#SOBBING over emoji kitchen like what the hell

[saltpepperbeard]

hi everyone how are you feeling very-

#OFMD #OFMD Season 2 #SOBBING over emoji kitchen like what the hell #Love that it was able to PERFECTLY encapsulate our essence right now

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Maybe

Taiju x reader where she put herself in a dangerous Situation but taiju saved her before smth bad happend and he dont look happy about it. So he decided to spank her until she's crying and sobbing with muchhhhh aftercare please 💕

Protective!Taiju x Naive!Bratty!Reader

♡ SFW->NSFW->SFW, fem reader, reader almost gets drugged, spanking, aftercare + soft dom!Taiju ♡

note: anon this idea is literally so good 🩷 this is kind of a long read I'm sorry 😭 if you don't really care about plot just skip to this emoji: 👋

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He had told you multiple times, don't go out to that club alone. Yet something about the tone in his voice made you want to go to the club even more. You slipped on an outfit, then slipped out the door, which was pretty easy considering Taiju was at work and not home to stop you from leaving.

You caught a ride to the club and at the same time, Taiju was about to make his way home. He decided to come home early, desperate to see his beautiful girlfriend. When he got home the only thing he was greeted with was an empty house. At first he was worried, but that worry soon turned into frustration and anger. He knew how stubborn you were, so it was no surprise that you disobeyed his orders, that didn't stop him from being royally pissed off though.

You stepped into the nightclub, the smell of smoke, cheap cologne, and alcohol filled the air. You made your way over to the bar to get a drink, not even noticing that a man on the other side of the room was watching your every move. He approached you as you sipped your drink, introducing himself in an overly friendly manner. He reached in his pocket to grab his wallet, offering to buy you another drink. What could be the harm in letting him buy you a drink? He seems nice enough.

You and the man sparked up a conversation, nothing serious, just friendly chat. You mentioned that you had a boyfriend and the man understood, at least it seemed like he did. You got up mid-conversation to use the bathroom, leaving the man with full access to your drink. He pulled out a small bag of pills and when no one was looking, snapped a capsule in half and poured it in your drink. What he didn't realize is that someone was looking and that someone was Taiju. He made his way over to the man, trying to confront him as peacefully as possible.

The man cowered in fear at the sight of your boyfriend. He wasn't expecting the man you mentioned to be twice his size or for him to be in the club. He apologized profusely and walked out of the club, Taiju would handle him later though. Right now he was still upset with you. He waited outside the bathroom door, scaring the hell out of you, then he proceeded to grab your arm and drag you out to the car. He immediately started scolding you when you got in the car, not letting you get a word in.

"What the hell is wrong with you y/n? Do you realize how dangerous it is to be out right now? Not to mention the fact that you left your drink unattended around that creep. You know he slipped something in your drink, and if I wasn't here...I don't even wanna think about what would've happened. All I know is that when we get in this house, I'm gonna give you a good spanking for being such a disobedient little brat."

You stayed quiet as he pulled the car into the driveway and you both made your way into the house. You took your heels off and sat your purse on the kitchen counter, awaiting Taiju's next move.

👋 "Bedroom now, don't make me say it twice."

Taiju placed his hand on your shoulder, motioning you down the hallway and into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he tapped his leg with his hand, signalling you to lay across his lap. He pulled your dress up and your underwear down, putting your bare ass on display for him to see.

"You know I love you darling ♡ This isn't meant to hurt you, just to teach you a lesson."

The tone in his voice was sincere and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes before he even brought his hand down on your ass. The loud smack echoed throughout the room. The pain was so blinding it made your legs shake.

"Count the smacks, if you mess up I'll start over."

1, 2, 3, 4, 5. This continued for about 20 more minutes, with Taiju getting in well over 40 smacks. You messed up twice, losing count while trying not to lose consciousness. By the time he was done you were a blubbering mess, with tears, mascara, and drool running down your face. His large hand rubbed your back as you sobbed profusely, before grabbing you and laying you on the bed.

"Alright darling let's get you cleaned up."

Taiju made his way into the bathroom, running a bath and grabbing some towels from the shelf. He walked back into the room and picked you up off the bed, carrying you to the bathroom. You sat in his lap in the bathtub and let his strong hands roam and massage your body.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough, you know I only did it cause I love you. I just want you to be safe and to listen to me, I only have your well-being in mind y/n."

You nodded in acknowledgement and he could relax now that he knew you weren't upset at him. He might be the dominant one in your relationship, but that didn't mean he wasn't extremely considerate of your feelings. You felt the tension leave his body as you relaxed against him, listening to the soft thump of his heartbeat. Taiju was so relaxed he didn't even notice you had fallen asleep. All he knew was that he was gonna hold you extra tight when you cuddled tonight.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkitkats @happy-trenchcoated-impala @rindousbabyg

#tokyo revengers smut #taiju smut #taiju x reader #i need this man badly #need him desperately #I love this man so much 😭 #anon I love you for this idea 🩷 #I could imagine this with Nanami too 🤭

[amortentiaparker]

when nothing feels right ❀ p.parker

summary: nothing just seems to go your way and peter’s there to make you feel better.

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

Everything was hell. School works were piling on top of each other, your home life couldn’t seem to quiet down, and your body was dealing with all of this stress by somehow making it worse because the pounding on your head won’t leave.

Rain drizzled on you earlier this morning despite the news saying it would be a sunny day, your subjects for the day required hardbound textbooks which made your backpack ten times heavier than usual, and you got yelled at by some random dude in the street because he mistook you as the person who stepped on his shoes.

All you really wanted was simple. A nice hot cup of tea, watch some of your comfort movies without a care in the world, and some time with Peter. 

You couldn’t really demand any attention from him on a whim because he was not even your boyfriend. Yet. 

The two of you were teetering on the edge of something romantic, but you knew there were traces of hesitation from Peter because of his duties as Spiderman. You two were friends but definitely didn’t act like it. Hand holding under the cafeteria table, kisses on the forehead that lingered longer than what is considered normal, and it was all in the gaze you two gave each other. You and Peter protested when your friends pointed it out and teased you two about it. Ned and MJ’s winning argument was when they showed a photo of you and Peter during a decathlon practice. It was as mundane as it gets, a regular Tuesday, but that’s what made it a lot more heartwarming. You and Peter had this gaze as if the other put the stars in the sky, and when you saw the photo, the two of you admitted defeat.

As you recalled that moment, you were brought back to reality. It was a Friday decathlon practice but Peter was nowhere to be found. He was present earlier but when he sent a short message with a heart emoji after your last class for the day, you knew that he was out there in the streets of New York patrolling. 

You flushed when Mr. Harrington called you out during the start of the meeting, asking about the whereabouts of your boyfriend. Ned and MJ snickered when you struggled to answer and correct your teacher. 

Thankfully, the practice ended around 30 minutes earlier than usual. You were falling behind answering which frustrated you to no end, so you were looking forward to attempting to de-stress. But the thought of having to go home early immediately drained you. Arguments didn’t cease in your house and you were tired. So tired.

You sluggishly exited the classroom and proceeded to do the same as you walked towards the subway. Your friends offered to walk you home, Peter’s chivalry rubbing off on all of you, but you declined, wanting to just pop in your earphones and listen to sad songs during the ride home. 

You texted Peter that practice ended early, hoping he’ll appreciate the simple update while he patrolled. 

peter <3: great! wanna hang out at my place?

You were taken aback by his reply. He usually didn’t want you seeing him all sweaty, sometimes bruised and bloody, after his patrol so you enthusiastically replied a yes, not wanting to come home to your place just yet. This was an opportunity to unwind and spend some time with the boy you’ve been pining after. 

Taking the bus to Peter’s place instead saved you more time, which got you all giddy to see him. This week has taken its toll and you can barely remember the time within the week where you felt energized. 

May let you in and she had a mischievous shimmer in her eye when she said that she had somewhere to go, letting you wait for Peter all on your own. You felt at ease knowing that May was comfortable in trusting you with her home. The ease kind of faded when she winked as she mentioned you and Peter being all alone in the apartment. 

You were seated on the couch, scrolling on your phone, when you nearly got a heart attack. 

“Hey.” Was all you heard before your fight or flight senses took over. 

“Woah! It’s just me!” Peter chuckled as he saw that you now held a lamp in both your hands. 

“Don’t do that!” You scolded him as you put the lamp back in its place. Hopefully you didn’t pull a wire or else you will definitely beg on your knees in front of May, not wanting to break her trust. 

“Where’s your suit?” You asked as he opened his arms for you to step into. It was comfortable. Familiar. The type of feeling you’d want in the future as you come home after a long day. 

“Already changed,” Peter shrugged and rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Why? You wanna check me out, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” You lightly punched his arm but didn’t pull away from the embrace. 

Peter pulled away first, but not fully breaking contact as he cupped both your cheeks in his hands. It was silent, but it didn’t bother anyone, not when he was looking at you like that. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and you nearly purred at how gentle Peter was with you. 

“You’re tired.” He pointed out with a soft voice. It sounded more like an observation rather than a question. You nearly burst into tears out of how tired you were but opted to close your eyes instead, letting your other senses take your surroundings in. The familiar honey scent of Peter, the sound of his soft breathing, and his gentle touch grounded you. You barely nodded to yourself; Yep. This is what you want for the rest of your life. 

You hummed out a yes and opened your eyes when you felt Peter’s touch pull away. He was wordlessly fixing the throw pillows on the couch, and he fiddled with the TV remote for a moment. Your heart nearly burst when you saw that he clicked on Little Women, one of your absolute favorites. 

Peter knew all your favorite movies like the back of his hand. He knew that Little Women was your go to when you needed a pick me up. He’ll put on Mamma Mia when he sees that you were energetic and have the need to sing along or any Rachel McAdams rom-com when you wanted to devour ice cream and sob. Peter also knew that you weren’t that big of a fan of Star Wars but he sometimes put it on simply because you cuddled up next to him every single time and he adored every single second of it. 

You turned to head into his bedroom to get some blankets, but you halted and looked at Peter, wordlessly asking for permission and he nodded. Unbeknownst to the other, you two were thinking of the same thing. How great it is to have somebody that you understand with just a single look. 

You exited Peter’s room with not just blankets in your hand but one of Peter’s hoodies on your body. You already had one of his midtown sweaters at home but forgot to bring it today, which added to your sour mood earlier. You knew that he didn’t mind anyways. Peter has seen you multiple times with his jacket, sweater, or hoodie on but his grin at the sight only grows bigger every time. 

The sun has officially set after a few minutes and the city lights of New York have come to life. Peter opted to leave the lights turned off and let the light from outside fill the living room. You didn’t mind, it felt intimate and you weren’t afraid to feel that way with him. 

Fifteen minutes into the movie, you paused it and got up to go to the kitchen. You felt Peter’s curious eyes on you.

“Want some tea?” You asked. You knew that Peter preferred coffee over that anytime, but he still said yes when you offered. You’re the only one he says yes to tea to. 

“Later,” Peter’s eyes flickered from the screen then back to you. “You get sleepy after you drink tea.” 

You playfully gasped, “I do not!”

“C’mon,” He tugged on your wrist, pulling you back next to him. “I’ll make us tea later.”

Whether Peter purposely pulled you even closer than before, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you let your head rest on his shoulder and watched as the March sisters laughed with one another. 

When Peter went to get up when he found it to be an appropriate time to make your drink, he felt that you were much heavier on him than earlier. He realized that he was so entranced by the movie and your presence, that his heightened senses did not pick up that you had fallen asleep. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat was constant and always calmed him down, so it didn’t occur to him that you had fallen into slumber. 

He reached for the remote and lowered the volume as the infamous scene of Jo and Laurie started. Peter was about to scoop you into his arms but decided to stay for the scene. 

His heart started to ache as he thought about what could happen if he confessed to you and you rejected him. But as you nuzzled your face into his neck and he felt the faint kiss you placed, he knows that one of these days he’ll let his feelings be known; a day when the time feels right. 

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done. 

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would. 

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man. 

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times. 

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it. 

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...” 

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold. 

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list. 

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind. 

Well, her night is pretty much ruined. 

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please. 

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?” 

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all. 

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks. 

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies. 

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen. 

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other. 

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head. 

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own. 

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen. 

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body. 

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve. 

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city. 

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky. 

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small. 

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper. 

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there. 

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.” 

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly. 

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.” 

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is. 

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile. 

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now. 

Right. Percy. 

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms. 

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps. 

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts. 

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t. 

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.” 

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.” 

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

#my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #😈😈😈 #darkmagyk #happy endings onlyyyyyyyy #percabeth fic #PJO

[marjansmarwani]

safe place to land

4.7k || ao3 • Chapter 1/2

Carlos was having the day from hell and he just wanted to talk to his boyfriend about it. Unfortunately, said boyfriend was currently missing and all Carlos could do was worry about him, or find him. But it really wasn’t a choice: he would always come for TK, no matter what.

a.k.a Carlos and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (a 2x08 coda)

Absolutely huge shout out to @officereyes who not only helped me come up with the idea but also helped me with a lot of the plot points. And also to max for talking me through the finer points of concussions, but that will be more relevant in chapter 2 (which will be up Friday, probably). 

Anyways, Carlos may have gotten the screen time he deserved in the last episode but I am still going to give him more anyways, because I can. Title is from “Honest Man” by Ben Platt. 

-----------

Carlos avoided eye contact with everyone as he exited the precinct. He could feel their stares: some sympathetic, some judgmental. He knows they all know. He knew that it had been the talk of the precinct in the hours he had been confined to the interrogation room. He knew they all had an opinion on it, and he was pretty sure he knew what most of them were saying. 

He didn’t have to guess what his father thought, at least. That was made perfectly clear. 

He stepped through the doors of the precinct with a sigh of relief, feeling like he had just run the gauntlet. The bright afternoon sunlight threw him even more, it should have been dark when he left today. It’s another reminder of how far from usual this all is, of how much his world has been rocked by one split-second decision. Of how much that one decision could cost him. 

He climbed into his car with a weary sigh, resting his head in his hands as he took a deep, measured breath. His world was falling apart around him; everything he had worked for was crumbling like dominos set off by one act of compassion. He just wanted to forget it all, but that wasn’t possible. He didn’t want to dwell on Mitchell’s outright disapproval or her cold silence on the way back to the precinct. He would give almost anything to never have to relive the stern looks of his superiors, the shame of being asked to hand over his badge and gun. Most of all he would give anything to forget the look of disappointment in his father’s eyes, so convinced that he had been right about his son, that Carlos needed saving now from himself.

He lifted his head and looked back at the precinct, the crushing feeling of shame pressing on him from all sides. He had possibly ruined everything all because he wanted to see the best in someone. He wanted to believe he hadn’t been taken advantage of, that he hadn’t been naive and fallen for a well-rehearsed sob story, but it was getting harder and harder to cling to that hope by the second. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he had always been right. Maybe Carlos wasn’t cut out to be a cop after all. 

He was pulled out of his spiral by the feeling of his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from TK: a simple confirmation that he had made it to the station. Just that momentary distraction was enough to interrupt his cascading anxious thoughts, to pull him back to reality. Nothing had been decided yet, he reminded himself. It may not be as bad as it all seems. 

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he did know who he needed to talk to. So he started his car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading to the firehouse and the one person who could always talk him out of his own head. 

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

TK hadn’t been at the firehouse when Carlos arrived, which shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. Why should he have expected anything to go right today? 

Instead, he had had what was possibly his longest one-on-one conversation with his boyfriend’s father over green smoothies and had managed to spill all of his problems to the older man within a matter of minutes. He hadn’t really been meaning to tell him about getting suspended and he had definitely not intended to discuss his tense relationship with his father, but something had snapped in his mind it seemed and he no longer had the ability to keep these things bottled up. Maybe it was something about the firehouse — Carlos had always felt welcome there, comfortable even. Maybe that had been enough to lower his guard. Maybe it was simply the kind face of Owen Strand. For all the problems he knew TK had been having with his dad lately and for all the reservations Carlos personally had about the other man, there was no denying that Captain Strand was an empathetic soul, when he allowed himself to be. 

Maybe it was simply a matter of the walls of his mind being battered for too long — worn more and more with each passing day — that this newest addition to fears and insecurities he kept so fiercely guarded was one too many and had forced his defenses to finally break. If that was the case he supposed he should consider himself lucky. At least it had been with someone he knew and trusted instead of a random passerby or grocery store clerk.

Whatever the reason, it had helped. Owen’s words had helped to ease his worry and return some of his confidence to him. He had felt much better about it all, until his father had called. 

He had left the firehouse with a promise from Owen that he would tell TK he had stopped by before heading back to the precinct, once again ignoring the stares of his coworkers and trying to not feel affected by the indignity of needing an escort to head to the conference room. For a moment, he thought it would be alright. His dad was there and the man he had seen earlier was sitting on the other side of the glass. He had corroborated Carlos’s story, everything he had told them proved that Carlos’s instincts were correct and his actions justified. For a moment he thought everything was fine, but he was wrong. His dad still didn’t believe in him. He still thought that Carlos was a liability, that he was too soft to do the job. 

He didn’t say it, but Carlos had spent a lifetime reading between the lines of his dad’s words. 

Maybe it was exhaustion or frustration hitting the boiling point. Maybe he was bolstered by Owen’s words from early, by the unwavering faith his boyfriend’s father had in him that his own father couldn’t manage to replicate, but Carlos was done hiding things. He told his dad exactly what he thought, and then he left. He stormed out of the precinct and got right into his car before driving home. 

He barely wasted a moment when he stepped through his front door, only pausing long enough to shed his coat and drop his keys into the dish by the door before he entered his kitchen, pulling open cupboards in search of the ingredients he needed. Cooking had always calmed him, it had always been a way to manage his stress and ease his mind. He desperately needed some of that today. 

He paused for a moment before he made up his mind, crossing to the rarely used cupboard above the fridge. He opened it and pulled out the pasta press that lived there, always present but hardly ever used because while he may love the result of handmade pasta it took far more time than he usually had to spare. 

It seemed he had plenty of it today, however. Maybe even for the foreseeable future. Besides, he needed something to take his mind off everything that had happened today and desperate times called for desperate measures. 

He mixed the eggs, flour, oil, and salt together in a large bowl as he let his mind wander. He still needed to tell TK about all of this, he realized. In all of their ins and out today, they kept missing each other. It wasn’t something he wanted to do over a text or a phone call though, so it would have to wait until he was here. Carlos assumed he would come here after his shift — he did, more often than not — but he paused in his mixing long enough to grab his phone. Dinner tonight? he typed into their text thread, followed by the pasta emoji. He received a “sounds great!” and a thumbs up in return and felt a smile return to his face. At least with TK coming for dinner, he was guaranteed to have at least one good part of this day. 

