#i just need to lay down i think. i was gonna work on pinterest boards but

[milo-is-rambling]

Chronic pain really got me going to bed before it’s even dark out (also my little pink unicorn lights Millie got me look so cool in the second pic)

[fereldenshero]

why am i fighting off tears rn ERMMMM

[aangelinakii]

DICK GRAYSON ABC'S

note : i got so blocked for this ??? like writer's block. so some of them are shorter or less developed than others beacuse i was struggling 💀💀💀

A is for... Affection! (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

dick is super duper affectionate, but not in a way that it's suffocating. i mean, it can be. like when he jumps on you when you're in bed and lays his whole body weight on you. but it's cute ! it's dick ! it's cute !! but what i mean to say is that he is conscious to not be overly physically affectionate if that's not something you are comfortable with,, he is very big on consent and making sure the other party is just as happy as he is with what's happening ( as we all should be !!!!!!! )

i went into detail in a different post, but his love languages are definitely physical affection and acts of service !! <3

B is for... Best Friend! (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

not even speaking romantically dick grayson would be the best friend ever like ??? he makes pinterest boards of things to do together, like idk he saves ideas for those group presentation nights even tho it will just be the two of you and you each create three slideshows each to make up for the lack of people. starts either out of nowhere, like a meet cute but friend edition, or has been a long term thing. either scenario, you are NOT getting rid of this man easy. he'll spend his off days with you because you're like recharging his battery. it's great !

C is for... Cuddles! (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

literally the cuddliest guy ever like ???? he likes to share roles, little spoon and big spoon except he doesn't actually like spooning, he likes to see your face, or at least be facing you in some way. feels spooning leaves a disconnect. but his cuddles are always tight, comfortable and grounding. when he's "big spoon" he likes holding his muscular arms around your back, a hand cradling the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead or the top of your head every so often. but when he's "little spoon" he nestles his head in so he can't be seen,, just wants to sleep, and then he does

D is for... Domestic! (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

GREAT at cooking, could work on the cleaning but if he knows he has someone to impress then he would get used to it. i think, after the things he's gone through and his surpressed trauma, he may struggle with imagining proper long-term commitment, like marrying or settiing down fully. like in the back of his head it's like he doesn't want to get hurt ?? but if he met the right person he would definitely think real hard about it

E is for... Ending! (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

damnnnn i think it would be a commitment issue thing. like i don't think it would be the partner (unless they genuinely did something bad but let's imagine they're dating someone great) i think it would be more of a self sabotage thing 💀 which isn't funny idk why i'm laughing probably because i do it too,, but if he feels it's going too fast than he's prepared for, then there's a chance he may just break up and leave instead of talking it out

F is for... Fiancé! (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

i think personally dick is great for quick things, short-term. he needs to be in it if he's gonna stay. his trauma and background isn't as talked about, but i feel considering my own experiences, it's more likely he'd be more nervous when considering long-term relationships. if we're talking marriage, i think dick would need a long time to get to know this person,, really really know. divorce is a thing but he would rather only marry one time

G is for... Gentle! (how gentle are they?)

so unbelievably gentle like are you touching an angel ?? dick is very conscious to never ever overstep any boundaries, so his touch is very purposeful, very thought out, very kind. if you like a more passionate love, dick can definitely give that, but when thinking more domestic more sweet, more slow, dick's touches are gentle and featherlight. and he never raises his voice,, not saying he talks like super softly but the way he speaks is sweet and cool and cutie, like there is no way you can be uncertain of his affection for you

H is for... Hugs! (do they like hugs? what are their hugs like?)

the sweetest hugs. the type to cradle your head with his hand 😭😭😭😭😭😭 don't because i will start sobbing. he doesn't just hug like,,, he puts his entire heart his entire soul into a hug. breathes in your scent, takes in your body, fingers fiddling with the material of your shirt. it's very intimate, and vulnerable, but sweet, and never too much

I is for... I Love You! (how fast do they say the L word?)

takes a while for sure. i think even if he thinks he feels it like earlier on he genuinely cannot bring himself to say it. like genuinely. will go to say "hey yn i gotta tell you about something" but now he's finally got you're attention and he can't fuckin handle it. "i........ got a .. haircut ?? " but he didn't. but he tries to convince you thr back of his hair is shorter even though it so obviously isn't ? but it's okay whatever you say babygirl..

J is for... Jealousy! (how jealous do they get? what do they get like when they're jealous?)

okay his jealousy comes off as competitiveness okay,, like if he cares for you, he wants to keep your attention. definitely comes from a place of insecurity. but i mean all jealousy does right ? let's not villainise the man here (i'm literally the one doing it). if he sees someone else chatting you up, may or may not be an obvious, or even at all an attempt, at flirting, but he still comes up like a puppy,, and the competitive side aching for your attention comes out. oh this guy went out to china and did paragliding ?? uh huh well dick did it too and he did it better

K is for... Kisses ! (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss? where do they like to be kissed?)

more often than not, really soft. just sweet, a little chaste, but affectionate and cutesy. but he'll give you a kiss whenever. liek trust me he WILL find a reason. doesn't have to be on the lips, like he'll kiss you anywhere. forehead? it's a need. nose ? only on special occasions. cheek ? it's cute! shell of the ear ? when he's trying to convince you to cook tonight. but yeah more onto the WILL FIND ANY FREAKING REASON to Kiss you. omg i'm so proud of you ! kith. omg you look so good today ! kith. omg i just woke up next to you ! kith. omg the movie we just watched was so good ! Kith.

L is for... Little Ones! (how are they around children?)

dick absolutely loves kids he thinks they're (mostly) the sweetest, and he gets on with them really well. after damian, he's been trained on how to deal with any kid, be it angel or devil,, but i think if he were to think about having his own kids he would start having a pnic attack or something. like just watching your friend's kids when they go to the bathroom or kitchen for a sec is chill,, i think he'd even be the go-to babysitter for his friends with kids. but imagine having your own piss baby to take care of ??? it makes him shiver. he would need serious discussion and serious thought about having his own child

M is for... Mornings! (how are mornings spent with them?)

lazyyy warm and comforting. the first thing he does, doesn't matter if you're already awake or still sleeping, is press a sweet kiss to your form. if you're awake and laying beside him already, reading a book, nursing a cuppa, or just scrolling, he'll roll over onto his side and press a lazy kiss against your wrist, or the back of your forearm. if you're still sleeping he'll kiss whatever he can man, just for a second. he's also super crackly in the mornings, so if you hate the sound of bones clicking and are awake before him, you're in for a Treat :)

N is for... Nights! (how are nights spent with them?)

on patrol nights when he comes home late to find you still awake waiting for him, dick feels his heart thump a little bit. he peels off his suit and goes to take a shower, secretly hoping you'll still be awake, so he can talk with you for a little. dick grayson is the master of small talk before bed, where it's pitch black and you're drifting in and out of conversation as you drift in and out of sleep.

on nights in, he'll insist on cooking dinner and watching a film or show. he likes having a show you two watch together, but feels bad if he's gone for a while or has many night patrols in one week because he knows it's keeping you from continuing, and says it's okay if you keep watching, but please actually don't because he really wants to watch it too !!!!!

O is for... Open! (when would they start revealing deeper things about themselves?)

although on a surface level dick is pretty open, and acts like everything is okay, he definitely has some uncovered trauma he literally doesn't talk about to anybody at all ever. to be on the level that he'll begin to express these things to, it's an honour, a dream, amazing but horrible but scary but exciting like. but dick will only begin to reveal deeper things once he is certain he trusts you, and maybe after you have revealed some sensitive things to him too, because that will be a sure way to know he can trust you; if you trust him first.

P is for... Patience! (what is their temper like?)

if he's really in it for the long run, and his heart belongs to you, dick will be the Most patient. always listening to your side of an argument (even if he thinks you're in the wrong he will still be respectful, and then be sassy after you've said your piece, like he won't try to disrupt you). isn't the type to get angry about broken crockery, you can always clean it up and get some new plates or cups. he's had to deal with a lot growing up, i think he'll be okay with a broken glass

Q is for... Quizzes! (how much would they remember?)

as much as he can ! he knows the basics obviously, like your name 💀 and your top 5 favourite foods, movies, clothing items in your closet. but he also likes to play minigames where he tries to find out more about you, and you could be surprised by how much you still don't know about someone even after knowing them a year. he'll ask questions out the blue. "what's your opinion on sushi?" "do you think john cena should stick to acting, or go back to wrestling?" "what would you do if....." and he remembers all your answers, because he cares about you and cares a lot about knowing you as well as he can

R is for... Remember! (what is their favourite relationship memory?)

sitting in the tub together. he loves every time. it's not sexual at all. at first there was that heavy vulnerability in the air, but as you've grown together and grown more comfortable, it's something to look forward to. there was one time in particular though. he'd come back from a long patrol, quite mucky and in need of sleep. you ran him a bath straight away, and helped him in. it has been too long without him, you needed to feel him in your arms, remind yourself of the way his heart thumped in his chest when you carefully placed your hand there. he's been tiredly scrubbing the dirt from his legs when you sunk down into the water behind him. he hadn't even noticed you, but you took over the cleaning, and he's never felt so safe

S is for... Security! (how protective are they? what would they do to protect? how do they like to be protected?)

casually protective. if you're uncomfortable, or even sometimes unaware but he's uncomfy by how someone's looking at you, he'll straighten up a bit and place an arm around you, hold you close. dick isn't the most intimidating upon first glance, but he's good at making sure he can be.

T is for... Try! (how much effort would they put into a relationship?)

so much effort that you could cry sometimes. in a good way. obviously. but always flowers, always leaving notes, always making snacks if you're hungry, always complimenting you, always not always letting you win in mario kart. he really appreciates you. adores you, even. even if he hasn't said i love you yet, he definitely shows it. won't let you go a minute feeling insecure. this guy is allergic to your unhappiness

U is for... Ugly! (what would be some of their bad habits?)

not a bad habit per seeee but a personal HATRED i have is stinky food, like i have such a sensitive nose and i can't handle when my step dad is making food that's stanky and i can smell it from halfway across the house. but anyway dick would do this. he corresponds his diet to his workouts, so he can have really proteiny food after each workout, but for some reason really protein rich foods STINK !!!!! so he can be really annoying and make the stinkiest protein snack and have no idea until you're fanning out the flat w all the windows open

all that and his breath is still somehow constantly minty fresh !!!????

V is for... Vanity! (how concerned are they with their looks?)

i think dick makes an effort to be presentable. knows the best haircut for him,, even if he cuts it a bit shorter or even lets it grow out, he makes sure his barber is doing him right. he can't go looking stupid next to you ?? not out of his own insecurity but for your sake. you can't be having a boyfriend with an ugly haircut !!???

clean shaven most of the time, but i think he just has a slower facial hair growth anyway, so it's not like it's something to constantly worry about for him.

W is for... Whole! (would they feel incomplete without you?)

i think dick is quite an independent soul, he'll survive. at least on the outside. he's become really good at concealing his true emotions so on the inside he would be tweaking and literally no one would know.

Y is for... Yuck! (what are some of their turn-offs?)

rudeness and definitely one-sidedness, or like double standards you know ? like he can't do something that you always do, like if you always leave a mess in the kitchen after cooking, but if he does it once you go crazy. that shit pisses him off.

Z is for... ZZZ! (what are their sleeping habits?)

literally the complete opposite of what i said for jason, i think dick runs cold when he sleeps !!! so he has to bundle up. in the winter he sleeps like a baby / like a rock whichever you prefer, bc he sleeps through, but in the summer he gets too hot, has to kick off the sheets, gets too cold, puts them back on, too hot, kick off, too cold etc

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 32

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!

Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Herschel still looks like he's sleeping peacefully after a long day's work on the farm, with one of his arms flopped over the side of the bed, handcuffed to the frame. His fingers, curled loosely around nothing, refuse to twitch no matter how long I stare at them.

Maybe that's why it's so hard for me to imagine him as one of the walkers.

It's easy to forget that they used to be people.

"You best wake up soon," I tell the motionless old man, trying my best to sound like I mean business. It ain't lost on me that my Dad was in this same position last year, laid up in bed after he took that bullet to the guts and refused to die. It was Herschel that had saved him, only outta the kindness of his heart and nothing much else at all, 'cause he ain't got a bad bone in him, not even one. "We need you."

Crouched at his bedside, Maggie squeezes her eyes shut, a tear slipping down her cheek as she holds his hand.

When she opens them again, they're green and watery like fresh grass after a sun shower.

Even though Carl and I got an earful from our Dads about sneaking off, I'm glad we managed to get the supplies from the infirmary.

His leg — Or should I call it something else, now that half of it is gone? Is there a word for such an impossible thing? — is wrapped up in clean, white bandages, no longer pourin' blood. I know any one of us would happily give him one of ours, but we just can't.

"Thank you," Carol glances from me, to Carl, to Glenn. "By the way. I couldn't have done this without your help."

Glenn smiles a bit. "Should I say it was no problem?"

"Probably not," She chuckles softly, going back to tidying up the thin gauze around the wound.

Herschel was always so kind to me, even when I wasn't kind in return. There are just some people who are like that — Good. Like Dale — and can't ever be anything else. I used to think it was a weakness, because what good is an animal that doesn't know how to bite? How's it meant to survive? Nobody I ever knew was brave enough to be gentle, but Herschel was. He took us in when we needed help, fed us warm tea and potato soup when all we had to give in return was trouble. He cleaned the blood from my wounds, gave me a clean bed to sleep in.

No matter if somebody is as mean as a snake or as loyal as a dog — In my case, if they're both — we all bleed the same.

"Harley?"

Everybody turns at the sound of Beth's voice, the blonde girl peering around the doorframe.

"Yeah?"

"Could you come help me with somethin' real quick?" She asks, adding, "It won't take long."

"That reminds me, actually." Carol tells Glenn, "I need your help with something, too."

"I don't think I can leave Herschel again," He says.

"Let's talk about it outside."

"Um. Sure thing," I nod to Beth, standing from the metal seat and following her outta the cell, and into ours. "What is it?"

She kneels down on Carl's mattress where Mouse is napping, picking up a bundle of brown cloth and laying it across her lap. "He's gonna have a hard time walkin' around with one side of his pants draggin' on the ground. He could, you know, trip or somethin'."

She takes a tiny sewing needle and sticks it through the fabric.

Trip?

Her Daddy's on his deathbed and she's worried about him tripping?

"I just need you to keep the string from knottin' up," She explains as I sit in front of her. "So I can focus on the sewin' part."

Taking the string and picking the tangled pieces apart as she continues weaving the needle in and out, her thin fingers trembling, I decide to humour her, because it's the right thing to do. Some people cry when they're nervous, but I guess others sew up pantlegs.

"I asked Maggie to help me earlier," She muses, frustrated. "But she wouldn't do it."

I almost lose my grip on the string as she tugs harshly on it, catching it at the last moment.

"Oops."

"Apparently, she didn't want me to get my hopes up too high," She says. "You believe that? It's like s-she thinks he's gonna die."

I struggle to know whether or not I should tell her that's exactly what Maggie thinks, and that nobody can blame her for it. I thought my Dad was gonna die when we were on the farm, but it was never because I didn't have faith in him. I was just scared.

Feeling my stare on her, Beth looks up at me through her furrowed brows, pouting, "What?"

I shake my head. "Nothin'."

"Just say it, then." She slumps. "You think the same thing, don't you?"

Gesturing to her with the ball of string, I try to convince her, "Well, I'm helpin' ya, ain't I?"

She sighs as she looks back down at her needle. "Yeah, but I know you're just feelin' sorry for me. I felt sorry for you when your Dad was unconscious. You were like a sad little puppy dog waitin' for her owner at the door, but I couldn't do anything to help."

"I'on think he's gonna die," I insist, because it's true. "I think he's either gonna die or wake up, and that's totally different."

She pulls the needle through with a long, sweeping motion. "Sorry. I'm just... I appreciate you gettin' the medical supplies."

"O'course."

I ain't gonna lie and tell her I didn't second guess going with Carl, but what matters is that I only ever had Herschel in mind.

If you were to ask my Dad, though, he'd say that's exactly what the problem was.

She adds, "Just... Promise to be more careful, next time?"

"Who bribed ya to say that?"

"Nobody," She giggles, biting the string with her teeth and tying it off. "Nobody needs to be bribed to care about you, Harley."

"What'd they give ya?"

"Nothin'!"

"If it was cookies, I want one."

"Oh, shut it." She smooths out the pantleg before holding it up to look at. "There. These will do. Decent, right?"

I smile, "Yeah, you're really good at that."

"Thanks." Folding them neatly and grabbing the next pair of pants, she says, "My Mom taught me all about textiles when I w—"

"Oh, my God!"

Mouse's head whips up.

"Maggie?" I call out worriedly, throwing the string aside and running outta the cell. "What's wrong?"

She's backed up against the wall when I come to a stop outside Herschel's cell, staring wide-eyed at him, shuddering somethin' about, He ain't breathin', He stopped breathin', as Lori pushes past everyone and presses her ear to his chest.

"'Stopped breathin'?'" I exclaim but I don't know who to, horrified it means, dead.

"Oh, Lord," Beth croaks.

Lori lifts her head and without wasting any time, she starts pumping his chest, grunting with each brutal squashing of his sternum. I watch on, unsure what I can do, unsure if I'm gonna stop breathin', too. His heart's stopped, and I know that means dead.

Lori's hair hangs down, tickling the end of his nose like a feather.

"Come on," She's gritting through her teeth, "Come on."

I swear his nostrils twitch.

I'on even have to think about it. I pull my gun out, point it at his head, watching for any sign that he's waking up in the wrong way. It ain't like all the other heads I've had hovering on my sights. It ain't mishappen, rotted, peeled back, leaking. It's just our Herschel.

The handcuffs rattle.

I gasp.

All the little hairs on my arms stand up.

Lori squeals as his body lurches up like he's being sick and his arms reach out for her, Maggie pulling her into her side.

They hold each other, gawking at him.

Has he turned? Is he gone?

I'm about to move my finger onto the trigger when he lets out a thin sigh, slumps back down on his pillow, and starts to snore like a happy baby, none the wiser to any of the horror he just caused us. Well. I'm glad somebody's havin' a good time.

Lowering the gun, I look at poor Maggie, Beth, and Lori, suddenly quite ashamed that I had drawn.

When I look to my left, Carl's shakily lowering his gun, too.

"It's okay," Maggie soothes us after a breathless moment has passed. "It's— It's okay."

"I'm sorry," I say. Even if he had turned into a walker and I was forced to shoot him, it still would'a had her Dad's face on it.

"Don't be, honey. It's okay." She says. "He's okay."

Beth suddenly breaks free of them and marches outta the cell.

Not wanting her to be alone after what just happened, I holster my gun and follow after her, Mouse at my heel. I don't care that I'll probably be stuck with her for hours. Some people sew up pantlegs when they're nervous, but I guess others help them hold the string.

Beth and I have finished tailoring and folding away all of Herschel's pants by the time Rick, Dad, and T-Dog return to the cellblock, approaching Carl, who's standing in the doorway of Herschel's cell, telling them, "Herschel stopped breathing before. Mom saved him."

"It's true," Glenn nods as they crowd into the cell with us, Rick coming to his bedside, sadly gazing down at him.

"I almost shot him, Dad," I whisper, thinking of the night he was forced to raise his gun to Dale's head. "Thought he turned."

His expression solemn, he reaches down and wraps a hand around the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly.

"S'alright," He rasps quietly, leaving the rest unsaid.

I let the pressure calm me as I watch Herschel's sleeping face, his wrinkled mouth parting as if to speak a silent word.

Wait.

His mouth is parting.

Realizing the same thing, Maggie rushes to his side.

"Daddy?" She softly calls out to him, searching his closed eyes for something. "Daddy, we're here."

"We're here," Beth agrees.

Please, I think to myself, This has to be it, right?

I feel Dad move his hand onto my shoulder, stopping me from reaching for my holster. He rests his fingers on the grip of his gun. Rick gently puts his hand on Maggie's back, glancing back at him with a tense sort of look before focusing on Herschel again.

Then, without any grand affairs or a single word from anybody in the room, his eyelids slowly flutter open, and they're not milky, or bloodshot, or twitching, or anything. They're just a tender blue, focusing and unfocusing on the bottom of the bunk above him.

The first thing he turns his head to look at is Maggie's tearful, laughing face. Beth lets out a squeaky cry, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a weak smile as his hand twitches in the handcuffs, tryna reach out for them in the human way, gentle and loving.

He's okay. He really is.

Dad relaxes, removing his hand from his gun.

