The screen of her cell phone threw a
pale blue light across her face in the dark of her living room. She sat on the
floor propped up by the base of her couch and she was in a terrible state. She
was wearing his clothes, a pair of sweatpants and one of his dress shirts he
wore to work. Her watery weary eyes stared at her lock screen picture.
It was the photo they’d taken on
their first weekend trip together. Only he could have convinced her to take
Thursday, Friday and the following Monday off. Her office was already
short-staffed and swamped, but his promise to keep her in bed all weekend was
an offer she couldn’t refuse since she’d gotten her first taste of him the
On a bet from her friend Maggie, she
had made him wait, something that Rick Grimes was not accustomed to. But it
made him crave her even more. Six months of only “over the clothes”
action was driving them both insane. But to Rick’s surprise, instead of losing
interest in her, interest was growing. And to Michonne’s disbelief, she’d stuck
to her guns even after he’d managed to, ironically, spend a night in her bed.
They’d met downtown. He was running late so he parked in the first spot he saw
and ended up getting towed. He had been so charming that night that she
suggested he spend the night with her. She could have drove him home but
she made the excuse that it was late and they were already on her side of town.
The truth was she wanted to enjoy his company as long as possible, to keep
watching those blue eyes change colors. So they fell asleep watching SNL and
woke up the next afternoon with all the contentment of a couple wedded for
When they finally did end up naked
in her bed, Rick’s aim was to drive her up the walls and he more than
succeeded. But with his success, he understood that she had been right to make
him wait. He held her, looking out at the glittery lights of the city-scape beyond
her 14th story, floor to ceiling windows and understood how unworthy
he was of all she’d just given him. But, he made a deal with himself that
he’d take it anyway and be good to it.
Michonne had awoken to the sight of his curly head on her pillow. A
haunting voice in her mind told her she loved him, though she decided she
wasn’t ready for love yet. Not yet. But she felt her cheeks grow hot when she
ended up telling him just that less than an hour later, over the tray of
breakfast he’d brought to her from her virtually bare kitchen. A bowl
of stale plain Cheerios, left over from her deserted
attempt at healthier eating turned to mush as he matched her ‘I love you’ with
his own and made love to her again.
This time she felt a bit shamefaced with those words still tingling on her lips
as she watched him laser-focused on her naked body in the bright light of day.
That session of lovemaking had been full of flirtatious giggles and tranquil
displays of affection and Rick was biting his tongue to keep from proposing
right there as he studied her squirming bashfully under his touch. All the
while, Michonne wondered what the hell had come over her.
That was when things were good
between them. Now things were spiraling into an abysmal wreck. And it was all
her fault. She saw that now. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.
She swiped and opened her phone, finding the same photo in her
gallery, she expanded the picture until she was pushed off-screen and only
Rick’s smile and sapphire eyes remained. She couldn’t bear to look at herself,
standing there in the sun, happy with him. She didn’t even deserve that memory.
She was disgusted with herself, at a precipice, trying not to go over the edge
and at the same time longing to fall. So, she wasted away on her rug trying to
swallow her pride.
When she thought she was right she could be bull-headed, to put it
mildly. When she realized she was wrong and recalled her ugly
performance, she felt nauseous. She had wallowed in a mournful and moody
puddle of tears for weeks now. Smothered in the silence of her condo, she
made her way to the bar around the corner for a little alcoholic anesthesia.
Seven shots of top shelf tequila had sent the undisputed lightweight back
to her living room floor to weep over her character flaws and the utter
misfortune of seeing Mike that day weeks ago.
Resolved to make atonement and stop
this pain, Michonne collected herself the best she could and called him.
Rick’s eyes darted over at his ringing
phone. His face was stone as he looked at the lit up picture of Michonne,
pouting and pretending to kiss the camera with her juicy red-painted lips. She
had edited the picture of herself, drawing a crown on her head and writing the
words Kiss the Queen at the top. It was a thing she did: steal Rick’s
phone while he slept or showered, then with a solo photo shoot, she’d change
his contact picture of her. Sometimes the new picture would last a week,
sometimes only hours. Rick loved it when his phone would ring and there would
be a new version of her to make him smile right before he heard her cinnamon
and sugar voice. Now, the same picture for three weeks was beseeching him in
the dark of his best friend’s basement. He let the phone ring, debating
whether to answer. It buzzed on Daryl’s coffee table under the blare of the
basketball game they were watching.
