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brooooswriting · 1 year ago

Note

BOOM BROKO

IM BACK WITH ANOTHER IDEA FOR U

So I'm thinking Sam x Reader who is selectively mute <and a lil scared of her>(don't attack me people I just like the trope)

Yes , anyway at first she thought R was Suspicious, abut then she found out That R was Selectively mute when she pulled out a Pad to write an answer.

But then R talked to Sam 😯 and She was very happy ya know FLOOF because we need it

(if you don't feel comfortable doing this, then don't :) Lu <3 )

Might be quiet

Sam Carpenter x reader

Sam was suspicious of everyone, it was nothing new. So nobody was surprised when she was also suspicious of you, somebody new to the group. Especially because you were two years older than Tara, who had brought you into the group after meeting you at college. Something about that was already off for her, why would you hand out with people two years younger than you? And by the amount of times you and T hung out it seemed like you were only hanging out with her.

But what really made her suspicious was the fact that you never talked. Well, to be honest, Sam wasn’t one to strike up a convo either but ever since Tara brought you home three weeks ago she hasn’t heard you say a damn word, it was weird and nobody could convince her otherwise. Not saying anything would make it even harder for them to figure it out if you were ghostface.

“Tara, there’s something wrong with her. She’s totally 100% suspicious” Sam said as you left, hugging Tara but again, no words were spoken. Not even a goodbye, which wasn’t just suspicious to Sam but also rude.

“She’s not Sam. Just leave her alone about it please. She’s not suspicious or weird, she has her reasons” the younger carpenter disappeared before Sam could ask any questions. She knew about your selective muteness from the beginning, it was her first day and she didn’t know where to go so she asked you. When you pulled out pen and paper she thought you were mute but after meeting her a couple of times you could explain your condition to her.

After being at Tara’s for the first time you refused to go there again as Sam scared the living shit out of you. It was like that for rather long, even if seen in public she’d just stare you down which scared you even more. But after seeing her interact with her younger sister a couple of times, you realized that she was only overprotective of her. It made her a bit less scary. So you came to the apartment again, more often than you would have thought.

One day, Tara invited you over. But due to a terrible miscalculation of everything on Tara’s side you arrived before her, meaning that Sam opened the door for her. You gave her an awkward wave. “Y/n, hi. Tara said she’d be here soon” Sam said stepping to the side, slightly rolling her eyes when you didn’t talk. You stood even more awkwardly in the room, unsure of where to go until Sam pointed to the dinner table. When you said down without saying anything Sam finally snapped.

“Jeez, do you ever say anything? Do you know how weird it is to never say Anything?! And also quiet rude, I mean like, say hello and bye. My goodness” Sam nearly screamed making you cower and give her a sad smile which made her roll her eyes, this time very obvious. “How did Tara even meet you?!” She continued starring into your soul.

You looked away awkwardly, your eyes landing on your backpack. You held up a finger, signaling her to wait while you fished some things out of your bag. Sam looked at the paper and the pen curiously as you started to write in neat handwriting.

‘We met on campus, she didn’t know where to go so she asked me. Had to write down the directions’

Sam looked at you and then at the paper, trying to piece together the puzzle. “So you had to write down the way?” She asked and you nodded.

“You didn’t talk to her?” She continued, you shook your head this time.

“But you do talk to her now when you’re alone?” She mumbled unsure, but your nod reassured her.

“You’re not always mute right?” You nodded again giving her a small smile.

“But sometimes you are?” The older sister seemed to be happy that she finally figured it out, giving you a rather big smile which made you smile too.

There was a moment of silence which was broken by Tara entering the apartment. “Y/n” she called out, causing you to jump up and hug her, happy to be with someone who gave you comfort. “You good?” She asked and you nodded, smiling slightly as it reminded you of your interaction with Sam who was now gone.

When you noticed that you finally mustered up the courage to speak. “How was your day?” You asked as Tara pulled you into her room, but your thoughts they were only on the older carpenter.

The next time you saw Sam was on campus, she was picking Tara up who stayed at your dorm for the day to study with you. You offered that she could sleep here but her sister didn’t allow it, to scared of something happening to her so she picked her up herself. The brunette was 20 minutes earlier than she was supposed to be, you didn’t think that it was gonna be her at the door but Anika. She was around you constantly, another person you could talk to but who often would talk most of the time so you didn’t have to. She was comforting and knew everything about you.

You opened the door with freshly washed hair and in joggers and a sports bra, while Tara went to have a shower as it was a hot day. The way you looked in a simple fit like that was the only thing you could focus on. “Hey, sorry I’m earlier than I thought I’d be” she said as she finally stopped staring at you, your face beet red.

A small smile signaled her that it was fine before you opened the door further and stretched your arm to the side inviting her in. Out of politeness and maybe a bit of curiosity she came inside, looking at the posters and the pictures you had in your room and then looking forwards the bathroom where she heard your shower running.

‘Tara’s showering. How are you? How was your day?” You wrote on a small whiteboard, showing it to her with a smile. There was something about that smile that made Sam all giddy, so she sat on the end of you bed and started talking to you, explaining how shitty her boss is and how she can’t wait for him to retire before asking about your day.

‘Your sister is amazing but if she forces me to watch babadook again I’m gonna need a new friend. We are watching that damn movie after every study session’ Sam grinned at you as you huffed pointing to your open laptop, the credits of the movie on hold.

“She makes me watch that too. I gave up on trying to fight it, I’m pretty sure I can memorize it by now” she told you just as Tara came out of the bathroom in one of your shirts. She felt Ill at ease knowing that her sister got to wear your cloths.

“What are you already doing here?” Tara asked as she dried her hair with a towel, Sam only shaking her head at the rude tone.

“I’m happy to see you too, no. Really no problem, I love picking you up after work” Sam said, her voice filled with sarcasm Making you chuckle a bit. Her head turned to you, that was the first sound she had heard from you except maybe a sigh or a grunt. It was one of the best sounds she had ever heard.

It went on like that for a while, Sam would talk to you, you’d write on something. You’d have normal conversation, sometimes even a bit deeper ones but she never got to the point where you talked to her. She believed that she noticed times where you tried but couldn’t. Honestly, ever since she knew why you weren’t speaking she found it cute. Sure, it was sad too, but the shyness was kinda cute to her.

“Hey y/n” Sam said as she let you into the apartment, Tara was again to late. Or rather, you were too early but you wanted some alone time with Sam. You waved at her and stepped into the room, nodding your head toward the couch. By now Sam had gotten a hang of understanding you even without words so she sat down on the couch, close enough for your legs to touch.

It was a habit you to created, instead of talking you guys would have physical contact. Your legs were touching or your shoulders brushing, sometimes her hand would rest half on top of yours or on your knee. There was this weird connection between you two lately but Sam decided to wait to make a move until you could talk to her. It just felt right to her. Her arms was stretched behind you on the couch.

You took a deep breath before opening your mouth. “W-we should go on a date” you mumbled out barely loud enough for Sam to understand but she did, a smile forming on her face. But now it was her time to be unable to speak, a nod being the first thing coming from her before she finally caught herself again.

“Yeah we should. Oh my god, you talked to me” she had the biggest smile on her face as she turned to look at you. Your cheeks coated in a slight pink. Your voice was the loveliest thing she had ever heard.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” You nodded out of Habit before taking a deep breath again.

“Yes, please” you said. This time your voice was louder. She pulled you into her arms, hugging you tight while pressing a kiss to the side of your face. She still couldn’t believe you had talked.

“I’m so happy” she grinned out as she pulled away, the smiles on your face matching as you looked at each other. This time her arms wrapped around your shoulder pulling you a bit closer, you happily leaning against her.

At least until Tara came causing you to pull away from Sam and sit at your normal distance. She looked at you confused while her sister walked over to the two of you. “Hey guys” she said as she sat down on the arm chair. Sam greeted her back while you nodded at her, confusing Sam. “Wanna watch a movie?” The younger carpenter continued, both of you nodding.

After the movie you decided to go back to your dorm, waving goodbye to Sam after giving Tara a hug. You walked down the stairs in thoughts only to be interrupted by someone running down the stair, it was Sam with a trash bag in hand.

“I needed an excuse to follow you” she started as she followed your gaze to the trash in her hand. “Did you change your mind about this? Because everything changed as soon as T came in” she asked staring at the ground, scared that you did in fact change your mind.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, panic started to take over as your hands shook a bit and your eyes avoided sams. You heard the trash bag fell before you saw Sam take a step closer and engulfing you in a careful hug. “Shhh, take your time. It’s okay either way, if it was just a panic reaction it’s okay. Now take your time, or I can give you my phone and you can type it out” she held you so loose that you always had the opportunity to pull away but at the same time strong enough to give you comfort. Your arms wrapped around her neck, your face against her chest.

After a short bit you finally gathered the courage to talk again. “I didn’t change my mind, I just panicked when I heard T. I’m sorry but I promise you I want this” you told her leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel pressured to go out with me” she smiled at your form in her arms before continuing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” You nodded, not wanting to waste any time by speaking. She grinned and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips, you were chasing hers as she pulled away.

“You know, I practiced asking you out a lot with Anika” you told her before leaning up to kiss her again. Her eyes stayed close as you pulled away as she wanted to bask in the feeling a little longer, but when she opened her eyes you were already out of the front door.

God, she couldn’t wait to hear your voice again.

What are we thinking about part two? Or maybe a series out of this?

#reader insert #brooooswriting #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x female reader #melissa barrera x fem!reader #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x y/n #melissa barrera x reader

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lilliesofinspirationvalley · 3 months ago

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Starstruck

Well. People seemed surprisingly enthusiastic about my Billy/OC fic. Ask and I shall deliver!

You can also read the fic on AO3! I have a lot of ZZZ oc things in mind, and you'll be able to find them all in one place over there!

As fate would have it, the biggest Starlight Knight fan-droid in all of New Eridu meets one of the artists behind the series! Luckily for him, she finds him quite endearing (and honestly really hot).

Waterfall Soup was wrapping up lunch rush during bright and sunny afternoon on New Eridu’s Sixth Street. Its owner, General Chop, noticed the last customer of the hour from the corner of his eye.

A young woman with deep purple hair and a turquoise varsity jacket held out her bowl, completely empty except for a small puddle of broth.

The short, stout man with bright red skin exhaled a small laugh from his nose. “You don’t have to try handing me the bowl every time, Lydia. I can grab it no problem,” Chop insisted as one of his mechanical bamboo arms extended and swiped the bowl out of her hands.

Lydia rolled her silver eyes with a playful smirk. “Well excuse me for wanting to be a considerate customer.”

“Hey, now. I never said it wasn’t appreciated.” Chop grinned with a light shrug. “I’m guessing you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon on Sixth Street?”

“That’s the plan!” The purple haired woman stood up from her seat, grabbing a silver tablet lying on the counter. “I wanted to browse Box Galaxy to see if they still have a figure in stock, and try sketching some of the cats that congregate around— here…” Lydia’s pleasant expression froze into slight concern. She unfolded her tablet’s keyboard case, shuffled through her small backpack, then used a stool to support herself as she crouched onto the ground.

“… Is something wrong?”

“Nothing too major, at least not yet,” Lydia bit her lower lip. “My tablet pen must’ve fallen when I got my food. It couldn’t have rolled off too far, do you think?”

General Chop’s face scrunched up, unsure. “Do you have a clue what direction it went?”

“Well… given I sat on the very end here, and pens like to roll in circles…” The woman traced a rounded line from right to left. “I’m guessing it’s down by the newsstand or arcade. I just hope someone didn’t pick it up or trip on it—“

“WAUGH!”

On cue, the loudest clang and crunch erupted from across the street. Most of the civilians nearby, Lydia and Chop included, covered their ears and/or slightly flinched.

“What the— did someone drop an anvil or something?!” Long, purple waves swung side to side as Lydia tried to find the source of the noise. The only thing out of place were… a pair of legs sprawled out behind Howl’s newsstand. She couldn’t see who they belonged to, just the black jeans and slip-on shoes they wore— a lone silver knee pad on the right, nothing wrapped around it.

General Chop inhaled through his teeth. “Definitely some heavy metal, I can confirm that much. That snapping sound doesn’t bode well, either.”

“It really doesn’t…” Lydia put her tablet back in her bag, swinging it across her shoulders. “Let me check it out. If they need to be propped up, can I bring them here?”

The stout chef crossed his own arms, one of the bamboo ones giving a thumbs up. “You don’t even have to ask.”

The woman nodded with a small salute before dashing across the street. She rested one hand on the newsstand building, the other stretched out to whoever fell down. “Hey, you ok? You need an ambulance or—“

The arm she held out fell slightly limp.

In front of her, on the ground, was a robot. As real as real could possibly get. It wasn’t too rare to see androids around New Eridu— but not one roaming the city streets on their own! Aside from a body and face of jet black metal… they looked mostly human. Platinum white, synthetic hair styled up high and flashy, a bright red jacket with a small sheriff’s star pin, pale gray and shockingly toned abs— Wait, why did a robot have abs? Why was this guy (given the pretty masculine appearance) walking around practically shirtless? Not a complaint by any means, just… surprising.

Lydia blinked, shaking her head. For the love of— don’t ogle someone’s abs when they might be knocked out! She stepped around, sitting on her knees to look the android over. No real nose or mouth… but the obvious eyelights shut off. Definitely not a good indicator. Pursing her lips together, Lydia tapped the android’s shoulders, then his forehead. Without any response, she exhaled a small, stressed huff. It felt weird to say, but robots had some sort of power button or something, right? Maybe he just needed to be turned back on again.

Sure enough, Lydia spotted a large, golden button shaped like a diamond. Right in between jet black pecs and those silver abs. Her eyes widened, cheeks slightly flushed. “Oh no… don’t tell me…” She held a hand to her face, taking a deep breath. “It’s not weird! I’m just checking if the robot’s conscious. I’m not gonna fondle his chest, or anything like that! Just press the button and see if something happens. And hope I don’t reset him somehow.”

Lydia shook out her hands, slowly moving one of them towards the button. Two fingers swiftly pressed down, instantly coming back to her chest.

Finally, after agonizing seconds of anticipation, bright golden eyes flickered on. They narrowed in confusion and slight pain as the android sat himself up. “Woah, man. I did not expect to fall that hard,” He glanced behind him at the ground, an expressive voice coming from… somewhere.

“Holy shit, it actually worked.”

The robot’s shoulders jumped up slightly, his head whipping back around to see the source of the new voice. The first thing he noticed were two star-shaped clips holding up a small portion of dark purple hair, the rest in a low ponytail. Some loose strands around her forehead framed a lightly tanned face with dumbfounded, silver eyes. The kind of silver you’d see in the stars…

Was this woman sitting by him the whole time?!

A jet black hand slowly rose up with a light wave. “Uh… hi.”

Lydia waved back. “Hi. Are you… feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I would say so.”

“How far back can you remember?”

“Huh?! Well… I don’t know if I can unpack all of that on the spot, but—“

“Oh thank god, I didn’t give you amnesia!” The purple haired woman nearly sunk into the street, her hands clasping at a purple tie wrapped in a loose bow at her chest. “I guess when you fell, you were unconscious for a minute— I just saw the button in the middle of your chest and prayed it might get you up and running again.”

The android looked down at the said button, then back at his apparent rescuer. “So… you turned me back on?”

THE PHRASING. Lydia inhaled tightly. “Yyyyep! That’s all I did though! I didn’t touch anything else, I swear.”

“I mean, I don’t feel anything else… ‘xcept for my butt being a little sore.”

“Ah geez, I can only imagine— hold on. You can… feel touch? You can feel pain?!”

“Mhm. As you can probably guess, I’m pretty durable, so it takes a lot to actually hurt me. I usually wince out of surprise more than anything.”

“I see… So you’re pretty sure you don’t have a concussion or anything?”

“I don’t think I can get concussions.” Jet black fingers with crimson joints ran through platinum white hair. “But I appreciate the concern! Uh… Miss?”

The purple haired woman let out a small laugh. “All of this and I didn’t even tell you my name yet!” She pushed stray hair out of her face before offering out a hand. “I’m Lydia.”

“Lydia… that’s a pretty name,” The android nodded slowly, just kinda. Staring at her.

“Um… Aren’t you gonna tell me yours?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s Billy. Billy Kid.”

“Huh. Cuter than I expected,” Lydia muttered to herself as Billy finally shook her hand. Yep. That’s a robot hand if she’s ever felt one. A very firm… yet gentle grip. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Billy! Here, let me help you back up—“

“No, no, I’m fine! I don’t want your arms to fall out from pulling too hard.”

“Are you really that heavy? I guess you must be if your fall was so… loud…” Lydia paused as she realized she was back on her feet, Billy holding both of her hands. The only thing breaking the awkward silence was the soft whrrrrr of fans.

Holy shit, he was tall. She only stood eye-level to the button on his chest… which was only inches away from her. Lydia did her best to look away and not seem so perverted— but in her defense, she noticed something. Slightly covered by his jacket was a small, yellow emoticon with a cartoony dead expression and blood spewing out its head, “HEADSHOT” written below it in sharp, capital letters. Guess that meant even robots could get tattoos?

Only when Lydia looked up to see Billy gazing back down at her, he finally broke away. And by broke away, he shoved himself back with his arms practically flailing. “S-sorry about that!”

“No, you’re good! You got me back up all on your own, I was just. Surprised it happened so fast.” Lydia rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish laugh. “But don’t move around too much though. Tripping again wouldn’t be fun.”

“You’ve got a point there… what did I even trip on, anyway?” The android looked back down on the ground to see… something thin and silver, perfectly split in two. Well, save for the microchips unsheathed.

Lydia’s shoulders dropped. “Ah. That’s where my pen went.”

