#it totally hasn’t taken over my life

[sunnysparklerr]

My writing class pre assignment: “so what is the BEST story you’ve seen/read/played”

Me: so there’s an Angel and a demon -

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.

[maidenvault]

It genuinely does not matter if there were independent contractors or indentured workers on the second Death Star when it was blown up, oh my God.

Maybe for a moment rebel command thought about it and had a hard decision to make. We don’t need to see that because it would be a short conversation. You don’t let the fascist overlords have a doomsday device that can genocide a whole planet at the push of a button because then the next hard decision you’ll be making is whether you keep fighting the Empire at all when they’ll retaliate by destroying a whole planet, and another one tomorrow and another the next day. The Empire hasn’t poured a stupid amount of resources into creating this weapon and then completely replacing the first one because they don’t mean to use it lightly.

Victories in war always come at a serious cost, but of course after the Death Star is gone there’s celebration despite losses on both sides. Soldiers can celebrate victories and still being alive even when there are complicated feelings because people just died. People lived under the tyranny of the Empire for two decades before the rebellion started striking any serious blows, and it’s not bloodthirsty that seeing the Death Star go up in a huge explosion is treated as a huge win both times.

There’s just no quantifying the damage done by that conversation in Clerks and stupid takes like that becoming inescapable and taken seriously, not just put in a movie to be funny. Star Wars is about fighting fascism and it has a relatively black-and-white morality. As someone who loves some very heightened fantasy that feels like myth and folklore and doesn’t need realism in everything, I’m so tired of it being treated as a given that more symbolic and black-and-white portrayals of good and evil are inherently problematic. They’re not. There’s plenty of problems to be found in Star Wars without straining to be such an insufferable edgelord about its basic premise.

Yes, Star Wars is also about the sanctity of life and how violence and anger can corrupt people. But still every SW trilogy has been about a Jedi fighting in a war of some kind. TLJ ultimately shows DJ to be wrong with his “Don’t join” attitude, and Luke to be wrong for abandoning his duty as a Jedi, and Ben to be wrong for thinking he and Rey can carve their own path that doesn’t mean uncompromisingly resisting the dark side without that meaning they become the bad guys. The Bendu, representing neither the dark or the light, turns out to be a petty asshole whose refusal to pick sides because he’s so above it all just makes him totally useless until Kanan insults his pride enough for him to act. SW makes the point over and over that some things are worth fighting for and neutrality or complacency in the face of oppression is bad, that there’s truly not much gray area when the enemy are Sith or greedy and genocidal despots. Any civilians on the Death Star probably were there because they made a choice to just do their jobs whoever’s in power, because there are plenty of people in Imperial space like that. But by all means keep nitpicking how the particular way the rebellion stopped the Empire makes them ackshually not such good guys you know.

[moomine]

backwash II | daisuke

author's note: totally awesome people should check out part one as well ⍢ also, if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) It's been a little over a month since the Tulpar departed on its 382-day long haul. Anya takes the reader aside to perform her monthly psych eval, where she discusses her experiences with her peers and life on the ship so far. After she's clear to go, she runs into Daisuke who's drawing in the lounge.

word count: 2,291

warnings: mild language? all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 028—

I’m starting to feel more and more homesick. I miss my mom’s roast chicken. I miss swimming pools and the feeling of the breeze. I miss burning incense. I miss my friends. It hasn’t been that long since we left Earth, but I guess I just never considered how still outer space would be. How lonely I’d feel. The others have been nice, yeah. Especially Anya. And Daisuke. I get the feeling that Captain Curly is still warming up to me. I wonder if he’s ever taken on another apprentice before. I don’t know about Swansea, or Jimmy. They seem to tolerate me at best. But then again, those two kind of just tolerate everyone, except for maybe Captain Curly. It’s only been almost a month. I just have to keep my head. 

If mom were here she’d say: “Everything gets easier with time. Time and patience.”

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN—

“Everything okay, [Name]?” Anya asked in a gentle tone, gingerly placing a hand on the table in front of you.

Your shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice as it filled the otherwise silent lounge. You looked up at her, feeling the tension seemingly wash away by the sight of her face. She offered you an understanding smile, her tired features softened as she looked down at you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess,” you responded. 

You raised a hand to rub your eyes. It had been difficult to find sleep lately. The groaning of the ship was almost haunting at night. Laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you spent the few hours allotted for sleep thinking about Earth, about what laid just beyond the door to your room, about the ceaseless whining of steel and steam. About the next three hundred and fifty four days.

Anya nodded sympathetically, moving her hand from the table top to your shoulder blade. “It gets easier. I promise,” she paused as Jimmy and Curly entered the room, their voices loud and booming. “Are you ready for your psych eval?”

You nearly didn’t hear her over the sound of the other two. They were reminiscing, shouting stories back and forth of college parties, bar fights, and past lovers.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said with a timid grin. 

Anya nodded once more, motioning toward the door just past the kitchen space. You came to your feet and followed her until the two of you made it to her domain. The medical bay had become a safe haven for you. Over the past month, you gravitated toward Anya the most. She had been kind to you from the very beginning, almost sisterly. When there was no more work to be done, you often found yourself walking straight through the lounge and into her office. Anya didn’t mind. In fact, she had grown to rather enjoy the company.

She walked around the desk before taking a seat in her chair. Behind her was a wall of white shelves and cabinets with glass doors. Inside they held assorted medical supplies and books on psychology and basic clinical practice. To the right of her was a bulletin board, cluttered with posters, a calendar, pictures of her hometown, and notes and reminders. A number of Daisuke’s doodles had made it up as well, namely ‘Yimpy’, a rather horrible caricature of Jimmy. It was pretty realistic.

You sat across from her with your hands interlocked in a tight ball. “Same as last time, right?”

Anya grinned as she organized your file. “Yep, same as last time. Since it’s only your second evaluation, I’m going to go over it one more time. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded.

“Lovely,” she said with a soft hum. Tapping the papers into a neat pile against the desk, Anya glanced at you once more. Her eyes flickered from the page to you, you to the page as she read aloud. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your experience, relationships, and general well being during your time under contract with Pony Express. It is your responsibility to answer as truthfully as you feel comfortable and/or deem necessary. Your answers remain confidential unless you give reason to believe you are at risk of harming yourself or others. Do you have any questions?”

“No questions here,” you replied with a shake of your head.

“Perfect. Let’s get started. On a scale of one to ten, how confident do you feel in your capability to complete your work and responsibilities on a day to day basis?” Anya read.

“Maybe eight? I’m still getting a hold of some of the more technical aspects. The Tulpar is an older ship… I wasn’t exactly trained on her special quirks in school,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“You’ll catch on fast. You already have,” she reassured, jotting down your response with that sweet smile still on her face. “Okay, next question. You mentioned last time that you’ve been having difficulty sleeping, is that still a relevant cause for concern?”

“I don’t know if it’s that concerning. I think I’m just having a hard time getting used to the new environment. It’s been getting easier to fall asleep though,” you responded. A little, white lie.

“I’m happy to hear that, [Name]. Your rest is important. I remember not being able to sleep at all during my first haul. I spent all night just tossing and turning, reading my books if I could focus on them long enough. It’s normal, but from the sound of it, you’re doing a great job adjusting.” Her gaze softened as she spoke. It was clear that she had grown to care for you quite quickly, and you did the same for her. “Only a couple more left to go…”

Anya listened intently while you answered each of her questions, taking the time to write down key details of your responses. Between questions, the sound of her pen etching against the paper filled the room. As Anya wrapped up the second to last question, your eyes wandered to the evening window screen. The warm orange and reds of the artificial sunset made the room look like it was on fire. You looked back to your hands, reaching up to take a piece of your hair and twist it between two fingers.

“All right,” Anya spoke up. “Last but not least, how do you feel about your relationships with the rest of the crew? Is there anything I should know about in particular?”

“No, I don’t think so. Everyone has treated me fine enough. Other than you, I’m still trying to get to know everyone better,” you said, still focused on your hair.

Another sympathetic smile graced Anya’s lips as she looked over at you. She knew how it felt to feel slightly out of place. “Look, I’m technically not supposed to tell you this, so you have to keep it a secret. Okay?” Anya let out a quiet laugh as you nodded quickly. She watched amused as you dropped your strand of hair and leaned in closer. “Daisuke mentioned during his eval that he wanted to get to know you more. Maybe you could try talking to him? You two have more in common than you might think.”

You looked down at your lap again, biting at the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will.”

“Well, you’re all set. You’re free to go.” Anya closed the file and tucked it away alongside the others in her desk. “Thank you for your time, [Name]. I assume I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time as usual?”

“Same time as usual,” you echoed, beaming as you got out of your chair and left the room.

From the hallway leading to the medical bay, you could tell that the lounge was quiet now. Curly and Jimmy must have wandered off elsewhere. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the subtle sound of pencil scratching coming from deeper within. As you entered the room you noticed Daisuke, hunched over the table as he sketched something in his sketchbook. Completely oblivious. You leaned against the doorway and watched from a distance for a moment, admiring as he tucked a tuft of fried brown hair behind his ear. 

“What are you drawing?” you questioned.

Daisuke jumped in his seat like a cat that had been snuck up on. His eyes shot to you, the surprise he felt immediately quelling into a tenuous excitement. He hastily closed his sketchbook —almost like he was hiding something— and smoothed out his hair. His mouth broke out into a wide, infectious smile, the gap in his two front teeth a thin ravine and the dimples on either side of his mouth tiny sinkholes.

“Me? Oh, y’know, just doodling,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if trying to act casual. “Where ya been? I couldn’t find- I mean, I didn’t see you back in the cockpit.”

“Psych eval.” You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb as you pushed yourself from the doorframe. “Can I see it?” you asked, walking up to the table and taking the seat across from him.

“Uhh… see what?” Daisuke asked in turn, voice coy and simultaneously flustered.

“Your doodles,” you responded with a laugh. “Only if you’re okay with that, obviously.”

“Oh! I mean, yeah. That’s like, totally fine. But, fair warning, they’re not that incredible or anything.” Reluctantly, Daisuke passed you his sketchbook. He looked rather bashful, cheeks slightly flushed and smile wavering.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’ve seen your stuff on Anya’s corkboard. You’re really good.” You took the sketchbook in your hands, looking down at the cover of it. It was absolutely littered in a random assortment of stickers. Only through the few and far between gaps could you see that it was once a pure black. It looked much cooler now decorated with the various games, bands, and whatever else Daisuke liked. “Are you sure you don’t mind me looking? Again, it’s perfectly fine if you changed your mind.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Just don’t expect too much, ‘kay?” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

“No expectations,” you agreed.

You turned over the cover, revealing the first page. In red ink you read ‘if found please return to Daisuke, thank youuuuuu’, alongside it was a doodle of himself looking particularly grateful. Or maybe he was pleading. You chuckled under your breath and began flipping through the rest of the pages. Each one was filled with sketches and those increasingly familiar doodles of predominantly other people. Friends, maybe family, and characters from the different games he liked. His work wasn’t quite realistic, but not the most stylized either. Rather, it seemed to be a perfect mix of the two. Something entirely unique to him. To Daisuke.

The deeper you got into the book you started to spy familiar faces. Captain Curly, Swansea, Anya, even Jimmy, but mostly you. You glanced up at him, seeing that he was seemingly avoiding eye contact with you all together. His hand was still tangled within his hair, head turned to the side, and lips knitted into a fine line. That mole —high on his left cheek— stared at you more than his own eyes.

When you finally got to the last page you realized he hadn’t been doodling at all. Instead, there before you, in soft pencil sketching, was a portrait of you that Daisuke had drawn from memory. It wasn’t perfect, but it was incredibly detailed nevertheless. You held up the book, taking in the details with a look of awe on your face. He captured all of your little imperfections —the tilt of your eyes, the quirk in your smile, all of it. 

“Daisuke, these are actually so good!” you exclaimed, setting the book down and passing it back to him.

“You… you really think so?” He let out a breath of relief, finally looking at you again. “Man, I thought you would find them totally weird. I’ve been too scared to show anyone else but Anya.”

“Why would I think they’re weird?” you asked.

“Shit, I dunno…” Daisuke trailed off.

You shook your head. “You’re really talented.”

“I- Thank you,” he breathed. Daisuke’s face softened as you looked at him from across the table. The flush in his cheeks was barely noticeable, a fair pink dusting the peaks of his features. “Hey, I noticed you brought a Walkman on board with you. I never thought I’d actually see one of those things in the flesh.”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed lightly. “It was a gift from my mom. It’s outdated as hell, but I’ve got a bunch of custom tapes back in my room. We should totally listen to them sometime.”

