. “I hate to say this - believe me, I do - but… he doesn’t need you. He just needs someone.” Casca’s mouth dropped open in shock. The words felt like physical blows, landing in her gut, her chest, the base of her spine. It was one thing to think that way in the privacy of her own treacherous mind, but to hear it confirmed, so easily, as though it was obvious, hurt. “What do you need?”

“Not ‘someone,’” she said, ignoring the question. “Guts.” And that was the end of her self-control. Her vision began to blur with tears so she looked down, clasping her hands tightly together. “Damn it, Judeau,” she said with a little, bitter huff of laughter that ended up sounding more like a sob to her ears. “What do you think I should do, exactly?”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. He’d probably been expecting her to shout or slap him, not lose it like some naive lovesick kid. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Answer the question.” She meant it as an order.

Maybe he heard the command in her tone despite the tears because he did. “I think you and Guts should let me take care of Griffith and leave together, to be completely honest. I’m more than happy to take him with me and make sure he’s comfortable and with friends. I owe him so much - all the Hawks do - that this is nothing.”

It sounded good when he said it like that. Griffith, with friends, taken care of by the men who had dedicated their lives to him. They would be loyal. They would respect him, even love him in their own way.

Couldn’t Griffith find contentment among men like that?

Judeau gave her a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder. “Sorry,” he said again. “But you should think about it. You’re an amazing person, all on your own merits you know. Not many women could command a thousand men - even queens are ornamental more often than not. Whatever you end up doing, just make sure it’s something worthy of our big sis, okay?”

Casca could think of nothing to say in response, face growing warm from the earnest praise; she wanted to either demure, or summon anger at the implication that caring for Griffith was beneath her, but the emotions wouldn’t come.

The pot began to bubble then and she was saved from having to answer immediately. She watched Judeau add things to the water, mostly oats with a few extras for flavour. Some green things - onions were all she recognized - and leftover bits of pork. It occurred to Casca that she’d never been much for cooking. She could roast a hunk of meat over a flame and throw leftovers into a pot of water, but ask her about spices or anything more complicated than a haphazard stew and she was lost. In her life with the Hawks she’d always been surrounded by men willing to share their suppers, first with a young girl, and then with a commander they respected.

Could Guts cook?

As a woman she ought to be nurturing. She should be comfortable with weakness and take to nurse-maiding the way mothers instinctively cared for their children - but she couldn’t even feed Griffith without spilling soup with her shaking hands. She’d broken down and cried when confronted with his silence, his damaged body, his need to be comforted. The sight of his hands, of weakness where solid strength should be, had made her want to recoil.

Guts had slept curled up against him.

When she’d seen them together in the wagon a part of her had thought, that should be me. She should be holding Griffith in her arms right now, protective and caring. But it hadn’t been - she hadn’t been the one to think to check on him before going to sleep, and if she had been, she wouldn’t’ve stayed, and certainly wouldn’t’ve pulled him close. There was a distance she had never been able to bridge between her and Griffith, and even now it remained, holding her at arm’s length. That distance didn’t exist for Guts.

Could Judeau and his men compensate for that closeness?

“What do you think of them?” She blurted the question out suddenly, words coming out before she had a chance to reel them back safely.

Judeau looked at her in surprise, spoon pausing mid-stir. “Guts and Griffith, you mean?” She nodded and he finished stirring the pot and came down to sit beside her again before speaking. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe I felt a little betrayed by Guts leaving us too, but I guess I just don’t trust him to stick with Griffith. I think he’d be better off with someone he can stand back to back with. Someone like you.”

“I just don’t know anymore. It’s all so… murky. But hey,” she forced a smile, “thanks for being a shoulder. I’ll think about what you said.”

Judeau nodded, smiled, and Casca felt a hint of comfort, like the warmth from the fire. She pulled her knees up to her chest, rested her chin on them, and listened to it crackle.

#ask #nico-jero #ask meme #fic #b

8 notes · View notes

sfpsych0 · 1 year

Text

Olu This Girl/ Give You More/ Beautiful Darkness/ Exhale/ Gold/ Difficult with Uffie/ Starbacks/ Twerk/ Big Bank Dank/ Second Grade/ 5 Mil/ Vans/ Word/ I'm Ballin/ Zero Dizzy Wright Solo Dolo/ Independent Living/ Can't Trust Em/ Bout That Life/ Can't Stop Won't Stop/ BTT/ Untouchable/ Brodee Bro Hopsin Ill Mind Of Hopsin 4&5/FV12/ FV13/ Sag My Pants/ Kill Her/ Hop Is Back Atmosphere

Sound is Vibration/ Fuck You Lucy/ Lovelife/ A Girl Named Hope/ History/ Trying to Find a Balance/ Shoes/ National Disgrace/ Always coming Home Back To You/ Smart Went Crazy/ Pour Me Another/ Yesterday/ Guarantees/ Wild Wild Horses A$AP Ferg Work Remix/ Shabba Living Legends Never Fallin/ Night Prowler/ Rabbit Hole/ Flawless/ War Games/ Soap Boxin/ Nothing Less/ Moving At The Speed Of Life/ after Hours/ Purple Kush/ Angels With Dirty Faces/ whatizit?/ It Might Be you/ Hold your Own/ Aspirations/ Fill My Drink Up/ Good Fun/ Even Though/ Busted/ Wise Is The Way/ MF Doom Doomsday/ Rhymes Like Dimes/ Gas Drawls/ Hero vs. Villain/ Between Villains/ Anti Matter/ Hoe Cakes/ Potholders/ Victory Laps/ ALL CAPS/ Mr. Clean/ Accordian/ Benneton/ Dead Bent/ Who Me?/ Chinatown Wars/ Project Jazz/ McKinley Dixon Adult Swimmers/ Get Back To Soul/ Imagine Nation/ Please Comeback, Ice Cube/ We Lovin that Jazz/ Get Back To Soul pt.2/ Calls From Home-Keep Your Friends Closer/ M!KEY 200/ Gumballs/ #YOLOSWAG/ Weekly 16/ One Hundred/ Adrian Per Riche$/ $/ The Ride/ Refill/ Market Street Cinema/ Blow/ Till I die Remix/ Epitome of Broke/ Ashely/ Make Me Proud Remix/ I'm On One Remix/ Otis Remix/ AN!MAL$ Iamsu! (suzy 6 $peed) Gettin It/ She Ready/ Drank Up/ Goin Up/ Remedy/ She Widit/ Bout Me/ Everywhere/ Millions/ Hipster Girls/ Mobbin/ Like What/ 211/Swaggin/ Jennifer Anniston/ Beast/ Peso/ Bag A Beach K00l John/ HBK Affiliates Lodi Dodi/ Chill Drink Fuck Smoke/ Ya Bitch/ Grind Time/ Mixin Liquor/ GEROGEGO/ Jamey In My Cup/ Fulla Dat Weed/ Lap Dance/ Shit Talker/ Party Crashers/ U Wanna Fuck/ Armani Depaul/ Do It/ girls gone Wild/ Pants Up/ STU Freestyle/ Go Crazy/ Down For The Click/ HBK Joe Beat PMAC Invincible/ One/ Pretty Brown Eyes/ Dreams Money Can Buy/ I'm Good/ Bake/ Comeback Dumboundead New Chick/ Summer Breeze/ Cellphone/ 10 Rounds/ 24KTown/ Raise The Bar Cypher/ Huell Howser/ Cotdamn/ Korean Jesus/ Green/ Guess Who/ I'm On It/ Selfish Wax Rosana/ I Shoulda Tried Harder/ Toothbrush/ Pictures of You/ Bad Company/ I ain't A Real Mean/ Feels Good The XX - Get the whole XX album lol. The Gorillaz do a sick cover of Crystalised Majestic http://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXIyz409s7bNWVcM-vjfdVA Logic Numbers/ All I do/ Nasty/ Walk On By/ XXL Freshman cypher/ Two Kings/ Dear God/ As I Am/ tic Tac Toe/ Young Sinatra 1,2&3/ Roll Call/ Relaxation/ Man Of the Year/ Shine On/ All Sinatra Everything/ Mind Of Logic Capital Steez Survival Tactics/ Last Straw/ 135/ Free The Robots/ King Steelo/ Like Water/ Swank Sinatra/ Dead Prez/ Cab Fare/ Dead On Arrival/ Walking Shit/ Evol Love/ Black Petunia/ Herban Legend/ Apex/ Like water/ Run Or Fly/ Bun N Cheese/ Vinyls Childish Gambino Camp album

2 notes · View notes

stellarboystyles · 4 years

Text

Make a Move

Harry’s a bartender and she’s a waitress, a match made in heaven. That is, if they weren’t constantly pining over each other like idiots.

4.2k !

She and Harry closed almost every weekend.

Why? Because there wasn’t really anyone else that was willing, so they’re always picking up slack. They were even more short staffed before Y/N came along, and given that she was the only waitress who actually gave a shit about her job, she was always the first choice whenever someone called in sick or quit unexpectedly, which, unfortunately for her, was quite often. Not that she’s complaining, because she and Harry always work the same shifts so it’s always fun. She was so kind to every customer but as soon as any of them were crossing a line she’d be the first one to tell them to back off. Harry was the best bartender on the strip, and everyone local knows it, too. Word travels fast, and his drinks speak for themselves. They make a great team. The rest of their co workers claim that the pair always get better tips, and even though they aren’t wrong, Harry and y/n like to indulge in the private joke that maybe if everyone else didn’t do their job half ass then maybe they’d get the tips that they get every night. Their boss is lucky to have both of them working for him.

But Harry was just as lucky to be working there.

That’s exactly what it was. Pure luck.

When Harry’s mum Anne told her husband that she was pregnant with him, he promised her that he was going to change and be home more often, for them. And he kept his promise, for a while. Harry was such an easy baby, easy going and hardly ever cried. However, three months later things swiftly took a turn when she quickly realised that he was going to be a colicky baby. Seeing her little baby boy in pain, screaming and inconsolable just simply broke her heart, but it just meant that he needed a little more attention. She’d quickly learned his favorite remedy was a warm bath and a comfy swaddle, followed by some cuddles and he’d be right back off to sleep. She still thinks the reason that they’re still so close now is because of that extra bonding time.

Harry’s dad had always been distant from him. He was never home, And when he was, he wanted Anne’s full attention, and when he wasn’t getting that anymore, because, you know, she was busy raising an infant by herself, he grew selfishly jealous of the child that he created. When he hit her in front of her son, that was it. She made the split decision that she didn’t want this life for Harry, or for her. She waited until he fell asleep that night, packed what she could, took her baby and left. Moved to London and never saw or heard from him again.

Harry was six years old when his mum first got sick. It started out as headaches and a fever that would come and go, but it got worse. To be specific, an autoimmune disease that was attacking her muscles and joints. It got so bad that she couldn’t even brush her hair, let alone take proper care of a six year old. Long story short, Harry learned quickly and at a young age how to take care of himself. when Harry wasn’t in school all he wanted to do was take care of her. He’d always wake up early on the weekends and make her second favorite breakfast...waffles. Her first favorite was pancakes, but he couldn’t make those, only because he knew that his mummy said the stove wasn’t safe and that he couldn’t use it by himself, because he could burn his fingers.

Three years go by and things are really tough. Anne could no longer work, so without her knowledge, Harry began to improvise. He started selling some of his toys to his friends at school during playtime. By the time almost all of his toys were gone he’d managed to gain thirty five dollars, and he was so proud of himself. But when he saw one of the medical bills totals on the kitchen counter, he knew he was going to have to try something else. Every monday his mum gave him five dollars to pay for lunch at school for the whole week. So instead of eating lunch, he kept it in his backpack with the other thirty five. His friends always shared their lunch with him so that he wouldn’t go hungry all day, and no one ever found out. Week by week the amount seemed to add up quickly. Before he knew it it was the end of the school year he had one hundred and ninety five dollars. He counted it twice just to be sure, but it didn’t matter because it still wasn’t enough.

He was sad, extremely sad and angry. Three more years go by and his mum is in the hospital recovering from surgery. He couldn’t help feeling so many things all at once. His mum was his best friend, why on earth was this happening to her, to him?

One afternoon Harry was walking home from school. It was gloomy and dreary, typical London weather. He wanted to get home faster so he could get to the hospital to see her, so he chose to make a quick shortcut down an alley to his left. As he walked he noticed a group of boys older than him, maybe fourteen or fifteen, on the side of the alley. Before he could turn around or walk past them, of course, they surrounded him. It felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

He was getting jumped.

“I-I haven’t got anything.”

One of them held his arms in a tight grasp whilst another one yanked the backpack off his shoulders, dumping the contents, including the wads of cash, onto the asphalt.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Harry’s eyes instantly widened, struggling with all the strength in his body, desperately trying to get free. He couldn’t let them do this.

“No! Please, please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but I need that money!”

“So do we.”

A fist landed against his cheek and before he knew it he was on the ground being beaten senseless.

“It’s not for me!” he tried, throwing his hands up in front of his face in an attempt to defend himself. “It’s for my mum, she’s sick.”

“Hey! How many times have I told you to quit causin’ trouble back ‘ere?!”

Harry was wide eyed as he saw a man, probably a store owner since he came around the back corner. They quickly ran off empty handed. The man’s face changed from angry to bewildered as he saw Harry’s face.

And as if on fucking cue, it started to rain. Pour, actually.

“No, no, no…”

Harry scrambles to his knees and crawls forward, trying to salvage the dampened green paper, shoving it back into his backpack.

“Are you alright?!”

That was the moment that Harry’s life changed forever.

The man, who Harry quickly learned was named Joe, did more than just clean up the young boy’s bloody face. They started talking and Harry told him everything. About his father, the piling medical bills, everything—and in that moment Joe knew he had to help him.

Every day after that, after school Harry would go to Joe’s bar and work for him. Small jobs—sweep the floor, clean the tables, things like that. He took Harry in, looked after him when his mum couldn’t and gave him advice like the father he’d never had.

The day Harry turned seventeen was the day his mum was officially in remission. Harry had been saving every single penny he’d made over the last five years, which was enough to really help out with their situation until his mum could go back to work. He was over the moon, he didn’t think he’d ever see the day that she’d be feeling like herself again.

Harry didn’t really plan on going to college because even if his mum was better, he always wanted to be able to visit and check on her. After he graduated, he moved into the apartment upstairs above the bar, and the rest is history.

And that leads us to now. Four years later at twenty one Harry is everyone’s favorite bartender, who's crushing hard on this truly one of a kind girl that walked into his life only a few months ago, and he can’t remember what life was like without her in it.

Despite how the job sounds, they both loved every second of it. Especially when they worked together. When they weren’t busy, they were constantly messing with each other, usually it was him teasing her whenever she tripped over her own feet, almost spilling a plate or glass and when she’d come back behind the bar he’d be smirking “y’not drunk are yeh?” and she’d mumble a “shut up.” making him chuckle.

But they were incredibly soft for each other, there was no way around it.

One time, Harry called in sick, and if he would’ve seen the look of disappointment mixed with sadness on her face, he might have just said fuck it and came in to work just to make her happy or at least see her smile, despite the food posioning.

That’s what she did to him. All rationale was lost, even if it was just for a moment.

When he came back, his co-workers filled him in, telling him that she was all sad and pouting through the whole shift. It made his heart ache, made him want to kiss the pout right off her lips,

because her lips were so pretty.

But it also made his heart beat a little faster.

He caught himself staring more and more as the months went by, their friendship torturing him day by day. It was truly a sick joke—being her friend but not being able to feel her soft skin under his touch, kiss her anywhere, anytime he wanted.

Was this karma? What did he do to deserve this?

He’s never been a day dreamer, until now. She’s in his head all the time and he can’t stop thinking about what his life would be like if he could just muster up enough confidence to tell her that he loves the way she pushes her hair behind her ears, or how he’s been dying to kiss her since she walked in the door on her first day.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

***

Harry was wiping down the bar, cell phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he listened to his boss tell him about his newest hire being a new waitress.

“Hope this one sticks.” he mumbled, a small smirk appearing on his face as he dried off the inside of one of the glasses. “M’not gettin’ paid to wait tables, Joe.”

“Oh piss off, I’m payin’ you more than that.” a laugh was shared between the two before he continued.

“She’s already been trained, but it’s her first day by herself, so be nice.”

“M’always nice. It’s those other vultures you’ve got to worry about.”

Harry wasn’t exaggerating. The other waitresses were like wild animals, they’d either attack you or try to have sex with you.

“Just look out for her, will you? Don’t want her bein’ eaten alive on her first day and then she’s too scared to come back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, I’ll keep y’updated. Have fun on your holiday.”

“Thanks again for taking care of everything, I really appreciate it.”

“S’the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” the humor in his voice slowly faded, his tone becoming more serious.

Don’t get soft on me now.” his response to Harry’s sentiment makes him chuckle.

