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stayinlimbo · 2 days

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We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note: i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it?

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee.

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you.

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers.

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls.

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.”

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them.

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth.

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row?

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face.

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh.

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief.

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep.

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc.

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

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ham1lton · 1 day

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TEN THINGS F1 DRIVER Y/N L/N CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT — GQ.

— part of my maneater series.

Y/N (throwing her hat in the air with one hand and catching it in the other without looking): see? told you i could do it! not my only party trick.

Y/N: hi gq! i’m y/n l/n, formula one driver and i’m here to show you my ten essentials.

NUMBER ONE: IPAD

Y/N: first, has to be my ipad. this was my first big purchase and seeing my bank account being drained of that money almost caused a heart attack. but this bad boy helps me to organise my life, stops me from being bored on flights, keeps me in contact with my family and lets me write my notes. so yeah, thanks apple. also you guys should sponsor me.

NUMBER TWO: NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES

Y/N: i never used to travel a lot. when i was younger, my family couldn’t afford it so flying around a lot was a big shock to my system. obviously as in f1, drivers are required to fly to different races and it means i had to get over my fear of flying. these help a lot with that. these plus a spotify playlist made by my angsty teenage self will make me forget about the fact i’m flying. these are my favourite ones, i have multiple pairs just in case.

NUMBER TWO AND A HALF: MUSIC.

Y/N: i guess this sort of goes off the second one? but music. i keep trying to bribe the engineers to build a blue tooth radio in the car but to no avail. spotify has been my biggest supporter all of these years. i know i’m sponsored by them now but i have been using my account for almost seven years now? so my algorithm is perfection. it truly has helped me so much. i listen to music on the way to races, on the way back from races, in my house, outside my house, cleaning, cooking and even when i’m in the shower. yes, i’m a shower singer. once i get in there, i’m beyoncé!

OFF SCREEN VOICE: what was the last song you listened to?

Y/N: one second, let me see. it was the twilight soundtrack in particular decode by paramore. told you i was an angsty teen!

NUMBER THREE: EMERGENCY BAG

Y/N: okay this sounds bad, it’s not as much an emergency bag as in like medical supplies but more so like extra toothbrush, toothpaste, menstrual products, lotion and other stuff like that. i always carry this with me anywhere in case my suitcase goes missing. it has helped me and my friends out so many times so it’s definitely an essential for me.

NUMBER FOUR: HER CAMERAS.

Y/N: i picked up photography relatively recently and this was the starter camera that the guy in the shop recommended. so this is that camera. for this one, i vlog, which you guys might have seen and this is the camera i use for those videos. i actually don’t record my videos, one of my friends or family or colleagues or whoever will film and i will be in front of the camera. it’s my favourite part when i ask the camera person to reveal themselves and they do their own little introduction. i obviously provide the camera for it. which is this beauty right here.

OFF SCREEN VOICE: who has been your favourite person to film you?

Y/N: i have had a lot of people film me. my most recent being rihanna for my recent holiday vlog! so many people to the point that i genuinely don’t think i could choose a favourite. i mean, i’ve had my sister do it a lot so i guess i can choose her. she knows my angles best!

NUMBER FIVE: LIPGLOSS

Y/N: when i won my first championship and i kissed the camera, the amount of calls from makeup companies my manager received was actually obscene. i think i got so many comments on social media asking what makeup i use and how it stays on throughout the race! to be honest, i don’t always wear makeup but in the original video, i was wearing this fenty gloss. it’s in the shade fu$$y. so, yeah, at least no one can call me a gatekeeper! i always keep it on me. i feel a little more ready to face the world with lipgloss. now, i have my own fenty collection! so check that out.

NUMBER SIX: HER LUCKY SHOES.

Y/N: okay i know i say i’m not necessarily a superstitious person but these shoes have been with me from f3 until now. every race i’ve worn these, i’ve won. so i like having them around. i think they bring luck. i can’t wear them any longer as they’ve worn through the soles now. really annoying but we power through.

