#should not have gotten due to trying to cut back on sugar

[rockingthegraveyard]

i love a discount grocery store bc you can get juice for 99 cents and it's only two days past it's best buy

[imjustwritingg]

Other than wanting to wrap Hailey in cotton wool and give her the biggest hug, how are you feeling/what are your thoughts after last nights episode?

This turned into an unofficial review of sorts and it got rather long, so I’ll post it all below the cut for those that want to read my thoughts.

I might be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed the episode. I kinda loved it actually, and it might be one of my favorite episodes. I enjoyed everything about it…the writing, the directing, the acting.

Gwen Sigan wrote the episode, but I gotta give her credit where it’s due because it was pretty damn good in my book. It reminded me a lot of her writing days prior to her becoming show-runner and I miss those days so very much.

I think the tidbits of Hailey’s past are coming way too late, but I still really enjoyed getting to peek into her life a bit more. Just wish we could have gotten more of it along the way and not three episodes before the character is gone.

I loved Kevin’s blatant callout to Hailey in the first minute of the episode of how she’s dealing and if running is helping her. He asks this question of “how are you doing…really doing?” with no words and just one look, and then we’re given the answer by Hailey deflecting and avoiding yet again under the guise of wanting a sugar fix. I think that was brilliant. It conveyed everything you needed to know about Hailey’s mental state in one short moment.

No Voight in the episode was such a gift.

Hailey being in charge and leading this particular case was the right move and she handled it so well. I’m bummed we probably won’t see her leading her own unit someday.

Also back to the no Voight thing just for a moment to say that it’s interesting to see how the dynamic shifted with the team versus him not being around and Hailey being in charge. The team felt lighter to me, like in the sense that they weren’t on edge, walking on eggshells in a way. Everything just felt calmer. There was still an intensity and an urgency to solve the case, but rules were followed, there was no off the book cowboy bullshit, and it felt like everyone followed Hailey and trusted her, whereas with Voight they were obeying orders that were barked out to them. I don’t know. It just felt really different and so very satisfying to me.

I love Kevin and Kim’s ability to communicate with one another with just one look between them. Makes me think of the early days of them being partners and being on patrol. They still work so wonderfully together.

This case was sick. A mother doing that to her own child is demented. Where these writers, and Gwen specifically, come up with these ideas is beyond me, but someone should probably do a wellness check on her. Like girly needs some serious therapy and R&R.

Josephine Petrovic. I had some hesitation with her at first as you usually do with a new character as you try and suss them out, but I’ve gotta say, I like her. I like her and I hate that I like her and I hate that she only just came onto the show because I would love to see what happens with her if she were to stick around, but I can’t watch this show without Tracy or Jesse — mostly Tracy — but neither of them? I just can’t do it. I have some other thoughts on Jo, but I will save them for another ask I received.

I obviously saved the elephant in the room for last…Jay. I really don’t think the mentions and nods to him in this episode were “bad” in any way because it’s stuff that has already been said about the character…Gwen’s version of him at least, but I do think there is a reason why he is being brought up and why there are so many nods to the marriage. Hailey insisted she wasn’t angry with him in the premiere. She signed the divorce papers, sent them off, and that was that and she washed her hands of him. Except she didn’t. Because she is angry, she hasn’t moved on in the year and a half he’s been gone now, signing the papers didn’t give her any closure…hell, even him signing the papers didn’t give her any closure, (I will die on the hill that he only signed them because it’s what he thought she wanted). I personally do not think she will get any closure whatsoever if she doesn’t have a conversation with him, if she doesn’t confront him and all of it head on…the anger and resentment and confusion and the love that is still there. You can’t turn that shit off. You can’t just push it away and be like, “okay, I’m done with you now, goodbye.” Life doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. Grief sure as shit doesn’t work that way, and I feel like that is the stage Hailey is stuck in right now. Grieving the loss of Jay and her marriage and stuck in a limbo that she doesn’t know how to navigate on her own while dealing with childhood trauma that she actually isn’t really dealing with at all. And she is without a doubt on her own. That is the one thing that has been made clear this season. She has no family, not any friends other than co-workers, and right now, she doesn’t have Jay. I respect the “independent woman, gonna stand on my own, I don’t need anyone” mindset, but I don’t agree with how we got here and I also don’t fully agree with the notion that she doesn’t need anyone because everyone needs someone. You can’t do life alone. You need someone in your corner, someone by your side, someone who gets you in ways you don’t even know yourself, and for Hailey, that person is and will always be Jay Halstead. I think she will realize she needs to get out of Chicago like her brothers, like Jay, like Will, and I hope that wherever she ends up, Jay is there waiting for her and the two of them can just start over without Chicago and their past looming over them like a dark cloud. And for the love of God, let them both go to therapy…together and separately.

Brenna Malloy directed and it was just…perfect. True cinema if you will. The close-ups of the actors’ faces during certain scenes and how the camera would pan to them at just the exact right moment for a reaction, the no background noise and intentional pauses during scenes that allowed moments to feel heavier and more real, the ending shot of Hailey and her teary eyes…I feel like it was a story that was so delicately handled and crafted by Brenna, and I’m just really impressed.

Tracy Spiridakos. I mean, what more even needs to be said? The woman is a powerhouse. It always amazes me knowing how much of a goof she is on set and then you watch an episode like this and it’s just like…WOW. Her range of emotion and the way she makes you feel every single one of those emotions is truly something that needs to be studied. You cry with her, you smile with her, you laugh with her, but the biggest thing is you feel for her character, and I think that is something that not all actors are capable of doing with an audience. Tracy knocks it out of the park, across the highway, into the next town every time, and her execution is consistent every time as well. No one is doing it like her, and I love and respect the hell out of that woman and her talent.

I think the same also needs to be said for Bojana Novakovic. I have been surprisingly impressed by her and kind of adore her. I’ve really been enjoying the character of Josephine Petrovic and I hate that she’s only coming into the show now right when Tracy is walking out the door because Bojana alone is incredible, but her and Tracy together? It’s like magic to me. Their chemistry as scene partners and the way they bounce off each other is absolutely insane, and then their ability to pull you in and keep you locked in…ooof. I think it’s something special and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them together on-screen.

As for how I feel…

I feel good? Okay? The episode didn’t do much for me in the grand scheme of “what is Hailey gonna do” or “what’s gonna happen” because we already anticipated her leaving Chicago. That wasn’t ever in question. But the actual reason for Hailey leaving is still muddled to me, even more so because she hasn’t resolved anything in her life. She still has these demons, a past filled with trauma she hasn’t found peace with, she has no closure with Jay, she has questions and zero answers, and she is already and literally running from her problems.

So, is she supposed to leave Chicago and start over somewhere and her problems are just gonna go poof? Magically disappear? Because that’s not how that works, and I think that would be yet another injustice to the character and more lazy writing. I do think the episode (finally!) laid the groundwork for Tracy’s exit, but it should have started in episode 1, not 10. Tracy gave them an entire season to wrap up Hailey’s story, and I feel like they wasted so much time and it’s gonna be another rushed exit once the curtain falls. It’s not that I’m surprised in that regard, but I am disappointed (again!) especially considering how much of a fuss Gwen made about “it’s so generous of Tracy to give us a whole season.”

If Gwen’s plan was to make Hailey’s exit about her family and her childhood trauma then the seed should have been planted long before now, and Jay shouldn’t still be a sore subject for her. I think we’re in for a really emotional ending to the season, not just for Hailey, but for the first time since season eight I’m actually looking forward to a finale again.

In conclusion and a very long story short…I loved the episode, but Gwen Sigan is still on my shit list.

[topgunruinedme]

Iceman always snacked, it was something everyone just put off as something he did. They missed Sliders concerned looks or how the man always had a snack on him for his friend.

They all assumed it was normal until they were int he air one day in flight simulation, 8G’s are an awful lot to someone who’s Diabetic. 

He hadn’t eaten, he should have but they had been so busy he hadn’t gotten a chance.

He pulled up with all his might as his vision wavered and he felt sick. Black spots appeared in his vision and he gritted his teeth, his grip slacked and his body felt heavy as it tilted to a side. Alarms blared as the jet tilted down getting closer and closer to the ground and he could faintly hear someone yelling, “ICE! ICE Goddamit! Ice!”.

He felt a heavy, his his eyes fluttered were they spinning? “TOM COME ON!” Sliders panicked voice reached him, “wake up man” his voice was small and filled with fear.

He could hear his commander finally in his headset yelling at him to pull up, he gripped the control and pulled.

The jet rebelled, the ground was getting closer. He pulled harder “Tom!” Sliders cry of relief hit him wrong.

He swallowed hard as he leveled the jet and flew it back to ship. “I thought we were gone for a moment there” the uncertain laugh gave his goosebumps, he stayed silent.

The jet had hardly stopped when he threw himself out of it ripping of his helmet trying to breath flesh air. Sliders hand was on his back, “shit Tom your really pale” he looked really concerned. Tom knees buckled and slider lunges forward to grab him before he fell, “shit Tom!”.

They were still on the tarmac when a candy bar was shoved under his nose. He looked up to find the rest of the aviators had joined them, bloody hell. He would never live this down, Goose held the bar out to him but slider took it after ensuring he was on his feet ripping it open before shove it back at him.

With trembling hands he took a but of it mainly to help his blood levels but also to give him a reason to speak.

“Theres a reason you snack all the time” Goose said softly, slider went to answer but their commanding officer stormed his way onto the tarmac towards them. He heard Slider curse and helped him into a proper position, he watched in curiosity as the other avoiders stood around them as if shielding them.

The man was furious hardly giving anyone time to speak before ripping into Tom. Most of it blurred as his blood sugar rose with each bite although he knew his eating was pissing the man off more. Most of the speech went through one ear and out the other, but one sentence cut through and it made his chest squeeze.

“There’s a reason people like you don’t fly! You almost got you and your RIO killed!”

They were going to take away his wings, they were going to ground him. Take away the only thing he enjoy doing, something he was proud of. To his surprise Maverick and Goose stepped forward.

“With all due respect sir, we fly with Ice or we don’t fly at all”

[brsb4hls]

Story time, pov second person (you're a woman, that is important here):

You live a quiet, happy life with your family. One day cops show up and tell you you've been wanted for murder. The penalty for that is death.

Continued under the cut, long post

The cops shoot your family and take you with them. You manage to escape them, before they can send you to prison and now you spend your life on the run.

You find out you've been framed by the chief of police, who has all your files and forces everyone to hunt you down.

So your only shot at freedom is getting rid of the chief.

You track him for years, while still being on the run.

One day, a cop gets really close to you.

He abducts you with a car and drives the both of you to the desert.

The car battery dies. You find out you accidentially landed in a nuclear testing side.

The area is too vast to run. You have to start up the car, so both of you try to find a power source. Together, since you both don't wanna die.

You find out that the cop, L., is not really a cop.

L. comes from the same neighbourhood as you, you have a lot in common.

L. also was framed and given the choice to get either executed or hunt you down.

Now that he met you, he's not so sure anymore. You bond.

And you find a power source. Before you can start up the car again, you fall asleep from exhaustion. When you wake up, L. has gotten drunk and poured sugar into the tank.

You are definetly going to die now.

L. did get drunk, because he was deeply stressed himself and you decide to forgive him in your last moments together.

The two of you talk and try to comfort each other.

Suddenly cops show up, because L. unknowingly wore a tracker, and get both of you out of the testing site and send you to prison.

L. and you manage to escape. L. promises to help you track down the chief and get rid of him.

You fear L. will betray you, since he's been unreliable before, but L. promises you he wont. L. even suggests you might start a life together.

He obviously developed feelings for you.

You've never been in love, due to your life on the run, but start to develop cautious feelings for L., you are still unsure though.

But you decide to trust L.

L.'s superior shows up. He found out the system is corrupt and wants to fight it from the inside. He leaves to burn his precinct down. You feel relieved and happy about that.

L. and you find the chief of police. He is smarmy and smug and offers both of you positions of power. He claims if he were removed, his brothers, who are more violent and brutal than him, would avenge him and tear your whole neighbourhood down.

But you know everyone is suffering under the chief's rule anyways, innocents are being framed and executed daily, so you attack him to get your revenge and set everyone free.

L. suddenly steps in and stops you. You don't understand, he was on your side, but seems to have been influenced by the chief now.

You manage to lock L. in a storage room, kill the chief and escape.

Month pass. You're not on the run anymore. You built a life, made friends.

Suddenly L. shows up, now in full cop uniform, his superior, who wanted to burn the precinct, is with him, and a prisoner.

You don't know which side L. is on. You are scared, but you put on a brave face and talk to him.

L. wants to rebuilt the precinct. He says the corrupt cops can be good cops, if they're not forced anymore.

The precinct still has torture rooms and cells and prisoners they keep, so you argue it would be better to tear that horrible facility down, and start new.

L. refuses.

In the end the precinct gets remodelled, but L. has to stay there to keep things in check.

You go back to your life and write book about your experiences.

When the book gets published, there is a giant shitstorm on social media.

People are calling you a horrible person, a heartless bitch, someone who doesn't take responsibility.

They claim you mistreated and abused L., that you should have been kinder to him, even when he stranded you in that testing side. You were rude for no reason, an absolute bitch.

Some people fantasize about L. spitting in your face, or calling you names.

Some people want you dead.

Some at least just say you should have smiled more during your horrible experinces, be softer, don't speak so harshly. Women don't do that. They have to be soft to men at all times.

How do you feel?

[jodilin65]

I was reading an article about the perception of old age and how it changes depending on how old we are, and it’s so true. When you’re under 25, you see 50 years old as ancient, and when you’re my age, you see 70 years old as elderly.

I've been very tired all day. I didn't sleep well last night. I definitely don't sleep well when I don't take Benadryl. Even taking Ibuprofen helps me sleep better. I thought of taking something, but then I figured I'd be woken up by storms, so it would be pointless. I wasn't woken up today, but tomorrow I'm almost certainly going to be. This really sucks. At this time of year, I'm wondering why we moved here. I miss being out in the country with more space around me and quieter skies, free from thunder and planes. I don't mind thunderstorms at all when I'm awake, but every time I'm on nights during storm season, it's a struggle. I don't understand why my husband can sleep through thunder without a sound machine, and I can't. As tired as I am, I'm trying to get as much cleaning and other things done as I can because tomorrow is going to be worse. I wish there was a way to flip my schedule. I don't understand how one of my exes could work rotating shifts like she did.

Believe it or not, even though I don't have a normal TSH, it looks like cutting carbs and sugar may slowly cause weight loss after all. This both pleases and scares me. It would really help my health in many ways, but because of the medication, I worry about it bringing back all that anxiety. I asked Jessie how much weight she's ever lost or gained on the medication and if she's ever had to adjust her dose because of it. From everything I've gathered from her, she's never had the kind of problem on this medication that I've had and could still have if I'm not careful. I've got the perimenopause out of the equation but not the sensitivity to the medication. I'm not completely sure I'll lose weight, though. I'm more sure that I'll never gain any more in my life than that I'll lose. If I ever gained more, something would have to be wrong because I don't intend to eat more and move less.

My new g-strings are a bit big but comfortable. The adjustable tie-dye set will be good for under shorts and pants, while the other brand will be comfortable for sleeping. When I'm wearing dresses, I still prefer a full-coverage style so I don't get a wedgie from the dress every time I bend over or stand up. Perhaps that's TMI, but you know how it is—I write for me first, LOL.

I'm allergic to cats and don't care for them as pets due to their claws, jumping, and smelly litter boxes, but they are adorable. Even when they're on sheets. The new polyester sheet and pillowcases are adorable! Now let's see how long they last before they pill. I can't believe they could pill any faster than the last two sets I got, which I'm now annoyed to have wasted money on. I should have just gotten these cheaper, prettier sheets from Temu instead of the pricey ones on Amazon. They feel nicer too—they have a smoother, less wooly feel to them.

I'm not sure about my new trimmer yet. The electrolysis has thinned out the number of hairs I have and thinned the remaining hairs, but I don't think it's ever going to completely eliminate them. Maybe I just don't do it enough. I forget or get lazy at times. It's not exactly a professional-grade tool either.

I'm kind of surprised I can do video chats with Mia. I could have sworn that was a premium feature, and it even says that it is.