“Wait— that’s yours?!” Billy immediately pressed his hands together over his head with a deep bow. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

The purple haired woman held out her hands in reassurance. “Hey, it’s ok! I’m sorry it made you trip!” Lydia kept a calm smile as she crouched back down and picked up the remains of her pen. “It sucks that it broke, but I can buy a replacement no problem.”

Billy froze, hesitantly fidgeting with his hands. “Uh… how much would a replacement be? Admittedly I don’t have much money on me right now, but—“

Lydia pointed at him with one of the pen fragments, a pleasantly stern gleam in her eyes. “You’re not paying me back for an accident, mister. Not a single denny!” She looked back down at the pieces with a small shrug. “I can get one on my way back home later tonight. Guess I won’t get to sketch the kitties, though.”

The robot tilted his head, oddly doglike. “You draw?”

“That I do!” Without much warning, Lydia turned on her heel towards the closest bench, motioning Billy to follow. While he hesitantly sat down next to her, she moved her backpack onto her lap, getting her tablet back out. Lydia patted closer to her as she handed him the device, the screen illuminated with all sorts of sketches of dynamic poses, casual passersby, and several adorably squishy bangboo.

Awkwardness instantly melted away as Billy grabbed the tablet for a closer look. “Woaaaaaaaaah, these are all so good! Y’know, some of these poses kinda remind me of—“ Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by the loudest gasp Lydia ever heard. He pointed at a series of sketches on screen, of several figures in superhero costumes and star-shaped helmets. “YOU’RE A STARLIGHT KNIGHT FAN TOO?! Holy moly, it’s like they’re living on the page!”

“Aww, thanks! I would hope I can draw them pretty well, considering that’s my whole job.”

The android dropped the tablet into his lap. “… Your job is to what?”

“Oh— well, I’m a storyboard artist! Also an art director, but—“

“No way. No! Way! You’re Lydia Hatch?!”

“You remember my name from the credits?!”

“Of course I do!” Yet again, Billy’s expressiveness radiated through his entire being. Sparkles practically grew off him as he grabbed Lydia’s hands together. “I can’t believe I’ve met a goddess of creation! I know this is super sudden but can I please have your autograph? You can do it right here! On my jacket! Anywhere’s fine!” Just like that, he took the jacket off, his metallic arms and torso in all their lean and shining glory.

Lydia’s jaw hung open for. Several reasons.

A hot robot man called her a goddess… Pretty damn good trade-off for a broken pen.

Solid yellow eyes drooped just slightly as Billy sheepishly brought his jacket closer to his chest. “Uh… you ok? Sorry, was I too mu—“

“Oh— no, you’re fine!” His newfound goddess shook her head, shyly running her fingers through her hair. “I was just surprised by your enthusiasm— not in a bad way at all, though! I’m really honored you like my work on the series that much. I don’t want to get your jacket stained with ink, and I don’t have any fabric pens on me… but I can definitely jot down my signature real quick.”

Lydia snatched her tablet off the robot’s lap, placing it back in her backpack. She rummaged through it for a moment, pulling out a small notebook and stationery case. Opening to a fresh page, then unzipping the case for a lining pen (the kind with actual ink this time), she sketched out line after line, shapes building rapidly on top of each other.

Billy slowly scooched closer, peeking over her shoulder as he put his jacket back on. If watching her draw wasn’t enticing enough, the way those starlight silver eyes kept glancing up at him, and then back down at the notepad was… almost like a tease.

It took him longer than he’d like to admit to realize who Lydia was drawing. “Is that… me?”

“Yep! It’s not as clean as my usual stuff since this is more on the fly, but how could I not draw someone as striking as you?”

She thinks I’m striking?!

The gentle hum of fans whirred once more, Billy’s vision glazing over slightly as Lydia jotted actual writing down next to her quick portrait of him. She cleanly ripped out the page, offering it out to him with a dazzling smile. “Here you go!”

Metallic hands trembled, slowly reaching out for such an invaluable artifact. When he finally grasped the paper in his hands, Billy’s entire body began to vibrate from sheer elation.

Lydia blinked, gripping the bench a little harder to prevent bumping off of it. “I’m… guessing that means you like it?”

The android pressed the note to his cheek, snuggling it tightly. “I love it! I love it, I love it, I love it so much!! It’s like looking in a mirror! But even cooler! I’m gonna frame it as soon as I get back ho—“ Billy paused, pointing at the paper’s lower corner. “What’s all of this scribbled next to your autograph?”

Silver eyes shifted into an amused blank stare. “That’s. My phone number. Plus my internet and inter-knot handles.”

“You’re giving me your contact information?!”

“Of course! You’re very sweet and fun to talk to,” Lydia shrugged with a soft hum. “Plus, we’ve chatted for this long. I'd say it's the start of a friendship.”

Some sort of sound escaped the robot man— it was hard to tell what kind, though. Billy quickly shoved a hand into his jacket, rummaging inside it before grumbling. “Ah, crap. Nicole hasn’t printed out new cards yet.”

Business cards, perhaps? He actually worked somewhere?

Lydia chuckled softly. “You don’t need to hand me anything that professional. Just shoot me a message letting me know it’s you.”

“Oh… uh, ok! I can definitely do that!” Metallic hands gave confident thumbs’ up before flinching at a sudden burst of… the Starlight Knight intermission jingle? Billy whipped out a smartphone from small brown bag strapped to his leg, his eyes panicked for a moment seeing whoever was calling him. Nonetheless, he responded as cheerful as ever. “Yo, Boss!”

“Billy, you were supposed to meet our client at the cafe 5 minutes ago!” Another woman’s voice, presumably this “Nicole” he mentioned, blasted from the phone’s speaker in frustration. “You didn’t sneak off to Godfinger again, did you?”

“What? No, I’d never do that! … Again!” The android glanced down at Lydia, his other hand clenched slightly. “I just— I ran into something. And someone. But it’s settled now! I’ll head to the cafe asap.”

“You better!” Nicole huffed before hanging up, leaving Billy to shyly scoot off the bench.

“Uh. I gotta go…”

“That’s fine! I wouldn’t want to keep your client waiting more than I already have,” Lydia snapped a finger gun with a small wink. “Good luck, ok?”

Oh, if only someone could pinch Billy properly. He nodded his head rapidly before jumping off the bench. “If I’ve been blessed by a Starlight Goddess today, my luck is already through the roof!” He gave a small salute with his fingers, clearly copying the SK sendoff-pose. “I’ll send you a text as soon as I can!”

“I’m looking forward to it!” Lydia waved as the android dashed for Sixth Street’s coffee shop. It honestly sucked he had to leave so soon… but watching him go was a pleasant surprise.

The captivated smirk fell from her face when she actually processed her thoughts. Goddamn, when was the last time she was this attracted to someone?! Of all the people she’s been curious to date, the robot got her going the fastest?

Lydia looked at the broken pen pieces in her bag, digging them back out. She laughed to herself, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “Well, I’ve always been into dorky studs.”

#zenless zone zero #billy kid #zenless zone zero oc #zzz oc #these two have no right to give so much serotonin and yet!!!#lydia hatch #ocs galore #pretty sure that’s my oc tag??? I honestly kinda forget

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somebodyminecrafyidk · 6 months ago

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[What Could Have Been]

After the unfortunate reveal of what kind of person Wilbursoot was, I was unsure whether or not to post this, but I've decided to. Here is my outline for the beginning of a fanfic I was writing...

Note: Everything under the cut was written before Wilbur was exposed for being an abuser, as well as some of the tags

A Modern-Vampire!AU involving SBI and a few other people.

Techno is an aspiring writer that recently moved into a very... low quality aparment. He's taken note of the number of bats that fly around the neighborhood and has developed a habit many people in his apartment complex have; feeding fruit to the bats that hang out around his place.

The place is pretty chill. Techno works at this nice Café. (Whether it's Niki's or not is up to you.) He's developed a small rivalry with this random kid who pesters him for food all the time. Techno usually shares his lunch with the kid. (Techno admits the kid is pretty cute with his squid themed. backpack and hoodie)

Anyway, Techno is doing well, he's adjusting to the neighborhood, his boss is pretty nice, and he even has the free time to write his second novel now.

Time passes and Techno has fully adjusted to the place, getting comfortable until... Tommy shows up! Tommy is a fledgling vampire who recently was given the freedom of going out. (As long as one of the other coven members are with him.)

One day while out, Tommy gets distracted and wanders off, loseing his caretaker of the night. This leads to Tommy getting lost and ariving at an old apartment complex. The place has bat boxes and Tommy prepares to spend the day in one to hide from the sun.

While trying to hide from the sun in his bat form, Tommy finds this weird guy with shitty pink hair who's been trying to lure him inside with grapes. (Techno sees a small pup without it's mother desperately hiding in his very old and falling apart bat box.)

Eventually Techno gets the pup inside, wrapping him up in a soft baby blanket and putting him in a shoe box with a warming pad.

Tommy is scared and confused by the actions of this random human... but he quite likes the warm box he's been put in... it's not his fault if he fell asleep!

Across the city is a frantic Wilbur trying to find his missing brother who disappeared after he looked away for a second! Okay, maybe he was staring at that pretty human running the nearby record store but Tommy had been right there beside him!

Wilbur and the rest of the coven desperately searches for Tommy before being forced to take refuge from the sun indoors.

I'm unsure of what happens next but Tommy eventually makes his way back and is promptly grounded and forced to stay indoors. The only problem is that... Tommy has imprinted on Techno during his time with him and begins sneaking out to hang out with Techno. (Techno is relieved that the little bat he helped was doing well!)

#technoblade #bedrock bros #sbi #sbi fanfic #vampire au #modern au #wilbur is a worried older brother #techno just wants to write his book and vibe with the little bat that keeps showing up on his balcony #tommy 'run away from home to eat fruit with weird man' innit #phil is a old man who cant handle the stress of his kids going missing #kristin absolutely knows where tommy is going and fins it amusing after awhile #if she even exists #squid kid is a gremlin that always eats techno's potato wedges.#philza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #i actually like this #i may or may not write a fanfic for this au #what could have been #i might still try writing this #i had chapter one half way complete #correction: wilbur *was* a worried older brother #i could try replacing wilbur with someone #like tubbo #or ranboo #I REALLY WANTED TO DO SOMETHING FUN WITH SQUIDKID AND TECHNO #THEY COULD HAVE BEEN BROTHERS #squid kid : turned into literal child

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djgwritings · 10 months ago

Text

2024.01.02

Gas pump said membership expired but after some anxious button mashing, and restarts, it still allowed a fill-up. At least one more until I paid my dues. I looked at the card, a photo of the member in a silly hat. I don't recognize this member. It didn't ask me if I wanted a printed receipt, as I always hit NO, it just assumed so, and the spitting noise emitted caused a spark in me to glitch. Something had changed, and not the number on the year's jersey. The screen's words now in ink tell me to renew my membership. Car in front of me did not stop at the tracks like the red light sign said to. I always stop at the tracks. I always think of "Blood on the Tracks." Cleaner at USPS grunted a reluctant "'morning." in response to my sitcom entrance. Unsure if it's a good one or not. Morning, that is. Seems more an incredibly okay one for he and me. I saw him in a Nirvana shirt once. Their iconic face logo one. Kurt Cobain was a janitor. In high school shop class I made a large foam carbon copy of said logo. I often wonder where it went, something I rarely wonder as I don't throw much away, but I have a picture of it. Nonetheless, I miss being in his cleaning shoes, a janitor (such a dirty word to so many) but anything more than pleasantries had me mostly hiding / working my job around others. Guess I'm still like this. Dawns on me once again that the longer you know me the less you know me. I didn't design it this way. It just is and I am always sorry for that. It was on a flying machine where I met John and Yoko and a very young Sean chilling like normal passengers on a brown padded bench as I hid in a small hallway passage, peeping around the corner. I tried to be irreverent in which to make John laugh. He did. Grinned something great, and maybe because I did not point out his celebrity to the other passengers. Not many, but I just wanted to keep it cool. I don't know where we were going, but all I knew is that I got on the flying machine (which I first assumed I was entering the saloon doors of an amusement park funhouse) to simply look for the black leather backpack I wore to college daily. Then, the ground got further from the fog-scratched windows, and I knew I'd for certain make those whom I had left behind with a, "Wait one second, as I look in here for my backpack." upset that I had once again disappeared like I do. I also did not have a way to let them know my detour would be more than one second. So, onboard I searched for an escape hatch to get back. Gotta be like the movies, ya know? J & Y & S were quite content, and watched me open a door and walk inside what turned out to be a very large industrial clothes drier. I knew better than to shut the door behind me. My cats crawled into the dryer at home and it was like a Kubrick movie up in there for them. I doubt the same for me. As a youngster I assumed the machines would win. Power windows, key fobs included. I never wanted them. I still don't prefer them but this is the world we're in now. Mine is more and more temperamental. Key fob (why do I hate this word fob?), that is. Tends to not want to let me in when exiting the postal box especially. Trying to open with my actual "key" had me feeling foreign, or as if I was attempting a break-in on my own belonging. I couldn't quite figure it out. I never can.

Image: Kurt Cobain

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leviathans-watching · 3 years ago

Note

Hello!im not sure if you have done this but is it okay if I request Obey me brotgers reacting to Female Mc having her 1st day period? Where its a hella painful-? Forgive my english-

Thank you in advance <:'))

mc on her period

includes: the brothers x/& fem!reader (cisgender, she/her pronouns)

wc: 1.3k | rated g | m.list | cross posted on ao3 | gn!reader version

a/n: i hope you enjoy!! this was very sweet to write and i simply adore the brothers. also, this has references to ftm!diavolo so don't like don't read (again, my blog is incredibly against transphobia of any kind so you will be blocked if you make a comment). my reqs are open so feel free to drop by to chat, leave feedback, or say hello! also in this belphie was never locked in the attic k thanks bye

please reblog!!

Groaning, you shift, but the pain in your uterus does not ease. Drawn by the noise, Levi appears in the doorway, brows furrowed in concern.

“MC?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You manage a weak smile though you think it may have come across as a painful grimace. “Are you sick? Why are you huddled on the couch with like-” he pauses, eyes flicking over you, “-five blankets?”

You’re still not super used to any of them, what with you only having been in the Devildom for a few weeks, but you figure there’s no need to mince words. Demons could handle a bit of vaginal bleeding, couldn’t they?

“I’m on my period,” you say, and he winces. Maybe they couldn’t. Steadying himself, Levi bites his lip.

“I’ve heard of that,” he eventually responds. “But like, I’ve never had any experience with it myself.”

You snort. “Really? I’m so surprised.”

Levi pouts a little at your sarcastic words and you apologize.

“Sorry. I’m warning you now- I’m going to be pretty bitchy for the next few days.” A particularly strong cramp hits and you curl in on yourself, contorting as if trying to get away from the pain. Nervously, Levi’s hands flutter over you as if he’s unsure what to do.

“How can I help?” he asks, and you groan.

“Painkillers. Chocolate. A heating pad. Things like that.”

Levi shakes his head. “I don’t- I think I’m way out of my depth.” Stepping back, he takes a deep inhale before hollering. “Satan!”

You wince at the loud noise and he gives you an apologetic look, but before either of you can say anything, Satan’s stepping into the room.

“What’s going on?” he asks, almost bored. “I was in the middle of something.”

Levi gestures to you. “She’s, uh, on her period, and I don’t know what to do.”

Satan eyes you up and down, accessing your state. You give him a little wave.

“What do you need?” he asks, and you repeat your list from earlier. He nods.

“Well, I know Belphie has a heated blanket and some heating pads,” he says, telling his chin. “And I’m sure Mammon’s got some kind of medication that’s safe for humans.”

You blanche. “Please don’t kill me with medicine my body’s unable to handle.”

Satan waves you off. “I wouldn’t be that irresponsible. Levi, you go get Belphie and I’ll deal with Mammon.”

Great. Now it’s turned into a whole Thing.

“But does someone need to watch her?” Levi asks, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m right here, ” you say. “And no, I can manage.”

The two split up, and you burrow deeper into your nest of blankets, closing your eyes. The first few days of your period were always the worst and you hadn’t exactly been prepared to rawdog it either. You were lucky you were carrying your backpack when you were transported down here, as it had a decent amount of menstrual products in it, but soon you were going to have to figure out how to get more. Maybe a witch would be able to help. Or you could probably order it off of Akuzon.

You hear someone entering the room and crack open an eye. It’s Levi, thankfully, with a blanket and heating pads in his arms. Trailing behind him is Belphie, who must have just been woken up, and Asmo, who clicks his tongue at you.

“Thank you for letting me use your stuff,” you say to Belphie, who watches you gingerly accept the blanket from Levi. “I really, really appreciate it.”

“It’s whatever,” he responds slowly. “I mean, like, you’re in pain, right?”

You laugh under your breath as you lean over to plug in the blanket, abdomen protesting. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Belphie looks like he wants to say more, but is interrupted by Satan, Mammon, and Beel, who’s holding something you can’t see.

“Here,” Satan says, handing you a bottle. “This should be safe for human consumption.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, rattling the bottle.

“Yes, you’ll be fine. And if not, Solomon can fix you up or something.”

“Super reassuring,” you snipe. “How many should I take.”

“Well,” Satan says. “How bad's your pain.” Your uterus decides to throw a fit then, sending you curling into yourself, eyes pricking with tears.

“Bad,” you gasp, and all of the boys eye you unsurely.

“Okay, take three pills then,” Satan directs, and you don’t even use water to swallow them down, that desperate for relief.

“Here,” Beel says hesitantly, holding whatever he’s got out to you. You take it, eyes widening as you read the label.

“Chocolate?”

“Satan said it might help,” he exclaims, and again, tears come to your eyes. Resolutely, you ignore them.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “I know how much you like your sweets.”

