#anyway as i said before. not online but i changed my mind on not giffing this when i realized i really wanted to gif the outdoor shots
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Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒫𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒
gif credit @czarniks
CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. Please be warned.
Word Count: 2,899
A/N: Was I really going to name the epilogue any thing else?
* * * * *
Effie had been quiet lately. When Matthew said ‘quiet’, what he really meant to say was not all there, and when he said ‘not all there’ what he really meant to say was that she was there, with him physically, but her mind was somewhere else. She had these bouts from time to time. Effie was always going to be a work in progress, and that meant sometimes she’d regress instead. He knew that when he signed up to be with her ten years ago now. He knew that when he raised the idea of buying and building a house together seven years ago, and she said no. He knew that when he raised the idea of buying and building a house together six years ago and she said no. He knew that when he raised the idea of buying and building a house together five years ago and she said no. He knew that when he raised the idea of buying and building a house together four years ago and she said no. He knew thar when he raised the idea of buying and building a house together three years ago and she said yes. He knew that when they moved in to said house two years ago. Some bouts were long, some were short, but he always noticed them.
This was another one.
She usually came around. Well, actually, she almost always came around. She’d ask something or propose an idea and Matthew would learn or realize why she was so withdrawn, why she was so quiet. Sometimes they were simple, and a short bout: “I want to change the menu at the bakery.” Sometimes they were vastly more complex, and a long bout: “I know Chantal’s okay with me not having kids, but what about Keith?” She’d get stuck in her head a lot. And with someone with so much to learn, as someone who was quite literally going through life learning by doing, it was almost a guarantee this would happen, considering what she came from.
But Matthew was there. Always.
As he spooned her in bed, he could feel how distant she was. He could practically feel her mind racing and refusing to slow down despite it being late at night. Matthew placed a small kiss on her shoulder. “D’you want to talk about it?” he offered.
Effie turned around so she was now facing him. He could see the worried look in her eyes and started to worry himself. She took a deep breath. “Would you want to marry me?”
Matthew licked his lips, and without hesitation, he nodded his head. “Yes.”
Effie looked away, almost ashamed. “I had it in my head that you wouldn’t want to because I’ve been married before,” she whispered.
A regress. Inevitable. Effie’s mind was a complex ocean. “You were never married,” he said firmly. “But if you want to get married, I’d love to marry you. We could do it however you wanted.”
“What about our marriage?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’d get married, but what would our marriage be like?”
Bad memories, obviously. The last time she was a “wife” it wasn’t a marriage at all. It was practically a hostage situation. An abusive relationship. “Do you like our relationship how it is now?” Matthew asked.
Effie nodded her head. “I want it to stay like this,” she said.
“Then that’s what our marriage will be like, too,” Matthew assured her.
***
“I don’t know what type of ring I like,” Effie mumbled on the phone to Geneviève as she picked at her lunch, a poppyseed bagel she’d made with a generous spread of lox and cream cheese. Geneviève was in Sweden, like she was every summer, with Jacob and her twins. Though they’d be back in a few weeks for the season, Effie couldn’t hold off talking to her. She never really could.
“Why would that matter?” Geneviève asked.
“Matthew and I talked about getting married.”
There was silence on the other end of the call before Effie heard the dial tone. She thought the call dropped – it did that sometimes, especially when Geneviève was in Sweden – but then her phone was vibrating all over again, and it was a FaceTime request instead of a simple phone call. Effie couldn’t help but smile as she accepted the call.
“You and Matthew WHAT?!” Geneviève shrieked, holding the phone too close to her face.
“Um…yeah,” Effie nodded. “We talked about it a few nights ago in bed. I asked him if he would want to marry me and he said yes.”
“Effie, Matthew’s probably wanted to marry you since he told you how to pronounce tomahawk. What made you think he didn’t?” Geneviève asked.
Effie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know…” she said. “I just—last time I was married, it wasn’t a good marriage.”
“You were never married,” Geneviève deadpanned. It was good to know she thought the same thing as Matthew. “But besides that—has Matthew been anything like him in these past ten years?”
Effie shook her head. “No way.”
“Then what makes you think he will when you’re married?”
Effie knew Geneviève was trying to make a point – and a good one – but Effie was, for some reason, still apprehensive. “He comes home soon,” she said. “I’m going to talk to him more about it.”
Geneviève nodded in understanding. “Just remember that you deserve happiness, however that comes to you,” she reminded Effie. “And remember, Effie – you can choose happiness, too. You can choose to overcome a fear and make yourself happy.”
***
Effie searched all about engagement rings until she heard the garage door open and Matthew step into the house. He’d been at the gym, and his own lox and cream cheese bagel was waiting for him in the fridge. “Hey,” he called out from the laundry room.
“Hi.”
“Whatcha up to?”
“Uh, looking at engagement rings.”
He was silent. Silent until he rounded the corner and Effie saw him emerge from the hallway that led to the laundry room, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Engagement rings, huh?”
“Mhm,” she nodded, adjusting herself in the bar stool. “There’s so many different styles.”
Matthew looked at her skeptically, dropping his gym bag before walking over to her. “There are…” he began. “But you should look at a style or styles you like, and then we can bring it to a jeweler.”
“A jeweler?”
“I’m not gonna get you just any ring, baby. It’s gonna be custom made,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Effie’s research told her that custom made rings were the most expensive types of rings. While there were so many pretty styles online, custom was definitely something to aspire to for many people, even thought it was out of reach. “You’d get me a custom ring?”
Matthew looked at her. Without saying a word, he leaned back into the barstool beside her but grabbed hers and scooted it closer to him. “Will you please talk to me?” he asked softly, but needily. “You know I’d get you a custom ring. You know I’m gonna let you get any dress you want and have whatever kind of wedding you want. You brought up marriage but the questions you’ve been asking me…Effie, it’s as if you think I don’t love you.”
“That’s not—no,” she shook her head, stuttering out her words. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I don’t mean it to be like that. I know you love me.”
“Then what’s with the questions?”
Effie took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with Matthew until she knew she had to talk. “This is what it was like last time.”
Matthew’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Abraham was nice before he abused me. He promised me so many things. And I know you’re not him—you’re nothing like him—and I’ve—I’ve told you that for ten years but—”
“—Effie, if this is too much for you, we don’t have to get married.”
Effie began shaking her head. And when she began shaking her head, tears started to well up in her eyes, and as they welled up, they fell down her cheeks. She tried wiping them away but Matthew beat her to it; she was so ashamed she couldn’t even look at him. “But everybody gets married. Look at Brady. And Taryn, even.”
“Effie…we’re already in a committed relationship that’s like a marriage anyway. I’m devoted to you, and you’re devoted to me…we—we live together, we act like we’re married anyway. If you don’t want to change that then you don’t have to.”
“Yes I do,” she stressed.
“Why?”
“I do because I want to do something for you. You’ve been doing things for me for ten years and I know you want this. I know you want to get married. So I want to give that to you because you’ve given me so much.”
“You giving me yourself is enough. You know that. You’re enough,” he said.
“I know,” she nodded. “But marriage is a celebration of love. It’s a celebration of love. And I want to celebrate our love. I just have to get it through my thick skull that marriage isn’t a punishment, it’s a celebration.”
Matthew nodded his head, giving her a quick kiss on the nose. “Want me to call Dr. Barlow? We can work on this together.”
Effie nodded.
***
Half a year later, Effie couldn’t stop staring at the rock on her finger. It glimmered in even the shittiest light. She was sure Matthew had something put in it to make it shine so much, but he kept denying it. Geneviève loved it. So did Jenna. So did Annica.
“But do you?” Matthew asked her.
She nodded. The second he slipped it on to her finger, everything became real. Everything. She’d never had an engagement ring before. She never had a testament to her partner’s love for her. And here it was now, on her finger, ready for her to wear for the rest of her life. Matthew gave it to her. Her Matthew. Nobody else but her Matthew.
***
“Oooooooh, Effie,” Chantal’s eyes lit up as Effie walked out of the fitting room of the small bridal boutique in St. Louis they went to on a whim. Taryn’s jaw dropped in quick succession as Effie walked out and stood on the platform in front of them, a three-panel mirror showing her every angle of the dress. She watched Chantal through the mirror. “Oh Effie, this is stunning.”
“Do you think Matthew will like it?” she asked.
“Matthew’s gonna bawl,” Taryn interjected, causing everyone to laugh. “I’m about to bawl!”
Effie looked at herself in the mirror, patting down the fronts of the dress, even though it fit her like a glove. Despite trying on some dresses already while out with Jenna and Geneviève, she didn’t get the same butterflies in her stomach as she did seeing herself in this dress, now, even though this wasn’t planned. It was the first one Effie chose for their consultant to pull but the last one of the three she tried on, and it was the most beautiful. She loved everything about it: the eyelet organza, the corset bodice with exposed boning, the A-line skirt with pockets.
The ivory.
The consultant puffed out the skirt for her, letting it fall behind her dramatically. Effie was quiet as she watched Taryn eye the consultant and say “We need a veil” before the consultant left them alone. Chantal was covering her mouth at the point, admiring the dress but also as a mechanism to stop herself from crying, probably. Effie pat down the front of the dress again, her heart beating in her chest. “Chantal?” her voice was small.
“Yes sweetie?”
“I can wear white, right?”
Chantal nodded automatically. So did Taryn. “Of course you can. You were never married,” Chantal said.
“Even if you had been,” Taryn piped in, “it’s your wedding. You can wear whatever you want.”
***
Matthew held Effie’s hand as they sat on a couch in Dr. Barlow’s office together, talking through Effie’s trepidations of marriage and expectations as a wife. Effie knew that the only reason why she was having trouble with all of this was because of her past experiences; when she thought about it, deep down, she wanted nothing more than to marry Matthew. But her mind was a funny thing – it always was – and that’s why they were here. Matthew had been patient in waiting for her to agree to buy a house and move in together; he’d been even more patient in not asking her to get married but letting her make the decision herself. Now it just all came down to this – the working through the nitty gritty things, the things that still plagued her mind – so she could go into the marriage in the healthiest way possible, just like their relationship was. And she was going to see it that way. It helped her immensely to see it that way. This is just an extension of our relationship. This is a celebration of our love.
“Have you given thought to any popular wedding or marriage traditions that the two of you would want to follow or not follow?” Dr. Barlow asked.
“Like what?” Matthew asked.
“Effie, will you be taking Matthew’s last name?”
Effie looked at Matthew before squeezing his hand quickly and nodding. “Yes,” she said confidently. “I’ll become Effie Tkachuk. I met this woman through hockey – her husband plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs – her name is Bee Rielly. She took her husband’s last name and she said the reason why she took it was because she had no connection to her maiden name, McTavish, because she had no real family and her mom was an alcoholic and it only really reminded her of that. Considering her background, she wanted it gone, and I feel the same way.”
Matthew squeezed her hand back. Dr. Barlow smiled and nodded her head. “It’s great that you’ve met someone like that, that can help you see these kinds of things in that perspective,” she said. “Are you having a church wedding?”
“No,” Matthew took this one. Even though he and his siblings went to Catholic schools, religion wasn’t a huge part of their lives. “Just an officiant. We actually already have her booked.”
Dr. Barlow nodded again. “Effie, how do you feel about the tradition of someone walking you down the aisle? Levi? Matthew’s dad, perhaps?”
Effie shook her head vehemently. “I love them, but no,” she said. “No way. I’m entering into a marriage freely and I’m making the decision. Nobody is giving me away.”
Matthew smiled. “And that’s that on that.”
***
The more that Effie planned, the more she got to experience what normal wedding planning was like. It was stressful, sure, but it wasn’t your-mom-telling-you-that-you-were-going-to-marry-a-55-year-old-when-you-were-fourteen-years-old type of stressful. It wasn’t an I-don’t-know-anything-about-being-a-wife-I’m-only-fourteen-years-old type of fearful. It actually wasn’t fearful at all. The more decisions she made about how she was going to marry Matthew, the more excited she became. Decisions about flowers, about table coverings, about décor, about music, about food. Her favourite was taste-testing cakes samples with Matthew. Every time they tasted something Matthew would always say, “It’s not as good as your cakes” to her.
Every. Single. Time.
***
Between family, friends, and teammates, there were about 130 people at the wedding. Effie wore her dress, tailored to perfection, and the veil – long and regal and cathedral length, because the only day it was socially acceptable to wear a veil that long was on your wedding day, and Effie was going to take full advantage of it. They did a first look and Matthew cried. He cried again when she walked down the aisle by herself.
When Effie stood holding hands with Matthew, reciting vows to each other, she thought about the past ten years. She thought about the person she was when she met him at Noah’s birthday party. She thought about their Starbucks meetings and him teaching her about corn dogs and candy and frappucinos. She thought about how different she was from then till now, and that though the past still affected her, and crept up on her from time to time, she had been strong back then, and was even stronger now, and that made her proud of herself in a way nobody else could understand. Not even Matthew. That she stood here with him, marrying him, making the choice to marry him, spoke volumes of her progression. It spoke volumes of the person she had been, the person she was now, and the person she was becoming. She was always a work in progress.
Matthew was there for it all. There to help her, there to guide her through it. There to help her achieve her dreams and expose to things she never thought possible. Lake Louise. Moraine Lake. The Bahamas. Europe. St. Louis. Confidence. Trust. Love.
“I love you,” he whispered to her when their vows were done, rubbing his thumb over the backs of her hands.
“I love you too,” she whispered back. Freely. Meaningfully. Deeply.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” the officiant beamed.
For the first time in her life, Effie was married.
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagine#matthew tkachuk fic#matthew tkachuk fan fic#calgary flames#calgary flames imagine#calgary flames fic#calgary flames fan fic#matthew tkachuk blurb#clagary flames blurb#nhl#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl fan fic#nhl blurb#hockey#hockey imagine#hockey fic#hockey fan fic#hockey blurb#patience is a virtue series
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Surprises make everything better! -Brock Boeser
A/N: This is my favorite writing so far so I hope you like it as much as I do. I actually enjoy writing now so if anyone has any request let me know and I will try my best! Or if you wanna talk about/have questions about any of my writing let me know I would love to chat about it.
Side note: I’m really sorry, I have zero idea how to give credit to the creator of a GIF so if anyone knows how to do that and can help me figure it out that would be much appreciated? Thank ya <3
Summary: Brock canceled your original plans for the summer and you are really upset about it! To make you feel better he sends a surprise to you apartment.
Word count: 1552 words
“Hey bubs” you answered the FaceTime call coming in from your boyfriend. You were sitting on your bed with your laptop open besides you, scrolling through tiktok on your phone before Brock had called.
“Hey, what are you up to?” From the looks of it, Brock was currently in his car driving somewhere.
“I’m suppose to be in class right now but I can’t focus so it’s kinda just playing as background noise at the moment. Whata bout you? Where are you going?” Since your school work is online this semester you find it increasingly difficult to pay attention to your classes and often find yourself FaceTimeing Brock during them.
“Baby your suppose to be paying attention.” He chuckled giving you a look “Anyway, I’m on my way home from practice but I really missed you and wanted to hear your voice” he wasn’t always open about his feelings while you were away at school so hearing him say that made your heart ache a little.
“Awe, I miss you more Brocky. Only a couple more weeks till we get to see each other.” Since the Canucks didn’t find themselves in a playoff spot this season, Brock was going to be done with hockey around the same time your finals were starting.
“Actually baby I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” His expression changed from happy to serious. “I actually think I’m gonna head straight to Minnesota when the season ends. It’s way too complicated to figure out what I’m going to do with the dogs and I’m also really sick of all the traveling” you were really caught off guard by his words because just last week he was so excited to come and see you.
The original plan was that Brock was going to fly out to NYC, after his season ended, to finally see you and keep you company during finals week. And after, he was going to help you pack up your apartment and drive with you back to your family’s home in Connecticut. Then you would spend a month hanging out with all your friends and family, before flying back to Minnesota for the rest of the summer to do the same with his loved ones.
“Oh” was all you could manage. You were kinda hurt that he didn’t want to put in the extra effort to come and see you, after not being able to see each other in person for almost 4 months.
“I’m sorry bubs, it’s just a lot, but after your finals you can fly straight out to Minnesota, it’ll only be one extra week” now he was starting to irritate you.
“But I wanted us to have time to spend with my family because we always see yo-.... you know what never mind it’s all good” you were trying your best not to sound bitter and to see his side of things but you just couldn’t. “I actually have to go this class is important and I should probably be paying attention, I’ll call you later.”
“Y/n please don’t go, we should talk about this.” Brock tried
“No it’s fine I’m not upset. I’ll talk to you later.” You tried to convince him.
“Alright, I love you please call me later.” He pleaded
“K bye.” And with that you hung up. It was actually the first time you hung up without saying you loved him back. You obviously still loved him but you were so upset with him, the words just couldn’t come out. Now you felt guilty about it, what if something happened and the last thing you said to him was ‘k bye’. Before you could get lost in your thoughts though, a text came through.
Brockstar 💫:
You didn’t say it back 😔
Y/n/n 🍑:
I love you
Brockstar 💫:
Do you mean it? 🤔
Y/n/n 🍑:
More than anything
Brockstar 💫:
Good cause same.
You were happy he noticed and wasn’t afraid to say something to you about it. It made you feel like your love was wanted and needed. But even with that, you were still very upset with him.
...
Y/n/n 🍑:
Have a safe flight buddy, I love you 💕
Brockstar 💫:
Call me buddy one more time...
Y/n/n 🍑:
Or what?... buddy
Brockstar 💫:
😐 you are impossible
Love you I’ll text you when I land... Good luck on your final today your gonna crush it I know you got big brains
Y/n/n 🍑:
Thanks buddy
Brockstar 💫:
Uggggg 🙄
Today Brock was flying back to Minnesota and you were starting you rigorous final schedule. Although you were still a little sad that he wasn’t coming to see you, you understood that he just wanted to get home after the season, so you were trying not to hold it against him too much.
You continued on with your day, continuing to prepare for your final that started at 1:00pm. You were definitely ready to get it over with. This one was the toughest of your finals and you were glad it was your first.
1:00pm came faster than expected and before you knew it your were starting your final. It was actually going a lot better than expected and you were on track to finish an hour early, not taking up the full 4 hours.
When you finally finished, you took a giant breathe of relief. You sat down on your couch and thought about what you wanted to eat for dinner that night, you had skipped lunch so you were starving.
You were soon pulled from your thoughts by a knocking on your apartment door. You went to look through the peep hole and saw a man walking away. You waited until he was most of the way down your hall to open the door and peek out. There was a beautiful edible arrangement sitting on the ground with a note attached.
You quickly picked it up and brought it into your apartment, closing the door behind you. You placed it on your kitchen island and took your phone out to take a picture before digging in. You grab the note first and read it out loud to yourself.
I’m sorry I’m the worst boyfriend on planet earth, so I hope this makes up for it or at least makes you feel a little better. I know it’s your favorite so if you don’t feel better, than I know I really messed up this time.
Hopefully still the love of your life,
Brock
Y/n/n 🍑:
You will obviously always be the love of my life no matter what you do.... thanks babe it actually did make me feel better
Brockstar 💫:
Shit it came already? I didn’t want it to get there till after your final! I’m sorry if you were interrupted😬
Y/n/n 🍑:
I finished my final an hour early! It came at the perfect time.
Brockstar 💫:
Ok good 😅
Y/n/n 🍑:
Thanks bubs I love you 💕
Brockstar 💫:
Love you too
You started to pick at the basket but had to stop yourself so you wouldn’t over eat before dinner. While trying to figure out what you were in the mood for you heard another knock at your door.
You rolled your eyes because this was the second time you were interrupted while trying to figure out what you were going to eat for dinner. Before you got to the door the person knocked again so you forewent looking out the peephole and just swung the door opened, slightly agitated but the impatience of whoever was at your door.
When the door fully opened you were met with Brock standing in front of you with all his luggage and holding your favorite flowers.
“Hi!” He smiled as the words left his mouth. You automatically started sobbing because you were so happy to see him. You put your arms around his neck locking him into a hug, accidentally smushing the flowers a little in the process.
“What are you doing here?” You cried into his neck.
“You didn’t actually think I would fuck up our entire summer plans did you?” He chuckled as he placed the flowers on top of his suit case so he could properly hug you back.
“Uggggg why would you do that to me? I was so sad.” You said still gripping him as hard as you could, afraid to let go.
“I’m sorry baby, I thought a surprise would be more fun.” You giggled into his neck.
“Yeah so much fun” you said sarcastically “I’m just glad you’re here.” You said pulling away to give him a kiss.
“Me too” after pecking his lips another time, you helped him bring his bags inside. You didn’t have plans for the night but you were starving so he suggested getting takeout and bringing it back to the apartment.
You agreed because you were drained from your exam and weren’t in the mood to dress up and go out. You also wanted to spend as much time in Brocks arms as humanly possible and being in the privacy of your apartment would allow for that.
You spent the rest of your night between the sheets making up for the 4 months you lost. You still couldn’t believe that he was actually with you in your apartment but you cherished every moment of it.
#brock boeser#brock boeser fic#brock boeser x reader#vancouver canucks imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#brock boeser imagine
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GIF by @lukefromsunsetcurve
Word Count: 1303 words
Summary: Charlie and you are a couple for about two year but you didn’t want fans know about it. Everything changes one night.
Warnings: fluffy, bite(s).
A/N: So here another Charlie x reader. I’m kinda inspired this week. This is short but I don’t know, I think it’s cute so I post it anyway. I hope there are less time inconsistencies. I really work to improve myself. Enjoy ! xxx
disclaimer: I don't know Charlie or Owen personally or what their life are like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Charlie's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life. This is just me, writing innocently about a boy I find totally pure. All this is not reality
Tagged: @asdfghjkl-allthethings
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One of the things you value most about your relationship with Charlie is that before you were a couple, you were friends. You already had an incredible complicity that allowed you to experience moments of sweetness but also pure madness or uncontrollable laughter. You can't deny that your boyfriend was a real prankster and his chaotic energy always got you into the funniest situations. Fortunately for him, you had a constant good mood and a zest for life as important as his.
You lived with Owen and Charlie the first two months of filming JATP first season. The boys were working on the set while you were on your way to a summer theater camp. Getting back to Los Angeles after that was really tough, but you knew Charlie would be back soon enough.
During the filming of the second season, it seemed obvious that Charlie was reuniting with his roommate from the first season, but he had offered you to come and live with them. This time, you even had the chance to participate in the project as a recurring extra.
Even though you've been dating Charlie for almost two years, one of the things you feared the most was telling fans you were dating him. His popularity had increased dramatically since the show's release and you wanted to keep your relationship as private as possible. But life is a bitch and you don't always get what you wanted.
Your boyfriend was in the kitchen, Owen was in the living room getting ready for a live Instagram. You came out of your room and headed towards the brunette. Before you could get any closer to him, Charlie whispered to you that Owen was online. You nodded as you leaned over the kitchen counter. You ended up rolling your eyes, annoyed to death, and then a mischievous smile crossed your lips. Without Charlie really understanding why, you got closer to him and started pushing your fingers on his shoulder in a very annoying way. He watched you do it and finally turned to you. You turned your arms in all directions, firmly anchored on your feet. It was a game Charlie had already played at JATP first bootcamp and you had the opportunity to practice it yourself at your drama camp. Your boyfriend's smile was extremely playful.
“Do you want play this?” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Yeah, why not?” you responded by continuing to move your arms in all directions. "I'm not even touch you"
“Oh yeah really?”
“Yeah, see…” you pretended to push him in an attempt to destabilize him but he didn't move an inch. “I’m not touching you”
“You better run darling”
You knew you had better take his threat seriously and slip out of your space to run around the kitchen counter while Charlie tries to grab you. Owen could hear you behind him, but he could also see you through his phone screen. Comments started ringing out about you as the blonde complained dramatically.
“Look what I have to live with. They are the worst friends. They are loud, they are dispelled. I am the wise kid in this apartment."
It was so ironic to hear him say that when a day earlier he was acting like an idiot in Charlie's Instagram story. But you loved the dynamics of this friendship. The energy that reigned in the apartment was only positivity and good mood. Charlie finally managed to grab you and throw you over his shoulder, your laughter filling the room. Your boyfriend threw you on the couch opposite your roommate and you tried in vain to get rid of him. But the brown one was hanging over you, and no matter how you moved to get out of there, he always managed to block your legs or arms. You finally screamed frustration but still haven't declared defeat. You kept struggling, laughing, and screaming more before you realize you need more than your weak strength.
“Owen! Owen! Oweeeeeeen! Help me "
"Oh look at that poor helpless little hamster"
Owen picked up his phone and turned it to you and Charlie. The position you were in with your boyfriend and the situation left little doubt about the nature of your relationship with the brunette. Your complicity was blatant, you overflowed with love and although Charlie was very outgoing by nature, no one had ever really seen him act like that with a girl in the cast.
"Handle this on your own, baby," he added, very amused by the situation.
Your brow furrowed as Charlie sported a victorious smile, thanking Owen for his support. He returned his attention to you with his mischievous gaze and began to sing a paraphrase of a song from the first season, making fun of you.
" Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do? Heyy"
Owen had returned to his activities, he had turned back the camera toward him, continuing the live on Instagram. The apartment was a little quieter now that you weren't screaming. But war between you and Charlie wasn't over yet. Your boyfriend had his arms on both sides of your head. Your lively and sassy mind acted on a whim. You turned your head towards his right arm, opening your mouth wide and closing it inside his arm, all teeth out. There was nothing aggressive or malicious, it was the way you played, he knew it. Charlie screamed in shock at the bite.
"DID YOU BITE ME?" he yells, mostly shocked by the action.
"Yeah, yeah I did it" you laughed.
You didn't know why you did this but it's kinda fun for you
"What kind of girlfriend are you? The vampire one?
You laughed before realizing the words he had used. Did he really just say in front of thousands of fans that you were his girlfriend? A long silence settled in until Owen broke it to calm the atmosphere.