NUMBER SEVEN: WINGSTOP BLACK CARD

Y/N: i was really craving wingstop one night. so me and my sister were in london? i think and i vlogged our hunt for wingstop and they reached out to me to give me a black card. i know, isn’t it gorgeous? i was so happy. too bad i have to cut down on what i eat thanks to my nutritionist, but my siblings and friends love this thing.

NUMBER EIGHT: SKINCARE ROUTINE

Y/N: okay, so i’m trying to get more consistent with my skincare but it’s not necessarily working the way i want it to. however, i still stick to the basics. sunscreen, cleanser and moisturiser. i really like keeping my skincare on check as there is this unsaid rule that women have to wear makeup in their jobs and if i keep my skin looking good then i can skirt that rule. i love this cream in particular, it’s moisturising but very light on the skin. best of both worlds.

NUMBER NINE: NECKLACE

Y/N: this was given to me as a gift from my family when i turned eighteen. it was a necklace that i’d had my eye on for a very, very long time. they saved up for so long to buy it for me and it’s become my signature piece. i wear it around my neck constantly. it’s weird having it off my neck to show you.

(she fastens it around her neck quickly)

Y/N: now i feel normal again.

NUMBER TEN: MY PADDOCK PASS

Y/N: i am so bad with keeping my paddock pass on me. for people who don’t know what this is, this allows me access to the garage and things like that. i usually keep it around my neck because if its in my pocket or my bag i’ll forget. my assistant sometimes carries mine. i’m not going to show you my picture because it’s awful. i had woke up really early after no sleep and one of the staff had made me take the picture. now i am forced to wear this monstrosity at work. i keep it hidden as much as i can. last time, lando saw it and laughed so hard he cried so yeah.

author’s note: this was hard as i wanted to keep it as vague as possible so that you can relate it to your own maneater! i’m still taking questions/asks/requests so please send some in!

#jayde’s works ☆#maneater ꕤ #formula one x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #f1 texts #formula one smau #formula 1 #formula one

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birinboom · 2 days

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The Luck-Bringing Cat

Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader; a shy former imperial concubine

The Apothecary Diaries-esque AU (I am kinda-sorta stealing this plotline from ep. 3), arranged marriage, budding romance, domestic fluff, pet names (JY calls Reader my dear, my love), Reader is also referred to as ‘my lady’ 🌿 3.162 words

Jing Yuan, a famed general and childhood friend of the emperor, has yet to take a wife. The emperor decides to solve this by giving one of his least favorite concubines to his best friend. Even though Jing Yuan is against this practice, he can't help but fall head over heels in love once he meets you.

Thank you so much to @a11eya for beta-reading this for me!

Only one man had managed to stay at the emperor’s side through most of his life. Jing Yuan, the son of imperial scholars, made friends with the crown prince early in their lives, and they quickly became inseparable. As they aged, Jing Yuan became an asset to the newly crowned emperor; a seasoned warrior, an accomplished general, a brilliant strategist, and one of the few people who dared oppose the monarch when needed.

The emperor loved him like a brother. And it worried him that Jing Yuan never seemed interested in taking a wife. The general was far from blind to the longing gazes of the women of the court, he accepted their offers on occasion but he never seemed to want more than one or two nights with any woman. The emperor did not see anything wrong with this as he himself split his time more or less equally between his favorite concubines. But any man who was less fortunate than the emperor should surely want something more stable, especially a man who was slowly getting through his best age.

When Jing Yuan was pressed about why he did not want to marry, he stated with a lazy smile that he had neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But the emperor saw the slight downturn of the corners of the general’s lips. He saw through the facade of his best and oldest friend.

I have neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But I desperately wish I did.

The emperor thought deeply about this issue. Then he remembered someone in the inner court. A concubine who had fallen from his favor at their first meeting. He had never spent time with you after that. Why, he had barely thought about you in years. Still, you were a beautiful woman, well-educated, and, from what he had been told, quite quick-witted. You would make a good gift for his best friend.

Now he just needed to convince Jing Yuan that he would not take no for an answer.