He returned to the task at hand, pulling the beginnings of the dough out of the bowl and placing it on the counter where he started kneading it. He still couldn’t believe everything that had transpired today. When he had left this morning the possibility of running into a suspected bank robber strapped to a bomb and getting suspended had never even crossed his mind. Nor had getting the confirmation that his dad didn't believe in him, but here he was. 

He hit the dough a little harder, the look of grim acceptance in his father’s eyes flashing through his mind once again. He loved his father and he knew that his father loved him; that had never been a question. But there was a difference between loving someone and believing in them, and that was the gray area he and his father existed in. He had always known, deep down. He knew that his father thought he felt things too strongly, that he was too emotional to do the job. That he was a naive bleeding heart waiting for the next lost cause to come around the corner. The worst part was that in so many ways, he was right. Carlos did care too much, he did always strive to see the best in people. He had never seen that as a weakness. Clearly, his father felt otherwise. 

He finished kneading with a sigh, wrapping the dough up in plastic wrap and setting it to rest on the counter as he turned to the cutting board full of vegetables and herbs waiting to be chopped for the sauce. He picked up the knife and started in on the garlic, letting his mind wander once again. His father hadn’t been the only one to show outright disappointment in him today, but that had been less surprising. That didn't change the fact that it had stung. These were people he worked beside on a daily basis, some for years. They were the people he was supposed to trust with his life. 

Generally, he did. He didn’t think that they were bad people or that they would ever not have his back in the field. He had always known that in many cases, they saw the world around them in different ways, but he had never expected it to become a problem quite in the way it has. He couldn’t pretend that the look of disappointment from his Captain — someone he had admired for years — hadn’t stung. 

He was snapped back to the task at hand when his knife slipped and a curse was torn from his lips by the sharp pain of a cut across his thumb. He pulled his hand away quickly, placing his other hand under it to prevent the blood from dripping onto the food as he crossed to the sink. He ran it under water and examined it. It was long and crossed the knuckle which would make it hurt like hell, but it didn’t look too deep, thankfully. He would wrap it for now and TK could look at it when he got home. Which wasn’t strictly necessary, but he knew his boyfriend would insist. Becoming a paramedic had only increased that particular inclination. Not that Carlos could say he particularly minded; it made TK feel better and Carlos was never one to deny his boyfriend anything that would put his mind at ease. 

He made quick work of bandaging his hand before putting on some music and returning to the task at hand. He tossed the vegetables in the pan to simmer and begin to form a sauce while he turned his attention to the dough. He tried not to dwell on the disaster that today had been as he rolled it out. Instead, he tried to let himself get lost in the process, threading the dough through the press carefully and laying the fresh pasta on a paper towel next to the stove. He checked on the sauce next to find that it had come together nicely and lowered the burner to keep it warm while he waited. He busied himself setting the table, throwing himself into putting together a far more elaborate table than was necessary for a Monday night in the interest of giving himself something to do that would silence all the doubts and questions in his head. 

At one point he glanced at the clock on the stove and frowned. TK should have been here by now. He grabbed his phone and sent out a quick text before returning to his project. It wasn’t until he had done every single thing he could think of without hearing the familiar sound of keys in the door that he started to worry. He grabbed his phone again, leaning against the counter as he tapped the name at the top of his recent calls. It rang for what seemed like an eternity before TK’s voicemail answered. 

“Hey,” he said into the phone, “I was just wondering if you were on your way here. You’re running later than usual so I figured I’d check, but I guess you’re still on a call or something. Just give me a call when you get this, I guess?” 

He hung up the phone after that, settling at the counter with a glass of wine as he waited. He managed about 20 minutes before he tried calling again only to get his voicemail, again. It had been almost an hour and he was officially worried. He said as much in a text, anxiously staring at his phone hoping for those three dots to appear. They didn’t and Carlos finally caved, getting up from the counter and crossing over to the table where he blew out the candles before turning off the stove and grabbing his coat. 

The last thing his mind needed tonight was something else to worry about, but this was a fear that hit differently. This was one that no amount of pasta making could soothe away. So he grabbed his keys and stepped out into the night, heading off to find answers and hopefully his errant boyfriend. 

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

Just like that all the anxiety and fear he had felt since the call with the unwilling bank robber seemed so trivial, all it took was a few words from Grace and the sight of some bloody rags in a van. TK was in danger: real, horrifying, life or death danger, and not one of the things that had been weighing on him all day was enough to top that. All day he had felt weighed down with worry, had been dealing with his anxiety eating away at him. But this fear, this tangible threat to the person he loved more than anyone else engulfed him; constantly pressing on him from all sides. There was no escaping this one. No amount of cooking or wine would make this go away. The only thing that could make him feel better, that would let him breathe easier again would be finding TK safe and unharmed. 

Carlos could tell that Owen was having a similar dilemma beside him as they drove to the parking garage in tense silence. He wasn’t sure what had been worse: his own hesitant worry and the nagging feeling that something was wrong being confirmed, Owen’s typically ironclad composure slowly cracking before his eyes, or Gwyn’s outright fear. For some reason, he thought it was Gwyn.

He had gotten to know her well since her arrival in Austin: first as TK healed and she tended to him and then later as he spent time around the Strand house. He had come to know her as someone unflappable. He had seen her excuse herself in the middle of lunch to ream out the head of a major corporation over the phone about a stupid decision he had made that could put him in danger of breaching a contract and turn back to their previous conversation without missing a step. He had never imagined he would see her even close to losing her composure, ever. But he had almost seen it in the entryway to the house, her fear for her son and the guilt that she might have had a part in it pushing her towards the edge. She had seemed calmer when they left, closer to the steady woman Carlos had come to know, but she didn’t know what was really happening. If she did, he doubted she would be so calm.

TK needed to be okay, Carlos decided as he glanced back at Owen who was clutching the steering wheel far more tightly than necessary. His safety and well-being was far too important to too many people — Carlos included. Losing his job and disappointing his father was one thing, losing TK was entirely another, and it was something Carlos never wanted to face. Especially not like this. 

He anxiously ran his bandaged thumb over TK’s sobriety chip as they drove. He wondered how scared TK must have been to willingly part with it. It was a representation of everything he had worked for, it was something he was so proud of. For him to leave it as a breadcrumb, with no possible guarantee it would ever be found or that he would ever see it again, he must have been terrified and that thought more than anything else filled Carlos with dread. He wanted to say he was sure about this, but the reality was that he wasn't sure at all. It was merely a desperate hope, but if there was even a chance he could find TK he was going to take it.

The truck carried them closer and closer to their destination in complete silence as the two men sat engrossed in their own thoughts, but Carlos was pretty sure he knew what they both were thinking: TK needed to be okay. No other option was acceptable. 

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

TK had been whisked off for an exam and scans the moment the ambulance arrived, leaving Carlos in the waiting room. He had barely taken a seat before his phone had started ringing and it was at that moment that he realized the rest of the 126 crew had no idea that anything had even been wrong. Anxious calls from both Marjan and Paul later told him that the rest of the crew had no idea what had happened, until they saw it on the news. They had gotten the gist from the news report and had seen footage of TK being loaded into an ambulance and they were concerned, to say the least. 

Once Carlos had been allowed back to see him he snapped a photo of a miserable, bandaged TK trying for a smile as proof of life and put it in the group chat with a promise that once he was discharged and feeling a little more steady, they could come over and harass him for managing to find so much trouble. He read their responses to TK as they waited for the doctor to come by with the results of his scans, running a soothing hand up and down his arm the entire time. 

That’s how TK’s parents find them, arriving at the hospital after Owen went back to pick Gwyn up and actually explain to her what happened. Carlos is sure it had been a fun conversation, judging by the tense looks on both their faces when they entered the room, but any tension on Gwyn’s face melted the moment she saw her son.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, eyes filling with tears as she crossed to the side of the bed. Carlos moved from his spot by TK without a word and slipped into the chair at the side of the room, giving TK’s parents some room to be with him. There were quiet words and whispered affections between mother and son as Owen hovered at the foot of the bed, watching them fondly. Eventually the dynamic shifted to something closer to their usual when Gwyn pulled a container out of her purse. 

“Really Mom?” TK asked with a dubious look, “where did you even get that?” 

“We stopped on the way,” Owen explained, “she insisted.” He must have caught Carlos’s puzzled look because he explained, “Matzo ball soup.” 

Carlos grinned even as TK tried to roll his eyes, but broke off with a hiss of pain. All eyes turned to him anxiously but he gave them a small smile, “I’m fine, I just tried to move my head too much.” 

“And I still fail to see how your soup is going to help heal that,” Owen quipped to Gwyn, who glared at him. The pair started into their usual banter as TK did his best to follow along while obediently eating the soup his mother had handed to him. Carlos watched the whole scene with a fond smile, even as he kept a watchful eye on TK. His boyfriend caught his eye at one point and gave him a soft smile before being pulled back into his parents’ conversation. Eventually, Owen and Gwyn left and it was just TK and Carlos again. 

“Why are you still over there?” TK asked him before the door had even fully closed behind his parents. “Don’t make me come to you.” 

Carlos chuckled and crossed the room, sliding back into his spot on the bed, and leaned down to press a soft kiss at the edge of the bandages, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He leaned back then to study him more closely. His face was drawn and pale and there was no denying that he was in pain but considering everything, he looked okay. “How do you feel?” he asked him, resting a hand on his arm, “really?” 

“I am in a lot of pain, but I’m fine, really. It could have been much worse, considering everything.”

Carlos swallowed and the hand resting on TK’s arm squeezed tighter, “yeah, it could have been.” 

It was the thought that had kept him company in the waiting room as he had fielded calls from their friends and as he had sat off to the side as TK’s parents had had their time with him. It could have been so much worse, it nearly had been. From what he had heard at the scene and put together since there were a thousand ways it could have gone wrong and a hundred that could have taken TK away from him. He had known he loved the other man for months now, he had long since realized what an integral part of his life he had become. But never in any of that time had he come quite as close to the possibility of losing him for good as he had today and it terrified him. 

But TK didn’t need that on his mind so he said nothing. Instead, he asked, “Any word on how long you’ll have to be off work?” 

“No,” TK griped, “but I would imagine it would be at least a week or two.”

Carlos hummed sympathetically, “Well, if there was one good thing to come out of today it’s that I’ll at least have plenty of time to spend with you while they clear this whole suspension mess up.”

Now TK was looking at him sharply, “Suspension? What do you mean? Carlos, did you get suspended?” 

At his nod, TK’s eyes widened, “How? What happened?”  

“It wasn’t a big deal. Well, it isn’t anymore, I guess. Turns out those two guys that kidnapped you also kidnapped a man this morning and forced him to rob a bank with a bomb strapped to his neck for encouragement. And I let him go because he said they would kill him and I believed him.” 

“And you got suspended for that?” 

“Well I did let a man who had just robbed several thousand dollars from a bank go, TK.” 

“Still,” TK said petulantly and Carlos grinned at his unwavering defense of him.

“It’s okay,” he told him, “I think it’s going to be fine. It turns out I was right and your dad and I did help to find the bank robbers so my dad thinks…” 

“Wait, your dad was there?” 

“The bank robberies were his case. He was the one sent to investigate me too.” 

“Carlos, baby. That’s...so much,” TK gave him a sympathetic look and shifted their hands so he was squeezing Carlos’s. “Are you okay?” 

“I am,” he told him with more certainty than he had felt about anything all day, “because you’re safe and that is all I need. Everything else is just extra.” 

TK smiled at him but didn’t look convinced, “Are you sure?” 

“It was an awful day even before I knew you were missing,” he admitted. “Earlier today I thought I had ruined everything. But almost losing the person I love most put some things in perspective, I think. We’re together and as long as that’s true, I have faith that everything will work out one way or the other.” 

TK smiled at him and they lapsed into comfortable silence before Carlos realized he still had one more bit of news to share. 

“There’s something else we’re going to have to do too, when you’re feeling up to it,” Carlos told him.

“Are you going to be mysterious and make me guess with a severe concussion or…?” TK asked pointedly after a pause, and Carlos chuckled. 

“We’re going to have to find some time to go to my parents’ house for dinner,” he informed TK. “They want to meet you properly.” 

“Your parents,” TK began, eyes wide, “did you tell your dad about us?” 

“Actually, I didn’t have to. Apparently they have known about us since they ran into us at the market. But,” he admitted, “if they didn’t  know before they would have after tonight. I couldn’t take my eyes off you the whole time, even when talking to my dad. Guess I’m not exactly subtle when it comes to you. That and,” he paused, fishing around in his pocket before offering up TK’s one year chip, “I asked him if we could keep this out of evidence, as a favor for me.” 

TK took the chip reverently, turning it over slowly in his hands, “I can’t believe you actually found it,” he admitted, “I was hoping you would and I left it on the off chance, but I never actually thought…” he trailed off, raising his eyes to meet Carlos’s gaze, “you’re amazing, you know that?” 

“Not nearly as amazing as you,” he countered. “Have I told you yet today how proud I am of you?” 

TK smiled but any response was cut off by a yawn. “You need sleep,” Carlos reminded him, “we can talk about everything later.” 

He went to slide off the bed, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. He looked over at TK to see him looking at him incredulously, “Where you think you’re going, Carlos Reyes?” 

“Off your bed,” he replied, “so you can sleep?” 

“Not likely,” TK countered, “I have been kidnapped, held at gunpoint and pistol whipped today. I deserve to share a bed with my boyfriend at the very least.” 

“But,” Carlos spluttered, “you’re hurt, and the bed’s not really big and…” 

“All I’m hearing are excuses Carlos and excuses will not be tolerated. Get in here.” 

Carlos sighed but obeyed, kicking off his shoes and he carefully slid into the space TK had left open for him, “The nurses are going to be in to check on you throughout the night,” he reminded him, “we’re going to get in trouble.” 

“No we won’t,” TK assured him, “we’re too adorable.” 

“You are such a brat,” Carlos noted with a chuckle, placing a kiss on the top of his head as he got settled beside him. 

“And you love it.” 

“I do,” Carlos assured him softly, “and I will always come for you.” 

“I know you will,” TK responded even as his breathing evened and his eyes started to close, “and I never doubted it for a second.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #tarlos fic #my writing #tuserjamie #tuserpaige #usermaximus #userjilly #userkimmy #userac #userbones #jazzyjess #immortalstrand #hierophvnts #maizsnex #buckybarnesalways #reyeslonestartag

[sunnysidevans]

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬

Summary: What happens when you find out your shitty boyfriend cheats on you with a new coworker and you decide to show him just who he messed with and you run into a bit someone unexpected? 

Warnings: Language, Angst , Cheating , Weapons

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

First Person Point Of View: 

You couldn’t believe that this happened to you, how could you have let this happen? Your recent boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, had decided to cheat with the new girl in his law firm. You had detected the affair quickly as he became less and less, and became much more “work focused” as your mother liked to call it as you started to discuss your concerns. She believed he was a good man as did all your friends, who knew he was so good at lying? To you and the world huh? Your suspicions were proven correct when you decided to visit him at work the last afternoon with the fresh lunch you thought you could share together and found the two of them, coming back from their own lunch, making out in the parking garage of his office. Lucky for you he didn’t see you and you were able to slip away quickly. After slipping away you sat in your car and started to sob, you couldn’t believe this had happened, you just thought he was distant because of a big case, not another woman. As you pulled out of the parking garage that afternoon,  mascara streaked down your chin, you made the decision that if he wanted to cheat, you would show him just the women he cheated on. The rest of that afternoon you made your preparations and got things around and even did a small bit of retail therapy ( with the credit card he had given you of course ) and started the demise of your cheating ex boyfriend, Nathan. First you started prepping by taking a quick shower and applying minimal makeup because, why let him fuck up more mascara? As you laced up your black boots you grabbed the essentials and headed to the bar you knew he frequented after a good case. As you pulled up to the bar you noticed the ugly Ford 4x4 in the parking lot with his cheesy bumper sticker. You parked about a few cars down, giving yourself a nice amount of space between them so if for some reason he wouldn’t see you. As smooth as butter you ran your car key along the side of his truck, bumper to bumper. You begin to pop a tire with the small pocket knife on your keys when suddenly a tall brunette comes running from the other side of the parking lot, “hey, hey lady what the hell?!” he yells his hands out as you turn to him quickly knife in hand “mind your own business buddy” you seeth, slight tears in your eyes as he lowers his hands to his sides “well, you do have a knife, and you are popping tires on a car.. I mean it is a crime” he sighs watching you closely as you turn around again. “Just go inside and get a drink and don't you worry about me pretty boy” you mumbled, as you turned you knew you recognized him, he played in them movies that you and Nathan watched often, He was Captain America. He laughed behind you as he watched you pick the lock of the truck and disarming the alarm “you know I can’t let you continue to commit a crime” Chris laughed walking to you as he continued “so what exactly am I witnessing at this moment?” he asked as he watched you carve (Y/N) in both the headrest and the seat on both sides. “(Y/N) huh? So (Y/N) care to explain to me what is happening?” he asked again as he started to hear the sniffles from you and shortly after a sob. “Fuck him” you seethed through the sobs “fuck him and that ugly fucking bitch” you continued to seeth through your sobs. As you sobbed you took the bat and smashed the hood of the truck and continued you knocked out every light on the truck as eventually two arms grabbed your arms to stop you, a bold move as you were clearly loaded with weapons. “Hey hey” Chris whispered as he took the bat slowly “c’mon let's head inside okay? Hey it's okay, okay?” he looked at you as you once again let this asshole screw up your mascara. You sobbed in the arms of this stranger and watched as he led you inside slowly in which you’d be face to face with Nathan and the woman who created this mess. As you walked inside slowly with Chris by your side rubbing your arm, all eyes landed on you, mainly because you walked in with a gorgeous man on your arm but mostly because obviously they recognized who this man was. Chris sat you in a booth and went to grab some towels from the restroom as to help clean up the blood you didn’t notice before on your hands along with the mascara on your cheeks, he also covered you with the jacket as he left as you only had on a tshirt as it approached 10 pm. As you sat in the booth your eyes on the table eventually someone cleared their throat causing you to look up and be face to face with the eyes that used to hold nothing but love for you. “(Y/N) what are you doing here?” he asked hands on his hips, in an authoritative way not even a hot way as chris did it before “does it matter?” you snarked back adjusting Chris’s jacket on your arms. “I mean I’d like to know why my girlfriend is in a bar with another man's jacket on her arms” he snickered back as you sighed sitting up ready to snark back as someone cleared their throat behind Nathan. “From the story I’m gathering, you cheated on this young lady and she found out, knew you’d be here, with said mistress and she decided to take matters into her own hands, but of course I stopped her before she did any real damage” Chris spoke as Nathan turned to him, mouth agape as he recognized him as well as everyone else did. “W-What?” Nathan looked between the two of you as Chris sat across from you, handing you the towels so you could wipe your hands. Chris looked to you as Nathan stood at the end of the table, “would you like a ride home beautiful? Or at least let me order you a ride?” he smiled at you as the small smile crossed your face “I would like that actually, a ride would be nice..” you whispered standing as he put an arm around your shoulder, Nathan hot on your heels out the door. “You can’t just ignore me bi-” Nathan stopped mid sentence as he saw the damage you had done to his truck “What the fuck?!” he screamed running to the truck, noticing that all four of his tires were slashed, both sets of lights destroyed along with your name in both of his seats, door wide open in which most of his belongings were taken. Finally the young woman decided to join him outside and noticed the destruction to his truck, trying to comfort him as Chris snickered beside you “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy”. 