Slumped in his chair, his
disapproving host scolded him, “Answer your phone. Don’t do her like that,
Rick glared at him, wordlessly
cautioning him to mind his business and snatched the phone up, making his way
out of Daryl’s man cave to the light of the first floor. Pinching the bridge of
his nose, Rick slid his thumb to green with a pensive sigh,
“Yeah.” He answered, callously.
strangled voice came through the phone and pierced him right in his gut.
“Hi.” she said hesitantly.
“Hey.” his inflection was
short, rigid. It was only one word, but it held barely a hint of that backwoods
drawl she’d come to love.
She said nothing for a few seconds,
staring at her big toe rap against the tassel on her purse to distract herself
from the unfamiliar tone he was using with her. “Rick… I…”
Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, failing tremendously to keep her emotions
The love-starved man shifted against
the wall in Daryl’s split foyer, listening to her breath and sniffles amplified
by the speaker on his phone. He kept looking at her picture with the childlike
hope that it would make him feel like she was there in the room. Instead, the
happy shot of her puckered lips with the sound of her tormented tears made her
feel a million miles away from him; like the happiness he held in his hands was
far away, drifting in space. It broke his heart to hear her cry and he couldn’t
help feel a little guilt about not comforting her.
Yes, it was her fault but it was his
instinct to soothe her, to care for her. What was the point of all this
anyway? He was going to marry this woman, it was never a matter of if, only when. This situation with her ex had proved to be a slight detour
but he knew in his heart his destination was still the same.
Daryl knew as much,too. He allowed
his friend to crash there but refused to help him bring his belongings into his
house. Instead he heckled him with every load Rick brought in from his car.
Daryl told him how he thought Rick was smarter than this and that there
was only enough room for one brooding asshole there. For nearly a month now,
Daryl had been threatening to don a ski mask and kidnap the two annoying love
birds, lock them in his deep freezer until they cuddled and made up or froze to
death out of spite. Either conclusion would have pleased him now, but he knew
it’d be much easier than that for these two heart-eyed idiots to resolve this
Rick took a seat on the carpeted
steps, on the verge of tears, his nostrils flared. “Michonne, stop
crying.” he said matter-of-factly, to no avail. “Michonne…” he
called more forcefully, then softened. “Baby, stop crying.” The
‘baby’ slipped. He hadn’t meant to give her that yet. He was still pissed but
that was his baby and it tore him
apart to hear her cry.
Relieved, somewhat, by
that simple term of endearment, she found a little breath in her lungs to
talk. “I’m sorry.“ she eked out in a hoarse whisper.
"What’re you sorry ‘bout?”
He asked her rhetorically. He'd meant to say it in a way that would
make her feel absolved, but Michonne’s guilt compelled her to confess the sins
he already knew.
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be as good as you are.” Michonne burst with fresh
tears and the elevated pitch of her voice devastated the man who loved her more
than anything else. He struggled to keep his own tears at bay. She rambled out
her revised manifesto, “I’ll try harder if you come home. I’ll be good and
I’ll make you love me again. If you come home… I can’t… Can you please just
come home? I can’t sleep and I’ve been sick every morning you haven’t been
He cut her off, “Listen to me.
I can’t stop lovin’ you. Never. You’re a pain in the ass…” he promised
huffing out a chuckle, “but you’re mine. I thank god for that."
But he quickly turned serious, needing to let her know he wasn’t one of the
love-sick puppies she was used to dealing with and he wasn’t going to be
disrespected like this again. "You’re so fuckin’ stubborn, Michonne.”
He growled through a frustrated sigh.
He had told her that many times. Often it was playful banter. But the last time
he told her that, it was in the middle of her favorite restaurant in front of
her ex and her co-workers. She was challenging him in front of everybody. She
was accusing him of being overbearing, unreasonable. “You don’t get to
tell me what to do just because I call you daddy.” she had told him
with an obstinate sneer while her acquaintances looked on.