I found that the quickest way to finish my latch-hook rug, because it's so boring to do, is to work on it while I watch TV. I couldn't drill or color while watching TV because I would need to look away from the screen too much.

Most people don't want to know the future. They don't want to know when they're going to die, how, or what's going to happen in their future. I'm different, though. I spent 58 years not knowing most things, so it would be a nice change of pace if I could know some things. Maybe not everything, but some things. I would really like to know if we're ever going to move or not because that would affect my goals. I would be more tempted to save for certain home improvement projects if I thought we weren’t going anywhere. I can kind of see where if we saved enough, we might have options in the future, but I don't know for sure. I guess it would depend on a lot of things, like the housing market and where it was and that sort of thing.

[lazyevaluationranch]

On a post about the Blue Haired Girlfriend's quixotic citrus breeding experiments, @voidingintotheshout​ asked:

I mean, if you wanted a hearty citrus relative, why didn’t you just grow Osage Orange? They can grow as far north as Michigan which is surely further north than anyone could reasonably expect to grow a citrus tree. They’re not edible but then hearty orange isn’t either. Osage Orange are so cool and such a interesting historical plant from the Shelterbelt era of American agriculture. Apparently they do smell like citrus.

This is part three of three. Part one. Part two.

Now you've done it! It's time for A Very Brief (But Also Insufficiently Brief) History of Twentieth Century Hardy Citrus Cultivation! Growing citrus trees this far north is kind of nuts, it's true, but I promise you it is not even close to the weirdest things people have done to grow citrus in places where the citrus doesn't think it should grow.

A note: This post will written using the Swingle citrus taxonomy system, including things that are definitely wrong. The citrus taxonomic tree looks like that one box of orphaned computer cords I keep moving with me to new houses "in case I need them" except some sort of adorable five-dimensional kitten has entertained herself with them and some of the resulting knots are not technically possible in our space-time continuum. 

The powers that be gave us citrus because nothing pleases them like seeing a geneticist cry.

1. The Migrant Trees

The Soviet Union wanted lemons for tea, and they wanted to be independent enough not to have to trade with anyone else to get them, which meant they wanted to grow their own citrus. That part of the world is not a great place to grow plants that die when the temperature goes below zero, but at the foundation of the Soviet Union, there were citrus orchards in the warmest part of Georgia, along the Black Sea. Specifically, there was about, uh, one and a half square kilometers of somewhat implausible citrus orchard.

Hang on, it is about to get way less plausible.

This is the great citrus migration: any tree that did well in one spot, they'd try planting its seeds a few kilometres further north, or a few kilometres further east. Prizes were offered for breeding hardier citrus. Slowly the orchards spread, but they were extremely weird orchards.

It's usually a few degrees warmer at ground level than up in the air, and there's way less wind. So as the trees grew, they were bent over and tied along the ground. Some of them had the central trunk run in a straight line along the ground, with branches spreading out from it like the leaves of a fern, like an espaliered tree on its side. Others were starfish shaped, with the central trunk looped down until it ended up next to the base, and the branches sprawling out along the ground from the centre like starfish legs. The citrus trees were no taller than particularly vigorous strawberry plants, but they survived the winters, and you could throw a blanket over them to help them stay warm.

None of that helped if the ground froze solid, so they needed Underground Citrus. You'd dig a ditch, down below the lowest area where the ground froze, and you'd plant flat Starfish Trees or Flat Frond Trees running along the bottom of it, too deep to freeze. In winter, you'd just cover the ditch with boards any time the temperature was expected to go below freezing - citrus would tolerate the lack of light, but not the cold. Mandarins (Citrus reticulata) seemed to do best, so that’s most of what was grown.

It is a nearly unimaginable amount of work to grow citrus this way, along the bottoms of pits and trenches. We are experimentally trying to grow a Soviet-developed mandarin breed of unknown parentage, Shirokolistvennyi, but we will definitely not be putting in that level of effort.

2. The Mixed Up Trees

There are a couple species of citrus that tolerate cold well, but taste awful. A lot of effort has gone into crossbreeding them with more edible citrus. The results are ... mixed.

The Ichang Papeda (Citrus cavaleriei) generally survives temperatures down to -18 degrees C. It is stoic and calm and has mastered emptiness. Unfortunately, it has mastered emptiness too well. The fruit smells like lemons, with maybe a hint of rose, but there's nothing to eat here. It has a rind and seeds. No juice, no flesh.

(Photo by Michael Saalfield)

The Ichang Papeda is the parent or grandparent to several delicious, extremely sour Asian citrus types. Yuzu/yuja smells like grapefruit and clean wet stones from the bottom of a fast-flowing stream. Sudachi smells like grapefruit and leaves with dew on them. (I haven't met kabosu or any other papeda hybrids personally, but they are numerous.)  They're all too sour to eat plain, unless you really need to turn your face inside out for some reason, but make for excellent flavouring. 

(We have a yuzu tree and a sudachi tree and they're surviving, but no fruit yet.)

Trifoliate orange (Poncirus trifoliata) can survive temperatures down to -30 degrees C. This may be partly because, uniquely amoung citrus, they can drop leaves in autumn or winter and regrow them in spring, like a maple tree. They also produce an internal antifreeze. They are angry, twisted, thorny little plants that yell swears when you walk past them. They make a great hedge. The fruit is furry, smells like flowers and pine trees and taste like burnt, bitter plastic. It may or may not be possible to breed the horrible taste completely out of trifoliate oranges without losing cold-hardiness, if it's due to their antifreeze chemicals. Here’s Stabby:

(Photo by Rob Hille)

Even the least terrible trifoliate crossbreeds are bitter enough to qualify as “acquired tastes.” There are recipes for trifoliate marmalade: put a dozen trifoliate oranges, a kilogram of sugar, and a kilogram of pebbles in a pot, cook until it gels, then sieve out the oranges and eat the pebbles. 

We are growing a trifoliate orange / minneola orange hybrid. And, of course, someday our own trifoliate hybrids. The Blue Haired Girlfriend planted 200 trifoliate oranges a couple years ago. There are fewer now, but the survivors have lived through two winters of snow and frost, and they might have somehow gotten more stabby. We're going to breed them, to each other or to less angry fruit, try and make something new and good from them.

I've limited this post to twentieth century hardy citrus breeding, but I have to give a shoutout to somatic hybridization, a decidedly twenty first century technique, where you take a cell from each of two different plants, remove their cell walls, put them next to eachother, and shock them with electricity until they merge into a single cell whose nucleus contains all genes from both plants. Then the new plant is like, "Wow, I guess these are all my genes? It seems like a lot, haha, but it's not like somebody made me from dismembered body parts and electricity, that is not how science works. Anyway I guess it's time to do some plant stuff now."

3. The Mutant Trees

In the 1950s, people started using radiation to randomly scramble the genes of plants. You'd irradiate seeds enough to change the genes somehow, and then you'd have to plant them to see what had happened. Maybe it was people horrified by the atomic bomb desperately wanting to find some life-supporting use for atomic fission, maybe it was government-supported cold war "atom bombs are good actually, look how many we have, USSR" propaganda. Probably both. 

This time period also saw serious plans for Orion, a spaceship with a huge metal plate for a butt, intended to be propelled by exploding atomic bombs under it, which I am not actually making up.

Thousands of people in Europe and the US signed up to receive seeds with random mutations in the mail, plant them, and report back on what they heck they grew into and if it had any useful weirdness. (The gamma radiation used to mutate the seeds did not make them radioactive themselves - the seeds were completely safe.) There were also more formal and carefully controlled university research programs in China, Japan, and the US, where plants where grown in a circular research garden with a coverable radiation source at the centre, so that the farther you got from the centre, the less radiation the plants got. Radiation breeding is less popular than it used to be, but Japan still has a very productive citrus radiation breeding program.

The most popular radiation-bred citrus is the "Rio Red" grapefruit and its offspring, which has a much deeper red than non-mutant red grapefruit.

There aren't many radiation-developed citrus breeds noted for cold-hardiness - with radiation you get whatever you get  - but there are a few, and I want one just because I think they're neat, a monument to that lovely human vision that looks at terrible weapons and somehow sees glossy-leaved trees with bright fruit.

4. The Monster Trees

Citrus are usually grown via grafting. That is, you plant a seed from a fast-growing sturdy breed, you let it grow roots and all that, and then you cut the top off and replace it with a branch from a more delicious breed. The two citruses grow together, and you end up with a tree that's disease and cold resistant in the roots, below the graft, but makes tasty fruit above the graft.

Occasionally, this process goes Wrong. 

The first recorded instance is the tree called Bizarria, discovered in 1640. Someone attempted to graft a sour orange branch onto a citron. But instead of a clean line between sour orange branches and citron roots, the graft was damaged somehow, and the two different species of cells got tangled and mixed through the whole tree. It has branches that produce citron fruit. It has branches that produce sour orange fruit. And it has branches that produce, uh ... these:

(Photo by Labrina)

Most graft chimeras are made accidentally, when the graft site is damaged. Trifoliate orange is often used as rootstock, so there are many reported chimeras involving trifoliate orange and a nicer fruit. The mixed-up cells can be arranged a lot of ways, but it's possible to have the outside layer of the tree be trifoliate orange, and the core of the tree be the other citrus (periclinal chimera). This means you could theoretically get a tree with frostproof trifoliate leaves and branches, but fruit that doesn’t taste like burnt plastic rolled in quinine.

This lucky monstrosity has, in fact, reportedly happened. Twice. There is the Prague Citsuma, discovered in a greenhouse in Prague and suspected to have been created by a Soviet breeding program. And then there is the Hormish, discovered in China and thought to have been made by frostbite messing up the clean lines of the graft. The Blue Haired Girlfriend has managed to track down budwood from the Prague Citsuma - I’m so excited! - so we'll see how the fierce thorny monster tree with a heart of gold, or at least heartwood of gold, does for us.

5. Conclusion

Humans have been trying to grow citrus trees where they don't belong for nearly two thousand years, at least since the Jewish Diaspora and people trying to grow holy etrog trees - trunks gnarled as barnacle stones and the whole tree scented like the best dream you can't remember - in Europe. Maybe longer.

The Blue Haired Girlfriend's citrus-breeding schemes aren't going to singlehandedly transform Canada into a net citrus exporter. But history shows us: it might be possible to have a little gleaming sweetness from the stony ground here, with the ravens and the fir trees and the auroras. A sweetness we made ourselves, that exists nowhere else. 

Or maybe we'll just have a bunch of weird inedible fruit. I don't know, but it's worth finding out, worth weaving together leaf and thorn and stone and the light of our hands as the years unwind. Worth it to have a quixotic project we can expect to spend decades on together, hands and hearts. This is how home is made, sometimes, with a balcony full of angry thorny little trees that shout swears at passerby.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Strangers | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 5.8k (I’m sorry, I don’t have much self-control left)

✦ loosely based on the song Strangers by Mallory Merk

✦ request — I’d like to ask for something where Bucky and the reader are roommates but she’s younger (Joaquin’s age) and one day Sam and Joaquin are there for whatever reason and that’s how Joaquin and Reader meet and they get along (and flirt obv) and Bucky is like a protective older brother and Sam vouches for him but Bucky doesn’t loosen up until Joaquin saves reader from danger or does something nice for her

✦ warnings — angst, awkwardness, Bucky acting like a jealous brother, mentions of beverages and food, light depictions of anxious worry, fluff.

════════════════════════

Bucky and you were in the middle of discussing whether you should adopt a cat or not when a rhythmic knock on the door interrupted the urgent conversation.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, eager to go back to the pressing matter at hand.

“You know I am not. I didn’t order anything either...”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll check.”

“No!” You stood up abruptly from the couch. “You’ll scare whoever is behind the door off like you scared our poor neighbor.”

“Can you let that one go?”

“Nope,” you replied as you crossed the small living room.

You would never. The lady still tried to hide from him when she saw him down the hallway which was hilarious because it wasn’t due to the fact that he had famously been The Winter Soldier but because he grumpily opened the door when she needed a favor and closed it on her face.

As you opened the door, you found two attractive men standing in the doorway.

“Is Barnes here?”

“Oh, God. What did he do now?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he exclaimed in your ear, making you jump.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“Sorry.” He then acknowledged one of the men in front of you, the one who had asked for him, “What’s wrong, Sam?”

“Can we come in?”

Both Bucky and you moved out of the way so the pair of handsome men could come inside.

“So you’re the roommate?” Sam asked.

“I am.”

“And you don’t think he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met?”

“No. Should I?”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“I’m Sam Wilson,” your interrogator introduced himself properly. “And this is Joaquín Torres.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled at Sam, then at Joaquín who smiled back.

Bucky cleared his throat.

Sam looked tense as he ominously said, “We need your help.”

“Give us some privacy, sweetheart,” Bucky told you.

You retreated to your bedroom, wondering what the secrecy could be about. You knew who Bucky was, what we had done, and everything in between.

And sure, some people thought you were crazy for being his roommate, but you weren’t scared of him. You trusted him and cared about him. In the few months you had gotten to know him he had become an important person in your life, one of your best friends.

His visitors didn’t stay for too long. You hadn’t even gotten comfortable on your bed after having put on a tv show to have something on the background when you heard the front door close.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky knocked on your door and opened it just enough to ask if he could come in.

He sat on your bed, fixing his eyes on your desk.

”So...” you broke the silence, “should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Bucky. Look at me.”

He turned to the side, fully facing you. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide things from me or coddle me.”

“I know. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assured you.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He gave you a small smile. “Now, about that cat...”

════════════════════════

After a long week of work, you found yourself relieved to have the apartment just for you. Bucky was a lovely roommate, you just wanted an alone moment.

Saturdays were usually the day you had the apartment for yourself, Bucky had a strict routine until something extraordinary happened and you were comfortable with adapting to it.

To your luck, somebody knocked on the door. You hoped it was somebody looking for the neighbor or something because you weren’t in the mood for people.

Your mood, however, did a 180 as soon as you opened the door.

Joaquín gave you a small smile. “Good evening, (Name).”

Why did he have to come by when you were in sweats and an old t-shirt?! You smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Is Bucky home?”

“No. But he should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll wait for him outside.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked. A part of you wanted to be polite, the other wanted to chat for a little bit. “I just started a batch.”

“Uh—“ Joaquín cleared his throat. “I would really like that.”

You motioned for him to come in. His eyes fixed on you as he did, but for some reason, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. There seemed to be no malice in his eyes.

“Free day?” he made small talk.

“Yeah. I actually don’t work on weekends.”

He shifted in order to face you and asked more about your job. You hoped it wasn’t part of his small talk anymore.

As the conversation progressed, you were sure it had been. His gaze remained on you whether he was speaking or listening, interest never wavering as he found more things to ask about you.

His eyes were such a peculiarity and you couldn’t understand why. Brown eyes were common, you had seen them thousands of times.

“I think the coffee’s ready,” he murmured.

“Right!” You abashedly stood up, smoothing your t-shirt as though it really mattered anymore.

“Do you need help?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got it.”

Glancing at him as you poured the beverages, you saw him staring at you too. Either you weren’t being subtle and were making him uncomfortable or he wasn’t being subtle either. Both options were terrifying.

You walked slowly towards the living room and put both cups down. “Sugar?”

“Please.”

As you went back to the kitchen, you checked the state of your hair on the microwave. Deciding there was nothing you could do to it, you left it as it was and took the container of sugar in your grasp along with a teaspoon.

You placed the sugar container on the table. “Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

Joaquín sweetened his coffee as you sat down next to him once again.

“You don’t like it with cream either?”

“No. I only remember to buy it for Bucky.”

Giving you his entire attention back, Joaquín lifted both eyebrows. “He takes his coffee with cream?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I was as shocked as you are.”

“My grandma loved coffee with milk. She added so much that I don’t think it was coffee anymore.”

“Did you ever try it?”

“I didn’t. Well, maybe as a kid?” He tilted his head as he tried to remember. “I would prepare her coffee all the time...”

“That’s so sweet.”

He took a sip of coffee. So did you. For a moment both of you remained silent, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable you found yourself wanting to ask more about him.

You were out of practice in terms of social interaction. It was terrifying to admit, but the fear only made it truer. The blip changed and ruined lives, and while you were getting back on your feet, you still found yourself socially and emotionally stunted at times.

Joaquín didn’t seem to mind the silence. You wondered if he sought it.