“Okay, okay. But m’serious, don’ know where I’d be without your help.”

When he hung up the phone, as if on fucking cue, he hears the front door open.

***

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair looked like silk, even if it was tied back while she was working with some baby hairs falling around her face. Her skin was flawless—he loves it when she doesn’t wear any makeup, like today. He found her rosy cheeks and naturally long eyelashes to be undeniably adorable.

“H?”

His head snapped up at her voice. It was sweet, like the sugar he always puts on the rim of her glass when he makes her mojitos some nights after they close up. Harry thinks he’d do anything she wanted if she asked him nicely.

“Earth to Harry.” she jokingly waves her hand in front of his face. “It’s almost two.”

“Oh, shit. Wasn’t even lookin’ a’ the time.” he chuckled. “Thanks, love.”

“No problem.” Her cheeks were splashed with pink, looking at her shoes before turning to walk away.

To this day, Harry doesn’t know what on earth possessed him to do this. But for some reason, three words popped into his head.

Make a move.

“Hey.” he stops her from walking away by taking her hand and pulling her towards him.

“What?” she giggles as she turns her head to look at him.

“C’mere.”

The look on his face was giving her butterflies. He blinked slowly, a small smile curved across his lips.

“Got a new drink idea, can I try it out on ya?”

She lets out a nervous giggle before nodding her head.

She felt like an idiot because she really thought that he was going to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips on her lips, her skin. And god, did he want to kiss her. He felt like an idiot because that wasn’t really a move. He wanted to kiss her, so fucking bad but he got nervous. How couldn’t he? She was his friend, and so, so beautiful. What if she didn’t want to be more than friends? It was a scary thought, rejection. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, he cared about her too much to ruin that. Wouldn’t it be awkward, if things didn’t work out, or she didn’t want him in the first place, and they still had to work together? Harry just might have to crawl under a rock.

But she wore her heart on her sleeve, so she couldn’t really hide the sadness in her eyes as her gaze fell to her hands as he was mixing the contents that were going to go in the lowball glass. It pained him to see her anything but her usual bubbly, sweet self.

“S’wrong?” Harry frowned, but she shook her head.

“Nothin’. Just waiting on you, like always.”

His mouth fell open at your accusation.

“Since when?” he scoffs. “M’always waitin’ on you.”

“When?” she challenges, eyebrows furrowing.

Harry playfully rolls his eyes. “When we were goin’ t’that festival, or anytime we do somethin’ outside of work, yeh always take forever to get ready.”

Because she wanted to look super cute for you, you idiot.

“I messed up my makeup, okay? Gimme a break.”

She’s sitting on the bar stool and he’s behind the bar, leaning onto his elbows and stopping what he’s doing to look at her.

“Y’dont need tha’ stuff.”

She gives him a sheepish smile, but Harry’s not having any of it.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey.” he reaches over and puts a hand under her chin, finger brushing the skin of her jaw and his touch gives her butterflies. “Look a’ me?”

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, earning a smile on his pink lips.

“S’true. You’re beautiful and you don’t need it, okay?”

A soft smile graced her lips, making his small smile wider. “Okay, okay.”

“Alright, here.” he slid the glass across the bar top towards her. She takes a sip and her eyes light up, making his do the same.

“Mmm, it’s so good!” she looks up at him, eyes widening, making him laugh.

She loved his laugh.

“Know you like to start off with the fruity stuff.”

“Careful.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I know how much you love those cranberry vodkas.”

“And they’re delicious. Especially mine.”

“Definitely yours.” her comment makes Harry giggle, looking at his hands and you’re positive it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He looks at her, flicking his head.

“C’mere, I’ll show yeh how t’make one.”

Her whole face lights up. “Really?” and her excitement is so adorable he can’t help but mirror her expression with a laugh.

“Mhm, c’mon.”

She’s standing behind the bar and Harry’s standing behind her, showing her the ropes, as he called it. But when she felt his chest pressed against her back as he went through the steps, she could no longer focus on anything he was saying, which worked in his favor because he stumbled across his words quite a bit at the feeling. They were physically closer than they’ve ever been and she smelled so fucking good. He rests his head on her left shoulder, gripping the bar top in front of her.

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and he finally speaks up.

“Wanna try?”

He picks up the lowball glass, bringing it up to her lips. He moves his hand, tilting the drink to meet your lips. The interaction was so intimate, and you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Good?”

His voice was deeper, sending shivers down her spinal cord. She nods and he moves beside her, (much to her disappointment) and leans one of his elbows onto the surface beside him. She turns to him, and takes the glass out of his grasp as he’s taking a sip.

“S’not nice!” he laughs as she takes a drink, giggling as he gets in her face.

“S’your turn to make me a drink now.”

One hour later and she was three drinks in, which meant that she was on the verge of drunk. She made him two replicas of the cocktail he’d helped her make just before, and he claimed that hers were just as good, but she still wasn’t too sure if he was letting her win or not. She wasn’t drunk, though.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” the smirk sliding up his lips told a different story.

“Liar!” she giggled, and she tries to walk towards him but her legs betray her as she trips over her own sneakers and falls into his chest.

“Okay, you’re drunk.” he confirms with a chuckle, catching her by her forearms helping her to stand again.

“M’not drunk, shoelace is untied.” she tries to lift up her leg to show him the definitely loose laces, but she loses her balance and nearly falls onto the wood floor, and if Harry hadn’t grabbed her hand when he did she would’ve definitely had a sore backside.

“Maybe I am drunk.” she mumbles, pouting when she hears his chuckle. “Not funny, H.”

His stomach drops when he sees that she’s looking right at him with tears threatening to spill onto her soft cheeks.

“No, m’sorry love. Didn’t mean it, okay? Promise.” He uses his thumb to brush the skin just under her eye. “Please, don’t cry.”

The rest of the tears subside at Harry’s comforting gesture. They stood like that for a while, eye contact refusing to break before she spoke up.

“Do you like me?”

Did she really just say that? Was he that drunk? He was definitely more than tipsy, but did she really just say that?! Was he dreaming? Please let this not be a dream.

His heart thumped in his chest when her fingers started playing with his.

“Now what’s not to like about you, darlin’?”

That’s sweet, but not what I asked, she thinks to herself.

She could not believe the level of bravery in her blood right now. She wasn’t even that drunk and words that she thought she would never say were spilling out.

As she was about to respond, she lets out a yawn, her previous thoughts quickly slipping her mind.

“Tired?’ he questions as he cocks his head to the side, a grin sliding up his lips.

“Mhm. Still need to walk home.” she frowns and his eyes go wide.

“Can’t let y’walk home alone-”

“I do it every other night.” she protests, clearly getting frustrated.

The thought of her walking back to her apartment alone at 3 am, sober or not, made his stomach turn. He ignores her attempt at convincing him that she’s fine, because there is no way he’s letting this happen.

“ Y’can stay with me? S’just upstairs.”

His voice was quiet and it took a moment for her to register what he’d said.

“Wait, what d’you mean upstairs?”

“There’s a flat upstairs, s’mine.”

The confusion on her face made his heart want to melt.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

She feels another yawn coming and he picks her up—one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. She lays her head on his shoulder, and he’s so warm—she can’t help but nuzzle her face into his neck and he thinks he could very well pass out, but he won’t, because he’s holding her, obviously.

He sets her down onto his bed, and tells her she can pick whatever looks comfy from his dresser to wear as pj’s.

“M’gonna go get some water, okay? Be right back, love.”

She picks out a stones t-shirt and changes into that because honestly, it’s one of the first things she sees and it smells like him and she’s tired.

He comes back upstairs and she’s laying down on his dark sheets, her back to him with her hair fanned out on his pillow. He walks around to the other side and sits down next to her. She feels the bed dip, opens one eye and pouts when she sees the water bottle in his hand.

“I know love, just drink some for me? Y’know it’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

He encourages her to sit up and he doesn’t let her lay back down until she’s had at least half, and then covers her up with his blanket before

“I’ll just be on the sofa. If y’need anything in the middle of the night let me know, alright?”

“No, stay.”

His breath hitched inside his throat. He swallowed thickly before replying.

“You want me to stay?”

She nods. “Don’t leave me.”

She wants him to stay.

“I won’t, s’alright.”

After a small freak out episode in the bathroom while he changed, he gets into bed next to you.

Harry always had trouble falling asleep, but tonight it only took a few minutes and he was softly snoring into his pillow.

The light peeking through the curtains was what slowly pulled her out of sleep.

“G’mornin’ sleepyhead.”

She couldn’t help the lazy smile across her lips, letting out a giggle as she stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. Do you want somethin’ to eat?”

“Can I have some waffles?”

So, he made her some waffles. Some for him too. Harry didn’t have a dining table so he insisted she stay put while he make them breakfast in bed. He watches her take her first bite and he swears that this is the moment when he truly fell in love with her.

“Mmmm.” she hums, eyes closed with a dopey, syrupy smile across her lips. “So good.”

The reaction made him quite literally crack up laughing, because those waffles were from his bloody freezer and she was acting like Harry had just ordered room service to their hotel room in Paris.

He’d take her to Paris.

“So, how’d you end up living here?” she wondered out loud, breaking Harry out of his daydream.

He proceeded to tell her everything. About his piece of shit dad, his mum getting sick, getting jumped, and how Joe took Harry in and was the father he’d never had. When he’s finished, her hand is on the back of his neck pulling him into a protective hug, lightly toying with his hair.

“I’m so sorry, H.”

Her voice is just above a whisper and it makes Harry’s eyelashes flutter.

She pulls away and they instantly find each other’s eyes. He gives her a small smile, as if to say, it’s okay.

She looks at him with doe eyes and he can’t help but reach over and pushes her hair behind one of her ears, the space in between their faces becoming smaller and smaller, until his nose brushes hers.

“Can I kiss you?”

She gives him a small nod.

He cautiously presses his lips to hers. The kiss is everything both of them have ever dreamed of and so much more. Her hand is still on the back of his neck and he’s moved to cradle her cheeks in his hands, and they fit perfectly.

Neither of you want the kiss to end, both of them breathless as Harry’s forehead is pressed against hers.

“I really, really like you, had feelings for you for a long time.” you heart flutters in your chest at his sweet words. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“I really, really like you too.”

This is my baby, be nice to her. I’ve pulled many all nighters to make this as close to perfect as it can be so I hope you love it <3

Thank you to @oh-honey-styles , @for-fucks-sake-h and @andwhenshesays for putting this Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge together, I’m so glad I could be a part of it!

BIG THANKS to my babies @goldenfeelin , @bfharry and @avhrodite for truly hyping me up and being so supportive, I love you. <3

#pypfc

599 notes · View notes

faunusrights · 3 years

Text

Citrus Summers (GWS AU)

just had this idea nip into my head... i really wanna do more with menagerie and the scarlatina fam but for now have this lil snapshot of velvet growing up :)

great weiss shark au, weiss's pronouns are she/her, velvet's pronouns are she/they

###

"So, what was your hometown like?"

Velvet's used to Weiss's interest in her life; they come from two radically different ends of some bonkers spectrum of lifestyles, where one end (Velvet's) is radical self-acceptance, anti-cop sentiment, and a Scroll full to bursting with communist memes, whilst the other end (Weiss's) is... well, to be honest, Velvet doesn't like to think about what that end entails, exactly. All she knows is that it was exactly what a young shark Faunus without any clue as to her heritage didn't need. So, Velvet entertains her with stories of growing up in the deserts of Menagerie, of her time running along the trash-strewn beaches of Kuo Kuana, of her years shooting up like a weed under the relentless freckling kisses of the bright and vibrant sun.

Sometimes Velvet can tell she can't quite wrap her head around how different their lives are, yet have somehow ended up on such an intersection as to be able to call each other friends. Velvet just goes with the flow about it all.

"Well, we didn't have a hometown, really," Velvet starts, attention half-drawn to sets of plans scattered about her desk in her dorm. She's got big plans to improve Anesidora's projector and fix the information compression problems; drawing a flat 2D image into a 3D projection has always been a sticking point, but she's nearly got it down to the extent that her wireframe tests very nearly reveal the dents and dings and imperfections that it'd previously ironed out by mistake. Accuracy is key, and she crawls ever closer to a perfect 1-to-1 copy each and every day. It's just really boring work, is all. "We lived outside of the nearest town by a couple of miles, but we went there pretty regularly, so I guess you could call it that."

Weiss hums, letting herself fall back onto Velvet's unmade bed, the handwoven blankets of orange and black brought straight over from the homeland and still gritty with red dirt to prove it. "What's it called?"

"Desert Sands. Very original, I know."

"You know a lot of the people there?"

"Shit, they trade us meat and gas for potatoes and carrots and tomatoes, not to mention almost everyone there immigrated in a group with my grandparents. I know that town like my own family."

"What's your favourite thing there?"

That pulls Velvet up short, and she worries at her bottom lip as she stares as a variety of absolutely godawful equations. Thank the maidens Weiss has given her something meaty to say, because she can't bear the idea of redoing all this horrible maths. "Uh, probably the inn, as everyone else who lives there would say. Can't go wrong with a good old fashioned pint and a few rounds of pool."

"Even as a kid?" Weiss says, and Velvet can hear the raised brow even though she can't quite see it.

"Even as a kid," Velvet agrees. "My mam had a couple of pints and my da flirted with the guys and I'd go out with my siblings to meet our friends and raise a little hell. Not very often, but often enough."

Weiss goes sort of quiet, in a way that Velvet recognises as an intensive processing of what she's just heard. She wonders, briefly, if Weiss can even imagine that sort of freedom after a childhood spent locked in the same old rooms of the same old house--even when it's as big as the Schnee manor--and then pushes that thought away. If Weiss wants to ever get into all that, it'll be in her own time.

"Describe it to me?" Weiss asks in a very little voice after a few seconds, and Velvet nods. She can do that. She remembers those halcyon days like they were yesterday.

###

"Trench, I swear, if you don't repaint those window sills I'm gonna sneak down here and do it myself, asshole."

This was about as typical an entry as Taffeta Scarlatina could ever make, shouldering open the dark wood door into the Desert Sands Inn with a grin on her face and children in tow, Ash bringing up the rear and trying to pretend he couldn't see everyone turn in their seats to look to the new arrivals. It was one of those establishments with a big boxy interior and just a handful of rooms to the side, where the only three doors led into the toilets and the kitchens and the stairwell to the rooms above, and much like everything else on Menagerie, nothing ever matched; the doors had been collected from a variety of sources, the floorboards uneven and scratched and recut, the paint on the walls patchy with mismatched shades and covered with picture frames in some last-ditch attempt to hide it. No two stools matched, no three tables carved by the same hand, but that was the price of the community effort--everything you ever needed, maybe just not in the way you always expected.

"Taffeta," Trench greeted from behind the bar, turning to fetch a pair of glasses without prompting whilst making sure not to jostle the hanging bottles overhead with his great buffalo horns, split like a strange middle parting on the top of his head. "You're welcome to it, to be frank; Cinna doesn't have a clue where she's put the paint, last we saw it."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, letting go of Velvet's hand to pat her between her ears instead, the ten year old quick to laugh and duck away. "I'm sure. Not at all like I said I have some lying around the last three times I was here. You really that scared of scraping all that flaking paint off?"

"Well," Trench said after a moment, leaning under the bar for a second. "I did get some in my eyes last time, and boy, that hurted. You want your usual?"

"Pint of porter for me, and something weak for my pretty boy, lest he forget which way is up," Taffeta agreed, shooting a wink Ash's way and cackling when he blushed. "And some juice boxes for the kids?"

Trench didn't even pause, turning about to fish out a variety of colourful cartons adorned with a collection of cartoon characters, and Taffeta lifted Velvet up to plop her onto one of the few cushioned stools, Chiffon quick to use her older, longer limbs to scramble her own way up. Trench offered the drinks out freely, letting them decide between orange and passionfruit flavours, before noticing the new addition on Ash's hip. "Oh? This the newest Scarlatina?"

Satin--hardly a year old--was clinging to her da's loose shirt, dark eyes looking about in wonder, and Taffeta smiled before reaching over to brush her loose, light hair out of her eyeline. "Sure is. Gettin' real big already, so we thought it was high time to meet the folks around here. She won't be the last, though." At that, Taffeta leant across the bar, dropping her voice low. "Would you believe me if I said Ash is already askin' for the next one?"

"Slander," Ash shot back, face still pink. "I just said four is a rounder number than three."

Trench made a face, glancing pointedly away. "My girl woulda mounted my horns on the wall for that one. We had just the one and she swore off the rest before I could even consider it. Count yourself lucky."

"Cinnamon's a good kid," Ash offered, rearranging Satin to sit a little nicer in his lap. "I think that all worked out in the end."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, watching as Velvet picked the orange juice for herself, leaving the eldest to the passionfruit. "Doesn't that imply we have so many 'cause you don't think just one was good enough? Chiff's a darling, if a bit of a pain in my ass, huh, baby?"