“Are you kidding? Dude, I’d love to-”

“Daisuke!” Swansea called from down the hall, cutting him off. He rounded the corner, sticking his head into the lounge with a sweaty brow. “There you are. Get your ass up, break time’s over. We’ve got work to finish up before dinner.”

Daisuke looked noticeably disappointed at the sight of Swansea. “But I-”

“No ‘buts’. C’mon now, I don’t have all day,” Swansea said with a huff before he turned around, walking back toward the utility room.

“Coming,” Daisuke sighed. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm with a slight frown. “Guess I’ll see ya later, [Name].”

“Yeah! I’ve got to show you some of my mixes, remember?” you responded sweetly, smiling up at him.

Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. As he left the room, he adopted a pep in his step. A smile was glued to his face as he beamed down the hall. The human embodiment of sunshine in that moment.

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian Angel

Part 1/3 Part 2

A/N: Starting a series where f!reader is the child of a demon and a human and Adam’s been tasked with keeping an eye on her. Please leave requests!

“It has recently come to my attention that a demon and a human have reproduced,” Sera announced. 

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “No shit. For real?”

“The spawn is already grown. So far she hasn’t caused any trouble so I do not see the need for actions further than simply keeping an eye on her.”

“Okay and what does that have to do with me?” Adam asked, taking a long sip from his drink.

“You’re going to watch her.”

Adam spit out his drink. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re going to be her guardian angel,” Sera smirked. Adam’s jaw dropped idignantly. “Do I have to?” He whined.

“Yes.”

That’s how Adam found himself on Earth, stalking some random demon/human hybrid.

Although despite his apathy, she wasn’t just some random, a demon/human hybrid was almost unheard of. She was the third documented instance of that happening.

But as far as he could tell, she led a boring, painfully bleak life. Adam almost felt bad for her. She seemed really depressed. But his job was getting boring. Her routine was always the same. Work, sleep, eat, shower. It seemed that the hybrid was completely unaware of her origin and the powers she possessed. It made Adam’s job easy. Easy and boring.

He started fucking with her, using his ability to be invisible to the human eye in order to fuck with things in her apartment to mess with her head.

One day, while her roommate was out, she stood in the middle of her room, staring at nothing. “Come out you annoying fuck!” She called out. It took Adam by surprise. “I know someone is here,” she hissed. “And you’ve been fucking with me, and it’s pissing me off, and I know you’re here right now, so show yourself!”

Adam debated for a moment. Sera had just said to watch over her, she’d never said it had to be no contact. In fact, Adam was pretty sure Sera would prefer he try to bring the hybrid to the light, but she chose the wrong angel for that task.

Tired of watching her while she was unawares, Adam let himself appear to her. He appeared behind her, just to fuck with her one more time. She turned and jumped, and Adam snickered. To his surprise, she recovered rather quickly.

“What the fuck are you?”

Adam was once again taken aback, and then offended. “I’m an angel, babes, could you not tell by the halo and wings?”

“Well you look like a demon," she replied.

Adam scoffed indignantly. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! Who are you and why have you been following me?”

“I’m Adam. Like, first man ever, Adam.”

“Wow, I’m so impressed.”

“And who the fuck are you, bitch?”

“Shouldn’t you know that since you’ve been following me?”

Adam was seething. “Yeah well I didn’t give enough of a shit to remember your name when Sera told me.”

The hybrid narrowed her eyes. Adam narrowed his. The attitude on this bitch! He hadn’t seen such life in her in the weeks he’d been watching her. He definitely didn’t enjoy seeing her come to life like this. Totally not (he did).

“Well you might as well tell me cause you’re stuck with me now that you can see me.” Adam smirked.

She huffed. “(Name). I’m (Name). Why am I stuck with you?”

“Because my job is to follow you, babe, orders from the Seraphim herself.”

“But why?”

Adam thought about fucking with her for a moment, before spitting out the truth. “Because you’re a Cambion, and Cambions are dangerous.”

(Name) blinked at him. “The fuck is a Cambion?”

“A demon/human love child.”

“What, so you’re saying one of my parents is a demon and I’m like, half a demon?”

“Basically.”

They stood in silence for a moment while (Name) processed this information.

“So,” Adam broke the silence. “What’s for dinner?”

[xhazzz]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes Headcanons

warnings: fluff, sexual references, bucky being a big baby

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong:)

masterlist || requests are open

- He’s totally into reality shows. Because of his insomnia and the constant nightmares that haunt him, sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he kisses your forehead and tucks you in before leaving his room. He just sits on the couch, watching TV with the volume as low as possible, hoping it’ll lull him back to sleep. Since he’s an old man who still hasn’t quite figured out how streaming platforms work, his only option is to watch reruns of MasterChef, Love Island, or Hell’s Kitchen. Obviously, this wouldn’t help him sleep—he’d end up completely hooked instead.

- As part of his therapy—something he was forced into by Steve, the rest of the Avengers, the government, and you—he started writing in a small notebook he could carry everywhere (just like Steve). He wrote about his nightmares, memories of his life before becoming the Winter Soldier, but his favorite thing to write about was you. He’d write about how beautiful you are, how safe you make him feel, and how grateful he is to have met you.

- Going grocery shopping with Bucky is an experience in itself. Even though it’s become a regular thing since meeting you and going out together, he never stops being amazed by the endless aisles, the new products, and everything you can find in stores. He was used to small corner shops with basic products from the ‘40s, so now, one of his favorite activities is walking down the Oreo aisle every time you go shopping and trying a new flavor.

- A few months into your relationship, Bucky knew he wanted to spend every single day with you. Even though he had started staying over at your apartment a few nights a week, it wasn’t enough for him. One day, Sam asked why he didn’t just ask you to move in with him. Bucky, completely shocked by the suggestion, said he thought it was way too soon to be thinking about marriage—he didn’t want you to feel pressured. Sam just laughed and told him that moving in together was something a lot of couples did nowadays, simply living together before marriage. “We’re not in the ‘40s anymore, old man.”

- Bucky would definitely buy you flowers just because. At first, he thought it was a bit old-fashioned, but after seeing the look of happiness on your face the first time he gave you a small bouquet, he made it a habit. Every chance he gets, he buys flowers—just to make you smile.

- The Winter Soldier could have taken down entire armies, completed missions in seconds, and slipped through enemy territory undetected, but Bucky Barnes? He would have starved to death because the only things he knows how to make are sandwiches and cereal with milk. One of his personal goals was to cook you a romantic dinner—your favorite dish. After buying all the ingredients and failing twice, he finally swallowed his pride and asked Sam for help (mainly to teach him how to use YouTube, since he’s basically a caveman when it comes to modern technology). He managed to put together something that looked decent but tasted surprisingly good. He set the table, bought fresh flowers, and lit a few candles. A total romantic.

- The first time you were together—sexually—he was terrified of not knowing his own strength and hurting you. He treated you like you were made of porcelain, leaving soft kisses along your neck and chest, holding your body with delicate hands. When his metal hand trailed down your bare legs, you shivered slightly from the cold touch. He immediately stopped, worried. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” But all it took to reassure him was pulling him down by the neck and kissing him again.

- Once your relationship progressed, though? Bucky became completely shameless. He was like a horny teenager, taking every free moment to have his way with you all over the apartment—the kitchen counter, the laundry room, the couch, the shower. Even in public, he’d lean in close and whisper dirty things in your ear. “I can’t wait to get home, spread your legs, and taste you, babydoll.” And when no one was looking, his hand would accidentally land on your ass, or he’d give you a playful smack.

- Of course, when it comes to aftercare, he’s as sweet as they come. He always makes sure he didn’t hurt you, asks if you need water or if you’re hungry. Thanks to the serum, he doesn’t even look tired—but you? You’re completely spent after the multiple orgasms he gave you. All you want to do is lay on his chest, curl up in the crook of his neck while he holds you close, tracing imaginary shapes on your back. Every now and then, while the two of you talk about random things, Bucky presses soft kisses to your forehead, his metal hand gently caressing your legs.

[spacedace]

Here have some snippets of the AU that’s taken over my brain (featuring Elle unintentionally dunking on both of Bruce’s identities, Clark realizing he passed his taste in partners on to his son, a bit of pre/unaware that they are dating Super Serious Chaos, and some blink-and-you-miss-it background Enemies to Lovers Dick/Dan)

---

“Sorry, who’s Bruce Wayne?”

The room when quiet. All heads turned to look at Elle at the end of the table. Bruce didn’t visibly react, but Clark could make out the subtle indication of disbelief that his old friend was feeling - that they all were feeling at the interpreter’s question. Elle, suddenly aware she had the full room’s attention, had the look of someone who realized they’d said something wrong, but didn’t know what.

“You’re kidding.” John said, “You know Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne.”

Elle blinked. “I don’t.” She glanced from face to face, “Is he like a big deal? Does he work here or something? I haven’t been around that long so I might have missed him.”

It took every bit of self control Clark had not to laugh. His voice still came out a bit strangled from the effort as he offered, “No he doesn’t work here.” If Bruce was the type to do so in uniform, he’d be kicking Clark under the table.

“You live in Gotham. You have to know Bruce Wayne.” Barry said, voice going a bit high with growing bewilderment. “Mega ba-jillionair. CEO of Wayne Tech? Richest man in Gotham - in the world? Has like a hundred kids?”

Their interpreter’s nose scrunched. “So he’s like…in one of those fundamentalist cults obsessed with having a bunch of kids or something?”

Bruce actually twitched at that. The sound of utter disgust in Elle’s voice at the concept, the complete and total lack of any kind of recognition she had for the single most famous non-crime or crime-fighting related person in the city that she lived in, she truly had no idea who they were talking about. Clark had to get a recording of the room’s security feed, Lois would love this. Oh, wait no, Bruce’s kids. Maybe if he was fast enough he could text Dick to get there ASAP so he could see it all in person before it was over.

“No! Nothing like that! He adopted them - well most of them.” Barry tried to explain, looking utterly lost as he turned from Elle to the rest of them and back again. “You’re messing with us right? This is like a joke?”

Elle shook her head, looking just as lost as Barry did. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Do you know Dick Grayson?”

“I know of an officer Grayson who is a dick. Total tool. He’s been making my brother’s Dan’s life miserable for like a year now. Pretty sure not who you’re talking about though.”

“Jason Todd.”

“The library goon?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Sounds like a Dark Wing Duck character.”

“Cassandra Cain.”

“Isn’t that the author that started out writing incest Harry Potter fanfic?”

“Duke Thomas?”

“What’s he a Duke of?”

Barry snapped his fingers, pointing emphatically at Elle with a look of victory on his masked face as he shouted, “Damian Wayne!”

Damian, who had at that moment just walked into the meeting room with Jon at his heels paused in his place just behind Elle. He did pretty well at hiding his surprise at Barry seemingly shouting his civilian name and pointing at him upon walking in. Though the tense line of his shoulders suggested that if Barry was actually revealing his secret identity without warning or permission, there would be blood.

Stella Nightingale, unaware of the almost-kinda identity reveal going on around her, tilted her head in confusion at the speedster. “I’m assuming he’s related to that Bruce Wayne guy?”

“They’re all related to Bruce Wayne.” John said with open amusement now. The Green Lantern had given up on the research entirely, watching the entire debacle with a growing smirk he kept casting towards Bruce. “That man’s face is plastered absolutely everywhere in the news. How do you not know who he is?”

“If Lois Lane hasn’t written about him he can’t be that important.” Elle said with a casual certainty of one speaking a core tenant of their beliefs. Clark’s opinion of the young woman - already quite high considering her ferocious loyalty and fondness to Jon - rose sharply.

“You’re read the Daily Planet?” Clark asked, warmth curling in his chest at the mention of his wife and her work.

“I read articles by Lois Lane.” Elle said promptly, “I tried reading some articles that Kent guy she partners with sometimes wrote on his own but I couldn’t get past his writing style. Dude sounds like he’s from outer space with his word choice sometimes.”

Bruce, looking far too pleased, gave a quiet and not terribly convincing cough as Clark tried to will his soul back into his body.

It was going to be a long day.

—

“You are at least aware of who Gotham’s vigilantes are, yes?” Damian asked with a raised brow behind his mask.

Elle shrugged, giving him a sly smile. “The relevant ones.”

Clark tried to hide his short laugh with a feigned cough. Elle at least was distracted enough with Jon and Damian’s attention to notice but Bruce was giving him a look over the tablet he was trying - and undoubtedly failing - to review files on.