Peacefulness and silence didn’t last. The front door opened unexpectedly and Bucky’s heavy steps cut the harmony of Joaquín’s and your breathing.

“I didn’t know you would be coming over,” Bucky grumbled.

Joaquín jumped off his seat. He took the file in his grasp and handed it to Bucky. “Sam wanted me to give you this.”

Humming, Bucky opened the folder. He gave the contents a quick read, then closed it again. “Well, you gave it to me already.”

“Right. Uhmmm...” Joaquín turned to the side and lightly bowed. “Thank you for the coffee, (Name).”

“Anytime,” you said, voice too enthusiastic even for your liking.

Joaquín gave you another smile before leaving the apartment, causing your face to flush.

You attempted to entertain yourself by washing the cups, but you still couldn’t believe you had spoken like a teenager with a crush.

Bucky leaned onto the wall. “I saw the way you were looking at Torres.”

“With my eyes?” you teased.

“With too much enthusiasm.”

“He’s cute,” you admitted as you twisted to look at him.

“Nope, not happening.”

“Not happening what?” Feigning innocence never worked with him, but you still liked trying. However, his glare told you this wasn’t the time to be playful. “Bucky, come on, I just admired the view. It’s not like I’m planning on running after him to ask him to marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Do you believe me capable of asking somebody I barely know to marry me?” As soon as the question left your mouth, you added, “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

“He gave you the same eyes you were giving him,” Bucky said grumpily.

“He did?”

“Can you be serious for a moment?”

“Oh, Buck, I’m being more than serious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this my first time seeing you with a crush?”

“Do you find it charming?”

“You weren’t this cocky with him.”

“Were you eavesdropping?!”

“I thought you had another type of company. Wanted to make sure it was safe to come in.”

“That’s such a bad excuse.”

“Not as bad as your flirting.”

“Just because you used to be a good flirt doesn’t mean you still are. Be humble, Barnes.”

“I’m still better than you.”

You stuck your tongue out. “I’ll become the best flirt in the world. You’ll see.”

“Absolutely not. And Torres is off limits!”

“Awww, do you want him for yourself? Can I have Sam then?”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Sam or Joaquín?”

“Joaquín,” he grumbled.

“Whose fault is that? I couldn’t even get his number because you had to show authority or whatever macho bullshit is clouding your judgment.”

“My judgment isn’t clouded.”

“You need to get laid so I can get laid.”

“What’s wrong with taking things slow? The last date I went on was a disaster.”

“Nothing,” you assured him. “I just think you need to de-stress, have some clarity and see I just have a mild crush.”

“Mild?”

“Yeah. I was kinda intense in high school.” You feigned a shudder. “Dark times.”

“What about college?”

“We don’t talk about that. I had terrible taste.”

“See?”

You tried another approach, “We’re acting like children and I’m pretty sure we are adults. I pay taxes, dude, I can have a crush on whoever I want.”

“Of course. You’re a big girl.”

You could tell he was only going with your flow. But you would take it.

════════════════════════

Bucky sat in front of Sam. Brows furrowed as he went through the same file Joaquín had given him a few days ago.

He didn’t like the idea of going after anybody. He had left violence to the side already. Did this count as ruining it all so soon?

Glancing at Sam, who was expectantly watching him, Bucky sighed. “What about (Name)? What should I tell her?”

“I could send Torres—“

“NO.”

“Barnes,” Sam sighed, “you know we can trust him.”

“For this type of stuff. Not with (Name). You didn’t see the way he was looking at her the last time.”

“He might have a crush,” Sam conceded, “but you’re acting like he wants to murder her.”

“He might,” Bucky said without really meaning it.

Sam crossed his arms. “Do you like her or something?”

“Not like that,” Bucky replied, almost offended. “She’s like a sister to me, Sam. I care about her, I want to protect her.”

“By not letting her see people?”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. And I know damn well this isn’t the right way to do it.”

Bucky scowled, yet knowing Sam wanted to say something else, remained quiet.

“Think about this. You’re worried something will happen to her while we do this, and I’m telling you Torres could keep her safe but you’re being childish because you think you should act like a jealous brother.”

“What if he breaks her heart? Huh? What then? She likes him!”

“He’s nice, of course she likes him! You should be glad he likes her too, dumbass.”

“She’s not ready to date people.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Bucky shifted in his seat. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Sam. She’s been through hell.”

“Something might not even happen between them, you’re jumping to conclusions way too quickly.” Sam then added, “Unless both are into fast dating in which case things would be fine too.”

“You don’t know that. He could hurt her.”

“You already managed to run a background check on him and—“

Bucky interrupted, “How do you know?”

Sam nonchalantly shrugged. “I’d do the same.”

Bucky hung his head, staring down at the file on the small table. “Can I beat him up if he does something he shouldn’t?”

“He won’t.”

“But can I?”

“Will you shut up if I say yes?”

“Maybe.”

Sam withdrew his phone, tapped the screen a couple of times and brought the device to his ear. “Torres. Are you busy?”

Bucky huffed through his nose and then went back to read the file for the hundredth time.

════════════════════════

The forecast that morning had forced you to carry an umbrella and a jacket that you ultimately had to shed. It rarely rained around your workplace; you couldn’t say the same about your apartment.

You weren’t sure what type of natural phenomenon was at play —or fault, really— but you were not happy about it.

Hoping you hadn’t forgotten to close your bedroom window, you quietly wished your coworkers a good night and made your way towards the exit.

You found a face you seemed to see everywhere. Mostly due to your daydreams, but who could blame you apart from Bucky?

Joaquín slid his right hand off his pocket and waved at you.

Waving back, you approached him. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t home so I contacted Sam so he could ask where you could be and Bucky said you worked here so I came here.”

You couldn’t hide your smile upon hearing his convoluted explanation. “I imagined as much. What I meant with my question is why are you here?”

“Oh! I’m making sure you get home safe.”

You frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But we don’t want to take any risks.”

You didn’t know who was we exactly although you could assume he was talking about Bucky. And about himself. The realization made your stomach flip.

“Are we walking?”

“I drove here,” he explained, hesitating to make the first move towards his car.

You gave the first step forward, getting slightly closer to him. A whiff of his cologne hit you and just like that it was gone. He started walking too.

“Had a nice day?”

“It wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You wanted to oh so badly ask what his ordinary was. Fuck, it was like you were having a crush for the first time all over again.

“So... are you staying at mine or...?”

“I’ll sleep here in the car.”

“There’s a couch right there. Kinda comfy if you ask me...”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please, you’ll be there because of me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s no problem,” he hurried to assure you.

The streets looked different from the car. Bigger. You were so used to public transport, to see people from afar — to perceive everything from the perspective of somebody trapped in a box that had been created to make things easier for them.

You didn’t feel small per se, yet people looked bigger too. It was as though you had forgotten that people outside of your bubble existed.

Friends were almost nonexistent in a world that still was trying to recover from a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The people you considered friends kept their distance from you and each other because they didn’t have other choice. Work, school for those privileged enough, debt, grief... all those things got in the way. And perhaps it was better that way for now. Everybody needed to heal.

An empty hallway greeted you. It wasn’t too late, but your neighbors kept mostly to themselves. Bucky preferred it that way.

You pushed the door open after unlocking the two locks, allowing Joaquín to get in first.

He shed his dripping jacket, bashfully hanging it on the coat hanger.

“Can I offer you anything to drink or eat?” you asked, placing your belongings next to the couch.

“Whatever you’ll be having.”

You tugged the fridge door open. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.” He approached you, leaning on the kitchen bar. “Surprise me?”

“Oh, yeah, I will. With a visit to the ER.”

“Hey, it’d be a surprise nonetheless.”

You giggled and took a glance at him. The ghost of a smile crept into his face before he started laughing too.

“You don’t have a boyfriend that would get mad at me for staying here, do you?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Are you even into guys?”

“I am.”

“That’s good.” Realizing he had sounded too happy, he added, “I mean... it would also be good if you weren’t, obviously.”

“I get what you meant.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Cool.”

Neither of you stopped smiling. You only moved when the fridge’s door alarm interrupted.

You ended up ordering takeout and talking to him past midnight.

But not every night was lighthearted. Such a thing was true to life and to this particular week.

Joaquín was a good distraction before and after work, but the moment the time to say goodnight arrived, worry heaved on your entire body.

You tiptoed your way towards the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Hoping the stream of water wouldn’t make too much noise, you filled the glass and stood in the middle of the kitchen, slowly drinking it.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped, splashing water onto you and in consequence the floor. A couple of days or so weren’t enough for you to be completely used to Joaquín’s voice. Albeit nice, it was still new.

He turned the light on. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clumsily placed the glass on the counter. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Sleep was elusive, something you had assumed was in the past. Insomnia had been your loyal friend throughout the blip, then grief joined.

Bucky was the closest thing you had to a family now. What if you had to grieve him too?

As though he had been reading your mind, Joaquín softly said, “He’ll be okay.”

“You sound so sure...”

“He’s strong and skilled. Sam is too.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed. “I don’t wanna be all alone again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. It almost burned you. “You won’t be.”

You pursed your lips. You had heard that one many times before.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just... you know...” You started laughing instead of truly explaining yourself.

But you didn’t need to explain anything. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

You laughed again, louder this time, nodding because what else could you say? That you couldn’t believe him if you wanted to?

He looked at you with worry. “Do you have any tea?”

You nodded once more, unable to speak as you continue laughing and pointing to the top cupboard.

“I’ll fix you a cup.”

Crying out of laughter, you sat at the small table, leaning on your forearms as you tried to watch him — the tears didn’t allow you to truly assess the damage.

Said tears worried you. The last time you had properly cried seemed to have been too long ago to be healthy.

Then again, not many people were in a healthy position as of now.

Before you could even realize what was going on, Joaquín softly set a cup on the table. “Sorry for not adding sugar, I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Embarrassed due to the fact that you couldn’t stop laughing, you avoided his eyes and wrapped your fingers around the cup. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s no problem, okay?”

You hummed, inhaling the scent of the tea before taking a small sip.

He made you company as you drank the hot beverage at your own pace. In complete silence, trying to hide from you that he was playing with his fingers under the table.

“Better?”

“I think so.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have work tomorrow...”

How could you forget? You stood up with the cup in your grasp and went into the kitchen to wash it.

“I can wake you up for work if you want,” he offered.

“My alarm is loud enough.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as if he was just remembering, “I’ve heard it.”

You huffed a laugh. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Before he could turn around, you called for him, “Joaquín?”

“Yes?”

“Would you keep me company until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

It felt strange to have somebody that wasn’t Bucky in your bedroom. Joaquín curiously eyed the room while you got comfortable in the bed — his eyes eventually landed on you.

He gripped your desk chair and took it out.

Before he would sit down, you told him, “You can sit on the bed if you prefer. That chair ruined my back.”

Considering the offer, he approached the bed, slowly as he looked at you in case you changed your mind.

You patted the empty space. “I don’t bite.”

Tentatively sitting down, he asked, “Why haven’t you changed the chair?”

“I like the color.”

He softly laughed. “It’s pretty,” he agreed. “Looks nice with your decoration.”

“Thank you.”

His hand brushed your forearm as the two of you shifted at the same time. Your face heated up, and now you wondered if his palm contrasted the softness of the back of his hand.

Joaquín cleared his throat. “Try to sleep,” he whispered, “I’ll be here.”

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes. Focusing on trying to remember what you had been thinking before falling asleep the last time you got some rest, you got lost in your own head.

The door creaked as it was pushed open. Bucky opened his mouth.

Joaquín brought his index finger to his closed lips, signaling for Bucky to not make a sound.

Joaquín looked down at your form, still fast asleep. Your head was on his shoulder, face semi-buried in his t-shirt.

Bucky watched as Joaquín softly removed your head from his shoulder, delicately making it rest onto the pillow — he then left the bed in silence and tucked you into the covers before leaving the room.

”Everything in order?”

Bucky grumbled in affirmation. “What was that?”

“She was worried about you. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

Joaquín shook his head, hoping he was managing to mask his disappointment.

Bucky hummed. “Thank you, Joaquín. For everything.”

“It was no problem.”

Joaquín collected his few belongings in a minute, taking a glance at the ajar door that separated your bedroom from the lounge area.

“Bucky...”

“Mmh?”

“Could you text me when she wakes up or if she needs anything?”

Bucky stood silent for a few seconds. Seconds that for Joaquín felt like hours. “I will. Go home.”

════════════════════════

Having Bucky back at home was relieving. Except for the fact that he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to spill it.

“Is there anything you want to say?” you yelled from the couch.

He stopped chopping carrots to lift his head. “Did you get Torres’s number?”

Turning the TV off, you pushed yourself to a sitting position and eventually left the couch.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Have you called him?”

“I sent him a meme.” You extended your hand, taking a piece of carrot. “He laughed and sent one back.”

“I assumed you would have asked for his hand in marriage by the time I would be back.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

Bucky snorted. You munched on your cube of carrot.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into it. He’s genuinely nice, you know? People can be friends regardless of gender.”

“What happened to wanting to get laid?”

“I doubt it’s mutual.”

“He likes you and you like him. That’s practically the definition of mutualism.”

“You said he was off-limits,” you accused.

“He isn’t anymore.”

“I didn’t get the memo.”

“Don’t get grumpy with me.”

“I’m not grumpy.” You pouted. “But what if he doesn’t like me that way? He’s a really nice person, maybe that’s it.”

“Oh my God,” Bucky exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You whined, “Buuuuuuuuucky. Don’t be mean.”

“Don’t act obtuse then.”

“I haven’t dated anybody in years. I don’t know how to do it. He’s fun to talk to, don’t get me wrong — I’m the problem.” You sighed dramatically. “We should throw a pity party for me,” you sarcastically said.

“Why do you think I’m making lasagna?”

“I honestly thought Sam was coming over for dinner.”

Bucky blushed due to his inability to be subtle which was the most shocking thing you had learned about him.

Truth to be told, Bucky’s words stayed in your mind for days. You continued casually texting Joaquín, not sure if you should ask him out or let it go.

You wanted to, and it wouldn’t be the first time you had made the first move — that didn’t bother you. What bothered you was the mere idea of asking him out too soon.

Seeing your phone light up with Joaquín’s name and a message attached to it genuinely improved your day every single time.

It was so hard not to be in his orbit when apart from being handsome he was so nice and easy to talk to.

You liked him, you really did. You also liked that things didn’t feel awkward with him when you knew they would’ve been unbearable with somebody else. It was liberating.

Are you home?

Nope.

If you were looking for Bucky, he’s out on a date.

I know. But I’m not here to see him.

You’re there?

Yeah. I’ve been here for a few minutes now.

I’m having drinks with my coworkers. Two of them are celebrating their birthday. I can ditch if you need anything.

I wanted to see you.

I also wanted to ask...

Are you busy next Saturday?

Your heart skipped a beat. I’m not.

Eyes glued to the three dots that signaled he was typing, you finished your drink in a single swig.

Would you go out with me?

You can pick wherever we go, I don’t mind.

I would love to!

Was the exclamation mark too much?

Fuck, you felt like a teenager again.

And I don’t mind if you pick.

Why don’t we make that decision later?

Sounds good to me.

Sorry for making you wait outside for nothing.

I’m the one who appeared unannounced, but it’s okay. I got almost everything I wanted.

You’re making not ditching really hard right now.

Good to know I’m doing something right.

But you should hang out with your coworkers.

And be careful. If you remember, text me when you get home.

It was stupidly hard not to be smitten by him.

════════════════════════

“For the millionth time, you look fine.”

You glared at Bucky.

“He’s right,” Sam assured you from the couch. “You look fine, and it’s just a casual date. You’ll be okay.”

“Just a casual date?” you asked in a high pitch that surprised the three of you.

“He’s seen you in the morning already,” Bucky reminded you, lifting his eyebrows. “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you defended yourself. “I’ve had these jeans for literal years and I’m scared I’m gonna rip them.”

“Take a jacket or coat with you just in case.” Sam offered the solution immediately.

You did as Sam suggested and carried your favorite jacket over your forearm.

In contrast to what you saw every morning, there wasn’t a single familiar face in the subway. As you checked the time to make sure you wouldn’t be late, you saw that one of your other friends had wished you good luck on your date.

