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guqin-and-flute · 4 years ago

Note

nieyao or 3zun + prompt 64 with cat!baxia

64. “I think your cat wants to kill me.” [This got way away from me WHOOPS]

“So. This date is going fantastically. Do I make top 10?”

Meng Yao huffed a short, polite laugh through his nose at Mingjue’s rueful question. “Being nursed back to health by a handsome man is certainly adding back points lost in the cat attack,” he replied, and some of the frustrated dread bled from the ball in Mingjue’s chest. “I really could do this myself, you know,” he added.

Mingjue sighed. “Yeah, well, since it was my cat attack, I feel like I need to make reparations. I’ve also taken First Aid more times than I can count and cat scratches can get really nasty.”

If this were a one of the sappy romcoms Huaisang loved so much, standing at the sink together as he tended to the 2 gashes scoring down Meng Yao’s forearm with several antiseptic soaked cotton balls had the potential to be romantic. Except Mingjue had never liked those movies and he just felt like a fucking asshole who owned an unruly animal.

He had met Meng Yao at the grocery store. Mingjue had looked up from his phone at the sound of a sharp voice--a middle aged business man was snapping at a young man in front of him in line; "Fucking Christ, you're going to hold up everyone."

"You can go ahead of me if you'd like--"

"There's a whole line of people here! We all have places to go!"

The man being yelled at--(the very attractive man with round, dark eyes, he noted)--had grimaced placatingly, as the cashier was saying, "We can hold his groceries while he goes out, sir, you won't have to wait."

A the business man threw his hands into the air in disgust, Mingjue had slid his phone into his back pocket and interrupted in his 'is this guy bothering you' voice; "What's the problem?"

3 pairs of eyes had darted to him immediately and gone wide. The very good looking man had tensed completely, eyes darting to the door in a way that looked involuntary--and well, Mingjue had been struck by the completely overwhelming urge to tuck him back behind him and make this asshole between them shit his pants in fear. And anyone else that made him look that scared, for that matter. "I'm sorry," the scared, attractive, adorable, fragile-looking, harassed young man had said a tight smile, "I forgot my wallet in my car, we can just--"

"Here," Mingjue slid out his credit card handed it--pointedly--over Mr. Business-Asshole's head to the cashier. "I'll cover it. You know what," he had added, fixing the quickly wilting dickhead with his best 'I-can-bench-press-you-and-then-feed-you-your-own-esophagus-no-problem' stare, "Why don't you get the nice lady behind me, too. Once this guy is done running for the biggest jackass award. I'll wait."

And, you know, weirdly enough, Mr. Asshole had actually left the line, red faced and without his shitty little protein shakes. As the cashier bit back a grin and rung up the card, the harassed young man--who was even prettier up close, holy hell, it made his lower back sweat--had tried to insist that it wasn't necessary, that really, he had the money, he could just go get it, he appreciated it but didn't need Mingjue to put himself out. Mingjue had just shrugged and held out his hand. "It's the principle of the thing. Nie Mingjue."

The man had opened his mouth, looked down at his hand; then, he had smiled and holy goddamn fucking shitballs he had dimples. Shaking it firmly in a hand that was soft and cool and slim, he had said, "Then...thank you. Meng Yao. I'll have to pay you back. Do you have a cash app?"

"Don't bother."

"I insist."

"You can buy me dinner sometime, then," Mingjue's mouth had decided to say without permission, but luckily he agreed with the idea and so had been quite pleased to see Meng Yao's ears go pink.

"...That sounds fair," he replied, finally, those lovely dimples returning.

The cashier had cleared their throat, brightly. "Do you by chance have our loyalty card?"

They agreed on a first date in a public restaurant where they could verify that the other wasn’t some sort of serial killer. It had even been a nice one that Meng Yao had insisted on where they had also shared a bottle of wine and interesting conversation. Meng Yao was exceedingly smart and easy to talk to--the perfect conversational partner with a knack for solving many of the problems that Mingjue hadn't even realized he complained about. In return, he had made his attraction quite clear and Meng Yao had ducked his head.

"I'll have you know that I don't go home with anyone on the first date," he had said carefully, eyes on his fingertip as he ran it around the rim of his wineglass. "It's a personal rule of mine. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"That's fine with me," Mingjue shrugged. "If you're up for it, I'll wait for as many dates outlasts your rule, 'cause I grill a mean steak."

Those dimples came back and he had sat back in his chair, voice light as he asked, "Oh? Won't you get bored?"

Mingjue had snorted and finished off his glass. "Just because I'd like to sleep with you doesn't mean I don't also want to get to know you, you know."

Mingjue was just getting to know the guy, so he couldn't be sure, but that answer seemed to please him.

The night of the cat disaster was the 4th on their run of dates--Mingjue had shooed Huaisang over to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s house for the night and invited Meng Yao over via text for dinner and a movie and also the option of sex, if he wanted.

Apparently, the bluntness had made Meng Yao laugh. Mingjue had texted back that he preferred honesty in all things and could handle a ‘no, thanks’ with plenty maturity. Meng Yao had replied, ‘I’m sure you can,’ which, he had very keenly noticed, was not a ‘no, thanks.’

Dinner had gone great--homemade meals always seemed to impress--and they had been preparing to split a chocolate lava cake in front of a shitty action movie they had both agreed on with the understanding that neither of them minded missing anything if they decided fooling around was more interesting.

But now, there was blood everywhere--on the dishes in the sink, on the towel they had hastily staunched it with, on the countertop and the mood was ruined because his giant, grumpy ass cat had decided to savage his date as they were cleaning up the table. Baxia had sniffed his leg suspiciously when he first came in, flinching away as he knelt down to offer his fingers. Then, she had fixed him with a glare, hissed, and turned around and stalked away, fluffy gray tail held high--which, for her, was practically a warm welcome. She had her boys--Huaisang and Mingjue--and hated pretty much everyone else (except for Wei Wuxian's older sister Jiang Yanli when she had dropped him off to hang out with Huaisang when his license got suspended. Which had happened a few times, now).

Everything had been fine with her while they ate--she had even spent it under the table, rubbing up against Mingjue's legs, staring up at Meng Yao without making so much as a peep. It was when they had risen that disaster struck. She had hopped up onto Meng Yao's chair and decided to take personal offense to his existence with absolutely no warning at all when he passed by with his hands full of silverware.

Now, Meng Yao’s long fingers curled into a fist as the cotton passed over a particularly deep part of the slice, though his face remained calm, so Mingjue winced for him. "Sorry. I swear, she's never done this before, I don't know what the hell her problem is."

Meng Yao shook his head, smile pressed and polite as he said, "Really, it's fine." He shifted on his feet to lean his hip against the cupboards and, immediately, Mingjue seized his elbows.

“Are you dizzy?”

The other man had stiffened at the sudden movement, staring up at him. Then, he blinked and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm alright.”

Mingjue eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sure?”

He laughed. “I’m not going into shock, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve had much worse, trust me. I’m not going to pass out.”

Mingjue remained unconvinced. Instead of arguing further, he simply lifted him by the waist to sit on the island across from the sink for lack of a chair. Meng Yao let out the beginning of a squeak, hands automatically flashing up to bunch in the front of his shirt for balance. He blinked down at Mingjue, then the ground, then back at him, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Mingjue couldn't tell if it was annoyance, horniness, or a combination of both--and that was all well and good except that he was still bleeding and he knew from experience what a bitch blood was to get out of clothing. So he just pulled Meng Yao's arm out again and went back to work, asking, "So what was the 'much worse'?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you knew you're not going to pass out because you've had 'much worse'. What's the story there?"

"Ah. No story. I broke my arm. Compound fracture. I stayed awake the whole time, so a cat scratch is fairly minor, in comparison."

Mingjue hissed in through his teeth reflexively in sympathy and scanned him. Either he healed fantastically or the scar was higher up on his arms, under the soft cream sweater sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows--luckily, they had been rolled up before the attack and had escaped blood thus far. "Fuck. How'd that happen?"

"Fell down some stairs."

Mingjue raised an eyebrow at the stark explanation. "Well, maybe you shouldn't fall down stairs. Ever thought of that?"

Meng Yao smiled thinly down at him, dark eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights. "Mm. I'll have to keep that in mind." The dimples he searched for avidly were there, faintly, and Mingjue found himself wanting to nibble on them.

They hadn't done much else besides a kiss goodnight in the shadows near the entrance to the parking garages of their dates, because Mingjue was being good and keeping his hands above the belt. And he should probably figure out whether or not this date was going to have the eject button pressed, first. There was blood everywhere, still.

"Why all the First Aid classes?" Meng Yao asked suddenly, keeping his arm extended out even as Mingjue released him to rummage for the antibacterial spray. "Was it because your demon cat kept attacking people?"

Mingjue barked out a laugh and sprayed down his arm--Meng Yao didn't flinch. "At first, it was for lifeguarding, every summer since I was 16 until I graduated college. Now, I take refresher courses because I run a martial arts studio and shit can get real real fast, especially with newbies who try to fuck around." Tearing open the packet of sterilized gauze with his teeth so he could still hold his arm, he situated it and held it with a gentle thumb. "Tape or gauze wrap?"

Meng Yao shrugged. "I have no preference. Surprise me."

Gauze wrap it was. It would hurt less than pulling tape off his arm later. Meng Yao watched him finish up quietly, ankles linked, posture straight and proper even sitting on a kitchen counter. On impulse, Mingjue lifted his now bandaged arm and kissed the skin of his wrist, just below where the gauze stopped and got a slight shiver for his trouble. He looked up at him, then, an angle he was not used to but was definitely enjoying. "This has been a piss poor date. I really am sorry."

"The dinner was lovely before it ended in bloodshed, I promise," Meng Yao assured him, smiling. Then, it grew a little sly and he leaned in, slowly, stretching his arms out over Mingjue's shoulders to link behind his neck. "Although, you could always kiss it better."

Well, there was no possible way to misinterpret that particular invitation and he heartily took it, snugging Meng Yao up against him with hands on his hips and devouring him just as indulgently as he would the forgotten lava cake cooling on the stove top. He hummed in appreciation as Meng Yao's arms wrapped tighter, his thighs squeezing around his hips as he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. He tasted like the dry wine they had finished the meal with.

All at once, though, Meng Yao froze, hands stilling in his hair. Before Mingjue had time to be confused, he whispered against his mouth, "I think your cat wants to kill me," eyes fixed on something over Mingjue's shoulder.

Mingjue craned his neck around to find Baxia perched on the counter next to the sink, tail swishing, gaze locked with Meng Yao, ears flicked out to the sides. She let out a low, quiet growl.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Mingjue growled back. "That's it. You're going in Huaisang's room for the night."

#little-smartass #SO LIKE WRITING THINGS CHRONOLOGICALLY IS APPARENTLY DIFFICULT FOR ME #But this was fun!! Nice low stakes! Cat attack!#Nieyao #modern au #ask #prompt #my fic #my stuff #this became much longer than I anticipated

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sharkfish · 4 years ago

Note

ace prompt: in the middle of having sex for the first time, dean realizes cas isn't enjoying it. he makes them stop and talk about, cas breaks down

[all my ficlets]

On their first date, Dean asked Cas if he wanted to come in for a nightcap and Cas declined. Dean figured that was it, then: the date hadn’t gone as well as he thought, and Cas didn’t particularly like him after all. But then Cas texted the next day, so Dean decided Cas’s excuse was real, or maybe he’s just the kind of person that doesn’t put out on a first date.

On date three, Cas backed Dean up against his car in the brewery parking lot to kiss him. A slow, sensual kiss that made Dean’s heart race, but he still went home alone.

After the fifth date — Dean didn’t ask if Cas wanted to come in and Cas didn’t, either — Dean stared at himself in the bathroom mirror in nothing but boxers, finding far more flaws than he’d like to admit to. Since he’s taken over the shop, he does far more work in an office than under a car, and between that and a lifetime of bacon cheeseburgers and pie, he doesn’t have the body he used to. He always thought he’d be glad to lose the pretty boy baby face, but maybe he hasn’t grown well into manhood. Maybe Cas likes him enough that he’s trying to get over not being attracted to him. Dean decides he’ll start working out. See if there’s some kind of cream or something to help with the wrinkles and the circles. Maybe go shopping, wear something other than plaid and worn-soft jeans.

Date number nine, and Dean is finally in Cas’s little eastside house. Steaks were grilled, scotch was sipped, and now they’re in Cas’s bed, kissing and fumbling with their clothes. Dean feels high on Cas, the way he tastes and touches and feels and smiles, but not so gone that he forgets to suck in his stomach as Cas kisses downwards. Dean is hard and leaking and dying to feel Cas’s mouth around his cock.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean whispers, squeezing the bare warmth of Cas’s shoulder.

Cas hums in response, but it’s a little strained, and Dean realizes his shoulder is rigid underneath his hand.

“Wait,” Dean says. Cas lets out a shaky breath against his hipbone but doesn’t look up. “We, uh, we don’t have to do this.”

Cas sits back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s still in his jeans and Dean wonders how he missed that Cas isn’t hard at all. The heat simmering in Dean’s veins goes tepid in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, muffled from the hand still covering his face.

“No, it’s — it’s fine.” Dean says, reaching over the side of the bed for his clothes. He feels like a fucking idiot and an asshole. “Why the hell am I in your bed if you aren’t even into me?”

“Excuse me,” Cas says, and he disappears into the en suite before Dean even has his boxers back on.

Dean pulls on his clothes with shaking hands, trying to figure out how they went from another great date to whatever the fuck is happening now. He stands awkwardly by Cas’s bed, listening to the water run.

Cas comes out red-eyed and blotchy in a way that a splash of cold water can’t fix, and all the fight goes out of Dean. “Hey,” he says, softly. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says again. “I really thought I could this time. Could — have sex with you.”

“But you, uh, can’t.”

Cas turns his face away, jaw clenched. “Apparently not.”

“I’m a little lost here, baby. You gotta help me out.”

Still not looking towards Dean, Cas says, “I’m asexual.”

It takes a minute for the words to parse through Dean’s idiot brain, and then he says, “Really?”

“Unfortunately.”

Dean wants to reach out, but he stops himself by fidgeting with the hem of his flannel instead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought I could get over it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Dean says, slowly, “but I was under the impression being ace isn’t something you just… get over.”

Cas sighs, big and defeated. “No, I suppose it’s not. I just hoped — for you, I hoped.”

Dean takes a step closer, half expecting Cas to shy away. When he doesn’t, Dean reaches out to touch his hand, take it in his own. “That’s not a problem for me. Just so you know.”

“You deserve more than half a relationship.”

