tags: modern au, childhood best friends au, trans guy keith, anxiety, miscommunication, mild angst later on, all that good good stuff. also lots of best friends tho. it took me a billion years but i decided to upload this finally as 2 separate chapters so
Keith and Lance have been friends since elementary school.
This surprises most people when they first see them interact. Keith acts like he hates Lance, and Lance acts like they’re rivals, but in reality they joined at the hip in second grade and never separated, and maybe it’s because they’ve known each other so long that they act the way that they do. Lance is annoying, and Keith isn’t afraid to tell him that, and Keith is a hothead, and Lance isn’t afraid to call him out on it. It’s a weird equilibrium, a give-and-take that Keith has yet to experience with any of his other friends, but it works so well for them that Keith tries not to think too much about it.
alternatively titled: the klance childhood best friends au where keith isnt sure what they are anymore and lance is bad at talking about his feelings
HEY GUYS CELEBRATING 50 FOLLOWERS WITH WHAT I HOPE TURNS OUT TO BE AN EXTRA LONG AND CUTE IMAGINE? ENJOY LOVES
For as long as you’ve known Bucky, you’ve known him to be a quiet and reserved person. You understood why, of course, and you never pushed him past his comfort zone. Though, over the past few months you have tried to weasel your way past his walls and become his friend. Honestly, it was one of your main goals for the last four months.
You were running out of ideas, though. You tried talking to him, cracking jokes, anything and everything you could think of to get the guy to like you. Still, he kept his reserved thing going on around you, which made you mad. You were just about to give up, until a new idea struck you.
You were sitting in the television room of the Avenger Tower, frowning after your latest attempt at becoming Bucky’s friend had backfired. You didn’t even notice Sam walk into the room and sit beside you.
“What’s got you so down in the dumps, (y/n)?” He asked as he plopped down on the couch, making you slightly bounce in your seat.
“Oh nothing. i’m fine. What’s up with you?” You tried to dodge his question, flashing a smile at him, causing him to chuckle.
“Oh nothing,” he started, mocking your tone, “just getting read to leave for a mission.” At this statement you quirked your eyebrows, as you hadn’t heard anyone was leaving for a mission.
“Oh? Is it a solo mission?” You asked, becoming interested. You wanted to know where he was going in case he needed backup. No matter how annoying Sam was to you, he was still one of your good friends.
“Oh no, Barnes is coming with me, and maybe Nat. It’s just a day mission, we should be back late tonight,” Sam filled you in, and then he stared at you expectantly.
“Ugh, a day mission. I get to play mom and pack you all lunches,” You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly.
When you arrived at the tower, you were very quiet and shy. In your life before the tower, you didn’t have many friends, and survived on your own, often homeless. You weren’t used to all the nice people and things, and it kind of overwhelmed you. So for the first couple of months of your residence, you spent most of your time in your room.
Eventually, you loosened up, and your protective, loving, and fluffy side was coaxed out of you. This side of you took up long-term residency, making you a genuinely bubbly and sweet person most of the time. You had a motherly sort of nature towards the rest of the group, even though you were one of the youngest.
This motherly side of you was discovered when, one day, half the team was called for an all day mission. They were going to spend most of there time cooped up all day observing their target. You decided that they were probably going to be super hungry, so you took it upon yourself to pack them lunches. When you gave it to them just before they left, they all laughed and thanked you. From then on, you made everyone lunches when they were going out on all-day missions. It was kind of your thing.
You smiled at the memory, but were brought back to reality by Sam snapping his fingers in front of your face. You giggled and turned your attention back to him.
“Right, well it looks like I am going to have to go pack three lunches, just in case Nat does go with you boys,” You said finally, hoisting yourself up off the couch. You made your way out into the kitchen, pulling three brown paper bags out from one of the cabinets.
You wrote ‘Sam’ on one with a little heart next to his name, like you did with everyone. After you did ‘Bucky’ with a few extra hearts scattered around. Finally, you did ‘Nat <3′ with the annoying internet heart you reserved just for your best friend.