The fact that somebody apart from Bucky —and Sam— openly wanted you to succeed at something outside of work improved your mood. You had lied to Bucky earlier regarding being nervous, less due to embarrassment, and more because you didn’t want to admit you were scared of still not knowing how to handle things when they went wrong.

Rejection was easier to take in comparison to the way things crumble after they seem to be going well. Rejection is quick, it eventually passes — regret and what-ifs potentially stay forever. You had the scars to prove it.

You had to walk a couple of blocks from the station to the place you would meet Joaquín at. The area was new to you, colorful and lively from what looked to be brand new businesses.

Upon arriving at the diner, you understood why Joaquín had chosen that place. It wasn’t crowded by any means, but it looked far from empty. It was the perfect middle ground for a first date.

Such observation didn’t ease up your nerves, yet giddiness couldn’t stop itself from bubbling up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed from behind you. “I was about to text you.”

You turned around. “I just got here.”

Joaquín silently stared at you, taking a shaky breath and bobbing his head open and closed.

He settled for a short compliment, easier to say than the jumbled mess of euphoric reactions he internalized, “You look great.”

“I—“ You weren’t expecting that. “Thank you. You look really nice.”

You might have been selling it short, he looked as handsome as ever and more — but you didn’t want to sound intense or say too much and scare him off.

He looked down for a moment, trying to fight the warmth crawling up his skin. “Thank you,” he said quietly before looking up once again.

His bashfulness was a good sign, it would be less awkward if both of you felt the same way about the prospect of a first date.

“I found this place by mistake a few weeks ago,” he told you as he opened the door for you. “Their coffee is great.”

He let you choose the table, arguing that it was your first there and he wanted you to have the best experience. You appreciated his effort.

Bucky and Sam mentioned you could come across as being uncomfortable around others, he must’ve been under the same impression.

In all fairness, it was less about being uncomfortable and more about being scared of oversharing.

“Are you a big coffee guy?”

“Kind of. I’m used to instant coffee even though I don’t like it so I try a different one every time I can.”

“I have a coworker who is obsessed with that stuff.” You chuckled. “But they drink it cold.”

Joaquín huffed a laugh. “It might taste better like that.”

The conversation deviated from mindless small talk to work, and then to your interests — it was refreshing to know you shared a few and even more so to find he was open to giving things he didn’t know a try.

After eating, the two of you decided to take a walk just so you could talk some more.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. Joaquín looked down. He pressed the back of his hand against yours, momentarily pushing his fingers between yours.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He pulled away then slid his hand under yours. Clasping his palm against yours, he stared at your face in search of your reaction. “How about that?”

“Also yes.”

He smiled. “Good thing I listened to Sam when he said I wasn’t imagining things and you were into me too.”

“You know, I almost made the first move.”

“What stopped you?”

You shrugged. “Maybe I would have drunkenly asked you out if you hadn’t beat me to it.”

He hummed yet made no further comment.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do, I do!”

“Buuuuuuut?”

“It took us a while to exchange phone numbers. Imagine if it had taken us the same to go out?”

“Oh God, we would be stuck third-wheeling Sam and Bucky.”

“I’m so sorry you have no escape from that,” he joked.

“I just hope they never have sex when I’m in the apartment or I will need therapy I can’t afford.”

He lightly squeezed your hand. “I’ll rescue you, don’t worry.”

It was your turn to smile. “I’ll take that as a sign that I’ll be seeing you again.”

“As long as you don’t see it as a threat...”

You giggled. “I would never.”

According to the blog posts you read online, guys seemed to like it when the other person assured them they had a good time with them. You hoped he had gotten the hint.

In case he hadn’t, you said, “There was this coffee shop near my childhood home that I used to love... They had the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted and the coffee was delicious too. I heard it reopened...”

“We should go there next time.”

“Sounds good. I haven’t visited the neighborhood in a while.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“I don’t know anybody around there anymore.”

It was getting late and you knew your time together would be over. At least for tonight.

He walked you toward the subway station, swinging your intertwined hands. The conversation didn’t seem to end, he could thread on any topic and you would’ve listened to him until his voice was hoarse and his throat dry.

You couldn’t leave without properly telling him what a great time you had. It was too soon to know what would happen, you weren’t naive, but you also really fucking liked him.

“I had a great time,” you reassured him. “Thank you.”

“Me too. I hope it repeats soon.”

You did too. All those nerves had thankfully paid off.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, but... can I kiss you?”

“You’re not being too forward.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Joaquín licked his bottom lip and cupped your cheek with a hand. His other one tightly held yours, giving you time. You wetted your lips too. Then he leaned in and kissed you.

You basked in the kiss’s bliss. Short, sweet, perfect in every single aspect. The kind of human contact you had longed for years and had been too scared to look for.

His eyes were on you as you opened your own — shining with a happy glint.

“You’re even prettier from up-close,” he commented lowly, hand still on your face.

Your gaze fell to his wrist for a second. Then you held his. “I could say the same to you.”

“Thank God.” He giggled.

“You said you needed to wake up early tomorrow...” you said, much to your own dismay. You didn’t want to be selfish.

“I’ll wait for your train to get here.”

And so he did, and you almost cursed the stupid giant can when it arrived.

You reluctantly let go of his hand. “Text me when you get home just so I know you arrived safely, yeah?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

“Goodnight.”

He kissed your cheek. “Goodnight.”

[kpopfanfictrash]

s is for sexy

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook

Word Count: 1,532

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An accompanying drabble to The Art of War More. This drabble takes place after the events of both TAOM and L is for Lunacy. Jungkook is included in People magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive issue, but you can’t find a copy anywhere.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

“We’ve made a terrible mistake,” you complained, sinking down on a park bench to rest your chin in one hand.

Coming to a stop, Gina craned her neck to peer over her shoulder. “I agree,” she said. “We should’ve stopped and gotten donuts at that shop I pointed out.”

“Gina.” You looked up. “Read the room, alright?”

“Right, sorry.”

She grinned, plopping down on the park bench beside you. Adjusting her green and white striped shorts, Gina lifted a hand to scan the horizon. A few children played on the slide at the playground, their innocent cackles drifting over the hedges.

Utterly exhausted, you sighed. “We should give up.”

“No!” Gina turned to face you, appalled. “We’re not stopping until we’ve combed every newsstand in the city. Until we’ve harassed every bodega owner! Until our names are plastered under persona non grata in every library!”

Normally, Gina’s speeches were enough for you to crack a smile, but not today. Today was the day Jungkook’s big magazine article was released and you had woefully dropped the ball. To be fair, Seokjin had suggested you order the volume ahead of time, since the People’s Sexiest Men issue tended to sell out, but you completely forgot.

Jungkook had stayed on campus through Senior year, but then had immediately entered the NHL. This was his second full season with the team and already, he was garnering national attention. Much of this was due to a viral clip of your boyfriend removing his jersey at the end of game five of the western conference finals, but said clip wouldn’t have gone viral if Jungkook had been on the bench.

The fact that he got playing time in his first season was remarkable – let alone that he was playing in the semis and was now considered the league’s It boy. Already there were rumors of him being nominated for end of year awards. Jungkook was excited about those, of course, but you and your friends were more excited for this. People’s Sexiest Men Alive.

He wasn’t the cover, of course – that was reserved for A list celebrities – but it seemed Jungkook’s abs had been enough to land him a mention. You’d planned on wallpapering the apartment door with the photo before he got home tomorrow, but that wouldn’t happen if you couldn’t get your hands on a copy.

Unfortunately for you, the issue seemed to be sold out.

Sighing again, you folded your arms over your chest. “Has Seokjin said anything to you?” you asked Gina. “Was he able to find one?”

“How should I know?” she said, somewhat defensive. “It’s not like I know everything Seokjin does or says.”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure how to respond. “Uh – I know?”

“Right.” Gina swallowed, somewhat mollified. “Why don’t we call him?”

Shaking your head at her weirdness, you pulled your phone from your pocket. Honestly, Gina and Seokjin had been acting mad weird lately. They acted all cagey and awkward whenever you asked one about the other. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think they were fighting.

Dialing Seokjin’s number, you leaned back on the bench and listened to his ringback tone. Kim Seokjin was one of the only people you knew – well, him and your aunt – who still had that feature, and Seokjin hadn’t bothered to update his since 2011. It was still Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.

HEY, I JUST MET YOU! AND THIS IS CRAZ –

“Hello?”

“Seokjin,” you groaned. “When are you going to change that dumb ringback tone?”

“Whenever Carly Rae goes out of style, so never.”

Gina, having overheard, cracked up beside you.

“Anyways,” you said, switching to your other ear. “Any luck on the search?”

“Sorry, but nope. Seems your boyfriend is more in demand than that one donut shop Gina always wants to go to.”

“That, or it’s the fact that Michael B. Jordan’s on the cover.”

“Yeah, probably that.”

“Alright,” you sighed, picking a thread on your jeans. “Thanks for trying, Seokjin.”

“Anytime,” he said and hung up.

As you shoved your phone in your purse, Gina looked at you warily. “No luck?”

“Nope.”

“Hm.” Gina leaned back on the bench. “Maybe we should switch gears here, get creative. We could cut out semi-nude photos of Jungkook and stick them to the pages of last year’s edition!”

“Where would I get last year’s issue, though?”

“Good point.” Gina thought. “You could just stick semi-nude photos of Jungkook to your front door?”

“Gina,” you laughed, shoving her shoulder. “Stop stripping my boyfriend!”

“There it is!” Gina beamed. “I knew I could get you to laugh.”

Shaking your head, your smile faded a little. Gina was right though, this was silly. It would’ve been fun for Jungkook to come home from his away game to this, but it was hardly the end of the world. You would just order a copy online and wait.

Heaving a great sigh, you stood from the bench. “Okay,” you said, turning to Gina. “Let’s head out.”

Gina convinced you to go to the donut shop at least, so you didn’t arrive home empty-handed. That was the reason she gave you at least, although you knew it had more to do with her recently launched donut Instagram.

The box was precariously perched on your hip as you shoved open the door, placing the keys on the hook to kick the door shut. As you turned to walk inside, you started – nearly dropping the entire box of donuts on the floor.

“Jungkook?” you gasped.

Chucking the box on the counter, you dashed across the room.

Jungkook laughed when you reached him, immediately jumping to wrap your legs around his waist. He caught you easily, warm hands on your waist as you buried your face in his chest. Somewhat awkwardly, he walked you towards the kitchen.

“You’re back!” you blurted, pulling back to see him.

Jungkook grinned, rosy-cheeked from your touch. “I’m back,” he agreed, depositing you on the kitchen counter. “Miss me?”

“How?” you demanded, poking his chest. “How’d you get home so fast?”

“I feel so welcome,” Jungkook teased. At the look on your face, he grinned. “Coach cancelled tomorrow’s practice, so I caught a flight back today.”

“Yay,” you said happily, leaning to rest your head on his chest.

The steady thrum of his heartbeat reassured you and for a moment, you allowed yourself to enjoy this. Jungkook smelled as he always did, like light floral and cotton, and the weight of his hands on your thighs made your heart calm.

His thumbs played with the thread on your jeans, which sent your mind to other places – places involving your bed, his ass and zero clothes – but for now, you were content with this.

“What’s in the box?” he murmured into your hair.

“Oh, right,” you said and pulled back. Twisting around, you dragged the donut box towards you and popped the top. “Some might be a bit squished since I threw them. Gina and I went to the new donut place on Lakeview.”

Jungkook’s eyes went super-wide. He immediately bent to grab the closest donut, powdered sugar getting everywhere when he bit into the side.

“Yum.” Jungkook’s eyes rolled exaggeratedly back in his head. “Wow, this is the best welcome home I’ve ever gotten. There’s you, of course, but also – donuts.”

“Obviously,” you said. “There was actually supposed to be another surprise, but I kind of messed it up.”

Jungkook licked powdered sugar off his wrist. “Messed something up? You? Don’t buy it.”

“Suck up,” you teased. “But no, really. I wanted to get your People’s Sexiest Men edition! I was going to plaster it across the front door and embarrass you.”

Jungkook grimaced. “As fun as that sounds, the donuts are better.”

“What? You aren’t proud of how sexy you are?”

“I don’t care about that.” Jungkook swallowed the last of the donut. “As long as you find me sexy.”

Tipping your head back, you groaned. “Okay, now you’re seriously sucking up.”

“Mm.” Placing his hands on either side of your thighs, Jungkook’s nose grazed your jawline. “Anything else you want me to suck?”

“Jungkook!”

Drawing back, his gaze glinted darkly. “Besides, why do you need that photo of me with my shirt off?”

You frowned, perturbed and he reached one hand overhead. Still looking at you, Jungkook did that stupid-hot thing guys do where they remove their shirt with one hand. When his six pack abs were revealed, they left you a bit speechless.

Flexing a little, Jungkook grinned. “You have the real thing.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, shoving his pec. Oh – hard. Sliding down from the counter, you began walking towards the bedroom. “But since you offered…”

Jungkook waggled his brows. “I did.”

“Get in there, sexiest man alive,” you laughed. “Show me what you got.”

“Alright.” Jungkook caught himself on the doorframe with both hands. “But before we go any further, I feel compelled to clarify I’m not People’s sexiest man, just one of them. Michael B. Jordan is the sexiest man alive.”

“Jungkook!” You pointed through the door. “Bed!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a salute.

You stared after him, grinning stupidly before following.

 kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[inkbyajm]

Holiday Blues

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff, slight angst

word count: 1.1k

notes: it’s been two weeks, but i finally wrote the second part to the holiday series! i decided to change a few things: for starters, in this world, the pandemic DOESN’T EXIST for the sake of the plot, and the reason why corpse and reader can’t see each other is because she lies and says she doesn’t quite have the funds to travel. anyways, it’s christmas in three days, and 2020 will be over NEXT WEEK i’m so excited!! also, i’m curious as to which christmas songs you’re obsessed with at the moment 👀 to me, december means i can finally blast I’M GONNA KILL SANTA CLAUS by the most greg of all gregs - mr. danny gonzalez. and no one can stop me, because ‘tis the season.

< previous    next  >

It was halfway into December and Corpse had felt absolutely no holiday cheer. Well, that’s not exactly true. He’d streamed once or twice, he’d played with friends off camera too. But once everything cut, the corners of his lips would drop and he’d slouch back into his seat, with an air of defeat, as he thought about his love having a merry time on the other side of the Atlantic ocean. 

Unbeknownst to him, (Y/N) and his friends had collectively decided to throw a big Christmas party in the new OfflineTV mansion the group had recently finished renovating. (Y/N) wasn’t going to leave her boyfriend without a present, nor was she leaving him to celebrate anything alone. While, initially, a festive gathering was all she had planned, a little bird (more like a flock) had been telling her all about her partner and the state he had been in lately. He wasn’t exactly fooling anyone with the “I’m fine”s and the “yeah, I’m good, just tired”s, contrary to his belief. So she very bravely decided to take on the 14+ hour transatlantic flight and pop in for a visit in the city of angels only a couple of days before Christmas Eve. Until then, though, he had to be kept in the dark. And in this case, what he didn’t know did hurt him. 

━

It was a chilly morning when Corpse woke up with his body aching all over. Another restless night, another long day to spend. With a groan, he got up to start his morning routine, while taking his medication along the way.

As he walked to the kitchen to make up some kind of breakfast, he scrolled through his social media feeds to see if anything new had been posted while he was away. 

His heart tightened ever so slightly, he couldn’t tell if it was due to his condition, or due to the feeling of jealousy which rose the longer he stared at her recent post. He felt selfish, of course she was allowed to have male friends, he himself  had many female friends. But he still felt like that could have been, or rather should have been, him.

Dejectedly, he went on to Twitter to end up feeling even worse. He didn’t feel like telling anyone about how pathetic of a boyfriend he was being, yet he wanted to get out something. In the end, he settled with a good ol’ cryptic message as per usual Corpse Husband style.

Not feeling like eating much anymore, the brunette settled for quick oats. An hour had gone by, maybe even two, time was difficult to keep up with when nothing was done to spend it. He sat in his living room, the pictures she had posted floating around his mind, and realised (Y/N) hadn’t called him once since the beginning of the month. She’d warned him she was going to be busy, but he thought perhaps she had at least an hour to talk about all the riveting things she had been up to in the past couple of weeks. 