+

The car ride to your apartment was quiet as Chris had a quiet 80’s playlist playing. He didn’t push you to talk to him, didn’t push you to tell him what happened, he just followed your directions to your apartment. As he pulled up to your apartment and put his car in park he turned in the seat to face you, “I’m really sorry…” he whispered, you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders “I thought I was going to marry him ya know?” you turned to him as you continued “I just don’t know what I was thinking.. He treated me so well and then.. Well obviously you put two and two together” you sighed sitting up to take his jacket off “Thank you very much for giving me a ride home..” you smiled handing him his jacket back. “You don’t have to thank me, It’s the least I could do” he smiled as you smiled softly back “Is there anything I could do to repay you? Gas money?” you asked curiously, he shook his head and smiled “how about just a phone number? If you need a friend” he smiled back as you nodded slowly. You took his phone from him and entered your phone number making sure to add in the knife emoji next to your name.

+

 Two weeks Later .. 

A knock at the door startled you from your book and coffee as your cat jumped from his sleep. You sighed softly as you got up and opened the door to be greeted by a delivery man who looked to love his job so much. “Uh delivery for (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)?” he asked unsure as you nodded and took the flowers. “Thank you” you nodded and shut the door walking to the kitchen counter as Chris follows shortly after bringing Dodger back from a walk. “What is that?” he asked curious leaning against the counter in front of you “I’m not sure was just delivered” you shrugged opening the note: 

“ My Dearest (Y/N),

I’m so sorry, I wish I never did these things and I wish I didn’t , Please I hope this is just the beginning of us rebuilding.. Again I’m so sorry, Please call me,Please talk to me, anything… I will always love you

Love, Nathan. X”

You scoffed handing the note to Chris to read as he read over it shaking his head tossing it into the trash “I wouldn’t keep them if you don’t want too. That note though was absolutely awful so you don’t want that” he laughed as he saw the smile on your face as you chuckled again shaking your head “maybe I’ll give them to Mrs.Carter down the hall.. She’s been quite lonely since her husband died” you smiled at him as he then chucked again, “what?” you asked, “I guess maybe he’ll think before he cheats” causing the both of you to laugh. This was the start of something much better than what Nathan ever had to offer you.  

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #chris evans angst #chris evans imagine #steve rogers #andy barber #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fanfiction

[birdiefw]

JJ MAYBANK | NOT MY CHOICE PT. 2

Part One

Requested by: @maybebanks

Summary: You’ve always been a Pogue despite your wealth and had been friends with John B. and his crew for as long as you could remember. However, you were also dating Rafe Cameron but your friend didn’t know, and worst of all, it wasn’t your decision. But one day Rafe sees you and JJ together and decides to show you and JJ who you belong to. However, JJ isn’t all that fooled and wants to know the truth.

Warnings: swearing, slut-shaming, fighting, ANGST & fluff

A/N: Here is part two!!! Thank you so much for all of your lovely feedback on part one, as well as my other imsgines!! I hope you like this part as much as the first one!

[not my gif!!]

The party had gone surprisingly. . . okay. You were miserable the entire time and just wanted to be with your real friends, but once Rafe took a hit of coke, you knew he wouldn’t bother you much throughout the night if at all — drugs were more important.

The music was blaring throughout the entire house, but somehow it eased your buzzing nerves, unable to hear anything but the cheerful hoots and giggles that broke through music every few minutes. You eased your way through the rowdy crowds, only taking small sips from your cup as you passed by familiar faces. No one paid too much attention to you, only a few smiling to you or making small talk.

Rafe found his way back to you not long after you made it outside by the pool after a few hours had ticked by slowly, visibly surprising you. You were sat on the edge, your feet dipped in while some party goers swam around and splashed one another, but keeping a good distance away from you. There were empty beer cans and cups littered around the patio and backyard, but that wasn’t your problem to worry about. You’d focused your attention on Rafe as he sat beside you, rolling up his pants to put his legs in as well.

You gave him a hesitant smile. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. You let out a sigh and momentarily closed your eyes. His weight was resting on you more than usual, the effects of the alcohol and coke taking its toll on his mind. He seemed relaxed though, which you found odd, but you weren’t complaining, and you certainly weren’t going to question it. “Why. . . why were you with that Pogue today?”

You pursed your lips, glancing to your hands. “It was nothing, Rafe,” you answered softly. “I promise. He’s just a friend.”

“But he’s a Pogue,” Rafe frowned distsstefully. When you looked it to his eyes, you saw they were reddened and glossy, his hair drooping in his face but he didn’t seem to care. “They’re-they’re nothing. They’re wastes’ of space. This island’s better off without them.”

You faintly shook your head. You wanted to defend your friends, to tell him everybody was the same despite where they came from, but he wouldn’t listen to you. He wasn’t in the right head space, nor would he have even if he was. So, you just shrugged. “He’s just a friend, that’s all, Rafe.”

Rafe nodded at your answer and stood up, peering down at you with a small smirk. “No, that-you can’t be friends with him — with any of them. And know what? If he even looks at you — I’ll-I’ll kill him. You hear me, Y/N? He’s dead.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Rafe, you can’t be serious.”

Rafe crouched down, his face inches away from yours with his jaw tight and eyes narrowed darkly. His hand gently touched your jaw, stroking your skin. You had to fight the urge to flinch away. “Babe, do I look like I’m joking?”

Your eyes pleadingly searched his for any sign that he was, but there was none. There was no light in his eyes — only pure darkness. You gulped, unable to do anything but shake your head. “N-no.”

Rafe smiled and leaned forward, kissing the tip of your nose like he didn’t just threaten the life of your friend forehead. “Exactly. I’ll see you later, babe,” he said, beginning to make his way back into the party with only one thing on his mind. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Then he left, leaving you by the pool. Tears brewed in your eyes, your mind going straight to JJ. You shook your head and stood up, hurrying out of the party before anyone could stop you or ask what was wrong. You furiously wiped at your eyes, but the tears continued to fall as you made your way home. You weren’t too far away from your house, but you wished you lived closer so you didn’t have so much time and silence that allowed your thoughts to dangerously wander.

You couldn’t stand to lose JJ, but you didn’t want him to get hurt because of you.

What could you do?

———

You had every intention of ignoring JJ and the Pogues for as long as possible while you figured a way out of the mess your parents had unintentionally put you in. You didn’t think Rafe would really kill JJ, but he���d fought the boy and his friends more times than what was necessary. It always ended with someone getting slammed into the ground, and on a few occasions, it’d been JJ. Rafe didn’t always win and had to be pulled away by his friends, but he wouldn’t hesitate to do it all over again if he thought he was losing control of you.

However, JJ had other plans.

Both of your parents were at work, leaving only you in your big house. You were casually lounging on the couch while one of your favorite movies played on the TV across from you. A bowl of popcorn was placed in your lap, your hand grabbing a handful of the snack every few moments. You’d spent most the night overthinking and wondering how you’d let yourself get involved with Rafe, but with your favorite movie going to keep your mind occupied for the time being, you were content as your thoughts simmered and remained focused on the film.

Your phone was on the coffee table, chiming every once in a while. You had a few texts from the Pogues, but you’d yet to answer them. There was one from Rafe, and you’d answered that as soon as you saw it was him. He was asking where you were and how you got home last night, to which you replied honestly; somehow you thought he’d know if you were lying. He accepted your answer and asked if you wanted to hangout later, and you muttered an annoyed no, but you didn’t say that. You told him yes with a sweet smiley emoji tacked on at the end of it. He replied with a time and told you to dress nice.

You had a few hours until then and you did your best just to relax.

DING!

You frowned in confusion, pausing your movie. You waited a moment, hoping they wouldn’t do it again, but they did.

You heavily sighed, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie so you didn’t miss your favorite part. You sat the bowl aside and stood up, readjusting your shirt as you made your way to the front door.

You quietly stood in front of it, leaning in close to look out of the peephole before swinging it open. You gasped, seeing JJ standing there.

“I know you’re home, Y/N,” JJ said, knocking on it again. “You can’t hide from me.”

“Who says I’m hiding?” You retorted.

JJ sighed, looking to the peephole. “You’re not answering John B., me — anyone, and you’re not even opening the door. Why?”

“We?” You repeated, peering at your driveway to see if you’d spot John B.’s familiar Volkswagen nearby, but it wasn’t there. It was only him. “Or do you just mean you?”

JJ huffed, throwing his hands out at his sides. “We, but also me, okay? Now can you open the door, please? I just wanna talk.”

You anxiously bit your lip. What if Rafe came by early? What if one of his friends saw you hanging out with JJ at your house? But when you looked back into his face, you saw something in his eyes.

Unlike with Rafe who hadn’t held any light, all you saw was the light in JJ’s.

You cautiously opened the door, taking a step back to allow him to enter. He hurried inside, taking off his hat with a huff. You led him down the hall and towards the kitchen, nervously leaning against the counter as he lingered a few paces away from you. “JJ—”

“Why Rafe?” You closed your eyes. At least he wasn’t beating around the bush. “He’s a terrible person, Y/N. Have you forgotten that he almost killed me and Pope last summer?”

“Of course not,” you replied defensively.

“Then why? Why Rafe?” JJ harshly demanded to know, his anger seeping into his words and hitting you like bullets. He dared to step closer, eyes sharpened.

You frowned, moving away. “It’s-it’s not that simple, JJ.”

“Are you going full Kook?”

You scoffed at the insinuation. He knew you better than that. “Of course not.”

“Then why? Why, Y/N?” JJ wanted to know, his voice raising. It wasn’t full on yelling, but he was making his point very clear as his eyes burned into your back. “Tell me why picked him over me. . .and I’ll leave you alone just like you want—”

“Don’t you see that I didn’t? That I don’t want you to leave?” You shouted, finally facing him. His brows raised in surprise at your sudden outburst, never having heard you raise your voice at anyone. Tears were threatening to spill over as you faced JJ. “I didn’t pick him, JJ! It wasn’t my choice!”

JJ titled his head in confusion. ”What the hell does that mean?”

You heavily sighed, resting your elbows on the counter and letting your head fall into your hands. “It means it wasn’t my choice,” you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you began to finally tell JJ. “My parents — they love the Cameron’s. And Rafe — he’s the golden boy, or so they think. They-they filled his head with the idea that I liked him, and they put so much pressure on me to go out with him, and I couldn’t tell him no, but believe me, I fucking wish I did.”

“Can’t you break it off with him? Tell him you don’t like him because he’s — you know — fucking nuts?”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve seen him. I-I can’t get out of this, JJ. I want to, god, I want to, but I-I—”

Your tears finally began to fall and your facade crumbled. You sobbed into your clammy hands, trying to muffle it. JJ came up beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting manner. You faced him, burying your face into his firm chest, clinging to his shirt.

“Hey, wait, don’t cry,” JJ murmured, cradling the back of your head. “Rafe is not worth your tears.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” you cried.

“We’ll figure it out,” JJ assured you, holding you tight to let you know he wasn’t going anywhere. He finally understood why you didn’t tell him or the others about you and Rafe, and he could finally see the toll it was taking on you.

You pulled away a few moments later, looking to JJ. You offered him a weak smile, softly laughing while you wiped at your reddened eyes. “Sorry, I probably look like a mess.”

JJ chuckled. “You look beautiful as always.”

You blushed, playfully rolling your eyes at his attempt to cheer you up. “Seriously? You’re gonna compliment me even though I look like a mess?”

“I always compliment you, Y/N, but you just think I’m joking.”

“Aren’t you?”

JJ cautiously came closer, trapping you by the counter with your back pressed against it. He placed his hands on both sides of you, locking you between his firm arms. Your eyes widened, a shaky breath passing your lips. “You serious? You think I’d come all the way here if I didn’t like you?”

You shrugged, lopsidedly smiling. “I-I don’t know. Maybe?”

JJ scoffed and leaned in close, his lips just barely touching yours. “No, I wouldn’t.”

You don’t know what came over you, but you closed the gap between you with such confidence that it even surprised you. JJ’s lips firmly pressed against yours instantly, closing the gap between you two by pulling you flush against his chest. Your eyes fluttered closed, a warm feeling flooding your body.

That was what you were meant to feel when you kissed someone you liked.

When you kissed Rafe, you didn’t feel anything but hatred — not for him, but for the whole situation.

You pulled away after a few seconds, a smile adorning your lips. JJ’s lips were tweaked upwards as well, his eyes with a newfound sparkle lighting them up like the sky on a perfect day.

“What the fuck is this?”

Your body jolted, spotting Rafe standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His eyes were tripled in size and fists balled at his sides so tight his knuckles were turning white. His chest was moving up and down quickly as his eyes went from JJ and then to you, unsure as to who he was more pissed at.

You carefully stepped away from JJ, shrugging his hand off you when he tried to keep you close to him so you stayed a good distance away from Rafe. “Rafe—”

“Don’t, Y/N, just don’t,” Rafe snapped darkly, holding his hand out towards you to prevent you from getting close. He shook his head in disgust, such hatred in his look directed towards you that it sent a jolt of fear through your bones. “You’re just friends, huh? That’s all? Bullshit, Y/N! You promised me it was nothing! And I decided to come surprise you and come to find you’re cheating on me with a fucking Pogue?”

“Don’t you raise your voice at her!” JJ hollered, trying to step past you. You instinctively got in his way, giving him a nudge to stay back.

“This is all your fault, bitch!” Rafe shouted back. “Now Y/N, get out of my way and let me deal with him before you—”

Rafe grabbed you amidst his shouting when you didn’t move, making you whimper when he grabbed you too tightly. JJ leapt to your defensive and punched Rafe in the face in order to make him release you. Rafe let go of you and you staggered back into the counter in surprise, holding your wrist to your chest, rubbing the sore skin.

“JJ!” You gasped fearfully, seeing the boy climb on top of Rafe and continue his assault. “Stop! JJ, please—!”

You winced when Rafe grabbed one of your mothers cookbooks from the bookshelf that was right by the counter he was near and slammed it against JJ’s head. You yelped, your mind and body unsure of what to do. You wanted to help, but how? You weren’t as strong as either of the boys. You’d seen plenty of movies, but that was all it was — a movie that couldn’t teach you how to properly punch. You didn’t have any experience with fighting.

“Don’t you get it?” JJ shouted, grunting when Rafe slammed his fist JJ’s jaw. JJ spit out blood, coughing but not backing down despite your pleas. “She doesn’t want you, Kook!”

“Yes she does!” Rafe screamed, his voice sounding more broken than angry as he punched JJ again and again. “She-she loves me!”

You couldn’t watch any longer. Seeing JJ under Rafe and his face getting pounded into repeatedly — you wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.

“No I don’t!”

Another surge of confidence washed over you and you rushed forward, grunting as you lifted your foot and kicked Rafe in the side of the head. His body tumbled aside, and you took that time to yank JJ up off the ground and pull him away from Rafe. Your heart was racing quickly, feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest any second. “We’re over, Rafe! And-and don’t you ever show your face around here again! I’m done with you!”

Rafe grunted in agony, stammering as he wobbled to his feet. Blood was dribbling down from his nose and lip, dripping onto his striped polo shirt. There were droplets of blood from both Rafe and JJ decorating the kitchen floor with some smeared from them rolling around admist the fighting, but that was the least of your worries right now.

All three of you failed to hear the front door open, your parents softly talking to each other, excited to see Rafe as they’d seen his bike parked in the driveway.

“You-you don’t?” Rafe whispered.

You frantically shook your head, feeling JJ slide his hand into your own. “No, and I never did,” you said sternly. “We weren’t meant to be, Rafe. You need to understand that!”

“But you belong with me! To me, Y/N!”

“No, I don’t!” You defended, finally able to raise your voice at the boy who did his best to make you silent and obedient. He might’ve put the fire in you out, but you reignited it, and it wouldn’t be put out so easily again. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself. Now get the fuck out of here, Rafe!”

“Whatever, slut!” Rafe bit back, scoffing. “Have fun making your way through—”

“Rafe Cameron.” Your grip on JJ’s hand instinctively tightened when your eyes laid on your shocked parents. Rafe nervously gulped, JJ’s expression similar to his own. Your father titled his head, his glare sending daggers at the younger boy who’d just insulted his child. “Don’t you ever speak to Y/N like that again. Do you understand me?”

“But—”

“Do you understand me?”

Rafe clenched his jaw, nodding his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of my house.”

“And don’t you ever come back,” your mother added firmly. She and your father stepped aside, shaking their heads in disapproval as Rafe stormed past them anfbout of your house for good. You let out a shaky breath and glanced to JJ, giving him a hesitant smile.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, finally free of Rafe Cameron.

Your father cleared his throat, recapturing your attention. You moved aside, releasing JJ’s hand. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling towards your parents. They’d seen him around a few times and knew you two were friends, but they didn’t know you were that close.

“Mom, Dad,” you started, but you closed your mouth when nothing else came out. You didn’t know how to explain what just happened. You were grateful they’d made Rafe leave, but you were still a Kook and JJ was a Pogue. What would they think, or even say?

You decided to let them speak first still.

“So,” your mom slowly began, eyeing you and JJ carefully. “Your father and I got off early and were going to see if you and Rafe wanted to join us for lunch, but it seems that’s off the table now.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, this was all—”

“You don’t need to explain, JJ,” your mother said with a soft smile. You smiled in approval at the fact she remembered his name. “We’re just glad you’re both alright. What happened?”