He could still remember her ex, squaring off with him. Mike was standing there,
hovering, like he needed to protect Michonne from him. As if he would ever hurt
her emotionally, mentally or physically. But that was how she was painting him,
as insecure, like a fuckboy trying to control her life. Rick knew he was
anything but. It didn’t bother him that she was saying it, not even in this
public place- as humiliating as that was.
He was used to her wildness and most
times it turned him on. He loved to make her take back the uncouth things she
said with a fistful of her hair and her bent over the dining room
table or with his face between her legs, teasing her with shallow dips of
his finger but refusing to release his tongue unless she apologized. She loved
it too, it encouraged her to be outrageous.
But this was something else. He could see in her eyes that
she really believed what she was saying about him. She was making herself
believe that there was nothing wrong with going out with a group of friends who
just so happened to include her ex. The same ex who had made it known that he
was still in love with her and trying to get her back. The same ex who had
already made a snide comment or two to Rick’s face.
Rick had stopped at the restaurant to get her favorite dessert before heading
home to her. It was penance for another late night, he told himself, but
truthfully his motives were selfish. He’d found a new kink with her. The sounds
of her loving on those peanut butter chocolate bombs and the sight of her
cheeks distended in gluttony were exactly what he needed following his
unfruitful conversation with Lori after his visit with his son. Rick was
checking his watch, calculating the time in his head, wondering if he could
make it to the florist for tulips before they closed when he saw them coming
out of the dining area.
Michonne was laughing with Andrea and Heath while Mike came up behind her with
her coat. None of them saw Rick at first, and he kept quiet, debating if he
should make his presence known. The matter was taken out of his hands, though,
when Mike decided to place his palm on Michonne’s hip to alert her that he was
back with her coat. Rick felt the muscles in his neck spasm as he watched his
girl, engrossed in raucous conversation with the rest of her party, standing
there obliviously being pawed at by her ex.
Michonne always thought everything was a game. It was funny
to her that Mike was this way, especially after all his grandstanding when they
broke up. But Rick warned her that she needed to nip his advances in the bud.
Rick trusted her, but he didn’t like that she entertained this clown. It sent
the wrong message to guys like her ex. When he saw Mike closer to her than he
needed to be and the pads of his fingers inconspicuously- but deliberately-
grazing her collarbone as he pushed her dreads away for her coat to rest at her
neck, Rick lost his mind for a split second.
“Stubbornness don’t make you strong, Michonne.” He
told her now, on the phone, hoping his words got through this time.
It was a hard-learned lesson for
her. She wheezed, “I know, I know.”
“It just makes you look stupid and immature.” He
continued more stringently. “This whole thang with that other dude? That
makes you look stupid and immature…”
“I know, Rick. You were right about him. I should have
listened to you.” She felt so stupid and immature. She always thought she
was two steps ahead of the game, that her shit never stopped being together.
Hearing Rick level with her made her see how much he loved her. He loved her enough
to call her out when she was foolishly compromising herself. He loved her
enough to let her sulk and be upset. He cared enough to take off the
rose-colored glasses and acknowledge her flaws and love her anyway.
Someone having her back like that was a foreign concept to
her, so she fought it at first. Now she appreciated him so much and it killed
her that she was so combative. “I’ve been telling myself I didn’t need a
man for so long, I believed it. I don’t know… I mean, I don’t need a man. But
I do need you, Rick. I need you.” She nodded to herself, feeling the
suffocating vacuum of that need. “I need you. I love you. Please. You’re
the only thing I need. I do need you. Okay? I do.”
“So how are we gonna fix this?” He demanded.
“I told you. I’ll listen. I’ll be good.”
“I don’t think you can be good, 'Chonne.” There it
was. He used her nickname and that said she was completely forgiven.
“You’re rotten.” he smiled as he pushed his hair back and scratched
at his beard.
“I can, Rick, I can. I’ll be good foryou. Come home.”
Michonne was so contrite she wasn’t registering his relenting tone. She was bent
on making him see that she understood and that things would be different, that
he’d made her better. “Please come home. I’ll show you.”
“Show me what?” He rasped at her, already tasting
her wetness. But he closed his eyes to concentrate on making his point.