“Busted! "
You said a few words to Charlie without a sound, something like "I'm going to kill you. Dumbass". But the truth was, the fans were already shipping you so hard and they welcomed you so well into the JATP family. Owen also pointed out that the live was full of positive comments about you. Charlie was grinning like an idiot before getting up from the couch, pulling your arm up to get you up too. Your boyfriend yelled in the apartment towards Owen's Instagram live that he was definitely going to do one in the days to come. After that, you locked you both in Charlie's room for the rest of the night.
#jatp#julie and the phantoms#charlie gillespie#charlie gillespie x reader#jatp fic#jatp cast#owen patrick joyner
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Morning Routine
pairing: modern!ivar the boneless x reader
summary: starting your quarantine with ivar seems like it would be simple enough. what does a normal morning in the ragnarsson apartment look like?
a/n: i just had to use this gif! he looks so good lol anyways, here's my vikings masterlist!
Waking up in Ivar’s guest room and not your own bed was still something you had to get used to. It has been only a week after all. You’d like to think that you two had a little routine going already.
You stumbled your way out of bed and changed into something more appropriate to face your best friend. Your old, ratty tank top and underwear weren’t exactly your usual fit around him.
Walking into your now shared living space, your eyes widened at the smell of coffee in the air. Ivar made the best coffee; you don’t know what he did or how he did it, but you refused to drink anything else now that you were here. You’d feel personally offended if he even suggested ordering starbucks.
“Morning,” You whispered, your throat still getting used to being awake.
Ivar gave you a sleepy smile as he slid a mug towards you. He must’ve just woken up too. “What’s the plan for today?”
You held up a finger as you sipped the hot drink, savoring the flavor. A little ‘ah’ slipped from your mouth as you put the mug down. Ivar rolled his eyes at your dramatics, he couldn’t understand why you loved his coffee so much but he wasn’t going to complain.
“Well the school district still hasn’t figured out the online schooling so,” You shrugged, not particularly feeling too stressed about it. You loved your students, but you were enjoying the time off. “The day is ours.”
Ivar snorted, “Yeah, as long as we don’t leave this building.”
He was taking the quarantine as well as anybody. Of course he missed going out whenever he wanted and actually going to work with his brothers, but he was serious about keeping others safe. Staying home with you wasn’t so bad, according to Ivar.
“I’m okay with that. Means I can finally get you to watch the Marvel movies.” You stuck your tongue out at him which made him chuckle.
“Yeah, I bet you’re real happy about that.”
You nodded before finishing off the last gulp of coffee. You weren’t really feeling breakfast right now and from what you could tell, neither was Ivar. “Let me wash up really quick then we can start Iron Man?”
Ivar’s restroom was small. It had the standing shower, the toilet, the sink and a little side table that Ivar had managed to squeeze in there. You didn’t mind though, you kept a bag with all your toiletries and skin care and just carried it too and from your room. Your toothbrush stayed on the sink though, right next to Ivar’s in the little cup.
You washed your face, did your moisturizer and sunscreen because even though you wouldn’t actually be going out into the sun, you knew your skin still benefited. As you reached for your toothbrush, a knock was at the door.
“Can I come in?”
Before you could respond, Ivar had slid in and bumped your hip as you two stood in front of the sink. You looked at your reflections in the mirror as he made himself busy and grabbed his own toothbrush and put the paste on it. He nudged your arm and handed you the tube which you took. You don’t know why, but this felt oddly intimate. It’s not like you hadn’t done this with Ivar before, being friends since childhood you had countless sleepovers. This was different though. There was tension.
How did you not notice he was shirtless? You knew he slept only in his boxers, it made the heat rush to your face when you remembered how exactly you found that out.
You were 15 and spending the night at the Ragnarssons like you had for the last seven years. It was nearing two am when you sleepily made your way from Ivar’s room to the bathroom which was down the hall. Ivar’s mom never let you sleep on the living room floor with her sons for as long as you could remember. One of the boys always gave up their room and usually it was Ivar. You reached for the doorknob just as it was being opened and came face to face with your best friend. Well, more like face to chest. Your eyes widened as you trailed your gaze up to meet his eyes. He gave you a little smile before moving to the side and walking back downstairs. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at his ass as he walked away till your bladder reminded you what you had gotten up for.
The sound of spitting brought you out of your little daydream. Ivar was leaning over the small sink, rinsing his mouth. Gods, you hoped he hadn’t noticed you space out. You quickly brushed your teeth and ducked your head to spit when Ivar moved out of the way. He didn’t leave the restroom though, he stayed right where he was. You paused, tensing up for a second when you felt his warm hand on the small of your back.
‘C’mon, gotta take a leak.” Ivar mumbled as he looked at you through the mirror.
Red faced, you quickly straightened up and put your toothbrush back in the cup. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll um set up the movie and stuff.”
“Don’t forget the blankets,” He reminded as you walked out the door. “and snacks!”
You did as he said, grabbing the blankets from both your rooms and throwing them on the couch before scouring the kitchen for snacks. For someone as fit as Ivar, he had a huge junk food habit. You grabbed some chips, a bag of flavored popcorn and a handful of candy he had sitting in a little bowl on the counter. Whatever else he wanted, he would get himself. You queued up the movie and made yourself comfortable on the couch.
Ivar finally walked out, sadly now with a shirt covering his upper half. He wasn’t bad to look at, you had to admit. He smiled once he laid his eyes on you, you looked comfy under his blanket, on his couch. You hadn’t noticed him, as you were nose deep in your phone, presumably adding today’s movie to your list. The first day of the lockdown, you had decided that you were going to keep track of all the movies you watched for the next four weeks. He thought it was cute.
“Let’s start this!” Ivar startled you as he practically jumped on the couch, almost landing on you.
“Watch it,” You grumbled but there was a grin on your lips. “Don’t need to be crushed under all your weight.” You teased.
Ivar gasped dramatically and began his own form of torture which was of course tickling you. You let out squeals as his hands moved over your stomach and arms and neck. He couldn’t help but join in, your laughter was infectious. You managed to get out a breathless ‘truce’ which made him settle down.
“I hate you.” You huffed, wiping the tears that had escaped your eyes.
“You could never,” Ivar scoffed as he made himself comfortable on the couch. “Now press play.” He’d managed to get himself under your blanket even though there were others scattered around him. His arm rested on the back of the couch, near your shoulders. You hesitated, but eventually leaned into him and laid your head on his chest.
“You’re gonna love all these movies, I know it.” You promised.
Ivar hummed as he looked down, admiring how your eyes widened with excitement as the opening credits played. If there was one thing he loved, it was seeing you happy.
XXXXXX
taglist-
@youbloodymadgenius
@heavenly1927
@angelofthorr
@bluearchersstuff
@oddsnendsfanfics
@castielsangelsx
@straightestgay-voice
#ivar the boneless x reader#ivar the boneless imagine#ivar x reader#ivar imagine#modern!ivar imagine#modern!ivar x reader#modern!ivar#vikings x reader#vikings imagine#ivar lothbrok x reader#ivar lothbrok imagine#quarantine with ivar#my writings
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Meeting and Dating Samuel ‘Rocky’ Douglas
(My gif/there’s like no decent footage of ‘kick back’ online)(Requested by anonymous)
- You and Rocky meet when you’re young. You’d lived next door to the Douglas family your entire life so it was pretty much inevitable that you’d end up becoming friends with at least one of the boys growing up.
- Funnily enough, it wasn’t Samuel that you’d befriended, it was Jeffrey.
- You’d tried to weasel your way into all the boys lives; and succeeded in becoming a surrogate older sister to Tum Tum over the years, but it seemed as though Sam just …didn’t like you very much.
- Any time you were around him, he’d seemingly try to get away from you as quickly as possible, or distract himself with something so that he could barely acknowledge your presence. He’d always cut your conversations short or give you two word answers and any time you felt as though you were having a break through, he’d seem to realize that he was being friendly and close himself off yet again.
- But Jeffrey, or Colt, would usually pull you away from his older brother anyways, distracting you with some game or activity that he wanted to play/do before you could dwell on his brothers borderline rudeness.
- Colt had never understood why his brothers …approval; for lack of a better word, mattered so much to you and for a while, neither did you. But the older you got, the more you realized that you’d always had a bit of a crush on the boy whether you knew it or not.
- But you couldn’t tell Colt that. Instead, you had to tell him that you just didn’t want things to always be awkward when you joined him and his brothers on their little adventures; secretly sighing in relief as he accepted the answer.
- Unbeknownst to you, there was a reason for Rocky’s closed off attitude: he’d had a crush on you since elementary school and he’d, admittedly, never been very good with girls.
- So, while you were wondering why your best friends brother hated you, he was internally scolding himself for not being able to say more than two words to you before his knees felt like buckling beneath him.
- Considering how shy he was with you, things could have easily continued on like that for, well, forever. But then something changed.
- One morning, you arrived at the Douglas house and found yourself walking into a very tense atmosphere. You could tell that Colt was upset about something and given how quiet the rest of the table was, you assumed it had something to do with one of his siblings; assumedly Rocky from the way he was avoiding the boys occasional pointed looks.
- The minute Colt noticed you, he shot up out of his seat and pulled you out of the house with him, leaving you little time to meet the gaze of Rocky whose eyes immediately shot up to look at you.
- As you walked, you tried to pry some information out of the boy but it was pointless, he refused to answer any of your questions, opting to stay nearly silent or telling you that it “was nothing”; even though you knew better.
- It’s a whole week before things start to go back to normal but there’s still some tension between Rocky and Colt. Your dear pal Jeffrey, who once loved having his brothers tag along, now seems hesitant to allow his older brother to accompany you guys. …And here you thought things were awkward before.
- Another week goes by before you learn exactly what happened. You’re sitting at home when your mother calls you, telling you that you have a guest as you head to the front door. Standing in your foyer is Rocky, a sight you never thought you’d see, and the sheer surprise you feel upon seeing him makes you stop in your tracks.
- His eyes meet your frozen figure and he licks his lips, opening his mouth to say something before he shuts it again. A second passes before he manages to get out a “hi”, watching as you finally begin to walk towards him again.
- You give a quiet hello in response and a beat of silence passes between you before he asks if you can talk, letting you lead him outside after you nod.
- The two of you are quiet for a while before he turns and asks how you’ve been just as you’re about to say something to break the silence. You answer that you’re fine with a little laugh and you ask how he’s been before you ask the question that's really been on your mind.
“Seems like you and Colt have been fighting.”
“A little I guess.”
“Why’s that?”
“...Well uh …he found out something he isn’t too happy about.” You quirked an eyebrow up at his words and asked what it was.
“...That I …like...you.” He says slowly, as though he’s forcing himself to finally say the words.
- The phrase could mean a few things but you immediately know exactly what he’s confessing when he says them and a small smile finds it’s way onto your face.
“Yeah, you should never bring that sort of thing up to Colt.” You say, feeling an overwhelming urge to tease the boy just a little.
“Yeah I guess I found that out,” He laughs a little and you can hear the nervousness in it. “So, uh...” You hum questioningly and he continues. “What do you think?”
“Think about what?”
“About …about me liking you....”
“I think I like it,” You give him a smile. “I like you too Rocky.”
- The two of you have your first date at the beach. Colt and Tum Tum probably found out you were planning on going and just immediately went with you, forcing you to come up with ways to sneakily bond with each other during your borderline disastrous date. Regardless, you still enjoyed the day, even if you didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time alone.
- You share your first kiss when you arrive back home. Colt and Tum Tum had immediately gone inside while Rocky and you stayed behind to talk a little. He apologized for the brotherly ambush and you assured him you didn’t mind.
- He asked if you were sure and you laughed, nodding your head …then it just sort of happened. He leaned in and then you did and your lips met in a soft quick kiss before you pulled away and said a quiet goodbye.
- Colt may not have been too happy to spot his brother locking lips with his best friend but he got over it and gave his reluctant blessing, letting you accomplish your childhood dream of being with Samuel.
- There’s not a ton of pda in your relationship; mainly because his brothers are almost always nearby and he’s a little shy about that sort of thing. When there is pda, it’s usually pretty quick or on the friendlier appearing side of affection.
- His arm wrapped around your shoulder whenever you’re standing together.
- Sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around you.
- Handholding.
- Tight hugs. He always scoops you up in one whenever he wins a game or match.
- Cheek kisses.
- Soft, almost featherlight kisses.
- Hair ruffling.
- The two of you usually cuddle snuggled into each other with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, although, if you’re going to be completely alone, he must admit that he does enjoy spooning quite a bit.
- Gushing over him whenever he wears his glasses, assuring him that you’re not making fun of him and that he really does look good in them.
- Holding and momentarily stealing his hats.
- Singing songs together/singing along to the radio.
- Teaching him about your interests and hobbies. He likes learning about them and trying them out whenever he can; even though he’s probably awful at them or knows he won’t like them.
- He likes looking at you whenever you aren't looking. You’ll catch him staring at you after you snap out of a daze or look away from whatever it was you were gazing at. He usually just shakes his head with a small smile whenever you ask him “what”.
- When you’re together, you’ll probably want to hang out somewhere outside or at your house; considering he shares a tiny room with both his brothers and you’ll never be completely left alone if you stay there.
- His brothers constantly interrupting the two of you.
- Both his brothers and occasionally his grandfather teasing him about you. He gets really shy about the whole thing and they love embarrassing him before you show up.
- He tends to just call you by your given name, though it’s very likely that he or one of his siblings/grandfather will come up with a nickname for you and he’ll use that a lot.
- Playing baseball; or all the other sports he plays, with him. He likes being able to teach you and watch you get all excited when you get better.
- Going to his games.
- Letting him teach you karate. He always shoots his brothers dirty and warning looks when they laugh at you.
- Motivating and cheering him on at everything he does.
- He looks back at you whenever he’s going to do something, making sure that you’re watching before he does something impressive. He likes showing off when you’re around.
- Taking walks in the woods together.
- Climbing and sitting in trees.
- Talking over the phone/tin can. He always has to call you to say goodnight.
- Getting visited whenever you’re sick. He comes to make sure you’re okay and keep you company; even if he gets a little sick himself.
- He’s always jumping to help you; even when you tell him to do the opposite or that you don’t need his help. It’s endearing yet annoying.
- Riding bikes together.
- Playing video games together; he either lets you win or tries to sabotage you depending on the day.
- Helping him cook and bake. You’re usually joined by Tum Tum who you have to watch very closely to ensure that the food actually gets made instead of consumed before it’s cooked.
- Getting taken to meet his grandfather or having Rocky introduce you to the man as his girlfriend after the two of you get together; at his brothers insistence.
- He occasionally likes to sneak up on you and tap your shoulder from behind to make you jump. You can’t even be mad at him, not when you turn and see the smile he has on.
- He hates seeing you upset and always asks a bunch of questions in an attempt to find out exactly what happened, making promises and trying his best to cheer you up while he does so.
- He’s pretty reasonable when it comes to jealousy so he doesn’t get jealous very often. On the off chance that he does, he’ll be patient but will tell the guy to back off if he doesn’t leave you alone; and if he’s obviously making you uncomfortable.
- Speaking of telling guys to back off, he’s always ready to defend or protect you when necessary. He’ll also always go look for you when you disappear or are gone for longer than you should be, wanting to make sure you’re okay and that nothing happened.
- He has a habit of snapping when he’s embarrassed or mad so expect a snide comment or two. You’ll usually just say something along the lines of “ok geez” in response and a moment or two of silence will pass before the guilt gets to him and he sighs, beginning to explain himself and/or apologize.
- If you have a real fight, he’ll do whatever he can to make you forgive him. He always makes promises, even if he doesn’t exactly follow through on them; but he does have the best intentions regardless.
- He tells you that he loves you quite a bit; even though his brothers tease him for it. He just smiles at you and gives them a shove in response, not caring what they think.
- A guy who loves you through puberty is definitely a keeper so congratulations on finding your ninja, honey.
#3 ninjas imagine#3 ninjas imagines#3 ninjas headcanons#3 ninjas headcanon#rocky douglas imagine#rocky douglas headcanons#rocky douglas imagines#rocky douglas headcanon#90s movie imagine#90s movie imagines#90s movie headcanons#90s movie headcanon
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Hey there! Admittedly I'm a little bit nervous since this is my first ask, but I'll try to not be too rambly.
So, recently the main subreddit, r/RWBY, made a ban on active users of the r/RWBYcritics subreddit. As a result there's been discussion around bad-faith criticism in the latter subreddit. What are your takes on bad-faith criticism?
For me personally, I think a bunch of people are misusing the term "bad-faith" and using it as a way to shut down criticism, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.
Hey there, everyone! We woke up to some drama this morning, huh? And hello to you too, Tortoise! I'm so glad you decided to send in an ask, even if it's following some pretty tumultuous events...
Right, I'd like to start with a story. The story of how I personally don't spend time on Reddit, but I have plenty of friends who will occasionally cross-post something for me to see. Yesterday (or the day before? Idk time is meaningless) a friend told me about a post — which, significantly, I'm now having trouble finding — that covers RWBY's inconsistent writing and the fandom's tendency to try and explain away those missteps. They'd thought I'd be interested because I'd just had a conversation here on tumblr where I made that exact point to someone who, also significantly, vehemently disagreed with me, but in a very civil fashion. Given everything going on, I feel like this side point needs emphasis: we debated, we did so in a sometimes heated, but nevertheless respectful manner, it was clear neither of us was going to sway the other, and the conversation ended. The two "sides" of the community interacted without Armageddon coming about.
But back to the purpose of this tale. I went to take a look at this point and found that it no longer exists. There's just some vague message about it not obeying the subreddit's rules. "What happened?" I asked. "Why'd they take the post down?" "People were getting too heated in the comments," my friend replies. So, given that the comments were still visible, I proceeded to read through them, expecting personal attacks, slurs, harassment, etc. Any number of things that would justify deleting the post itself to put an end to such behavior. Instead, I found a thread of people having a conversation. Was the conversation heated at times? Sure. Did one or two individual posters edge into the realm of petulant, "No. You're wrong and stupid" responses? Yes. Was any of this remotely what I was expecting given the post's removal? NOPE.
"This isn't allowed?" I said. "Well then what is? People were being civil! Or at least as civil as hundreds of strangers ever get when discussing a series they're passionate about online."
Then, this morning, I hear that the entire critic subreddit has been banned.
So to answer your question, Tortoise, I don't actually think that "good faith" criticism exists. Meaning, it's not just that fans are misusing the term "bad faith criticism," but rather that there is no unified, agreed up method of writing criticism that will meet their standards. It's not possible and we know it's not possible because fans have been trying to meet those elusive standards for years:
A fan posts nothing but praise for RWBY until changes make them criticize the show as it is now. Their entire body of work is dismissed as the product of a "hater," despite the overwhelming gap between positive and negative reviews.
A fan posts a review that's a pretty balanced mix between praise and criticism. They're dismissed because it's still too much criticism.
A fan posts a review that's 99% praise with 1% criticism. That's still too much, with fans focusing on the single problem they had with the work and using it as an excuse to dismiss the entire review out of hand.
(As an aside, the argument that critics are "obsessed" with only saying negative things and that the only problem here is that they're "too" negative ignores the argument that... RWBY has a lot of flaws nowadays. Few are willing to acknowledge the possibility that it's not fans insisting on making things up to be mad about/ignoring the good parts of the show, it's the that show is, as of now, legitimately more of a mess than it is a praise-worthy product. If I'd been writing recaps in the Volumes 1-4 days, my work would have been skewed far more towards the positive. The critics' stance is that RWBY has gotten worse, which yes, results a higher volume of critical posts. To say nothing of how criticism takes far longer to explain, likewise resulting in posts focused primarily on that side of the divide. I really enjoyed the image of a crying Jaune reflected in his sword. I did not enjoy that moment's context. Saying that you liked an animation choice is a one sentence thing. Explaining the complexities of Jaune securing emotional moments, the problems with Penny's second death, the hurt many fans experienced watching an assisted suicide, etc. takes a whooole lot longer. Hence, you get massive, multiple posts about these nuanced topics and fewer, smaller posts about the details that are working well.)
A fan talks about a topic that has been metaphorically banned by the fandom as a whole. They have something good to say about Ironwood. They dislike something about Blake/Yang. They enjoyed Adam as a character. They have a problem with Ruby's leadership, etc. There's a whole list of topics nowadays that will result in an automatic dismissal, regardless of the point the fan is trying to make or how well they make it.
A fan talks about the minority representation of RWBY — its black characters, its queer characters, its disabled characters, etc. — and as a result has something to say about the biases and missteps of those writing these characters. This is considered an attack on the writers and, therefore, automatically bad.
A fan talks about how they enjoyed RWBY as it was years ago and is having trouble reconciling the dark, complicated story with the simple, hopeful one we started out with. This is seen as an attack on Monty's vision and an unwillingness to accept that "everything is planned."
A fan does as asked and ensures that their post is meeting all the requirements of "real" criticism. They have an argument to make. They have a point. They provide evidence. They recommend a solution. They keep their tone respectful. They don't attack the creators. They provide disclaimers in every single paragraph about how they do not hate RWBY. It doesn't matter. They're considered too negative.
I have, quite literally, seen every one of the above examples on multiple occasions. I have had many of the above accusations leveled at my own work. When fans say that they're fine with criticism provided it's not "bad faith" criticism, they don't actually have a specific post-type in mind; a checklist of behaviors another fan can emulate and, provided they do that, no hate will come their way. Or, if an individual fan does actually go, "Yeah. That criticism I'm fine with" that response is in no way universal. One person's "They make a good, civil point" is another person's, "Omg stop bashing the show!" Because "bashing" has come to mean everything from curse-laden insults towards everything RWBY has ever done, to posts that just happen to say something other fans don't agree with.
It's a rigged game. There is no way to post criticism about RWBY in an agreed-upon, appropriate manner. This recent ban is proof of that. I think it's incredibly telling that almost immediately after I was going, "Wow. A pretty calm debate about the flaws of RWBY in the main sub. That's great to see," all posters from the criticism subreddit were banned. The main sub literally just had the sort of criticism that they claim to accept — people respectfully posting analysis-based arguments resulting in calm debate — and yet they implemented the ban anyway. I'm not going to pretend that I've never gotten too heated on my own posts, never made snarky comments when I'm frustrated, never used exaggerated reaction GIFs that can come across as insulting... but I'd say on the whole my RWBY work is precisely the sort of "good faith" criticism that other fans are supposedly looking for. I never make an argument I don't think I can back up with evidence. I try to allow for the nuance and differing opinions of complicated topics. I try — even if I don't always succeed — to write in a clear, respectful manner. Yet none of that work has stopped people from telling me I'm a "bitter... raging asshole," a "deranged, delusional psychopath," telling me to set myself on fire, threatening to smash my head in, or just messages to straight up kill myself. If someone like me who legitimately works hard to create fair, defendable criticism and who only ever posts on a personal blog that people can easily block, who never engages in debate until someone else starts it first, never seeks out other fans I disagree with to harass them about what they like... if someone like me is still a "bad faith" critic who "deserves" that kind of hate mail... then what kind of criticism do people want?
Nothing. That's the answer. No criticism whatsoever, of any kind, no matter if it's delivered respectfully, is making a good point, whatever. That's why "RWDE" was created. That's why the critic subreddit was created. The community at large has demanded a complete separation between Praise and Anything That's Not 100% Praise, which has now resulted in this ban. Any other explanations we see are excuses, which becomes glaringly obvious when you look at the mods' supposed reasons for implementing the ban:
"Constant arguments with r/RWBY users" - As opposed to the arguments surrounding things like shipping that never, ever happen?
"Vote manipulation and comment brigades" - The subreddit with 3,000 participants, with around 200 on at a time, is manipulating the votes of a subreddit with 155,000 participants, with over 1,000 on at a time? Those numbers just do not check out. If a positive post is downvoted, or a critical post upvoted, maybe that's because large swaths of the community actually agree/disagree with that assessment, not because the incredibly smaller group is somehow manipulating things.
"Attacking and harassing those they disagree with" — Again, as opposed to those non-critics that never, ever harass people? This is an individual problem, not a community problem. Both critics and non-critics have their sub-groups acting in ways they shouldn't. If anything, the main sub will have more individuals harassing other fans, simply by virtue of being so much larger. As the above examples attest, it's not other critics who have told me to light myself on fire and, just to be clear, the asks I've responded to are a miniscule number compared to the amount I've received. I delete the lion's share for my own sanity and to save my followers from reading the really graphic threats.
"Months-long NSFL spam brigades" — I am, admittedly, not sure what this is referring to. Spamming of NSFW content? If so, that's also an individual problem.
"Homophobic, transphobic, and racist attacks towards our users" — See the above points. Again. If someone is being homophobic, transphobic, or racist, then yes please, ban them. Don't ban an entire community for the actions of a few. It's like walking into a store and banning a customer for causing a scene... but then also banning everyone else who happened to be shopping at the same time. It's guilt by association.
The silver lining to all this? The community as a whole isn't pleased. At least according to the main subreddit comments and a few individual voices like MurderofBirds. Despite the increase (from my perspective anyway) of critical voices post-Volume 8, criticism of RWBY is still very much seen as taboo. As this ban showcases. But it's really reassuring to see so many fans, critics and non-critics alike, going, "This was a mistake." A community is meant to include all aspects of engagement: praise, criticism, and the gray area between. If anything, fans like the mods of the main subreddit should be creating a separate subreddit that is specifically for praise. In the same way that there should have been a tag for RWBY praise, rather than trying to eliminate any and all criticism from the main "RWBY" tag. The majority of fans, even those who claim to hate critics and all they (presumably) stand for, recognize that a blanket ban of all criticism is not the way to go, especially when "criticism" has come to have such a staggeringly broad definition. If you want your RWBY experience to be nothing but sunshine and roses (ha), then cultivate your own internet experience to reflect that. Create your own pockets with rules about how this is the space for praise and if you're not up for praising RWBY right now, don't interact with us in this particular space. Don't try to make the entire community — the main tools used to discuss the show online — conform to your preferences. As established, there is no "good" criticism that everyone in the fandom will accept, which just leaves a fandom with no criticism at all. I'm glad to see I'm far from the only one who, when presented with that extreme, is going, "Nope. No thank you."