You sighed, stealing a look at JJ. You didn’t want to give them all the details, but you had to give them something. “JJ and I — Rafe isn’t the one for me, I’m sorry. I know you liked him, but we just weren’t meant to be. When I told him, he didn’t like that very much. JJ was just coming to check on me, and Rafe saw and thought it was something else, and well, you can tell what else happened, and you heard the end of it. . .”

“We certainly did,” your father huffed. He couldn’t believe he’d put so much trust in Rafe. Your father caught your mothers gaze, subtly nodding. He gave you and JJ a small smile, maneuvering towards the counter. “You might wanna clean and ice that, kiddo,” he stated, motioning to JJ’s bloody and beaten face.

“I’ll help,” you offered kindly.

“We’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,” your mother said. “Then, perhaps, you two would like to join us for lunch instead?”

Your face softened, glancing to JJ with a gleam of hope. He didn’t seem so certain, but when he noticed your expression, he softly smiled and nodded in agreement. Your grin widened and you headed to the fridge to get some ice.

“Wonderful,” your mother beamed. “We’ll leave once you’re cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” JJ said, not even sure what he was thanking them for, but he felt it was needed. With that, your parents left the room and headed to the living room. Your mother called out she would get the first aid kit and advised you to wrap the ice up with a towel while she did so.

You returned to JJ and helped take a seat at the kitchen table. He went to take the ice pack from your hand, but you lightly whacked his hand away and pressed it to his wound. “No, let me,” you said, faintly smiling towards the boy. “It’s the least I could do for you after what you just did for me.”

“I’d do it all over again if it‘d keep you safe,” JJ said softly.

You giggled, standing up and placing a kiss on his head. You sank back down in the chair in front of him, and for the first time in a while, you finally felt in control of your life. It hadn’t been your choice to date Rafe, but it was your life, and it was time for you to take back charge of your life. You wanted to be with JJ, and no one was going to get in the way of that ever again and make your choices for you.

———

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! I didn’t intend for it to exactly this way, but I actually like it! Feel free to send some other requests!!

#outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #obx #obx imagine #pope heyward #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #topper #john b imagine #john b #john b routledge #chase stokes #rudy pankow #drew starkey #kie #kie carrera #pope #jj outer banks #madelyn cline #madison bailey

[smolkooks]

how long - j.jungkook

pairings: reader x jungkook, established relationship!au, non idol!au

word count: 1.5K

content and warnings: angst, a lowkey couple fight, implied breakup, some indirect mentions of insecurities, heartbreak

summary: people told you that heartbreak would tear you apart like wildfire. all you feel is loneliness.

( note: please do not plagiarise my work! all character/idol representations are purely fictional! )

***

You couldn’t breathe.

The noise of the park—the children screaming, the cars grinding past in the slow afternoon traffic—it all faded away when you saw him.

You clung to yourself, pulling your jumper tighter around your body and focused on keeping your breaths as even as possible. You desperately wished he was alone, and still clawed at that hope; for a second, you let yourself believe it.

It was only moments later that a girl appeared beside him and took his hand, giggling—and he smiled at her fondly. Then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She was beautiful. Her eyes were pretty as the summer sun, and he looked at her the way he used to look at you. The exact same.

You were too far away for him to notice, and you were glad he couldn’t see the way tears swelled in your eyes and spilled over your lashes, down the apples of your cheeks.

He’d told you that he was at practice.

Your head began to throb and spin, and it took all of the energy you could muster to stay upright—to not collapse right then and there. Inhaling sharply, you forced yourself to look away from them and go home—home, so that nobody would be able to see you…so that Jeon Jungkook would not be able to see you.

***

Your apartment stopped spinning an hour ago, when you’d finally got a hold of your bearings, and your emotions. He should have been here twenty minutes ago—he’d sent you a piss-ass excuse ten minutes ago about how practice ran late, and that he’d be at your apartment as soon as he could.

A month ago, a week ago—hell, even just two hours ago—you would have believed him. Would have responded with a smiling emoji and a heart and told him that it was okay, to take his time.

Now that you knew what he was doing, who he was with…all of the past times when he’d done this to you replayed in your head like a broken tape; all the times he’d left you alone for hours waiting for him return, to reply, to call back.

Was it so wrong of you to want to spend time with him? To want to be loved?

With shaking hands, you began to make yourself some tea. When you reached for Jungkook’s mug, instinctively, to make him a cup, too, like you always did—your heart clenched. You stopped, hand shaking, and pulled back, firmly gripping the side of the kitchen counter to prevent yourself from losing balance.

It was a strange sensation, heartbreak. People told you it would tear you apart like wildfire, cutting through your heart and mind. All you felt was dullness; there was no fire; barely any anger. Just…worry, and loss—what would you do now, without him? You’d been living with him for so long you didn’t remember what life without him was like anymore. What was it like, waking up to a cold, empty bed rather than in Jungkook’s warm embrace? You failed to bring up any useful memories.

Heaving a heavy breath, you set your own, single mug on the kitchen counter and began pouring in boiling hot water, focusing on the task so that your mind wouldn’t betray you and cause you to spill it.

Jungkook was the love of your life. You didn’t know how long it would take for you to cut him out of it, if that was what it came to. Even considering it was too much for your heart to handle, and the pain returned, this time as an ache in your throat, and a throbbing in your chest.

How many times had he lied to you? Told you that he loved you, when his mind and heart and eyes were set on someone else? What other things had he hidden from you? Suddenly, you were spiralling into an endless pitfall of questions—none of which you had answers to. Or, at least, answers you could fathom; answers that your mind, desperate to be in denial for at least a few moments more, could conceive.

Jungkook arrived home three hours later. You were already curled up in bed, but you were awake, mind still in overdrive. The familiar creak of the door was as loud as day to you, even from down the corridor, in the bedroom, and you heard him enter. There was some shuffling—probably the sound of him shrugging off his coat. Then footsteps. Then—an abrupt stop.

He was probably surveying the kitchen counter, where you would normally be waiting for him even when he came home late, with a warm cup of tea. You heard him drop his bag on the floor, and then you heard—typing.Texting.

A sigh, the lock sound of a phone being turned off—and then footsteps, as he neared the bedroom that you were in—your shared bedroom.

You pretended to be asleep when he gently pushed open the door, and he was silent, his steps careful, as he picked up some fresh clothes and headed to the bathroom.

You listened to the water, and let yourself pretend that everything was normal. He didn’t sing in the shower tonight.

When he finally came out, he lay down next to you with a soft groan, pulling the sheets over himself. You purposely had your back facing him, so that he couldn’t see that your eyes were open, and that you were awake. You purposely curled up as far away from his side of the bed as possible, so that you wouldn’t have to smell the other girl’s perfume, or be tempted to lean into his warmth and let him hold you. To live in the lie.

It might have been half an hour later that you decided to speak.

“Jungkook?” You murmured, voice soft—sad, in a way that he seemed to notice, because he was immediately alert, turning to look at you. Only to be met with your back.

You didn’t turn around, only curled further into yourself.

“Are you okay?” He asked, genuine concern in his voice. Hearing him speak at allmade you want to cry, but you forced the tears away and maintained a steady tone.

“How long?”

“What?”

Finally, you turned around, your expression so sad that Jungkook felt something in him break.

“How long have you been cheating on me?”

You saw three emotions flash through his eyes before he settled on pain. First, you saw shock; his eyes widened in a way that was almost comical—if everything was normal, and nothing was wrong, and it was just any other night with Jungkook, you would have leant over and kissed him. You didn’t, because it wasn’t any other night with Jungkook, and you didn’t want to kiss him anymore.

Then, you saw confusion. His initial shock transformed as his brows furrowed and he frowned, corners of his eyes crinkling. Finally—realisation. Realisation that you knew, that it wasn’t a secret anymore. That he’d hurt you in a way that you wouldn’t be able to heal from—at least, not for a long time.

“Y/N.” His tone was suddenly shaky, a great contrast to the stability of his tone usually. You saw silver line his eyes and it made you bite your lip to hold back your own tears. “I’m—,”

“You don’t deserveto cry, Jungkook,” You snapped, trying desperately to speak clearly even through the pain in your chest, “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, because you certainly didn’t lookit when you were with her at the park and made me wait hoursfor you to come home.”

“You spied on us?”

His words cut through you like ice. Even now, he still cared more about her than you.

us us us us and it wasn’t you and him it was her and it wasn’t you—

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was curl into the covers and let your tears fall. You began to silently sob, the heartbreak slowly taking you apart, piece by piece.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said pathetically, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. You know that I love you, Y/N. You know.”

“I don’t, Jungkook,” You said, your voice so small and broken, “Jungkook, you lied to me. How long?”

He didn’t speak for a long moment. “Five months.”

You didn’t know what to expect, or how to react. All you could do was tell Jungkook to leave—to get out, just go. Once he was gone, you pulled the blanket over your head and cried. You hadn’t cried like this in years; not with so much weight in your chest, so much pain in your throat.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep that night. When you finally did, you dreamt of Jungkook— of the good memories you had with him.

For the last time, you let yourself love him.

The next morning, waking up to an empty bed and soft sunlight streaking through the blinds, you exhaled, and decided to let him go.

#jungkook #jeongguk #jeon #bts #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan imagine #taehyung #namjoon #hoseok #yoongi #jk #jimin #jeon jungkook #idol #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshot #kpop imagine #bts oneshot #breakup #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you

[bowensbyrams]

the canada dream {02}

n/a: hey, guys! Here’s part 2 of TCD, as promised. I’m sorry it took me so long to update, my classes are back and last week was kinda hard, but here we go! Please let me know what you think <3 

Pairing: Pierre-Luc Dubois x reader

Warnings: a little bit of angst at the beginning, mentions of abusive/toxic relationship

Word counting: 2,1k

Ps: part 1 can be found here: https://royaltyofhockeylosers.tumblr.com/post/627737248109133824/the-canada-dream-01 

I realize there's something wrong the moment I find myself opening the door to my old apartment in Boston. As far as I remember, I moved to Montreal and am living with my best friend Anna... Or was it just a dream? I wouldn't be surprised, I've been dreaming on moving to Canada for a while now. I enter the living room and drop my bag on the couch, heading to my room but a noise stops me. No, not a noise. A moan. A woman's moan. I live with my boyfriend, Thomas, and as far as I know, we don't share the apartment with another girl. My heart fasten with every step I take until I'm facing the white door that leads to my room. Our room. "Faster, Tommy" I hear the girl say and my boyfriend groans, making my skin shiver "Yes just like that" "God you're so hot, baby" Thomas' voice is like a fist to my stomach and the tears start rolling down my face. Not again, please. I open the door and the scene in front of me breaks my heart into a million pieces. My boyfriend is buried into a blonde's pussy and keeps thrusting in and out of her as he sees me. "Hello, princess. Do you want to join us?" his smile is almost wicked and I can't move, I can't breath as I watch him fucking her the way he used to make love to me. The tears never stop coming down and my sobbing seems to make him want to go deeper and faster until the girl screams his name.

~~ I sit on my bed, tears running on my cheeks and my heart racing like a horse. My entire body hurts as I'm forced to remember every single scene from that damn day, unable to erase the overwhelming feeling for good. My phone pings and I reach out to check it. When my eyes catch the clock and I realize it's almost 1 p.m, my heart skips a beat. I've never woken up this late, but I guess the adventures from last night and the anxiety of moving to another country to restart my life got the best of me. Unlocking the screen, I check the message app before anything else. There are 2 texts from Tyler and 6 from Logan, so I decide to open the latter thread. L: Hey Y/N, it's Logan L: I'm sorry for last night, I hope Anna is okay L: Tyler said he invited you two to the barbecue, cool! L: Here's the address and don't worry about anything, just bring whatever you guys wanna drink L: We reeeeeally want you to come, Luc is excited to meet you two I smile at the last text which is formed by at least 10 different types of emojis. I reply saying I need to ask Anna if she wants to come and lock the screen again, leaving my bed and going to Anna's room. My best friend is sleeping like a baby, so I decide to go make something for us to eat. When I'm almost done with the spaghetti, Anna appears in the kitchen with a pout on the lips and her brows furrowed. "Good morning, sunshine" I sing and my friend groans, sitting on one of the benches by the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m not feeling sunshiny today. I feel like I’ve been ran over by a truck. Multiple times” “That’s called tequila hungover and I’m not saying I told you so...” “Nah shut up” she shushes me waiving her hand “Can you get me a pill that’ll make this go away?” Anna points at her own head and I hold back a laugh, opening one of the cabinets where she showed me the medicines were. Handing her an Aspirin and a cup of water, I go back to the stove and turn it down, taking the pan to the island. Anna takes the pill and sighs, looking at the food. "Is this a dream?" my best friend asks when I put a plate in front of her and lets out a small moan when she takes the first bite "Honestly, if I had known you could cook like this, I would've invited you to move in with me way earlier" "Oh, don't get to used to it. My cooking knowledge is resumed to spaghetti, lasagna and burgers" "Who said we need more than that to survive?" Anna looks at me with an offended look making me laugh. We're half way through our meal until I decided to tell her about the barbecue. "So Logan and the other boys are hosting a barbecue today and they want us to come. It'll be just us, them, Tyler's girlfriend and that other guy they were telling us about yesterday. You in?" "As long as Logan keeps his alcohol to himself, I see no problem" she replies and I can't hold back my laugh. "Hey you're the one who suggested you guys should see who could get more shots in less time" "I never thought he'd say yes! That guy is crazy!" she snaps back and I laugh even harder. "Okay so we're going?" "Yeah, I guess so..." "Cool, I'll let him know then" * "What's up?" Anna asks as we're getting ready to leave. She's in my room, laying down on my bed as I finish putting some make up on. I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt with a jeans skirt and snickers since the weather gods decided to send a chill night to break the living hell temperatures of the day. Me and An spent the entire day laying on the floor and drinking an absurd amount of water while watching the latest episodes from The 100. "What?" I ask and look at her through the mirror. "You have a worried look on your face. What's wrong?" "Nothing... I just have a weird feeling that I should know something but I don't" I reply and focus on applying my mascara. "You're weird, Y/N. Are all americans like this?" "Hey!" I throw a pillow at her, making her laugh. As I finish everything and grab the beer packs we're taking, we're all settle to go. On our way to go, I open my Instagram and start scrolling through my feed - which is the most diverse thing in the world. It’s the perfect balance of hockey, singers, food, friends and family. I look at some of the posts before heading to the Story part. I slide through a couple until one catches my attention. It’s the same bar I was yesterday and I can see Anna in her white and red dress in the corner. I check the user and my heart skips a beat when I realize who it is. Pierre-Luc Dubois, one of the few hockey players I follow on Instagram. He plays centre for the Columbus Blue Jackets, my ex's home team, and my heart aches a little when a memory gets me. "Hey, I just saw you follow PLD on Instagram" Thomas' voice reaches me before he appears on our room. "Yeah, I've been following him for a while now, Tom" I say and go back folding the clean clothes. "Why?" he asks, making me look at him a little confused. "Why what?" "Why are you following him?" "Why not? He's a hockey player and I like him. What's wrong?" "Oh you like him? What, do you think he's gonna fuck you if you ever meet?" his aggressive tone makes me blush and my heart fasten. "Why are you saying this? I'll never meet him, Thomas, he's like super famous and lives in Ohio" "Exactly, so stop following him. I don't approve it and I don't like the fact that you're following these hockey guys. They're all assholes" my boyfriend says before storming out of our apartment, leaving me to try and understand what the hell just happened. I never stopped following Pierre's profile, but that was never needed since I caught Thomas in bed with another girl just two weeks after his little scene. That was three months ago and now I was living in Montreal with my best friend, trying to rebuild my life after what he did to me. I look at Pierre's story again and can't help the weird feeling that takes over my body. I knew he was French-Canadian, but I definitely did not know he lived in Montreal during the off season. I guess I never took the time to check on any player's personal lives. I mean, expect for Mitch Marner's but that's just because I really wish we were best friends but anyways. "Hey, you're on Pierre-Luc Dubois' Insta Story" I says and Anna almost throws the car out of the road. "I'M WHAT?!" Definitely should've waited until we got to the house. "Yeah, he was at the same bar as we yesterday and posted a photo of the dance floor. You appeared in the corner" "Wait... You're telling me that that fucking greek god was at the same bar as we and none of us saw it? Are you kidding me?" she says and the annoyance in her voice makes me laugh. "Yep, that's what I'm saying. What are the odds?" "I mean, they're high since his parents live here, but still.. We weren't even at the best bar of the city" "Maybe he is low key and was trying to avoid the crowds" "Yeah, probably" she agrees and changes focus. I observe the streets, filled with big houses with even bigger yards. "I guess Pierre is not the only rich who prefers underground bars..." I comment and Anna snorts, looking at the mansions. “Should’ve guessed he had money when you told me the neighborhood we were heading to, but damn” Anna says and all I can do is nod in agreement.

*

I was worried we would be late, but when we get to the house, Tyler and his girlfriend, Kate, are the only ones waiting for us. "Hey, guys" Ty greets us and takes the beer packs from me "Logan went to buy more beer, Jesse backed down and Luc is late as always" he leads the path to the backyard and I have to keep myself from dropping my jaw. The house is huge but the backyard is unbelievable. There's a deck where the grill is, a pool with a pool house and a soccer court. "This is my girlfriend Kate. Kate, these are the girls we told you about, Anna and Y/N" "Hi!" the curly haired and green eyed girl says and we down by her side. A couple of minutes go by and we're all getting along pretty well until Anna looks at her phone and sees that it's dying. "I think i have a charger in the car, I'll be right back" She leaves and only two minutes later my phone pings. A: don't freak out and act normal but i just bumped into logan outside Y/N: so what? A: pierre is with him My eyes go wild and before I can process what I just read, Logan's voice reaches me. “Look who I just found outside!” I look up asking God for Anna to be messing with me, but she's not. Pierre-Luc fucking Dubois is standing between Logan and my best friend, how's acting like there's nothing wrong. I try my best to do the same and I guess it worked since no one is looking at me with funny looks. "Luc, this is Y/N and Y/N, this is Luc" Tyler introduces us and Pierre shakes my hand with a small smile. "Cool, now you two know each other. Can we eat? I'm starving!" Logan says heading to the grill. “We’ve known each other for less than a day and I’ve already noticed that’s a constant mood of yours” Anna snaps back following him with Pierre right after her, leaving me, Kate and Tyler behind. "You look like you just saw a ghost" Tyler says getting my attention. "I'm just thinking why none of you bothered to tell me that your friend looked like that" I snap back, making Kate laugh. I decide not to mention the fact that I'm a hockey fan and know the NHL player that has just walked past us. "Nah, the minute he opens his mouth you'll see he's a dork" Kate says and heads to the area where the rest is. I follow her with Tyler right by my side and asking God to help me out here.