Chiffon ignored them both to instead help Velvet punch the straw into the carton, and Ash grinned. "Just one was perfect, but you told me yourself that you don't think I know when to fold."

"You don't," Trench interjected, pouring out a pint of something dark and bitter enough to linger on the tongue. "When we played poker last year... phew. Thank the maidens it was a couple's night, else you woulda been walking home absolutely stark--"

"--drunk," Taffeta quickly interrupted, glancing towards the kids who stared back with wide eyes. "Been walking home absolutely stark... trashed. Wasted. Uh, Trench, what's on the menu today, whilst it's on my mind?"

As they discussed the menu (Taffeta eager to point out the contributions of the family crops, asking, overly sweetly, and who traded you those lovely chickens? they must have been very generous), Chiffon turned to Ash in her seat, legs swinging freely, bumping into the overly-varnished wood of the bar. "Da? Can me 'n Velv go out and play?"

"Sure can, kiddo," Ash said, though he was quick to grab Chiffon's arm before she could throw herself off the stool with the straw still in her mouth. "Woah, take that out first before you end up swallowing it. You remember the rules?"

Chiffon nodded, face cast all seriously. "Don't go outta town. Be back before dark. If someone tries to bully us, punch 'em in the nose."

"And?" Ash added, drawing his brows together.

Velvet chirped up. "Cops aren't friends!"

At that, Ash broke out into a grin, as bright as Velvet's and twice as toothy. "That's right. You go have fun, and don't eat too many snacks; we're having dinner here before we go home."

Chiffon slid free of her stool, turning about to help Velvet down too, and then the pair scampered towards the door with a harmonised yes da! before pulling it open to the main road outside, the sunlight blisteringly bright, the sky an endless, cloudless blue overhead. The paint on the windowsill peeled off and flecked away, and under their shoes, the ground crunched.

Everything tasted of oranges.

###

Weiss sits silently.

"Did you get back before dark?"

Velvet snorts, sitting back in her chair until it creaks dangerously below. "Just about, though my mam didn't look all that impressed. Still, can't do much about it; we didn't even have, like, landline calls back then, let alone Scrolls and shit."

Weiss laughs to herself, rolling over and tucking her legs up onto Velvet's bed until she's curled atop the blankets, running a thumb over the wool quietly, repetitively. Truth is, they still smell of Menagerie, of home; Velvet could wash it a thousand times, but the earthy scent of hot summers and prickling scrublands sticks like its own aura.

"I'm jealous," Weiss says simply, and then she draws the blankets up to partly cocoon herself, tight across the ribs, loose about the ankles. "Will I... would you show me it, sometime? If I went there?"

It's sweet. Velvet wishes she could travel through time and show it to Weiss from the start; she wishes she could have told her what she would have, in the future. Look, see? This is real. You can have this too. Happiness doesn't only exist for people far away; you get to feel this, too.

"Of course," Velvet says with a smile, instead. "Bold if you to think my parents don't demand they meet every single last one of my friends."

Weiss grins back, all shark-toothed and sharp, and Velvet likes how it looks on her face. It took her team months to eek it out of her more often than every couple of weeks, but now, it's practically daily. "I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend back to you."

"Thanks the maidens," Velvet says, very seriously. "Because if I ever meet your dad, I'm setting his car alight."

#rwby #weiss schnee #velvet scarlatina #gws au #great weiss shark #its one of those tags #my writing #just a lil thing #(taffeta paints the windows as payment for the beer)

29 notes · View notes

0spacecase0 · 4 years

Text

Grumpy SOB

Bo side-eyed you as he grumbled underneath his breath. Out of your peripheral you saw him adjust on the couch and turn the volume up on his wrestling match. The booming voice of the sports announcer drowned out any further comments of his displeasure and you went back to making dinner for the boys.

You had told Vincent a few days ago that him and his brothers should spend more time together and designated Friday as family dinner night. You had yet to tell Bo that Lester was coming and you simply invited Lester over when you saw him yesterday. By the way Bo was acting this was not gearing up to be a pleasant night. He cast one more nasty look in your direction and you decided that enough was enough.

“What is it, Bo?” Maybe asking him head-on was stirring the pot a little but you were past the point of caring. You had spent the better part of the day preparing everything for a nice evening and you weren’t going to let his attitude ruin it. The family had already kidnapped you and prevented you from leaving. At least Lester and Vincent were nice about it, Bo took every opportunity to antagonize you and make your life harder.

Scowling like you had insulted him, Bo spat, “Excuse me, but it’s Friday night and seein’ as I’m the only one in this goddamn house that’s got a job I’d like to spend it watchin’ my shows and havin’ a beer! Which I can’t do with the goddamn ruckus yer causin’ in there!” His southern accent poking through the angrier he got, he ended his tirade and turned the volume up once more.

Deciding that you were going to salvage this night if it killed you, you furrowed your brow and braced yourself to yell back at him. “I’m sorry if my cooking is too loud for you! I could just let you fend for yourself y’know! I’m surprised you could hear me over how loud the TV is. What is it at, 60?”

Turning back to the steaks you were cooking you mumbled, “Goddamn grumpy son of a bitch…” As you turned to put the pie in the oven you bumped right into the towering form of Bo Sinclair. You weren’t given much time to wonder how he had gotten all the way over here before he shoved his face right up close to yours. His hat was off and he had errant curls framing his face.

Breathing heavy he simmered, “What did you just say to me?” His voice was at a regular level and that in and of itself was almost as terrifying as if he were screaming.

But apparently it was not enough to deter you.

Not knowing where the suddence confidence came from you pushed your face closer to his and said, “Which part? When I called you helpless or when I called you a son of a bitch?” His cheeks were flushed from rage — or maybe alcohol — and your eyes went wide as you realized that you had really put your foot in your mouth.

Just then Vincent came up from the basement and stopped in the kitchen causing the two of you to look over at him. He tilted his head as if to ask: “What’s going on?” And when you looked back at Bo he simply scoffed and rolled his eyes. Ripping open the door to the fridge he snatched a beer before stalking off to the living room once more.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding you looked over at Vincent who was now appraising the various dishes you made.

“Do they pass inspection?” His eye darted up to your face and you could see he was smiling as he nodded.

“Good, let’s just hope your brothers like it too.” Giving you a sympathetic look, as best he could with that mask of his, he grabbed the plates to start setting the table. The two of you worked in silence until you heard the familiar sound of Lesters truck pulling into the driveway. The two of you heard Bo shift in the living room and you gave Vincent a look that said: “Let the shit-show begin.”

“What in the fuck is he doin’ here at 7:00 in the goddamn evenin’?” You and Vincent snapped your heads to the doorway to see Bo glowering at the two of you.

Deciding to make it seem like you had invited Lester on a whim you replied, albeit shakily, “I saw him earlier and I thought he might like to have dinner with us.”

It seemed like fate was working against you because Lester chose that time to slam open the door and yell down the hallway, “Hey guys!”

Rounding the corner into the kitchen he started to say, “Hey Y/N, thanks fer inviting me yesterday, I sure do ‘preciate it. I been thinkin’ ‘bout whatcha said and I think you’re right. We should start to eat dinner as a family more-“ He looked up into the kitchen and was met with Bo glaring at him beneath the brim of his trucker hat.

Turning to you, Bo cocked an eyebrow and you could only wish that they had actually killed you when you first stumbled into Ambrose.

“Saw him earlier?” He drawled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Thought he might want some dinner?” Realizing you had been caught red handed you looked to Vincent and Lester for some help. Vincent only shrugged and Lester seemed to have finally clammed up.

Bo’s voice increasing in volume made you whip your head over to him again. With you looking like a deer in headlights he continued, “Well, it seems like we have a fuckin’ contradiction on our hands here.”

Stepping into your personal space Bo sneered, “It’s bad enough that Vincent and Lester want you alive but don’t go thinkin’ yer apart of the family.”

Cursing yourself for cowering under his imposing form you mutter, “I’m sorry Bo, but you don’t have to be so ornery all the time.” His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to respond before Vincent put his hand on his brother's chest and pushed him out of your face.

Lester tried concealing his laughter as he giggled, “ornery” under his breath. Bo’s eyes narrowed and his jaw grew tense as he looked between his brothers and you. Exhaling harshly he ripped Vincent’s arm off of him and dragged one of the chairs out from the table.

Plopping down onto it he snapped, “Well as long as we’re all here we might as well eat some of this shit.”

Vincent glared at him as he brought the bowl of mashed potatoes to the table and Lester pulled out his own chair looking meekly at his lap. It hurt you to see the brothers fighting all the time and you couldn’t help but feel like your attempt at remedying it had gone down the drain before the night even really started.

The table was tense as everyone served themselves. You felt like one wrong move would cause Bo to start hurling insults at everyone. Lester helped himself to the mashed potatoes, grabbing a large spoonful of it. The precarious pile started to tip and before you could warn him he had the mush all down his shirt and lap.

You and Vincent looked at each other as Lester froze in shock. You were all waiting for Bo’s anger to explode but instead of biting insults and yelling all that came out of his mouth was a short chuckle. Glancing wide-eyed at Lester you tried to brace yourself for the inevitable fight that was sure to break out. Pushing your chair back from the table you scrambled to get more napkins in order to clean up the mess. As you turned back to the table Bo burst out in boisterous laughter. He threw his head back and banged on the table. You hesitantly turned to the other brothers for reassurance but they looked just as lost as you.

“You- You should have seen your face! Lester-!” He cut himself off with another round of raucous laughter.

“Lester- He- He looked so fuckin’ surprised! Like a deer in fuckin’ headlights!” By this point Bo was on the verge of tears and as his hooting and hollering continued Lester started to relax and laugh along as well. You looked over to see Vincent’s shoulders shaking as he laughed in his own silent way. Watching the brothers cut loose like this, you started to laugh as well. It began as chuckling until slowly all of you descended into hysterics, until the sounds of your giggles filled the entire room.

As the laughter died down, all of you were left smiling at each other and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for the boys. They were deprived of this closeness and happiness for their entire lives. The more you thought about it the more you realized you had never seen any of them laugh that hard before. Feeling as though the evening had been revived, you all started to dig in after Lester cleaned up his mess.

The night wore on and the plates were swapped out for beer — for Bo, coffee, and tea. You sat around and watched as the brothers told what few happy memories they had from their childhood and once again you were hit with an overwhelming feeling of loss. In some sort of twisted way, they had become a sort of family to you and you felt as though you should try and contribute in a way that helps them. You may not be able to change their childhood, but now you were determined to give them as many happy moments as you could moving forward in order to make up for it.

Slowly Vincent rose from the table, gesturing that he had work to do in the basement. Before he turned to leave he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. You were a bit taken aback, as Vincent was generally more reserved. You smiled back at him to show your appreciation. Your attention was drawn to Lester as he slid his chair back from the table, smiling from ear to ear.

“I best be gettin’ home ‘fore it gets too dark to drive. This sure was great, Y/N. Thanks fer havin’ me, I had a ball.” His smile faltered and he looked as if he wanted to say more.

“Sure thing, Lester. Is there anything I can get you before you leave?” You furrowed your brow, wanting to know what was bothering him but feeling like it wasn’t your place to ask.

Wringing his hat in his hands his eyes flit between the ground and yours as he spoke once more, “Yeah, I was wonderin’ — if it’s not too much trouble — if’n I could come back fer supper again next week? O- Only if yer havin’ it.” He clenched his jaw as he looked at you wide-eyed, nervously awaiting your response. Your heart damn near broke for this man, looking so unsure. You wanted to wrap him in your arms and never let him go.

Holding your arms out you gestured for Lester to come hug you. He hesitated at first but after you said, “C’mere” he almost knocked the breath out of your lungs from how hard he hugged you.

While he was hugging you, you murmured, “Of course, Lester. You’re always welcome here. Even if you just want to drop by to chat.” Your eyes flitted over to Bo, expecting him to be upset that you had given Lester permission to come up to the house anytime he wanted. Instead, you saw him tracing the label of his beer bottle with an odd sort of half-smile on his face. He almost looked… sad. Or nostalgic. Maybe a combination of the two. Either way, you squeezed Lester once more before drawing back and holding him at arm's length. Looking him in the eyes, you cocked your eyebrow and he nodded back at you, a large smile splitting his face.

Stealing a cookie on the way out, he waved goodbye to you and Bo before yelling a goodnight down the stairs to Vincent. You were standing at the sink with your back to the rest of the kitchen when you heard Bo push his chair back. Looking over your shoulder you saw Bo leaning against the wall behind you with his arms crossed. Wondering why he was just standing there looking at you, you decided to ask him.

“What’s up, Bo? You gonna head to bed?” Turning back to the sink you waited for his response. You thought maybe he’d yell at you for inviting Lester without his say in it, or if he was in a good mood maybe even help with the dishes.

What you didn’t expect was to hear him say, “Nah, I’m gonna thank you.” Your head snapped around so fast your neck almost hurt. You couldn’t believe his words.

Chuckling at your slack-jawed stare he continued, “I know me ‘n Lester ain’t very close. I just don’t know how to handle ‘im sometimes. I sorta feel bad ‘bout it, seein’ as Vincent ‘n me are ‘bout as close as I can get.” Looking down at the floor he scuffed the toe of his work boot across the linoleum. He looked almost sheepish and if you were shocked before you were downright flabbergasted now. You had seen Bo show a lot of emotions — mainly anger and sometimes, when he was drunk enough, sadness. You had seen him flirt like hell and be sarcastic. But you had never seen him be as vulnerable as he was right now. You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off before you could get a word in.

“But tonight… Tonight was real nice, even though you went behind my back to do it, sweetheart.” You knew that it must have meant a lot to him for Bo to even consider thanking you. Even if he was poking fun at you, you knew that this was about as open as he could get.

“Bo…” You hushed out, “You don’t need to thank me, I’m happy to do this for all of you. Even if I am being held here against my will, I guess I should pitch in somehow. Besides, I only feel bad that you guys aren’t as close as you could be.” Looking back at the dishes you expected the conversation to be over. For Bo to make some sort of snarky response or grunt in your direction before going on his way.

But it seemed like he just wanted to surprise you today because his hand fell on your shoulder and as he turned you around he said, “So Lester got a hug and I don’t get nothin’? That don’t seem mighty fair to me, seein’ as I’m the one who paid fer the groceries.” Your jaw fell open as you tried to comprehend what he just said. You were half tempted to ask what he had done with the real Bo because this was an obvious imposter.

Managing to stutter out a, “What” you slowly got your wits together.

“Am I not as good as Lester? Is that it? You like ‘im better than me?” Bo started to look more defensive and you gaped up at him.

“Bo, are you… Are you jealous?” You couldn’t believe your ears. Bo Sinclair, macho-man extraordinaire was jealous because you had given his brother a hug and not him. You couldn’t help but smile as Bo furrowed his brow and turned his head.

Scoffing, he stepped back from you and hissed, “No. Me? Jealous of that sorry son-uva-bitch that smells like rotting shit? No fucking way, forget I said anything.” He turned and started making his way out of the kitchen.

Chasing after him you laughed and yelled, “Bo! I’ll give you a hug if you want. All you had to do was ask!” You caught him by his sleeve in order to stop him. He turned back to you, still frowning and you moved forward and wrapped your arms around his torso. You felt him tense and his arms hovered awkwardly away from your body before he peeled you off of him. Grumbling to himself he stomped up the stairs and you were left shocked in the hallway listening to the echo of his door slamming.

Trudging back into the kitchen feeling slightly put out, you finished up the dishes before returning to your own room. As much as you wouldn’t like to admit it, it had taken you a while to fall asleep. You couldn’t help but remember how vulnerable Bo had looked earlier and how upset he was when you had finally hugged him.

Unless Vincent was still awake from working all night, you generally woke up before Bo. He liked to sleep in and often went down to the garage at 10 am. While getting out of bed you decided that a cup of coffee would be a good way to start the day. Walking into the kitchen you were surprised to see Bo already sitting at the table staring into a cup of black coffee. You flushed when you realized you were still in your pajamas and probably looked like a mess. Turning to the coffee-maker you cursed yourself for thinking that because you really had no business liking Bo like that. He was your captor for pete's-sake! But then again, Bo had no business looking that handsome.

Once you had your mug in hand you steeled yourself to meet his gaze and leaned your back against the counter. Looking closer at the man at the table you realized that his hair was ruffled and he had dark bags under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

“Good morning.” You figured if you asked what was wrong he wouldn’t say anything. He’d probably just yell at you, so you might as well act like there wasn’t anything weird going on.