Taking the keys from his belt, Rick unlocks the handcuffs and they fall away, letting Herschel embrace Maggie's wet cheek.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Beth sniffles.

"You scared us," Maggie adds, putting her hand over his.

He looks over her shoulder at Rick, at me and Dad, at Carol and T-Dog, at Lori, Glenn, and Carl, and lastly, at smiling Mouse.

"I hope my bed hair isn't going to s-scare you all over again," He says hoarsely, making us all chuckle. "How long?"

"About half a day," She says. "We dressed your leg up real good. Got the bleedin' to stop. You're gonna be okay, Daddy."

"Of course I am," He smiles.

"Let me get you some water," Carol says as she turns outta the cell, leaving everyone to bask in the moment, sharing relieved glances.

We got no choice but to believe him when he sounds as certain as he does. He's a tough one, alright. Tougher than all of us combined.

When she returns, Maggie shuffles outta the way to give her room to crouch down, helping him take a long sip.

"Easy," She cautions, pulling away. "We want you rested up."

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," He agrees, peering down his belly at his half-leg, giving it a bit of a wiggle.

"Does it hurt?"

"Oh," He chuckles. "Only my pride, my dear. You did an excellent job."

"Well, I had an excellent teacher," She says proudly, brushing some of the hair back from his face.

"And, Rick," He reaches out for the man, who takes his bony hand in his strong ones. "I think I owe you just about everything."

He shakes his head. "No more than I owe you."

"I haven't quite taken an axe to your leg, yet, son," He jokes, releasing his hand to point at him, "S-so, not exactly."

Dipping his head, he laughs, "Fair enough, old man."

Taking Maggie's hand again, Herschel's eyes begin to droop sleepily before he falls back asleep, a faintly happy look on his face, like he's having a nice dream. Maggie kisses Beth's cheek and holds her Daddy's hand under her chin, placing another kiss there.

"Let's leave him to rest," Carol says, gently guiding everyone out. "He needs it if he's going to be up and walking."

Stepping into the cell hall, Rick sighs heavily, "That was a relief."

"He's a tough son of a bitch," Glenn agrees.

Rubbing her belly, Lori asks, "What happened with the prisoners?"

"We tried to take cell block C with them," He explains, his brow splattered with wet blood and gunk, but with no wound. "I mean, these are guys who thought we might have a phone for 'em to use, so you can imagine how it went. The rest, I'on think the kids should hear."

"So, where are they now?" Carol asks.

"Two of 'em are in cell block C," He says, leaving me to wonder where the other three are. "It's a mess, but they agreed to stay."

I ain't sure how I feel about havin' neighbours in here. The prison is definitely more than big enough to share with them, but some neighbours are just better off dead, even if they give us dry corn and canned beef. It's not what Dale would've said, I know, and I think that's the reason Rick let them live. For now, at least. It's not as if they've threatened us, unlike that group of bandits he murdered last year.

Yes, the prisoners' leader did have his gun aimed at Rick's head, but Rick had one aimed at his, too.

"Hopefully they stay out of our way," She shrugs, though she doesn't look very happy. "Nothing else we can do."

"Don't worry. We're keepin' an eye on 'em," T-Dog reassures her.

"Well, I'm gonna go clean myself up," Rick announces, his exhaustion suddenly obvious. "I need a good sleep."

"Ditto," Dad groans.

That night, I think we all rest more than a little easier knowing that Herschel will survive.

My knife sinks into the soft meat of the walker's knee, the bone popping open as I twist the blade like a key.

It gives out a gurgling cry, gripping the fence with its blackened fingers as it falls to its knees, tonguing at the wire.

SQUELCH.

Stabbing it through the eye, the rotting lady's jaw goes slack, right before she slumps over and another walker replaces her.

"Nicely done." Dad says. He's making good on his promise to let us help clear the courtyard. "How many's that now, girl?"

"Eight," I pant.

He's standing a few feet down the fence from me, holding his hand over his brow and sneering against the glare of the sun. Behind him, Carl deftly drives his knife into the knee of a walker and then its head, pulling it out with a spray of blood. 

In the background, Mouse is busy doing his own thing, sniffing weeds.

"Good. Make it ten." Dad approaches me and takes my knife from me, wiping it on his thigh. "And remember to keep this clean."

With the newly gunk-free blade, he swiftly kills the walker in front of me.

It drops to the ground.

"Like I said, it don't gotta be sparklin', but you don't want all that sticky shit dryin' on there and makin' it harder for you to pull out," He explains, handing it back to me. He watches me stab the knee of the next walker, breaking the bone. "That's it. Now the head."

Its face presses up against the fence, eye level with me, only managing half a growl before I stick the blade through its eye.

It's all the more satisfying when I imagine it's the walker that tackled me on the farm, or the one from the hospital, or the one from yesterday. It sure feels good being able to kill a thing that wants to kill me. With each kill, I'm gettin' better, faster, more accurate.

"And you, boy?" He calls over to Carl. "How many?"

As the walker in front of him collapses, the boy grins. "Ten. Guess I've mastered the class, huh, Daryl?"

"Ten?" I sass. "You lyin'."

"Make it twelve," Dad orders, wiping the smug look from his face. "Remember yer footin'. S'why you're stumblin' all over the place."

I can't help but snicker.

Dad unlocks the small gate as I cripple and take out one more walker, bringing me to ten kills, one for every one of my fingers.

Dad pulls his bandana over his head. One of the many walkers shuffles toward him, but before it can do any damage, he effortlessly lunges forward with the fabric and braces it between its teeth, dragging it into the courtyard and tying a knot behind its head.

As Mouse starts barking at it, I soothe, "Shh, boy. It's okay."

Dad kicks the gate closed, and with the walker angrily chewing on the bandana, he muscles it over to us.

"We're gonna practice without the fence."

I remember we did this a few months ago on the side of the highway when we were first learning how to properly kill walkers.

Until then, we only knew the basics — Aim for the head!

Now, he makes us practice every few days.

It's one of my favorite pastimes. Even better'un playin' soccer and ridin' our bikes!

"Y'all know the drill. It can't bite ya." He reassures us, the walker's thrashing no match for the strong grip he's got on it. "I'm gonna let it go and you're gonna take it down however you feel is best. But you wanna keep on its eight and four. Why ya gonna do that?"

"That's its blind spots," I recite. "And ya don't wanna get behind it, 'cause it might fall on ya."

"Easier to dodge," He agrees. "Harley, you're gonna go first. Carl, you get seconds. Hold the dog. Ready?"

Carl crouches, holding Mouse still. "Yep."

"Ready," I nod.

"I'm right here if things get messy." Dad shoves it forward. "Alright. Meathead, in the ring. Show 'im who's boss, girl."

The walker locks eyes with me.

Without anything to hold it back, it starts to clumsily stride toward me with purpose.

"You got this, Harley," Carl cheers, Mouse whining worriedly.

"I'mma kill it, Mousey," I reassure him. "It's okay."

Let's do it. Eight and four, eight and four. As soon as it's within arm's reach, I dodge it, ducking under its arm. Confused, it looks around, sniffing at the air to find out where I went because it's a fuckin' idiot. Rearing my knife back, I drive it into the back of its knee.

It stumbles drunkenly, landing on its stomach, but with my hands still wrapped around the knife, I fall with it.

Landing against its thigh, I grunt.

Mouse's whining gets louder.

"I'm here. Stay calm," Dad coaches me as Carl shushes the dog. "Get that knife out 'fore it gets back up."

Righting myself, I pull the blade out and crawl up to its head, stabbing the nape of its head.

Pink brains and blood leaks out.

It's dead!

As I stand back up, heart racing, Dad comes forward and starts untying his bandana from the walker's mouth.

"Good work," He says, shaking it out. "You know why you fell, right?"

"I ain't took the knife out quick enough. Pulled me down with it."

If I was up against any more walkers, they would'a piled on top of me while I's on the ground. Eaten alive, in Rick's words. Eugh.

Not a good pastime.

"Was only practice," He soothes, kissing my hair. "Next time, give it a bit of a wiggle and it'll free up quicker."

"Alright."

"You didn't warn us about us falling on them, Daryl," Carl jokes, releasing Mouse, who runs straight for me.

"Shut up, Carl," I smile, petting the dog's big snout. "It was only practice."

"Woohoo, Harley!"

We all look up at Glenn standing out in the field with Rick, grinning and holding a bunch of firewood.

"Good job!" Rick adds, waving.

Dad scoffs. "Didn't know we had an audience."

I cup my hands around my mouth. "Thanks!"

After that, Dad dresses up another walker for Carl to practice on. While he don't fall over like I did, he keeps nervously dancing around it like some sorta twinkle-toes ballerina, until my Dad's patience wears thin and he shouts at him to make a move, and he finally kills it.

SQUELCH.

"Alright," Dad says, "Back to work."

Fifteen, I count in my head, pulling my knife free, when the door behind us suddenly swings open.

What was that?

At first, I think it's more walkers spilling into the courtyard, but when I turn around, I see it's not walkers at all.

It's the prisoners.

The white guy with the ugly moustache and the black guy that wanted a phone to call his family.

That's them, emerging from the dark.

"Oh. H-Hey, guys," The shorter of the two greets us breathily, holding up his hands as the door shuts behind them. "Fancy se—"

"Back the Hell up!"

Dad's got his crossbow aimed at their heads before they can take a single step toward us, his finger curled around the trigger.

Mouse starts bark, bark, barking at them, but I lunge toward him, holding him back.

"Holy shit," The prisoner exclaims, looking like he's about to wet his jumpsuit, or cry, or both. "Man, w-we don't want no trouble."

If he ain't careful, he's gonna get an arrow to the head and a dog bite to the neck.

"What do you want?" Dad growls, blocking their view of me and Carl with his body. "Cell block weren't cozy enough for ya?"

"Please, mister. We know we had a deal," He begs. I ain't never heard nobody call my Dad, mister, before. He must really wanna get on our good side, but what he don't understand is that when it comes to strangers, we don't got no good side. "But you gotta understand! We can’t live in that place another minute, you follow me? All the bodies. People we knew. Blood. Brains everywhere. There’s ghosts!

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog must have noticed all the commotion, rushing into the courtyard.

Frowning hard, Rick demands to know, "What's goin' on? Why're they out here?"

Lowering his crossbow, Dad sneers, "Fellers got cold feet, is what I'm hearin'."

"We just can't live like that," The taller one says. "We can't."

"Why don't'cha move the bodies out?"

As Glenn herds me and Carl behind him, T-Dog scoffs, "You ain't done that, yet? You should be burnin' them."

"We tried," The blonde blubbers.

"The fence is down on the far side of the prison." The other explains, making everybody share tense glances with each other. A downed fence ain't good at all, if we wanna fortify this place. "Every time we drag a body out, those things just pile up."

Well, that's what they're best at. Piling up. That, and bitin' into people like they's burgers.

It's a bible-level miracle these two ain't dead, yet.

"Look," The weaselly little man says, becoming even more antsy at our prolonged silence. "We had nothing to do with Tomas and Andrew. You tryna prove a point? Yeah? W— You proved it, bro! I swear, we’ll do whatever it takes to be part of your group!"

When he gestures to me and Mouse, Dad's hands twitch around his crossbow.

"You—? You got a dog? I mean, that's awesome," He puffs. "Clearly, you been doin' well for yourselves. What's his name?"

"Don't'chu fuckin' talk to my daughter, man," Dad scolds him.

"It's just, I love— We love dogs. I actually used to have a labrado—"

"Man, will you stop?" His friend tuts. "Have some balls."

Mouse gives a little huff.

He don't like 'em, neither.

"I'm just sayin'," He sighs, "I really, really, really don't wanna go back to that cell block again. Please don't make us."

"Our deal is non-negotiable," Rick replies coldly. "You either live in your cell block, or you leave. We have kids here."

"We ain't pedos, mister. Swear!"

"Jesus Christ," Glenn mutters under his breath, because this guy is embarrassing.

"We ain't here to test that theory out," Dad scowls.

Rick agrees, "You even think about steppin' into our cell block, and you can consider yourselves dead."

"You know, I told you this was a waste of time," The tall one scoffs, smart enough to ditch the begging route. "These guys ain’t no different than the pricks who shot up our boys. You know how many friends’ corpses we had to drag out this week? Just threw ‘em out-like. Those were good guys! Good guys who had our backs against the really bad dudes in this joint, like Tomas and Andrew!"

None of these guys were put in here for no reason.

Everybody used to say that only bad guys went to prison, but I never believed that. I saw the people I cared about be rounded into cop cars and driven away into the night more time than I cared to count, always watching the flashing lights disappear down the road while standing on the porch with Merle, shivering in the wind in my pyjamas. No, I knew it was only people the police ain't liked that went to prison.

Whether it was because they was murderers, or brawlers, or tax-dodgers; or if they had only given 'em a sour look.

My Dad, he was all'a those things, but it weren't no sour look that got him put in handcuffs in the end.

He ain't like Herschel and Dale. Ain't all good. He's nasty and he swears and he's killed people, but that's only part of him.

I feel a little bad for these two.

They're clueless, like babies. They don't even got a word for the walkers, yet. But I know that even though our group love my Dad for who he is, and they know he's been to prison, and that it don't make him all bad, they won't feel the same way for these two strangers.

The most important thing we have is each other.

I've seen first-hand what we do to anybody that threatens that.

"Now, we’ve all made mistakes to get in here, chief," The man continues uselessly. "And I’m not gonna pretend to be a saint, but believe me — We paid our due. Enough that we would rather hit the road, than to go back into that shithole for one more second."

He doesn't know he's just described to a T what's about to happen.

Rick levels them with an indifferent look. "Then you're on the road."

His face falls.

And it's probably not because he won't get to pet Mouse.

"We'll die out there."

Again, Rick shrugs.

Raising his crossbow once more, Dad herds them outta the courtyard and into the field.

Author's note.

I enjoyed writing this chapter! Probably because nothing bad happened. We have low standards here at Harley D. Dixon.

As always, I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading! 💙

@poetoflawed

[thaoilations]

Mimi had seen the picture on pinterest and smiled, saving the image to her board she had based around her and her girlfriend. Thao was laying beside her, watching tiktoks on her phone and was laughing at them every so often, showing Mimi the videos. It was the portion of the evening that Mimi liked to call having ‘alone time together.’ where they just did their own thing, quietly whilst enjoying each others company in a low maintenance way. Mimi tapped her girlfriend, who paused her tiktok and turned to her as much as she could, expecting Mimi to ask for a kiss because that’s what she usually did when she’d tap her. On habit, Thao shifted her body a bit closer and Mimi giggled at this, leaning in and kissing her anyway. When she pulled away she held up her phone with the picture on it.

“I wanted to ask you if we could remake this for me.” She requested and Thao looked at it.

“I mean yeah. Gotta get the fabric paint for it though.” She confirmed, turning to her tiktok and continuing to watch the storytime about how someone drove into a ditch on their drive to work. That was the last Mimi thought of it, continuing to mindlessly scroll until she got bored and wanted to curl herself up into her girlfriend and watch the tiktoks on her for you page before inevitably falling asleep on her.

Two weeks later, it was a Saturday afternoon and the two of them were walking through a craft store together. Thao needed to buy some supplies for her class, and Mimi was happily tagging along, snagging herself pretty pink paint samples and following her girlfriend off in a daydream as she sipped at the starbucks frappuccino Thao lovingly bought her to keep her quiet for a little bit.

They strolled past the fabric paint aisle as T checked the checklist in her notes app of items she needed to purchase and Mimi’s eyes suddenly lit up when she remembered the pinterest picture she so badly wanted to recreate. She pulled a small black tube of it off the shelf and slid it into the basket Thao was holding, who didn’t really pay it much mind.

Later on, when Thao had finished all her work for the day and was giving her girlfriend the attention she so adamantly needed — Mimi ran off to change into a cool toned Barbie baby pink tank top, ditching the bra beneath because she didn’t want the paint to transfer through. She marched Thao into the kitchen, explaining what she needed to do.

“Ew the paint is gonna be all slimy on my hands.” Thao huffed in complaint as Mimi stood beside her, watching her lean over the sink and pour some paint into her hands, rubbing them together so they transferred evenly across her palms and fingers until they were perfectly coloured in the opaque paint. Mimi giggled excitedly as Thao pulled her hands back, holding them out carefully infront of her as she nodded at the brunette.

“Alright turn around.” She instructed and Mimi did so, making sure her hair was out the way. Thao snaked her hands carefully beneath Mimis arms being sure they didn’t graze her, watching carefully over her shoulder for the placement before pressing them to her boobs creating a handprint on the tank top. Mimi giggled, and it even made Thao chuckle at how they must’ve looked in that moment.

“Okay I think they should be done.” Mimi turned her face to look at her girlfriend who was deeply in focus.

“Nah I think they need more time.” Thao joked making Mimi laugh, careful not to move too much.

“Would you get off.” She joked back.

“You cold?” Thao raised an eyebrow in reference to Mimi’s chest reacting to the room temperature beneath her hands making Mimi’s cheeks turn pink.

“Stop!” She squeaked and T laughed, removing her hands and standing back. Mimi looked down, turning to Thao and showing her the results. “Hows that?” Mimi pondered softly and T nodded, seeming happy with her handiwork.

“Looks good.” She commended before turning to the sink, eyeing her palms. “This shit better come off.”

Mimi carefully took the tank top off to let it dry, and Thao spent the rest of the night reminding Mimi why her hands deserved to be commemorated where they were.

[parkers-gal]

can you do a best!friends to lovers with a really affectionate reader and flustered peter?

requests are open (a lil slow tho)

wc: 1.3k

—

If Peter had a penny for every time you wanted to touch him in some remote way, he’d probably be rich. If he had a penny for every time he wanted you to touch him, well then he’d be the wealthiest man alive.

Maybe you were obvious, or maybe touch was your love language. Peter wasn’t sure why he was speaking it, though. You weren’t dating — hell, you weren’t even together. Of course, Peter had those feelings for you. Of course he longed to have you in his embrace for as long as he could bear — which, granted, was a lot. He tries not to think about it, because if he does, he knows you won’t ever leave his mind.

Not that you normally do, but still.

For the first year of college, May insisted Peter take the dormitory grant that came with his scholarship. Tony knew the expenses were difficult for May, so he offered to help out. It took awhile for her to agree, but it happened nonetheless.

It’s where the two of you normally hang out. Occasionally, the two of you are found at a picnic table near your favorite tree or the library, but most days you’re slouching in his bed with a book in front of you. He always takes the desk; he’s polite that way.

“Hey, Pete.” You’re entering his dorm without even knocking, surprising Harry who’s slipping a shirt on in the corner.

“Jesus!” Harry’s caught off guard and Peter chuckles. You laugh, kissing Peter’s cheek before situating your belongings on the bed, backpack slipping off your shoulders smoothly. Harry eyes Peter knowingly, who’s a blushing mess. He rolls his eyes at the wall crawler before bidding goodbye while closing the door on his way out.

“Can you help me with Rodrigo’s work?” The two of you have the same lecture at different times, so studying is a lot more convenient. Peter looks up from his notebook before his face melts into a soft smile, nodding with a gentle “okay.”

You’re scooting over on the small mattress. Peter carefully slides in next to you, eyes finding the examples you’re working on. You lean into his side so you don’t fall off the bed, arm going under his so your arms are linked. He tries not to blush too much, but he knows he’s failed when he feels his face heat up exponentially.

He starts discussing the first page with you, and you’re nodding along before you lean your head on his shoulder. He tries to focus — god, he tries so damn hard to focus — but you’re so close, leaning into him like he’s the only thing supporting you, the only thing keeping you up. He’s trying, but you’re right there next to him, right in his reach, right there at his touch. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, so close he can hear your heartbeat in his ears without even focusing on it.

“Y’alright?” You bring him out of his daze after you notice his words have slowed until he’s frozen, staring at you.

“Uhm- uh… y-yeah. I’m- I’m fine.” He rubs his forehead, wiping the palms of his hands on his denim-clad thigh.

You stifle a laugh. “Are you sure?” You grin slyly, noticing his rising state of flux.

“Mhm.” He merely hums in response, not trusting his words.

The sunlight that comes in through the window, hits your face cooly, and he sucks in a breath. You look like a goddess — like something from those aesthetic pinterest boards you always show him. You’re calm yet encapsulating, and he’s suffocating on you. He’s okay with that, though. It feels too good to slow it down or stop it altogether.

Peter finishes his train of thought before joining you in completing the assignments from your lecture. You’re cracking jokes along the way, laughing so hard you can’t contain yourself. Peter doesn’t bother staying on track either. You’re so close he’s practically drunk on you.

