#at least tomorrow should be fine. its wednesday. wednesday is a good day of the week

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

craaaaaaazy that my dad was apologizing for being angry in front of me earlier (hashtag number one trigger for yours truly) and his girlfriend was like "no you dont need to apologize" girl you just simply cannot be surprised your children dont like you very much if thats what your stance is

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary159

2/20-21/2024

tuesday - wednesday

struggling with a song, in a funny way.

i am trying to get the vocals to sit right, it's a very difficult thing, sometimes they feel too quiet, sometimes they feel too loud, it seems like there's 0 inbetween i can get and i think partially the issue that i dislike the vocal take at the start. or idk. i can't tell, honestly, maybe it's too saturated too? in which case i need to roll that off, i guess next is that. trying that nowwww. i'm so annoying , to myself, getting stuck on songs like this, i wanted to do more today.

but i didn't do nothing, i guess, instead i've been focused on some hard songs and i did some recording, i don't like the recording much but it's at least got me practicing this song. i just don't know what to do with my voice, i guess i should try earlier in the day tomorrow, as early as possible, warm up and stuff asap, and try to do harsh stuff if i need to. i do think i need to. if that goes well, i can do something w/ other songs that need vocals in parts. it's just hard getting the yelpy stuff right, or getting to that place vocally, idk, i need to warm it up but i worry about annoying people. i think it'd be less annoying if i just did it in fewer takes, get out of my head, and just go. but that's got its own issues too.

anyway, it rained today, which was really fun, it's very pretty out, it felt nice on my skin, the cold air, and i found that missing tiny cardigan thing which made me sooo happy. so i have that going for me. we went out to eat tonight at this very bad ramen place, which sucks, idk how they fuck it up so bad but they did. they had good kimbap at least, or maybe that's just relative to everything else. it sucks to eat like, not even mid, it was bad. my gf got chicken ramen and it just had a whole chicken leg dropped in it, and the chicken was like, it tasted of ginger and soap. very weird flavor. mine was like, water seasoned with hints of dishwater. the ramen i make out of the like, packs, you know, instant stuff. idk how i lost that word. instant ramen. i am like stupid. i am stupid today, i'm like an idiot, i'm like actually really really stupid every day. it makes me fee lawful to be an idiot. anyways. that stuff tastes better, like i am fucking w/ it i'm not just saying the msg loaded packets are good on their own (but they are), this place was obviously trying and fucking it up i think, or maybe it's just an off day for them? idk. it didn't really feel like it. they also didn't let us make the ramen spicy. idk how they don't have chili oil.

after that my gf was so disappointed we went to get boba, which made her happy. it was a nice day with her, basically, the bad food maybe made it more fun in a way, cuz we will remember it. it's like, who really remembers "that time everything was normal and fine," anyways.

the song is definitely coming along, i think, maybe i'm delusional though. it was def an issue of too much saturation on the master, but maybe not the sends, it's easy to pull that up too much instead of just clean gain. cuz my brain is fucked up and likes drive over that, but it's important to keep that balanced, if i need more fuckedup-ness on the instrumental, it's easy to do that w/ the send, i should remember this now.

doing some fun stuff to the song now, i'm glad to be getting to this zone w/ the thing.

earlier tonight i got annoyed at people who were talking about how exciting it is when ai outputs nonsense, and how that's 'experimental poetry' and how it's all they wanna write, and now it just doesn't matter, a few hours on, or idk, it irks me, it's always going to irk me, because it's this formalist thing, over anything that's trying to illustrate something, get at anything, it's like looking at the huge amount of detritus piled up online and saying that it's actually avant garde to participate in that, rather than the most normal thing imaginable. like oh yeah you're so avant garde for spitting out faux poeticisms at random, as if through a grinder. i've seen poetry like that read out loud, fractured nonsense that aims at poetry itself, takes up that dead skin and parades it around, and i've seen poetry of measurements and stuff that 'should not be in poetry,' when people take dirty stuff or whatever, or technical nonsense, coding language, whatever, ascii art, anything, i've seen so much. it's well tread ground, all this formalism and efforts to sit in the avant garde won't meant a fucking thing when you're just trying to get there because all you're used to is consuming the most out there art cuz you've been too online. it's not that people should strive to be normal to be readable, i think my writing makes it evident i don't care about that, in fact, i hate that. i hate the idea of sitting near any norm, i hate the norm, i hate what it does to people, and i love mostly out there art, it's mostly what i think i make and care about, i know people, real people, who produce work that is truly, actually, avant garde, recently i was shown a first poem by a distant friend in chicago, and was amazed by it, he achieved things i struggled to do, for so long, he found answers to problems i've come up against! and to see that, my god, there is no envy, there is only gratefulness, i could cry, i feel tears at my eyes, he articulated so much with much thought, he got there, he got to the root of the simultaneous and there is no comfortable distance, there is no remove, and it also not fallen to some vitalist fantasy, it is something else, really. it is something else. my friend in saudi arabia, he too is something else. there are people, living, breathing, speaking from their points, or maybe not speaking, coming up against the issue of speaking, i am coming up against the issue of speaking, and not trying to, but wailing, using the detritus to point elsewhere, at right here, to give it location, and a way out. i do not sit masturbating in it, i do not sit and refuse ecstasy / disarray/derangement of the senses in order to receive the diseased spittle of pure logic's runtime errors, stupid apollonian pulsions to transpose the structureless into a structure, the vomit of ai is only words weighted too heavily for brief periods before unseen and underpaid hands (most likely) do something to mess with the weights again. submitting to this feels awful, to see what's valued most highly in terms of use and probability and just letting that run, what comes as a surprise for people is just that it might say something strange, because it deems it possible.

obviously i really don't hate anyone just fucking with it, as an idea, you can get it to output a mass of text and take that text and arrange it, but this gets into the territory of editing, which is really where so many of my issues lie. people like ai vomit because it seems to mean something (they might say this is not the case, do not trust them), they like ownership of that meaning and think they can transmit it, or overwhelm you via some kind of maximalism into something being meaningful. all this creates is an exhausting wall of text, basically pornographic in its nature, i guess i wonder if so many people find ai fascinating cuz of its potential to 'expose', because it tells you its weights, this makes the work, worse than pointless, some kind of moralistic exercise in illustrating social sickness, pointing at a tumor, saying, look how awful this is, look what you did, look what you did by googling and breathing and using the computer.

whatever, though, it really is pointless. some portion of people making art want to say that doing something basically regular and ideal for the rich, is actually very cool and interesting. like, yeah, tether yourself to this technology, it's so useful for creating new work, it's faster and when you figure out how to get what you want, you never have to stop, it's writing that can be replicated in style and mood, you can have variation without variance. it is possible. selling the avant garde (it's typically already bought (but when it isn't, it's incredibly important)).

this just bothers me so much i guess because it's invalidating people i know, and of course myself, it's like, it wounds me to feel like i don't exist, obviously, and i would prefer it not, and it wounds me to feel like people just could see my friend's work and not care at all, or think something very stupid, like, oh it's so ai or whatever, idk what these people really think. i don't think all this because the ai 'has no soul' or whatever but it's just so indicative of an apathy w/r/t the production of new work or anyone's new work. i've complained abt the novelty issue/ futurist circlejerk but it's really annoying to see people trying to shortcut a way into being like, new, or fresh, or experimental. new technology is always exciting and fun to experiment w/ but when it's new it's at its most volatile and most experiments turn out to be pointless ones, when you're just ultimately stress testing something that exists to order and catalog every human life and maybe kill people someday somewhere, or right now.

it's also the feeling that literature, as a form right now, is so narrow, the appeal is narrow, it's fine, no one has to care, it doesn't need to matter, but it makes one worry about new work, and where attention will go. the people who like the kinds of things i like, aren't really going to care, but obviously it's going to be easy to automate the formulaic and mostly bad kinds of writing out there, it feels like this is going to be technology which keeps people from ever having to encounter anything actually strange.

idk, all this gives me funny ideas, like, what if i make fakes of ai generations out of pieces of writing, because the other thing is it's basically easy to write 'like that' but maybe better, and then just take pictures of my screen or whatever of junk things, when i get the thing right. faking ai seems funny at least for a bit. i don't think anyone would really see or care, though. and what would faking it rlly do, it'd just be a kind of stupid trolling, idk, i like the idea still, i guess just maybe as like, a dare, sorta, like, if i could write it convincingly, which i guess i can't because i enjoy not writing literal nonsense, but writing messes, which are different (messes have sources), so i guess people could clock it, i figure.

but this made me write some messy stuff, which is fun at least.

the song is still feeling weird, but it's getting late, i might just want to cut it here, see where i stand tomorrow. it might just go over better mixing a vocal take i actually like. maybe the lyrics are the issue, a word like 'everybody' is hard to say right.

well it definitely sounds better after this last export at least.

one last export, and then i will sleep, and then i will record when i wake up.

this ai thing is just dumb, because all i really wish for is the ability to show people how much of an eyeroll it all is, all that posing, and whatever, by rolling my eyes, involuntarily, it would arrive thru me, a vessel for tiny social irritations expressed without knowing i express it. but i cannot, and it would be mean to use the eyeroll emoji. i can handle being a little mean in life, but online, it's just far worse, people take it way more personally, which is understandable, it's harder for people to separate themselves from their utterances, which makes people not want to reflect or whatever on what they say, and their utterances being them, they speak w/ such authority and whatever, it's agitating. i hope, mostly, that this was not agitating, for anyone reading. i don't really exist in this mode most of the time but it's like, idk, problematic i guess is the only word. i don't care about like, small stuff w/ ai or people just having fun w/ it, it just becomes intolerable when it becomes a whole artistic ethos/tool/supplants something and is supposedly superior to. idk.

anyway it's a dumb thing to really think about too much so now i am going to sleep, the song just needs new vocal takes in places and i should try to go wherever i decide i need to go tomorrow, so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 21 December 1832

8 ¼

11 ½

Damp wet morning F47° at 9 ¾ at which hour breakfast – had got up on receiving note from Mr Jeremiah Rawson to say he could not come this morning - will be here if possible at 9am on Monday if not on Wednesday to let him know if either of these days will suit me - then looking into Horace which also delights me - how have I lived so long without another little pocket Horace? (my old one was somehow lost in London on en route last year 14 or 15 months ago – staid talking to my father till 10 ½ - Letter from Miss M.T. Bolland containing her receipt for £12.10, due, as she will have it, to herself and her sister E.S. Graham, 20th December – to direct to her at ‘Mr. Grahams’, Surgeon, 17 High street, Stockport, Cheshire’ – told my father of this letter – he agreed that he, if in my place, would certainly get done with them and throw the manner into chancery as I have nearly made up my mind to do – talking to my aunt till 11 ¾ - had John in the drawing room and read him Miss Norcliffes’ letter respecting his son – out at near 12 – found Pickles who had finished digging west arbutus slope, and made another little drain in the low part of Lower brook Ing wood, just come up to ask what to do next – went with him and set him to begin stubbing the hedge (cut off by the Lower brea breach road) in Wellroyde upper brow, and staid with him till 4 ¼ when he went home it being too dark to do much more – he had lastly planted a goodish thorn close to the new footpath sleps [steps], a thorn that he got up in stubbing – sauntered in my walk – came in at 5 – some time with my aunt – dressed – wrote the following note to ‘John Waterhouse Esquire Wellhead’ and sent it by John – ‘Shibden hall Friday 21 December 1832. Dear sir – I shall be much obliged to you to pay my navigation dividend into Messrs. Rawsons bank, to be placed to my account – my kind regards to Mrs. Waterhouse and the youngers of your family – I am, dear sir, very truly yours A. Lister’ – Dinner at 6 ¼ - Marian came to me, and kept me talking till 8 when came to my room and wrote all but the 1st 4 ½ lines of today the plasterer here all the day doing the underdrawing in the entrance passage which Wilson knocked down in laying down 2 new board in the library passage, and finishing plastering all about the library passage stove since its being reset - letter 2 pages from Dr HSB- no date, but post mark 21 December - saying he had last night (yesterday) received a letter from Mr Sunderland ‘giving me a slight account of Miss Walker and recommending some tonic medicines, as she seems to have recovered from her attack of catarrh’ - Dr B- answered immediately and sent ‘a prescription for a slight chalybeate which is to brace the nerves’........... Mr S- had mentioned the medicines being made up in York - Dr B- said very properly this was on account of Miss W-‘s anxiety not to have it known she was an invalid - ‘are you tired of nursing or do you hope you may do some good - I trust you will not yet desert your post, as I am convinced you are more likely than any of us to be eventually beneficial - pray let me know your proceedings’ - poor Steph he little dreams the real state of the case - then till 11 20 wrote notes to go tomorrow morning to ‘Messrs. Parker and Adam solicitors H-x’ dated tomorrow to ask for the coal lease as I should want it at 9 on Monday morning and our servant should call for it in the evening - and said I should be glad to know what was at the Godley road meeting this morning - note, too, to ‘Jeremiah Rawson Esquire Shay’ to say I should be glad to see him at 9 on Monday morning or, if prevented that day, at 9 on Wednesday morning – tolerable morning tho’ a little small driving rain ditto in the afternoon about 1 for ½ hour then tolerably fine at least quite fair – F54° (fire in my room all day) now at 11 25 p.m.

Mr. Mitchell sent back the plan of Park farm (Pickersgills’) this morning with his valuation

D. r. p.

48.0.15 at £87.6.11 per annum rent –

6.2.11

41.2.14 exclusive of Bairstow and Far ditto  

Buildings valued at £15. per annum

Bairstow 3.3.19 at 8/. per D.W. = 1.11.6

Far Ditto 2.2.18 at 8/. per D.W. = 1.1.4

5 ½ square yards x 5 ½ = 30 ¼

square yards 30 ¼ = 1 pole or perch

square perches 26 = ¼ D.W. = 786 ½ square yards x 4 = 3146

But 1 D.W. at H-x = 3136 square yards

[thedeliveryservicefanfic]

The Delivery Service, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: Friday is the day

Fenrir pulled into the driveway smoothly, as it had done so many times before. The driver pulled off his goggles, lowered the kickstand, and swung his muscular leg over the bike. The blonde ruffled his hair, grabbed his keys and walked towards the side door of the cottage-style house. 

Cloud was greeted by Shera before he could even knock. A huge smile was on her face. “Cloud! You’re a little early. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Her voice was warm and deep, and reminded him a bit of his own mother. 

“Yeah, so leave!” Cid called from his work studio, where he was busy tinkering with his new toy.

“Come on in, dear.” Shera stepped aside, allowing Cloud to come into the home. He looked around the kitchen, with its big windows letting in the sunlight, and smelled Shera’s delicious home cooking. “Sit down. Are you hungry?”

Cloud shook his head. “No, Shera, I’m fine. Cid said he had something to tell me.”

Shera nodded, looking a little exasperated by her husband. “No idea what it’s about. The big lug is in his studio. Go ahead.”

Cloud took off down the hallway towards the open door he saw. The familiar smell of grease, fire and cigarettes greeted him as he walked into the room. Cid, expert mechanic and friend, was hunched over the spear end of a new lance. 

“Check it out! Added a fucking taser at the end. Shock the damn beasts into submission, this thing will.” Cid said, connecting two wires together. “Got a bit of a hair trigger, but I’ll get it to work.”

“Nice. You had news for me?” Cloud said, taking an empty chair and sitting down. 

“Yeah. Hold on.” Cid said, his voice a little hollow now. Cloud knew something was wrong immediately - the mechanic never sounded this somber.

Cid fiddled with his new weapon for another moment before turning around and wiping his hands on his shirt. Cloud knew that everything around Cid was covered in some sort of grease- he was surprised that his wife wasn’t. Cid sat down in a chair opposite Cloud.

“Heard a funny story, and thought you should check it out. Seems like someone is taking young girls without their permission, and making them work for their money, if you know what I mean.”

“Sex trafficking?” Cloud grimaced, anger boiling under his skin already. It was one thing to sell your body willingly, that he could understand and had no problem with. To each their own. But to be forced into it… “Any idea where?”

“It moves. But listen to this. Sometimes a girl disappears, never to be heard from again. No sign of struggle, no note left behind. They just leave, like they never existed.”

“Yuffie.”

“Damn right. So I poked around, found out who is in charge of this operation. Got a name.” Cid reached across his work table and grabbed a piece of paper, reading from it. “Don Corneo.”

“Thought he was dead.” Cloud remembered the old balding man, who was short and smelled harshly of cheap whiskey. “Guess no one truly stays in the grave.”

“No one who is important, at least.” Cid took a drag of his cigarette and shook his head in disapproval. “If I were you, I would look around Costa del Sol. It’s tourist season there.”

“I will. I’ll see if I can contact Vincent as well, if he answers his phone.” Cloud stood up, ready to go. “See you Friday.”

“Later, Cloud. See if you can find our girl.” Cid took another puff and waved his friend off.

____________

Wednesday dawned bright and beautiful. Fenrir was rolling along the coast of Costa del Sol, the driver looking around for a place to park. Cloud picked a shady spot and left his motorcycle behind, taking his sword with him as he left.

As soon as he showed up in this beach town, he asked a drunken man where he might be able to find some fun. He feigned that he was anxious and ready to let off pressure, and the man was all too happy to help.

“Good looking guy like you? You’d get any girl you want at the bar! But if you are looking for something special, you should find Leon. He’s the guy you need.” The drunk adjusted his wide brimmed straw hat and took a sip of his fruity cocktail. 

Cloud thanked the man and went in search of this Leon character. After asking a few tourists, putting a word out there in the local bar scene, and exchanging a few gil here and there, he finally found the place he had been looking for. On the off chance that Vincent might be nearby and help him raid the brothel, Cloud left him a voicemail message.

Surprisingly, Cloud saw the crimson-cloaked man leaning against a tree outside of the address he had been given. 

“Cloud.”

“Vincent.” Cloud approached his friend. “We’re looking for a man named Leon. He works under Don Corneo. Suppose to be some sort of salesman.”

“Let’s go.” Vincent joined Cloud and the two walked side by side.

There was silence for a while, yet it was not an uncomfortable silence. The two men knew when the need to talk was, and when there was a need for silence.

“I have had no luck locating Miss Kisaragi.” Vincent said solemnly, keeping his attention on the path in front of him.

Cloud sighed. Thinking of Yuffie always pained him. “Neither have I. This is the best lead I’ve had in over two months.”

“Let's see if she is here. If anything, we can help liberate the women who were taken captive.”

Cloud bowed his head and the two came upon a door.

“Should we be polite and knock first?” Vincent asked, turning his attention to his friend.

There was a fumbling behind the door; a loud gasp, and urgent words sounded. “Shit! It’s Strife. Get the boss outta here.”

“Nah.” Cloud lifted his leg and gave the door a powerful kick.

The door splintered and began hanging on its hinges, shards of wood flying through the air. Two men fell backwards from the force, cursing as they landed hard on their backsides. Cloud stepped into the hallway, looking down at the two men. Vincent calmly followed behind.

“May I speak to your boss?” Cloud asked politely, while Vincent silently pulled a firearm out of a holster and pointed it at the men.

_________

The room was full of bright oranges, reds and yellows. Garish decorations such as lanterns, silk hangings and pictures of half-naked women cluttered the small space. Cloud curled his lips as he saw a particularly lewd picture of two women together on a horse and fought to keep his lunch down.

“Well. Long time no see, Miss.” Don Corneo’s greasy voice sounded from behind the desk.

Cloud stared at the back of an office chair, rich with red velvet and with gold tassels hanging off the sides. Suddenly, the chair twisted around, and the paunchy face of Don Corneo came into view. Another man stood behind the Don, his arms crossed, giving off the air that he was a bodyguard that you shouldn't mess with. Cloud wanted to laugh, but then the older man gave them a twisted smile and motioned for his two visitors to sit down. They refused by standing still and glaring down at the man.