He just grunted a reply and kept looking into his coffee mug. He didn’t look you in the eyes as he heaved a sigh and pulled himself out of his chair. Pouring his mug out then setting it down in the sink, he turned back to the table. Pulling his hat on he pushed in his chair before ambling down the hallway, his eyes trained on the ground the whole time. You stepped out after him and watched him make his way toward the door, your brow creased in concentration. Making up your mind you walked after him before stepping in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something, obviously confused, before stumbling back from the impact of your hug. His hands hovered just like they did last night before you squeezed him tighter and he finally rested them on your back.

Speaking into his chest you told him, “I know I said all you have to do is ask, but I figured you wouldn’t do that.” You heard his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“Am I gettin’ that easy fer you to read?” He seemed just tired enough to not put up a fight at your words and instead went along with them.

Smiling into his sternum you responded, “Maybe, or maybe I just thought you looked like you needed a hug.” He tightened his arms around you before drawing back.

Considering your face for a while before an actual smile graced his features he said, “Maybe I did, sweetheart.” He squeezed your arm before stepping around you and grabbing his keys. You watched him through the screen door as he walked down the drive and started up his truck. Pulling out onto the road he stuck his arm out and waved before he disappeared around the corner ready to start another day in town.

As you watched him go you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, proud that you had gotten him to open himself up just a little bit, and hoping that he would allow you to do that more often.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair fanfic #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair

133 notes · View notes

mizumelona · 4 years

Text

set me up | atsumu x reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: Did I stay up too late writing this? Possibly. Was it worth it? Yes. This final arc was loosely inspired by some hc’s I requested from lin at @sugardaddykenma, so this chapter and the next are dedicated to her. ily haha.

MASTERLIST

PREV | IS THIS A DATE? | NEXT

TAGLIST: @awkwardali6106 @kasandrafaye @veggytaled @svtbitch @stinkyobeymerat @hollypastl @differentballooncollection @o51oc @sunboikyo00 @justxanotherxshipper @kaisemieita @rizamendoza808 @tomo-uwu @sugardaddykenma @celinafeng @ravioliplease @thatpersonwithissues @humanbobjeanpants @suteorra @jh-bee

Outside Sendai Stadium. FRIDAY 9:05PM

Unlike her prickly personality, [y/n]’s hand was warm. Atsumu’s foul mood from losing the game had already blown over, but he didn’t feel like letting go and she hadn’t shaken him off either. Either she was really an airhead and hadn’t noticed or more likely she knew and didn’t mind. He brought his free hand up to his face to cover his smile.

He thought back to her failed dates. Knowing her personality, it wasn’t surprising that she was struggling in the romance department. This girl had the kinda ego that made an average guy retreat. But Atsumu Miya wasn’t an average guy. He admired the way she was hot-headed and shameless, and he’d be lying if he said the way she confidently took shots at him didn’t stir up some kind of feeling.

Atsumu chuckled.

“What’re you laughing at?”, she turned to him with that cute teasing look that suited her far more than any demure smile.

“Nothin’”

You looked up at Atsumu confused. He’d started laughing to himself out of the blue. What a weirdo.

Atsumu’s stomach rumbled.

You snickered. “Haven’t eaten yet?”

“Nah. Eatin’ before games doesn’t really work for me.”

You nodded in response. “Want to grab some food then?”

“Yeah. I’m starvin’. I know a really good curry restaurant near here. Wanna go?”

“Sounds good. Don’t tell Osamu, but I’m getting a little tired of onigiri.”

“Hah. No promises sweetheart.”

“Jeez. Can’t count on you for anything can I?”

“Well if you’re askin’ I guess I could make an exception. Oh, it’s this way.” Atsumu pulled you in the opposite direction you were headed down a sidewalk path that was warmly lit by street lamps. His grip was still firm in yours.

“Ah here it is”, Atsumu stopped in front of a little shop with a warm aroma wafting out through the open front door. You two walked in and found an open table. The waiter stopped by to take your orders before disappearing into the kitchen.

Suddenly, something occurred to you. Wasn’t this kind of like…a date? Your face got warm thinking about it.

Soon the waiter returned with two plates of steaming katsu curry. Atsumu must’ve been starving because he quickly shoveled down spoonful after spoonful without stopping to talk. So this is the post-game appetite of a pro-athlete. Lol, date my ass.

“Ahh, that was great”, he said as he scraped the last of the curry off the plate. He gulped down the last of his water and let out a satisfied sigh, before leaning on his hand and looking at you. “So, what d’ya wanna do sweetheart?”

“Mm?” You hummed mid-spoonful of curry.

“You seemed pretty confident when you called me out earlier. What didja have in mind?”, He had his signature devious look. So troublesome.

You gulped your food down. “You already look like you’re in a good mood to me.”

“You don’t know that.” He crossed his arms and put on a faux melancholy look. “C’mon I can tell you and I are alike when it comes to this kinda thing. A plateful of curry isn’t enough to live down our losses”

You scoffed. “Our losses?”

“Plus we’re already here. Might as well do something.”

He had a point.

“Well…what do you like to do to blow off steam?”

“Eat.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“We just did that.”

“Play volleyball”

“Aren’t you tired of that for tonight?”

“No. Not at all”, His answer was matter-of-fact, like it was obvious. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of it.” He smiled. It was reminiscent of that childish grin he had when you saw him serve earlier.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “You must love it huh?”

“Nothin’ I love more.” His eyes were glimmering. His passion was almost tangible. You were taken aback.

“…I really respect that.” You shared your honest thoughts. Atsumu’s eyes went wide. He ruffled his hair.

“Woah. Two compliments from you? In one night? That’s unbelievable.”

“Hah.” You sighed. “I’m serious though. Having a passion. Madly chasing after it. That’s cool.”

“I dunno why you sound so amazed. Aren’t we the same when it comes to this kinda thing?”

You raised your eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

He scoffed. “You’re tryna convince me that the workaholic chick that stays up all night designing shit and wins awards for her apps isn’t crazy passionate about what she does?”

It was your turn to be surprised. You’d been so fixated on how badly your love life had been going lately that you’d been letting it get to your confidence. But he was right. At the end of the day, you were one hardworking, passionate, badass bitch. You couldn’t hide your grin.

“Oh? Weak to compliments huh?”, He interrupted your thoughts.

“Shut up. I just didn’t expect to hear that from you”

The waiter came back with the check, which you and Atsumu split evenly. You both gathered your belongings and walked out the door.

“Wait a second”, Atsumu turned to you. “We never actually decided what we wanted to do.”

“Oh right”, You both stood awkwardly. You didn’t want to go home just yet, but you didn’t know what to do. You glanced around for ideas and spotted the glow of a vending machine in the distance. “Wanna grab a drink from the vending machine over there while we decide?”

“Sure.”, Atsumu said with a shrug. You both walked over to the vending machine and paused looking at the options. You spotted your favorite drink then started rummaging around in your bag looking for change.

“I can cover it”, Atsumu said and reached into his bag and pulled out a chubby froggy coin purse. It was surprisingly cute. He opened it up. “Whatcha want?”

“That’s a real cute coin purse. Not something that I’d expect you to have”

“Oh this?”, He held it up. “It was a birthday present from my granny”

“And you still carry it around? That’s even more cute.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ya gettin’ anythin’?”

“I’ll get a peach juice”

“One peach juice comin’ right up.” He dropped some coins into the machine and pressed two buttons. Your drinks fell down the chute with a clunk. He handed yours to you. You plopped down on a nearby bench and opened your drink with a satisfying pop. Atsumu sat down to join you.

You both sipped your drinks in silence, just looking out at the street. A few weeks ago, you never would’ve thought you’d be sitting here with Atsumu. You recalled the way you’d clashed at your first meeting, the spilled juice and the sweater on your second date, and the way he’d stuck around with you in the restaurant yesterday. You hadn’t known him for all that long, but somehow he was comfortable to be around. It was like you could be your greediest, nastiest, most shameless self and he wouldn’t look at you weird for it. Knowing Atsumu, he’d probably throw an even more shameless, petty comment back.

You turned to look at him. The glow of the vending machine illuminated his face, defining its contours. Again, it was like your stomach was filled with butterflies. Perhaps noticing your lingering gaze, Atsumu turned to look at you too.

“Thanks again”, A gentle smile formed on his lips. “Y’know, for coming to talk to me after the game.”

“No problem.” You shook your head. “I wasn’t lying when I said you looked cool tonight. Even if you didn’t win, I’d say you were pretty charming.”

He let out a playful chuckle. “Jeez if ya keep complimenting me like that I’m gonna fall for ya.”

You tossed your hair. “Like you aren’t already majorly crushing on me”

“How’d ya figure it out?”

You paused looking at him. He said it with his usual teasing tone, but why did he look sincere. Usually teasing him came easily, but right now you couldn’t think of any witty comeback. You tried to hit the breaks on the wave of butterflies rioting in your stomach, but couldn’t help but wonder. What if…

You had a thought. A stupid thought. A thought that you usually would’ve easily shot down. Maybe you were still sleep-deprived, maybe there was something in the curry, maybe the way he was looking at you was getting to you. You turned to Atsumu.

“Hey, Atsumu. I have a crazy idea.”

“Oh? What is it?”, he cocked his head to the side. It was absolutely unfair how handsome he looked while doing it.

You focused your last sane brain cell in trying to sound clever. “So…You’re petty. I’m petty. Wanna do something petty together?”

“Interestin’” He smirked. “What didja have in mind?”

This was a stupid idea. You couldn’t believe you were suggesting it. He was looking at you expectantly. It was too late to back out now.

“I have a family brunch with that shitty cousin I told you about next Sunday. What do you think of coming as my plus one to flex on him?”

“Oh-“

“Just for that day, could you pretend to be my boyfriend?”, You quickly clarified.

You weren’t sure what his feelings were. You weren’t even sure about what yours were, and even if you did you weren’t about to ask him to a family brunch on your first date. You just thought that if it was with Atsumu, maybe doing something stupid and petty like this might be fun.

His initial look of shock quickly devolved into a sly grin.

“A Fake date huh? Leave it to you to come up with somethin’ like that.” He shook his head. “What’s in it for me?”

“You get a chance to be shamelessly petty without consequence. Do you need anything more than that?”

“You’re gonna have to spice up the deal sweetheart”

“Ugh I know it’s kinda crazy if you don’t want to do it nevermin-“

“Woah woah. I never said I wasn’t interested. ” He held up his hands. “Fine it’s a deal, but if you’re askin’ for my help we aren’t half assin’ it”

A devious toothy grin spread across his face. Oof. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“I don’t like that look”

“First of all”, He held up a finger. “I’ll drive you there.”

That’s all? You let out a sigh of relief. “That wasn’t as bad as I was expectin-“

“Second of all”, he cut you off, “all PDA is fair game”,

You scoffed. “Excuse me? It’s a family function!”

“Do ya wanna put on a convincing act or what?”

“…fine”, You mumbled. “But kisses are off-limits!”

“What! Ya hafta gimme somethin’ to work with here”

This boy was really pushing his luck. He did have a point though. You thought about it for a second.

“Fine. Forehead and cheek kisses are okay” You yielded. “I’m not compromising beyond that though.”

“Okay that works, but if you wanna have a lil more of this just lemme know sweetheart”, he said with a wink.

“Keep dreaming lemon boy”, You stuck out your tongue. Atsumu frowned at the nickname.

“Again with the nicknames…actually, speakin’ of nicknames don’t ya think we should have some cute pet names for each other”

“Don’t you dare call me babe”

He took up a thinking position with his hand on his chin. “Honey? Sweetie?”, he tested a few out. Something about it felt weird like you’d convince yourself it wasn’t an act if he kept calling you that. That wouldn’t be good.

“Just call me sweetheart like you usually do”, you suggested.

“Oho has it grown on ya?”, he raised an eyebrow.

“What if it has?”

Atsumu’s witty comeback was stopped in its tracks. A pink haze appeared across his cheeks.

“Jeez what’s with you today?”, he said with a chuckle.

“You started it first.” You replied. “Also you aren’t the only one with ideas for this thing. I’m the one who’s had to put up with this shit for who knows how many years now.” Your mouth twisted into a sly smile.

“You sure can be scary sometimes sweetheart…I like it. So what are ya thinking?”

“So I here’s the plan…”

You two spent a solid hour talking through your plan before Atsumu finally drove you home. As you gathered your things to walk into the apartment complex, Atsumu turned to you.

“Hey. Today was a lotta fun. Let’s do it again sometime. Except next time I won’t lose.”

“Okay. Okay. Thanks again for the ride. See you later.”

You went upstairs and started your bedtime routine. Your phone buzzed as you got into bed. You picked it up and smiled as you saw the message.

Lemon Boy:

Did you make it up safely?

Shameless Wench:

Yeah. Gonna go to bed now.

Lemon Boy:

Okay. Good night y/n.

Your Apartment. SUNDAY 9:36AM.

Your doorbell rang.

“One second!”, you shouted, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. You ran over and pulled the door open. Atsumu leaned on the doorframe with a smirk.

“Let’s do this thing sweetheart”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #atsumu #atsumu x reader #set me up

222 notes · View notes

earlysunsetsoverambrose · 4 years

Text

Operation Sweet Surprise (1/3)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader (Romantic or Platonic)

Warnings: roadkill and animal skulls

Description: It’s Bo and Vincent’s Birthday and you’re determined to make it special. You can’t do it alone, however. So you enlist the help of the youngest Sinclair.

The alarm on your bedside table went off at precisely 7 AM. Your eyes shot open and you couldn’t contain the smile that immediately took over your whole face. You were quick to shut off the alarm, glancing at the calendar to confirm you were correct. Today was the day. September 18th. More than likely, neither twin remembered the date so that made it all the easier for you to get away with your master plan. You’d been planning your little scheme for weeks now and it was all about to pay off. Operation Sweet Surprise was in full swing.

Yesterday, you were meticulous in your preparations, making extra sure you had your game plan mapped out completely. You had taken stock of what ingredients the Sinclairs already had. They didn’t have a lot, but they had some of the basics: flour, white sugar, butter, and eggs. The flour and sugar had been sitting there mostly untouched for years and were a little expired, but they would have to do. You couldn’t afford to buy everything new and you had to prioritize. Luckily, you’d had a little money from doing jobs Bo gave you around town. They were only small tasks here and there and he’d only give you a few dollars out of what they’d gotten from visitors, but it was enough for your purposes. You found an old cookbook with fairly simple recipes for both desserts that didn’t call for anything too fancy. Everything you needed was well within your ability to procure.

After that, all you had left to do was appeal to the youngest Sinclair to ask for a huge favor and hope he’d indulge you. Luckily, he had. That’s why he was your favorite by far.

You made your way to Lester’s cabin on foot. It wasn’t too far outside of town, but it was still a bit of a long walk. Obviously, you couldn’t ask Bo or Vincent to take you or you’d spoil the surprise and that was non-negotiable. Thankfully, the sun was on its way down, so it wasn’t miserably hot outside, making for a rather peaceful mini-hike.

Once Lester’s cabin came into your line of sight, you eagerly jogged up to the front door. You knocked, announcing yourself so he wouldn’t be alarmed as to who was knocking on his door right before nightfall. The door swung open to reveal Lester, toothy grin and all.

“Y/N! What can I do ya for? What’re ya doin’ out and ‘bout so late? ‘Specially all the way out here?”

“I came to see you! I have a huge favor I need to ask and you’re the only one who can help me!” You said, buttering him up so he’d say yes.

“Alright then, lay it on me.” he said, matching your enthusiasm.

“I’m planning on baking a birthday cake and pie for your brothers and I need you to take me into town so I can get the rest of the ingredients.” You said hopefully “I just need a ride, that’s it! I swear! And maybe, if you could let me borrow your kitchen that’d be incredible too! If it’s not too much trouble! I promise to clean up everything when I’m done!”

“Wow! That’s awful nice of ya!” Lester said supportively. His grin faltered for a moment, though, “Ya sure ya want it to be me that takes ya?”

“Pretty please, Lester! I’ll do anything! You’re my only hope!” you said dramatically as you clasped your hands together with the best pout you could muster through your giggles, begging him to help you.

“Well, I don’t suppose I can leave a damsel in distress. Sure, I’ll give ya a ride!” he said happily, “When did ya need to go?”

“Tomorrow morning! I’ll meet you where the road’s washed out at seven-thirty sharp.”

“Square deal, I’ll be there.” He said reaching out his hand to seal the deal. You dodged the hand and practically rammed your body into his, squeezing him in a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Lester! I’d be lost without you!” you said as you released him, smile beaming.

“N-no, problem. Anything for you…a-and Bo and Vinny, of course. They’re my brothers after all.” Lester stuttered out, still red from your hug.

“Thanks again! Okay! I’ll get out of your hair! I’ll bring all the pots and pans and other ingredients with me tomorrow! You’re the best, Lester!” you said as you began to jog back towards Ambrose.

“Hey, wait! It’s gettin’ dark out! I’ll give ya a ride back, if ya like!” Lester called out as he closed the door behind him, following you.