Nervously, he picked up his phone and hovered his finger over her name. Wasn’t it late where she lived? What if she was having dinner with her roommates? It would be rude to interrupt their evening. But as he was hesitating, his finger had accidentally pressed the screen, prompting the ringing to begin.

It rang once, it rang twice. Three times. Four. Just as he was about to hang up, the timer had started, indicating that she was on the line.

“Hello?” Warmth instantly spread across his chest at the sound of her voice he hadn’t heard in too long a time.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Corpse felt shy all of a sudden, as if he was speaking to her for the first time. He hadn’t thought about what he was going to say beforehand.

“How are you?” he asked, putting her on speaker as he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt.

“I’m good! Really good, actually,” she spoke softly, a hint of pep in her voice, “how are you doing?”

“I uh...I woke up feeling sore today. Feels like someone beat me up in my sleep.” he followed up with a light chuckle so as to not completely ruin the mood. There was a short moment of silence before (Y/N) finally responded.

“I’m sorry. Did you take your medication?” Her reply felt somewhat off. Usually, she’d make it a bigger deal, asking him to rate the pain from 1 to 5 (1 being “eh, it’s barely there” and 5 being “put me out of my misery”), making sure he was going about his day alright, or even giving him virtual kisses to make him feel even a little bit better.

“I did, yeah, I took them this morning.” He wanted to talk about something, anything, but he couldn’t not think about what had been bothering him for the past two hours. “So, I saw you had one eventful day yesterday?”

“Yes! (F3/N) and I went on a hike early in the morning, and oh, Corpse, it was so magical!” he heard her gush, “there was snow everywhere, it was so so pretty. And although it was kinda really cold, we built super cute snowmen and made snow angels! Then I spent some time baking sugar cookies with my roommates, after that we went shopping for a bit. They had both gone out with their partners in the evening, so I went to bother (F3/N) again. It was cool though, he didn’t mind. I promise.” she giggled, finished with her rant.

Although he was sad that he hadn’t gotten the chance to make such fun memories with her, he was also pleased to hear how well she’d been doing. She sounded so joyous, so full of life, he didn’t have the heart to burden her with his gloominess.

“That sounds nice.” he faintly smiled, “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Oh how it absolutely broke her to hear him desperately trying to support her, to keep up the image of not being bothered in the slightest. She was very close to telling him how much she missed him, how badly she wanted to see his pretty face and run her fingers through his soft messy curls. But she had to resist those temptations, for their reunion was only a few days away, and she had worked very hard to create this temporary distance between them. It was all for the end goal. Determined to follow through with her plan, she had decided to end the call early.

“Sorry, (F1/N) just messaged me. They need another pair of hands to set up the Christmas village on the table.”

“Oh, alright, yeah, you go make your house pretty. Send me a picture of the masterpiece.” She was sure to have heard her heart break right then and there.

“Of course, bubba. Okay bye, love you!”

His heart swelled a little at her words. At least she still loved him.

“Love you too.”

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N waits all night for Spencer to come home

Warnings: Angst... maybe swearing, but I honestly can’t remember

Words: 2,451

A/N: My LPC and Masters are kicking my ass... I hate it here :)))))))

PART TWO HERE  PART THREE HERE

Master List     Permanent Tag List

Shoving the last Dorito in your mouth, you leaned off the couch to grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call. Muting the TV, you sat up and put the call on speaker, smiling as you heard his voice.

 “Hey, Y/N/N” Your boyfriend of three years greeted you.

“Spencer” you smiled into the phone, more than happy to hear from him. “I didn’t speak to you yesterday, I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we caught a break in the case” he apologises. “Did you know, only ten-point-seven percent of murders are committed by women, who tend to kill for reasons such as personal gain or jealousy. Our unsub actually went against the statistic.”

“So, you caught them then?” you asked, biting your lip to conceal your hope.

“Yeah, yeah, we did!” he confirmed, and you were sure that he was nodding. “We’re at the station at the moment but we should be leaving soon. I’ll be home around-” There’s a moment of pause while you assume he looks at his watch. “Around seven, seven-thirty. Definitely no later than eight.”

“Oh, Spencer, that’s great!” you grinned, standing up from the couch. “This week has dragged by without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon” he assures you. “I have to go though, there a bit of paperwork that needs to be finished before we can leave.” “Okay, no worries. I love you, bye” you say.

“See you soon, love you” he hangs up.

 You turned of the TV and quickly got to work cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t dirty, not really, but your breakfast dishes were in the sink and you didn’t take the trash out last night. You had also neglected putting away the laundry and had thrown your coat and bag over the back of a chair, rather than hang them up.

 Coming home to an empty apartment had demotivated you this week, making you not bother to keep up with the little things. Though you always missed Spencer when he was away on cases, this week had been especially trying.

 You hung your coat up, moving your keys into the little bowl by the door. The laundry was seen to next, the tops separated and hung up while the pants were neatly folded and placed in the draws. Plates were quickly cleaned and dried, put into their place. You wiped down the sides, brushing the crumbs into the bin before quickly running the trash out.

 Coming back into the apartment, you washed your hands before moving to the fridge. Having only went shopping a few days ago, it was still well stocked, and it had all the ingredients for Spencer’s favourite meal.

 You had grown up with a dad who loved to cook, who had wanted to be a chef. Due to his severe eczema, which he used to tell he had to be ‘wrapped up like a mummy’ for, he was unable to pursue his passion. As such, he had cooked delicious meals at home for you and your mom, passing on recipes and filling you with a passion for food.

 Cooking was something you found relaxing. You knew enough recipes by heart to not follow a recipe, but, instead, a pattern within your mind. You could cook your favourite dish without the need to measure herbs or spices, mind zoned out while you prepared the ingredients.

 When you had began dating Spencer, he was basically living on coffee with the occasional take-out. Within two months of your relationship, his freezer was fully stocked with frozen home-cooked meals. While his slim physique remained, he did gain a healthy amount of weigh and appeared to look healthier.

 It hadn’t taken you long to find out that his favourite was a slow roasted rack of lamb, with rosemary roasted potatoes, butter roasted carrots, broccoli, peas and mash potatoes. You had served the roast lamb at Easter, where Spencer proceeded to spend nearly thirty minutes telling you about the origin of eating lamb at Easter.

 “It’s actually related to the Jewish Passover, from when the Egyptians painted lamb’s blood on doors during the plagues of Egypt. When some Jewish people converted, they caried on the tradition. In fact, in Christianity, Jesus…”

 Coming from a diverse background (various religions were practiced in your family, some married and converted, others converted, an adopted cousin kept practicing his religion, thus you celebrated many different religions) you knew the some of what he was saying. However, you loved to hear Spencer talk.

 Spencer could talk about anything and you would listen. You loved to hear his voice; the way his voice became higher when he got excited. You liked to lean back against the couch, your feet in his lap as he read to you. His voice lulled you into a calm and relaxed state, it put your mind at peace and made everything seem right in the world.

 You cleaned the lamb, patting it dry with paper towels become setting it on the chopping board. You trimmed the fat, leaving only a small layer which would cook and add flavour to the meet. Pouring a tablespoon of oil into your hands, you gently rub it into the lamb before adding the spices, careful not to overwork the meat.

 The meat was transferred into a dish before moved into the hot oven.

 You then moved onto the vegetables. You coated par-boiled potatoes with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary become adding them to the oven. Carrots were peeled and cut, put into a tin-foil bowl with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of sugar. Folding the tin-foil closed, you slid that into the oven too.

 Potatoes were peeled, chopped and put on to boil. You cut the broccoli into smaller pieces and add them to a pot and put them onto boil too. Peas remained in a saucepan, covered in water, but you would turn them on in a little while.

 You grabbed the latest Doctor Who DVD that Spencer had brought the week previous. You put the first disk into the DVD player and set the box beside the TV. Leaving the screen on the menu page, you left the room and went for a shower.

 You looked at the clock again.

 20:37

 You sighed and looked down at your food which was damn near cold. Your stomach rumbled and you picked up your fork. You weren’t going to wait any longer. While the food is delicious, you don’t enjoy it. You don’t focus on the flavours as you chew and swallow, your mind focused on your thoughts.

 Where was Spencer?

 You had called his phone multiple times, but it had just rung out. You had called JJ, but she had left work before him. When you had phoned his work and spoken to his boss, Hotch had told you that Spencer had already left for the evening, and suggested you call Derek as they left together. Just like Spencer’s phone, Derek phone had rung out too.

 Finishing your food, you took your plate to the sink. Rising the plate, along with the pots and pans, you then filled the sink with bubbly water. Grabbing the sponge, you began to clean.

 Your mind was torn on whether to be worried or not. One the one hand, Spencer had said he’d be home – you checked the clock – over an hour ago but he still wasn’t here. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t answering his phone. You bit your lip. Anything could have happened to him. There could be a problem with the subway, maybe he got injured on the way home, or something else could have happened.

 Spencer’s an FBI agent though and is licenced to carry a gun. Not to mention, he’s a literal genius. If he got into trouble, you had no doubt that he would either be able to get himself out or be able to contact someone to raise an alarm.

 Your mind told you that he was with Derek, that they were together and gotten distracted one way for another. They were like brothers, and easily got carried away and forgot about the time.

 Spencer had to be fine. He had to be.

Hanging his bag on its hanger, Spencer closed the door. He toed off his shoes, pulling his arms from his cardigan. It had been a long night, a long week, in fact, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed and curling around you, of cuddling into you and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep.

 Spencer used to love going on cases but after he met you, that changed. Now, he wanted to get them over and get home as soon as possible. He missed you every moment he was gone. He missed waking up with you, with your toes pressed into his leg as you sought out his warmth. He missed reading to you in evenings, gazing at your peaceful face as he spoke the words from memory. He missed the kisses before bed, the giggles you’d make when he would tickle your side as you both laid beneath the duvet.

 He walked down the small hallway and into the open-plan living room and kitchen. The first thing his eyes land on is the small dining table. His mouth parts a little as he looks at the single plate of food, a knife and fork beside it. it was his favourite meal but he knew it was stone cold, yet he remembered the taste and his mouth watered at the sight.

 You had cooked for him.

 His stomach began to twist as he turned towards the front room. The TV was on, displaying the menu for a DVD from his new Doctor Who collection, whose box sat beside the TV. Then he saw you, sitting on the couch and watching him.

 His stomach dropped. You had been waiting for him. You had cooked him his favourite dinner, put on his favourite show and were waiting for him. He had told you he would be home by eight, and it was nearing one-thirty in the morning. The guilt in his stomach twisted like a knife as you stood up.

 He knew you were mad; he could see it in the hard set of your jaw. He could also see the sadness swimming in your eyes as you looked at him. He had let you down, and he knew it wasn’t something you were easily going to forgive him for.

 “You said you’d be home at eight” your voice was low, soft, but he could hear the sadness in your words.

“Yeah…” he agreed, he had said that. He had promised that.

“Where were you?” you asked. “I was worried, you didn’t call or anything.”

“Erm… Derek, he…erm… wanted to go to a bar” Spencer replied, looking down at his mix matched socks.

“So you went? You went, knowing that I was here, waiting for you” you shook your head, looking away from him in an attempt to hold back your anger. “You went to a bar with Derek, after telling me you would be home by eight? You didn’t even let me know! I’ve been waiting for you, Spencer, I cooked you dinner and everything.” “Y/N… I’m sorry” he reached out to you but you held up your hand, taking a step back.

 He had gone to a pub. A pub. He didn’t even have the decency to call you, or even text, to say that he wasn’t going to be coming home when he said. He had left you to wait for him, to worry for him. And though you’ve hurt, you’re angry. Angry that this is the way he is treating you. He doesn’t even like pubs, so why would he leave you to go to one?

 This isn’t the first time he’s done this either. He had done the same thing a month ago, just went out with his team after telling you that he’d be home for dinner in an hour. You had fell asleep on the couch waiting for him that night.

 “You always do this to me” You shook your head, looking at him in disappointment. And, looking at your face, Spencer thought that was worse that seeing you angry.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Abandoning me, you do it all the time!” You say. “You get called on a case and you don’t tell me, you leave me waiting at a restaurant. Stood up. You don’t tell me when your cases get extended, you tell me you’ll be gone two days but its six.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but you quickly cut him off.

“I don’t mind you going to clubs with Derek. I’m fine with cancelling plans because of work, I don’t mind that you’re called away” you tell him. “However, you don’t communicate with me. You stand me up, all the time. You don’t even call, and I’m tired of it. I did this for you Spencer.” You spread your arms out to gesture at the food and TV. “I try to do stuff for you and it goes to waste. Dinner reservations, movie nights, personal museum tours. They could have been rescheduled or the deposits refunded, if you had spoken to me. I… I’m tired of this Spencer. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

 Spencer’s mouth is dry at your words, his own eyes stinging as he gazes sadly at your face. He can see how much it has affected you, how hurt you are but his actions. You were right though, he never called or texted you to let you know he wouldn’t be there for any of those things. His mind played over your words and his stomach twisted as the final sentence registered in his brain.

 “What are you saying?” his voice is scratchy as he forces the words out, his fists clenched as he struggles not to cry.

“Maybe… Maybe we should take a break… for you to consider whether you can be committed, in all aspects, to this relationship” your voice is quiet as you answer him, your own eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight, and then tomorrow… Well, Natasha said that I Could spend a few nights at hers.”

 Spencer watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the spare room. You didn’t look back as you closed the door, and, finally, the tears fell from his eyes. This was it, he had lost you because he failed to do the most simple thing in a relationship. You were leaving him.

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[bonny-kookoo]

Bittersweet (JJK x Reader) ☕️💜🔞

🍪 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🍪 Genre: Barista!AU, Mutual pining, smut because this is my content we’re talking about

🍪 Warnings: mentions of sickness, mentions of vomiting, best boi Koo, coffee puns, casual y’all during sex, protected sex because we have our lives under control in this household, overstimulation, rough! Koo, spanking (like..once), doggy-style because why not, reader rides Koo for a moment before he takes the upper hand again, they’re just being a mess ok

🍪 Summary: every day she’s his favorite costumer. So when she’s suddenly absent; what’s he supposed to do without any way to contact her?

Jungkooks eyes began to sparkle as she stepped inside, wrapped up in a fluffy brown jacket, a scarf around her neck.

His scarf to be exact.

Now, they both weren't a couple- but close enough. He'd given her his scarf the day before as she'd forgotten hers at home; and due to the cold weather outside, he'd immediately gotten concerned over her health. He knew that she hated the cold- so he'd gifted his own protection against the harsh wind outside to her, uncaring about himself in that moment.

It gave him a weird sense of pride knowing that she wore it still. And as she stepped closer, Jungkook had already prepared her usual order- never forgetting to include her favorite cookies, a thing he'd memorized by now. She never quite drank coffee, but more like, milk and sugar with a drop of coffee. His coworker, Jin, had made fun of it several times in the past; he'd always stepped in however, as soon as he could see how embarrassed she got.

"Oh?" He asked, as he noticed her red nose and glossy eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked, and she giggled before coughing. He furrowed his brows. Hopefully she didn't want to go to work like that- but by now he knew her well enough to have a very big suspicion that that was exactly her plan for the day.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh hey what's brewing? Looking good yourself, thanks for the compliment-" She said, trying to laugh but coughing again. "Hey look, I kind of wanted to return your scarf, but I also don't want to share my bacteria with you so- is it okay if I keep it for a bit?" She said, voice a bit muffled due to her facemask. He nodded, a slight pout on his lips.

"I know you're gonna go to work but-" He said, placing her order on the counter for her to take, as she placed down the money he took. "Can you at least go home a bit earlier? You really do look not so good." He said, doe-eyes growing a bit pleading at her as she sighed.

"I'll try, okay?" She said, and he nodded. Technically he'd ask her to promise, but he also knew how headstrong she was. The fact that she aknowledged his request was good enough for now.

"Okay." He said, smiling a bit as he waved from behind the counter as she left. "Take care!" He called out as she still waved, almost tripping over the small step outside the door as he chuckled, turning to the next costumer.

She wasn't there the next day.

Typically he should not get too worried about it, but as the week passed, she still didn't show up. A coworker of hers couldn't tell him either what was going on; only that she wasn't at work either.

So she was probably at home resting. Hopefully.

"...kook. Jungkook!" Jin called out, saving his younger coworker from spilling hot milk all over his hand. "Okay, spill the beans loverboy." He sternly said as he took him to the side, the cafe calm and almost empty as they were close to closing time. Jungkook sighed as he ran a hand over his face, groaning for a moment.