“May I ask why there is a sudden intrusion in my business?” Don Corneo asked, pulling a cigar out of a velvet lined box sitting on his desk. He placed it in his mouth. “You don’t seem to be the type to purchase companionship.”

Vincent reached into a pocket and stepped forward, holding out a picture of Yuffie. “We are looking for this girl.”

“And any other woman you might have stolen from their homes, as well.” Cloud added, mimicking the bodyguard behind Corneo, smirking humorously at the man as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems like you are still running your business with some not-so-great ethics.”

Vincent lowered the picture and his red eyes stared at the disgusting man with cold anger. 

Corneo, who had not even glanced at the picture, leaned back in his gaudy throne-like chair. “Never seen her. All my girls willingly came into my employ.” Corneo lit a match and puffed away at his cigar, the end slowly burning an orange glow.

Cloud scowled when he smelled the pungent cigar. He stepped forward. “I bet if I asked around, I’d get a different answer.”

The man behind Corneo snorted. Cloud assumed this was the famous Leon- he was a tall, lanky man with a pock-marked face and stringy blonde hair. His teeth looked like they had not been cleaned in years.

“If you can even find them.”

Cloud grinned at him. “You’re a handsome fellow.”

The Don held up his hand to silence the two. “My ladies know to only come forward when called for.”

Vincent turned to Cloud. “It seems like talking to this man will get us nowhere.”

“Seems like.”

Suddenly, Vincent reared back his leg and kicked the heavy oak desk, sending it and the Don flying to the floor. Vincent’s hands clenched, his energy rising. Cloud knew what was about to happen and simply stood back to give the man some room. The air around the man crackled, a wind started rising up around him. His body morphed and snapped and broke into that of the form, Galian Beast.

The gigantic beast lifted its horned head and stretched its mighty arms. Behind him, Don Corneo and Leon gaped in horror.

“Oh shit.” Leon muttered as he watched the monster in front of him turn towards the two men.

“I give you fair warning. No one can control him when he’s like this. Tell me where the girls are.” Cloud said, approaching the Don.

Corneo still had enough courage to spit in the warrior’s face. Cloud roughly grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and pulled him towards himself, teeth gritting in anger.

“NOW.”

Vincent reached out with a claw and swiped at Leon, who miraculously leapt out of the way. Vincent let out a mighty roar, which caused Don Corneo to convulse in fear and Cloud felt a strange warmness run down his front.

“Did you just piss on me?” Cloud sneered, never breaking eye contact with the man.

The Don looked at him in fear. Down the hall to the left. Under the lantern. Push the wall.”

Cloud threw the man to the ground, feeling disgusted. The blonde mercenary walked towards the door. 

“Call your beast off! I gave you the right information!” Don Corneo cried as Vincent loomed over him and Leon. Leon’s hands were shaking as he tried to load a shotgun, but he could not get a good enough grip on the shells.

“I already told you. He’s out of control.” Cloud said, continuing his journey out into the hall, ignoring the screams of agony as he turned left and headed for the lone red lantern in the hallway. 

He felt the wall underneath the red lantern. He knocked on the wall and heard hollowness. Cloud looked over at the end of the hallway, where silence was now settling in. He decided to wait for his partner to come, knowing that Vincent would not be in ‘beast mode’ for long.

A few minutes later, Vincent stepped into the hallway, in his normal human form. He stood up rigidly for one more moment before making his way over to Cloud.

“Are they alive?”

“They will recover.” Vincent looked down at Cloud’s clothes. “He urinated on you.”

“Please!” Cloud squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. “Let’s keep that a secret.” He pushed on the wall and felt the boards give. 

The secret entrance showed them a big room, filled with beds and couches. Women quickly got up from their places and lined up against a wall, obviously trained to do so. Cloud looked at all their smiling faces, seeing the strain and fear behind the shining eyes.

“Relax, ladies. We’re here to set you free.” Cloud said, yet the ladies stayed in place. They were terrified. Cloud shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure of what to do to convince them of this truth. 

“Have you ladies seen a young Wutain woman named Yuffie?” Vincent asked, lowering his shoulders and speaking more gently, trying to make the Don’s Ladies more comfortable. 

A young dark haired woman looked up suddenly, her almond shaped eyes widening in shock. “Yuffie? Yuffie Kisaragi?”

Cloud walked over to her, only stopping a few feet in front of her. “Do you know Yuffie? We’re looking for her.”

“I… I grew up in Wutai, with her. We used to study together.”

“Have you seen her around lately?”

The Wutain woman shook her head. “I haven’t seen her in a few years.”

Cloud sighed and backed away from the young woman. He looked at Vincent, whose usually stoic face showed a hint of dismay. “We’ll find her. Let’s get everyone out of here.” 

“How are we to transport these ladies back home?” Vincent asked.

Cloud pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Cid, he’ll send a ship over.”

“Cid? From Rocket Town?” A red head perked up. One by one, the ladies started relaxing around Vincent and Cid. If they knew people that were familiar to them, then maybe the men were serious about helping them.

“Yeah.” Cloud nodded, giving her a smile. He dialed Cid’s number and held the phone to his ear. When it clicked, Cloud spoke into the receiver. “Cid? We need transportation.”

___________

Tifa placed the crate of dirty cups by the sink, then took a moment to take a deep breath and feel the exhaustion settle in. It was a Thursday night, a fairly busy night. It was the day most workers were paid and could afford a night out. Tifa could always count on a few customers on pay day, but tonight was crazy. Tifa never got the chance to sit down between orders, never got the time to stop and eat a quick dinner, didn’t even get a chance to chat with the regulars that came in to get a drink. She was so glad when it was closing time; now it was time to finish up the cleaning and take a shower before bed.

The door in the front of the building opened, then closed softly. Boots walked across the floor.

“Damn, I thought I locked that door.” Tifa grumbled, leaning against the crate and sighing. She closed her eyes to try to block out her frustration. “We’re closed!” She called out.

“Damn. I was hoping to get to my bed.”

Tifa smiled and turned around, glad to see her best friend. It had been almost three weeks since he left on his deliveries and she had missed him.

“Hey.” She greeted, sounding tired even to herself. “Long time no see.”

Cloud gave her a smile- a true smile, a smile he only used around her. He opened up his arms, and Tifa gladly stepped into them and gave him the hug he requested.

“You must have had a rough time.” Tifa commented, letting the man go and motioning for him to take a seat at the small table she shoved in the corner of their kitchen. 

Cloud sat down and rested his elbows on the table, sighing as he rested his head in his open palms. “I had a tip on Yuffie. She wasn’t there.”

Tifa, who was pulling some leftover chicken out of the refrigerator, paused at the name. Tears threatened to fall, she had to shake her head to clear it and continued pulling out leftover food for Cloud.

“I’m sorry.” Tifa placed the food on the table, but Cloud just looked at it and didn’t respond. “Cloud…” Tifa reached out and gently lifted his chin so he would look at her. “Don’t think that. She is not lost forever.”

Cloud simply sighed. Tifa ruffled his hair a little bit, pushing it back out of his face. He reached up, took her hand into his own and simply held it. Tifa stepped a little closer to him and let him wrap his arms around her middle. The blonde rested his head against her chest and simply breathed in her scent.

This was a familiar thing to happen to Tifa. When Cloud was starting to feel overwhelmed, or immensely guilty over things he could not control, he turned to Tifa for comfort and to ground himself. Usually when they were alone Cloud would simply envelope Tifa in a hug and just let his mind turn off, not thinking about anything, if only for a few minutes.

Tifa wasn’t worried. When he came back, he came back. He stood up on his own two feet and continued on. It was wonderful progress for him- she felt like Cloud was finally coming to terms with himself, and not the scared child who turned away from everyone in anger.

Cloud lifted his head and smiled up at his friend, his mako blue eyes shining. “Hey.”

Tifa smiled. “Hi.”

Cloud stood up, still holding her in his arms. “I missed you.”

“Then stop being away for so long.” Tifa wrapped her arms around his shoulders and began pulling him close. “You are allowed to take some time off.”

Cloud rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “I know.” He gave her one last squeeze and let go, almost reluctantly. 

Tifa, still smiling, dropped her arms and turned back to the food. “Hungry?”

“Yeah.” He said, noting that the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. The desire to hold her again was overwhelming him, but he stopped himself. They weren’t like that. They were friends, roommates… nothing more. He could not give her any more than that. He wished he could.

So instead they chatted as Cloud ate, talking about the upcoming weekend.

___________

“Move over, Spikey. I got the aisle seat.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I got to give these roses to Marlene at curtain call and I need to get out of the seat quickly. Move.”

“Why?”

“Don’t start, you two.”

“Tell him to move then, Teef!” 

“I just don’t understand why I can’t give the roses to Marlene.”

“WHAT.”

“What’s going on down there?”

“Not now, Nanaki. We’re having a tiff.”

“Shut it, Reeve. Cloud, move over. Barret, sit down. The play is about to start.”

A few moments of shuffling and curses later, all seven of them - Barret, Cloud, Tifa, Reeve, Nanaki, Cid and Shera- had settled in just in time for the curtain to rise. Soon Marlene and two other children arrived on stage, ready to start the performance.

Tifa smiled, waving at the young girl, then realized she was not the only one. The rest of the gang was waving too, eyes riveted on the little girl.

The family was here. Then Tifa felt sad. She looked up and down the row, knowing that there should be two more people here; two people that were missing.

It’s alright. Tifa thought. We’ll be whole again. We will.

<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>

[daydreamingleclerc]

a christmas request | mason mount fluff

gif credits to @masnmount <33

summary: one night after a late christmas shopping spree, mason still feels like he hasn’t got you the right present. then, after a talk with a jewellery store cashier, he realizes that all along the present is you.

warnings: illusions to smut at the end, mention of drinking but i think that’s it :)) hasn’t been proof read but it’s fluff so should be fine :)))

christmas fluff!!! i hope u enjoyed <3333

“you don’t have to come, mason, really, you don’t. i need to look for your christmas present anyway.”

he was yawning when he got into the car, all the hours he was putting into training and working had begun to take their toll on him now, and he was exhausted. you could see it in his face, his eyes drooped that little bit lower every time he got sleepy and the discoloration that sat underneath them became a deeper shade of blue with every late night phone call and early morning alarm.

“i’m not gonna see you until after my game on wednesday if i don’t come with you tonight,” he stifled a yawn as he slid into the drivers seat of his new mercedes, “besides, i’m fine.”

tomorrow’s game was a champions league game outside of the country, and so really you knew that with any luck you’d see him friday night before a home game at stamford bridge, and both of you knew that wasn’t going to satisfy him.

mason loved being around you, it was the simple things like playing with your hair as you fell asleep or wrapping his arms around you as you did all the washing up, even though he had a dishwasher.

“okay fine, if you’re gonna come with me,” you grabbed ahold of his hand before he could raise his arm to press the green button at the side of the steering wheel - mason was now too cool for car keys, apparently, “at least let me drive.”

“i’m fine!” he laughed by means of stifling another yawn, and when you furrowed your eyebrows he well and truly realised he’d been busted. “okay, maybe i am too tired to drive but you’re not driving this car.”

“what?”

you’d gotten your hopes up, wishing that the day he would let you drive one of his sports cars had finally arrived, but he shook his head and leaned over the gear stick.

“you can drive the range rover.”

“but i wanna-”

“-your insurance on my cars hasn’t been added to this one yet,” he mumbled against your lips, the fabric of his beanie brushing your forehead, “so you can drive the range rover.”

with a scowl you pressed the button that unlocked the doors, and kissed him back, “it’s a damn good job i love you or else i’d lock you in the garage and run away with this one.”

“now that’s the christmas spirit, Y/N.”

*

oxford street was so pretty at night, particularly over the christmas period; despite its obvious array of drunk hooligans roaming the curb as they waited for a tube they never bought a ticket for, or a fifteen year old to sell them weed for double the price you’d find it anywhere else in the country.

you and mason walked almost the entire strip hand in hand, dragging one another into various stores as shoppers browsed the shelves. he took you into all of the typical shops directed towards him - JD, flannels, nike - if it had an expensive price tag, he was in there.

“i cant find anything for lewis,” he frowned, peering over a particularly unattractive pair of yeezy’s.

“probably because lewis doesn’t like shoes that look like potatoes.” you jeered, poking your boyfriend in the ribs through his chelsea puffer coat.

“watch it, missy,” he replied, lips immediately gravitating towards your cheek as his fingers jabbed your ribs repeatedly. you pulled away, a blush on your cheeks as people began to watch the exchange, and mason’s hand soon looped back into yours.

you’d been dating for almost three years now, but still the public interactions startled you. mason had never been so attentive towards any of his previous girlfriends in public, yet with you it was different.

“i also can’t find anything for you.”

the pair of you were outside now, back out into the biting cold with hands wrapped around one another’s, a big nike bag hanging from mason’s hand after successfully buying presents for more of his friends and family.

“then don’t get me anything,” you replied nonchalantly, swinging your entwined hands back and forth between you. he turned to look at you, his mouth covered by the thick black scarf he had around his neck, and his ears kept warm from the beanie to match. you matched his expression. “seriously, mason, i don’t want anything.”

“but you’re my girlfriend,” he pouted, a sadness to his voice, “i have to get you something.”

“no,” you replied, “you don’t have to get me anything because i won’t be able to match the price of your presents.”

it was true. you always felt so guilty when mason showered you with presents at christmas and on your birthday, because although your job paid you well mason was on bucket loads — lorry loads — more than you were and he would buy you the world if it meant you’d be happy.

the truth is, you were happy with just him to have on christmas day. and maybe a few sprigs of mistletoe and a nice bottle of champagne.

“let me get you something,” he responded, almost begging. “please?”

you thought on it for a moment, and stopped in the middle of the pathway, gripping onto his hand. in the christmas lights that dangled over his head, he looked gorgeous, despite being freezing. he had a red dot on the tip of his nose from where it stuck out, and you watched as he sniffled every few seconds to keep his nose from succumbing to the cold.

“there’s a charm i really want for my pandora bracelet, okay? you can get me that.”

he smiled widely, and as you walked to find the pandora store, the other popular women’s jewelers caught his eye.

“can i get you a ring? or a pair of earrings?”

“strange way to ask me to marry you, mase,” you teased, jabbing him in the rib cage. he pulled you back into his chest as you began to walk away, and your eyes caught on a shimmering silver ring - a simple silver band with diamonds encrusted in its centre, and it was gorgeous.

mason followed your eyeline until he’d figured out the one you were staring at, and in a haste, he ran into the store and shut the door tight behind him so you couldn’t protest. when he was in one of these moods, you knew better than to do that anyway.

ten minutes had passed - mason was calling his sister asking her if she knew what your ring size was, and luckily enough she did. how she did, mason would never know but he was thankful for it and picked her out a nice pair of earrings to say thank you.

he watched you coming out of the store opposite, a big bag in your hand full of presents for him no doubt as you tried to match up to the price he spent on you. he handed the cashier his items.

“is it a big christmas engagement?”

the man lulled him out of looking at you, and just before he turned away he noticed you smiling at him.

“oh, no, not quite yet,” mason hummed. “i’d love to marry her but i think christmas is a bit much for a proposal, don’t you?”

the cashier delicately folded and wrapped the boxes into tiffany blue tissue paper, and hummed back. “she loves you too, i can tell by the way she looks at you,” mason smiled at that. “how long have you been together.”

“three years on january fifteenth.”

he hummed again, and mason smiled. “i know it’s not my place to say, or my place to even influence you really, but it doesn’t have to be a proposal.”

“hm?”

mason was pulling his card from his wallet as the man spoke, and before he finished bagging the gifts mason looked up at him. “ask her to move in with you if she doesn’t already, or get a joint puppy. something that’s big but not proposal big if that’s not what you want.”

mason shifted on his feet. he felt uncomfortable talking about his relationship to a stranger but couldn’t deny that on some level he was right. he loved you, and you loved him, neither of you cared about materialistic things when you had one another. if you lived together, you’d never have to worry about who’s house you were staying at that weekend or how you always groaned at how you’d leave your work clothes at his house and trundle back at two in the morning. if you lived together, none of that would’ve mattered. as the card machine flashed green, mason smiled.

he met back up with you outside, and after doing the final touches like buying you the charm you wanted, getting summer, yourself and mason matching build-a-bear’s as another one of her presents, and going halves on an impromptu pizza date, you finally were heading off home.

“i love you,” he said as you lay beside him, the pair of you with sweaty foreheads and messy hair. he was breathless, and the words came out in a pant as he rolled off of you, eyes half shut against the pillow.

you brought the duvet up your body higher so it covered you, until you were engulfed in it. “i love you too,” you kissed his nose, “even if you do keep me from having a shower so you can do that.”

his lips found your neck once more, a repeat of the nights earlier rendezvous, but before you had the time to shrug him off he mumbled against your skin.

“move in with me.”

the words shocked you, halting your movements and making your whole body rigid.

“huh?”

you’d been wanting him to say it for a while - you’d never ask him to move in with you, your flat was too small and you lived with two other people in a crowded area of surrey but he lived on a quieter street in a bigger house, in a less crowded area of surrey.

“move in with me.” he replied, his voice the same tone as it was before, showing you that he wasn’t having doubts about what looked to be word vomit.

“mason, are you serious?”

“baby we’ve been together for three years, there’s no one else i’d rather spend my life with. there’s no one else i’d rather irritate me as i’m trying to cook fajitas on a friday night, there’s no one else i’d rather share this house — this bed — with, so please move in with me.”

if you weren’t thinking about moving in before his monologue, you certainly were now. you pressed your lips against his by a manner of approval, mumbling a string of yeses and i love you’s as you did so.

“of course i’ll move in with you, mase,” you pulled away for official confirmation, and he smiled widely, wrapping an arm around you as the rain quietly pattered outside the windows. “just promise me you won’t play any stupid pranks, and please please please can you hoover? that’s all i ask.”

he chuckled. “yeah, i’m not too sure how that’s gonna work out but i’m sure we can make some compromises.”

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Wednesday

Monday     Tuesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, getting outed, f slur and d slur, homophobia, puking, toxic friends

Word count: 5,160

(A/N): woah, thank you all so much for all the positive feedback, that really makes my day! 

The room was quiet with the exception of the clacking of the keyboard and the soft chirping of crickets outside your open window. The stars twinkled in the sky as the night droned on and on. There was a loud rustling outside your window, but your sleep deprived mind didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t important at the moment, the only important thing right now was finishing your work. 

Throughout the night, you worked endlessly on your friend’s work. The essays were relatively easy because Adrian and Annie had luckily chosen topics that you’re somewhat interested in, so at least finding the sources was enjoyable. You had gotten your essay completely written and proofread, Annie’s outline finished, and Adrian’s sources analyzed. You would start on Sammy’s presentation after you finished Adrian’s outline. Hours upon hours passed by you as you worked, yet you didn’t notice the time once. You worked uninterrupted with no breaks. Well, one break to talk to your dad about how you weren’t hungry, but you got back to work right after he left your room. You couldn’t waste any more time than you already have.

Your eyes felt heavy as you typed on your keyboard, working on putting Adrian’s sources together cohesively so that the writing would flow seamlessly. You paused your typing to rub at your tired eyes so you could keep working, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep. You had to get these done as soon as possible if you wanted their forgiveness. 