Jon grinned eagerly from his spot beside Elle as he asked, “Aren’t they all relevant to you? You live in Gotham.”

“I live in Crime Alley.” Elle corrected, bumping his shoulder with hers. “We have different standards of relevancy there.”

“So what are the relevant ones then?” Clark asked, pointedly ignoring Bruce’s burning stare. They’d get back to the research. Eventually. Finding out if the Gothamite who had been spending all her free time with Phoenix and Flamebird for the past year and a half was as oblivious to her city’s heroes as she was its celebrities was too entertaining a notion to pass up.

“Phoenix, obviously.” She grinned cheekily at Damian across the table, ticking names off her fingers as she continued. “Red Hood. Spoiler. Uh…Orphan?” She trailed off, forehead scrunching in concentrated thought.

“That’s can’t be all the ones you know.” Jon gaped, eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced over to were Bruce was seated, not five feet away before turning back to watch Elle try to rack her brain for any more Gotham vigilantes. Clark could see the moment that the words are taken as a challenge as Elle sat up and looked more determined.

“No, shut up, I know more. Uh…there’s the one, um Red Sparrow? It’s another bird one with red name, I’m pretty sure. And the one with the blue - fuck I should know his name. Nightjar? Wasn’t Nightingale I would have remembered that…shit, dude threw up on our couch once I should remember his name -“

“Nightwing threw up on your couch?”

“Nightwing! That’s the bitch! He got poisoned or something and Dan drug him to our place to patch him up since Doc Thompkins’ clinic was closed.”

Clark shared a look with Bruce and Damian. Dick had failed to mention that little event. Clark could see Bruce reaching for his wrist computer, undoubtedly typing out a message his eldest about what he’d just heard - possibly another to Alfred if he was feeling like pulling out the big guns.

At the other end of the table Elle ticked Nightwing off with a nod, even as Jon squawked that it shouldn’t count since he’d given her the name, “Then there’s…uh…oh! Harley Quinn!”

“Harley Quinn does not count.”

“She beat up a guy trying to mug me last week and got me a hot chocolate afterwards, she totally counts!”

“Someone tried to mug you?”

“Crime Alley, Nix, if someone doesn’t try to mug me while I’m out I get worried that I missed Hood calling in a Street Clear for something big.”

“We’re going to circle back on that later.” Jon said, sharing a pointed glance with Damian. It looked like young Miss Nightingale was going to be getting escorted to and from the Watchtower from now on.

Ah, Clark mused, falling head over heels for someone with no understanding of the concept of self-preservation and a stubborn determination to run straight into the heart of danger without a second thought. It brought back such fond memories. Of both Lois and Bruce. And Diana. And - Hmm. Kara might have been right. Clark might have a type.

Watching the three at the other end of the table and taking them in, Clark realized he might have passed his taste in partners on to his son. Well, at least he’ll be able to give Jon some advise on how to handle the heart attacks Damian and Elle will inevitably give him.

“Harley Quinn doesn’t count. You got any more?”

Elle rolled her eyes, muttering about Harley totally counts, before leaning back in her chair. “I think I’m out. I know there’s more but,” She gave a shrug, “I’m tapped out. Those are all the ones I can think of.”

It was, surprisingly, Bruce that spoke up at that declaration, a slant of amusement to his lips as he asked, “No one else comes to mind?”

Elle waved him off, attention turning to the mountain of alien script they needed her to translate for them. It was the reason she was even there rather than in her office trying to translate whatever incredibly dangerous magic tomb JL Dark had dropped off without accidentally summoning a demon or ending hte world in the process. J’onn was right, they really should give her a raise.“That’s all I got.” She said with a sigh, “Like I said, I know the relevant ones.”

“Hn.”

Twenty minutes of shared looks of amusement and suppressed laughter later Elle’s head shot up, a look of wide eyed embarrassment on her face. “Oh my god.”

“There it is.”

“About time Nightingale, I was starting to be concerned about your mental faculties.”

“Shut up, this so embarrassing!”

“Don’t sweat it kid, we all have our moments.”

“I can’t believe I forgot Signal.”

“What.”

---

Context of this snippet if anyone is interested:

This is actually the same AU as the Steph & Jason sibling bonding Anger Management snippet from a bit ago (I’m calling it my Ghosts in Gotham AU in scrivener so I guess that’s what I’ll call it here lol). This time focused on Elle and her misadventures as a Totally Normal Civilian (TM) working for the Justice League with her two besties Jon & Damian (none of them realize yet that they’ve been dating for months).

No idea when this is supposed to take place in terms of timeline with the other snippet, but kinda vibing the idea that while Steph & Jason are having a heart to heart on a rooftop over their shared background and Jason’s future as a dad, Elle is up in the Watchtower telling Bruce Wayne to his face that she has no idea who he is and forgetting Batman is a Gotham vigilante while he’s sitting at the same table as her.

Anyway, this AU has taken over my life. Expect more nonsense to come lol

[wannabeschyulersister]

where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

*another angsty carmy fic coming right up*

“Ma’am? I’m sorry but we will need the table if your guest hasn’t arrived yet,” the waiter told you. You could tell he felt embarrassed to have to practically kick you out after being stood up.

You set the nice white napkin that had been on your lap on the empty plate in front of you, “I understand. Thanks for keeping me company.”

The waiter helped you put your coat back on and you placed a nice tip on the table before walking out. It felt so humiliating to sit at that table for the past hour alone.

Carmen forgot your anniversary.

You had been perfectly fine celebrating your two year anniversary with him in your nice apartment but he was the one that wanted to go all out. He chose the fancy French restaurant and made the reservation.

He was also the one that didn’t show up.

At first, you began to panic, thinking that something had happened to him on his way to the restaurant. You must’ve texted him a dozen times. When you checked his location, you saw that he was at The Bear.

There’s no way that he would forget your anniversary. Right?

Well, he did.

You walked until you were able to find a cab. Part of you wanted to confront Carmen at The Bear but you didn’t want to make a scene. Despite how mad you were at him, you respected his place of business.

Instead of going there, you went to the apartment that you shared with Carmen to wait for him. You didn’t even bother changing out of the red dress that specifically bought for that evening when you made it home. Taking off your coat, you placed it on the hook and sat on the couch.

It was an hour later when you heard the jingle of keys and the front door open and close. “Babe? You here?”

You didn’t answer him as he walked into the living room.

He set his phone and keys down on the coffee table in front of you, “Hey, what are you all dressed up for?”

“Our anniversary dinner that was two hours ago.” You answered coldly.

Carmen froze as it dawned on him that he forgot, “Fuck. Babe, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Things have been so hectic at the restaurant these last few days and it totally slipped my mind. My phone died a few hours ago. I’m so sorry.”

He sat down next to you and tried to grab your hand. You moved it out of his grasp. “I waited for you for an hour, Carmen. It was so embarrassing. The waiter made me leave because they needed the table. How could you forget?”

“I told you. It seemed like everything that could go wrong did today. We had three waitstaff out with the flu-“

You cut him off, “Syd could’ve taken care of things for one night so that you could go out with your girlfriend! Aren’t I important too?”

Carmen looked like that question pissed him off, “Are you seriously askin’ me that fuckin’ question?”

You stood up from the couch needing some space from him, “Yes, I am because this isn’t the first time! How many times have you had to reschedule our plans? How many days do I barely see you? We’ve been together for two years, Carmen and I feel like we are just two strangers at this point.”

“Why haven’t you said anything then if you feel that way?”

“I’ve tried to have date nights and I’ve even stopped by The Bear to see if you can go on a coffee break. You always turn me down because something more important is pressing.” You’d been dying to have this conversation with him for some time now.

After countless times of letting things go, you were blurting out everything that you’d want to tell him. It had all been weighing so heavily on you lately. You could feel it draining you.

“(Y/n), I inherited a mess from Michael. I had to look after everyone’s jobs and-“

You interrupted him again, “I’m not saying that you have to choose me or the restaurant, Carmen. That would be incredibly selfish of me. But…. it’s like you’re out building this life for yourself and I’m just here hoping that you give me an ounce of attention.”

“You’re making it sound like our relationship is horrible. I thought that we were doing good.”

That almost hurt you more than being stood up on your anniversary. He thought that things were good? He hadn’t noticed that the two of you were so incredibly distant?

“Things haven’t been good in a long time. When we first started dating, you were present and it seemed like you’d do anything to spend time with me.”

“That was before we remodeled the restaurant. I had more time but now-“

“Now, you’re too busy for me.”

He shook his head, “I’m not, (Y/n). I just had more time back then. Now, it’s all on me. I’m stressed out.”

“I don’t want to add to your stress, Carmen.”

“Wh-what are you trying to say?” He stood up and made his way closer to you. You could tell that he was anxious about where the direction of this conversation was going.

“I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a while. I’ve tried to make things better but I can’t do it alone. I deserve to be with someone who I don’t have to beg to want to be with me.”

“(Y/n), I don’t want to be without you. I’ll start coming home earlier and I’ll uh have Sydney and Marcus start taking some more responsibility. I will-“

“And in a month when things are super crazy at The Bear because of the holidays? We’re back in this situation again. What kind of promises will you make then?”

Carmen seemed confused, “Do you not want to work on things?”

“A month ago, hell even a few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes, but I’m tired, Carmen. Tonight felt like it was the last straw. Sitting alone, you not answering your phone, it was embarrassing and so painful. I love you so much. But I think for the both of us, it’ll be better if we weren’t together.”

“I don’t want us to break up, (Y/n). I love you.” Carmen said softly.

You pulled him closer. He rested his head against your shoulder, “We can both focus on ourselves. I’m so proud of everything that you’ve done. You deserve all of the praise that is coming your way.”

You wanted to appear strong but on the inside you were breaking as well. There was a point in time where you imagined spending the rest of your life with Carmen Berzatto.

Now, there was a strong possibility that he wouldn’t be in your future. Were you making the right decision?

It might’ve felt like you weren’t in the moment. You just wanted to feel wanted and happy and with someone who couldn’t get enough of you. Carmen was that man at first. Things changed for the better and for the worse.

“I hate that I took you for granted. I will regret it for the rest of my life.” You felt him kiss your neck softly.

“I’ll still be here if you need me. You know that right?”

He nodded as you both stood there wrapped around each other saying your goodbyes without words.

[lovepookie]

♡︎ how enha would ask for a kiss!

♡︎ disclaimer: i am passive-aggressive and sarcastic, so please know im joking!! also i love these men lets bfr 😔

♡︎ warnings: cursing, kissing, suggestive in jake’s and kind of in jay’s?, please lmk if i missed anything!

heeseung ༉‧₊˚.

hmmm okay heeseung! the devil himself. 😣

i think it’d be un-natural for him to ask for a kiss,, like he’d easily just lean in with a smile and kiss you—and you’d let him!

but, I feel like if he does ask beforehand, it’s because he’s doing it on purpose to catch you off gaurd.

like if Jay meticulously thinks about asking before doing so,, this dude would just do it out of nowhere

like simply because you two are having fun type shit.

you’re mid laugh and he’d just stare at you like….my god…that’s the love of my life. :((

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid!” You’d laugh out, hitting him on his shoulder because he sent you a cheesy grin after saying something really idiotic LMAO

he’d grab your hand as you hit him and wouldn’t let it go, urging you closer so you don’t get away

he’d watch you smile and analyze the way your balled fist feels gainst him when you hit him playfully——and he most definitely see’s the way the sides of your eyes crinkle in happiness.

he’s just blown away 🥹

he prolly has a ~this person is all mine~ type of mindset.