“You don’t have to do that. I couldn’t abuse your kindness any further.” You said only half-joking, “It’s okay, it’s not that far a walk.”

“Guess it’s not out of my way then.” Lester said matter-of-factly as he opened the passenger side door of his truck. You glanced between the long walk ahead and back to Lester’s hopeful expression.

“Well, if you’re going to twist my arm about it…” you said playfully as you walked up to Lester’s truck. He helped you up and closed the door behind you. You two got lost in conversation as you drove into the night toward Ambrose. By the time you arrived back, the ride didn’t seem nearly long enough.

You hopped out of bed and were quick to change into an outfit you wouldn’t mind getting dirty. Baking had a propensity to get messy so you were prepared to let the flour fall as it may. You pulled out a duffle bag you’d take from the storage house a few days ago and slung it over your shoulder. Last night, after the twins finally went to sleep, you loaded the bag up with everything you would need to make their birthday treats.

It was incredibly important everything go perfectly. It was a very special day whether the Sinclair Twins cared about it or not. It was their birthday and you were determined to make them feel special, damn it. All of the Sinclair brothers had spent far too many years being ignored and undervalued. Continuing that tradition simply wouldn’t do.

Over the last few weeks, you’d managed to weasel the information you wanted out of them, little by little. They told you that birthdays weren’t ever a huge ordeal for them. At most, their parents would buy them a cake and that would be it. The cake was always a vanilla cake with white frosting, which also happened to be Vincent’s favorite. Something you were sure Bo was bitter about. You tried multiple times to subtly badger Bo into telling you what he would have wanted if he had gotten a choice, but he always said he didn’t like sweets and shut you down. With a little more time, you noticed the one food Bo would consistently linger on - whether in an old coupon clipping or in reruns on TV - was apple pie. You noticed that each time, without fail, when Bo’s eyes would land on a picture of old-fashioned apple pie, he’d stare just a bit longer before moving on. Sometimes you even caught the smallest sigh escape his lips as he moved on after a glimpse of the dessert. That was all you needed. Once you had your answers, everything came together.

You quietly poked your head out of your room. Both Bo and Vincent’s doors were wide open, signifying both of them were up and about. You made your way down the stairs, listening for any signs of life in the house. It was silent so far, though that only meant Bo wasn’t there. Vincent could be lurking right behind you and you’d be none the wiser, the stealthy bastard. You paused at the bottom of the stairs to scan for movement. Nothing. You made a beeline for the front door and made your way down the porch and along the gravel road. Vincent was most likely working in the House of Wax. Bo was probably in the gas station. You just hoped he was too preoccupied to notice you. If he saw you trying to sneak by with a giant duffle bag, he might get the wrong idea. Thankfully, when you neared the gas station, you could hear his music blaring, meaning he was working in the back or downstairs. A shiver ran down your spine and you tried not to think about what he was getting up to. You picked up the pace toward the edge of town.

All the tension in your shoulders and the back of your mind disappeared when you laid eyes on Lester’s truck, waiting just like he promised. He was leaning up against the front, vigorously rubbing at something in his hand with an old, ratty cloth. You couldn’t help but find the scene endearing, his tongue poking out in careful concentration. You whistled to get his attention and his head shot up at your sound. His classic, goofy grin overtook his features. Whether he meant it or not, Lester wore his heart on his sleeve, and you treasured that.

You smiled back as you could practically see an imaginary tail wagging behind him at your arrival, his big brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. Always so keen to be around you, Lester never made you feel like a burden. He was the first to make you feel like Ambrose was your home, invested himself in talking to you and sharing with you. He welcomed you with open arms and proved himself to be quite reliable. It was always a welcome relief to be around someone who so honestly wanted to be around you. Not that you didn’t enjoy Bo or Vincent’s company, but they could be rather closed off and many times you were left not knowing how to feel or how they felt about you. That was never a question with Lester. You rather liked that about him.

“Thanks again for helping me out, Lester!” You said as you carefully made your way across the water. Lester wrapped up his cloth and tossed it to the driver seat before reaching out a hand to help you across the rest of the way over. As you made it to the other side, you dropped the bag at your feet, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Wasn’t any trouble,” Lester said, “Let me get that for ya.” He leaned down and hefted your bag over his shoulder and carried it toward the truck. He placed it on the floor of the passenger side before turning back to face you, “I tried to clean the truck up as best as I could, but uh, it’s still a bit rough. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re giving me a free ride. I’ve got no room to complain. Besides, I love your truck. It’s got style.” You said encouragingly. You noticed Lester rub the back of his neck as he looked down and smiled to himself. He did that every time he got a compliment. His truck might have been unconventional and certainly fragrant to say the least, but like he said; with time, even you got used to the smell. Now, it was just another part of him that you accepted like anything else. You two hopped in the truck and took off down the road toward town.

“Oh! Get a look at this!” Lester suddenly piped up as he scooped up his cloth from beside him “I found it by the road this mornin’! It was a raccoon ‘fore it started rottin’.” He held out a gory animal skull for you to admire.

“H-how about that?” you said looking the skull over. This wasn’t really in your area of expertise, but Lester seemed excited about it, so of course you listened closely.

“Yeah, pretty neat, right? Chased away some buzzards peckin’ at it ‘fore they messed it up. I have ‘bout five different skulls at home - kinda like this one - but this one’s nice and put together, ya see?” He was ecstatically pointing out the features of the skull as he went on, “The others I got are in bits and pieces. So, I reckon I can clean it up nice and set it on the dash next to…uh…sorry. I’m ramblin’ again. Ya don’t wanna hear this…” he trailed off as the joy in his voice turned apologetic.

“Hey, don’t apologize. I like to hear about the things you like.” You said energetically, trying to hype him up again, “If it matters to you, it matters to me. And I think it’ll look great on your dash. You’ll have to show me the rest of your collection sometime!”

“Really?” Lester asked lighting up again.

“Course I would! Why not?” you asked.

“No one ever wanted to hear ‘bout this sort of stuff, is all.” He said forcing his gaze to the road, “Usually just tell me to hush up.”

“They said that to you?”

“Yeah…I get it, though. Bothers some folks.” Lester said as he tried to shake off the shame in his voice, “I used to collect little bones and rocks when I was a kid. I’d clean ‘em up and show ‘em to everyone. I showed ‘em to my folks. And that foster family I had. And kids at school – some teachers too - but uh…I guess it ain’t too interestin’. They were too busy is all. And I don’t ever wanna bother no one.”

“Well, I think it’s cool.” You said resolutely. You were absolutely fuming inside. You knew Lester was neglected by his parents, but the fact that no one after them ever tried to engage with his interests was upsetting. Your heart broke thinking about little Lester trying so hard to make friends only to be ignored; not just by other kids, but by adults and educators who should have been on his side. He was just a kid trying to share what he loved and they told him to shut up. Well, you weren’t going to do that, “I definitely couldn’t have told you what animal that used to be. I wouldn’t know that from an opossum or a fox. How can you tell the difference?”

“They key is in the ridges on top. This one’s nice and smooth, see? It’s definitely a raccoon!” Lester explained excitedly. He was delighted as you continued asking more questions about the trinkets in his car and where he’d picked them up. Lester told story after story; and the childlike joy all over his face was reason enough for you to keep asking for more all the way up until you realized you had made it to the grocery store.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #my writing #fluff #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #operation sweet surprise #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #female reader

144 notes · View notes

takeiteasypeasybaby · 3 years

Text

Save Me: Chapter 72 - Sacrifice

~Hey guys! Chapter 72 is out now :) I hope you are having a good week and I appreciate and love you all...enjoy!~

Molly and Carol decide to team up to take down Alpha, while Negan continues to serve her. Daryl shares an unlikely alliance with someone and finally comes face to face again with Beta.

After yesterday I don't think anyone one of us slept last night.

We all were still distraught and feeling hopeless with Connie and Magna trapped in that cave, possibly dead.

I walked around the compound all night, checking on Lydia every few hours to make sure she was okay.

I saw in the dark mist of the early morning that Daryl was heading out the front gate, along with Aaron and Gabriel.

I knew he would be going back to the cave which would possibly be overrun by walkers now but he loved Connie, even though he'd never say it aloud so I understood why he did it, I just wished I could go to.

But, even I knew that going down into a cave while pregnant wasn't the best idea...

I had to do something though, otherwise I'd go insane so I talked to the one person who'd actually support and let me go after that woman, it was Carol.

She was hesitant at first at the idea of me going but she knew better than anyone how much we'd lost because of the whisperers and knew she couldn't stop me.

So, we made a plan, we'd sneak out asap while Michonne and the others were training and see if we could get a clear shot from a distance so we could stay safe.

Once we'd gotten out of the compound and had been walking for a while, we knew we were close to the border.

'Molly, you should rest' Carol said with concern.

'I'm fine, I promise. C'mon we're not far now' I said as I walked on until we were close to the camp.

We hadn't heard from Daryl for hours so Carol was starting to worry, when we suddenly got a call from Aaron.

He said that Connie and Magna were alive and they'd gotten them out of the cave before it exploded but Daryl saw Beta and ran after him.

He hadn't heard anything else since and couldn't find Daryl.

Carol freaked out at this point and said that Aaron and Gabriel should take Connie and Magna back to Alexandria, while she went on to find Daryl.

'What about me?' I asked sternly as I panted out of breath.

'Molly, this was a bad idea. I need to find Daryl, I need to see if he's okay but I also need you to get back to Alexandria. Aaron and Gabriel will meet you down that path' she said pointing in the direction back home.

I frowned but sighed saying 'you're right, I thought I could do this but it's not right'.

She smiled weakly at my agreement and ran off after Daryl as I pretended to walk home.

Once she was out of sight, I snuck through the trees and headed to the whisperer camp, knowing that Carol was heading in the opposite direction to get to the cave.

I bashed in walker's heads with Lucille as I paced quietly through the woods, until I stopped dead behind a tree as I saw Negan standing beside the woman, like he was her right hand man.

What the hell?

I didn't know whether to be happy or sad, but I guess either way my prediction was right.

Her people weren't there, not even a couple whisperers, it was just them.

I frowned in confusion, this was either a trap or she believed she was safe?

Either way, she wasn't gonna get out of this alive.

Negan's POV//

I stood next to Alpha as I tried to advise her.

'I respect a well deserved massacre, some people, they just have it coming. I get why you wanna take out Hilltop and Alexandria, it would just...I would feel good. But you know what might feel goddamn fantastic? Gettin those assholes to surrender, bend a knee. Alpha, we can get them to join us' Negan said smiling.

She just silently listened as she smiled.

~flashback~

'I, um just wanted to talk' I said as I walked up to Alpha.

'About?' she whispered.

'Well, I hear we're supposed to be keeping our eyes peeled for a spy lurkin' in the woods. I have an alternate theory to run by you. The spy you're looking for? Right here in your camp' I said confidently.

I needed to keep the heat off me and Alexandria so I baited out Gamma.

'My people know the enemy have nothing to offer except lies' she replied.

'Maybe they do. Maybe they don't. Believe it or not, I have been where you are right now. And if you don't want to end up where I am right now, I suggest you zig where I zagged' I replied.

'You and I are very different' she whispered as she started to walk away.

'I had people. I had a system. I thought they believed in it, just like you. See, the thing is, you stay king or queen long enough, with people telling you all day, every day that your shit don't stink, eventually, you start to believe it. The thing is, it still stinks' I pleaded after her.

'Who?' she asked sceptically.

'Well, based on my own personal experience, I'd say look closer to home. And, no, I am not talkin' about Frankenstein's Haemorrhoid. That big dude is clearly a goose stepper. But the little one? You see, she is close enough to you that she knows exactly where that horde was. But she guards the border, which means she's close enough to the enemy that they could've gotten to her' I said sternly, fully knowing I was right because all of Alexandria knew about Aaron talking to Gamma.

She put a knife up to my junk which made me wince.

'I will not have you sowing paranoia. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, - I will take these' she said angrily as I stepped back and fell.

Later that day...

Alpha stormed over to me and said 'You' sternly as she walked ahead.

'Looks like Mom's mad at me' I joked to another whisperer.

I got up and walked in front of Alpha through the forest.

'Keep walkin' she said as she paced behind me now.

'You know, this feels like some sort of fraternity initiation. Is that what this is? Huh? Am I gonna get my skin suit and finally get to learn the secret Whisperer handshake?' I started talking nervously.

Surely she was gonna kill me for the whole Gamma thing.

I turned around to look at her as she repeated 'eyes front'.

'Alright. You don't wanna talk? I'm down with that. We just won't talk. You know, I'm big enough to admit it, alright? I am not good with long, uncomfortable silences' I replied as I turned back around and kept walking.

'Stop here' she said sternly as I turned around.

'I said eyes front' she repeated sternly.

I closed my eyes and said 'shit'.

'Take off your clothes' she whispered as I sighed.

She was either just gonna straight up kill me or cut off my balls.

'You know what? You were right. We are different. I made myself into a monster, because that is what the world needed. I built something. I saved people. My name it meant something' I said breathing heavily.

'Turn around' she whispered.

I slowly turned around to see Alpha naked, with only her mask on.

I frowned in confusion as I said 'whoa...uh'.

'You're a crass man. I reckoned you might appreciate a crass reward' she whispered as she moved closer.

What the shit was going on?!

'A reward? For what?' I asked nervously.

'The spy. Gamma. It took courage to do what you did and I want to express my gratitude in a way that you will understand' she said as she came closer.

Usually I would've jumped at the chance but I only thought of Molly.

If I said no, she would kill me so I took one for the team.

'Wait, are you just gonna leave that mask on?' I asked jokingly.

'Does my true skin disturb you?' she asked.

'Not at all. Weirdly the opposite' I replied smiling.

'Wait. Wait. This isn't some sort of, uh, praying mantis situation, is it? You cut off my head off afterwards?' I asked as she stayed silent and came closer.

'Yeah, sorry. I can't help but notice that you didn't say no to that. Ah, you know what? Screw it' I said as she kissed me through her mask and whispered 'stop talking'.

Present day...

I was snapped out of my thoughts as I heard commotion through the forest.

Suddenly Molly was being dragged in front of Alpha by two whisperers, she struggled out of their grasp and using both knives, she killed both of them either side of her.

I knew she was gonna lunge for Alpha so I stood in front of her and forced her to kneel.

I stayed silent but just looked at her in confusion, she was about to get herself and our baby killed. '

Do you know this one?' Alpha asked me as I just looked at Molly sadly.

'No, just someone from Alexandria' I replied coolly.

I knew that if Alpha saw that we were together, she wouldn't hesitate to kill Molly, so this was the only way.

'Take that from her' Alpha said pointing to Lucille.

I frowned at Molly as I took it from her.

Where did she find Lucille?

I admired my former love and swung it over my shoulder like I used to.

Molly shot me a look of disbelief, at least my plan to make everyone believe I was on Alpha's side had worked.

That's all that kept me going knowing that Molly hated me now.

They forced Molly onto her knees as Alpha stood over her.

If she got any closer I knew exactly what I would do, it would be time for Lucille to bash in some brains.

Alpha looked at me and then at Molly and said 'kill her'.

Those words echoed through my brain as I hesitated.

Alpha suddenly realised and gasped whispering 'oh! were you together? he is good in the sack isn't he?'.

I looked away from Molly's gaze, I couldn't bear to see the look on her face.

'Is it his? Your baby? Well, mother to mother, I won't kill you...not yet' she whispered as Molly stayed silent.

I finally looked up to see Molly seething with rage and her eyes watering.

'You see, I want you alive, so you can tell the others what happened at Hilltop and Alexandria' she continued.

Molly looked up eventually and said 'what do you mean?'.

'My people are there, killing your people' Alpha replied coolly.

Molly and I were both paralysed with fear.

'Your people are weak, they don't stand a chance against us. The thing is, when you take everything from someone, you don't break someone, you make them more dangerous because now they have nothing to lose. But, I guess that's how you are now right? You know, since I took Lydia from you. Well, actually she just didn't want you. She calls me mom now, did ya know that?' Molly said sternly with a smile.

I couldn't help but be proud of her, but I restrained myself until the time was right and by the rustling in the forest, that time was fast approaching.

Carol and Daryl shot the remaining few whisperers and aimed their weapons at Alpha as they helped Molly up and moved in front of her.

'Beta's dead' Daryl said angrily which shocked Alpha as she just stared silently at them, knowing she was screwed.

'How'd you find me?' Molly whispered behind Carol.

'Aaron said you never met up with them, I knew where you would've gone' she replied.

'I should've done more than punch you last time, I won't make that mistake again' Daryl said to me angrily.

Even though I had Lucille, this wouldn't end like Glenn and Abraham.

I'd do it right this time.

I mouthed to Daryl 'now'.