“Dude. That’s bullshit.”

“I know you have trouble believing that, but —”

“No, the ‘half a relationship’ part. That’s bullshit. There’s not a pie graph or whatever.” Dean steps a little closer, squeezing Cas’s hand. “There’s just me and you. And, you know. You deserve to have a full relationship, whatever that means to you.”

Cas blinks, his eyes shining wet even in the low light. “It’s not fair to you if I can’t do it.”

“Cas, let me be real clear,” Dean says. “I don’t give a fuck about sex. It would really fucking suck if we don’t work out, but it’s not going to be because we’re not having sex, ok? I promise.”

Cas finally looks at him. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

Cas reaches up his free hand, brushing his fingertips down Dean’s jaw. Dean leans into the touch without thought, nuzzling into Cas’s palm. Cas stands up a little taller, some of the confidence Dean is used to seeing in him coming back. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” Cas says back, giving him a small smile before pressing their mouths together.

Dean kisses back, tentatively, letting Cas lead the lingering but mostly chaste kiss. Dean falls into it the same way he does all of Cas’s kisses, addicted since the very first one.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Cas says once they break apart.

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” Cas pauses and then asks, hesitantly, “Would you still like to stay tonight?”

“Definitely.”

Cas’s real, full smile comes out, all sunshine-warm and beautiful. Dean can’t help but smile back.

#sharkwrites #ficlets #ace cas #186282397milespersec

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cyarikashakira · 4 years ago

Text

Chimichangas

A/N: This is my first time writing a fanfic. I am super nervous but I have an overabundance of love for Joaquin Torres so I had to put it somewhere. I'm doing @caplanbuckybarnes's summer writing challenge.

Summary: Falling in love at the supermarket wasn’t on your to-do list today, yet here you were snatching looks at a cute stranger.

Warnings: (I don't know if these count as warnings) GN!Reader, No Y/N, Joaquin Torres is an absolute cutie pie!

‘They were gone. All of them.’ I thought as I rummaged through the wrongfully stocked freezer. A sniffle escaped, then two, which was followed by a full on wail.

“Who the hell put the Steak and Cheese chimichangas where the Chicken and Cheese chimichangas goes!?”

I slammed the freezer door and rested my head on it and placed my hand on the cold glass.

Casual shoppers and workers tiptoed around me while I grumbled to myself in annoyance. I just wanted my comfort food.

A full on breakdown in the middle of a grocery store and I gave no fucks. A tap on my shoulder and I whirled around ready to light up the poor soul who decided to bother me.

“What do you want?” I wiped the tears from my face with a growl. Giant innocent eyes looked at me in shock as I grimaced at him.

“Hi - um, can I help you?” He bravely pointed at his name tag which said ‘Joaquin’ with the Walmart name above

“Sure~ can you just point me towards the person who decided to sleep on the job and stock the wrong chimichangas in the wrong spot? I just wanna have a little chat.” I said with a fake smile on my face.

“Th-that would be me.” He gulped and pointed over his shoulder towards the stocking material behind him.

You peeked around him and just glared.

“So it was you. You have been declared as my arch nemesis. Where are the chicken and cheese chimichangas?”

“They are out of stock. But we can call you when they are back in stock.”

The air suddenly became tense.

“...Believe it or not, they already have my number because I buy them so often. It is Tuesday and it’s 8:30. They are always stocked at 8pm on Tuesday.” I looked down at my watch to double check the time. I crossed my arms ready to take my frustrations out on the worker.

“We are going to have to call some people.” He said plainly.

“What?” My head tilted to the side in confusion.

“For this chimichanga shortage. We need to call some people.” His smile got bigger as he continued talking.

“Chimi..changa shortage? If they are going to fix my day then you better call them.”

“I’m kidding..”

“Oh.” I let out a nervous laugh and made a face.

He ran a hand through his fluffy black curls and huffed. I took a look at his face, he was nervous.

“...Are you new?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“To the stock things department, yes. This grocery store, no. I’m so sorry that I stocked it wrong but thank you for pointing it out for me.”

I immediately felt bad because I realized that I was being a dick over some food.

“I’m so sorry. I’m just having a bad day. It was just a complete shit show. My cat got sick, my car is on it’s last leg and my boss is on my ass and I ran out of chimichangas and forgot to restock my fridge so here I am today - “

I rambled on and on.

“Hey, it’s okay. We all have bad days. I thought this was about to be a bad day for me also because you were upset at me.”

“I’m sorry again. I’ll live without them. I should go home before I embarrass myself even more.”

I lowered my head now feeling shy and more aware of my surroundings.

“Before you go, I think I have something that will make your day a little better. Follow me.” He turned swiftly and started walking away.

“Uh, no. I’ve burdened you enough today, sir.”

He stopped and turned to face me again. A smile formed on his face. Were those dimples always there?

“Come on. I’m just taking you to a person who can solve your problems.”

“Oh o-okay.”

I followed behind Joaquin towards the front of the grocery store. He stopped in front of the deli section and tapped a hand on the counter to alert the workers.

“Hey~ is Margie in today?” He said sweetly to the teenage girl who could barely see over the huge counter.

“Yeah Curly, she’s in the back. Let me go get her.” She ran to the back and pushed the double doors with force.

I looked at Joaquin with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“Why do they call you Curly?” A small smirk appeared on my face. He blushed and his hand went to his hair once again.

“My hair. It is how everyone finds me and the fact that I’m tall. Everyone has a nickname here. We are as much a family as capitalism will allow us to be. Margie is just...wait until you see her.”

The shock of blue hair caught my peripheral and I expected to see a teenager. No. A tall lady who was on enough to be my mama strolled up to the counter with a huge smile on her face.

“What can I do for ya, Curly Quin?” Her accent drawled as she leaned against the display case.

“We have a situation. Apparently, I suck at my job and a certain someone had an entire meltdown in the middle of the freezer aisle because they are having a bad day like it was my fault. I’m pretty sure they want to get me fired but I’m too cute for that, right? So we need a solution to their chimichanga problem.” He sarcastically and over exaggeratedly explained the situation to Margie and his smile got wider as he went on.

“So Grilled Cheese over here wants a chimichanga? How is that my problem?” Margie planted her eyes on me and I felt like I swallowed my heart.

For an old lady, her look was intense.

“I need the goods. The family secret, the whole enchilada, you get where I’m going with this. I’ll finally bring you back your book that you let me borrow when I first started working here.” Joaquin slapped on the puppy dog eyes and Margie rolled hers.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. That was a year ago. I’m never getting that book back and you know it. I’ll be back for you and Meltdown over here, assuming that is you.” She gave a small smile and moved to go towards the back doors. “Give me a sec.”

As soon as she disappeared, I face palmed and groaned.

“You guys are going to make fun of me forever, aren’t you?” I looked at him in despair.

“Oh yeah, you know it. Welcome to making history.” He smiled towards me, flashing a dimple.

“Is there a way that I can make everyone forget about this? I will pay you guys off. I promise. Just forget everything that happened here today.” I waved my hands in circular motions like I was casting a spell, earning odd looks from everyone around.

He laughed for the first time that night.

“It’s not every day a grown up has a total fit like a toddler. This has made my day and probably my whole week.”

I groaned again and stomped my foot in annoyance, ready to snap at him.

The back doors flew open and a brown paper bag was thrown in my direction. Joaquin and I fumbled to catch it at the same time and we butted heads.

“Good thing you knocked some sense into each other so I didn’t have to. Get out of here kids, your chimichanga problem is solved.” Margie smiled.

I opened the steaming paper bag and started crying.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I started bouncing up and down with joy. I wrapped my arms around Joaquin and pulled him into a tight hug, crying on his shirt.

“No problem, I can’t breathe, please..let..go..” He said dramatically.

I immediately let go and cleaned my face putting on a huge smile. He took a deep breath and put his hand on his chest.

“You guys are the best and I am so sorry for taking my frustrations out on you. I really hope you can forgive me at some point.”

“Already forgiven. I just always want to do something positive with my day and make others smile. It’s all in a day’s work.”

“I don’t know how to thank you guys enough for the chimichangas.” I held the bag close to my heart, grinning widely.

“Go home and eat them. That’s thanks enough.” Margie deadpanned.

Oh. She was still there.

“Yes ma’am. Have a good night. Thank you for everything!” I waved goodbye to her.

“Don’t mention it kid.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Margie!” He said to her.

She waved us off and we were on our way to the front doors of the store. We stopped just before the entrance, triggering the doors to automatically open. We were blocking the exit and people started going around us.

“I guess this is goodbye? Until I come in to restock my freezer again.” I said glumly, holding out my hand towards him to shake his hand.

“I guess so.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, placing it in my hand.

Question marks filled my brain as I looked down at his phone in my hand. He shyly placed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I told you whenever we restocked, I would give you a call so.. I would need your number for that.”

“Oh. But they already have my numb- Oh. Okay. Oh. Oh um, of course uh..”

I stuck my tongue out in concentration as I typed my name and number into his phone and handed it back to him.

“There you go. I uh, look forward to your call for whenever the chimichangas are back in stock.”

“Of course. I’m just doing my job. If they aren’t in stock and I’m off of work, can I still call you?”

My brain short circuited and I blinked rapidly at him. He was smooth. Toooo smooth. I studied his face for a joke.

“You aren’t joking with me, are you?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Nope, not one bit. Are you okay?” He questioned. I was sure smoke was coming out of my ears at this point.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just tired, it’s been a long day. I should get going.” I looked off towards the cars in the parking lot.

“It was nice to meet you. I’m sorry about your chimichangas and for my poor stocking skills.” He apologized sincerely.

“It was nice to meet you too, Joaquin. Thank you for everything. Am I allowed to hug you again?”

His brown eyes lit up and he furiously nodded. I wrapped my arms around him and he did the same to me. We let go as quickly as we started.

“I’ll see you around, Grilled Cheese.” He gave a two finger wave towards me and started walking backwards.

“Likewise, Joaquin Phoenix.” I started walking in the other direction.

“Haha. So original! It’s actually Falcon!” He shouted.

“What?” I stopped and turned back towards him but he was already gone.

I shrugged and walked towards my car. I opened the door and climbed inside, tossed the bag of chimichangas in the passenger seat and rested my head on the steering wheel. I released a huge sigh while lifting my head, started my car and began driving home. The street lights blurred past me on my drive home. My body was on autopilot as I opened the door, kicked my shoes off and sat on the couch next to my roommate with my bag of chimichangas.

I took a bite and immediately frowned.

‘Damn it. Steak and Cheese strikes again.’ I started laughing and shaking my head, dropping the chimichanga back in the bag.

“What is your problem?” My roommate said staring at the tv, not concerned to turn their head towards my hysterics.

“Nothing. I just had a meltdown in a freezer aisle and I think I fell in love with a stocker who is bad at his job.” I leaned back against the cushion of the couch and sighed dreamily.

“....no offense but you aren’t allowed to go to the store unsupervised ever again. You got issues...”

My phone began to ring and I just stared at the unknown number before answering.

“H-hello?” I stuttered.

“You will never guess what we just got in stock.” A light voice filled with laughter said over the phone. A huge smile formed on my face and I was booking it out of the door and yelled a quick bye to my roommate.

“I’m on my way.”

I hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried my best :)

#cappyssummerchallenge #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #tfatws

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ggukkiedae · 4 years ago

Text

❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 7-8

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

EPISODE 7

her first cut for the episode is in the kitchen of the upper house where hobi stops by and pats her head

“need help?” “i’m good, oppa. you can go ask jinnie or yoongi oppa if they need help!”

she’s silently moving around the kitchen while getting everything she needs to make tteokbokki and grilled chicken skewers

then she heard them say they were gonna cook fried chicken instead so she looks right into the camera

“maybe i should make rabokki instead?”

she works around hoseok and jungkook while they make the batter and prepares all her stuff starting with marinating her small pieces of chicken

eventually, she’s starting on her rabokki when jungkook comes in to make sauce

“need help, oppa?” “you know that good chicken sauce?” “i got you”

she started dictating stuff out loud for him to follow while simultaneously working on her own dishes

he stands next to her, heating up his saucepan on the spot next to her rabokki. she jumps when he loudly asks for ketchup

“you’re so loud” she laughed and passed the ketchup bottle

“don’t pretend you don’t get louder than this” “true. try this. is it good?” “i’ll try yours if you try mine”

the two maknaes were just trying each other’s food more than they should have at this point

once she put the cheese on her rabokki and covered it, she moved to putting her chicken pieces and chopped up bell peppers onto skewers

when she finished that, she turned off the stove and moved her skewers outside

she watched in amusement while the others panicked over the fried chicken. she was peacefully grilling her skewers

when they went to score the chicken, she called out to them “make sure to check the first two knes you fried, too”

Miya: The oppas… sometimes get a little excitable. Cooking with them is pretty amusing because they usually know what to do, but something happens and makes everyone a little jumpy. It’s actually quite funny. We did it, though. It worked!

cut to when they’re eating and she smiles

she’s sitting across from yoongi struggling to open her can of beer until yoongi opened it for her

“how can you still look like a baby when opening a can of beer?” “the tab hurts my fingers”

her skewers were finished quite quickly, and so was the rabokki

after they joked about an edm version of the in the soop song, she finished the remnants of her beer can and stood up

“does anyone want a cocktail?”

hoseok cheered for her “ooooh makdungie’s gonna make us an adult drink”

she laughed and took three bottles of soju before skipping over to the kitchen

she pulled a large clear bowl from the cabinet and dumped in a lot of ice quickly followed by the soju. she pulled a few scoops of what looked like strawberry ice cream and mixed it into the bowl of soju

she frowned realizing she couldn’t carry it but jungkook walked in

“i’ll carry that, go get us some glasses, mimi”

she grinned at jungkook then took 8 smaller glasses from the cupboards

“a sweet drink to counter all the salt and strong flavors”

she scooped some for everyone, and they did a cheers to it

“ooooh you made this well, aegi” taehyung’s wide eyes made her giggle

“i saw it online!”

by the end of the night, she was on hoseok’s lap and in an endless fit of giggles especially when they were teasing namjoon to make him dance

the next day you they show a clip of her empty bed with the words “makdungie is gone?” on the screen

then you see her sleeping beside jungkook

Miya: The oppas made it a rule to never let me sleep alone after drinking. I don’t really know why? Maybe it’s because I’m a little clingier, or I think it’s an alcohol poisoning thing or in case I get sick. It’s pretty sweet of them, honestly.

she wakes up mumbling nonsense when hoseok cuddles her and jungkook awake

“makdungie, jk” “[incoherable]”

she sits up straight away though and starts rubbing her eyes “hobi oppa?”