“I want you to kiss me.” He’d say out of nowhere.,,,

LIKE!! it’s a command or something,, not even a question! 😧

bcs, he’s not trying to make it sound cliche and ask lmfaooo!

also he hasn’t had enough time to think about it, he just talks out his first thoughts🤕… damn….

but you’d sit there all taken aback and shocked, still trying to retrieve your hand from him 😵‍💫

and he smiles with this pretty teasing smile,,

all happy because he has you flustered like he always does :(((

“What? You don’t want to kiss me?” He asks, head tilting.

and you hit him again

over and over with your fists

“Lee Heeseung! Stop fucking around!” LMFAOOO

and he’d laugh, and laugh and laugh.

then he’d pull you near, clutching your fists and pulling you close

then his pretty lips are still smiling when they touch yours

all light and teasing…

and you’re still fighting him 💀💀

see! so he’d only ask on the basis to make you flustered, but most of the time he doesn’t really think before he kisses you;; he just does it!

jay ༉‧₊˚.

nerd

would probably do a lot of self reflection before ever asking directly for a kiss…

he also strikes me as a dude who would just pull you in naturally instead of asking really…

but!! let’s say he’s asking lol

He’d definitely do the stare at your left eye

lips

then back up to your right eye type of mechanism 😎

he’s so cool! (i’m trying to act like i’m not phased but in reality jay has me in a chokehold)

anyways,,

he’d really set the moment n shît, maybe there’s a couple candles lit,, maybe you two were having dinner and then he followed you to the kitchen to set the dishes in the sink, soft smiles and racing hearts pounding in each of your chests.

he’d definitely set it up nice and throughout the whole dinner he’d been staring at your lips but missed every opportunity given to kiss you bcs of the way you stared into his eyes and down his soul lmao!!

you made him nervous too okay!!

but suddenly, now that you’ve set the dishes down and turned to leave, he’s entrapping you between the kitchen island and his arms.

would definitely use the “can i kiss you?” line.

yet,, it’s mumbled underneath his breathe for only you two to hear and it totally defeats the purpose because he’s already leaning in, pushing your hair out of your face, all with that jaw of his tilting

you know,,

his 🔪 jaw

and as soon as your lips touch, the nerves are gone and bro is a little too confident

🫥

the kiss is all slow and a bit drawn out and long…you taste the minty gum he just disgarded a few minutes ago…

yeah! this is THAT type of kiss

that’s the only way he’d ask imo…

it’s like he’s asking because you know he knows it’s not a regular normal one he’s asking for 🤭

the vibes just have to be right.

wheeew :((

jake ༉‧₊˚.

AUR KAY!

i feel like any chance he gets to kiss you, he’d ask you before-hand all smooth n shît 🙄

it’s actually upsetting because he knows it does shit to you lmao

and he ALWAYS! asks for one when he feels attracted to you in some way :(

for instance; maybe you’d been trying things on from your latest shopping spree and are currently showing him the outfits one by one

this particular one you just showed him would show you and your figure off just right and boy!!! he would be a heated mess !

hands all over you—no time to think

your bodies are pulled very close together just how he likes it…

and he’d go;

“can i have a kiss? or two? or three??” whilst staring down into your eyes. 😣

and you fall for it everytime!

“yes. yes, you may….”

and his lips are on yours

and-and-and! he he hums into your mouth in satisfaction through the kiss….😧

fuck him.

anyways the energy created in the studio would be for baby making is all I’m saying.

but besides this he also asks in wholesome cute times too !

it’s like he doesn’t have any shame almost—or like he takes pride in asking and initiating things.

like imagine y’all laughing together after a continued stream of jokes that you guys take turns layering with more jokes

and he turns to you, intertwining your hand’s with his pretty upturned smile, his bottom lip falling out from between his teeth as he calms down from laughing

“You-…You make me so happy…I really want to kiss you right now.” He’d say, staring over at you.

⚰️.

AND YOU’D LET HIM!! OFC U WOULD BECAUSE I WOULD TOO :((

sickening.

sunghoon ༉‧₊˚.

well well well 😈

you see, our dear hoonies pride would never allow him to ask for a kiss or any type of affection outright,,

he’d only do that once he’s frustrated by you not intituating things after a couple hints here and there.

so let the games commence ☠️🤡

bro would already have pink in his cheeks when he’d clear his throat like the wimp he is,, trying to gather your attention and let you know he wants your affection

pero (but) you already know him already!

you’d smirk and continue to go about your day whilst scrolling on your phone,, acting as if you don’t know what he wants LMAOO

bro would mess with the hem of your shirt or shamelessly crawl his fingers into yours in a non-invasive way so as to not take your full attention in one go because he’s scared you’ll figure him and his needy tsundere self out

jokes on him,, you know exactly wtf he’s doing LMFAOO

he’d continue to clear his throat, getting closer and closer to you before you’d finally utter some words to help him out;

“hoon? you need something?” you’d ask, eyes taking a moment to look at him for the first time in ages.

he’d blush and shoot you a frown,, embarrassed to even get to this point.

“no, not really…do you want to like…do something?” he’d ask.

by this time he’d see the teasing smile make its way onto your face and would groan out in feisty frustration.

“oh my god, you know I want your attention and a kiss…why are you putting me through- a-all of this!?” he’d grumble, throwing your hand away to your side as he walks away LMAOO

poor kid 🥹

you’d laugh and run after him, hands going behind his head/neck and bringing him down to your level, your lips finally connecting.

he’d blush but his stubbornness for your affection wouldn’t allow himself to pull away,,, and THEN his hands would confidently make their way to your sides finally.

see,,,

he just needs a lil ~push~ is all ! ☝️

help the boy out!! 😭

sunoo ༉‧₊˚.

mkay, so I think sunoo is a sweet and cute uwu baby…and I think the way he asks for a kiss would be the same :((

but tell me why!?!?

i think he’d be kind of smooth with it…

like

y’all are in the same room, maybe you’re on the bed with him, his head in your lap as he stares up at you with his honey brown eyes…

you know! THOSE PRETTY EYES 😞

a smile on full display as u play with his hair

and he just stares at you,, taking you in with love :(

then at one point he notices your lip gloss.

“y/n?”

“mhm?”

“your gloss looks really pretty…can I try it?”

and you’re like 😊 😧 😳

because oh man I think he’s flirting!

and he laughs at you as you go pink…

y’all are so cute :(

but he’s not going to stop there—he still hasn’t retrieved his kiss ‼️

“…you’re so cute…can I have a kiss?” he’d ask through a smile, deciding to just be straightforward with it. he’s not going to get anywhere without being direct—by the looks of your flustered state anyways lol!

and you’d nod,, not wanting to utter any words in fear that you’d say the wrong thing lmao

you’d just lean down and peck his pretty lips.

it’s quick!

but sunoo is more than satisfied—and when you pull away he’s pursing his lips to spread the gloss you left behind on them and then he watches as you go even redder :(

he’s picking up too much from his hyungs mayhaps 😟

((the office camera pans to you sitting in a corner,, an absolute blushing mess))

jungwon ༉‧₊˚.

this duuuudeeee

okay hear me out!

i don’t think wonnie ever makes advances first

like the others definitely will,, but he strikes me as he’d never

no matter how much he’d want to

like he’d have to be really serious for him to do it lmao!

i think instead,,, it’d be like you’re already leaning in,, maybe it’s a soft moment and y’all are just laying in bed or on the couch cuddling

because jungwon strikes me as a kid who would never actively do PDA,, but when you are alone he’d cling onto you and follow you around, hands to his sides and his chin on your shoulder from behind

or like he’d play with your hands

OR! hear me out!

bro would put you in headlocks just to be closer to you in a funny way

💀💀💀 jsjsj

that’d be so funny lmao

anyways back to the purpose of this whole thing,,

wonnie would be the little spoon until he turns around because you started to speak on something funny that he wants to hear you say again or sum

so he spins around, your arms still around his waist

like the baby girl he is ☝️😌

and he’s just smiling that ugly scary ass smile

and your faces are so close

so when you go quiet after a giggle and glance at his lips

HE SEE’S IT ALL!

and you’re probably already leaning in but haven’t got the guts to fully go for it

so he’d say some shit like

“are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 😭

LIKE? SHUT UP LMAOO

it makes you laugh msksksksj

and he giggles back too :((

then you’re leaning in for him and muah! 🥹

so u see….

he’d never ask,,; but would instead say some dumb shit to kind of insinuate he wants a kiss

another example;

*gets really close to you*

*small silence*

“you want to kiss me, don’t you?” he’d say teasingly

JSJSJSJS MF?

even tho he got close first??

….

fuck off. :(

niki ༉‧₊˚.

sjsj

okay so…

we got riki up…

this kid….🫥

tbh I think if he wants a kiss, he would never ask out loud.

would probably do some type of gesture or something to get your attention and lead you on to kiss him lmao

for example ☝️

he’d walk up to wherever you’re sat, lean over and just get real close to you,, then he’ll proceed to tilt his head and tap his cheek.😒

tap tap…

with that playful smirk of his smh.

now this is all fun and games..so you roll your eyes but kiss his cheek nonetheless..

then this guy! 😠

he’ll tap his other cheek.

so—

muah.

that one gets a kiss too.

he giggles as you stare at him because you’ve done this enough times to know exactly what he wants next.

his pointer finger goes to his lips, and for a second you see his cheeky beauty…the mole on his chin doing no favors for his pretty playful self.

so you decide to give him the kiss of a lifetime bcs HE should be embarrassed!

not you!!! 😣

you confidently grab both sides of his face in your hands and you let the kiss you plant on his lips last a little longer than a peck.

when you pull away he’s still got that cheeky smile,, but now he’s all red in the face and neck and proceeds to scurry off.

brat! 🙄

(we love niki in this household!)

2024 © lovepookie

♡ ︎please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I love the way you write Billy! I had an idea, you totally don't have to do it, it's just a thought. Billy has a big blow out fight with his dad *isn't shown but heavily mentioned* and we get like comforting Billy in an unconventional way.... Thanks for being my comfort author happy 2025!

First of all, that's so sweet, thank you!! Second, I absolutely love this idea so thank you for the request!

cw: mention of child abuse and smoking

You hear the front door slam from your room and there's only one person who uses so much force when enter your home. Before you can even get up from your desk, the door to your room opens, Billy walking through your door and closing it behind him. Without a word, he makes a beeline for you, opening the top drawer of the desk and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and the lighter that's next to it.

He lights up and takes a long drag before moving over to your bed which he falls back onto. Smoke continues to spill from his mouth as you move over to the window to open it so your parents won’t smell the cigarette and turn to Billy who hasn’t even acknowledged your presence yet.

“My dad’s a fucking prick,” he sighs, smoke coming out with it. This isn’t the first time Billy has complained about Neil and it won’t be the last. And considering the red mark on his cheek, the fight was clearly a bad one.

“Tell me about it,” you say as you lie on the bed next to him, looping your arm through his before taking the cigarette from him and taking a drag. “I’m all ears.”

“He got pissed off because I had a date tonight and couldn’t watch Max.”

“You could’ve sent her over here. I would have watched her.” Billy knows that but he feels like he’s taken so much advantage of your niceness and wouldn’t ask you to do something that’s his problem. Besides, he wouldn’t want to hear it from Neil nor his mother that a random stranger was watching their daughter. Well, Susan’s daughter.

“You don’t have to do that.” Sure, he doesn’t want to have his dad and step mother on his back but he also thinks he’s getting too close to you and doesn’t want Max getting attached as well.

“But I don’t mind,” you tell him as you sit up and Billy moves to lie in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair. You put the cigarette between his lips and he takes another drag as his eyes close and he holds back a moan when you scratch his scalp.

Your other hand moves up to touch his cheek and he winces as your thumb runs along the red mark that was caused by his father.

“Sorry,” you wince as well. “Your dad really is a prick. I can kiss it better,” you suggest and he hates that kind of affection but he loves it from you so he obliges.

“Sure,” he says and you take the cigarette from his mouth and press your lips to his cheek and despite how painful it is, he loves how your lips feel against his skin. If he was that kind of guy, he’d kiss you until you were both breathless. But he’s not so he doesn’t.

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” He’s not, but who is he to say no to your famous grilled cheese? “I can make Max one and you can bring it to her when you go home.”

You’re so sweet and Billy doesn’t think he deserves you. Actually, he knows you aren’t. But he’s going to eat your attention up until you inevitably decide that you’re too good for him when you meet the love of your life. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

You help Billy up from the bed and take him by the hand before leading him to the kitchen. He leans against the counter, watching you bend over to pull out a pan. He stares at your ass for way too long and for once, not a single dirty thought comes to his mind. In fact, all he can think about it standing behind you and holding you close while you make him dinner, tell you just how much you mean to him while he presses kiss after kiss to your cheek while you giggle in response.

Did that punch give him a concussion of some sort? It had to because in what fucking world would Billy Hargrove not want to pin you up against the counter and fuck your brains out? Who the hell has he turned into and why does he like how soft you’re making him?

The sizzle of the pan pulls him out of his thoughts and he notices that you’re standing into front of him with a glass of lemonade. He takes it from your hand and your fingers brush as he does so. He doesn’t like how good it feels and how he wants to actually hold your hand.

“Thank you,” he nods and the words feel foreign but right. The action was simple but just you caring about him enough to give him so lemonade is slowly thawing his heart.

“You’re welcome.” You watch him take a few sips from the glass before turning towards the stove and turning the grilled cheese over, causing it to sizzle again. Billy steps over to stand beside you and once you’re sure the sandwich is good, you turn to him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hesitantly rest on your waist.