Jing Yuan was still unable to fully understand how everything had come to this. He could not fathom why the emperor suddenly wanted to give him one of the imperial concubines as a wife. Giving an unfavored concubine to a newly appointed officer as a reward was far from an uncommon practice, Jing Yuan was well aware of that. But he had never expected it to happen to him, not after so many years in service of the emperor. He had been lucky to manage arranging a meeting with you before the wedding.

This practice seemed so wholly unfair in his mind. Unfair to you and any other concubines affected by the custom. You had already been given as a gift to one man, now you were being given to another, neither of whom you had chosen for yourself. Jing Yuan knew there was little he could do about the situation, but he did not feel right accepting another human being as a gift.

He continued towards the palace gardens which had been chosen as the meeting place, still in deep speculation about whether he had any chance of changing the emperor’s mind.

Turning a corner, he was torn out of his thoughts when he came upon a small gathering of women, all of them wearing identical robes. One held a folded-up parasol. They were all calling out to someone in voices too hushed for Jing Yuan to discern any words.

Ladies-in-waiting, he thought, paying them little mind. Then, his eyes fell on you.

The emperor had shown him a painting of you, commissioned shortly before you had begun your journey to the palace. Even if some years had passed since then, Jing Yuan still instantly recognized you.

You stood at the top of a small bridge crossing one of the many creeks in the garden, your face tilted up towards a nearby tree. The setting autumn sun fell upon you at an angle that made your skin and hair glow. Tearing his gaze away from you, Jing Yuan looked towards the tree as well, his trained ears picking up the song of finches. For a moment he wondered if it might be the same flock that visited the small garden of his own residence. Turning his eyes back to you, he watched as you lifted a hand, holding it up towards the tree. A finch took off from a branch and landed on one of your outstretched fingers.

Until now your face had been mostly devoid of emotion, eyes fixed on the tree. But when the finch landed on your hand, looking calmly at you with one black eye, your features softened, a fond smile gracing your face like the sun appearing from behind rain clouds.

Jing Yuan watched you lift the bird closer to your face, whispering to it, your other hand coming up to gently scratch the top of its head. He unconsciously raised a hand to his lips in an attempt to hide the smile blooming there. If this was how you behaved with one of his beloved finches (and he was certain at this point that the bird was indeed from the flock he possessively thought of as his), if you acted so kind and loving towards the smallest of creatures with no prompting, then marrying you could quite possibly be one of the best things to ever happen to him. The thought of having you gifted to him still felt wrong, but… perhaps he did not need to dread it as much as he had at first.

Stepping forward, he cleared his throat, trying his best to school his features into a pleasant, if slightly detached, expression.

You gasped, raising your arm to hide your face behind your long sleeve. The finch took off, frightened by your sudden movement, and the rest of the flock followed it. The flapping of their wings filled the air, drowning out your greeting as you and your ladies-in-waiting bowed to him.

Jing Yuan felt another smile tug at his lips. He managed to hide it behind his hair as he returned your bow.

Your ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to one side of the walkway, letting him pass. He looked at you as he ascended the bridge. The way you peeked shyly at him over your still-raised sleeve made his heart clench. He sent you what he hoped was a pleasant smile, and nodded towards the path on the opposite side.

“Shall we, my lady?”

The two of you strolled along the garden path for a while, Jing Yuan filling the air with what idle conversation he could think of, and you giving brief, shy answers.

Then, he heard the flap of wings and felt the touch of tiny claws digging into his hair, brushing against his scalp. Soon, he felt a small tug as the finch began to preen him. He could barely help but chuckle when another finch landed on his shoulder. He felt your gaze on him, then your eyes moved to the bird on his far shoulder.

“Oh!” you exhaled.

Raising his opposite hand, he gently encouraged the bird to hop onto one of his fingers, then moved the hand -with bird- closer to you.

“I have worked quite hard on taming them over the years,” he said. “The most recent brood is the tamest yet; they are the only ones so far to actively seek my presence. Though I suspect they only come to me in hopes of food. Would you like to hold it again?”

You looked away, your sleeve rising once more to hide your face. “Again…” you said, sounding very put on the spot.