and hoseok uwus because cute tiny baby aksjdhf meanwhile jungkook is still knocked out. he cups her cheeks and squishes them

“time to wake up, yoon-ah. i’ll leave the other maknae to you. head to the upper house, alright?”

when hoseok left, she turned to jungkook’s sleeping form and poked him. he groaned, so she just sprawled herself across his stomach, making him grunt

“hobi oppa says we need to wake up and go to the upper house” “right now?” “mhmm”

next cut of them is yoonmi on jungkook’s back while they arrive at the upper house

“maknaes, could you two clean up and set up the table? and bring ten bowls too?” “okay”

once she finished, she walked over to the camper van and slid in next to yoongi. she closed her eyes again, making yoongi sleepily chuckle

you can see her again when they're eating breakfast. her eyes are half-closed, hair going everywhere while eating, so taehyung had to tie her hair into a bun for her

she disappears for a while after breakfast which leads to taehyung asking yoongi where she went

“knowing her, she’s probably with her guitar at the dock”

then the screen cuts to yoonmi actually sitting on the dock with her guitar and laptop out

she’s strumming random melodies until at some point she’s just playing waste it on me

there’s a mini time lapse of her before she decides to get up and go back into her room to nap

the screen shows her cuddling up to her plushies and hiding her entire body under her blanket

by the time it was 7, yoongi comes over to her room to wake her up

“hey, princess. if you don’t wake up now, you won’t be able to sleep later” “hmm” “wanna come sit with me while i work?” “mkay”

she sleepily let yoongi pull her back to the camper van

Yoongi: I’m not sure how, but I know when to check on her. I just thought maybe she’s still asleep, so I needed to wake her up so she can sleep at night. She sleeps in so much on free days, so j have to make sure she keeps as regular as a sleeping time she can get

the last clip you see of her is her hugging yoongi’s arm while they walk

EPISODE 8

she’s sitting across from yoongi with a sleepy smile on her face

“yoon-ah, put your hands up!”

she giggled and did as she was told while vibing with the elder. the screen’s caption read “yoon siblings are having fun”

hours later, she and yoongi are called for dinner

“the steak and pasta are good!” “thanks, makdungie”

they toasted for their last night there and she’s just mumbling off to jungkook about both the song for in the soop and another song she had been working on then yoongi came to let them hear the guide

jungkook then wraps himself around her because she feels cold and yoonmi just sits there unbothered. once she finished her food, both maknaes cuddled up to jin

she sits on the grass between jungkook and taehyung while holding her own firecrackers

“wah, this is really cool” “makdungie, look here”

hoseok was holding out his phone and taking pictures of her. she immediately smiled for him

jimin kept a hold on her when they tried the other types of firecrackers so she wouldn’t get too close

she was cheering when they lit the firecrackers “wah! pretty!”

they’re all gathered in the living room where she found herself in between namjoon and yoongi. you can see her zone out a little during their game

“i’m so confused” she laughed and went along with whatever was happening

the next day she woke up due to her phone ringing

“mm hello?” “...” “a little, yeah” “...” “it’s already 2pm?” “...” “alright” then she hung up

the captions just read “her brother woke her up by accident”

she spent a while staring at her wall while sitting up in bed until her door opens to reveal hoseok

“yoon-ah, time to—oh, you’re up” “good morning” “how long have you been awake?”

hoseok sat next to her which effectively made her lean her head on his shoulder “just now. yoonsungie oppa just called me about seollie”

“head up in a bit, okay?” “i’ll fix my stuff first”

she was quiet for most of lunch then went straight to the trampoline and does a few tricks and flips

“oh, they’re playing with water guns. that looks nice. oh, i should probably take a shower”

taehyung caught sight of her when she was walking off to the boathouse to get her stuff for her shower

“aegi, come give me a hug.”

he ran right for her making her squeal and laugh while running away from him. he eventually caught her in a hug and got her wet. she laughed and hugged him back before going to get ready to leave

Miya: It was nice. I feel like this is the least amount of work any of us had in the past seven years. It was a reminder to sit back and take a break every now and then. To you who is watching this, take a break. Whether it’s by yourself or with friends, take a break. It’ll be good for your body and your mind.

“is it just me, or did the staff suddenly bring in another car?” “i don’t know, mimi. maybe they want us by twos?”

she got into a car with jungkook and hooked her phone up to the aux. they looked at each other for a bit before she played the original version of euphoria, which was their duet they rolled down the windows and sang along

Recording In The Soop:

she sat next to yoongi while they waited for everyone to discuss what they wanted the lyrics to be

they were silently discussing something between themselves

eventually they had her go into the booth to record first

she was in a fit of giggles when they were instructing her “okay okay, i got it, let’s go”

she got it in one go and skipped back to everyone else. she settled herself next to yoongi again and watched the rest of the process

she cringed a little at namjoon’s narration but cheered “RM!”

she laughed when yoongi ran into the booth “oppa, i could have pressed the start for you”

she couldn’t help it and gave all controls to hoseok. she just kept laughing

when it came to the chorus bit, she and yoongi stayed outside to direct

“oppa, are we gonna make them record adlibs after the soop part?” “probably. you wanna try?” “hmm not really”

namjoon did his adlib and she just bursts out laughing because she didn’t expect it

jungkook kept making adlibs so she laughs and pokes him with her foot “oppa, you better record one”

then it was jungkook’s turn. she snorted “this is gonna be something”

then he actually did it and she just falls out of her chair laughing which just made everyone laugh harder while jimin helped her up

but he fell, too, and cue harder laughter

“oh my god, i can’t”

once they finish jungkook’s adlibs she just “can we get jimin oppa and jinnie oppa to record the main line for the soop part?”

the rest of recording was going well with a whole lot more laughter until yoongi checked everything

“jungkook, yoonmi, get in for harmonies”

she follows jungkook inside while everyone leaves

“what do you two want to do?” “i was thinking we’ll do layers to the soop part” “oh, oppa same. you do the main, i’ll do the higher?”

they recorder the layers smoothly and yoongi clapped for them “good work, kids”

#yoonmi.inthesoop #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story.

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you.

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them.

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast.

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically.

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day.

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth.

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes.

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully.

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.”

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript.

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?”

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.”

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind.

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks.

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face.

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.”

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head.

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand.

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley.

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with.

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates.

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along.

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity.

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?”

“Of course.”

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.”

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her.

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says.

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock?

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.”

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else.

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese.

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich.

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way.

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records."

"What've you got?"

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts."

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long."

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart."

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?"

"Times three deposits," Riley adds.

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash."

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?”

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.”

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen.

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all.

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?"

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this.

"Uh huh. Sure."

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger.

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy.

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces.

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while.

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.”

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good.

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?”

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?”

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?”

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door.

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment.

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him.

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door.

Ah.

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine.

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.”

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction.

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated.

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing.

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning.

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her.

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter.

Harley, it turns out, is no exception.

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it.

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there.

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes.

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.”

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel.

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells.

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.”

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life.

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?”

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.”

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.”

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants.

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog.

“This is Harley.”

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.”

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it.

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife.

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.”

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic.

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway.

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch.

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that.

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that.

He can’t.

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.”

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that.

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.”

Mac’s brain short-circuits.

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing.

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago.

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing.

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion.

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.”

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.”

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.”

He is not good. He is definitely not good.

And Riley knows it.

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously.

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them.

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one.

He’s screwed.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@angelinanao

@annmariestuff

@dreambelievergeek

@emilyscotson

@erika-amber

@fandomsilovewithoutshame

@fangirlfreak08

@g3svv

@hellishrose

@holbytlanna

@i-cant-think-of-a-name-15

@justaghostmonument

@losingitovermacriley

@macrileyedits

@multi-fandomshipper101

@mylifequotesshowallofthem

@nikki-1607

@orange-cat-vet

@penny114

@redjedistarfighter

@sxrein

@tall-tanned-tattoo

@thecarrieonokay

@tom-hunter-summah

@whatsabex

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis #mac x riley #looking through a window au

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howdoyousleep3 · 5 years ago

Text

Hello and Happy Friday! Let us consider:

Three-Day Weekend Daddy.

This started as a harmless and specific Headcannon that turned into a pairing and version of Steve that I...well I just can’t stop fucking thinking about. This has always been my favorite gif of Evans and I am downright tickled that this has morphed into something that will never leave my mind.

This is definitely Stucky (I know my other HCs haven’t been) and definitely the longest Headcannon I’ve ever posted so as per usual, I advise you to buckle up. :)

This Steve actually is a little bit of a rich Daddy but it’s new money, like he sold his start up or something, was self-taught on the skills he used to build his own company up from the ground

He likes to work with his hands, doesn’t want to change anything he’s been doing all along simply because he has the money now

Mows his own lawn, tampers with his motorcycle and car, attempts to fix household problems before calling in an expert

Is intelligent, a quick-learner, a universal natural talent

Could not put a number on the amount of trucker hats he owns

Never takes himself too seriously

Owns a boat

Is extremely tan in the summertime, never wears a shirt, waves at everyone when they’re on the lake

Likes to take care of his body but does not believe in cardio, has a tiniest bit of a soft lower belly that he complains about, but loves beer too much to do anything about it

Bucky fucking gags for it, kisses at his belly--wet, open-mouth, sloppy as all hell--on his way down for a suck job

Speaking of Daddy’s lil’ bunny...

Bucky comes from a background with a slightly higher place in society than Steve did (which Bucky isn’t particularly a fan of and probably why it was easier to fall for Steve) and so sometimes he ends up teaching Steve little things

The first time Steve meets Bucky’s parents at a nice dinner place Bucky has to kind of whisper to Steve under his breath about which spoon to use and where his water glass goes

Takes Bucky to dates at expensive seafood places and also Waffle House

Bucky jokes about taking ballroom dancing lessons and Steve fucking makes that happen, looks like a fucking fool trying to follow Bucky’s natural grace but he’s smiling like he won the lottery the whole damn time

Wakes up hard damn near every morning, nibbles on Bucky’s shoulder, his ear, “can’t help it, darlin’, not when I wake up with my dick nestled between these sweet cheeks, goddamn”

They stumbled upon the appeal of the Daddy Kink by complete accident

“Look at you: mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, working on your bike, marinating steaks-- you somebody's Daddy or somethin’?” Bucky jokes one day but it results in Steve pressing Bucky in tight against the counter, whispering in his ear, “You wan’me to be your Daddy, baby? I’ll be your Daddy, darlin’...”

And then Bucky is just so fucking knocked off his feet by the never-ending onslaught of his own arousal that ‘Daddy’ is actually the only word he can form when Steve puts him chest-down on the kitchen counter and fucks his ass so hard the cabinet doors won’t stay closed

This Daddy lives for three-day weekends where he can spend time outside and invite people over...

Bucky feels like a little housewife when he brings Steve a glass of water (“it’s hot, you need to stay hydrated. You can’t always drink beer, punk”) or beer or lunch and Steve squeezes at his hips or his ass, kisses him sloppy on the cheek, “Look at’chu, thank you, honey...”

It’s a really hot fuckin’ day and Steve is definitely overdue for a haircut, but Bucky just can’t stop staring at the little droplets of sweat that collect at the tail of each tendril of Steve’s hair where it sticks out from under his hat to lay against Steve’s neck

Wears swim trunks that hit well above his knees and makes Bucky wanna lick the inside of his thighs, a length that isn’t as masculine as you might expect on Steve “where’s the grill brush” rogers, but it somehow adds to all that virility seeping out through Steve’s pores

Asks, “What is this song? Who sings this?” to every other song on Bucky’s playlist

Turns his hat around backwards at one point and it’s how Bucky knows he’s a little tipsy, a little loose

Bucky has to tell him to put on a shirt when he goes to grill but Steve is a stubborn sonofabitch and Bucky doesn’t fight too hard because Daddy looks good in front of that grill, beer in one hand, tongs in the other, broad and glistening all over

Steve is always asking what kind of beer Bucky is drinking and asking him if he likes the taste of that one, the hops in this one, offering suggestions on what he might try next, not because Steve is a beer snob but because he just wants to keep tabs on what Bucky likes to drink so he can buy more next time and just because he thinks it’s interesting to know his baby’s thoughts on that kind of stuff

Jokes about a hot dog eating contest with a wink thrown Bucky’s way

Wrestles and tosses Bucky into the pool, jumps in anyway after Bucky pouts, “Goddamnit, Bucky…”, yanks his shirt over his head, dives in

Sneaks hot and heavy kisses against the side of the house like a couple’a teenagers

Fucks like an animal after spending the day being handsy and teasing and looking at Bucky in his swim trunks, strutting around the yard in front of all their fucking friends, and maybe some other Daddy might get jealous ‘cause‘a that but it only makes Steve grin like a damn wolf who’s just put eyes on tonight’s dinner...

Bucky has never wanted Steve’s cock in his mouth more, sucks him off right there on the kitchen floor when everyone leaves, Steve’s trunks barely pulled down his thighs enough, “Fuck, baby, you spent all day thinkin’ about havin’ Daddy’s dick to suck on?”

“Do that thing with your tongue again, that thing from last -- yeah, fuck that’s nice” and “Come on, honey suck on Daddy’s balls, there ya go. Fuck…”

A lot of grinding and pushing and pressing, this Daddy a handsy motherfucker, picks up Bucky right from the floor, hands under Bucky’s armpits, under his ass, carries him up the stairs

Does a lot of “every man” physical labor in the yard, moving furniture etc., and his body isn’t just a machine that he’s gotta work on like his bike, but more like a house that he lives in and knows every detail

Which means that Steve knows his own strength -- even after three or four beers -- and doesn’t actually have to try and be careful with Bucky when he’s tossin’ him around

He’s carefree and confident enough that he trusts his own touch, and it makes everything more passionate and intense for Bucky because if Steve wants to grind on him or squeeze on him or love on him with all of his muscle and bone then he’s just gonna do that, gonna do whatever feels good

Steve wants Bucky on top when they finally get to the bed, wants to feel him all over, run his hands up those thighs, wants to bite at those pretty nipples

Both smell like chlorine and sunscreen, Steve’s beard smells like grill smoke

Stops halfway to orgasm and tells Bucky to turn around, to be Daddy’s little reverse cowgirl so he can spread his cheeks and smush ‘em together and watch the way his slicked-up cock disappears inside

Eyes half-lidded, smirk tugging at his lips slightly, super vocal

Likes to egg Bucky on, encourages him to take what he wants, but also knows Bucky well and knows when he’s about to come and uses that to his advantage, knows Bucky won’t want to come but know what he loves to hear that pushes him over the edge

Has such a mastery of control over his own body that he can bring Bucky over that precipice even when he’s on his back just by pistoning his hips up in just the right way

Prefers to be the one in control when he comes, loves to roll and fuck the both of them into their climax, a groaner, a biter

Sleeps in a little later, morning snuggles galore, goes out to get breakfast, Steve wakes up first and makes sure that Bucky has a fresh bottle of water on his nightstand, it was hot out yesterday...