After ten minutes of goofing off, you slide down, laying your head in Peter’s lap while you inquire about nothing in relation to your lecture’s work.

“Pete,” You speak childishly, and he chuckles at your demeanor. “How long do your webs last?”

“Usually four hours. Why?”

“No reason.” You reach for his hands, playing with his lanky fingers, separating them and smoothing over the grooves and rough edges as you relax atop him. He feels his face burning up again, but concludes you’re just absentmindedly playing with his hands.

“Do you have to make it yourself all the time or does Mr. Stark do it now?”

“Both.” You grab his other hand, now, repeating what you’ve done with his right hand. “Mr. Stark makes it for my suit but I’m coming up with updates.”

You hum, intertwining your fingers with his before letting your hands rest on your chest. He hopes you won’t look up and notice how red he’s gotten. Your hands fit into his so well.

Stop that Peter. He’s trying to humble himself, calm himself down and convince himself that you’re just an affectionate person.

Then again, he’s never seen you greet anyone else with a kiss on the cheek, so he could be wrong. He doesn’t think of it too much, because after five minutes, you sit up, unlinking your hands. Peter tries not to seem too disappointed, but it’s obvious in the way he deflates.

“Cuddle?” You ask softly, almost as if the silence has tired you out. It’s barely eight-thirty, but Peter smiles in agreement anyways.

You return his smile softly, moving your supplies off the bed and laying down, hugging him tightly while you inhale his scent, breathing deeply in relief.

“How are you always so warm?”

He chuckles. “Maybe you’re always cold.” “Then you need to fix that.” You’re mumbling into his skin. “You’re the one with the warmth.” He hums and the vibrations make you giggle.

Inside, Peter’s heart is clambering against his ribcage. He prays you can’t hear it, but he’s positive you wouldn’t need a spider sense to pick up on how nervous he is.

“You- uh… are you tired?”

“Mhm.” You confirm it, eyes closing lazily.

“You could sleep over, y’know. I know you don’t have a lecture until eleven, so…” He trails off and you laugh at him.

“I can really sleep over? You don’t mind?”

His tongue clicks. “Of course I don’t mind. You know that.”

“I know.” You smile cheekily. “Nice to hear it every once ‘n awhile, though.”

He laughs and it shakes you up, his chest bouncing underneath you. You hold him tighter, arms wrapping around him. His laugh quiets as that shuts him up. “Y-yeah I… I get it.”

You laugh again at the stumble over his words. “You’re silly.”

“Sure.”

With an eye roll, you exhale against him, arms instinctively taking home against his abdomen. With the flutter of your eyes, you fall asleep.

When you awake, Peter’s sitting at his desk doing work. It’s only just past nine o’clock, yet you realize how much you’ve slept. You rub the sleep from your eyes, a yawn slipping past your lips, alarming Peter that you’re awake.

“G’morning, sleepyhead. Sleep well?”

You grin. “Always, with you.”

He smiles and you stand up, wrinkles on your shirt flattened by your hands. “I should go so I can get ready for class.” Peter hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll be back in twenty.” You kiss his cheek before leaving him in the room.

When you’re gone, Peter exhales, his nerves settling.

“When’re you gonna ask her out?” Harry breaks the silence, emerging from under the covers. Peter jumps, surprised and startled at the sound of a new voice.

“Don’t do that, Harry.” Peter grumbles, resuming his work.

“Do what?” He smirks. Peter rolls his eyes in response. “I’m just saying, man.” He slips on some sweatpants, abandoning the covers.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs, pondering his words. “Soon.”

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

Five times Jo asks Alex to dance and the one time she asks someone new.

The first time Jo and Alex ever dance together, they’re just friends. It’s new…their friendship. Alex isn’t exactly sure what to call it, in the space of two weeks she went from the annoying intern he was happy to keep as nothing more than a work colleague to the person he spent most of his time with. In the last week, she’s spent more nights on his couch than at home and they’ve grabbed dinner together every day. It’s funny they seemed to have fallen into this pattern without any real thought, it was the day after Ben and Bailey’s wedding they’d become inseparable, she’d sought him out at the end of shift insisting she needed pizza and beer and that he was paying thanks to the raging hangover she was sure was his fault.

He didn’t hate it...having her around all time that is. Which surprised him, it had been a long time since Alex had genuinely enjoyed being in someone else’s company for such a long period of time. Even now when Jos’ has one too many beers and is singing along loudly (and out of tune) to Taylor Swift (not Alex’s choice of course) he finds himself happy just to sit and watch her.

“Oh this is my favorite Alex, come dance with me,” Jo calls from where she’s spinning around in the kitchen. She’s reaching out for him, her warm hand against his forearm pulling him towards her.

“I don’t dance.” Alex protests, remaining firmly in his seat. Shaking his head as she continues to pull at him. He tries to keep his smile at bay but he’s secretly amused by the way she attempts to give him a puppy dog look.

“Don’t or can’t?”

“Both…whatever answer gets you away from me.” He grumbles, trying to remove her grip on his arm but she’s quick, tangling their fingers together and giving him another tug.

“Come on Alex…everyone can dance. Just one dance…pretty please.”

He groans but drops his beer bottle down on the counter and follows Jo back to her makeshift dance floor.

“One dance…and you’ll leave me alone?” He asks, cocking his head to the side as he sets one hand on her hip, the other still gripped in hers tightly. He doesn’t know the song well but he finds himself slowly swaying to the beat.

“I won’t bother you until at least tomorrow.” Jo reasons, smiling softly, a triumphant glint in her eyes that makes Alex think he should stop letting her get her way.

Alex's breath hitches as Jo lays her head against his chest a moment later, he’s sure she can feel the way his heart pounds in his chest. They stay that way for the rest of the song, just swaying back and forth and Alex is surprised to find himself actually enjoying holding Jo so close.

“See… dancing isn't that bad right?”

He pulls her closer, tighter until her chest was pressed flush against his. “No…no you're right, this is pretty good.”

The second time they danced was a couple of years later. They’ve just finished furnishing the loft, and Jos’ even surprised herself with how it had turned out. It really felt like a home…their home.

“I know you’re gonna say a record player is pointless, but it looks cute and before you laugh they were on like every Pinterest board I saw so we have to have one.” Jo reasons, hoping this wouldn’t turn into another disagreement as the throw pillows had. Apparently, because it looks good isn’t a good reason to spend money on Alex’s book.

Secretly she loves every argument/discussion they have. There's just something about them discussing their home, her first proper home that fills her with such joy.

Setting up the record player was easy. Jo had found it a nice home against the window of what she’d marked out to be the living room. She’d even picked up a few old records from the store, Elvis, The Beatles, even Ella Fitzgerald.

She set the record on the turntable and brought down the needle, then closed the lid. There was the crackle of static as the vinyl began to spin.

She reached for his hand during the first verse. “Dance with me?” Jo suggested her voice barely above a whisper. “I know you hate dancing but indulge me this one time.” She insists as he reluctantly places his hands in hers, allowing her to pull him in, their chests brushing up against each other as his hand finds her hip and he holds her against him warm and steady.

They sway like that for the duration of the song and Jo takes the time to scan their newfound home. It's everything she'd hoped it would be and more. She feels Alex's hand fidgeting over her spine as the song comes to an end as if he's contemplating ending their dance before she feels his fingertips drift lower, coming to rest on the small of her back.

“You’re happy right? I know you kinda hated this place at first but…”

“I’m more than happy…” He whispers, leaning back as he brings one hand up to rest against her cheek, brushing the loose hair from her bun behind her ear gently. Jo relaxes against him, letting her worries go at his reassuring words. “I’m home.”

The third time they dance together, Alex surprised them both by being the one to ask Jo to dance. They’re at their makeshift engagement party that the kids on the peds ward had insisted on having when Alex informed them all they couldn’t attend the wedding. It felt kinda surreal, to see various hospital staff all filter in as a handful of his patients gather in the family room. All these people gathered to celebrate him and Jo. He’s not sure how he’d ever got so lucky.

“For everyone who doesn’t know Dr. Alex and Dr. Jo are getting married this weekend…” Kimmy announces, tapping the microphone on the makeshift stage as everyone turns towards her. “And all of us here just wanted to wish you both a huge congratulations.” Alex feels a surge of emotion, as Jo wraps an arm around his waist resting her head against his shoulder. Her eyes were a little watery, maybe she was feeling just as overwhelmed as he was.

“So I thought I’d sing a little something for you both.” Kimmy grins, and Alex gives her a small nod, rolling his eyes as the familiar tune from Beauty and The Beast begins. Now it makes sense why she’d been practicing it all week.

“Think we should dance?” He asks, turning towards Jo.

“You wanna dance? You never wanna dance with me.”

Alex furrows his eyebrows at her statement, wrapping an arm around her waist, swaying them gently, “I never wanna dance full stop but with you…with you it’s definitely bearable.”

Jo rolls her eyes “Charming.”

Alex just chuckles as he takes a step back, keeping his hand firmly in hers. When their arms are outstretched, he tugs on her hand until she gets the memo and twirls back toward him. Alex catches her by the waist, grinning down at her as she laughs warmly.

Cheers erupt around them but Alex can’t bring himself to tear his gaze from Jo. She’s gonna be his wife and he for one can’t wait.

“I aim to please” He mutters before pulling her in closer, pressing his lips to hers as a few groans from the younger patients sound.

The fourth time they dance is a given. Their first dance as husband and wife, sure it's not the reception they planned but Avery's penthouse with everyone they care about most in the world feels as close to perfect as you can get.

“Come dance with your wife.” Jo cries as she makes her way through the crowd, reaching out for Alex who’s taken a seat at the kitchen island. He’d been enjoying a moment to just watch everyone around him. Days like this full of love and happiness were kinda rare to find.

“Jo, you know I hate dancing.” He whines but he's already on his feet, allowing her to guide him back through the crowd. He’s not gonna deny her today, not like he ever denied her before either.

She just smiles, and god it makes his heartache knowing that’s the smile he’s gonna wake up to every day for the rest of his life. “I know you say you hate dancing but I think you secretly like it.”

He turned his hand over in hers, wrapping his fingers around her palm before pulling her to him by the waist. Jo’s free arm sliding up to his shoulder as they spun slowly.

“Thank you…”

“For what?”

“Dancing with me even though you hate it.”

He holds their joint hands in the air, letting Jo turn herself away from him. She’s only out of his grip for a split second before she twirls back into him. He catches her, tips her backward until her hair is dangling down over his knee.

“I’ll always dance with you,” Alex whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before helping her stand straight again. He can hear the buzz of the party around them, see the bright light of flash go off somewhere as Jo wraps her hands around his neck, hiding her face against him.

“Should’ve put that in our vows.”

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, arms wrapped around each other swaying to whatever song is playing whether a slow dance suits it or not. They might be in a room full of their closest friends and chosen family but neither one can focus on anyone else.

“It’s funny…” Jo mumbles after a while, lifting her head so she can meet Alex’s gaze.

“What’s that?” Alex asks, his thumb tracing a soft pattern against the small of her back as her left hand sorts out his.

“In those lifetime movies, I used to watch. You wait the whole movie for the couple to kiss in the last five seconds and then you just assume that they end up together…in reality, it’s probably never a happy ever after.”

Alex frowns, he’s not quite sure what Jo was getting at but if she was doubting what happens next she shouldn’t. If they could make it through today and still end up married and all in one piece then they could make it through every day that came next.

“We don’t have to worry about that.” He smiles, the hand still clutching hers lifting a little higher so she can see the light catch against her wedding set as he runs his thumb across them.

“No, we don’t.”

The last time they dance together is a couple of days before Alex leaves. He seems to have thrown himself into work the last few weeks. He’s so busy he’s almost never home. They’re like ships passing in the night and Jo’s not ashamed to admit she misses her husband.

“Come on…” She mutters, turning the radio up slightly so the music can be heard over in the kitchen, holding her hand out to Alex who’s been staring at various charts since he’d arrived home in the early hours of the morning.

“Not now Jo…I’m exhausted okay?” He sighs brushing her hand away as he turns back to the pages before him.

Jo shakes her head refusing to take no for an answer as she carefully takes the documents from his hand. Setting them down on the table. She cups his cheek, turning his face towards her. “One dance. Come on.”

She watches the internal argument he’s having with himself, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

“Alex you promised…you’d always dance with me...for better or worse...till death do us part?”

He tenses at her words closing his eyes, but before Jo can even question it he’s up, slipping his hand into hers, leading them towards the empty space between the kitchen and the unused dining table with a frown.

“I know Mr. Grumpy…you hate dancing, you've told me before.”

“That’s Dr. Grumpy to you.”

Jo drops his hand only to lift her arms around his neck and Alex sets his hands loosely on her waist.

“I love you.” He breathes after a moment. He leans his head over her shoulder and drops a kiss to the side of her head, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist.

Jo smiles softly at his words as Alex presses her hand into his chest, over his heartbeat. They're gonna be okay, she's sure of it. They hold onto one another, dancing slowly as the song continues.

“I love you too, Dr. Grumpy.”

They keep swaying even as the song ends and another begins, Jo can’t remember what song had played next, but she knows they’d danced to it anyway.

Jo didn't dance much after Alex left. Didn't do much of anything that reminded her of him. She’d got rid of nearly every trace of him. She’d gone into survival mode and removed every last reminder of him from her life. That is except for the few things she just couldn’t bear to lose.

His shirt…the first one she’d ever borrowed. Back when they were just friends and she was crashing on his couch after one too many beers. The same shirt that’s now hanging loosely off her shoulder as she tries to tidy up after her rambunctious toddler, who’s currently making a mess pulling every record out from its cover and onto the floor.

Their wedding album hurt too much to keep. She couldn’t skim the pages without feeling sick. But she keeps one photo…she can’t not. There’s one photo taken at their wedding reception, Jo wasn't even aware of it being taken at the time. She's mid-spin, her hair fanning out around her, hand clutching Alex's tightly above her head. She looks so happy and carefree in that photo but that's not the reason she kept it, no she kept it because of the way Alex's looking at her in it. Like she was the only one in the room. He looks at her so intently that just the photo sets a fire deep inside her. No matter how painful the ending was, she knew how truly loved she was by him.

“Mommy…princess dress?” Luna asks, pulling the worn photo from its hiding space in an old record sleeve. Of course, she's found it, she’s into every draw and cupboard she can reach these days. Her eyes shine as she shakes the photo in Jo's direction.

“Yeah, mommy had a princess dress,” Jo agrees, lifting Luna up from the floor and settling them both on the couch. She’s too young to know that it's a wedding, too little to ask who the man holding her mother is. She was just excited that her mom looked like one of her favorite Disney characters. Jo stares down at the photo, it's not lost on her that she's sitting in the same spot the dance took place.

“Hey, Lulu?” Jo hums, pressing a kiss to the little girl's hair as she wriggles in her lap. “Shall we have a dance party?”

Jo hasn’t had much time to dance these last few years, hadn’t had much desire too but as she stares down at her daughter she suddenly feels the urge to dance again.

Luna nods, as Jo lifts her up off her lap before turning towards the old record player in the corner. She wipes her hand across the dust that’s settled on it before opening it up, taking a second for the slow melody to filter out. When she turns back Luna is already twirling around, her tutu flowing out around her.

Jo laughs as she lifts her baby girl up onto her hip, spinning them both. She throws her head back laughing as Luna squeals in delight, ordering Jo to keep spinning until they're both dizzy and their giggles drown out the music.

[realcube]

christmas gifts you give haikyuu!! characters and how they react 🎁

pairings: daichi x reader, sugawara x reader , akaashi x reader, bokuto x reader, yachi x reader

tw// swearing, she/her reader

Daichi Sawamura 

you got him a toiletries set!

y’all both agreed to keep it simple and small in terms of christmas gifts

so you just bought him the first toiletries set you found in the shop

it wasn’t necessarily cheap, you probably got him a branded one so you were confident in the fact that the product wouldn’t give him a rush or anything

he found the gift really cute, especially because he got you a eau de toilette 

great minds think alike i guess

(but because he was lost when it came women’s perfume he spent a while with the sales person, bombarding them with question - not to be rude but just so he doesn’t something you hate)

(”so, she has [e/c] eyes - what sort of scent would suit that?” he asked the perplexed sales assistant.)

anyway, he really liked the gift and he gave you many kisses (づ￣ 3￣)

it also brought him great relief that you bought him something small - like he bought you - so he didn’t look like fool 

Kōshi Sugawara

you made him a cute hamper!

filled with a plushie, chocolate, sweets, some toiletries, a water bottle, a necklace and a few polaroid pictures of you and him 

he adored it

literally as soon as he opened it and noticed the amount of effort you must’ve put into it, he wrapped you in the biggest hug and gave you all the kisses （〃｀ 3′〃）

and he loved every single item in that box as well; like, he admired how well you knew him

it kinda made him feel bad about the gift he gave you because the theme y’all decided on was ‘handmade’ and yeah..you arranged the hamper yourself but you must’ve bought most of the contents

while sugawara went handmade handmade and created a scrapbook of y’alls relationship so far 

you assured him it was fine though because his gift was so fkn cute like- how could you be mad?

anyway, sugawara loved the gift so much that he put it up on a table as a decoration of sorts because it looked so pretty

and he only took the first thing out of the hamper in February because it was so well-made and he hated to ruin it

Keiji Akaashi

you got him a book/library scented candle and a DVD of your favourite  movie!

you and akaashi decided to do a thing that you saw on pinterest where you exchange copies of your favourite books but added a bit ✨spice✨

this was only because akaashi’s (and perhaps your) favourite ‘book’ was in fact a fan fiction in the internet so the next best thing he could think of was giving you a DVD of his favourite movie

as for the candle, the orginal plan was just to do the DVD exchange  but when you saw the book scented candle in a store while shopping for cards, you just had to buy it

like a decent person, you texted akaashi saying you bought him a lil’ something extra so he did the same and bought you a simple, dainty bracelet with your initials on it 

it wasn’t even an issue either bc he was a whole list on his notes app which consisted of things he could buy you for any occasion and it’s like 2 pages long

anyway, when y’all exchanged gift of the day, of course he loved your taste in DVD for him 

“Barbie and A Christmas Carol?” He inquired, resisting the urge to smile. 

“A classic.”

As for the candle - as much as he liked to savour gifts like that - once he got a whiff of it’s amazing scent, he just had to light it immediately

needless to say, he loved it - unable to hide how happy to scent made him and the fact that it was from you just made it ten times nicer (╹ڡ╹ )

so, your christmas with akaashi smelled like the library and looked like cuddling by the fireplace, watching the movies you exchanged 

Kōtarō Bokuto

you got him a massive, fluffy blanket! (like, 150x200cm)

ok so i have a headcanon bokuto is a huge cuddle bug!

after an intense volleyball match; all he wants to do is go home, take a shower, eat and then cuddle with you 🥺

literally anywhere, he is not picky: on the couch, in bed, on the floor, the dinner table works too, the carpet- anywhere!

but he is picky about temperature - especially after showers 

since he takes cold showers (bc he is an athlete >:) ) whenever he gets out, he wants to warm up immediately so he’s always complaining while y’all cuddle

“(Y/N).” He whined, “Stop stealing all the blanket; I need some too! My feet are sticking out and they are cold!”  

“(Y/N), my perfect angel lady.” He spoke sweetly, like he always does when he wants something, “Turn the radiator on? I’m freezing..”

“Why can’t you do it, Bo?” You groaned.

“Because I am asleep.” Cue unrealistic, exaggerated snores

anyway, you had known for a while that a big fluffy blanket would solve all your cuddling problems but it took you a while to find an affordable, good quality one

and once you did, christmas approaching anyway so you held off giving it to him until then 

and as soon as he tore the present open and laid eyes on the solution to his temperature issues, he freaked out v(ﾟДﾟ)v

“FUCK YES!” he yelled, squeezing the warm blanket to chest and appreciating it how fluffy it is, “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!

he didn’t stop beaming for the rest of the day

and he insisted you try out the blanket with him immediately so he was just laying on the couch, the blanket draped over him with his arms wide open and an inviting space beside him

“Let’s give it a test-drive! I’ll put on a movie!” He lured, fiddled with the remote as he waited for you to lay down beside him.