The blaring of your alarm startled you out of your focus, making you fall backwards out of your chair with a yelp. Landing painfully on your back, you laid on the floor trying to calm your racing heartbeat. You looked out your window. Hints of pinks and yellows were starting to make a gradient with the lightening dawn sky. Shit, you were so focused on getting your work done that you didn’t take account of the time. You just knew today was gonna be long. At least after school volleyball practice was shortened because of finals tomorrow. 

You groaned as you pulled your tired form off from the ground. You made your way downstairs and plopped yourself down at your usual place at the table, burying your face into the crook of your arm. You felt yourself drift off into a blissful sleep, the wood of the table suddenly seemed very comfortable at the moment. Not long after, you were jolted out of your peaceful sleep by a loud crash. Jumping up and looking around with wide eyes, you saw Tubbo looking at you apologetically. There was broken glass in front of his feet on the floor. 

“Sorry, (y/n).”

You just stared at him blankly as you slowly blinked. Philza didn’t spare you a glance as he whisked the short boy away from the glass. “(Y/n), can you please go get the broom and sweep this up?”

You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet and walked over to the storage closet, pulling out the broom and dust pan. You mindlessly sweeped up the glass, your limbs feeling heavy. After throwing the glass away, you rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a mug. The bitter smell beckoned you welcomingly, working its way through your nostrils and digging itself deep into your brain. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup, a hand snatched the coffee pot away from you. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“You let Techno and Wil drink it, so why can’t I?”

“(Y/n), you’re a full year younger than them and you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m only a year younger than them! There’s literally no-”

“(Y/n),” his warning tone cut you off, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, “you aren’t going to drink this. That’s final. Get a glass of water.”

You huffed and pushed past him to the sink to fill your coffee mug with water. You’ve been drinking coffee for a while behind his back, so you were used to its effects on your body. You supposed that you’d just beg Wilbur to take you to the cafe so you could get your sustenance. He always relented for you. 

You heard him chuckle, “you’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“Mhm.”

You plopped down next to Tubbo nursing your mug of water, trying to make small talk with him. One by one, your brothers made their way to the table. Tommy was talking and gesturing wildly to Tubbo like he normally did, Wilbur looked as dead inside as you felt, and Techno made it a point to ignore you. When someone pissed him off, he can hold a grudge better than he could hold onto his knowledge of Greek mythology, and that’s saying something. Man is obsessed with Greek mythology. 

Breakfast went by in a daze with you struggling to keep your eyes open. At one point, you almost fell asleep sitting up, only to be woken up by Tubbo shaking your shoulder to get your attention. When breakfast was almost done, you had only eaten about half your breakfast. 

Drifting off again, you were startled awake by the screeching of the chairs against the wooden floor and loud shouts coming from your brothers. You didn’t have the energy to race them to the bathroom like you usually did, you’d just freshen up after they were done. You tried to stand up to go to your room to get dressed, but you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder forcing you to sit back down. Looking up, you were met with the concerned, yet stern eyes of your father. 

“You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten at least a few more bites and tell me why you’re so tired.”

“I just stayed up later than I normally do finishing up some homework, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not or else I will make you stay home next time. When’d you go to bed last night?”

You avoided his eyes, “around one thirty or two.” You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t actually go to sleep last night, he’d flip. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Shit.

Looking him in the eye, you spoke more confidently. “Three in the morning.”

“(Y/n)-”

You felt a sudden rage start to twist inside you as he started to lecture you about taking better care of yourself. He was treating you like a child and you were not having it. 

“-young kids like you need to- are you even listening?”

You set your jaw and willed yourself not to explode at him. “Dad, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself.”

You saw him narrow his eyes and purse his lips in frustration, “well, obviously you don’t if you’re not eating or sleeping well,” his eyes softened. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t because I’m fine,” you snapped at him. “I’m going to get ready.”

You stalked out of the room and stomped upstairs. Passing a shocked Tommy and Tubbo, you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. The person that stared back at you in the mirror looked pale and had dark eye bags accentuating her tired eyes. She had red pimples dotting her face more than she usually did. She was ugly, revolting. The girl you remembered her being was confident in her appearance and walked with an air of importance. Now, she was a decrepit thing that was run down and scared of her own shadow. You couldn’t recognize the girl that stared back at you anymore. You should’ve been able to;  after all, she was you and you were her.

You rushed through your morning routine in the bathroom avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bathroom door only to be met with Wilbur’s chest, his hand poised in the air in a closed fist ready to knock on the door. He stepped back.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wil, we still have twenty minutes before school starts. We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”

He gave you a smirk, “well, you want coffee, don’t you? You look dead.”

“Oh thank god. I feel dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Christ, (y/n) I knew you were a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes, walking around him and into your room. You felt a stab of hurt in your heart. “Fuck you.”

Before you could close the door, he shouted out a cheeky “love ya too (y/n)!”

You took off all your clothes slowly and stood in front of your open closet deciding on what you should wear today. You figured that since you felt like absolute shit, you should probably put a little bit more effort into your appearance. Picking out your favorite flannel shirt and favorite pair of pants. Smiling at yourself in the mirror in your room, you felt slightly more confident in your appearance. You felt like you could walk around the hallways at school without as many peering eyes trying to figure out your every secret. But maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. You tend to be more impulsive and emotional when you’re sleep deprived.

You slung the backpack onto your back with less difficulty than in the previous days. Your back was healing faster than you thought it would. Now, it barely hurt and the swelling completely went away.

You went downstairs and slunk past the kitchen where Philza was talking to Tommy and Tubbo. You didn’t want them to notice you, you felt somewhat guilty for snapping at your dad. You slipped through the front door and hopped into the passenger seat next to Wilbur. You three usually rotated seats counterclockwise and took turns driving each day. Now, you were just waiting for Techno.  

“Well, you look less homeless today.”

“Thanks Wilbur, I just felt like looking a little nicer than usual.”

“Who’re ya dressing up for? Is it Adrian?” He asked with slight disgust. He hated Adrian almost as much as he hated Annie and Sammy. He thought he was nothing more than a fuckboy looking to get into your pants. Little did he know you were secretly a raging lesbian so deep in the closet that you’re froliking with Aslan through the flowerfields of Narnia.

“Wilbur, I’m gay why would I-” you froze, cursing your sleep deprived self for lacking a filter. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt anxiety start to seep into your veins and pump around your body, filling every single nook and cranny with dread. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shaking hands horrified at yourself. How could you just… just out yourself like that? How could you be so careless? So stupid?

You barely felt it when Wilbur reached over to press a gentle hand on your arm. “(Y/n), are yo-”

“I-tha-that was a joke, I’m not gay, I’m straight.” Your words came out in frantic jumbles, desperately trying to fix your slip up. Oh god, you really fucked up this time.

“(Y/n), brea-”

“I swear I’m not gay, I like men, I do. I-”

“(Y/n), breathe with me.” Wilbur’s firm, yet gentle voice demanded. He placed your hand on his chest and took in a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. You tried your best to follow him, but after about ten minutes, you were slowly but surely calming down. It was a lot faster calming down from a panic attack when you had someone helping you breathe. You’ve never gotten help with a panic attack before, it was nice. Becoming more aware of your surroundings, you took notice of the soft fabric of Wilbur’s sweater, the gentle thumping of his heart, and his worried expression. You also became aware of the extra hand rubbing small circles into your shoulder from behind your seat. It was Techno.

Taking in a shaky breath, you took your hand out of Wilbur’s grip and clasped your hands tightly in front of you, shrugging Techno’s hand off from your shoulder. 

“...Can we please leave? I don’t want Dad or Tubbo and Tommy seeing me like this.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. At the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction of the school. “Wilbur, where are we going? The school’s the other way.”

“We’re going to the cafe for some coffee, my treat.”

“But school starts in five minutes, we’re gonna be late if we go to the cafe.”

“Actually,” Techno’s deep voice chimed in, “school started ten minutes ago. If we’re already late, there’s no harm in skipping first block.”

“Tech, I literally have no idea what’s going on in stats.”

“I’ll give you my notes.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Wilbur pulled into the cafe’s parking lot, “don’t be stupid, (y/n). You can never bother us.”

You didn’t say anything as you left the car and headed into the cafe. You could think of plenty of ways you could bother your older brothers. You bothered everybody just by being in their presence. You just had that effect. 

Your brothers followed you into the cafe, glancing at each other worriedly. You three quickly got your orders and sat in the secluded back of the cafe. Soft jazz music drifted throughout the quiet cafe. 

“(Y/n), we need to talk about what happened. Was this your first panic attack?” Wilbur asked you gently.

“...No, I’ve had them before.” 

“Were they always this intense? You’re still shaking.”

“That one was nowhere near as intense as the ones I usually have.’

“Usually? Do you have them often?” Tecno asked.

“Yeah, usually a couple of them a week since the middle of freshman year. Nothing I can’t manage.”

“So you’ve been doing this on your own for three years? You could’ve gotten us to help you.” 

You sighed, looking down at your steaming cup. “...I couldn’t’ve. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys could help me, but I-I just couldn’t. No one was supposed to find out.”

“Promise us that you’ll come to one of us when you have an attack. We care about you, (y/n).”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

The table fell into a comfortable silence as you all sipped at your drinks, the comforting taste of the bitter coffee dancing across your tongue.

“Ya know, we don’t care that you’re gay. A lesbian called me ‘actually pretty funny’ once and I’m still riding the high.” 

“Yeah, you’re still you. Nothing changes the fact that you’re our little sister.” 

You smiled as you felt warm inside. You knew your brothers loved you, but you didn’t know that they loved you for being you. You didn’t think anybody loved you unconditionally like that, and that made you feel genuinely happy.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I-I can’t put into words how much that means to me, I love you guys so much!”

“We love you too,” Wilbur smiled before he dropped it into a stern frown. “But if any girl hurts you, we’ll have a stern talking to her.”

“Yeah, we can’t beat up girls. We’ll put her in her place alright.” You snorted into your coffee, almost spilling it on yourself. Quickly setting it down before you could baptize yourself with the scalding liquid (though, you did consider coffee to be holy), you wiped at your teary eyes. 

“And that’s why I love you guys.”

“We’re serious, she’ll be wishing she got beat up after we’re done scolding her.” Wilbur said seriously before he broke into a grin and started laughing. 

The conversation carried on about your sexuality, how you found out, when you found out, if you’ve told anyone yet (they were honored that they were the first people you’ve told, even if you did it accidentally mid-panic attack). Eventually you had to go back to the school before your second block started. You three split ways to your separate classrooms. 

Annie and Adrian were locked onto you as soon as you walked through the door. They looked angry at you. What’d you do this time to piss them off?

“Where the fuck were you this morning? We were looking everywhere for you,” Annie seethed.

“Yeah, you wasted so much of our time looking for your sorry ass. You ditch us again?”

Oh, that. “Look, I didn’t mean to skip out on you guys again. It was a rough morning.” 

“That’s funny because we also had rough mornings, yet we still hung out with each other. You aren’t special.” Adrian rolled his eyes at you.

“It’s gonna take more to apologize. We don’t let things like the little stunts you pull go off scott free.”

“Oh, Annie I have the best idea,” Adrian squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. 

“What is it Dri?” Annie’s eyes shone.

“Our little (y/n) can set you up with one of her brothers and she can go on a date with me on a double date! It’s foolproof, not even someone as dumb as (y/n) could fuck it up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good id-”

“It’s perfect Dri! Can it be with Wilbur? He’s literally so hot! Oh, the way his fingers can work that guitar…” Ew. The thought of Wilbur and Annie together made you scrunch up your nose with disgust.

“I’m sorry, but Wilbur’s actually dating Sally Fishmin right now. They’re actually really cute together-”

“God, how could someone as hot as Wilbur go for Sally Fishmin? She’s disgusting, always smells like fish,” Annie gagged, then gasped. “Wait (y/n) do you actually think that she’s more deserving to be with him than I am?”

“No, I nev-”

“Really? Cuz you just did. Glad to see you care about me, (y/n).”

“Annie, you’re literally so beautiful. I never said that you don’t deserve him. You deserve the world. I can’t split them up, but I can do more homework for you.” She perked up immediately, “awe, thanks love! That’s what happens when you actually put effort into how you look.”

“Speaking of, did you get that shirt out of the trash? It’s really not a look.” Adrian snickered to himself. There goes what little confidence you had. You actually thought you looked decent today. You felt grateful for your friends, they always told you the truth about how you looked when everybody else lied to you. 

Before you could respond, the bell rang and everybody took their seats. Luckily, Mr. Todd assigned today as a work day for your final research essays. You had finished Annie’s and got Adrian’s thesis done before the bell rang. While you were working on their essays, they were mindlessly scrolling on their phones and texting someone. 

You, Adrian, and Annie met up with Sammy and went into the lunch room. You tried to line up in the lunch line with them, but they laughed and told you that you’re fat enough and you needed to lose weight. What did you do to deserve such considerate friends? You really owed them one for always looking out for and putting up with you.

While you were waiting for them, you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, Haley texted you a screenshot of her conversation with Unknown. You felt a chill run down your spine. All four pictures were of you. You rubbing your eyes as the light of your computer provided the only light in the room. Your bare back facing the camera as you stood in front of your closet this morning. You sleeping a day ago (you felt sick as you realized that whoever took the picture was standing directly over your bed). Lastly, you and Haley holding each other’s hand under the moonlight last night. Attached to the pictures, Unknown had typed “you have one more day or else sleeping ugly gets it. Do not tempt us.”

Hales : )

(Y/n), how the hell did they get these pictures of you

Did you seriously leave your window open???

Why wouldn’t you close your curtains

Oh god, do you think they saw us in your driveway????

(Y/n)

Haley calm down 

Hales : )

I know you’re not telling me to calm down right now

You have a stalker

One that can GET INSIDE YOUR ROOM

(Y/n)

We’ll get to the bottom of this

Like I said, I don’t care if my pictures get leaked

I care about your pictures

Until we figure out who’s doing this, we need to lay low

Hales : )

Hanging out last night was a mistake

I shouldn’t have gave you a ride

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you

I’m straight

And you are too

You said it yourself

We can’t talk anymore (y/n)

(Y/n)

I’m not straight Hales

I’m gay

And I like you

Like

Like you like you

Hales : )

I’m sorry (y/n)

But I’m straight

We can’t talk anymore

Goodbye.

With each text she sent you, you felt your heart drop deeper and deeper into your stomach until you felt your heart shatter in your chest, the pieces lodging themselves deep within you and ripping you open from inside out. How could you be so stupid to think that soemone as perfect as Haley Andrews, arguably the prettiest girl in the senior year, go out with (y/n) Minecraft, a known trainwreck. Annie’s shrill gasp sounded right next to your ear, making you gasp and drop your phone onto the table with a loud bang.

“OH MY GOD (Y/N) YOU’RE A FAGGOT? WERE YOU HITTING ON ME EARLIER? YOU FUCKING PERVERT.”

The entire cafeteria fell into silence as they listened to Annie’s shrieking. Whispers started to meld together.

“(Y/n)’s gay?”

“How gross”

“Damn, I was gonna hit it”

“We have a dyke going to this school?”

You felt like you were suffocating as the whispers and Annie’s yelling jumbled together in a disorienting cacophony. Adrian and Sammy both glared at you from behind Annie with a hatred that you didn’t know they had for you. You tried stuttering an apology, but you were quickly shut up by Annie harshly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t wanna hear it, fag. You’re going to finish our essays and you’re never gonna talk to us again. Do you understand me?” When you didn’t respond, she slapped you again. “I asked you, do you understand me?” 

You frantically nodded your head, grabbed your backpack, and sprinted out the door without any real destination in mind. You sprinted before you found the bathroom that nobody used. Ducking into a stall and slamming the door, you felt yourself start to hyperventilate. You couldn’t feel anything except for the tightness of your chest. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You faintly tasted bile rising up in your throat as you bent over to empty your stomach. You threw up everything in your stomach until you were left sitting on the dirty floor painfully dry heaving. 

You sobbed on that floor for what felt like hours. Everybody knows your secret now. Your dirty, dirty secret. God, you were a pervert weren’t you? You made people around you comfortable by just being you. Faintly, you felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket, your shaky hands scrambling to fish it out. They were all texts from your brothers.

Wilby

(Y/n) I heard what happened

Are you okay????

Please answer me

Where are you

Technology Sword

I’m gonna kill them

I swear to god they’re dead

Blood for the blood god

(Y/n)

Pls dont do anything or hurt anyone

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

Wilby

Tell us where you are

(Y/n)

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

You silenced your phone and put it back into your pocket, once again feeling yourself start to dry heave again. Your sobs and gags echoed throughout the bathroom. This is by far the worst panic attack you’ve had yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You heard the final bell ring and students start to rush to their lockers to get home, so you tried to muffle your shaking sobs the best you could. You had at least an hour before you had to go to volleyball practice. Until then, you would stay in the bathroom trying to ground yourself. 

Luckily, you managed to calm down to the point where you stopped crying and dry heaving. You were only shaking slightly. You felt numb and completely drained from your panic attack, practice today was going to be a struggle. You cautiously walked through the empty hallways jumping at every little noise. When you finally reached the locker room, you made a beeline past Zara and Jazzy to your locker. You pulled out your uniform and changed in one of the bathroom stalls.

Practice went by with the girls on the team giving you sympathetic looks and Haley ignoring you. Not that you noticed, you were ignoring everyone and putting all of your focus on the ball. The entire practice, you felt light headed and drained. Fortunately, practice ended right as you felt like you were going to pass out.

You changed as fast as you could and pulled out your phone.

Dadza

Come outside, I’m here to pick you up

You felt a dread pool in your stomach as you stared at the text. Did he find out? Was he going to kick you out for being gay? Wilbur and Techno wouldn’t let him do that to you, right? Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall and rushed out of the locker room and out of the school. Sure enough, your dad’s car was parked in the parking lot. You glanced over to where Haley’s car was parked last night and saw glimpses of you and her chasing each other and laughing into the night sky without a care in the world before you ripped your gaze away to stare at your walking feet.

You reached your dad’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Your dad grinned at you. “Hey hun, how was practice?”

You merely shrugged your shoulders at him. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone at the moment. You felt extremely drained.

“What’s wrong, did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“...I’m just sad that the season’s over tomorrow.”

“Don’t be sad kid,” a gruff voice coming from behind you made you jump. “That’s pussy shit.”

You yelped and whipped your head around to look at whoever said that. Your uncle’s cocky grin greeted you. You felt yourself grin back at him. 

“Uncle Schlatt!”

“The one and only.”

“How was your business trip? You’re home early.”

He rolled his eyes, “boring as hell. I’m so fucking glad I got out early, I woulda blew my brains out if I had to stay there any longer.”

“Schlatt!” Philza reprimanded him, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. I woulda!” He defended himself.

Your dad gripped the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to say it in front of (y/n).”

Schlatt scoffed, “please, she’s heard me say worse.” 

As they bickered, you felt yourself zone out as you looked out the window. Houses and street signs passed by in a blur as the car moved down the road and pulled into your driveway. You got out as quickly as you could and made your way into the house alongside your uncle and dad. As soon as your uncle walked through the door, Tubbo barrelled into him and pulled him into a tight hug. Schlatt laughed loudly and bent over to pick him up into a hug. You smiled at the father and son as Philza gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the oven to check on something cooking inside of it and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

“So what’s really wrong?”

“I already told you, I’m sad the season’s almost over.”

“It’s something more than that,” as you opened your mouth he quickly added, “and you can’t say that it’s because you’re tired. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You sighed and mimicked his actions. “...It’s just been a long day. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Without warning, he pulled you into a warm hug, your face being shoved into his shoulder and him rubbing circles into your back. “That’s okay, just talk to me when you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

That broke you. Throwing your arms around him, you started to sob into his shoulder. He started to rock you back and forth whispering reassurances into your ear. 