You lean in ever so slightly and there’s no way that you’re actually doing what he thinks you are. But sure enough, you’re leaning in even closer and Billy is mimicking you, his lips slotting between yours in a sweet kiss.

What’s supposed to be one singular kiss turns into two until they all eventually melt into one. It’s soft and sweet, everything you are but nothing Billy is. He’s a dick that’s all he is, but you’ve somehow done the impossible by thawing his very frozen heart.

He wants to do this for hours, maybe even forever but the kissing is cut short when you pull away. He smells something burning so he’s sure it wasn’t because you realized you were making a huge mistake. At least he hopes so.

“Fuck,” you swear as you flip the sandwich over onto a plate to reveal the very burnt bread then turn to Billy with a pout as you toss the plate onto the counter. “Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t worry about it. Now c’mere.” He grabs hold of your hips and gently pulls you to him, kissing you again and again, peppering your face with them as your pretty laughs pass through your lips.

“Come on,” you say as you pull away from him, grabbing hold of his hands as you pull him towards the door, grabbing your car keys before leading him outside. “I’m hungry and I’ve got a tenner burning a hole in my pocket. You drive, though. I like the way you drive.”

As you toss him the keys over the car and he gets in the driver’s seat, he can’t help but think about how he’s maybe, possibly starting to fall in love with you.

[roanofarcc]

SUNDAY DINNER

pairing: sam wilson x reader || requested

summary: you invite your friend sam over for sunday dinner. 

warnings: lots and lots of fluff!! nervous!sam

word count. 2k || masterlist

You had rearranged the pillows on the couch three times and you were in the middle of contemplating a fourth time until your friend approached you, sipping a glass of wine curiously. 

“Does this look right?” you asked, tilting your head as if they would help make the pillows look different. 

Your friend, Max, shook her head with a light laugh. “It’s a dinner party. No one is going to be judging your pillow arrangements.” 

“I know,” you said, abandoning the couch and fixing the display of magazines on the coffee table. “But I want everything to look nice.” 

Amusement took over Max’s face. “Any particular reason you’re extra stressed about your monthly dinner party?” 

Sunday dinners were a tradition you had established with your friends. You had the most space in your apartment and no roommates, so you hosted while everyone brought dishes, wine, and the latest life updates. It was a surefire way for you to visit with your friends, at the very least, once a month with everyone’s busy schedules. You loved it. As the tradition grew, spouses, partners, and new friends were added, crowding your apartment with delicious food and love. 

“What? No,” you answered quickly, too quickly. 

“Oh? So your current rampage has nothing to do with you inviting Captain America to dinner?” 

You froze, in the middle of moving around some kick-knacks on your shelf. Heat rose to your face, but you ignored it in favor of checking over your plants by the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. 

Your friend laughed. “Sure you don’t. But if you were totally freaking out, I wouldn’t.” 

Turning around, you faced Max with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Why?” 

“Because he was on the news last night in California having busted up some crime ring with alien tech or some shit. And he hasn’t texted or called you to take a rain check. Which means he flew all the way across the county just to come here to see you. I’d say that’s a pretty big gesture.” 

You were hesitant to believe that. Not because Max had ever lied to you, but because it sounded ridiculous. If you had to take a flight cross country, without having taken down criminals the night before, you’d cancel any plans and opt to sleep off your travels. You were simply hosting a silly little dinner with some friends, not anything groundbreaking. 

Yet, at seven-thirty, Sam arrived at your apartment.  

You opened the door with a smile and the same flutter in your chest that always showed up when you were around him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said before you could even greet him. Holding out his hand, he presented you with a bouquet of different flowers. “The lady was lecturing me at the flower stand for not knowing your favorite flower, which is definitely my bad.” 

“You’re not late,” you said, taking the flowers. They were a beautiful arrangement, matching the quiet chaos of your apartment. “And you didn’t need to get me flowers, but thank you. They’re perfect.” 

You stepped aside and let Sam in. He kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat along with the others. “My grandma said to never go anywhere empty-handed. If I do, I’m afraid she’ll find out and there’ll be hell to pay,” he joked. 

You led him into the kitchen, where some of your friends and friends of friends lingered, snaking on appetizers and chit-chatting. They paused their conversations as you introduced Sam, though most of them already knew who he was. 

You stood back in slight awe by how quickly he took to your friends, easy conversation flowing like he had been at the dinners since the beginning. You weren’t nervous that Sam or your friends would make a bad impression on one another, but you couldn’t help but worry that the meshing of two different parts of your life wouldn’t go well. But you were quickly proven wrong. 

After everyone ate, the conversations continued. Max sat down beside you on the couch, a smirk on her lips. “Well, still worried about ‘Cap fitting in with your non-superhero friends?” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you didn’t deny her words. “No.” 

“Good because Aaron already invited him to the next one and to catch some pretentious film with him next weekend. Sam agreed but I could sense the dread in his answer. You may have to same him before Aaron books Captain America’s itinerary for the next year.” 

You looked over your shoulder to where Sam stood in the kitchen with Aaron. He must’ve felt you looking because he met your gaze and smiled. You couldn’t help but smile too, which your friend clocked with a light groan and a punch to your shoulder. 

“What was that for?” 

Max sat down her wine glass and leaned in close with a seriousness in her gaze. “What is keeping you from pouncing on that man?” 

“Oh, my god! What are you talking about?” 

“If he showed up at my door with flowers and that smile, I’d be down on one knee with a ring. Are you kidding me? What is wrong with you?” 

“Sam and I are just friends,” you said. Sam seemed miles out of your reach. He was a big shot, Captain America himself. It wasn’t even something you let yourself entertain for the sake of keeping yourself sane. 

Max threw herself against the back of the couch with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me.” 

You laughed it off, but Max’s words hung in your head for the rest of the night. Every time you found yourself in a group conversation with Sam, your attention lingered on him a little longer, wondering what it would be like if the two of you became more than friends. Sam was one of the best people you knew, there was no doubt he’d be a great boyfriend too. But you hated crushes, getting your hopes up only for them to fall flat when reality didn’t mirror your imagination. 

Slowly, people faded from your apartment until it was just you, Max, and Sam left. She had entertained him with a plethora of embarrassing stories of you before she, not so subtly, left with a plate of leftovers and a wink. 

You thought Sam would leave as well, but he insisted on helping you clean up. He stood at your sink with his sleeves rolled up, washing dishes before passing them off to you to dry and put away. The soft hum of your playlist filled the comfortable silence for a while. 

“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” Sam said. 

“Thanks for coming. I would invite you back, but I heard Aaron’s already extended that invite.” 

Sam chuckled. “He did.” He paused, handing you a clean cup. Your hand brushed against his as you grabbed it and his gaze caught yours. “But I’d like to do this again if you’ll have me.” 

A smile graced your lips. “Are you kidding? You’re always welcome here.” 

With a raise of his brow, he said, “Careful, I might take you up on the offer. You won’t be able to get rid of me.” 

“I’d be okay with that.” The words fell out of your mouth with a light-hearted intent, but they hit the air with more weight. You meant it, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to sound so vulnerable, borderline flirtatious. 

And Sam being Sam, clocked it as he finished up the last plate. He handed it off before turning off the water and facing you. “Yeah?” 

You adverted your gaze downward, taking a little extra time to dry the plate before crossing the kitchen to put it away. “I mean, I like having you around. I like having all my friends around. That’s why I host this dinner.” 

Your back was to Sam so you didn’t see his reaction to your words, but you heard a short intake of breath before he spoke. “Right.” You thought maybe it was your brain misinterpreting his tone, but to you, it did sound disappointed. 

The flowers he had brought you were in a vase on your counter and Max’s words were still circling your mind. 

“Were you in California yesterday?” you blurted out, spinning around to face him once more. Confused, Sam nodded slowly. “You flew in, today?” He nodded again. “But you still showed up. Here. I mean you, could have rain-checked but you didn’t.” 

“Of course not. I told you I’d be here. I’m a man of my word.” He was so sincere, so serious. It was just dinner, not saving the world. “Hey, is everything all right?” 

You tried to shake yourself out of the weird feeling you were sinking in to. You didn’t want to make Sam feel weird too. It was late and you were tired and your mind was being an asshole, thinking too much. 

“Yeah,” you quickly replied. “Sorry. Max just said something earlier and got it my head.” 

You thought it would be left there, but Sam crossed the kitchen to stand in front of you, concern in his pretty eyes. Sam was the kind of person who was almost too easy to talk to. Just looking at him made you want to spill your guts. 

“What’d she say?” 

You hesitated, an awkward laugh forcing itself out. “She, uh, just said that if she were me and you showed up being so…so you she would’ve proposed already.” 

Sam’s eyes widened for a moment before he chuckled almost nervously, tugging at the neckline of his sweater. “So...me?” 

“The flowers and still showing up despite saving the world the night before. She thinks that’s some kind of gesture, like a…a romantic one. But I told her we’re friends and you’re just that wonderful, you know?” There was a beat of silence that passed between you in which Sam seemed to digest the words you rushed out. You felt hot panic rise within you. “Sorry,” you said before he could say anything. “That was a lot, and probably weird. I just-” 

“How would you feel if she was right?” Sam said, tilting his head to the side in question. 

You felt a wave of confusion spill across you, cold and unnerving. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. 

He gazed at you with a soft hesitation in his gaze, stepping a little closer but not invading your space. “Come on,” he said with a hint of humor somewhere in there too. “I like my friends, but I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I was kind of hoping the flower would be enough to tell you that.” 

“To tell me…” you trailed off, your hopes starting to rise with each pounding beat of your heart. 

“That I’d like to be a little more than friends.” Sam’s voice was quiet almost like he was nervous. It all sounded too good to be true, you thought you were hallucinating the whole conversation. He mistook your silence for rejection and started to shrink into himself, dejected but still his kind, charming self. With a shake of his head, he said, “But if that’s not something you want I-” 

“What?” you cut him off, bewildered. “You want to be more than friends with me?” As self-deprecating as it was, it was just a crazy thing to hear from the man you’d grown so fond of but thought nothing more than a friendship would ever bloom from. 

“Pretty damn badly if I’m being honest,” Sam admitted. 

There were so many things you wanted to say but you didn’t feel like any would amply explain just how bad you wanted to be more than friends with him too. Instead of trying to string anything together, you pushed yourself off the counter you’d been leaning against and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden, tight hug. 

He was warm and smelled like fresh cologne. That wasn’t the first time you’d hugged him, but it was different that time, an admission of your hidden feelings and affection. It took Sam a moment to recover from his surprise before he hugged you back, letting out a breathy laugh in your ear. 

“Me too,” you whispered. 

He pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your head in the nightly glow of your kitchen, empty of your friends but still buzzing with love and laughter, coating it in a warmness only made greater by Sam.  

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

[quintessenceofdust88]

Life is Changin' Tides, ch. 4 🌊

[Ch. 1]

[Ch. 2]

[Ch. 3]

[Read on AO3]

Sal is exactly where Tommy left him; sitting up on the bed, a pained look on his face as he frantically looks around. "The second he spots Tommy and Vivie, his face is taken over with relief, and Tommy can see how desperately he wishes to get up, but he doesn't. He just grips the sheets, staring at them intensely, his face going from anxious to relieved.

"Vivie!" He exclaims, and Tommy's daughter raises her head so fast that he worries she’ll have whiplash."

-

Everyone reunites. There's a lot of apologizing. There's a little bit of oversharing (it's the painkiller's fault).

When Tommy wished for a guardian angel watching over Genevieve, he didn’t think the universe would take him so literally. Because this man, this Evan? With earnest big blue eyes, blond curls, a pink birthmark that looks almost like a heart against his eyebrow? Yeah, that’s an angel he’s looking at.

He doesn’t have much of a chance to look at him, though, because as soon as Tommy thanks him, the man promptly passes out in front of them.

“Buck!” Captain Nash exclaims in surprise, and extends his arms to support him. His eyes are furrowed in concern, and both Hen and Howie are also fussing over Evan. Tommy has never seen this man before, but it’s clear they all know and care about him.

Thankfully there’s an empty bed close, and Nash lays Evan in it with surprising gentleness, in a way that vaguely reminds Tommy of when he puts Vivie to bed. And speaking of which.