“Just take it before he changes his mind,” Mammon says, crossing his arms. “Seriously. He wouldn’t offer if he weren’t sincere.”

You look between the two of them, and when Beel nods, you bring the chocolate to your lap. “Thank you,” you manage, and Beel’s smile is like the sun.

“What else can we do for you?” Belphie asks, and you look around yourself.

“I don’t know. This is pretty much everything. Thank you all,” you say. “You didn’t have to give up your stuff for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” Satan replies. “It’s our job to make sure you’re comfortable here, after all.”

“And anyway,” Asmo interjects, raising his brows, “we know you’d do the same for us.”

Would you? As you look around at the brothers, the stupid, kind brothers, you know you would.

“Eugh,” Mammon says, interrupting the moment. “It’s gettin’ sappy in here. Anyway, doncha want to watch chick flicks or something?”

Laughing, you nod. “I guess so. Although I’m not familiar enough with Devidom media to pick something myself.” As you pull the blankets closer to you to make space for all of the boys, you listen to them squabble over the movie, heart warming. You were still unused to this place, these people, but surely they couldn’t be as bad as they tried to tell you they were if they were willing to come together to support you like this. As the movie is finally decided and all of the boys take their places, you drift off, finally free from pain. You feel comfortable and safe, and much, much better.

You melt into the light pressure on your scalp, waking up slowly. Titling your head back, still sleep-muddled, you see Lucifer peering down at you, hands still gently massaging your head.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, and you look around to see all of the rest of them sleeping in various positions.

“That feels good,” you murmur back, sighing. “Like, really good. Where’d you learn to do this?”

“It always helps Diavolo when it’s his time of the month,” he answers nonchalantly, and your eyes snap open.

“He’s-”

Lucifer nods, cutting off your words. “Yes. And before you ask, he gave me permission to tell you when I went and got stuff. Actually, he all but demanded it. Said you should know you had someone to go to if you needed anything.”

That was a lot to process but Lucifer’s still moving fingers made it hard for you to concentrate. You weren’t worried about it or anything, anyway, just kind of grateful Diavolo had trusted you with such personal information. “Wait,” you eventually say. “Stuff?”

Lucifer nods towards a handful of grocery bags on the table. “Snacks and the like. More products.”

Overwhelmed by his, no, their thoughtfulness, you just gaze up at him. “Thank you,” you say. “Like, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” he hums, like it was a given they’d do all of this for you. “Now you should go back to sleep. Take advantage of the peace and quiet.”

“I should do that,” you say, closing your eyes again. It seems like only seconds of Lucifer’s massage magic before you’re drifting again, incredibly touched. Maybe this whole Devildom thing wouldn’t be that bad.

leviathans-watching’s work - please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own

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fanfic-scribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Crash Pad

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You’re just minding your own business when the Winter Soldier crashes into your life. Literally.

Quick facts: Romance – established past Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes leading into Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of blood

Words: 7801

A/N: I started writing this a few months ago and almost finished when my life got fairly shook up. Still, I’m quite proud of being able to eke out an ending. For anybody who only cares about this story, feel free to skip this note, but for anybody following my other stuff: writing is going to be slow for the time being. My mom died and things are pretty topsy-turvy right now. Writing is still a comfort, but head to hands isn’t working the same right now. Thanks for your patience; I hope this is a pleasant read for you in the mean time <3

You’re getting ready for bed and have just turned off the living room light when you hear a clatter on the fire escape. You haven’t gotten over to shut the window yet and you wince at the thought of maybe coming face to face with a giant rat, or a raccoon, although you haven’t yet seen a raccoon and you’re pretty sure they don’t live in the city but it would probably be better than a rat the size of a raccoon–

What you get is much, much worse as a fully grown man falls through the curtains, knocks over a side table and potted plant, and crashes onto your living room floor with a wheezed (but emphatic), “God damn it!”

You freeze, unsure of whether to run or yell or maybe both. However the man flounders on the floor, unable to otherwise move much as he holds his side and– is that blood on your floor?

“Are you okay?” you ask despite everything.

He yanks his head back to look at you and grimaces. “Fuck, I–” He tries to get up, slips in what you are almost positive is blood, and slumps over with a little sigh and a handful of muttered curses that might be in another language. “I am really sorry about this,” he says lowly, like he's embarrassed to be bleeding out in a stranger’s living room. Then he shifts a little more and moonlight gleams on his arm. His very…shiny…completely metal arm, and you find a whole new way to be concerned.

You should have known the reasonable rent was a goddamn trap.

You take a few steps back, barely avoid hitting the counter, and flick the light back on without taking your eyes away from the man on your floor. He squints at the brightness and shows you a face that is, both fortunately and unfortunately, familiar. Fortunately because Captain America and the Avengers somehow got him pardoned for potential war crimes and treason even without him being present for any of that circus of a trial. Unfortunately because…war crimes. And treason. And that is definitely blood.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out and looks a little woozy. “There were sheets– I thought the building was empty.”

“The sheeting is for the building right next to us,” you say and sigh. “I’m going to guess you are not in favor of me calling an ambulance?”

He just blinks at you a few times. Maybe he is secretly a raccoon.

“Please don’t,” he says, some life returning to his eyes, and he looks you up and down. The rubber duck pajamas must put him at ease because, while he is still tensely holding his midsection, his shoulders relax a little. “I’m so–”

“Sorry, yes, I know.” You point at the bathroom. “I’m going to get the first aid kit and hopefully I won’t have to explain to the coroner’s office why Captain America’s boo bled out on my floor.”

You’re just opening up the cupboard that hopefully contains at least some band-aids when he calls out, “What the hell is a ‘boo?’”

Two old t-shirts, one and a half rolls of dusty gauze, and his own homemade stitch kit later, the man is finally all patched up. “How are you not passing out from blood loss?” you ask, eyeing the mess on the nice hardwood that has definitely just lost you your deposit. But there’s no corpse to deal with, so at least things aren’t as bad as they could be.

“I’m built pretty hardy.” He sits up a little more and groans. Before you can beg him not to split his side again, he extends his hand. “James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

You shake his hand (gently) and tell him your name. “Do you let everybody call you Bucky, or just the people whose floor you bleed all over?” Something moving catches your eye and you sigh at the sight of your inexpensive (but still nice) curtains blowing slightly, showing off their new stains. “Floor and drapes…”

“I’ll clean it,” he says. “I can get blood out of anything.” He winces. “I…that sounds worse than it is.”

“I imagine getting blood out of anything is a good skill for an international spy-assassin to have,” you say.

Bucky scowls. And, you think, blushes a little, though how he has enough blood to do that you don’t know. You look at the spot again. It looks big to you but maybe you’re making a fuss over nothing. No, wait, there’s still dried blood on your floor. You’re allowed a fuss. “So you know who I am.”

“Your boy made it hard to miss,” you say.

He grumbles to himself, then says, “He’s always such a drama queen. I didn’t need to be pardoned.”

“Really,” you say and look at the bloodied handkerchief wrapped around a bullet he dug out of himself. “Looks like at least one other person disagrees with you.”

“This was Steve’s fight, not mine.” He huffs. “Story of my goddamn lif–”

He suddenly falls back and you reach out instinctively to catch him. He recovers quickly, wild-eyed and stiff and you scoot back just in case. He takes a few deep breaths and seems to force himself calm. It doesn’t look very effective and you’re honestly starting to worry. “You really–”

“I did not faint,” he snaps and maybe he has more blood than you thought, or maybe absolutely all of it has come to collect in his face.

“I was going to say you really need a hospital,” you say. “But yeah, you did.”

He grumbles under his breath and then, as if predicting your protests, stands up quickly enough to waver. Serves him right, you think, but when he scowls at you, you wonder if maybe he’s psychic too. “Try not to pass out on your way home,” you say, because if he wants to leave there’s really nothing you can do to stop him.

“Funny,” he says. He clears his throat and adds, much more sincerely, “Thanks.”

For the t-shirts, for the first aid kit, for not calling the cops, for not calling the Avengers so Captain America can hone in on him like a cartoon hound, for not bitching about the floor too much– the list is many and varied and so you give him a simple nod and hope you can get even a little bit of sleep tonight because work tomorrow is going to be hell without it.

He goes back to the window and before you can point out you have a perfectly good door, Bucky slips out onto the fire escape again. You shrug to yourself and go over to firmly flip the lock. You’ve done your part– in the event he slips and hits his head, someone else can be the good Samaritan. You’re going to bed and tomorrow this is going to feel like a weird dream, if there is even a single good deity in existence.

You’re not sure if it’s proof of or a mark against the existence of said single good deity when Bucky shows back up in your fire escape the next evening and taps politely against your open window before he lets himself back in, scooting your new plant just an inch out of the way.

“I have a door,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Your hallway’s too well lit,” he says, much more hale and hearty and obviously not suffering major blood loss. His hair even looks like he just got out of the shower, all soft and shiny and bouncing a bit as he twists his upper body to start pulling stuff out of a backpack hanging off one shoulder. “I got stuff to clean the floor, and a replacement first aid kit. You outta keep it better stocked, so I got you one of the good ones.”

“O…kay,” you say, for lack of anything better. There’s a hysterical laugh building up in the back of your throat as the Winter Soldier brings out some rags and a cleaning solution for your bloodstained hardwood floor, but you cough it out and say, “Thanks,” when the formerly-feared international assassin looks at you like you’re crazy before he gets on his hands and knees and starts scrubbing.

It’s not fair no one would believe you. You’re not quite sure this isn’t an elaborate daydream, but then, you like to think you’d imagine something more fun than this. You clear your throat. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks,” he grunts, glaring at the floor and rubbing at the stain like it has offended him personally. It’s a little worrisome when he goes at it hard enough to maybe rub a hole right through the floor– you’d rather deal with the stain– but there’s a hard edge to his eyes that make you think maybe it’s a good idea for him to work it out in a productive, non-violent way. And if it turns violent, hopefully he has some home repair skills to make up for it.

You busy yourself with making tea, using the nice pot and the nice cups you never get to break out, and by the time it’s almost done steeping Bucky isn’t rubbing quite so hard and, in fact, seems to have made the stain do a disappearing act.

“Nice,” you say. “You want some tea? I made plenty.”

He lifts his head and tilts it as he squints at you, like he’s still not sure of you. But he shrugs, says, “Sure,” and stands up, rolling his shoulders. He looks down at the floor and nods appreciatively before coming to sit on the other side of the counter. “It’s almost gone; just a little bit more and it’ll be like I was never here.”

That last part could have been a decent joke, but he said it so seriously you just clear your throat. “Thanks,” you say and start pouring. “My landlord is going to have to find some other excuse to try and keep my security deposit.”

Bucky snorts but otherwise makes no noise. At first it’s nice, if a bit awkward, as you don’t really feel the need to fill the silence, but it becomes clear by the way Bucky glares at the plant sitting in front of him on the counter that something is eating at him. You’re not sure whether or not to pry, but it seems polite to at least ask, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts and leans even lower to the surface of the counter.

You stare at him. “I appreciate what you did, but you didn’t have to come back,” you say gently, because a pissed-off former-assassin isn’t really a problem you want to have on your hands. “I’m not awful enough to actually expect you to clean up your own blood the day after you nearly bled to death.”

“What?” He blinks and then scowls and shakes his head. “No, it’s not that; it’s…” He picks up his cup and downs all of it, despite the fact that it was still steaming. Tentatively you pour him another cup, to which he says, “thanks,” before loading it with sugar again. “It’s good,” he says and this time he sips it.

“It’s one of my favorites. Very soothing,” you say. “Normally.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I wish anything was soothing. You know Steve almost ran into a goddamn minefield today?”

You didn’t know that, you don’t think anything the Avengers do is any of your business, really, and where does one even find a minefield in New York City– you don’t say any of that, but you apparently don’t need to, because Bucky is off like a shot saying more words than you’d have thought possible for him. All of it is ranting about what a reckless dumbass Captain America is, and a Brooklyn accent increasingly comes through, egged into existence by sheer aggravation. You sit and listen, transfixed not so much by the details (they’re too fleeting and sparse) but by how annoyed Bucky is with Captain Amer- with “Steve goddamn pain in the ass Rogers” and you’re never going to be able to see him again without snickering.

Bucky sighs heavily and rests his chin on the table. He looks very tired, all of a sudden. Maybe a relaxing tea and enthusiastic rant wasn’t the best combination. Then again, he also looks less tense, so perhaps it’s fine. “Why don’t you stop for the night and go get some sleep,” you say and take away his cup. “You can finish up tomorrow.”

He squints at you, squints back at the floor (that you honestly can’t tell is any different from the rest), and looks back at you. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you say and stack the cups. “When you come back refreshed you can tell me why Steve Rogers can never walk past that animal shelter without ducking his head in shame.”

Bucky’s smile is lopsided and he shakes his head. “Maybe,” he admits and hops off the chair. “I’ll just…leave the stuff here then, if that’s okay?”

You nod and he quickly picks up and puts the supplies in the empty bottom space of your side table. He goes for the window.

“I have a-!”

And he’s gone. You roll your eyes. If Steve Rogers really is as much of an asshole as Bucky says he is, then those two deserve each other.

For all that the Captain America mythos has been debunked for you, you’re still brought up short when you suddenly encounter Steve Rogers the next night.

On your fire escape.

He knocks his head against the railing in his scramble to simultaneously get up and face you, curses, and lifts his hands defensively. “I can explain.”

You rub your face with both hands. They definitely deserve each other. “I doubt that,” you mutter and sigh heavily. Thank goodness there haven’t been any actual fires; you don’t know how you’d get out with all these buff superheroes hanging around outside your window. “Have you lost something?”

Captain America looks at the ground for a moment, and then flashes you a smile. “…Yes?”

God, he is a smartass. “Do you want to come inside or do you want to risk some Nosy Nancy from the building across the street seeing a big shadow and calling the cops?”

That would never happen, but he slips inside almost immediately and then there he is, in all his uniformed, shield-holding glory. It’s too weird to think about, and you step back to give him (and you) space while you close the curtains. “Thank you,” he says politely and looks around. “Your apartment is lovely; it’s very…green.”

You’re not sure why he hesitates, until you see him looking at your yellowing majesty palm. “He’s coming back,” you say and go to adjust the plant for lack of anything else your nervous hands can do. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you,” he says and stands with his feet shoulder wide and his hands clasped down in front of him. It is perhaps the least comforting thing he can do and for one ridiculous moment you wish Bucky was here to be in between you. You wish the Winter Soldier was here. To protect you. From Captain America.

You clear your throat. “So,” you say and grab yourself something. “Do you lurk outside everyone’s apartment at some point, or am I just special?”

For all his military posturing, Captain America squirms like a schoolboy. “I swear I wasn’t– okay, I guess I was but not intentionally? I was…looking. For something.”

“Something you dropped?” you ask him.

“A person,” he says, staring elsewhere. For a moment you have a paranoid thought he’s staring at the space where Bucky had fallen in that night, but no, he’s just looking at the window. At least you remembered to change the curtains.

“Pretty sure you can see one of those without squinting into the grates,” you say.

“He might have passed through on his way somewhere else,” Captain America says. “Have you seen a man outside?”

“Other than you?” you ask. He blushes even harder than Bucky does– and think of the devil, you have a moment where you’re not sure what you should say, but quickly come to realize that whatever is going on between the two of them, you do not want to get stuck in the middle.

You’re prepared to lie your ass off, but he apparently takes your response as a rebuke. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe.”

“It’s fine,” you say. Despite his previous answer, you lean into the fridge to get him a bottle of water. “I’m pretty sure Captain America isn’t going to murder me. And if you decided you wanted to, well, there’s nothing I could really do about it.”

He chokes on the drink he’s just taken. You instinctively lean in so you can slam his back but after a couple of hits he covers his mouth and waves you off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says and grabs a nearby dishcloth to wipe up what he just spit on the counter. “That was just…really dark.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the one lurking on fire escapes,” you say.

He rolls his eyes. The nerve. You laugh and he actually grins. Asshole. His smile softens though and he says, “I’m really–”

“Sorry,” you finish for him.

“Am I that predictable already?”

You shrug. You want to tell him it’s because he and Bucky seem very much alike in that respect. You want to but…you don’t. Whatever Bucky’s problem is, he seems to want to deal with it himself, and it’s not your place to get in between them and start snitching. “You seem the type. Don’t worry about it so much. You…look pretty worried. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.” His lips turn into a sad sort-of smile and he takes a slower drink. “I guess I am pretty worried. This man I’m looking for, he’s…important to me, and he’s been through a lot, and I just want to know he’s okay.”

You stare at him. He looks down. And looks down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to babble like that,” he says and glances at you with a strained smile. “I don’t normally do that.”

“Hm.” You stare at him for several seconds and notice he is blinking an awful lot. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m a little tired,” he says, quietly, and some of the posturing seeps out of him and he lets himself slump a little more. He suddenly shakes his head and sits up straight again. “Thanks again for…” He looks around and settles for shaking his water bottle.

You hold back a laugh. “Sure. I uh…do you need me to call you a cab?”

He shakes his head firmly and, to his credit, he’s pretty excellent at pretending to be okay. You almost believe him. “I can get home all right.”

“Well, please make sure you do. I can think of a lot of people who’d be sad to think of you collapsing on the way home because you wore yourself down to the bone,” you say. “And from how you seem to worry about your friend, I bet you can think of at least one.”

He blinks, like he’s surprised, but a smile curls onto his face, warm and true. “Good night,” he says, and because you’re so nice, you don’t stop him when he goes back out the window. At this point, it’s beginning to feel like a lost cause.

“What did you say to him?”

“I know you don’t like the door,” you say, not even turning away from the plant you’re watering. Any time you put down the canister you forget where you left off and you are not going to kill these plants by overwatering. Not again. “But maybe you could at least tap on the window when you decide you’re going to enter my apartment.”