#negan #negans thirst squad #twd #the walking dead #mollychambler #saveme #lydia twd #michonne #saviour #alpha twd

9 notes · View notes

deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate-AU

Chapter 7 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

The Gift of Memory’s an Awful Curse

Dean woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He didn’t even bother to check the caller ID before answering with a groggy “Hello?”

“Dean.” It was Bobby’s voice on the other line. “How you feelin’?”

“Fan-friggin’-tastic.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Bobby chastised. “The guy who drove you to the hospital came by the shop yesterday, told me what the doctor said.” Dean groaned. “You’re not comin’ back in until Thursday, you hear?”

“Come on, Bobby,” Dean protested, rubbing his eyes with a free hand. “Honestly, I’m already feelin’ loads better.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Bobby deadpanned. “No, you stay at home and get some rest. I can hold the fort for a week.”

“Whatever you say, old man. Hey, have you looked at Ca- at the guy’s car?”

“Barely. But, seein’ as it’s an old Honda, my best guess is valves are bent.” Bobby was quiet for a moment, then, “Dean, the guy told me his name was Cas Novak.”

Dean closed his eyes, silently begging the powers that be to grant him strength. “Weird name.”

Bobby snorted. “So you’re tellin’ me that’s not the same Cas Novak you met at WSU? The same one you brought home for Christmas? Well, that’s mighty strange, considerin’ he looks exactly like —”

“All right, all right,” Dean said. “Yes, it’s him. Why are we talking about this, anyway?”

“Just wonderin’.”

“Is Ellen still comin’ down for Christmas?” Dean asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Castiel.

“She called this mornin’, said she and Jo’d be here on the 23rd.”

Ellen and Jo were family, mutual friends of John and Bobby. Since Dean could remember, John had been sending him and Sam back home to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Bobby. He didn’t realize until he was older that it was less “go have fun with your Uncle Bobby,” and more “I can’t stand the holidays and would like to be unconscious for most of them.” A few years before his dad died, when Dean was maybe fifteen, the Harvelle’s started joining them. It became a tradition, the Harvelle-Singer-Winchester Christmas affair.

“I can’t wait to see ‘em,” Dean said, smiling up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, well. When’s Sam gettin’ in?”

“Tonight,” Dean replied. He looked at his watch. Was it really already noon? “‘Round eight, I think.”

“Damn, am I excited to see that boy,” Bobby said. “Well, you two head down here when he’s done gettin’ settled. He’s finally old enough to have a few beers.”

Dean rubbed his mouth for a moment. “Bobby,” he said, “he’s not even gonna be here. Well, he is, but he’s hangin’ out with some girl in friggin’ Kansas City after Christmas.”

“Good for him. ‘Bout damn time, too, he hasn’t even mentioned a girl since that Ruby broke his heart when he was sixteen.”

Dean thought he was going to explode. Was he the only one who saw how cosmically wrong this whole thing was?

“Right,” he grumbled. “Well, I gotta go to the store, get some actual food in the house.” Dean pretty much lived off of ham sandwiches and the occasional fast food burger. “I’ll see you later.”

Dean stood up, testing the waters of movement. He didn’t immediately feel like vomiting, and the room didn’t start spinning, both good signs. Turning on the light in the kitchen, he noticed he still had a mild light-sensitivity, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Satisfied, he grabbed his keys and the sunglasses Cas had given him, and headed out the door.

As he drove to the Wal-Mart at the edge of town, he wondered idly if he would see Cas again. Dean supposed, at the very least, he might see Cas when he and Bobby had his car fixed. Unless Bobby fixed it before Dean got back to work. He snorted at the thought. That was unlikely.

Thinking about Cas led Dean to thinking about his final days in Wichita, as it always did. He didn’t remember most of that May, or the rest of the year, for that matter. He’d spent the nights drunk and the days endlessly hungover. Dean couldn’t remember going to a single class after his father died in January.

What Dean could remember, what he always remembered, was Cas. Cas waiting for him to return from whatever dorm party he had found, Cas forcing him to drink water, Cas taking his vomit-stained clothes to the laundromat. Cas bandaging his hand after he punched the brick wall of their dorm room one too many times. Cas holding him as he cried.

A honk startled Dean from his thoughts, and he realized he was sitting at a light that had obviously been green for far too long. He sped forward. Maybe he wasn’t okay to drive.

Dean groaned as he pulled into the parking lot. It was packed. He wasn’t sure what he expected — Christmas was little more than a week away. Shit. He had been so busy in the shop that he had forgotten to buy a single gift. Bobby was easy — a fifth of Maker’s Mark and new trucker cap would be enough to bring tears to his eyes. Sam was more difficult; he lived in a different world. Dean thought he remembered that Sam liked Lord of the Rings in high school…

The year before, Dean had written him a check for ten thousand dollars, with “college” written in the memo. Sam had tried to give it back after realizing that was essentially Dean’s entire savings account, built up from working at Singer Auto Repair during the day and bartending the college joints at night. Two years straight. When Dean refused to take it back, saying, “You go and you get a damn degree, all right?”, Sam hugged him until he couldn’t breathe. Dean smiled at the memory. No way he was outdoing himself this year.

Dean picked up the basics from Wal-Mart — eggs, milk, some salad kits for Sam, a couple bags of coffee, some orange juice. He felt like a douchebag, wearing the sunglasses inside, but the fluorescents were unbearable. He grabbed two six-packs of beer to bring to Bobby’s, then surreptitiously added a pack of hard seltzers for his apartment, because, hey, he liked to switch it up.

Dean paid for his groceries and headed to the liquor store to pick up the whiskey for Bobby. Upon seeing a case of boozy eggnog, he couldn’t help remembering his first and only Thanksgiving in Wichita. They downed two pints of the stuff while watching It’s a Wonderful Life. Dean teased that maybe Cas, with his angelic namesake, was his Clarence. Then he fashioned a halo out of toilet paper and they laughed until their ribs hurt.

Dean grabbed a pint at the last second. For good measure.

Sam arrived at Dean’s apartment just after eight, and, Kansas City be damned, Dean was beyond happy to see him. Sam coughed out a laugh as Dean whacked him on the back in the midst of a hug.

“‘S good to see you, Sammy,” Dean said, radiating warmth. “Let’s go, Bobby’s itchin’ to give you a beer.”

Dean let Sam drive the Impala to Bobby’s, peppering him with questions about UT the whole time. Sam gushed about his pre-law classes, which Dean tolerated only because he had just gotten home.

“How’s your head?” Sam asked when he had finished nerding out.

“Fine,” Dean replied. “Fluorescents still make it hurt like a bitch, but honestly, I’m fine.”

Sam turned into the shop parking lot, the windows of Bobby’s apartment above providing the only light against the dark. “Hey, you never really answered my question yesterday.”

“What question?”

“That guy, who drove you to the hospital,” Sam said, carefully. “Was it Cas?”

Dean shut his eyes, willing himself against getting out and slamming the door behind him. He was not looking forward to this conversation. “Yeah. It was Cas.”

“He’s back?”

“No. I don’t know, man, he’s on his way to Kansas City for some big boy job.”

“Did you guys… You know…”

Dean gave him an incredulous look. “What, did we kiss and make up like some Hallmark movie?”

“Dean —”

“Sam, just leave it,” he growled. “Come on. Bobby’s waitin’.” The kid had been home for thirty minutes, and he was already giving Dean a headache.

Bobby greeted them with the biggest smile Dean had ever seen him wear. He pulled Sam into a tearful hug and clapped Dean on the shoulder. The three made their way to the kitchen.

Dean was driving, and still concussed, so he contented himself with a diet Coke and a few slices of the pizza Bobby had ordered while Bobby got beers for Sam and himself. Sam asked how the shop was going, earning about ten minutes of Bobby begrudgingly praising Dean for all his hard work. Dean fidgeted in his seat, face flamed from the compliments, doing his best to insist that it was a team effort, really. Sam beamed at him.

Dean changed the subject, prompting Sam to tell them both about college, despite having already heard the spiel on the drive over. Dean let his mind wander while Sam talked.

Bobby had been the one to call when Dean’s father had died. Dean remembered, it was the Monday after his nineteenth birthday, a snowy January morning. Classes had been cancelled, so he and Cas were watching Dead Poets Society in their room to celebrate.

“Wait, pause it, I gotta take this. Hey, Bobby! How’s it goin’?”

“Dean, I hate to be the one to tell you this. John…”

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

“He’s dead, son. I’m sorry.”

Dean had dropped his cell phone on the floor. It shattered.

Dean remembered emptying his school backpack and filling it with clothes, his toothbrush, some shampoo. He walked straight to the Impala, his hands shaking, tears clouding his vision.

“Dean. Dean! What happened?”

“I gotta go, Cas. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Dean, the roads — we have class!”

“Screw the roads and screw class. Family emergency.”

He’d made it to Lawrence in record time.

He hadn’t even told Bobby he was coming, but he was waiting for Dean anyway. He found out that John had had one too many at the bar that night, but insisted on driving home, anyway. He ran into a tree going sixty, died on impact. Sam had been spending the night with a friend. Bobby drove him down to Amarillo, where John had been working one of his odd-jobs that was sure to dead-end when he started leaving beer bottles on site. Dean didn’t speak the whole way there, not until they picked Sammy up. Sam was crying. Dean wished he could cry, too. He felt like he was going to fracture into a million pieces. But he’d felt that before. Not this bad, never this bad, but broken all the same. He did what he always did. He hugged Sammy tight and told him it was going to be okay, everything is going to be okay.

The next thirty-six hours were spotty. A small funeral, just the three of them. Dean telling Bobby he wasn’t going back to school, he had to take care of Sam. Bobby staring daggers. He’d take care of Sam, Dean would finish that degree if it was the last thing he did. An argument, the only time Bobby had ever yelled at him. Dean and Sam sitting on the couch, sharing headphones and listening to Black Sabbath. Bobby pushing him out the door. Driving back to Wichita, numb.

The painful memory was interrupted when Bobby said his name.

“...We’d love to meet her, right Dean?”

Dean shook his head and blinked. “What?”

“Sam’s girl,” Bobby supplied. Sam blushed, looking at Dean.

“What about her?” Dean grumbled.

“I was gonna bring her around,” Sam said.

Dean wanted to be righteously angry with Sam for not telling him sooner, and for dipping out on him at the first sight of something better. But the kid just looked so damn hopeful.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’d love to meet her.”

They stayed at Bobby’s until midnight, reminiscing about past Christmases, the years Sam and Dean spent under Bobby’s roof. Eventually, Bobby whined about being too old to stay up so late, and that was their cue. Sam was properly tipsy, and Dean was exhausted. They bade each other good night, and Dean and Sam headed home.

Dean didn’t bother putting on music for the fifteen-minute drive. The Impala was silent as Dean drove, watching the yellow streetlights pass.

“Dean,” Sam said, “What’s up with you today?”

He was talking with the level of verve only achievable through alcohol. Dean gripped the steering wheel a little harder. Drunk people always asked too many questions.

“Nothing.”

“No, no, no, man.” Sam waved his hand for emphasis. “You’re messed up. You’ve been messed up. You know what —” he shifted upright in his seat “—you gotta talk to Cas.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Dean said shortly.

“Why not?” Sam demanded.

“I’m just not, okay? Jesus. You need to go to sleep.”

“Not true,” Sam argued. “Listen, I know that he left or whatever, but I’m sure he had a good reason, you know, and you loved him, Dean —”

Dean slammed on the brakes. The Impala screeched to a halt as the light in front of them turned red.

“What?” He asked in a low voice. “What did you say?”

Sam scoffed at him. “I mean, you weren’t trying to hide it or anything.”

“Sam,” Dean warned. “Stop talking. I mean it.”

“I’m just saying, the way you talked about him, the way you two were at Christmas, I’m pretty sure nothing he could have done —”

Dean punched the steering wheel. The Impala’s horn sounded. Sam looked at him in shock. The light was green. Dean took a deep breath and hit the gas, both hands gripping the wheel for dear life, now.

“We’re done talking about this,” Dean said.

He felt like he was having deja vu. After Cas left school, just after spring break, Bobby had called Dean to see how he was getting on. He’d put Sam on the phone. Sam was only fourteen, but already smart as hell, sometimes able to see through Dean’s bullshit.

“How’s Cas?”

“He’s a shithead, that’s how he is.”

“Dean, what? I thought —”

“Yeah, well, stop thinking. Fucker is gone. Guess he found someplace better to be.”

“What happened?”

“Fuck if I know. But this is the last time I’m talking about that son of a bitch.”

Dean pulled up to his apartment, anger and regret swirling in his head. He shouldn’t have yelled at Sam. He knew that. But Sam — well, sober Sam — knew better than to bring up Cas in any capacity.

Sam exited the Impala silently. Dean’s outburst must have been enough to shatter the alcoholic haze. Dean locked the doors and led Sam up to his door.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

Dean looked up from fumbling with his keys. There was a brown paper bag taped to his door, his name written on the front in clean, capital letters.

“No clue,” Dean replied, ripping the bag off the door. He unlocked the door and headed straight for the bedroom.

“Dean, come on,” Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.

“We can talk about it in the morning. Get some rest,” he grumbled.

Dean closed the bedroom door and set the bag down on his bed. He took off his jacket. Shed his t-shirt. Unlaced his boots. Splashed some water on his face. Brushed his teeth. Traded his jeans for sweatpants.

Finally, when he could avoid it no longer, he opened the bag.

Inside was… the Tombstone DVD. Dean picked it up, brow furrowed. He opened it, and the disk was there, along with a Starbucks napkin, tucked into the left side. This, too, had his name in that same, clean script. He unfolded the napkin, and read:

DEAN—

I WAS IN THE AREA THIS EVENING, SO I STOPPED BY TO SEE HOW YOU WERE FEELING, BUT YOU WERE OUT. YOU GAVE THIS TO ME IN COLLEGE. IT’S ABOUT TIME I RETURNED IT TO YOU.

IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, FEEL FREE TO CALL.

—CAS

Cas had written his phone number below the note. Dean frowned as he looked at the DVD once more. That dumbass. Dean had given it to him, it had been a gift. If this was some sort of peace offering, it was crap. He grabbed his phone and punched in the number.

DW (12:52 am)

movie was a gift, u keep those

DW (12:53 am)

but i guess u don’t want shit from me anymore

He knew he was being a dick, but, well, Cas had been a dick first. And it was late, anyway. Cas was probably already asleep. He didn’t expect a response tonight. Actually, he didn’t expect any response, at any time. He threw his phone on the pillow and got up to turn out the lights.

Dean flopped into bed, but was surprised to feel his phone buzz.

CN (12:55 am)

Apologies. I did not intend to upset you.

Dean squinted in consternation. Why was Cas even awake — wasn’t he some capital-A-adult, now? He was an accountant, with a job at an honest-to-god accounting firm. Shouldn’t he eat his BLT for dinner and be in bed by eight p.m.? Dean snorted at his own mental image.

He didn’t bother to respond, finding nothing more to say. He laid back down in bed, but his thoughts were too loud for sleep. He stared at the ceiling fan. It offered no advice.

Dean sighed. He was pissed. At Sam, at Cas, at himself. Still at his dad, always at his dad. So he did what he always did when he had nowhere to direct the anger.

“You motherfucker,” he whispered to the fan. “You waltz in here, with your college degree and your cushy office job. You drive me to the hospital and pretend you care. Well, guess what, you’re not allowed to care. You left, okay? We were friends, we were… We were family. I needed you, but you didn’t care then. So you can’t care now. You don’t get to come back here and remind me of everything I almost had. Fuck you. In every possible language, fuck you, man.”

The pressure behind his eyes lessened. The anger was still there, still burning beneath the surface, but this was enough for now. A temporary catharsis. A way to keep his sanity. He didn’t believe in God — couldn’t, really, after everything — but this was the closest thing he had to a prayer. He’d started after John died, after he’d realized that burying the guilt and the sadness in alcohol was killing him. When Sam got the scholarship to UT, he’d done it again, voicing the jealousy and fear that he’d never allow himself in the daylight. He didn’t know if it was healthy, but he also didn’t care. It kept him going. He could walk into work every day with a smirk on his face, call Sammy and crack jokes, flirt with female customers after he changed their oil. Screaming into the void kept the “passed-out drunk” nights to a minimum. It kept him from becoming his father.

His only lifeline. He was not, would never be, John Winchester.