“That’s good, let it all out.”

“I love you so much.”

“I’m here for you.”

With each sentence to fall out of his mouth, you felt more at ease and safe. Your dad always did a great job at making people feel safe, that was just his natural talent. After a while, you pulled away from him.

“Do you feel better?”

You smiled tiredly at him, “Yeah, I really needed a hug.”

He turned around to check on dinner, “I bet, you look like you’ve been to hell and back. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know that I’m always here for you and I love you.”

The rest of the family flooded the kitchen after a while of you two talking. Dinner went by with Schlatt laughing loudly and telling stories about the people he met on his business trip. Every now and then, Wilbur and Techno would glance at you, but you ignored them. You just wanted dinner to end so you could pass out in your bed. Once dinner was over, you helped your dad gather everybody’s plate and put them into the sink. The rest of your little family went to the living room to start a game of Monopoly. The last time you all played that ended in fresh bruises and shed tears.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed, I have to get some rest for finals tomorrow.”

“But (y/n), it’s Monopoly! You love Monopoly,” Tommy exclaimed.

“That’s alright, you look dead on your feet kid. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks Uncle Schlatt. Goodnight everyone, love ya.”

A flurry of goodnights and love you’s follow you as you leave the room and drug yourself up the stairs. Without a second thought, you closed your curtains and plopped face first onto your bed. You passed out without even making sure you were fully on your bed.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness, unwanted touches

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: We got another part and I hope you love biker!Thor as much as I do. It’s lots of fun.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: Better butter your cue finger up

The bottle of wine sat on your counter and you hid away the vodka in your freezer as you resisted the temptation of both. The library made hangovers even worse with its bright lights and tedious nothingness. So you tried to ignore the tapping at your shoulder, the persistent tug of your paranoia, and pretended that nothing had changed. In Birch, nothing did change, right?

The click of your mouse and the loud tapping of keys filled the silence of the library. Colin snored with eyes wide open. It was hard to tell when the old man was awake or sleeping. You weren’t sure there was a line left between the two for him. He spent most of his working hours in the back on the other side of the windowed wall although what exactly he did there remained a mystery.

There wasn’t very much to do there outside the occasional school visits in which students walked down to complete some research project or the teacher’s held a crafting circle. You liked those days as often you could join in and help wrangle in the pupils as they explored the sterile shelves.

Melissa stood and her chair rolled back with a grumble. She stretched and bent to grab her purse from under the desk.

“I’m going down to Bab’s. You want anything?”

“Hmm,” you tapped your chin as you leaned back. “I wouldn’t mind a latte. Oh, and I think they have the banana loaf today. A slice of that too.”

You peeked under the desk and sat forward to grab your bag from the cubby beside your PC tower. “Nope,” Mel stopped you, “it’s on me today. I need a breath of fresh air anyway. Even if it is cold as hell.”

“Oh, thanks, Mel,” you smiled and grabbed a pen to click in your monotony. “We should dig out the Christmas decorations soon. It might actually give us something to do.”

“Maybe for an hour or two,” she pulled her jacket from the rack that stood against the wall between the front counter and the back room, “We could try something new this year. I saw these lights online, you can program them with your phone.”

“You think Colin could handle that?”

“Like he would even notice.” She laughed and pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse. “Latte, banana bread.” She recited. “I’ll be back.”

You watched her go then stretched your legs out as you arched in the chair. You fell back limp and closed your eyes. You could fall asleep right there. You really couldn’t blame Colin for his waking trance. This place made your ears buzz and your head spin.

You heard the whoosh of the automatic doors and sat up. You were surprised at your visitor but not disappointed. Melissa’s daughter approached the desk as she swung her bag in her hand. You could tell by the little wrinkle between her eyebrows that she wasn’t happy.

“Your mom’s just gone to Bab’s,” you rolled closer to the desk. “You must’ve seen her.”

“I saw her.” She said tersely. She stilled her fidgeting and planted her dangling purse on the desk. She sighed and crossed her arms. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“Is something the matter?”

You were nervous. You knew her as well as her mother and you got along. You shared an interest in old Hollywood and a taste for dry history and humour. You liked her, envied her even for having a mother like Melissa.

“I hate doing this. I hate when he makes me do this.” She dropped her arms and instead gripped her hips. “You want to come down to the Asp tonight? For a drink?”

You chuckled and clicked the pen. “It’s Wednesday. I have to open tomorrow and--”

“Hrgh,” she huffed. “I’m sorry but it’s… not a question.”

You put the pen down and clamped your lips together. She shook her head and looked away.

“It’s an order. From Bucky.” She tapped her toe on the carpet. “I tried to tell him that you wouldn’t want to come so late. That you know, you work. He just doesn’t listen and--” She heaved and threw up her hands in exasperation, “I tried.”

“But… me? I don’t even know any of those… people. It’s not really my scene.” You swallowed and dug your nail into your thumb. 

“I’ll be there. Same with Steve’s girl from the bakery. She’s nice. And…” her eyes were dull but irritated, “look, if you don’t show up, Bucky will go and find you. Everyone in town reports to him. You don’t have to be in his club, he owns Birch.” She grabbed the thin strap of her small purse and drew it from the desk, “you don’t want to learn that the hard way like I did.”

You knew it wasn’t Bucky who wanted you there, you suspected that big blond brute who had chased you down the street. Her anxiety fed yours and made you uneasy. If she were that afraid, how scared should you be?

“I think you know my answer considering I’ve been given little choice.” You said firmly. “What time?”

“Seven. I got him to budge on at least that. You won’t be out too late.” She gave a weak smile and twisted the strap of her bag. “Stay close to me and I’ll do what I can. You know, with Steve’s girl, I really tried…” She looked away and rolled her as they turned glossy. “Sometimes, Bucky listens to me and I’m figuring out how to make him.”

“Why are you with him?” You whispered. “Why--”

“You think it’s a choice I made.” She blinked and sniffed. “No, it was made for me when I was born in this god forsaken pit.” She thrust her purse over her shoulder and shrugged. “I don’t know why anyone would make up their mind to come here.”

“I can’t say I’m happy with the decision.” You returned.

She sent you a pitying look before she spun away. She marched back to the doors as her mother nearly collided with her. They spoke for a few minutes before the younger left and Melissa came over to plop her goodies on the desk.

“New latte flavour, candy cane. I figured we might get a bit festive.” She announced.

💀

You stood outside the Asp and stared up at the snow-covered marquee. The powder began to fall just after noon and collected along the small ledge below the image of Cleopatra.  You wore a bright pink toque with an oversized pom-pom and tucked your chin down against the matching scarf tucked down the front of your cherry-coloured coat. You stuck out among the grey of Birch.

You didn’t put much effort into getting ready. You kept on the same polka-dot blouse from work and traded your trousers for faded jeans and a pair of knee-high boots. You took a breath and stepped through the doors, barely avoided the rush of snow that fell down behind you.

The bar smelled of beer and a stale but pungent dinginess. You looked around in the low din. The bartender, a woman named Lucy, dried several glasses and stacked them on a shelf and every man in the place wore leather. 

You found Melissa’s daughter next to Bucky as he squinted at his closest accomplice, Steve. The shy girl from the bakery was tucked under his arm as she picked at the hem of her short skirt. You cleared your throat as you pondered leaving.

A figure on Bucky’s other side stood and you frowned as that man, Thor, smiled at you like a puppy. You fixed your mouth into a straight line as Bucky’s girl rose and waved you over.

“Hey, you made it,” she said. You didn’t miss the way Bucky’s hand slid up her thigh.

“Yeah,” you said flatly as you rounded the table.

“Kitten,” Thor greeted as he pulled out the chair next to him in a flourish. “I’ve a seat just for you.”

You looked from the chair to his face. You made no move to sit.

“If that’s not to your tastes, you can sit in my lap.” He taunted.

Your lips parted in disgust and you grabbed the back of the chair. You wrenched it away from him and backed up steadily as you dragged it around the table. You stopped it next to Steve’s girl and unzipped your jacket. You sat and shrugged out of the coat then crossed your arms. You tore your eyes from the large man and smiled at the baker girl.

“The banana loaf was good,” you said. “Sorry I didn’t make it down.”

“Oh, it’s ugly out there,” she turned in Steve’s hold and his arm slipped down around her waist. 

You could feel Thor’s constant gaze as you humoured the girl about the weather and listened to her story about how Mrs. Deeton sent back a blueberry scone for not having any blackberries. You did your best to blot out the rest of the bar.

“Kitten, you want a drink?” He interrupted and you peered over at him. You glanced from him to Lucy as she stood and awaited an order.

“Do you have ginger ale?” You asked her directly.

“We have club soda or iced tea right now.” She said with venom.

“Iced tea, thank you.” You fished through your purse for a fiver.

“Put it on my tab,” Thor insisted.

“No, it’s fine, I--”

You held out the bill and he reached across to snatch it from your hand. “On my tab.” He repeated and the barmaid stomped away. He tossed the five back to you and smirked. “Keep it, kitten.”

You swiped it up and turned back to Steve’s girl. She looked frightened as she stared at the blonde man and slowly returned her attention to you.

“Um, so, I was going to tell you the secret ingredient to Bab’s banana bread but you have to promise not to tell.”

“Sure,” you leaned in and she whispered it in your ear and giggled. 

“I’m not supposed to tell.” She uttered as she touched her cheeks guiltily.

“I’ve been telling her she don’t need to worry about rules,” Steve intoned as his fingers danced on her hip.

“My mother made the best banana cream pie,” Thor interrupted. “She handed the recipe down to me. My sister was never much into sweets.”

“Oh?” Steve’s girl turned to Thor. “We don’t serve that at Bab’s but we have lemon meringue.”

“Mother made that too. She showed me the trick to perfect peaks. I could show you.”

Steve growled and pulled his girl closer. She looked at him as he sent a heated glare at Thor. She touched his chest and cooed at him to relax. Lucy returned with your iced tea and you took it eagerly as the tension burned at your face.

“So, kitten,” Thor scooted his chair around the table as you set your glass down, “what trouble did you get into today?”

“I work at a library.” You uttered dryly.

“And did you enjoy your wine last night? I always heard it’s better with company.”

You jutted out your jaw in annoyance and looked at him. He was painfully persistent.

“Excuse me.” You stood and nearly gave him a face full of your chest. You looked to Bucky’s girl as she listened to his incessant grumbles. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Just down there,” she pointed along the far side of the bar.

“I could show you,” Thor offered and you waved him off.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“Yes, you are,” he purred and you backed up as his eyes grazed your hips.

You were all too eager to hide in the bathroom and closed yourself in a stall as you tried not to scream. You had dealt with perverts before. Often you were the butt of some joke. The wingman settled for the chubby girl so his pal could get laid. Those types thought you were desperate and had no qualms with getting handsy on the dance floor. But college was long ago and Birch wasn’t known for its nightlife.

After a moment, you were able to steady yourself and you left the stall. You stood by the grungy sink and stared at the mirror. Why you? Why was this idiot bugging you?

You went back out with reluctant steps. You passed a drunk man at the bar talking about some feat of machismo in his foregone youth. As you neared the table, you froze in the spot as you listened.

“...she’s fat anyway.” Steve snarled and laughed meanly.

His chortle was curtailed as a chair scraped on the floor and the baker girl cried out. Thor forced Steve to his feet but the front of his tee shirt. He pulled him past his girl and brought him close as he growled down at him through flaring nostrils.

“I like you, Rogers, but your mouth makes it real hard.” Thor sneered.

“What the fuck?” Steve struggled against him, “let me go.”

“I’m not sitting here shit-talking your woman, eh. You might have little respect for them, but I do.”

“Jesus Christ!” Steve was on tip-toes as he was held up by the other man.

“Apologize.” Thor demanded.

“Wha--”

“Dammit, Steve, say sorry.” Bucky snapped.

“S-sorry, dude.” Steve stuttered.

“Not to me,” Thor turned and to your surprise, he thrust Steve around to face you. “To her.”

You stared in shock as Steve straightened his shirt. He was like a petulant child as he looked you in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“For…” Thor prodded.

“I’m sorry I called you fat.” Steve looked away.

“I…” you didn’t know what to do or say as you glanced past him to the other girls. “Well, I am so it’s fine.”

Thor shoved Steve back and his thick brows drew together. “Don’t listen to him,” he said. “I like a little extra.”

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl interrupted as she stood suddenly, “the table’s free. How about I get Wanda and we can play some doubles, just us girls.” She touched Bucky’s shoulders, “leave the men to their business.”

Thor’s shoulders fell and he shook his head. He grinned at you even as his disappointment shone through.

“Sure,” you answered as you stepped around him. “Sounds fun.”

💀

You focused on the felt. It didn’t help block out the blazing heat of Thor’s leer. You refused to look over at him and instead pretended to be enthralled with the game of solids and stripes. 

When you were a kid, you went to the youth centre and played with the rest of the kids desperate for a distraction. In uni, you enjoyed your plastic cups of cheap sambuca and coke at the campus bar and chalked up the cues. You were no expert but you could hit a good shot now and again. Your mother used to recount tales of her hustler father. Maybe it was his blood that kept your hand steady.

The other girls played as a pair as you handed off to Wanda. She wore the cut of the Birch’s club and her dark lipstick was the same shade as the leather. You saw her now and again with the men. She smoked her cigarettes out front and watched the town with indifference.

Wanda took her shot and clicked her tongue as she scratched. You shook your head as Steve’s girl scrunched her nose at the table. You were even; three stripes and three solids. She went around the far corner and awkwardly positioned herself over the side. She reached back to tug down her short skirt, she was clearly uncomfortable in the revealing outfit.

She sunk her mark but her next stopped short of the pocket. She shook her head and apologized to Steve’s girl who assured her with a pat on the shoulder. You took the cue from Wanda and walked around the table. You walked back and wondered if you could sink two in one. It was a possible angle but could you hit it?

You tilted your head and sighed. You bent and brought your foot back as you squinted and carefully positioned the cue. You couldn’t decide whether you should try to spin it to the right or hit it straight on. You knew the power you needed but you couldn’t afford to hit a stripe.

You almost tapped the cue ball as you felt a warmth over you and suddenly a hard torso was against your back. You went rigid as Thor bent over you and put his hands over your as he adjusted your aim. His hot breath wrapped around your neck.

“Almost, kitten,” he pushed his crotch against your ass.

You pulled the cue back so that it hit his ribs and he grunted as his hands fell to the edge of the table. You took the shot and pushed out of his grasp. His hand dragged over your ass as he stood straight and touched his side with a wince. 

“I got it.” You said as both balls rolled and dropped into opposite pockets.

He chuckled and bit his lip. It was almost a snarl as he watched you across the table and you sensed the bated breaths of the other women.

“I like a woman with a firm grip,” he winked, “And confidence.”

You looked back to the table as he loomed on the other side. You sunk the last solid and lined up for the eight ball. A straight, easy shot that even the most amateur could get. You ended the game and Wanda clapped as the other girls grumbled their congratulations.

“Best out of three?” Steve’s girl asked.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but I have to work early.” You leaned the cue on the table. “I showed up and now I’m done. It was fun, girls, but I’m gonna turn in.”

You smiled at each of them and your face fell as you passed them and went to grab your coat from the chair where it still hung. Thor was less than subtle as he followed you to the table and watched you zip up your coat over your chest. You slung your purse over your arm and pulled your hat on as you braced for the chill that awaited you.

“You shouldn’t walk alone.” Thor intoned.

“It’s a small town. I’m fine.” You spun away and again, he followed.

At the door, you turned back and crossed your arms. “Look, I can handle myself, buddy. Now leave me alone.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“You’re being a pest.”

“You love it.”

You huffed and closed your eyes to keep them from rolling back into your skull. You looked at him again and bit down on your words. “Do you ever give up?”

“On you, never.” He grinned.

“Well, be a good dog and stay.” You jabbed your finger in the air. “Stay!” You repeated as if he was a hyper dog. “Good.”

You quickly slipped through the door and booked it across the street. The door didn’t hit the frame but was instead caught as his boots scuffed out behind you. You peered back as you reached the other side and kept up your steady jog. He watched you but did not give chase.

“I’ll sniff you out one day, kitten,” he called out. “Pussy, pussy, pussy.”

[justlookfrightened]

Happy Mother's Day

“I know, Mama. I’ll tell him. You say hello to Coach, too, alright?”

Bitty shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at Jack, the “I’m trying to get off the phone” clear in his expression.

“Mother. Yes. Alright. Fine. I’ll talk to you this weekend, okay? Yes, Mama. I love you, too.”

He sighed and put the phone down on the counter.

“What was that about?”

“She thinks you need feeding up,” Bitty said. “She watched your game last night and she said you looked thin.”

Jack looked down at himself. “It’s been a long season,” he protested. “What does she want me to do?”

“She wants me to feed you a steak dinner every night,” Bitty said, making a face. “Even though you’re barely here one night out of three and the nutritionists would have something to say about all that red meat.”

He crossed the room to embrace Jack.

“I know you’re doing your best, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “The end of the season just takes its toll.”

“So what did she want you to tell me?”

“Oh, you know, good luck in Game 3,” Bitty said.

Jack tightened his grip around Bitty’s waist.

“That all?”

“And that Vasilevskly likes to come out to play the puck, so if y’all can draw him away from the goalmouth someone can tuck it in behind him.”

Bitty was mumbling into Jack’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I know you don’t need advice from your mother-in-law.”

Jack gave Bitty another squeeze, kissed the top of his head, and released him.

“It’s not like she’s wrong,” he said. “I have to go. You’re all set to go to Georgia? And I’ll see you in Tampa for Game 4?”

“Of course,” Bitty said, reaching up to kiss Jack goodbye. “Call me tonight, right?”

“Of course.”

*

Bitty’s phone rang while he was standing in baggage claim at Hartsfield, waiting for the conveyor to disgorge his suitcase. Then he just had to grab his rental car, head to a hotel for the night, and show up in Madison before church.

Coach. He almost never called. And on a Saturday night?

“Daddy?” Bitty said. “Is everything okay? Moomaw --”

“Your Moomaw’s fine, son,” Coach said.

“Mama --”

“Your mother too,” Coach said. “Just … did you remember tomorrow is Mother’s Day?”

“Uh … yes?” Bitty said, hoping his father couldn’t hear the airport announcements over the phone. “Of course I did.”

“But maybe you mailed cards a little late?” Coach suggested. “Because your mother hasn’t gotten anything, and there’s no mail tomorrow. She was trying to act like everything was fine, but I can tell you she was a mite put out. But if you tell her you mailed a card on Tuesday, or even Monday, well, then she’ll just blame the post office.”

“No sir.”

“What?”

“I didn’t mail a card this week,” Bitty said. “There’s something that should be delivered tomorrow.”

“On Sunday?”

“Yessir.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yessir.”

“That must cost an arm and a leg.”

“It’s fine, Daddy, I promise,” Bitty said, hauling his suitcase off the carousel. “And I’ll talk to Mama and Moomaw tomorrow. Both of them.”

“Alright,” his father said. “If you say so. Your mother and I were going to pick up Moomaw after church and take her to brunch, so maybe in the afternoon? Or before church. But I know how you and your mother get to talking.”

Bitty made a non-commital noise as he headed for the rental car counter.

“Well, sounds like you’re out and about somewhere,” Coach said. “I’ll let you go. Have a good night, now.”

“You too,” Bitty said, barely managing to bite back the “See you tomorrow” that wanted to escape.