“Why do you leave your window open?” Bucky huffs. You can hear him sit at the counter behind you. “You know what kind of creeps can take advantage of that?”

You finish watering the last plant and turn to stare at him. “I’m starting to get an idea.”

Bucky scowls. “I’m not a creep,” he mutters.

“Polite society encourages doorways instead of windows,” you say. “It’s okay. Captain America, apparently, is also a creep.”

Bucky sits up straighter. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” you say. “He was squatting on the fire escape like he could make you spontaneously materialize. I invited him in for an explanation and after a little while he went on his way.”

“After a little while,” Bucky repeats and squints at you suspiciously.

You shrug. “He likes to vent to complete strangers, apparently. But I didn’t tell him anything about you, it doesn’t seem fair to tell you anything about him. If you want to know, I get the feeling you can go ask him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but he stands up and stretches. “You said I bled on the drapes?”

“I already scrubbed that out, if you can finish the floor,” you say and go for the tea pot. “Do you like green tea?”

“As long as you do it right,” he says and starts scrubbing again. “I hate it all bitter.”

You go for the good matcha and start preparing it while he works out his frustrations on your floor. You glance at him a couple of times but he seems fully focused on his task, until you finish the tea and call him back to the bar.

“Steve Rogers is a pain in the ass and don’t let anyone tell you different,” he grumbles, but it’s soft and there’s a troubled look on his face as he takes his cup.

“Do you miss him?” you ask and blow gently across your drink.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Just as you're about to apologize for overstepping, though, he speaks. “It’s hard to go back when you’ve done the shit I have, you know?”

No. You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to live as a free man after decades of literal objectification and being used as a murder weapon for fascists. But it doesn’t seem very helpful to say that, so instead you say, gently, “I can’t even imagine.”

Bucky bobs his head and takes another sip of his drink. You’re delighted he seems to be drinking it fairly quickly, but also a little dismayed because a good matcha latte takes a decent amount of work and it’ll take a little time if he wants another cup. “I want to go back but I can’t yet. I wish he wouldn’t be so goddamn stubborn about it is all. Just because he thinks I didn’t do anything wrong doesn’t make it true.”

You nod, like any of this makes any goddamn sense to you. But maybe– maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe Bucky’s saying all this because you’re an outside entity with no personal stake in, or knowledge of, what counts as treason, or what’s needed to lack culpability, or what it means to be an absent friend.

He rambles, a little bit, and though about half the words are proper nouns you don’t recognize, you nod along, and when he finishes his latte you make him another one, and when he leaves, you don’t mention the door. Even though you want to.

You’ve actually forgotten how nice it is to have someone come through the door. Case in point–

“Um, I hope this is all right,” Steve Rogers, dressed in casual civilian fare and holding a small pot of flowers, says as you can do nothing but stare at him. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for being so understanding. May I…come in?”

That snaps you out of your funk and you quickly stand aside. “Of course; sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was just going to leave the plant with a note if you weren't here, but I’m glad you were,” Captain Rogers says and walks in, and sets the pot down on the counter.

You walk over to the fridge. “Would you like something to–” As you turn to finish the question you see him glance furtively at the window. Ah, of course. He looks down guiltily and you can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. Well, he did come through the correct entrance and brought some pretty flowers. “All right, you did knock on the door this time; go sniff around the fire escape all you want.”

“I’m just checking something I forgot,” he says quickly and goes to the window. He’s only outside long enough for you to brew some tea and he comes back in just as you’re pouring his cup. It isn’t until he’s about to take a sip, however, that he says, “Oh– I know it looks bad, but Bucky– sorry, James Barnes– I swear he isn’t dangerous.”

“I know. I saw some of the trial stuff,” you lie. Well, you did see some of it, but it wasn’t until you heard Bucky mutter “Martha Stewart was right,” while fussing at some of the blood on his shirt that you felt safer. Strange as it is to think.

Steve relaxes his shoulders like some of the weight is off of them. “You have no idea how good that is to hear. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people say to me. I can’t really punch people anymore because I’m so much stronger now but it’s so tempting sometimes. At least when it’s online I can mime punching them.”

His annoyed tone allows you to laugh a little. “Maybe imagine the block button is a punch in the face?” you suggest.

He grins. “My friend Clint suggested printing out the most irritating comments and taping them to a punching bag. It didn’t really work but the thought was nice. The block button as a punch to the face though…”

The guy doesn’t really need more violence in his life, but he genuinely seems pleased with the idea, so you let it be. And when he starts ranting in detail about some of the comments he gets about Bucky, you make a new pot of tea– chamomile. For the both of you.

You don’t know how the flowers are dead already– it seems like Steve just brought them and they were so pretty you immediately looked up care instructions and followed them to the letter. Or so you thought. But now, only days later, you have a pot of dirt and withered petals.

And Bucky sulking at your counter.

“I told him I was fine,” he says petulantly.

You sigh and bring the pot over to the sink and think about what to do. “Did you tell him in person?”

“In a letter. He knew it was from me.”

The soil looks nice, so you’ll dig out the remains and try to plant some replacement seeds. Maybe that was the problem– maybe the flowers were sick or something. “Well reading and seeing are two different things.”

“He knows I cover him in fights.”

You slowly look at Bucky. His oh-so intelligent response is to bristle like a cat and go, “What?”

You roll your eyes. “He’s desperate to see you, knows you’re near when he’s fighting, and you wonder why he’s “so goddamn reckless?’”

Bucky just glares. Yeah, these two morons absolutely deserve each other.

You hope Bucky figures it out sooner rather than later.

He doesn’t, but he keeps coming by, as does Steve, and you resign yourself to hosting two pining idiots who keep dancing around each other.

Bucky drinks anything you give him without complaint. However he drinks the lattes and almost anything green tea a little quicker, though he tries to hide his cup from you when he does. Whether he’s ashamed of going through them so fast or embarrassed you don’t know, but you start to give him bigger cups, and that seems to help.

The first time you give Steve a cup of apple pie spice, he gives you a severe glare– which he then completely undermines by liking the blend immensely.

“I swore the next person who offered me apple pie would get popped,” Steve says, an amusing mixture of half-bluster and half-shame as he sips from the classic teacup you hope not to regret handing him.

“Lucky for me it’s not actually apple pie,” you say. “Do people really make that joke?”

The eyeroll Steve gives that is 200% sass. “You have no idea,” he says, deadly serious, “–how funny people think they are.”

This becomes…oddly normal. Listening to Steve talk about anything that’s on his mind, giving Bucky new tea blends just to see how he reacts to them; your apartment is no longer just you and a bunch of greenery that seems to wilt more often than not. Everything seems warmer, and better– even your plants seem healthier. (For that, though, you suspect Bucky is giving them a special mixture of something after you catch a glance of him messing with one of the pots. You want to ask him what he’s doing, but you don’t want to admit that he’s better at taking care of them than you are.)

It’s so normal, that you feel the silence only after the first few nights without a visit. They don’t visit every night, but they visit often enough that you know they’re off somewhere even without them telling you. For a couple of weeks you try to pretend the quiet doesn’t bother you, but you check the fire escape twice every night, and then once more before you go to bed.

The next time you see Bucky is during one of these checks. There was no tapping, no noise to otherwise alert you, he’s just suddenly back, sitting next to the window, hunched over in black clothes nearly blending into the darkness and staring out at nothing in the night.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and crawl out to kneel next to him. “Are you hurt again?”

“No,” he mutters and continues to glare at some imaginary point in the distance. “Steve was, though.”

It’s a little harder to swallow. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbles and buries his mouth further against his arms. “He’s fine, strutting around the hospital like a- like a- …” He huffs and sits back to wave his arms before he curls back in on himself. “But it was close, and he’s an asshole.”

“Mm,” you say. “Chamomile mint?”

He sighs heavily but he gets to his feet and starts to enter, only to stop and hold open the curtains for you.

“Thank you sir,” you say with only a hint of sarcasm and go on ahead to get the tea started. Bucky snorts but doesn’t say anything and you use the time the water needs to heat up to take care of some of your plants.

“Stop it.”

The snap comes so fast from Bucky you immediately stop what you’re doing. He doesn’t look as angry as he sounded, but he’s frowning pretty hard. “You're overwatering that one; jade plants are succulents. You don’t need to drown it.”

You look at the plant and set the watering can down. “Oh.” You knew that. You think. You’re just nervous. “Did you see him? In the hospital?”

“Briefly. I didn’t talk to him; just made sure he was all right,” Bucky says. “And he is. I wouldn’t leave him if he wasn’t.”

That does assuage some of your concerns. Steve is nice. You want him to be okay. And Bucky is– also nice, but god, they’re both so fucking frustrating. “You couldn’t have just–”

“Don’t start with–”

“I’m just saying–”

“And I’m telling you not to say–”

“I pay the rent for all that you sublet my fire escape; I’ll say what I want,” you manage to finish to Bucky’s consternation. You lift your head proudly and he frowns to one side. And then he…smirks. You’re not sure you like that.

“Crappiest space in the city,” he says and sits up. “You could at least get a chair.”

You roll your eyes and dole out the tea, fixing it the way Bucky likes. No sugar for this one, but plenty of honey. “If I ever have to leave for an actual fire, I’ll be in enough trouble trying to get around you.”

“Nah. I’d carry you out,” Bucky says and lifts his cup in a silent ‘cheers.’ He takes a sip and the sigh sounds content, so you assume you did it right. For a few moments a comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you sip warm drinks surrounded by greenery (that is mostly green) and life goes on in faint sounds outside the confines of your home.

Bucky sets his empty cup down with a sigh. “Do you think, if I show up to throttle him, that he’ll actually start watching his own fucking back?”

You give that some serious thought. “Will you give him time to moon at you first?”

Bucky sighs with disgust and flumps back onto the counter. “This is stupid. This all feels so stupid.”

You open your mouth because you do have a lot of opinions about honest communication and using innocent civilian apartments to dance around each other, but Bucky shoots you a glare to let you know that a, he knows, and b, he doesn’t appreciate it. You roll your eyes and go back to drinking your tea. It is a very good blend, and you’re not going to let it go unappreciated because two early 20th century boys can’t get their shit together.

Not that you’re complaining, really– you’re starting to feel like less of a disaster by comparison. Or maybe letting two strange men into your apartment makes you just as bad by default. You rub the bridge of your nose. Yeah, no one is getting out of this looking sane. You feel like that should bother you more than it does, but it’s just a fleeting thought before you go back to worrying about Steve and pouring Bucky’s cup back to full.

The next night when someone knocks on your door, you’re only mildly surprised to see Steve on the other side. And most of that surprise is because you can see fading bruises on his face, and also because he is holding a fairly big potted plant with tall green and yellow-edged leaves.

“Hi,” he says and lifts the pot slightly. “I got you a present.”

“Uh, wow; thanks?” you say and quickly step back to let him in, momentarily forgetting he can probably carry it around with ease. Steve places the plant on the floor near the end of your couch, where it actually looks fairly nice. He gestures at it proudly. “It’s a snake plant. The man at the nursery said it’s very hard to kill.”

“You’re not funny,” you say but you look at it appreciatively. It is nice, and you could do with ‘hard to kill’. Speaking of– “Should you be up? You look like you should be in a hospital.”

He shrugs and his face goes neutral. “I’m healing well enough that there’s nothing a hospital could do for me. And I felt so…restless.”

You nod. “Want some tea?”

“Please. I really like what you make,” he says and immediately takes a seat at the counter. Oddly enough, it’s not the one Bucky always takes. You don’t realize you squint at the space for too long until Steve looks curious and asks, “Is everything okay?”

You squint at the countertop. “Yeah, just…trying to figure out if that’s a stain or a spot.”

Thankfully there is a spot of spilled something and you quickly grab a towel and wipe it away. You think it’s a pretty good save, but Steve looks at you with a raised brow, like he’s figured something out. You freeze. “What?” What are you going to say? How is he going to react? What will you–

“Was that a coffee ring?”

You blink a few times, and then roll your eyes as your chest practically deflates. He smiles and winks. “I can’t believe you.”

“I am a layered human being who can drink many things,” you say defensively. “And if you want coffee you’ll have to ask another time. I’m not giving you anything with caffeine in it when you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Train,” he corrects absently. “It barely clipped me.”

You sigh and go for the sleepy blend. One of you is going to have to bow out of this conversation due to exhaustion and at this point you don’t care if it’s you. However it might truly come in handy as Steve keeps looking out the window and shaking his foot. You set the cup in front of him and before you can ask what’s wrong, he takes the cup in both hands and blurts out, “I think I saw him.”

You look at the window and squint. “Seriously?”

“Not here.” Steve rolls his eyes. Like you’re the crazy one. He blows gently across the surface of the liquid and says, “Though it’s strange you’d think I saw Bucky out of your window.”

“Isn't that why you started showing up here in the first place? I distinctly remember someone with a big red, white, and blue shield lurking on my fire escape.”

“Oh, right,” he admits sheepishly, hunched over his cup. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he looks up at you through long lashes and asks, “Did I ever apologize to you for that?”

You’re brought up short by the amount of boyish charm this giant walking wall of muscle manages to pack into that look and you have to find your tongue to say, “I– y-yeah…”

Steve chuckles to himself and you give yourself a mental slap on the face. “Troll,” you mutter and sip from your mug. The liquid is piping hot and burns your tongue, giving you an excuse to grimace when Steve flashes you a beautiful smile.

You’re in trouble.

Not physically, not immediately, and perhaps someone on the outside might say you’re being dramatic about it, but they wouldn’t know shit about the situation. They wouldn’t know about how your hands felt as they slid over Steve’s when he handed you a new small pot of flowers; they wouldn’t know about the feeling of serenity that settled over you when Bucky abandoned some of his oh so careful control and rested his head on your shoulder for four long seconds; they wouldn’t know how it feels like you’re missing something until someone shows up at your door or taps at your window.

You’re falling in love with two people who have always been, and still are, desperately in love with each other.

Isn’t that just your luck.

In the end, Bucky takes your advice more to heart than you ever expected he would– you and Steve are quietly enjoying each others’ company, with you standing in the kitchen and Steve sitting at the counter as per usual, when the curtains move dramatically for Bucky to slip in, which makes Steve whirl around, and your hands jerk so hard from all the sudden surprise that your cup slips out and crashes to the floor.

“Shi-” You forget to watch your step and immediately catch a jagged shard that embeds itself right under the ball of your foot. “Ow, fuck!”

Your name is said in different voices but very similar tones of alarm and you suddenly find yourself gathered into Bucky’s arms, bridal style, and he carries you over to the couch. “Wh-” You swallow at the close proximity to Bucky’s chest and the way he holds you so effortlessly but so securely. “I’m fine; it’s just a little–”

Bucky sits down on the couch and doesn’t move you, which means you are basically sitting cross-wise in his lap. This is not something you need after your recent revelation, and it doesn’t get any easier when Steve comes back with the heavy duty first aid kit Bucky got you and gingerly takes your foot to examine the injury. His sympathetic look towards you gives you the warning you need to brace yourself before he pulls the shard out. It doesn’t hurt too terribly and he’s almost tender as he cleans your foot.

“Look at us, matching blood and all,” Bucky says lightly.

“It’s my floor I’ll bleed on it if I want,” you grumble, but you’re too distracted by how focused Steve is on fixing you up. “You…seem to be taking this well.”

“I knew he had been here since the first time I came,” Steve admits as he rolls the gauze around your foot. “There was a bloodstain on your floor still.”

“Seriously?” You had thought Bucky was being overdramatic about the supposed stain and humored him, but it…makes sense. Why else would he come back the next night. Why else would Steve continue to come by. And because Steve had kept coming, Bucky had kept coming, and…they won’t need to come back anymore, will they? They now have what they’ve wanted. Each other.

Someone says your name and you force yourself back to neutral as much as you possibly can. Steve looks curious though and Bucky says, “What’s with that look?”

“There’s no look,” you say. “And if there is, it’s only because you two have devised the weirdest meet-cute ever– decades after you actually met.”

“Hm.” Bucky continues to stare at you, but doesn’t say anything else.

They come back. And they both use the door.

You don’t know what you’re more shocked by– that Bucky and Steve, having come back to each other, are still coming around to you, or that Bucky is actually walking through the designated threshold. You don’t have a lot of time to think about it though because the place is…a mess.

“What happened here?” Steve asks as Bucky’s shoulders go up to his ears and he looks around the place like he’s going to find something unpleasant.

“It’s not that bad,” you say and glance around. You’ve cleaned out a few of the pots already and stacked them away in the closet, but some of the plants are still…slightly alive, for a little while. A couple are even doing fairly well– one of which being the snake plant Steve got you.

“What happened to the jungle?” Bucky asks, looking around shrewdly. You don’t like the sound of that. It feels so…probing, and raises your hackles. Why should he care?

“I wasn’t keeping them alive for very long.” You flick a yellowing leaf and keep your tone light. “I just got tired of it. What are…what are you doing here?”

You don’t look at Steve, but he clears his throat and his tone is similar to Bucky’s when he asks, “Is now a bad time?”

“For what?” You square your shoulders and face them. Like an adult. Like an adult who had two other adults just sort of crash into their life one day and start sharing space until such time as the two window-crashers decided they…didn’t need to come around anymore. “I’m happy you both found each other. You didn’t have to come back.”

Steve looks…well, he looks hurt. You don’t know any other way to describe it; it doesn’t show in his face so much as in his eyes, in the feeling you get watching the line of his shoulders lower. But before he can say anything, before you can explain yourself, Bucky speaks up.

“It isn’t like that,” he says.

You look down. It’s easier than looking at a man who feels rejected, and a man who has you completely pegged.

“What?” Steve asks.