"I'm worried!" He exclaimed, no need to say out loud who he was talking about. "I know that she's an independent adult person who can surely take care of herself but what if something happened? What if she's at home too sick to take care of herself? Jin during the entire time she came here, she never missed an entire week!" He explained in pout as he let himself flop down on one of the small chairs. Seokjin sighed, before he looked at the clock.

"Go. I'll wrap things up today." He said, as Jungkook furrowed his brows. Even if he went home now, that didn't help his situation at all! "I'll give you her number and you can call her-" He started, as Jungkook suddenly jumped up.

"You have her number?! Why didn't you tell me?" He yelled, absolutely scandalized by this.

Seokjin threw his hands up in defeat. "Okay slow down, first of all you never asked. Second of all she told me not to!" He said, and Jungkooks look shifted. He suddenly didn't look offended anymore- he looked hurt. Betrayed almost.

"Why.?" He asked, now way quieter.

Jin sighed. "She wanted you to ask for it instead." He answered, and Jungkook threw his head back again, groaning as Jin laughed. "Give me your phone.." He said, taking the device from him and putting in her contact info. "There you go. Use protection kid!" He called after Jungkook, who'd immediately grabbed his phone and ran out, putting on his coat on his way.

The older one simply shook his head, smiling.

"..yeah?" The very tired voice of hers answered as Jungkook sat up straighter on his couch.

"H-Hey its Jungkook! You know, Kookie, the barista who puts in vanilla sugar instead of the lame stuff?" He said, and suddenly a laugh reached his ear, making him involuntarily smile. "Hey, I.. you didn't show up the entire week and it made me kind of worry so, I wanted to ask if you're good?" He asked, shyness slowly dying down.

Her voice sounded strained. "Yeah yeah, just great-" She said, before coughing. "Okay yeah no. Have you ever needed to sneeze but you couldnt?" She asked, and he hummed a reply, agreeing that he indeed had been in that situation before. "I feel absolutely like I'm gonna, you know, throw up, but I can't." She groaned, and his brows furrowed at that.

"I promise I don't try to be creepy here but-" He started, as he looked at his dog, peacefully sleeping next to him on the couch. "Can you give me your address maybe so I can come over? I- Listen I'm super worried, and no one should be left alone when sick." He said, and wondered if he was overstepping a line. Until he heard some shuffling, and a jingling sound.

"I'll text it to you, k? I uh.. unlocked the door now because I sure as hell won't be getting up anymore today." She said, as he chuckled.

"Oh, so you're gonna make me your maid?" He asked, and she giggled.

"Thats the plan Kookie."

"Y/N?" He called, without getting an answer. He thought about it, before trying a second attempt. "Midget!"

The answer was almost instantly. "The fuck do you mean Mid-" She tried, before coughing.

Jungkook walked inside the bedroom after searching for a moment, looking at her with a pitiful smile as he leaned against the doorframe. If she wasn't feeling so absolutely disgusting in that moment, she would've whistled at his way different outfit. After all, she mainly only saw him in his regular work attire; the black button up and ripped jeans he sported now a complete one-eighty to that. He looked so much more mature like that- now actually giving away that he was a bit older than her. Did he always have such a defined jawline? He could definitely cut a bitch with that-

Wow, exit was three miles ago.

"Done staring sugar?" He asked, and she only groaned, burying herself deeper into her massive mountain of blankets as he chuckled. "Alright. I'm gonna carry you into the living room, because I wont be spending my time in your stuffy bedroom." He said, making her giggle as she peeked out of her makeshift burrito.

"You won't?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively before sneezing into the blankets, making him chuckle again.

"You're sick, so no." He said, and she suddenly yelped as he leaned down to pick her up. "What?" He asked with wide eyes.

"I'm sick!"

"So?"

"I'm sick."

"Heard that before." He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She swallowed a bit at that because- was that a tattoo staring at her? Why did she never notice his hand was inked?! She shook her head, to focus again. "You'll get sick too!" She explained, before he scoffed.

"It's not like I'm licking your face sugar, now stop being difficult." He said, as he picked her up, blankets and everything included as he carried her back, placing her onto her couch before he squatted down in front of her face. "I'm gonna heat up some soup, and you'll eat something alright?" He said, and she shook her head.

"I'm gonna throw it up." She said, a pout evident. She didn't want his hard work to simply go down the drain- quite literally.

"That's okay." He answered, as she furrowed her brows. "You probably can't throw up because you haven't eaten. People typically feel better after vomiting so it's okay. Win win situation, really." He said as if it wasn't a huge deal.

"It's gross though." She mumbled.

"It happens." He said back, as he placed the white plastic bag on her kitchen counter, filling some of the soup from the plastic container into a small bowl he had a bit of issues finding, before he heated it up in her microwave. He was absolutely terrified of using them usually, making her laugh at him every time someone brought it up, but this time he didn't care much. "Here, let me help." He hummed, as he placed the bowl and a spoon on the small coffee table in front of her couch, helping her sit up properly. "Slowly, okay? You don't need to finish it, just a bit at a time alright sugar?" He requested, and she nodded, watching him as he sat down next to her, bowl on his thigh while he blew on the spoon, careful to cool the liquid food down before offering it. She kept her eyes on his focused face as she opened her lips, accepting it as he gently smiled. "There we go. Hope it doesn't suck, Jin says I can't cook for shit." He said with a chuckle.

"Doesn't matter, I can't taste much anyways." She shrugged, as he offered another small spoonful.

He snorted a bit as he kept himself concentrated. "Well I guess I'll just have to get you better, and cook for you when your tastebuds work again." He decided, as she smiled.

"Huh?" He noticed, as the small form of her whizzed past him, practically throwing open the bathroom door before he heard her. He dried his hands, sighing as he went inside the bathroom, spotting her leaning over the toilet bowl, gripping it with pale hands. "Oh sugar." He hummed, before he squatted next to her, a comforting hand running over her back as the other gathered her hair, holding it away from her face. He hushed her the best he could, a bit of helplessness seeping into his mind as he watched her struggle. She leaned her head on the side of the bowl for a moment, breathing heavily with closed eyes. Jungkook reached for a piece of toilet paper, wiping her mouth before he continued his gentle caressing of her back. "Better?" He asked, and she nodded, before opening her eyes, tearing up. "Whats wrong?" He asked, as he helped her sit, flushing the toilet.

"I hate this." She said, angrily wiping her eyes.

"Everyone gets sick." He said with a slight smile, searching for toothpaste as he prepared everything for her to get the taste off of her tongue.

"Thats not what I meant." She mumbled, as he looked at her. "I hate that you see me like this. I'm disgusting and a walking piece of dead meat at this point, radiating germs." She huffed, as he went down in front of her, pointing her toothbrush at her lips as she opened them almost automatically. He smiled at her reaction, placing the brush inside her mouth as she took over, lazily brushing her teeth.

"I think you're still pretty." He said, as she looked at him with an unamused look in her eyes. "I feel good that you let me take care of you like this. It feels nice that you let me see you like that." He explained, as he helped her up to walk towards the sink, turning on the water as she rinsed her mouth. "I don't like you any less, of you're worried about that." He said, and she almost choked on the water inside her mouth.

She knew he liked her, romantically, yet he'd never openly said it.

"I know its a bit sudden, but I've been pretty obvious." He said, as he wiped her mouth with a towel, before smiling at her.

"If I wasn't sick right now I'd be all cliche and kiss you right now, but I can't." She said, pouting a bit as he chuckled, kissing his two fingers before placing them onto her lips.

"Indirect kiss then."

"Okay but espresso is absolutely disgusting." She said, leaning over the counter to grab a mini cookie, before yelping as Jungkook playfully slapped her hands.

"Everyone can decide for themselves, first of all, and stop stealing shit." He said as he pointed at her, gasping scandalized as she teasingly tried to bite his finger. "Really now?" He asked, and she laughed.

"Okay kids, be disgusting somewhere else please!" Seokjin yelled, grabbing Jungkook by his apron as he pushed him into the backroom, telling him to change and go home. "Yoongi and I will close up today." He said to the young girl waiting, as she nodded.

"Alright sugar, lets go and be disgusting!" Jungkook exclaimed as he emerged from the backroom, now dressed in familiar all black attire, as he scooped her up, making her laugh as they both walked out of the cafe, towards his car.

"I want you to move in with me." He said between huffs of breaths as she mewled underneath him, body shaking with every encounter with his thrusting hips. She nodded as she smiled when he leaned down to kiss her collarbone, hand running over her breasts as he teasingly pinched a nipple between his fingers.

"You'll- urgh-" She groaned, as he bit the skin. "You'll have to carry my shit though." She pressed out, as he laughed at that, leaning back as he expertly angled his hips to hit her sweet spot deep inside, making her arch her back.

"Ah- that's fine with m..me!" He stuttered as he began to put more force into his movements, sacrificing speed for strength as she hummed in delight underneath him, grabbing the pillow above her head as she started to grow restless. "You gonna cum sugar? Nice and hard?" He asked playfully as he moved his hand over her exposed clit, fingers rubbing over the sensitive bundle of nerves as she gasped in pleasure, thighs suddenly shaking as she came, clenching around him. "Hm, good girl." He hummed, before she huffed, suddenly squirming before she squealed, wetness escaping her as he chuckled, sight enough to send him over the edge as well. "There we go, giving me a show aren't you sugar?" He said, voice hoarse as he let himself lean over her again, before she suddenly grinned up at him, pulling him down and shoving a bit to get him to lay down, suddenly above him as she sunk down on his still sensitive cock.

He laghed and choked up as she continued to ride him, her own second orgasm approaching as he squeezed his eyes shut. "God- good god ah!" He yelled out between laughter at the way he could feel his own legs tremble, unsure if what he was feeling was torture of absolute heaven. "Pl-Please God, Baby you're-" He pressed out, gasping as he suddenly felt himself close to a second orgasm as well. "You're gonna kill me you fucking demon!" He exclaimed, roughly turning her around as he pulled her legs against her stomach again, thrusting with newfound strength, as she giggled and squealed. "That's what you wanted?" He asked between gritted teeth as she pressed her eyes close. "Little demon can't get enough of this dick?" He teased as she nodded, now desperately racing towards her release as he suddenly slipped out of her, adjusting the condom with a trembling hand as he manhandles her laughing body onto her stomach, pulling on her lower half as he slipped inside her wet cunt from behind, bringing his inked hand down onto her butt with a loud slap for good measure as she whined. "Oh now you're complaining? Should've known what-" He groaned out in between his words as he grabbed her thighs, pulling her against his relentless hips as she moaned out into the pillow below her. "-Should've know what you got yourself into." He finished, before she arched her back again, reaching behind her to push him off as her eyes teared up from overstimulation. As he saw her painful expression he immediately pulled out of her, pulling the condom off of his erection as he desperately pumped his length, finishing in small spurts on the arch of her back before they both collapsed, breathing heavily.

"Okay, I loved every second of it sugar but-" He exclaimed breathless, as she cuddled up next to him, throwing a leg over his body as he laughed. "What the fuck was that?"

But she simply giggled, mind still too hazy to form any words.

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

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For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak​ @aestthete

[svnflowervol666]

I Want Your Belly (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Oddly specific, kinda weird, sappy sweet. Got a good handful of asks for this one so here you go! Harry asks Y/N to join him in the Watermelon Sugar music video. It was a bit hard to write due to the nature of the scenario, but I hope you find it just as cute as I did. Take care and TPWK.

Even in January, the California heat is brutal and unforgiving. Sure, being by the ocean where the momentum of the cool waves cast a light breeze does something to midigate the miserable feeling of feeling like the sun’s rays are going to burn you alive, but it’s only a crumb of salvation really. We’re talking sweat running down the backs of your kneecaps, legs painfully sticking to the seat of whatever chair you’re sitting in, not enough water in the world to keep you from being dehydrated hot. But she wanted to be there.

She’d been oggling him from her sand chair for the past forty-five minutes. I mean, who isn’t oggling him when they see him tracing his fingers coyly over the flesh of a sweet, ripe watermelon. He’d been glancing in her direction in between nearly every take, smirking at her through his aqua-tinted sunnies and wondering if what she was seeing made her reconsider the offer he’d been begging her to take him up on for weeks. All she would give him back was her iconic side-eye before she’d go back to reading the novel in her lap and occasionally picking at the bowl of freshly-cut fruit she’d swiped from the prop table.

“And that’s a wrap on scene one!” one of the directors called out over the crashing waves.

Harry did what was proper - shaking hands and bowing heads and saying his ‘thank you’s before all but jogging over to where she was sat underneath the oversized pale-blue gingham printed umbrella.

“Change yeh mind yet?”

He had his hands on his hips, fingers resting on hem of the crochet-knit tank top he’d chosen himself for the occasion. She waited until she finished the page she was on before even daring to peer up at him through her sunglasses.

“How are you not dying in those pants?” was all that Y/N gave in response before going back to her book.

“‘M absolutely wretched down there if that’s what you’re askin. But yeh didn’t answer my question, lovie.”

She sighed heavily, dog-earring her place in her novel and casting it aside it in the sand before leaning up to rest her elbows on her knees.

“I just don’t know why you want me to be in it so badly. This is your video. If I’m in it, everyone’s gonna go crazy and it’ll be an even bigger shit show in the press than it’s already going to be.”

This made Harry crouch down to her level, his white loafers digging even deeper into the sand as he leaned on his haunches.

“That’s exactly why I want yeh t’ be in it. ‘S my video and that’s what I want. Want this t’ be fun and it would be even more fun if I had m’ girl with me.”

She stared at him, silently giving him her please drop it look, but it only spurred him on further.

“If it’ll make yeh feel any better, I’ll make sure you’re not in it a bunch when it comes ‘round t’ editing. Barely put yeh up close too.”

That was enticing,Y/N could admit. He’d surely let her have the final say in how much she was involved, but there was still a lot of stress that came with being on camera. Especially in her state. She knew she wasn’t exactly hiding anything, as they’d been spotted countless times in public and their friends had posted photos to their stories with her body clearly visible in them, but some things she’d rather not shine a direct spotlight on. Doing something like this would most definitely be putting her business on display for the world to see, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. 

“Please, baby? I won’t ask yeh again, but I’d really love it if you were beside me.”

She wet her lips with her tongue, eyes darting up to the underside of the umbrella as she really, truly contemplating giving in to Harry’s pleads. On her life, she can barely recall a time when she hadn’t given Harry anything that he wanted. He just had a way with people that wasn’t manipulative or conniving in any way - he was magnetic. Everything about him was so charismatic and mesmerizing and anyone that met him found themselves gravitating towards him and going along with whatever he was saying or suggesting. I mean, she let him put a baby in her for christ’s sake.

“Help me up out of this thing and find me something to wear,” she huffed, to which Harry dramatically punched the air with his fist in celebration.

“One condition,” she interjected his boast and Harry tilted his ear in her direction and tapped his earlobe with his finger to show her that he was listening.

“You have to go down on me when we get home. It was torture watching you finger that watermelon, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“Yeh talkin’ like yeh think I wasn’t gonna try t’ squeeze in a quickie during lunch anyway.”

He pulled her up to her feet, making sure to keep a steady hand on her back as he led her away from the ocean and towards the beach entrance where the trailers were parked.

//

“Wha’ about this one?” Harry asked as he pulled a strapless swimsuit with a palm tree print littered about the fabric and presented it to her.

“One wrong step and my tits will fall right outta that thing,” she quipped.

Harry held it at arm’s reach so he get a better look at the garment himself.

“Yeah. You’re right. They are gettin’ pretty big, aren’t they?”

There was no malice laced within his comment, but when he felt a harsh backhand graze his shoulder, he realized what he’d just said.

“Jesus, Y/N. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like tha’. Yeh know I love your boobs. Especially now.”

He tried to make up for it by reaching his hand out to playfully grab at Y/N’s chest, but she slapped his fingers away and continued thumbing through the racks filled with dozens if not hundreds of swimsuits for something she could manage to squeeze herself into.

“Ohh, wait! This one’s nice.”