Tommy finally manages to stop hugging Genevieve for long enough that he can take a good look at her. Her beautiful yellow dress, a present from his Nonna, is filthy, covered in grime and dirt (thankfully no blood); her hair is matted and frizzy, escaping out of the pigtails Tommy’s done for her this morning, and she looks pale and exhausted. She’s still the most beautiful sight Tommy has ever laid his eyes upon, and he can’t get enough of looking at her.

“Vivie, oh my God, I was so worried!” He admits, placing a thousand kisses to her wet hair, her sweaty forehead, her flushed cheeks. “Are you okay, baby? Does anything hurt?” Tommy asks gently, checking her face and arms for bruises or cuts, but thankfully, probably thanks to this Evan angel, his baby girl looks perfectly unharmed.

“I’m fine, Daddy! But what happened to Mr. Evan?! Is he gonna be okay?!” She asks agitatedly, her arms firmly wrapped around Tommy’s neck. Her blue eyes are looking scaredly at Evan’s unconscious form, and Tommy rubs her back soothingly. Her grip around his neck tightens, seeking comfort that Tommy is more than happy to provide.

Howie, who looks a thousand times less worried once Hen hooks Evan up to a saline IV and it looks like he’ll be alright, rushes to them when he hears Vivie’s question. He smiles sweetly at her, and she smiles a little back at him.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t you worry about Buck, okay?” He tells her. “If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell him? Cause I don’t want his head getting too big.”

That gets a small giggle out of her, and Tommy would hug Howard if he didn’t have an armful of Genevieve. She nods eagerly, and looks curiously at the other man. Frankly, so does Tommy.

“Well, that guy?” He says, pointing at Evan, who still hasn’t woken up, but he’s lying peacefully now, his cheeks starting to get some flush in them. (God, he’s handsome, a treacherous part of Tommy’s brain says, and he promptly tells it to shut up). “Toughest guy I know. He survived a lot of crazy stuff, and he’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“For real?” She asks, and Howie nods as if he’s complete sure of himself.

“Totally for real.” He says, and winks at her. “He’s a survivor, just like your dad Tommy here.”

Tommy feels his cheeks flush, and he smiles gratefully at Howard. Vivie looks between them, curiosity clear in her face.

“You know my Daddy?! How?!” She asks in wonder, and Howie and Tommy smile at each other, but Howie points his hand at him, giving Tommy the chance to explain it to his kid.

“Actually, Vivie, mr. Howard here saved Daddy’s life once, can you believe it? Way before you were born.” He explains, and Vivie gasps.

“So mr. Howard is a hero too?!” She asks, notably impressed, and Howie shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

He’s saved from having to answer, though, because there is a man coming towards them with a boy, a bit older than Vivie, secure in his arms. The boy is looking at Evan, with eyes full of worry, and so is the man. With a jolt, Tommy recognizes him as the paramedic that was taking care of Sal earlier.

“Chim!”, the medic exclaims, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He looks at Evan, who’s fidgeting slightly, but still has his eyes closed, and then back at Howie. “Is Buck alright?!”

“Will Buck be okay?!” The boy asks at the same time, his voice breaking as he sniffles.

His red hoodie is as dirty as Vivie’s clothes, and Tommy realizes he was probably caught in the tsunami too. He wonders briefly if the kid is Evan’s son, but then realizes he probably wouldn’t call him by a nickname if that was the case.

“Hey, Christopher, Buck will be fine, I promise.” Bobby is the one to answer, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s just a little tired right now. But you can sit by his side until he wakes up, what do you think?”

“Can I, dad?” Christopher asks, and the medic that’s holding him nods, then puts him down by Evan’s bed. He takes Evan’s hand in his, gently squeezing it. Hen gently takes the pair of glasses that are hanging from Buck’s neck and places them on the boy’s face, and he smiles at her.

The familiarity between them makes Tommy realize that his father, the medic that took care of Sal, is with the 118, and the coincidence leaves him speechless. What brings him back to reality is the small tug on his shirt, and as he looks at Vivie, he realizes she’s asking him to put her down. Tommy does, and she goes straight to Christopher with a small smile.

“You’re Christopher, right?” She asks, and the boy nods at her, a frown on his face. “Mr. Evan was worried that you’d be mad at him because he lost you. But you’re not, right?”

“No!” Christopher exclaims, as if the mere idea of being mad at Evan is absurd. “He was trying to help people, it wasn’t his fault!”

“I told him that!” Vivie exclaims triumphantly. “I said he was a hero, and that you wouldn’t be mad.”

“How do you know Buck?” Christopher asks her curiously.

“He saved me! When I got lost from…” She trails off, and her little blue eyes widen as if she’s just remembered something important. Vivie turns back to Tommy, and he sees in alarm that she’s on the verge of tears. “Daddy!”

“What, pixie? What’s the matter?” Tommy asks hurriedly, picking her up again and holding her close, but it’s no good, she’s still agitated, clutching his shirt in her tiny hand.

“Uncle Sal got hurt! We need to find him! I was s-so happy to see you that I forgot, but we need to find him! Mr. Evan was going to help me, but now he can’t, and I don’t want uncle Sal to get more hurt!” She sobs against his shoulder, and Tommy shushes her, rubbing circles on her back and bouncing her slightly.

“Baby, it’s alright, shh.” He whispers to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I found uncle Sal.”

She looks up at him, her sobs subsiding and her eyes widened in surprise.

“You did?!”

“Well, not me, but someone did and brought him here. But I’ve seen him, and he’s okay, I promise.” Tommy reassures her, and Vivie sobs once more, but it’s filled with relief this time.

“Daddy, do you promise? Can I see him?!” She asks, and Tommy nods right away.

“Of course you can, pixie. He’ll be so happy to see you.” He promises, and then turns to Howard, who’s been watching them with a fond smile. Tommy shifts Vivie so he can hold her with one arm and extends his hand for him. “Howie. Thank you so much. To all of you. I wouldn’t have found her if I hadn’t run into you” He says, looking at Captain Nash, Hen and the medic whose name he still doesn’t know.

“We’re just glad everything turned out okay, Tommy.” Captain Nash says warmly, and Tommy smiles at him.

Then, he looks at Evan’s still unconscious form on the bed, and back at the captain. He desperately wants to thank the man properly, but he knows Vivie won’t be settled until she sees Sal, and he knows his best friend is probably beside himself, wondering what’s happening to Tommy and her. Nash, however, seems to understand Tommy’s struggle, and nods at Tommy.

“Go. We’ll wait.” He reassures him, and Tommy nods gratefully at him.

“We’ll be back.” Tommy promises, and then he is gone, heading towards his best friend, his daughter safely in his arms thanks to the angel he’s leaving behind.

--

Buck doesn’t wake up all at once. Consciousness comes in small waves; at first he’s only aware of the sounds around him, the low murmur of familiar voices that allow him to come back slowly and steadily. Then, he becomes aware of the throbbing pain on his leg, which is stretched out. That’s how he realizes he’s lying down on scratchy sheets that feel very hospital-like (and yes, he wishes he wasn’t that familiar with what hospital sheets feel like). But as the events of the day come back to his memory, a sense of urgency forces him to full conscience, and his eyes open with a rush.

“Christopher! Genevieve!” Buck exclaims, and only when he tries to sit up on the bed does he feel the tug of a small warm hand against his.

“About time you woke up” Christopher says, and Buck looks at him with tear-filled eyes.

The young boy has his glasses back, and that signature smile that never fails to make Buck happy as well. He can’t understand why he’s still on the receiving end of it after everything that happened, though, or why Eddie is allowing Chris to be near him in the first place.

“Chris,” Buck says, sitting up on the bed, and taking Chris’ other hand in his. Because if this is the last time he’ll be allowed to be around him, he’s going to make it count. “Listen, buddy. I am so so sorry. I should have kept you safe, and I didn’t, and I…”

“Yeah, you did.” Chris argues, looking earnestly in Buck’s eyes, and he feels absolutely vulnerable under his gaze. “You kept me safe from the first wave, and you had me safe in the truck.”

“Yeah! But then I lost you!” He says, worried that Christopher is not understanding how bad Buck screwed up.

“Well, yeah, but you looked for me. A lot. Vivie told me. And she told me you thought I’d be mad, but I’m not. You’re still my favorite grown-up, Buck.”

Chris’ words and the way he’s looking back at Buck, like he’s still a hero, like Buck didn’t fail him, are too much. Buck blinks, trying to keep the tears at bay, but he can’t; the day has been too rough. Chris, however, seems to sense Buck’s emotions are getting the best of him; he wraps his small arms around Buck’s waist, resting his head against Buck’s chest. Buck hugs him back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his curls.

“Thank you, bud. I’m so glad you’re safe.” He whispers, and Chris just hums at him.

“‘Favorite grown-up’, huh? I’m kinda jealous, gotta admit.”

When Buck hears Eddie’s voice, he lets go of Chris and looks up at his best friend, bracing himself for the anger in his eyes. But Eddie is smiling playfully at them, his posture relaxed. As Buck looks around, he faintly notices Hen and Bobby hovering near him, but he can’t talk to them before he apologizes to Eddie; that has to be his priority.

“Eddie! I am so sorry, man, I can’t even begin to…”

“Then don’t.” Eddie says softly, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder and squeezing it. “Don’t even begin, because you have nothing to apologize for. He’s here, and he’s safe, and that’s all that matters, alright?”

Buck can’t take Eddie’s forgiveness yet, not entirely anyway. There’s still too much guilt pooling on his chest, so he decides to focus on something else.

“And Genevieve? Where is she?” He asks, looking around and not seeing either Genevieve or her father. He tries not to be disappointed by the fact they’re gone; he’d have liked to say goodbye.

“Tommy took her to see her uncle Sal, but they’ll be back.” Bobby tells him, and Buck looks at him in surprise at the amount of information in that short sentence.

“You know her dad’s name?!” It’s the first thing he registers, and then the rest of Bobby’s sentence sinks in. “Wait, you found her uncle?! Is he okay? Is he alive?!”

“Calm down before you pass out again, please.” Bobby asks calmly, and then he sits at Buck’s side, his eyes alternating between Buck and the IV still hooked up to his arm. The captain looks weary and relieved at the same time. “As it turns out, the little girl you were helping is the daughter of a former 118 guy, Tommy Kinard. He’s a pilot at Harbor station now. And Sal, her uncle, is his best friend. He used to work with us too, a long time ago. He’s hurt his head pretty bad, but he’s alright”

“Oh thank God. She was so worried.” Buck says, relaxing back against the pillow. Eddie has taken Chris and they are sitting on a stool next to his bed, cuddling together in silence. That fills Buck with relief, and he sighs, closing his eyes for a bit.

He’s still exhausted, and the dull throbbing in his leg is intensifying into stabs of sharp pain. Buck forced his body to the limit, and now he’s paying the price, but he can’t regret it. Not when Chris and Vivie are reunited with their dads.

Before he can voice his discomfort, though, he sees Chimney jogging towards them. He smiles when he sees Buck is awake, and promptly shoves a water bottle and a cereal bar into his hands.

“Welcome to the land of the living, Buckaroo.” He says, patting his shoulder gently. “Eat something, or Maddie will kill us both.”

“Thanks, Chim” He says hoarsely, sitting up on the bed..

Buck eagerly opens the bottle first, taking a big sip and sighing as it eases the pain on his sore throat. As he takes a small bite of the cereal bar, easing his hunger and thirst, his leg decides it’s done waiting for attention. The pain intensifies, and Buck can’t help but flinch a movement that is quickly caught by Hen’s sharp gaze.

“Alright, Buckaroo, finish your snack so we can get some painkillers into your system.” She asks, and Buck, who’d usually stubbornly reject the idea of using painkillers, especially the strong ones that help his leg, just nods meekly; he’s in too much pain. “And then I think you should take it very easy the next few days. It wasn’t your fault, but you pushed yourself way too hard today.”

“Hen’s right, kid.” Bobby adds gently. “Once the painkillers kick in, we’ll take you home, and then you can get some rest, ok?”

Getting some rest sounds wonderful in Buck’s opinion, and he nods at them both, his mouth too occupied with chewing. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now.

“Not so fast, Cap.” Chim quips, and inexplicably smirks at Buck. “He can’t go anywhere before Tommy and Vivie come back and he gets to play the hero.”

Buck blushes at that, but he can’t help a small smile from coming to his lips at knowing Genevieve and her father are coming back. And, with a small leap in his heart, he thinks that his giddiness isn’t entirely about Vivie.

But he’s wise enough to keep that thought to himself.

--

Tommy crosses the field hospital with quick strides, Vivie's small frame a comforting weight in his arms. As they walk around, he notices that things are calming down; there are fewer people around, the doctors and nurses don't seem to be rushing so much, and the overall chaos is more controlled.