*

Bitty parked two doors down from his parents’ home and gave himself one last look in the rearview mirror. He was clean shaven, though it was honestly still hard to tell, his teeth were brushed and his face was washed. His hair was freshly cut and coiffed. The pink polo shirt was pressed, as were his khakis. He wished he had something better than supermarket flowers, but all the florists were closed by the time he arrived the night before.

He collected the flowers and headed for the porch, where, for the first time in his life, he rang the bell.

Coach answered. Of course he did.

“Shhh,” Bitty hissed. “Get Mama.”

Coach, bless him, simply stepped away from the door and called, “Suze? It’s for you.”

Bitty heard his mother approaching before he saw her.

“Are you sure, Richard? At this hour, on a Sunday?”

When he didn’t answer, she continued.

“I bet it’s something from Dicky, isn’t it? When there wasn’t a card, I thought he might have gone and sent something ridiculous --”

Then she was at the door, and actually, momentarily, speechless.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama,” he said, holding out the flowers. “Um, surprise?”

“Oh, Dicky, you shouldn’t have,” Mama said, gathering him and the flowers into her arms. “I should have known you’d do something like this. And your Moomaw will be so happy. Oh, do you think we can get an extra seat at brunch?”

“It’s a buffet, right?” Bitty said. “I’m sure they’ll take one more.”

Even if he had to tip the hostess heavily.

“I thought I’d take Moomaw to the garden center this afternoon to pick out a new rose bush,” Bitty said. “But your present is in there.”

“The flowers are beautiful --”

“Open the card, Mama.”

Bitty waited while she plucked out the card he’d nestled in the foliage and opened it, first reading the Hallmark-approved message before opening the smaller envelope that was inside.

“These are tickets to … Jack’s game?” she said. “Next week in Florida?”

“Yes, Mama, and the flight and hotel for you and Daddy are already taken care of,” Bitty said. “Jack’s parents will be there, too.”

“Well, I never,” his mother said. “Oh, we’re going to be late for church, but I have to get these in water and --”

“You finish getting ready,” Bitty said. “I’ll get them in water.”

His mother hurried to her bedroom, and Coach stood in the kitchen doorway shaking his head.

“Nice one, Junior,” he said. “She means thank you, by the way.”

“I know,” Bitty said. “If you can’t get off work, I can change your flight Wednesday to leave after school.”

“I’m invited too?”

“Of course you are.”

“Oh. Well, then. I’m sure I could get a couple days off,” Coach said. “It’s off season.”

*

After the game, when the Falconers had finally come off the ice, done press, showered and changed, Jack came out to greet Bitty and all four parents.

“Congratulations, sweetpea,” Bitty said as he hugged his husband, “At least you have a few days off now.”

Jack’s parents embraced him and said much the same.

Bitty’s mother hugged Jack, then stepped back and held him at arm’s length.

“You need to eat more,” she said.

At Bitty’s audible huff, she turned, not letting go of Jack, and said, “What? I was right about Vasilevsky.”

[seokjinsonlyone]

Not My Type | 3

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: "She's a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful."

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: none; jimin here tho being flirty and stirring the pot <3333

rating: pg

wc: 1.7k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Jungkook’s newfound hobby was driving her crazy. One too many times had their little lunch rendezvous made its way into her mind in the past week. The way he sniffed her hair oddly enough was a recurring playback. She had a thing for weirdos and Jungkook could definitely be classified as that. And, that was exactly why she needed to shut this whole thing down.

Now, she considered herself a progressive individual. She didn’t mind change as long as it was for the better. She didn’t have a problem evolving her relationship with a friend. In fact, she preferred it. Always said that if she was gonna get into it, she wanted to be with a friend. But, this particular friendship wasn’t the one. It wouldn’t make sense. There was no way it could possibly be better.

They were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. Which was fine as a friendship, they could peacefully coexist. Anything more than that, however, would be an unnecessary burden. And, her life didn’t need to be anymore difficult than it already was. She wanted an easy love. It was this line of reasoning that carried her straight to her best friend’s house.

“You need to talk to your friend,” she announced, waltzing into Jimin’s home, throwing her purse on the couch before finding him sitting at the island eating cereal.

He looked up. “I’ve already told you should just ask Taemin out. He’ll most likely say yes. He thinks you’re hot. Stop trying to get me to create scenarios.”

“And, I’ve already told you I refuse to pursue a man. No matter how dreamy and evil he is,” she sighed.

In all honesty, she probably would’ve gone for it if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell he wasn’t really into her. Not in the way she would’ve liked for him to be into her. He flirted with her in person (and in her dms), held her in a way that made her stomach jump after a few drinks, but ultimately his goal was a few nights in the sheets. And, that just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t do casual. Didn’t like to invite people into her life that weren’t going to stay. So even though she thought they could be good together, she was deciding to let this one go. If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him that was on him.

“You’re gonna end up alone.”

“You must realize that I am my favorite person.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Jungkook.”

“What he do?”

“He’s been acting weird ever since last week.”

“What happened last week?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know, when we were all here?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, pupils shifting from side to side, visibly racking his brain trying to recall what happened at his place last week. “Oh! Wednesday! I was so drunk, bro. What happened?”

“Ugh. You don’t remember asking me to rank all of y’all from most to least my type?” Typical Jimin. Cause trouble then dip.

“What’d you rank me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I ain’t doing this again.”

He dropped his legs from the footrest of the barstool, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mmm. You couldn’t handle me either way.”

She’s not gonna lie, her heart skipped a beat. But, that’s the only reason he did it in the first place. He knew it flustered her on some level. So, she decided to play along for once, bringing her hand up to toy with the hair that rested at the back of his neck. “Baby boy, I could make you cry,” she whispered seductively.

He made a face, then pushed her away turning his attention back to his cereal. “You’re gross.”

“You started it,” she accused, laughter bubbling up at his reaction. He was CEO of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Always in the mood to dish it out, but hardly able to take it in return.

“So, what’s going on? Why do I need to talk to him?”

“Because I told him he wasn’t my type, and now he’s trying to convince me that he is.”

He choked. “What?”

“He literally showed up at my work the other day and brought me lunch.”

“That was more so directed at you saying Jungkook isn’t your type.”

“He’s not.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially. “He isn’t,” she insisted.

“So, you didn’t used to drool over him when you two first met?”

“See why you gotta go and bring up the past.” She wouldn’t say that she had a full blown crush on him, she didn’t know him and therefore couldn’t actually like him, but for a minute she was down bad. She wasn’t expecting to meet him when she did. Jimin had wanted to hang out and asked for a ride. He was with Jungkook when she picked him up and she was effectively caught off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was out of the car and shaking hands with him in greeting. The next few weeks were spent trying her hardest to be in his presence. She never said more than two words to the boy, but yeah she was down bad. Once her hormones subsided, though, they eventually developed a friendship. A friendship that needed to stay a friendship. “Besides, I never said he wasn’t hot. I’m saying our personalities don’t match up. It wouldn’t work.”

“You aren’t that different from each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re wrong in just the right ways. It wouldn’t work.” He was right in saying that weren’t all that dissimilar, but it was because of that that she was sure starting any kind of relationship with romantic intent would go up in flames. The two were like parallel lines. Never meant to cross. Adjacent, but never intersecting. As they should.

“It sounds to me like you’re just afraid of what could happen.”

“Hold on there partner. I didn’t come here to be lectured or psychoanalyzed. I don’t even think he likes me for real, but he’s heading down a slippery slope. I just want you to talk to him before he goes and starts something that’s gonna get his feelings hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” One thing about Jimin was that he was nosy. Had absolutely zero qualms about getting all up in other people’s business. Knowledge equals power is what he always told himself. So, if she hadn’t come to him voluntarily offering up this information, he would’ve picked up on it sooner or later, inserting himself in the middle of it all. As it stands, he’s been giving explicit permission to do some digging. All he has to do is wait for the opportunity to arise.

The opportunity came a few days later. Jungkook was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, completely zoned out when Jimin pounced.

“So... Y/N?”

Jungkook startled at the mention of her name. It wasn’t like he was just thinking about her. He definitely wasn’t about to text her. He hadn’t spent the past minutes in a daze typing, deleting, and retyping messages to send. Nope. “Huh?”

“Y/N? What’s going on with you and her?” Jimin asked again.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” he feigned innocence, voice raising an octave. Even though, for all intents and purposes, there really wasn’t anything going on.

He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?” She talked about him?

“You tell me.” He smirked sitting down, crossing one leg over the other like some kind of therapist.

“I don’t know. We had lunch,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I thought she might be hungry.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she said you’re not her type?”

He blew raspberries into the air. He couldn’t lie to Jimin even if he tried. The man always managed to see right through him. A consequence of nearly ten years of friendship. “I’m just trying to get to know her better,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice.” Which wasn’t the complete truth, but if he admitted that he thought she had stars in her eyes he’d never hear the end of it.

“She’s a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she’s one of the best people I know, but she’s stubborn and once she has an idea in her head it’s very hard for her to let go.”

“So you think I should stop?”

“I think you shouldn’t go into this blind, is all I’m saying. Whatever you’re doing, probably won’t be easy. And, I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt her. What do you plan on doing if you manage to make her like you? If you’re not serious then I think you should stop.” Jimin patted his shoulder, then got up leaving him to his thoughts.

Jungkook heard what he was saying. He did. And, he was right. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he was doing. Honestly, he was just following the skip in his heartbeat and so far that led him to her. There was a very real possibility of him getting his feelings hurt. She was very strong willed. Couldn’t budge her mind with a bulldozer. So, if she was dead set on being against this, there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Still, this wasn’t something he could let go of easily. He had no intentions of hurting her. It wasn’t just some conquest for him. That much he was sure of. He would hate to get closer to her, have her catch feelings for him, then dip because he wasn’t feeling it. But, he seriously doubted that would happen. It’s not like they were complete strangers. He was just seeing her in a new light now. And as much as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, at this point he didn’t know if this was something he should even avoid. It didn’t seem like it.

Truthfully, he didn’t feel this way often. This pull he now felt toward her. He was usually much too caught up in trying to be the best version of himself he could be to entertain thoughts of others. However, right now she had his attention and he didn’t want to look away. He opened his text thread with her typing and finally sending a message before he could overthink it.

[10:53pm] jk: lunch tomorrow?

[bigskydreaming]

I kinda wanna fucking scream, so here, have a offline bullshit rant post.

So I’ve literally been trying to get my stupid fucking meds for over a MONTH now at this point, which I’m sure you can all see like, my mood is just wooooonderful these days. Not an excuse, casual reminder that yeah you do gotta take care of your own space so if my mood is dragging anyone down, I’m totes on board with blocking or unfollowing or y’know, burning me in effigy or something. Okay maybe not that last part. But still. You get it. And its not even that like, I need mood stabilizers per se, lol, so shout out to the armchair diagnosticians helpfully peppering my inbox still in their quest to oh so slickly be like ‘hey you’re a hot mess, take your hot messness away from tumblr’ like lol, didn’t ask.....nah, its mostly the perpetual lack of sleep and chronic pain issues that I have zero distraction from when my specific combo of meds isn’t able to let me actually weaponize my ADHD properly and power through that. Its a whole thing. Whatever. Just go with it.

POINT IS. So I’ve been trying to do this for over a month now, first obstacle was even just getting the money together for my refill appointment which is a whopping $150, because I have to pay out of pocket for mental health stuff these days because I had to switch my insurance over to something that paid out more heavily for physical benefits like my jaw surgery.....and because of the pandemic, and how many psychiatrists in my area and that I could actually reach aren’t taking new patients during the pandemic since most of them are conducting business virtually still, like, I have barely any resources for seeking out and trying new psychiatrist offices in the meanwhile that might charge less and I’m kinda stuck with the one I have because the last thing I can afford is to have like, NO psychiatrist at the moment, y’know?

So first I had to have that to even BOOK the appointment, which took forever because rent and food are a joy to accrue when you can barely manage to function as an actual employee of the capitalist machine ahfsklhflkahflakf, but so then I did that and like, got an appointment put on the books for August 19th. That was the soonest they could fit me in back when I paid them for my appointment about a week and a half ago. No, two weeks ago now? Eh, time is fake. ANYWAY, so that wasn’t gonna work for me, so basically the entirety of last week was devoted to constantly calling and trying to check in every other hour to see if they had any sooner cancellations I could take, because for whatever fucking reason, they just ‘don’t do’ a cancellation list wherein they call the next person on the list once they have a cancellation. Whatever.

So finally got a cancellation slot with a virtual appointment last Saturday night at random as fuck 8:40. Okay cool. Most of my refills are fairly simple, no real changes, but two are controlled substances so like, they have to do their due diligence and go through the proper protocols before giving me another prescription to one or whatever. Fine. Okay.

So I call the CVS they sent the prescription for my ADHD med to, the very next morning. One of the controlled substances, and the key med to like....making me functional instead of a rambling disjointed whirlibird of a thought emitter. Problem is, that medication is on back order. Won’t be in until Tuesday. Ugh. Okay, fine. Nothing I can do about it, because while the specific provider I spoke to in order to GET my refill prescriptions was taking an appointment the night before, the actual offices that schedule appointments and connect patients through to their providers was closed for the weekend, so I couldn’t even ask for them to send the scrip somewhere else.

SO. I go back to the CVS on Monday, hoping that maybe it came in early because not like I can do much else in the meanwhile. Course its not there, but oh well. I toy with the idea of calling to ask my provider to send the scrip to a different pharmacy (only had it sent to this one cuz its within walking distance to me, and since I can’t drive for medical reasons and Uber’s are expensive as fuck, just for errands, like, even though walking is sooooo not fun for me physically, like it is what it is). I decide against it because here’s another fun fact about this controlled substance....for security reasons, pharmacies don’t have to tell people over the phone if they have it in stock or not. Like, they won’t just say no we don’t have it in stock - I mean, they WILL say that, but that doesn’t actually mean anything because that’s what most of them say about that particular medication no matter whether or not they DO, and then just cite security protocols, so you have to actually GO to the store in question to ask them and even get a real answer to whether or not they even HAVE it in stock to FILL a prescription if its sent over. And no, the provider won’t just send scrips into several different pharmacies at once and just be whichever has it in stock can fill it - because again, controlled substance.

SO. I decide its not worth it to try getting the scrip sent over somewhere else, because I’d have to at least waste money on an Uber to even travel to various pharmacies and even check if they CAN fill it sooner than this one, when at least this place will have it in tomorrow. Its just one more day at this point.

Except then I go back on Tuesday. Oh sorry, don’t know why that other person told you we’d have our order in today, our shipments of that medication don’t come in until Wednesdays.

So I go back Wednesday. Success! They have it in stock. I go to pay, pulling out my goodRx coupon that was just printed out that morning, specifically citing the price for CVS at Target. The pharmacy manager says sorry, we don’t honor that coupon here for controlled substances like this one. I say: record scratch? He’s like yeah, that’s at the discretion of individual pharmacies, and we don’t honor that price for this specific medication, because we don’t want to attract customers only coming here to get that medication filled for that price. (This pharmacy is right at the edge of Inglewood and Culver City, for anyone who is familiar with those neighborhoods. The implications are exactly as they appear to be). So I’m like, what’s the regular generic price? He quotes me something that’s $180 more than the coupon, and thus $180 more than I have since I was focused totally on getting THIS amount ASAP, so I could get these meds so I could do more work and make more money. You see the train of thought. I’m like well that’s awesome, I don’t have anything close to that. Hey. Weird question. Why did nobody I talked to the past three days in a row that I’ve walked into this store in person to request this refill, like, mention this little tidbit about not honoring this coupon so instead of waiting for a backorder that would do me no good, I could have been spending that time having my prescription transferred somewhere that WOULD honor it?

He’s like, well did you mention to any of them that you’d be using a goodRx coupon for this particular medication? I said, yup. He said, you sure? I said well the specific process each time was I came in, I asked if this medication was in, they said what’s your name and date of birth, I provided that info, they said are you paying out of pocket, we don’t have valid insurance info for this on file for you, I said yup paying out of pocket with a goodRx coupon, they said *clickety clack of the keyboard* nope, sorry, we won’t have this medicine in until Tuesday, I mean Wednesday. 

He’s like, well you must be misremembering or they would have told you at the time that we don’t take GoodRx coupons on this medication. I’m like, dude, it was you. It was literally you that I spoke to two of those three times, right here at the counter, in person. I’m gonna go ahead and trust my memory of those interactions and what was said there over yours since you don’t actually remember having talked to me two times in the last three days. He’s like, I gotta go help another customer. There is no other customer. I leave. Fun day for everyone.

So then I call around town to at least check which CVS will actually honor the coupon I have and the price that I can afford to pay it at. I don’t bother asking if they even have the medication in stock because I know its not guaranteed to be a CORRECT answer, but at least I can see who accepts this damn coupon. Also, reason I’m only trying big brand pharmacies instead of smaller, hole in the wall ones is because again, controlled substance, and I know from experience that the bigger brand pharmacies are at least more likely to have that med in stock whereas most smaller ones tend to run out very quickly as they usually only get enough for their existing/regular customers and a little extra.

I find a CVS five miles away - not walkable, gonna have to Uber. Call my psychiatrist office again to ask them to transfer the scrip, front office says they’ll send the request to my provider, who usually checks and fulfills such requests in 24-48 hours. I’m like okay cool, can I get a phone call to let me know when that happens, so at least I know when to check back to follow up if it hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason? They’re like no, the pharmacy will send you a text or call when they get the prescription sent over and you can take it from there with them. I’m like okay, but I’ve done this a bunch of times and know from experience the pharmacy does NOT in fact always call or text, so is there a certain time to follow up to inquire if the provider has already sent the scrip and the pharmacy SHOULD have it by now or if the delay is on the provider’s end? Front office is like yeah no. I’m like, swell.

So that was yesterday. I call the pharmacy (which I still don’t even know if they have the medication IN STOCK to fill the scrip even once they GET the scrip, and won’t until I can actually Uber out there, but one thing at a time at this point) at like 9 pm, they’re a 24 hour pharmacy, and they’re like nope, we got nothing (this is after spending an hour and a half on hold to even TALK to someone at the pharmacy). Called them again today at noon, still nada. Technically I have another 29 hours before the window in which the provider is supposed to send the refill scrip to this new location, before I can be like, okay so they still haven’t done it, can we send him a nudge or another request. The 24-48 hour window will only actually EXPIRE after their offices close on Friday meaning it’ll be Monday before I can even actually REACH someone again to ask them to send the scrip again, if the pharmacy hasn’t ACTUALLY gotten it by Friday night, and pessimistically, I’m not super inclined to assume that they will at this point. 

I’m antsy, irritable, hungry because I don’t even know for SURE sure if the new pharmacy will ACTUALLY honor the coupon or say no sorry we don’t do that here either, whoever told you that was wrong, or if they’ll even actually have it in stock versus I’ll have to have it sent somewhere else AGAIN, so I have to pinch every penny possible in order to ensure I have the most money possible once my prescription IS filled in case the price is more than I expected again or in case I have to take Ubers there or further than I expected or basically....shit happens that I don’t expect. And this is what I’m basically spending all my time doing instead of working, because trying to get work done in this state is like....the harder I try to make it happen, the less it actually gets done, so I try and prioritize this and its roadblock after roadblock dragging out and wasting my time, and like yeah, I can post and shit while I’m doing this aka sitting on hold or walking around town trying to get shit filled because its fine if I ramble incoherently along the way in posts, but actual WORK work requires like....fucking coherency and succinctness and not having to stop and start every five minutes to call someone else, and oh yeah, being able to power through migraine spikes. And just.

I’m very annoyed about anything and everything to do with this shit. The hoops you have to jump through to even get the stuff that like....actualizes your hoop jumping ability, is just....*gnashing of teeth*

Anyway. So that’s my offline bullshit rant. Yay. The end.