#the canada dream #pierre luc dubois #pld #pld fic #columbus blue jackets #cbj #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey boys #nhl hockey players

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Still Hurts

Pairing: Dean x Reader/Jensen x reader

Warnings: Death (noncharacter), Depression, sadness galore, some fluffy Dean, fluff ending, bible scriptures at the end depends on Faith. I am of Christian faith, and spiritual, and have added 2 scriptures to help with grief.

Summary: The reader is in the world of Supernatural, but things at home are still going on. It makes things hard.

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: My grandma passed away today, of all days Friday the 13th. We knew it was coming, she started going down hill 4 days ago, did good yesterday, was somewhat coherent. But today, she didn’t do good and passed sometime this afternoon. I felt numb pretty much all day, cried off and on. Slowly I’ve come out of the hole to write something mostly for me, but it can be for whoever would need it. Just with the fact, we knew it was coming, makes the pain not any better. Still hurts.

a/n #2: This, this storyline is going to be a little messy but, it’ll be a mix of my Down the Rabbit Hole series and another series that hasn’t even surfaced yet, it’s still in the daydreaming slash brainstorming stages in my brain. But It may be Dean, or it may be Jensen, I haven’t decided yet. Not fully anyway.

~

Still hard to believe, despite being in this mess my phone even works here.

Mom always kept me in the loop, same for Dad, about my grandma. My mom’s mom. I damn near lost myself after my last grandma died. It still hurts now, but not as bad when it’s fresh.

But this, we’ve known it was going to come sooner or later. She wasn’t doing good; she started the early stages of dying a few days ago. Her heart doing weird things. I was waiting for it then.

It never came.

Next day she’s fine. She’s talking, sort of. She’s somewhat awake. She was okay yesterday.

This morning my dad texts me.

‘Grandma’s not doing good today, they’re expecting soon. But I’ll let you know.’

So, while Dean was out, doing a supply run. Sam finding Chuck. Or should I say, Jensen was out on the supply run and Jared was searching for Chuck.

We had just finished up in Alaska, now we’re just trying to keep busy. Slow Chuck down.

I decided to do house chores. Keep busy, keep my mind at bay.

“Jared, I’m gonna do laundry, need anything washed?” I asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, coming out of a haze from searching. “Oh, uh, sure. I have a hamper; it should be ready.” He says. Getting back to searching, waving me off.

I nod.

My Supernatural phone buzzes. It’s Jensen, screen comes up as Dean. Texting me.

‘Need anything from me?” he asks.

‘That time of the month has passed, I’m good. When it gets closer I’ll do it. I don’t want to do that to you.’

‘You can’t plan ahead on what we’ll be doing. Just send me a pic of what you use, I’ll pick you up a few packs.”

‘Um, sure. Hang on.’ I send, as I head to the bathroom. Shooting a picture of my package of pads and sending it to him.

‘Don’t get lost Priestly.’ I send with a smile.

‘Oh, harty har, har, you think you’re so funny. Dee does that all the time to me when I offer her the same thing.’ He texts. Sending a few laughing emojis.

‘Okay, be home soon. I got food for supper if your up for it.’ he sends.

‘Wonder what it could be?’ I text him. Already curious about food.

Since being thrusted into this whole shit show. My ex friend, somehow turned into a mad scientist was able to break the realities. Make dimensions, portals to them. He made Supernatural real somehow. There was a period for 13 seasons the boys blamed me for created it. Because fan fictions, anime shows would be mixed in with the stories. Make their own episodes of them. They hated me, didn’t trust me. Until I couldn’t take it anymore, when we gone through episode Advanced Thanatology, instead of Dean injecting himself. I just yanked the needle out of his hand and killed myself. After that, things got better but it still feels forced. Then again, I could be miss reading it, as always.

But since that day, Jensen’s been strangely nice, Jared…he tries but Jensen’s seeming like he’s forcing himself.

I get the clothes loaded in the washer; I clean the bathrooms. I clean our rooms, make our beds and such. Dust.

Then my other phone vibrates. I’m getting a call. It’s my dad.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” I asked. Knowing deep down in my gut somethings wrong. He never calls, moments in this show when shit hits the fan back home he’d usually text me.

“Grandma passed away just an hour ago. I just got done telling my boss, I’m on my way home. I know you’re still in there with those guys. But, don’t tell them. Chances are they’ll just hurt you. I still don’t trust them.” He says.

“She’s gone.” I said, my chest feeling heavy. My eyes feeling the heavy, hot tears surface.

“Yes, sweetheart she’s gone. She’s no longer suffering.” He says. “That’s all that matters. She’s up there with grandpa, she’s not suffering. We’ve known it was going to happen.” He adds.

“Yeah, but…it hurts.” I said. Sobs are now wanting to break me.

“Y/N, you need to try to hold together until you can get into your room. I would kill to be there to hold you, mom too. But, we can’t. We’re here, dealing with it. But you deal over there, just put yourself back together, come home. In one peace, try not to kill yourself again. I know it hurts. But once your home, we can help you heal too.” He says.

“Thanks dad. I’ll try.” I said.

And I hang up after we said our goodbyes.

Everything’s clean enough. I thought.

I’ll keep doing laundry. It keeps me away from the boys; besides, I have all their clothes. I’ll fold, put away, and then hide and break down. I thought out my plan. That’s what I’ll do.

Point of view switch [3rd person]

Jensen walked in with the groceries, all in each arm, making it in one trip. Jared meeting him in the kitchen.

“So, what’s for supper?” He asked.

“Y/N found this recipe of her mom’s; I want to try it. Grown up Mac and Cheese. I just had to buy the pasta, she got everything else last week.” Jensen explained.

“Sounds yummy, she’s doing the laundry.” Jared said.

“Cool. I’ll give her, her stuff and she can get cooking.” Jensen says.

He makes his way down the winding halls, no sign of her in Jared’s room, but there’s signs she was there. His clothes were neatly folded on his bed.

He checks his room, same deal. Neatly folded clothes on his bed.

He heads to the laundry room, she’s not in there.

“Well, where the hell?” he asks himself. Maybe her room. He thought.

He gets to her door, but stops himself from knocking when he hears crying behind the door.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Hey, Y/N,” he says again with a knock. And slowly opens her door.

“Not now.” She says, her voice shaking from the crying.

“Sweetheart, what’s got you crying?” he asks kindly.

“What do you care, leave me alone.” she cries.

“Y/N –”

“I said get out!” she shouts, throwing a pillow at her door. Making Jensen shut it.

Jensen stood there, baffled by her outburst. And heads to the kitchen.

“Dude, what’d you say to her?” Jensen asks.

“What?” Jared asks. “Nothing, why?” he asks him.

“I went to her room, found her crying. She threw a pillow at me to leave. I don’t know why she’s crying.” Jensen explains.

Jared shrugs. Clearly, he didn’t cause her pain.

Jensen’s personal phone buzzed. It’s his wife.

“Hey baby.” Jensen answers.

“Jay, her little brother just reached out to us. Her grandma passed. She’s hurting. And her parent’s don’t trust you guys. They think you’ll still hurt her.” Danneel explained to her husband.

“Probably after treating their daughter like shit for 13 seasons, driving her to the point to kill herself, I don’t blame them. But, we’re trying. Or I thought we were. Guess we’re not trying hard enough.” Jensen says.

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You just need to keep assuring her. It’s her you’re trying to regain that trust. Just, try again. Either wait for the crying to stop, or just, do something you would do if your sister was hurting. Or your own daughter. Just, I hate seeing her like this Jay, maybe you guys cook that dinner for her.” Danneel says.

“We’ll think of something baby. Love you.” Jensen tells his wife.

“Love you more. Now go cheer our girl up.” She says. Ending the call.

“What’s the plan?” Jared asked.

“Well, the recipe is right there on the island. I guess, start cooking. I’ll go try to piece her back together if I can.” Jensen says.

“Don’t push too hard.” Jared advises.

“I know man.” Jensen says.

He makes it back down to her room. Hearing it’s silent behind the door he knocks.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay in here?” he asks.

“Go away.” She says weakly.

Her light was on, she was curled into a ball in the center of her bed. The pillows surrounding her, minus the one she threw earlier.

“No can do sweetie, my wife and your little brother want us to take care of you. And besides, we hate seeing you hurting.” He says.

“I don’t trust you, now leave.” She says. Her voice cracking.

“Um, something tells me, you really don’t feel that way.” Jensen says. “But it’s okay to protect yourself from anymore harm. Whether it’s physical or emotional. But I promise you, I’m not here to cause any more pain. I’m here to put you back together.” He adds.

He hears her let out a sigh. Defeated. He takes that as his cue to enter fully, and take a place on the edge of her bed. Her head, near his lap.

“Your little brother contacted my wife somehow, told us what happened. Loss is never easy.” He says.

Seeing her face distort again with pain, she starts crying again.

“We knew it was coming.” She sobbed. As she hid her face in her hands. Letting some sobs rack through her, she sits up. Taking a deep breath.

“We,” she starts again, trying to breathe. “We’ve known for a little while. I mean, she’d have good days, bad days. But one day, she…she…” a sob began to surface.

Jensen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm. “Shh, it’s okay.” He says quietly.

“She got worse; her heart started doing something. She was dying, but then the next day she was fine, and she was okay. Same for the day after that. Then today, dad tells me she’s not doing good. And not, two…three hours later, she’s gone.” She explained.

“At least she’s at peace, she’s not suffering anymore. That’s all that matters.” Jensen says, his hand not leaving.

“I know. But just because we’ve known, doesn’t mean it makes the pain that much easier.” She cries.

“I know it doesn’t. It just means you love her. But you have to remember her as she was when you last saw her, remember her at her best. Don’t think about the bad, the depressing stuff that’s happened along the way. Think about the good times you had with her.” Jensen said.

“God, it’s like that episode Cas has with Jack. About appreciating the time we all have together now. And that the pain, is…is because I love them. And the pain is awful, but it’s also living. But…” she began to trail as sobs racked her again.

“Don’t…please, don’t finish that sentence.” Jensen says. Tears of his own surfacing.

He doesn’t like seeing this. People crying over loss, losses so close to home. Especially people he cares about.

“I know it hurts; I can’t imagine how much it hurts right now. But you can’t give up, you can’t stop fighting now. You have to keep going. Do it for her. Do it for you. Take a knee sweetheart, you need to heal. And this kind of pain, it doesn’t have a set day of when it’ll go away. But it does get better. Once your better, let us know. And we’ll get back to hunting again, because the faster we get this done, the faster we get home. But for right now. Our focus is you.” Jensen explains. Giving her a kind smile.

She returns it, forcing it some. She casts her gaze down as some more tears escape.

‘C’mere.” Jensen says, bring her in his arms. Hugging her, holding her tight. Her face in the crook of his neck. It’s only then her walls come tumbling down fully.

“Let it out sweetheart, let that hurt out. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Just cry it out.” He tells her softly in her ear. He can feel her tears hit his neck the longer she cried.

It was a good long while she cried in his arms. He just started rocking her gently in his arms.

“There she is.” He says, seeing her peer up from his shoulder.

He takes his finger, gently wiping a finger across her cheeks, catching any stray tears that fall. “Feeling any better?” he asks.

“Just numb, and drained. Not sure if I can eat now.” She says.

“Well, you haven’t had anything all day. At least try a few bites.” Jensen encourages. She nods. “Atta girl.” He says.

“Knock, knock.” Jared says entering her room with bowls of her mom’s mac and cheese.

“You made this, I thought I was…” she trails.

“You were dealing with your own issues, wanted to help out a bit. Plus, I already tried some. This shits good.” Jared says.

“Is that why you only brought in two bowls?” Jensen asks.

“Yep.” Jared says shamelessly with a big grin.

Jared handed Y/N her bowl, and Jensen his. The smell from the bowl caused her stomach to growl.

“Sounds like your starving, eat up.” Jared says, leaving the room.

“At least try, could always snack on something.” Jensen says.

“I am starving, I’m not numb to that. Just, it’s like my light is gone. I mean, yeah Jared did make me giggle there a few seconds ago. But it’s like…” she trails.

“Need a recharge?” Jensen asks.

“Yeah. I feel so drained. And I’m running on empty. Things that’ll make me laugh is a 50/50 shot now, if I do laugh, it will only feel good for that split moment. Afterwards, I’ll feel shitty again. I don’t want to feel shitty.” She says.

“Then, what do we do? What’s the Winchester way?” Jensen asks with a knowing smirk.

“Always keep fighting.” She says with a tired smile.

“There you go.” He says to her, kissing her forehead. “Now, lets eat, I’m starving.” He says getting up to the kitchen. Y/N following suit.

Joshua 1:9

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.

Matthew 5:4

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

~

Dean/Jensen tags:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 11/13/2020

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #jensen x reader #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #spnfanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfic #supernaturalfanfic #spn fan ficiton #spn fanficiton #spnfanficiton #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernaturalfanfiction #dean x reader fic #jensen x reader fic #dean winchester #jensen ackles #deanxreader #deanxreader fic #deanxreaderfic #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #spn rpf

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 34

Word Count: 2,244

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language ?

Notes: Sorry it’s been a while that I’ve actually updated this. So thank you guys for being patient. I just love this little family that they’ve created and it was fun writing it again. Hopefully it won’t be as long as a wait for another update. Hugs!

Nervous Regrets Masterlist

Jackie and the girls showed up two days before Tyler had to leave for his road trip, and between the four of them, someone was always holding Jace. Thankfully, you always had designated time, as you were Jace’s source of food. Though you did start pumping so that Tyler would be able to feed him every now and then.

You really weren’t surprised that Tyler had to beg Jackie to go to his game on the last night he was home. She seemed to want to soak up anytime she would get with her grandson. She’d even tried to say that you probably needed help and that she shouldn’t be away for that long. It was really adorable, but in the end, her son’s puppy dog eyes won out. By the time they got home, Jace was fast asleep. Jackie and the girls headed off to bed, while Tyler insisted he get some time with his son.

“Babe, I’m going to be gone for a week. He’s not even going to remember me.” Tyler whined as he laid in bed holding his son.

“He’ll remember you. Besides, we’ll facetime two or three times a day for you to see him.”

“But I’m going to miss his first doctor’s appointment, and what if he does something cute, like roll over or crawl.”

“Ty, he’s not even a week old yet. He won’t be doing either of those things for a while yet, and I will call you the minute we leave the doctor’s office and tell you what she says.”

He kissed Jace’s little head, before saying, “It’s not the same babe. I just….” He blew out a breath. “I’m just going to miss him…and you so much.”

Reaching over, you gathered your boys in your arms as best you could. “I know you will Ty, and we’re going to miss you as well. But when you come home, you’ll be here for like ten days straight. This is the longest road trip you have left this season. Once you make it through this it’ll all be downhill from there.”

“I know you’re right. I just wish I could take you both with me.”

You smiled, for you would love to go with him as well. “Jace, can’t even fly yet babe, or we’d go with you.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be allowed once playoffs roll around.”

“I actually talked to the doctor about that already, before Jace was born. She felt as long as Jace was healthy there would be no problem for him to fly. She only advised washing my hands and Jace’s things frequently when we do fly.”

“Well, I’ll get a private plane, so he doesn’t have to be around a bunch of people.” Tyler’s voice sounded excited at the prospect of you and Jace flying out to be with him.  

“Slow down a little, Ty. We still have a ways to go.”

“I know babe. I just want to be with him every second that I can.” You leaned over and kissed him then. You could sympathize with Tyler, there was no way you would want to be parted from your baby boy, especially right now.

“Speaking of that, I have a bottle in the fridge by the coffee bar, if you want to feed him tonight. It will just need heated, but if you want to get some sleep; I can feed him as well.” You were just trying to give him as much time with Jace as possible.

“No, I’ll feed him. I’d love to, though I do like watching you do it.” He said with a little wiggle to his brow, to which you just shook your head at him. He leaned in close and pecked your lips before saying, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed these getting bigger.” He pointedly looked at your breasts. “I know it’s way too soon, but you know I still find you sexy as hell babe, maybe even more so.”

You kissed him back, a little more passionately this time. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I mean it, babe. Like as soon as you get the all-clear, I want to start trying for a brother or sister for this one.”

“Woah, hold up there slugger. Let’s just enjoy this guy for a bit, first.”

“You’re right. I just love him so much (Y/N). I never thought I could feel this way.” Jace chose that moment to wake up, and start crying. “Aww bud, it’s ok. Daddy's got you.” Tyler bounced him up and down in his arms. It wasn’t long before Jace settled back down, though he still whimpered from time to time. “What’s wrong little guy? You hungry?”

“I’ll go warm up his bottle.” You were back in a few minutes, handing off Jace’s late-night snack to Tyler. Jace took his bottle like a champ, and it wasn’t long before you were settling him back down so you all could sleep. One feeding and two diaper changes later, Tyler was getting up and getting ready to head out to the airport. It was incredibly hard for him, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying as you saw tears form in Tyler’s eyes. “Facetime me when you get there.”

“I will babe.” He kissed you hard on the lips then, before backing away and kissing Jace. “Bye bud, Daddy will be home soon. Don’t forget me while I’m gone.” Jace started to cry. You knew he wasn’t hungry or needed changed and probably just sensed that something was wrong with Tyler. “I know bud, Daddy doesn’t want to go either.” A tear ran down Tyler’s cheek and you brushed it away with your free hand.

“Go Ty, or you’re going to be late. We love you.” A few more tears slipped out of both you and Tyler.

“I love you guys too.” He kissed both of you again, then slid in the car and pulled out the driveway. You watched him leave, tears freely flowing now, and Jace still crying. The moment you walked back inside Jackie was there to envelope you in a hug, where you just sobbed.

“I don’t know why I’m crying. He’s the one that had to leave Jace, not me.” You said a couple minutes later.

“Here let me take him for a moment.” You handed the baby over to her. “Sweetie, your emotions are still high after just having this little guy. It’s only natural that you’re going to be upset. Tyler will be fine, as soon as he gets back in his routine, and before you know it, he’ll be back home and driving you crazy.”

You sniffed loudly. “I know. Thank you for being here.”