Eeeee, who else would do bad bad things for this Daddy? 👋

Love you bunches! 😘😘😘

#stucky #headcannon #gimme this Daddy any fuckin day

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evanoracronwell · 4 years ago

Text

Sunrise

Malex Cupid 2021 by @malex-cupid

Day 3: “Do you know what today is?”

Also on ao3

__________________________________________________________

It is the sound of the phone ringing that awakens him.

With a grunt, he rolls over the bed until he reaches the nightstand and picks up the device, when he sees the notification on the screen the smile opens on his lips, and any irritation at being woken up disappears.

I'm already on my way home.

I can't wait to see you.

Love you.

Alex.

Alex, his beautiful and irresistible boyfriend.

And fuck if Michael would ever get tired of that word.

Smiling like a teenager, Michael answered the message, and as soon as he pressed to send he heard the growl coming from his feet on the bed. Wrinkling his nose, he looked at the beagle spread on the bed with his face completely mashed from sleeping.

"What is it, girl? It's not that early, it was almost time to get up anyway. We have a lot of things to take care of today"

With an excitement that made Buffy snort indignantly, Michael got out of bed and goes straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower and finish waking up.

Today was a very important day.

It was the first Valentine's Day that he and Alex would spend together, as a couple.

And well, honestly speaking, it was the first Valentine's Day that Michael would celebrate at all. He had no idea how to make it work. But it had to be perfect.

Because Alex deserved nothing but perfection.

So he changed his clothes and get ready to start the day.

He took Buffy for a walk even though the dog was clearly outraged about getting out of bed so early on Sunday morning.

He cleaned the whole cabin, feeling extremely proud of the home he built with Alex.

Now completely renovated, the cabin barely resembled that house that Alex had inherited from old Jim.

The couple's bedroom had been painted a light color, the bed replaced by a king bed, the wardrobe custom-made by Michael himself. The chair in the corner where Buffy always took refuge to sleep when she wasn't in bed with them.

The bathroom had been enlarged and adapted to Alex's needs, the treat they had done to themselves by buying a hot tub, and that they spent hours and hours in the water relaxing after a tiring day.

The living room now has a huge and comfortable sofa, armchairs and a television.

The kitchen had been renovated and modernized.

Everything was so perfect, so ... theirs.

The photos were scattered around the rooms. Showing captured moments of happiness between him, Alex, and the whole gang.

After so many years, Michael finally had a home to call his own.

And most importantly, a home with Alex. What made it even more special

With the house clean it was Buffy's turn to face the terrible shower, and the cowboy could only laugh while the dog whimpered as if she were suffering the worst torture at the hand of one of her fathers. But there she was, bathed and smelling the baby scent of the products they bought at the pet store, and with a pretty red bow that Isobel had made to buy for the dog.

And that was exactly why today had to be just perfect.

Because after eight months of living together, he would finally ask the hand of that beautiful man in marriage.

"Okay girl, now you behave yourself because Dad needs to go out and buy things to make dinner. Your daddy will be here tonight." He smiled when he saw how Buffy immediately reacted to Alex's mention. "That's right, girl, he'll be back today."

Michael had also changed a lot, months ago he had opened his own mechanical garage after old Sander decided to retire, the place had undergone a major renovation and was nowhere near the old Junkyard. Michael even had employees working with him, well ... just two kids that Michael was still training and teaching everything. But they were good kids and above all, hardworking, and after all, Michael never even imagined that he would have his own business.

As he drove to the market downtown, Michael found himself thinking about how much life had changed.

After Alex finally left the air force, he got a job at a private security company in Washington, but luckily he could work remotely, they paid extremely well and it made the job too perfect for Alex to turn down, so now taking the few trips he took to personally attend a few customers, Alex was always at home.

When parking the truck in front of the market, the cowboy smiled when he saw his sister standing at the front door waiting for him.

"You know when I said I was coming to the market when you called me, it wasn't an invitation for you to join me." Michael grunted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a shopping cart and Isobel joined him in the aisles.

"Please, as if you could keep me away. Now tell me, how are the preparations for the big night?"

"I already cleaned the whole cabin and bathed Buffy and yes, I put on the bow you brought her yesterday."

"Great, my niece has to be beautiful. The candles?"

"I have already spread some of those aromatic candles around the house, I will light them as soon as I hear his car pull over. The delivery man left the flowers for me just before I left the house, they are already in the water and I will finish fixing them when I return home."

"Your clothes?"

"Washed and ironed."

"The ring?"

"On my nightstand."

"Your heart?"

"Coming out from my mouth."

Isobel laughed out loud at her brother's terrified look and hugged him around the waist, laying her head on his shoulder as she watched Michael go putting all the items in the cart.

"Michael, he loves you. Nothing is going to go wrong tonight, trust me. He will say yes. There is no couple in the world more perfect for each other than the two of you."

"We really are perfect together, aren't we?"

Isobel laughed again at her brother's silly passionate look, but she still agreed, because in fact there was no couple more in love and more perfect for each other than Michael and Alex.

"So, what's the menu going to be?"

The small box in his trouser pocket seemed to weigh a ton, making Michael's nervousness increase by the second.

Well, it turns out that cooking seems a lot easier in the videos he had seen on the internet than in practice. Not that Michael was not a good cook, he was, but he understood a lot more about cooking typical daily foods, yet he couldn't deny that he did an excellent job.

A few hours later and he had a perfect gorgonzola risotto, a rare grilled steak with a sauce of herbs and vegetables sautéed in butter. The table was already prepared with candles and a flower arrangement, beautiful, but small so that it wouldn't disturb them to look each other in the eye.

With a shower already taken and perfumed Michael looked in the mirror, that was not the kind of clothes he used to wear, dark gray trousers and a light blue shirt, but it was worth it, especially when he knew how turned on gets seeing him like that.

Perfect.

Tonight had to be perfect.

When Alex parked in front of the cabin all he could think about was how much he missed Michael, after four days away, all he wanted to hug his boyfriend and get into the hot tub for hours.

Upon opening the door, however, Alex felt his heart skip a beat.

"Do you know what today is?”

The room was lit only by two lamps that barely gave any light, leaving the rest of the lighting responsible for some candles. And flowers, white roses because Michael knew it was Alex's favorite, scattered as buds and petals everywhere. And right there, in the middle of the room, the most beautiful of all men.

Michael looked at him with a smile on his lips and his eyes were already watering.

"Michael ...?" Alex asked confused but thrilled as he dropped his backpack at the entrance to the cabin and took a step closer to Michael.

"It's Valentine's Day Alex, our first Valentine's Day together. And I've spent a lifetime wishing for this day, but never really believing that it could truly happen. Thirteen years ago you gave me a place to spend the cold nights, a guitar, and one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen in my life. " Michael started talking, staring at Alex, who was still a little confused, walking towards his boyfriend until he stopped in front of him. "You showed me that there was good in people and that there was a place for me here, on Roswell. On this planet. You gave me hope, Alex, hope that I could be happy, hope that there was more to people than just cruelty and second intentions. You taught me what it is to love and be loved in such a pure and intense way that it stayed with me, saved in my heart for more than a decade. Nurturing and comforting me every time I felt alone and lost. "

The cowboy smiled and touched Alex's face, who was looking at him so beautifully, his eyes already wet and shedding silent tears, both of them barely moving in fear of breaking that moment so sublime. Michael, speaking in a whisper as if he was afraid to wake up from that dream he felt he was living.

"There hasn't been a single day in my life that I haven't missed you, that I haven't thought of you, and most of all, that I haven't loved you. I'm yours, Alex, totally and completely yours, body, soul, and heart. I am yours to do anything you want. I always have been and will continue to be until my last breath, and beyond that too. I waited more than a decade to finally have you in my arms, and here we are living a life that I never even dared to dream of being possible. But we're here, celebrating our first Valentine's Day together. But I want more. "

With a beautiful smile, Michael took the box out of his pocket and saw how Alex immediately choked and sobbed as Michael went down on one knee showing him a beautiful and delicate silver band.

"I want to celebrate every Valentine's day with you, I want to start a family and see kids running around in our backyard, I want to adopt more dogs, I want to grow old by your side Alex. So please, could you make me the happiest man in the world and accept being my husband?"

Feeling completely overwhelmed with all the emotions he felt at that moment, Alex felt unable to even breathe for a few seconds while looking at Michael.

The beautiful and irresistible, Michael.

The eternal love of his life, Michael.

Kneeling at his feet asking Alex to be his forever.

"There is nothing in this world that I want more than to be your husband."

It was Buffy's bark that woke him, the small, plump beagle was lying on the sofa and Alex laughed when he saw her adorned with a red bow with the words "be my valentine" in white. Looking back at the man kneeling in front of him, Alex smiled so delighted and in love that Michael didn't even dare to blink for fear of losing that vision.

Alex never thought it possible to love that man more than he already did, but here was Michael proving him wrong.

Alex answered in a hoarse and choked voice and then threw himself into Michael's arms causing them to fall on the carpet in the middle of the room, between tears and laughter they kissed in love while Buffy barked and mumbled as if she were also celebrating the news.

"I love you, Michael." Alex murmured against Michael's already red and swollen lips after exchanging long, passionate kisses.

"I love you, too, Alex."

When the next day dawned, Michael grunted when he felt the light coming through the window waking him up. But the sigh coming from the man between his arms made him open his eyes and smile.

Last night had been perfect, much more than he had imagined.

Alex had accepted his proposal, they had eaten dinner while talking and listening to the soft melody that Michael had selected to play, and then they had spent a long time immersed in the hot tub where Michael sank into Alex's body, loving every bit of skin that he could touch. Only later, they went to bed and it was the cowboy's turn to ride Alex passionately, taking all the beautiful moans out of that mouth that he loved to kiss.

Now, holding the most important person in his life in his arms, Michael sighed contentedly as he brought his body closer to Alex, wrapping him tighter in his arms, and then smiled seeing the ring adorning that beautiful man's finger.

Alex, his fiance.

Alex, his future husband.

Yes, Michael smiled feeling his heart overflowing with love and happiness.

He smiled feeling the warmth of a new sunrise touching his skin and bringing all the promise of a long and happy life with Alex

Life couldn't be more perfect.

#malex #malec fic #malexcupid21 #day 3 #prompt: do you know what today is?#alex manes #michael guerin #roswellnm #malex fluff #valentinesday #proposal

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Thanksgiving - ep. 04 - Georgia

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving in King County and you won’t let Daryl celebrate alone.

A/N: I’m really going for the slowburn this time.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Nice backpack,” Rick laughed, picking the bright yellow backpack up from the lawn chair.

“It ain’t mine.” He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette.

Rick had come over for beers. An odd night off from work without the academy in the morning he had decided to stop ‘round at Daryl’s. It was already dark out when he’d pulled up outside his best friend’s house and Daryl was working on a jeep by the light of the carport. When he walked up he’d spotted the backpack sitting there, an odd contrast to anything else lying around.

“Didn’t think it was.” Rick replied, “so who’s the girl?”

“Don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

“There’s a Jeep in your driveway and some girl’s backpack in your truck.” Rick pointed out, “you know, I’m a cop, I’m trained to notice these things.”

“Ya ain’t a cop yet.” Daryl muttered, heading over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“So?”

“I’m fixing someone’s car and she left her bag. That’s all.”

Daryl had realized that you left your backpack there after he drove you home on Sunday night. He’d gotten all the way back home when he saw your bright yellow backpack sitting on the floor of his truck. He had called you when he got inside. He felt stupid, standing in the kitchen with the phone pressed to his ear, waiting for you to answer like he was some dumb high school kid.

You had answered after the second ring, “Hello?”

“Hey...it’s Daryl, ya left yer bag in my truck.”

“Oh my gosh...I totally did, didn’t I? I'm so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Ya want me ta drop it off?” He asked.

“Are you at the garage tomorrow morning? Glenn is driving me to school, we could stop and I could grab it?” You asked, unsure how else you were going to get the backpack. You couldn’t leave now that you were home or your mom would get suspicious. She knew Maggie was grounded and there was no way she’d let you out after dark to hang out with Glenn or Tara or Rosita.

“Yeah I’ll be there.”

Somehow the bright yellow monstrosity had ended up back in Daryl’s possession. It wasn’t much of a mystery though. You had stopped, just like you said you would, before school in the morning. While you were there you had mentioned getting the second payment to him that afternoon. Part of that agreement somehow involved driving you from school to the diner where your bag had once again been forsaken in his truck.

Now he had to figure out how to get it to you all over again and Rick was trying to rifle through it. “Would ya quit that?” Daryl grumbled, grabbing the bag and putting it back in his truck. He had set it on the chair so he didn’t forget it but Rick was bothering him.

“I just wanna know who she is,” Rick replied. “College student.”

“I told ya I’m just fixing a car.”

“Please tell me she’s at least 18 D.”

“It ain’t like that.” Daryl slammed the truck door shut and glared at him, face flush at the accusation that he thought of you in a way that wasn’t just a client. “I’m fixing a car.”

“Alright.”

It had taken Rick getting a call from his mom to swing by for dinner to finally get him to leave Daryl’s house. Not that Daryl wanted to be rid of him, with Merle in prison for the next six months Rick was the only other friend he had. He did want to return your backpack though and he figured it was worth stopping at the diner to see if you were there. You were always telling him how you worked all the time and while he wasn’t sure if you really did or if you were exaggerating he thought it was worth a shot, plus he assumed you would need it for school. Axel, Tiny, Dale, and even T-Dog weren’t strangers to the diner but you had never seen Daryl come in before so you were surprised when you saw him walk through the door.

“Hey!” When you saw the backpack in his hands you smiled, “I’m so sorry.”

“Ya say that but yer smiling." He replied, setting it on one of the stools and sitting down beside it.

“I’m honestly sorry.” You insisted, though it wasn’t truthful in the slightest. All you could really feel was happy that he had gone out of his way to bring the bag back to you. “Can I get you anything? On the house.”

It was pretty dead at 9pm on a Monday night. Most people weren’t out so late in King County. Daryl took the menu off the counter and opened it, looking through the options. “I’ll have some coffee.”