-----

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)))

#destiel #supernatural #destiel fanfic #superposition

6 notes · View notes

elizacornwall · 3 years

Text

Vengeance is an Idiot's Game - Chapter 24 - After Effects

Read all the published chapters here. -------------------------------------------------- Her head was pounding something fierce. Waking up later than usual, the sun was glaring into Eliza’s face and all she wanted to do was to cover herself with her blanket, disappearing from life. She felt sick and hungry at the same time, not sure which feeling should take priority. Turning away from the painful blazing ball in the sky, she pulled the blanket over her head, not ready to face the day yet. How much did she drink last night? She had a couple beers before the dance, then there was whiskey at the campfire… The dance. She could feel her face flush red as the memory came back. Dutch’s initial invitation and then Sadie, practically throwing her into Arthur’s arms. Sure, Sadie had done it in a very elegant way, an elegance she wouldn’t have attributed the woman before, yet she still… What, passed her on? Set her up? For the last ten years of her life, this was what she had tried to escape. Her father wanting to fix her up with some man of his choosing, and now Sadie Adler was playing matchmaker too? It was infuriating, humiliating. Knowing what she did about Eliza’s feelings towards her father, how could she have done this to her? Yet… Dancing with Arthur had certainly been preferable to dancing with Dutch. Maybe she had just wanted to spare her from Molly’s anger… She had admitted to Sadie that all she’d gotten from the pretty redhead was angry glances and cold silence whenever she had tried to talk to her. The pounding in her temples intensified and she decided not to think about this conflict in her mind anymore for the time being. It was bad enough to wake up as if she had been rolled over by a stagecoach, she didn’t need to ponder over whether she’d been thrown in front of it by someone she trusted too. Bottom line was, she had liked dancing with Morgan and thinking back to the way he’d gently held her waist… Her stomach lurched as the strange sensation bubbled up again, and she could just about throw off her cover and stumble around Sadie’s wagon before she involuntarily emptied the contents of her gut onto the ground behind it. She felt dizzy and the whole world was still spinning. Keeping herself upright by desperately clutching onto the wagon next to her, she managed to shuffle back to her cot. The sunlight still hurt her eyes, and she groaned loudly as she let herself fall on the edge, annoyed to have let it get that far.

“Welcome back to the livin’, little Miss Sunshine”, Sadie’s hoarse voice sounded from her right, the grin on her lips audible without needing to see her face. “You sleep well?” The blonde woman was leaning against the wagon, taking in her undoubtedly pitiful appearance. Eliza was even wearing the same clothes as last night, boots included. Her answer only consisted in another pained groan and she buried her head in her palms, elbows resting on the knees. She was not ready to welcome the world right now. She ignored the approaching footsteps, wishing everyone would just go away. “You’re awake! Here, I got some yarrow off Charles, I’mma make you some tea with it. Should help with your head.” With great effort she lifted her head, squinting up at Morgan who was holding out a bunch of pretty red flowers in front of her face. She couldn’t help but cock one eyebrow, smiling slyly. “I thought you’re supposed to bring the lady flowers before you ask her to dance.” The range of expressions on his face was all worth it, surprise at her quick thinking quickly transforming into a bashful glance, then there was a trace of embarrassment and finally concluding in an eye roll of annoyance. She stifled a laugh. “I ain’t asked you to dance”, he just muttered, but the colour in his cheeks betrayed his overly blasé tone. “If you’re well enough to go spewing sarcasm I wonder if ya need this tea at all.” So, he was shy too, as well as a gentleman. How in the world was he a murdering, thieving outlaw again…? Eliza laughed, wincing as it sent a fresh jolt of throbbing pain through her head. “Thank you, and my apologies. Some tea would be lovely”, she answered, eyes closed and rubbing her fingers against her temples in a fruitless attempt to ease the headache. He returned a few minutes later, passing her a cup with steaming water. The flowers were now submerged at the bottom, releasing a touch of orange colour and a strange, astringent smell. Morgan sat down on the little stool, Sadie had taken up the space next to her on the cot. Eliza bowed her head, stretching her neck out slowly. “Thanks guys. You can head off and do whatever, I’ll be fine. There’s no use in sitting here mothering me”, she murmured, half irritated and half ashamed by their overprotective manner towards her self-inflicted misery. Sadie chuckled. “We ain’t goin’ anywhere, might not look like I’m dyin’ like you do, but I ain’t feelin’ like a spring chicken either.” Arthur hummed in agreement. “Where’s your flower soup then?” Eliza replied in slight jest, lifting the cup to her lips. It was still too hot to drink, so she blew on the surface. She tried a careful sip to taste, but ended up singing the tip of her tongue anyway. What was a little extra discomfort in her current state. It was bitter, with a hint of a heavy sweetness in it and she pulled her face into a grimace. “Couldn’t you get some nicer tasting flowers?” “Hmm, might have, but they wouldn’t help ya with the headache, Miss.” Grumbling, she shot Arthur a dark look. Tea against headache, she didn’t quite believe in it, but there would hardly be any Laudanum to be found in an outlaw camp who’s only drug addict recently decided to come clean. Curse the Reverend and his righteous virtues. Morgan was observing her, a measuring look in his eyes. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” His question caught her off guard, she couldn’t remember being put on the spot like that. She could feel him exchanging a glance over her head with Sadie. “Err, yesterday morning, I think? I was out on my walk for the rest of the day, didn’t think to take anything with me.” Sadie gave her a little clap on the head which immediately flared up in a new wave of pulsating pain. “Ow, Sadie! What was that for?!” “No wonder you’re feelin’ so darned lousy girl! You’re s’posed to eat before you’re downing beers an’ whiskey like ya did!” Sadie’s volume exceeded her temporarily very low noise tolerance and she shrugged her head between the shoulders like a tortoise. The blonde woman tutted but Arthur was already on it, picking some

food from the kitchen wagon, ignoring the complaining Pearson. Eliza would have to bring him an extra fat kill soon to thank him. Her stomach didn’t feel as bad as it had done earlier, but the thought of food made her a bit queasy. Nibbling at the oat cake he passed her, she tried to think of an excuse for them to leave her company, she didn’t fancy being babysitted too much. Arthur spoke up, pulling her out of her thoughts. “How much do you remember? You wasn’t shy drinking down that whiskey at the fire.” She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eyes and avoided his gaze, concentrating intensely on the cookie in her hand. “A fair bit I think. Everything up to the campfire, the songs there and… didn’t you pull me away? Because of something the boys said?” Frowning, she tried to recall the events of last night at the fire. There was a bit of flirting, an argument, then Arthur and her sat at the cliff. “Oh. I got angry at you. I’m sorry”, she murmured, still not looking at the man. “’t’s alright, you was drunk. I been yelled at before, don’t bother me much no more”, he laughed, making her feel a bit better. “You weren’t entirely wrong either I suppose. I ain’t the best explaining myself, don't think I worded things the right way.” She stole a shy look at him through the strands of her hair that had fallen out of the plait in the night. He smiled a warm smile, but his eyes had a sadness in them. Clearly he wasn’t happy about his inability to express himself. He didn’t strike Eliza as someone who couldn’t put things into words however, even if he was a bit blunt at times. She had always liked blunt honesty better than sweet lies. “I also remember you showing me the north star”, she said gently in an effort to make him feel better. It worked, a little at least, and his smile widened. “Yeah? We gotta be careful what we’re getting’ up to, you seem to remember an awful lot for having been in such a state last night”, he chuckled. “At least you won’t be gettin’ lost anytime soon.” Sadie gave a hearty kackle when a loud voice sounded from halfway across the camp. It was the Irish lad that had come home last night, Sean. “And t‘ere she is, the famous lady Cornwall! Fallen out ‘er pop’s hands into ours!” He approached with wide steps, coming to a standstill in front of her and taking her hand into his with a bow, planting a kiss on the back of it. “Name’s Sean MacGuire mylady, pleasure ta make your acquaintance!” Learned politeness made her smile and nod as she stared up at him. The volume he spoke in hurt her head and he was no less energetic now than last night when he had been drunk. She ignored her inner groan and stood up, giving him a little curtsy to play along with his overly flamboyant introduction. “Please, call me Eliza. I’m not overly fond of my father’s name I’m afraid. How do you do?” She put on her thickest English accent and had to swallow her giggle at the look on the faces of Sadie and Arthur. Now that was entertainment. “An’ you’re from the island! Ain’t she a wonderful sight. Never seen a fairer lass in all of the old kingdom If ye allow me to be so blunt.” He grinned at her, quite handsomely she had to admit to herself, with his boyish charisma. She faked a high pitched titter and held her hand in front of her face as if to hide a flattered blush. “She’s a right catch, ain’t she! Don’t you go and fish in the wrong pond now boy.�� Karen had appeared in her night gown still, even though the sun was way past it’s highest point now. Her voice was light and playful but had a warning tone to it which Sean too seemed to notice as he stepped back quickly, letting go of Eliza’s hand. The blonde girl flung her arm around his shoulders, and he held her waist. “Don’t you go get a crush on the bastard here, he’s broken many hearts and none of ‘em deserved it. Well, maybe some did”, Karen mused, “but you wouldn’t. He likes putting on his charm with beautiful women.” She still sounded light hearted, but her body language was stiff and almost possessive, gripping Sean’s shoulder tightly. Eliza

let her lips curl into a slanted smile and shook her head. “Don’t worry, my mother taught me not to trust Irishmen, no matter how charming”, she replied, hearing Sadie give a chuckle in the background. Sean was appalled, but he didn’t speak. “Besides, I wouldn’t dare cross you, you can be well scary did you know?” Karen gave a barking laugh and seemed to ease up a bit. Sean gave her an uncertain smile, visibly relieved. “I just had to welcome our newest member, always good to ‘ave some new blood on board ain’t it! No big deal”, he justified, a bit too quick for it to be natural. Karen steered him around, pulling him away. “Well you met her now, let’s go before Sadie knocks you out again. She ain’t looking too happy and I can’t blame her, you bein’ such a loudmouth all the time. Sorry ya had to deal with him”, she added, directed towards them, “He just gets excited every time he sees a new pair of knockers. We’ll leave ya in peace now.” And with that he was pushed towards the girls’ tents. Eliza let herself fall back down onto the cot with a sigh. “How do you do, ey?”, Sadie mocked. “I see we’ve got to work on your language yet!” “You’ve got something against my accent? At least one of us can speak English properly!” Eliza replied, laughing. Sadie jostled her elbow into her ribs. “You mean fancy speech, with lots’a words and no meaning behind ‘em. Don’t seem so proper to me, don’t you agree Arthur?” The man had sat there in silence for a few minutes now, quietly watching the exchange with Sean and Karen unfold. He hummed. “I don’t mind it, think it sounds quite nice.” Sadie threw the butt of her cigarette at him in protest. Eliza just laughed as they squabbled and sipped the rest of her yarrow tea. It made her face scrunch up in distaste, but if Charles reckoned this helped with headache it was worth a try, he had yet to let her down with his knowledge of the nature all around them. She might ask him to accompany her on another hunt if he could spare the time, would be good to feel useful once more. One day she would have to find her own way of making money for the camp, doing daily chores wasn’t exactly her idea of an exciting life running with an outlaw gang. If she asked nicely, he might show her how to hunt bison, one of those beasts would feed the entire gang for a week! Sadie’s loud exclamation snapped her back into reality. “How dare you Morgan! I ain’t never been unfaithful to my Jakey. Not in life and not in death!” She crossed her arms and puffed up her cheeks. Eliza set her empty cup on the dirt before her and looked anxiously from one to the other, trying to figure out why on earth Arthur would make such an insulting suggestion. It wasn’t long before Sadie’s lips twitched however and betrayed her act. Arthur just sat there, eyebrows raised expectantly, giving her a quick look and eyeroll that made her chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive her behaviour, she’s a bit of an actress, our Miss Adler. Don’t like to make it easy for anyone to understand her.” He stretched indulgently and groaned, getting to his feet. “I better get on some task or other, Dutch’s gonna chew me out if I don’t do anythin’ useful today.” Sadie gave up her play at this, her face suddenly fierce with excitement. “Got anything in mind, cowboy?” “Nah, Hosea mentioned he might have a lead on somethin’. Figured I’d check up with him. You stay here and sleep off yer bottle ache.” He collected his hat and made to leave, when he seemed to think of something and stopped, turning to look at the younger woman. “Hosea also said something ‘bout it possibly involving you, I’ll see what he has to say and let ya know when we got a plan, alright?” Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of a job. She swallowed and nodded, suddenly half excited and half terrified. He let his eyes linger on her for a moment before he set off towards the horses, where Hosea was brushing his Silver Dollar. Sadie cleared her throat and got to her feet as well. “Imma go try and sleep off this nasty day, you should do the same. Little doe like you needs all her

strength for a job!” The blonde grinned at her, but Eliza thought it looked rather kind. Her idea of some more sleep sounded like exactly the thing she felt up to right now.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #mywriting #eliza cornwall #arthur morgan #Vengeance is an Idiot’s Game #arthur morgan x original female character

1 note · View note

ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years

Text

Good Business: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a ruthless mobster. He’s also referred to as Big Buck due to his towering strong frame as well as his round stomach. You’re the owner of a small diner, a place that Big Buck decides to visit. Based off this drabble.

Over his meal, Bucky watches you behind the counter when he can. He watches how you’re overall sweet to each customer. You smile and laugh with them and he’s wishing you could be that way with him. But he understands your hostility towards him. He’s one of the most feared men in New York. How can you not be weary around him?

“You finished?”

Bucky looks up to see you staring down at him expectantly. Your eyes glancing to his now empty plate and back to his eyes. He clears his throat, “Yeah.”

You take the plate and any trash around him, “I’ll bring out your dessert now.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk over to the display case, cutting him a slice of the Boston cream pie and setting it on a plate. You walk back to him and place it before him, “There you go.”

He politely smiles up at you, “Thanks, sweetcheeks.” he breaks off a large piece with his fork and shovels it into his mouth. With mouth full of pie, he asks, “So how long have you had this place?”

You roll your eyes at his poor table manners, “Five years now. I always dreamt of having my own cute little diner. So I double majored in business and culinary to get where I am now.”

Bucky swallows and points to the pie, “You bake these yourself?”

You nod, “All the desserts, yeah.”

“Well, sweetcheeks, your cream pie tastes amazing,” he says with a wink.

Again, you roll your eyes, “You’re not as charming as you think, Big Buck.”

He gives a shrug, “You’re a tough cookie.”

“I may be tough, but I’m no cookie, Big Buck.”

He grins up at you, taking some last few sips of his milkshake, “Don’t I know it, sweetcheeks.”

After he finished up his pie and shake, Big Bucky paid and he left with promising words of coming again soon. You didn’t doubt him.

While you began to wipe down the counter, Sharon came up to you, “Holy shit. I honestly thought he was here to kill you for yesterday. Turns out he just wanted to eat.”

You give a shrug, “No one can resist my food, Share.”

“Seems so, especially if it’s your pie,” she nudges you with her hip at her innuendo and continued to pick up her ready orders.

____________________________

Bucky entered his home, letting out a groan as he rubbed his belly in satisfaction, “That really hit the spot,” he stated as Steve approached him.

“Enjoy lunch?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Did you talk to the diner chick?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Did you ask for her number?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

Bucky scoffed, “Steve, she don’t want nothin’ to do with me. She knows who I am and what I do. She’ll never fall for the likes of me.”

“But you’re still gonna go to her diner,” Steve stated with a smirk and Bucky caught it. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

“Well...yeah. The food’s good and her pie, Stevie, her cream pie was delicious!”

Steve snickered, “You tasted her cream pie, huh?”

That received a thump on the head, “Hey! None of that! But yes, I ate her literal cream pie and it was fucking delicious. Like my ma used to make.”

“You’re shitting me,” Steve scoffed.

Bucky shook his head, a big grin on his face, “Nope. Not shittin’ ya at all. One of the best pies I’ve ever tasted after ma’s. And you know that’s the highest compliment I could give to someone.”

Steve whistled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “Hmmm...beautiful gal who’s a businesswoman and makes amazing pies. Maybe I should I ask her out myself.”

He immediately received a shove, “You wouldn’t dare! Besides, I saw you makin’ eyes at the blonde waitress there. Stick with her!”

“Whatever you say, Buck.”

Bucky opens his mouth to give a retort, but in rushes Sam, panting and his knuckles bleeding, “Sitwell’s spilling everything now.”

Bucky clapped his hands, “Yes! This day keeps gettin’ better and better, Stevie, boy!” and he follows Sam to the basement with Steve following closely behind.

____________________________

Two hours. Just two hours to go and you could close up shop. Not to say that you loved owning and working the diner. It was your baby, of course, but it can be exhausting sometimes. So in just two hours, you can close up and go home.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” oh what the hell?

You turn towards the door looking annoyed, “When you said that I’d see you soon, I figured you meant tomorrow or maybe next week or something. Not,” you look at your watch, “Less than twelve hours later.”

Bucky walks over to you and pinches your cheek, “You’re cute when you’re sassy, you know that?”

You slap his hands away, “Touch me again and I won’t hesitate to cut your hands off.”

A blonde man accompanying Bucky, who you realized was the same man from yesterday, snickered, “You really are the fiesty one.”

“Yeah, no shit. What do you guys want now?”

The blonde spoke up, “Buck here told me he tried your Boston cream pie. Said it was almost as good as his mom’s. Figured I’d try it myself.”