Things are settling down, as they usually do after a big tragedy, and Tommy privately thinks they’ll only see how bad it was on the next day. He sends a silent thought for all the people who didn’t have the luck he did, of finding the loved ones they lost to the waves.

Sal is exactly where Tommy left him; sitting up on the bed, a pained look on his face as he frantically looks around. The second he spots Tommy and Vivie, his face is taken over with relief, and Tommy can see how desperately he wishes to get up, but he doesn't. He just grips the sheets, staring at them intensely, his face going from anxious to relieved.

"Vivie!" He exclaims, and Tommy's daughter raises her head so fast that he worries she’ll have whiplash.

The minute she sees Sal, she gasps loudly, and her little hand curls up in Tommy’s shirt, gripping it tightly. Vivie’s staring at Sal as if he isn’t real, as if she’s trying to convince herself that he is.

"UNCLE SAL!" Genevieve's exclamation can be heard through the whole hospital, and she tugs insistently at Tommy's shirt. "Daddy, daddy, put me down, please!", she begs, and Tommy is more than happy to abide.

The second her feet hit the floor, she's rushing to Sal's bed, climbing up on it as fast as her little legs allow. Sal wraps his arms around her, pulling Genevieve to his lap and holding her close. Her arms wrap around his neck, and they hug each other tightly. Tommy can see the tension leaving Sal’s shoulders as he wraps his daughter in his strong arms, and his own heartbeat seems to finally settle as he sees them together.

“Vivie, oh my God! I was so worried, kiddo, so worried!” Sal says, his voice thick with emotion like Tommy’s never seen before.

“Me too, uncle Sal!” Vivie says, and then she looks at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Cause you got really hurt, and then I didn’t see you anymore, and I was so afraid!”

It’s clear that all the events of the day are finally catching up to Genevieve, and she lets out a broken sob, her whole body shaking with it. Tommy’s first instinct is to jump in and get her in his arms so he can comfort her, but he holds back. That’s not what Vivie needs; she needs reassurance from the uncle she almost lost, not from him. And he trusts Sal to do it.

“Hey, hey, shh” Sal soothes her gently. “I’m here, you don’t have to be afraid, kiddo.”

He picks Vivie up, sitting her on his lap, pressing her head against his chest. She clutches his filthy Ramones T-shirt in her tiny fist, and Sal runs one massive hand in her hair, messing it up even further. They’ll wash and braid it again when he puts her to bed, which will happen about a thousand hours later than it should, but he couldn’t care less.

“It was scary…” She admits, her voice a tiny whisper, and Tommy’s heart breaks for her.

Genevieve has always been his brave little girl; the only fear she’s ever had was the dark. Tommy has been able to protect her from that, putting a night light in her bedroom, letting her sleep with him when it gets too bad. But will he be able to protect her from this? From the fear of water, fear of the sea, from the nightmares that she’ll get from this? He doesn’t know, and the thought scares him.

“I know, kiddo.” Sal tells her, bringing Tommy back to the present. “It was scary to me too.”

“I r-really thought I wouldn’t see you anymore, uncle Sal.” She tells him, and Sal exchanges a helpless look with Tommy.

Neither of them wanted her to learn what losing someone feels like, and Tommy would have given anything for his daughter not to have this experience. But it’s happened, and now all they can do is reassure her that everything turned out okay in the end.

Sal takes a deep sigh, and then presses a long kiss to Vivie’s forehead. Tommy can see his eyes are filled with tears, but he does his best to swallow them and smile at the little girl on his lap. “What, and leave all the fun of watching you grow up to your boring dad? No way, kiddo.”

Genevieve lets out a watery giggle at that, looking from Sal to Tommy. “Daddy, uncle Sal said you’re boring!” She gasps, and Tommy smiles wryly, coming closer to them.

“I heard it, baby. Maybe we should let Uncle Sal go home on foot, then? He won’t want a ride with someone this boring after all.”

“Nah, I’ll take it the ride. Even if you’re boring, Vivie is cool.” Sal teases, Sal teases, which makes Vivie giggle in delight and Tommy smack his shoulder (a lot more lightly than he normally would). Then, his expression turns serious, and he looks earnestly at his best friend.

“Tommy. I am sorry, man. I am so sorry.” He says, and Tommy can see he’s about to cry again. Without a word, he wraps his arms firmly around Sal, Vivie caught between them, and hugs his best friend tightly.

“I know. You don’t have to be. What matters to me is that you’re both okay.” Tommy says, and he means every word. Sal pats his back and nods at him when Tommy finishes the hug.

He sits by the edge of Sal’s bed, and Vivie scrambles from Sal’s lap to his, cuddling up against his chest. Her body is heavy against his, exhaustion catching up to her. He holds her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“How are you feeling, man?” Tommy asks, and Sal smirks at him.

“Like I’ve been hit in the head by debris.” He quips, and Tommy glares at him until he shrugs. “Look, I think I’ll be worse in the morning. They gave me good stuff for the pain, so I won’t feel it for real until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, it’d make me a hell lot more comfortable if you spent the night with us. I don’t want you going home alone.” Tommy says, and Sal rolls his eyes, poking Vivie’s arm.

“Your dad is such a mother hen, isn’t he?” He teases, and the little girl giggles. Tommy loves that sound more than anything in the world. “But okay, I think a sleepover sounds fun.”

“Sleepover!” Vivie celebrates, making Tommy and Sal chuckle. Then Sal frowns, as if he remembered something, and a sad expression takes over his face.

“Aw, kiddo, and I still owe you a unicorn, don’t I? Can’t believe we went through all that trouble and you didn’t get him in the end.”

Vivie gasps at that, kneeling on the bed and covering her mouth with her tiny hands. She looks from Tommy to Sal and then to the floor, her eyes widening.

“No, uncle Sal, but I did get him! I protected Marsh, but I forgot him with Mr. Evan! Daddy, we have to go back to your firefighter friends and get him back!”

“We will, baby. Daddy wants to thank mr. Evan anyway.” Tommy reassures her, and Sal frowns at him.

“Mr. Evan? ‘Firefighter friends’? The hell she is talking about, Tommy?” He asks, and Tommy refrains himself from scolding him for saying ‘hell’ in front of Vivie, because she doesn’t seem to pay much attention.

Tommy smirks, already anticipating Sal’s reaction to knowing it was Nash’s team that got Tommy to Vivie. “So, you’re never gonna believe this…”

--

After telling the whole story to Sal and telling him to stay put until Tommy comes for him (‘What, you think I wanna get up and go give Nash a hug and a cupcake? I’m better off here, thanks’), Tommy takes Vivie back to where the 118 was gathered around Evan’s bed.

Sal, who’s much better at keeping up with LAFD gossip than Tommy, has already informed him that Evan is the firefighter who got caught under the ladder truck a few months ago, and that only makes Tommy admire the man even more. He can only imagine how painful it must have been, walking around with a kid all day with his leg still recovering from such a trauma.

When they get there, they’re greeted by the sound of laughter, and the bed is surrounded by Nash, Howie and Hen. The medic - Eddie, according to Sal - is sitting on a stool, with his kid asleep against his chest. They’re all looking at Evan with exasperated fondness and soft smiles.

Evan himself is leaning against the pillow, his leg stretched out in front of him. His cheeks are flushed, and he doesn’t look as exhausted anymore, but his blue eyes are hazy and his smile is a little loopy. Even so, Tommy can’t help but notice he is absolutely gorgeous, and that his earlier comparison to an angel was not too out there; Evan has positively cherubic features, and the fact that he has his arms wrapped around an unicorn plushie only adds to his charm.

“Marsh!” Vivie exclaims the minute she spots the plushie, and everyone turns to them.

Tommy smiles at them in greeting as Vivie tugs on his T-shirt to let her down. Tommy does, and she rushes to Evan’s bed, stopping herself before climbing in it and looking at him shyly. Evan, however, smiles at her, bright and welcoming, and Tommy’s heart skips a treacherous beat. Get a grip, Kinard, you can’t lose it just because he is kind to your kid. He’s probably straight anyway, he tells himself firmly, but his eyes are still taking in the charming scene unfolding in front of him.

“C’mere, Vivie.” Evan says, and it’s the first time Tommy’s hearing his voice. It’s warm, and cheery, even though his speech is a little slurred, probably from everything that happened.

He pats the mattress next to him, and Genevieve doesn’t need to be told twice. She climbs up on the bed, and Evan offers the unicorn to her. “Your friend was missing you, you know?”, he tells her with a lovely smile.

“You kept him safe for me, Mr. Evan! Thank you!” She says in wonder, hugging the plushie close to her chest. Then, she looks at Evan, and puts the plushie aside, kneeling on the bed and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his flushed one. “And thank you for keeping me safe. You made things not so scary, and you helped me find Uncle Sal.”

It’s clear the heartfelt thanks from the five-year-old takes Evan off-guard, and he’s slow on his reaction. Still, he wraps his arms around her, closing his eyes in delight, gently stroking her hair.

“You’re quite welcome, baby. Having you with me made things not so scary too, so thank you. For helping me to get here.”

The others are all watching the scene with a mix of fondness and amusement. Tommy himself could forever stand there and watch this ridiculously adorable man interact with his kid, but he can’t; he has his own thanks to give. He approaches the bed slowly, and both Vivie and Evan look up at him. His daughter promptly holds the unicorn up so Tommy can see it. It’s wet, and filthy, but he guesses it’s still sort of cute.

“Look, Daddy, this is Marsh! Uncle Sal got him for me!” She tells him excitedly, and Tommy chuckles, bending down to kiss her forehead.

“Marsh looks like a great addition to your plushie friends, baby. He’ll probably look even better after we give him a bath.” He muses, and Vivie giggles, going back to stroke the plushie’s fur gently.

What surprises Tommy, though, and apparently everyone else, is that Evan giggles right along. Tommy refuses to acknowledge how adorable it is to see this 6-foot-2 man giggling along with his five-year-old.

“Isn’t that funny, though? A unicorn taking a bath? It should be a glitter bath at least.” He says, and then laughs at his own joke. His friends are looking at him in amusement, and Hen crosses her arms, smirking.

“I guess the painkillers are kicking in, huh, Buckaroo?” She says fondly, and Evan tries to handwave her, but the gesture is a tad bit clumsy.

“M’fine!” He exclaims, and then he runs a hand on Vivie’s plushie, looking at it in wonder. “Oh my God, he is so soft! Eddie, have you ever seen a softer plushie?”

Eddie snickers, and so does Chimney. Bobby is staring at Evan with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. And Tommy? Tommy is trying very hard not to melt from the sheer cuteness.

“Tommy, if you have anything to say to him, I think you should say it now, before we completely lose him.” Chim recommends with a chuckle, and Tommy startles. He does have something to say.

He turns to Evan, and the man has a loopy smile on his face, looking at Tommy with hazy eyes filled with something that he can’t quite define, but it makes Tommy blush furiously. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, and forces himself to look the man in the eye.

“Mr. Evan”, he starts, and the man frowns, as if something isn’t quite right about that greeting.

“No mister. You can call me...” He trails off, as if he’s looking for the right word, and then he smiles at Tommy as if he’s had the brightest idea ever. “Evan! Yeah! You can totally call me Evan.”

“Evan, then. I’m Tommy. Tommy Kinard.” He says, offering a hand, and Evan shakes it.

His hand is warm against Tommy’s, even if his handshake is a little wobbly. The moment they touch, Tommy feels as if a spark of electricity rushes through him, as cliché as that sounds. Evan must feel it too, because he looks up at Tommy with raised eyebrows.

“I know, Bobby said. I’m your re… re… Ah, it’s a big word, but I entered the 118 when you left. Small world, huh?” He says, with a tiny frown between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to make sense of it, and Tommy has an irrational urge to kiss it away. He doesn’t, but it’s a near thing.

“Very.” Tommy agrees, and then he sits down by Evan’s side. Even if he’s not entirely aware of what’s going on, Tommy needs to thank him. “Evan, I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did. Vivie is my life, and you saved her. There are no words to express how grateful I am.”

Evan seems to take a while to process his words, but then he shrugs modestly. He looks down at Vivie and tries for a wink, but it comes off as more of a sleepy blink. Tommy’s daughter giggles anyway, holding Marsh close to her chest.

“Ah, you don’t have to thank me, you know?” He slurs. “I did what everyone would do.”

“No, you didn’t.You did way more. You kept her safe, and you protected her, and you brought her to find her uncle.” Tommy tells him firmly, taking his hand in his and squeezing it. He tries to ignore the goosebumps it brings to his arms. “I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. But if there is anything I can do for you, ever, you just have to say the word.”