“Okay,” you poured him a cup and went to give another patron their meal. When you came back Daryl was still looking through the menu. “Are you still free on Thursday?”

“Why?” He asked, “what’s Thursday?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“I got work in the morning.” He replied, “Probably won’t work on the car honestly.”

“No, I wasn’t asking for that. I was wondering if you wanted to come around for dinner. Patricia has a bunch of people at the diner for a big Thanksgiving dinner. Like the Greene’s and Dale usually comes.”

“Yah, I don’t think so.” The last thing Daryl needed was to show up somewhere he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. He knew the invitation was innocent, you were just trying to be nice, but he didn’t need to embarrass himself by hanging around more than he was welcome.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind I’m making apple pie.”

Unsurprisingly, Daryl did not change his mind. He spent his thanksgiving the way he did every year, drinking beer and watching the game on TV because it was all that was on. Will bailed on anything Thanksgiving related almost as soon as he woke up, leaving for a bar over in Woodbury. Daryl had grilled a steak but otherwise he had skipped out on dinner.

He was almost asleep on the old laz-e-boy when a knock on the side door startled him awake. Rick never stopped by on Thanksgiving and there was only one other person he could think of that would come by his house.

“Ya know when someone declines an offer to see ya that don’t mean ya need to come by.” He said, leaning in the door and blocking you from coming inside. You looked kind of adorable, a corduroy brown pinafore dress and cream turtleneck.

“I know but I come bearing apple pie.” You bartered, holding up the wrapped up pie dish.

“A’ight, come on.” Daryl moved aside to let you in.

“That was easier than I thought.”

“I know ya well enough ta know ya ain’t just gonna leave if I ask.”

“You are correct.” You smiled. You eyed the beer cans sitting on the coffee table, “having a party?”

“Something like that.” He took the pie dish from you and set it on the coffee table before heading into the kitchen in search of clean utensils. You sat down the couch, looking around the Dixon’s home. The TV was sitting on an entertainment system that looked seconds from falling apart, the carpet was stained with cigarette ash and other substances.

“This is...”

“Its a piece a shit.” Daryl replied, walking into the living room and sitting down beside you. “How was yer Thanksgiving?”

“It was alright...Maggie’s not talking to her dad so that was kinda awkward. I sat at the kids table with Beth and Sean.” You said, “better than sitting with the adults. Anyway, I told you I was making pie and I didn’t want you to miss out because, honest to god, I make the best apple pie in Georgia.”

Daryl nodded, more interested in the pie than in who you sat with at dinner. The last time he had apple pie he was probably seven and his mom had bought it premade from the grocery store because he had begged for it. “Ain’t got anything to weigh it against.” He finally said, scooping up some with his fork and taking a bite.

You held your fork in your hand, waiting for a reaction. Daryl had terrible eating habits. He ate too fast and didn’t pay attention to whether the food was going completely in his mouth all the time. Growing up in a house with Merle and Will hadn’t exactly instilled strong table manners in him. Mostly they ate their meals at the TV, on fold out tables or the coffee table or he ate in the camper away from his dad. The last time they used a kitchen table it had been in their old house before his mom died.

“Good?” You chanced while he ate.

He hummed around a mouthful. You took a bite and smiled. Last year you had almost messed it up with the wrong apples but this year it was perfect.

“Yer good at this.”

“Baking?”

“Yeah. Can’t cook anything if it ain’t on a grill.”

“You might be able to make an apple pie on a grill...I’ve never tried.” You teased and he smiled just enough that you caught it.

“Where do your parents think you are?” He asked, getting up and grabbing a beer from the kitchen fridge.

“Tara’s. Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Oh come on. I’m almost 18.”

“I ain’t giving ya alcohol. Last thing I need is some girl going home drunk from here.” He replied.

“I won’t be drunk! I can drink like, a whole case of Zima before I get drunk.”

“That shit’s disgusting.”

“Oh I’m sorry, your Pabst is so great.” You sassed. Daryl rolled his eyes and held the can out to you, the one he’d just been drinking from. You took it, downing as much of a gulp as you could stand and imagining that you could maybe taste him on it. But the taste of the cheap beer won out and you nearly gagged as it went down, “that’s disgusting.”

“Gets ya drunk.”

“Are you?”

“Right now, no.” Though he wasn’t totally sober. If he was he would have never let you in his house. “Most a those are my dad’s. Had ‘em ‘fore he left for the bar.” He said, dropping onto the couch beside you.

“I think this is the most we’ve ever had a conversation.” You pointed out.

Daryl nodded and grinned, “maybe I am drunk.”

The next morning, as Daryl stepped out of the 7-11 with a pack of cigarettes and a coffee, he caught sight of you standing at the driver’s side of his truck and fixing your hair in the sideview mirror. You had stayed longer than you intended the night before; long enough that you had to call Glenn to pick you up because Daryl refused to drive you home after drinking.

“Ya gonna pump my gas for me.” He asked and you spun around, smiling.

“I can. But it’ll cost you.”

“I’ll tell ya what,” Daryl picked up the gas nozzle and placed it in the truck, trapping you between him and the hose, “I’ll give ya the pie plate back.”

“Deal.” You turned slightly and reached for the nozzle, putting your hand over his, “but I’m only doing this because my mom already asked about the pie plate. Now move it, this is my job.”

You caught the slightest smile as he pulled his hand away and held them both up in mock surrender. He leaned against the driver’s door and took a sip of his coffee while he watched the numbers on the screen. “Ya working today?”

“Yeah, Lori wouldn’t clock me in early cause she’s on some power trip. Patricia left her in charge and she said I was trying to steal hours from Amy, she’s new, but I’m not. I don’t care about Amy or her hours.” You replied.

“Yes or no woulda worked.” He teased.

“I’m gonna think of the most long winded ways to answer your questions from now on. Just to annoy the hell outta ya.”

“Ya already do.”

“I do not! You love hanging out with me.”

He hummed and reached around you to grab the nozzle, clicking off the handle so the gas flow would stop but keeping you trapped. “There ya go. Pie plate is yours.”

“Thanks.”

He was slow to step away, almost reluctant, “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

“Okay.”

Taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @oncemorewithfeelingg @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @qrangr @twdeadfanfic @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cathwritestragediesnotsins

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

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Buddy’s Problem part 2

Okay! Part two is done! Part three probably isn't gonna be until after the New Year, though, but it should be the final part.

Enjoy the story, and have a Merry Christmas! :D

As it turned out, being a campaign manager was pretty difficult, especially when Buddy had to travel to a whole different town for it. Filbo lived in a small farming town called Kinsing. Several other members of the expedition lived there too, though Wiggle, Gramble, and Cromdo lived in Gippsenburg. Either way, apparently Filbo wasn't very well known, having moved to Kinsing recently.

That was useful, and Buddy could totally work with that.

First was getting him nominated, which was easy as anyone could throw their name in. Filbo actually did that himself, though he needed some coaxing from Buddy to actually put it into the box. They then went out for burgers(not Bungers, thankfully) afterwards. They were joined by Beffica, who was shocked that Filbo was running for a real political position.

"Like, seriously? That's awesome you squeeb!" She gave him a soft punch to the arm, which he winced at. She didn't notice, or maybe just ignored it. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Well, I mean, I ended up doing pretty good back at Snax- on Snaktooth, so I figured I might as well try for the real thing." He told her, rubbing the soon-to-be-bruise. "Worst thing that could happen is I'll lose to Robbzoni."

"Ugh, Robbzoni. He's the worst." She helped herself to Buddy's fries, even as he tried to yank the plate away from her. "He's the real reason we don't have anymore flowers by the roads. He kept stealing them, so eventually the town stopped replacing them."

"How the grump did you find that out, Beff?" Buddy asked before shoving the whole handful of remaining fries into his mouth. She just shrugged and went for Filbo's plate instead.

"I snooped, Bestie. Just like I always do. Did." She corrected herself quickly, looking away. "I, uh, used to do that."

"So..." Buddy searched for a new topic. "What do you do now, anyways?"

"Oh, I got hired as a reporter at CGN. It's a bit of a commute, but not so bad." She shrugged. "And my coworkers aren't so bad, either."

Ah, the rival for GNN. Buddy remembered all the fights that had broken out between reporters at events. He also remembered the time he raided their office with some of his coworkers and stole all of their paperclips. It was in retaliation for them stealing all the rubber-bands at GNN. Which was to get back at them for stealing all of CGN's staples.

Good times.

"Here." He dug out a bottle of pepper-spray and handed it to the shorter Grumpus. "You'll need this."

"Uh." She looked between him and the large canister. "... Thanks. I think."

"No problem." He took a long drag on his soda as the conversation drifted away from him. Which was just fine, as he was busy brainstorming anyways, writing down plans and ideas into his journal. So far he didn't have a lot, but he'd talk to Filbo about it later and see what they could do.

Maybe a party? Filbo always seemed to like them, back on Snaktooth, so maybe that would be a good way to win him some votes.

The rest of the time passed by in a blur. Events were held, debates, parties, even a couple of bake sales that reminded Buddy of his school days. Speeches were made, each carefully crafted to have the best effect on the small populace of the town.

Wambus was actually a big help with that. As a farmer himself, he knew what to say to get and keep the farmers on Filbo's side. So they ended up conferring with him a lot, which meant going to his and Triffany's house a lot.

He was a surprisingly good cook, honestly. The meals they shared there were some of the best Buddy ever ate. He really would miss those nights when everything was done here, but that was no reason not to continue the "quest" for Filbo.

It was one such night, where Wambus had grilled some delicious steaks and corn on the cobs. He also had some homegrown sauces that he'd brought from Snaktooth, which made Buddy a little uneasy. But, the older farmer seemed to know what he was doing with that so he let it go for now.

"You seem to be getting pretty popular, dear." Triffany was saying to Filbo as Buddy doodled in his journal. He flipped it around to show Wambus his idea of a steak-based Bugsnax, only for the farmer to just grunt in acknowledgement. That was good enough for him though and he put the book aside to eat some more.

"Heh, yeah." Filbo rolled his corn on the cob in some butter. "It's all thanks to Buddy, though. He's doing great on the whole 'campaign manager' thing."

"It's not that hard." Buddy shrugged. "Not like you're running for Minister of the Public or something. It's just a few events to plan, and, like, two debates."

"True, but it still seems like a lot of work." Filbo actually looked kind of concerned, but Buddy waved it off.

"It's... it's really not." He told them, even though it kind of was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's sleep, but it was definitely before Snaktooth.

"It would be tiring to be around all those people all the time." Wambus agreed. "I could never do that."

"Of course not, dear." Triffany agreed. "That's why you're a farmer."

"Yep."

Buddy watched the exchange with a small smile as Filbo took over the conversation, asking after the sauce crops. Whatever problems the couple had, he was glad they were working them out. He didn't want to even think about what would've happened if their marriage had broken up like...

Well, it wasn't good to dwell on it.

Wambus was right though; it was tiring being a campaign manager. He was almost glad the elections were ending soon, if only so he could get some more sleep. And then focus on finding a real job, as his savings were starting to run a little dry.

Still, as he watched his three companions, he felt content with how it was shaping up. Filbo was excitedly explaining all his plans for being Mayor, from replanting the flowers around the walking paths to finally getting the pot holes fixed. He even started explaining his plans to renovate the park in detail before Wambus finally reminded him to actually eat his steak.

"Oh, heh. Right." He cut a piece off, then opened his mouth to keep talking. Buddy took the opportunity to grab his wrist and shove the fork into his mouth.

"Eat it." He told him firmly, to quiet giggling from Triffany. Filbo shot him a glare, but obeyed, chewing quietly. Buddy then grabbed a forkful of his own steak to chew on, ignoring Triffany's pointed look.

The rest of the night passed without incident. In Buddy's opinion, it ended too soon. But then, it always did. And soon enough Buddy was back at his table in his apartment, drawing up more plans for the campaign. Luckily, the people seemed to really like Filbo. Or maybe they just hated Robbzoni that much more. Either way, according to the mid election survey Filbo was looking to be the popular candidate.

Still, he couldn't relax yet, there was still too much to do. The election itself was tomorrow. People would vote in the morning and the results would be announced both that afternoon, and in the next morning's paper. There would be one last speech before the vote though, and Buddy wanted to make sure it was perfect.

However as the time got later, and he had started the speech pretty later anyways, he found himself unwillingly drawn into sleep. Even as he tried to fight it off with copious amounts of caffeine, he inevitably passed out.

When he woke up, it was to Filbo calling him. In a panic, he grabbed his papers and raced out the door, practically flying down the stairs and into his car. He broke several traffic laws, but he managed to get to Kinsing Town Hall just barely on time. As he ran inside, he tried desperately to sort through the garbled mess of a speech he'd written.

He made his way to the backstage area, where Filbo was talking to... someone. Buddy felt like he should know the other Grumpus, but his exhausted mind just refused to make the connection. In any case, as soon as the Grumpus had left he was rushing up to Filbo, rapidly spewing apologies all the way.

"Sorry, sorry! I think I still have some time to, uh, to-to fix this? Maybe?!" His voice rose an octave and he quickly cleared his throat and tried to laugh off the rising panic. "I was up too late I think. Working. On this." He gave another short laugh, internally wincing at how off it sounded.

"Hey hey, it's okay." Filbo had to grab his shoulders, forcing them down from where Buddy had unconsciously hunched into himself. "I've got this one." He told him. Buddy blinked in surprise, hands lowering and almost dropping his papers.

"... You... you 'got' this?" Just what did he mean by that? Was Buddy unneeded? Had he been unneeded this whole time?

"Yeah. Since you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd just, y'know, handle my own speech for today. " He gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, I probably should've told you sooner-Oh!" He jumped at something the Grumpus on stage was saying. "There's my cue! See ya later!" He gave a quick wave before rushing off to get on stage, oblivious to Buddy's aborted attempt to reach for him.

'He didn't need me...' Quietly, Buddy dropped his speech into the trash. He then went for the snack table they had set up to get some coffee. 'I don't know why I even tried.'

The speeches were said, and then the voting happened. The surprising part, at least to Buddy, was that as they each voted the other members of the expedition would come up to them. A couple offered a "Good luck" or two, but none of them really left afterwards. They all hung around, and talked.

It made Buddy feel even more like he shouldn't have come. Filbo had plenty of people to keep him company for this, he didn't need Buddy Nobody did anymore.

So he sat just a little bit outside of the group, speaking only when someone talked to him directly. Other than that, he just drank his coffee quietly and wondered when would be a good time for him to leave.