You laughed, gently sitting down next to him before sinking into his arms, allowing him to toss the blanket over you

3 movies later, the sun had went down and you were both still snuggled up beside each other, slowly finding yourselves drifting off 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He whispered in reference to how great the blanket was how thoughtful you are to have given him the best gift ever, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bo.” You said softly, smiling into his chest at how much he liked you gift - be proud 💕

Hitoka Yachi

you got her a cute stationary set!

yachi is definitely one of those girls that takes the most beautiful notes and put a lot of effort into their school work

like she has a new notebook for every unit of every subject, a highlighting scheme, stickers for decoration, the prettiest study planner and the most detailed diagrams

and she always has dainty notebooks, adorable washi tapes, glittery highlight, cool pencil cases and those pens with cute lil’ sanrio characters at the ends 

needless to say, she goes through her stationary pretty quickly with how organised she likes to keep her stuff

especially her pens because she uses them to not only take her mass amounts of notes, but to also do little doodles on the side of her jotter or on her hand 

oh! and at lunch, you’d shuffle over to her desk to compare Pinterest boards or revise together and you’d notice the cute little drawings of flowers, smilies, sparkles and hearts on her hand ✨❤

yachi would notice the mesmerised look in your eyes and offer to draw on your hand too and obviously you said yes so you’d go around the rest of the day with matching doodles on your hand with yachi ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ💓

and whenever y’all go shopping together, you notice how her gaze lingers on the cutesy stationary in a shop’s window for a bit longer than she should 

so of course you bought her the one she’s been staring at

and she was absolutely ecstatic 

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! These are so cute!” she shifted through the many types of stationary in the bundle, “I’m gonna use these all the time.” q(≧▽≦q)

You smiled, quite chuffed with yourself before sitting yourself beside her and putting your hand on her knee, “Yachi?” 

Yachi giggled as that tone was all too familiar

so she popped open one of the pens and began sketching away on the back of your hand; drawing little candy canes, gingerbread men, snowmen, snowflakes and other festive things.

[heyheshi]

Episode

2k words

written and uploaded: August 13, 2020

🦋 - fluff

🌙 - angst...?

💎 - mention of smut...?

Please like and reblog! Also please don't post my writings anywhere!

This is supposed to be a blurb but oh well! And please please REBLOG! I want to get my works out there and likes isn't doing anything. And don't be a ghost reader that doesn't even like my post. By next month, I'll be blocking ghost and silent readers (doesn't reblog). Hope you understand!

Masterlist

_________

"Baby pay attention to meee!", Harry plopped down beside you on your shared bed, "what're you doing anyway?", putting his head on your shoulder as he squints his eyes.

You turned your head a bit and pecked his nose, "told ya I was gonna play Episode! Just bought these gems and tickets.", looking back to your phone, you made your choice - Kiss Max.

"That awfully looks like you.", H murmured, still not taking his head off your shoulders.

You've been playing this game since the lockdown started. Weird? Probably. For an adult like you who's dating the Harry Styles, yes. In your defense, it's a fun game. It does get boring on some days and the domestic stuff gets tiring so you play this game to relax a bit.

And no, Harry is not boring, he just happened to have a life and a hobby - unlike you and when he's working out or writing, you're stuck with whatever it is that can occupy you and so you found this game!

"I know! It's so cool cause I really feel like I'm in this game!", you continued to read the lines on your phone screen not paying attention to your boyfriend, "look!"

"Stop making out with that avatar!", Harry playfully said as he lays down to bed.

"I made a premium choice so...", you shrugs, "and isn't he just cute??!", you felt Harry put his hands on your waist and tried to drag you down beside him but you didn't budge.

H answered you in a monotone voice, "Yea sure.", putting both of his hand at the back of his head then closing his eyes.

"C'mon! Don't be rude! I designed him!"

Opening his left eye, "well sorry to break it to you but you can't design a real life boyfriend."

"Thank god I play this game then, ain't it?", you jokingly responded but it seems like your boyfriend is a grumpy baby today, only answering you with 'whatever'.

"Stop that!", hitting your boyfriend's tummy playfully, "I can style you anyways Mister Harry Styles, so I'm good.", you continued, emphasizing his surname.

"I think I'm gonna go grab some snack downstairs.", your boyfriend quickly get out of your bed and walked out of your room leaving you dumbfounded.

'Whatever', your mind subconsciously screamed so you just went back to your game, getting comfortable sitting with your back against the headboard. 

This is not the first time it happened, there are some days when Harry is a complete 180, but hey, everyone has a bad day and he's not an exemption.

Shaking your head as if to clear your head, you went back to your game. You realized that you just started a new chapter yet your boyfriend hasn't made his appearance back.

Making a mental note of checking on him after this chapter, you continued your game until he walked in your room again holding a bag of chips and a bottle of water.

Patting the space beside you, "Whatcha got in there, baby?", already knowing the answer, you asked anyway.

He only raised the food on his hands and made his way beside you. He did not say a word, only stared at the blank wall in front of him as he started eating his chips.

"Can you feed me some?", you tried to coo your boyfriend but he only passed you the bag, still not paying attention to you.

Feeling defeated and annoyed, you rolled your eyes and ignored your boyfriend as you finished the chapter you are playing.

"Kissy!", you made a grabby hands at Harry as you jutted your bottom lips only for you to get ignored, once again. "What's up with you?", you turned off your game and looked at him with pointed eyes.

"Oh so now you paying attention to me. Nice."

"Wha- are you, you know, horny...? Is that it...?", you tried to tickle him but still no nothing.

"Can you let me eat my chips at peace? Why won't you go back to that game of yours."

"What? No. I'm asking you a question Harry.", your patience is wearing off and your boyfriend is clearly the reason. Everything is so peachy.

Finally looking at you, he answered sarcastically, "I was asking for your affection earlier but you didn't pay attention."

"What the hell H!", rubbing your face until something clicked, "oh no! Oh no!", you started laughing while Harry looked at you like you're a lunatic of some sort.

"What now?"

"Oh no! No no no no no!", the pissed off face of your boyfriend did not help but to make you laugh harder to the point where your stomach starts hurting.

"Y/N stop that!", H whined, stuffing his face with chips.

"Wait!", trying to calm down, "I think I know what's up with you...", getting a pillow and hugging it and sitting up straighter, you continued, "are you... jealous?"

Harry mimicked you, sitting up straight, "I am not jealous.", eating more of the chips as he looks at you dead in the eyes.

"Oh baby, you are so jealous!", you continued to tease your boyfriend, poking his body multiple times.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are! I know you!"

H put his chips on his bedside table and cleaned his hand with a rubbing alcohol then facing you again, "no. I'm not even laughing!", looking at your eyes again, trying to make a point.

"If it was other people, maybe you would've fooled them, but not me! I know that look! And that eyes! Just admit it! You're jealous Harry!", the look on your boyfriends face made you stop laughing.

"Fine! What if I am?"

You take a hold of his hands, "baby, you can't seriously be jealous over a fictional character...", you tried to hold on your laughs for the sake of Harry.

"It's not that!", H removed his hands from yours and laid down.

"Then what is it? Tell me, please.", you removed the pillow on your thighs as you maneuver near his head and put it on your thighs instead.

You waited for an answer but received none. 

"Baby it's just an avatar...", running your right hand thru his hair then pecked his nose.

"I know. God, I know! I'm just being stupid, forget it.", he hides his face on your legs but it's too late, you already saw the redness on his face.

"Tell me please, baby."

Harry answered you with inaudible voice so you his head on a place where you can see his face and hear him properly, "come again H?"

"I said I wasn't jealous of that stupid avatar, I-", you looked at him accusingly and he sighed, "okay, fine! Was jealous of the avatar and the game. Just wanted your loving but you weren't paying attention to me and it made me realize that any guy can have your attention. I mean that avatar got you hooked already! And that's only a game... what if it's a real guy? Someone who'll be with you all the time and not someone who's on the other side of the world half of the time?"

"Oh love...", you pulled his body up as a sign for him to sit down and he did, "first of all I'm sorry for ignoring you, it won't happen again, I promise.", you kissed his left cheek twice and continued, "second, there will be no other guy! You understand me, H?", cupping his face with your hands so he'll look at you in the eyes.

"But you're probably bored that's why yo-"

"You, stop that. I would choose you every time, okay? Even with the premium choices in the game! I love you, and only you and there will be no other guy, okay?", you explained to him but his face still looks sad.

"I love you, you know that, right Harry?"

"I do and I'm so honored that you do and I love you too Y/N."

"See! There's nothing else to worry about, yeah?", you can see his smile trying to creep back, "now, kissy? Pleaseee!"

Finally, your boyfriend kissed you, pinning you close to his body and taking you both down to the bed. The kiss is soft, slow and sweet until you decided to break it.

Harry whined, "what now?"

"I can start a new story on Episode and make an avatar look like you! Or you can install it too and get a revenge? Or i don't know make it look like me?", you offered as you sit up again.

"How about you delete it and play with your real boyfriend? Hmmm? Sounds good?"

It sounds like a good deal, great deal. Spectacular actually, "but I just bought those gems and all..."

"Fine, but you're playing it with me. I can't have you kissing other guys even if it's fictional!"

You bopped his nose with your pointer finger, "okay deal! But only if you gave me some of your chips!", you reached across him to his bedside table for the bag only to find it empty.

"Uh oh..."

You straddled your boyfriend, "yes. Uh oh your self, Styles."

"Hmmm, are you trying to seduce me, future Missus Styles?", Harry raised his left eyebrow at you, also sitting up.

"What?"

"What what?", Harry chuckled.

"Yo- you just... you called me..."

"I did.", he said coolly.

You started playing with your fingers out of nervousness, "what do you me-"

"Marry me."

"What?", you alarmingly looked up to him only to see him getting something on his drawer on bedside table.

Pulling up a small square dark blue velvet box, Harry slowly opened it, "I know this isn't the most ideal proposal but I couldn't wait any longer. I had this ring for months now, waiting for the right time to give it to you. I was planning on doing one of those Pinterest worthy proposals like I saw on your board so I'm sorry to disappoint..."

You're crying at this point, "no, no no..."

Harry started closing the box at your answer.

"NO! Stop!", you hold Harry's hand to stop him from closing the box, "what I mean is, this is perfect, I- I don't need those Pinterest like proposal..."

"So are you saying...?"

"Yes! Yes yes! I'll marry you! Oh my God I'm deleting my Episode right now!", you started to remove your body from his but his big hands prevented you from doing so.

"We'll I'm glad that you're deleting it but...", Harry got the ring out of the box and took your left hand, slowly sliding it on your ring finger.

"It's beautiful. Gorgeous.", you looked into each other's eyes that's full of tears, smiling then meeting each other's lips.

You pulled away, out of breath. 

"So you're marrying me now.", Harry concluded.

"Did you just asked me to marry you cause you're jealous?", you poked fun at your now fiancé.

"I'm not answering that.", he took your phone from the bed and unlocked it, "are you sure you want to delete this?"

You nodded, "do the honors baby.", you smiled at him as he did so then kissing him again once the app was removed from your phone.

"I love you."

"I love you more H. I'm gonna pamper you tomorrow, promise. We'll do face masks and everything but for now, I think we need to... celebrate!", you winked at him while slowly pushing him down the bed, which is an easy task since you're still straddling him.

"We definitely do.", with that, Harry flipped the both of you so you're under him and hid yourself under the thick blankets on the bed.

You can guess what happened next. Let's just say that Harry kept you pretty well preoccupied for the next few hours until it was time for dinner.

And after the dinner, he made sure that both of your desserts are well served - if you know what I mean.

Who would have thought that Harry will propose to you at this day when he was just grumpy earlier? But oh, you're not complaining.

_____

[chachkayes]

The Journey to ‘I Do’ - Mer x Hayes

Wow. Okay. The 4th fic I was talking abt yesterday. Life kind of got in the way and really prevented me from finishing this one yesterday night like I’d wanted. This one is going to need a keep reading line because it is officially the longest fic I have literally ever written. It’s 4.2k words. 4.2k words of pure and utter love and fluff. This is the last fic you’ll be getting from me (aside from the Christmas fic on Christmas day) for awhile, because I go back to work this week and it’s Christmas week and also the week my final is due, which means I will be a busy bee over the next little while. I really hope you all like this fic, it’s one of my favourite ones I’ve ever written and I hope it gives you all as many feels as it did for me while I wrote it. And just a disclaimer, YES, I know they probably won’t get married on the show. But AU’s are fun to write, and everything I write is usually just for fun and to fulfill my own or someone else’s headcannons and hopes that are fun to think about. Okay, that’s all, enjoy :)

“A small wedding, Maggie. Please. That’s it.” Meredith begged her sister as she walked out of her house, heading to work. Maggie had been pestering Meredith to let her plan a more grandiose wedding since she’d been told that she could even plan the wedding at all. Mer and Hayes had been adamant about a small wedding right from the beginning, although Meredith more than Hayes. He would never admit it to anyone, but his boys had quickly warmed him up to the idea of a larger wedding that their friends and family from the hospital were invited to. He couldn’t decipher if it was just because Liam wanted a reason to party or if he genuinely cared, but he couldn’t help but entertain the idea as he lay next to his fiancée in bed at night.

Maggie smirked and turned to Amelia, who was laughing to herself as she listened in on Maggie and Meredith’s conversation. “You’re not gonna plan just a ‘small wedding’, are you?” She inquired. Maggie smirked at Amelia. “How well do you think Cristina Yang can keep a secret?” Maggie said, confirming Amelia’s suspicions. “Do you want me to talk to Jackson today when I go into work?” Amelia asked Maggie, officially hopping on board the crew of people who were working on the surprise wedding plans for Meredith and Hayes. Maggie’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, could you? That’d be amazing!” Maggie exclaimed as she flung open her laptop and added Amelia and Jackson’s name to the list of people who’d be helping out. The list already included the likes of Bailey, Richard, Jo, Link, Winston, Owen, and Teddy. 

As Amelia got into work, she quickly found and cornered Jackson. “Avery!” She yelled, diverting his attention away from his conversation with another staff member. “I- we, we need your help.” Jackson looked at Amelia, confused. “You need me for a consult or something?” He said, after excusing himself from his previous conversation. “No. Maggie and I. We, uh-“ She paused, looking around to make sure neither Hayes nor Meredith were around. “We’re hoping you could help us with a surprise for the wedding.” Jackson nodded in understanding. “Yeah, sure. What do you need?” He said as he crossed his arms and backed into a more private space for him and Amelia to talk about the wedding, knowing she wouldn’t want Meredith or Hayes to overhear. “We wanted to know if you could get in touch with Cristina. Get her over here for the wedding somehow.” Jackson raised his eyebrows at Amelia’s request. “I haven’t talked to Yang in a few months. But I’m sure I could make it happen. Okay, yeah, count me in.” He decided. Amelia grinned and gave Jackson a high-five. “Thank you!” Amelia squealed as she left the scan room.

“Oh, hey Avery. What’s up?” Cristina said as she answered the unexpected phone call from her friend and former colleague. “How well do you think you could keep a secret from Meredith and Hayes?” He asked, cutting right to the chase. “Probably pretty well. Why? What are you hooligans planning now?” She asked with a slight amusement in her voice. “We were hoping to fly you out so you could be there for their wedding. But we don’t want either of them to know.” Jackson explained. Cristina smiled behind the phone, intrigued at the idea of surprising her best friends at their wedding after she helped Hayes plan the engagement. “Wait, Meredith and Hayes are letting you guys plan a wedding for more people than just the two of them?” Cristina quipped back, knowing full well that Meredith was never a fan of having a wedding of her own. “No. Mer’s been unsurprisingly pretty adamant about having a small wedding. But she left the planning up to Maggie, and now half the hospital’s involved and neither of them know.” Cristina smirked. “Well in that case, absolutely. Just let me know a date and I’ll be there.” She told Jackson. “Great. Listen, I have to go now, but I’ll talk to you later and give you more details later.” He said as he received a page on his phone. From Meredith. ‘Great timing, Mer.’ He thought to himself. “Alright, bye Avery.” “Bye, Yang.” 

- 

Wedding dress shopping. The thing Meredith was admittedly looking forward to the least. However, her daughters wanted to see their mom get all dressed up in pretty dresses. And Jo, Amelia, and Maggie had begged her to try dresses on like starving puppies begging for food. How could she say no? She’d deprived them of the big friends and family wedding that they wanted, she couldn’t rid them of everything they were excited about. “Okay, before we go in, what did I say again?” Meredith said as she turned on her heel and stood to face her entourage, arms crossed. “Nothing expensive.” Maggie said. “Nothing poofy.” Amelia said. “And most of all, no sparkles.” Zola piped up with a smile. Mer nodded her head at the girls and turned back around, entering the bridal shop. ‘Here goes nothing.’ She thought to herself. 

An hour into her dress appointment, Meredith had yet to find anything she really loved. And she was not one to be known for settling. Ellis decided to run off into the dress racks, worrying Meredith. She was still little and young, so it was likely that she could pull a dress off the rack and have it been the complete opposite of what she wanted. She didn’t though. She, with the help of Amelia, brought over a stunning, form fitting, white halter dress with a satin sash across her waist that came with no sparkles, fit her like a glove, wasn’t expensive, and looked stunning on her. “Wow, Ellie, this dress is beautiful.” Meredith said as she stepped out of the fitting room. She looked in the mirror and smoothed the dress over her as the girls behind her fawned over the dress and she slowly fell in love with the gown she was wearing. “Meredith… you look stunning.” Jo gawked over her friend. “Yeah. Wow.” Amelia and Maggie said simultaneously. “Momma, is this what you’re gonna wear to marry Hayes??” Zola asked enthusiastically. “I think it is.” Meredith said, smiling at her daughters, sisters, and Jo, who were all beaming with pride.

Next up on Maggie’s list of secret wedding things to accumulate was the dresses for the bridesmaids and the flower girls. She knew this excursion was going to be trickier than the one for getting Meredith a dress, because she had to find dresses for herself, Amelia, Jo, as well as Cristina, along with dresses for Ellis and Zola. This was where Teddy and Owen came in. They generously agreed to hide all of the dresses at their house so Meredith wouldn’t get suspicious, then transport them to Richard and Catherine’s house the morning of the wedding. And so, off went Amelia, Jo, Maggie, Zola, and Ellis to try on pretty dresses for themselves. After hours of searching in several different stores, they’d finally agreed on these beautiful V-neck, olive green, A-line dresses with short, ruffled sleeves. One by one, things began to fall in to place. Sweet and simple gray lacy dresses were bought for Ellis and Zola. Jo dropped all 6 dresses off at Teddy and Owen’s and the gang moved on to phase 3 of planning.

- 

Decorations was what Maggie dreaded planning the most. She knew that her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law would hate an overly decorated wedding for themselves. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t exactly have an idea for what to do. So, she went to Pinterest. This may or may not have been a great idea. Pinterest became a complete and utter black hole of ideas for Maggie. She bought string lights – and lots of them. Fairy lights, and white Christmas lights mainly. She bought chiffon drapes to hang on a homemade wooden alter. She bought fake vines and a few flowers. She rented tables, and chairs. Once she was finished with her Pinterest spiral, she consulted with Richard as to how they would decorate his backyard – that was his contribution and involvement in Maggie’s scheme for a wedding that would satisfy the wants of attendants, as well as Meredith and Hayes. Hopefully. He owned this beautiful, large home, with a backyard big enough to fit the people invited. 

Bailey’s involvement in the wedding was much more sentimental. She was officiating the wedding. This was quite literally the only detail of Maggie’s wedding plans that Meredith and Hayes had been consulted on. Mainly because Bailey demanded that she hear it from Meredith herself that she wanted her to officiate. They all loved the idea. Bailey encouraged them to write vows and thank god she did, because Maggie had been stressing about how she was going to convince Mer and Hayes to write sentimental crap without it seeming suspicious. Bailey’s idea for them to write vows reprieved her of that worry completely.

As it got down to the final few days before the wedding, duties were given out whenever the participants of the scheming could find time completely away from both Meredith and Hayes, which had not been an easy task in the weeks leading up to the big day. It seemed like Meredith was always there whenever Maggie turned a corner. Meredith and Hayes had both got the day off work, so Maggie paged and gathered the group into one room. “Alright everyone, you know why we’re all here - we have a wedding in 2 days. Final tasks. Jackson, Cristina’s flight lands tomorrow at 5pm. You’re picking her up from the airport and taking her to Bailey’s place. Bailey, Jackson and Cristina should be arriving at your place for 6:30/ 7:00pm, give or take. Link, Winston – you’re in charge of the groom. You guys have to have him dressed and ready to go to Richard’s for 4pm on Saturday. Find a way to keep him away from Meredith for the night before and day of the wedding. Richard – Jackson, Owen, and Teddy will be over bright and early Saturday morning to help set up all the decorations. Amelia, Jo, and I will be getting ourselves, the children, and the bride ready. Ceremony starts at 5:30pm. The goal is to have Meredith and Hayes walk together to the front, as I can’t see my sister wanting to walk down an aisle. Alright. Everyone know what they’re doing?” Maggie finished. Choruses of “Yep” and “Uh huh” along with nods of acknowledgement circled the room. “Great! Okay. Disperse.” Maggie finished, and everyone did just that. 