“It’s okay,” you say, in perhaps the biggest bald-faced lie you’ve ever told.

“That’s not– no,” Bucky insists and lifts your chin. His fingers are warm and gentle and linger too long.

You pull back from his touch before you can embarrass yourself further. “You guys were literally circling each other.”

“Please.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to keep coming back here to be near Steve. I know where he lives.”

“And I leave my window unlocked,” Steve says. He aims a cheeky grin at Bucky and adds, “Guess I should have left it open though.”

“Shut up,” Bucky tells him but looks at you and says, “Point is: we weren't using you.”

Steve blinks. “Oh– no, of course not!”

“It’s all right,” you say, trying as hard as you can to assuage their discomfort even though you can’t put much into it. Even though you did very much want this meeting to happen, somehow you don’t feel very ‘all right.’

“No,” Bucky says and takes your hand in his. The flesh hand, which he runs up to the middle of your forearm. His touch is gentle and light, even when he grips. You can break away, but you don’t– you let him pull you in, close and closer, until there’s barely any room between you.

Steve crowds from the side and puts one arm behind Bucky, and one arm behind you. “If you only think we’re here because of each other, then it’s not all right,” he says softly.

“I know it isn’t– I know you weren't ‘using’ m–” You swallow hard. “And I know it’s not–”

They both swoop in for a kiss– for a kiss with you. Somehow they avoid bumping heads and the lip-lip-lip contact is barely there, with Steve at the corner and Bucky barely catching one side of your upper lip, but they're both there for a glorious moment that leaves you stunned.

“Oh…” you say, dumbly. You try to fight it, but a smile pulls at your lips. “Oh.”

“That good already, huh?” Steve asks quietly, slowly forming a small smile of his own.

You let out a little sigh that is immediately undermined by an uncontrollable laugh that swells from a bubble of relief at the base of your throat. “Bucky’s right, you are insufferable,” you say but you reach out to sweep your fingers in a gentle touch down Steve’s cheek and under his chin.

“You get used to it,” Bucky says.

You think about that. Even with how you’ve been, entertaining these two rotating planets over the last however many weeks or months, this would be an entirely new normal.

You think you can’t wait to get used to it.

#steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #captain america fanfic #reader insert #stucky x reader #mcu reader insert

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imerdwarf · 4 years ago

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The Thought That Counts

Request from anon: During the civil war, you join team cap and go on the run with them. They stop off at a motel for the night and you’re sharing the room with Bucky who asks if you could brush his hair? 😪

Pairing: Beefy!bucky x reader

Warnings: Just lots of fluff :)

Author’s Notes: I really do appreciate requests, thank you for sending them into me!

Divider was made by me.

The dingy motel room was far from perfect from the yellow stained wallpaper peeling off from the corners of the room, the patterned old and grubby carpet was layered in black dust from years of neglect.

One panel in the window was boarded up, while one curtain hung pathetically off the curtain rings. It wasn’t ideal, it looked like an abandoned motel that was used in movies and tv shows.

Setting your little backpack down on the bed and rubbing your hands together to gather some heat, you were wondering on where you were going to sleep tonight as there seemed to be only one bed which was full of dust and it seemed to be inhabitable. Bucky didn’t seem to share your concerns of the room as much as you did, he was looking forward to his shower and going to sleep.

"Do you want the bathroom?" Bucky asked without looking up from his backpack. There was an unpleasant smell to the room, and it was quite a challenge not to heave with each inhale of breath.

"No, go ahead." You smiled but he still didn't make eye contact with you. Not that you could blame him, the four of you have been on the run for over 2 days, being cramped in the back of the small beetle car next to Bucky and then being forced to pair up to share a room, it seemed he couldn't get rid of you.

You tried not to dwell too much on it, maybe you were just tired and were overthinking everything as usual. You really didn't know him, maybe this was just how he is and he might not be used to having company.

Before you, Steve and Sam found him in Bucharest, Bucky lived in a very small studio apartment with little belongings. He was surrounded by his journals, the windows were covered in newspapers and he didn't have a bed. Just a single mattress on the floor.

Before you could stop them, your eyes were already welling up with tears as your feet stood grounded to the spot. There was nowhere to sit, you were tired, exhausted and you just wanted to go home.

The tears rolled down your cheeks but you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve when the bathroom door opened suddenly. The redness around your eyes didn't go amiss by Bucky, his features softened with concern. He didn't understand why Steve thought it was a good idea to drag you along with this mess.

"Are you okay?" Bucky kept his voice down, unsure of how thin the walls were. His senses picked up sounds from the neighbours upstairs so he knew they were relatively thin.

You nodded your head quickly and smiled, not really wanting him to worry about anything. His road to recovery was already long and broad enough without needing to carry your emotions too.

"Are you sure? I'm not really good with advice but I do have some good ears to listen." This made you chuckle and you reassured you were okay for the second time. He walked past you and squeezed your shoulder before digging through his backpack for a hairbrush. Bucky clicks his tongue and sighs, staring off into the distance.

"What's the matter?" You ask standing next to him. Bucky's hair curtains his face and it takes all of your strength to not reach out and tuck it behind his ear.

"I uh, I don't have a hairbrush." He bites his thumbnail and you chuckle, looking through your own backpack and finding a brush in the last zip up compartment.

"I could- I could brush it for you, if you want?" It's a genuine offer and Bucky seems taken aback by your kindness. It's the first time anyone has ever showed him such compassion. He seems hesitant as you see the cogs turning in his mind, you knew he was wondering if you'd hurt him. "I won't hurt you, I promise." Bucky sighs but nods his head as he kneels on the dirty carpet to reach your height. You stand behind him, combing his hair from his face and gently putting the brush through his shoulder length knotted locks. "If I brush too hard, please tell me." You tell him before keeping up with the gentleness.

It's something he really isn't used to, but something he could most definitely adapt. You brush out his knots before taking the hair tie and putting his damp locks into a bun.

"All done!" You rub your hands together and toss the brush onto your bag before standing in front of him to admire your work. There's just a couple of loose shorter strands that wouldn't quite reach the hair tie, but they didn't seem to bother Bucky in the slightest.

"Thank you." He smiles, his fingers feeling his hair and sighing. Bucky has only spent a few days with you, but he could tell very easily you're going to his favourite person.

"No problem." You smile, reaching your hand out to tuck those strands behind his ear. It gives you the opportunity to marvel at his features, Bucky really was something. Handsome, smart, brave. The stubble he was sporting lined his jawline perfectly and it looked so scratchy that you couldn't resist running your fingers over his cheek. The hairs pricked against the pads of your fingers. Bucky shuddered from your gentle touch.

The daze Bucky had pulled you into was disturbed when there was an abrupt knock on the door. You both took large steps away from each other.

"Sorry." You apologised, what for though, Bucky would never know. Maybe it was the fear of Steve or Sam catching you being too affectionate with him. Whatever thought that had run through your mind at the time, you really had nothing to be sorry for.

The motel door opened and Steve walked in with Sam behind him.

"There's a change of plans. Our location is compromised. We gotta leave now." Steve told you both and all you could do was nod.

You were cramped in the back of the car with Bucky again. Your eyes were really heavy from the lack of sleep you've gotten the last couple of days. Bucky stroked your hand and you looked at him, a goofy grin on his lips. "Lay your head on my chest doll, get some sleep." You nodded tiredly as your face slumped against his chest. The warmth that radiated from him was too inviting. Your arm instantly wrapped around his torso and Bucky rested his cheek on top of your head, making eye contact with Steve in the rear view mirror who gave him a knowing smile.

A knowing smile that there would always be light at the end of the tunnel.

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devildomimagines · 4 years ago

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Lucifer Reacts to MC Getting in a Fight

Prelude

His anger is tangible, the aura around him is suffocating. He’s angry at you, he’s angry at his brothers, he’s angry at himself and it cycles and builds and escalates.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, him in the doorway and you standing on the porch, shifting uncomfortable in his gaze and unsure what he was going to do. There was almost an urge to drop to your knees and beg forgiveness.

You knew him well enough that you knew he wouldn’t tolerate an excuse but you figured you should explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I got in a fight. The demon was bad-mouthing the exchange program and you’re always saying it’s success directly reflects on Lord Diavolo and I couldn’t let them slander his name nor talk about the other exchange students and your family like that.”

“Why weren’t you with someone or why didn’t you call someone?” Lucifer asked, his voice was too even for as much anger as you felt coming from him.

You laughed and looked away, “Uh, I bribed your brother to go home ahead of me hoping to prove I could handle myself and the demon’s friend must have thrown my backpack somewhere or they took it and it had my D.D.D. I was planning on going back tomorrow to look for it in the bushes or something.” You accepted you were going to be punished for both the fight and losing the only source of communication so you looked down at your feet, wincing at the sight of your scuffed knees.

It felt like forever but eventually Lucifer sighed and grabbed your arm to drag you inside. He brought you to his office, sat you in the desk chair and took out a box.

“A-aren’t you going to punish me?” You asked.

“Of course.” He answered while he dug around in the box, he found what he was looking for, a bottle and a cotton pad. “But we should tend to your injuries first. This is the correct concoction, correct?” He held the bottle out for you to read it was rubbing alcohol.

You nodded and gulped. You weren’t sure if he knew what he was doing but, of course, unconsciously Lucifer gravitated toward the more painful of treatments.

“Barbatos had these medicine kits made up for the exchange program. This is obviously the human version since you’re staying with us but there is an Angel version too.” Lucifer decided to share the fact as if he hadn’t been fuming at the door 2 minutes ago.

With a quick movement, Lucifer shrugged off his jacket, placed it on the desk and rolled up his sleeves. He soaked the cotton pad as if he had done it before. He grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. You gulped.

The moment the pad touched the scratch on your cheek you winced. Lucifer furrowed his brow.

“Sorry for flinching, it stings.” You closed your eyes and braced for the next touch, accepting the pain as a pseudo-punishment.

He sighed again, so you opened your eyes to watch him shake his head, “If you hadn’t gotten into a fight,” he started.

You shake your head no slightly while still in his grasp, “You wouldn’t have tolerated how they were disgracing Diavolo.”

“I hope you aren’t insinuating that I would stoop so low as to get into a literal schoolyard brawl with someone not worth my breath?”

You averted your eyes, “No, I guess not, sorry.”

Lucifer continued cleaning your facial injuries in silence. You closed your eyes to keep them from tearing up from the alcohol fumes. Lucifer was almost pouting as he wiped the blood on your chin from your split lip. He hoped none of your injuries scarred, it’d be a shame if it marred your face. For a moment Lucifer considered if he should use magic to heal your wounds but decided against it.

He delicately applied a bandage to the scratch on your cheek and applied a cold compress to the bump developing near your mouth and lip, “Hold this,” he commanded.

Your hand shot up to comply even without opening your eyes. He rolled his eyes once seeing your bruising knuckles. At least the skin hadn’t broken.

He knelt down to start cleaning your knees. The first touch of the cleaning pad surprised you and by reflex, you kicked out your leg, connecting with his shin.

He grunted and glared up at you. “Sorry!” You had moved your other hand to cover your mouth completely.

For the third time, he sighed as he went back to working. As soon as he could ensure that you would not get an infection he was going to lay into you, he was formulating his speech as he worked.

After both knees were bandaged, Lucifer started cleaning up the supplies and repacking the box.

“Thank you,” you offered quietly. He paused. “I really am sorry Lucifer, I didn’t mean to make trouble for you. It’s just when that demon would not stop talking about the exchange program, it made me angry that they would say such things about Lord Diavolo who has been very accommodating in so many ways.”

Lucifer looked over at you, you were focused on your fist in your lap.

“And when they started on about your family… the same family that’s shared their home with me and shown me nothing but kindness, something in me just flipped and I felt like I had to do something.”

This oh-so-fragile human thought they could take on a demon to protect his family’s name, he couldn’t stay mad at that, not that you would get out of your punishment.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Lucifer conceded as he knelt down in front of you again, “but I do not appreciate you putting yourself in harm’s way,” he picked up your hand from your lap and your eyes followed as he kissed your tender knuckles. “What would we do if you suffered a worse defeat?”

“Wait, I didn’t lose!” you defended, “Some other demons separated us and they left with their tail between their legs!”

His pride tingled with delight, so this human could handle themselves, somewhat, “That’s reassuring,” he chuckled as he pushed himself back up to standing.

“So no punishment?” You asked again, looking hopeful as you stood as well.

“I love the baseless optimism. I hope you apply that to washing dishes for the next month.” You groaned and he couldn’t help but smile.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #my writing

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years ago

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART THIRTEEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: light sexual content, feelings Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: SURPRISE! My depressed ass is back and I missed fawning over this fic. Thank you to everyone that stuck around. I love you guys.

Big thanks to my girlfriend and beta, @lantern-inthenight <3

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

When you woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a muffled melody. The room was cast in a fiery orange glow as the rising sun peeked in through the window. You sat up in bed, straining your ears to listen.

Noticeably missing, was Josh - the side of the bed he had been sleeping on was turned down, but you placed your hand on the sheets to find them cold.

The chill on the hardwood made your toes curl as you padded across it, first to your bedroom to pull on a pair of sweatpants, and then back to Josh’s room to slip one of his sweatshirts over your bare chest.

Once you were no longer naked, and a little more awake, you quickly figured out that the music was coming from under the closed bathroom door, and you stopped in front of it to have a listen.

The sound of Josh’s voice carried well into the hall, though he was keeping it quiet, probably for your benefit.

You placed your fingers over your mouth absently as you listened to the notes rise to a lovely height and then dip down again. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but you didn’t need to.

It shocked you enough to make you flinch when he opened the bathroom door abruptly - you had figured he was just taking a pause in the song.

When he spotted you, he jumped back, letting a curse fall from his lips. “God, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet - you almost gave me a heart attack,” he blurted through an exasperated smile.

“I’ve never heard you sing before,” you said, just above a whisper in the quiet space. “Your voice is so lovely.”

He looked you up and down for a second, his face turning peachy. “I haven’t wanted to for a while. Outside of school, anyway.”

You let a smile find your lips at the implication of his words, and it fell silent between you again. He was standing, posture unsure as he, undoubtedly, tried to gauge whether everything was still okay after last night.

The temptation to touch him was too much, especially once you realized he probably needed all the reassurance you could give. His skin was warm as you reached out and ran your fingertips lightly over the pink skin on his cheek. He careened into your touch, turning his head just enough to press a kiss into the meaty part of your thumb. The gesture made your chest feel tight.

“Come back to bed,” you suggested through a whisper and watched him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth visibly pressing into the plush skin.

“I can’t,” he replied breathily as you took his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “I don’t have the time.”

You nodded back at him with a teasing smile. “Sure you do.”

“Don’t tempt me, babe,” he pleaded from low in his chest. “I have a show at noon.”

You breathed a laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Call me that again,” you said against his ear. It was you dragging your teeth over his earring that made him groan.

“Please - for the love of god - keep this energy for when I get back tonight.”

You hummed, pressing a kiss to the peak of his cheekbone. “Okay. Can I help?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just wait for me here - it’ll probably help save time if you’re naked ahead of time-”

You smacked his shoulder, pulling a delighted laugh from his chest - always excited to say something stupid. “With the show.”

“If you’d like to, I’d love to have you. But you’re going to have to hustle and get dressed,” he instructed.

You scoffed. “Not the noon show-” You turned back towards his room and looked back over your shoulder. “No, right now I’m going back to bed.”

+++

You hadn’t put any thought at all into what you’d wear for the other two shows you’d be attending - you knew you could recycle the dress once on Sunday if you paired it with something else, but for Saturday evening’s show, you were stuck crawling to the only other person you knew whose clothes would fit you.

This time when you approached Kate’s house, you had come prepared with a milk-bone, which was good, because it was her huge dog that greeted you. When he stood up on his hind legs, he was able to look directly into your eyes through the glass on the door, his tail wagging.

You watched Kate round the corner into the entrance hall, wearing a knee-length black robe, the silk shining as she moved in the sunlight. She gave you a puzzled look, cracking the door.

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” you said with an insincere smile. “Can I give your dog a treat?”

She laughed at you, opening the door the whole way and letting you slip in.

“I’m going to assume that you’re not just here to make Yeti fat.” Her voice sounded a bit too knowing for your taste.

“You’re right! I’m also here to raid your closet, if you’ll let me,” you replied. “I need an outfit for the show tonight.”

She started down the hall and towards her room, ushering for you to follow. “You’re going again?”

You nodded, though she wasn’t looking directly at you. “Yeah, of course.”

When you got into her room, you sat on her bed, and you absolutely wouldn’t have noticed Jake if Yeti hadn’t instantly trotted over to him to sit by his feet. He was sitting at a little circular cafe-style table in the corner of her room, a mug of something hot in front of him.

You glanced over at him and were met with a cheeky little smirk.

“You - uh. Yeah, I’m going to help with the show tonight,” you said after you decided you weren’t ready to address that situation yet.

“Ah,” she started, and though she was facing away from you into the closet, you could hear a matching smirk through her voice. “I really only have clothes that match my style, which I would define as ‘mildly tramp’.”

You hummed contemplatively. “Let’s start with the most professional ensemble and then work our way back. Maybe something you’d wear to a wedding?”

“You don’t want something I’d wear to a wedding,” she teased but pulled out a few garments all the same.

“So, uhm. Am I interrupting something?” you finally chanced, sneaking a glance back at Jake.

“Not at all,” Kate replied, unhelpfully. “Now go try some of these on and tell me what you think.”

In the end, the only thing she owned that you deemed acceptable - and also even remotely your style was a thigh-length, black dress - form-fitting.

You stared at it dubiously in the mirror.

You’d have to put a coat over it, but you thought you could make it work.