Harry’s fingers got tangled in the lacy straps of the neighboring article of clothing beside the one he was trying to pull out, making a few hangers crash to the ground with a harsh sound against the linoleum. When she saw what he had found, she didn’t hate it. It was a sherbet-orange colored bikini that seemed as if it would cover everything she was concerned about showing, and the bottoms looked like they’d be somewhat decent at keeping her ass contained and wouldn’t ride up and make her constantly have to readjust it every five minutes. 

“Alright, Styles,” she squinted her eyes and nodded in approval.

“I’ll bite.”

He watched her as she peeled her romper that perfectly cradled her small yet still mighty bump, lingering for just a bit too long when she unhooked the back of her bra and dropped it to the floor.

“You gonna give me the swimsuit or are you gonna keep staring at me? It’s fucking hot in here, Harry.”

She was stark naked and had her hands on her hips, a sticky veil of sweat still shining on her skin from the mugginess of the wardrobe trailer. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at her state, his heart full of nothing but admiration for the girl standing in front of him.

“Here, I’ll help yeh into it.”

Harry kneeled down to the floor and guided her legs through the bikini bottoms. Just as he pulled them up around her thighs and onto her hips, he gave her bump a quick kiss. 

“We’re kinda matchin’ yeh know,” Harry babbled as he fastened the straps on her top.

“‘S the same color as m’ nails,” he stuck a leg out in front of her to wiggle his toes and show off the bright orange pedicure he’d gotten that morning.

“That’s disgustingly cute actually. Maybe I should change,” she joked.

“No way,” he dismissed her.

“Yeh ass looks too good in this one.”

Harry clapped both hands against her bum with gentle force, the two of them erupting into a fit of giggles. He spun her around by the shoulders to get a good look at her body, protruding belly and all, in the clementine orange swimsuit.

“M’ pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered as his lips met hers in a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

“I know I am,” Harry muttered against her mouth.

“Alright,” he continued.

“Just gotta change into m’ shorts and then I’ll be good t’ go. Meet yeh at the umbrella?”

“Oh hell no,” she jested.

“If you got to see me naked, I get to see you naked. Now get to stripping.”

//

The day went by in a blur.

What was supposed to be a brief cameo turned into Harry dragging Y/N into every scene he possibly could. When the directors instructed the models to gather in a pile around the pop star, he found his head perched in her lap, nestled perfectly atop her thighs with his temples pressed against her belly. When they’d wanted clips of everyone romping about the shoreline, he’d ended up carrying her around the beach after she’d gotten winded from doing one-too-many takes.

“Harry, I cannot fucking do this anymore,” she panted.

“I can practically feel my cankles growing.”

“Fine then,” he replied, hooking his forearm around the underside of her knees and scooping her up so that she was cradled against his burly chest.

“I’ll just carry yeh.”

He’d made her feed him raspberries as he sang the lyrics into the camera, even going so far as to suck on her fingers seductively when she went to drop one into his mouth. It wasn’t intended to be a serious attempt at filming the video, only him messing around and trying to get a rise out of her as he always did, but everyone ultimately decided that that the take they were going to use. She’d cursed him out under his breath, but they both knew it was for making her practically soak her knickers rather than getting dragged into more than she bargained for during the shoot.

Constantly, his hands always found themselves gravitating towards her belly. Whether it was rubbing her taught skin like a crystal ball as he sang the chorus instead of gesturing to the large watermelon that he was supposed to be holding, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

She’d known it was bound to happen at one point, but sometime throughout the afternoon he’d called for her and when she turned around, he was had shoved a watermelon up under his sheer, yellow blouse.

“Y/N!” Harry shouted at her from a few yards away, interrupting a lovely conversation she was having with one of the models.

“I’m you!”

He gestured to the fruit stuffed inside of his shirt, toyfully stroking the exterior in the manner that she always found herself doing even she wasn’t realizing. 

It made everyone, and I mean everyone, explode in laughter. It only made her hide her face in her hands after promptly shoving her middle finger in his direction.

But she’d gotten him back. When the director wanted shots of each of the girls taking bites out of a slice of watermelon, she’d made sure to take the messiest bite she could manage so that the juice ran down her chin and down the valley of her breasts. Y/N threw her head back as if were the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, exposing the column of her neck that Harry loved to mark up and bruise with his skillful tongue and lips.

“Yeh tryin’ t’ make me hard right now?” he all but growled in her ear when she’d joined him behind the camera so the next model could have their turn.

She simply cocked her head to one side and smirked up at him.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m going to the bathroom. All of this watermelon’s making me have to pee.”

When it came time for the portrait and everyone was being distributed their designated slice of fruit, Y/N found herself confused when Harry pulled her out of line.

“What are you doing, H?”

Harry held up a hand to signal that he’d be right back, to which he returned with an uncut watermelon. Quite possibly the biggest watermelon that she’d ever seen at that.

“Yeh don’t get a slice, yeh get the whole damn watermelon.”

They’d all piled up on the bench and stared stoically into the camera, only instead of raising the wedge to their lips to take a bite, Y/N sat on the grass at Harry’s knees, a whole watermelon resting in between her legs in front of her bump.

//

Y/N’s day ended up being far more fun than she’d ever imagined it could have been despite her constant nagging and jabs at Harry’s expense. While she’d initially only agreed to be a part of Harry’s music video under the condition that her role would be minimum, she was secretly hoping that all of their side conversations and what would be considered “outtakes” would actually make in into the final cut. 

In fact, she’d had so much fun that at the end of the day when filming had wrapped and her and Harry were on the way home, the gentle hum of his convertible and the cool breeze that followed a blistering day on Malibu beach had slowly began willing her eyes shut. 

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her from the driver’s seat.

“Hmm?” Y/N picked her head up from where it was leaning against the window to look over at him.

“Don’t go t’ sleep on me now.”

He reached over to grab her left hand that had settled itself on top of her round stomach. Before lacing his fingers with hers, he kissed her knuckles tenderly.

“Still got t’ go down on yeh when we get home. Bet yeh gonna taste like strawberries.”

[elianas-cozycorner]

𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

Title: “Midnight Confessions”

Author’s Note: One of the final three (3) requests I have from 2018, this particular scenario is something I’ve wanted to write for a while. I absolutely love this plot device, no matter how cliché or overused it may be. I hope you guys enjoy this and have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. To the anonymous requester, I hope you see this. I really wanted to bring justice to your idea, even if it’s more than two years late. 

Request: “Could u possibly do something where the reader and McCree share a bed on a mission (or maybe they just get hurt and r resting) and McCree lays w/ them n stuff and while they’re “sleeping” he confesses his love and that he’s scared to love but it turns out they heard the whole thing ? if not that’s fine, thank u! I love ur writing!” - Anon

Rating/Pairing: 

Jesse McCree/Reader 

Fluff & Brief Angst; GA (General Audiences)

2nd Person, Gender Neutral

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2.2k | Added a “read more” due to the length.

When operations go wrong, there’s little that can be done to reverse the initial mistake. Not only are lives put on the line, but so too are relationships and the foundations of friendship. Being under constant fire, unable to reach backup or safety, really wears down the body and mind. Though some may find a thrill in it, eventually that too wears away. 

In your case, you had been pinned down for nearly an hour. Though your position had been defensible, it was on track to becoming more of a hazard than anything else. It wasn’t clear who was to blame for the mishap, everything having happened so fast, but one moment the team you were apart of was working together and the next you were alone with Jesse McCree. 

Sighing, you pressed your back to a stone wall. It was one of the only walls that sheltered you from the flying bullets and sniper fire. Jesse was crouched across from you, trying his best to peer around the corner for the next viable bit of cover. 

You picked up your earpiece, taking it from the place it had fallen when you had run for cover. Quickly bringing up two of your fingers, you activated the line. “Commander? Commander are you there?”

Jesse spared you a glance, worry in his eyes as he took in your features, before turning back to make sure no one had advanced on your position. There was a faint crackle of static before your attempt at communication was answered.

“I’m here, agent.” Reyes’ voice was rough and you could hear the noise of gunfire through his link. “What’s your status?” 

You knew that he could hear the gunfire on your end as you answered. “We’re pinned down, I don’t think McCree and I will be able to get to you.”

Reyes cursed under his breath before answering. “Everyone’s on board. We’re ready to get the hell out of here. This aircraft has taken too much damage for us to wait any longer. We’ll give you as much cover as possible, but you two are gonna have to get yourselves out of there. Figure out how to get somewhere safe, you know the drill, agent.”

McCree, whose communications system was linked to yours, nodded. You could see he was too focused to give a verbal answer, so you kept speaking. “Copy that. We’re ready when you are.”

__________

“We’ll keep in touch, agent.” The words ran through your head over and over again, even opened the door in front of you. 

After Reyes had provided enough aerial cover for you and McCree to get to safety, you had both gone to the nearest safe house. Each assignment Blackwatch, or Overwatch, gave its agents was well thought out and discussed. Drop sites that were busy had cheap motels or hostels listed in their information packets, or predetermined safe houses when the locations were more secluded. In this case, it was a secluded safe house. The information sheet you had pulled up earlier made mention of a stocked kitchen, running water, and first aid supplies. What it had failed to tell you was how small the place would be.

It was practically a one room flat in the form of a cabin. Half walls separated the less private rooms, with only the bedroom and bathroom having proper privacy. The rooms were cold, the thermostat untouched for a long time, but it would do.

Flicking on a light switch, you watched as the florescent bulbs lit up the kitchenet and living space nearest the door. A deep sigh escaped you as you finally allowed your body to relax, dropping the small bag on your shoulder near the door. “Well, Cowboy, this is home for the next 48 hours.”

The brunette man behind you had the decency not to laugh as he made his way past you. “Seems so, sugar. You can take the bathroom first, I’ll take a look ‘n’ find somethin’ for-”

“Us to change into. I know. You talked about showering and getting your wounds dressed the entire way here, Jesse.” You said, smiling despite the pain of your split lip, as you went to find bath supplies.

“Wasn’t aware I talked so much.” He laughed, shaking his head and making his way to the bedroom.

“You always talk, Jesse.” You were already halfway into the bathroom, a towel in hand, when you heard him laugh in reply.

You took your time removing your armor and torn, military grade suit. It wasn’t often that you came out of a skirmish so battered, so the shock didn’t fully register until you’d locked yourself in the room alone. Sighing, you focused on getting out of you clothes and tried to ignore the sounds of bullets echoing in your head. It was more painful a process than you’d expected, as you’d gotten grazed by more bullets and scraped by more gravel than you cared to admit.

Just as you let out a hiss, there came a knock on the bathroom door. You heard Jesse’s spurs jangle before he spoke. “You alright, darlin’? I left some clothes out on a chair here.”

You called out, “Just fine, Jesse! Thank you, I’ll grab them on my way out.”

“Sure thing.” He smiled as he spoke, and though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in voice.

It made you smile as well, knowing you had your best friend looking out for you. The longer you thought about Jesse and his kindness, his thoughtful but flirty nature, the more your cheeks reddened and stomach fluttered. You’d harbored feelings for the modern gunslinger for a long time, nearly as long as you’d been friends. It was something you kept to yourself, mainly because of Blackwatch’s strict dating guidelines for its agents. Stepping into the shower, you knew the next 48 hours would be tough to get through. 

_________

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, you found yourself staring directly at the bare chest of your cowboy partner. “Jesse.”

“Darlin’.” The smile on his face grew, becoming a large smirk, as he noticed the blush across your face. “Clothes are over there. Mind gettin’ out o’ the way? Man’s got to shower just as much as the next person.”

You shook your head, blinking quickly as you looked back at his face. “You’re the one in my way, Jesse.”

Chuckling, he stepped aside and let you grab the clothes before heading into the bathroom. The image of his bare chest replayed in your mind as you dressed, despite you having seen him that way before. Jesse was built well, sturdy and muscular. His body had definition and flexed with strength when he moved. Slim, muscled, and padded in just the right places, you’d say. Attractive. That’s what it was. Jesse had an attractive body and personality. 

Perhaps that’s why you’d spent so long harboring feelings for him, when you could have tried getting over it. Jesse was a good man, though he had his flaws, and he was always kind to you. He had been your first friend in Blackwatch, your first confidant. You’d been thick as thieves for the longest time, attached at the hip. You’d known him for so long, that it hadn’t been a surprise to you that you found his body similarly attractive. It had been painful to watch him go through relationships and flings, wishing one day he would chose you and stay.

Sighing, you tried to get rid of those intrusive thoughts by taking care of your injuries. Knowing Jesse McCree so well also meant knowing his trouble with commitment and genuine emotion. He got scared, you could easily tell, and pushed people away when they got close. He may have been worth it, worth the bumps in the road, but no one else knew him enough to know that. Not like you did. 

Clink. Clink. Clink. Your thoughts were interrupted by McCree coming out of the shower, fully dressed, and fiddling with his peacekeeper. He seemed to have taken care of his flesh wounds while in the bathroom, a couple bandages visible beneath the black shirt he wore. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, no hat on his head, and accentuated the small cut running down his temple.

He barely looked up as he stopped in the doorway. “Darlin’-”, He started.

You shook your head, standing to take his pistol from his grip. “Let me look at that cut, Jesse.”

Looking up at you, he gave you a gentle smile. “No need, darlin’, it’s not very deep. Ought to heal like a charm.”

“No, sir, can’t have that getting infected now. Besides,” You glanced at the only, small bed in the room and then at the couch just beyond the doorway to the room. “We can talk about sleeping arrangements as I do.”

Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bed and let you get to work. “You know, that couch is old.”

“Mhm,” You focused on your task, making sure to pay attention to his words nonetheless. “It’ll likely be a back killer.”

“Absolutely. Reckon I should take it.” He moved his head a little, wincing at the pressure you put against the cut.

“I have the better back, Jess.”

“Sure, but we wanna keep it that way. ‘Sides, I wouldn’t be much o’ a gentleman if I let you take it, would I?” His comment made you laugh and he smiled at you, glad to see you so happy.

“Stuck in the West again? Acts of chivalry are rare nowadays, Jess.” You said and pulled your hands away from his face, finished with your work.

“We could share.” His suggestion threw you off, especially when you saw he wasn’t joking. 

“You sure?” Your voice was a little nervous as you spoke, something he picked up on.

“As the day I was born. Only if you’re comfortable, darlin’.” 

“Yeah. Okay,” You smiled, helping him to his feet.

________

Jesse was wide awake, his thoughts running a mile an hour. On his back, he could feel where your back met his side, he could feel each even breath you took. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you were awake. You lay facing away from him, eyelids heavy, breath even, and mind somewhere else. He assumed you’d fallen asleep.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his hands from behind his head and turned around. He tried his best not to wake you, keeping his chest from being flush against your back. He tried his best to keep his hands from touching you, but couldn’t help it when he reached up to brush some hair out of your face. It caught your attention, but you didn’t move, too sleepy to care. You just listened as he sighed once more and shifted just a little closer. 

“Darlin’,” He whispered. “I’ve gotten ‘round to thinkin’...”

He paused, almost as if trying to convince himself to stop talking. “I’ve been thinkin’, and I can’t live without you. I’m scared. I’ve loved you for so long now but I’m jus’ so afraid. I could’ve lost you today. I don’t know what went wrong, I don’t want that fear of not knowing in my heart, but I ain’t strong enough to tell you-”

He took a deep, steadying breath before reaching out to you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and, carefully so as to not ‘wake’ you, pulled you completely into him. “Look at me. Confessin’ in the dark while you sleep, not hearin’ a word. It’s pathetic. Truth is, no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to say the words to your face. I want to look at you and say it, I want to keep you close, but I’m a coward. I’ve never been the type of man to commit to no one like that. I don’t think I’m the kind of man to love like that. Never have been. But damn, darlin’, if I can’t help wantin’ that with you. Want to keep you safe, by my side, always, but... but I ain’t the type of man worthy of you like that...”

He trailed off and you, now wide awake, could feel small drops of water hit the back of your neck. Jesse McCree, the strong, charming cowboy was crying. It broke your heart, so much so that all the words you’d thought to say to him left your mind. He was so worth it, so much more than he gave himself credit for, and you loved him. Just as he was.

Turning around, you watched his face mold from sorrow into shock. He tried speaking, but you didn’t give him the chance, “Darlin’-”

Your lips met his before he could utter any more words. It was a soft, emotional kiss that tasted of salt. His tears fell harder, and you only pulled away to hug him closer. Wrapping your arms around him and locking your legs together, you didn’t have to say much to get him to hear you.