- 

Wedding day. Chaos ensuing. Jackson had successfully picked up Cristina from the airport and dropped her off at Bailey’s undetected. Link and Winston had also been successful in their recruits to get Hayes away for a bachelor’s night. They phrased it as ‘guy’s night’ though, knowing how their best friend felt about the term ‘bachelor’s party’. He’d been ardently against the idea that it was his last night as a single man. He wasn’t single, he was in a serious relationship with a woman he loves, and they’d made a commitment to each other when they began dating. The marriage was only an extension of that commitment. But for Hayes, the proposed idea of getting drunk with his two closest guy friends while watching things like soccer and crappy TV shows was too tempting an offer for him to turn down. Meredith also told him to go and spend the night with them, so he didn’t really have any other option.

“Meredith! We’re ready to go when you are!” Maggie yelled from the main floor, up to the upstairs floor. It was 3:30pm, and while Meredith also knew the wedding was going to be hosted at Richard’s, in fact she was the one that suggested that’s where it be held, but she was unaware of the extent to which the place had been decorated and just how many people were actually invited. Meredith placed her earrings and bracelet in the little jewellery box, and headed downstairs. Her makeup and hair had been done at the house, as did Amelia, Maggie and Jo, who brushed off the excessiveness as ‘just wanting to look nice in pictures’. Maggie could feel herself getting more and more giddy as she got closer to Richard and Catherine’s place. Bailey had arrived with Cristina an hour earlier and had gotten the both of them plus Teddy ready in the meantime. Liam had agreed to drive himself, Austin, Zola, Bailey, and Ellis over to the house since Maggie’s car was going to be packed between Meredith’s dress and shoes, and all 4 of the women.

Meredith and Hayes arrived at Richard’s at the same time. The vehicles pulled into the driveway almost simultaneously. Hayes got out of the car first, then Winston, and Link. Meredith quickly exited Maggie’s car once she parked, and went to catch up with Hayes, who was standing frozen in the doorway. She placed her hand on his back. “Hey, what’s go-“ She said before looking into the house and realizing exactly why he was standing so frozen. “Cristina.” Meredith’s jaw dropped at the sight of her best friend. Cristina beamed at her friends as they stood in the doorway of Richard’s house. Bailey watched from the stairway like a proud mama. “Are you going to give me a hug or what?” Cristina said, prompting Meredith to laugh, step inside, and give her a much overdue hug. When they finally pulled back from the hug, Meredith looked around at her friends who were all smiling and watching her and Cristina. “Wait, so how did you get here? And how did I not know?” Meredith asked as Cristina hugged Hayes. Maggie, Amelia and Jackson grinned sheepishly at Meredith. “I might have had Amelia and Jackson conspire to get her here.” Maggie finally admitted. Meredith hugged her sister. “Thank you.”

- 

Everyone moved inside as Link and Amelia brought in Meredith’s dress and all the tuxes. “Let me guess, no ‘peppy maid of honour’ thing again?” Meredith chuckled at her friend. “No, absolutely not – your only job today is to-“ “Kick your guys’ ass down the aisle?” Cristina interrupted her, and Meredith choked back a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

For the next hour and a half, the finishing touches were put on everyone’s hair and makeup, dresses were steamed, and Meredith quickly figured out that this wedding was not going to be as small as she’d hoped. However, she overlooked it, because Cristina was there, Hayes seemed genuinely excited, and she knew that only her friends would be showing up. She had her person back, even if it was just for a few days. The girls helped each other into their dresses, and Ellis and Zola fawned over their mom and aunts. A few more guests showed up as everyone finished getting ready, including Bokhee, Tom, Levi, Nico, Parker, and Helm, along with their friends from Station 19, Robert and Andy, Vic and Travis, Dean, Maya and Carina, Emmett, and Jack.

Finally, 5:30 came. The sun began to set and the lights that had been hung from poles in the yard illuminated the sky perfectly. Everyone was waiting excitedly in their chairs, conversing among themselves as they waited for the wedding to start. Cristina had persuaded Meredith to let Richard walk her down the aisle, so Hayes was waiting patiently at the front of the arch with Link, Winston, Liam, Austin, and Bailey. Inside the house, Cristina, Maggie and Amelia were giving Meredith the pre-marriage pep talk that Meredith had given all of them before their respective weddings to Owen (once for Cristina and once for Amelia), Link, and Winston. Finally, the music started, and the guests in attendance immediately stopped chatting and turned their heads towards the back doors. The doors opened and Ellis and Zola walked out, flinging white petals all over the ground. Then Jo walked out, Amelia, then Maggie, followed by Cristina. Richard looked over at Meredith. “You ready?” He asked as she slipped her arm through his. “Yeah, I am.” She said with a smile and walked out into the backyard and down the makeshift aisle.

-

“Friends and family alike, we are gathered today to celebrate. To celebrate the love shared between two people who found each other in the midst of unimaginable grief. Who know better than most of us that the tomorrows with the people we love are never promised, so we have to make the most of it. Meredith, Hayes, I have had the joy of watching your relationship develop and watch the both of your flourish in your happiness, separately and with each other. You guys are about to enter into a journey together, one that you both know the meaning behind very well. You know that marriage takes a lot of work, that there will be ups and downs, trials and tribulations, and that above all communication is the most important thing to make a marriage work. I don’t need to tell you this. The love shared between you guys is something admirable, and I for one, am so honoured that you asked me to marry the two of you today. When you guys first reported your relationship to me and HR, I remember thinking to myself, ‘Who would have thought?’ But now, as I look back on your friendship, I really should have seen this coming from a mile away. There’s something magnetic between two equals, who share such similar life experiences and never expect anything more from the other than their authentic selves. Plus, you guys spent a very odd amount of time in OR’s together. And as fate may have it, Cristina Yang, or whatever you guys want to believe, you found each other. And it has been beautiful to see. I have to stop myself before I ramble even more about how proud I am of the both of you. I know you both have written your own vows, so I invite you to exchange them now. Meredith?” Bailey opened the wedding, and there was already some audible sniffling from a couple of the bridesmaids. 

“Hayes…” Meredith started, laughing with tears in her eyes as she read over her vows. He laughed with her and wiped the tear from her face. “I had many firsts before I met you. And though part of me wishes I could take them back and had them all with you, I know that each and every one of those firsts was what lead me to you. And in a way, you are my biggest firsts. My first long-term relationship. You’re the first man I said ‘I’m in love with you’ to. The first person who understood me fully, who matched my every turn and never had to navigate major differences with. And you’re the only person I imagined myself having a future with. You are imperfectly perfect. You are everything I never knew I needed. You complete me. You’re my other half. My equal, my partner in work and in life. A while ago, I’d told Alex that I didn’t want to fall in love again unless it felt like family. And that’s you. I love you, and I love your boys. I love our family. I love how you never push any boundaries with my kids, but still love them like your own. And as I stand here today, in front of a bunch of friends and family that neither of us thought would be coming, I promise to love you unconditionally. I promise to always communicate with you about everything. To never be anything less than myself around you. I promise to always talk with you about Derek and Abigail, who I know are watching from heaven and cheering for us. I promise to defend you and stick by you through thick and thin. I have been and always will be your biggest supporter on earth. I love you.” Hayes smiled at Meredith through tears and began to lean in to kiss her on instinct, before he felt Bailey’s hand push him back. “Not. Yet.” She said sternly, prompting laughter from the guests and wedding party.

“Grey, before I met you, I didn’t want to love again. There was no one I could even think about being with after having Abby ripped away from me so slowly and cruelly. That was until I met you. You understood exactly what I was going through. You never pushed or prodded, and always let me talk about Abby if I was comfortable with it. Of course, I always was, knowing you’d probably done the same thing, or at least something very similar. Every day since I met you, I’ve found something new about you that amazes me. You amaze me. And there is no one else on the face of this earth I could have imagined myself going through all those firsts with. You taught me to love again. My goal in our relationship is to always make you feel loved, seen, and wanted. You truly are my equal in this part of my life. And I love everything about you, about our family. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how lucky I am to have met you, to know what it’s like to experience your loyalty and love. You know full well that I don’t take promises lightly. I promise to always stand by you, no matter what. I promise to know when to fall back and let you handle things, versus when to step up and step in to defend you. I promise to bring you coffee in the morning and check in on you when you’re working in the lab on your next award-winning medical breakthrough. I promise to always page you for surgeries that require general surgery, and I promise to watch the kids when you’ve had a long day so you can get some rest. I even promise to dance with you whenever you want to. Above all though, I promise to make us my priority. I love you.” Hayes finished. After the both of their vows, there wasn’t a dry eye in Richard’s backyard. Quite literally everyone was crying. Including both Meredith and Hayes.

-

“Link, the rings?” Bailey said, looking over at Link. He gave Scout the thumbs up, to which Scout toddled over to the front and handed Hayes and Meredith their rings. “Now, do you, Cormac Hayes, take Meredith Grey to be your wife?”

“I do.” He said, wearing a bright smile on his face, placing Meredith’s ring on her finger. 

“And Meredith, do you take Cormac Hayes to be your husband?” Bailey said, looking at Meredith.

“I do.” She said, smiling back at Hayes with tears in her eyes as she placed the ring on his finger. 

“By the power vested in me from the internet, and by the grace of God, I pronounce you two husband and wife. Hayes, you may kiss your bride.” Bailey said with a smile as she stepped back from the couple. “Finally,” Hayes said as he wrapped his arms around Meredith’s waist and pulled her in for their first kiss as a married couple. Their biggest first together. Everyone clapped and cheered for the newlyweds, and they pulled back, still holding onto each other, as they looked around at their friends and family, all smiles.

- 

The whole reception was lively. People mingled and caught up with old friends. Meredith and Hayes made sure to go around before dinner started inside and say hi to everyone who’d shown up and thank them for coming. Meredith had to admit that she was glad she got to share this day with all her friends. Then during dinner came the speeches. Meredith and Hayes both gave short speeches that they came up with on the fly. Maggie and Amelia both made touching tributes, thanking Hayes for making their sister so happy again, and for loving her in the way she deserves to be loved. Richard, Jackson, and Link also all made speeches. The final speech came from none other than Meredith’s person, Cristina Yang. “Meredith, Hayes, I love you both. I’m so happy you two found each other. You’re welcome, by the way. I take full credit for this.” Laughter erupted from around the house. Leave it to Cristina to steal the show in two sentences.

They ate dinner, mingled, laughed, and loved. The first dance was touching, as their song played over the speaker and they slow danced, whispering sweet words into each other’s ears, kissing and loving each other like no one was watching. After the first dance, the music picked up and everyone joined in the celebrations. This night was a perfect representation of what the rest of their lives looked like; filled with love, laughter, family, friendship, and lots of music and happiness. After having their happiness ripped away from them in horrifying ways, they’d finally found it again. And it was truly beautiful.

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.9]

Chapter:  Stardust 

Summary:  Bucky & Y/n spend the day apart, but find themselves struggling to make it through the day.

Warnings:  Flirting. Fluff. Sweet Tony. Sweet Bucky. Slightly sad Bucky but only for a second! 

A/N: Bucko is a little sad at the start, but I don’t consider it angsty at all. Progress babies. Progress. 😉Send me love because I’m needy, okay?!  Plus all your comments make my day. Beta’d by the beautiful and talented @lokissoul I love you 3000.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

“What’s been going on with you lately?”

Bucky rolls the glass bottle between his palms and shrugs in answer, glancing up at whatever game was on behind the bar to avoid Steve’s probing glare. They have been in this pub for over an hour now, and Bucky has no idea what game he’s been pretending to watch, and he hasn’t heard a word Steve has said. As much as he wants to throw himself wholeheartedly into tonight, he can’t. Bucky hasn’t seen Y/n in over a week, he had to take an extra shift, so he’s had less time with Comet and with everything going today, neither he nor Y/n have had a minute to talk to each other. The last message he got from her was a quick good morning text, but he had a feeling she only sent it because he sent her a message first. 

Today is not Bucky’s day.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bucky answers, distracted and withdrawn.

“We haven’t talked in weeks. I don't even know what’s going with you. Clint knows more about you than I do. You’re always glued to your phone waiting for a certain bookstore owner to call, and if you’re not on the phone with Y/n, you’re talking about her.”

“Nothing to talk about there, Stevie,” He sighs and tips his empty beer towards the bartender, slightly asking for another round. “We are friends. She’s been dating Tony for about a month. I don’t know. Seems to be going good. I guess their first date was amazing, and all that sappy love at first sight shit.”

“Not what I heard,” Steve mumbles against the lip of the bottle in his hands. “I heard she hated the restaurant and talked about you the whole date.”

“It wasn’t the whole date, and I don’t think she hated it.” 

Bucky shifts restlessly in his seat, forcing himself to not look at Steve, using the bartender returning with their beers as his excuse – Steve isn’t buying it.

“Did – did she say that she did?”

Steve snorts at the stutter in the brunette’s voice and the painfully transparent way he’s been dodging Steve’s glances from the moment Y/n was mentioned. He nods his thanks to the bartender and spins around on his stool to face his friend. “Buck, come on. I’ve never seen you like this. Tell me what’s going on with her?”

“There’s nothing to say, man.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs, drumming his fingers against the bottle in his hands. “What if – Don’t give me that pissed off face. Just hear me out. What if the reason Y/n jumps up when you call or smiles every time you’re around, or I don’t know, spends all day talking to you and about you is that maybe, just maybe there’s something there for her, too.”

“Steve–”

“Hear me out, Buck.” Steve cuts him off before Bucky has time to tell him to shut up. “You have to know she is different. You’ve been different since she came along.” 

Bucky hangs his head in defeat or annoyance he’s not even sure, and if he tightens his grip in the slightest there are going to be shards of broken glass all over the place.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Bucky asks, forcing as much annoyance into his voice as he can – he needs to be done with this conversation. 

“Anything else besides her?”

“Alright,” Steve spins back around towards the bar, his leg bouncing nervously, and suddenly he blurts out, “Sam, and I are going to adopt a little boy, I think.”

Bucky chokes on his beer, spilling damn near half the bottle on the bartop making Steve grin. 

“What?!” Bucky Shrieks. “You can’t just drop that shit on me.”

Steve shrugs looking complacent and not sorry in the least.

“When the hell did this happen?” Bucky asks, wiping himself and the bartop off.

“Remember Zoey from the gym?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes but nods anyway. 

“Well, it’s kind of her fault. We ran into her, and she was out with her nephew, and I don’t know honestly. Sam was talking to him and playing and…” Steve smiles and shakes his head. 

“We are finally ready, I think.”

“That’s awesome, Stevie.” Bucky pats Steve on his back, drying his beer-soaked hand on his shirt. “You’re gonna be amazing parents. Ori might get a little jealous when she realizes she has to share her uncles, but I think it’s about damn time, to be honest.”

“She doesn’t have to share. I can make time for both of them. Babies sleep a lot, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “You don’t remember much from when Ori was a baby, do ya?”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve murmurs.

“Uh-huh. You gonna tell me why you didn’t tell me sooner, punk?”

“We started the process a few months ago, but I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure it was happening.”

“You’re sure now?” Bucky asks, not judging, purely out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I know we are,” Steve assured him, firm and sincere. “And, this isn’t because we are missing anything because we absolutely are not missing anything. Sam is all I could ever need, but – I don’t know to explain it. It was like once we met him everything kind of clicked, and it made everything brighter, more meaningful. Now that we know him-- Now that we know Oliver, I don’t think we could go back to a time without him.”

Bucky stares at the amber glass in his hand swallowing the knot in his throat, Steve nudges his elbow grinning widely, and Bucky forces the best smile he can muster.

“You know what I mean?” Steve asks, hope and excitement filling his voice. Bucky wants to be excited for them, and he is, but his mind is somewhere else tonight – somewhere wrapped in story pages and stardust.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I know what you mean, man.”

-------

Today has been a complete nightmare.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s just been a stressful, long day and the nightmare started last night. It began with her neighbors flooding her bedroom the night before and being forced to stay in Manhattan with Tony. She would have asked Natasha or… someone else who lived closer but Tony was dropping her off when they discovered the mess that was her apartment. 

Thankfully Tony was there to save the day.

The incident, however, meant the bookstore was closed for the day while they cleaned up her apartment and Y/n had to plan Ori’s party from Tony’s penthouse, which wasn’t winning any prizes for the coziest spot. It’s not that Tony didn’t have a beautiful place, he did. He was in the middle of Manhattan with the perfect view in every direction. High windows, marble floors and beautiful artwork on the walls. There were some questionable paintings hanging that she wanted to question but didn’t. He had a preposterously fancy couch, and the view off the balcony was breathtaking first thing in the morning. Sure, the view is nice, a chef is on-site, and Tony is always sweet, but it feels wrong.

The couch, with as much money as Tony spent on the thing, it should actually be comfortable! It’s hard, the back has awkward cushions and they doesn’t squish down like Bucky’s does. The arms are skinny and unyielding - there is no way she could curl up on that thing and watch a movie. The entire place is so clean she felt bad laying all party planning books and idea boards out on the table this morning. Tony had insisted it was fine, but it still felt strange to muck up his astonishingly tidy living room.

Tony left her be for most of the day, he had work to do, and she was busy planning a starry birthday bash. He had stopped in to check on her throughout and asked more than once, why don’t you just use that Pinterest website everyone uses? Or at least make all those lists on your phone?

She always replied the same, I prefer handwritten notes, Tony. Then I can doodle in the corners.

Out of everything? The thing she hates most about today? Bucky hasn’t sent her a text all day, except for the quick good morning he sent her which she is almost certain was Ori’s doing. Bucky wouldn’t think to send her a message like that first thing in the morning. It had bothered her quite a bit, and she wasn’t the only one who noticed her sour mood. Tony watches Y/n chewing on the end of her pen from his seat across his living room. She’s been staring at her notepad for nearly an hour now, occasionally glancing over at her phone (that hasn’t gone off since this morning).

Something is cooking in that pretty head of hers, and he is going to figure out what. He drops his iPad to the table and strolls over to the couch. Her focus is solely on what’s laying on her lap, he runs his hand up her bare leg stopping mid-thigh right below her shorts and sits down on the coffee table in front of her – she doesn’t seem to notice he is even there. She’s lost in star-shaped Rice Krispies Treats, recipes for the perfect moon rocks and what appears to be every space themed decoration she can think of.

“You’re doing all this for Bucky’s kid?” Tony inquires, giving a gentle but firm squeeze to her thigh. The mix of his voice and the tickle to her inner thigh seems to grab her attention, but there is still a little something indifferent in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m doing all of this for Ori and for Bucky. Bucky and I are friends,” Y/n explained, credulously and matter-of-factly.

Tony can’t help but smile at her. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, whispering against her skin, "You’re adorably naive sometimes.”

The edges of her mouth curl down into a deep frown, and her brows draw together. “What does that mean?”

“Listen,” Tony begged, ignoring her question. They can talk about that after Ori’s party. “I’ve got an idea for baby Barnes’s birthday if you’re okay letting me help?”

“Depends on what it is?”

“You said her favorite place is your bookstore, right?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what she said, but I can’t have the party there. I would have to move all the shelves, my apartment is still a mess, and I have no room to cook anything there. I think Bucky just wants to cook burgers or something and,” She hesitates, nervously drumming the end of her pen against her knee until Tony snatches it out of her hand.

“And… what? You’re killing me with the suspense.”

“I’m not family,” she whispers, so soft that Tony has to strain to hear it. “I think they were going to do it at Steve’s because they have the deck out back and well, he’s her uncle. I’m just some girl that owns a bookstore.”

This is something Tony can’t let go. Tony grabs the notepad from her hands, tossing it and the pen onto the couch and pulls Y/n forward by her hands. 

“Your apartment will be fine. I’ll make sure it gets done, and the shelves are not a big deal. Her dad and uncles have muscles coming out of their ass–” They both wince at his choice of words. “– Sorry. That was vivid even for me. Point is we can move them, and I can pay for a caterer. Don’t even try to fight me on that one. It can be my present, and as for the rest, you are far more than just a girl that owns a bookstore to that little girl and particularly to Bucky.”

A wide grin slowly stretches across Y/n’s face, and Tony does not like the smugness of that smirk. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t like one bit. 

“You’re pretty sweet when you want to be,” She says, still beaming.

Tony reaches forward and covers her mouth with his hand whispering dramatically as he does, “Shh, don’t say that so loud. There are spies everywhere!” 