Once you finished making the lunches and packing them into each bag, you were about to roll the bags closed, when an idea sprung into your head. You ran out of the room and into the living room, where you knew Wanda’s multicolored Sharpies were located. Grabbing the purple Sharpie and a little blue post-it-note, you ran back into the kitchen. You scribbled hastily, before slipping the post-it into Bucky’s lunch, and sealing them up.
Twenty minutes later you stood to the side as the three Avengers got their mission brief. Once it was over, you walked up to them with a smile.
“Okay, kiddos, be safe, have fun, and don’t do anything stupid. Here’s your lunches,” with that, you gave each of them their assigned lunch.
“Yes mother, thank you for the lunch. I’ll try to come home in one piece,”Sam joked, but you glared at him.
“You better come home in one piece, birdbrain,” you said seriously, though you cracked a smile after, “Off you go, guys, bye-bye!” With that, they all left.
Two hours later, Bucky, Sam, and Nat were sitting in what was virtually a hole, bored out of their minds.
“Guys, I’m bored, lunch time?” Sam asked, and his two colleagues nodded. They all brought out their lunches, unrolling the bag and eagerly pulling everything out. They wolfed down their food, enjoying every bite. Their favorite thing about having (y/n) pack their lunches, is that she knew all their favorite foods, and put together the best lunches for each.
Bucky finished his last, as he was still keeping his eye on the target as he ate. He was just about to crumple up the bag, when a flash of electric blue caught his eye at the bottom of it. He reached in, and took out a small slip of paper from inside. He noticed (y/n)’s messy cursive writing and smiled, reading the paper.
So I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been trying to become your friend for a long time. But nothing works. So yup. Enjoy your lunch :)
Bucky laughed, though he was confused. He didn’t notice you trying to become his friend, and he figured he must just be blind as a bat with rusty people skills. By now, Nat and Sam noticed the paper, and were giving him questioning looks. He simply passed the note to Nat, who read it and then passed it to Sam.
“Dude, you have to talk to her when you get home! Having her as a friend is like the best thing to ever happen to you,” Sam whisper-shouted, and Nat nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Okay, okay. I can’t believe I never noticed,” Bucky chuckled at his own obliviousness. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait for this mission to be over so he could see you again.
Okay guys, not my best work, but I hope you enjoy. Happy 50 followers!
Summary: You worked hard for your money and no one could take that away from you of course. You loved the feeling of making your own money and how you made it. However, your sugar daddy didn’t like it but, that doesn’t mean you cared.
Body image and outer beauty is becoming more and more of an issue and a cause of much stress and self-hate. This is made even WORSE because of social media. Somewhere and somehow, whether it be on Instagram or Tumblr, a photo of a seemingly perfect girl with all the right curves in all the right places, subtle muscle definition, and an angelic face, most likely clad in a bikini, will pop up one way or another. DO NOT COMPARE YOURSELF TO THESE PEOPLE PLEASE.
You see, us mortals can never win.
Society’s ‘ideal’ image of beauty is constantly changing. Take eyebrows for example. Eyebrows, guys. Never used to be a thing. Everyone in the 90s/early 2000s was plucking and tweezing them, trying to make them as thin as possible. And now? Well, you probably know. Bushy, dark, defined, statement-making eyebrows; the Cara-Delevigne-brows-on-fleek movement was relatively recent. Nobody wants thin eyebrows now. Likewise, becoming ‘strong not skinny’ and toned was an extremely recent movement- even 5 years before girls simply aimed to be extremely waifish and thin.
I know you must hear this all the time, but please, please, please, PLEASE LOVE YOUR BODY AND THE WAY YOU LOOK AND ACCEPT YOURSELF. Because once you start doing this, life will become so much easier. Because you will start to see what a happy, vibrant and BEAUTIFUL being you truly are. Now, I’m not saying that aiming to improve the way you look is BAD- it’s GREAT! Yes, these beautiful people serve as good motivation and working hard at your body FEELS GOOD, especially when results start to show. But be realistic. Don’t set yourself the goal of looking like Candice Swanepoel or Alexis Ren. Because let’s get real; their bodies are not the bodies of a regular, average human being. I know it’s difficult, but try not to compare yourself to other people. Focus on being the best version of YOU and no one else. Because you are so worth it. And you deserve every drop of love that you have to give, because in the end, only you have the power to determine your happiness. Why spend your life wishing you had someone else’s body when you have your own perfectly functioning body tailored PERSONALLY to you that loves and adores you- it’s waiting for you to love it back.