It turned out never. The others never forgot about him for long enough for him to be able to slip away. Floofty in particular seemed intent on watching him, and they weren't blinking. He knew this because he straight up had a staring contest with the mad scientist, and they didn't blink once.

Soon enough, voting had closed and the votes were being counted. Poor Filbo was anxious through the whole thing, but never said anything about regretting running for mayor. Buddy was actually kind of proud of him for that, if he was being honest. He knew how hard the light blue Grumpus could be on himself, and he was glad he had gained some confidence at least.

Even if it was just another sign that he wasn't a help to him anymore. That he wasn't a help to anyone here anymore.

But, when they announced that Filbo had won, that he'd done it and beat out longtime Mayor Robbzoni, everyone present cheered. And not just the ones from Snaxburg, either, but everyone else who was hanging around. As everyone congratulated the new Mayor, and the MC announced when the official swearing in ceremony would take place, Buddy gave a quiet sigh into his coffee. Mentally, he ticked this quest as complete, but no new objectives came to mind.

"Hey, Buddy!" He looked up to see Filbo waving at him, and gave a small wave back. "We'll all going to Gramble's place to celebrate. You coming?"

Would he go? No. There wasn't anything for him to do there and besides, he had to get started on job hunting.

"... You guys go on ahead. I'll... I'll catch up with you later." There. Now he could go home and the others could get started on whatever came next for them.

Filbo hesitated a moment, searching Buddy's face intently. Then he shrugged and turned to follow the others. "Well, okay. If you're sure."

And then he was gone, along with the rest. Buddy put down his still full cup and stood up, dusting his fur off. He went to his car, a tiny little red thing that really needed to be traded in, and drove down the road back to Gippsenburg. He had a stop to make before he went home to his apartment, and then maybe he could finally work on forgetting everything.

#bugsnax #buddy's problem #the journalist #buddy copperbottom #filbo fiddlepie #beffica winklesnoot #wambus troubleham #triffany lottablog #floofty fizzlebean

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pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

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hey if you're still taking prompts, how about alex being nervous about introducting forrest to his brothers, and greg at first being surprised because he thought he and michael were a thing but after alex tells him more of their history and how much michael and maria hurt him, he’s fully supportive of alex dating forrest and is glad that alex has someone who makes him happy? love your writing btw.

***

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’ve fixed that collar three times already,” Alex said, trying very hard not to laugh as Forrest blushed in the passenger’s seat. “You’re nervous.”

Forrest dropped his hands, fidgeting nervously with his rings instead. “Maybe we should go back. I need to change. I just realized I’m wearing way too much black. How could you not tell me I’m wearing this much black?”

“I think you look sexy in black,” Alex said.

“I’m meeting your family, Alex,” Forrest said. “Sexy is not the way to go when you meet your boyfriend’s family.”

“You’ll have to forgive my lack of boyfriend etiquette then – I’ve never given a crap to what I look like around Wyatt Long.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Forrest said. “But your family’s different.”

“How come?”

“Because I’ve met your friends, and they always give me a look like they can’t believe I’m still around,” he said dryly, and Alex’s smile dimmed. “I really don’t want to get that look from the other Manes men.”

“And you won’t, okay?” Alex promised him. “I’ve already told my brothers all about you. I’m pretty sure the only thing that’ll startle them is if I show up with someone else. Now,” he covered Forrest’s hand with his own. “Are you ready?”

Forrest was looking out the window, scanning Gregory’s home and the closed door, but his hand turned under Alex’s and gripped his fingers. “Uh…”

“You know I’ll date you either way, right?” Alex teased. “If you don’t want to do this –”

“What, so Alien Guy can say he’s met your brothers and I haven’t?” Forrest scoffed. “No. Nice try, Manes. I’m meetin’ ‘em.”

This time Alex did laugh. “Well, you’ll see. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

“And how much do you love me?” Forrest asked, brow raised.

“Enough not to kiss you in front of my brother’s house,” Alex said as he leaned in to hover his lips above Forrest’s. And despite what he said, he did peck Forrest’s lips before moving back.

“Okay,” Alex said. “Come on, let’s get through this together.”

Alex saw Forrest visibly swallow and follow him out of the car. It was heartwarming, to see the guy who never feared anyone, who never seemed concerned about anything, actually look nervous to meet his boyfriend’s brothers. Alex tried not to read too much into it, but his heart couldn’t help but do a flip as he thought about being so precious to someone.

Alex knocked on the front door, and instead of Gregory, Flint was the one who answered. He pressed his lips together in an awkward sort of smile at the sight of Alex, but when his eyes turned to Forrest, his lips pursed.

“This him?” he asked, gesturing at Forrest with his chin.

Alex’s shoulders fell. “I told you his name, Flint.”

“I thought you were joking,” Flint confessed and turned his back on them as he went back inside. Alex and Forrest followed, and Alex closed the door behind them.

“Greg!” Flint called. “Alex and his boyfriend are here!”

“Was – uh – was that a good start?” Forrest said quietly when they were out of earshot.

“From Flint?” Alex scoffed. “That was basically the red carpet.”

“Alex? You here?” Clay emerged, his dark hair tousled as if he’d spent hours running his hand through it. A habit both he and Alex had picked up from their mom. “Hey, bro,” he said, engulfing Alex in a one-armed hug with a beer bottle in his other hand.

“Clay,” Alex said and stood beside his boyfriend. “This is Forrest Long.”

“Clay Manes,” Clay shook Forrest’s hand, brows furrowed as he took in the historian’s entire appearance. “You’re not what I expected a Long to look like.”

“Yeah, well,” Forrest chuckled, and Alex was glad to hear a genuine relief in his voice when he spoke, “none of you are really what I expected Manes men to look like.”

“Manes men,” Clay sighed. “There’s a phrase.” He patted Alex’s arm and gestured to the large open window at the back of the room. “Greg’s out back with the grill. Come on.”

As they followed Clay, Alex nudged Forrest’s arm, raising a brow at him, silently asking how he was holding up. Forrest nodded as if he wasn’t at all worried, though Alex couldn’t miss the way he pressed their shoulders together as they stepped out into the backyard.

“Oh hey,” Gregory said, smiling over his shoulder at Alex and Forrest, then doing a doubletake. “Oh… hey.”

“You heard that, right?” Forrest muttered low enough for only Alex to hear as Gregory assigned the grill to Flint, and wiped his hands with a rag as he came up to them. “You heard that?”

“Hey,” Gregory said and wrapped his arms around Alex for a tight hug before Alex could reassure his boyfriend of anything. When Gregory looked to Forrest, Alex was relieved to see his expression nothing short of kind and welcoming. “Hi, I’m Gregory, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Forrest said, glancing at Alex. “Uh – if you need help with the grill, I’m pretty handy.”

“Yeah?” Gregory clapped his shoulder. “Cool. Then can you – uh – take over from Flint? I love the guy, but he burns whatever he touches.”

“I heard that!” Flint called.

“Kind of the point!” Gregory called back and began to lead Alex back into the house. “We’ll be right back with some drinks.”

The others waved them off, but Alex caught Forrest’s eyes before he was pulled inside. There was concern there, a jealous kind of concern that Forrest usually wore whenever the topic of conversation was about to turn into someone else. Alex wished he could promise him that he was going to come right back to him, but the door had already shut and Gregory was already talking.

“He seems nice,” he said as he opened the fridge.

Alex placed a hand on his hip and tilted his head. “Go ahead,” he said. “Whatever you want to say, better get it out now.”

Gregory shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Alex considered this. “Good.”

“Except –”

“There it is,” Alex chuckled, and Gregory huffed a smile.

“It’s just that… I thought you and that cowboy guy – what’s his name? – Michael were a thing,” Gregory said. Alex couldn’t detect any judgement or critique in his voice; only concern for his brother’s happiness. “Is that over already?”

Alex sighed and crossed his arms. “It was never really a thing to begin with. Not after he started dating Maria.”

“Maria,” Gregory’s brows furrowed. “Like… Maria DeLuca? Your best friend Maria – that Maria? Wait, I…” he shook his head. “Your friends didn’t know you liked him?”

“They knew,” Alex nodded slowly, considering how to best approach this conversation. He remembered a time when it used to kill him to talk about Michael and the way he’d chosen someone else because it was easier; the way he and everyone else had turned their backs on him because… well, he still didn’t really understand why. He guessed it was better not knowing than to just assume that he didn’t matter to these people that were meant to love him.

But now, things were different. Now, Alex could tell Gregory how Michael had told him to come back only to go to Maria instead, and how Maria had promised him it had meant nothing (a blatant lie), then of Michael’s rejection of him because he was associated with too many painful memories – and the most it did was leave a sting in his chest.

“What about the song?” Gregory asked at the end of it all. “The one you sang at Open Mic Night, I mean… that was about Guerin, wasn’t it? What’d he say to that?”

“Nothing,” Alex shrugged, and oddly enough, he felt like he wanted to laugh. “He never stuck around to hear the rest of it.”

Gregory shook his head. “Alex –”

“It’s okay.”

“He’s an asshole,” Gregory said. “I can’t believe I…” He pointed his beer bottle at the open window where Forrest was showing Clay and Flint how he grills the steaks, and asked, “What about him?”

Alex laughed. “What about him?”

“Is he good to you?” Gregory asked, and Alex smiled despite his red cheeks. “Because if he’s saying some of the crap Guerin’s said to you, then –”

“Greg, look at me,” Alex said gently. “What do you think?”

Gregory inhaled slowly as he took Alex in, and – slowly – the tension in his shoulders and the hard lines of his frown softened. “I think… I’m just relieved to know you’re done with macho cowboys.”

Alex scoffed. “As long as he doesn’t date any of my friends, he’s perfect.”

“Bar’s pretty low then.”

“He’s also a poet.”

Gregory whistled appreciatively. “Nice touch.” He tilted his head at Forrest outside his window. “Well, hey, I like him.”

Alex turned to look at Forrest as Gregory handed him two bottles, and as he watched his boyfriend laugh with his brothers, his heart expanded in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer than he could help it being. “Me, too.”

***

A bit out of character, I know, but still fun.

#alex manes #forrest long #forlex #flint manes #gregory manes #clay manes #manes men #the manes brothers #forlex fanfic #forlex fic #forlex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #forlex angst #forlex fluff #tyler blackburn #christian antidormi

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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

McDanno, T, A03

Summary: After Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away. Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Notes: This story is set in the present, following 10x22, but there’s no COVID in it. I wanted it to be fun. The story is complete and will be posted over the next few weeks. Many thanks as always to my awesome beta, @perryavenue. And apologies in advance for any formatting errors on tumblr, I spent forever fixing it up for A03 and it probably won’t translate easily at this point!

Chapter 1

April 2, 2020

Group message: Tani Rey, Junior Reigns, Lou Grover

TR: You guys going over to Steve’s to say goodbye tomorrow?

JR: Yeah. Still think we should have a party.

LG: The man’s had two parties and a lunch already – how many send offs does he need?

JR: I don’t know, he didn’t seem to like them very much. Maybe he needs a better one. With just us.

TR: He’ll be fine. Plus, there’s not really any time left.

JR: What about tonight? He’s not coming in today, right?

TR: He’s got plans, Junes.

JR: He does? I thought he said he had work to do around the house? We could bring pizza and beer, help him out.

LG: He’s got plans with Danny.

JR: Danny won’t mind the help – he’d be happier supervising, anyway.

TR: Lou, what are we going to do with him?

LG: No idea. Nothing’s worked so far.

JR: Are you guys talking about me? That’s not very cool. At least fill me in.

TR: Sweet Junes, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not sure we can help.

LG: But bring that beer over to my place tonight, and I’ll do my best.

TR: I’ll bring chips.

April 3, 2020

JR: Okay now I feel really bummed out. Why did Steve leave Danny down on the beach like that? We should have had a party.

TR: Chill, Junes, he’ll be ok. He’s just sad.

JR: Do you mean Danny or Steve?

LG: Yes.

JR: But Steve is the one who decided to leave, he shouldn’t be sad – I don’t get it.

LG: It’s not a straightforward situation.

TR: Good one, Lou.

JR: I feel like I’m still missing something.

TR: Wouldn’t be the first time.

JR: Hey, should we add Adam to the text? Because he’s standing over there petting Eddie and it feels kind of awkward that we’re all texting.

TR: Sure, Adam is definitely sort of not really barely on Five 0 these days… why not add Jerry while you’re at it?

JR: Okay.

LG: I think Tani was joking. But we should add Danny and Steve, it’ll give us an easy way to keep in touch while Steve’s away.

TR: You think it’ll work?

LG: Look at that sad boy down there on the beach. It couldn’t hurt.

TR: Sounds good.

JR: …so should I add Adam or not?

April 5, 2020

JR has changed the name of the group text to Keeping in Touch with Commander McGarrett

JR: How’s your trip so far, Commander?

SM: No need to be so formal, Junior. And good, thanks. Ran into an old friend.

TR: Wow, so we’re going to start with that, are we? You know Danny’s in the chat, right?

DW: How do you think Chin knew Steve’s flight info?

TR: Wait, so the old friend was Chin?

SM: Yeah, Catherine was surprised, too. She thought I was going to Tahoe with her. Not sure where she got that idea.

DW: Careful what you say, there are kids present.

SM: I didn’t say anything bad.

DW: You were thinking it.

LG: Not to change the subject or anything, but how are Abby and Sara doing?

SM: They’re great. Sara’s adorable. Smart as a whip, too.

DW: You gonna stay in San Fran a while?

SM: Yeah, a week or two. See the sights. I hear they have some great Italian restaurants.

DW: Now you’re just being mean.

SM: Nothing could rival your lasagna, Danny.

DW: Aw, you’re forgiven.

SM: Anyway, thanks for giving Chin the heads up that I was coming, Danny.

DW: No problem. Had to make sure you weren’t going to immediately start free climbing rock faces or something. Need to at least let the jet lag settle.

LG: Say hi to the Kelly clan for me, will you?

SM: Of course. Gotta go, Abby and Sara want to take me to Alcatraz.

DW: By boat, right?

SM: Danno, people swim away from Alcatraz, not to it.

DW: Leave it to you to start a new trend.

April 24, 2020

JR has changed the name of the group text to Keeping in Touch with Steve

SM: Hey, just want to let you guys know that I’m going to be out of contact for a while.

DW: As opposed to the past few days, when you answered approximately 5% of my texts?

LG: You headed out into the woods?

SM: Desert, but yeah. Gonna do some camping.

DW: Maybe you’ll see a bear. Beat some sense into you.

JR: Are there bears in the desert?

TR: No, but there are snakes. And spiders. Be careful, those things can be vicious.