“That so?” you cock a brow at Big Buck.

He shrugs, “It’s true. Haven’t tried a pie that tastes as creamy and delicious as my ma’s, well, until I tried yours, sweetcheeks,” he gives you a wink and you sigh.

“Yeah. Okay, whatever,” you look over your shoulder and holler, “Sharon! Can you c’mere please?”

Sharon steps out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, “Yeah?” she cautiously eyes Big Buck and the blonde.

“I got some stuff to finish up so can you serve Big Buck and his friend-”

“Steve.”

“Huh?” you look at him and you see he’s suddenly blushing.

“M-My name is Steve.”

“...yeah..okay. Anyway, can you serve Big Buck and Steve while I finish up what I gotta do?”

Sharon nods, her fingers nervously fiddling with her apron around her waist, “Yeah. Sure. You got it, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you mumble as you give her a reassuring pat, a silent good luck. You walk behind the counter and to the cash register, opening it up and beginning to count your earnings. You hear someone clear their throat and you look up to see Big Buck standing there, “What now?”

He chuckles as he sits onto a nearby stool, “Long day, sweetcheeks?”

“Yes, and I have a name, you know.”

“That I do know, but sweetcheeks fits you well.”

“’Cause of my sweet ass,” you scoff out.

He shakes his head, “Nah. ‘Cause of that adorable face of yours,” he pokes at your cheek and you swat his hand away, “But yeah, your ass is lookin’ sweet too.”

“Whatever. Why’re you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with your-I don’t even know who he is-your friend? Your minion?”

“He’s my best friend and right hand, but to answer your question, I came here for him, yeah, but not what you think.”

“Oh?” you ask somewhat intrigued but you didn’t want him to know that, so it came out disinterested and plain.

“Think he’s a bit soft on your waitress there. The blonde-”

“Sharon-”

“Yeah, Sharon. Saw him ogling at her when we were here yesterday. Thought I’d give him the opportunity to meet her himself.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you mumbled softly, eyes still focused on counting the money.

You hear Bucky chuckle, “Yeah. Steve and I grew up together. He’s my brother. That punk was a small, skinny, sickly kid. Was always in and out of bed, but he loved to pick fights. Whenever there was a kid messing on someone else, Steve always had to step in, even though he knew he’d lose. Course, he’s my best friend, so I had to jump in and help him. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten in trouble ‘cause of that punk? Way too many!” he lets out a laugh and you find yourself laughing with him.

Both of you then stop when you realize what you’re doing. You pull in your lips and go back to counting, “That’s-uh-I think that’s sweet of you to have done. Even though you knew you’d end up getting just as hurt and in trouble.”

“Someone had to look after him. His mom, bless her soul, fought tooth and nail for him. Ended up working herself too hard and she got sick. Steve was orphaned when he was ten. My parents adopted him after.”

“So when you say he’s your brother-”

“I mean it in every sense of the way. I’d do anything for him, even drag him to a diner where I know I’m not welcome,” he says softly, looking down at his twiddling thumbs.

There’s a silent pause between you. His words struck a chord in you. You always had this philosophy of treating everyone with respect no matter who they are or what they look like. Yet here you are being a hypocrite.

You sigh, setting the money back into the register and looking up at Big Buck, “Why did you come back today? This morning and now? I mean, I’m sure you didn’t have to escort Steve back here just so he could talk to Sharon.”

He scoffed, “Trust me, sweetcheeks, I had to,” he licked his lips and scoot closer to you in his seat, “And to answer your question, I did mean it when I said I wanted to eat..but I also wanted to see you again. You got this fire in ya and it’s so-I don’t know-refreshing? People see me and they cower in fear, and yeah, that’s on me. But you? You walked right up to me and kicked me outta here. It was amusing, ‘cause you got guts, kid, but it was also admirable.

“I get it. This is your place of business and you didn’t want my shit to fuck it all up. That’s understandable.”

“And yet you still come by.”

“I don’t plan on bringing of my dirty shit here, Y/N. I promise you that,” he reaches across the counter and gently places his hand on top of yours, “I just wanted to try your food and maybe get to know you a bit more. No one has ever stood up to me like you did and it was fucking awesome to see you do that.”

Bucky’s words have you frozen. Not only did he sound genuine, but the fact that he actually said your name caught you off guard.

“You’re not lookin’ to fuck and dump me right? Like, there’s no game you’re playing right now?”

He shakes his head, “No games. Promise. I just-I don’t know-I think you’d be a good friend is all. Don’t gotta be anything like sleeping with each other and shit. Although, I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says with a chuckle, “But just friends is fine.” he senses your hesitance and lets out a sigh, pulling his hand back, “But I understand if you don’t wanna. I got a lot of bad shit connected to me and I know you don’t wanna get connected to all that.” he pats the counter and gets up with a grunt. He begins to walk away but stops when you call for him.

“I-I guess we could be friends?”

He nods gratefully, “Great, Friends. And call me Bucky. All my friends do.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #marvel #au #mob au

679 notes · View notes

creative-cha0s · 4 years

Text

Jess’ Masterlist of Prodigal Son (Mostly Brightwell) Inspo with Songs & Lyrics

HI tend to think of almost everything in connection to songs and lyrics and recently Ive got a bunch of lyrics rolling around in my head that are perfect for inspiration for Prodigal Son fics, fan art, gif sets, ect - but mostly fics (and mosty Brightwell).

Ill do my best to categorize by relationship/ character and possibly plot - and hopefully to keep this updated.

Like my music? want to listen to it too? All of these songs are in my playlist that I leave on repeat: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3pvktqRQXSUivcXpOWZGCX

Brightwell

Piece of Your Heart - Mayday Parade

This song is perfect for the both of them no matter who it’s coming from, but I always see the 1st verse (1st bullet) coming from Dani

Give me your misery All of it give it to me I can hold onto it for you It's not a problem I just want your energy A piece of that fractured mountain I'll take whatever comes with it as long as it's yours

All I know is that I want it more than yesterday If I was waiting, I was waiting for just one little spark You are the brightest I've seen You are the best side of me And just for when we're apart I've got a piece of your heart

But I want the whole damn thing

Where You Are - Mayday Parade

The song as a whole is not fitting, its about someone dying. But there are a few lines that can be used.

You to me, are encased in nothing But beauty and gracious love You'll always be my one good reason To keep on moving 'til I'm in your arms

My favorite place is wherever you are

Sleeping In - All Time Low

This song is PERFECT for well establish Brightwell - fluffy, lazy days, just ignoring the world and staying in together. Just go listen to the whole song.

Never wanna leave this bed Tell me that you got nowhere to be Can we stay all day? (All day) Lay low in our lazy luxury Sex in a rosé daze (daze) All day, it's a real good thing

Just like that There you go, making it hard to stay on track Got shit to do, you got work But we fall right back Into bed, like it's all just a game And we can't help that, no we can't help that

Favorite Place - All Time Low

Another one that’s perfect for Brightwell, mostly coming from Bright (bolded parts), this song is currently always stuck in my head. Go listen to it!

So can we close the space between us now It's the distance we don't need (hey) Yeah, you're everything I love about The things I hate in me (hey) So come on, come on, come over now and Fix me with your grace 'Cause I'm not too far and you're my favorite place

And I know you don't belong (know you don't belong) Know you don't belong to anyone No you can't be tamed love Maybe I was wrong (maybe I was wrong) Maybe I was wrong for this But you feel like the perfect escape now

Kids Again - Artist Vs Poet

Can be any phase of Brightwell I think - mostly focusing on the verses, ignoring the ‘just like we were kids’ reference in the chorus, because they didn’t grow up together. Another one to go listen to the whole song.

I know a girl who likes to drink her coffee black Cause sugar, no, she don't got time for that Leaves her desires at the welcome mat when she walks in

Yeah, I know a boy who likes to keep his burner on He's always running with no one to keep warm It's like he's flirting with the smoke alarm, his fire's fading

But still we laugh, we cry, we fall, we get high

And when I, I'm feeling small you get me through it all

I know a girl who's never tried to settle down She wears her loneliness like a crown But when she smiles all the kings will bow down, down, down

And I know a boy who's broken every vow he's made Who's spoken every capped phrase But he can listen like a rainy day and drown it out

Clumsy - All Time Low

Perfect for when Bright acts like Bright, especially in reference to him backing away from Dani and ending up with Eve. And anything else he does that breaks Danis trust and makes her say things like ‘you promised to do better’ and ‘you told me i was the one you liked talking to’ LISTEN TO THIS ONE ITS SO GOOD

I was bound to make a mess of things Mixin' fireworks and gasoline Never meant to make you fall with me

I let you down I've been clumsy with your heart again I guess you figured me out Now here's a taste of my own medicine

And for all this pain, that I can't explain There's a black flag wavin' tonight You know I let you down (let you down) I've been clumsy with your heart again

Satellite - Mayday Parade

Cant really explain how this fits other than angsty Bright who thinks hes going to mess up everything (I swear everything I touch it breaks). Most of the lines could easily come from either of them to the other. Gets at the emotion of following each other and doing life together (will you follow?)

What if I told you, everything we built will slowly fade away? And if I hold you, I swear everything I touch it breaks But it you close your eyes and take my hand We could learn from our mistakes

If you jump, I'll follow If you jump, I'll follow

What if I told you, everything that's gold is sure to fade If I hold you, what if I hold you 'til we're old and grey? But if you close your eyes and take my hand We could learn from our mistakes

If you jump, I'll follow If I jump, will you follow?

Never Let Me Go - We Came As Romans

See below under Malcolm & Gil - really good for canon friendship/ partnership with Dani & Bright

Hush Hush - The Band CAMINO

This one is absolutely perfect for building tension between the two of them either for pre-brightwell or established Brightwell – Especially if they’re hiding it from the rest of the team. It’s perfect for something hot yet playful, or just completely angsty. It’s… well, you’ll see. Give it a listen!

I caught your eye across the room No one can feel the tension between me and you There's no need to mention all the things I wanna do You wanna do 'em too We both know we'd be over if they knew Yeah, we both know we'd be over if they knew

Hush, hush Don't give it away We'll both be better off if no one knows Hush, hush Got nothin' to say Just keep it to yourself 'til we get home Don't touch they're looking your way If anybody asks, we left alone Hush, hush Don't give it away Hush, hush Don't give it away

Honest - The Band CAMINO

This one right here – the ENTIRE song is 100% for those storylines that has the two of them attempting ‘no strings attached’ and casual without all the emotions that we KNOW are there. Perfect for leading into a change from casual to serious :) Here’s just a portion

Are we something to each other Or are we just blowing smoke? Are we caught between the covers Or is there something more going on in between us, or not? Is it just on the surface, or what?

We should be honest 'Cause sometimes I can't tell Do we really want this Or are we lying to ourselves? Is it the burning hearts alone in the dark That make the midnight call? Now we're caught between the real thing And nothing at all So we should be honest

Do you feel it when you kiss me? 'Cause I know you do somehow I don't know when we go where we got But we're both here somehow And I thought it was nothing until now

What I Want - The Band CAMINO

Some feels for break up/ fight Brightwell and perfect for Dani’s POV when he moves onto Eve shortly after saying he’d try to do better at them and that she’s the one he likes talking to.

You told me to love, but I won't It doesn't seem right, no and I'll never get what I want if I can't on my own I took a chance on a feeling But here I am feeling alone

If Im James Dean, Then You’re Audrey Hepburn - Sleeping With Sirens

For when Malcolm is serious about them and really needs Dani to stay – most important line in this is ‘Cant promise that things wont be broken’ For serious, and fluff:)

They say that love is forever Your forever is all that I need Please stay as long as you need Can't promise that things won't be broken But I swear that I will never leave Please stay forever with me

The way that we are It's the reason I stay As long as you're here with me I know we'll be okay The way that we are Is the reason I stay As long as you're here with me I know I'll be okay

Another Nightmare - Sleeping With Sirens

It’s not hard for Bright to be a MESS - whether you're sticking with canon storylines or adding your own, he probably thinks he's an absolute nightmare to everyone around him, especially Dani.

Nobody's perfect, there's no excuse I've been such a fucking nightmare to you But I promise if you let me in (let me in, let me in) I will never ever hurt you again

Malcolm & Martin (as portrayed on the show - not going near that NOTP)

Monsters - All Time Low (Explicit language)

This song perfectly - 99% - describes the relationship between Malcolm and Martin (aside from the ‘in the sheets’ reference STAY THE FRICK AWAY NOTP). What I like the most about this matching their relationship is the fact that it acknowledges that Malcolm keep letting himself go back to Martin and let him hurt him (although I know a good deal of that is Martins manipulation controlling Malcolm). Go listen to the whole thing - its new music and its beautiful.

Another day, 'nother headache in this hangover hotel Gettin' used to the rhythm, yeah, I know this beat too well Tunnel visions got me feeling, like you're the only one I see But I know what's missing, where I'm swimmin' In my lonely luxury

Why am I a sucker for all your lies? Strung out like laundry on every line Why do I come back to you, like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?

I'm addicted to the way you hurt, the way you contradict me I swear everything look worse at night, I think I'm overthinking I don't care who I might hurt along the way, I'm fuckin' sinking Into every word, I don't care if you lyin' when I'm drinking So, tell me pretty lies, look me in my face Tell me that you love me, even if it's fake

A Trophy Father’s Trophy Son - Sleeping With Sirens

The actual context of the song doesn’t fit to this situation, since Martin was taken away rather than leaving his family on his own but the emotion behind the words as if they were coming from Malcolm is exactly the same: losing a father. Perfect for young Malcolm as well as current day.

Father, father, tell me where have you been? Its been hell not having you here I've been missing you so bad And you don't seem to care When I go to sleep at night, you're not there When I go to sleep at night, do you care?

I need to know, I need to know Why are you walking away? Was it something I did? Did I make a mistake cause I'm trying to deal with the pain I don't understand this, is this how it ends? I will try to understand

Blood Lines - Sleeping with Sirens

Doesn’t need any more explanation than the statement Martin made that haunts him ‘We are the same’

No matter what I do, you will never ever be like me And I will never be like you (like you)

Malcolm

Who Will Pray? - We Came As Romans

Not in a religious context at all. Definitely a song on the more glum/ angsty side to describe Malcolm and how he feels about himself in relation to everyone around him.

We share our days Together now the sun is gone am I Another left here on my own alone And I'm slowly sinking

Scared to say What I'm feeling is the truth I need to face reality I choose to use to trick myself again into thinking

Short of breath and pulse erratic The weight of my chest, I'm slightly panicked

If I start to fade, gone without a trace Who will pray for me tomorrow? If I fall too far, disappear in the dark Who will pray for me tomorrow?

Blood Lines - Sleeping With Sirens

Just some lyrics I found that accurately describe Malcolm – ‘Why do I try to save everyone I meet?’ evidenced by his talking down of their killer in every episode, and his ‘someone breaks us’ in the pilot as he tried to talk that killer down.

Why do I try to save everyone I meet? Is it because they are just like me? (Just like me) Same tracks, wrong side of the street Not typical in the way that we speak When you always expect to lose You don't give a fuck what they think of you It's written in our DNA Are we just born this way?

Malcolm & Gil (AS THEYRE PORTRAYED ON THE SHOW, PEOPLE, still not going near that NOTP)

Never Let Me Go - We Came As Romans

This one actually fits any caring relationship with Bright, especially with Gil, and his canon friendship/ partnership with Dani.

The POV in the chorus changes halfway through, as an answer to the person saying ‘dont let me go’ so I see that as being them telling Malcolm they wont let him go.

My body shivers at the thought of getting up My heart is starting to accept that I am giving up No strength left Is it over yet? Am I thinking with my heart or with my head? Through distance, you remind me that

Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go

So hold me close and never let me, never let me go At my lowest of lows, when I need you the most So let's reverse, could you look for me, could you look for me first? I will hold you close, I will never let you go I will never let you go I will never let you go

My hands welcome yours as you begin to see me My heart is starting to accept your rescue completely This new life that you placed in my heart I hope that I will make it through to you And in my steps you will follow behind, Oh Don't let me go!

Malcolm & JT (Once again - as they’re portrayed on the show)

Agree to Disagree - Sleeping With Sirens

Doesn't entirely fit them where they are at now, but it’s perfect for how JT viewed him pretty early on

You think you're better than me? You don't like what you see? I think it's best we agree to disagree I'm doing fine by myself I never asked for your help I think it's best we agree to disagree

Songs that I’m getting paring/ character vibes from but I have no explanation why:

For a While - The Band CAMINO (Brightwell)

See Through - The Band CAMINO (Brightwell)

#songfic #prodigal son #prodigal son fic inspiration #song lyrics #brightwell #brightwell inspo #updated list #all time low #Artist Vs Poet #Mayday Parade #We Came As Romans #The Band CAMINO #Sleeping With Sirens

24 notes · View notes