She kissed your forehead and continued to rock Jace back and forth in her arms until he quieted. “Anytime sweetheart.” You were so thankful that Jackie stayed a couple extra days with you. She helped you get Jace to the doctor’s where he lost a little bit of weight, but the doctor wasn’t concerned since he was eating pretty regularly. She felt that he’d be gaining weight within the next week or so. She wanted to see Jace in three weeks, but you were to call if you need anything in the meantime.

A couple days later, Jackie and the girls headed home. You were sad to see them go but also enjoyed the time with just you and Jace. It seemed like she no sooner left than your phone was ringing. “Hey babe,” Tyler exclaimed as you answered the FaceTime. “How’s everything going today?”

“We’re good Ty, just got your mom and sisters off to the airport. How’s LA?”

“It sucks.” He literally had said that about Chicago and Vegas when you asked him as well. “I just want to be home with you and my lil man. Where is he by the way?”

Jace was up on the kitchen counter, in his mamaroo seat watching you make lunch. “He’s right here,” and you switched the phone over so Tyler could see his baby.

“Hey Jace, it’s daddy. What are you doing? Are you being a big boy watching mama?” Jace made little cooing noises at his dad. “Yeah, tell me a story. What are you and mama gonna do today?” There were a few more gurgles from the baby. “Oh yeah.” You listened to the two of them and it made your heart swell. It went on for a few more minutes before Tyler turned his attention back to you. “So, how are you feeling? Are you sure my mom should’ve left? She would’ve stayed if you needed her.”

“I know she would’ve, but she has a life too Ty. I’m feeling much better and moving much better. I’m sure Jace and I will be good for the next three days until you get home.” He frowned at you over the phone. “What?”

“I just wish I could come home now.”

“Just seventy-two hours and you will be babe.” The conversation went on for a while the two of you talking about nothing important just enjoying each other’s company. It was later on that night that you saw Tyler had posted the pic you’d taken of him and Jace in the hospital. It was the one where Jace was laying on his bare chest as they got skin to skin time. He had a simple caption on the bottom that read, ‘Missing my lil man and times like these.’ It made your heart melt because you knew how much Tyler missed both you and Jace. This was the first time either you or Tyler had posted Jace on social media. You had made an IG account for your son which was private and just for family and friends, and of course, you posted on there daily; but never on your public accounts. You quickly commented saying, ‘We miss you too Daddy. Can’t wait until your home.’ You topped it off with a bunch of heart emojis.

Hours later, after you watched the Stars win in overtime, and Tyler score; you were scrolling through your IG while you fed Jace and waited for Tyler to call when you saw all the comments.

Most were sweet, saying how adorable Jace was, but there were some that just made your skin crawl. Ones that said, ‘I knew she baby trapped him,’ ‘Sorry you’re stuck with that woman and a baby now,’ ‘I noticed how didn’t comment that you missed his mom, I wouldn’t either.’ They only got worse from there. You knew that they shouldn’t bother you, yet they did. As much as you tried to tell yourself, they were just fangirls; it still took an emotional toll on you.

You were just about to put the phone down when it rang, Tyler’s face popping up on the screen. “Hey babe, did you see the game? I scored one…wait what’s wrong? Is Jace ok?”

You took a deep breath before answering. “Jace is fine and yes we watched the game. Nice goal babe.”

“Baby, I don’t give a shit about that. What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing, Ty. I swear.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re practically crying.” All you wanted was for him to wrap you up in his arms at that moment.

“I just read some of the comments, and they got to me. I know I shouldn’t let them. I’m just still an emotional wreck.”

“What comments?”

“On the pic, you posted of you and Jace.”

“Hold on, I can’t look at them while we’re on FaceTime. I’ll call you right back.” It wasn’t more than five minutes later and the phone was ringing again. “I’m sorry angel. Please don’t let those people get to you. I shut the comments off, but I’ll take the picture down if you want. I should’ve asked you before I posted it.”

“No, it’s fine. If you want to post Jace, you should. He’s your son too.”

“I know, but still. You know those comments are shit right?” You nodded. “I love you more than anything baby.”

“I know, Ty.” You hesitated for a moment, as you’d been down this road before, but you still had to ask. “You don’t feel like I trapped you; do you?”

“What? Fuck no babe.” He ran his fingers threw his hair. “You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant at first, and I practically had to beg you to get you back.” He paused for a second then added. “Well, I did beg. You and Jace are my world baby, don’t let some idiot question that.”

He was right of course. “I love you, Ty.”

“I love you too (Y/N). I wish I could hold you right now, so you knew how much.”

“Me too,” you sighed out wistfully.

“I’ll be home soon baby. Now tell me what you and baby Jace did today?”

You proceeded to tell Tyler all about your day. Which seemed actually boring to you, but he wanted every little detail, by the end you’d forgotten about the whole IG incident. Over the next two days, you talked to Tyler at least ten times. So you were shocked when you saw a notification pop up on your phone. It was DM from someone you didn’t know. You opened it up and there was a picture of Tyler and some women you didn’t know. The message simply said, ‘thought you should know your baby daddy is cheating on you.’

#Nervous Regrets Series #nervous regrets #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

[haloshornsinkstains]

Demons in My Head [Obey Me]

This is purely self indulgent comfort, I’m not remotely sorry. Featuring mainly Belphegor because apparently my comfort characters also like to try kill my MC. Also featuring my MC Kore.

CW: Mentions of Depression, Self Harm & ED behaviours. Nothing in depth really but be safe. Female OC. Lucifer is a bit of an ass in this, sorry Luci stans?

Belphie woke from his nap to find a second body under the covers with him, pressed up against the warmth of his own. It’s not the first time this has happened. It’s usually Kore, but sometimes Beel finds him in the attic and curls up under the covers with him, clearly not quite over the months they spent separated when he was kept up here against his will. It’s Kore this time, her shorter figure pressed against his chest, and really the fact he’d woken with a little spoon had given it away before he opened his eyes. But she seems smaller than usual somehow, curled up into herself in a way she isn’t usually. It worries him, and as he shifts up onto one elbow (carefully, so as not to wake her) he spots faded tear tracks on her cheeks. It sends a pang of anger through him, ugly and dark, wanting to lash out at whoever hurt her. Her face shifts, brows pulling together to form small wrinkles above her nose. She huffs and he sees her eyes cracking open ever so slightly before apparently she thinks better of it, burying her face in a pillow. Belphie sighed, gently wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her into him, away from the pillows. “You’ve been crying.” Kore, eyes still firmly shut, shook her head. “You’re a terrible liar Kore. Unless you’re wearing eyeliner on your cheeks too now.” He grumbled, swatting her with his tail until she cracked her eyes open to look at him. “Who upset you?” She just shook her head again, burying her face in his chest. “Just sad.” Belphegor sighed, holding her tight against him as they started to drift off again, promising himself he would find whoever upset her and deal with them.

The Demon Brothers (New) (7) Belphegor: Alright, which one of you upset Kore? Asmodeus: Mammon? Mammon: What? Why’d you always blame me? Mammon: I was out all day. Can’t have been me. Asmodeus: You didn’t forget you had plans with her again did you? Mammon: Hey! Mammon: [angry demon emoji] Belphegor: So, not Mammon. Mammon: That’s what I said! Asmodeus: I’m fairly certain only you, Kore and Levi are in the house right now. Leviathan: I haven’t left my room all day.

Well shit, that was bad. It meant whatever had upset her wasn’t something external, which meant this wasn’t a problem he could easily fix.

Belphegor: And no one forgot a date or anything? Satan: Kore was supposed to attend the new cat cafe in town with me, but she told me she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to stay home. I presume that wasn’t entirely true? Belphegor: She doesn’t seem unwell. Just sad. Belphegor: I woke up from a nap and she was next to me with tear tracks down her face. She wouldn’t tell me who or what upset her though.Just that she was sad. Satan: Are you sure she didn’t just watch something sad? She was crying with Levi and Mammon over one of Levi’s animated films last week. Belphegor: She would have told me. Asmodeus: Come to think of it she has been acting strange lately. Asmodeus: I went down to the kitchen last night to get one of my face masks out of the fridge and she was just stood there eating Mammon: That’s not weird? Asmodeus: No. She was eating like Beel Mammon: Huh? Mammon: [confused demon emoji] Asmodeus: She was inhaling food like she couldn’t taste it.  Leviathan: Wait. Was that the night I heard someone throwing up? Beelzebub: I smelled blood on her the other day. Lucifer: Then it sounds like we have a problem.

Belphie swore under his breath. Saying they had a problem was a massive understatement, but then again none of them could see the way she was curled in on herself, or the dark circles and running makeup under her eyes. She looked like hell, and his worrying increased tenfold. She shifted restlessly in her sleep and sighing he pulled her closer again, gently pressing kisses against her head until she relaxed in his grip. Belphie hummed, resting his face against her shoulder and dozing off again.

He didn’t wake up again until Beel came to get them for dinner, the way his twins expression drooped on seeing the state of their human didn’t go unnoticed, though he managed to school it back into a smile as Kore opened her eyes and the corners of her lips quirked upwards in response. “Was I asleep long?” Her hand scrubs along her cheek as if trying to rub away some of the mascara tracked there, and her lethargy along with it. “Doesn’t really matter.” Belphie huffs in reply, looping an arm through hers and tugging her up. “We should get down there before Luci complains.” Normally she would make a joke, or protest about leaving the comfort of their small nest, but instead she nods slowly and follows him. Her footsteps are sluggish, slow in a way that suggests she’s dragging her feet though she doesn’t seem to be doing anything of the sort. She winces when she accidentally bumps a thigh against the door, a sharp hiss of breath through her teeth that she tries to pretend didn’t happen. He wants to ask, but the expression on her face makes him snap his mouth shut. There’s something empty in her eyes that gnaws at his insides horribly, and for the first time since they reconciled he almost regrets allowing himself to care so deeply for this little human. It was easier when he hated the lot of them, when he didn’t need to worry. He spent so long worrying about Lillith and Beel, he doesn’t need another worry to add to the pile. Yet here he was, worried about his human and the way she moved too slow, the way she hissed at anything coming into contact with her thighs, the tear tracks down her face and apparent late night snacking habit. Softly he guides her to her seat, watching like a hawk as she starts to eat, only glancing up to register the worried expressions on the faces of his family. Even Mammon, dense though he usually is, can see something is terribly wrong with their human, and they are all kicking themselves for not seeing it sooner. “Kore, sweetie, did you see Mammon made the cover of Devil Style again?” Asmo asks gently, clearly hoping to spark some excitement in her. Kore nods, blank and quiet. The silence is deafening, the absence of excitement feels so very wrong. Last time Mammon had a modelling gig she had sprinted through the house, locking herself in her room with a copy of the magazine and Mammon shouting through her door. The lack of reaction is somehow worse than the tears earlier, as if something had slipped out of her while she cried in her sleep, though her soul is still there burning brightly beneath her skin. He’d checked, of course, that nothing had managed to steal her soul away. “Kore. We need to talk.” Her head snapped up at that, eyes wide and panicked as she stared down the table at Lucifer. Belphegor felt a growl rise in his throat. “You need to snap out of whatever this is. You are disrupting the house.” Kore dropped her head as the table erupted in noise, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. Within seconds Belphie had an arm wrapped around her, scooping her out of her chair and guiding her towards the room he shared with Beel. And if he threw a rude gesture in Lucifer’s direction as he left, well everyone was too busy shouting to notice.

Before long they are in the twins room, Kore wrapped tightly in Belphie’s blankets. He considers it a small mercy that she manages to hold herself together until he closes the door. The sound of her sobs is so loud and so pained it hurts him to hear and he knows the chaos in the dining room would only increase tenfold if the rest of them had caught wind of this. In hindsight maybe he should have brought Beel with him, his twin was much better at comfort and Beel’s hugs were undisputedly the best in the house. But his twin wasn’t here and she looked so small and broken huddled in his blanket and sobbing. Sighing he pulled her against his chest, resting his chin on top of her head and gently rubbing her back. “Kore.... you have to tell us what’s wrong so we can help. You know that right?” Under him he hears her sniffle, shifting slightly to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m just so sad. And… and…” she takes a long shuddering breath, desperately trying to hold back tears as Belphie squeezes her a little tighter “...he’s right isn’t he? I just… I-I- I cause trouble for you. I d-don’t deserve you guys.” A small growl rumbled in his chest, pressing her so tightly into him he could feel her heartbeat. “Lucifer is an idiot. We don’t deserve you, not the other way around.” “B-but, I get like this and I don’t know why and I-I…” “Shh.” Belphie clamped a hand over her mouth. “Lucifer is an idiot and I’m going to spike all of his food with hellfire chillies for a week. No, a month.”  He felt her chuckle against his hand at that, it was half-hearted at best but at least it was better than the lifelessness and the tears. “Now listen, I don’t want to have to say this again. We don’t deserve you, you’ve done more for us in a year than we managed to do for each other in centuries… you control Mammon better than Lucifer ever has, you get Levi to leave his room voluntarily, you calmed down Satan of all demons, and you never gave up on me even when I… Look, it doesn’t matter if you don’t know why you’re sad. Just tell us. We can help.” ‘I can’t lose you, we can’t lose you. Not like Lilith.’ Kore doesn’t say anything at first, but she leans back into his body properly and closes her eyes. Finally she whispers a sorry. Belphie huffs, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. The shouting from the dining room bleeds through the walls and he feels her flinch, growling into her skin.  “Let’s go to the attic.”

Leviathan (1) Belphegor: Grab Mammon and one of your shows that makes Kore laugh and meet me in the Attic. Leviathan: But, what show should I pick?  Leviathan: I have loads that make her laugh Belphegor: I don’t know, whatever you were watching the other week when she laughed so hard she choked? Leviathan: Do I have to bring Mammon? Belphegor: I’d rather not but yes. The idiot cheers her up.

By the time Levi and Mammon arrive Belphie has Kore bundled up in blankets in the middle of a pile of pillows, her body cradled against his. Mammon, ever the dramatic one, practically flung himself across the room to hug her, littering her face with kisses. If it wasn’t for the fond look in her eyes Belphie might have complained. “I was worried about ya! Can’t have my human being sad, it just aint right!” He whined, flopping down in her lap. Kore yelped, flinching away from the contact. Frowning Mammon tugged the blanket away, staring wide-eyed at the fresh bandage on her leg. His face dropped, and Belphie could swear he saw tears forming in his eyes as Kore tugged the blanket back over her lap. “You can still lie there, just be careful.” She hummed, patting her other thigh.  Slowly, as if she’d suddenly turned into thin ice, Mamon settled himself on the ground, propping his head on her un-bandaged thigh and humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I brought something for us to watch.” Levi hummed quietly, setting up the show on the small TV up there. “What are we watching senpai?” For all that Levi went bright red, her attempt at teasing sounded hollow and he whirled on her glaring. “S-stop pretending to be okay w-when you're not!” Kore blinked at him a few times before nodding. “Sorry.” “I brought the Devilball show. Um, “We’re Going To Defeat Everyone in Devilball and Maybe Learn Teamwork Along The Way”, that one.” This time Kore’s smile was wider, more genuine. “Oh! Thank you!” “A-and, I promise not to get too jealous when- when you drool over the characters this time.” Kore went a shade of red even Levi barely reached as the two demons on either side of her snickered. But despite the gentle hint of mockery their smiles and their warmth was genuine, Levi rolled his eyes (her one real companion in understanding the love for 2-Dimensional fictional characters) and settled down with them as soon as the show started, the three demons caging their human between them and their warmth. For the first time in a while Kore felt like she could breathe again, she felt safe. 

#my writing #Kore's Adventures in Devildom #Obey Me #Belphegor #Leviathan #Mammon #F!OC #Belphegor x F!OC #comfort writing #vent fic #pure self indulgence I am not even a little sorry #halo.writes

[cautious-creation]

Adjusting to the 2000's-Steve Rogers

Fandom & Character: Marvel (MCU); Captain America/Steve Rogers (Chris Evans). Mentioned: Col. Nick Fury (Samuel L Jackson), Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan)

Pairing(s): Captain America/Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) x 2nd person female y/n

Word/page count: 2500+ words

CW/TW: cringe...so much cringe, unrealistic interactions, ignoring canon timelines, tickle fights, coming on too strong, ...I’m sorry

Summary: “You are a S.H.E.I.L.D agent assigned to help Captain Steve Rogers to adjust to modern day society and technologies. Steve had only just woken up in S.H.E.I.L.D's fake hospital and been chased into the center of New York by the organization, you being previously selected to be his P.A. and housekeeper.”