“Are we going to talk?” Kate asked, a little smirk playing on her lips as she held her nails out to inspect them. They were unpainted but perfectly manicured.

You chanced a glance over at Jake - who was now sitting on the floor with Yeti nearly in his lap. He was working his fingers through the thick, white fur as he met your eyes.

“Yeah, let’s talk about it,” he agreed, flashing you his teeth.

Luckily enough, you found the moment more humorous than embarrassing, so you just scratched absentmindedly at the back of your neck.

“Well,” you started and then paused as you tried to figure out how much was appropriate to disclose. “I’m going to his show again tonight. And tomorrow.”

Kate huffed, feigning impatience. “Yeah, okay, but that doesn’t tell me anything because you’d do that anyway.”

You gave her a playful shrug. “That’s all I got for you right now. But I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve processed everything.”

“Ooh, shit. That sounds juicy.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, making you chuckle. You turned your attention to Jake again then.

“And I’m sure you’ll hear all about it,” You flicked your eyes back over to Kate in an accusatory look. “One way or another.”

+++

That night you sat in the audience alone - well, not alone, but without Kate or Jake. Most of the seats were filled again, at least partially with faces you remembered seeing the night before.

The show was just as fun and entertaining as the last, except this time, when Josh walked out onto the stage at the end, he met your eyes for a moment, letting them linger before tugging a couple of his kids into a side hug and smiling wide for all the parents.

As soon as most people had dissipated, he met you at your seat, but before he could even open his mouth to greet you, a parent of one of the kids was shaking his hand. The dad poured his praises, thanking Josh for working with his daughter - you guessed maybe it was Alice, but you had nothing to base that guess on. Josh handled it effortlessly, charming as ever.

By the time the parent had left you, you and Josh were some of the last people still lingering.

“I’ve gotta grab my stuff backstage,” he informed you, tiling his jaw up in that general direction. “Wanna come?”

With a smile, you nodded an agreement and let him offer you a hand as you made your way out of the tight seats.

Backstage was infinitely more chaotic than it was when you’d last seen it. Set pieces were strewn about - not unorganized, but everywhere. You had to weave through them to get to where his backpack was propped against a folding table, costume accessories spilling off the surface of it.

“Do you want me to help clean up back here?” you asked, eyeing the messes. He hummed through a smile.

“Nah, I’ve got a system,” he informed you, and then after you gave him a doubtful look, he added, “Seriously. And until you’re directing a cast of children in a play that you produced, I don’t want to hear your objections.”

His teasing tone made you bite back a grin. “It’s amazing - really. I’m just offering my help.”

The backpack looked heavy as he slung it over his shoulder, holding the strap across his chest with both hands. “Then take me home,” he requested playfully, flicking his eyes to the back exit.

“Happily.”

+++

On Sunday, after the very last matinee show, you spent an hour helping him sort all the costumes - every tiny piece in a garment bag and labeled accordingly. The rest, he insisted, he would work on during school hours the following day.

You suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug, resting your temple on his shoulder and taking a moment to relish in the fact that you’d taken him by surprise.

“I want to take you out tonight - a congratulations of sorts,” you said as you leaned back far enough to see his cheeks flush a flattering peachy color.

“Really?”

“Only if you want to.” You paired your sentence with a casual shrug.

He flashed you a pleased smile. “Of course I want to. I’d love that,” he agreed.

You let him pick the place, and in the end, he landed on a hole-in-the-wall diner that he swore was the absolute best place to get pancakes in the middle of the night. Even though it was close to nine, you both sipped on coffee as you waited for your order.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” he said as you watched his fingers idly rub across the ceramic mug in his hands. “There was so much lead-up and drama that it feels weird for it all to be behind me.”

“It was really incredible, Josh. I honestly can’t believe that you pulled it off with all that went wrong.”

He looked up at you through his fan of lashes. He looked tired, but not uncomfortably so - just enough that you knew he worked his ass off.

“We pulled it off. I could have never done it without you,” he stated, charmingly earnest as always.

You huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s not true - If I hadn’t moved in, you’d never have lost your assistant in the first place.”

His expression melted away until his face was blank. “I-”

He paused, visibly trying to figure out how he wanted to word the next line out of his mouth. “That wasn’t your fault. I didn’t really know what was happening until it was too late to change it.”

“I know, I just. I’m happy that it ended up this way, I just wish it hadn’t almost derailed your whole production.” You could feel your features slip into something mournful, making him frown.

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “How do you even know about that?”

You hummed. “Kate told me. Jake told her.”

He glared off into the distance, but on him, the look was completely unthreatening. It was so out of place that it made you giggle.

“I’m not sure I like how close they are,” he grumbled through a smile he couldn’t hold back.

“Yeah, I hear you. I went to her house this morning to rummage for this dress-”

He cut you off, eyes raking over your form. “You look amazing, by the way.”

You gave him a pointed look and a little eye roll, though you had to admit you were flattered.

“Yes, well, Jake was at her house this morning. Petting her dog.”

His eyebrows lifted, lashes blinking a few times in surprise. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Well. I suppose you got what you wanted then, right?”

The irritation that was evident on your features was unwarranted - you knew that in your heart, but it didn’t stop you from letting out a childish huff.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you and I would be-”

You cut yourself off just as his eyes flicked up at you over the rim of his mug.

“You and I would be what?” he asked coyly. You took a moment to admire the fact that his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were still a bit tanned despite it now being well into winter. A little like a bronze statue.

“I didn’t think you and I would be...a thing,” you finished simply, keeping your tone light.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, all too suspicious for your liking. “No?”

A puzzled look flashed across your face. “No,” you agreed. “Why? What does that mean?”

He took a too-long sip of coffee, holding your eyes just to fuck with you - you were sure. He cheekily bit his bottom lip as he figured out how to word what he wanted to say. “Nothing really,” he assured, though you were unconvinced.

You were going to press the topic further, but your thought was cut short when the server showed up with a tray of your food and another carafe of hot coffee. He made light conversation with Josh as he filled both of your mugs near to the brim, and you watched the steam rise off of it as you pondered which flavored syrup you’d drown your pancakes in.

The sound of the little metal cup of creamer being slid across the tabletop toward you got your attention, and your eyes lingered on Josh’s hand as his fingers brushed past yours.

“Cream, babe?” he inquired, though he was well aware of exactly how you took your coffee.

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed what he’d said. That was the second time he’d called you that in the months you’d known him, and it had the same effect on you this time that it had the last time. You met his eyes, catching his fingers with yours for just a brief second, forcing a mischievous smile to his lips.

You poured a bit of cream into your coffee and stirred it until it was a medium brown.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” you asked fondly and watched him bite his bottom lip absently to try and keep his smile from stretching into a grin.

“Help myself from what?” His tone was cheeky, informing you that he knew exactly what you were talking about. It was evident that the two of you were playing a game now - something light and coy. You paused to take a bite or two of your food, happy enough to leave him in suspense for a moment longer.

“Calling me that.”

He hummed, low in his throat. “Is that not alright?”

“Doesn’t it seem a bit out of place?” You watched as he reached across the table to stab at a piece of your pancake, bringing it to his mouth and chewing it before giving his answer.

“Why would it? Are we not on a date right now?”

A look of genuine shock flashed across your features. Not caring how rude it was, you asked through a mouth full of food, “Are we?”

There was a long pause in the conversation as he ate, and you wondered for a moment if you had upset him until he looked back up at you. He was biting back a smile as he leaned back in his seat.

“Back before the musical, you were complaining about the cold - do you remember?”

You frowned in concentration as you searched your brain. “Which time? I pretty frequently complain about the temperature here.”

He breathed a laugh. “Yeah, you do. I thought you were going to freeze to death at first. But there was something you said that glued itself to my frontal lobe.”

You gave him a questioning look, prompting him to continue.

“You said, ‘if we move away from here, can we move somewhere warm?’.” He just held your eyes for a moment as your heart beat suddenly inched toward erratic. “We.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little jittery and took another bite of pancake before you could say something truly stupid.

After a moment of silence to let you process, he spoke again. “So, I think maybe you knew we would end up being a ‘thing’, right?”

“I don’t know a whole lot, Josh,” you admitted, reaching out and placing your hand on his and lightly running your fingers over his skin. “But, I do know that since the moment I met you, I wanted to be close with you. You’re magnetic. I truly think you could have anyone you wanted if they listened to you talk - just once.”

Despite having been the one to start the whole conversation, a peachy pink tint surfaced across his cheeks and nose at the compliment.

Clearly not interested in continuing such an intimate conversation at a busy diner, he placed his palm flat on the table and asked, “Are you ready to get out of here? I think if I drink any more coffee my heart might give out.”

“You could just switch to decaf,” you suggested, smirking at him as he squinted back at you like you had personally insulted him.

He stood and leaned across the table until his face was only six inches or so from yours. “I’d rather die, thank you.”

#brightest blue fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #josh x reader #joshxreader #josh kiszka

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

#tma #tma fanfic #jmart #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #cw alcohol #new years eve #new years eve party

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mctherofdragons · 4 years ago

Text

Little Black Book | D. M.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Genre: FLUFF!

Request: “could you write a draco x slytherin!reader where they both have a crush on eachother, but they think the other person is into someone else? like draco with pansy or reader with some other character” from the lovely @minty-malfoy <3

Trigger Warnings: Cussing

---------------------------------

Draco Malfoy furrowed his brow at the cauldron in front of him. He added the last ingredient and watched jubilantly as the ivory smoke spiraled upward. You watched as he leaned forward, taking a small whiff of the potion. He gasped quickly, his cheeks beginning turning a ruddish red. You looked over at him and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

He hastily placed the lid onto the Amortentia potion with a loud clang. You sighed, feeling a little twinge in your heart. It no doubt smelled like Pansy Parkinson. “Perfect, pretty, put-together Pansy Parkinson,” you thought to yourself. You knew that the reason Draco was flushed was because the familiar scent of broomsticks, cinnamon gum, and cherry lipgloss had invaded his senses. You secretly desired that he had smelled you instead - lavender shampoo, mint, and a touch of morning coffee.

“Does it smell like Potter?,” you jested. Draco glared at you before cracking a smile.

“Careful, y/l/n.”

You gave him a toothy grin, going back to flipping through your textbook. “What does yours smell like?,” he asked curiously, secretly hoping it smelled like apples, hair product, and vanilla. You leaned over the cauldron, gently taking off the cover. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes. It felt as though you were bathing in the scent of the boy next to you and you drew back.

“Well?,” Draco asked curiously. You swallowed hard, trying to figure out the best lie to tell in the moment.

“Oh, um, I...it smells like honey...and...grass,” you blurted, turning back around to stare at your book.

Draco felt his heart sink, peaking up at you behind his lashes. You were busy distracting yourself with packing up your bag as he watched you longingly.

“Of course she didn’t smell you, you bloody idiot,” he thought to himself defeatedly, thankful for your professor calling an end to the class.

----------------------------------

That evening, you sat curled up on a green velvet chair in the Sytherin common room. It was always a lucky occasion when the common room was empty. It allowed for time to relax with nothing but the sound of the crackling fire to keep you company. You sipped a cup of peppermint tea and absentmindedly flipped through a copy of Witch Weekly. A yawn washed over you, which allowed you to stretch a bit and settle down more comfortably in your chair. You looked up from the article you were reading about a Beauxbatons’ pastry recipe when you heard the door creak open, disturbing the silence.

Draco and Pansy came stumbling into the common room, chuckling about something Draco must have said in the hallway. Pansy giggled, playfully placing a hand on Draco’s chest. You felt as if you were watching the interaction in slow motion, silently longing to be in Pansy’s place. Her blithesome smile made your eyes fill with jealous tears, although you were too prideful to allow them to spill over.

You quickly gathered up your things, polishing off the rest of your tea. You shuffled past the two, ignoring the way Draco’s head turned on a swivel when you brushed his shoulder. Heading out into the hallway, you rushed as quickly as you could back to your dormitory. “Why am I crying over Draco Malfoy?,” you cursed to yourself, feeling relief once the door slammed behind you. You sniffled a bit before wiping your eyes in annoyance. “He’s just a boy. A stupid boy at that.”

Knowing it would make you feel better, you climbed up onto your bed and pulled out your diary. Your method of getting out your frustration was often through writing letters - of course, letters you’d never dream of sending. You had written angry letters to your professors and even inspirational letters to yourself, all of which you burned immediately in the common room fireplace. You flipped to an empty page and grabbed the quill next to you. The words flowed easily now as you let a few tears drip onto the paper. Your sentences had no real beginning or end, nor did your care about making a whole lot of sense.

‘Dear Draco,

I wish I could tell you what you mean to me....that you’re charming, and handsome, and perfect in every way. I want to tell you that I am captivated by your smile, your eyes, and every last inch of you. My potion smelled like you...Did yours smell like Pansy? I’m sure it did. If I had the chance, I’d kiss you right in front of everyone. I know it’s stupid but I really do fancy you, Malfoy. I just wish you’d fancy me back.’

It was written in the same way your thoughts of Draco often graced across your mind - jumbled and disjointed. You closed the tiny black book and placed it into your backpack, reaching over the shut off your bedside light. You snuggled deeper under your soft, wool blankets, secretly thinking of the Slytherin prince as you drifted off to sleep.

----------------------------------

Draco Malfoy sat at his dormitory desk, sipping slowly on a cup of tea. The sweet drink warmed his insides. He was grateful for this as he was often coldest at night. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and continued to write, sighing as he felt all of his pent up emotions ease. He wouldn’t admit it aloud to any of his friends, but he kept a diary. It had always served as a way for him to process the difficult parts of his day, protecting him from having to share too much with other people.

Tonight, he wrote unabashedly about how he felt for you. He wrote about your hair, your eyes, and the way his Amortentia carried your scent. He gushed about dreaming of kissing you for hours and hours, leaving very little to the imagination. After seeing you rush out of the common room, he felt an unwavering sense of dread, thinking perhaps you couldn’t even stand to be around him. Thus, he put down in black and white all of the sickeningly sweet ways he thought of you. It occurred to him that maybe if he spilled his heart out on to the parchment, he could stop being so damned enamored with you.

His eyelids started to become heavy, so he slid the small, raven-colored book into his knapsack. Turning off his lamp, he slid beneath his covers, allowing himself to drift into slumber.

-----------------------------------

Final exams were fast approaching and the entirety of Hogwarts was in a tizzy. Between Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, there was far too much information to digest and far too little time to do it. You and several others from your house shared a long table in the library, your papers and manuals spread out in front of you. Reading furiously, you had lost track of the time, along with Draco, Pansy, and Blaise.

“Oh bloody hell, we’re going to be late for DADA,” Pansy cussed. She stood up to quickly shove her books into her bag. The remaining three of you jumped up, jostling your belongings into your bags as quickly as possible - which is why neither you nor Draco noticed when two tiny black books got swapped.

You all jogged off down the hallway, your robes flowing behind you as you desperately hoped to not be late to class. Unfortunately, you didn’t make it in time, rushing in through the door just as Snape had begun to speak.

“Nice of you to join us, albeit late. 10 points from Slytherin, each.”

You sulked as you slid into your seat, pulling your parchment and quill out to begin taking notes.

----------------------------------------

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting on your bed. You had finally finished reviewing for your classes and figured a much needed break was in order. You got up and padded over to your tea kettle, flicking the water on. Just then, you heard a tiny knock at your door.

Unsure who would be coming to visit you, you walked over and stood on the other side. “Who is it?,” you beckoned, not wanting to open the door for just anyone.

“Malfoy,” the voice on the other end replied. Your stomach did an immediate flip. You opened the door, coming face-to-face with a red faced and anxious looking blonde on the other side. He held up something in his hand and you felt like the floor had just given out under your feet.

“Is this yours?,” He asked sheepishly, extending a hand to give it back. You snatched it quickly. The sound of your heart pounding echoed in your ears. A feeling of dread washed over you and you couldn’t stop your hands from beginning to shake.

“Did you r-read it?,” you choked out. You sent a prayer up to Merlin that the answer would be no.

“Yes.”

You let out a tiny gasp and your lips began to tremble.

“Hey, hey,” Draco whispered, allowing himself to walk in the door. He closed it behind him, reaching out to take your hands. “Don’t be upset. Believe me, it’s alright, y\n,”

You pulled away, turning around in embarrassment. “I’m n-not upset! I’m fucking humiliated,” you sniveled. Draco knew about how much you liked - no, at this point he probably assumed loved - him. He had read the inner workings of your heart. Every thing you had penned about the boy was now knowledge he possessed. You wished you could just dissolve into the floor and disappear forever.

Draco sighed, walking over to your backpack. He reached in and pulled out a different journal. You had no idea that his book had been in your bag the entire time, given that you thought it was yours. He sauntered back over to you, pulling you by the hand to sit down on the bed.

You looked at him confused as he opened the journal. He handed it over to you, allowing you to peruse it. You began to read, your jaw falling slack. “Y-you...is this about Pansy?,” you asked sadly, unable to accept that Draco’s feelings might be mutual. Draco’s cyanic eyes twinkled. He took the diary from your hands, placing it out of the way.

He moved a piece of hair from your eyes, tracing his finger along your jaw. Then, he took a finger and traced it down the bridge of your nose and over your lips. He began to speak, repeating a line from one of his diary entries, “Everything about you is flawless.”

He leaned in slowly, planting a kiss to your lips. In that moment, it wouldn’t have shocked you if fireworks began to burst across the ceiling of your room. You scooted closer, gently placing a hand on the back of Draco’s neck. Your fingers played in the tufts of his platinum blonde hair. You pulled him back in for another kiss. Suddenly, you were very, very grateful for finals week - and those 40 missing points from Slytherin mattered not.