[lindsaystravelblogs]

Tuesday

Covid Crisis

Heather had been feeling a bit ‘fluey’ for a couple of days and yesterday morning, she did a RAT test. Disaster! She was positive! All our plans are in jeopardy. Numerous emails back and forth with our fabulous travel agent, Bev Edwards, and our not-particularly-helpful insurer, NIB, resulted in us continuing on, but exploring what options we had if she was still positive when we needed to board the ship - we would not be allowed on!

Today, I also tested positive (surprise, surprise, locked together all day in a car, what else could we expect if I didn’t already have it).  More disarray!

Our insurer said we had to get a formal certificate that we really had Covid before they would consider a claim so we headed a couple of doors up the road to a clinic where we were subjected to another pretty rough RAT, but at least we now have some proof - at a bit over $AU100 each.

Heather is still sniffly and coughing and has some muscle pain. I have very muffled hearing - makes It very difficult to communicate - and some mild muscle pain has developed during the day. We both have a vile taste in our mouths, but Heather’s is starting to abate. Despite this, we really aren’t too bad.

We simply don’t know what happens now. It is unlikely that we will be allowed to board, but there are a couple of landings along the expedition and we may be able to join the expedition somewhere along the route - if/when we both test negative.

We really don’t know when that might be and what we might do in the meantime, but we are pretty confident that we will be fine for the Greenland expedition even if the Iceland one falls over completely. Either way, it is likely that Covid is going to prove very costly. We think we probably caught it on the plane from Bergen.

We are feeling a little lost at present, not knowing what we will be doing over the next two weeks, but we will persevere. We feel almost dirty, like pariahs, avoiding even remote contact with other people, despite the fact that we have done everything in our power to avoid the plague. We took every precaution, we have had four vaccinations, we wear masks, we avoid contact with others wherever possible.  Nothing was our fault, but it feels that way anyway.

(Wednesday morning update!)   Neither of us are any worse this morning (although Heather’s horrible taste is back again) so hopefully, we will recover quickly.  We are taking some heavy antiviral tablets our fabulous GP (Justin) gave us before we left – just in case we caught the virus.  They are supposed to relieve the symptoms and avoid the more serious consequences of the virus and they seem to be working pretty well at present.

We have been advised that we can’t join the expedition part-way through so we either test negative by the morning of 2 August or we will miss the expedition – but should be good for the next one to Greenland.  And NIB’s travel insurance is very limited.  (Even then, we can expect them to deny and dispute anything we claim - but that is the way with all insurers.  They grab your money and weave enough weasel words into the contract to ensure they don’t have to pay out.  Not that I am a cynic!  It is more that I have experienced this a few times before.)

Tuesday

Today was mostly just driving. We went to the Holmavik clinic at 9am and were out of there with our pieces of paper, but short $200-odd, by about 9.45. It was then basically a 432-kilometre drive to our digs for tonight and tomorrow night - the Laxa Hotel in the middle of nowhere but overlooking a lake that is renowned for its bird species, particularly ducks. We have seen thousands of ducks along the way, but always a long way away. The only two we have really identified here are the Eiders and the Mallards. I am sure we have seen numerous others, but it is quite impossible to stop for a closer look or a photo when we see birds because the roads don’t allow for it. The roads are 2.2 metres wide (max) if sealed, with maybe 300 mm verges when you are lucky - one lane either way. When you have a bus or big truck approaching, there is not a lot of room to move over, particularly onto the fatal verge - and if you do, there is that 3- (or 100-) metre drop from whence the road has been elevated. Or maybe straight into a solid rock cliff.  A tad hairy on occasions, but 1200 clicks down the road and we are still alive. Max speed limit is 90, average practical speed closer to 70, and you have a headache after a couple of hours simply from concentrating on the 50 metres ahead.  My eyes sting and start to blur as the day wears on simply from concentrating on the road immediately in front of us.  I do sneak the occasional peek at the splendour around us, but it has to be a very quick peek if there are other vehicles around.

All of this limits your opportunities to take photos. It is often 20 kilometres or more between places you can actually get off the road safely. Oops, the birds I wanted to photograph are now 18 clicks behind me.

Despite this, the views are truly spectacular. On the one hand is the majesty of the mountains, the snow, the waterfalls, the raging rivers, the cliffs and the scree, the pasture and the lava, all simply magnificent, almost breath-taking. On the other hand is the quaint, the novel, the unexpected, the twee even – sweet little farms hidden in crevasses in the valleys, painted in brilliant eye-catching colour, with farm buildings huddled close, maybe an antique tractor or two and sheep dotting the surrounding ground, often barely visible in the sheep-high grass.  The sheep are never sheep-coloured as we see them in Australia.  They are much paler and range from pale cream through the entire spectrum of browns to solid jet black.

The skies have been mainly grey, but not threatening.  We have had numerous showers, all light and gone within ten minutes, and it is a delight to see a patch of snow or a farmhouse or a freshly-mown paddock highlighted occasionally by bright sunshine.  Mowing is obviously an important source of stockfeed or income from the sale of fodder because we have seen tens of thousands (at least) of plastic-sealed sheep lunch-boxes in white, black or yellow – I wonder if the colour of the plastic denotes anything, maybe the type of grass or moisture content?  More likely the owner’s aesthetic sensibilities or the price per tonne of plastic covers.

We stop quite often when the occasional pull-off allows and we visited Godafoss just off the road toward the end of our long and tiring drive.  It is a spectacular waterfall, huge and very loud.  Foss means waterfall and you can probably guess what God means.  It is said that in the year 1000, the king had to decide if Iceland was to become a Christian country and when he made his decision, he gathered up all his idols and related paraphernalia and threw them into the waterfall – hence Godafoss.  Strange, we heard the same story at a different waterfall when we were here 3 years ago.

Sadly, despite careful scrutiny, we have not seen any trolls yet.  I have looked under several bridges to no avail and we keep our eyes peeled just in case some try to slink across the road in front of us.  Some people here really believe in them and we have heard that most people are unwilling/afraid to misbelieve in them.  If a road is being built through an area or past a tree where trolls are suspected of living, the road is diverted to avoid the risk of invoking their wrath.  There are lots of similar examples – but until we see one………!

We ate in the hotel restaurant that night. We felt we deserved it after such a long and sometimes stressful drive.  We both ordered fish, ling and cod, but the highlight of the meal was probably the bread.  It was a nice crusty bread, but was endowed with a light sprinkling of salt on top. Nothing comes with salt here apart from the brekky bacon (when it is on the menu) and we were really hanging out for something more savoury – and the bread hit the spot.  Nearly everything has a slight sweetness about it and we are not much into sweet things.  At breakfast next day, Heather tried some beetroot juice with fresh ginger and loved it but I missed out on that one.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Four

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, making out

Chapter Summary: You go on a short trip to Massachusetts to see Peter, Bucky takes you on a second date, someone gets caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a filler but it has a decent amount of necessary plot and progression. The next part will have a time jump so I don’t have to include a bunch of filler chapters, blehk. Let me know if you see my Avatar: The Last Airbender reference in here! And as always, you’re welcome to send me a coffee!

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh @ursmolbunny @devilswaldorf

By the time Monday rolled around, you were thankful Bucky had training in the morning or you would’ve never gone to sleep. Most of the deeper subjects had been touched on when you were together on Saturday, so Sunday was just texting more playful banter and fun facts you hadn’t learned during your lab hangouts, but you two still talked until your phone was propped up on your pillow waiting for another message while you drifted in and out of sleep.

Bucky had sent you a sweet “good morning, doll” text for you to wake up to, but you didn’t talk much before you had to head to work and he had to work out with Steve. That’s the downside to waking up with just enough time to get ready. Not much wiggle room for distractions, no matter how delicious.

You had barely settled in to your workspace, specs for Sam’s wings pulled up in front of you, when you had a request for a FaceTime call from Peter, of all people. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks since he went back to campus, but he was set to come back soon for a weekend.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” you answered.

“Hey [Y/N]! I, uh, I kind of have a big favor to ask,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“Oh… okay? What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember that project you wanted my help on?” You nodded. “Well I talked to my professor about it and he said I can use it as my final project for this semester as long as you come to the proposal and document what you did on it so I don’t take credit for any of your work. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine! I can probably work on another project, I just don’t want to put your project off and make you wait for me to finish my part —“

“Peter!” you shouted, cutting off his rambling with a laugh. “I think that sounds great. It’ll be nice for you to kill two birds with one stone. When would I need to be there?”

“Uhh,” he started with another forced laugh. “My proposal is Wednesday.”

You stared at the screen, motionless at his response. “Wednesday. Like, two days from now, Wednesday?” Peter nodded. You could practically see him sweating through the phone, worrying about whether or not he should’ve asked his professor sooner or just completely avoided the subject entirely. But you knew he probably didn’t have much heads-up and considered using your project a little late in the game. “It’s a good thing I like you, kid. Let me double check with the boss but I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” Peter cheered.

“I’ll text you when my flight leaves because there’s no way I’m driving ten hours.”

You and Peter briefly went over how things would work, from what you should wear to whether you’d be getting a hotel room or bunking on his futon. While you were talking, you emailed your dad about the trip and got a quick approval. Tony liked Peter, and you understood why. He reminded you of your father if your dad had a stutter instead of an ego.

Mid-afternoon, when you took your second 20-minute break of the day just to let your brain relax, there was a soft tap on the door of your lab before Bucky poked his head in. He stepped in and looked around the whole room frantically before he noticed you curled up under a blanket on the giant bean bag chair you shoved into the corner once Peter left. You liked being able to take your breaks in the quiet of the lab so your brain could actually shut down for a few minutes.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Hey Buck,” you replied, mirroring his smile. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty good,” he said with a sigh. “Just bored so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Just taking a break,” you shrugged. “But you’re more than welcome to sit with me while I work. I won’t interact much because I lose focus easily but you can hang out.”

“As appealing as that is,” he started as he walked closer to you in your bean bag chair, “I know I’d start asking questions and I don’t want to distract you.”

You stood from your spot as he got closer and smirked up at him. “You are pretty distracting.” He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with you. “It’s a good thing my breaks are made for distraction.”

He smiled down at you as his warm hand curled around the back of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss, your own hands looping through his belt and pulling his body closer to yours.

You practically melted into him, feeling as if you couldn’t get closer no matter how hard you tried. Even him slipping his thigh between your legs didn’t feel close enough. Then the weight of his metal hand fell to your waist as his tongue entered your mouth. It was all reminiscent of your first kiss just a couple days before.

Except outside your apartment, you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

“Hey [Y/N], have you—“ You and Bucky quickly pulled apart at the sound of a new voice coming from the doorway and you immediately started to panic.

“—seen Bucky,” Steve ended with a sigh. The door quietly clicked shut behind him as he stepped in. “So you two…?”

“Have been on a date,” you said, walking toward Steve with your hands held out. “Steve, please don’t tell anyone, especially Tony.”

“You kind of owe me one, punk,” Bucky said as he walked closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I never ratted you out for lying on, what, five different enlistment papers?”

Steve huffed at this, clearly stuck between following the rules or letting others break rules that were much more harmless than his past rule breaking.

“You know this is gonna come out eventually, right? You won’t be able to hide this — and whatever this becomes — forever,” Steve warned.

“We know,” you said solemnly, “but it’s nice to just have this for now, you know?” You looked over at Bucky, who was leaning against the lab table looking back at you, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Just… be careful,” Steve said as he started to leave. “If you don’t lock the door, at least ask Friday to alert you if someone is coming this way.”

“You know, I don’t care what people say about you, Steve. You’re pretty smart.” Steve initially smiled but then let out a short ‘hey!’ as you pushed him the rest of the way out.

“That was close,” you said, turning back to Bucky.

“But at least we have a pretty influential Avenger on our side, if we ever get outed,” Bucky said. Too bad he didn’t know the approval of everyone on earth would mean nothing to your dad — and both of your boss.

“Well, that little debacle kind of wasted the rest of my break,” you pouted, stepping up to Bucky.

“Can I take you out again?”

“I’d like that a lot,” you smiled. “Oh! I’m leaving for Massachusetts tomorrow and coming back on Thursday and have my family thing on Friday so will Saturday work?”

“Massachusetts?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the rest of your statement.

“Yeah, I’m helping Peter with a project so his prof wants me to be there to answer questions while he proposes his project. It’ll just be Wednesday, but Tony let me have tomorrow and Thursday off for travel so I’m taking my time.”

“That sounds…” Bucky started. “Uhh… I gotta be honest, that sounds unbearably boring,” he laughed, making you giggle with him. “But good luck to you and Peter. I’ll see you Saturday?”

•

The trip to Massachusetts was short but boring, and you were relieved to see Peter’s car when you stepped outside. Your hotel was right down the road from his dorm, so you dropped your stuff off before heading to his room to go over the proposal.

Even though you had only spent a few weeks working with Peter, he had grown to be like a brother to you. Spending so much time every day with no one else to talk to can really help people bond. Your dad’s adoration for the kid definitely helped, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if your dad eventually brought Peter along to family dinner.

“So I have to do most of the work, but you’ll need to explain why we’re doing this and what you’ll be doing,” Peter said after reviewing his speech.

“Okay, I can manage that.”

Peter was quiet for a second before saying, “Do you… maybe wanna go over what you’ll say…?”

“Oh, sure! Sorry, public speaking is a big thing in my family so I just figured I’d wing it.”

“Please don’t,” Peter said quietly, his eyes going wide right as the words left his mouth. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just mean, this proposal is important to me so I want it to go as smoothly and well-planned as possible.”

“Okay, you be your professor.”

Peter cleared his throat and said, “Miss [Y/L/N], what prompted you to start this project with Mr. Parker? And what role will you play in its growth?”

“Well, Dr. Kramer, I recently received a promotion within Stark Industries to work with the Avengers on their weaponry. This work included the vibranium arm on the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. One thing I noticed early on was the lack of sensory receptors within the arm. That observation, along with a similar request from Mr, Barnes, prompted me to look into ways to change this. Mr. Parker has an internship with Mr. Stark so, considering our different areas of study, I sought out his help. With my knowledge and expertise on the mechanical side of things, Mr. Parker will primarily be working on the more biological side of things. Once he finds a way to connect new receptors to the spinal column through the current nerve channels, I’ll be able to create millions of micro-receptors that will need to essentially be surgically embedded in the vibranium. I already have the blueprints for this process; I’m more than willing to share those documents with you, though it is confidential and I would need you to sign an NDA for safety reasons.”

Peter stood in the middle of his room, speechless.

“I told you it runs in my family,” you laughed. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor. I’m hungry.”

The next day, Peter and you breezed through the proposal. Peter didn’t even stutter during his speech! But his classmates did bombard you with questions that the professor quickly shut down. You and Peter spent the rest of the day catching up. He introduced you to his girlfriend Michelle and his friends Ned and Flash. By the time you got back to your hotel that night, you were exhausted — and thankful for an afternoon flight.

The next morning, you got breakfast with Peter before his class and finished packing to fly back to New York. You were once again grateful for an afternoon flight because by the time you got back, you didn’t have time to get back to work. So you took the evening off and treated yourself to a bath, some wine, and your favorite Netflix series — and texting Bucky, of course.

Family dinner that week was much easier than the previous week. Your dad mainly asked about your project with Peter, only briefly touching on Bucky’s involvement. At least until your phone buzzed on the table. It was a rule that phones stay face-up on the table at dinner and any messages get read aloud. So when you saw “James 🐻” pop up, heat rushed to your face. You managed to snatch your phone before your dad could, but you still had to read it out loud to the table.

“Uh,” you nervously cleared your throat. “So, James said ‘I have an idea for our date tomorrow, but I would need full reign over your kitchen for a while.’” You sent the table a tight-lipped smile as you locked your phone and set it down again, waiting for someone to say something.

“You’re going out with this James again?” your dad asked.

“Yes,” you said plainly. “I like him, dad. A lot.”

“And you’re already inviting him over?”

“Dad, stop. I’m a grown woman; I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying… well, don’t you want to get to know him better first? Make sure he doesn’t want to wear your skin?”

“Ew, shut up,” you laughed. “I’ve done plenty of research into him; he’s a good guy.” Your dad still looked skeptical, so you pulled out your puppy dog eyes. “Please trust me on this.”

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Okay, fine. He’s a good guy. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And don’t do anything I would do either.” You rolled your eyes at him but managed to divert the conversation by asking Happy and Pepper what Tony’s limit really meant.

•

The next day at 3:30 on the dot, you got a call to your house phone by the front door. It was unusual, especially since you hadn’t ordered any food. The doorman usually brought food up, but called if they were working alone. And you knew they weren’t working alone, considering how early it was. Still in your sweats and a t-shirt since Bucky wasn’t coming over until 4, you answered the phone with a simple “hey.”

“Hello Miss [Y/L/N],” you recognized the doorman Matt’s voice, “there’s a James at the front door for you?”

“Oh, okay, shit,” you said, whispering the last word to yourself. “Go ahead and send him up.”

“Would you like to grant him regular access to your residence?” Matt was always so formal, probably because you pushed for your dad to hire him and he knew he had to keep this gig. His background check showed he came from a low-income family and really wanted to turn that around. He knew he owed you and because of that, he was always grateful and sweet.

“Yes please. Thanks, Matt!”

With that, you hung up and sprinted to your room, knowing Bucky only had a 20 second elevator ride before he got to the sixth floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have time to scramble for new clothes before there was a knock at your door. You grumbled as you ran back to the front door and greeted Bucky.

“Hi,” you said, half out of breath from your scurrying.

“Hey,” he smiled back. “I’m glad we chose the same style today.”

You gave him an admittedly generous once-over and realized his gray sweats and black tee matched yours, though your shirt did have an NYU logo on it.

“Oh thank god,” you nearly cackled. “I was panicking because I thought I should dress nice but you were early so I didn’t have time but I didn’t want to get ready too early so I wasn’t —“

“Hey [Y/N]?” Bucky interrupted. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” You stepped aside and let him kick his shoes off in the entryway. That’s when you noticed all the grocery bags in his hands. “Uhh, whatcha got there?”

“I said I’d need your kitchen, right?” he smiled, sending a wink your way as he started setting up. “I’m gonna cook you some authentic Romanian dishes ma used to make back in the ‘30s.”

“Ohh, sounds yummy. Can I help?”

“If you want to eat any of it, you better help,” Bucky joked.

“Let me grab a couple aprons so our fancy attire doesn’t get dirty.” In the hallway closet, you had about a dozen aprons Happy got for you. You said you needed some aprons once and suddenly you were getting new aprons for every gift-giving holiday. You appreciated it, though. Every time Happy saw an apron he thought you’d like, he bought it. And you, in return, bought him every oven mitt you thought he would like after he accidentally burned his hand making green bean casserole one year for Thanksgiving.

You grabbed the “Queen of the Cat-chen” apron covered in cats for yourself and for Bucky, the “I’ll feed all you fuckers” apron your dad thought was hilarious on your last birthday.

“Sorry I don’t have any matching chef hats,” you joked as you handed Bucky his apron.

For the next three hours, you followed all Bucky’s instructions and watched as he did his part of the work, chatting while things cooked and finally relaxing once everything was plated. You each had a decent amount of food debris on your aprons, making you thankful you both wore them. You led Bucky into the living room where you sat on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“You know the couch is made for sitting, right?” Bucky asked as he slowly sat behind you, one leg on either side of your body.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to sit on the floor, especially when I’m eating.” You turned your head to face him as you continued, “I get too sleepy if I’m on the couch too long.”

He chuckled at your confession but didn’t argue. You both ate in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of traffic six floors down and the TV quietly playing a crackling fire YouTube video.