Author’s note: I hate this, I hate this so much. I wrote this when I was about 15 and it’s...just so bad. (It’s even got emojis as scene dividers) But here it is anyway, unedited aside from auto corrected spelling errors.  Enjoy the cringe. 😅 👍

You held out your hand in greeting. "Y/n y/l/n, Captain Rogers. I'll be helping you adjust to the 21st century." He looked at you, a small smile of appreciation gracing his gorgeous face. He shook your hand. "A pleasure agent y/l/n. I'm glad there's someone to help me with all...." He looked around at the S.H.I.E.L.D vehicles surrounding him and the Big Apple's high rising buildings. "....this." He looked back at you sheepishly, embarrassed of his inability to find a better term. "Yes. I ought to get you to where you'll be staying for the meantime." You put your hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the centre of the road and prompting him to tear his gaze away from the city surrounding him. "I'll be staying with you in one of S.H.I.E.L.D's residencies until you've been deemed fit to live alone." You continued as he followed you to one of the vehicles blocking the rush hour traffic in order to help the newly thawed Captain. You'd been driving for a while before he finally started talking. "So, I've been sleeping for seventy years, we won the war and this... Nick, character has assigned you to help me figure out the rest. Right?" You looked at him. "Yup, you seem to catch on quickly. I guess I won't have a problem getting you up to speed." He chuckled; a beautiful sound you'd be hearing a lot of, as it turns out, in the time you'd be helping him. "Let's hope so, I never was the best student." He smiled at you. "I suppose we'll have to see how well your teacher explains modern politics. Something I'm only aware of because my job requires it." You shrugged. He shook his head laughing. 😊😚😊😚 "Well, welcome home Captain." You opened the door to the medium sized apartment decorated in typical 40's fashion. "Wow. Indoor decorating hasn't changed very much." He stepped in, admiring all the detail used to help make him feel at home. "Oh it has. We just decided it'd be better to have a home that looked familiar, so you have a place of comfort in this new and strange world." You set down the keys and your hand bag on the kitchen table before slipping your feet out of your three inch black pumps and sliding them under one of the chairs around the table. "So." You turned around to see Steve still admiring the open plan kitchen and lounge. "Tour?" 🙂🤔🙂🤔 "...and this is your bedroom. We got some of the clothing essentials for you, but I've been given a budget for when you want to buy something more to your taste." He held a teal shirt that was two sizes too small against himself. His gaze went from the shirt to you and back to the shirt. You laughed. "Which I can see will be happening sooner than my colleagues who bought that expected." He turned the shirt around and looked at it from an arm's length. "You think?" He teased. "No, no no no. You're supposed to say 'ya think'. It sounds more sassy." You put your one hand on your hip and snapped a 'z' in the air with the other. Now that is sass. You both laughed on the way to the kitchen. "As far as I can remember, there's a pre made meal for tonight and then I'll need to figure out what I'm cooking from tomorrow onward." You rummaged through the fully stocked fridge. "I could cook if you'd like." Steve offered concern in his voice. "No need, I've been cooking supper for myself almost everyday for three years. Now where is that darn... Ha! Found you!" You pulled a cling-filmed dish of honey mustard chicken fillets with fluffy white rice out of the fridge. "That looks delicious, I've only just realised how hungry I am." Steve said, marvelling at his first taste of proper unrationed food in who knows how long. "Mhhmhh, sure does. It'll take a few minutes to reheat though. I saw a bag of apples in there if you're that hungry." You responded  unwrapping your supper and putting it in the microwave. "No, I'd like my first meal after the war to be a proper, unspoiled one." You chuckled at his adorable mock determined face. "Okay. You're the one with abs of steel. I'm not going to argue with those." You poked him in the abdomen. He leapt back releasing a Yelp like giggle. "Wait, are you ticklish? Is Captain freaking America freaking ticklish?!" Another jab to the stomach proved the unthinkable. That's such a compromising weakness! "Are you?" He asked eyebrows raised playfully. "No no no no no no no no hahahahaha....." He jabbed you in the ribs, unleashing a litter of kitten giggles from your petite frame. And so the tickle fight began. You were the first to end up on the floor, pulling the super soldier down next to you on the lounge carpet. You two were rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter, you trying to stop his jabs to your stomach and ribs, and him crying from laughing so much at your kitten giggles and walrus cackles. "Ok...ok....ok..I give up." You panted. "You win, Rogers." You were both trying to stop laughing and catch your breath when the timer on the microwave went off. You managed to stand, eventually. "Alright, that's enough for now. I thought you said you were hungry?" You held out your hand to help him up. "Hungry? Please, I'm starving!" He grabbed your hand and pulled himself up. You chuckled. "Then lets EAT!" You grabbed a towel off the stove top to get the hot food from the microwave. He snatched the towel straight out your hands and stuck his tongue out at you as he proceeded to try and fail to open the microwave door. You laughed and pressed the, clearly labelled, open door button. He responded with a 'hmf', a pout and stuck his nose in the air as he used the towel to take the steaming hot food out of the microwave. "Oh, well done Captain Rogers. You've successfully taken a dish of food out of the microwave and placed it on the counter top. Well done." You proceed to slow clap sarcastically as he did jazz hands and bowed; but what happened next, you did not expect at all. He threw his hands in the air before bringing them down to wrap around you and lift you off the ground in an, almost bone crushing, hug. He spun around the kitchen, still holding you with your arms pinned to your sides. "Ok...um...you're excited." Your voice was filled with shock. What the hell was he doing? He put you down and continued to look in cupboards and draws for cutlery and crockery, acting as if nothing had happened. "Okaaayy? I'm now very confused." You looked at him sceptically. "Now why would the extremely intelligent agent y/n y//l/n be confused." He looked at you, innocence plastered all over his face. You shook your head in mock disappointment. He chuckled as you helped him dish up your first meal together. 😧🙄😧🙄 "I've got a few paperwork assignments I need to get done in the next few weeks. They should keep me busy while you're reading up on what you've missed. Speaking of which..." He looked up at you from his plate that he'd been silently staring at for a while. "Would you prefer for me to catch you up from after you crashed to the present or from now back to when you started your nap?" You asked teasing slightly. "Um...then to now, that way, if anything comes up you don't have to keep going back to the present to add on what's happened." He gave you a small, distracted smile. You nodded, understanding his distanced mind. You ate the last forkful of rice on your plate. "Right, I'm going to shower. You can put your plate next to the sink with mine when you're done. And...um...yeah. See you in a bit." You stood from your place at the kitchen table, picking up your empty plate and pushing in your chair. 😕🍴😕🍴 "...say what you wanna say, na na na na na na, honestly, I wanna see you be brave..." You sang softly to yourself as you walked into your bedroom to get changed into your pajamas. "...with what you wanna say, and let the words fall out, honestly I wanna see you be brave, I just wanna see you, I just wanna see you, I just wanna see you, I wanna see you be brave." There was a knock on your door. "Y/n? I'd like to ask you something. Are you decent?" It was Steve's voice, shy and vulnerable. "Just give me a sec." You slipped on your track pants and sweatshirt. "Ok, done." He slowly opened the door, his face was full of confusion. "What's wrong?" You sat on your bed looking at his sad expression. He sat next to you, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. You put your hand on his back comfortingly. "I....um,....I'm just trying to get my head around all this...all my friends are gone...everywhere I used to go out is either closed down and refurbished or nonexistent...my childhood home is gone and different...everything is so different." He sighed. You started rubbing his back. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sure some of your friends are still around, and you'll be surprised how long some of the Brooklyn restaurants have been open for. I'm here to help you through this. WE can do this. It's going to be fine, trust me." You rest your head on his shoulder comfortingly, giving him a sideways hug. And that's when the tears started to fall. You heard his muffled sobs, which caused your own tears to appear silently. "It's okay. It will be alright. We'll get through this, Steve. We can do this....you can do this." He turned towards you, eyes red, tears staining his cheeks. "I...I just." He sighed and tears started falling again. You pulled him into a comforting hug, rubbing his back up and down, whispering encouragement. He wrapped his massive arms around your small waist and dug his face into the crook of your neck. "I'm scared y/n." He confessed in a small whisper. "I know, so am I. But we can and are going to get through this...together. Okay? You're not alone. I'm right here." You answered honestly. You stayed there in each other's arms for a while as the tears slowly stopped falling. "Y/n?" Steve shifted his head off your shoulder slightly. "Yes?" He lifted his head, turning to face you, his eyes looking down. You put your hand on his cheek and gently wiped his tears. His gaze found yours. "You...um. You said you were scared." He looked at you for confirmation. You nodded. "Why? What are you scared of?" You left his gaze sighing and sliding your hands into your crossed legs. He put his hands on your shoulders. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He apologised. A sad smile crossed your face. "Being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D puts my life at risk. I have information about people who aren't particularly fond of my superiors. I recently blew one of my covers. They're sure to be after me soon if not already." You looked into his sympathetic eyes. "But that's not what I'm scared of, I'm scared of who they'll send after me. I could easily take on one of their assassins or gunman. But there's a rumour, a legend if you will, of a highly trained, physically and mentally enhanced, ruthless, master killing machine. He's been around for decades and is still as young as he was when he started. He has no emotion, no soul, no past, no family, not even a name. He's referred to as the Winter Soldier by the few in the intelligence community who believe he exists. He's a ghost, everything I've told you, that's all S.H.I.E.L.D knows about him; and we have some of the best hackers and infiltrators in the world." You shivered at the thought. "Enhanced." He muttered. "Is that all you got from what I just said?" You chuckled. "Does S.H.I.E.L.D know about any Hydra scientists taking in people to experiment on?" He asked, fiery determination in his eyes. "I'm sure there are plenty of human enhancement files in the Hydra filing cabinet, but that's not our immediate concern. You just worry about catching up. I'm sure I can figure the rest out myself. I am a secret agent after all." He chuckled. "True, if ever you need help sifting through those documents....let me know." He looked at you, he wanted confirmation that if anything happened you wouldn't hesitate to ask for his help. You nodded. "Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate your concern. It's not often someone is willing to help me. You know, before I've saved their lives, and them mine, a few times." He pulled you into a nice warm hug. You hugged him back, finding comfort in his arms. You wrapped your arms around him, wishing the moment wouldn't end. He slowly pulled back only to cup your face with his hands and wipe away tears you didn't realise you'd shed. You sat there, eyes locked, emotions stirring, so close, but something preventing either of you from making the obvious next move. He glanced at your lips. You smiled, cocking your head to the side slightly and leaning back to stand up. You didn't know what made you do that, but you felt it was the right thing to do, given the fact that both of you were swimming in a pool of mixed and confusing emotions. "Coffee?" You offered. He nodded with a smile. 😪😙😪😙 "But...how?" He stared at the coffee machine. You put your hands in the air wiggling your fingers. "Magic." You said mysteriously. You both laughed, heading to the table coffee in hand. "So, what's the first thing you'd like me to teach you about?" You sat down, sipping the cappuccino in your hands. "Well, at some point, how on earth that thing works..." He pointed to the coffee machine, you scoffed smiling. "But for now I think we should start with the basic, everyday things. Like that, and this, and definitely that." He pointed at the microwave, your phone and the tv respectively. "Okay, well this you won't be using until yours arrives from S.H.E.I.L.D, that I'll show you how to use when next we need to heat food, and that...c'mon." You headed to the couch, grabbing the remote from it's place atop the TV cabinet. "Okay, this red button with the circle and the line, that turns it on." It turned on showing the news channel at an eardrum bursting volume. "This controls the volume!" You shouted over the reporter's bored voice. Once the sound was at a tolerable level you looked at Steve. "Well, that was interesting." You giggled. "This changes the channel. We've got about two hundred to chose from. So, hopefully you won't run out of stuff to watch." You were flipping through channels when you came across some really old footage shot during the Second World War. "History channel. Wanna check if these people even bothered to do their research properly?" You asked. He shrugged. "Might as well. You never know, they might even play one of my videos." You both chuckled and got comfy, this looked like it'd be a long documentary. 🎞📺🎞📺 😂😍😝😘😂😍😝😘😂😍😝😘😂😍😝😘

#fanfiction #fanfic #Marvel #MCU #Avengers #Captain America #Steve Rogers

[neocityarchive]

a lover’s dictionary | n.y.t.

— words from A to Z loosely defined from a lover’s perspective

genre: fluff, angst, poetic

pairing: yuta x y/n

word count: 1.7k +

warnings: bit of suggestive smut

definition guide

a/n: i wrote this on a whim. i wanted to try different writing formats so i really hope u guys like this one 🥺

inspired by david levithan’s “the lover’s dictionary”

Alexithymia (n.)

— Yuta was scared to admit to himself he was already falling in love. But as he watched you laugh a little too hard at his bad impression of Mark, the crazy, out-of-hand beating of his heart left those three words hanging on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

Babble (v.)

— As much as the whole group chat loves to see Yuta this happy for the first time, they couldn’t help but mute their notifications after he flooded the chat with keyboard smashes and random heart emojis after he got home from your first date.

Cafuné (Portugese) (v.)

— The strands of his hair lightly tickled the spaces between your fingers as you tugged on them gently. Yuta smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hands desperately trying to get rid of your ponytail and every other article of your clothing.

Debunk (v.)

— Your friends didn’t trust Yuta at first. They seemed to believe he will be just like everyone else who dated you before him: gone when they’ve taken what they could.

“Did you believe them then?” he asked when you told him about it.

You couldn’t answer. You just shrugged. Part of you used to be worried they were right. But Yuta didn’t need your words to know what you think.

“Do you still believe them?” He looked at you, barely masking his hurt expression.

You shook your head immediately. “You’ve proved them wrong every step of the way.”

Eccedentesiast (n.)

— “Hyung,” Doyoung said, surprised when he opened the door to see Yuta on a Sunday morning. Everyone knows his Sunday mornings are for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. Can I crash here?” He entered Doyoung’s apartment without waiting for his permission. “I’ve been up all night.”

“Sure, but are you okay?” the younger asked.

“Of course.” Yuta smiled but his chest felt like it was being ripped apart at the seams. His head was pounding from the headache of having drank a few bottles too many last night. He never liked being in a fight, especially with you. It rarely happens, but it always makes him question everything about himself.

Fika (Swedish) (n.)

— After a long and hectic week, you and Yuta decided to just stay at home and cuddle all day. At 4 PM after watching all the movies on your watch later list, he proceeds to pepper you with soft kisses, muttering I love yous in between your giggles.

Guffaw (v.)

— Yuta’s laughter can be heard from the other side of the hall, strangely sounding like that of a Disney villain. He clutched his stomach, eyes disappearing as he watched you ask a stranger for some change after losing on a bet with him.

Happiness (n.)

— It’s all those moments between waking up and going to sleep, such as when Yuta leans over to the passenger’s seat to peck you on the lips before the stop light turns green again or when he brings you your favorite doughnut when you’ve got too much work on your hands.

Interstice (n.)

— You reached out to the space on the couch beside you, expecting to find Yuta’s hand waiting to be intertwined with yours, before remembering you decided to take a break on your relationship after he walked out on you a few days back.

Jouska (n.)

— “Move in with me,” Yuta rehearsed in front of the mirror for the hundredth time that day. He shook his head, still not satisfied with how he said it.

“Y/N, please move in with me,” he said again, his mind thinking about all your possible reactions. Would you say yes? Would you say no?

“Do you wanna move in with me,” he tried once more, almost giving up on himself.

“Y/N, move in with me?”

“Okay.”

Yuta jumped, not realizing you’ve been watching him for the past two minutes, laughing to yourself as you watched his silly antics.

Koi no yokan (Japanese) (n.)

— Yuta was a stranger to you before he was anything else. The coffee shop was too crowded on the day you met. He needed a place to sit as he waited for his friend, and you happened to have an extra seat on your table.

He told you he didn’t usually talk to strangers, but you were crying that day and he couldn’t help but ask if you were okay. You said yes, but the book you were reading is killing you inside.

He laughed, and upon glancing at the book in your hand, said, “If it helps, that book killed me inside, too.” He flashed a smile. That perfect smile. “I’m Yuta.”

“Y/N,” you replied.

It was a normal conversation with a random stranger, and yet, at that moment, you couldn’t help but think he’s gonna break my heart someday.

Lacuna (n.)

— It wasn’t your physical absence that made this whole cool-off thing hurt, Yuta thought. It was the Y/N-shaped hole in his chest that he had no idea how to fill up.

Maybe (adv.)

— A vague answer. A not-so-safe response;

“Do you think it’ll rain tonight?” he asked one rainy afternoon.

“Maybe,” you answered.

“Do you think it’ll be us til the end?” he asked a little while later.

“Maybe,” you replied.

Night (n.)

— These are the hours where Yuta would either hold you close or push you to your edge.

Oblivious (adj.)

— Before you started dating, everyone but you and Yuta knew that you were whipped for each other. When you two broke up, everyone but you two knew you were still whipped for each other.

Procrastinate (v.)

— It’s those extra five minutes of cuddling that Yuta begs for every morning, making you miss the bus to work. But it’s also those hour-long make out sessions that makes you two late for your dinner reservations at night.

Quibble (v.)

— “That’s not the point!” You were already raising your voice, unable to control your emotions. It was 2AM and Yuta just got home from god knows where without so much as texting you.

“There is no point. I’m already here, Y/N. What more do you want?!” He was drunk. Not so drunk that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but enough to let his guard down and say things he didn’t really mean.

For a moment, his legs became shaky, making him lose balance. He leaned against the kitchen counter for support. But as mad as you were, you were still concerned about him.

“I want you to stop acting like there’s no one who gets worried about you. Why do you always have to be so reckless?” you snapped, helping him steady himself.

But Yuta moved away from you. “You’re not my mother. Hell, my own mother doesn’t even care about me. So stop acting like you have control over everything in my life.”

He was drunk, but sober enough to recognize the pained expression on your face. It was only then that he realized had crossed the line.

Right (adj.)

— It includes everything from the way Yuta touches you to the way your name drips from his tongue like honey.

Sunday (n.)

— It doesn’t matter what went on during the week. Your Sundays were Yuta’s, and Yuta’s were yours. It’s the day of walking up short mountain trails or discovering new restaurants or skinny dipping in lakes or even just staying at your apartment to binge watch Netflix. It doesn’t matter where your mood will take you as long as your Sundays are for each other.

Tacenda (n.)

— “I’m sorry,” Yuta muttered as soon as you opened the door. “I know you’re right. It’s my fault. Let’s just–“ he swallowed. “Please, let’s fix this.”

That was all it took to have you break down in front of him. You’ve only broken up for three days, but it was three days too many.

Yuta took a step closer, still testing the waters if he could put his arms around you. When you didn’t move away, he pulled you in his embrace. Your entire body melted into his arms, your face buried in his chest, your arms almost subconsciously wrapping around his torso.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice as fragile as you were.

“You don’t have to say anything anymore,” you said in between sobs. “Just please don’t walk out on me again.”

A tear slipped from Yuta’s eye. “I’m sorry.”

Umpteen (adj.)

—You could no longer count the number of times Yuta has said “I love you,” but weirdly enough, it makes you feel the same way every time.

Vandalism (n.)

— When you opened the book you borrowed from the university library, there was a small note written in the corner of the page you bookmarked: “I can’t wait to kiss you senseless again when you’re done with all this studying.”

Your cheeks blushed as your eyes scanned through Yuta’s handwriting once again. You closed the book and looked around, hoping no one saw how your boyfriend defaced school property to send you a flirty note.

Whiskey (n.)

—“No,” Yuta said firmly. “The last time you had a shot of that, I had to physically stop you from stripping while standing in Taeyong’s dining table in front of everybody.”

“But–”

“No.”

X (n.)

— You couldn’t help it. Your nails drew crosses on Yuta’s bare back as he softly grunts your name.

You (pron.)

— “Mine,” Yuta whispered in your ear before kissing you goodnight.

Zing (n.)

— The feeling you get when Yuta’s fingertips graze above every inch of your skin, your chest rising up and down heavily in anticipation.

#i kind of enjoyed writing this lol #happy yuta day #ksjddjd pls tell me what you think #nct au #nct imagines #nakamoto yuta #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #a lovers dictionary #nct 127 au #yuta au #yuta imagine #nct soft hours #nct sad hours #yuta fluff #yuta x reader

[luci-cunt]

@petalsfloating​ ilysm akjsdfajsdlfkjasdlk

#i want details#i am a fann#please how did mycroft and irene get together#how did sherlock and watson meet#is carrie realllly a babey do they have le qualifications huh#please no pressure but i would like to seee

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!!!! <333

(also @moonsandstarsaregay if you have anything to add on feel free <33)

Ok so #1: How did Mycroft and Irene get together? 

asldkfja;sljfal;sdkfj this one’s funny because Moony and I haven’t really thought about how they got together XDD, it was probably something like Mycroft going “oh my god you’re gorgeous please let me feed you expensive food and kiss u” and Irene going “abso-fucking-lutely” BUTT!!! the way they get engaged,,,,, now that’s a story!!!