“Just come home and I’ll show you.”
He turned off the speaker and quickly put the phone to his
ear, “I’m serious, Michonne. Don’t think you can throw pussy at me and fix
She couldn’t help but smile at how well he knew her antics. “I know. I
don’t think that. I just meant…”
They’re walking the streets of Greenwich when it occurs to
Eggsy that he is perfectly happy.
It’s not a thunderbolt of discovery. Nothing like that. More
like a quiet revelation, a simple realisation. Halfway back to the bus stop,
under skies that threaten rain any moment, and Eggsy can say with absolute
honesty that he’s never been so happy before.
It’s impossible to hide his smile then, and he doesn’t even
try. Why should he? He walks along, smiling widely, and when Harry gives him a
mildly curious look, he just shrugs. He can’t put it into words, not without
sounding like a complete idiot.
Harry smiles back, a bit tentative, not in on the joke, not
quite sure if he should. In his current mood Eggsy finds that caution
endearing, and he has a sudden – but mercifully brief – urge to laugh out loud.
They haven’t even done anything special today. The trip to
Greenwich wasn’t planned, but Merlin needed someone to keep an eye on a couple
locations that have been earmarked for suspicious activity. A few trackers and
some cameras later, the work part of their day was done, and since then he and
Harry have just been walking.
Lunch was a few hours ago. Nothing special, just some
sandwiches in a shop, their table in the window so they could watch the street
corner Kingsman wants observed. They wandered along with a few tour groups, but
Harry flatly refused to pay the entrance fee at the Royal Observatory, so
they had turned in a different direction then.
But longitude knows no restrictions, and so some distance
away, Eggsy had found himself standing with one foot each in two different time
zones. He had thrown his arms out wide and yelled, “Help, I’m being pulled
apart by time and space!”
Harry had smiled indulgently, his eyes alight with amusement behind the
Kingsman glasses, holding his Rainmaker just below the curved part of the
handle. And when he reached out a hand to pull Eggsy off the Prime Meridian and
onto “safety,” Eggsy had held on just a little bit longer than was
strictly necessary – and Harry had let him.
The train back to London leaves in an hour. Plenty of time
for them to get the bus to the station, push through the crowd of people, and
take their seats. They’ll sit across from each other and Eggsy will discreetly
press Harry’s foot with his own, and grin at him. They’ll stop somewhere for
dinner, then go home and do the laundry they were supposed to have done
yesterday. And at some point Harry will walk past him and give him an absent
kiss, and Eggsy will turn toward him and that’ll be it. Chores will be
forgotten in the sweet rush of hands and lips and bare skin.
That’s really it, he thinks. The reason he’s so happy even
in a grimy city under glowering skies. Because wherever he is, he has Harry.
Someone he can turn to, someone he can kiss.
That’s all he needs.
“You seem quite pleased with yourself,” Harry
Eggsy nods. He’s still smiling like an idiot, but he doesn’t
care. “I am."
"Any reason in particular?” Harry asks.
Eggsy looks at him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved
Harry more than he does in this moment.
Summary: What if initially Ladybug had fallen for Chat Noir, and Adrien had fallen for Marinette? A look into what their lives might have been. A time lapse/reveal fic.
Pairings: Mostly Adrinette, but all four corners of the love square are included so there is also LadyNoir, Ladrien, MariChat, and a hint of DJWifi
Author’s Notes: Just saw there’s an Adrinette month, but I’ve been writing this since mid-March. This fits with day 18 so I’m a bit early (but I’m on vacation then). I’ll be writing other one shots to go with it in the future. I’m also terrible at writing one shots under 20 pages.
Marinette sometimes wondered to herself what the huge fuss over Adrien Agreste was. While she certainly thought Adrien was cute, she would never even consider being a doe-eyed fan girl like Chloe. He was a kind hearted boy and quite good looking, but she wasn’t going to let herself get hung up over him like the other girls in her class.
She sometimes thought that perhaps it was because they didn’t have a starry eyed beginning. After all, she thought he’d put gum on her chair to bully her because he was a friend of Chloe’s. Thankfully, it had all been cleared up that afternoon when the skies had threatened rain. He’d explained the truth and been kind enough to give her his umbrella. It was movie material for sure, and yet, here she was, one of the few girls in all of Paris who wasn’t tripping over her heels for him.