A muffled giggle slips through his fingers, and she places a soft kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Thank you,” She manages once he drops his hand. 

“I like the idea as long as Bucky is okay with it.” Her eyes wander back to her phone on the table next to Tony’s thigh, and it doesn’t have to be said – he can see it written all over her face.

“You wanna call him right now, don’t you?” 

She gives Tony an apologetic smile with a small shrug. It’s supposed to be their date night, but she is not going to relax till she talks to Bucky and gets this party sorted – they both know it. Tony rolls his eyes affectionately and waves his hand towards the balcony as he stands.

“I have to change before we go out anyway. Go, make your call.”

Y/n slips out onto the terrace as Tony disappears into his bedroom. There is a moment of hesitation before she makes herself to dial Bucky’s number. They hadn’t talked all day, Y/n thought it was because he was busy, but maybe he didn’t want to talk? They aren’t family, they are brarey friends and she could be bothering him-- 

“Hey, Beck,” Bucky’s soft greeting makes her skin prickle and her worry fades away when instantly. 

“Hi,” Y/n sighs, content and somehow lighter from two simple words.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes into the phone with a huge grin on his face, his nerves finally settling for the first time all day. He’s not sure how she does that when they are a good twenty miles apart.

“So,” she mutters quietly.

“So,” Bucky repeats with a soft chuckle.

Y/n knows why she called. They need to talk about Ori’s party but now that she has him on the line, for the first time in what feels like forever she doesn’t want to rush him off the phone. She admires the soft orange glow and the pink clouds peeking out over the Manhattan skyline, and she’s never wanted to be back in Brooklyn more than she does right now.

“I’m not sure what all the fuss is about the sunset from Manhattan,” She scoffs. “Personally, I like a good old Brooklyn sunset.”

Dammit. Why does she have to be so perfect? Bucky thinks as he sneaks through Steve’s living room and out the front door– no witnesses needed for this conversation. He spins around to find the sunset peeking through all the buildings. It’s harder to do the deeper you got into Brooklyn, but he was able to spot the peach colored sky. He can’t explain why, he just needs to know they are both looking at the same thing.

“You called me to talk about sunsets, Beck?”

Y/n chuckles and shakes her head as if he can see her but quickly remembers he can’t and answers him with a nervous squeak, “Um, no? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Bucky echoes her words once again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you are about to have dinner with Ori. I just…” I haven’t talked to you all day, and I hate it. She closes her eyes and turns around the block out the nightfall that’s overtaking the orange and slowly fading to plum. “I actually called about Ori’s party. If it’s okay with you, I would like to have it at my shop. I can handle everything. If you just bring the birthday girl.”

“That sounds good,” Bucky whispers, clearing his throat as he turns back around and drops his forehead against the front door – shutting out the dark falling around him, the one that seems to take over when she’s not with him.

“Ori would really love that. Tell me what to buy or set up. I can come early and help move things around.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks in a hushed tone making him chuckle. “I’m hiding on the front porch at Steve’s. Why are you whispering?” He counters, grinning, foolish, and unabashed.

Y/n giggle softly, and the line goes inexplicably quiet. Bucky slowly lifts his head from the door and turns back around to find the sun was mostly set, he was about to apologize for teasing her when her soft voice drifts through the line, “Let’s not go all day without talking again, okay? I really hated it.”

Sweetest words he’s heard all day. 

“God, me too,” He sighs. “Never again. I pinky promise.”

“Buck, you can’t pinky promise. We can’t lock pinkies,” She scolds with total seriousness because that’s just the kind of woman she is. “I’m in Manhattan, and you’re in Brooklyn. It only counts if you hook your pinkies together.”

“Who says we gotta lock, pinkies?” Bucky scoffs, amusement and sincerity filling his words. He may find her entirely adorable, but Bucky needs her to know he means every word – without a doubt. 

“Maybe that will be our thing. Pinky promise without the pinky.”

Y/n finds herself unable to stop the ear to ear grin that forms. She drops her head back and looks up to the sky in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stars.

“No more days like today, Y/n. Pinky promise.”

There’s her glimpse. Perfect timing. 

“Pinky promise, Buck.”

Previous // Next

[wydmariana]

        hi my loves   !   ur  fav  big  mess  dani   here   ,  i  also  play  our  hailey  fc  alanna  heh   !   i’m  bringing  back  my  bbyg  mariana   !  she’s  my  original  wealthy  character  &  i’ve  had  her  for  like over  3   years   ,  i’m  super  excited  2  be  playing  her  again  &  i  hope  u  guys  rly  like  her   !!!  i’m  gonna  put  all  the   tea  on  her  under  the  cut  &  if  u  wanna  plot  like   this  &   i’ll  come  bug  u  , i  rly  always  need  connections  n  love  plotting  ♡  u  can  also  hmu  on  discord  !! @ 𝒎𝒈𝒌'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 .#1958

new york’s very own mariana cavello was spotted on broadway street in christian louboutins . your resemblance to selena gomez is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being stubborn , but also adroit . i guess being a gemini explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be  lyrics  scribbled  in  a  notebook  ,  gold  jewelry  ,  &  blue  nail  polish  . ( i  defeaned  a  girl  in  a  fight  when  i  was  17 )  &  ( cisfemale & she/her  )  +  ( dani , 20 , she/her , est . )

╰ ˚･ﾟ  ♡   𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔   :

full name: mariana marisol cavello

nickname(s): mari,

age: twenty four

date of birth: june 4th

hometown: new york city

current location: upper east side, new york city

ethnicity: half mexican

nationality: american

gender: cisfemale

pronouns: she/her

parents names: alexander hastings, liliana cavello

orientation: pansexual but she doesn’t like labels

religion: grew up catholic, undecided

political affiliation: democrat

occupation: singer/songwriter

living arrangements: lives in her own mansion in the upper east side

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

accent: american

face claim: selena gomez

hair colour: x (most basic/accurate/but it changes)

eye colour: brown

height: 5″5

weight: 113lbs

build: petite

tattoos: mostly selena’s canon, but x instead of the music note

piercings: x (both ears)

drugs/alcohol/sex: yes/yes/yes

pets: one cat, 5 years old, named sergio - x

astrological chart  : gemini sun  ,  libra moon  ,  scorpio rising

character  inspo  :  meredith  grey  (  grey’s  anatomy  )  ,  simone  davis  (  star  )  ,  alyssa  (  the  end  of  the  fucking  world  )  ,  carla  (  elite  )  ,   kat  stratford  (  10  things  i  hate  about  you  )  ,  serena  vanderwoodsen  (  gossip  girl  )  ,  jessica  davis  (  13 reasons  why  )

pinterest  board  :  here .

╰ ˚･ﾟ ♡  𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚  &  𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕   (   tw  :  abuse ,   violence  , injury ,   sexual  assault .  )  :

ok i changed her around quite a lil bit so i’m excited to rEdevelop !  :~)

mariana was born into a seemingly perfect family ,  her older brother &  her having been born heirs to alexander hastings , billionaire hotel & business entrepreneur , shark-tank cast member  ( think kevin o’leary vibes .. yeah . ) &  liliana cavello , legendary supermodel  ( think cindy crawford )

she was spoiled bc they were rich af , so like she never NEEDED for anything , except LoVe :)

mari was quick to blow her dad’s money but did he notice ? no

she still is kjdfnsjdf

mariana was a happy child, but growing up in a household with her father quickly became toxic

she started noticing it when she was around 10

his yelling , his anger against her mother , the hostility towards the entire household

the relationship between her parents always had been toxic but now that they had kids it was quick to spread through the whole household

as mariana grew older and started high school , there were times where she would sit in one of the offices of her father’s buildings and do homework while she waited for him to finish so they could go home

at the mere age of fifteen was the first time one of her father’s co-workers sexually assaulted her in an empty conference room after everyone else went home & she’d be waiting for her dad

this continued for a little under  2  years .

this is when her behaviour at school started to get out of hand, she’d start skipping class, get caught smoking pot, talking back to teachers, etc

it went on for months & mariana suspected that her father knew and wasn’t doing anything to stop it

when she turned 16  &  got  a  boyfriend  , it started affecting her even more . she was struggling w being intimate bc of these things that  were happening to her

which is when she eventually  confronted him about it , in tears , in the kitchen with her mother

it resulted in a screaming match

mariana’s behaviour completely went off the rails after that day & she went to school one day & got into a fight with this girl who was taunting her

they fought and mariana’s anger got the best of her &  she ended up beating the girl so bad that she became deaf in one ear

shoutout to degrassi for the idea Ok female sean cameron in the house

( i needed a secret for mari n i was watching this so i was like .. ok why not lol )

she turned 17 shortly after this argument and by some miracle ( aka money ) her dad was able to keep her out of juvie despite the charges that were brought against her

this is mariana’s secret!!!!!

anyway now , she doesn’t talk to her father really , at all . unless her mom ambushes them into the same room which sometimes happens jkfnsf

mariana moved out on her 18th birthday ,  still has a good relationship with her  mom and brother  &   extended family

when mariana turned 18 was also when she started her career !! she started out as an actor in a few different movies

she got her big break when she starred in a ‘riverdale or like , grey’s anatomy’ type of show a few years ago prob when she was about 19

and that went on for 2 or 3 seasons before she stopped it to pursue music bc !

writing and singing and performing have always been Mariana’s passions & emotional outlet

anyway , she dropped a single while on the show & it did well so she proceeded to drop an album which also blew up

she is now rly successful w her music career and loves it sm , like it’s literally her dream come true ok

it’s the one thing that makes her happy

so yah , if ppl knew she deafened a girl totally wouldn’t b all sunshine n rainbows :/ hehe .

╰ ˚･ﾟ ♡  𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚  (   tw  :  drugs  )  :

mariana is very lowkey crazy

like she knows how to hide it but girl , it’ll come out

she can definitely be a brat , she wasn’t raised with proper consequences & often thinks she can do whatever she wants , has a bit of an attitude about it

she hates being told what to do

and will voice her opinion

she is also the most loyal & loving person you know , but the thing is it’s very hidden deep down rn . she is completely walls up , doesn’t wanna let anyone get close to her bc she’s a PUSSY

and like , she hasn’t worked through her trauma & probably never will

the only opening up she does is when she’s writing music

daddy issues galore over here

but she’s a lowkey softie when she  waants 2 be

when she loves someone she loves fiercly !!

mariana . is a  . party . animal

it’s basically all she does

like every night , her stamina is insane bc she can go out every single night until 3 am if she really wants to .

and she’s fun too , if she’s going out she’s getting WASTED

she’s the type of drunk girl to make out w  all her friends

she loves cocaine, is most definitely an addict (   but who isn’t in this city  ), tequila is her alcohol of choice, but she’ll drink anything you give her & weed is her creative saving grace

we luv a bitch who doesn’t care abt her health !

u will most likely find her in sweatpants and a hoodie or a big tshirt

she will dress up to go out & luvs lookin cute for paparazzi & career stuff

um , she listens to a lot of rap and just lays in bed  w her cat smoking blunts

um n ya  .. sad bitch vibes :/

╰ ˚･ﾟ ♡  𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔  :

i have  a wanted connections page here    &   a   wanted  tag  here  !!! i need & want every connection so pls hmu ! like this  &  i’ll come to you .

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 21

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Another quick under 3,000 word update for you guys :) Enjoy!

When it's quiet, Carl and I go visit Sophia's grave together.

Under the low-hanging oak tree is a whole long line of graves, many more than the last time I stood here, all marked with their own wonky, homemade cross. Rings, necklaces, hand-written notes and little trinkets hang from each one, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. I wonder which belongs to the one I killed the other night, which mound of dirt and death I'm responsible for. I wonder if they know I'm sorry.

I don't have to wonder which is Sophia's. I know already. It's the one with the Cherokee roses laying on it.

I step forward and carefully place Matilda against the white petals, making sure her yarn-hair is neat and her dress is as it should be, while Carl lays the Pokémon folder down next to it. When I promised Carol I'd return the doll to her someday, I never imagined it would be like this.

As we step back, I grab Carl's hand and tell the small grave, "Wherever you are, I hope you get to play again."

Thoughts and prayers, I think they say. I don't think they ever done any good to nobody. If God was listening to silly things like thoughts and prayers, this tree would be someplace we could play together, and not the graveyard it's turned into. Those roses would've worked. But it's like Shane said. Sophia was weak. Just 'cause it don't sound nice, don't mean it ain't true. She was weak, and she paid the price for it. I wish I could do more than just stand here and miss her, but maybe I can also learn from what she couldn't, be stronger, live what she didn't get to.

I ain't never seen much purpose in death, but maybe that's it. Maybe like scars, all they do is make us stronger.

"We'll miss you, Sophia." Carl utters, squeezing my fingers. "I'm sorry we couldn't find you."

When he starts sniffling, I feel even emptier than I already do. I should cry with him, but I can't. I don't know why. I've always been a bit of a crier. It was one of the things Merle hated most about me. If you're gonna be angry, be angry, but don't start cryin' too while yer at it. He used to need to shout at me and shake me by the shoulders to get me to dry up, but now I've dried up all on my own.

"She'd dead, Carl." I mumble, turning away. "Ain't no tears ever saved nobody."

When we make it back up to the gate where Dad's waiting for us, he doesn't mention my scowl. He kisses my hair and leads us up the path. When we get there, Carl drags me to the spot behind his family's tent, 'cause apparently he wants to show me something.

"You gotta promise not to tell." He warns as he pulls a gun from underneath a rock. "I stole it this morning from Dad."

My eyes go wide. I was not expecting a gun. Carl's more the type of person to steal a cookie before dessert, not guns.

I quickly duck down, glancing around to make sure none of the adults saw. "What the Hell, Carl?"

"You remember Shane was gonna take us for shooting lessons, right? Well, that's not happening anymore. We gotta do it ourselves."

"Are you serious? Your parents are gonna kill ya if they find out, you moron."

"Duh. That's why I'm not gonna tell 'em."

"Adults like to know where kids are." I scold him harshly. "You wanna end up like Sophia?"

"No," He says firmly. "I wanna end up like you. You know all about surviving. You know plants, and birds, and animals. I know nothing."

He's right, I suppose. He doesn't really know anything. He didn't grow up around hunters, didn't live by the woods, didn't get compasses and boots and BB guns for his birthdays. I bet he's never even killed before, neither. Not even a rat in the rafters. Just like Sophia, he knows nothing.

I would like to teach Carl what I know, but I've never done somethin' like this. Unsure, I grumble, "I don't like gettin' in trouble."

"It's fine. We'll be quick." He assures me. "And if we get caught, I'll just say the whole thing was my idea."

I pin him with a look. "It was your idea."

"Exactly. Besides, you got lost in the woods for two whole days and you were fine. I'll be in good hands. So you coming, or what?"

I sigh. "You're gonna go no matter what I say, ain't ya?"

"Mm-hmm."

I roll my eyes. Finally, someone as stubborn as I am. That settles it, then.

"Fine." I say. "I'll come."

He pumps his fist excitedly. "Yes!"

"But lemme grab somethin' first before we leave."

He tucks the gun into his pants line and follows after me as I make my way to mine and Dad's camp. When I stop in front of the motorcycle parked in the shade, he asks what I'm doing, but I wordlessly flip the saddlebag open and pull out a shiny, mean-lookin' Bowie knife.

He blanches at the sight of it as I strap the sheath to my belt loop. "That's the biggest knife I've ever seen."

"Used to be my Uncle Merle's." I say absentmindedly, before nodding him toward the treeline. "Let's go."

"For the record," Carl hums as we walk along the marshy creek, "I think the missing ear makes you look super badass."

I give him a light shove, making him stumble and giggle. "Keep talkin', and you'll be missin' yours in a minute."

"What? You don't think you look badass?"

"Not really."

"Well, I say you do. And I'm always right."

"No, you ain't. Hey, look. Mushrooms."

We skip across a toppled log laying in the water and leap onto the other side, approaching a cluster of brown mushrooms sprouting from the base of a fat tree. Morels, made obvious by their wrinkly, honey-comb caps. I pull him down with me and start plucking some.

"These are Morels." I explain, handing him a stubby, dark-colored stalk. "Here. You can eat 'em."

He takes it from me like it's a bomb. "Are you sure? How can you tell?"

I snap another off. "'Cause they're ugly and they smell like bread."

He grins in amazement as I pop it in my mouth without hesitation. Encouraged to do the same, he takes a little nibble of his.

I watch his eyes go wide. As expected, he seems to like it. "Tastes like nuts."

"The darker the cap, the more flavor ya get. Not that you'd be worryin' too much about that when you're dyin' in the woods, I guess."

"Still a cool fact, though." He takes my hand and stands up. "Let's go find some more stuff."

Happy to keep exploring, we wonder from tree to tree, bush to bush, rock to rock. I teach him which berries will make you froth at the mouth and die and which ones will taste like sour candies, how to tell poison oak from regular leaves, which mark on the ground means what.

I even teach him to make a whistle from a mottled wax-leaf, which he seems to find very fun.

He blows through it for a hundredth time, making the ringing in my ears turn piercingly loud.

"Quit that noise, dumbass." I complain, reaching to snatch it from him.

He comes to a sudden halt, leaf falling from his lips.

"What is it?" Frowning, I turn to what he's looking at.

There's a walker stood on the bank opposite us, its foot caught under the thick, gummy mud. It keeps trying to break free, but it's skinny as a twig and useless as a newborn deer, so it ain't gettin' outta there any time soon, which is good for us but bad for him, I guess.

Watching it flail around, Carl wonders, "Should we shoot it?"

It'd make an easy target, but I got no interest in killin' that thing. Might be the one that bit Sophia. It deserves to suffer.

"Nah." I sourly disagree, turning away. "Let's just leave it there. We can go shoot somethin' else."

He gives it one last glance before falling into step with me. "Okay. Like what?"

"Somethin' that's useful. Rabbit, maybe."

"Ooh, you can teach me to skin it. You ever done that before?"

Have I ever killed and skinned a rabbit?

Pssh. "That's funny, Carl."

He giggles at that.

We return to the farm about an hour later with a dead hare. I offered to carry it, but Carl says he likes having it slung over his shoulder 'cause it makes him feel like a strong caveman, whatever that means. I tracked it and taught him to shoot the thing, but I guess it was him that shot it dead so technically, it's his kill. His first ever kill. He didn't get squeamish or nothin', not even when I flayed its skin off with the knife.

"That was awesome," He exclaims, not caring that there's blood all over his shirt. "Where'd you even learn to shoot?"

Tall grass and laughter come to mind, but as we approach the gate, I settle on shrugging, "Doesn't matter."

"Well, I can't believe an eight-year-old got to learn to shoot before I did."

I unlatch it and open it for him, joking, "Maybe it's 'cause I'm better behaved."

"You know what," He lilts as he steps past, "You're probably right."

I lock it closed and follow him along the path back to camp, feeling more and more grateful that I'm behind him and can hide a little when I realize we weren't as sneaky as we thought we were, as Rick, Lori, Dad, and Dale jump out their seats at the sight of us approaching.

My stomach does a weird little flip at the angry look on Dad's face. I have to remind myself things are different now.

"Where were you?" Lori screeches, running to crouch in front of us. "You silly boy, where were you?"

"We just went out for a bit, Mom. We're fine." He seems to think showing her the hare won't make things ten times worse. "Look!"

Before she can lose her mind again, Dad snatches it off him. "What the Hell were y'all thinkin'?"

"I'm sorry, Dad." I tell him. "I just—"

"You disobeyed me, is what you did." He scolds. "'Stay where I can see ya.' Ain't that what I always say?"

"It's what we say, too." Rick frowns. "You know it's dangerous out there. There's a reason we have rules."

"And there's a reason we keep the gun bag away from children." Dale raises a brow. "We know there's a pistol missing, son."

Lori holds out her hand. He makes a big deal out of pulling the gun out and handing it over. 

"You too, Harley. Where'd you get that knife?"

"It's Merle's." Dad gruffly answers for me. He doesn't take it, but I can tell he's disappointed. Feels so wrong not gettin' belted for this.

"Guys, she didn't even wanna come at first." Carl says. "It was my idea. I asked her to. I thought it would be safer with the both of us."

"So, what you're saying is you not only stole from us and snuck out without permission," Chides Rick, "But you put Harley in danger, too."

"I— I didn't think I was."

"As the older child, you should've known better. You need to look out for her, Carl. This isn't a joke."

Dad scoffs, "Nah, she's more'un capable of followin' orders on her own. She knows not to sneak out."

"Tell you what, we can go shootin' sometime soon if that's somethin' you feel you wanna do, but you cannot do this again."