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x reader #malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #dracotok #draco fanfiction #draco x slytherin!reader #draco x female reader

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 12

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Word Count: 4.7K

"Come on (Y/n)" Mikasa jostled your shoulder, the sunlight barely seeping into Annie's room thanks to her thick curtains and the overcast outside. Your eyes cracked open and you grunted as Mikasa lifted her hand from your shoulder. You sat up, your hair sticking our in odd angles as you blinked sleepily at Mikasa.

"What time is it?" you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Annie was buried under the covers still asleep.

"It's eight in the morning." Mikasa informed as you reluctantly climbed out of the warm bed. Mikasa waited patiently for you by the door as you grabbed your phone and shrugged your flannel back on. You noticed that Mikasa's eyes lingered on chest and neck and you flushed, hazy memories of the night prior returning to you slowly. You looked around for your jeans, vaguely recalling taking them off before going to sleep. You were certain that you and Annie hadn't done anything beyond some heavy petting and kissing. You found your pants and pulled them on quickly, buttoning them as you and Mikasa left the room and descended the stairs to the main floor where you had left your shoes and coat.

As the two of you walked out the side door you noticed that most of the cars were still in the drive way, Eren's car was running and you could make out both Eren and Armin in the car already. Mikasa paused a few feet away from the car and quirked a brow at you.

"So you and Annie?" she mused, you groaned and rubbed the side of your face, your head pounding.

"No we just kissed." you clarified, it had been a good experience but you knew that you wouldn't want to have a relationship with Annie. At least at this time.

"I didn't know you were into girls." Mikasa said softly. You shrugged and smiled at her.

"Neither did I, well I guess I thought I'd never act on those feelings." you chuckled as you licked your lips and clutched your throat thoughtfully.

"I see." Mikasa left it at that as she closed the distance to the drivers side and climbed in. You slid into the backseat with Armin, doing your best to cover yourself with your coat. Armin had his head in his hands as he leaned forward in his seat, his blonde hair curtaining over his face.

"You alright?" you asked as Mikasa turned around and pulled out of the driveway. Eren was leaning back in his seat, his eyes closed. Armin nodded and leaned back with a sigh.

"Yeah, it was just a long night." he smiled tiredly at you and you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah it was." you agreed as you turned to look out at the snowy scenery.

"Should I take you home?" Mikasa asked tentatively, you pursed your lips in thought, if you went home now you hoped that you could just go to bed and that your brother would give you some space. However if you went to the Jeagers you knew that you could sleep for the rest of the day undisturbed. But the thought of your own bed was too enticing.

"Yes please." you finally said, Mikasa nodded and turned down onto one of the many winding back roads that would take you to your house. It must have snowed some more last night because now the trees were heavy with snow, the roads still bathed in a white with few tire tracks. It was an early Saturday morning so it wasn't surprising that people had chosen to stay home, especially given the icy state of the roads. You began to get nervous as Mikasa turned onto your road and then onto your driveway. You noticed that Erwin and Hange's cars were both in the driveway, both covered in snow. You thanked Mikasa and told her to text you when they got home safely before climbing out, slinging your bag over your shoulder and pulling your house key out. You waved as they pulled out of the drive and out onto the road. You unlocked the door as quietly as you could, kicking off your shoes and tip toeing through the kitchen and up the stairs. The house was quiet and dark, you made sure to be extra quiet as you walked past Erwin's room, shutting your door behind you, you sighed with relief before once again sliding your jeans off and slipping into a pair of grey sweats.

You plugged your phone in and crawled under your covers, your head still spinning as you fell into your pillows. You drifted in and out of sleep for about four hours before giving up on getting more rest. Besides, the bustling sounds of your mom, Erwin, and Hange in the kitchen was growing from a muffle, to a roar in your hungover state. You threw the covers off before padding over to your closet in search of something to cover your bruised neck. You paused at your vanity and switched on your lamp to inspect the damage. Dark purple bruises littered your throat and collarbones, you counted at least four bad ones. You hissed as you touched the sensitive skin, the highest hickey was right below your jaw, nearly impossible to cover. You cursed as you continued with your task of finding a hoodie to throw on. Thankfully that covered all except the one below your jaw.

You sat at your vanity and began rubbing a quarter over the area in hopes of lightening the bruise before applying concealer. You frowned, setting down the quarter to inspect your work, the angry skin was still red, but not nearly as bad, so your began to blend in some concealer. Once you were pleased with your handy work you grabbed your empty water bottle and steeling your nerves to go down to the kitchen. As you descended the stairs you could smell your mom making lunch, hear Hange's tik tok for you page, and see Erwin at the dining room table typing away on his laptop. No signs of Levi, maybe you had been seeing things last night. Your mom turned to greet you a smile on her face as you walked to the fridge to refill your water.

"Good morning sleeping beauty." She teased as she leaned over to ruffle your hair. You smiled weakly at her and batted her hand away from your head.

"Good afternoon." you greeted as you screwed the cap back onto your water.

"Want something to eat?" she asked as she nodded towards the skillet with butter and bread, you noticed a sliced avocado and some lunch meat and cheese. Your stomach churned at the thought of food but you nodded, knowing that it would make you feel better.

"Yes please." you said as you wandered over to sit next to Hange, who now was watching you intently.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked as you sat next to her. You shrugged, not having though that far in advance.

"Not sure yet." you admitted as Hange pursed her lips in thought.

"How about dinner and a movie with Erwin, Levi and I?" She offered, a hopeful look on her face. You knew that Hange dealt with most conflict like this, favoring to act like nothing had happened, unless of course it was a big fight. You nodded, deciding that it might be nice and give you a chance to apologize for last night. But not too much apologizing because you knew that you had been right in standing your ground.

"Who's house?" you asked curiously, mostly expecting her to say that it would be at your house.

"Levi's." she smiled sheepishly, your mouth fell open into an 'o', usually Levi tried to keep his friends away from his house. You'd never been insides, the closest you'd gotten was his driveway when Erwin picked him up a few times before Levi got his license.

"Huh okay. What time?" you asked, glancing at the clock.

"As soon as we finish lunch." it was already twelve thirty, a bit early to watch movies.

"Really? Isn't that a bit....early?" you chewed your lip nervously, feeling unprepared for what would be another casual evening. Hange shrugged and stirred her cup of iced coffee with a smile.

"Yeah I guess but Levi's probably just going to sleep through it anyway." she chuckled, your brows furrowed, remembering that Levi was probably exhausted from his travels and your temper tantrum.

"Oh yeah, why'd he come back so early did something happen?" you asked, hoping that Hange would shed some light on the situation.

"Ah well he just decided that he missed me too much." she winked at you but you noticed the brief flash of uncertainty across her face. Whether she wasn't telling you the full truth or she herself was unsure remained a mystery.

"Say want to come upstairs and help me with my history?" She asked after moment of silence when she noticed you were spiraling into the recesses of your thoughts.

"Sure but why do you need my help?" you asked as Hange grabbed your wrist and drug you up stairs to Erwin's room. You frowned when you couldn't see her backpack or any of her school supplies that she usually had scattered around the room.

"Wheres your-"

"I'm so sorry about last night." Hange took your hands into her own and looked at you with wide eyes. You felt your lip quiver as she ran her thumbs over your knuckles.

"It's fine it's not your fault." you mumbled as your eyes fell to the floor.

"But it is! I convinced Levi to come back early." she confessed, her glasses fogging up as her eyes watered. Your eyes widened at her confession, but still you didn't blame her. It was Erwin that you were mad with right now, not Levi.

"I'm not mad at you or Levi." you said softly, squeezing her hand in reassurance. She sniffled, and pushed her gently pulled her hands back to push her glasses off her face so she could wipe a single tear off her cheek.

"You're not?" she asked, a small smile gracing her lips.

"No, I just got frustrated with Erwin. If I'd known that Levi was coming home then I wouldn't have gone to the party." you explained, glad that you were able to clear the air between you and Hange. You chuckled airily as she pulled you into a tight hug.

"I know he can be overbearing at times but, he just cares about you. He doesn't want to screw you up." she mumbled into your hair as she rubbed your back soothingly. You hugged her back just as tightly.

"I know." you sighed as you buried your head into her shoulder.

"You don't have to apologize just yet, but I would like you two to come to terms sooner rather than later." she said softly, you nodded in agreement. You hated fighting with Erwin, but you knew that if you didn't say something about how you felt, then he would never catch on. Admittedly, you wished that you'd handled the whole ordeal sober, but there was no going back now.

"Yeah I guess." you agreed as Hange pulled the two of you onto Erwin's bed. She smiled at you, pleased with herself.

"So, want to tell me about the party last night? Seemed like fun!" she said as she fell back onto the bed on her back. You remained seated as you tried to think of where to start.

"It was fun...we mostly just sat around and talked." you shrugged as you turned to gauge her reaction.

"Annie's got a huge house." Hange commented with a chuckle, you nodded in agreement.

"She does"

"Did you see Jean?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows to study you.

"Yeah, he found me after you left. Sat with me in the bathroom for a little bit before we went back with the group." you nodded, giving her a smile.

"You call him out?" she quizzed as her eyes widened.

"Not really, I think that he's got some stuff going on and I don't want to give him too hard of a time." you shrugged indifferently, you were over that drama.

"Ah I see, well there's plenty of fish in the sea." Hange plopped back down onto her back and fell silent.

"Yeah and lots of trash." you huffed, Hange snorted.

"Damn right."

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Hange and Erwin in his room, Erwin continued to work as you and Hange sat on his bed talking and scrolling through your phones. The winter days were short, so by the time that five had rolled around, the sun had already sunk below the horizon. Erwin's phone chimed and he paused his work to glance at the lit screen.

"He says to come now." He said, shutting his laptop and crossing the room to throw on a fresh shirt.

"Took him long enough." Hange grunted as she stretched and stood up as well.

"What movie are we watching?" you asked as you shoved your phone into your pocket.

"Probably Pulp Fiction, it's his favorite you know." Hange said with a wink as she stooped to pick up one of her bras off the floor. Your nose scrunched with slight disgust as she pulled her shirt off and pulled the bra on. You were also guilty of wearing the same bra more than once, but the thought of Hange and your brother doing stuff made you want to barf.

"Hm okay." you said as you went to go double check your appearance in the bathroom. You decided that instead of wearing sweats, you would change into a pair of leggings so you didn't look like a complete hobo. Once you were changed, you rushed down the stairs to meet Hange and Erwin at the door.

"I can drive since you drove last night." Hange said, spinning her keys around her pointer finger as she watched Erwin pull his shoes on.

"Fine" Erwin agreed as he slid his arms into his letter jacket, you pulled your own shoes on and the three of you carefully made your way out to Hange's car. You sat in the back, bouncing your knee anxiously as you neared your destination. You felt both excited and nervous, although you spent a lot of time with Erwin and his friends, it wasn't often that they invited you along with them for outings like these.

Hange pulled up to Levi's house, a modest home with two cars parked in the driveway, one you recognized as Levi's and another that you knew to be Kenny's. The three of you walked up the the front door and Erwin let himself in after a curt knock. The front door led you right into Levi's living room, where Kenny was passed out asleep watching some car show. The three of you tip toed past him and into the kitchen, and down a short hallway, pausing in front of a door. You looked at the pictures on the wall, most of them of Kenny and a young woman that you assumed was Levi's mother. There were a few younger pictures of Levi, one with his mother, but most of him and Kenny.

Erwin pushed the door open and led the way down to the basement. The t.v was already on and you could see the hazy smoke of Levi's dab pen lingering in the air. You could make out the top of his head peeking over the small couch. The basement was small, not much beyond two small couches and a tv. Although there was a pool table jammed into the far corner. You noticed a small shelf with a record player on top, a neatly organized stack of records filed underneath it. Levi didn't acknowledge the three of you as Hange and Erwin plopped down onto the couch opposite of Levi. You sat stiffly on the opposite end of Levi's couch. He scrolled through the tv before pulling up The Goonies. The movie started and Hange and Erwin cuddled up together and began whispering and giggling.

Levi sat his phone down and leaned back into the couch, you curled your legs up beneath yourself as you tried to get comfortable. Levi glared at you as you shifted for the millionth time.

"Quick wiggling around" he scolded and you paused, your legs now spread as you leaned back into the leather couch.

"Sorry" you mumbled as you tried to pay attention.

"You want a blanket?" Hange asked as she grabbed a neatly folded balnket off the back of her couch. You nodded and held your hands up to catch the bundle. She tossed it and you covered yourself quickly. Erwin and Hange had already found a blanket to wrap up in, you watched as the police scene in the movie continued to unfold. You doubted that Levi would bring up the night prior, especially seeing that he hadn't even bothered to greet you yet. You brought your legs back up to the couch and grunted in frustration as you tried to find a comfortable position.

As you finally settled on leaning agains the arm of the couch with your legs slanted sideways, but this positon hurt your knees, so as you moved to throw them back over the edge. You sighed and glanced longingly at Hange, wishing that she would sit with you. You considered squeezing in next to her on the couch, and decided to give it a try. You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and stood up, Levi glanced at you, his eyes narrowed into slits. You shuffled across the room and plopped down onto Hange's lap. She wrapped her arms around you and leaned back into the couch.

"What's wrong little baby?" she teased as she held you.

"I'm just cold" you lied as she rubbed your arms to warm you up.

"Sureeee" Hange said, poking your cheek. Erwin scoffed and pushed you off Hange's lap. You fell with a thud onto the ground, you gasped as you looked up at Erwin.

"Jerk" you huffed, throwing the blanket off and lunging at him. He easily knocked you back onto your ass, but stood up to his full height. You came at him once more, this time trying to throw him off balance by tackling his midsection. He chuckled and allowed you to throw your weight into the attack, your sock covered feet sliding against the carpet comically. Finally Erwin tired of watching you struggle and looped an arm under your own midsection and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Levi scoffed as Erwin dangled you near his face, you clawed at Erwin's back, looking for anything to grab onto. You flailed around, but you couldn't do much since Erwin had you flipped upside down, your back against his own broad back. Finally you fell still, relaxing your muscles and allowing the blood to rush to your face.

Levi's eyes widened at the sight of dark purple marks that were littered along the column of your throat. He felt a rage spark in his chest, his eyes zeroed in on the bruises, the edges of them still prickled red and irritated. They had to have been from the previous night, but from who? That jerk that cheated on you? Or that blonde that you'd dated the previous year? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.

Erwin dropped you down and you quickly smoothed your clothes down, giving him a weary glare. He fell back onto the sofa by Hange and with a heavy sigh, returned his attention back to the TV. You gave Hange's lap one last longing look before returning to your seat by Levi. You felt the tension radiating off him in thick waves, you also tensed, trying to prepare yourself for whatever had set him off this time.

"Levi, can we have some popcorn?" Hange pleaded, her hands clasped together as she gave Levi soft pleading puppy eyes.

"Tch." Levi threw his blanket off and stood, for once he was happy to have an excuse to escape the stuffy basement.

"I'll come with you" you offered, jumping to your feet and following him up the stairs. Levi stalked through the dark hall and into the kitchen, where he riffled through the cabinets and pulled a handful of popcorn packets. You shifted awkwardly near the small table before deciding to take a seat. It was an interesting shift in the dynamic that you'd become so familiar with, usually you were the one jumping through hoops to please your guests. While Levi was by no means going to great lengths to ensure his guests' comfort, it was still fun to watch him fill the role of host for once.

"Want to tell me about what got into you last night?" Levi's cold voice made you flinch. You felt the guilt seep back into you, making you feel heavy and a tad sick.

"If I'd known you were coming back I wouldn't have gone." you said honestly, your eyes falling to your lap.

"That's a shit explanation." Levi scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. Your head snapped up, rage filling you once more. It wasn't fair of him to dictate your social life when he went and partied whenever he pleased.

"It's not like you don't go to parties like that." you replied, your eyes meeting his dark ones.

"Doesn't mean it's right." Levi said as he pushed off the counter and stalked across the kitchen to stand on the opposite end of the table.

"Look, I appreciate your concern but it was my choice, and I was having fun until you guys showed." You stood up and glared daggers at Levi.

"Right, and I assume that whoever gave you those disgusting marks was having fun too?" he snarled, his hand gesturing towards your neck. Your hand flew to your throat to cover the marks Annie had given you.

"If you're jealous just say so." you growled, as you matched his shitty attitude.

"Why would I be jealous? If I wanted you I would already have had you." his words cut through you.

"Then quit acting so psycho! You're giving me these crazy mixed signals." you snapped, your voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm not the one giving mixed signals, you're the one who kissed me and then gave me blue balls." Levi hissed has hand slapped loudly against the table in his frustration and you flinched, eyes widening at his sudden outburst.

"I was seeing Jean and you were with Petra, it doesn't matter how we felt. It was wrong of us to do that." You argued, your voice surprisingly level despite the turmoil of emotions underneath the surface of your facade. Levi scoffed and placed his other hand on the table as he leaned onto the surface.

"Doesn't change the fact that it happened." Levi reasoned, you knew that he was right, that in your moment of impulsiveness when it boiled down to it, the both of you had made a bad decision. One that had not only damaged the already fragile relationship between the two of you but also the relationship between your friends as well.

"I know..." you sighed, the frustration seeping into your tone. You ran a hand through your hair as you looked down at the table, not wanting to meet his gaze. The kitchen fell silent, the sounds of Kenny snoring in the other room and the popcorn popping made you feel as if you were dreaming.

"Look" Levi sighed as he ran a hand down the side of his face, which was twisted into a scowl. You turned to look up at him.

"When-When I'm around you, god this is stupid." He huffed in frustration as he covered his eyes with a hand, his cheeks flushed red. You waited patiently, knowing that moments like these with Levi were few and far between.

"I question everything I do and I get all...jumbled up inside I guess." he continued after a moment. You remained silent, waiting to see if he was finished yet.