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Homecoming - Chapter Four
(Gif's not my own.)
Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.
Genres: Romance, drama.
Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).
Notes:
-It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.
-This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.
-English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.
-Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.
-Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.
-Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.
Chapter Four starts after the cut. (Chapter Three can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.
Chapter Four
Chapter warnings: PTSD, angst (or as much angst as I’ll ever write), couple’s fight, outdated expectations of marriage (is that even a warning?), mentions of masturbation.
This chapter is a little different from the previous ones and it’s stitched together weirdly. Also, there’s no smut (which is unusual for me!), but Chapter 5 will be more humorous and lighthearted.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
“When’s your next leave?” Harper asked from behind the wheel, knowing better than to take his eyes off the sand road. He had been transferred to the Special Forces after the whole water pumping station incident, with Sy’s approval.
They were at the very back of the convoy, like always. It was the only way Sy was able to keep all the Humvees in sight and look out for everyone.
“Not sure I’m gonna be seeing home before July.” Sy replied, blue eyes scrunched up as he tried making something, anything out in the darkness surrounding them. Doing this scouting mission at night hadn’t been his idea, but the order had come from higher up and it was when the guards were at their lowest.
Harper smiled, a short huff escaping his chest. “Ah yes! What are you going do once you’re home for good?” The soldier asked, the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. “Give your wife a small army of Texan babies?”
Sy scoffed, his chest shaking beneath the heavy protective vest. “Eyes on the road, soldier.”
“Yes, captain.” Harper chuckled even as he obeyed the command.
The rest of the drive went by in silence. The whole point of doing it at night was to be unseen and unheard. Confirm it was an armory so that an airstrike could later destroy it. Quick and easy.
Sy absentmindedly rubbed his finger through the thick glove, trying to feel the wedding band beneath. He never took the thing off, but it still somehow eased his mind to make sure it was there – make sure she was there across the ocean. They had talked on the phone the night before and he could still hear her shriek as she stubbed her toe on the doorframe whilst pacing around the house as she spoke to him. She wanted to order new tires for his pickup truck because she was afraid the current ones would be expired once he got back. He told her not to worry about any of that, but she insisted and then asked about Aika, changing subjects. No matter what they talked about, he always slept better after hearing her voice.
The landscape changed ever so slightly. They were there, right outside the deserted town’s walls. Sy gave everyone the order to pull up and get ready. It was only when he stepped out of the Humvee, his feet landing swiftly on the soft sand and the cold night’s air hitting his face, that he realized that Sy had been there already. He was dreaming again.
He had been there hundreds of times, taken the same steps, given the same orders and run away from the same explosion. After having the same nightmare night after night, the shock and the surprise element had lessened, but the dread remained unchanged. Sy was cursed to relive the same scene again and again, for moments even wondering if he lacked imagination so much that his mind was unable to come up with anything else.
Still, every night, he'd try changing the outcome, attempt to take control of his past self and make different decisions: refuse the mission, take a different team, catch Lieutenant Wilkins before he had a chance to run into the trap. It never worked. The result was always the same with him shouting for everyone to retreat and grabbing on to the back of Wilkins' uniform, trying to drag him out of the building, unsuccessfully. Then the telltale detonation followed, the building shook and they were thrown backwards with the explosion. When Sy landed on the concrete, there was a corpse - or what remained of it - on top of him. It was what had shielded him from the worst.
He once tried to warn Wilkins about the child's voice asking for help, to tell him it was a trap and that they needed to ignore it, but he was unable to speak. They were there, on the exact spot, a large room right down the stairs with no windows or lights, only three parted doors. Unlike the first time, the real time, he knew what was about to happen, through what door the grenade would be thrown out of before rolling on the dusty ground. And he went through it all over again.
It was the noise that alerted him the first time, the impact as it hit ground and then the rolling sound on the uneven surface.
"Retreat!" Sy heard his own voice shout loud enough for the rest of the team behind them to hear, then an echo of hurried, heavy footsteps followed.
He knew what happened then. Sy waited for the faint, unidentifiable cry for help and for Wilkins to blindly bolt towards the voice, the grenade. He knew he'd unable to stop him this time just like all the others. What was the point of making him relive the same failure over and over again?
"Help!"
Sy froze on the spot, unlike all the other previous nights. This time it was not a random infantile voice. It was Ada's. She was crying out for help, for him.
This time it was him who dashed after the voice, the grenade exploding before he could reach her.
°°°
Ada thought that they had dodged the bullet, that they had somehow managed to avoid all the stuff she had crammed her head with when she had found out Sy was retiring from active combat sooner than expected. The notes she had taken, the websites she had visited, the therapists she had researched and ranked according to online reviews; she had started to think none of these would come in handy. Apart from that small incident when grocery shopping and the whole thing with Tom, Sy was okay, they were okay. Or so she thought.
It only took maybe eight days of Sy being back home to find out that wasn't true. It was almost like when you took a plane and fly halfway across the globe. The first days you’d eat dinner at 3am and go to bed three hours later and nothing felt real. Then it settled in. But this wasn't a spontaneous holiday or a mid-life crisis, this was an honorable discharge. Sy wasn't leaving behind an unsatisfying career, he was leaving the war.
He came home. They reunited, caught up with each other, basked in other's presence. Ada had to keep reminding herself that she could fall asleep at night without the anxiety of feeling like she was wasting away his leave with something as frivolous as sleep.
Only sleep wasn't frivolous, Ada soon came to realize. Sy slept well the first few nights back home. The exhaustion helped, so did sex. Sy would kiss her, roll over, pull her into his arms and fall right asleep after it.
That changed quickly. On the eight night, she woke up to pee hours before dawn only to find his side of the bed empty. She found him downstairs playing on his new console. It was the jetlag that made him unable to sleep, he said. Ada knew better, even as she acquiesced.
The following night, after making love and taking care of her, Sy didn't even bother pretending he was going to bed. "I won't be able to sleep anyways and I don't want to keep you up," he claimed, putting on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before going out for a run. It was past midnight.
After going two days with barely shutting his eyes, Sy did finally fall asleep in bed with her. Ninety minutes later, he was awake again.
"You okay?" Ada groaned softly, forcing her eyes open but it was too dark to see anything. She had woken up with his tossing and turning.
"Yeah, just go back to sleep," Sy replied dismissively, turning on his side and facing the window away from her.
Ada was about to do just that, believing his words in her incoherent sleepiness, when her hand touched his clammy back. He had managed to sweat through his t-shirt, but his skin remained icy.
"You're not okay," she whispered to herself before switching on her small bedside lamp and sitting up.
"I told you to go back to sleep, Ada," Sy protested, still facing away from her.
She shook her head softly and tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy, and she couldn't move him without his help. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know."
She waited in silence for him to answer, to say something, anything at all. She had planned on watching podcasts, meeting with veterans and whatever she could do to help, but Sy had come home several months earlier than planned and she didn't know what to do, what was expected of her as a wife, as his partner, as his support person.
"Alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she attempted quietly, sliding back into bed and moving in behind him, doing her best to be the big spoon for once. "We can just cuddle until you fall asleep."
Apparently, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Sy jumped out of bed as if her touch had burnt him. "I'm not a fucking child, Ada. I don't need your cuddles."
She flinched at his tone, taking a deep breath but her voice still came out strangled. "I was not implying you were a child, Sy. I just thought - no - I just hoped that you would find some comfort with me," she admitted but he was already getting dressed, sweaty skin and all. "Clearly I was wrong."
His face was red behind his full beard. He was pissed, she could almost feel him buzzing as he tried to restrain his anger and not - she didn't know what he was keeping himself from doing. Whatever it was, Ada was sure his next words hurt just as much as whatever he was initially going to do.
"I don't need you to fucking comfort me, woman!" He spat out, putting on a pair of boots. "I don't need anyone's help and certainly not my wife's!"
With that, he marched to the bedroom door, forcefully throwing it open. "I'm going out for air. Don't wait up for me."
They barely saw each other the next day. Sy texted that he was going to spend some time with his mom. Still hurt and offended, even though she knew this was not about her, Ada left for the day without telling him her whereabouts.
She took her car and drove to the animal shelter to help out. No one was expecting her there, but they gave her some work to do and it did help her feel better for a couple hours at least. But it was barely noon when she was done and she refused to go home, meeting up with friends instead. None of them asked why she wasn't at home practically glued to Sy. They were used to their friend pretty much vanishing off the face of the Earth whenever Sy came home for two or three weeks, but they were wise enough not to question it.
His words had stung. Ada was aware he had been mad, and that people always said dumb stuff when they were mad, but she did find some truth in his words. Why would he need her comfort? Her help? Or even a wife at all?
Sy had lived thirty-three years without knowing her and then three more married to her but living continents' apart. He could command soldiers, lead missions, plan attacks and whatever it was that he also did back in Iraq. The house was his, his mom would be overjoyed to cook for him and do his laundry again if he didn’t want to do it himself and Ada didn't kid herself - if he wanted sex, all he had to do was walk into a bar.
So, technically speaking, she knew Sy didn't need her. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own better than ninety-nine percent of the population. What had hurt her was that he didn't want her, nor her help or her comfort. And if he didn't want her to try and make his life a lil' bit better, what was even the point. Ada didn't know and all the cocktails she consumed didn't provide an answer either, but they did end up forcing her to eat almost her own weight in food to soak up all the alcohol before driving back home at ten.
She was still fishing out her keys to open the front door, when Sy pulled it open with so much force, it almost flew off its hinges.
"Where the fuck have you been?!" Sy shouted as soon as she set a foot inside.
"I was out with friends.” Ada took off her shoes by the door. "How's your mom?" She looked up only long enough to find him staring down at her with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.
"I sent you a dozen texts and called you just as many times, but you never picked up." Oh, his tone had switched to that unsettling calm before the storm.
"I apologize, my phone was on silent," Ada replied. It was true, though she had still noticed his calls and texts. "Look I am tired, and I am going to take a shower." She said before walking upstairs to their bedroom.
To her surprise, Sy followed her up, stopping only at their room’s threshold as if he weren’t allowed inside without her forgiveness. "I am sorry for yesterday," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.
“It’s okay.” Ada shook her head, undressing rapidly and balling up her dirty clothes to throw them in the hamper. She smelt like a whole bar and she was desperate for a shower.
“I didn’t mean it, what I said,” he added, finally walking inside the room but still keeping his distances.
“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She reassured him, disappearing inside the en-suite. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time. Sy had even apologized. “I am sorry too. For today.”
His voice startled her, Sy was closer than she had expected. “Do you have need for me?” He asked, making her still as she bent down to fetch some fresh towels from the drawer. Did she have need for him? Ada frowned even though he couldn’t see her face. She heard him sigh again behind her.
"I felt useful back in Baqubah. I ran that city, commanded soldiers, gave my country something and then an explosion happens, two of my men die. And you know what they do? They send me home. Not to punish me for fucking up; they send me home because they thought I had witnessed enough shit and deserved an honorable discharge. Whatever the reason, my services weren't needed there anymore."
"Then I come home to my wife, to you, Ada. And you know what?” He asked before providing the answer himself. “The doors don't screech, the mirror has been replaced and my wife doesn’t even need me to take her out on dates or to the movies because she already has someone for that. So really, what's my goddamn purpose here? The house doesn't need me. You don't need me. Even my mother doesn't need me what with her new boyfriend. So why the fuck did I come back?"
He paused and Ada took it as a chance to stand up and face him. She didn’t know what this was. His voice wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shouting, and his posture didn’t appear hostile. They weren’t arguing, this was something different. “That’s not-” Sy cut her off.
"Then, last night, I realize that while you don't need me, I sure as hell need you, Ada. And that's not how I imagined my marriage would be. I should be the provider. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."
"This is not the 1950s, Sy," Ada chuckled faintly despite herself.
"That don’t matter. It's how I was raised: preside, provide and protect. I don't care about the presiding part; I knew from day one that I'd never be able to boss you around and I didn't want to. But I still very much believe in providing for and protecting what's mine, and instead, you're the one doing that. So, not only did I fail my men back in Iraq, but now I’ve failed you too."
“No. Stop right there.” Ada interrupted him, more forcefully than intended. "Okay, first, you never failed me. Don’t you ever say that.” Sy huffed from his spot by the door, clearly unconvinced but she was determined to get this out. “Second, I... I think you need to stop settling for being needed and instead accept that you are loved, at least by me."
Sy stiffened against the doorframe, his face taking over an unreadable expression beneath his beard. Shit. Did she mess up again? "Did I say something wrong?"
He didn’t reply right away. Ada took a few steps to him when his words took her by surprise. "You said you loved me."
She stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and closing it again a few times, stammering. Confusion was evident on her face. "Well, yeah."
"You've never said it before," Sy explained, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Ada frowned, a little unsteady on her feet as she thought back. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure that is what I ended all our phone calls with."
He shook his head. "I meant in person.”
"Oh, I never realized.”
The cold bathroom tile floor was not the place either of them would have picked out under different circumstances, but it was where Sy finally allowed himself to be cuddled into the warmth of her embrace for the first time, his head resting against her naked breast with her slow heartbeat lulling him into a different kind of peace. “I do love you, Sy.”
Ada was no fool, this wouldn’t soothe all his troubles, but for now, it was a start. And that was all she could ask for.
°°°
Sy sat down on the chair in their study. Most walls were covered with Ada’s textbooks from floor to ceiling. He huffed at the sight. If you’d told him five years ago that he’d end up with an academic wife, he’d have laughed in your face. Now, he tested touched the shelves, watching them wobble slightly and decided he ought to build her something sturdier.
First, he had to take care of some administrative bullshit for the new job he'd be starting at Camp Marbry in January. He had always hated bureaucracy but there was no escaping it. He had learned it the hard way as a private. Maybe it was also time he started going through their utilities folders. Ada had taken over all of it when they got married, managing their bank accounts and paying the bills. Sy hadn't taken of that shit in years but he probably should relieve her of some of those chores.
His eyes wandered over to the neatly organized shelves under the office desk, trying to find the correct binder when his attention landed on what appeared to be a fancy silver notebook. Was that the one Tom had mentioned?
Sy knew he shouldn't go through her stuff, but he was curious and it was not like she had hidden it or anything. Ending his hesitation with a shrug, he picked up the notebook only for stray bits of paper to immediately fly out and land on the carpeted floor. "Shit!"
He bent down and gathered them all up quickly in his hand, lest Ada find out he was snooping and chide him like a soldier. He sat back on the chair and started reading through some of the bits and slips of paper he had caught: "shaving gel not cream!", "dog treats (the fancy ones)", "boxer briefs in L"... They were all dated too. Sy figured they were just old shopping lists until he opened the notebook.
The first part appeared to be a logbook of sorts with notes about each and every one of their calls for the past year. Sy went over some of them, grinning despite himself. He never imagined Ada took notes during their weekly phone calls.
"Sy says it's really cold at night in the desert."
"He seems a little down..."
"Aika has a sweet tooth." Damn, he missed that dog!
“Explosion. Two men dead.”
He skipped over the next few pages, remembering it all too well. After the logbook part, came a set of lists, all dated. "The monthly care packages," Sy realized, reading through them and concluding that this was where the bits of paper had fallen from.
All the care package lists were cross-referenced with the calls logbook. Sy had never understood how she always managed to send him exactly what he needed. He wasn't even aware that he had mentioned most of these small things to her. Most of the time, he didn't even understand how she managed to fit so much stuff into those small USPS boxes. Whenever he tried putting everything back in the cardboard box for safekeeping, half of it didn't fit back inside.
He flipped through a few more care packages before landing on a particularly long list. The date was highlighted, it was the package he had received on the month of his birthday. Ada had made him promise not to open it before the 18th. “You can open the box, but I will know if you open the present before your birthday, Sy,” she had warned him on the phone, trying to sound very stern. “And if you do, I’ll come to Iraq just to whoop your ass.” He had laughed so loudly, Harper had knocked on his door to make sure he was alright.
Sy laughed again as he went over the list, remembering how the private from the deliveries and postal department kept on complaining because packages this big were 'not usually authorized' and that he was getting 'favor treatment' because he was captain and that Ada shouldn't even have been allowed to ship a box exceeding the maximum dimensions. Sy had taken the package from the soldier and asked if he fancied a trip to the infirmary. That had shut him up quickly.
There had been candy (no chocolate because it had melted through its packaging once when she had tried sending him some), gum, the two first James Bond novels, dog treats, a new photo of his niece and nephew, underwear that was way too fancy for him and a handwritten letter from Ada.
What had immediately caught his attention was the very neatly wrapped gift box with a big red bow and a small card that reminded him once more not to open it until his birthday and only when he was alone.
Sy laughed, remembering how giddy he was to open that damn box. They'd gone on a recon mission on his birthday and when they got back, everyone was exhausted and dirty. He had hurried to the showers, cutting off some soldiers and then rushed to his private room to open the gift.
In all his adult life, Sy could only remember blushing three times, two of them the same day. First was when Ada said 'I do’ and he tried sliding the ring on her finger, but nervous and tipsy like he had been, the damn tiny thing slipped off his hand and fell on the carpet. Second was when the limo supposed to bring them back to their hotel was caught up in traffic, and the two of them decided to get it on in the chapel's storage room while another couple was getting married. Not only did they promptly – and accidentally, might he add – knock over all the props, he literally ended up fucking her through the cheap and unstable dry wall. The look on the couple’s face had been priceless!
The third time was on his birthday. Inside the box, he had found a handful of professionally made photos of Ada in lingerie and sometimes not even that much. If that didn't have his mind spinning and his dick throbbing after so many months away, he certainly couldn't believe his eyes when he found a small tube of lube and a transparent fleshlight.
It was not the gift as such that made him blush. The photos had him beyond excited and he was all too eager to try out the fleshlight. No, the embarrassment only settled in afterwards. More specifically when Sy remembered that despite having a private room as a captain, the washrooms where shared and he found himself cleaning the fleshlight in the sink with the little water they had, hoping no one would see him.
"Oh shit!"
Sy jumped in his chair at her voice, he hadn't heard her get home, let alone upstairs.
"Fuck. You weren’t meant to see that, Sy.” Ada babbled, quickly walking up to him with a sheepish look on her face.
Sy smiled, interrupting her as he seized her hips and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "It’s okay, darlin'."
Ada's eyes widened incredulously. "Really? You’re not even mad at me for meeting with a therapist to get advice?"
Sy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. Right. Admittedly, he had not yet made it to that part but while he wasn't exactly keen on discussing his private life with strangers, he felt no anger at finding out that Ada had tried to look after him. Her words from last night had somehow made it through his thick skull.
"No, I'm not angry, not even for that. I know you were just trying to-"
Sy opened his eyes again at her silence only to find his wife grinning like the Cheshire cat as she looked at the open page on the notebook.
"You didn't even make it that far, huh?" She chuckled, pointing at the list. "Nope, you were still stuck with that ridiculous birthday gift I gave you!" While her tone was accusatory, Sy could see that she was trying not to burst out laughing.
Rolling his eyes, he pried the notebook from her hands and set it down on the desk. "It was not a ridiculous gift. I kept it all," Sy reassured her, pressing her body closer to his. "Well, not the lube. That was gone in weeks. And the photos are definitely a little used now but-"
Ada kissed him out of the blue, shutting him up. "Sy, I really love you but you're giving me secondhand embarrassment right now."
The bear of a man laughed, holding ever impossibly tighter before kissing her forehead. "I love you too, wife." Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Do you think it’s possible to send a care package to a dog?”
@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie
#henry cavill smut#syverson smut#henry cavill x reader#syverson x reader#henry cavill x ofc#syverson x ofc
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football and foreing films
spencer reid x reader
(not my gif)
masterlist
plot: football is your thing, and since the start of the season you’ve had invited the team to watch the games every Sunday. After being absence a few times due to the reason of not liking sports, Spencer makes his first appearence at your place one night
warnings: football talk, language, kissing, incredibly cute spencer, too much fluff
note: I thought of writing this since it’s the beginning of the football season and I love football so enjoy !!
word count: 4k
Y/N loves football in a way that Spencer couldn't describe as usual for an FBI agent. Screw that, for a person.
As a Kansas City native, your team was obviously the Kansas City Chiefs. And since every member of the BAU had their thing that described him best, you made clear that yours was football.
You would invite the BAU to your small and cosy Virginia apartment to watch the games. Nobody besides JJ liked football as much as you did, and even JJ considered you a die-hard fan because you were. You were a die-hard football fan.
"Hey, Morgan!" You exclaimed opening the door. "Is that beer? 'Gimme!" You yelled, grabbing the cases. If Morgan wasn't fast enough, you would have close the door in his face. "The beer came with Morgan!" You exclaimed, making Hotch and Emily stand up from the couch and grab some. "You could have bought colder ones, though."
"You really get grumpy in football season, Y/N," he mumbled, grabbing one of the cans and jumping into the couch next to Rossi. The elder of the group was sipping from his glass of wine. He was staring at the TV as the fans were filling the stadium. "You don't want a beer, Rossi?"
"No, I don't want beer, Morgan," he replied, making the man laugh. "I don't get why you get all excited by these games, Y/N," he told you as you sat down on the floor, opening the beer and drinking. You were wearing your Chiefs jersey and looking anxiously at the TV.
"Hey, I have to be in your six-hour-long cooking lesson every Friday without having any cooking talent. You can at least hang out with me for three hours on Sunday." Football got you on defensive mode, and you always had to be like that to feel respected in the team.
You've been in the BAU for at least eight months now, and you've become closer to practically everyone. Now, they even give you their Sundays. Hotch sometimes comes with Jack, and he stays playing in your apartment office while you watch the game. The team was your family now... well, everyone except one.
You had nothing in common with the young doctor who's desk was in front of yours. You've had invited him to watch every football game since the beginning of the season with you, but he has never said yes. He is, or busy, or he simply likes to stay home and talk to his online friends about philosophy. You had no idea what Reid fancied to do in his free time, and honestly, you tossed your curiosity aside a long time ago.
The doorbell rang, making you get up from the floor quickly since you didn't want to miss the beginning of the game.
You walk backwards as your sight was focused on the screen. You looked over to your friends and did a headcount to see who was at the door. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Hotch and JJ were there, so it could only mean that...
"Beautiful lady," you said as you opened the door to welcome Penelope Garcia as she held a box of cookies. "Are those Chiefs themed cookies?" You questioned as you looked at the cookies with red and yellow decoration. "That is so sweet."
"Anything for an important game. And guess who I found wandering through the hallway looking for your apartment."
That's when Spencer Reid appeared in your door frame. His hair was all messy, letting a single curl bounce against his forehead. He was wearing a shirt and a cardigan, definitely not appropriate football attire. You let a little smile as you saw him, being surprised to even see him there.
Penelope let himself in being welcomed by the rest of the team. While she sat down, you were still staring at the young doctor, who seemed even more surprise to be there than you were.
"Hey," you said softly.
"Hey," he replied in the same tone, giving you a tiny smile.
"You brought wine," you pointed out. Spencer quickly remembered he had a bottle in his hand and gave it to you nervously. "Thanks."
"JJ told me that your team is red, so I tried to match a little," he let you know, showing you his red cardigan. You chuckled. "Can I come in?"
"Huh? Oh sure! Come in." He smiled before entering, being received with a smile from the rest of the team.
"Look who's here!" Exclaimed Emily.
"Pretty boy!" Yelled Morgan. "You'll have to sit on the floor, though."
"It's okay," the doctor murmured as he sat down, turning around to look at you walking towards them.
Suddenly, you felt uncomfortable in your outfit. You felt the need of changing. It wasn't your best look.
You had no idea why you thought of changing into your pretty tight black dress that minute but decided to ignore it and sit down next to Spencer on the floor, on your usual spot.
Not that your usual spot was next to Reid, you always sat in the floor. It was not on purpose.
This is your house, for God's sake, chill out.
"Hey, Rossi, the doctor brought you wine," you said, giving the bottle to Rossi, who smiled.
Spencer whispered to you.
"You don't drink wine? I didn't know."
"Oh no, I do, I love wine. But on football night, we drink beer." You grabbed one bottle and gave it to Spencer with a smile. He just held on to it, not making any movement towards opening it. "Oh my God, the game is starting."
Suddenly, all your mind was on the game. You didn't care that Spencer was too close to you, or that you were the only two one in the floor.
You celebrated every yard your team advanced. Every pass that Patrick Mahomes did you were there to scream and cheer for it, and Spencer didn't get it, so you explained it to him.
"The goal is to get to the other side," you whispered to his ear. "Each team has four tries to move forward ten yards, and the defence of the other team needs to prevent the rival offence team of running the 10 yards in the four attempts because then it is their turn to attack." Spencer nodded. Even though you were terrible at explaining the game due to the alcohol and adrenaline running through your system, he now understood the game more clearly. "When the ball gets to the endzone on the other side of the field, it's called a touchdown, that equivalents to six points. After the touchdown, you can either go for a field goal, that is to kick the ball between the goalposts, or you can go for a two-point conversion, which is riskier."
"Got it," he whispered to you. "And why do you like the game so much?"
"It's so organized." He looked at you strangely. "You can't see it?" He shook his head. "There are at least sixty different offensive formations and plays, each one of them with different outcomes. The players have to move according to the positions of their teammates. You can't see it, but each one of the men that are on the line is crucial to get the ball to the other side. If you remove one of them, all the tactic, all the play, falls apart. There is no one play similar to the other, and they have to be able to change quickly if something doesn't go as planned or if the rival team reads your game. There is no game equal to another. There are thousands of different possibilities."
"Like chess," he said, and you nodded.
"Yeah, something like chess." You pointed out the player number 15 the quarterback. "That is the most valuable player on the board. He is the one in charge to change the play in seconds when something changes. If his left receptor is not in his position or was taken down by the rival, he needs, by any source, to pass the ball. He can't be taken down with the ball in hand because it adds yards."
Spencer was impressed. This was the most long-running conversation you both have ever had since you'd met.