Lori adds, "Ever."

"Is that clear?"

I nod straight away, but Carl takes a little longer before he gives in. "Do we at least get to eat the rabbit?"

"If you promise you won't try gettin' another one for tomorrow's dinner."

He sighs moodily. "Fine. Okay."

"Glad we're finally on the same page."

As Lori leads Carl away to get him changed into a shirt that's not so blood-soaked, he throws me an apologetic look over his shoulder. He didn't mean for us to get in trouble. Rick leaves to replace the gun, Dale resumes watch duty, and Dad drags me back to our camp without another word. I don't bother saying sorry again. I know he don't appreciate being told the same thing twice, so I keep my mouth shut.

I half expect him to lay me over his knee the second we make it back, but all he does is sit me down on the stump.

"You sit here for however long I feel's right, and you think about how you done wrong."

As he walks off to start preparing the rabbit, I take great effort in keeping my jaw from dropping.

Time-out. I ain't ever been in time-out before. Usually, I just get whipped and that's it, but things really are different now.

I accept my punishment without complaint, watching him gut the hare and slice it into small strips, laying them out on the rocks around the crackling fire. I wonder if he's letting me keep the knife because I did a good job skinning. I hope so. He taught me how, after all.

Once the meat's cooked, which takes about ten short minutes, he beckons me off the stump with a nod of his head.

"Come get some food, chicken."

I hop off and approach him unconfidently, taking the mug of browned meat that he offers me.

"Carl was smart takin' you with him." He says. "Would'a fucked that poor animal up, otherwise."

I find myself trying not to smile. I think I like time-out.

"Are you still angry with me?"

"I don't like what you did, Harley. You went and did somethin' behind my back." I understand that. It wasn't right. "But you wanna start doin' some things on yer own, I'm more'un happy to let you, baby, you know that. Simple things, like havin' yer own knife. I'll allow that."

I perk up a little. "I can keep Merle's knife?"

"Yeah. A gun, though, we'll have to work up to. You got plenty people around here ready to protect you with guns, already. But it's important to know how to shoot one, anyway, so when Rick takes Carl, he can take you, too. Certified instructor, and all that."

That's more than fair. "Alright. Thank you, Dad."

"I'll show you how to use that thing properly later, but for now," He hands me another hot mug, "Go shut Carl up with some'a this."

I carry both mugs back to main camp and find Rick and Carl sitting together at the picnic table, having what looks like the serious conversation me and Dad just got done having. When they notice me, Rick finishes off what he was saying and scoots over so I can sit next to him.

"Dad cooked the hare." I tell him, passing it across the table. He takes it with an owlish look. "Might still be hot."

"I don't think you've ever eaten hare before, have you, buddy?"

"No. Had skunk, though." He pops a piece in his mouth. "Mm. That's pretty good."

"Now you got a taste of what you wanted, I expect you to reel it in a bit. Protection's important, but not if it ends up killing you."

"Rick, My Dad said I can come shooting with you and Carl, if that's okay."

"'Course, honey. I think I'm gonna ask some of the others if they wanna come, too. Start today, if you want."

Me and Carl share an excited glance. "Yes, please."

"Alright, then. Finish up that food and we'll see about leavin' soon."

Author's Note.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, everyone 💙

Some more intense things coming up in the next one.

[diningpageantry]