"I know that when we kissed it was wrong but I didn't care because, my judgement is all clouded when you're around. And I hate it." he finally took his hand off his face and your stomach dropped at his words.

"But at the same time...I kind of like it?" Levi groaned and dropped into one of the chairs, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the roots.

"Levi-"

"Don't, I don't want to hear it." Levi interrupted you, holding a hand up as he sighed heavily. The microwave beeped and he stood up quickly to pull the hot bag of popcorn out and pour it into a bowl. You stood up and waited patiently for him to finish once more.

"Levi just listen okay" you pleaded, standing between him and the basement.

"Fine." he relented, placing the bowl on the table gently.

"I like spending time with you too, I just know that you're going to college and I guess that it felt a bit unfair that you finally started paying attention to me right before you had to go." you told him, kicking your toe against the floor as you looked down at the immaculately clean floors. You heard the floorboards creak as he shifted as well, unsure of what to do or say next.

"I see..." he muttered as he watched you fidget, your ears felt hot as you still refused to meet his gaze.

"Its settled then." He said, closing the space between you, he caught your hand in his and held it firmly in his grasp.

"I'll stay here, with you." He ran his calloused thumb over your knuckles, and you inhaled sharply, as good as those words felt, you knew that it would be insanely selfish to hold him captive here.

"I can't ask that of you." you said, finally daring to look up at him, his silver eyes were soft in the dim lighting.

"It's not like it's all that bad around here." Levi shrugged as he continued to toy with your fingers, his dull gaze held no fire any longer, making your heart squeeze.

"I know but people say that these next few years of your life are the best, I couldn't ask you to stick around here and miss out on college life." you spoke softly, knowing that if you weren't careful that you could set him off again.

"That's a load of shit." Levi scoffed, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a small peck onto your knuckles. You flushed, becoming a bit frustrated with his reasoning.

"I think you're missing my point..." you said as he looked up at you, his gaze hardening at your tone.

"Which would be?" Levi asked incredulously as he brought your hand up for another sweet kiss.

"My point is that I don't want to be heart broken when you leave for college or whatever it is that you decide to do." you huffed, but allowed him to kiss the inside of your wrist, feeling his lips curl into an almost impish smirk.

"So you admit that being apart breaks your heart?" Levi asked a tab coyly as he looked at you, eyes shining with mischief. You stuck your tongue out and looked away in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks.

"Of course! If there's one thing I learned over these past few months it's that I hate being away from you, even if when you're around you're just a jerk." you admitted begrudgingly, saying it out loud made you realize how the situation seemed a bit toxic, but you couldn't care too much about that in this moment.

"Then I won't leave, I'll go to school online and work for my uncle." Levi shrugged nonchalantly and you felt your heart flutter, but you squashed your feelings before they could swell too much.

"Levi, is that what you really want?" you asked, squeezing his hand to hold his attention. Levi's brows furrowed thoughtfully as he watched your fingers intertwine with his.

"I don't know what I want, school wise that is. But I do know that I want to be with you." He said, his voice steady and confident as you smiled at him softly.

"That's good enough for me." you sighed, standing to your full height as he grabbed the popcorn, the two of you had kept Erwin and Hange waiting long enough.

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Flowers on the Grave - c. 10 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Everything finally comes to a head.

A/N: So...massive thanks for following this series all the way through to the end. Seriously, means so much to me cause I was so unsure of this when I started it.

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ I was on the verge of breaking down when you came around ✞

The phone rang, shrill in your ear, and you felt like a weight had settled on your chest as you waited for someone to answer.

Timothy was talking about the same three things that he had overwhelmed you with at the Wreck. Getting his pilot’s license, becoming a missionary, and his strength in the Lord. When he said it you could almost feel your father’s gaze burning into you, your own strength barely a register on the scale.

He had questioned you further the night before, after he had sent everyone home you had spent nearly the entire night sitting at the kitchen table with the two of them, demanding a repentance for your sins as you tried not to tell them everything that you had done to betray them. If they knew half of it...if only there were nunneries for Baptists. Your eyes had stayed on the clock, watching minutes turn to hours and knowing that JJ was waiting for you. That you wouldn’t make it.

Now you sat in the living room, watching those same minutes tick away, an escape plan the only thing on your mind as you listened to all the voices around you mingling. All you could imagine was yourself with JJ in Charleston and you desperately wanted to be there, wished you could transport yourself there.

You excused yourself from the couch beside Timothy, walking into the kitchen under the guise of needing something to drink. In actuality you just needed the moment to breathe. Everyone in the living room seemed fixated on the impending nuptials, regardless of the fact that Timothy had yet to propose to you. It didn’t seem to bother anyone, Timothy’s mom and your’s gushing about what sort of dress you would wear and your flowers. Every second spent with them felt like you were sinking further beneath the waves, unable to get your bearings, you imagined yourself drowning in all of this.

You glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching you before sneaking out the kitchen door, pulling it closed behind you so that it didn’t make any noise. The back patio had been cleaned off and all the kids were around the front of the house, playing between the church and the front porch.

“Ace,” the familiar voice came from your left and you almost burst into tears at the sight of JJ stepping onto the patio, careful to stay out of view of the window.

“JJ...I-”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting you off. His eyes looked bloodshot, more so than when he smoked too much and you realized that he looked like he had been crying. “It’s okay...I know your family is inside and all, I just wanted to stop by to, uh, to see you...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“What, I don’t-”

“I understand, I swear. I knew that you might not come, that wasn’t like...I get it.” He insisted.

“No, JJ...” you shook your head. Careful not to draw attention to yourself as you slipped passed the window to meet him at the edge of the patio, you placed your hands on either side of his face, heartbreaking at the way he turned his eyes away, “my parents found your vape pen in the house. I...my dad like freaked out on me, I’ve never seen him like that. I couldn’t come to see you, I wanted to, so badly...I still want to.” You swore. “I love you.”

The words processed a little slowly, giving you the opportunity to watch JJ’s face as realisation sunk in. You hadn’t left him waiting at the Phantom because you were choosing what your family wanted, you hadn’t been able to get there. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I swear. I told you I was coming and I was. I just-”

“Hey, it’s alright, I get it.” He promised. He knew how dependent on your family you felt. How dependent they made you feel.

“Is it too late?” You asked, looking back to the screen door as if someone would walk through. The bruise on your arm was still there, stinging under the sleeve of your dress but somehow it didn’t feel as harsh as before, as much like a shackle as it had last night, “is it too late to leave?”

JJ looked surprised, “you still want to?”

“Yes. But we have to go now.” You knew there was no way you could go back inside that house.

The renewed sense of optimism that gripped JJ was not without understanding that your window oy opportunity was limited. Leave now and you still had the chance to make it to Charleston before dark, wait and there was a chance someone would step outside and see you.

“Okay.”

Your absence was becoming increasingly noticeable until finally your mother stood up, promising that she would be back in just a moment, she needed to find you first. “She has a tendency to wander off, probably playing with the children.” She explained as she walked into the kitchen, positive that she had just heard the screen door creak shut.

Stepping out onto the porch, she looked quickly around the yard, a survey of the area within the trees, looking for you by the clothesline or the church or the old swings that had been set up nearly five children ago. You weren’t there though, the yard was empty. She pushed the door open again, walking back into the kitchen and catching sight of the refrigerator. A note, scrawled on the grocery pad that was kept by the door, had been tacked to the front of the fridge along with a delicate gold cross hanging from a chain.

Mom + Dad,

Sorry, I told dad I wouldn’t marry Timmy and I meant it. Call you when I can.

Ace

Your mother screamed so loud it was a wonder that you didn’t hear it, running through the trees with JJ, your hand in his. Once the woods parted to make way for the closest drive-way you saw JJ’s dirt bike. There were plenty of times that you had almost taken him up on the offer of riding on the back of the bike with him but you always backed out at the last second, far too terrified of falling off or getting hurt. Today you hardly thought twice of it, climbing on the rungs and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You leaned forward, kissing JJ’s cheek before he kicked up the stand and took off, “I love you.”

“Love you.” JJ replied quickly before taking off, grinning at the feeling of your grip on his shoulders tightening.

The middle of the afternoon was far different from midnight and Heyward’s was open, Pope and Kiara coming out when they heard the sound of the dirt bike, as if they’d been waiting. The moment you each dismounted Kiara was pulling you into a hug, swearing that she ‘knew it’, knew you weren’t standing him up. She passed you over to Pope, who hugged you and whispered in your ear that he was glad you came, knowing without having to tell you that you understood just how much this relationship meant to JJ.

“Come on,” JJ grabbed your hand, pulling you away from them. “We gotta go.”

“You can take ten seconds to give me a hug JJ,” Kiara said, already pulling him into a hug.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, hugging her back and lifting her a little off the ground before letting her go, “we need to leave, I love you guys, I’ll see ya soon.”

“See ya man,” Pope hugged him, “call us.”

JJ was guiding you away from them again, over to where he had docked the Phantom. He had taken your duffel bag the day before and it was still sitting there under the bench along with his backpack. The last time you had been on a boat with JJ had been out on the Pogue, in the Marsh. This was a lot different, the outlet to the ocean just beyond your vision but getting closer as JJ steered the Phantom. Kiara and Pope shouted their goodbyes from the jetty and you waved, suddenly feeling like that weight that settled on your chest was gone.

“Are you freaking out?” JJ asked, catching your attention.

You got up from the bench, careful as you walked over to him. “No but I'm sure my mom is.” You replied, laughing a little when JJ wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you in front of him, putting you between him and the wheel. You turned your head, tilting back to kiss him.

A police car rushed past Kiara and Pope as they stood outside of Heyward’s, heading in the direction of the church and your house. When Shoupe pulled in, the yard was quiet. Your siblings and their families were all inside, your oldest sister trying to do damage control with Timothy’s family while your mom and dad stood outside, your mom clutching the letter and the necklace.

The cross was something that your mom had given you on your thirteenth birthday, a symbol of your devotion and love for the Lord, now it was tucked in her hand as she tried not to absolutely fall apart. Timothy’s mother was simply upset that you had seemingly skipped out on her son but your mom was dealing with the reality that you were gone and she had no idea where you would even go.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Shoupe asked, skeptical as he took down your information. You were 18, according to your parents, 18-year-olds didn’t need permission to leave home without telling anyone. So far, he was unconvinced of a crime.

“Hardly an hour ago.” Your mom replied, thrusting the note into his hand, “she left this...I know that boy she was sneaking around with put her up to it.”

“Do you know this boy’s name?” he asked, looking over the vague note you had left.

“JJ Maybank.” Your father said.

Shoupe frowned, if there was any name that immediately sparked his interest it was JJ’s. It didn’t matter whether JJ was guilty of something or not, nine times out of ten Shoupe was positive that any misconduct on the island could be traced back to JJ and his friends. “Look, usually in cases like this I would tell you that, your kid is 18, if you haven’t heard from her in 24 hours then I’ll file a missing persons. But I know that Maybank kid...I’ll talk to his friends, see if anyone knows anything. You hear from your daughter, you let me know.”

“Thank you, deputy.” Your father said, his arms around your mom as she continued to cry. You were gone and he wasn’t sure if he was angrier that you had walked out on your family’s expectations of you or that you were embarrassing them in front of a potential future husband. Either way, the thought that something they did contributed to your disappearance never occured to them.

Charleston wasn’t half-way between North Carolina and Florida. There wasn’t anything special about the place and even Pope had asked why JJ didn’t just take the Phantom down to Georgia for a stopover. JJ’s only explanation was that he knew a guy in Charleston and, technically, he did. When Luke had served an 18-month sentence for a petty misdemeanor his cellmate had been an in-the-process-of-reforming drug addict who took himself down to South Carolina to work in a program for recovering addicts. He kept in touch with JJ, making sure that Luke was treating the boy right and JJ always lied through his teeth that everything was great.

“Nothing to worry about.”

But he’d called a few weeks before with an odd favor. One that Luke’s cellmate readily agreed to, no questions asked, but a strange request all the same. “Meet me at the courthouse in Charleston.”

Now you stood outside, scuffing the toe of your converse against the pavement, JJ’s cellphone held in a vice grip against your ear. Independence didn’t exist in your family, at least not for you. You belonged to your father until you belonged to a husband and there was no other way around it. JJ was sitting on the hood of his friend’s car, talking about heading down to Flordia, watching you as you stood a few feet away, fiddling with the strings that tied the dress he’d bought you in Chapel Hill. You’d dug it out of a drawer in your mom’s room and wore it now, a small symbol of freedom.

“Hello?” Your mother’s voice came through the phone, a little grainy.

“Mom?”

Suddenly she was shouting for your father and you could practically hear her switching the phone over to speaker so he could hear you too. His footsteps were heavy in the background and when you were sure he was in earshot you spoke again, not ready to hear whatever bible verse he had earmarked for this very specific occasion.

“I just wanted you to know I’m okay, JJ and I are heading down south. We’ll be staying with a cousin of his until we can get our own place.” You told them, “but we’re safe. Kiara told me you called the police; you can tell them you made a mistake...I left on my own.”

JJ stood up, walking over to where you stood, nodding to you as if silently asking you to put the phone on speaker. You held it away from your ear and tapped the button on the screen, your father’s reprimanding voice pouring through the phone.

“Stop, stop,” your mother insisted, cutting into the conversation with the only thing you knew she cared about. “What am I supposed to tell Timothy’s parents?”

“Tell ‘em she’s already married.” JJ answered for you, winking at you when you smiled. Charleston wasn’t anything special, expect they let you get married the same day you applied for a license and you knew it was the only thing your parents would listen to. When you had told JJ he’d been more than onboard with the idea. Surprisingly okay, eager even.

“What?” Your father practically shouted through the phone. He had sat up the night, waiting for the call you promised them only for it to come through early in the afternoon the next day with this, news that you had married this kid.

“Ace-” your mom seemed like there was something more she wanted to say, something that she couldn’t say with your father hovering beside her.

“I’ll be in touch, love you.” You said, ending the call and realizing, as JJ pulled you into a hug, that you were crying. “I really hate them sometimes but I don’t...want them to hate me.”

“Trust me,” JJ reassured, “I know all about it.”

Your shoes sat abandoned on the small front lawn, socks stuffed inside as you stood a few feet away, ankles deep in a plastic kiddie pool that was slowly filling with hose water. You still had your uniform on, a short sleeved, short-hemmed, yellow waitress dress that buttoned up the front. Balanced on your hip, your arms around her, was JJ’s cousin’s daughter, his niece for the sake of simplifying things. She wore a white bathing suit with rainbow flowers all over it, a frilly skirt around the waist. Her Elmo submarine bobbed in the water as it got higher.

“Look, Daisy,” you cooed, drawing her attention to you and then pointing to the object of your interest. An older model Ford truck pulled into the driveway, JJ behind the wheel. “Whose that?”

“JJ!” Daisy clapped her hands with each syllable, thrilled at the sight of him.

The car door slammed behind him, standing there with his coverall’s tied at his waist, white wife-beater dirty from work. His cousin had gotten him the job at the autobody shop that he’d been promised and JJ was enjoying it more than he thought he would. The smile on his face when he saw you was infectious.

“Where’s Brett?” He asked, looking around the small yard of the trailer. It was nothing terribly special, a double-wide trailer that JJ’s cousin Brett had bought after his girlfriend got pregnant. Now he lent out the room that Daisy had been sleeping in to you and JJ, asking only that you pay for groceries every other week and babysit whenever need be.

“Went to meet April for lunch.” You replied, “you’re early.”

“Don’t act so excited.” He teased, getting close enough that you could kiss him, Daisy reaching out for him and calling his name again. “As soon as I change Dais,” he promised, kissing the baby’s head.

“Kiara called, asked if we’ll be up for Pope’s birthday?” You mentioned, setting Daisy down in the kiddie pool and getting out to shut off the hose. “I said yes.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He nodded, pausing at the steps as if he wasn’t quite sure what he had intended to do next, finally turning to look back at you as you kneeled down on the outside of the pool in hopes of keeping your uniform clean. “You okay with going back for a weekend?”

“Now that I’ve fallen into like, total debauchery, definitely.” You joked, “my parents probably won’t even recognize me if I don’t, you know, get stuck down by lightening just walking onto the property.”

JJ snorted, “slow your roll there Cheech, you still can’t smoke and you definitely can’t handle your liquor.”

“Go get changed so I can...Brett basically handed me Daisy, threw a shirt on and left. I didn’t even get to change.” You mentioned, pointing to the dress, “I know it’s some weird turn-on for you but I’d like to put a bathing suit on.”

“Hey, I’m happy to oblige,” he called, the screen door clambering behind him as he disappeared into the trailer.

You had tried to imagine a few times, what you would’ve been doing right now if you had stayed in the Outer Banks, if JJ had never asked you out to begin with. Probably packing for Tennessee, signing off on a life-sentence with someone who thought your greatest contribution to his life would be in how many children you could give him and how well you kept his house. Certainly not living in a trailer in a small town, saving dollars in a jar, with a future ahead of you that was as much yours to decide as JJ’s.

“Alright, get your ass in there and change.” JJ said, coming out of the trailer. He’d left the white tank on but changed into an old pair of swim shorts, climbing into the kiddie pool as if it was intended solely for him.

You stood up, brushing grass off your knees and leaning over to kiss JJ one more time, “be right back. Don’t have fun without me.”

“Oh we’re gonna have all the fun!” He called as the door shut behind you.

As you passed the mirror on the door you stopped to look at your reflection. You looked the same as you had when you left for Florida four months ago but there was something there, something so different that you couldn’t recognize yourself sometimes. A good different though, the kind that settled over you like a warm sun in the summer, the kind that blossomed up in your chest and let you know that all these decisions that led to right now had been the right ones.

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