“I can’t believe you dragged me into this.” Dean huffed, putting the car in park and staring at the fancy dining hall in front of you two.
“Look, you agreed to it, now let’s get it over with.” you said firmly. You didn’t want to be there either, but you felt obligated. It was your friend Abbie’s birthday tonight, and her parents were throwing her an extravagant, over-the-top party, as usual. You hadn’t been to one of her parties in years (because you absolutely hated them), but you decided to come to this one because it was her 21st birthday. Plus, she really needed you there; you were the only person who she could complain about the party to.
You didn’t want to seem like an outcasted loser who’s been hunting monsters and hasn’t lived a normal life in almost four years, so you begged Dean to come with you. People who went to your high school would be there, and you wanted to seem like you were succeeding in life. The last thing you wanted was to be talked about.
“This dinner that you’re paying for better be freaking worth it.” Dean grumbled. He shut off the engine and got out of the car. You followed suit, readjusting your new (and really fucking expensive) red floor-length dress. You were annoyed that you had to buy a really nice dress for the occasion, but you couldn’t deny that you felt sexy in it.
You and Dean walked up the steps to the dining hall. “Just, be nice, Dean. Please.” you plead to him.
“I’ll try my best. You know I hate these things.” Dean stepped forward and opened the door for you, catching you off-guard. The gesture was simple, but it made your heart flutter.
Second in a trio of lesbian fairy tales for Abby. Inspired by this post for @blimeyhermione. Sorry it took so long, doll. See the other two here and here.
Ava Monroe was not a particularly outgoing girl. She was a notorious homebody, with a deep love of books and cuddling. She had always wanted to be a famous writer. It was the one extroverted wish in her tremendously introverted heart. To be adored for her words and the creation of worlds.
She was a good writer, with a flair for the romantic, but exposure was hard to come by when you feared rejection more than solitude; when you created more colorful lands in your imagination than existed in the real world. So Ava started wishing. She wished every night for a publisher to take a chance on her—on one book. That’s all she would need, she was sure of it. And so, she waited, she wrote, she submitted, and she wished. And, unlike our mundane reality where that might not be enough, something magical happened—with just a little nudge.
Ava was home after work, sitting with her tea in her hands and her feet tucked underneath her on the couch. She heard a knock at her door. She looked at it for a moment, and then went back to watching the movie. She wasn’t home for whoever was there. She hadn’t ordered food, and no one was supposed to come over, anyway. The knock came again. Ava rolled her eyes and increased the volume. And then, the air crackled with energy and a flash of lightning came from under her door. Ava yelped in shock.
“Mortal, if I must knock a third time, you will not like what happens to the door. Open it,” came a clear, lightly accented voice. Ava shivered. She steeled herself and stood. She padded quietly to the door and opened it the tiniest crack, to see who it was.
“You make my heart shake, bend and break but I can’t turn away and it’s driving me wild, you’re driving me wild…” [🎵 ]
You choked down your heavy sobs and wiped your cheeks as you stood on the patio of your best friends house. You took deep breaths in and out, trying to suppress your pain and anger.
Your fist connected with the wooden door of the house and knocked. It took a while for someone to finally answer. You heard the twist of a lock and the door swung open, revealing a tall figure with chestnut brown hair, dressed in sweatpants and a loose jumper.
Chanyeol’s signature smile broke you, and you burst back into tears, running to him and tightly wrapping your arms around his torso. You pressed your face into his chest as sobs escaped your throat. You felt Chanyeol wrap his own muscular limbs around your smaller figure, enveloping you in his warmth. He didn’t question why you were crying and simply rubbed your back and whispered phrases such as “There, there it’s alright. Just let it all out.”
Eventually, your sobs subsided and you were still wrapped in his arms, sharply inhaling air as you calmed down from your outburst. Chanyeol took this opportunity to pull you inside the house. He closed the door, walked you to the living room couch and sat you down. He disappeared into the kitchen for a while and you were left to bask in your thoughts. Chanyeol returned with a mug of hot chocolate and he handed it to you before taking a seat next to you. You sipped on the sweet, warm liquid in an attempt to stop your sharp breaths.
Looking up, you saw his deep brown eyes swim with concern as he asked you what was wrong.
“He… he cheated on me,” you managed to breathe out. Your mind flashed back to the events of earlier that night and the images of that woman on top of your boyfriend, in your shared apartment, came flooding back. His surprised face, when he saw you standing in the doorway, haunted you, and you struggled to hold back more tears.
Chanyeol’s eyes seemed to harden at your statement and his eyebrows creased into a frown. “That asshole,” he spat, “I can’t believe he would do that to you.”
You nodded in agreement as the images kept appearing in your mind, and you re-lived the overwhelming moment of walking through that doorway and seeing your boyfriend of 6 months with another woman.
An overwhelming pain crept up into your chest and you felt your heart breaking all over again. Your face scrunched and you felt more bitter tears fall from your reddened eyes. Chanyeol pressed the drink to your lips and you tried to swallow the soothing liquid, only to choke sending you into a coughing fit. The cup was removed from your hand and set on the coffee table. Hard blows were made against your back as Chanyeol tried to stop your coughing.
You stopped choking and you swallowed your remaining coughs. Tears clouded your vision and you felt your body heat up. Your hands flew to your face. “I’m such a mess,” you cried out, still sobbing into your palms. You felt a familiar pair of arms envelope you once again. “Why do I keep falling for the wrong guys,” you whimpered. “Why am I so stupid!”
“You’re not stupid Y/N,” cooed Chanyeol.
“Yes I am, he’s just like the others now!”
Chanyeol pulled your hands away from your face and turned your head towards him. “Maybe you can change that, you don’t have to keep making the same mistake,” he whispered. His brown orbs bore into yours and his hands brushed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. A small smile spread across his lips as he looked willingly into your still teary eyes.
You broke the stare, “I don’t know what to do anymore Chanyeol,” you sighed.
“You shouldn’t be with someone who hurts you,” he stated, reaching for your hands. He squeezed them gently and you looked back up at him with a pout. “But I love him,” you whispered.
Chanyeol sucked his lips into his mouth and simply stared. He let out a deep sigh before asking what you wanted to do.
“I don’t know,” you replied, “I’m too tired to think right now.” You leant over to rest your heavy head against his shoulder and you closed your eyes, intertwining your fingers into the large hand that gripped yours.
The two of you sat in silence for what seemed like hours. You were too distraught to function and you felt incredibly comfortable in the embrace of your best friend since high school. Your thoughts wandered back to the times when Chanyeol and you would walk to school together, talking about everything and nothing. The times you would help each other cheat in tests and buy each other snacks after school. He was so happy for you when you met your first boyfriend, and there to comfort you when he cheated on you. Your lips curled ever so slightly as the memories played in your head.
“Why do you put up with me?” you asked suddenly, looking back up to his face.
“Why have you stuck with me for so long even though I keep making these stupid mistakes?”
Chanyeol seemed anxious at your questions, his grip tightened on your fingers. “Why do you think I have?” he asked. You gave him a faint smile and released his hand, placing both your own on his broad shoulders.
“Because you’re my best friend,” you answered. You leant forward and hugged him, breathing in his calming musk. Chanyeol let out a halfhearted chuckle and reluctantly returned the hug.
“Can I stay here tonight please?” you mumbled into his jumper.
“Of course you can,” he responded.
You pulled away and thanked him dearly. He simply beamed at you, got off the couch and led you to his room. He pulled out shorts and a t-shirt for you to change into and waited for you outside the bathroom door. Once you had snuggled into his clothes he tucked you into bed. “Can you please stay with me tonight?” you begged, “I just feel so alone right now.” Chanyeol gave you that signature smile again before turning off the lights to his room and crawling into bed with you.
You snuggled up against his chest and he draped an arm over your torso.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you stated, “about not making the same mistakes again. So I think I should at least give him a chance to fix things between us.” Chanyeol simply hummed in response and you were too tired to question him about his thoughts on your decision. It wasn’t long before you drifted into sleep in the warm embrace of your best friend.
Chanyeol could tell by the sound of your breathing that you were asleep. He looked down to your peaceful face and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.
“I love you so much Y/N, if only you knew how I felt about you.” He placed a loving kiss on your forehead and pulled you closer to him. It wasn’t long before the drag of sleep pulled him out of consciousness.
A/N: This was inspired by the song “Wild” by Troye Sivan. I might continue this but I’m not sure yet.
(Vampire!phil, hybrid!dan(werewolf and vampire aye) AU)
Like, they both act like they hated each other’s guts, when in honesty they are basically the sappiest couple in school.
Warning: swearing whats new
A/N: this was originally meant to be kirsten’s bday fic but then i thought it wont make her cry s o hehehe. what u mean i used an mcr title. what u mean im an emo fuck. i also wanted to write an au like this since the beginning of time but i never had an idea for a plot but holla here we are.
“Honestly, go suck on a
garlic.” Dan sneers at the pale man seated across him, by means of complexion as a
human or not.
loud crack was enough to make the team momentarily freeze, their eyes darting
skyward to lock on Blue Beetle. For a moment he was spiraling toward the
ground, his wings beating unbalanced and irregular. For that split second
Impulse felt like his heart stopped. Almost as quickly as it happened he
righted himself and flew straight at the meta who had thrown the giant chunk of
concrete at his head to take him down quickly and efficiently.
thought for a moment of ordering a tactical retreat, but they were so close to completing the mission, and
judging by the way Blue Beetle was making quick work of the situation he was
fine. ‘…Finish the mission. Then check in
as soon as possible.’
soon as they had secured the weapons-shipment Robin notified the League and
ordered his team to fade back. The moment they had regrouped to wait for pickup
from Nightwing, Tim turned to Jaime and spoke. “Are you okay? That sounded like
a serious hit.”
eyes turned to focus on Jaime. His head tilted to the side, but he didn’t
armor-down. The look in his eyes was… off.
Bart asked as he darted over to his side.
eyes glanced at Bart, inscrutable, but not hostile or warm. When he spoke it
was all too clear that Jaime wasn’t the one speaking. “There is a problem,” he
said without Jaime’s accent, “The head
trauma is serious. Jaime Reyes is currently unconscious.”
Requested: #s 6, 44, and 54. “Stop looking at me like that!” “Stay in bed.” “You’re the most amazing, incredible, beautiful being I’ve ever met.”
The curtains are pulled
shut, the blankets are pulled up, and the smell of tea floats in from the
kitchen. It’s perfectly domestic, but she can’t stand it. Any other morning,
she wouldn’t mind, but today she just wants to get out of the apartment and do
something, anything other than sit
It’s quiet in the hall,
she can’t hear anybody moving about. Maybe she’s alone now. As carefully as
possible, she peels back the covers, begging them to stay soundless. Shifts her
weight slowly to avoid the bedsprings creaking. At the edge of the bed, she
sets one foot on the floor. Then the other. Stands up and –
“Y/N, stay in bed,” he commands, his voice
reaching her half a second before he appears in the doorway. Spencer frowns at
her, trying to look stern. “You have a fever. Last night you passed out from
dehydration. You’re sick, and you
“Spencer, please, I feel
better now!” It’s a lie, she still feels awful. Her throat is sore, she’s
freezing, and standing does in fact make her feel a little dizzy. As pointless
as it is to argue with a profiler, she tries anyways. “How’d you even know I
was out of bed?”
“Because I know you. Now
lay down while I pour you some tea. You’re not going to get better until you
let yourself rest.” Arguing with him is even more futile, so she does as she’s
told, though she sends him a bitter look.
If she hadn’t been so
stubborn last week, and insisted on walking home in the rain, if she had
actually listened and gone to the doctor earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten
to this point. She hates taking time off, she hates being stuck bed, and she
hates being sick. Rarely does she ever get ill, but when she does, it’s usually
When Spencer returns with
a mug, she’s curled up under the blankets, facing away from him. Pouting. With
a sigh, he sits down beside her. “I’m only trying to help,” he says.
“Yeah, well, three PhDs
still doesn’t make you a medical doctor.”
“You don’t need a medical
degree to help take care of somebody you love,” he retorts. “Moms do it all the
time. Why won’t you just let me help?”
She stays silent in
protest. Of course he means well, he always does. Here she has this wonderful
boyfriend, staying home with her while she’s sick, offering to watch any movies
she wants, making her favorite earl gray tea. Plenty of people would be
delighted to have somebody dote on them like that, and he knows he does it
because he cares about her and he’s kind and that’s just who he is.
“Y/N. Are you listening?”
“I don’t want you to see
me like this,” she mumbles.
“What are you talking
about?” he asks. “We’ve lived together for awhile. We’ve seen each other at our
best and our worst. I don’t understand.”
Exasperated, she sits up.
“Because I hate feeling helpless! I hate having to rely on people to do things
for me, and I hate being stuck in bed like this. You should be out at work, not
in here doing things for me. I don’t want to feel like a burden, and when I’m
sick, I just don’t feel like me.”
Ever since she was young,
she has hated it. In her family, asking for help was weakness. You had to push
through things, you made it work. If you were sick, you toughed it out and went
to school or work anyways. That’s just how it was. Now, so many years later,
she still equates illness with burdening somebody else. No doubt that if she
could force her immune system into compliance, she would.
Spencer’s gaze is fixed
on her, and she finds it utterly unsettling. There is something gentle in his
expression, but also something unnerving. “What? Stop looking at me like that!”
But he doesn’t. Instead
he takes her hand and brushes a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “You
are the most amazing, incredible, beautiful
being I’ve ever met,” he tells her. A flush creeps through her cheeks that is
completely unrelated to the fever. “You are strong and brave and so smart.
Nothing is going to change the way I see you.”
“I just don’t want to
“You could never, ever
bother me. You’re not a burden, Y/N. I love you. And when you love someone, you
don’t mind helping them. I know you would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
She nods. “Exactly. Now, drink your tea while I go grab a few movies from the
living room. And don’t get out of bed.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she
laughs. The tea is soothing, and if
she has to be stuck somewhere, she supposes there are places that would be less
comfortable than their bed. It’s still so new, having somebody so attentive in
her life. Somebody who loves so unconditionally and without hesitation. It
warms her heart the way the mug warms her hands, and for the hundredth time she
wonders how on earth she has been so lucky as to find him.
A few minutes later, the
opening credits of The Maltese Falcon
are playing on the screen, and he is snuggled up close to her beneath the
“Thank you for doing
this,” she says. “I love you.” He smiles, leans in, and kisses her. “Don’t, I
could be contagious!”
“I don’t care,” he
replies. At that statement, she raises an eyebrow. The most germaphobic person
she knows, not worried about getting sick? But then, if he’s devoting his day
to taking care of her, he’s already accepted the possibility. It makes the
gesture that much sweeter. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Which is exactly how she
ends up staying home a week later, pouring a large mug of hot tea. The floorboards
in the bedroom creak, and she dashes in to find Spencer standing in his
pajamas, looking at her with a puppy-dog-eyed pout.
“Oh no, don’t give me
that look! I warned you that you’d get sick,” she admonishes. “You didn’t
listen. So it’s my turn to take care of you. Now, I may not be a doctor, but
one once told me rest was crucial to healing. So, my dear, that means you need
to stay in bed.”
He groans, flopping back
onto the mattress. “But Y/N-”
(For @niniel3nenya!!! Hope ya enjoy it. I’m not sure if it’s what you wanted but whatever!)
A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stare at Rick, who was commanding the others to do your jobs properly. Harley bounces over to you, smacking her gum in her mouth. “What chu up to?”
You jump, startled at her voice. Turning towards her, you clear your throat and straighten up, “Nothing.”
Her eyes go behind you to see Rick double checking the ammo in his gun. Realisation dawned on her and a wide grin breaks out. “Got the hots for boss?”
You roll your eyes, but smiled back. “One, no, and second, he’s not our boss. Waller is.”
Harley shrugs, slinging her bat over her shoulder. “If you don’t do somethin’ bout it, I will.”
You gave a her a dangerous look, and sighed deeply. “I can’t. After this, after all of this, I’ll still be a criminal. Just because I do one good deed, doesn’t mean I’m clean.”
Her expression was skeptical, and she was in thinking mode. She shrugs once and blows a raspberry, reminding you of a child who didn’t know the answer to a question. “Eh, go for it. He might like you back.”
Your eyes widened and you shake your head vigorously. “Oh no no no, Harley. Nope. Not gonna do it. He’ll think I’m harassing him or something.”
She rolls her blue eyes, “For a villain, you are surprisingly lacking in the relationship department.”
You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, “Villains don’t get the guy, or girl. They just end up with what they’re stuck with. Prison.”
She giggles and skips off, muttering something under her breath which you ignored. You hear Floyd calling for your help, and you walk into his direction.
Harley grins, watching Rick stare at you interacting with the marksman and sigh to himself, shaking his head. She hops over to his side, ignoring the look he was giving her. The what-the-hell-are-you-doing look.
“So, American flag.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“So, American flag, you got an eye on someone?” She asks innocently, chewing her gum noisily and ignoring his statement. Rick raises an eyebrow at her, suspicion in his eyes. “I got my eye on everyone.”
At that, Harley snorts. “I mean a girl, or guy if you swing that way, silly.”
Rick pauses. No, she can’t know. Can she? No. He stares at her. “What do you want, Quinn?”
“Oh ya know, just wanting to know if my friends could get blind dates,” She says casually, glancing to the side to see you still distracted by Floyd. Rick notices her glance and sighs deeply, knowing who she was talking about.
“No, Quinn. You are not setting me up with a criminal especially one that’s going back to Arkham,” Rick warns, but winces at the word ‘criminal’, albeit knowing it was true. She huffs.
“But c'mon! I just wanna play matchmaker one more time!”
She huffs again, stomping her foot like a child and pouting. Rick gulps, glancing to you. “Even if we did get together, it would never work. She’s a criminal and I’m one who chases after the criminal.”
She’s silent now, knowing that it was true. Harley looks up to him, and to you, nodding. “I’ll keep it a secret.”
This was why Rick could tolerate Harley. She could understand people.
He nods solemnly and grits his teeth when he sees you laugh with Floyd.
a/n: truthfully I had no idea how to write this. usually an idea comes to me when i hear the phrase but this one…crickets. i hope i did well! if you don’t like it please feel free to send another :)
You were woken up, particularly a bit too early, by your loving boyfriend; who was stroking your arm slowly with his hand. You were the little spoon, meaning that Calum was laying behind you, one arm lazily wrapped over your torso and the other soothing your arm.
You snuggled backwards into his body, relaxing into the familiar touch. You smiled, releasing a small sigh as you got comfortable on the bed after being woken up by his movements.
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered raspily in your ear, continuing his motions along your arm.
“Mmmkay,” you mumbled sleepily, closing your eyes again after adjusting your position closer to his body.
“You’re just really soft,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
You opened your eyes, cocking your head backwards to examine his face after his statement. Your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth turned into a small smile, laughing at his comment.
“What?” you asked confusedly to the adorable boy laying beside you.
“Your skin– it’s really soft,” he explained, his fingers still tracing patterns along your arm and your shoulder.
You smiled, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips before returning to your original position.
“Go back to sleep,” Calum whispered in your ear, placing a small kiss there before laying his head back on his pillow.
You did just that; falling back into a relaxed state of sleepiness as your boyfriend’s gentle fingers continued to draw patterns onto your soft skin.