He stared at you as you watched the game. How your expressions would change beneath seconds. The sport was a lot faster than he had expected, but time didn't go quick as he looked at you. It was like slow-motion. He had time to pay attention to the details.
He didn't realize he had been staring for at least five minutes until you stood up screaming.
"That was a clear fault!" You yelled, receiving complainings from your friends as you were blocking the screen. "For God's sake, where the hell is the referee? That was a fault! Get him out of the field!"
"He was lumping anyways," said Emily, receiving an angry look from the rest, including Spencer. "Sorry."
You sat down again, watching the rest of the third quarter in silence, still upset about that obvious fault of the rival team against the left receptor.
Spencer offered you the beer that he hadn't drink since the beginning, surprising you. You gave him a tiny smile, grabbing the bottle and opening it by hitting the cap against the table.
"You get in a whole new personality while watching football," he commented, making you laugh.
The ads gave an end to the third quarter, and you stood up quickly, walking towards the kitchen at fast speed. Spencer watched you as you ran away, being followed by JJ and Garcia.
"So," whispered JJ to you while Garcia took off her red and yellow headband and left it on the counter, "what's up with you and Spence?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't think we didn't notice how you've been whispering to his ear sensually all night?" Questioned Garcia, making you open your eyes widely.
"Woah, Woah, sensually?" You asked, finishing to drink your beer. "No, no, I was explaining the game to him."
"Right, right," said JJ slowly, clearly not believing you. "Sure, mhm."
"Guys, nothing is going on between the doctor and me. I'm actually surprised he even showed up."
"What do you mean?" Interrogated Garcia as you place the empty bottle next to the other ones.
"The doctor and I are friends, like us right now. Don't try to read between the lines that don't even exist."
"How come you never call him by his name? Or last name?"
You stared at JJ, confused, as you chew one of Garcia's cookies.
"What?"
"Yeah, that's right," agreed Garcia. "You only call Reid "the doctor" like he was Frankenstein or something. I had never noticed before."
You hadn't either.
"I don't know," you replied. "Some of my middle school Doctor Who obsessed personality is still there, who cares? It means nothing."
"I don't know," said JJ innocently, "sounds to me like a nickname."
"It is not a nickname, it's called a PhD, and he has three of them. Now, I'm gonna continue to watch my game. Please, don't ruin that for me too."
You avoided any of their theories for the rest of the night. You sat down next to Spencer again, but this time, you laid a farther away from him. Not so much as to be noticeable for the rest, but both of you could clearly feel it.
The Chiefs won that night, but you weren't as happy as usual. The voices of JJ and Garcia were still rumbling in your head. Was it possible that you were sensually whispering to his ear?
What on Earth did you just think?
"Bye guys, see you tomorrow," you said to your friends as they started leaving your apartment. "I called you an Uber, Prentiss, please don't drive!" You exclaimed to your friend with a smile. "Bye!"
"A good wine is a kiss to the palate," you heard Rossi explain to Reid. The older of the team was clearly drunk, trying to teach the doctor about wine at 1 am while Spencer was clearly not interested in the talk. "And you, my friend, are a good kisser."
You couldn't help but laugh when you saw the young guy's reaction to that phrase coming from drunk Rossi. The man kissed both of your cheeks, rambled something in Italian and left your apartment, holding the empty bottle of wine that Reid brought.
You two were the only ones left, and it was like it was made on purpose. You questioned if JJ and Garcia said something to your friends, but you were too drunk and tired to be speculating, so you just let it slide.
"It was fun," said Reid, cutting the silence that was left between both of you. "Kinda makes me regret not coming the last three weeks."
"Well, football season is long; you always have time to repair for your absence," you comforted him, walking towards the living room and collecting the empty bottles Morgan and Emily left. "I told you it was fun, doctor."
"Yeah, it was," he agreed, helping you leave the empty plates in the sink.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll do it tomorrow," you said, but he continued. You gave up and let him. "Although you'll have to buy an actual red t-shirt for next time. Weren't you uncomfortable all night with that shirt?"
"Nah, I'm used to it," he replied, smiling a little. "Hey, Y/N." You look at him. "There is this... there's this... there is this representation of The Rules of the Game, next Friday."
"I've never seen it."
"It is a French satirical comedy-drama film" he started to rant, making you smile unconsciously. "It is directed by Jean Renoir. Though this tale of the idle rich in France is technically a country-estate farce, it's far more than a mere satire of upper-crust affectations. Under the guise of mocking the bourgeoisie as they negotiate romantic minefields, he had also delivered a cunning commentary on old-world Europe; a heart cry at the hypocrisy of class pretensions; and finally, a rich, rewarding work of art that's equal parts irony and sympathy. "
"Sounds great," you pointed out, and he nodded, like if that was the whole point of his presentation.
"Exactly. This movie rewrote the rules of cinema entirely." He sounded so excited about it like he was quoting it accurately from the textbook. Well, everything he said seemed like quoted from an article. "It's also in French and made in 1939, so you could guess I'm going alone."
And now, you understood why he was telling you all of these. He wanted you to go with him. He wanted for both of you to go and watch the film with him.
"Well, I can go with you if you want." He immediately smiled after you said those words, "but I don't know any French, so it better have subtitles." He nodded, excited. That reaction made you wonder how many times has he had to go alone to this kind of things.
"If you like it, we can also go to watch M. It's the first serial killer movie where the killer is actually portrayed as a victim. It also makes political references to World War II since it was made at the beginning of the war."
"Okay, doctor, one movie at a time." He noticed he got too excited. "After work on Friday, we will go to see your movie."
"Thanks, Y/N. See you tomorrow at the office."
"See you tomorrow, doc." He stepped outside, and you slowly closed the door, looking at him wave you goodbye.
This wasn't a date. The doctor just watched three hours of football, and you were repaying him with a favour. Not a date.
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"Are you ready for your nerdy date tonight, pretty lady?" Asked Morgan, making you throw a pen at him. "Don't get violent, princess, save it for the passionate make out."
"Shut up."
Morgan quickly became your best friend in the team, and you know he would take a bullet for you presented the case.
Sometimes you wished the bullet would come quicker.
Like now, when he was making kissing noises in your ear as you tried to finish your paperwork.
"Don't you have work to do!?" You angrily exclaimed while he found it hilarious. "It's impossible that you finished your paperwork already."
"What are you going to wear? A sexy Doctor Who costume? Or a cardigan and no shirt?"
"Have anyone tell you not to mess with a woman that carries a gun?" He laughed. "And it's not a date. He sat down and watched three hours of football for me, I'm repaying the favor by watching one of his films. Have a problem with that?"
"Not at all, princess, but knowing that those movies don't necessarily have a killing audience, you and pretty boy will be all alone in the theatre tonight."
You rolled your eyes, looking for something else on your desk to throw at him, but not finding something sharp enough.
"Hotch confiscated your scissors when you tried to stab me with them two weeks ago," he reminded you as he laughed, making you angrier.
"At least you know I'm capable of doing it," you said to him.
Reid appeared ready at your desk, receiving a tiny smile from your part.
"You ready?" You nodded, grabbing your purse, your badge and gun. You walked away not before giving Morgan a threatening look, leaving to the elevator with the doctor. "Oh, I found out the movie does not have subtitles, but I can translate you most of it. I've been practising my French."
You smiled at him. This was going to be a long night.
You were scared that the only thing that was in your mind was Morgan's lousy comment about the empty theatre.
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"Okay, so I bought popcorn, sodas and some candy," you said, giving him his stuff, which he grabbed with lack of ability. "Also, this guy sells pins with the poster of the movie on them. I got one for you," you grabbed his shirt and pinned the button to it, making him blush, "and one for me." You pinned the button to your blouse, smiling. "Look, we look like well-prepared film enthusiasts. We rock."
He laughed, walking you towards the entrance of the theatre. You hadn't realized how nervous you were. This wasn't a date, but what if it was? It looked like a date, you were wearing something you would wear on a date. You even grabbed him by the shirt and pinned a button on his shirt.
It didn't sound as sexy as you were making it sound, but it was definitely something.
You both sat down on your seats, looking at the white screen waiting to be projected on. Your palms were a little bit sweaty, and you were envying your company for being so calm.
"So, doctor," you called him, and he raised his eyebrows. " Have you ever brought a girl to watch a foreign movie before?"
Well, what kind of idiotic comment was that? "Have you ever brought a girl...?" What answer were you searching for?
"Uhm, no. You are the first," he said nervously.
That was a valid answer.
Not a date.
"Hey, so, am I expecting you at my place on Sunday?" You watched him as he almost choked on his drink.
"What?"
"Football night. Sunday's game is crucial. Morgan even rambled about the idea of bets, but I don't take chances, you know?" He nodded. "Do you like bets?"
"Not when I can't be sure that I'm going to win." You laughed.
"Right. You always go save, Vegas." He chuckled, but before he said something, the movie started.
You saw him as he accommodated closer to you, and before you could move, you remembered that the movie didn't have subtitles.
He had to whisper the movie to you.
Like you did with the football game.
Garcia's voice as she mentioned the "sensual whisper" came to your mind. Thanks, Garcia, real thanks.
The man on the film started talking, and you could feel Spencer's soft voice near to your ear as he whispered the words in English.
At some point, you didn't even listen to what he was saying, you just worried about the feeling of his soft breathing crashing with your ear and neck. How he sounded so calm, translating each word with delicacy, making regular English sound as poesy in your ears.
After a few minutes of being guided by his voice, you turned around to look at him. Your noses were almost touching each other, and your breaths were crashing onto the other's skin. You liked the feeling.
Ugh, you hated when Morgan was right.
"Spencer..." you murmured his name for the first time. You've never called him like that before, not even in the field. He didn't know how his name sounded in your lips, and now that he knew, it was his favourite sound in the world.
And without saying something else, Spencer Reid leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you and impacting his lips into yours.
If all the striking and fantabulous feelings you've ever experienced in your life would morph together in one action, would be kissing Spencer Reid. Kissing him felt like finishing a book that you read all night or drinking a cup of tea on a cold day. His lips tasted like how eating feels after spending hours of hunger or like strawberries with chocolate under the sun with friends. He smelled like flowers on spring and the fragrance of an antique store in Greece.
You have never been to Greece, but he smelled like that, you just knew.
What you didn't know is for how long you didn't let him go. One second the lights were dark and the sound of a French man's accent is playing loudly, and next, the lights turned on, and the music of the credits filled the theatre, making both of you break apart.
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"Finally, beer, I've been waiting for you," you said to the cases that were on your best friend's hands. "Damn, you brought Morgan again. You could've left him. He's a big boy, he can take it."
"Would you stop talking to the beer? It's weird," claimed Morgan, giving you a loud kiss on your cheek before entering. "Hey, you never told me how the date went."
"See? This is why I tell the beer not to bring you; you are so annoying." You grabbed one of the bottles and gave it to him, pushing him towards the living room.
The doorbell rang again, making you turn around. You quickly opened the door, looking at JJ, Garcia and the doctor standing outside your apartment. You immediately smiled at the sight of Spencer behind the girls.
"Welcome to the best night of the week, ladies and gentlemen. Cookies and food on the kitchen, the rest of the annoying people are in the living room looking at the TV like zombies," you told with a smile, letting them in.
JJ and Garcia quickly walked towards the kitchen, while Spencer stayed next to you in front of the door.
"Hey," he mumbled to you, making you smile even more.
"Hey," you repeated as he kissed your cheek.
You decided to give it a chance, but for any motive, you were going to tell the team. You determined that it was best to see if it works before hoping the team, especially Garcia and JJ.
"I brought wine again," he said, showing you the bottle, and you smiled, "and I was thinking if we could drink it after the game, you know, both of us."
"That sounds so nice, Doc, but next time tell me because I'm in my third beer." He laughed. "You can drink it with Rossi if you like."
"I really need to get used to football mode."
"Yeah, you should."
You grabbed the bottle of wine after winking at him, walking towards the living room where the rest of the team was.
"The doctor brought wine again, Rossi." The man smiled, grabbing the bottle.
"I hope you listened to my suggestions from last week, Reid," he said, and Spencer nodded.
"You bet I did."
Both of you sat on the floor like last time, and you proceeded to explain the game to him to his ear, even though he already understood it.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#y/n#reader
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illicit affairs [7]
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader || topper thornton x fem!reader
warnings: emotional abuse, mention of cheating, cursing, violence, physical fight, mention of blood, kissing
summary: the last thing you expected entering an anonymous chat room was to be connected with a man from the same island. nevermind, building a proper bond with them through late-night messages, not knowing who or what they were. you told them everything, you leaned on them in times of need. it was a secret you held tightly, even from your boyfriend, Topper. But what happens when you find out the stranger you’ve fallen in love with is the man that despises you for being a kook, the one and only JJ Maybank?
notes: thank you all for the lovely comments on previous parts. I hope you like this one just as much, let me what you think! if you want to be tagged, please send me an ask as I might lose it if it’s a comment. Thank you :) y’all can thank @rafecameron for me taking it easy on topper !! yes im using a kissing booth gif, apologies
this is also dedicated to my love @diverdcwn
part six || series masterlist || part eight
It became routine after that night. JJ would knock on your window at eleven p.m, bringing different types of snacks and drinks. He’d stumble over your furniture, you’d stiffen the laughs that wanted to escape and he’d get comfortable on your bed, snuggling into you. You were sure to keep quiet but he never failed making you shush him in fear that your mother would hear his loud obnoxious laugh. Your bedroom was your safe haven, it was the space you shared solemnly with JJ. You avoided him in public, and he would ignore you, pretending that he didn’t just leave your embrace hours beforehand. It was better this way, for the time being.
On Wednesday night, he came right on time, carrying goldfish and caramel chocolate bars in his backpack. You got to pick the movie for the night, knowing that neither one of you would be paying attention to it instead updating each other on your antics of the day. You opted for Clueless, a movie that could play in the background but what you didn’t expect was for JJ to become totally engrossed to it.
‘Have you never seen this?’ you chuckled, popping a goldfish into your mouth.
JJ shook his head, ‘I-I just, aren’t they step siblings? They can hardly date each other..’ his face turned to a grimace and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. He turned to look at you, smiling softly and rolling his eyes. ‘Stop that.’
‘Stop what?’ you asked, twisting your body to look at him.
‘Stop giggling, it’s cute,’ he replied, a blush sketching across his cheeks.
‘Stop making me giggle then,’ you retorted.
JJ bit his bottom lip, moving the packet of crisps that separated your body and moved in closer to you. His hand trailed along your hip, your crop top riding up slightly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of his fingers brushing your bare skin, and your stomach felt like it was twisting in on itself. ‘Have you spoke to Topper yet?’ JJ’s voice was small and soft, almost as if he was afraid to ask the question.
‘No, not yet, but I’m meeting him Friday night,’ you said, opening your eyes to look at him. His face was closer, you could feel his breath fawning over your lips and you wanted nothing more than to close the gap between you but you refrain yourself from doing so. That’s the thing about this; you and JJ were friends, slowly turning to becoming each other’s best friend. The last week has been nothing short of amazing, creating that connection that you once established online. There was no doubt you were in love with him.
‘Are you meeting him at the boneyard?’ he asked, circling his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. You rested your head on his chest, letting him cuddle into you.
‘Yeah, is that okay? I know you’ll be there.’
‘It’s fine, don’t let me stop you from meeting your boyfriend,’ JJ chuckled, you knew he was trying to play it off as if it didn’t matter and deep down, it did to him. He wanted to be the one showing you off, bringing you to parties. He wanted to be the one kissing you goodnight and goodmorning, he was the one that was always there anyway.
You pushed away from him, hovering over him. ‘You know it’s not like, Jay.’
He forced a smile, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. ‘I’m teasing, I know what I signed up for. Now c’mere.’ He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, something that you would never had associated with JJ before; being gentle, being sweet. The man that lay beside you each night was a person that you thought you knew for a long time, but you had yet to figure him out until the last couple of weeks.
‘You know, he’s not my boyfriend, right?’ you muttered, laying on your back, your arm brushing against his. He raised his right hand in the air, yours following his movements and tangled your fingers in his.
‘But you still care about him, you won’t let me kiss you.’
‘Friends don’t kiss, JJ,’ you hummed, brushing his fingers. ‘We’re just friends.’
JJ chuckled softly, glancing at you for a split second with a smirk on his face, ‘Yeah, okay.’ You laughed along with him, shaking your head.
‘What’s that suppose to me?’ you muttered when you laughs died down. JJ clasped his larger fingers over yours, bringing your hand to his lips and peppered kisses on your skin.
‘I love my friends, but I don’t love them like I do you,’ JJ whispered, his heart hammering against his chest as the confession left his tongue. He was nervous, opening up to you about you. He was so used to pushing his other baggage on you; his family history, his friend problems, his worry about the future. But he wanted to talk about the thing that was bothering him the most, that thing being you and his feelings towards you.
You were at lost for words, never thinking you’d hear JJ admit that he was in love with you. It’s so easy to fall in love online, you create this picture perfect persona for the person you’re talking to and when you meet them in real life, you always expected that picture to burn away, being replaced with reality. But the time you’ve spent with JJ has been special, you looked forward to seeing him and you giggled and blushed a lot. You felt like a teenage girl again, sneaking around and this time you weren’t going to beat around the bush.
‘You love me?’ you whispered, turning your body to face him.
JJ licked his lips, swallowing back any hesitation before nodding, ‘I do, I do love you.’
A smile tugged on your lips, ‘I’m in love with you.’
Having you say those words to him, JJ felt like he was on top of the world. His heart was soaring high, his stomach flipping and his palms sweating. He ran his hand up your body to cup your face, feeling you sucking in a deep breath, he brought you closer, resting his forehead on yours. You breathed in each other’s scent, eyes closed and this was the most intimate it was going to get because he knew you didn’t want your first kiss to be riddled with guilt and shame. He knew he’d have to wait.
You had a skip in your step the whole next day, a wide smile plastered on your face as you interacted with other people despite the blue eyed boy being on your mind twenty four seven. It wasn’t until you crossed paths with your mother minutes before you were about to walk out your front door and make your way to the boneyard. The moment she spotted your smile, her eyes gazed down at your outfit and it was like a mask covered her face in a split second.
‘Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?’ she asked. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes at her words, pulling at the thread of your jean shorts; your outfit was nothing short of what every other person would wear on the island.
‘I’m meeting Topper at the beach,’ you simply replied.
‘So he forgave you?’ your mother chuckled drily, taking a sip of the wine glass, ‘I hope you realise how lucky you are.’
Shuffling on the pristine carpet, you looked between her and the mirror in front of you in the hallway, noting the little similarities that you shared with her. You heaved out a sigh, running your hand over your face. ‘I’m not asking him to forgive me tonight, I’m ending it completely.’
The heavy silence settled. You watched as she ran her tongue along her pearl white teeth, her lips smacking together. Her lips looked like they wanted to twitch into a smile, but it was a smile of disappointment and disbelief. ‘I-I don’t know what to do with you anymore.’
‘You don’t have to do anything with me, I’m twenty years old now.’
‘Oh, because you’re twenty, you don’t need me anymore,’ she nodded her head slowly, as if she was coming to terms with something life changing. She walked towards you, her pink fluffy slippers dragging along the carpet.
‘I-i don’t think I ever really needed you,’ your voice was miles apart from your brain. You stumbled back as she walked towards you, closing the gap. Her eyes were full of amusement, but fiery lightning behind them at your words. You could see her knuckles getting paler as she grasped the wine glass. ‘You never did anything good for me.’
‘Good for you? Look around, look at where you’re living! I did all this, for you. For you to live a good life.’
‘No, mother! You did all this for you! You never cared about me!’ you shouted at her, watching her take a step back at your raised voice. ‘You put me down everyday! You belittle me! You make me feel like everything I do is wrong!’
‘Because it is!’ She screamed, suddenly raising her arm and throwing the glass in your direction. You jumped out of the way, letting the glass break into a million pieces against the wall, the red wine painting the cream wallpaper. Your heart hammered against your chest, staring wide eyed at your mother. ‘You have never done anything right!’ The tears were streaming down her face, the anger simmering over.
‘You never gave me a chance, you watched me like a hawk. Every mistake I made, you judged. You never let me be a kid, or a teenager, I was under lock and key ever since father-’ your voice broke, your eyes watering over.
‘You say I kept you under lock and key but look at you, y/n. If I had any control over you, you would be in college, aiming for a good life but you’re throwing it away. You’re nothing but a disgrace to this family, to me, to your father.’ She turned on her heels, her voice echoing in your ears as you sobbed uncontrollably. Your cries were whimpers, barely a sound passing your lips. The house was closing in, suffocating you to the point that you stumbled out of it, making sure to slam the door as loud as you could.
Climbing into your jeep, you made a beeline towards the boneyard. You only wanted one person. You longed to be wrapped in his arms, to have his warmth and scent comforting you. You swerved on the road multiple times, slamming on your breaks when you pulled into the parking lot half a mile from where people were gathering. You didn’t want to cause a scene, you just wanted JJ to wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was going to be okay.
As you walked down the walkway, the fresh air from the sea washed over you. Your numbing mind waking up, making you aware of what was going on. You were unconsciously walking towards the group of pogues that were gathered around the keg. You halted in your step, feeling the breath being knocked out of you when JJ noticed your figure there. He stood up straighter, seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sky was still bright, welcoming the summer evening, he could see your figure from miles away. JJ stepped around the pogues, making his way over to you in a rush but he paused.
‘Hey, y/n, you made it,’ the voice sent shivers down your spine, turning to face Topper. JJ watched you intently, your eyes still on him, it was like he was waiting. Waiting for you to make a decision. Topper’s arm gripped your forearm, pulling you to the side. You lost sight of JJ when your body spun around, thanks to Topper. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you crying?’
‘It’s nothing, Topper,’ you mumbled, wiping away the tears with the white sweater you threw on.
Topper’s stare switched to the pogue watching the couple, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Is this something to do with him?’ he snarled, you turned your head to see JJ, watching him swallow and twist on his heels, walking back to the keg.
‘N-no, Topper, it was my-’ But Topper pushed past you, not letting you explain. You watched him rush towards JJ, knocking him in the back and pushing him to the sand. Topper hovered over him, throwing punches while grabbing his shirt, pulling him from the sand. ‘Topper!’ you screamed, running to the men that were gathering a crowd, chanting.
You tried to jump on Topper, but when he pulled his arm back to punch JJ, his elbow connected to your jaw making you fall back onto your ass. ‘Topper!’ you screamed again, tears free falling from your eyes. ‘Pope, do something!’ you screamed at the only familiar face you could make out from the crowd. You scrambled from the sand, going in for a second attempt of pulling Topper off JJ.
You and Pope both grabbed an arm each, reaving him off the body. Pope held him down, but the blonde underneath him scrambled away on his ass, watching you. Topper watched you glance at him for a split second before your attention was solemnly on JJ, who sat up, spitting blood from his mouth.
‘Hey, hey, are you okay?’ you asked frantically, cupping his face to see how bad the damage was. His eyes were disorientated and fatigued, barely opening but he managed to nod before collapsing to the sand again, trying to catch his breath.
‘I take it you told him,’ JJ mumbled, but from the cringe in your face, he knew he said the wrong thing.
‘Tell me what?’ Topper snapped from behind you, standing now. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, cursing JJ under your breath. You stood up slowly, turning to look at the man you once loved. His face was a mix of emotions, eyes flicking between you and JJ. You reached to grab his hand but he stumbled backwards away from you, ‘What’s going on?’
‘Can we go somewhere private?’ you muttered, glaring at the crowd still around you. Some people looked away and turned their back, but others’ ears perked up and were waiting for you to continue. ‘Don’t make me do it here.’
You followed Topper away from the gathering, down towards the shore. JJ stood from the sand, watching your retreating figure and he wanted nothing more than to be there with you, but he knew you needed to do this yourself. Topper turned to look at you, waiting for you to start your explanation, to give him a bit of insight into what the hell was going on.
‘Topper, just know I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ his eyes screwed close at your words, sucking in a deep breath, ‘and I never did anything. It just happened, we created this connection and-’
‘And you cheated on me?’ he asked, looking at you intently with his eyes glossing.
‘No,’ you urged, ‘N-not physically anyways, I never kissed him.’
‘But you wanted to?’
You nodded slowly, hearing Topper curse and run his hand over his face, as if he was trying to contain some of the hurt he was feeling. ‘Why does this always happen to me? L-like what am I doing wrong?’ Any anger or fear that you were feeling completely disappeared, replaced with guilt and sadness. You didn’t mean to make Topper feel like this, you didn’t know he felt like this at all or that there was a possibility of it.
‘Topper, you are such a great guy..’
‘But?’
‘But I don’t know.. you’re a little intense,’ you mumbled, nibbling on your bottom lip.
‘You cheated on me because I was intense? Because I loved you too much?’ He asked in disbelief, his eyes wide. He paced on the sand, kicking the grains with his sandals.
‘You don’t love me, Topper, you-’
‘Don’t pull that shit, Sarah did the same thing. It became a phenomenon,’ Topper snapped, his fingers gliding through his hair. ‘What’s going on with you and JJ now?’
You looked up at the beach, seeing JJ standing to the side, watching you. You tried to suppress the smile, but you couldn’t. Topper seemed oddly at ease, something you weren’t expecting; maybe it was the break you were on that eased the blow of it. He must have suspected something. ‘We’ve just been hanging out as friends.’
‘A pogue,’ Topper rolled his eyes, and you were about to retaliate until you spotted the smirk resting on his lips. You pushed his arm, and he used this as an opportunity to pull you into a hug, his face nesting into your neck. He tightened his arms around you, squeezing you.
‘I’m sorry, Top,’ you muttered into his ear, wrapping your arms around him.
‘I’m sorry too,’ he replied, pulling back slightly, ‘Maybe you could help me, be my wingwoman sometime.’
You threw your head back laughing but nodded, smiling up at him. ‘Deal.’
You made your way back up the beach, ignoring prying eyes before you went your separate ways, bidding each other goodbye with small smiles. You walked towards JJ who was waiting patiently, two drinks in his hands. He reached one out to you, which you gladly accepted and you sighed, downing it.
‘That seemed to have gone reasonably well,’ JJ mumbled, looking at you over the rim of his own cup.
‘Better than expected,’ you smiled, ‘I’ll be his new wingwoman, find him a good aul pogue.’
‘I have a few friends,’ JJ offered, and you chuckled, ‘you kooks do seem to have a thing for pogues. First Sarah Cameron, now y/n y/l/n.’
‘Who says I have a thing for a pogue?’
JJ threw his cup to the sand, taking yours and tossing it to the ground. He grabbed your hands, pulling you in closer. You giggled at the impact of his chest against yours, tilting your head to look up at him. ‘You still love me?’ he asked, his blue eyes staring into yours.
You pretended to think about the answer, making him tickle your side. ‘Aye, stop. Of course I do,’ his heart hammered against his chest again, he won’t ever get used to hearing that you love him. A sly smile landed on his face, and you ran your fingers up his arms, letting him hold you close to him.
‘Where does this leave us then?’ JJ asked softly, fluttering his eyelashes at you. He felt vulnerable in this moment, giving you his heart.
Your fingers brushed his jaw, running them through his hair before they rested at the back of his head. His eyes shut at the sensation, taking a deep breath in. You took this as your opportunity to lean towards him, slowly pressing your lips to his. He was shocked at first, but followed your lead and applied more pressure. Moving your lips against his, he pulled you in closer by the hips and you gripped his hair gently, deepening the kiss.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
@diverdcwn @yuxsh06 @starlightstarkey @hmspoguee @ryley1020 @thefangirlofthecentury @lahey-paradise @bailspogue @fangirlfree @thisishowifeelrn @deviouscharitos @pink-meringues @teamnick @jjmaybankwildtimes @x-lulu @danicarosaline @canibeoneofthepogues @http-cherries @sinkbeneathwaves @ilymarkchan @afterglows7b-tch13 @rudyypankow @kahnacademyforfun @ifilwtmfc @asaks6082 @casper17 @coloradogirl07 @basically--meghan @alternativehp @outrbanks @deathcompass @prejudic3 @jewel25 @teenwaywardasgardian @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @why-is-gamora-786 @jasminesuperstar123456789 @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @outerbongs @kennedywxlsh @bxmaaa @httpstarkey @velyssaraptor @duskangxl @sweetlysilent @haharudy @urlocalbrochure @diverrdown @obx-direction-sos @poguestyleskye @stfukie @butgilinsky�� @outerbnx-stiles @maysbanks @ultranikilove @arianawills @newsies-yeet @vindictive-hearts @queenieloveswriting @rudths @heyitsmeimdead @solllaris @cremextart @olsenholic @arianabrashierstuff @apoguecalledjj @renatafairchild @obx-snippets @jaxandcomet @lunaticlua @bolditalicwriter @summerkaulitz @maybankiara @strivingforelegance @anonymous0writer @ilovejjmaybank @nicolefarley603
crossed out means i couldnt tag you for some reason :)
#jj maybank#outer banks#topper thornton#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#outer banks netflix#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfic#outerbanks#obx#jj obx#topper obx#not topper x reader anymore :(#rudy pankow#rudy pankow x reader
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Paralyzed in Lust | Sukuna x F-Reader
Part 1
Urban legends always seemed to intrigue you, but that’s all they were. Just legends. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that practicing those rituals never ended well. Your college friends seemed to have the opposite idea, however.
They loved to go to abandoned areas and attempt some of the rituals posted online. Safely, of course, but how safe is it? They talked about salt circles, protection wards, sigils, and protection amulets or crystals but is that enough?
They would mention that attempting to summon a demon is dangerous, but here they are in your studio apartment, talking about calling forth a demon from an urban legend that seemed to pop out of nowhere.
The urban legend about Ryomen Sukuna, a four-armed demon that no one could seem to invite. You didn’t understand why anyone would want to summon a demon, but you guess curiosity killed that cat.
You sat on your twin-sized bed lined up against the wall while your friends sat on a two-seater bench situated in front of your bed, underneath the long window. Your studio apartment held all the essentials for a financially struggling college student.
Entering the apartment, you would be met with a small hallway. On your immediate left is the door to the bathroom, while on your immediate right is a small storage space. Farther in, you’re met with the small space for your bed on the left with a walk-in closet that shares the wall with the bathroom.
Facing the entrance is the bench underneath a horizontal window with a view of the busy street, covered by some window shutters to give you some privacy. These shutters were currently open, letting in the remaining light from the sunset, but were slightly blocked by your friends.
To the right of the hallway entrance behind the storage, is your kitchen. It had enough space to fit a bit of counter space, fridge, sink, and dishwasher. Adjacent to your kitchen, across your bed, and near the bench was an L-shaped divider hiding a portable washer and dryer.
“[Y/n]!” your friend, Nobara, exclaimed. “Will you finally join us for this ritual? I know you’re not really into these things, but it’s safe, I swear. We even have our protection spells and everything.”
You hummed in apprehension. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do those yet.”
Megumi, your other friend, nodded his head. “Okay, but just let us know whenever you want to join us or if you end up doing it on your own...” he grabbed some of Nobara’s amulets and his salt bags. “Here, I’ll lend some to you in case you change your mind.”
He placed the items in your bag.
“Thank you. When are you both planning on doing the ritual?” you asked them.
“Ah, maybe tonight? We have nothing else planned, and we’ve been itching to try this ritual out ever since we saw it on a forum.” Nobara replied. She pulled out her phone and scrolled for a while before handing it to you. “Everyone’s been talking about it, but no one’s been able to pull it off.”
Megumi then spoke. “Yeah and no one’s sure about where this urban legend came from anyway so we don’t know if it’s real or not. That’s why we want to see for ourselves.”
You took a peek at Nobara’s phone and read parts of the forum out loud.
“Ryomen Sukuna... Four-armed demon… To begin the ritual, cut the pads of all your fingers until blood oozes out. Bro what?” You looked at your friends in confusion. They simply shrugged and told you to continue reading.
“Soak your bloody fingers in a large bowl of water until the water is stained dark red. Remove your hands from the bowl and do this hand sign by connecting your thumb, middle, and ring finger pads while your index and pinky fingers are bent towards your palms. What in the summoning-jutsu is this?”
You attempted the hand signs after you had placed her phone on your bed. Megumi lightly laughed and showed you how to do it properly.
“Girl, you watch too much Naruto.” Nobara snickered.
You rolled your eyes and smirked. “I’m not the only one simping over Kakashi and Itachi. You’re just as guilty.”
“Here [y/n], continue reading the rules.’ Megumi said, handing you the phone.
“Say ‘Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine’ after performing the hand sign and dunk your face into the bowl of water and blood. After this, Sukuna will appear. To properly end the ritual, thank him for his time and say ‘Cleave.’ This is critical. Failure to do so will leave you with cursed energy around you. **For extra protection, perform an exorcism.”
You sighed after reading the rules of the forum. It seemed easy enough but you weren’t sure whether it was worth the risk to have cursed energy if it failed and did you need to perform an exorcism?? Wasn’t that a bit too much? Plus, you wanted all the luck you could get since you just applied for an internship for the fall quarter.
“Well, if you both decide to do this, please be safe,” you told your friends.
Nobara smiled and grabbed her small backpack. “Don’t worry, we’ll text you what happens. We were thinking of recording it anyway, so we’ll send that to you later tonight after we try it.”
She hugged you and started walking to the door followed by Megumi.
“You can keep the rest of the pizza. It’s not easy for me to digest,” he said, as he double-checked to make sure you had the amulets and salt bags. You smiled at him, eyes showing appreciation because you had very little food left in your fridge.
“Thank you, Megumi. Good night, you two. I’ll see you both tomorrow after work.” you said, waving to them as they left your apartment complex. Once they were out of your sight, you closed and locked your entrance door.
You grabbed your laptop and made your way toward the kitchen, putting it on top of the small counter space you had. You sighed as you put away the leftover pizza in the fridge. Being an avid horror fan, you enjoyed the paranormal, but partaking in anything of the sort in real life made you nervous.
The urban legend of Sukuna intrigued you, even if the ritual was slightly strange. Wouldn’t you faint from losing so much blood? Plus, who the fuck is Sukuna anyway? What made him so special for people to want to do this sort of thing?
Facepalming, you opened a web browser on your laptop and did a simple search. Who is Ryomen Sukuna?
You scrolled through countless forums, talking about the ritual and how it didn’t work. No one seemed to be able to conjure Ryomen Sukuna. The problem was that no one knew who he was. Only that he was a strong demonic entity that holds a lot of cursed energy and has two faces and two sets of arms.
Two sets, huh? What, does he have two dicks too? You laughed to yourself, but then rolled your eyes and groaned. You needed to get laid.
Further throughout your research, you decided to take a break and looked over to the clock on the wall above your washer and dryer. It was 11:56 PM, indicating that your friends left three hours ago.
You took a glance at your phone that was charging next to your laptop and noticed that Megumi and Nobara had sent an attachment to your group chat. Unplugging your phone from the charger, you unlocked it and strode over to the bathroom.
Your group chat read:
“Hey [y/n], we finished the ritual but nothing happened. Bummer, I was looking forward to summoning one of the most difficult demons to conjure up.” Nobara sent at midnight.
“Oi, here’s the video,” Megumi replied, with a black screen video attached after his message.
Oh wow, they actually recorded it. You thought, adding some toothpaste to your toothbrush. You pressed on the video and let it play while you brushed your teeth.
You watched as both your friends performed the finger-bleeding step and you couldn’t help but gag a little. That’s a shit ton of blood. It took a while considering each of their fingers had a small cut, and the bowls were large. After a couple of minutes, Megumi and Nobara removed their hands from the bowl and performed the hand sign.
“Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.” You heard them chant once and then watched them dunk their head into the bloody water as you spit out your toothpaste and rinse your mouth.
Standing in front of the mirror and sink, you stared at the video, watching your friends and waiting for something to happen.
In the video, you saw Nobara and Megumi look at each other and shrug. You fast-forwarded the video a bit, looking for any sign that the ritual worked but the video ended with them thanking Sukuna and saying “Cleave” before anything appeared.
Exiting out of the video, you sent a response to the group chat.
“I’m sorry nothing happened, guys. I know you were excited for something to happen.”
“It’ll make us feel better if you tried it yourself hehe” Nobara replied with a smirk emoji.
You stared at her message for a while, contemplating what you should do. Preparing for your night routine, you stripped and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run down your back, massaging your aching muscles.
You had a long day at work, and now you were stuck on whether you should do this ritual or not. Nothing has been happening to anyone anyway, so most likely nothing will happen to you. This ritual was probably a hoax, just a trend since people were bored. Right?
Please conscience, what do I do? AH FUCK IT.
After you had finished your shower, you hastily applied your lotions and pajamas which consisted of a tank top and lace underwear. You grabbed your phone from the bathroom and reread the forum on what to do, sending another reply to Nobara saying that you’ll do the ritual.
You grabbed the essential items you needed: salt, amulet, a large basin of water, and a pocket knife. You released a large breath you seemed to be holding and read the text you just received from the group chat.
“AYE, that’s my girl!!” Nobara sent with a grinning gif.
“Be safe [y/n]. Text us if anything happens and don’t forget to use the salt and amulets.” Megumi responded.
“I’ll record myself and send it to both of you once I finish”
You balanced your phone on the foot of your bed, pressed record, and placed the ritual items on the floor beside you, grabbing the amulet first and placing the tie around your neck.
Please protect me. You thought as you gripped the amulet and placed some salt in a circle, trapping yourself within it.
You steadied your breathing and positioned the bowl in front of you.
All right. Let’s get this over with.
Slicing the pads of your fingertips with the pocket knife, you held your fingers over the large basin, watching the blood drip into the water.
God, I should’ve played some music in the background. The silence is killing me. I swear to God if that fucking Tip Toe Through the Meadow song from Insidious plays on a radio, I’m going to burn this building down.
The water rippled as each blood drop collided with it. Your nerves were on high alert, but you were too scared to glance around your room. What if there was a shadow at your doorway or a ghost in the mirror? WHAT IF it was right behind you?!
You cried internally and tried to rid your thoughts of anything horrific. After what seemed to be forever, waiting in agony, the bowl was painted crimson. You released another breath and tried to remember the next step of the ritual.
Ah right, the jutsu sign.
You formed the hand sign and said out loud, “DOMAIN EXPANSION: MALEVOLENT SHRINE.”
Cringing, you dipped your head into the bowl and stayed there until you needed a gulp of air.
This is disgusting, why am I doing this again?
Your face was tinted with blood and you carefully looked around your room without the blood dripping onto your laminated floors. Your hearing was heightened due to the lack of light in the room, but you heard nothing. You felt nothing.
It probably didn’t work. Thank you, God. I can live to see another day.
“Ryomen Sukuna, if you’re there, thank you for your time. Let’s not do this again, please and thank youuu.” you sang. “CLEAVE.”
You grabbed your phone from the footrest of your bed, ended the recording, and texted the group chat.
“I just finished. Nothing happened to me either. I guess it is just a hoax.”
“Damn. What if we did something wrong? Let’s try it again.” Nobara said.
“My face has my blood dripping from it, no thank you.”
“You said ‘Cleave,’ right [y/n]?” Megumi questioned.
“Yup. I’m gonna go clean up and try to sleep. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Good night!”
Bidding each other good night, you swept the salt circle and drained the bloody water into the bathroom sink. You rinsed your face of any remnants of the ritual and reapplied your moisturizer.
Plopping onto your bed and hiding under the covers, you glanced once more at the clock. It read 2 AM.
Damn, I have class in 6 hours. Note to self: stop registering for 8 AM classes in case you decide to do rituals late into the night.
You closed your eyes and attempted to sleep, but you couldn’t stop tossing and turning. Something didn’t feel right. You felt suffocated like something was watching you. You were too scared to open your eyes and hid further into your covers.
Sure, [y/n]. They’ll never know I’m under here.
You kept tossing and turning for thirty minutes because you just couldn’t find that comfortable spot. Suddenly, you felt a sensation on your limbs.
What the fuck?
You froze. You felt like each of your limbs were grabbed by one… two… FOUR HANDS?! You didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t believe it. No fucking way the ritual worked. Counting to three, you screamed and punched into the air.
Nothing was there. No one was there. You were alone.
Part 2: https://smutkuna.tumblr.com/post/655579886704017408/paralyzed-in-lust-sukuna-x-f-reader
#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna#sukuna x reader#megumi#nobara#smut#jjk smut#ritual#demon#summoning#alternate universe#college#university
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Icy Surprise
Hello! Thank you for the prompt! I’m glad you like my work enough to send your first request to me! Not gonna lie, this fic gave me such Christmas vibes, and it’s honestly the cutest idea. No mention of Christmas, but that’s where my head was the whole time!
This was so much fun to write, and I even learned a bit about Saturn in the process! Anyways-- on with the fic, I hope you like it!
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3,799
Summary: Up in the prompt :)
(Gif is not mine, credit to creator!)
“So, where are we going?” you asked easily, watching contently as the Doctor did his usual circles around the TARDIS console as he landed her at the mystery location.
As much as the Doctor liked to explain everything, and what you should expect from where ever he happened to be taking you, he also liked to come at you with the element of surprise every once and a while. Surprise and mystery, which usually left you floored by whatever he happened to show you.
So, the Doctor hadn’t said much about where he was taking you, but he’d gotten a bright smile on his face when you commented absently about a quiet night away from other aliens, and strange planets out of your solar system. As much as you liked it, you were still a human, and you did get overwhelmed by all this space stuff occasionally.
The two of you both knew you hadn’t meant you wanted to return to earth, just that you wanted a quiet night away from dangerous adventure and strangers. It wasn’t much to ask for, especially with all the dangers and adventures you’d found yourself drowning in these past few weeks.
He knew it took a toll on you, even if you didn’t say anything about it. You truly did like the travels, and adventures and the general thought of space travel, but it wore you down. Sometimes you just needed a bit of a break before you were good to go again.
And even if the Doctor didn’t say anything about it, you knew he liked when you requested a quiet night away just as much as you did.
“It’s a surprise,” the man grinned, just as he had the other four times you’d asked, or prompted guesses of his plans. You gave him a playful pout, to which he chuckles brightly.
You didn’t know what to expect. He’d given you so little information to even try to hazard a guess at where the two of you would be spending the evening. All he’d said, and it wasn’t even really information about your destination, was a question of if you had any warm clothes.
Which, no, you didn’t. You had what you’d been wearing when he first took you away to travel the galaxy, clothing you’d picked up along the way, and whatever the TARDIS supplied for you.
And by the look on his face, he’d assumed as much.
So, he’d directed you to where he kept all his wardrobe, and told you to select warmer clothes.
And that’s all you’d gotten from him.
You’d done as he suggested—raided the wardrobe and found some things you liked. A hat, a scarf. A pair of mittens you’d shoved in the pocket of the jacket you’d found in case you needed them too.
There were a few pairs of boots, all magically your size, just like the coats lining a rack towards the front. You mismatched the items you liked, what was warmest and textures you preferred before returning to the Doctor in the console room, arms full of warm clothes, because it was certainly too warm in the TARDIS to be putting them on now.
The Doctor had looked at everything in your arms and nodded, pleased with what you’d selected. He, like usual, didn’t bother with changing out of his suit and jacket, so you were sure it wouldn’t be too cold where ever it was the two of you were heading.
It wasn’t that much later that the TARDIS dropped in the familiar pattern of landing. You braced yourself, holding on while the Doctor landed her as peacefully as he could.
You were curious, leaning your body to the side to see out the doors as soon as the Doctor pushed them open slightly to peek at whatever was outside. A check he always did to make sure you guys were in the right place. A chilly breeze carried in from the door, making you shiver where you sat, arms curling into your body as an involuntary movement.
He hadn’t been teasing when he’d said you’d want warm clothes.
The Doctor shut the TARDIS doors before you could make anymore of a move to see your surprise destination, which prompted you to wrinkle your nose in an almost pout at the man.
The Doctor turned towards you, leaning back against the doors, where he grinned brightly before prompting the question that was more a tease than an actual inquiry, “so, are you ready?”
“Yes,” you huffed, smile widening as you pulled the boots you’d selected onto your socked feet, and tugged your jacket on as you rushed towards the door, hat and scarf falling to the floor as you moved. It was necessities only, as a child-like wonder filled you. Space was just so cool, and the Doctor was amazing at picking places you’d love.
You paused beside him, waiting for him to either move himself, or push the door open for you. He chose the latter, pushing the door open and letting you out like a puppy freed from a kennel. You stepped out in awe, looking around carefully.
Instantly, your feet shot out from under you, slipping on the icy ground, but instead of hitting the ground, the Doctor’s arms caught you under your arms and your back hit his chest instead of the ice below. You craned your neck to look back at him, a small, fond smile on his lips.
“Thank you,” you told him as he pushed you up. It was still incredibly slippery, but now you expected as much so it was easier to stay upright.
“My pleasure,” the Doctor grinned brightly. When you were upright and not in danger of falling for a second time, the Doctor withdrew his hands, but he was quick to throw the scarf you’d selected around your neck, then tug the hat you’d picked over your head as well.
With your balance retained, the new knowledge of the straight ice below you, and the support of the Doctor behind you, you finally had a chance to look around. You were standing on a sheet of ice, bigger and possibly more slippery than and ice rink you’d seen on earth. It was a straight sheet of black ice under you.
And if the ice wasn’t beautiful as it was, the night sky certainly did the trick. Up here you could see everything. The different colours of the galaxy were visible; purples, and dark blues and, of course, black. It was majorly black, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful. The stars shone brightly, almost twinkling in your eyes.
It looked almost like those images NASA releases that go viral online, but real—in real time, and visible to the naked eye-- completely mind blowing.
You looked around taking it all in. Reveling in the sheer beauty of this... planet?
You caught a glance at a planet beside you, so you weren’t really on the planet. But this was definitely a part of the planet. Then, in your peripheral vision, you saw it.
Earth. Small and insignificant, but there. Incredibly far away from where you were currently standing, but still visible.
“We’re in my galaxy,” you couldn’t help but mutter, taking in the Earth’s beauty from afar. You didn’t need the Doctor to confirm it, because you knew that was the Earth.
“We are,” the Doctor agreed, taking a step forward so he was standing by your side, instead of a step behind.
“This is... the rings. It’s Saturn, isn’t it?”
“Right you are,” the Doctor smiled, “clever girl. I thought I’d have to tell you. You said you wanted a night away from everything, so, I’ve brought you to your home universe. Not home exactly, by means of the planet, but close enough.”
“We’re standing on Saturn’s rings,” you mumbled, gaping around before pointing at Saturn, “that’s Saturn.”
“Yep,” the Doctor nodded, popping the ‘p’. He looked amused with your reactions to this mystery destination. He always watched so closely, and you were never really sure if you should be offended or prideful of his amusement.
You couldn’t help it though. You’d seen some awesome things with the Doctor, but this... this was planets you knew, in a galaxy you’d learned about in school. Your galaxy. This was familiar—Earth, and Saturn, and the moon you could barely see in the far distance. And you were seeing them up close, where no other had before.
“They’re beautiful,” you breathed out. “Much prettier up close.”
“I agree,” the Doctor gave a nod, lightly pushing his shoulder against yours and making you slide the slightest bit to the side. “But I didn’t bring you here to revel in the beauty, we can do that anywhere, anytime. There’s more to do than that!”
You bit your bottom lip as you shuffled your way back to where you’d been before sliding away, “is there?”
“Of course there is,” the Doctor snorted, holding his hand out to you, “come along, let’s head back to the TARDIS for a second. Can’t have you falling this early in the night.”
You grabbed his offered hand, and he pulled you back into the TARDIS with far more agility than you could even imagine having. You stepped in easily, happy to have solid, not slippery, ground below you. You followed the Doctor in, but paused as he jogged from the console room.
He was gone for no longer than a minute, before he was returning with two pairs of ice skates. You hadn’t seen them in the wardrobe, so you wondered briefly where he’d been hiding them. The sight of them excited you, much more than an answer to your question would’ve.
You’d been skating before, but you certainly weren’t a pro at it. You’d be winning no Olympic metals for your skating, but you still thought it was fun. And you’d spent most of your time on your feet that last time you’d gone, so that was a plus.
Besides, skating with the Doctor just made it sound like more fun than just skating would’ve.
“We’re skating?” you asked, even though the obvious answer was literally hanging from the Doctor’s fingers. He raised an eyebrow, grinning fondly as he gestured you towards the console room seat. You made your way to the seat, sitting down and stripping the boots from your feet.
You and the Doctor both got to work on slipping on the skates and tying them up. It wasn’t often you tied clunky ice skates, so it took a bit longer than it would’ve if you were just tying up your sneakers.
The Doctor finished before you’d even finished your first lace, and moved on to your second before you could stop him. You blew out a breathy laugh, as you leaned back, watching his fingers tie the laces with surprising speed.
“Nine-hundred years of laces and you start getting pretty good,” is all he mumbled as he finished up.
When he was done, the two of you stood, and slowly made your way across the grates that were the TARDIS flooring. It was a weird sensation, walking across the grades on nothing but a blade of metal.
When you stepped out with the skates, you slid easily away from the TARDIS. It was a lot easier taking on ice when you had a skate, instead of boots lacking decent grip. The Doctor followed behind you, hands buried in his pockets as he skated easily.
It definitely wasn’t his first time on the ice. He barely wobbled, confident in his ability. You weren’t as confident. But you were sure you’d manage to stay standing.
“You do a lot of skating?” You asked the Doctor as the two of you slowly started moving along. It was a lot easier to make your way on skates, the ice was clear and smooth and it carried the two of you perfectly.
“Here and there,” the Doctor shrugged. “But recently,” he gave you a small smile, “nah.”
The Doctor did a quick circle around you before joining you at your side.
You skated in a familiar, comfortable silence-- the sound of skates gliding on the ice quite relaxing. There wasn’t the usual hustle of crowded ice rinks, no push and pull, or overly ambitious skaters flinging themselves around you.
You hadn’t known you needed this, but you really had. The thought had never even crossed you mind, nor had you even thought it was possible, but you were incredibly grateful for the Doctor’s thought-out down time idea.
“How... how are we even doing this?” You asked slowly, still in awe at what the two of you were doing. It really didn’t seem possible, and, as far as you knew, humans couldn’t usually get anywhere near Saturn.
“It’s the TARDIS doing it,” the Doctor replied, “she creates an artificial environment, like how we can breathe when the doors are open in space. The atmosphere here, in the artificial environment, is no different than inside the TARDIS. But if we skate out of it, well... let’s not do that, alright?”
“Noted,” you huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t think it covered this far.”
You weren’t incredibly far away from the TARDIS. You could still see her, and make out the wording on the side of her paneling if you squinted, but you were definitely further than you’d assumed the artificial environment would’ve reached.
“It doesn’t,” the Doctor blinked, skating along without much thought, “not usually anyways. I can extend the environment at will from the control console, but it doesn’t last quite as long when it’s larger. We’ve got a few yards and a couple hours before we’ll need to return to the TARDIS and head to somewhere with oxygen—preferably earth since its closest.”
“Oh,” you hummed.
“No need to worry about that though,” the Doctor gave you a grin as he pushed ahead a bit, only to turn in front of you and skate backwards, “I’ll keep you safe. We’re here to have a bit of fun.”
The man withdrew his hands from his pockets, holding them out for you to take. You smiled in return, lifting your hands to rest in his, where he tightened his grip and pulled you along, skating as perfectly backwards as he had forwards.
His hands were warmer than yours, and you instantly gave a shiver at the pleasant warmth radiating from him. The mittens you’d picked were still tucked in your pocket, but you’d much rather the Doctor’s warm hands than the gloves.
“How’d you even think of this?” you asked as the two of you skated, almost like you were partner dancing. The Doctor leading you along, and you following blindly because you trusted him wholeheartedly. You barely even looked anywhere other than your joined hands, and the Doctor’s face.
“This is a popular activity on your earth, isn’t it?” You gave him a short nod, which prompted the Doctor on, “well, it’s fairly well known around the galaxy as well. And, well, I know you humans don’t have the technology to even really get close to Saturn—you've barely made contact with the moon, so you won’t be able to do much with Saturn for... I don’t know, many years. So, I wanted to give you something that no one else has had before.”
“Because no one thinks to go ice skating on Saturn’s rings?”
“Exactly!” The Doctor grinned, eyes sparkling like the stars above him. “No one thinks about it, but now we’ve done it. It’s completely doable, but still never done. Well, maybe not completely doable, we’re only able to because of the TARDIS. And she’s pretty one of a kind now.”
The Doctor casted a look back at the blue box that was slowly getting smaller the further you guys got from her. He looked back to you just as fast as he’d looked away, lips curling in a smile as he continued on, “we’re the first, as far as I’m aware, to do this. Plus, it’s close to home for you, but still... still in my domain. A perfect place for the two of us to spend the evening.”
“It is pretty perfect,” you agreed. You really did like looking to the side and seeing earth, and the moon in the distance. Knowing how close you were, but still up and away where everything was quiet and familiar, but also completely unfamiliar all the same. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been skating somewhere no loaded with people.”
“I’m glad you like it,” the man mumbled, completely honest and adorably proud of himself. “A quiet evening alone sounded nice when you mentioned it, but just sitting in the TARDIS is no fun—not when there’s so much to see and explore. We barely spend any time alone when we’re not in the TARDIS.”
And you couldn’t argue with that. You spent a lot of time with the Doctor, but very little of it was just the two of you. More often than not, someone else was tagging along. Or you’d stumble upon someone.
You skated a while longer, conversation flowing easily. You liked to just listen to the Doctor talk, about whatever happened to come to his mind. Together you danced along the ice, hands barely straying from each other now that you’d felt the warmth and connection.
It was just a warm and easy atmosphere despite the chill sinking into your bones. Just you and the Doctor and nothing, or anyone else to worry about. Perfect for a night away from everything.
Utterly perfect.
Well, except for--
You weren’t sure if it was you, or the Doctor whose skate hit a chunk of debris from outer space. You’d known that Saturn’s rings weren’t solely ice, but it was still a shock as the two of you tumbled down.
You’d seen nothing but smooth, untouched ice and you honestly had no idea where the bump in the road had come from.
The Doctor tripped first, falling backwards. You weren’t sure if you’d tripped too, or if the Doctor had accidently tugged you down along with him, but in the end, you’d landing on him. Him breaking your fall.
“Are you okay?” You gaped out, too stunned to be trying to get off him. It had barely even registered in your mind that you were, in fact, laying on the Doctor.
One second, you’d been gliding peacefully with the Doctor leading you along gracefully, and then next, the two of you were a messed pile of sprawled limbs on the ground.
The Doctor looked just as stunned as you felt, eyeing your face in a silent analysis, before his eyes widened and his cheeks started to darken in colour. He didn’t say, or do anything, so you continued fretting over him, “did you hit your head?”
“No,” he mumbled, voice a bit higher than usual. He was quick to change that though, clearing his throat before continuing, “no, I didn’t. I’m alright. Nothing that hasn’t happened before. Perfectly fine.”
His eyes studied you again, looking up at you from where he was trapped between the ice and you, “what about you, are you alright?” His voice had returned to normal, but the flush on his cheeks certainly hadn’t.
“I’m alright,” you blinked in surprise before ginning teasingly down at him, “I had a pretty soft landing, actually.”
The Doctor let out a surprised bark of laughter, grin so wide that the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled happily. You liked that look on the Doctor, cheeks flushed lightly and smile wide and bright.
You beamed at the response from the Doctor, before your words promptly caught up to you. And following those, the position the two of you had landed in.
You were on the Doctor. Still. You were laying on the Doctor. You were using the Doctor as a cushion, and he hadn’t said anything about it.
“Oh,” you exhaled before your brain caught up. Then, a little louder and a bit more embarrassed, “oh, uh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to land on you!”
Below you, you felt the Doctor vibrate with a chuckle, “I don’t mind,” he tilted his head, “honestly, better me than you. Time-Lords are rather durable.”
“Don’t say that,” you scoffed as you finally started to pull yourself away.
You rolled off him, finding that faster than actually standing up to get off him as quickly as you could. You pulled yourself to your knees before reaching a hand out to help the Doctor sit up. “Are you sure you’re alright? That was a hard fall, and... and then I landed on you?”
“I’m fine,” the Doctor nodded, “perfectly fine. A bit chilly now, but fine nonetheless.”
You looked at him skeptically, eyeing his sitting form before finally allowing the answer. Mostly. “Maybe that’s enough skating for one night, eh?”
“If you’re done,” the Doctor nodded, “don’t stop on my account, I’m good to go. Takes a harder hit than that to deter me.”
You frowned at him, knowing full well he’d want to keep going if you did, even if he was cold and maybe a bit sore. That’s just who the Doctor was.
Thankfully, you knew there was one thing he couldn’t ignore.
“I’m actually getting pretty cold now.”
And that thing happened to be your needs.
“We’ll head back then,” the Doctor told you as he pulled himself to his feet, brushing off the snow dust that had gotten stuck to the back of his legs and his coat. You followed his lead, standing and brushing the cool dust from your own knees before sweeping your hand down the Doctor’s back to aid in removing the snow.
He ran his hand through the back of his hair, dusting what was clinging to his hair before finally turning to you, and offering you a hand. “I promise we won’t hit the ground again.”
You laughed as you took his hand again and then the two of you were skating back towards the TARDIS.
“You know what a lot of people do after ice skating on earth?” You asked as you glided across the ice, making slow progress back. Maybe it was the recent fall, or just delaying the end a while longer.
“No, what do you humans do?”
“Make a nice, steaming cup of hot cocoa to warm up. Useful and delicious. Interested by any chance?”
The Doctor turned to look at you briefly, expression adorning and smile wide, “how could I ever turn down an offer like that?”
“A perfect end to a perfect evening,” you hummed, looking up at him, sliding a little closer to his side. He looked down at you, giving you a fond hum of agreement.
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Here’s some awesome fanart made by @nicole-lightfoot! I loved it, so I thought I’d share with everyone else who checks out the the fic! Thank you for the fanart, it’s beautiful!
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As always, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to prompt me again if it wasn’t what you were looking for! Thanks once more for the prompt, it was perfect! And hopefully things sound right, since I’ve only been skating a handful of times :D
Anyways, have a great day/night!
#Tenth Doctor#tenth doctor x reader#tenth doctor x you#10th doctor#10th doctor x reader#10th doctor x you#doctor who#doctor who 2005#reader insert#TARDIS#writing prompt#fanfiction#fanfic
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Kiss the Chef- Harrison Osterfield One Shot
Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader
Prompt: Harrison needs help with cooking & baking… will he turn to his ex for help or just fail miserably at making his mum a nice meal?
Word Count: 3400
Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist
*Gif is not mine*
~~~
Harrison let out a sigh, running a hand through his blond hair as he read over the recipe again on his laptop. Adjusting the glasses perched on his nose, he looked up and scanned the various ingredients on the kitchen counter. Why did he tell his mum he’d make her dinner for her birthday? Why did he commit to such a big thing? He couldn’t even cook without the added stress of his whole family eating it.
His sight shifted over from the dinner ingredients to the dessert ingredients. Yes, he had committed to also presenting his mother with a nice dessert because that’s what a good son does, right? It’s only now that he wishes he hadn’t just gone with the first appetizing thing he saw on the website; maybe it wasn’t a good idea to try to make a classic lemon tart, but could you blame him? Mary Berry’s website just made it look so good, he didn’t think it could be this hard.
He anxiously pulled out his phone, unlocking it and bringing up his contacts. His finger hovered over your contact, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to actually go through with it. He needed help, he needed your help. You used to cook and bake all the time together; he just wished he had paid more attention to the actual cooking and baking part, but he was far too focused on you.
“Haz, watch the stove!” You scolded him as you caught his blue eyes intently following your hands cutting up the peaches.
“My bad.” He laughed, turning back to the stove immediately. You wanted to try out a new recipe you had found online, which called for steak to be cooked on the stove for a few minutes each side. You thought it was a simple enough task to have him watch the meat- a.k.a. not burn the meat, but he was distracted. You stopped cutting the peaches that would be used for a Mary Berry certified peach cobbler later (which needed to be started now if you two wanted to eat it later) and stepped across the kitchen to inspect the steaks.
“They’re not bad.” Harrison said while he took the slightly charred steak out of the pan. You turned off the stove and pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek.
“It’s okay, it’s edible.” You paused, looking around the kitchen for the brussel sprouts you had put in the oven ages ago- the brussel sprouts he was supposed to take out. “Where are the vegetables?”
“I can’t cook anything.” He whined, hurrying to take them out of the oven.
“Haz!” You shouted, but it was too late- he’d grabbed the hot stoneware already. He dropped it, retracting his burned hand almost immediately. The brussel sprouts spilled out of the oven and all over the floor. You closed the oven door and took Harrison’s hand, bringing him over to sink to cool off the burn mark with cold water.
“This is a disaster.” Harrison groaned, looking at his red hand and then the vegetables littering your kitchen floor. “The brussel sprouts are gone.”
“I’m more concerned about your hand than the brussel sprouts.” You smiled softly at him, “I’m going to grab some burn cream, okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded, keeping his hand under the running water. You rushed off to find the ointment in the bathroom and came back to rub it gently over his hand. You kissed his hand lightly once you were done, careful not to hurt him. He smiled, “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you, too, Chef Osterfield.”
“You gonna kiss the chef?” He asked with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes at him playfully, but you kissed your boyfriend happily anyway.
No, he couldn’t call you. He couldn’t call his ex-girlfriend after having not spoken to her for a month. He just had to suck it up and attempt these two recipes. They couldn’t be that hard. I mean, they’re just cooking and baking two dishes. He had plenty of time to attempt them, mess up, and then just call for takeout. He groaned, knowing he couldn’t disappoint his mum by getting her takeout for her birthday dinner, not when he promised her something special that he’d made.
Defeated, Harrison pressed the small call button beside your name. Holding his phone up to his ear, he tried to prepare himself for the two outcomes of this- you send him straight to voicemail or you’d pick up. Since his call didn’t immediately go to voicemail, he knew he wasn’t blocked at least, but he didn’t know if he was ready to hear your voice again.
“Hello,” You answered the phone. He wasn’t ready to hear your voice again. His heart raced and his hand began to shake. He didn’t realize how long it was taking him to respond until you spoke up again, “Harrison? Is everything alright?”
“N-No.” He said. His mother’s birthday dinner was on the line and you weren’t there cooking with him, so, no, everything wasn’t alright.
“Harrison, what is it?” Your voice softened.
“I need your help.” He admitted, shaking his head. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t take the heartache on top of this stress. “No, I shouldn’t have called you. Sorry, just never mind.”
Before you could say anything else, he hung up the phone and set it aside. It was just him and these damn recipes that started to sound more and more foreign to him. Tightening the red apron around his waist, he read over the marinara recipe again. He didn’t know what a decent amount of the terms meant- sweat the onions, that couldn’t sound more unappetizing.
Just as he was googling what the hell “julienned onions” were, he heard a series of soft, yet rapid knocks on his door. Setting the onion and his phone down, he made his way over to the door. His heart stopped in his chest as he opened the door and you stood there before him.
“You sounded worried on the phone.” You said, your eyes filled with concern.
“I- um,” He froze, not knowing what to say. He’d just called his ex-girlfriend to help him make dinner and dessert for his family; it just didn’t seem like a justifiable reason to reach out to you, even if he wanted to desperately to have you in his life again.
“Are you cooking?” You asked, staring at the ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron he wore, the apron you had gotten for him back when you were dating.
“I told my mum I’d make her dinner for her birthday, and I just don’t know what a fucking julienned onion is.” He said. The frustration was clear in his voice, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.
“It’s thin strips.” You laughed lightly. “Let me in, I’ll help you.” Harrison wordlessly stepped aside, making room for you to go in. You took off your shoes and set your purse aside before following him into the kitchen.
“This is the only other apron I have.” Harrison held out a small stained apron to you, your matching apron to his, reading ‘I AM the chef’.
“Thanks.” You put on the apron and made yourself comfortable in his kitchen. He hadn’t changed a thing in the room, even though you had moved most of the things in his kitchen to suit your preferences because if he ever used his kitchen appliances, you were with him (and it made so much more sense to have oven mitts in the drawer right next to the stove, not in the bottom drawer hidden by the island). Your eyes scanned over the ingredients in front of you, “What are we making?”
“Marinara for dinner and tart for dessert.” He replied, and you nodded. You pushed the dinner ingredients out of the way and pulled the dessert ingredients closer to the two of you.
“Marinara doesn’t take too long, so we should do the tart first.” You said and he pulled up the dessert recipe from Mary Berry’s website. You laughed when you spotted the URL.
“I like her desserts.” Harrison insisted, not even trying to hide his smile from hearing your laugh again.
“I didn’t say anything.” You began to gather the pastry ingredients. You used to tease Harrison all the time for his love of Mary Berry’s recipes, though he could never do them properly. He tried to make a sponge cake once from her website without you, and it definitely didn’t turn out how he expected it to, but you were still delighted that he tried for you and it still tasted fine (once you got over the odd saltiness because he forgot he’d already added salt at the beginning). Whenever you two would bake together, it’d always be one of her recipes. He even got you one of her cookbooks that you still used. Your eyes scanned over the recipe, “So lemon tart?”
“Yeah, my mum loves lemons.” He stated.
“I know.” You answered softly, remembering how you’d helped him bake a lemon meringue pie with him for her birthday last year. Maybe that’s why his mum had hope for him this year, because he’d already impressed her with one amazing meal last year. “Can you get me the butter and an egg please?”
“Sure.” He replied, heading over to the fridge to get the ingredients. He placed the butter and the egg next to the mixing bowl as you started to measure out the flour and sugar. As you started to mix together the pastry ingredients, Harrison felt a sudden wave of sadness wash over him- a couple months ago, he would wrap his arms around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you would mix together the ingredients. He knew that old habit was long gone, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do with himself now.
“How’s work been?” He asked. He didn’t know what to do besides attempt to make small talk with you.
“Busy, but it’s not bad. And you?” You added the eggs and water while he got out a tart tin and a roller.
“Been good. Got home a couple weeks ago.” He answered, immediately hating his reply. You broke up because of his work, because he was away too much, and the breakup wasn’t even in person. You couldn’t wait for him to come home; it hurt you too much to just wait for him every day, so you ended things over the phone, and it hurt you to do it, too. You didn’t want your relationship to end, you loved Harrison and you still do, but it was too much for you to just keep wondering when the next time he’d come home- it all just felt too unreliable. And Harrison knew that, he knew you didn’t want to leave him, but he knew it killed you that he was gone, and hell, it hurt him too to be away from you. But it was his job, and he couldn’t help it.
“It’s nice that you’re doing this for your mum.” You said, rolling the pastry dough into a ball. You handed it to him, allowing him to roll it out just like he used to (he always had to roll out the dough so you could admire his arm muscles, which you were definitely doing now).
“It was a good idea, but you know how I am in a kitchen.” He laughed, making you smile.
“Chef Osterfield the kitchen klutz.” You teased. His bashful smile and the blush that spread across his cheeks at the old nickname didn’t go unnoticed by you.
“We both know who was the real chef in the relationship.” He joked, nodding down to your apron.
“The apron doesn’t lie.” You laughed. You looked down, watching him roll out the dough. You placed a hand on his to stop his movements, and Harrison’s heart soared at the feeling of just your gentle hand on his. “You’re rolling it a bit too thin.”
“Is it good then?” He tooks his hands away from the dough and you nodded.
“Yeah, it needs to chill now.” You said, delicately picking up the thin dough and placing it in the tin, setting up so the extra dough hung over the edges. You placed it in the fridge and turned back to face Harrison.
As the pastry dough rested in the fridge, you helped Harrison prepare the lemon filling for the tart. When the pastry finally made it into the oven for its initial blind bake, you started on the marinara.
“Am I julienning it right?” Harrison asked, once he had cut a couple slices of the onion.
“Thinner.” You placed your hand over his on the knife and you cut a thin slice of the onion off, a perfect julienned onion. Harrison sniffed and you looked over at him with a small laugh.
“Onions.” His eyes watered up.
“You’d know that they make you cry if you ever actually cut them.” You teased, taking over cutting the onion as he stepped back, blinking his eyes.
“You always did such a good job cutting them, though. I didn’t want to interfere with that.” His sarcastic voice was drowned out by his sniffles, trying to hold back the onion-induced tears.
“Can you tear the basil leaves?” You asked, and he nodded, focusing his attention on that while you continued your work. “And I have to say, I agree, I do cut onions better than you, but that’s just because you didn’t realize you had to peel an onion before cutting it.”
“Hey now,” He faked offense at your truthful comment, “I didn’t cook with actual onions until you came along. Why cry over real onions when you can use onion powder and shit?”
“You didn’t cook before I came along. I don’t even know how you survived without me.” You laughed.
“I didn’t.” Though his tone was playful just like yours, you both knew there was more truth behind his words than either of you would like to admit. He passed a small bowl of torn basil leaves over to you on the counter. “They’re done.”
“I think the pastry’s done, too.” You said, “Make sure you-”
“Use oven mitts.” He cut you off with a smile, already knowing you were concerned he’d burn himself again. With an oven mitt covering his hand, Harrison took out the pastry and held it out to you for approval. You nodded and so he set it to the side. You put some oil into the stockpot before adding the onions to sweat them.
“Here, watch this for a bit. I’ll put the filling in.” You instructed, stepping back from the marinara to focus back on the tart. Harrison did as you had said, stirring the onions occasionally until you had the filling in the tart and the tart back in the oven. You added the rest of the ingredients to the marinara mix, letting it steam for a while. Harrison made his way to the fridge as you sat down at the island bar.
“Do you want some wine? I think have- aha,” He smiled proudly, pulling out an unopened bottle of your favorite wine. He was happy to still have it, but you both knew that he had it from before you broke up.
“I’d love some.” You replied and he poured you a glass. He got himself a beer from the fridge and opened it; leaning against the counter casually, he faced you.
“Remember when you made me that raspberry tart?” Harrison asked, remembering fondly to that day, just a month before you had broken up.
“It shipped so poorly. I’m still mad.” You said before taking a sip of your wine.
“But it was still amazing. A raspberry tart with pistachio crust, it was the best thing I’ve ever had.”
“Maybe I’ll make it for you again sometime.” It was a small offer, but it held so much weight to it. Sometime meaning that there was potentially a next time and Harrison wasn’t sure if he wanted to fully hope for that. He’d alright let you walk out of his life once, he wasn’t sure he could handle it again, although he felt fairly certain that, after tonight, you’d leave again. He looked at his watch and his eyes went wide when he realized how late it was getting.
“I need to get cleaned up, my family will be here in half a hour. Do you mind watching the food?” He asked, and you smiled with a nod.
“Go on, you’re fine.” You reassured him, looking down at your phone to make sure your timers for the tart and the marinara were right. Harrison walked towards his bedroom, but turned at the last moment to look at you again. He sighed. He really missed you this past month, and you were right there in front of him now, so why couldn’t just say those three words he wanted to say? Thinking about it, he didn’t know which three words he wanted to say more: I miss you or I love you.
After a few minutes, you got to work on the pasta, timing it out to be ready at approximately the same time as the marinara sauce. As you finished taking the tart out of the oven, there was a knock at the door, and you knew it had to be his family. You froze, not knowing what to do. Harrison was still in his room getting ready, and his family was twenty minutes early. You were once close with the Osterfield clan, though you weren’t sure anymore. You’d date Harrison for nearly two years, but you were still the girl that broke his heart last month. Sighing, you knew it was best to let them in and play off the awkwardness as best you could, so you went to the door and opened it with a smile.
“Y/N?” His mom asked, surprised to see you.
“It’s me.” You smiled. You felt your heart soar as she pulled you in for a hug; though you and Harrison may not be together anymore, you still wanted his mother to like you.
“Let me guess, he didn’t make all this on his own then.” His sister joked and you nodded your head sheepishly. You all made your way back into the kitchen, where the smell of marinara filled the air.
“Yeah, he needed some help. I think he’s-“ You stopped yourself as Harrison stepped out of his room. His glasses were off and he had slipped into a comfy sweater, one that you would steal from him all too often. His damp curls were pushed back and away from his face, and they made your heart flutter inside. You wanted nothing more than to steal that sweater again and to run your fingers through his hair just one more time.
“Happy birthday, mum.” He smiled, pulling her in for an affectionate hug.
“Y/N was just telling us you needed help in the kitchen.” She teased.
“Why don’t you tell ‘em what’s on the menu, Chef Osterfield?” You playfully nudged him with your elbow, before you turned to take care of the pasta and marinara sauce.
“We have marinara pasta for dinner and lemon tart as the dessert. Mainly made by Y/N.” He added, his smile still bright as ever as he spoke to his family.
As his family got distracted with their own conversation, you started to feel out of place, knowing that you shouldn’t stay. You turned off the stove as the pasta and sauce finished and quietly turned to Harrison.
“I think I’m going to head out.” You said, catching the frown that crossed his face. You took off your apron and put it aside on the counter.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? The only reason we’re not having takeout is because of you.” Harrison spoke softly, not wanting his family to completely overhear the conversation, though he knew they were listening in as they talked.
“I shouldn’t stay.” You insisted. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before heading to the entryway to get your shoes and your bag.
“Harrison.” His mum said, drawing his attention away from you as you left. When he looked at his family, his mother shook her head at him, “Go after her.”
Without another word, he rushed out of the kitchen and out of his house. He caught your wrist just before you reached your car, turning you to face him. Before you could say anything, he kissed you passionately.
After a moment, he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours, smiling softly at you. “I miss your raspberry tart with pistachio crust.”
“Maybe I could be persuaded to make more.” You teased.
“I missed you, so much.”
“I missed you, too, Chef Osterfield.”
#harrison osterfield#harrison osterfield x you#harrison osterfield imagine#harrison osterfield x reader#harrison osterfield one shot#haz osterfield#harrison osterfield x y/n
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Reunion Drama || Chris Evans Imagine
{anon} Can I request Chris finding out you and you’re male best friend used to be friends with benefits
A/n i’m not sure how it got where it did my mind just kind of ran, but i love this, also it’s long and probably should’ve been broken into parts, but i’m one of those people who most of the time won’t read something on here in multiple parts (i don’t know why lmao). It also saves the waiting for the next part and easier to put in the masterlist i’m going to make.
Warnings angsty and sad, fluff and nudity at the end but no smut
*gif not mine*
The shower turns off in the bathroom, and through the open door, you can hear your boyfriend get out and sigh. You lean in the door way and look at him, his back facing you as he wraps a clean white towel around his hips. He looks up in the mirror, seeing you staring at him from behind.
“Like what you see?” he smirks, folding the towel in so it won’t fall.
You snort, rolling your eyes at his usual cockiness. “You know,” you begin, walking across the tile towards him, your hand brushing water out of the hair at the base of his neck. “I’d tease you about taking longer than me to get ready, but you waited until the absolute last second to get in the shower.” You run your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp.
“I didn’t take that long,” he chuckles. “It’s fine.”
“I have been sitting out there, getting wrinkles in my dress and scrolling through channels on the TV for 45 minutes,” you explain. “You decided it best to start getting ready when I’m completely done. Why’d you take 45 minutes anyway?”
“Had to carefully trim the beard, babe,” he retorts, turning his head and kissing you cheek. He steps away from you and grabs his deodorant off of the counter. “Besides, we’ll still get there in time.”
“It started 20 minutes ago, Chris,” you laugh, poking his sides and making him jolt.
“Fashionably late is on time these days. Why are you in such a rush? You hate everyone that’s going to be there.”
“Ethan’s been there waiting.” Your best friend since childhood, Ethan, was also attending the event this evening, seeing as how it’s a 20 year high school reunion. He’d gotten to know Chris pretty well, and they got along well when he’d come visit you in Boston.
“Will you use my phone to get an Uber?” your fiance asks, looking at you over his shoulder. “It’s on the dresser. I just need to get dresses. Give me like 5 minutes.” He turns and kisses your head, following you out of the bathroom.
You grab his phone off the dresser and stand by the window, looking at the final moments of the sunset as you wait for the Uber app to load.
“10 minutes,” you tell him, turning around to see him already buttoning up his shirt. “How do you get dressed so fast?”
“I wear formal clothes a lot more than the average person, honey,” he says as you walk over to him. He grabs a tie from the dresser and wraps it around his neck, waiting for you to tie it for him like you usually do.
“It’s not that special,” you laugh. “You don’t need a tie.” You slide the silk material through your fingers.
“But look at you,” he gestures to you. “You look all dressed up and pretty.” His hands fall to your waist and you smile, pulling him closer to you by the tie still draped over his shoulders. You connect your lips to his in a hot passionate kiss. He pulls your hips closer to him, trying to wrap his arms around you, but you pull away.
You slide the tie out of his collar and put it back on the dresser. When you look back at him, your lipstick had smeared over his lips messily. You wipe your thumb across his lips, biting your lip.
“You can’t do that if you’re really going to make me go out in 5 minutes,” he says sternly, looking into your eyes.
You step back from him and back into the bathroom to fix your lipstick.
“Uber’s here, babe,” Chris calls into the bathroom.
You meet him by the door and unlock it, open it and wait for him. He grabs the door and meets you in the hall, walking with you arm in arm to the elevator. You sit in comfortable silence while waiting to reach the lobby. You look over at him lovingly, smiling, and see that his shirt is still buttoned up all the way as he thought he’d wear a tie. You turn to him, pulling his arm so he faces you, too, and you undo the top few buttons on the shirt, revealing the perfect about of skin.
The elevator door opens and you’re still toying with his shirt. He clears his throat and you look up at him, scrunch your nose cutely and walk out of the elevator with his hand in yours. As you walk out of the hotel lobby and to the Uber, Chris steps ahead of you and opens the door for you. You thank him as you duck your head and get into the car. A short moment after closing your door, he opens the door on the other side of the car and gets in himself.
“Smells like rain,” he comments, grabbing your hand.
“That’s typical.”
You engage in casual conversation with your driver, mostly Chris as you sit nervously smoothing your hands over your satin dress. Chris notices and simply squeezes your thigh, knowing you’re nervous to see all your old class mates again.
When you reach the venue, you thank the driver, and get out before Chris could reach your side of the car to help you. He looks at you disapprovingly and you just nudge his shoulder and grab his hand. You pull your phone out of your clutch and text Ethan to let him know you’ve arrived.
“Ah shit,” you hear Chris say beside you. You look over at him confused and see him tucking his shirt into his pants. “You noticed the buttons but not that it was untucked?”
“Cuffs, too,” you point out, and he buttons his cuffs while you walk with your arm in his into the old school gym. The music is loud, and of course it’s mostly 90s and early 2000s.
“I have to piss,” you hear Chris say.
“Oh my god, Chris,” you laugh. “We just got here.”
“I’m sorry,” he replies adjusting his pants. You point him towards the bathroom, he kisses your cheek quickly and walks off.
You begin to make your way over to the bar they’ve set up, and Ethan catches up with you.
“Y/n!” the familiar voice calls. You turn to see him rushing towards you, and you pull him into a hug. “Where’s Chris?” he asks when he pulls away from your friendly embrace.
“Bathroom,” you roll your eyes.
“Of course,” he laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”
Ethan walks with you to the bar, catching up with you since it had been a couple months since you had last seen each other. Of course there wasn’t much new to talk about since you’d text and call him every time something exciting or annoying happens.
When you reach the bar, you notice name tags sitting at the far end. ‘oh geez,’ you think to yourself and go to find yours.
“I already grabbed it for you,” Ethan says, fishing it out of his pocket. “Don’t want anyone seeing your school photo from senior year.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh and take the tag from your friend, noticing that he had crossed out ‘Ms Y/n Y/l/n’ and put ‘soon Mrs Y/n Evans’. You laugh at your best friend and his silliness.
“Oo, I haven’t seen it yet,” Ethan says and grabs your left hand, holding it up to his face to inspect your engagement ring. “So much prettier than the pictures, hon.”
“Thanks,” you blush.
“That man sure does have a wallet,” he pesters you.
You look at him with the ‘stop it’ face, and he puts his hands up, defeated. You both hear his name get called, and he turns to see his girlfriend waving him over. You wave at her politely and she smiles back at you.
Ethan looks at you. “Get him to send me a link,” he says, pointing to your ring with a wink as he walks back to his date.
You straighten your back, standing tall trying to hid your nerves of currently being alone at this horrid event. You only came to flaunt Chris. He wasn’t your only accomplishment, but he’s the one most people would notice, or talk about.
The bartender hands you your drink, you thank him and put it down beside you while you stuff the name tag into you purse, not wanting to put it on.
“Y/n?” you hear a voice call. You look up and see a woman parade towards you.
You curse to yourself, wishing you hadn’t been noticed. Your personality and style had changes a lot in the past 20 years, and you rarely post online, but your face never really changes.
Except for her. You recognized most people here, but you didn’t recognize her, yet she wore a name tag, so she had gone to your school. You couldn’t quite read the name tag, and as politely as possible, you look at her quizzically, silently asking who she is.
“It’s Stephanie!” she say excited. Your taken aback. You thought she was overly pretty in high school, being a popular cheerleader, but apparently not pretty enough, because she had obviously had some unnecessary work done. Talk a bout a Karen. Not only did her appearance surprise you, but the fact that she was talking to you. She had been a terrible friend, that you wish you’d never had, and you both said some nasty things at graduation. Why is she acting like nothing happened?
“Oh, hi,” you greet her. She starts a dreaded, yet casual conversation to catch up, luckily focusing it on herself so you don’t have to talk about you, but that’s natural for her -- being the center of attention. She tells you about her husband, a lawyer, who unfortunately couldn’t make it to the event. She tells you she’s his secretary, and that they have 3 kids. 4, 9, and 15. You zone out at the rest, wondering how she met a lawyer and had a kid with him at 23. It seemed unreal for her to actually find real love and not just be playing a game. You concluded that they probably hooked up once or twice, and she got pregnant and with her master manipulation somehow convinced him to stay.
“What about you?” she asks, and your shoulders drop, not wanting to talk about your own life. “I heard you and Ethan started sleeping together in college. He’s always been hot. Is that still a thing?”
“No, it’s not. I’m -” you begin but get interrupted buy someone clearing their throat behind Stephanie. She turns around and sees Chris standing behind her.
Chris looks surprised, angry even, He considered Ethan a friend at this point, but he was unaware of the fact he just heard. You didn’t think to mention it, it having been so many years ago. It didn’t seem relevant or important until Stephanie let it slip.
She was dumb-struck looking at Chris. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “I heard you were here. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw it for myself. Who are you here with?”
Chris walks around her and over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “My fiance,” he answers. He grabs your hand and holds it out for Stephanie to see the large rock on your left ring finger. You blush as her jaw practically hits the floor.
She takes a step closer to the two of you, Chris towering over you both. “How much did she pay you?” she laughs, obviously not believing the situation. “How did she pay you? She certainly couldn’t afford something this extreme.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, thinking it typical of her. Chris looks at her in disbelief and pulls you away from the snooty bitch, his arm wrapped tightly around you. He pulls you out of the gym to the lobby, walking so fast you could barely keep up, and you were stumbling over your heels.
“Chris what’re you doing?” you ask, worried.
He drops his arm from around you and turns away from you, several steps away. he runs his hands over his face and through his hair.
“Chris?” you say again, more concerned. He only ever acted like this when he was mad, and seeing him mad was never pleasant.
He turns back to you, dropping his arms by his side. “How long?”
“How long what, Chris?” you are still very confused.
“Don’t bullshit me and try to play dumb, Y/n,” he says, his voice gradually getting louder. “How long were you and Ethan sleeping together?”
You sigh, finally realizing what this was about. You could always tell he was wary of Ethan, you just wondered how long it would take him to say something. You look up at him, a mix of angry and sad tears prickling your eyes.
“How long?!” he yells.
You wince, feeling lucky that the music in the gym was so loud. “A year or two,” you say quietly and he huffs, throwing his arms up in the air, “but it doesn’t matter.”
Chris turns away from you again, facing the wall and slamming his hand against it. You know it wasn’t anywhere near full force because he showed no sign of the impact against the brick wall hurting him. You jump back, intimidated by him.
“There were never any strings attached,” your voice cracks. “It was purely friends with benefits. We both just needed the physical affection.” As you try to explain, you step closer to him, putting your hand on his shoulder as he leans against his forearm up against the wall with his head hanging, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He jerks away from your touch as soon as your hand grazes his shirt. “Do you know how many ‘friends with benefits’ relationships end in feelings, Y/n?” he looks at you, astounded. “Your mom always wanted you to marry him anyway!” He takes a few breaths, but you don’t dare try to interrupt him. “And you just expect me to believe that Hot-Shot Ethan, who can have whoever the fuck he wants, chose to fuck around with you?” His voice is louder than it had ever been when talking to you.
His words hit you like a slap across the face. Like high school all over. Before college, before you cut off trying to find a romantic interest, all you had ever been was used, played, lead on. Then forgotten about or thrown away. A sob wracks through your body, and you take off your engagement ring. The logical part of you knows he’s just saying this because he’s mad, and he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he were just using you. But then your paranoid and insecure side tells you he is, that he’s just with you because the media thinks he needs a wife. It tells you you’ve never been good enough, and you never will be. You grip the ring tightly in your hand, the stone pressing into your soft skin.
“He trusts me, Chris,” you say weakly, covering your sobs with your other hand. “And I thought you did, too.” Your voice is broken, and you sound nothing like your normally composed self. You press your hand with the ring against his chest. “I thought you loved me. But apparently I’m wrong about a lot of things.” You let the ring drop from your hand as you pull away from him and trudge away, your broken heart making it difficult for you to walk straight. You hear Chris calling after you, asking you to wait. Saying not to go, but you ignore his pleads and open the door, stepping into the rain unfazed, letting your feet take you anywhere away from here.
Chris watches you leave, wanting to run after you but glued to the spot. The words that left his mouth astound him. The creaky gym door open behinds him, and he swings around to see Ethan walking towards him. Chris wants to scream, maybe even throw a punch, but all energy suddenly sucked from his body, he can only collapse on the bench next to him.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan asks as Chris hangs his head in his hands and puts pressure on his eyes with his palm. “I asked Stephanie where Y/n went, she said you pulled her out of the gym really suddenly.”
“I should be screaming at you right now,” Chris says, his voice loud, but hoarse from the need to cry burning his throat. “How could you to just hide the fact you were sleeping together and go around like it never happened. Are you still?”
Realization hits Ethan. Stephanie hears everything about everyone, and word spreads fast, especially since you and Ethan both went to the local university. She would spill anything she hears in high school, craving the drama. Evidently, some people never change.
“That was nothing,” Ethan explains. “We were both lonely college kids, and old friends who needed company. We were comfortable around each other, it was just easy. But it meant nothing. Not feelings developed on either side.”
“Why’d you stay friends with her?” Chris’ voice finally breaks.
“We’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and we mutually agreed to stop when we left college. I’m not just going to abandon her like everyone else she let close. It shouldn’t matter. We didn’t think it would because she loves and is completely committed to you. You should at least know by now that she doesn’t take loyalty lightly.”
Chris’ body shakes as he tries to hold back his tears and he doesn’t say anything.
A shiny glint a ways from Chris’ foot, and bends down, finding your engagement ring on the ground. “Where’d she go?” Ethan asks, picking up the ring. “Where’s Y/n, Chris?”
“She left,” Chris sobs. “I -” he inhales deeply. “I told her a hot-shot like you wouldn’t chose her.”
“Chris, what the fuck?!”
“I know! I-I just couldn’t bare the thought of losing her to you -- to someone she’s known her whole life. I just love her so much any possible threat of losing her blinds me and I just say stupid shit that I don’t really think. I can’t lose her; she’s the best thing to every happen to me.”
Ethan, knowing you so well, and loving you like a sister, fights the urge to hit Chris, knowing he’ll most likely lose, for one, and for two that won’t help the situation. Chris is already extremely distraught, so there’s no need to physically drill him with the emotional damage he’s done.
“I know where she might me,” Ethan starts. “I’ll go find her. You go back to the hotel before you do anything else you’ll regret.”
Chris jumps off the bench, angry. “No, you stay the hell away from her! Just because I fucked up by saying that shit doesn’t mean I trust you,” he yells, almost the top of his voice, and jabs a finger into Ethan’s chest, pushing him backwards slightly.
“I know her better than you do, jackass,” Ethan yells back at Chris. “She won’t talk to you anyway, at least not now. We’re best friends, and I have always been there for her as she has for me. One thing I do know without being with her right now, Y/n needs you. Not because she can’t support herself, but because she loves you so damn much. But after what you just said, her walls are going to built back higher than they were when you met her because she feels like she can’t have you. And if she can’t have you -- the love of her life -- then she won’t want anyone. So she needs me. She needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her everything is going to be okay. Someone she can trust and vent to like she always has. So, yeah, Chris. I am going to find her.”
Ethan turns and walks out the doors before Chris can protest further, shoving your engagement ring in his pocket in hopes of convincing you to take it, and Chris back. He get’s outside, and a nostalgic feeling hits him, and guides him to the most logical place you’d be before he could even thing about it. He did think about it once he realized where he was going. And he felt like a teenager again, running after his best friend who just got her heart ripped out. That was true, accept he was twenty years older now. So he goes to the place you’d always run and hide, where he could always find you when he lost you. He goes to the park, a couple streets over from the school. The walk is longer than he remembers, and he sympathizes for you, thinking about the heels and dress you’re wearing, how cold you must be in the freezing rain with no jacket, only a thin dress. The walk always seemed shorter and less inclined as a kid, but that was probably because being 20 years younger gave you more energy.
He reaches the park, passing the play grounds you and him used to play on as kids, and even some as teenagers. He heads to the back, where a large open space sits, a stage at the front of it. Local bands or school music groups would play on the stage sometimes, mostly during the holidays, otherwise it was unused. As he had suspected, he saw you sitting on the stage, your feet hanging off the edge. He walks closer, picking his pace to a faster jog, and stops at the wall of the stage, when he’s below you, making you look at him as you look at your feet.
You look at his worried expression when you see him, and the tears the stopped not long ago came running back. You thought you had dried out your eyes to the point you couldn’t cry anymore, but it turns out you were emotionally numb to the pain you’ve already felt. Cut the knife into the wound more, and you could still feel it.
Ethan climbs the stage, sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shaking form. Shaking from the cold, and crying. He holds you a moment, letting you lean on his shoulder as you cry, before he says anything.
“Y/n,” he starts, but you don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. “You should go talk to Chris.”
You inhale shakily as you sit up. “I thought he was different,” you sob. “I thought he’d be different than everyone else. Everyone just treats me like shit. Use me. Lead me on. Play me. Throw me away. Forget about me. He’s the same as all of them. I always thought he’d be different. Even when he was just a stupid celebrity crush. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong. He used me, played me. Worse than anyone. It’s all I’ve ever gotten. Maybe it’s what I deserve. I’ve never been good enough”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Y/n,” Ethan exclaims. “You are worth everything. You’re an amazing friend, an amazing person. You’re unbelievably smart -- you’re an attending surgeon for god’s sake. You did that on your own. You’re strong and you don’t let anything challenge you.”
“That’s because i got over everyone treating me like shit.” You laugh at your own stupidity, wiping at your tears. “I avoided talking to anyone if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But then Chris waltzes into my life, convinced me he’s the love of my life, and then rips my heart out.”
“Chris is the love of your life, stupid,” Ethan laughs. “His love for you -- God, I’ve never seen anything like it. That man loves you more than anything. He’s scared of losing you, Y/n, and, take it from another guy, we get scared and we say shit we would never mean. He’s broken. He broke himself when he said that, and in all honesty, he seems more broken then you. You need each other.”
You sit, listening to your best friend go on about this. And as much as you hate to admit it, Ethan’s right. “Fine,” you sigh.
Ethan orders you an Uber back to the hotel and waits with you in comfortable silence until it arrives. When it does, he stops you before opening the door, and pulls your ring out of his pocket, placing it gingerly in your hand. He opens the door for you, tells the drive to turn on the heat, and waves you off. You get the impression that the drive see’s you’re not in the mood for casual conversation.
When you get up to your hotel room, you quietly open the door. Chris is laying on the bed, crying against the pillow you slept against last night. He’s still wearing his button up and slacks.
“Chris,” you call, barely above a whisper, but still loud enough so he can hear you.
Chris doesn’t respond, thinking his mind is playing tricks on him.
You put your wet clutch down on the table and crawl onto the bed next to him, wrapping your arms around his shaking body. You had never seen him like this before, and you absolutely hate it. As you hold him, you begin to cry again with hi, silently but your body still trembles.
“Chris,” you sob out against his shoulder.
He sits up, leaving your arms but then pulling you into his. Your smeared makeup stains his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He only cares that he has you. As he holds you, he says he’s sorry, over and over again. You cry into his chest, gripping onto his shirt. Chris holds your head in his sizable hand, holding you to him as he cries, kissing your hair.
You stay like that, with him repeatedly saying he’s sorry. After a few moments in each other’s arms, where you’re meant to be, you both calm down. Chris moves, cradling your cheeks gently in his hands, wiping the tears away from your eyes.
“Y/n,” he says, still breathing shakily as the aftershocks of your bodies persist to wrack through you. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant any of that. You’re the love of my life, and you are perfect in every way shape and form. Any guy would be the luckiest to call you theirs like I get to. I was just scared -- terrified of losing you. Especially to someone you know so well. Someone who has been there for you practically your whole life. I felt like I can’t compete.
You look up at him, tears prickling your eyes again. “You used my biggest insecurity against me,” you tell him, sobs convulsing you once more.
He grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap and stoking your hair. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to ever suggest anything like that. You’re more than good enough. If anything, you’re too good for anyone. I sure as hell don’t deserve you. You deserve the pure world, and I would give it to you in a heartbeat if I could, but this corrupt piece of shit planet we live on doesn’t deserve you. You’re just too good.” With his words, his constant reassurance, you begin to calm down again. “Everyone from your past is stupid. High school and college kids are all drama, sex crazed maniacs. Some people -- you -- don’t deserve to be around such bullshit for so long. That’s life, and there’s no easy way to avoid it. You’re so strong and you prevailed through all you’ve been through. All those assholes were naive. If they had actually taken the time to get to know you, like I do, and if they would get over their stupid everlasting pubescent hormones, like I did, they’d all be begging for you, like I do, and they’d love you more than anything. Like I do. Those five minutes after the bathroom before I found you, when I did find you, everyone’s eyes were on you. You;re beautiful, and when you’re confident like you’ve become it just radiates more. It’s more noticeable. You’ve become so confident since college, you’re still the same adorable geek, but you own it, you don’t shy away from it anymore. You’re proud to be you, and not many people can say that.” He kisses the top of your head as he finishes his spiel.
You look up at him, caressing his cheek gently as you look at him with all the love in the world. “I don’t deserve you, Chris,” you smile pathetically.
“No,” he says seriously. “Nuh-uh. Nope. Don’t start that bullshit. You’re a puppy.”
You laugh, looking at him confused.
“Puppies deserve anything they want, but they’re too precious and must be protected at all costs. So are you. Therefore, you are a puppy.”
“How much time have you been spending on twitter?” you laugh at him, feeling overwhelmed with love.
He nudges your shoulder, and you purposely over react and fall over dramatically as he gets off the bed. He takes you into the bathroom and you both get cleaned up from the eventful night that felt like a whole week. You shower together, but neither of you let things get steamy, as you’ve both agreed that sex is not the appropriate way to make up a mistake or argument. He holds you while in the shower, your back pressed to his chest, and he just admires you lovingly as he washes your back. You get in the bed together after putting some random late-night reruns on the TV, and you lay in his arms.
“My beautiful wife-to-be, you fit so perfectly into my arms,” Chris says, kissing your shoulder. “You were made for me, and I can’t wait to marry you. It’s already the best day of my life, and it hasn’t happened yet.”
You giggle at his lovey-ness, and settle comfortable into your fiance’s arms, falling asleep with ease in your favorite place.
------
A/n ok now i feel hella fucking lonely, don’t know if you could tell, but i used things my therapist tells me, all while helping my friend deal with his friends. this took forever, and i don’t know how it ended up here, but i love it and my heart is just tangled in different emotions. like damn i need a man like chris/seb but that’s never gonna happen because im not good enough :’)
#chris evans#chris evans x reader#chris evans imagine#Steve Rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#marvel#marvel imagine
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How I Met Your Grandfather
~ Chapter 6 ~
(Gif credit: @ stay_shittizen_via Pinterest/Wattpad)
Other Chapters: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (coming soon)
Pairing: Bang Chan × Fem! Reader, Twin brother! Felix Lee.
Genre: Fluff, mostly angst.
Word count: 1.4k+
Warnings: mentions of the same insecurities from last chapter, mentions of (almost) death.
Summary: You ask for advice from your older sister as tomorrow you're going to your first date with Chan, and both her and Olivia- your younger sister, encourage you. Chan decides to work in his studio until his date with Y/N, then Felix comes unexpectedly and tells him what's on his mind. After Felix left, Chan keeps working despite being tired, but eventually falls asleep.
A/N: hello hello :) I actually finished this part a few days ago but it felt too short (still does zksgnsaj) and I wanted to make some small changes too so it took me a while 🙈🙈
Hope you enjoy!! Thank you all for reading ♥️♥️
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"Just be yourself and I can assure you, he will fall for you in seconds", your older sister, Rachael, said. You both were sitting on her bed, as she was trying to encourage and calm you down. It was Wednesday night and Felix was staying in the dorms since yesterday, so you decided to ask for advice from Rachael, as you finally realized that tomorrow is your first date with Chris and you don't even know what you're supposed to do or say.
"There's no need to plan anything.. I mean, what did you plan on doing? Memorizing things and then saying them to him?", She asked jokingly. The thought of you searching for cheap pickup lines online and using them on Chris later, made you two burst into laughter.
"Are we talking about Chris oppa?", You and Rachael turned to see Olivia's head peeking inside. She then smirked. "I know he really likes Y/N".
"Oh, you do?", You asked, amused by your younger sister's words and the silly look on her face. "How come?"
"Well..", she started making her way to join you two on Rachael's bed, sitting between you and Rachael. "Remember the day Felix's friends were here? Well, I didn't even get to say anything to him because he'd talk to you most of the time and looked at you like this.. ", she said, mockingly imitating Chris as she started widening her eyes and coming closer to your face. "Oh, and there's another thing...", She started, but stopped once she saw Rachael's eyes signing her that she's already said more than enough.
"What is it?", You asked with curiosity. You saw Rachael's look too, and knew these two were hiding something from you. "I know this look, Rachael", you said.
"Well, he--", Olivia started.
"Asked you out... Of course", Rachael said quickly. Very smooth, Rachael, you thought, of course it was very obvious that this wasn't what they were talking about, but you decided to leave the topic, thinking it probably wasn't that important.
"So... before I came in I heard you two talking", Olivia finally said. "And I agree with what Rachael eonni said. Just be yourself, he already likes you! I mean, he was the one to ask YOU out"
"And you and him are both super sweet and kind", Rachael added. "Just relax and go to sleep, I'm sure he's just as nervous!!"
You sighed. Despite being nervous still, their words did help. "Thank you", you said and hugged your older sister. "And you too", you turned to Olivia, ruffled her hair a little and hugged her too.
"Goodnight", you said, turning off the light in Rachael's room as you and Olivia left to go back to your rooms.
"Goodnight, sis", Rachael said. "And good luck tomorrow, show him how great you are!"
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Chan was busy, just like every other day.
It was Thursday morning, which means he's going to the beach with Y/N in a few hours. He decided to go sit in his studio and work on some new stuff until it's time to go, this way he could relax too.
"Excited for today?", Felix's voice surprised Chan. He turned to look at the younger boy, but before he could say anything, Felix continued. "Don't worry, I'm not here to threaten you this time", he said with a small chuckle after seeing Chris's look. "I wanted to wish you good luck and... to apologize".
"Felix, it's--"
"No, no, I have to... After seeing how happy you both are about this...", he said, shaking his head, then looked at Chan. "I'm really sorry for not approving this at first. I know you'll be good to her".
Chan froze. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to promise that he will never ever hurt Y/N. He wanted to tell him that it's okay and that he understands where his disapproval was coming from. "Thank you...", He finally said, but was cut by Felix's hug.
"Sorry I came here so unexpectedly.", Felix said on his way out. "I just really had to let this out before you go so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or something"
"It's absolutely fine, you're always welcome to surprise me here", Chan said with a giggle. "And thank you again"
"It's all good!", the younger said with a smile. "good luck!"
After Felix left, Chan was working for hours, with almost no breaks. I wish I could sleep more last night, he though as he let out another yawn. Too many thoughts were on his mind last night- how much work he has, you, a new line he could add to the lyrics of one of the new songs, you again. He felt his eyes getting heavier with every minute passing. You can't sleep now ,Your date is in 2 hours, he told himself. But maybe just for 10 minutes? A part of him thought. 10 minutes of sleep aren't going to kill anyone...
He woke up, immediately checking the time on his phone.
6:07pm.
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You got to the beach a bit earlier, as you wanted to be mentally prepared for this. You baked chocolate-chips cookies and cut some fresh fruits, and decided to place them nicely in cute plates on the towel you were sitting on, in the spot where you both decided to meet.
You were wearing your swimsuit under a big shirt and black shorts. I'll just do what I always do, you told Felix after Chris's call, and by that you meant 'not taking off my clothes, and getting in the water wearing them'. This shirt was big enough to cover your butt and a bit of your thighs, and you loved it for that.
It was already 4:50pm, but thinking of Chris's shy smile made it easier for you to believe that everything is going to be fine. You suddenly remembered Felix used to tell you of how great their leader is, always willing to help, cares for everyone all the time and so very hardworking. These traits made you trust him, despite not actually knowing him.
5:15pm. You read from your phone screen. He's probably going to be here in a few minutes., You told yourself. The traffic these days...
At least I don't have to worry about the swimsuit, you thought with a bitter smile. You sighed. Maybe this is happening to me because I looked forward to it a bit too much...
5:30pm. At this point, you decided to eat some of the cookies and a few grapes. A part of you wanted to believe he's still going to come and that he's probably on his way. But at 6:00pm you lost hope.
You decided to take off the shirt. He's not coming anyways, you thought. And even if he is... You were on the verge of tears, but you fought them back. The wind was blowing in your hair and you looked at the beautiful waves as they were breaking on the sand. I have cookies and I have fruits and I have the sea... I don't need no man to make me happy. You got up and went inside the water.
The sea always calmed you. You weren't the best swimmer, but it was something about water, even just a small swimming pool, that made you feel so relaxed. Maybe it's better that way, you told yourself. No one's going to get hurt. Well, except from you, of course, but you'll get over it. Just like always.
You were so deep in thought, that you didn't even notice yourself drifting deeper into the sea. It was only when your legs couldn't reach the floor that you realized you should swim back. You tried making your way through the waves but they got bigger and stronger. You were fighting the waves, trying to call for help, but then a huge wave covered you, pushing you into the deep.
As you were drowning, you remembered a moment of you and your family on the beach, years ago. You and Felix were 6 or 7 years old, playing in the water. You two told Olivia that you had powers and could move the water according to your hand movements, and she believed. Your parents and Rachael clapped with surprised looks, as if they also believed in your abilities, that only a few years later you realized were fake. Oh, how you loved these moments you spent with your family...