“I don’t get it, girl,” Alya reprimanded her between bites of pastry one day at lunch. “He’s a skinny, blonde, rich, model- what’s not to like? Plus the fact he flirts with you like crazy.”
“He does not flirt with me like crazy,” she deadpanned back.
“C’mon, Marinette, that’s a lie. He totally likes you, and I just don’t get why you don’t like him.”
Marinette rolled her eyes, “I do like him, but as a friend.”
Oh, there’s also the fact that, not too long before she’d met Adrien, her heart had already fallen for a mischievous masked cat boy…
#we’ve gotta talk about how hal and matt respond to threats to their lives #particularly to having guns pointed at them #instead of being scared into compliance #they fearlessly yell insults at their assailants #hal provoking them further by daring them to attack him #and matt by swatting away their weapon like it’s only a minor annoyance #these two are literally too fearless for their own good #they will stand their ground even in death
Request: You’re so cute omg hahaha (A/N: i’m not sure what was happening when this request was sent in but thank you lol). Do you think you could write Jisoo angst that ends in either fluff or just satisfying closure? The plot is completely up to you as is the AU
Whenever it rained, it rained until it flooded. The streets
would be congested with inexperienced drivers; the trees would be swaying back
and forth, threatening to fall. The skies would be darker than the night sky
with clouds that blocked out the warm sun. The people wouldn’t be any better.
When it rained, it seemed like the entire town decided this was the best time
to sulk. No one would be in a good mood and everyone would just seem a tiny bit
depressed. In this town—your town—no one liked it when it rained.
However, you liked it. You liked the foreboding smell before
the storm comes and you liked the smell of the aftermath. You liked watching
the clouds as they gathered together, moving in from one side or the other. You
didn’t understand why people became idiots when it rained. Was it that hard to
understand? It’s just water falling from the sky—it wasn’t like it was
something new. You liked going out whenever it rained—it calmed you.
Approximately two months ghosted by. During those two months, Izaya gradually healed, his leg getting back to normal and finally getting off those damned crutches, which he quickly got annoyed with the first few weeks he had them.
He had not traveled to Ikebukuro during those two months, instead worked out of his apartment and basically laid low. He could not let his many enemies find him in such a wounded and vulnerable state. Oddly enough, Miro, another information broker hung around. They got to know each other better and Izaya found that he didn’t mind the other broker hanging around so often. He even helped him work.
Their relationship changed from being simply business related to that of almost friends…..and on one particular night, their relationship skyrocketed to that of lovers, but only because of the large sum of wine they had consumed before hand. They didn’t ever go passed making out though, since both had passed out while attempting to go further. The morning after, the two had been sprawled across Izaya’s couch and when they had both awoke, they laughed it off and Miro cursed, jokingly saying he had “missed his one and only chance to sleep with Izaya.”
Now-a-days, Miro would catch Izaya off guard and lightly kiss the informant anywhere he could, whether it be his cheek, forehead or lips. Izaya was oddly comfortable with where they were at, wherever that was. Miro seemed to be comfortable as well, so the two never questioned what their relationship was.
Winter was just around the corner, so Ikebukuro was growing colder and the skies threatened either rain or snow. The winter months made Izaya feel particularly lazy, but only because during the winter months, people stayed inside more often, therefore there wasn’t much excitement brewing.
So, currently, Izaya was sitting at his usual computure chair, sometimes spinning around in it as he waited for something exciting to pop up. The chat rooms were dull, people hardly logging on ever and the Dollars site had been quiet. Speaking of the Dollars, the whole incident two months ago blew by. The city talked about it for a while and then it disappeared like it never happened. Neither Izaya nor Mikado were mentioned at all.
Izaya placed his elbow on his desk and rested his hand on his cheek. He hadn’t seen the boy since that day at Russia Sushi after they got discharged from the hospital. He often thought about him, he didn’t know why, but he did and when he did…..a sullen feeling came over him, so he pushed Mikado away from his thoughts.