Evan nods, but stays silent. His hand is still wrapped around Tommy’s, and he looks down at them for a moment. Then he looks back at Tommy, his blue eyes determined.

“I mean, you could ask me out!” He exclaims, and everyone turns at him, eyes widened, including Tommy. He’s so surprised he doesn’t remember to separate their hands.

“I… I could… W-what?” Tommy asks, sputtering and feeling a blush covering his cheeks and all the way down to his neck (nice going, you idiot). It doesn’t help that half his former team is watching it with smirks on their faces.

“You could ask me out!” Evan repeats it, his brows furrowing as if he can’t quite understand what’s giving Tommy pause. “You’re ridiculously gorgeous, you know that? I’d say yes if you asked me out.”

Tommy is left completely speechless and wishing that the floor would swallow him whole. Captain Nash is looking at Evan with that same fatherly exasperation of before, and Eddie and Howie are shaking with silent laughter. Not even Vivie helps; the minute Evan says he’s gorgeous, her daughter starts giggling uncontrollably, looking between them with way too much amusement. Hen is the only one who seems to take pity on the two of them, because she puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder.

“Alright, Buckaroo, that’s enough out of you! Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“Can’t sleep, Hen, I’m going out with the hot pilot. Weren’t you paying attention?” He grumbles, but as Hen helps him lay back, he closes his eyes, resting back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

Tommy is flustered, and shocked, and impossibly endeared. He wants to ask Evan out, he wants to do it now, but he won’t hold a man accountable for things he said under heavy painkillers.

“Daddy, are you going out with mr. Evan?” Vivie asks, and Tommy, if possible, blushes even more. He takes one more look at Evan’s face, eyes closed and a small smile still playing on his lips, and he desperately wishes to tell her that yes, he will.

“I… No, baby. Mr. Evan didn’t really mean it, he’s just sleepy. It’s like when you say silly things in your sleep, remember?” He tells her, and she nods, but looks absolutely disappointed. “Besides, we have to pick up uncle Sal and go home, don’t we? It’s way past your bedtime. Say goodbye to everyone and let’s go.”

She does as she’s told, sparing a hug for everyone and making Eddie promise she and Chris will have a playdate soon (Tommy actually likes the idea; Vivie has plenty of friends, but she could always do with more). He agrees to set it up and says his own goodbyes, shaking everyone’s hands. When it comes to Chimney’s turn, though, he smirks at Tommy and slips a paper into his pocket.

“Here’s Buck’s number and address. You know, just in case you wanna check if he meant it or was just being silly.” He says with a knowing smirk, and Tommy looks at him in surprise. Howie shrugs, and then goes back to talking to Hen.

And Tommy should throw the paper away, he really should. Evan is probably straight; Tommy has a daughter and hasn’t really dated in years. Everything tells him this is not a good idea.

He folds it carefully in his pocket anyway.

Tag list:

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21

@dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld @buckleyskinards @actuallyitsellie

@agentpeggycartering @chaoticdisasterbi

@deelovesbooks @teabroomsandbooks

[kamjkaze]

Some Andre HCs cause I feel like I understand my baby the most.. TW: eating disorders

I think Andre struggles with anorexia as a means of having control over his life. If pried about it you’ll learn he genuinely does not believe he has disordered eating. He will fast for days on end to simply feel like he has a grip on his own reality.

I think his brain still thinks I’m german and when he’s only around his family for awhile he fumbles a little when translating his thoughts into English. Cal, naturally makes fun of him for this.

When he’s very sleepy and keeping himself awake his brain defaults to German and Cal usually just goes along with whatever Andre is saying.

Cal and Andre are super different in how they go to sleep. Andre can force himself to be awake for hours even if he’s barely lucid. But Cal, once he’s out, he’s out.

Andre is a mega computer nerd and begged his parents for that little computer for a full calendar year before he received it. He loves to tinker with it and I think once when he was younger his tinkering went too far and he broke something inside it. His dad got suuupppeer pissed and threatened to throw the whole thing out if Andre was so comfortable with breaking the things he bought him. , thankfully Andre fixed it with a bit of reading and stressing

Andre is a terrible skin picker. He has acne as it is but he will poke and prod and squeeze and scratch at all the little bumps on his face. The fact he has dirty man hands all up in his open ass acne is not doing the problem any favors

Andre still struggles with his own religious identity and never fully dropped the idea of Judaism from his mind, even on zero day.

I think he actually enjoys working with his dad, I think he’s a daddy’s boy as it is but being able to be out of the house and actually social with his father most nights is really good for him. Many of his doubts for zero day occurred while he was at work with his father.

I think Andre is very sensitive to weed and cannot handle himself very well with getting high because the Goldilocks zone of “this ain’t shit” to “throwing up and greening out” is so small for Andre. As opposed to Cal who hasn’t taken a tolerance break in the four years he’s been smoking.

This is the opposite for drinking. Andre can smash as much alcohol as he wants in a night whereas Cal is a total lightweight who can’t handle his vodka

Andre sleeps completely naked no matter the season. Andre is also naked most of the time in his bedroom or when left alone in the house. It’s a small quirk about him that he doesn’t really know where it came from. “I guess I was just meant to be a nudist. I mean, it’s how we’re all born”

Andre is not the type to admit his jealousy but it is one of the few things he’s able to laugh about just because I think he understands that he is a very jealous person and has more or less come to terms with it (unless of course pushed too hard about it, Andre would get mad about anything if pushed too hard about it)

When andre was a small boy his favorite book was The Runaway Bunny

Andre Kriegman is my life and joy PLLEAASSEEE share your Andre Hcs with me I beg of you

[sammywolfgirl]

Ok mostly for a fun brainstorm exercise i played with an ideas of throwing my beast/ancient ocs into some aus I think are neat.

Bla bla this is just for fun idk if I’ll do anything else with these pitch’s that being saiiid

Staring with @cuppajj beast ancient au. We have marshmallow fluff who becomes the beast of transformation. Basically seeing all her friends fall to corruption shatters her hope in humanity (cookie kind?) and she says screw it and becomes a witch in the woods. Just a total recluse. She’s basically taken over the woods her little cabin is tucked into, and since she’s given up she’s also using her oven magic for the scary implications it’s always had that she simply was too nice to even consider using her magic to rebake other living things aside from herself. She’s not above that anymore.

They say those who seek out the witch of the woods never return as they once were… if return at all. And the forest surrounding her home is always crawling with beasts and monsters…. Though on the flip side she’s definitely not involved in whatever plot is going on. Real going off the grid energy.

As for what her beast counterpart is up to uh… assuming she’s been made by then she’s just exausted. God damnit what do you mean there’s more beasts? Motherfucker now she’s got even more work to do! Melody extract planned on stealing and then destroying thr beasts soul jam because of her own plan, now there’s more beasts. So she’s probably plotting to just go scorched earth and destroy *all* the soul jam. Clearly nobody can handle this amount or power so best to just get rid of it. Couldn’t tell you how well that’s going to work out but at least Fluff isn’t going after her.

Oh uh as for um her beast name? Uh… Brambled Fluff Cookie? Idk.

Anyways next one!

@fishymom-art Fix a beast au! I have more thoights on this idea. Basically uh when the beasts soul jam got reclaimed(?) melody extract was like “oh okay my job is done here” and just shatters her own soul jam before it can be taken. She for one wanted them all to loose their power so this works out great. Unfortunately they weren’t receptive to her help so she left them be. Then shadow milk came up with the redemption plan and yeah she’s in, she doesn’t even care If it’s a trick she genuinely wants a quiet life.

She’s assigned to marshmallow fluff cookie, and frankly it’s probably the most civil. Melody is an artificial beast so she hasn’t done much in terms of war crimes and she also remembers her past mortal life. At most she needs a little therapy for trauma but she’s a very pleasant guest in Fluffs house. She helps around and is all too willing to put herself to work. She wants to help support her friends but well if they don’t want her help she won’t force it.

As for fluff she’s more worried about how her friends are doing, she was all for the redemption plan, she believes in second chances, however she understands the hesitance. Perhaps she’s lucky to be assigned the ‘nicest beast’ she worries about pure vanilla the most… anyways melody just spends her time writing plays and manuscripts and helping out fluff with whatever she’s doing. Sometimes she tells stories of the beasts in the past, fluff sometimes shares stories too.

Idk what happens when shit goes down with pure vanilla havent thought that far but uh yeah.

This was a fun exercise warmup thing

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Two

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

A/N: I’m so happy y’all like the first part it’s insane!!! I have so many plans for this fic tbh hehe I have so much ready already but I want to finish tutor as well which only has a few parts left but asshhhhhh thank you guys for all the praise on part one you have no idea how much it means to me!!!

masterlist

“You’re joking.” Emma says. I just stare at her. “No fucking way. Matt Sturniolo took care of you while you were drunk! A total stranger!” She smiles. “That’s a scoop!”

“Yeah, it’ll get you something big.” I nod.

“Not me, you. Too humanitarian for my writings. But you, with your do good and help the planet and its people look on life…. An article about the most ruthless and powerful man taking care of a helpless stranger while she’s intoxicated! That’ll get you something big!”

I smile at her. “I’ll have to get to writing it fast. Kyler doesn’t like old news. I’ll need it out by tonight for it to be any good to him.”

Kyler is our boss, the editor of our newspaper. Even though it’s a small newspaper outlet, our boss is a hardass, and I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t fired me already.

~

I set the stapled sheets of the freshly printed article on Kyler’s desk.

“What is this?” He asks without even looking up at me.

“It’s my article. Matt Sturniolo has a soft spot.” I bite my lip and Kyler looks up at me, seemingly intrigued.

“Matt Sturniolo?” He asks. I nod and he picks up the article, quickly reading and flipping through it. I had made sure to not mention it was me that Matt had taken care of, and made it seem like another person had told me about it. “Where did you get this?”

“Anonymous source.” I reply. Kyler nods and hands it back to me. “Send it to print and have it on a middle column that’s free.” He looks back at his computer and I take the article and quickly leave.

I smile to myself as I take the article to print. I tell the guys exactly what Kyler told me to tell them and they nod, taking the article from me and shooing me away.

I go back to my desk and sit down, not able to wipe the smile off my face. I look over my computer and see Emma, on the phone with someone I assume is another person she’s crossed when writing an article about them after they slept together.

Not long before the end of the day, Kyler comes out of his office for the debrief. Everyone tells him their scoops and he gives them the yes or no. Then it comes to me.

“Do you think you can talk to that anonymous source again?” He asks me.

I hesitate but Emma answers for me. “She definitely can!”

“Good. I want confirmation on the rumors that Matt Sturniolo is the head of the Mafia in New York. Can you get it to me?”

“She sure can!” Emma answers for me again.

“Get me confirmation in a month. I want updates and articles until then.” Kyler demands. He then surveys the room before leaving back to his office.

“A month? How am I supposed to get that information in a month?” I ask Emma.

“Well, you have his number don’t you?” She tells me.

I sigh. “I guess.”

“You guess?! Use the number! Call him! He’ll do it now!”

“Really?”

“If you don’t get that article in within a month, Kyler will fire you!”

I sigh again and pull out my phone and the card Matt had given me. I dial the number and put it on speaker for Emma to hear.

“Hello?” The other end says.

“Hi, is this Matt? We met at the party, you took me to the hotel room when I was too drunk to stand?”

“Dollface, I’ve been waiting for your call.” Matt says and my stomach flips in circles. “Did you change your mind?”

I laugh softly before saying “I guess you can say that.”

“Meet me tonight at 7, at the hotel.”

“Alright.”

“Bye dollface.” He says before hanging up.

“Dude, that was so booty-call-esque.” Emma says and laughs. “I thought you weren’t a hook up type?”

“I not. But I need this story.”

“I know. I’ll help you.”

“Help me?”

“You’re going into my territory. You’re sleeping with people for information.”

“Not people, just Matt. And who know is he’ll even tell me anything.”

“Oh he won’t tell you anything. You have to pick things up on your own.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Like if he takes a call after sex, what he says, who’s in the other end. Or if he says he has a meeting, ask who with. And keep hooking up with him. The more you hookup, the more he’ll be willing to share with you.”

I take a deep breath. “I can do this. I can hook up.” I tell myself.

The truth is I don’t think I can just hook up. The only guy I’ve ever been with and had sex with was my high school boyfriend, who cheated on me and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough half the time we were together.

“You got this.” Emma says

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi