#the granola bars made me cry

[edenfenixblogs]

More of this

שלום

[tears-exe]

Triggering vent in tags lol

[starkwlkr]

celebrity skin | cillian murphy

barbenheimer series

‘Is Hollywood done with Y/n?’

‘Y/n L/n, the girl failure’

That’s what the articles published on their front page. Recently, Y/n had refused to do a big budget film for a legendary director claiming that she wanted to take a break from the world of acting. Her and Cillian were looking to buy a house in Ireland so she was busy looking at listings and calling multiple real estate agents.

The director ended up calling her a bitch over the phone. He had insulted her over and over, stating that she would regret her decision.

After a source told multiple magazines about the situation only the ‘source’ didn’t tell the full story, the media started calling her annoying, selfish, dumb blonde, and the one that stuck the most, a bitch.

Cillian was not having it. Instead of going to his audition for a new series, he stayed home with her. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially at a time where the media and ‘fans’ were turning their backs on her.

“You don’t have to stay with me.” Y/n sighed as she snuggled up to Cillian. They were currently in London since Cillian had gotten an audition for a BBC series. He called the casting director and canceled, which made Y/n mad. Why wouldn’t she be? He had talked about the audition for months and now he canceled?!

“I want to.” He replied, giving her a kiss to the side of her head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I can make you pancakes, I know how much you love breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll eat in a bit. I think I want to take a nap.” She said.

Cillian had noticed how she’s been taking naps all week. Sometimes she wouldn’t even come out of her room and all she ate was granola bars and orange juice.

“I want you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. Those articles? They’re wrong. Fuck those articles. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” Cillian admitted.

Y/n could feel a tear roll down her cheek. Sometimes all she wanted to do was run away with Cillian to whatever country and live their lives in a nice house.

“You’re a jerk, you know that. . I wasn’t planning on crying today. But I love you too.” Y/n laughed as Cillian pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish we could leave this place and go to one of those cottage houses in the countryside. That’s always been a dream of mine.”

“That sounds nice. Why don’t you pack your bag and I’ll buy our tickets and we can leave tomorrow.” Cillian said.

“What?” Y/n asked confused.

“I saw you looking at this cottage the other day on your laptop. I bought it two days ago and I payed my mum to buy us some nice furniture and food so by the time we get there it’ll be okay for us to stay there for a while. So go pack and I’ll arrange our flight. You and I are leaving all this behind for the next few days. No work, no fancy dresses or premieres to attend. Just us and our new home.” He explained.

“You’re full of surprises, my love.”

TIME SKIP

OCTOBER

It had been a few months since Y/n and Cillian left their life in London and stayed in their new cottage in the countryside. She loved it there. No paparazzi or pushy fans to bother her or Cillian. It was paradise for her. Eventually the casting director for Peaky Blinders offered the role of Tommy Shelby to Cillian since last time Cillian was going to audition he had called to cancel. The casting director desperately wanted him to portray the protagonist of the new BBC series.

Y/n encouraged Cillian to take the role. She was fine with staying in their cottage after all she had made new friends with the women that lived nearby. So Cillian flew back to London to film and Y/n stayed behind. She had picked up new hobbies, fixed some stuff that needed fixing like the guest room and even started working on her garden.

Soon, Cillian had finished filming and made it back home to Y/n just in time for her birthday. Even though it was her day, Y/n insisted on making dinner herself. She decided to cook a comfort food of hers, chicken alfredo.

Cillian watched as she set a plate full of pasta and chicken in front of him then placed hers on her placemat. “I should be cooking for you.” Cillian said, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“If the birthday girl wants to cook then let her.” Y/n stated then began to eat. “How was filming? I saw some pictures on twitter of you on set and I have mixed feelings about the haircut.”

“You don’t like it? Be honest. I don’t like it.” Cillian admitted.

“Well it took some time to get used to it, but I kind of like it now. I don’t know, you look hot either way.” Y/n smirked.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank the hair department.”

Soon, both plates of food were forgotten as the two lovers made their way to their bedroom, pieces of clothing scattered around. It had been months and both Cillian and Y/n were counting down the days until they say each other again. Months without a single kiss or the feeling of skin on skin. What a way to end your birthday . . .

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

[notebookqueenofnarnia]

Okay Demigods

now that Season 2 has been confirmed (!!!!!!!!!!) I am here to make my official appeal that you ALL read the books. and yes...i mean ALL the books. Because here is what you are missing if you don't:

(mostly spoiler free. mostly vibes and chaotic no context)

OG PERCY JACKSON

Percy's INCREDIBLE sarcasm

Lots of chaotic Mr. D moments

Percy's unending absolute obliviousness when it comes to: his own abilities/powers, his own feelings towards a certain daughter of Athena, and EVERYONE'S feelings towards him

the full list of Percy's felonies (it's longer than you think!)

how much Percy thinks about Annabeth, especially in the third book

The Hunters of Artemis (everyone's like 'which godly parent would you have?' but im like ??? who cares??? I'm running off with the girls to immortal to hunt men i mean monsters)

soooooooooo much Sally Jackson is the Best Mom (to everyone who walks through her door) content

BLACKJACK. TRANS ICON BLACKJACK THE PEGASUS.

Rachel. Elizabeth. Dare. (this is how the audiobook says her name every single time)

Paul Blofis

Sally Jackson, author

Poseidon: Blowfish?

HEROES OF OLYMPUS

If you don't read these books you are missing out on some of the coolest female characters Rick has created: PIPER (an iconic), HAZEL (unintentionally hilarious), REYNA (beautiful character arc), and ANNABETH's point of view will have you loving her on a whole other level, trust me

Also: COACH HEDGE

Leo

All The Ladies Love Leo

the audiobooks are INSANE. It felt like a full cast read the book, but no. it was just one insanely talented narrator.

FESTUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS (im a dragon girlie)

Personally, I spent a lot of time reading the OG 5 wondering about how Roman mythology plays into Percy's world. Uncle Rick answered my questions and answered them SO WELL

Hazel the horse girl

Frank the horsebirddolphinman

Frank, gentle himbo, my beloved son

MY FAVORITE SCENE WHICH INVOLVES PERCY NOT KNOWING HOW TO DRIVE, A HARPY, FRANK, AND HAZEL AND THEYRE ALL SCREAMING AND IM PRETTY SURE STUFF IS ON FIRE

Forced Proximity for 7 teenagers and one chaotically violent satyr (that's Coach Hedge)

Eros/Cupid being one the most genius things Rick's ever written

Percy's hate of Ares transcending god magic

(also his love of Annabeth, but that's like obvious)

PercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabe

weird barely gnome things

this one giant whose name is definitely not pronounced like female anatomy

everyone thinking Percy and Annabeth are constantly getting up to the hanky panky

a statue made me cry

Gay Grumpy/Sunshine (or should that be Death/Sunshine) origins!!

TRIALS OF APOLLO

Apollo, vain himbo of godly proportions is forced to live as Lester Papadopoulos

Percy: why

a very chaotic twelve year old daughter of Demeter

she commands Apollo around

plant magic

terrible great haikus at the start of every chapter

Sally Jackson being the best mom to everyone who comes to her door

magic shoes

a sassy magic prophetic arrow that talks in Shakespearean English

so much gay grumpydeath/sunshine content

also yes sunshine's dad is Apollo

Apollo sings

Grover! Piper! Reyna! Hazel! All the friends! Everyone

Jason! (also im sorry)

what if there were some trees who were an elite squad of warriors who also answer to the chaotic twelve year old

gay moms of the midwest

unicorns

in the last book, chiron takes the campers on a 'field trip' to help take down the big baddie and he shows up dressed as a warrior soccer mom with granola bars, water bottles, and extra swords attached to his fanny pack

a different chaotic twelve year old while fighting to the death in a building that's on fire: "CAN WE GO ON FIELD TRIPS EVERY WEEK?"

chiron: "ROSE DEAR RAISE YOUR SWORD A LITTLE HIGHER!"

okay im not going to spoil it but in the last book there is also this extremely horrifyingly violent moment that Uncle Rick somehow turns into one of the most hilarious things i've ever read

Piper in the epilogue

CHALICE OF THE GODS

more insanely funny percy first person narration

Grover, Percy, Annabeth reunite ("the gang is back together!" "The three musketeers!" "Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey!" "Excuse me?")

have you met the god of himbos? (Percy has)

SO

MANY

EASTER

EGGS

for Season one. you can totally see how Uncle Rick worked on the script and chalice together

if you liked Annabeth shoving Percy into the water....this one is for you

Percy, supreme god of snakes

the cutest cutest cutest cutest Percabeth content you will ever read

hippie gods (yes more than one)

Percy is literally obsessed with Annabeth

Annabeth already being the Jackson daughter in law

Sally Jackson and Paul and

For the record: You CAN read Chalice of the Gods without reading the other series, but please please please read all these books. The audiobooks are phenomenal.

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Reader buys a dress, cursing, mentions and eating of food, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist]

𝑫𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚

The next morning, you’re back on the road once again. You’re in the passenger seat now, letting Bucky drive. 

You snack on some granola bars that you’d packed, offering one to Bucky. He takes one, offering up a small ‘thanks’ in return.

Several hours later, you notice the small town slowly circling around the truck.

“Bucky. Can we stop?” You asked.

“We can make at least five more hours today.” His brows furrow.

“I haven’t pissed since yesterday. I’m gonna die.” You complained.

“There’s a gas station..30 minutes away. Can’t you wait?” He argues.

“No. Pull over.” You huffed. “Look! That diner right there. Debbie’s.* We can get lunch.” 

“That’s gonna waste at least an hour. We don’t have time.” His grip tightens on the wheel.

“We’ve got like an extra two days! The drive isn’t that fucking far! Pull over before I piss my fucking pants, asshole!” You blow up at him. Tony intentionally planned it so that there was time for a little bit of dilly-dallying. 

Begrudgingly, he turned into the diner parking lot. You zoomed out of the car and straight to the bathroom inside of the diner. 

After taking care of your business, you met back up with Bucky in the line to the counter.

When it was your turn, you waited as Bucky ordered some burger before you ordered your own food.

Bucky reached for his wallet at the same time you reached for yours. 

“I’ll get it,” you said.

“It’s fine. I’ve got it.” Bucky brushed you off. It made you..mad? He said it almost smugly, as if he was doing you such a favor.

“No, I’ll pay. I’ll do it.”

“I’m already doing it.” He snarked back. 

You quickly tried to shove your card against the tappy-machine as  Bucky scrambled to do the same. You engaged in a debit-card-sword-fight for several seconds before the lady behind the counter—an older woman, with short and thin gray hair and bright blue eyes, chuckled.

“You two make a mighty fine couple, I can tell.” Janet H. said, a fond smile on her face.

“We’re not together.” Bucky and you said sharply at the same time. 

Distracted by this, you fumbled and Bucky won the war.

You walked towards a booth in the 50s-style diner, sliding into it and looking at the receipt. Order #157. 

When the number was called by a slightly younger elderly woman, you took the initiative to walk back up to the counter.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the white bag. 

“No problem. You here for the festival?” She asked, making small talk. Sharon C. 

“Festival?” You echoed, curious. 

“Yeah. The town’s got an annual Blast-from-the-Past festival thing. Always draws in plenty of tourists.” She slid a white half-sheet of paper with a little infographic on it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, looking down at it as you walked back to the booth.

 If Bucky was curious about what the paper was, he didn’t voice it. You assumed that the Serum had probably boosted up his hearing, so maybe he already knew.

As Bucky unpacked the white, grease-stained paper bag of food, you scanned over the paper.

“Bucky. We should stay for this. This is pretty cool. It's like a 'this-town-through-the-decades' kind of thing. There's a 40's style dance thing tonight." You state, reading the first event listed. The festival is a week long, starting tonight, Monday, and ending on Sunday. “Look! Tomorrow is ‘30s-‘40s night. There’s a dance, and food, and all kinds of cool shit.” You grinned.

He stared at you like you had three—no, twelve—heads. 

“We definitely don’t have time for that.” He grumbled as he munched on his burger. 

“Bucky, we still have like, 5 or 6 days before we can even check into the resort thing. To get there is a 3-4 day drive. We’ve got plenty of time.” 

As he shuffled awkwardly at the presentation of the facts, you could tell that time wasn’t the main reason he wanted to skip it.

“C’mon. Please.” You begged.

He stared at you, unsure. 

You remained resilient.

“Fuck. Fine.” He broke, clearly unhappy about it. 

“Yes!” You cheered. “I think we passed a store that was selling stuff for the festival. I’m sure they’ve got some themed outfits.” You raved.

“Okay. There’s the motel down the street, right? We could just get a room there.” He murmured. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Why not? It’s just a little dance.” You huffed.

"We're both Avengers. We could be recognized."

"So? Either way, we're in a tiny ass town in the middle of nowhere. If we were recognized, it wouldn't even matter."

He looked down at his gloved left hand. He always wore thick jackets or long-sleeved shirts, paired with gloves.

"Nobody's gonna care." You reassured quietly. It was true that the two of you didn't get along very well, but you didn't think it was fair to make personal attacks. You knew his arm, and basically his entire past, really, were sensitive topics.

“Okay.” He conceded. “C’mon. Let’s go get hotel rooms.”

You lift your suitcase and backpack out of the backseat, before heading into the lobby. Bucky follows as you approach the receptionist.

She's an older lady, some sections of her hair gray, other sections a warm brown. Her eyes match the brown, and she smiles when she sees the two of you walk in.

"Hello. Welcome to the Brandon Briar Hotel. How may I help you two today?" She asked, looking up at the two of you. She has wrinkles by the corners of her eyes, and smile lines around her mouth. Her voice is warm, as is everything about her. A quick glance to her nametag revealed that her name is Barbara C.

"We'd like two rooms, please." You smiled politely.

"Alright, and how long will the two of you be staying, dear?"

"Just for tonight, if that's okay."

"Wonderful. Is it okay if it's a connecting room? The festival always brings in a lot of tourists." She smiled proudly.

"Really?” You ask, making small talk. You feel a pang of joyful spite as you see Bucky shift awkwardly next to you. Socializing is not something he’s known for.

"Yes, Brandon Briar has it every year. Here's a flyer, if you're thinking about attending." She slipped a brightly colored flyer over the counter, sliding it in front of you. The main colors, yellow, blue, and white, were eye-catching and pretty. This one was much more in-depth than the flyer the girl at the diner had given you.

"Now, is the connecting room okay, sweetheart?" She asked again, though there was not a single note of annoyance in her voice.

"Oh--yes. That will be perfect." You glanced back up at her, eyebrows raised subconsciously.

You pay quickly for both of the rooms before Bucky--who had been standing behind you silently--could fight you on it. Barbara hands you the two key cards, and you hand Bucky one. Taking the flyer with you, you give Barbara one final 'thank you' and a smile, before heading to the elevator.

Bucky presses the button for the 2nd floor, where your rooms are. You study the flyer.

"Neither of us have anything to wear to it." He tries to reason as the elevator door opens.

Walking down the hallway, you continue to argue with him. "I'm sure there's at least one store that sells stuff specifically for the festival. Barbara--the receptionist--said that the festival brings in a bunch of tourists, so they have to have something around here." You said optimistically as you both opened the doors to your hotel rooms.

It had been easy to find a store selling dresses made to look like they were from the 1940's. The Brandon Center, the little store that could only be found in Brandon Briar, had an overwhelming amount of them. You'd left Bucky to find whatever he needed, you instead opting to browse through all the pretty dresses. There was a large selection, filled with pretty prints and colors.

Bucky, perhaps ten minutes ago, had interrupted your browsing to tell you that he was going to wait in the car. You had simply nodded, quickly glancing at the bag he carried.

A stunning red dress caught your eye. It had a little belt to go around your waist, with 3/4 satin-cuffed sleeves and a matching satin heart-shaped collar.

Sure, there were other dresses in a similar color, but once you saw this one, there was no going back. You checked the tag, making sure that it would fit.

Grinning once you saw that it did, you took the hanger off the rack before looking through the jewelry stand. When you found nothing that fit your style, you sighed.

Walking to the register, and you were greeted by a woman, probably in her sixties. Her hair was dyed blonde, which looked good with her blue eyes. She wore black eyeliner all the way around her eye, with thick mascara to match. She grinned, a heavy country accent coming in thick when she spoke. Though you'd only spoken to a few locals, they all seemed to have the same accent.

"Hiya! Will this be all for you today?" She had a nametag on her floral blouse. Brenda.

Nodding, you reply. "Yes."

"Okay. Oh..this is a pretty thing. You plannin' on comin' out by the old diner for the dance tonight?" She laid the dress out on the counter, examining it.

"Yeah. It's..it's in that little square, right? I saw the string lights this morning when I was driving by, but I didn't really have time to look."

"Yes, yes. The decorations are always gorgeous. Wait a minute..oh, this is from Mr. Lee." She said, beginning to fold the dress. When she noticed your confused expression, she grinned.

"A while back, we had a guy donate a bunch of old dresses like this after his wife passed. His wife was friends with that lady Peggy Carter, funnily enough. Anyway, we kept a bunch of those dresses in the back for a few years. Some were altered, made bigger or smaller or even just turned into somethin’ brand new. Forgot all about them. Until now, that is."

You nodded, though the mention of Steve's almost-kind-of-basically girlfriend startled you. A younger girl, maybe a college student, stepped out from the door next to the register. The creaky wooden floor announced the presence of another customer, as did the bell on the door.

"Aunt Brenda, can you help Ms. Owens? She wanted to look at that green dress I told you about." The girl said. Her hair was brown and straight, going down to her waist.

"Oh, yes." Brenda turned back to you. "Stacy will ring you up." She explained, placing the folded dress into a white paper shopping bag.

She walked out from behind the counter, Stacy taking her place.

"Sorry about that." The girl—Stacy—apologized. "That'll be $23.99. Hero's discount."

When she glanced up to you, she smiled a little. "Don't worry. You blend in a lot. Most of the people here are older, and anyone who isn't is just a young couple coming here for the festival. My great aunt and my grandma live up here, so I stay here every summer to help with the store." She assured.

Once you paid, she waved you goodbye as you walked out of the shop. Bucky was waiting in the driver's seat of the truck, scrolling on his phone.

"Y'know it starts at 6:00, right?" He asked when he heard the truck door open.

"It's 3:15, we'll be fine." You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt. You didn't say much on the drive to the hotel, instead thinking about what else you were going to wear.

Bucky stood inside of his hotel room, not sure what to do. You had decided to close your door to his room, and he decided to do the same. Just because your rooms were connected didn’t mean you would go into each other’s rooms. That was weird, right?

He showered quickly, before getting dressed. He felt stupid as he glanced at himself in the mirror. He knew how he was supposed to look, but none of this felt...right. He tied his hair into a low ponytail, just to keep it out of his face.

He opened his door to your room, just to be met with your door closed. He knew it was going to be closed. Of course it would be closed. There was no reason he should feel so...disappointed.

Disappointed? No. No. Bucky was sure of it. He barely tolerated you. You were annoying, and you liked starting fights for no reason. Ever since he’d arrived at the Avenger’s Compound, you were nothing but cold and nasty towards him. The first time he’d met you, you’d made an angry face at him before ignoring his existence.

But he couldn't deny the feeling of excitement he got when he saw your name light up on his phone.

Ready.

That was the entire text message. And somehow, a single word made his stomach feel light. Without typing a reply, he stepped into the hallway of the hotel, before he saw you.

A/n: my taglist doesn’t work for some reason??? I can’t tag more than a few people on a post before it just stops linking them. Let me know if it still tags you even without the link thing. Idk, it pisses me off sm. I hope this still gets the same reach??? 🧚

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky@mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a @identity2212 @ilovemcuff @unaxv @mysticalfuncollectorus @highwaytomichelle @lilbloggs @ordelixx @skiemi-blog @allieb913 @winterslove1917

note that this is the only series I’ll be doing a taglist for, but let me know in the comments if you’d like to join!

Reblog if you enjoyed!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[bedrockpizza]

Trevor Phillips Angst Hcs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Trevor has many outbursts, when he does, he’s usually clinging onto your leg while crying, apologising for ever dating you and getting snot all over your pants and the floor.

“I’m so sorry..” Trevor sobbed loudly, holding on to your leg tightly while he laid on the floor, his bottom lip shuddering as he stared up at you. “Just leave me, I don’t deserve this.” Trevor whined, rubbing his face into the bottom of your pants as his shoulders shook.

• Trevor is rarely ever sober, so when you offer to drive for him, he’ll get angry and refuse, driving more recklessly than usual to get back at you.

Trevor grinned wickedly, gripping the steering wheel as he swung it to the left, just barely missing the edge of a giant cliff. “Oh sorry, am I bothering you?” Trevor eyed you, watching as you held onto your leather seat tightly. He didn’t care one bit about your wellbeing right now, his rage blinding his thoughts.

• Trevor hates when people try to “fix him” as he believes he’s gone too far with no redemption. So whenever you disagree to try to change his mind about something, he assumes you’re attempting to make him a good person and gets all pissy.

“So I shouldn’t kill him? Pfft, why? He’s fucked me over plenty of times.” Trevor rolled his eyes, leaning against his grimy counter, his hand gripped the edge as he looking at you, wires connecting in his head. Trevor frowned, stepping towards you angrily. “Oh ho ho, I get it, you think I should slow down on killing people, do you?” Trevor spat, a disgusted look on his face.

• You might come home one day to find Trevor unconscious on the floor, you’re unsure if he’s overdosed, dead, or just sleeping.

You opened the door to the trailer, stepping inside before noticing Trevor laying on the floor in front of you. You shuddered, seeing the cockroaches zoom around him. Trevor’s chest was barely moving as you crouched down to check his pulse. You took a deep breath, holding it in as you held your fingers on his wrist.

• If Trevor notices a man staring you up, down, right, left, and centre, don’t be surprised if a rotting head ended up in your mailbox.

“Did you see the gift I left for you in the bedroom?” Trevor spoke as he chewed on his week old granola bar. You curiously stepped into the bedroom, your heart sinking at the sight of a man’s decapitated head. The blood was pooling onto the sheets, flies landing and going off the grey skin. Its eyes were rolled back, jaw drooping, and as you stared at it more you wanted to throw up. “Do you like it or not?” Trevor asked casually, his calmness made you uneasy.

Cross-posted on ao3 (JansBread)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Touch and Go: A Detective's Romance

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Detective!Female!Reader 

Fandom: Night Hunter 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: What happens when a touch-starved detective who isn’t well-versed in human interaction meets their match?  

Warnings: touch starvation, awkward conversation, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, crying during sex 

A/N: It’s apparently winter in this story, damn Minnesota weather. Honestly, I was watching the movie while writing so it ended up being snowy. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist 

It’s not like you never noticed your fellow officer. Of course, your attention has been pulled to Detective Walter Marshall once or twice, or several times throughout your time working together. Damn, ok the man was a presence. His very existence should have a warning label on it. 

Not that he’s a bad person. Far from it, in fact. You thought the world of him. Not that you’d admit it, but you found his grumpiness endearing. His monosyllabic responses to questions made it a bit hard to get to know him. You weren’t exactly an open book yourself. But you forced yourself to try and get to know him. 

You didn’t make it a habit to get to know people very often. You had trust issues, and rightfully so after what your ex-partner left you with. A broken heart and a fractured view of your self-worth. You hadn’t even let anyone touch you in so long. A handshake here or there, maybe a pat on the shoulder but nothing more. 

And now here you were, a touch-starved mess who had grown to be a bit more than interested in another detective. You wanted to make him smile and that was a foreign feeling to you. So, you started with an olive branch. 

Asking if he wanted a coffee on your way to the break room. After the fifth time, he relents, requesting a cup of black coffee with three sugars. While you’re there, you pick up a granola bar from the cabinet. Handing him the paper cup of coffee, you also pull the treat from your back pocket and toss it on his desk. 

He tilts his head like a giant puppy at the snack. 

“Humor me and eat something. I’m curious if you’re eating enough if I’m being honest.” You bite your bottom lip unconsciously, and the beginnings of a smile appear on his face as he rips open the bar and takes a bite. 

Chewing slowly and staring at you, he seems to look right through to your soul. You look down at your feet to break eye contact and he clears his throat, getting your attention back.  

“You know, I actually love food. I love to cook almost every night.” As the words come out of his mouth, it’s like they’re fighting their way out. As if each syllable is a punch to the gut. 

“I love food, too. But I hate cooking,” You suddenly had a very dry throat, so you sip a bit of coffee before speaking again, “I’m not inviting myself over or anything, but if you’d be up for it sometime...I, uh...yeah.” You look everywhere but him as you trail off. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I normally eat alone. Be nice to have someone...there...to eat with.” It’s like speaking makes him physically nauseous, the way his jaw tenses like that. 

“Well, I’m free most nights, so...just let me know.” You move to turn and leave his office, but he stops you with an offering. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be free tonight?” He’s even surprised by his question but plays it off by folding his hands on his desk and maintaining eye contact. 

“Yes. I’m free.” You know you sound desperate but at this point, this is the most contact you’ve had with the man since you’ve been here so who cares? Well, you do, but you can worry about that later. 

“Good. Yeah. So, uh, I guess come and grab me when you’re ready to go. You can follow me to my place. Sound good?”  

“Yeah, that sounds great. Um, I’m gonna leave so I don’t say something embarrassing. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I just—” 

Walter cuts you off, saving you from yourself. “Don’t do this a lot?” 

“No, I don’t. Been a long time and I don’t want to fuck this up, ya know? Not that playing it cool was ever my style. Why start now, right?” You surprise Walter by laughing at your self-deprecating joke and he follows suit. 

The little duck of his head doesn’t stop you from seeing the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. When he picks his head up again, a broad smile is painted on that normally glum face. If you had 1% less control over your face, you would have drooled. 

This man should smile more. 

And you know you hate being told to put on a smile but fuck, his face was made for it. You realize you’re still looking at him and a faint rose-tinted blush dusts across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

You should not be allowed to be that adorable. 

“What?” Walter’s question brings you back to where you just said that sentence out loud. 

“I think I just called you adorable. So, I’m gonna see myself out and try not to throw myself into traffic on the way to my desk. I’ll be back when I’ve calmed my brain down a bit.” You wave awkwardly and exit his office before you can notice the smile inching back over his features. 

You spend the next two and a half hours hoping you didn’t make a complete ass out of yourself in front of the only man you’ve talked to in the last few months that wasn’t a delivery driver or your boss. The only person who you’ve talked to for more than a few minutes about something other than work.  

When 5:30 p.m. comes around, you gather your things and drag your feet to Walter’s office. He’s already standing, putting away some files in his desk drawer, looking up when he hears your polite throat clearing. 

“How do you feel about Spaghetti Bolognese? I have a recipe from Jamie Oliver that I’ve been meaning to try out.” He says, putting on his parka and moving toward you where you stand in his doorway. 

“Um, pasta is life. Pasta with meat sauce? Even better.” You brighten at the mention of a familiar dish, your previous nerves all but forgotten. 

“Great. Shall I help you with your coat?” He hinted once he realized you weren’t moving toward the exit. 

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.” You set down your purse and handed over your fluffy overcoat.  

Walter holds it out for you as you back your arms into the sleeves. As it comes to rest on your shoulders comfortably, his hands smooth over the fabric that covers your forearms, your hands ending up in his for a moment. 

You freeze at the sudden contact but if Walter notices, he doesn't make a big deal out of it. He just squeezes your hand quickly and hands you your purse so you can walk out together. You are grateful to be among the stragglers leaving the office so that you don’t draw too much attention. 

Walter walks you to your car and has you put in his address to your GPS, ‘just in case you get lost’ he jests before heading to his truck. As you watch him walk away, one thought comes to your mind. 

Is this a date? 

You park behind Walter’s truck in his driveway, climb out of your car, and crunch through the snow behind him. In your clumsy state, your foot slips, and strong arms catch you so that you don’t completely bust your ass on the unforgiving ice below.  

This time when he touches your arms, you are beyond grateful to be able to pull yourself upright again. Once you’re stable, Walter keeps one of your hands in his until you make it to his front door. He lets you walk in first, turning on the light to the short hallway after you chuckle in the darkness. 

Walter takes your coat and hangs it up with his, your wet boots left by the door. Walking into the kitchen, he pulls out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Opening the wine, he pours each glass and brings them out to where you are standing in the living room. Handing you a glass, he raises his own.  

“Shall we toast to something?” Walter smiles softly, expectantly waiting for you to suggest what to salute. 

“To...being pleasantly surprised that you still wanted to cook for me despite every awkward moment I’ve had since earlier today. You are a gentleman and a scholar and I'm gonna shut my mouth and drink this wine before I just...keep talking.” You cringe inwardly before looking back up at Walter. 

He is watching you with rapt fascination, a slow smile forming. “Let’s toast to practicing human interaction. I’d say we could both use some assistance in that area. We’ll help each other, deal?”  

“Deal.” You tap your glass to his and take a sip of the now-aerated wine. Your cheeks warm at the blackberry finish of the cabernet sauvignon.  

Maybe there is something to the whole liquid courage thing. 

Dinner turned out lovely. You were pleasantly surprised that Walter could cook. There were moments watching him cook where he didn’t have to measure things, or he added a little extra of this or that. He didn’t use a recipe while making the garlic toast like it’s a staple of his repertoire or something. 

Sitting on his couch with your feet tucked up under you, you look around the living room at the lack of family photos or little touches that scream Walter Marshall. Not that you would have any idea of what those little touches would be. It just doesn’t feel like a home. It feels like a house, just a house that someone lives in. 

When he comes back to the couch with freshly poured wine, you accept your glass with a smile, and he returns it.  

“It is a Friday night. We are enjoying our second bottle of wine. You made me a delicious dinner. And I still can’t figure out if this is a date, Walter.” You fiddled with the glass in your hand, looking into it as if the answer was inside the wine. 

Walter’s thumb and forefinger on your chin have you looking up at his face. “I’ve used almost every excuse to touch you tonight. I kept talking to you earlier when you thought you’d lost me. I feed off your awkwardness because you say what’s on your mind without a filter. I’m not exactly one to speak a lot but I enjoy talking to you. Because you make me feel like I’m not alone.” 

Unshed tears gather at the corner of your eyes. You swallow the lump in your throat, clearing it loudly before you speak. “Can you tell I’m touch-starved because you are too?” 

At his quiet nod, you take his wine glass and set both of your glasses on the coffee table. You lean forward, your elbows on your knees. He watches as you have a silent moment with yourself, going over different scenarios before you reach a consensus with yourself. You look back up to him and your face softens. 

Reaching out your hand, you intertwine your fingers in his curls. As he turns his head to push it further into your hand, his breathing picks up. He grabs your fingers as they migrate to his jawline.  

“I want...I need more than this. I'd like to say I could wait, but all I can think about is kissing you until you can barely breathe.” Walter forces the words out, his breathing in time with yours. Erratic. 

You climb into his lap, one hand still in his, the other hand fisting his wool jumper. “Then kiss me until I can barely breathe. Fuck breathing. I just need you.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth, than Walter’s lips are on yours. It’s like he was starving and the breath from your lungs was the only meal he’d had in weeks. You could feel his hunger as he licked the seam of your lips, letting him in was the only option.  

As your tongues fought for dominance, he took the lead in a way you couldn’t ignore. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your torso flush to his. You felt so small yet so special as he held you. So new yet so treasured as you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his to calm your nerves and catch your breath. 

A moment passes between you where you both just breathe. Until you lean your head back, locking eyes with Walter again, and you nod. He understands your non-verbal request, picking you up and walking toward his bedroom. Kicking the door behind him, he lays you down in bed and gets to work undressing you. 

You lift your hips as he pulls your jeans and underwear down your legs. You remove your top and bra, and he watches as your body is exposed to him. He stands to make quick work of his jumper, and you salivate at the sight of his hardness through his boxers when his jeans are pushed down his legs. His hefty dick springs up against his abdomen as his boxers are removed. 

Your hands roam over his hairy chest as he climbs onto the bed. With a hand under each knee, he pushes your legs back as far as they will go. He admires the shiny wetness that your pussy leaks. Shifting closer, he pushes the head of his dick through your folds and groans. 

He looks up into your eyes and asks silently if he can continue. When you nod, he enters you and your body accepts him fully. Allowing you to get adjusted to his size, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls out until just the tip remains inside you before he slams back into you. This time you both groan, you at the fullness, him at the tight squeeze. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing. But please, keep moving.” Your words are all he needed to begin an all-out assault on your cunt. 

If it had been a while for him, you’d be none the wiser with the stamina this man possessed. He held your legs open while he fucked into you. He allowed you to just take it as he did most of the work. You could hardly keep up with his thrusts as you melted beneath him. 

“You’re so fucking close, just let go for me. I can feel you squeezing my fucking cock. Be a good girl and come for me.” While he whispered in your ear, he ground his pelvis into you to stimulate your clit and G-spot at the same time. 

When your resolve finally breaks, you try and hide your face in Walter’s neck to no avail. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you back so he can watch your orgasm play out on your face. 

“Don’t hide from me when I’m making you come. I want to watch you fall apart under my hands. You are so fucking gorgeous when you come for me, girl.” He talks as you come down from your orgasm and the warmth that spreads over your body is palpable. 

“Thank you,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

Walter all but runs with it. “Fuck yes, you fucking thank me for your orgasm. That’s my good girl.” He pulls out, turning you on your side and sliding in behind you. Entering you again, he reaches a hand around to play with your clit. Circling your nub, then flicking it to keep you stimulated enough to come all over his fingers. 

You come for a second time within a few minutes, and he fucks you through it. Your words are clipped while you try to thank him once more and it just comes out as breathy whispers. 

Your moans are music to his ears and he pistons in and out of you. As your walls massage his cock, he starts to falter in his movements. You reach back to grab his hand, lacing your fingers together before pulling your hands to your chest. 

Getting the message, Walter wraps his other arm around you to pull you even more impossibly close to him. He slows down his pace, dragging out your moans as he unhurriedly moves inside you. He leans into your ear and speaks softly. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this. How much I wanted you. I didn’t know how to talk to you. Fuck, you feel amazing. Need you every day, girl. Just like this, wrapped up in you. I won’t last much longer. So perfect.” He babbles near the end, whimpering your name. He latches onto your neck as he stills inside you. 

His teeth nip at you and his tongue soothes your skin as you feel his cock twitch and paint your walls with his spend. You can hear him groan in your ear as his arms hold you tight. You haven’t felt this safe in someone’s arms since you were little. You don’t notice you’re crying until Walter wipes away the tears that fall down your face. 

“I’m sorry, I—” 

“If you’re about to apologize for crying in front of me, please don’t. You deserve to express your emotions no matter who is around. Least of all, me.” He places a kiss on your neck, attempting to soothe you. 

“Fair. I haven’t been held or even touched in so long and it’s a little embarrassing that my first reaction is to cry.” You sniff, rolling your eyes at yourself. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I know that’s easier said than done. But trust me, we just experienced some intense sex. And it was emotional for both of us. Trust me. Can’t you feel how fucking hard I am still inside you?” He moves his hips just slightly and is rewarded with a shiver going down your spine. 

“Walter...please.” You let your whimpers be heard and you get what you want.  

He moves to his knees while keeping you on your side. He pushes your leg up to a 90-degree angle and leans forward to fuck into you. The sound of slapping flesh fills the room as well as Walter’s grunts as he buries himself deeper inside you than before. 

“I’m gonna...please, don’t stop!” You reach up to hold his cheek in one hand and he shuts his eyes at the contact. When they open again, his pupils are blown wide. 

“Not stopping until you come again for me, girl.” The hand on his cheek migrates to his forehead to wipe away sweat-slick curls from his brow. 

“Come with me, Walter!”  

“Ugh, fuck!” 

The hold you have on your orgasm falters and your walls flutter around him, his hands curl around your thigh as his hips pound into you one last time. As his cock spurts inside you, your cunt continues to milk him until he softens and is released from your hold on him. 

He collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. You reach an arm across his chest and settle in to catch your breath. Looking up one last time to Walter’s face, you’re pleasantly surprised to see a smile on his normally grumpy face. His eyes are closed, and you feel at peace knowing you are the cause of that serene expression. 

“Stay with me tonight.” You’re startled by his words, but you can’t deny the smile that crosses your face.  

Leaning up to kiss his stubbled neck, you revel in the grunt that follows. “Good night, Walter.” 

You feel him kiss the top of your head, nosing at your hair. “Night.” 

You fall asleep with your hand in his chest hair, your legs tangled together. You are held, you are safe, and you couldn’t be happier. Talking about what all this means could wait until the morning. For now, you bask in the feeling of warmth that this man and this moment give you. 

Touch and Go: The Morning After

A/N: Shout out to @sillyrabbit81 for her Detective Grumpypants Spotify playlist which helped me so much in writing this. 

**Tag List** 

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel 

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁 

[allsadnshit]

I love being a girl and crying on my pms week and when my favorite post office worker is there and when the matcha granola bar I like comes back in stock and when the congee is already made from yesterday so I can just heat it up for breakfast and when it's cool enough out for my favorite dress and when I made myself overnight marshmallow root nettle cold pressed tea for my stomach and when I did not give up on trying to live when ex lovers treated me bad and tried to make me feel like an unlovable person or when old friends made me think I couldn't change and we all allowed ourselves to stay stuck but I didn't ever let go of the spell still crumpled up in my heart that I could be set free and that the love I desired was out there in the world and my own love for myself would pull me towards it like I am magnetized because everything that is led by joy is magnetized which is why I am hurdling towards what I want even though it's always going to be a little scary

[makethatelevenrings]

Breakfast for Three // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: reader has a kid, swearing, talks of poverty (if u haven’t been able to figure out, I am a leftist and I am tucking my lil handkerchief into my collar and preparing to eat billionaires)

Summary: Being a single parent is hard. Being a single parent in Gotham feels impossible sometimes. Two people change things for the better. 

Listen, raising a child on your own was a test on its own. But being a single parent in Gotham? You had to be absolutely out of your mind.

But you loved your kid. You wouldn’t go back and change your decision. Every morning, you woke up to the giggles and shrieks of your four year old climbing all over you. Lucy was always up before your alarm and while you needed every minute of sleep, you would miss these moments whenever she became too cool to hang out with her mother. So you just bundled her wriggling body up into your arms and peppered her head with kisses as she laughed and wrapped her little octopus limbs around you.

Breakfast had moved from a coffee and a granola bar as you rushed out the door to work to Bluey pancakes for Lucy and even more coffee for you before you rushed out the door to get her to preschool and you to work. Every day felt like it was flying by too quickly.

Her birthday was quickly approaching and that’s how you found yourself out on the fire escape of your apartment with the baby monitor clutched between your hands and sobs escaping you despite your best efforts to stifle your cries.

You couldn’t afford any of the popular toys or games that kids were obsessed with. Hell, you could barely afford rent this month. Living in Gotham wasn’t as bad as other places in terms of rent but raising a kid was expensive and you were struggling to make ends meet thanks to work being slow. God, she was going to be so disappointed. Maybe you could start eating only one meal a day? That would save some money on groceries…

“Are you okay?”

The voice came from the shadows and the subsequent heart attack you received practically launched you into the air. The person cursed and then stepped out of the shadows. Okay, less scary but still pretty fucking terrifying. Red Hood stared down at you, or at least, you thought he was looking at you. The helmet made it difficult to figure out what direction he was facing.

“I said, are you okay?” he repeated in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. You nodded quickly and swiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Don’t you have skulls to bash in or something?”

A huff of laughter escaped the vigilante’s helmet and you cocked your head to the side. He could laugh? He was capable of humor? Surprises were all around tonight.

“Already did that. And then I heard someone sounding like they just watched Marley and Me three times in a row and figured I should come check.” He eased himself into a crouch next to you and you admired how large and imposing he was yet he didn’t seem terrifying when he was next to you. You weren’t his target so there was no reason to fear him.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered. You turned your attention back to the baby monitor to see Lucy fast asleep in your bed. The one bedroom apartment you rented didn’t have space for another bed so the two of you shared one. Luckily, she was a deep sleeper so she never stirred when you crawled in a few hours after her bedtime and got up early in the morning to get ready for the day.

“Nothing that makes you cry is stupid,” Red Hood retorted. “Hit me with it.”

“My kid’s birthday is coming up and I don’t have the funds to pay for anything. I can barely keep our heating on. She’s going to hate her birthday and I’ll have ruined it forever. I’m already working sixty hours a week, but I can’t ask Mrs. Hayes to watch her longer. Fuck.” You scrubbed a hand down your face and bemoaned your rotten fucking luck. Fuck your shitbag ex. Fuck the system that prevented single parents from succeeding. Fuck it all.

Rustling beside you made you look up to find Red Hood rummaging through his pockets. He let out a triumphant hum and then outstretched his hand. A stack of bills rested in his gloved palm and your eyes widened at the offering.

“Absolutely not,” you blurted out. “I’m not taking blood money from you. Who knows where that’s come from? And what if you show up in five years demanding the money back with some huge fucking interest rate?”

He chuffed out another laugh. “Christ, your mind is an interesting place. It’s legit, I promise. And it’s not a loan. It’s a gift. Take it. I’ve got enough cash.”

You watched him warily as you reached out and grasped the money. Your lips moved as you counted out the values silently and inhaled sharply once you got to the end. Three thousand dollars. That would pay rent for two months, leaving your paycheck to cushion you.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you so much,” you gasped. But when you looked up, there was no sight of Red Hood. He had simply disappeared into the shadows once again. Only the rough paper of cash in your hands made you realize that it wasn’t a dream.

You spent the rest of the night going over your finances and figuring out where you could use the cash and how much you could spend on Lucy. With enough to bolster you for a bit, you decided to take her by a bakery on her way to pre-school. With her dinosaur backpack firmly settled on her back, Lucy bounded towards the bakery with you hot on her heels. Where the hell did she get all this energy?

“Woah,” a man exclaimed as Lucy tripped on a raised edge of the sidewalk. He caught her before she went sprawling onto the pavement, saving you from a torrent of tears and skinned knees.

“Gotta be careful there, kiddo,” he said as he righted her. You caught up to her finally and kneeled down to check her for injuries. Unscathed, thanks to the stranger. You raised your head to meet his eyes and thank him and found yourself captured by searing teal eyes.

“Thank you,” you blurted out. “I should really get her one of those backpack leashes.”

His full lips curled up into a grin and your heart stuttered at the sight of it. Small scars littered his tan skin, but it only added to the handsome rogue look he had going for him.

“I get it. The cinnamon rolls at this place are fu-” His eyes darted towards the squirming child in your hands. “Freaking amazing. I practically run here every morning to get one.”

Lucy gasped. “You like cinnamon rolls?”

The man shrugged. “Well, yeah, who doesn’t?”

“Sad people,” she replied wisely. You burst into laughter at the solemnity of her words and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I love you, kid,” you announced.

“Love you too, mommy. Can we go now?”

You stood up to your full height and the man did the same, but he was much taller than you. He offered his hand and you shook it.

“I’m Jason. How about I buy you two breakfast?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do it. If anything, I owe you.”

His smile grew and you marveled at the slight dimple in his chin. “Yeah, but this way I can be a gentleman before I ask you out.”

There was no way this exceedingly handsome, Adonis-like man was asking you on a date. No fucking way. You had toothpaste on your shirt and a four year old currently clinging to your leg. No man had even looked at you since your ex knocked you up and left.

But he was kind and genuine and there was some kind of soft emotion in his eyes that made you want to ask him how the world had hurt him. And Lucy seemed to like him from just their first meeting.

“Okay. Breakfast sounds nice.”

If only you knew how a simple breakfast would change your life forever.

tag list: @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​ @igotanidea​ @princessbl0ss0m​

[aaabatteryy]

FORBESSSS

Forbes is actually pretty similar to Ford even though his entire character/arc revolves around him NOT being Ford. He's egotistical like him,he's terrible with expressing his emotions besides ego related outbursts,he's lonely and was often made fun of for his eye abnormality like Ford's six fingers,he's desperate for validation and he covers up his insecurities with his ego,he's paranoid and distrustful of others due to trauma,and he's a huge nerd like Ford. Although despite this,he's also unique in his own way. He's charismatic and is actually sociable as well as good at making friends despite being lonely (he's lonely even though he actually has social skills because he resigned himself to the fate of dying alone until he met Bill) due to the fact that Filbert taught him that he has to know how to act in public lest he'd suffer the consequences (getting beat up and also getting humiliated in front of his father's investors),he's nicer and less aloof/snappy than Ford as he shows his friendly side more often for the sake of keeping up his and his family's image despite wanting to have a mental breakdown and or be angrier so bad because of his issues,he is actually functional and slightly more normal than Ford as he has a regular sleep schedule plus he actually eats normally and he eats vegetables as he values self care because he's a normal person and also this is partially because of having to keep up his image unlike Ford who probably eats a single boiled egg or a granola bar for breakfast and he thinks that'll give him enough energy for the day. And Forbes' specialty is technology rather than anomaly research like Ford. Plus he's more open about his insecurities in comparison to Ford,as he was never isolated and driven to not trust even his only family as well as the fact that Filbert didn't really care about his dumb emotions as long as he didn't show them in public meaning he wasn't taught the toxic masculinity thing aka "men don't cry" which is why Forbes is actually pretty pathetic in contrast to Ford as he cries all the time and is very needy for attention. His issues regarding him being desperate for validation is worse than Ford's,since he never had Stan or Shermie to support him growing up when his parents didn't so he basically takes any semblance of affection and recognition such as someone putting a billboard with his company on it or remotely talking to him without any ulterior motives (Fidelity was the one to witness the second option,he was baffled and horrified by the fact that this amazing man had never been acknowledged by his family before). Basically he was praised and put on a pedestal on the surface while simultaneously feeling insecure due to no one actually caring about him besides for his wealth.

FILBERT NEEDS TO DIEEEE /j for legal purposes/silly

filbrick haunts me even here.... worst character /gen

thank the gods that forbes takes care of himself, but he's a little less mecore now /SILLY

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

Hi could I please request a Carl Grimes x fem!reader fic. Some angst but mainly fluff

The reader has a lot of anxiety in general but lately she’s been feeling extra anxious and stressed, more than usual, and Carl takes notice of her change in behavior. He decides to do something about it. He later shows up at her house that night and takes her to the lake as a mini surprise date because he knows it’s one of her favorite spots and that she likes being by the water. They lay next to each other staring up at the night sky stargazing and pointing out the different stars. He talks to her and she opens up about her recent anxiety about losing him fearing that she’s not good enough for him. Carl comforts the reader and gives her any reassurance she may need. Carl and the reader are dating so maybe some soft kissing and making out moments at the end with lots of cuddling.

Thank you 🌙✨

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for the request! It’s not that long it’s more a blurb than anything else, and I also decided to write it from Carl’s point of view. I really do hope you enjoy it though!

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Fem!reader

Setting: Alexandria!

Watch out for the typos y’all.

I smiled to myself as I managed to light the few amount of candles I found in Alexandria.

I made sure everything was set and positioned in a way that made it look like we were royalty. And I was on the way to serve the queen.

I noticed how (Y/N)’s been acting lately, and that’s not the version I know, so I thought a nice dinner out by the lake would be nice for us both.

Looking out at the sun, I realized the sun was setting and thought it was the perfect time to grab (Y/N).

I walked over to her house, and gently knocked on the door. “(Y/N)? Are you in there?”

No reply, but I heard a bit of shuffling. As if someone was trying to get up off a chair.

The door opens and (Y/N) looks at me with a thousand yard stare, that made a shiver go down my spine.

“Hey, I have something to show you.”

“No.” She said and proceeded to close the door in my face. I’m quick to put my foot in the crack of the door before it shut completely.

“Don’t do this. It’s important.” I said, and she opened the door wider.

With a roll of her eyes and a shrug of her shoulders, she motioned for me to go with her chin. “Fine. Show me.”

I smiled, closing the door for her, before placing a hand on her lower back and led her to the lake.

The sun had almost completely set, by that time, and everyone could see the stars shining through.

“What is this?” She asks and I just stand back and let her explore, the entire set up.

There was a table with 2 plates, and one with the dome to shield the food from being shown just yet.

Some of the candles I lit up had died down. But it was the least of my worries. I just wanted to make sure she was having a good time.

“Carl..”

“Remember when you told this was your favorite spot? I decided for us to have dinner here.” I said even though dinner was a bit of a stretch. Considering that the ‘dinner’ was a couple of granola bars and some fruit.

As she took it all in I could tell her emotions were getting the best of her, and tears started welling up in her eyes. I was quick to grab her hand softly and pull her flush into my chest.

I let her do what she needed, continuing to hold her tight and rubbed her back in a soothing manner.

Once she had calmed down, she wiped her eyes and said, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. If you ever need, someone to talk to or just listen, you know I’m here for you.” I replied and she looked like she was going to cry once more.

“I noticed how different you’ve been acting and thought you’d like to have a moment away from the world. By having this dinner with me?”

“Of course, I would love to.” I smile, and pulled her chair out for her, and once she sat down I pushed it in. Then sat in my own chair.

I removed the dome from the food to show her the ‘dinner.’ I even tried to explain why it wasn’t actual food, but she shook her head in understanding.

She reached her hand out and set it atop of mine. “Don’t worry about it. It’s perfect actually.“

We talked about events that happened today whilst eating our dinner. Then decided to lay on the grassy floor and look up at the stars.

“The stars are really pretty tonight.”

I nod, “Well, not as pretty as someone I know, but still a close second.” I replied and she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Carl?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, truly. For the way I’ve been acting lately. I’ve just been stressing out and it was just getting to be too much.”

“You don’t have to do tell me anything, you don’t want to. But what’s got you stressed, (Y/N)?”

She sighed and avoided eye contact before speaking, “I don’t.. It’s just…. I’m scared to lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me-.”

“You don’t know that! We can protect ourselves as long as we can, from the walkers. But from the Saviors? They’d kill any one of us in a heartbeat, without thinking twice.”

“I know. None of us know when we’re going to pass on, we just know that it’s going to happen.” I stated. “As much as that pains you, it’s out of our control. But you know what isn’t out of our control?”

“What’s that?”

“This. This right here. Our time together. The world may be ending, but they can’t take this away from us. I won’t let them.” She smiles sadly at me, and I put a hand on her cheek.

“But I can assure you, that I will be careful as I can with the walkers. I’ll even bring my dad along with me, as a second pair of eyes. Okay?” I lean forward to place a kiss to her forehead.

Once I pulled away I looked into her eyes, as corny as it sounds, her eyes really did sparkle in the moonlight.

“I love you, Carl Grimes.”

“I love you too, (Y/N) (L/N).” I smiled, leaning in once more, but this time kissing her lips softly. I placed a hand on her waist and hers around my neck.

I deepened the kiss, really wanting to show her that I truly wanted to spend every waking moment with her. And she did the same, before we both had to pull away from each other.

We smiled, taking in deep breaths. We didn’t have to exchange any words to know that we loved being in each other’s presence. I pulled her close and she rested her head on my chest.

Before I knew it she was sleeping on me, with a smile on her face.

[villainsview]

Chapter 3

That's Life

<Prev | Masterlist | Next>

Three more days passed. Erick was getting used to the chain, but didn’t move around much beyond shuffling from the corner he’d nestled himself in to the bucket and back again. I kept him mostly fed on the leftovers of my takeout meals and refilled water bottles. I didn’t want to waste too much resources on him until I was sure Allard agreed with the new price, but he hadn’t gotten back to me about that yet.

The boy had gotten much quieter since I took out some frustration on his hand. His only questions were on the subject of the time after waking up, or if he could have more food or water. Initially he was worried that I was going to kill him because I showed my face. I told him the police wouldn’t be able to catch me anyway, but he still didn’t seem very convinced. Maybe that’s why he was so quiet?

Whatever, I wasn’t gonna start complaining about that now. Unfortunately the peace and quiet was broken by my phone, and it wasn’t even Allard with his confirmation, it was an unknown number.

I sighed before picking up.

“Hello?”

“I’m looking for someone to get their hands dirty for me,” a deep, female voice replied. I raised a brow, not recognising it…her.

“How’d you get this number?” I checked.

“Peter Allard gave me your card—”

“I don’t have a card.”

“Well it was actually a greasy napkin that he’d scribbled your number on because the idiot doesn’t keep paper at hand,” the lady said. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

“Yeah that sounds like Allard,” I said, “I suppose you’re not his bookkeeper?”

“No I— Listen, can you do a job for me, or not?” the woman asked, trying to get back to business.

“I’m kinda in the middle of a job right now though, but I’m hoping to be finished by the end of the week,” I said.

“That won’t do. I need this done quickly.” She sighed, sounding rather impatient.

“I could multitask, but it being a rush job will cost you extra,” I said, smelling a little extra cash coming my way.

“Hm…fine. I’ll text you the details. Let me know if you’re up for it. You’ll have two days to complete it.”

She hung up without warning. Talk about demanding... I shook my head a bit, before checking the text that arrived almost immediately after. She’d enclosed some addresses and a picture of her target, asking to bring him to a specific address within the two day limit. It was all in the city. That should be doable…

“You behave yourself, I’ll be back soon,” I said, glancing over at the boy in the corner.

“Y-yes, sir,” he replied quietly, quickly nodding, “um…c-can I have some water while you’re out?”

“Whatever,” I said, tossing a bottle and a granola bar in his direction,

“I’ll be back soon, no need to make it last.”

“Thank you, s-sir…”

I ignored him, closing the side door of my van and opening the garage door so I could drive out, making sure to lock it properly behind me.

I forgot to ask for her name, but the lady from the phone wanted me to grab the guy from the picture in her text. He didn’t seem too important to me, but why she wanted him wasn’t any of my concern, nor did I care. I just had to find the right supplies, find the guy, truss him up properly and hand him over.

His name was Mike Tracy, he was an accountant of some sorts. So I planned to grab him after work. He usually worked overtime, so he’d be tired, and hopefully wouldn’t notice me following him. In my van at first, then, after spotting an opportunity I parked up ahead in an alley and waited for him. It was so easy. I just had to grab a hold of his arm, pull him into the alley, wave my gun at him, explain it wasn’t a robbery and force him into the van.

He wasn’t a lot of fun. Crying a bit, asking who I worked for…I told him to shut up, putting my hand on his throat and managing to block enough blood flow to his brain for him to pass out so I could tie him up for the road in peace.

It being just after rush hour made for nice and quiet traffic, giving me a smooth drive back to the storage lot, smooth jazz playing on the radio as I cruised over quieter and quieter roads until there wasn’t a person in sight. I unlocked the gate surrounding the lot, leaving it open as I rolled my van inside. I’d be leaving soon anyway. Just had to pick up another passenger, and better restrain Mr Tracy.

I cranked the radio up a bit, leaving my van running as I opened the garage door. It seemed Erick had been curled up in his corner, probably trying to catch some sleep, though he sat up alarmed as the door loudly rattled as it opened. Recognising me, the teen pulled his knees closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he shrunk a bit, giving me the usual fearful stare.

“On your feet,” I said as I approached him.

While he scrambled to pick himself up, I reached for my gun. I had put all my supplies in the van, so I needed him to behave during the couple feet towards the vehicle. However, when he spotted the gun, he freaked out, shaking his head and backing away until the chain nearly tripped him up.

“W-wait, p-please!” he said, “p-please…d-don’t kill me!”

I smirked. Of course he was still scared of that. I’m usually always right. I stepped closer to the teen, watching him unsuccessfully attempt to blink away the tears that were already rolling down his cheeks as he pressed himself against the wall. I hadn’t even switched the safety off , but the kid either hadn’t noticed or didn’t know much about guns as he sobbed some more pleads while I slowly pressed the barrel against his throat, shushing him slowly and repeatedly until he started holding his breath in an attempt to be quiet.

“We’re gonna go for a lil drive,” I said, “and you’re going to behave, right?”

He quickly nodded, choking back a sob as I put a little pressure on his throat with the gun.

“I can’t hear you…”

“Y-yes sir…I-I’ll behave!” the teen whimpered.

Satisfied with his answer, I nodded, stepping back and handing him the key to the padlock holding the chain in place.

“Free yourself,” I said, “put the chain in the van. Now!”

The teen jumped, nearly dropping the key as he shuffled over to the piping and shakily unlocked the padlock, holding it in his hand as he bunched up most of the chain in his arms, the other end still connected to the shackle around his ankle. He glanced over at me as he held the chain, and I gestured towards the van with my gun, following closely behind him as he headed out of the garage.

I put a hand on his shoulder, making sure he wouldn’t try anything stupid as I pulled open the side door, sliding it aside to reveal Mike Tracy, looking none too happy as he had woken up to find his necktie stuffed in his mouth, kept in place with a strip of tape. Erick froze, staring at the man a moment before shooting me a confused look.

“Just get in,” I said, giving him a push and climbing in after him.

I pulled my bag from behind a struggling Tracy, grumbling at him to shut up while I pulled out some leftover rope and tape. It was easy to push Erick against the floor so I could tie his hands behind his back. I used the chain to wrap around his ankles a bit before padlocking it to the ring bolted to the floor so he couldn’t kick around. It seemed he was too stunned about the whole situation to struggle much, though he protested when I picked up the tape to gag him.

“N-no, wait! S-sir, please, I—”

Smack!

The back of my hand collided with the side of his face, the teen promptly shutting up as the satisfying smack rang in our ears. He took a shaky gasp of air as I grabbed his jaw.

“I said behave!” I hissed, using my teeth to tear off a strip of tape and smoothed it over the teen’s lips.

I shoved him to lie down, giving Tracy another kick for good measure, before packing up the rest of my things and heading off to the address I was given.

The address was that of an office building in the south of the city. It looked pretty run down, but also abandoned. The lights on the parking lot didn’t work, meaning it would be easy to move around unseen from the road.

I checked my phone to double-check the floor I had to go to, before scouting the entrances to see how I would get Tracy inside. The emergency exit was the only door that was unlocked.

I returned to my van, sliding open the side door and looked over my prisoners. Tracy still had some fight in him, while Erick tried to avoid looking at me. I grabbed at his shirt, forcing him to sit up.

“Not a single peep from you while I'm gone or so help me!” I growled.

The teen quickly nodded, shuffling backward as far as the chain let him after I let go again. I needed both my hands to manage Tracy with his struggling and shaking his head. I ignored his muffled bitching as I cut his legs free, before dragging him out of the van and closing the door. He tried to dig his heels in as well as call for help as I dragged him towards the building, but there was no one around to help him.

“Come on!” I growled annoyed, pulling him through the door and finding the stairs to go up to the second floor.

There was a light burning in one of the old offices, dust crunching under our shoes as I used Tracy as a shield, forcing him to walk in front of me. You can never be too sure after all. We turned the corner, the light flickering strangely, before I realised it came from a couple candles, dripping hot wax all over a dusty, cracked desk.

In a significantly cleaner-looking chair sat a tan woman with bright red lipstick. Her long, brown hair was braided atop her head, but I couldn’t get a good look at her face as her eyes were hidden behind a pair of black shades. Steel-toed biker boots were resting on the desk near the candles, dark blue jeans hugging her legs and hips, disappearing seamlessly underneath a black leather jacket with elbow padding. In her hands, clad in fingerless leather gloves, she was holding a small device, pressing a button on the side as I walked in with Tracy.

“Seven hours to spare,” she said.

I recognised her voice from the phone call.

“Impressive.” she added, pocketing the stopwatch and getting up.

She wasn’t taller than me, but still tall for a woman. She looked at Tracy, gesturing for him to come closer. He didn’t move, however, so I pushed him forward. The woman caught him, putting a hand under his chin.

“Kneel.” she ordered.

Tracy seemed to melt as he promptly dropped to his knees. The woman bent over, still holding his head up with her hand under his chin.

“Look at you. That’s not how you wear a necktie~” she said, pulling the tape off of his face and prying the tie out of his mouth. Tracy coughed as she stepped back, tossing the tie aside.

“Isn’t that much better now, hun?”

“P-p-please Miss Thorne! I-I’ll get the money, I-I swear! I just need more time!” Tracy began pleading, “M-Mr Allard said I had until the end of the week!”

So her name was Thorne? I wasn’t sure if her name rang a bell. Maybe Allard mentioned her before? It didn’t matter. As interesting as she was, I never planned to stick around.

“Can I get my money now? I got other things to do,” I said.

“All in due time~” Thorne said, unzipping her jacket and shaking it off.

Underneath she was wearing a very revealing tank top, her collarbones and chest decorated with an elaborate butterfly tattoo. I would’ve turned around for her privacy, but I didn’t know her well enough to turn my back to her, so I focused my gaze on the sharp-looking ornament dangling from her earring instead, remaining vigilant as she did turn around to put her jacket on the chair, revealing the gun tucked into the band of her jeans.

“I know what Peter said,” she continued, turning back, “but you know how he is.”

She pulled out her gun, the mechanism clicking loudly as she loaded it. Tracy panicked, sobbing something about his mother while Thorne aimed the gun at him. I noticed I was slowly moving my hand closer to my own gun, just in case. And sure enough, with a deafening blow, she pulled the trigger. In a reflex, I pulled out my own gun before his lifeless body even hit the floor, but Thorne had already lowered hers again, wiping some blood off of her tattoo.

“Relax,” she said, spotting the gun in my hands as she looked back up, “you know Peter can lose his patience sometimes~”

“And then he calls you?” I asked, lowering my gun, but not putting it away just yet.

“I’m usually more subtle, but this was a rush job,” Thorne said, “you smoke?”

I sighed, pulling my pack of cigarettes from my pocket and opening it to offer her one. After she took one, I grabbed my lighter, flicking it on and holding it out towards her so she could light it. She took about three quick drags, before handing it over to me, her lipstick staining the filter.

“Here, you finish it. I’m trying to quit actually,” she said, pulling a grey backpack from behind the desk, handing that to me too, “here’s your money. If you clean up the body for me you can sell his organs. I’m sure that’ll provide adequate payment.”

“Only if I can remove and preserve them in time,” I said.

“Well, can you?”

I looked down at Tracy’s body and sighed.

“Yeah,” I said, “I know a place.”

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[nerves-nebula]

googled "granola bar" for a drawing and almost started crying cuz the images reminded me of when i was really small and mom would have us wake up early to go on field trips with the rest of the home schooling group and she'd make us home made granola bars which, to my memory, were way better than anything store bought ever was.

my sister and i sometimes talk about how our mom gave us dessert in placement of being a good parent and this memory just makes that even more clear than it already was. i don't know what being loved feels like nowadays but i think being given my own little baggy of warm crumbling granola bars probably made me feel loved back then.