We Are Far Too Young and Clever

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327977/chapters/48197671

Chapter 1/6 of We Are Far Too Young And Clever

Word Count: 3,068

Summary: Youtube's a buzzing, content-creating platform, where people from all walks of life can create and share. Simon Snow and Baz Pitch are on a rise at two very different angle, but by the coincidence of shared people, they clash and come together at all the right (and wrong) times.

~~~~~~~~~~

SIMON

I don’t really remember how it started.

Well, that’s a lie. I remember starting it. I remember setting up my mobile, using a mirror to make sure it was at the right angle (using random little things like Penny’s tiny bottles of face cleansers and such to keep it propped, despite them continuously slipping). I remember it being half past 3 in the morning on a Thursday right before a final. I wasn’t studying. I can’t study--I can’t make myself study, I should say. Never could. And, I remember laying out craft scissors, glitter glue tubes, googly eyes, and finding old class notes to go to town on.

I remember the build up.

I remember the upload, and I remember thinking nothing of it.

But I don’t remember the rise.

More to this, I don’t really know why anyone really watches my videos. I think it’s sort of dumb to watch a man now climbing further into his mid-to-late twenties sitting on his living room floor, working in a ranging the state of his soberness from completey dry to beyond wrecked, and doing shitty primary school crafts.

But then again, I’m the man making them, so I guess I’m not particularly the one to judge on this front.

Part of me still really doesn’t connect the popularity with myself--like it’s been Penny’s doing. Which, she says, might be partially true. She already had a decent enough following, but I’m on a completely different genre. She does educative videos, and she stays popular because they’re on current events topics (defines hot topics, explains what a certain celebrity is in trouble for, yada yada). I call her the cliffnotes of the ever-rolling social media 15 minutes of fame. She asks me if I’ve ever needed to read a book with cliffnotes, and I didn’t have much defense besides “You know, I was an English minor.” (“For the first year, yeah.” “Still, had a year of it.”)

But for me? I don’t do anything new or appealing.

I think I might be a handsome face (which, in all honesty, would be a nice brag, if I could actually maintain a relationship). Or maybe it’s because I can get a bit funny, especially when I’m plastered. And there’s never really any instructions when I do these things. I have a Pinterest board, a google search option, and a flow of craft store gift cards at my disposal to make shit work.

Or, maybe, I’m just entertaining.

I’m not really confident on that front, but I’ll take what I can get.

I don’t mind it much. People seem to like the videos, and I never mind making them. Brilliant distraction, and surprisingly decent income (especially since crafts require products, so sponsors are easy to get for videos, and I never feel really guilty because I’d have to get shit to use anyway).

Penny gets on my arse about my sleep schedule, though.

“Why can’t you do special editions of Simon’s Arts ‘N Crafts in the morning?” She asks, or more complains, hovering over the kitchen bar with a mug between her hands and her flannel pyjama bottoms on. It’s nearing 1 in the morning now, and I’m just cracking open my second beer. (Don’t actually like them, but they’re tolerable.)

“Aesthetic, Penn.” I cringe after a thick gulp, squeezing my eyes tight. Shit tastes like a gym sock. “Premise of it all to put up a video that looks like a bloke who hasn’t properly slept in 10 years on his floor trying to build a shitty flower crown.”

She’s been a bit fed up with it for a little while, and I can see her point. Insomniatic tendencies aren’t something you particularly want to profit off of, but it pays the bills (and gives me something better to do than stare at my ceiling and try to count sheep into the thousands).

I hear her huff, my back turning to grab my mobile off the counter as I try to chug back a few more gulps.

Thumbing through notifs, I see a post alert for Baz Pitch. Something on Twitter--commenting on the flawed mentality of what socialistic systems are seen as vs what they are, or some other poshly worded bullshit about something that only really matters if you’re taking a secondary school course on politics.

Or if you’re Penny, I guess.

“You’re looking at Baz’s shit again,” she mumbles over her mug, sipping slowly as I glare back.

“What?”

“You get this look on your face--that one where your brows come together and makes you look constipated.”

“Yes, and? What about it?”

She smirks. “Well, you only ever get that when you’re looking at something Baz posted.

I pull my brows together when I look away, just for emphasis, and slip my mobile into my pocket. “Not only,” I counter, going for another pointed sip and holding back a cringe as I point at her, going on. “And it’s only because he’s full of himself. I don’t need, nor do I want to hear his halfhearted ramblings on something that he won’t have any affect on.”

“Then why do you have him on post-notifs?”

I try to look offended, but I just stare, mouth hanging open. “Maybe I like to keep a keen eye on him.”

She hums, unsatisfied.

“Excuse me for wanting to keep track of the man I’ve got an ongoing tiff with.”

“Ongoing tiff? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

I shrug, ignoring that with another shitty gulp.

“Look, Simon, just talk to the bloke. He’s a smart guy, if you give him a second of your time and attention beyond a twitter feud over some dumb shite like his family upbringing.”

“He’s rich, Penn! Guy’s a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” she gives me a halfhearted shrug, leaning more over the counter. “You’re just mad that he’s got more following on his personal Twitter than you do on your proper Instagram.”

“Of course not.” She’s right, but I won’t dare admit it.

I’ll never admit to being jealous of Basilton fucking Pitch--some bloody political page gone pretty boy vlogging. His main work is only relevant because he talks about shit that’s within the dizzying political-sphere, nothing of which is something I really like to think about (I vote for whoever Penny describes as the best, then hope some other prick doesn’t throw us deeper into the cesspool that is this Brexit nightmare).

But he has his vlogging channel. A popular one, at that. Talks about what he’s reading, where he’s traveling. Skincare routine. Mindless bullshit, that I’ve forced myself to sit through just so I have a proper excuse to go off complaining about him.

Never seen the bloke break a proper smile, though. Not even in fan pictures. He smirks, and he’s got a barking, bitter laugh, but I’ve never heard anything that relates “Joyous” and “Basilton” in a similar sentence.

It’s a wonder he and Penn interact amicably.

She scoffs at me, sipping her tea slowly as my shoulders slump, beer can held tight enough in my hand that it’s denting in at my fingers. I should probably let go of it.

“Are you gonna help me set up?” I ask, deflating from the conversation and trying to distract with a new one.

“If you need help.”

“Need? No. Want? Yeah.”

She rolls her eyes, settling the mug down onto our countertop anyway before turning to start dragging the lights out of the side closet while I polish off my drink and head to grab my camera and tripod.

I’ve gotten better at this over the years. Swapped majors from social work to media studies, then minored in advertising, once the channel had hit 1k subscribers. Hadn’t quit my dayjob at the cafe until I hit 100k, but the steady rise since hasn’t been bad to us. Penny’s got a decent income, too, and she still decides to work in the school’s library as she’s working on her PhD in Sociology.

The flat’s a better one than the one we’d started in. We’ve even got a guest bedroom (screams disposable income). And, well, nicer equipment. A real sense of seriousness and maturity while we work.

Well, mostly.

I’m speaking as the grown man with a metal cabinet full of crafts supplies.

Business man with craft supplies.

Makes me sound more professional than “Newly 27 year old Youtuber who does nothing of serious impact, other than hoping to make others smile while throwing together terribly made, barely functioning crafts.”

I make my way back into the living room after setting up the camera and wandering back off, arms full of supplies as Penny starts setting up cameras, glancing over her shoulder. “What’d you choose tonight?”

I look down, then plop myself onto the floor and spread out my shit. “Uhh,” I say, shifting through. “I was thinking a beer can ghost.”

“Beer can ghost?”

I nod, holding up the gauze and glue. “As a Happy Halloween episode.”

“It’s not even October yet, Si.”

I shrug. “September’s close enough.” I grin, going off to grab my empty beer can and sprawling back out onto the floor. “Want to join in?”

“I think I’ll take a rain check for this episode, thank you.” She smiles teasingly, brushing past and messing my hair a bit as I’m settling myself onto the hardwood floor. I don’t take it harshly; I never take her harshly. I don’t think I’ve got the room to take it harshly, given I don’t seriously have anyone else in my life besides her (at least on a consistent basis).

“Suit yourself!” I call back, watching her disappear into her bedroom while shutting the door behind herself.

Before going at it, I take and post a quick Instagram picture at the layout in front of me, adding Halloween-themed emojis (so everyone knows I’m serious about wanting to get festive) as the caption.

I sigh and clear up my space, glancing around to make sure the area looks clean-enough, then get up to press start. It takes a second to make my way back and get myself properly situated on the floor, exhaling quietly and collecting my thoughts before shooting my head up and grinning at the camera angled a few feet away and slightly above eyeline with me.

“Hey everyone! Welcome back to Simon’s Arts ‘N Crafts!”

BAZ

I don’t understand the hype of Simon Snow.

I never truly have. He feels like he’s the sort of mindless bloke to pull out a guitar at uni and unironically start playing Wonderwall.

Allow me to rephrase; I don’t understand the hype of Simon Snow’s channel.

Snow himself, on the other hand, is a different story.

Cheerful smile, rosey cheeks. Curls that stick out at all angles (you’d think he’d try to style them properly, given he’s got the time and money now, but he doesn’t; he looks as disheveled as the day his channel began). Snow’s an utter mess just trying to occupy himself while avoiding other aspects of life, and somehow, for reasons I can’t chalk up to anything but his glittering disposition, he’s popular.

Not too popular, no. A couple million popular. Sponsored by major chains popular, due to the spike in young hobbyists trying to “Unleash their inner child” following his lead. But, of course, he donates huge portions to schools, giving them arts supplies and, for some saintly reason, gives to orphanages too.

I wonder at times if there’s anything deeper than just a handsome public face and overly generous donor. And, usually, I try to doubt there is, but I can’t quite ignore the occasional sign that Simon Snow may be a saint, and I fucking hate him for it.

I hate him for a number of reasons, starting with “He hates me”, and ending with “He’s gorgeous, and he hates me”.

I scroll down my Instagram feed, then refresh, immediately getting his post as a priority (I feel as though I’d be damned if anyone knew how often I go to simply look at him, or try to snoop through his older pictures to put the pieces together). It’s not much; his lap, which is a pair of grey joggers (Chris, I bet he looks fit in them), mismatched athletic socks, and a pile of half pulled-apart gauze, supplies for paper mache, an emptied beer can, and a sponge brush laying on a disposable plastic tarp. It’s simply captioned with a set of emojis that are definitely a few weeks too early.

baz.pitch Can’t count a calendar, Snow? Not surprised.

I stare at the comment for a brief moment, jaw clenching and swallowing back the strange, twinge that comes with our either interaction as quickly as it appears before trying to scroll and avoid any further thoughts on the matter.

It isn’t much longer before a notification drops down, hanging over the top of my screen.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Are you still awake, or sleep-commenting?

I snort and tap onto it, letting the direct messaging screen load up.

baz.pitch: I am awake

baz.pitch: Is there something you want, Bunce?

Penelope Bunce and I interact far more than I’d originally thought we would. At first, when she first reached out, I’d assumed we’d quarrel, given her general harshness brought through her Twitter account, but I soon learned that she and I have a good bit in common. Personal views align, and she’s got a devilishly sharp sense of humour on her (not that I’d ever tell her, of course). Never thought I’d consider her not only an ally, but a friend in this harsh digital age, but I’ve found solace in her conversations.

That, and she teases Snow for me more than I could ever repay her for.

When I say tease, it isn’t quite the taunting I find myself regularly drawn into, but rather the simple name drop can be enough to get him to squirm in place (I know; I’ve seen it through live streams). I’ve never found it in myself to say any of my opinions on Snow to her, but given her intellect, I’d assumed she knows far more about my views of him than what Snow knows himself.

Which, at times, scares me. Nobody should know any vulnerability about me, unless I know equally as much incriminating information on them.

But so far, I haven’t had much a reason to worry.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Do you know when you’ll find yourself in London again?

Interesting question.

Intentionally? Who the fuck knows.

As of recent, my life has consisted of no proper flat (which has begrudgingly left me living in my family’s manor, avoiding a permanent residence) while I hop about the island, then once a month, I spend a week in some various part of Europe. I just see it as trying to squeeze the most out of my life as a pitiful bachelor, but some others (Snow) consider this as me being a privileged arsehole and not wanting to commit to a proper life. (For the record, I regularly donate to LGBTQ+ nonprofits, but you don’t see me flaunting it in my personal work.)

Whatever. He probably hasn’t gotten snogged in the back of a Porsche in Venice during late spring.

Although, admittedly, that wasn’t very fulfilling.

Those trips never quite are.

And, sadly, neither are the men. All looking somewhat of a similar face; square jawed, wide-nosed. Long necks, wide shoulders, and curly hair that I love to tug and hold back.

But none of them are ever named Simon, and none of them hit quite the spot that this damned yearning has held.

Which is, I suppose, why I’m rarely ever in London. I’m not sure what I’d do with myself in London, unless I’m there with a purpose. I feel like I might go off the rails and try to actually find Snow without the guidance of some other party. I’d be a walking disaster.

baz.pitch: Depends on why you’re asking

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Well, a couple of reasons.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Which all ultimately have the same suggested outcome of us collaborating on a video, and I’m not particularly set on getting myself out to Hampshire to sit in your frankly terrifying mansion.

(baz.pitch) buncespeaking: Plus, you can put me out of my misery and finally speak to Simon in person, for once. He’s driving me mad, and at this point, I’d pay for you to just put him to silence in person, for once.

As tempting as it seems, a small part of me worries that Bunce is believing that I’d sock Snow instead of snog him (maybe both are possible, but assaulting someone on their own property is risky at best).

I stare at my screen for a good, long pause, worrying at my lip as her typing pop-up ceases. It’s hard to not leap at opportunities I really wish to take--to just hold my dignity to somewhat of a respectable point.

But Snow crashes any barriers of my real rigidity.

He has for well over a few years now--ever since we were introduced digitally.

I’ve found myself watching his videos, over and over again, and trying to imagine how we’d play about. I like to wonder whatever happened to that pretty girlfriend of his (I’m aware they broke up, but he’s certainly too private to share the rest).

It’s been years since I first heard about Snow, and since then, I can’t quite get him off my mind.

It’s quite dizzying, trying to get Snow off my thoughts. I try to occupy--I try to fulfill. I try to find my way through life without some dull half-rivalry, full-teasing he and I share through out linked lives, but it’s like a drug. Draws me in, making me wish I had more of a good thing while trying to ignore that the good thing isn’t quite good for me, but rather simply a shocking want, prickling under my skin and bringing me back for more.

In all the things I do to occupy myself--to occupy the life I’ve been trying to lead (without success)--Snow’s been my favorite distraction. And I might just have to break through this and meet him, for once.

baz.pitch: Give me a time and a place and I’ll fit you into my schedule

[elizabeth-marston-roberts]

Working Hard | John Marston x Abigail Marston x F!Reader |

This is based on one of the nights I stayed late for work last week. I was bouncing around a few different projects but I finally finished this one yesterday before I went and saw Endgame. This is another Modern AU as well!

Pairing: John Marston x Abigail Marston x F!Reader

Rating: T? No smut or anything but there is a mention or two of sex.

Words: 4,051

@redeadepression

xx

You glance at the clock above the kitchen's archway. "He's late." You murmur to Abigail, who is flipping through Netflix boredly.

It's date night and you and Abigail are dressed and ready to go see a movie, but John's nowhere to be found. Normally he would be home from work right at this time and in the shower, but for some reason he hadn't even come home yet. It was worrying for a man that was so hellbent on routine.

"It's not like him to be late." You continue. "What if something happened?"

"Darling, I am sure he just got caught in some traffic." She says, eyes still on the screen. "He'll be home soon, alright? Relax."

You huff and cross your arms, glaring at the tv screen like it was its fault your boyfriend wasn't home from work yet. "Fine."

Your phone rings a moment later, and it's John. Faster than lightning, you grab it and tap the green bubble, phone to your ear in less than a second. "John??"

"Hey, baby." He sighs. "I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna be home for a while. Got this jackass customer that suddenly needs his damn truck tomorrow mornin' and I gotta get his airbag system done. It's just me here now, so I'm lookin' at another hour or two at the least."

"It's already six-thirty!" You whine. "And it's date night."

"I know, I know. I'll make it up to you and Abigail. I promise. Believe me, I would much rather go see a movie with my beautiful ladies than stare at this goddamn frame for another two hours. I'm sore and I'm tired, but this is how I make money to take you two out like you deserve."

You sigh. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Just have dinner for me ready. I'll call when I'm on my way out."

"Okay." You mumble, dejectedly playing with the hem of your shirt. "I love you."

"I love you. Abi too. I'll see you later."

"Bye." You hang up and pout, flopping onto Abigail pathetically. She kisses your forehead, playing with your hair.

"What's goin' on?"

"John has to work late tonight. A customer is throwing a fit about his truck so he's gotta get it done tonight."

She scoffs, shaking her head furiously. "The shit these people do... Don't they realize John is more than just a goddamn mechanic and he don't have time to just stay late for their selfish asses?"

"They don't care." You sigh. "He's all by himself there."

"Not for long." Abigail gives your rear a pair of pats. "Come on, let's go on over there and try to help him."

"We'd probably just get in his way, sweetheart."

"We may not be mechanics, but we can provide moral support and talk a lot of shit. Come on!"

Grinning, you hop off the couch and grab the keys to Abi's car. She shuts the tv off and grabs her purse, and within fifteen minutes you're at the auto shop. Snorting at the unlocked door, you and Abigail walk inside, locking the door behind you, and head for the garage.

As usual, the interior is a mess. There's Oil-Dri in various places on the floor, there's an annoying flickering light, air lines are strewn about the ground, and John's tools are scattered around his area. Carefully stepping over things and regretting the choice to wear white tennis shoes, you and Abigail approach the man.

He's on a black creeper, working underneath a white Ford F-350. It's a pretty truck, but no vehicle is worth skipping date night. His dirty hands grasp the running board and he rolls himself out from underneath it when he hears your activity, his angry face taking on a surprised look.

Grinning, he stands up. "What're you two doin' here?"

"Came to help." Abigail winks and approaches him for a kiss that he happily obliges.

"Ain't you sweet." He smiles and wipes his hands on the red rag in his back pocket, crooking his finger in the 'come hither' motion upon seeing you.

A smile overtakes your lips and you rush over, hands on his cheeks as you give him a big kiss. You were always so sweet on him, but he loved that so much about you that he could never take real advantage of it.

"Hey, babygirl." He croons against your lips. He leaves another smooch on you before stepping back. "You two really wanna help me?"

"Yes!" Abigail says, hands on her hips and that determined glint in her eye. "We can... Give you stuff!"

"Okay." He smiles, holding his hands up innocently. "I'll treat you beauties to dinner after."

"You better." Abigail teases.

"So what're we doing?" You smile at John, who grimaces.

"I gotta run the lines from the airbags to this compressor and do all the wiring. It's gonna take a while."

"I thought airbags was in the car." Abigail muses, looking at all of the various bolts and tools tossed around the floor where John was working.

He chuckles softly and walks to the rear of the truck, pointing to a black, baggy spring-looking device on the truck's frame. "Different kinda airbag, darlin'. These ones stiffen the suspension when the load is put on. In this case, this guy has a fifth wheel trailer that he pulls, and it's a big sonbitch, so without 'em it squats this thing like it's a little Tacoma. I got the bags on already, and on a regular kit all I would need to do is run the air lines together and that'd be it."

"You mentioned a compressor." You say, looking for something resembling said compressor.

"Already got it bolted under the truck, and I'm workin' on the pump now. I ain't never done a system like this and the damn instructions are vague as all hell, plus I'm pretty sure the bastards sent the wrong kit. But I'm makin' it work 'cause I ain't got no other option."

"Well that's dumb." Abigail crosses her arms, a scowl forming on her lips. "Ain't your fault you got the wrong stuff."

"Customers don't care 'bout that, darlin'." John settles back down onto his creeper, rolling underneath once again. "It ain't fair, but... Ain't nothin' fair. You know that."

Abigail just pouts and plops down onto a blue roll-around chair. She rolls beside you and pulls you onto her lap, resting her chin on your shoulder. Putting your head against hers, you stare at John's legs sticking out from under the truck.

"C'mere, you cocksuckin' bastard." He mutters to what is presumably the pump for the system, picking it up and holding it to the frame.

Abigail snorts. "Stay classy, John."

"Hush, woman, I'm workin'!"

She waves a lazy hand at him and pulls her phone from her pocket, opening back up to her Pinterest. Lazily scrolling through it, she rubs your stomach affectionately.

Underneath the truck, John grumbles your name. Turning your head from the cookie recipe Abigail is reading, you look at John's legs and tilt your head to somewhat catch a glimpse of his face.

"What'd you say?"

"I said, can you get me some Loctite? It's in a blue bottle with a white cap. Should be on my toolbox."

"Got it!" You pop up and turn to his bright yellow Snap-On set of toolboxes, humming as you search it for the bottle he described.

"I need a pair of gloves too!" He calls out.

"Kay!" As you return to the truck with his items, Abigail looks toward John.

"What's Loctite?"

"It's a thread sealer that makes sure these bolts don't go fallin' out." A bolt rolls out to her feet, and she leans down and inspects it curiously. "Do me a favor and get a wrench that size. Please."

Abigail passes you as she makes her way to the toolbox, turning her head once she realizes she has no idea where the wrenches are. "Joooooohn!"

Under the truck, John flinches at her whine. "Damn, I hate when you yell like that! Always makes me think there's somethin' wrong."

Ignoring his rant, she continues. "Where's the wrenches?"

"Second drawer on the left."

She tugs on the drawer, but it doesn't give. "What the hell is wrong with this thing...?"

His amused laughter is muted due to his position beneath the truck, but you hear it nonetheless. "On the bottom of the handle is a roll latch. Slide that to the left and then pull."

"Oh." Her fingers touch the rack and she guides it to the left, squeeing happily when it opens up. "That's so neat!"

John laughs again. "It sure is, Abigail. Get me that wrench now so I can get this mounted."

While she searches for the right size, you drag over a piece of cardboard to sit on. Plopping down and crossing your legs, you smile at the better view you have of John. He catches your eye and winks, waving cutely with two of his greasy fingers.

"I see you've found my Carolina Creeper."

"Your what?"

He snickers to himself. "Redneck creeper. As in, when I can't find mine or I can't fit real good under somethin', I lay on cardboard."

"Oh!" You laugh. "You're a silly man, John."

He takes the bolt and wrench as Abigail slides it to him. "That I am, babygirl."

Abigail resumes her position on the roll-around chair, propping her knee up on your shoulder while she texts a friend back. Your arm wraps around her calf as you rest your head against her knee, slipping her flip-flop off to rub her foot. For as long as you'd known her, Abigail sure loved getting her feet rubbed.

John relaxes one leg, shaking his foot to the beat of a Metallica song playing on the radio. For a while he just murmurs to himself and tinkers, and occasionally you see his hands reaching for a nearby tool. It's maddening how he's so eloquent at his work but can't go one week without falling down the stairs in the early morning hours.

"You need new boots, John." You say, poking the worn toe of his shoe.

Abigail snorts. "I been tryin' to get him to buy a new pair for two months. If the idiot wants his feet and back to hurt, then that's on him."

"Ya know, if I wanted to be nagged by you two, I woulda gone home!"

You swat his foot. "We're just looking out for you, brat!"

"Yeah, yeah!" He waves a gloved hand. "You wanna come down here and screw a bolt in?"

"Uh, yeah!" You grin and stand, pushing your cardboard under the truck and laying beside him. Sneaking in a quick kiss before you settle down, John peels off his Loctite-stained gloves and looks over at you with a little smile.

"It's dark under here! How do you see?"

John chuckles. "I got a few different ways. After you get this bolt in I'll grab a light."

"Kay." You look where John's already got the bolt ready to go. He holds a wrench to you and points to the circular end.

"This one's a ratchet wrench, and this side of it here is the ratchet. Rule of thumb, righty-tighty, lefty-loosey."

"Righty-tighty, lefty-loosey." You nod, smiling. "I've heard that one before."

"Means it's a good rule." He says, and he twists the end of the wrench. "Now these are my new ones y'all got for me, and-"

"It looks brand new! We bought them for you over a year ago!"

"Are you tellin' me you let those damn wrenches sit in the box over a year, John Marston?!" Abigail questions.

John groans and closes his eyes. "Yes, my love, I did. But I'm using them now and that should be good enough!"

"See if I ever get you a tool again." Abigail grumbles and leans back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other.

John's quiet for a moment, staring blankly at the truck's undercarriage before continuing. "Anyway. These are double-sided. My old ones had a little switch you turned, but they got stuck a lot as they got towards the end, so I actually like these a lot more. So find your right side and get to bolting."

You hum and twist the ratchet like John had, finding the side that will tighten the bolt. Once the wrench is set, you begin flicking your wrist to get it in. John grins proudly and covers his large hand over yours, adjusting your grip for a more efficient flick of the wrist.

"John, is that tape on your shoe?" Abigail questions, leaning down to pull off a wayward piece of electrical tape that stuck to his heel.

"Wait, no!" He grins as he calls out to her, and when she pulls the tape anyway he hisses, pretending to deflate his body, his arms falling on the floor and his propped up leg sagging to the side.

Abigail laughs and balls the tape up, throwing it at him. It lands at his groin, to which he groans and curls up, hands protectively over the 'offended' area, whimpering like a kicked puppy. She laughs some more and you join in, shaking your head. To the outside world, John Marston is a mean man with a helluva bitch face; but to you and Abigail, John's the softest dork in the world. It feels good to have such a privilege.

After you've done your job, John rolls out from under the truck, heading for his toolbox. He returns with a set of goggles and a bright green flashlight with 'Ryobi' emblazoned on the side, playfully kicking your foot and looking to your other partner.

"Abigail, reach beside you and grab that light." He requests while kneeling on the floor and sitting on his creeper, sliding the goggles onto his face as he waits.

Turning, she perks a brow at the light mounted to some wood with an orange cord wrapped around it. "This?"

"Yes ma'am."

She stands and picks it up, her eyebrows furrowing when she realizes it's got some weight to it. Bringing it over and undoing the cord, she frowns curiously at the letters written on the back of the light.

"BFL?"

John snickers like a boy and takes it, shoving it under the truck. "Would you believe me if I said it stands for 'Big Fluorescent Light'?"

"Absolutely not." She snorts and plugs the light in, the dark area illuminating immediately; she smiles fondly when she hears your soft gasp in amazement.

John sets aside the green battery flashlight and lays down to roll back underneath. "Babygirl, wanna do the last two bolts for me?"

"Yes!"

He grins and joins you once more, handing you the next silver bolt. He hums and grabs the instruction booklet from his back pocket, attempting to smooth out the creases as he reads the next steps. Despite the entrance of the BFL, it's still too dim for reading. In a move that makes you laugh and murmur, "Of course." John clicks a button on each side of his goggles, lighting them up like an LED Christmas tree.

"You like that, huh?" He smirks, reading.

"Very cute; I'll give you that much."

Eventually it gets to a point where John is working and you're just curled on your cardboard, watching and handing him tools that are nearby. Abigail comes back into the garage, though you never noticed she'd left, and gives you both a nudge with her foot as she walks by.

"Alright, grease monkeys, it's time to eat!"

"Food!" You gasp and push John out from underneath the truck.

Dazed, John blinks and pulls his goggles off, yawning before he pushes himself up. He grasps your ankles (no doubt leaving a stain) and pulls you out, the cardboard whining as it moves against the gritty floor. He helps you stand and walks over to the shop sink, pumping the green lotion-looking soap onto his dirty hands.

Turning to where Abigail has set up dinner, he smiles tiredly at her while he works the soap in the fine lines of his palms. "I know I said I would take you two out."

"That's why there's always tomorrow, John." She says as she pours some soda into little cups. "Besides, the pizza place had a promo code."

"It smells good." You hum and wash your hands much quicker than John. You kiss Abigail's cheek gratefully and sit down on the black chair she'd rolled over from someone else's work bay, sipping the drink.

You two wait for John to come over and open the box before digging in. It's plain with extra cheese, Abigail's favorite. It's quiet, minus the commercials blaring from John's little red radio. He closes his eyes and rubs at them, to which Abigail scowls. Her poor man is tired, and yet he can't go home.

"You should take your contacts out if they're bothering you, John."

"Don't have my glasses." He sighs, biting his pizza. "'M fine. Time issit?"

You check your phone. "Quarter to eight now."

"Fuck." He mutters at his official twelve-hour workday. "I still have to run the airlines and gets the wires run. I want you two to head home after we finish eating."

"And I want a million dollars." Abigail rolls her eyes. "We're staying, John."

"I'm not playin', Abigail. I'm gonna be here late and you two don't need to be hangin' around all bored while I'm workin'. I don't need the extra pressure."

"No pressure from us, John. Remember, we're the ones that love you." You remind him gently. Last thing you need is the tired, angry version of your boyfriend to reveal himself.

He sighs and bites his pizza again, rubbing his forehead. Abigail rubs his knee soothingly and finishes her slice, grabbing another. John eats another two pieces before wiping his hands on his jeans and grabbing a cardboard box with a crudely cut hole in the top.

He picks up a roll of red tubing that's on his white work table and a razor blade, resuming his position under the truck he was sick of seeing. He's underneath it for ten minutes before you and Abigail roll over to the truck on your chairs.

John's silent as he works, to the point where Abigail is uncomfortable enough to push the cardboard beside him and lay down. She's on her side, resting her head on her hand and staring at him. Her other hand comes to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath her palm.

"I'm proud of you; you know that?"

He's quiet, but his jaw ticks. He makes an incision in the red tube and puts the razor blade between his lips as he holds it at one end of the little black box that controls the whole system.

"You stayin' late for this person, even though you're tired and achin' and don't wanna be here. You know me; I'd have been outta here hours ago and told him he's SOL. But you're better than that, and I love you for it."

John's entire body softens and he spits the blade out, leaning to her for a brief but meaningful smooch. "Thank you." He whispers.

She smiles and leans in for a beat-longer kiss, rubbing his chest. "Alright, let's get these red thingies up."

"Yes ma'am." John smiles, rejuvenated for a little while longer.

Abigail slips out from the truck and straddles your lap, her hands connecting behind your neck. She leans in for a kiss, her tongue running over your lip.

"Gotta have our own fun, hm?" She mutters against you as your hands rest on her hips.

"Not too much fun." You chuckle, pop kissing her lips. Her plush lips are soft on yours and she cups your face in her hands.

"Believe me when I say I hate to interrupt somethin' so nice, but I gotta get this done and I can't focus when I have a boner, ladies."

The idea of getting on your knees and blowing John right where he lays is appealing, but you refrain from doing so in favor of letting him have it once he's in bed later. Abigail regretfully removes herself from your lap and sits beside you, putting her feet in your lap.

Another hour passes before John emerges. His eyes are barely open now, and you glance at the clock mounted beside the garage door. It's nearing ten o'clock, John's usual bedtime hour during the week. Locking eyes with Abigail, you look over at John.

He slowly pulls himself to his feet and stumbles his way to opening the driver's side door, popping the hood. When he goes to lift it and lets go, the shocks that were supposed to keep it up fail and it hits him on the head, hard.

"Oh my god!" Abigail gasps and scrambles over to John, you right behind her.

John clenches his jaw tightly and slams the hood down. "Fucking 2017 truck and it can't hold the goddamn hood up! My fuckin' old ass 1976 F-150 has a goddamn hook for the damn hood, but this sparkly piece of shit can't even have good shocks on it!" He unlatches the hood again to slam it down even harder than before.

"John, let me look at your head." Abigail gets a hand on his arm and one on his back, walking him away from the truck. She's not a fan of the murderous glint in his eyes, and she likes the fact that he's employed.

She sits him down on the blue roll-around, feeling his head for bumps or scrapes while you hold a flashlight. "Nothin' too bad... Just a headache, I bet."

"A bad one." He mutters. "I hate this fucking truck..." Defeated, he hides his face in his hands.

"Executive decision." You murmur, rubbing his shoulders. "We're going home and you can finish this in the morning. And after that, you take the rest of the day off."

"It don't work like that, babygirl."

"I don't care. This right here isn't fair to you. It's ten o'clock at night!"

"I used to stay this late all the time. Ain't no thing."

"Enough, John." Abigail tucks her two fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Then and now ain't the same. You got a family with us, and as your unofficial wife I'm tellin' you to go the hell home and shower up so I can go to bed with my damn man!"

John sighs and closes his eyes. She hugs his head to her chest and you lean down and hug him from behind. With a kiss to his cheek, you murmur sweet nothings in his ear.

"Okay." He mumbles. "Can one of you drive me here tomorrow? My eyes are shot and I don't think I can see through my helmet."

"I would be more than happy to." You smile, kissing his cheek.

Everything gets unplugged and the overhead lights are turned off, and then you're out of the garage and walking through the office. John picks up his lunchbox and his cell phone, following you and Abigail out and locking the front door.

John opts to sit in the backseat, and as you peek back and watch him sleep with his mouth wide open, you can't help but smile.

"He works so hard..."

"Too hard." Abigail responds, eyes occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror to glance at John. "I didn't realize that's how his job is. Mechanics do a lot for people, but they always wanna call 'em snakes. They don't get the credit they deserve."

You snap a picture of John that's absolutely going on this year's Christmas cards. "And yet he still does it. What a man."

"What a man indeed." She hums.

As you and Abigail settle into silence, John smirks just a tad. Tomorrow he'll use his fueled up ego boost for no good, but for tonight he'll just bask in the warmth surrounding him. He is loved just as much as he loves and he never wants to forget this feeling you and Abigail have brought to him, and he silently vows to himself in that moment to always do what he can to deserve it.

[brownlavenders]

❝ she is sugar, curiosity, and rain. ❞

LAVENDER MARIE BROWN really is the spitting image of GABRIELLE UNION, right? For someone only FORTY-EIGHT years old, LAVENDER has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that PUREBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary since APRIL, 2028, working as a LEADER/SUPPLY SUPERVISOR in the DIVISION OF FORAGE. SHE is a CIS WOMAN and is known to be SENSITIVE and IMPATIENT but also PASSIONATE and FOCUSED. Best of luck surviving through this. ⊰ SAM, 24, EST, THEY/THEM ⊱

♡ CHARACTER PARALLELS — Piper Halliwell ( Charmed ) + Rachel Green ( F.R.I.E.N.D.S. ) + Sandy Olsen ( Grease ) + Jessica Day ( New Girl ) + Clara Oswald ( Doctor Who ) + Joyce Byers ( Stranger Things ) + Bella Swan ( Twilight ) + Meredith Grey ( Grey’s Anatomy ) + Pam Beesly ( The Office ) + Lois Lane ( DC Comics ).

i’m gonna do another intro in damien’s intro’s style because i feel like that’s the easiest way for me to communicate my thoughts in a like, emotional-ish way? but her about page + pinterest board + connections page are coming asap

ALCOHOL TW

lavender’s parents were snobs. like, huge snobs. she adored them, and they adored her right back, but lavender was never snobbish, and that made understanding a bit difficult between her and her parents. ALSO she has an older brother and a younger sibling, but!!!! i don’t want to specify anything about them in case anyone wants to pick them up as characters!

ALCOHOL TW. lavender did like things to be pretty and clean and what not, but yeah..... not a snob. she liked wine and all that jazz, and ok maybe was a bit pretentious with that, but she never pushed it onto other people, unlike her parents. like, she didn’t judge others. in fact, lavender tended to like people until they prove to her that maybe that wasn’t such a great idea.

MENTIONS OF HERMIONE, AND THEREFORE MAY BE TAKEN OUT OF THE INTRO DEPENDING ON HERMIONE’S MUN. ok i’m going to be 100% honest with you: i think lavender never put a huge effort into befriending hermione, especially in first year, because hermione radiated, to lavender, huge “i’m not like other girls” vibes, and though lavender probs couldn’t name it at age eleven tm, she’s always loved being a girl, and has always loved girls, and just!!!!! i think that might have put her off??? though she could DEF have been wrong about that vibe if someone ends up playing hermione and it doesn’t work with them. or i could altogether remove this point from her intro if requested eoigjeroijgeijroger

realized she was bi when she was uuuuuuh, 13. she thought she was a lesbian from the ages of nine to thirteen, then had a crush on a boy, had a mini crisis, and realized she liked people regardless of their gender. 

gosh........ did she love ron? hard to say. she was a teenager, and not only that, but she was LAVENDER MCFUCKING BROWN as a teenager and lavender mcfucking brown doesn’t do anything half-way, especially not when it comes to love and/or feelings. so like, she felt really, really strongly about ron back then. and she was devastated when they broke up, especially considering the way it ended but,,,,,, she got over it. and then she realized she was in love with her best friend, parvati.

i won,t go into depth about their relationship since someone might (pls apply for parvati) end up playing parvati, but, the basics: own/owned a divination shop together that was open to both muggles and wix, and have a couple of kids!!!!!

lavender adores her kids like holy shit. would lay down her life for any of them without even a second of hesitation. i know it’s like, not super surprising or anything, but. she loves them so damn much and i am EMOTIONAL.

um, lavender is not a huge fan of the inferi. they scare tf out of her, and the only reason she’s managed to stay somewhat levelheaded so far is because she feels like she has to be there for her kids, and all other kids around, really. 

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

a sensitive soul. but also very passionate. when she likes something, she reeeeeeally likes it. 

cries too easily

has zero patience whatsoever

is a good leader, but probably not firm/strict enough.

i need to work out how she got to hogwarts with the other people playing her family members so i’ll edit that in later on!!! and probs do like, a self para about it or st!!!! so you don,t have to come back to this woigjeroijgoeirjg

oh and yeah really into divination ofc!!!!! astrology & crystal balls have been her biggest interests in the field lately, but yeah!!!!!! everything divination is a++++++ in her heart!!!!