Then you imagined Chris's voice, calling your name, interrupting your warm memories. Why him, of all people?? You scolded yourself. You wished you'd hear your parents' voice, or any of your siblings, but hearing Chris just made you understand how unlucky you were, even in your last moments. You couldn't even cry as you kept swallowing and breathing in the salty water.
Then your mind went blank.
Everything got black.
#stray kids#skz#stray kids imagines#stray kids reactions#stray kids au#skz reactions#skz au#skz fluff#skz angst#bang chan#lee know#lee minho#seo changbin#hwang hyung#han jisung#felix lee#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#bang chan au#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#felix brother au#felix twin au#kpop#kpop reactions#kpop imagines#stray kids fanfic#fanfic#how i met your grandfather
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Body Stealing Black-Eyed Bitch (2) // Jack Kline/Belphegor X Reader
A/N: This is part two so make sure you go read the first one in order for this one to make much more sense lol. This one is actually a lot longer than the first one because me being stupid didn’t equal it out.
TAKES PLACE DURING 15x01 (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET)
REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW
Requested: Kinda...people wanted this second part but I was gonna make it anyway
Warnings: Blood, some forms of gore, some angst, and some heavy makeout session
PART 1
Not my gifs!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)
-
The guys ran to the doors to check the outside while you stayed back and stared down the demon. He noticed you looking at him and smiled.
“What? No thank you?”
You scoffed. “As if I’ll ever thank you.”
You and Belphegor followed the older men to the outside. You exited the tomb and saw that the sky was still an eerie dark black, but the several dead walking bodies had collapsed on the ground, lifeless once more.
“Hey, it worked! High five!” Belphegor cheered, lifting his hand for high five that one paid any attention to.
“The spirits have been destroyed.” Castiel said, looking around the graveyard.
“No, I actually just blasted them out of those bodies.” Belphegor walked past the four of you.
“So where are the ghosts, then?” Dean asked.
Belphegor didn’t really give a proper answer and you all just sighed then headed toward the chevy impala. As always, Dean was driving and Sam was in shotgun. You, Castiel and Belphegor sat in the back, much to yours and Cas’ distaste. It was a bit worse for you since you were trapped in the middle of the two, meaning you were closer to the demon.
The five of you drove down the dark road as Sam checked online if there was anything on the news. Belphegor was checking out his vessel in the car’s mirrors.
“I mean, come on. I look good.” He said while fumbling with his glasses.
“Don’t get used to it.” You barked, your arms crossed and face blank.
“I’m gonna have to, sweetheart.”
“Anything?” Dean asked his brother, changing the subject.
Sam glanced at Dean with a strange look. “No, not yet. I mean, the news, they didn't...it just... I'm not seeing anything about a worldwide zombie apocalypse.”
“So... Ghostpocalypse. Maybe it's just happening here.” Dean suggested.
But Belphegor shrugged from the backseat next to you.
“Eh, for now. I mean the souls gotta go somewhere, right?”
“Yeah, how many are we talking about, by the way? Souls?” Sam asked, turning his body to face Belphegor.
“In hell?”
“Yes.”
“Two...three billion.” The demon shrugged nonchalantly.
Your eyes widened while Sam and Dean shared a dour face. They knew lots of souls escaped from Hell but not that many.
“Alright. Let's just stick to the plan, alright? We head back to the bunker, figure out how to close the rift.” Dean said.
Belphegor sucked in a breath. “If you can.”
You glared your eyes to him.
“Yeah well, you got a better idea?” You snapped.
“I do not. But if you wanted to buy some time, you could always contain the ghosts.” He told you.
“Contain them how?” Asked Sam.
“Magic.” He answered, as if it was obvious.
“And you just happen to know the right spell?” Cas pointed out.
“Lucky you.” Belphegor said, smirking at you.
You just rolled your eyes and sank back into your seat.
“What do you mean by "contain"?”
“Imagine a salt circle a mile wide. No ghosts get in, no ghosts get out.”
“No,” Castiel interjected. “That town, Harlan, Kansas is less than a mile from the cemetery.”
“Then we get everyone out.” Dean deadpanned.
“How?”
“We lie.”
-
It was already light once you guys arrived back in the town. Sam left the car to speak to the sheriff about the town’s evacuation, you, Dean, Cas and Belphegor were left in the car.
“We can handle the evac, so why don't you grab Crowley Jr. here whatever he needs for his spell?” Dean told you and Cas.
“No.”
“I’m not doing that.” You both protested at the same time.
“What?” Dean confusingly asked.
Castiel looked anywhere but Belphegor. “Dean, I can't. I-I...I can't even look at him.”
A terrible silence went through the car before Cas finally just sighed and left the car. Dean just turned back into his seat and pulled out his extra pistol, opening the glove compartment and shoving it in there out of plain sight. Belphegor took notice and looked over the seat to see what he hid.
“Uh, what’s that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, cool.”
Dean looked at you in his rearview mirror and sighed.
“(Y/n), I’m gonna need you to help...Belphegor find his supplies and seal up the town. Once you finish the spell, come find us, okay?”
“I am not dealing with him...I can’t. This demon is inhabiting Jack’s-” You stopped. “He’s using his body, Dean.” You confessed to the eldest Winchester brother.
“Sorry, but I’m not asking, Singer.” Dean scolded you, using your last name.
Whenever he used it, you knew he meant business. No one ever called you by your adoptive father’s last name but the Winchesters and that only happened in times where you really pissed them off. You just scoffed and scooted farther away from the demon next to you.
Being near Belphegor kept reminding you that the love of your life was gone forever. Every memory, good and bad, about Jack replayed in your mind. From when you first found him, to teaching him to control his powers or even when he ran away. Your heart and mind ached, ached for your love back.
You noticed that Dean and Belphegor stepped out of the car so you followed on your side. Dean gave you strict instructions about the demon (mainly on making sure he didn’t go rogue and kill you) and then left you alone with him.
As you walked down the street, Belphegor walked next to you and watched several people who walked past you two. He eyed their appearances then whispered to you.
“So, people are, like, crazy good-looking now, eh?”
You furrowed your eyebrows in a mix of irration and confusion. “What?”
“I mean, the last time I was on Earth, when I was human. Ah, it was a while ago. I mean, but, you know, we were all worshipping this giant rock that looked like a huge penis, and...”
“Ew, dude, TMI.” You grimaced.
“It’s true! Anyway, folks back then, they were, uh, ugly. You know? Had a lot of humps. I mean, a lot. Look at 'em now,” Belphegor stared at your body and smiled. “I mean, look at you. I mean, you're, uh, you know, beautiful.”
You halted in your tracks and a memory popped into your mind.
“You’re very pretty, (Y/n).” Jack told you.
You looked up at him in surprise. The two of you were just in the middle of searching for a case in the bunker’s library when he broke the silence with his words. Jack was just staring at you with a lovestruck gaze and you blushed heavily.
“Thank you, Jack. I think you’re very pretty, too.” You replied, trying to focus on your computer.
“No, no, I mean it.” You looked back up at him, staring into his piercing eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
A tear escaped your eye before you had a chance to wipe it away. Belphegor saw you had stopped walking so he looked to you and saw your bleak expression.
“Um... you good?” He asked, going to shake your shoulder but was stopped by you grabbing his wrist.
“Never touch me. Never call me beautiful. And don’t you ever ask me if I’m good,” You furiously wiped at the tears in your eyes. “Because I am never good.”
You could see out of the corner of your eyes that some people were starting to stare at you two. Although you were still angry, you let go of his wrist.
“Let’s just get your shit and get out of here. Wh-When are you gonna get out of that body, anyway?” You asked.
“Eh, when I find another one. I mean, I would've jumped at the cemetery, but all those meat suits were a little too, uh, you know, wormy. Difficult to blend, if you will.” Belphegor droned on.
“Yeah...sure.”
“So, uh...who was...he, anyway?”
You turned to him but continued walking. “What?”
“Well, I know he was your boyfriend and all but uh...who was this kid?” He curiously asked.
You hesitated before answering.
“His name was Jack. He was a lot of things. To the boys he was their kid. Kinda. But to me,” You swallowed. “He was important. My love, my light, my everything. And now he’s gone, with you inside his corpse.”
The demon could see the emotion in your eyes, even if you did try to keep a straight face, Belphegor could see what you were truly feelings.
“Oh. Uh...sorry.”
You shook your head and carried on.
“So, what do you need for this spell?
“You know, nothing much. Big bag of salt.”
“Easy.”
“And a...and a human heart.”
You physically groaned. You really need a break from death.
-
You exited the convenience store with a huge bag of rock salt. Turning to your left, you entered an alleyway where Belphegor was leaning against a brick wall. He noticed you coming toward him and brushed off his vessel’s clothing.
“Here’s your salt.” You said, handing him the bag.
“I’m going to call Dean about the heart. Maybe he knows a way to get one.”
You grabbed your phone from your pocket and began to search for Dean’s number in your contacts until you saw Belphegor staring at you. For a moment, he reminded you of Jack and his innocent gazes.
“Is there a problem?” You asked. He shook his head.
“No, no, it’s just...you’re very popular in hell.”
“I am?” You asked, pretty curious.
“Yeah. I mean, you may not be Winchester famous but still really well known.” The demon affirmed.
“And how exactly am I “well known” among Hell? I’ve been with the boys for almost eight years now and no demon has ever told me that I’m popular.”
“Kevin Tran, duh. He always talks about you, talks about how you were his best friend and how much he missed you- god he was so whinny.”
You stared at the demon with a blinking look, not sure if you had hear him correctly.
“K-Kevin? Kevin Tran?” You wanted him to confirm. He nodded.
“But God said- Chuck said he was going to Heaven. Kevin is supposed to be in Heaven!” You fumed, getting angrier by the second.
First that son of a bitch messed up your lives for his own entertainment, then he kills Jack, and now apparently he didn’t even send your old best friend to Heaven like he said he would! That lying bastard.
“I’m going to fucking kill that bastard of a writer.”
“Woah, woah, chill. Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to be calm! My best friend is in Hell!”
Your breathing started to pick up, your mind clouded by anger and you paced back and forth in the ally way. You didn’t even notice Belphegor come up to you and grab you by the shoulders.
Not really knowing anything else to do, Belphegor lifted your chin and smashed his lips onto yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and didn’t even have a chance to respond to the kiss. Because he was using Jack’s body, he tasted like him, felt like him and even the way he held you felt like Jack. For a moment, you forgot that it wasn’t Jack in his body, it was a demon.
After feeling you not freaking out anymore, Belphegor let you go and stared you in the eyes, you staring at your shocked reflection in his sunglasses.
“You calm now?”
You weren’t even thinking anymore. It had felt like forever since you kissed Jack, and even though your mind knew it wasn’t him, your body still craved for his touch again. Without even thinking, you forced your lips back onto his.
Belphegor responded almost immediately, kissing you with just as much passion as you did. His kisses were different, not the soft and sweet kind that your Jack and you always shared. No, this was different, what you felt was true lust and roughness.
You felt him push you up against the brick wall he was leaning against and you could feel his hips grind into yours. You moaned into the kiss, feeling Belphegor’s smirk against your lips. One of his hands found their way from your hips and almost up your shirt.
The hot and heavy kiss had only lasted for a while until Belphegor let your lips go. His stupid and cooky smirk was plastered on his face.
“Come on, we got a bunch of souls and ghosts to seal into this town, right?”
The demon walked past you and out of the alleyway, standing at the end and waiting for you. After everything that’s happened to you in the past couple of days, you managed to make a tiny smile at him.
-
Later, after calling Dean, you told him about the heart you needed for the spell and he suggested you going to morgue. You and Belphegor walked down the empty street, heading to your destination.
“So...about that heart.” He brought up the subject again.
“On it. Dean said that we could probably just head down to the morgue.”
You saw the demon shrug and scrunch up his face.
“Hmm. Fresh, it'd be... it would be better.”
You were about to answer when a man screaming in the distance caught your attention. Immediately, you ran towards the sound with Belphegor following behind you. You went down the street and around the corner to see the town’s sheriff laying on the ground, dead.
You kneeled down to the body and saw a closer look to his neck. There were deep scratches that cut deep and blood drained from his body onto the pavement.
You internally gagged, but managed to keep it down and covered your mouth with your hand. Belphegor wasn’t very affected from the dead man on the ground.
“Hmm, cool.”
You looked up to him with a weirded out face, he just shrugged as if it was nothing. Then again, he was a torturer in Hell for thousands of years.
“Fuck...”
“Yeah. Yeah, poor guy.” Belphegor said with no sympathy at all.
He leaned down toward the body and pushed his hand into the man’s chest, you backing away in disgust and shock. Belphegor pulled out a fresh, bloody heart and showed it to you.
“Well, I got a heart,” Bel smirked and held the organ out to you. “I would give it to you but-”
“I don’t care.” You deadpanned.
He raised his hands up in defense.
Suddenly, the air around you turned cold and when you exhaled, your breath turned white. You knew what this was, a ghost was near.
“We need to move. Now.” You commanded the demon until you heard a voice from behind you.
“Can you take me home?”
You turned around to see the woman in white that Sam and Dean had told you about, the first hunt they went on that started them on this journey together. She whipped her hand out and you went flying towards a nearby dumpster and some boxes.
You took a moment to breath and saw the woman walking towards Belphegor, ready to attack him. The demon backed away, still carrying the heart.
“O-Oh, hey. Look, okay?” He stammered, putting his hand out in front of him.
“Bad ghost! Bad!”
She once again swiped her hand at his lifted hand and created deep scratches into his palm. He winced at the pain and held his hurt hand close to his chest.
Just as the woman was about to pounce on him, you quickly grabbed an iron pole from the boxes and swung at the ghost with all your might. She disappeared right away but you knew she would be back.
“Bel, spell, now. Let's get the salt.”
After running back to grab the salt you had left in the alleyway, you grabbed it and poured it all into a large pile in the middle of the now deserted street. Belphegor then set the dead man’s heart in the center of the salt.
“We good?” You asked.
“We’re good.”
He stood firmly and began to chant the spell.
“Animi...infernorum...spiritus abyssi surrecti...defigo...vos intra confinia. Vinciamni!”
As the salt and heart began to glow red, Belphegor set his hand firmly into the street in front of the ingredients. A powerful wave washed over the whole town then everything went back to being quiet once more.
-
After meeting up with the boys, along with a mom and her young daughter, you all rode back into the high school to drop off the little family. There wasn’t enough space in the backseat of the impala so you kind of just ended up sitting on top of Belphegor’s lap.
Dean stopped the car in a parking spot and him, along with his brother, turned to face the five of you in the back.
“So, what now?” The mother asked.
“Okay. You two go inside. We'll take care of the town.” Sam told them.
“And maybe don't tell anybody about the whole ghost thing.” Dean added.
“Or the angel thing.” Cas said, looking towards the girl and her mom.
“Yeah, that... that might freak them out.”
Belphegor scoffed from beneath you. “Uh, might?”
You elbowed the demon in the stomach, causing him to groan in pain. You then smiled softly towards the two.
“You’ll be okay, stay safe, alright?”
The mother and daughter left the car and you finally were able to get off of Bel’s lap. It was pretty uncomfortable for you but obviously, Belphegor had enjoyed every bit of it.
Dean drove off to the middle of the parking lot and stepped out of the car, everyone already had gotten off as well. He walked up to you standing next to Belphegor.
“Good to know that the spell worked. He cause any trouble?” Dean questioned, nodding towards the demon who just waved at him.
You looked at Bel then back to the tall man and shook your head.
“No. No, not really. Surprisingly, Bel is pretty okay for a demon. He can’t replace...”You stopped for a moment. Then you remembered the kiss in the alleyway, feeling guilty. “He didn’t cause any trouble. We’re fine.”
Dean looked suspiously between you and Belphegor but nodded and walked over to Cas. You turned over to the demon who was leaning against Baby.
“Bel, what happened in the alleyway...that can’t happen again. I-I mean, I just lost Jack and I can’t-”
Belphegor interrupted you before you could continue.
“Calm yourself, sweetheart. What happened in the alleyway can be our little secret, all right?” He raised his eyebrow in a sly manner, making you slightly giggle, something you haven’t done in a while.
“Our secret.”
You saw his left hand and remembered how the woman in white did some damage to it. You held your hand out so you could take a closer look at it.
“Let me look at your wound.”
He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been through worse.”
“Don’t care. Give me your hand.” You persisted.
Belphegor sighed and lifted his hand to allow you to grab it. You looked over the three deep scratches in his palm and bit your lip in slight disgust. You dropped his hand.
“Let’s clean that up.”
You grabbed some supplies from the Winchester brothers since they were fixing up Sam’s almost infected bullet wound. Taking a piece of bandage, you cleaned up Bel’s scars then wrapped his hand.
“You really care about me, don’t you?” He teased, cockily.
You scoffed.
“You’re in Jack’s body, I don’t anything happening to yo- it. You’re still a body stealing black-eyed bitch, Bel.”
-
A/N: Oh my god, it’s like 7am and I have been up working on this since 1am. I really need food and sleep. Stay safe, loves!
Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my Supernatural stories!
Someone messaged me and asked me if I could tag them but I completely forgot who so whoever messaged me, please do it again so I can add you!
TAGGED:
@shortwinchester
@coltcas
@urlaslongasafalloutboysongtitle
#supernatural#supernatural x reader#supernatural x you#supernatural x y/n#supernatural x reader imagines#supernatural x reader imagine#supernatural imagine#supernatural x you imagines#supernatural x you imagine#supernatural x y/n imagine#supernatural x y/n imagines#dean#sam#castiel#Jack Kline#jack kline x reader#jack kline imagine#jack kline imagines#jack kline x reader imagine#jack kline x reader imagines#jack kline x you#jack kline x you imagine#jack kline x you imagines#jack kline x y/n#jack kline x y/n imagine#jack kline x y/n imagines#x reader#belphegor#belphegor x reader#belphegor spn
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- double unrequited
- the second years argued. a lot. youd think the lot of them were conjoined at birth. so it wasnt surprising when a girl came into the mix, and tore their hearts into pieces, huh?
w/c- 1717
pairing/s- atsumu x fem!reader, suna x fem!reader and a lil bit of osamu x fem!reader ;)
genre- idk lmao but theres a lil angst ig
warnings- secondhand embarassment, TINY mention of pornography, heartbreak
a/n- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE EHEHEH anyway my writers block’s kinda over????anyway read 2 da end for a surprise twist ;)))
as the sun started to set over the small area of the hyogo prefecture, all was calm. birds chirped every now and then, flying through the cold skies, enjoying the october buzz in the air. trees’ leaves were littered over the pavement and roads, crunching whenever they were squashed by an oncoming boot. however, if you were to wander through the inarizaki high school grounds on that day, you would hear a buzz of arguing from a specific gym.
“for fucks sake! samu, help yer dear brother out here.. it's pronounced gif, not whatever this ‘jif’ crap is!” the blonde haired, tall setter of the volleyball team leaned backwards on the bench, staring at someone behind him. the latter was the similar looking, gray haired opposite hitter, who just rolled his eyes at the comment.
“first off, yer no calling me yet ‘dear brother’ again. you’re getting zip from me.” he said, taking a glug out of his bottle as the blondie yelped in shock. the slightly taller, brown haired middle blocker giggled to himself. “plus, its technically jif anyway, everyone just says gif because its what society projected onto us.”
“oh, shut up with all that logical bullshit.” the blondie rolled his eyes, standing up and slamming his bottle down onto the space that was left. “oi, kita, ‘s break over?”
“i mean, technically ‘s over whenever ya want it to be. just go spike some balls or something if you’re bored.. oh, hi!” the shorter, white-and-black haired captain slowed down talking, turning to look at the door. all the boys turned around shortly after him, staring at whoever was there.
as you stood against the door, your hair blowing slightly with the wind behind you, your face slightly sweaty having run all around the school, most of them were mesmerised. your face flushed a deeper shade of red after seeing all their eyes glued to you, and you laughed a little.
“oh, sorry, i’m trying to find the girls basketball gym!” you smiled, tilting your head a little. “is this volleyball? sorry, i’m new, i just got told to go to the basketball gym after school for the first practice, but i have no idea where i'm meant to be going!” you giggled slightly, making atsumu and suna go pink. “sorry for disturbing you!” you waved slightly, hopping back down the stairs up to the doors. however, you stopped after hearing footsteps and voices behind you.
“it’s oka-” kita started to say, before sighing, seeing what was happening before him.
“i’ll help you!” atsumu shouted after you, grabbing his jersey in case you were cold.
“i can show you!” suna also shouted, pushing atsumu out the way and grabbing his bottle.
“simps..” osamu and aran both said, shaking their heads as the two boys continued to shove each other.
“no, i will.” the former's voice turned serious, slowing down as they reached the top of the steps. suna frowned, and opened his mouth to say something else, but they both got distracted as they heard your mesmerising laugh again.
“you can both come, if you want, i really don’t mind!” you smiled, doing that little head tilt again. they both nodded instantly, before frowning at each other as soon as your back was slightly turned. “okay, so i’ve walked in on about ten other clubs..”
ever since that moment, it was just a competition of who could win you over. the rest of the boys had moved on, teasing them both for their pure urge to beat each other. all of the boys argued, but nothing was ever as heated as atsumu and suna’s debates. there was a new one every time they went to practice, from something as big as the death penalty to something as tiny as how much diluting juice you put in the glass before you add the water. it was stupid, but they‘d been like that for years now.
but with this argument, it appeared neither of them were actually ahead of the other, like it usually ended up.
suna went for a more romantic approach with you. offering to walk you home, waiting for you after classes, walks through random forest paths on sundays. it wasn’t what he was used to, he’d never paid that much attention to girls. they all seemed to fawn over the miya twins anyway. but it was when you seemed to pay genuine attention to him, it caught his interest.
obviously he found girls attractive, but the girls he saw online were never the same as girls in real life. not even just porn or anything, even in romance films, they were all so secretive. he didn’t really have the charm either, so he found himself just waiting for a girl to make a move, and if she didn’t, he’d just.. give up. you were unique to him, though. it got to the point where you’d wait for him after class too, wait at the front doors for him to come out so you could walk home, texting him at 9 in the morning asking if he wanted to go on that one walk again you did about a month ago. it took him by shock a little, but he didn’t want it to stop.
whereas atsumu, on the other hand..
to be frank, girls weren’t a big deal to atsumu. he’d always had that blessing of girls fawning over him, so he’d never had to worry about ‘winning over’ a girl. but it hit him when he met you.. he was gonna have to fight for you, wasn’t he?
he visioned you as a more.. modern girl. he assumed suna would go more traditional, the man had no experience with girls, for god's sake. he basically assumed he would win you over.. who wouldn’t pick him over anyone? and so he started. he did with you what he did with every girl, midnight drinking on a random roof, random shopping trips into town, secret lunchtime conversations behind the school. he didn’t think much of it at first, why would he? you were just another girl he’d probably date for what, a week or so, then you’d dump him after actually realising what he’s like. he couldn’t picture himself settling down. but.. you changed him, in a way. he finally found something he wanted to work for.
what was the one thing in common with these stories though?
you never actually showed any form of romantic interest in either of them, throughout this whole ordeal.
so then, after what felt like years, two days before atsumu left for the training camp, they decided it was the day. the day to confess.
neither of them actually knew about the other's plans, it was just pure coincidence they saw this as the opportunity. atsumu because he could try to sweep you away with him to tokyo, suna because he could tease atsumu about it while he was gone. it was a good plan, on both sides., you had to admit, after hearing it a while later.
“the fuck’re you murmuring for?” atsumu frowned, turning around to look at suna, whose head was in his hands.
“mind your business..” the latter muttered, murmuring under his breath again, making atsumu shake his head. he wasn’t scared, why would he be? you were bound to say yes, for the past few months you’d been spending time with him. you knew what he was like, as he did with you.
“eh, suit yourself. i need to find y/n..” he said, picking up his jacket.
“what? y/n? but i need to find her!” suna snapped back into reality, his eyes wide as atsumu glanced at him
“..yeah. well, you can speak to her tomorrow or something, this is important.” he said in a careless manner, starting to walk towards the door, but stopping short, seeing the door slide open.
“oh! hey, tsumu!” you appeared from outside, your faux fur hood tickling your neck as your beaming face came into the light from the slight darkness behind you. it couldn’t help but make him smile.. god, he couldn’t wait to call you his. suna, from behind him, felt himself smile too, you were stunning. “you ready?” you looked behind atsumu, but as he whipped his head around, he realised you weren’t actually looking at suna either.
“yeah, your place tonight?” oh. oh no. as atsumu realised what was happening, his mouth dropped open. osamu stood up from the bench, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he crossed past both suna and atsumu, kissing you on the forehead.
“you bet! god, my mum’s been so excited to meet you.. bye boys!” you waved at both suna and atsumu separately, going back to chattering to osamu.
“what.. the fuck?” suna said, frowning. atsumu joined him, still in a state of shock.
“yeah, what the fuck?” he turned around, mouth still open.
“oh, you didn’t know? they’re dating, have been for what, a month or something now?” kita smiled, while aran tried not to burst out laughing to his right. “during the christmas holidays, they hung out a bit. i think y/n came looking for atsumu, but he wasn’t in, so she decided to chat to osamu instead. did you seriously not know?” kita laughed a little, and atsumu’s shock turned to anger. ths, of course, made suna burst out laughing.
“what the fuck? no, what the actual fuck? how did i not know the girl i was in love with was dating my brother?” he looked around a little, looking for assistance, but all the boys were snickering at him.
“now i think of it, that was extremely obvious.” suna said, laughing more by the second. he was sad, of course he was! the girl he was falling drastically in love with had a boyfriend, and he had no idea, that would break anyone's heart. but.. this was extremely funny.
“fine, lets just go then.” atsumu humphed, dragging his feet as he walked to the door. “to be fair, she was looking for me. probably liked me more.” he said as they reached just outside the door, and suna shoved him into the wall. “oUCH! THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” he yelled, making kita chuckle to himself.
these idiots.
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyu#Haikyu!!#inarizaki#atsumu#atsumu x reader#miya twins#miya atsumu#miya osamu#osamu#osamu x reader#suna rintaro#suna
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