DW: Yeah, careful is his middle name.

JR: What’s Danny so mad about?

TR: Not the time, Junes.

DW: I’m not mad, I just know how he is. He’s probably hoping to see some snakes. Maybe shoot a rattler, cook one over his campfire.

SM: I have no intention of shooting anything, I’m just going camping.

DW: Since when is going anywhere without shooting something fun for you?

SM: I’m not exactly here to have fun.

TR: Um, Steve, you okay?

SM: Signing off. Talk to you guys later. Give Eddie a hug for me, I miss that big guy.

April 25, 2020

TR: Junes, you awake?

JR: Yes, are you?

JR: That was a joke, I know you’re awake, you texted me first.

JR: This is just a text between us, right?

TR: Yeah, it’s just us. Lou and I are done with the stake-out, we handed it off to HPD. Lou’s driving me home.

JR: Did you talk to him about Danny and Steve? Danny seemed pissed in the group text. What’s going on?

TR: I tried, but if Lou knows what’s going on, he’s being unusually tight lipped.

JR: I wish Danny was back at work. It’s weird with both him and McGarrett not there.

TR: He’s got at least another two weeks until his ribs heal enough to get cleared to return to active duty, at least that’s what he told me yesterday.

JR: Can’t he come back to headquarters, though? I would have thought he’d want to come back, especially with him being in charge now.

TR: Temporarily in charge.

JR: Yeah, whatever. Didn’t really sound like that when the governor stopped by, did it?

TR: I don’t know, Junior, I really don’t. But Danny doesn’t really seem eager to get back to work. Maybe he’s had it with us.

JR: With Five-0? You think he’s gonna do the restaurant thing again?

TR: No, that was a disaster.

JR: Well, I hope Danny comes back to Five-0. Otherwise Adam might think he’s got a permanent spot.

TR: You really don’t like Adam much, do you?

JR: I don’t know, he seems to have an explanation for everything. But I don’t trust him. Not like Steve and Danny.

TR: I miss them too. But Danny’s around anytime you want to talk to him. He whispered in my ear for two hours yesterday when I was questioning that record store owner who tried his hand at money laundering.

JR: But Steve’s been pretty out of touch.

TR: I think that was the idea of his trip. It’s definitely going to be a long summer.

JR: You think Steve won’t be back until fall?

TR: That’s my bet. September, refreshed and ready to go. But I really don’t have a clue. What do you think?

JR: Sooner than September, that’s ages, Tani. Why does he need to be away so long?

TR: You’d have to ask him.

JR: Tani?

TR: Yeah?

JR: One more thing… I think we forgot to put Quinn in the text group.

TR: Shit.

May 4, 2020

LG: Grace has got skills, Danny. She’s beating Steve at his own game!

TR: Um, what are you talking about, Lou?

LG: Steve and Grace went surfing in L.A. Big waves, too. Didn’t you see the pics on Facebook?

DW: You’re showing your age, Lou. Facebook is for old people.

LG: Grace posted on it, she’s not old.

DW: She only puts pics on there when she wants her parents and grandparents to see them. They’re carefully curated.

TR: Why am I not Facebook friends with Grace? I feel left out.

JR: Ditto.

DW: You should both feel free to friend her. I’m sure she’d friend you back.

TR: I’ll look for her insta instead. Probably get better stuff.

LG: Do you even know Grace?

TR: Rude.

JR: Ditto again.

DW: That’s the same thing.

JR: No, I’m actually saying ditto for the second time.

LG: This group text is more ridiculous than Grace’s sanitized Facebook page.

TR: At least if Steve’s surfing we know he made it out of the desert.

LG: On a horse with no name.

DW: Now you really sound old.

TR: Dad joke alert.

LG: What’s wrong with dad jokes? I am a dad, after all. I’m quite proud of being a dad. I deserve to make dad jokes.

TR: Try making better ones, at least.

LG: Danny, you’re a proud dad. Back me up here.

DW: Proud, yes. As uncool as you, no.

TR: Settle down, you’re both old and uncool, no need to get worked up about it.

DW: Fine. This old guy is staring at some very nice looking steaks, and was planning on lighting the grill soon. Assuming you’re still willing to eat my food despite my advanced age.

JR: Tani and I are getting in the car now, we’ll stop for beer on the way. Jerry said he was coming, too, and bringing fruit salad with no pineapple, just for you.

DW: Yet another reason I like Jerry. And did you guys talk to Quinn and apologize for not including her in the group text?

TR: I did, and she actually seemed relieved not to have to deal with us all outside of work.

DW: Seriously?

TR: No, of course not. I already added her. She’s on now.

QL: Hi guys. Danny, thanks for inviting me. I’m bringing margaritas and guac.

DW: See, already glad you’re in the chat. Sorry Tani forgot you.

TR: I did not forget Quinn!

LG: Tani has been suitably repentant, Danny, don’t worry. And do put my name on two of those steaks - Renee made her special chocolate cake with mocha buttercream. We’ll be there soon.

DW: Does your wife think I’m dying or something? She only makes that cake when someone’s sick.

TR has changed the name of the group text to Chocolate Cake For the Detective’s Soul

TR: Maybe she thinks it’ll make your ribs heal faster, so you can come back to work and make sure Lou doesn’t do anything stupid.

DW: Tani, not for nothing, but it’s not Lou I’m worried about.

TR: That building wasn’t that tall. I landed in the pool, and apprehended the suspect on the way down.

DW: I rest my case.

#H50 #McDanno #Hawaii Five-O #H50 fic #Danny Williams #Steve McGarrett #textfic

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himbowelsh · 5 years ago

Note

Hello Darling! I just read the valentines alphabet you wrote for Shifty and omg I absolutely loved it! So, if it’s not too much to ask, may I request the same for Bull Randleman? Thank you and have a wonderful weekend 💛

@noneofurbusinez asked: balentines balphabet for my man bull blease ,,,

here’s the big boy

valentines day alphabet ( accepting! )

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

Bull’s love language is very much acts of service, so that’s what he’ll do, all the time. He’ll fix something before the person he cares about realizes it’s broken; he’ll do favors, help them with simple tasks without saying a word, and generally be there when needed. He’s not too liberal with words or touch, so Bull says everything through what he does. If he’s really feeling affectionate, he’s got a tiny smile that could melt butter, and only the people closest to him have it directed at them.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He enjoys flowers in a purely aesthetic sense, but could name... daisies and roses, probably. That’s it. He likes them, but does not understand them. The sort of man to pick a lone-ass flower and give to someone, like that’s an acceptable thing. It’s kind of cute, but also goofy. (He’s always had a soft spot for buttercups.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

If he is hungry, and a chocolate bar is in front of him, he will eat it, but there are about two dozen snacks he’d enjoy a lot more.

D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Give him a country fair and some carnival games any day. Watch him win everything, eat multiple corn cobs, go on the ferris wheel just because it’s his favorite, and have a lovely night. If he’s got good company with him, well, that’s all the better.

E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

It’s like hugging a bear, but... in the best way. Bull gives Dad Hugs. Absolutely reassuring, wraps you up completely, kind of hard to breathe but it feels good... if Bull Randleman’s hugging someone, a bomb could drop directly on their heads, and they’d be perfectly safe. Nothing can get through a Bull Hug. People miss it after it’s done.

F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Umm... flirt? Bull? Bull flirt? Nah, man, he... he’s, uhh... he’s a big guy. He’s got eyes. He can make eye contact sometimes. That’s the best he’s got. This man flirts like a brick.

G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

Look. Bull’s out here trying, okay? He really does put a lot of thought into gifts, because it’s important that he gets something his loved one is going to appreciate. This does not make him a... “good” gift giver. Bull’s gifts tend to be very practical, very small --- he’s not going out to buy jewelry or putting a bow on anything, because he will have no idea what he’s doing. Somebody needs new oil for their car, or they’ve been looking for grill charcoal? Someone wants a particular shade of paint but has no clue where to get it? Bull will get it for them, and paint their house on top of that. Honestly, he’s better at doing things than giving things, so his gifts tend to be favors.

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

For Bull Randleman to fall in love, he first has to trust someone completely. That’s no easy feat. He also needs respect in a relationship, and if he hasn’t built that up, he can’t really give his heart to anyone.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Shhh. Nah. He’s maybe said it... four times?? In as many years, once he’s been in a long-term relationship. Possible less than that. Bull doesn’t say “I love you”, he shows it. If he’s not able to do that, then he doesn’t deserve to love the person he loves.

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He’s really not a jealous guy. If someone tries to flirt with his partner, he’ll be overall unimpressed by it, and step in if needed, but he’s not hot blooded like certain people he knows.

K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Shy boy. Unexpectedly shy, but he doesn’t have a lot of experience. This is the one time when he doesn’t quite know what to do with... all of himself. There’s a lot of Bull, and when you’re kissing you have to know exactly how to move, how to match your rhythm with someone else’s... he’s a bit of a clumsy kisser, and would appreciate someone else taking the lead. Quite soft, won’t use tongue at first; prefers to put hands on his partner’s upper back / shoulders; if he can lift them up and put them on top of something, like a tabletop, so they’re at an equal height, that’s just perfect. Not above lifting his partner up while they’re kissing.

L : LOVE. who does your muse love?

His Mama has to take first place here, forever and always. Bull would move mountains for that woman. He’s very devoted to his family overall; he’s got friends he’d drop anything just to help. In general, when Bull decides to love someone, it’s long-lasting and steady. He’s not fickle with his affections, and definitely not into second-guessing. Even when they say hurtful things or quarrel, he won’t stop loving them.

M : MOONLIGHT. is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He’s a morning person. Always has been, always will be. There’s something about early morning that Bull just finds peaceful, and he’d love to share it with someone he cares about.

N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?

Again, you gotta understand... there’s a lot of Bull to go around. And he knows what to do with exactly none of it! At first, he’s definitely uncertain of himself, prefering to let his partner take the lead and guide him how they want. A very physical lover; all about body movements, instinct and rhythm; breathes heavily. As he gets more into it, he’ll gain enthusiasm; at this point, he can sometimes get rough without meaning to, though he tries to be mindful of it. Once Bull works his confidence up, he becomes quite an intense lover. This is an intimate experience for him, and he wants to savour the sensations... but he’ll always be focused on his partner, to ensure they’re enjoying it too.

O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?

He has a way with word. As in, like... one word. He can shoot out monosyllabic answers really well. Bull’s not a talkative guy --- very much an “talk less, do more” type.

P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Well, he’d like someone shorter than him --- that’s not hard --- preferably someone he can pick up easily. He wants someone... gentle isn’t the right word, but someone who’ll be gentle with him. At the same time, not someone delicate, who’ll break easily. If they know their way around a horse, that’s downright perfect. He’s got a thing for eyes --- expressive ones, eyes that dance, eyes that laugh, eyes that sometimes tease. He likes brown ones most of all. And any partner Bull chooses is going to have to be way more talkative than him, sorry --- while he doesn’t dislike silence, he also enjoys having that silence filled, and not having to carry a conversation is a massive weight off his shoulders. He’s more than happy to just listen to the person he loves chatter, smiling benignly at their thoughts.

Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’s neutral either way. While he wouldn’t mind if his partner asked him first, if he’d already decided he wanted to marry this person, he’d definitely muse on different ways to do it. Nothing elaborate, that’s not Bull’s style --- maybe a proposal during a quiet countryside walk, or after going for a swim, or even at the end of a big day, during the quiet moment when all the festivities are dying down. Bull wouldn’t make a scene out of it; his proposal would be simple, soft, and very sincere.

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Not a cynic at all. He’s a practical guy, but he’s got a tiny romantic streak buried deep down in there. A part of Bull just really liked the idea of getting to love someone. He’s lowkey about it, but has a definite romantic side.

S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He had a crush on a little girl in his class --- Wendy something-or-other --- for a solid few months, because she had beautiful red curls, tied up in bouncy pig tails. Honestly, Bull might have been more in love with her hair than Wendy herself, but they promised to marry each other under the oak tree outside school. Wendy got cold feet the next week, broke it off, and gave Bull back the straw ring he made for her. It didn’t break his heart, but it taught him a valuable lesson: never fall for anyone just because they’ve got nice hair.

T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?

Nah. That sort of thing belongs in fairy tales. Love has to build itself up in order to really matter.

U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

Bull’s heart is like a slab of steak. Very beefy, very tender. He doesn’t give it away easily, but it would break easier than he likes to admit. Hasn’t happened yet, because he hasn’t found the right person to hurt him yet.

V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

Honestly? Not a fan. Look, if Bull wants to go on a date, he’ll go on a date --- they can do that any night of the year. If his partner’s into Valentine’s Day, he’ll try to make it special, but otherwise he doesn’t have a problem ignoring the holiday.

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes! This is actually something he feels quite strongly about. He wants to have a traditional relationship/marriage; he would really like to be a husband one day, to have a ring on his finger and dote on his spouse. It’s not about starting a family for Bull (he doesn’t have any strong feelings about having kids, though he’d be a great dad) but very much about... stability. About someone loving him enough to tie the knot. and getting to love someone that much in return. It’s hard for him to articulate, but he’d really want to get married.

X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?

He’s not really the pet name type... so on the rare occasions he does use them (simple one’s --- “darlin’” is his go-to) it stands out that much more.

Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?

Look, no one’s gonna mess with Bull. He’s a big dude with a withering stare, and could probably flip most people over his shoulder without trying. Bull doesn’t need to put on a show; if someone’s messing with the people he cares about, he’ll stare them down, decimate them with a well-timed remark, and that’s usually all it takes to break up the situation. Not afraid to use the old “arm-around-the-shoulder” trick to show he means business.

Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?

Not many! He’s a conservative guy in bed --- he’d prefer one steady partner whom he knows well to a series of strangers. He probably had a girlfriend or two when he was younger, but even then they didn’t do it much; Bull was quite careful, and always respectful.

#bull randleman #band of brothers #*slow chanting* Big Boy Big Boy Big Boy #Anonymous

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cha-lyn · 5 years ago

Text

Milk & Eggs - Eleven

Farmer!Bucky x Reader

Words: 1607ish

Summary: Small Town /Farmer Bucky AU // Reader leaves the city to go live with her grandma. She meets an attractive farmer and, no, they don’t hit it off.

Warnings: teeny bit of angst, fluff, hair pulling, sad bucky

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS for being so patient. I had some serious writers block with this chapter & the next one. I am plotting the end but there should be at least a few more chapters. Happy Saturday!

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

- - -

“Why isn’t this meringue getting to peaks?” You were in your third batch of apparently cursed French meringue. “Grams come look at this!”