“Can you finish this for me?” you asked as Bucky set his empty plate on the coffee table.

“I’m full, doll.”

“Bucky, please? I can’t finish it,” you whines, pouting up at him.

“Then just put it away with the leftovers and eat it later,” he shrugged.

“But I’m so bad at eating leftovers,” you groaned.

“Then I’ll put it away and eat the leftovers,” he conceded. He snatched the plate from you and headed to your kitchen to pack it all away.

By the time he made it back, you were snuggled under a blanket on the couch with “What’s Your Number?” pulled up on the TV.

“I hope you’re okay with watching my favorite movie,” you smiled, making sure to flutter your eyelashes extra hard so he couldn’t say no.

“I haven’t seen this one yet so sure,” he said with a shrug.

He yanked the blanket off your body and unfolded it so he could bring you under his right arm and cover both of you with the thick fabric. Ever since Monday in the lab, he’s been more affectionate. He stopped by on Friday and kissed you at least half a dozen times before he left, then earlier while you were cooking, it was like he had to hold your hips every time he watched over your shoulder, and he chose to end the night holding you into his side and… oh, you were a goner once his fingers started lightly tracing shapes on your bare arm.

And he had to have known you were weak, if the way he angled his body toward you was any indication. You loved the movie you had picked out and really did want to watch it… but when you looked up at Bucky and saw his gaze meet yours, you knew the movie was going to be long forgotten.

His lips pressed to yours firmly, like he wanted to make sure you remembered what he felt like. You quickly let things escalate by gripping his hair and pulling him with you and you laid back on the couch. Your legs fell open as he slid right between them, his left arm propped on the cushion to keep himself from crushing you and his right slipping under your shirt to hold your waist. When his tongue passed your lips, you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of him taking control. His hand never moved past your waist, just occasionally squeezing as he pressed his body against yours.

The rest of the night was spent alternating between making out, talking while you were chest to chest on the couch, and making out some more until you fell asleep against his chest.

•

The next morning, you woke up to the blaring sound of a ringtone... that wasn’t your ringtone. And you were on your couch? The sleepy haze quickly wore off when you felt Bucky’s body shift behind you to reach over and grab his phone.

“What?” he answered grumpily, though your body’s initial reaction was to how deep and gravelly his voice was in the morning. Fuck.

With how close you two were and how quiet it was with the TV off, you managed to barely make out what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” It was Steve. “You were supposed to be at the group breakfast this morning but you weren’t in your room so I told Tony you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned. Now that sound sent all your senses into overdrive. “I fell asleep at [Y/N]’s last night.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Steve replied, clearly exasperated. “Look, just stop by a convenience store and grab some medicine so when you get back, no one questions it. You snuck out when no one saw, that’s the story.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll head out soon.” Once they hung up, you rolled over on the couch to face Bucky.

“Good morning,” you said with a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” he replied, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m sure you heard but I’ve gotta head out before Tony gets suspicious.”

“Okay. Text me when you get back?”

Bucky stood from the couch, and you followed suit behind him as he put his sneakers and jacket on.

“I’ll text you on my whole trip back,” he smiled. “Looks like you might have to bring those leftovers with you tomorrow. I don’t know that I can sneak them back today.”

You practically skipped to join him at the door, your hands going to rest on his chest before he could leave.

“Should we just designate Saturdays as our date nights?” you asked.

“Who said you get another date?” Bucky joked back.

“Excuse me?” you gasped in mock offense. “Next time I get to choose what we do and I’m not letting you take that away from me.”

Bucky chuckled at your little outburst but pressed another kiss to your lips as a peace offering.

“Next Saturday, your pick,” he smirked.

“It’s a date.”

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

bright lights and baseless worries - q. hughes

When ya girl is finally on a monthlong break from school, she’s able to get in more than one piece a week. I knew I wanted to do some holiday piece for Quinn, and 100% got this idea in the shower the other day and just sat down and got to writing. In my totally unbiased opinion, it’s very cute, and I’d love to hear what you think - I love reading the tags on reblogs and having y’all in my inbox!

word count: 3.3k+

“Do you want to meet my parents?” 

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth, the spaghetti threatening to fall off the end. “Do I want to what?”

Quinn laughed, taking a sip of water as he sat across from you at his dining room table. “Do you want to meet my parents? They’re flying in after the next roadie, in a week and a half or so. They really want to meet you, but I get if you don’t want to, or you feel like it’s too soon. I’ll make up an excuse for you, say you were called into work for some big project or something that you can’t get away from.” 

You weren’t sure if there was some unspoken protocol for when was too soon to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you were pretty sure six months wasn’t pushing it. “Quinn, I’m still in university,” you said with a laugh. “There’s no work for me to get called into. And I’d love to meet them, if you’re sure that’s what you want. I don’t want you feeling like you have to because your parents want to meet me. I want it to be because you want it too.”

“Of course I want you to meet them,” he said, smiling softly at you. “Almost more than that, I want them to meet you. Sure, you’ve seen each other over FaceTime and they know what I’ve told them about you—”

“All good things, I hope?” You quipped.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Nothing but the best. But you’re incredible, and I want them to be able to meet  you, so they get to see how amazing you are in person and don’t think I’m crazy any more for how much I talk about you, So there’s that.” 

You ducked your head, tapping your fingers against the dark grain of the table. “Well, I’d love to meet them, Q. Anyone who’s spent any length of time around you knows how much you love your family, and I’m so excited to finally get to know the people who raised you into the incredible man you are today.”

Quinn blushed shyly. “It’s going to be great.”

---

Vancouver in December had always been one of your favorite things. Vancouver any time, really, but the holiday season really let your hometown shine something special. Literally. From the first of the month, all of downtown was decked out from tree to storefront to lamppost in yards of bright, sparkling lights. And then there was the massive, hundred-foot tall Christmas tree that lit up the square in front of the art gallery, throngs of couples and little kids running up to its branches in a bid to get their picture taken. It had finally started to snow a few weeks ago, so a light dusting covered the sidewalks, giving way to the shoe prints of the hundreds of passersby. 

Downtown was where you found yourself now, wandering around on a Wednesday afternoon after you had been let out of your final, your purse on your shoulder and nothing but sheer worry in your heart. Quinn had come back from the road trip that morning; his parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning. His parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning, well under 24 hours away, and you had no clue what to get them. You had been in clothing stores, homegoods stores, souvenir shops, but were no closer to figuring out what to buy. You had been about to buy a nice bottle of wine, one of yours and Quinn’s favorites, but then you wondered if maybe it was weird to give wine at a first meeting, or if they’d look at you funny for gifting a bottle of pinot grigio when you were only 21. And it had to be something they could bring back on the plane, so nothing that was too fragile or something that might spill or anything with over 3.4 ounces of liquid. You should have thought about that before considering the wine. 

You had texted your roommates in a panic, but letting them know that i’m meeting quinn’s parents tomorrow and I have no idea what the FUCK to get them please help hadn’t yielded any particularly useful suggestions. Aliya had suggested a tie for his dad, which Sara had vetoed immediately, saying that a tie was both far too formal and far too strange a gift to extend. Sara, who was the apartment’s resident caffeine addict, had recommended a few of her recent favorite types of “artisan, hand-roasted coffee.” It had seemed like a good idea at first, with everyone and their mother getting into craft versions of every drink imaginable, but then you started overthinking it, thinking that maybe they wouldn’t like the roast, or the undertones, or it would be too bitter and they’d drink it and hate it and then they’d hate you and — 

You huffed, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and leaning up against the column of some storefront you had spent less than five minutes in. Quinn chose that exact moment to call, and his timing couldn’t have been any more welcome. “God, I’m such a mess right now,” you said by way of greeting. 

“Everything good?” He asked lightly, but you could hear the concern laced under his voice. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, “but I’ve been to at least a half-dozen stores in downtown and I’m starting to get worried because I still have absolutely no clue what to get your parents tomorrow and nobody seems to have any good ideas.”

“You realize you don’t have to get them anything, right?” Quinn asked. “Seriously, they’re not expecting it, and I promise they won’t think any less of you if you don’t.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Q, my mom’s going to skin me alive if she heard I showed up empty-handed to meet your parents, but that’s besides the point. I want to make a good impression.” Your voice cracked. “I really want to make a good impression.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “I know you do, babe, but I guarantee that no matter if you buy my dad a Rolex or show up in your pyjamas, they’re going to love you.”

“But how do you know that?”

“They’ll love you because I love you.” He spent a few more minutes on the phone with you, trying his damndest to reassure you that Jim and Ellen weren’t nearly as scary as you somehow thought they were, that they’d welcome you with open hearts and open arms just like his brothers had. The Devils had played in Vancouver the month prior, and much to Quinn’s delight, you and Jack had gotten along like a house on fire. Jack had made good on a promise he had made while he was in British Columbia, sending you a cache of Quinn’s baby photos as soon as he got back to his apartment in New Jersey. 

You slid your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, feeling marginally more reassured that his parents wouldn’t immediately demand you break up with their son if you didn’t spend the equivalent of a year’s tuition on welcome gifts for them, but nervous nonetheless and no closer to your goal than when you drove into downtown hours before. 

---

You tapped your heel nervously on the floor of Quinn’s living room, fingers nervously twisting your rings around as Quinn leaned up against the couch, glancing between you and his phone. “Mom says they’re almost here.” Quinn would have picked them up from the airport himself, but he had had a morning practice, and then they decided to get settled into their hotel room, so them coming over to his apartment before you were all set to go out to dinner was the first time either of you were going to see them. He looked at you, your brow still furrowed from overthinking. “I know you’re still worried, and I get that, babe. I was terrified when I met your parents for the first time. But you’re going to do amazing.” Your parents lived in Surrey, forty minutes away in the same house you’d grown up in, so it was a much less formal affair when they had asked to meet Quinn. You went over to their house for brunch one weekend, and that was it; Quinn was right, though. That hadn’t meant he was any less nervous. If anything, it only amplified his worries because if he wasn’t able to make a good first impression in one of the most low-stress environments a person could think of, what would that say about him? What would your parents think? But just like he said, it had been such a non-issue that by the end, he was wondering what he had been worried about in the first place. 

“I know it’ll be fine,” you conceded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “It just seems different, somehow. Like, I’ve met people’s parents before, friends and exes and people at school, and of course I wanted them to like me. I think it’s just…” You paused, looking up at the ceiling and trying to gather your words, “I think it’s because I see this, us, going somewhere. I see it lasting. So if you’re going to be in my life for the foreseeable future, then so are they, so it just seems that much more important that I like them and that they like me.” 

Quinn bent over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Don’t worry.” The doorbell rung, and you took the thirty seconds it took for Quinn to go over and open it to turn your phone on, checking in the camera to make sure you didn’t have a piece of kale stuck in your teeth. You didn’t, but you really should have known better. Quinn would have told you. 

You stood up, plastering a smile on your face as he pulled the door open and his parents stepped into the entryway. His dad had just hugged him when his mom pulled him in, rubbing his back as she greeted him. “So good to see you, Quinn, Chag sameach.”

“Chag sameach, Mom,” Quinn said back, before stepping back and nodding to you. You stepped forward hesitantly, Quinn’s warm hand on the small of your back quelling your fears as much as he could. 

He had barely opened his mouth to introduce you before his mom burst forward. “Is this her?” 

You relaxed slightly, nodding. “In the flesh. So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Weinberg-Hughes.”

She waved you off. “Ellen, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’s so nice to finally get to see you in person!” She pulled you into a hug that looked just as heartfelt as the one she had given her son, and it only took a few seconds for you to relax into her touch. 

“Jim,” his dad greeted you with a warm handshake. 

You turned back towards the coffee table. “I, uh, got these for you two when I was downtown the other day.” You handed his mom a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and his dad a potted succulent, something you originally hadn’t been too sure about but Quinn had assured you his dad would love. “It’s got a travel-safe box that came with it, so it’ll be good to go on the plane ride back,” you said. 

His dad smiled. “Quinn told you I’m not much of a green thumb, hm?” Quinn’s eyes widened; his dad laughed. “It’s true, I love plants but I seem to somehow kill everything I touch, so this really is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” 

“Did you light the candles yet?” His mom asked. 

Quinn shook his head, nodding to where his menorah sat on the sideboard. “I wanted to wait for you.” If his mom was going to be there for the first night of Hanukkah, he was going to wait for her if he valued his own well-being. The candles were already in a box off to the side; Ellen opened them and placed first the shamash, then the first candle all the way to the right as Quinn went into the kitchen for a lighter, coming out a second later. You made to move out of the room, unsure if it was disrespectful to stay. You got your answer quickly. 

“Stay,” Quinn said. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“It’s part of the tradition that the whole family — whoever’s around, obviously, stays for the lighting. That’s you, now,” Ellen explained. Your cheeks burned, but not out of embarrassment. Out of the fact that Quinn had been exactly right, just like you knew he would be, just like he had told you he would be. His parents welcomed you quicker than your own best friend’s had, and five minutes after meeting them in person for the first time his mom had already all but called you family. You were giddy inside. You perched on the couch as she and Quinn recited the Hebrew blessings, a soft smile on your face as you watched the interaction. You knew your boyfriend loved his mom. That much was clear, from the times you were both on FaceTime to the phone conversations you overheard to the way that he spoke about her with Brock, or Elias, or really anyone who would listen. But it was something special. 

You gathered in the living room after the menorah was lit, your heels abandoned by the door and your body curled into Quinn’s as the four of you waited for the candles to burn down. Ellen and Jim supplemented Jack’s childhood stories of Quinn with some of their own, one of which had your boyfriend groaning into your shoulder, asking his dad if you really needed to know that story in particular. Jim just laughed, clapping his son on the back, telling him that the embarrassing anecdotes were really a litmus test of sorts. “If she doesn’t run after hearing this one, you’ll know that she’s a keeper,” he said while winking at you. You stayed. 

You had a 6:30 reservation at a restaurant downtown, some place one of the other guys’ girlfriends had recommended when you sent a message in the group chat earlier asking where to take Quinn’s parents because I def don’t want to seem pretentious but like they also need to know that I have taste. He drove with his dad in the passenger’s seat, leaving you and his mom to share the second row. “Have you ever seen his freshman year roster photo from Michigan?” she asked, pulling out her phone. 

Quinn groaned from the driver’s seat. “Mom, do you really need to show her?”

“You’re so young, it’s cute!” Ellen protested.

“I was 17 and didn’t know how to do my hair yet and was so nervous for the photographer to take it that my smile looks like it was frozen onto my face.”

You ducked your head, poorly concealing a snort of laughter. “Okay, if it’s half as good as Quinn makes it seem, I’ve got to see this one.” Ellen handed her phone to you just as Quinn pulled into the parking lot; you handed it back a minute later, the grin on your face still evident as he parked the car, walking around to your side to open your door. 

Picture didn’t scare you off?” he asked jokingly. 

You stood up quickly, pressing a brief kiss against his cheek. “Not at all.”

The food was incredible, not like you had expected any less. The salmon was maybe the best you had ever had, and the crème brûlée you and Quinn shared was nothing short of spectacular. You had left the last bite for him, knowing how much he loved the dessert, but he shook his head with a small smile, gently pushing the bowl back to you. The gesture hadn’t been missed by his mom, who had poorly concealed her happiness at her son’s kindness. You headed back to Quinn’s apartment after a walk by the harbor with his parents, a little after nine. “We got you two a little something,” his dad said as his mom reached into her purse. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you said quickly as Ellen pulled out a small, flat wrapped package.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Just something we thought would look nice in here,” she gestured around the living room with her spare hand., holding it out to you. “Happy Hanukkah.”

Your face burst into a grin as Quinn looked over at the photo, his thumb moving absentmindedly over your shoulder. “Happy Hanukkah, Ellen.” You ran your thumb carefully under the seams, popping open the paper with as much precision as the moment was affording you. You unfolded it, looking up at your boyfriend. “Hang on. Is this…?” 

He nodded. “I think so.” You were looking down at a picture, set in a silver frame that shone so much you could see your reflection. But it wasn’t a normal picture, one that you’d throw up on your Instagram story or delete from your camera roll without a second thought. It was from that September, a few months after you and Quinn had started dating and the first time he had taken you to meet the boys. You had already met Brock and Elias a few weeks earlier when they came back into town for training, but it was the first night he had really let you into his life in that way, started to take down some of his walls and trust you with every part of himself. You had been curled up with Quinn on a couch in Brock’s living room, towards the end of a party he had thrown to welcome everyone to the start of a new season. You didn’t even remember what Quinn was talking about, but as you looked down at the photo, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist and your head resting on his chest, you realized that it could have been Poptarts or Disney movies or the deepest darkest secrets from the furthest parts of your soul, because it was you, and it was him, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t even realize you had started to tear up until Quinn handed you a tissue. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You looked back up at his parents, crumbling it in your hand. “Seriously, Jim, Ellen, thank you for this. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this, but thank you for getting it. It means a lot.” 

His dad gave you a hug as his mom moved over to Quinn’s kitchen, plucking her bouquet out of a vase and walking back over to hug first her son, then you. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re half the woman Quinn says you are, and I think you’re more, then you deserve the world.” 

Your cheeks heated as they walked through the front door. Quinn gently took the picture from you, admiring it as he padded over to the sideboard and placed it next to the menorah, whose candles had long since burnt down. He walked back over towards you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulled back, a wry smile on his face as your foreheads pressed together. “Do you finally believe me?”

He didn’t even have to explain his words, because you knew. Finally believe him that you didn’t have anything to worry about, finally believe him that his parents would love you, finally believe him that thing you had going on wasn’t one he wanted to give up on. Not now, not ever. Your head nodded before your words could catch up to you, spilling out of your mouth like they had always been there. “Yes.”