This video just won Vimeo’s Best Travel Video of the year award. A pair of skiiers explore several locations in China, including skiing into the Caldera of Changbaishan volcano on the North Korean border, and in the process explore some of the history of skiing as a method of travel and survival for some of the indigenous populations - a tradition now being threatened by modernization.
In hindsight, Marinette should have known not to agree to get the groceries after she was done at the fabric store. Her arms were now weighted down with several bags, some even piled on top of each other. She could barely see over the top.
Maybe she should have called Alya for help. Though she was just a block away from home, she could make it. She just needed to ignore the burning pain that had been shooting through her arms for the past two blocks.
She froze tensing as a passing car splashed water all over her.
did she forget to mention it had just finished down pouring and the skies were threatening to do so again?
Is it a one shot? Is it a drabble? Does it make sense? Who even knows? Yeah, I sure as hell don’t - I typed it down before bed in fifteen minutes. I’m terrible, I know.
Those two, over there? The boy with the bat, swinging ferociously at something entirely too dangerous to compete with and the girl… The girl with the strawberry blonde hair standing behind him - holding back the scream that burns her throat because she knows it will end in ear piercing tragedy. Watch them, watch as they move together, dodge stray bullets and claws of unknown demons. The cover each other with wide, worried eyes and white knuckles that grip the other’s hand. They’re a marvel to behold, a danger to approach - because when they’re together, they’ll fight for each other. Weapons they don’t know how to use will be brandished and both boy and girl will run faster and harder than they have before. Tears of both terror and relief will be shed and cries of despair and reassurance will be whispered into the others neck and hair. Those two, the human and the banshee - together, they’re lethal.
just barely into the boundaries of the national park is the trailhead of lewis creek, which eventually leads to some incredibly remote backcountry areas though this was only a quick 5 mile out-and-back for us.
The evening skies threatened rain though never much fell, and lewis creek managed to stay out of view for most of the hike. We were pretty stoked to see a big black bear near where we parked the truck, though by the time we had the camera ready it had disappeared into the woods.
Houses in the Rego Park section of Queens as the storm approached today. I heard the thunder and wanted to get someplace safe and dry, but this was too good a picture to pass up. So I got a little wet. It was worth it.
Violet knew that sitting in the snow would probably cause people to ask a lot of questions if they bothered to pay attention. ‘Aren’t you cold? What are you doing? Why are you such a freakish loner you can’t even be a loner inside where you don’t end up with a wet ass?’ being a few examples she could think of. But she’d had to get out. All of the people around me, all of the casual contact was making her twitchy as fuck, and she’d needed to get out before she lost control and started attacking the idiots around her.
She hadn’t actually spoken to anyone since she’d gotten back to school, avoiding her sort of friends and taking even more circuitous routes to class so she could avoid any of the people who enjoyed making her life miserable. However, even that hadn’t been enough today, so she had escaped outside, under grey skies threatening even more snow, and settled under a tree with her book. The cold was almost nice, and she had stopped feeling it after a little while. So comfortable was she in her loneliness, she didn’t realize anyone was nearby until she heard the large crack of a twig. instantly, she had her shield spell up around her, looking around.
The first raindrops caught them by surprise, large dollops that splattered down onto the flagstone of the Inquisitor’s balcony from the threatening grey skies above. Not snow - Skyhold’s magical weather made snow unlikely, but it did not keep out the rain. All the same, there was a refreshingly sudden chill to it as one dripped onto his neck and slid beneath his coat. Sahlin gave a shudder and a laugh, looking up in delight.
And within moments it was coming down so quickly it was like the sky hand burst. The stone beneath his feet was darkened and damp, and he glanced back into Kaaras’s chambers with a soft laugh, feeling his hair gain weight as it collected water.
He caught sight of Kaaras and beckoned to him, drawing him out to the doorway with a soft, bright smile, just outside of the rain. But that was not enough, he sighed, gave a quiet little laugh, and then pulled him out into the storm with him. The water splattered onto his coat, dyeing the fabric a shade darker as it soaked into the thick wool, and Sahlin grinned reaching up and catching hold of his jaw with both hands, going up on his highest tiptoes to catch Kaaras in a slow, longing kiss before drawing back with breathless joy.