“You are my everything, Jesse. I’ve always loved you.”

[thesweetestkimberry]

la rosca

pairings: hanta sero x latina!reader

summary: es la rosca de reyes, who has the baby?

warnings: spanish, cursing, a knife?, crack, let’s pretend sato has a bakery grade oven-

notes: just a little thing based on something that happened to my tia lmao

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

it was january 6th, a lot of people would say it’s just a normal day, but for you and sero, it was a holiday.

el rosca de reyes is a traditional holiday where members of your family or household, would gather to cut a slice of a large decorated bread. the bread, decorated with sugar and colorful candies had about 11 tiny plastic babies. if your slice had one of these, you had to make food for everyone in a few weeks to come.

thinking it would be a fun thing to do with your classmates, you enlisted sato to aid you in baking the rosca. once it was in the oven, the others became curious,

“what’s that?” they asked, crouching to get a look at the bread, “it’s for tonight! it’s a sweet bread!” you explained, deciding to keep the actual explanation till later that night.

and a few hours later, there you were, surrounding the large bread on one of the dorm’s tables as the others looked at it curiously.

“so.. there’s babies inside?..” kaminari asked, stepping away and behind kirishima, you and sero laughed, “obviously not real babies, just little plastic ones.” you explain.

“and if we cut a piece and the baby’s inside, we have to cook?” midoriya asked while taking notes. he had made it his job to note every important holiday for you, mostly so you’d feel a little more at home when they came around.

“pretty much!” you say waving the bread knife, “who’s first?” you call, looking around to see a lot of your friends had their hands raised, “iida! how about you go first.” you say handing him the knife, “as class president, i should participate!” was all he said before bending down to cut a slice.

the class watched in anticipation, so once he pulled his piece away you moved around him to look, “check inside.” you say as he poked his finger into the bread, feeling around for any plastic, “empty.” was all he said, sounding almost saddened.

“para la otra vez.” you sympathize, patting his shoulder and handing the knife to sero who passed it to the next person.

so because of how big the class was you guys had to make a pretty big rosca, so everyone had enough to go around. “what’s going on here?” aizawa asked as he entered, raising a brow at his students who were huddled around a table.

“want a slice?” you ask happily, watching him think over it before ultimately nodding, “here you go.” you say handing him the knife, curious as to why he needed to cut it.

with a slight shrug, he hunched down to cut a pice, only for the knife to hit something. everyone’s heads turned to their teacher, eyes lighting up at his mild confusion. managing to split his piece, he pulled it up to his face, plucking out the little white plastic baby,

“what the hell?..” he muttered as you all laughed, “there’s a baby in this bread?” he looked at you, mostly for confirmation if it should’ve been there or not.

“looks like you gotta cook for us aizawa!” kaminari and mina cheered as he raised another brow at the news.

sero decided it was his turn, cutting piece and handing the knife over to someone else. he winked at you and took a bite.

you remembered you actually had made some hot chocolate to accompany the bread, and the second you turned around, you missed the way sero’s jaw tensed and eyes widened.

“mmpf- don’t worry baby, i’ll go get it-“ he said covering his mouth, cheeks stuffed with bread. thinking nothing of it you nodded and went back to the group, laughing when bakugou pulled the baby out of his slice.

due to the loud commotion of your peers and the fact that all might had joined the celebration, you almost missed the sound that came from the kitchen, you’re surprised you even heard it.

the clank of something hard falling into the sink. turning around at breakneck speed, you caught sero hunched over the sink, mouth now empty.

your jaw dropped and a laugh of disbelief came from you, catching a few of your classmates’ attention.

“you did NOT just do what i think you just did!” you say moving over to the sink, only for sero to stop you and try and guide you back to the dining tables, “what are you talking about?” he tried, although unsuccessful when shoji stretched an eye to the sink, his covered mouth reveling the news.

“he spit out the baby.” he said which made everyone laugh at his poor attempt to hide the fact he had gotten the baby.

“so, what cha making?” you ask him, handing him the offending object and pulling him back to the table, “you know i’m not good at cooking.” he says rubbing the back of his neck.

standing on your tippy toes, you lean up and kiss his cheek, his flushed cheeks making you smile, “i’ll help you out mi amor.”

[theeasternempress]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice

Summary - Omega wishes she could apologize to the Bad Batch for causing trouble so when Cut suggests that she makes them something as a gift, she knows exactly what to do.

Word count - 2.6k

AO3 

Omega had never felt more ashamed in her life. She had thought she was doing the right thing by getting the ball for Jek and Shaeeah but once Hunter had yelled at her, she knew it was wrong. She heard Wrecker say something to her, but didn’t register what he said as Cut picked her up and began to carry her to the Havoc Marauder. 

She could hear Cut speaking in a soft, comforting voice, but Omega missed what he was saying as she was putting all of her focus into not crying. All she could hear was Hunter’s words repeating over and over in her head, each time bringing more tears to her eyes until they began dripping down her cheeks as they finally entered the ship. 

Even though she did her best to hide her sobs, Cut noticed the crying girl against his shoulder and slightly adjusted his hold on her in order to run a comforting hand up and down her back. 

“It’s alright, Omega,” Cut spoke softly, “You’re safe and didn’t get hurt. Everything is fine.”

“It’s not, though,” she replied in a muffled, tear-strained voice, “Hunter is mad at me and he’s going to bring me back to Kamino. I don’t want to go back there, I want to stay with them.”

Cut set Omega down in the pilot’s seat and spoke, “I promise you that Hunter was only upset because he was worried about you. He didn’t want you to get hurt, and that’s why he yelled at you. He’s not going to bring you back to Kamino, okay?” 

Cut wiped Omega’s tears away as he let her catch her breath in order to respond.

“I still want to say sorry to Hunter, though. To all of the Bad Batch. Do you think if I say sorry that they’ll forgive me?” Omega asked, voice still shaky.

With a smile, Cut responded, “Of course they’ll forgive you. You know, when Shaeeah and Jek misbehave and want to say sorry, sometimes they’ll make something for Suu and I as an apology. Maybe you should try that too.” 

Omega perked up at Cut’s words, the perfect idea popping in her head. She remembered once reading on her datapad that as a gift, adults would sometimes cook something for their friends to show their appreciation for them. Omega had never cooked anything before, but she figured now would be the perfect time to start.

Omega surged forward and wrapped her arms around Cut, mumbling a muffled, “Thank you,” into his chest. Cut hugged her back, running a hand through her hair, and replied, “No problem, kiddo. I’ll leave you to make your gift, alright? Come back to the house if you need anything.”

Cut left the ship and Omega immediately began scurrying around the ship for everything edible she could find into the cockpit to begin working on her dish. She was disappointed to find mostly liquid things on the ship, but she figured a drink would be just as special as a meal. 

She started by dumping a bottle of water into the electric kettle she saw Echo use yesterday to heat some water for his tea. He told her that he drank tea to calm his nerves, but Omega had a feeling that wasn’t the whole truth. 

Once the water was boiling, she poured it into the biggest metal bowl she could find, only splashing a little bit onto the floor. Her next step was to crumble in a ration bar. Hunter had said that they were allowed to have three rations a day and since she hadn’t had hers yet, she figured it was fine to mix one in. The ration dissolved almost as soon as it touched the boiling water, turning the water a dirty brown color. 

Since this was a gift for the group, Omega figured that Hunter wouldn’t mind if she added another ration bar into the mix. The second bar dissolved slower than the first, but it dissolved faster when Omega stirred it around with a metal spoon she had found, enjoying watching the mixture spin around. Omega felt a big smile growing on her face, knowing that her gift was coming along perfectly. 

Omega had found something called “beef jerky” stored in one of the cabinets and although she didn’t like the little piece of it she had tried, she figured the rest of the group would. Even though she struggled to tear it up, Omega eventually had a good-sized pile to dump into the bowl. 

The final two ingredients were what Omega was most excited about: a bottle of blue milk she took from the cooler and an oddly shaped bottle of an orange liquid that she found stored under Crosshair’s bunk.

Blue milk was one of her favorite treats, but it was something that Nala Se only gave to her when she had been extremely well-behaved, which wasn’t too often. Omega was tempted to take a sip, but decided against it. After all, this was a gift for her new friends and she had to make sure it was perfect. 

The blue milk only turned the bowl’s contents a darker brown, but Omega knew that the Bad Batch wouldn’t care about the color. She stirred it around with the spoon again and smiled to herself. 

Crosshair’s bottle was the only thing she didn’t recognize and was most curious about. She swirled the liquid around in the bottle and tipped it around, contently watching the liquid move around in the glass bottle. After a minute or so, she stopped playing with the liquid and focused back on her task. Still curious, Omega twisted the top off of the bottle and smelled it. She instantly recoiled at the smell and gagged. The scent was strong and lingered in her nostrils. She has never smelled anything quite like it, but it smelled faintly like the disinfectants used in the medical wing on Kamino.  

Even though Omega didn’t like the smell of the liquid, she figured that the Bad Batch must have liked it if they allowed Crosshair to keep a bottle of it under his bed. Still, she decided she would only add a little bit just in case they shared the same opinion as her. 

She began to tip the liquid in and as soon as the orange liquid touched the surface, it began to bubble up and turn the brightest pink Omega had ever seen. Omega gasped and stopped pouring in order to admire the concoction she had created. Omega stirred it but as she did so, the color faded and it returned to the dirty brown that it had been previously. 

Omega sighed, disappointed to see the pretty color disappear. Once she had the idea that if she just added more of the orange liquid and didn’t stir it that the color would stay the same, she giddily dumped in more of the bottle’s contents. The pink color returned and Omega’s smile grew, happy with her gift. Now all that was left was giving her present to the Bad Batch.

-

Wrecker had to admit it; he was bored without Crosshair or Omega with him. Crosshair was the only one of his brothers who could put up with his antics while Omega was the one who joined him in said antics. Still, he understood that she had gotten scared and wanted to stay on the ship. Crosshair was a whole different story, but now wasn’t the time to think of his lost brother. 

Just as he was about to get up to help Suu and the kids in the garden, Omega came through the open front door with her arms wrapped around a giant bowl. She was clearly walking with careful, calculated steps as to not spill whatever was in the bowl. 

“Hey there, kiddo!” Wrecker spoke in a cheerful voice, “What have you been up to?”

Wrecker carefully took the bowl from Omega’s outstretched arms and placed it on the table he was sitting at, not bothering to look at the contents and instead focusing his attention on the girl in front of him. 

“I made you all an apology gift to say that I’m sorry for going after the ball earlier. Cut said I should make you something to apologize, so that’s what I did!” Omega exclaimed, a happy tone to her voice.

Wrecker smiled and ruffled her hair, “Aw, you didn’t have to do that for us, kiddo. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Omega smiled back at him before turning around to start looking for four serving glasses. While Omega had her back turned, Wrecker took the chance to take a look at what Omega had made for them. The bright pink liquid seemed inviting, but he patiently waited for Omega to return before he tried it. 

Omega hurried back over with four glasses precariously stacked on top of each other and asked, “Where is everyone else?”

Wrecker helped Omega set the glasses on the table and replied, “Hunter went into town with Cut, but I don’t know where Tech and Echo are. Probably aren’t too far, though.”

Omega simply nodded and dipped a glass into the bowl to fill it before handing it off to Wrecker. 

“Try it!” she exclaimed, clearly excited for him to take a sip.

“Try it, kid? Watch this!” Wrecker replied with a loud laugh. He emptied the contents of the glass into his mouth and tried to swallow it all in one gulp, but the flavor of the drink hit him before he could. He didn’t expect the drink to taste bad at all, but he found himself almost unable to swallow it due to the horrible flavor. It was like the saltiest alcohol he had ever had, but with chunks of something in there as well. He urged himself to swallow and managed to do so, but the taste lingered in his mouth. 

“Well, what did you think?” Omega asked, clearly excited to hear his answer. 

Wrecker smiled weakly and replied, “You’re something else, kiddo. You’ve gotta get the other three to try this stuff.” 

A sweet smile grew across Omega’s face as she rushed out the door, calling for Echo and Tech. It may have been cruel to subject his brothers to the same thing he had, but if it would make Omega happy, then he was sure they would follow through with it. 

Once Wrecker was sure Omega was out of hearing range, he rushed over to the sink to fill his glass with water. Wrecker had to down three glasses before the taste was gone from his mouth. 

He managed to return to his seat just as Omega was dragging Tech and Echo through the door, standing in the middle of them and holding each brother by the hand. 

“-and Wrecker liked it, so I’m sure you both will too!” Omega exclaimed, dropping their hands and filling up two glasses for them. 

“Thanks for this, kid,” Echo said before taking a sip. Echo’s face puckered and even though he tried to hide his dislike for the drink from Omega, Wrecker could see it clearly. 

“Omega,” Tech began in his usual questioning tone, “What exactly is in this drink?”

“Water, two ration bars, something called beef jerky, blue milk, and an orange liquid I found under Crosshair’s bed,” she listed off. 

Tech’s eyes widened behind his goggles but upon seeing how Omega was staring up at him, he took a hesitant sip. A moment later, his face was puckered exactly the same as Echo’s. 

Hearing her laugh and smile at both of them, Echo and Tech both took another sip of the vile drink and tried to hide their disgust with fake smiles. 

Echo set his glass down and kneeled in front of Omega, “Listen, we’re all very grateful that you made this for us, but the drink that you took from under Crosshair’s bed is something that isn’t meant for children. Did you drink any of it?”

Omega shook her head profusely and replied, “I didn’t like how it smelled, but I thought it was something adults like, so that’s why I used it. Was I wrong to use it?”

“No, it wasn’t wrong, but you shouldn’t use it again, okay?” Echo told her.

“Hey, the kid’s allowed to let us drink Crosshair’s alcohol whenever she wants. He never would share with us, anyway,” Wrecker replied. 

“Yes, that’s because your drunk self somehow manages to cause more chaos than a stampeding herd of Banthas, Wrecker. We learned not to let you get drunk very quickly,” Tech said, staring at the drink in his hand and swirling it in circles.

The three of them managed to entertain Omega for another hour, Echo and Tech both occasionally taking sips of their drink when Omega was looking at them, before Hunter walked in the door. 

Hunter tensed up for a moment at the sight of Omega, but then took a deep breath. He had been brewing in inner turmoil since he had yelled at her a few hours ago but judging by the smile spread across her face at the sight of him, he figured that his words were long forgotten. Still, he needed to apologize. 

Omega ran over to him, mouth open as if to say something before Hunter interrupted, “Hey kid, I gotta tell you something. It was wrong of me to yell at you earlier today, I’m sorry I did that. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Omega smiled at him and grabbed his hand, “It’s okay Hunter, I’m sorry too. But I made you all an apology gift as a way to say sorry!”

Omega began pulling Hunter to the table where his three brothers were sitting. Hunter gave a confused look to Echo, who only motioned to the bowl in the middle of the table. Omega dipped a glass into whatever was in the bowl and handed it over to him. 

 “Here, try it! Everyone else has liked it, but Wrecker liked it the best,” Omega told him, watching him excitedly. Hunter looked to his brothers, but all of them refused to make eye contact with him. He could tell Wrecker was trying to suppress a smile, but Echo and Tech hid their expressions from him. 

Hunter raised the suspiciously pink liquid to his mouth and could immediately smell that something was off with it, but he took a small sip to appease Omega. Despite taking as small a sip as possible, the horrid flavor of the drink still flooded Hunter’s mouth. He was close to gagging, but the hopeful look on Omega’s face instantly suppressed the urge. 

Hunter coughed into his hand and smacked his chest with his fist a few times before plastering a smile on his face and saying, “Apology gift accepted, kid.” 

Omega smiled up at him and laughed happily, “I’m so glad you all enjoyed it! I’m gonna go tell Cut that his idea worked!”

The moment Omega was out of sight, Hunter turned to his brothers and asked, “What did she put in that?”

Tech adjusted his goggles, “Water, two ration bars, beef jerky, blue milk, and some of the alcohol Crosshair got on Julca. I suggest we dispose of the remaining liquid before anyone else gets into it.” 

The four brothers eventually decided to add a little bit to the bottom of the glasses to make it look like they drank all of Omega’s concoction before dumping the rest down the sink. 

While no words were spoken between the four brothers during this act, they had all silently come to the same conclusion: Omega definitely fit in with the Bad Batch.