You checked the clock for the upteenth time within the last 20 minutes. You had to deliver this cake in two hours and you needed to shower and change before you did so you could go straight to Bucky’s after. But you couldn’t deliver it without the damn meringue.

“Just be patient, hun.”

You growled, but did as she said. Finally you could see the stiff peaks! “Yess!” The next thirty minutes you spent piping and roasting it for the client’s desired look.“Grams, I’m gonna go take a quick shower and then leave for the delivery and then I’m going straight to Bucky’s.”

“Tell him is said hello,” she waved you off. You didn’t miss her small smirk, but you didn’t have time to defend yourself.

You showered, fixed your hair, changed and made it back down stairs by 4:21. You didn’t even think to grab your phone. You got the cake into your car and triple checked that it was secure. You made it to the client’s venue right at 5.

That’s where the trouble hit.

The client wasn’t there yet. You dig through your purse looking for your phone and then remember that it was sitting on your nightstand, all the way back at home. You checked the car clock. 5:15. Where was this lady? If she was much later, you wouldn’t even make it to Bucky’s by 6. You tapped your fingers on the dash impatiently.

Finally, she shows up. 5:28.

Apparently, her hair appointment ran late. She apologized profusely and tipped you generously for her lateness. You left the venue at 5:47 and sped down the highway. It should take you 30 minutes to get back to town and another 15 or so to get to Bucky’s, depending on if you get stuck behind any cows or tractors.

You pulled into his driveway at 6:28 You didn’t bother refreshing your makeup in the mirror, feeling terrible you were so late. You took his front steps two at a time, knocking probably a little more loudly than you needed to.

In seconds, the door swung open to a very handsome man with a very deep frown on his face.

“Hey,” you smile, hoping it would diffuse his frown.

It did not.

“I’m late. I am so sorry.”

“Hmph. I was about to call in the calvary. I’ve called you like 20 times, Y/n.” He crosses his arms.

“I left in a rush, forgot my phone. Then the client was 45 minutes late. I’m so sorry.” Your stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.

“I was worried. I thought you forgot again.” He moved aside to let you in. “Let me warm your plate up. I ate without you. ” He set the plate in the microwave and turned to face you, not looking you in the eye.

He thought you forgot--oh the guilt--you could hit yourself. “Well I’m glad you didn’t wait on me…” you leaned awkwardly against the door frame. He remained silent as you looked around.

The table was set. A candle on the table, between two wine glasses. Bucky wore his dress jeans and a nice unwrinkled button up, his hair was combed, pulled back into a little bun behind his head and oh my god-this was a date, you realize. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach.

About the time you realize all of this the microwave beeps and Bucky sets your food on the table, motioning for you to sit down as he does. He’s grilled the steak to perfection, made the skinny green beans you like with a side of mashed potatoes that you know for a fact are homemade.

“You thirsty?” He still hasn’t made eye contact with you. You nod and he gets you a glass of water.

You eat the food in silence. Bucky twirling a steak knife between his fingers, not looking up at you. The air was thick with tension.

“This is really good Bucky,” you say even though you can’t taste it much because you hate yourself.

“Thanks,” he says emotionlessly.

“I-I’m so sorry. I feel so bad.” You push your empty plate away. “ Thank you for everything. I know I’ve totally ruined the evening, it was really all so nice… I’ll just go…” You stand up and push your chair in reaching for your plate.

He sighed deeply, before pushing himself up. “Wait. No. No. Don’t go Y/N. I’ll stop guilt tripping you, it’s not your fault your client was late. It’s just, I--I was looking forward to tonight.” His cheeks got a little pink as he finally looked at your eyes. “In my mind it all went a lot differently.”

“Yeah. Same.” You took your plate to the sink. You grabbed the scrubby thing and turned on the water.

“You don't need to do that.”

You ignored him. “Oh, please Bucky. Let me wash a dish to make up for all this. I’m sorry--”

“Stop apologizing, Y/n.” He pulled out a clean towel to dry the dish off with. “I’m over it. I promise. Shit happens, I get it. It’d be silly to stay mad at you for something out of your control.” He put the dish in the cabinet and turned to face you, finally. “You look nice tonight, slick.”

A full blush flushed your face. “Thanks. You look quite handsome, Buck,” you reached up to smooth his collar.

“Thank you,” He smiled at you for the first time that evening. “Bad news though. I have to change out of this handsome outfit and go milk the cows now.”

“Boo,” you protest. “Can I watch?”

“Watch me change or watch me milk the cows?”

Your eyes got wide, “I-I- just meant…

“Either one is a yes.” He winked as he tossed the towel onto the counter.

You scoffed and smacked his arm as he smirked, and went up to his room to change. You stayed downstairs, mind kind of racing because he’d all but invited you up there.

He came back down in his work jeans, boots and a t-shirt, hoodie draped over his arm. His smirk snuck back when he saw you in standing in the same place.

“Wanna come help me?” You nod and he tosses you the hoodie. “Here, I don’t want your shirt to get messed up.”

You thanked him, slipping it on and following him to the barn.

With your lateness forgotten, the rest of the evening was fun and educational, even. Bucky showed you how the milking machines worked and laughed at you when you insisited on petting every single cow. After that, you helped him feed the horses.

“I’ve got a name for this horse, Buck,” you say as you pet the nameless horse.

“What is it?” he asks not looking up from what he was doing.

“Vega.”

“Vegas?” He turned his head to eye you, confused.

“No! Vega,” You laugh at him. “It’s one of the stars you pointed out to me the other night. Part of that… Summer square constellation thing.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, roaring even as he moved a bale of hay into Cap’s stall. “I think it’s the summer triangle, doll. I can’t really remember though, I looked up all that stuff the day of to try and impress you, but we barely looked at the sky at all.”

You blushed. “Well, it worked. I’m impressed.” Very impressed actually, you think as you watched his biceps flex as he moved.

Bucky grinned as he slid the stall door closed. “That stuff impressed you?”

You nodded, “Indeed. So does the tossing around of hay bales and the horseback riding.”

He stepped towards you. “Then, maybe you should come over more often, I do both of those things every single day.” His hand cupped your cheek softly. “I, for one, would really like it if you came over more. If you want to, ya know.”

You grinned. “Well, maybe I do.”

Bucky grinned, too, as he leaned in to kiss you. You returned it, hands immediately finding the biceps you’d been staring at minutes before. Slowly, the two of you backed up against the stall door, consumed in your kiss. His hands were rough to the touch, but gentle, as they slipped under your shirt.

Never done it in a barn, you think. You start to reach for the bottom of his shirt when he pulls your hair. You don’t think anything of it, you actually liked it. But then he did it again, harder. Your head knocks in to the stall door.

You break the kiss. “Ouch, Buck. You can pull my hair, but not that hard, shit.”

Bucky looks down at you confused, “What are you talking about--” then he looks at something behind you and bursts out in laughter. “I didn’t pull your hair, Cap did.”

You turn to face the kinky horse. “At least buy me dinner first, Cap, jeez.” You shake your head at him.

Bucky licked his lips, still a little red from kissing you. “Does making you dinner count?”

“Count for what?” you ask confused. He reached up and pulled your hair, much more gently than Cap had. You blush returned. “Only if I can pull yours.”

Bucky growled a little before pulling you into a quick kiss. When he breaks it, you pout. He chuckles, “Sorry, slick. Gotta finish tending to my babies.” You sigh and perch yourself on a bale of hay to watch him finish the chores.

- - -

Taglist:

@notatallfriendly

@thechaoticargonaut

@booktease21

@iamwarrenspeace

@titty-teetee

@harryngtonewithyourshit

@thefridgeismybestie

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #farmer!bucky #bucky barnes is a farmer #mcu au #MCU fanfiction #b.b.#cowboy!bucky #yeehaaw

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puckinghell · 5 years ago

Note

#5 with Seguin would be interesting! :)

Interesting enough for me to write a novel, apparently

One phone call, was all it took.

Tyler liked his life. It was a life designed to just cruise along, and that’s exactly what he was best at. He went to the rink, played his heart out, hit up every party in town, came home to his dogs, and did it all over again the next day.

It would be a lie, to say he never thought of you. It’s hard to not think about someone he shared so much with.

He thought about you when he grilled steak, because you always teased him for how bad he was at getting it medium-rare.

“This is as rare as it was when it was still in the cow, Ty, did I not say medium?” you’d say, and he’d roll his eyes and throw it back on the grill.

He thought about you when he saw Marshall play with the blue ball. You never got to meet Cash and Gerry - he’d already moved at that point - but you went with him to pick up Marshall, and you’d brought that blue ball with you.

He thought about you during many other things, too. Things that he once did with you, or that you taught him about. Like how to do laundry. That hoodie you loved to steal. The color yellow.

But thinking about you didn’t bother him, it never did. If anything, it made him smile, because he remembers how happy he was back then. Sure, everything else in Boston was a complete shit show, but you made it bearable, and he’d sworn to never let you go.

But when he got traded, he was mad. Mad at not only the Bruins but the city of Boston and everything that was linked to it. And unfortunately for you, you were linked to it. So he cut you out.

He’s regretted that decision every day of his life, but he never knew how to fix it.

Until that one phone call. One phone call, all it took.

“Mr Seguin? This is Ria, from Massachusetts General Hospital. I’m calling about Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Y/N?” he repeats dumbly, because he hasn’t spoken that name in a few years.

“Yes, sir, you’re her emergency contact.”

His skin crawls, at those words. Not because he doesn’t want to be called about you but because that sounds like there’s been an emergency. An emergency that apparently prohibits you from telling them he’s not your emergency contact anymore.

He wonders why you never changed it. Did you forget? Or did you know, somehow, that he’d come, if they called? That he’d move heaven and earth to be what you needed? To make up for all the times he didn’t, and because after all that time, he still cares.

He still loves you.

After all, it wouldn’t hurt so much if he didn’t love you.

“Sir,” Ria from Massachusetts General Hospital says, and Tyler manages to focus enough to catch at least half of her story.

He catches car accident and concussion and collapsed lung, and then he hears chemically induced coma and nearly passes out.

“I’ll be there,” he says, and it’s like it’s not even his voice, speaking; he can hear the words echo in his head as he hangs up the phone, as he buys the first plane ticket he can find, as he texts Jamie to bring the dogs to a kennel.

I’ll be there.

And he is.

It takes him a few hours, two cab rides and a plane, and by the time he gets there he’s chewed his nails to the skin and called his mom in order to not have a full on panic attack at the airport, but then he’s walking through the doors of the hospital and someone is giving him a room number.

“Boyfriend?” the lady behind the counter asks with an empathetic nod, and he’s too messed up to contradict her, so he just gives her a sharp nod and walks, no, runs to the room she told him.

It catches him off guard, to see you. It’s both the way you look so familiar and all the things that changed.

You cut your hair. Your face hasn’t changed. There’s too many wires hooked up to you. Your nails are still painted yellow. Your jaw is bruised. There’s a cut on your cheekbone. You’re still wearing the bracelet he gave you for your birthday all those years ago.

It’s the last one that hits him hardest and suddenly he’s sitting on the floor next to your bed, trying his hardest to remember how to breath, and his vision is blurry and his hand catches yours but he’s too afraid to really take it, because there’s a needle in your skin and God, you could’ve died, and the last thing you would’ve remembered about him is how you texted him “how was the flight” and he never answered.

“I’m sorry,” he brings out between shaky breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

He leans his head down on the bed, right next to your hand, tries to get more oxygen into his lungs.

“I should’ve never left you like I did. That’s the one thing I regret. Nothing else, not the parties, not the leaked pictures, not the way things ended with the Bruins. You. I loved you and I thought I had to let you go in order to move on but fuck, Y/N, it’s been years, and I still think about you every single day.”

Tears are burning behind his eyes but he refuses to let them fall; he’s not allowed to cry, not allowed to relieve the burden of that hurt. He has to carry it, the way he forced you to.

“I still love you every single day,” he whispers against the bed sheets, and then he closes his eyes and tries to match his breathing with yours.

He stays there, next to your bed, for a week, and then his mom flies over because apparently Jamie called her and told her Tyler was having an ongoing mental breakdown.

It’s fine. He deserves that breakdown, that pain. His mom doesn’t deserve the worry, though, so he tries to keep it together, but he still won’t leave the hospital.

He allows his mom to bring him coffee and food, though. He doesn’t remember the last time he ate.

Your family arrives too. They’re not even surprised to see Tyler there and that makes him wanna crawl into a corner and hide in shame, because they’re so nice to him, and didn’t you tell them that he left?

The doctor tells him they’ve stopped the meds that keep you under, and you could wake up any minute now. Every minute that you don’t, a little part of Tyler dies.

“We’re going to the cafeteria, Ty, you want anything?” his mom asks. She’s given up on trying to get him to come with them. He won’t leave you.

Not this time.

“No thanks.” It comes out as more of a slurring mumble, nothanksss, as Tyler rests his head on the bed. He’s tired, so tired, but he doesn’t think he could sleep even if he tried.

When the room is empty, he closes his eyes, though. He thinks of that summer you took him to your family’s house on the Cape, and how often he’d considered kissing you, there. But he never did because he knew he’d fuck it up.

Turns out he did that anyway.

“Ty.”

It’s just one word, one syllable even, and it’s so soft that for a second, Tyler thinks it’s just the wind and the fact that he hasn’t slept in 4 days. But then he becomes aware of another sensation; fingers carding through his hair, scratching his scalp.

“Ty.”

Louder, now, the word. The voice too familiar.

His head snaps up so fast your hand falls away from his head, drops onto the bed right in front of him.

You’re smiling at him. Smiling.

“Y/N,” he whispers; his voice is hoarse, sounds unfamiliar. Is he awake? Is he speaking? Is this a dream?

“You’re here.” Your voice is even more hoarse, barely audible. You’re looking around the room, a frown on your face. There’s so much you don’t remember, so much you don’t know, but somehow, you’re able to keep the panic that coils in your stomach stuffed down there.

Because you know one thing.

You heard him, you were there, even though you weren’t there, and you need to tell him, need him to understand that you don’t blame him, that you don’t hate him, that, above all, you understand.

“Don’t be sorry,” you manage to whisper, and it takes all your strength but you manage to hook your pinky through his. Instantly, he turns his hand, lacing all his fingers through yours, the pad of his palm rough against yours.

You try to smile. Understand that you’re probably failing, as you watch Tyler’s eyes get misty.

It hurts, to speak. But it hurts more, knowing that Tyler is beating himself up. Knowing that Tyler doesn’t understand.

“Tyler,” you say, your voice more steady than it has been, “I still love you every single day too.”

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