[neoheros]

how would haikyuu boys handle spending the night together? feat. kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei

kuroo tetsuro

the first time you and kuroo spent the night together was a wednesday evening when you didn’t even plan on staying over

his parents left town for the day and it was a better time than any other to have you spend the afternoon

you were still both in your uniforms and with the school day you just had, it was safe to say that you deserved to lay on top of him on the couch while your hands are in his hair

you were tired from school and he was tired from practice

you barely even spoke to each other that afternoon, all you remember was him offering to take a nap with you in his bed and you being too sleepy to decline

you changed into one of his sweatshirts and a pair of shorts and when he saw you he just 🥺

kuroo: are we really that tired tho 👉👈

you, blinking: yes

the nap was so deep and peaceful that the only reason you woke up from it was because of the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway

that’s when you realize that you’ve actually spent the night and the bright light that’s been annoying your eyes for the past 2 minutes was the sun rising

you shift from your place but kuroo’s right grip on your waist only worsened as he pulled you closer to his chest

“stop moving so much,” he mumbles groggily, refusing to open his eyes as he snuggles against your shoulder blade

you panic, “kuroo we’re gonna be late,”

he takes a while to respond but you feel him nod softly against your skin, “we can skip first period,”

then you hear the front door open, your heart racing because kuroo clearly doesn’t have any plans on getting up soon

you try your best to push him away from you but the more you do the more his tightening his grip, too tired to open his eyes

you, panicking: if you don’t wake up now i’m breaking up with you

kuroo, mumbling: hmm we’ll get back together it’s okay

he’s pressing quick kisses against your shoulder and you almost swoon over the infatuated look he had on

“we should do this more often,” kuroo says, his voice quiet and you’re debating with yourself if he’s choosing not to hear his parents downstairs

you shift, “i know, i like this too, but your parents are home and i don’t want their first impression of me to be like this,”

he finally opens his eyes and lets go of the grip he had on you, you jump out of bed, hearing the footsteps from the stairs

“tetsu, are you awake yet?” his mom’s voice blared as she knocked on his door

you wanted to laugh as the panic set on your boyfriend’s face but you found yourself frozen still when you realize that this meant trouble if she found you in there

“kuroo, i swear to god, i will not let this be the first time your mom meets me,” you tell him in a hushed tone, quickly picking up your clothes

“yup!” he shouts back, and the first thing he could do when the doorknob twisted was shove you in his open closet

you yelp at the suddenness but you held the door closed as your pressed against his clothes in extreme tightness

“you’ll be late,” his mom says, entering his room

kuroo nods, “i’m actually skipping first period, my head hurts,”

there’s sweat on his forehead and his mom crosses her arms with a look

“fine,” she says, sighing, “your dad and i are going grocery shopping this morning so make sure to lock up before you go back to bed.”

kuroo lets out a breath of relief, walking his mom out the door and he shuffles to lock it before opening the closet to a rather agitated you

kuroo: i mean hey at least now we can have the morning in peace 😌

you, throwing a pillow at him: i hate you

kuroo, pulling you back in bed: hmm we’ll drive by starbucks before heading to school

you: i hate you less

tsukishima kei

first of all, sleeping with him is one thing and waking up next to him is another

he’s so stiff and on guard the whole time that you’d think he’s physically repulsed by the idea of you being beside him all night

you: i can take the floor, it’s really not a big deal

tsukki: are you kidding i’m not letting you sleep on the floor

you: wait aw 🥺

tsukki: at least take the couch

you can tell he’s anxious with the whole thing and you curse yourself for thinking it was a good enough time for the both of you to have a sleepover

but he’s just been away a lot from all the volleyball tournaments and it’s been so long since the two of you hung out that when he asked if you wanted to stay over you couldn’t say no

so now you’re left awkwardly sitting on his bed at 11 pm after the two of you finished a movie with nothing else to do

he eyes you down, you’re wearing one of his shirts which were obviously too big and a pair of sweats that you brought along

he glances at his watch, a faint pink on his face as he avoids your gaze

you: wait are you shy like are you actually

tsukki: hey remember when you offered to sleep on the floor

the two of you decide to just let tiredness take over you when you feel like it so you spend the next two hours in each other’s arms as you both scroll through tiktok

his nerves have calm down but you still feel the faint racing of his heart when you laugh from a video you see

you, internally: 🥺👉👈

but then you realize that hours have passed and neither of you are still tired enough to seriously lay down next to each other and try to sleep

tsukishima: do you want to go out for a drive?

you: it’s 3 am

tsukishima: ?

you: i like the way you think

AND ITS JUST SO !! FRICKEN !! ADORABLE !!!

he hands you an extra hoodie of his because it’s cold outside and he absolutely refuses to drive unless you put your seatbelt on

so it’s 3 am and the two of you are at a starbucks drivethru ordering too much caffeine for people who’re trying to fall asleep

you both end up chilling in their parking lot all morning just scrolling through twitter or tiktok and sometimes you’d feel him glance up at you from his phone but you decide not to mention it

you: why don’t we spend time like this more often

tsukishima: i honestly think you’ll find me boring if we hang out for more than an hour :/

you, soft: it actually takes less than an hour 🥺

before the two of you realize it you’ve fallen asleep in his car at a starbucks with the windows down and the 1975 blaring in the radio

you wake up first from the sunlight and you won’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat when you noticed how tsukki took off his hoodie to put on your thighs

you take off his glasses from his face, giving him a quick peck on the forehead before making sure he was comfortable and warm in his seat

he must’ve been tired and you really hope that you didn’t wake him up when you left the car to order more coffee for the both of you

akaashi keiji

THIS BOY IS AN ANGEL

he’s asleep by 10 pm and he’ll wake up at 8 just like he’s used to because he’s the most perfect boy in the world with the most perfect sleep schedule

you know of this fact and it bugs you cause sometimes you just really wanna facetime him at 3 am or reference him tiktoks that you found funny that day

so when he offered you a chance to stay over you were kinda on the rocks about it

you: yknow i sleep at 4 am right

akaashi: ... by choice?

you: at this point my body just shuts down when it wants to

akaashi, alarmed: oh

regardless of this fact, you could never turn down akaashi, it was like hard wired in your brain to never ever decline him and can you really blame yourself he’s 🥺

he insisted to stay up with you instead of you trying to fall asleep next to him at 9 pm but you just couldn’t put him through that

you put down your phone and even if it did feel odd to close your eyes without the sun rising, the sudden embrace by your boyfriend immediately made you forget about everything else

sleeping next to akaashi is utter heaven

he’s got his hand over your waist and his scent just envelops you in a non overpowering way

his fingers trail under your shirt and you shiver at how gentle they are

akaashi, under his breath: thank you for doing this

you, ready to risk it all: due to personal reasons i will be passing away ❤️

he places a quick kiss on your forehead before letting go of you and turning to his side

you felt like asking him back to you but you knew how tired he must’ve been so you don’t budge

you’re left staring at his room’s ceiling and you don’t know how long you did that but the next time you checked your phone it was already 1 am in the morning

you, internally: it’s like a talent omfg

aside from the fact that you’re close to tears as you think about how you stared at a ceiling for 3 hours straight because you didn’t want to go to sleep that much you stop fighting the inevitable

you prop yourself up on his headboard, careful not to wake him up beside you and start to go through what you usually do most nights

you’re so caught up on the tiktoks that you barely notice akaashi stirring from beside you before pulling the comforter over his head

he’s awake at this point and the silly grin on his face can’t be fought as he looks at you so indebted in what you watched

he leans against your shoulder, tired eyes and all whilst stifling back a yawn

you, sleepy: sorry for waking you

akaashi, just as sleepy: that’s ok, i like this better

the two of you spend the rest of the morning against each other on his headboard as you scroll through the contents of your phone

once akaashi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep, he gently pushes you back down on the pillows and your hands immediately make their way to embrace him

he will 100% take pictures before getting himself comfortable next to you, a soft smile on his face as he snuggles against your neck

akaashi, turning off his alarms: we can sleep in tomorrow

[official-wayward-keener]

Parkner Bingo Card - Baking AU

Cookies and Cupcakes

Peter Parker and Harley Keener are local bakers who get brought together for a baking challenge.

Ao3 Link Here

Peter was the best cookie baker in the business. His bakery was known for its cookies. He couldn’t make a cupcake but he could make some of the best cookies. Pumpkin cookies that had people come for more. Lemon cookies that were sweet and sour in a cookie. Snickerdoodles remind people about their grandma’s snickerdoodles. Chocolate chip cookies were so amazing. He loved making cookies and being one of the best cookies in Queens.

~

Harley was the best cupcake baker in the business. He loved making cupcakes because it was something his mama taught him. Something which made him feel special. He had learned to make them just like his mom, but also put his own spin on it as well. He loved making cupcakes. He had his fruity cupcakes with actual fruit in them and his cupcakes with fillings in them. He knew it might sound weird but his favorite to make were his vanilla cupcakes with chocolate icing. They were the cupcakes his mother would make with him when he was younger before he came to New York to start his baking career. His bakery was known for its cupcakes and everyone talked about them. Harley may not be able to make a cookie but he made a killer cupcake.

~

The contest was for two bakers to come together and create one desert that was the best. Peter wanted to compete and now he was standing in front of the best cupcake bakery in Queens trying to get the nerve to talk to the owner. Finally, he walked into the store as the bell rang and saw a girl at the front who smiled.

“How can I help you?” she asked him with a slight accent.

“Can I speak with Harley Keener?” Peter asked. The girl looked at him before going to the back. A pretty boy came from the back with the girl from earlier, confused as he smiled at Peter.

“How can I help you, Darlin’?” Harley said.

“My name is Peter Parker and I was coming to ask for your help with a baking challenge,” Peter explained. Harley seemed interested.

“I don’t normally teach people how to bake but I can teach you in my free time,” Harley said winking. Peter felt his cheeks heat up.

“I can bake. That isn’t why I need your help. I’m a local baker as well. The challenge is for two bakers to come together and make a dessert out of two things. I heard you had the best cupcakes in Queens so I figured I would ask you because I make some amazing cookies according to my reviews. I figured if you were interested we could make a cookie cupcake,” Peter explained. Harley seemed even more interested than before.

“You should do this. Imagine how people would react if they knew you won a contest as well,” the girl said. Peter already determined that he liked her.

“I think it would be interesting. Bring over some of your cookies this week and I’ll taste them,” Harley told him. Peter nodded knowing that he would be excited to have another baker taste his cookies.

“I’ll bring them over Friday and you can make up some cupcakes for me to taste,” Peter told him before Harley started writing notes. He was excited just like Peter about this opportunity. Peter typing his ideas on his phone for the plan.

~

Peter came back with some cookies that people loved including his classic cookies. Harley was waiting for him with Abby upfront. Abby had called Peter and thanked him for getting Harley so invested in something. She was excited to see Harley doing something he enjoyed and not working alone for once.

“He hasn’t baked with anyone since Mama passed,” Abby explained to Peter over the phone. Peter was glad to know that Harley would be baking with him this one time at least. Peter had never baked with anyone. His uncle never baked and his aunt couldn’t bake. He found his mother’s cook books and learned from her how to bake even though she wasn’t there to show him exactly how she did it, but she had notes and Peter learned from her notes.

“Hey Harley,” Peter told him as he set down the cookies on the table as Harley sat down across from him. “Ready for some taste testing?”

“I haven’t had a good cookie in a while so it would be nice to have a cookie for once,” Harley let him know. Peter smiled as they tried the different cookies and cupcakes talking with each other about what they were.

“I think we could do a pumpkin spice cookie cupcake, a chocolate chip cookie cupcake, and a cookie crumble cupcake,” Harley told him.

“That sounds good. I do like the mix of cookies with the cupcakes idea that you have,” Peter said. “I close on Wednesdays so we can work then if you want?”

“I also close Wednesdays so we can meet at either kitchen,” Harley said.

“Then it's a date,” Peter said before he realized how he phrased it. “I mean it's a plan.”

“I get what you mean, Peter,” Harley said. Peter nodded as Harley smiled at him and told him he would see him Wednesday.

“Who runs your shop when you come over here?” Harley asked.

“My aunt or my friend,” Peter said. “Today was my friend, but last time was my aunt.”

“It's always good to have those people in your life to support you when you need them,” Harley told them. Peter agreed before heading off for the day knowing he would need to get things set up and not wanting to leave MJ stuck at the bakery for long on her day off. He was excited for his next day off though.

~

Harley arrived at Peter’s bakery to see Peter writing down notes. Harley could just smile watching him work. Peter’s aunt had let Harley in and thanked him for this. Harley was just excited to work with Peter. He was just happy to see Peter already started on their ideal recipe.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harley finally said. Peter looked up smiling.

“It’s fine,” Peter said. “Let’s get started.” Harley started on the cupcakes as Peter talked to him about how to incorporate the cookies. Harley just smiled as they got to work working together as if they always worked like that. They just worked well together like peanut butter and jelly. It took them a few hours but their cookie cupcakes were perfected in no time.

“I think we are going to win,” Harley told him as Peter told him the judges were stopping by the next day. “I will have Abby watch the shop.” Peter smiled as he told him he would see him when he gets here. Harley walked out slowly not wanting to leave but knowing he had to. He had to get back and start up an order of cupcakes for tomorrow for a birthday party.

~

Peter waited for Harley to arrive. He made it just before the judges. He apologized and said that he was running a bit behind.

“No worries. The judges aren’t here yet,” Peter told him as he waited for them bouncing up and down. The judges came and tried their cupcakes, they seemed pleased with them but there wasn’t much being said about the cupcakes. Once they left, Peter got excited as he celebrated what they did today. Harley smiled as well as he pulled Peter into a hug. Peter was surprised but accepted it, enjoying the physical contact. The two pulled apart smiling.

“We should do this again sometime,” Harley said. Peter agreed. He waited as Harley debated about leaving.

“I should head back, do you want to hang out next Wednesday?” Harley asked. Peter smiled and agreed, telling him that he would tell Harley when the results came in.

~

Sunday leads to Peter calling Harley with good news. They had won the competition and their desert was going to be featured in a magazine. Harley came over later after he closed his shop since Peter didn’t open on Sundays unlike Harley. Peter told him all about it and how excited he was.

“They want to interview us,” Peter said.

“I think this calls for a celebration,” Harley told Peter. “What if we go out to dinner together tonight?”

“I would enjoy that,” Peter said smiling. Harley just smiled back as the partnership for a competition was going to lead to a date which would lead to two popular bakeries becoming one. But for now it was just starting out. Like their Cookie Cupcake, the two were coming together to become something great.

[elen-aranel]

Stars Above the Desert

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. Thank you so much for these prompts, Autumn, because without them the Engineer wouldn’t exist. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: fluff WC: 1600 words Tag list: @jusvibbbin A/N: I didn’t think I had inspiration for today’s image and yet...

Alnath III is a desert planet, just on the borderline of Class L and Class M. The briefings you had read did go some way to explaining why the colonists had chosen this planet to settle: some were agriculturalists who wanted to develop drought resistant strains of crops; some were scientists who wanted a world they called ‘pristine’ for some biological experiments to do with the formation of life; and one or two were geologists who thought the planet might have resources they could exploit. Not the most obvious basis for a community but they seemed to be getting along, making it work.

The little town they have built is charming in its way; they have made an effort to make it feel like a home, with a little town square, and adobe-style buildings rather than prefabs. Still, you think, as you lie sweating in the sand under an empty water tank just outside town, powering down your phase compensator, you’d have chosen different a planet to colonise. One where the ground water wasn’t so deep you needed mechanical assistance just to get to it, or so laden with minerals and inorganic compounds that it was poisonous until purified.

At least this time it was Louvier rather than Chris who had ordered you to join the away mission, so Number One couldn’t complain.

“Try it again, Ensign Devrin,” you yell to your Tellarite colleague who is some twenty metres away at the control terminal for the well and purification plant you’re trying to fix.

“Aye, Lieutenant,” he shouts back. Everything is silent for a moment, then you hear the sound of water in the pipes below. But just as you’re about to get your hopes up there is an ugly metal grating sound and everything grinds to a halt.

“Sounds like the gears got stripped as well,” you mutter, entering your findings into a PADD.

You check the time. It’s more than half way through beta shift – 21:00 ship’s time but only 16:00 local time.

“Ensign, you might as well return to the ship. Take this to Louvier – he can add these to the fabrication list, though I’m guessing they won’t be ready until the end of gamma. We can get them installed tomorrow.” You stand and stretch, before handing the PADD to Devrin who has come closer to see what you’re working on.

“Aren’t you coming too?” Devrin looks at you, concern in his expression.

“Nah, there are still some things for me to do before the installation, and I want to check on the solar plant while we’re here – make sure all the batteries are nominal, that kind of thing. We don’t want to get called back next month for something else that’s gone wrong.”

“Well, if you’re sure...”

“I’m sure. Have a good evening, Devrin.” You smile at him as he calls for a beam out. You’ve sent the rest of your engineering team back to the ship because you want them fresh for tomorrow, and the things you have left to do don’t take more than one person.

You finish up installing new software to the water plant to accommodate the new components going in tomorrow, then take a walk over to the solar plant.

You’re glad you checked it – while the hardware is all okay – batteries all full at the end of the day, solar panels operating within tolerance – there’s a slight memory leak in the software. You’ve seen this issue on this type of controller before – it’s the kind of thing where it will be fine for ages then suddenly fail, plunging the colony into the dark and causing a lot of heartache. It’s an easy fix, but you make a note to suggest the colonists recruit an engineer on your report. You will not be volunteering.

It’s around 01:00 ship’s time when you finish everything, but only 20:00 local time. The colony is in the planet’s northern hemisphere, and it’s summer, so the sun is only just going down. Part of you considers returning to the ship, but really you had always planned to stay over. By the time you have some food, get back to your quarters, shower and lie down, it’ll be time to get up again. And much as you wouldn’t want to live here, it is nice to breathe fresh air for a while.

You call the bridge to let them know you’re staying. You’re not going to be the only one planetside overnight; almost the entire exobiology department beamed down, wanting to make the most of the Enterprise’s stay – it’s a change for them from endlessly cataloguing species on new planets and they don’t want to pass it up. The Ensigns at least are having a sleepover at one of the scientists’ houses, but you would rather not hear any more about drought resistant triticale variants. You had brought a sleeping bag, your own water and some protein bars.

You walk through the square, nodding to the couple of colonists who are about, and stop a bit away from the edge of town. You find a large flat rock to sit on, and eat a couple of protein bars as you watch the sun set peacefully below the horizon.

You drink some water, then set up your sleeping bag, hoping to get some rest. You’re usually okay at sleeping in uncomfortable places, but it’s cold. You force yourself to shut your eyes, and you keep your breathing slow and steady even as you shiver slightly. You go to pull your sleeping bag around you tighter, but as you do you feel a gentle weight settle over you. You frown and open your eyes.

“Chris?” You lean up on your elbows. “What are you doing here? You should be asleep.” You soften your chiding tone with a smile as he sits beside you, pulling the blanket he settled over you over himself as well.

“And miss the chance to spend time in the desert?” He presses a kiss to your temple and you move to sit up, leaning against him. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to beam down, and when I heard you were staying over I thought I’d come check on you. I thought you might be cold.”

“For somewhere that’s been so hot during the day the temperature sure does drop at night,” you say, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. You unzip your sleeping bag to make it into a blanket for both of you. Chris helps, and with the two of you together with the sleeping bag and blanket over you, you feel yourself warming quickly. “But even so, it’s nice to have solid ground beneath me, and—not be running away from anything.” You look up at him sidelong.

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that’s a good feeling,” he says, slipping his arm around your shoulders. “Is this your first time in a desert at night?”

“First time in a desert at all. Well,” you pause to consider. “Technically second time, because we had a family holiday to Monument Valley when I was eighteen months old. I don’t remember it though.”

“You never visited when you were at the academy?” You hear the surprise in his voice.

“No – my survival training was in the Alps, and then the Amazon. And my friends and I would take a shuttle to Mars or New Berlin when we had time off.” You look around at the dunes, stretching into the distance to mountains on the horizon, then back to him. “How does this compare to the desert where you grew up?”

“Less alive,” he answers instantly. “There were lots of plants growing – grasses, mesquite. I miss the smell. And animals, too – I found a burrowing owl nest as a kid, once. And there were sheep, tortoises, jackrabbits...” his eyes go a little faraway as he remembers. “But there are some similarities.”

He tips you both back, gently, pulling the covers over you. You’re looking at him, so you don’t understand what he’s doing at first, but you follow his gaze upwards, and gasp.

Above you is the Milky Way, almost like a sparkling splash of paint across the sky. You have never seen so many stars; the constellations are unfamiliar but you almost feel like you’re looking down on them. Like you could reach out and touch a star. “I can’t believe the colours,” you say, as you try to take it all in.

He squeezes you a little and you rest your head against his shoulder, still looking up. “This is why I joined up, really. I would sneak out at night and lie there, looking at the stars. It took Admiral Marcus to help me see that command track was the right path, but...” he lapses into silence for a while.

“There’s something magical about seeing them like this, isn’t there? Even though we get to call space home.” You feel him nod, and you can’t resist anymore.

You turn, reaching out, touching his jaw and tilting his face toward you. You kiss him, gently at first, but he turns, pulling you flush against him as he nips at your lower lip. You open your mouth into the kiss and press your body against him, and for long moments it’s just the two of you and the stars wheeling overhead.

There will be plenty of time for you to worry about getting the well fixed, for him to worry about everything that goes into running a starship...

But for a short while you can let everything go.