I’ll give u a snippet from the plot outline: 

[More happens but later on Mycroft wisens up and runs through the rain to stand, dripping, on Sherlock’s doorstep asking for Irene.]

“Irene Adler,” Mycroft said softly, her voice shook as she said it, and it was like watching rain fall up seeing this woman so fragile as she watched Irene through her wet, ruined hair. “When I look at you I feel more than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I hate it sometimes, because I think it’s going to kill me,” she took a long breath, setting her jaw as her eyes shone with emotion. “But hell is a heaven compared to what life would be like without you.” 

“Yes,” Irene said, tears streaking down her face as she reached out for Mycroft and kissed her frantically. It seemed like an odd response, at least until Mycroft broke from the kiss to curse. 

“Jesus fucking christ woman I didn’t even pull out the ring yet,” she hissed, and Irene laughed though her sob and threw herself into Mycroft’s arms. 

#1: Is Carrie really a baby?

In the figurative sense of the word? yes. In the physical sense of the word? No akjdssadflkajsd, he’s actually older than Watson!

For context, Carrie, Bill, Watson, and Kent had all been in foster care for a while before they got dumped into a boys home where they all met and became really quick friends. Carlton Watson--a local police chief--helped out at the home enough that he and the boys started getting close, and then when the ppl running the home found out Bill was a “girl” (because he’s transitioned but hasn’t had surgery) they were going to send him to a girls home and in order to avoid that Carlton adopts Bill, but he can’t just leave the other boys so he adopts them all. Their actual ages go: Kent, then Carrie and Bill, and then Watson, but the fam acts like Kent and Watson are the oldest. 

Also Carrie and Bill always get called the “twins” because their birthdays are like 3 days apart and they make it “twin week.” Also they’re the closest of the brothers and just akjd;flakjsdf perfect I love them so much. 

“Do they have le qualifications?” alksdjf;lajsdflkajsd absolutely. 

Carrie doesn’t like confrontation, at all--he had a special spot under the stairs he used to hide in when he was growing up anytime the boys started fighting. He also jsut really wants everyone to get along. He and Bill share an apartment with some roommates because both of them had a hard time moving out of Carlton’s place. He became a cop because his brothers (except Watson) and dad did and he wanted to work with them more. aajsd;lkfajlsdk there’s more but this is so long I love him he’s babey.

Here’s a snippet (also this is technically the begining of Sherlock and Watson’s 2nd meeting!): 

he got a text from Bill. Dinner.  Bill always phrased questions like that, rarely using question marks. It was something he’d picked up from Kent and Carlton--though, which one of them got it from the other was debatable. Carrie was the only one aside from Watson himself who had actual manners, and his text came through a few minutes after Bill’s. Dinner? Bill wants Chinese but I want pizza. Thoughts? 

Before Watson could answer however, another text came through. Please say pizza? Ask Kent, I don’t care. Watson tapped out, filling his coffee maker with water and flicking it on. He poked his head in his fridge, but the contents were abysmal, so he stuck a bagel in the toaster and called it good as his phone rang again. Kent said to ask you :( Because of course he did. A text from Bill came through. If u say yes to pizza its favoritism and Ill hate u forever. Carrie’s: pleeeeaaaseee came through at the same time, along with a string of emojis.    Instead of answering Watson called Kent. “What do you want?” Kent answered, picking up on the third ring like he always did. “Pizza or Chinese?” Watson asked. “I’m working Watty,” Kent said, with an exhausted sounding sigh. Watson just waited, and he heard another sigh before the sound of Kent opening the door to his office to yell for Bill and Carrie to stop bothering Watson and get back to work. “There,” he said, back on the phone. “Thanks, are you still working the DeMain case?” Watson asked, pouring his finished coffee into a mug and singing his fingers on the toasted bagel. “Yeah, it’s mostly just paperwork at this point.” “Make the twins do it.” “I’m not--what do you want? What--yeah it’s Watty wh--what?” Kent’s tone suddenly went up four octaves in surprise and Watson furrowed his brow. Before he could get a word in though Kent was back on the line. “Jonathan Watson do you have something to tell me?” he said sharply, and Watson blinked, freezing where he was about to bite into the bagel. “What?” Watson managed. “Do we get to go to the reception at least!?” Carrie’s muffled voice came over the line, which only proved to further confuse Watson. “Watty there’s a nutjob here for you claiming to be your husband,” Bill’s voice suddenly piped in, and Watson swore colorfully. “This had better be some asshole I need to have committed because if this is how I’m finding out--” Kent threatened, and Watson tipped his head back and muttered more curses at the ceiling. “No--no, I’m not--Jesus--relax, ok, I’m not married or getting married,” Watson said, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.

#3: How did Sherlock and Watson meet? 

At a crime scene askdjf;lasjdf;lkj Watson was hired to steal Sherlock’s job but instead he helped solve the case and then Sherlock fell in love and moved from Portland to Seattle so he could work with him more kajs;dlfkjalsdfj

Here’s a snippet: 

[WARNING: non-graphic mentions of suicide]

Before he could really look into it, however, the front door slammed open. “Remarkable how you didn’t even think to call me--” a man said as he sauntered in. “You’re giving me the impression you don’t like me.” The man’s grin was feral looking, a bit unsettling. He was tall--though shorter than Watson by almost a full foot--and lanky. Seemingly all long, sharp limbs that somehow managed to fall exactly where he seemed to want them. He was wearing a haphazard version of the clean suits, with the actual jumpsuit only half on and a pair of gloves. His longer brown hair was tied back and he didn’t have a mask on. Watson knew in a moment this must be Sherlock, and he was already annoyed by the man simply by his blatant disrespect of sterile crime scenes. He looked like a TV show detective, it was infuriating. “Montez! Baby! Give me the details, who’s our lady?” the man said with a sloppy grin as he crossed the room with his arms out. “What was it this time? Pills? No--don’t answer that I can see it,” he said, frowning a little as he examined the woman’s body, lingering for a moment on the slipper that had fallen off. “See, funny story, I actually didn’t call you because I don’t want you here,” Montez said with a scowl Watson could see even behind her mask. “You just keep getting funnier Montez,” Sherlock said, cocking his head and then following some invisible trail to the bathroom, where Watson was still standing. Watson went back to looking at the iPad. The doctor who’d prescribed the pills appeared to be legit, and the pharmacy was too--just down the street actually. He was scrolling through the other crime scenes to check for pills as well when suddenly Sherlock stopped in front of him. “You--” the man said, narrowing his eyes on Watson. “--are new…” “They called him in to disprove your crack-pipe theory,” Montez said, and Watson suppressed a sigh. “Really?” Sherlock said, his smile was not the reaction Watson expected. “And what are you looking up Mr. Job-Stealer?” He asked, standing on his toes to look over the top of the iPad. Watson jerked it out of view without thinking, but that just made Sherlock’s grin widen. “Oh! That’s something new--look Montez he doesn’t think your people can do basic detective work,” Sherlock said, before patting Watson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry you’re not wrong but--” “What?” Montez asked, and Watson really did sigh then. “I’m not--” Watson started, but Sherlock was spinning around. “I’ll make this easy for you Mr. Job-Stealer,” Sherlock said. “Doctor,” Watson said through gritted teeth. “Doctor Watson.”    “She did kill herself doctor Job-Stealer, I’m sure you’ve come to that conclusion, I’m sure you all have--I’d honestly be worried if you didn’t,” he started rambling, and Watson scowled as he went back to the iPad, only half listening as the man continued. “As you can see this room is what one might call the dictionary’s definition of a depressed woman’s home. The curtain’s drawn--no natural light, a dying plant that must have only recently stopped getting regular water, the mess around the corners, like she only had the energy to clean up the center--” Watson frowned as he realized another connection. All the suicide victims had been taking the same antidepressents, prescribed by different doctors, but, they were all getting their prescriptions from the same pharmacy down the street. “--and there’s the disaster of a kitchen, I’m sure the fridge was emptier than heaven, and--” Watson was so busy double checking his findings that he didn’t notice Sherlock slowly coming back over with his head cocked and a curious expression on his sharp face. “--there’s the matter of the slipper, I’m sure of course you found the pills in the bathroom, you can see the scuff marks from where she dragged her feet as she got… closer to the… couch as the drugs kicked… in--Doctor what are you so interested in?” Watson’s head snapped up and he blinked out of his thoughts. “Ah--” he said, but Sherlock stole the iPad, scrolling through the page and flipping through the other’s Watson had been looking at as his eyes widened, and then he looked up at Watson. “You--” Sherlock started, “Are the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, please explain and tell the cops to catch up,” he said, and then he was gone. Watson blinked, his brain reeling as he tried to comprehend exactly what just happened. “The fuck was that?” Montez asked, and Watson fumbled to come up with a response. “I--uhm--I don’t--” he managed. Thankfully the detective didn’t seem to be actually paying him any attention, instead leaning out the doorway of the apartment to yell something at Sherlock. When that didn’t get her anywhere she turned back to Watson. “Where is he going?” she asked, and Watson just flipped the iPad around to show the pharmacy’s address. 

#OS&W #alkjds;flajs;dlfkjasdlkfj ilysm for fueling my addiction

[oikawa13]

love in the time of köttbullar

Shouyou sets the bowl on the tiny table with a flourish and an itadakimasu! and this is when it hits Atsumu harder than a Skurup to the temple:He wants this. Shouyou, hip cocked against the miniature kitchen countertop, smiling shyly up at Atsumu through the amber fan of his lashes, beautiful god-boy-man somehow glowing gold even under the buzzy LED lighting. Though they’re standing in a 430,000 square foot warehouse in Tsurumachi, Atsumu’s looking at Shouyou, and he’s home.

Amid the Flärdfull and the Smörboll, Miya Atsumu falls a little more in love.

words: 3,378 | rating: T

i’ve never been inside an ikea so this fic quite literally changed me as a person. sometimes loving a person is as scary as saying that first i love you!!!! and sometimes... love is easy as saying i love you at an ikea ; ;

LAUNCHING MERRILY DOWN THE PATH OF SIN (THE FIRST TIME)

"Bokuto said I should bring you home. But I don’t know where you live. So I took you here.”

“To hell?”

"No, Atsumu-san. To my apartment."

words: 1,990 | rating T

i wake up in the middle of the night thinking about this fic and then go on ao3 to reread it again its just so fdjgfhdjf good. i think about this shoyo a lot. theres something!!!! very dreamy going on here. this is the first part to a series btw, you can read them all if you want since theyre probably all around 1k :-)

lord i no longer believe in anything but the way he holds my name between his teeth

The miracle of the rabbit on the moon.

“We took this photo at their seventh birthday party. His father baked a cake. But someone ate all the jellybeans off the top before they could even sing the birthday song. That’s why Atsumu cried. He used to cry a lot. It stopped when the twins found out about volleyball, but before that Atsumu would cry over everything. Spilled milk. A skinned knee. The neighbor’s dog. He was the twin that was scared of paper straws. It's funny how things have changed.

“He looks happier now. Did you do that?”

words: 10,456 | rating: T

so, this goes just a liiiiitle past 10k so its up to you if you want to read it or not, i just thought i’d include it since its so! close! lol theres this part!!!!! they are holding hands underneath the table!!!!!!!!! atsumu are you drunk?!!! no!!!!! hes just so stupidly in love with shoyo. i cant stand them!!!!!!!!!!!

wait for it, wait for it

The notifications are up at 100+ again and Hana wants to check it quickly to make sure nothing's wrong, especially because she'd just cleared them before the media scrum. The fans, she figured, must be overjoyed with the win.Congratulations MSBY Nation!!! the first reply reads. #myspiker #atsuhinaBoth tags, she finds, are currently trending in Japan.

Five times #atsuhina trended on volleyball Twitter and one time it should have (but luckily didn't), as told by the MSBY Black Jackals' junior publicist

words: 6,043 | rating: T

this fic is SOOOOO much fun!!!!!! also i love hana, idk if i ever mentioned that before but yeah. this is like... hdjkdhgjfd so much ; ; <3

south of an early summer

Warmth, then, was being wanted back. Two weeks later, Atsumu holds that warmth in by Shouyou’s waist; he watches it, how it sleeps, and wonders what the heat will become next.

words: 2,602 | rating T | tw: atsumu being atsumu about (past) kg/hn for a split second

IF i wasnt an absolute fool and gave you all these recommendations to pick and choose from id just send you this and the walking emoji bc honestly!!!!!!!!! i may not know what the heck romantic means but i see this and maybe it is romantic! maybe its not the average romantic idk?!!!! but i do know theres something beautiful here. love ?? ; ;

truths in two’s

Shouyou leaves for Brazil in two hours.

words: 8,300 | rating: T

LDR.... but like, in probably one of the easiest 2 breathe/good feeling fic for ldr!!!! idk im a baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ten reasons to break up with me: a love letter

1. It has to be you, ‘cause I won’t.

words: 4,197 | rating: T

pls....... i cant even THINK about this fic without crying okay!!!!!!!! insane. fuckign!!!! i love it so much, so much. it lives in my heart. this is the fic where i was like... i dont believe in love. yes i do. no<3 YES!!!!!!!! and cried and paced my room and finally FINALLY!!!!!! stopped feeling so hurt about hinata leaving for brazil again lmao!! like, i cant explain. this sounds crazy right???? anyway, i think... atsuhina can love each other so much it hurts when theyre apart but their love is so.... i mean......... they literally waited years to play together... so......... their love keeps them going..... GOODBYE!!!! i love listening to fka twigs cellophane & home with you and just..... being insane. 

just can’t help myself

Five times Hinata takes care of Atsumu, and one time Atsumu returns the favor.

words: 5,025 | rating: T

*think about atshn taking care of each other* *cries*

blue crush

And there’s a promise there, sewn into the easy curve of his lips: I’m not going anywhere, Atsumu-san. Glittering eyes that cut through the rain-blurry dark like a beacon when Shouyou turns back to look up at him. Even if you fuck up all of our dates.

Murphy’s Law as demonstrated by Miya Atsumu.

words: 2,297 | rating: T

atsumu trying very hard to have things perfect and romantic and even in the failures its still very lovely<3

If I’m Icarus, You Must be the Sun (Allow me Three Mistakes)

He wonders if Icarus felt like nothing was wrong with self-destructing, because he had reveled in the sun, if only for a little while.

Atsumu finds, loving Hinata is the same.

Atsumu's love over the years, and the mistakes that accompany it.

words: 4,620 | rating: T

i am...very weak to the whole icarus/sun thing with hinata and his ships. this one though......... i think about it A lot.

in your eyes, i see our future

“Yer’ a real sweetheart, Hinata Shouyou.”

Shouyou smiles brilliantly. “Only for you~”

He scoots over so Shouyou can sit next to him. He can smell the pineapple body wash Shouyou is so fond of the moment he sits down. Shouyou passes the tray over carefully before settling against the headboard comfortably.

“What’s the occasion?"

(Or, Atsumu just really wants to marry Shouyou.)

words: 9,769 | rating: T

fhdsjjkjfdsj goes crazy stupid over marriage!!!!! listen... i do not believe in marriage!!!!! but for atsuhina, oh you bet i do!!!! :-)

breathing a hello

There’s no significance to them ending up here except that both of their lives are held in the sway of volleyball. Everything else comes second.That’s the crux of it, really.

words: 2,826 | rating: T

gjhfsjkfd shhhhhhhhh. my heart is very soft when i think of them here, please..... just!!!! pls.

if you’re out there in the cold, i’ll cover you in moonlight

My [23M] best friend and ex-boyfriend [23M] is visiting me for a week, and my current boyfriend [24M] who agreed to all of this is suddenly withdrawing from me. Can I get some advice? Please? Anyone?

words: 8335 | rating: T | chapters: 3 | tw: past kg/hn 😳

this one is optional since you wanted one shots and theres 3 chapters here. my idea of romantic is...well, i especially love when one of them is acting hurtful/mean/difficult to the other bc their own personal issues but the other loves them anyway??? and then they work on that issue!!! just!!!!! ; ;

Love in the Time of Insomnia

And anyway Hinata was sprinting out faithfully after Atsumu, who had keys to the gym like a badass, and who was going to give his spikers a few more tosses after-hours without Meian knowing like the greatest, most generous badass the Jackals had ever seen. 

words: 2,457 | rating: G

running four kilometers just so atsumu can rest. this is what romantic means!!!! hdkshjfhdj

ode to what you’d have been

5 times it’s Kageyama’s fault and the 1 time Hinata realizes it has never been.

words: 3,628 | rating: G

loving someone including their flaws PART 2!!!!!! ok.... u might be like... um... this is romantic? hfdkhjfd LISTEN!!!! to me!!! there is nothing more romantic than being in love with someone and the ugly parts of them. going, i love you, all of you. and communication!!! and understanding!!! and feeling terrible and shitty and horrible but having the one you love accept you. and trying to help ease your mind, worries. *sobs real hard* also shout out 2 ‘okaaayy.... i hate sakusa now’

a shrine for a  boy

Despite his uncertainty about how to tell Atsumu of his move to São Paulo, Hinata takes action. Things do not go according to plan.

words: 2,447 | rating: G

hinatas time 2 be romantic and fail but its ok bc!!!!!!!!!! :-) they are just dummies in love<3

the greatest distance between you and longing is defeat

(In other words: Atsumu, let go. I’m here now.)

words: 3,310 | rating: G

um... *cries* post break up.... o_o!!!! god they really thought they could????? lmao!!!!!!

the tear in this (our gentle language)

“I’m going back to Brazil.”

He isn’t asking for permission. This isn’t a consultation. Hinata Shouyou informs his boyfriend at their after-practice practice. Miya Atsumu has a volleyball in each arm, trying to pick up a third. It drops and rolls away from him. The thud resounding in an empty gymnasium.

Shouyou had tried to envision Atsumu’s reaction many times. He never expected to be met with silence.

Alternatively: an exploration of Hinata Shouyou’s return to Brazil

words: 7,204 | rating: M

ldr CAN be romantic ok!!!!!!!! it takes a lot of communication, time, and love ; ;

evening sun

Atsumu looks at Shouyou and thinks, I want to know every inch of you.

words: 1,502 rating: M