[bl00dnb0n3s]

my plan to reach 75lbs by november <3

(for reference im 96-95lbs rn)

so my biggest struggles is being with my mom for a week bcuz shes always ON MY ASS!!!!!

-avoiding looking sick

ill always wear AT LEAST a skin tint around my mother because i start to go very pale and yellow, and always do my skincare and wash my face night n day, and always make sure to shower and keep my hygiene up and always stay hydrated.

-hiding my body

i HAVE to wear baggy clothes around her all the time, only sweats n sweaters when im with her and ill also have to make it look like my thighs havent gotten smaller (they used to be HUGE n now its noticeable whenenver i reach a new lw)

-hiding my disorder.

ill have to eat normally but i can ALWAYS portion my meals unless she prepares my dinner, lunch, breakfast. but sense i am finally starting school ill be able to say i had lunch at school and i wont have to worry about that but at the dinner table i cant act disorderd once so ever. no picking your food, no taking off bread crumbs, no try not to say no to fatty foods (thats real hard i always say no)

-fasting

i literally cannot fast at my moms no matter how hard i try she will always try and find a way to make me eat somehow n that triggers my b.e.d which is no good. and i dont wanna gain 10lbs in a week again😭 but if i do i can always fast for few days and the weight will fall off me so its fine for now? i just rather not binge i hate the feeling after i CANNOT handle it. but if i feel like i will im coming on tumblr and asking for meanspo

-calories

my calorie budget at my moms will be 1,200 MAX but my preferred is 700 cals but its very hard to stay under 700 cals when she makes me eat 3 meals a day n snacks. what the fuck. anyways as-long as i don't go over 2000 cals i wont gain a single pound of fat so yeah, and also i will try and cut out sugar when i'm there but its very hard bcuz she bakes all the time

-foods ill be aloud to have when im there

protein bars ofc, greek yogurt, granola, protein shakes, any meat, veggies, fruits but remember to count every calorie!

ill try to avoid getting fast food but if my mom wants to get starbucks with me im not saying no bcuz i dont wanna see her cry again😭

now my plan for my dads

sense he dosent think im disorderd at all and that im healthy its gonna be very easy :)

fasting

ill fast whenever, but try to spread them out and no longer then 5 days max (thats when my body starts to give out, i almost died when i did 6-7 days lol)

-NEVER eat alone. why? i dont have to if no ones making me eat? ill only eat dinner infront of my dad if its not a fasting day. (non fasting days are my omads :))

-eat downstairs when its omad. fasting eat upstairs n give the food to my dog

make it like you LOVE food (i have to do this at my dads n moms so) one way is by cooking!! i love cooking last night i made chicken n a low cal garlic sauce myself n my own recipe!! (lmk if youd like it ;))

n omads at dads r 400 cals max for dinner. if its over dont eat it all easy and try to binge at dads but thats really rare for me sense i have nothing i want to eat here 😭

NEVER GET ON THE SCALE INFRONT OF HIM. MY COVER WOULD BE BLOWN😭

[mrs-kodzuken]

Forever Mine ♡

Pairing: Aged up!Kenji Futakuchi x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

Genre: fluff, marriage au

CW: fem!reader, implied short!reader, marriage au, fluff, slight overbearing mother?, mentions of food repeatedly, mention of no father, platonic boob holding

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"Girl, hush, you had a granola bar this morning; you'll be fine!" I heard my mom scold me.

I just stared at her, feeling my stomach growl. "But that doesn't calm my stomach," I pointed out.

Ever since I was little, I have always been a person who could put away a lot of food. And I was getting married to my fiancé in a couple of hours. Which unfortunately meant that in order to not be bloated in my wedding dress, I couldn't eat right this second.

She glared and said, "Calm down. You'll get food when you're done." She spoke, fixing my hair in the mirror.

The idea of food never left my thoughts or stomach.

I could really go for some pizza right now. Maybe I could call the pizza place really quickly without my mom knowing? That is, if I'm ever out of her line of sight.

"I can't believe that you're getting married. It just seems as if I was changing your diapers." My mom wiped away a small tear. She had suddenly got super emotional.

"Mom, you said you weren't going to cry till after the ceremony." I laughed lightly.

"But seriously, I don't like seeing you cry." I gave her a small hug, making sure not to mess up my hair.

"Oh, are the bridesmaids almost done? I want to see how they look." I pulled away from the hug and entered the room connected to mine.

"Good god, you all look wonderful!" I astonishingly said to all of them.

Suddenly, a herd of women surrounded me. And of course, with my short height, I was hardly able to get out of their grasp.

"Do you need help with your makeup? I'll do it for you." I looked at my friend, whom I asked to be a bridesmaid.

"Ah, thank you," I thanked her whilst I grabbing the makeup box.

After about an hour, we all had done almost all of each other's makeup and because I needed something to take my mind off of hunger.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, dear. Now all you have to do is walk your fine ass down the aisle and become a Futakuchi." My soon to be husband said through the door.

I have been talking to my fiancé for about ten minutes now. I wouldn't let him see me till I was walking down the aisle, I didn't want any bad luck on our special day.

However, my smile was quickly replaced by a groan of hunger.

"Babe? Are you alright?" I heard him through the door. He couldn't open it obviously, but I could tell he definitely wanted to.

"I'm fine, just hungry." I lightly laughed. If I didn't get food in me quick, I was sure I was going to die.

Hearing no response from Kenji at the door, I furrowed my brows. Getting on my knees, I bent down to see if his shoes were still there from under the door.

Which they weren't, by the way.

Suddenly, a loud gasp made me look up. I saw my mom there, looking as if she was about to scold me for being on the floor.

I silently told Kenji I loved him as I received an earful from the woman who raised me all my life.

"Ah, yes, thank you for that," I awkwardly said to my mother. She sighed and shooed me away, saying something like I should already be in my dress and shoes.

Sorry mom, but I was more worried about my future husband than a dress and heels, even if they were gorgeous.

A loud knock sounded throughout the room. The bridesmaids had pulled me into their room as if sensing Kenji was outside that door.

I pressed my ear against the mahogany door while listening. Although, it seemed to be that I was hearing for exactly nothing.

"(Y/n)? You can come out now." I finally heard someone speak, kind of sounding like my mom.

Once my mom said that, I rushed out to see if anything was wrong.

I noticed a pizza box in her hands, she handed it to me.

"Did Kenji get this?" I asked hesitantly, a smile coming upon my cherry-colored lips.

"Yeah, you said you were hungry, so I went and got you my favorite pizza. Enjoy babe." I heard a kissy sound from him through the door, and his foot steps trailed away.

Dear God, I love that man. Which is exactly why I'm going to marry him.

I set the pizza box down and quickly indulged in it, not really caring if it was burning my mouth or not. I sure was hungry.

I'll definitely have to thank him for this. I almost died from the lack of food.

"After that piece, I'll save it for you. You need to be in your dress and down the hall in ten minutes." I heard my mom lecture looking at her gold wristwatch, as I shoved the crust into my mouth.

I saluted and licked my fingers, heading towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my hands.

"Are you ready?" I saw a plastic bag that held my dress in it.

I nodded and took off my robe, which revealed the embarrassing black lingerie my best friend had put me in.

She said something along the lines of, I should get the attention of my man by wearing something hot.

As if I didn't get his attention already. I could hardly stop him from paying attention to me and what was underneath the clothes.

After I slipped on the dress, I was down the hall in a short period of time.

I was met with my mom, who would walk me down the aisle. I mean, who needed a dad anyway?

We hooked arms as I nervously held the bouquet. Even though I've woken up to his handsome face plenty of times, it still gets the knots in my stomach going.

Later, rather than sooner, our vows were said and the celebration of my marriage lasted for hours.

Kenji had been lying on my breasts for the past thirty minutes. I love him so much, I truly do, but I was about to snap, it was uncomfortable.

I shifted, trying to move his head so it would be lying between them instead.

"Why are you moving? Are you uncomfortable?" He looked up sweetly at me.

I glared at his handsome face, which pissed me off even more than his big ass head.

"Your fat head is hurting my boobs," I whined, shoving his head down to my mid-gut.

"You could have just said so; let's switch places then." He laughed softly, putting my comfort over his.

Right as I was about to question him, he had flipped us over. Where I had my back against his chest instead.

I snuggled my back into his chest, paying more attention to the movie now that I was comfortable and happy.

We got married two months ago, but yet he still says dumb shit like this.

"I can massage them for you." I could almost feel the smirk on his face.

I tore my eyes off the screen and just stared at him. How the hell is someone so perfectly annoying?

"As much as I'd like that, I'm watching a good movie right now, babe." I pointed it out, shifting so I could have more cover.

"Can I hold them then? They're always really warm." He commented, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

Before I could comment, his hands slipped under my shirt, and I felt his extremely large hands hold my breasts.

This was some kind of 'normal' thing we would do. However, it most likely didn't seem as normal as he thought.

"Kenji?" I mumbled, my eyes burning from looking at the television screen without blinking.

He hummed to answer, and I could feel the small vibration through his chest.

"I love you."

He pulled his hand from my shirt and squeezed my body in a tight hug, "I love you too, baby."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” from Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you would like more!

the header is from FutakuchiKenji7 on X