Jing Yuan tried to quell his laughter. “I must admit that I was watching you for a moment before making my presence known. What I saw was very… endearing.”

You were silent for a while, then you peeked at him over the top of your sleeve. “May I be frank with you, General?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Staying quiet for a few seconds, you then drew in a deep breath. “I was rather nervous about this meeting. I have heard quite a few rumors about you, about your excellence at anything you do. And I was worried that I might not be able to live up to the expectations of the august general. But… You handle these birds with such tenderness and care. They trust you. Maybe they can trust me too, in time.”

Looking off to the side, you finally lowered your sleeve, clasping your hands in front of you. “I am very fond of small animals. My family owned a couple of tame nightingales when I was a child; I used to love falling asleep while listening to their singing.”

He felt another smile tug at his lips. He too had pleasant memories of falling asleep to the sound of bird song as a child. Though in his case it had been the wild birds outside his windows lulling him to sleep. Sharing such a similar memory with you only made him feel delighted.

Briefly peeking at him, as if to judge his reaction to your words, you then continued, “I have always yearned for a cat too, but my parents would not allow it because of our birds. And I never mustered up the courage to request permission to keep a cat after I arrived at the inner court. Though I doubt the emperor would have indulged me.” You sighed ruefully. “I suppose even now, since birds are favored once again, a pet cat will be impossible. The birds will be enough.”

Jing Yuan looked at you for a moment, stroking his chin. “A cat is a pleasant idea. As the saying goes, ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Though if I had my way I should like a lion instead!” When he saw your eyes widen, your mouth starting to open in surprise, he could not stop himself from laughing once more. “I jest, I merely jest! A housecat will suffice! Perhaps we can teach it to leave the birds in peace, or keep it indoors at all times.”

The thought of keeping a cat locked inside, though he doubted it was truly achievable, brought his thoughts back to the way you had been hidden away in the inner court for years. His smile faltered. Would it be right for him to mention his hesitation? Would it assuage you to know that he was far from satisfied with how the situation was handled?

“If I may be so bold, my lady… You were not the only one who had a certain level of apprehension about this meeting.”

You shrank back a little, shoulders slumping. “I… see.”

Jing Yuan saw you raise your hand again, he could only assume to hide your face once more. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he reached out to take your hand in his.

“Please, do not misunderstand me, my dear! It is not because of you, it is the entire situation. I do not much like being given another person as a gift. And I find it wholly unfair to you to be given away once again.”

He had so much more to say on this subject, so many points to make about how the former concubines nearly always came out as the losers in these circumstances. And yet he felt his mind go blank. He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand in an attempt to gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. Your hand was softer and more delicate than he could have ever imagined; so different from his own strong, calloused hands. It took every last shred of self control to not raise it to his lips.

Releasing your hand with great reluctance, he forced himself to finish his thoughts. “I am loath to receive a wife under such circumstances, even if she is one I should have quite liked to court of my own volition, had I been allowed to. But in the end it is His Majesty’s decision. Even so, I can promise you this, my dear: No matter what may come, I will always do my utmost to ensure that we are both happy with this union.”

You grasped the hand he had held with your free hand, rubbing the skin, your head bowed enough that he could not see your expression.

“I-I…”

Then you raised your head again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I must admit, I am quite relieved that you feel that way. That you understand the situation from my point of view too.”

Jing Yuan returned your smile. “As much as I am against this entire circumstance, I must admit… the more I get to know you, my dear, the more I am looking forward to you becoming my wife.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, then Jing Yuan escorted you and your ladies-in-waiting back to the inner court. Seeing the gate leading to the inner court left him with a sense of melancholy he could not quite place. Perhaps he had already grown so accustomed to your presence that the thought of being without you left him empty. It made him look forward to your wedding day even more.

One early morning, some six months later, Jing Yuan was found crouched over a rosebush in the small garden of his residence, pruning shears in hand. It was something he refused to give up, no matter how many people told him it was below his rank to tend to his own garden. Gardening was one of the few things that truly cleared his mind, one of the few still moments of the day that allowed him to relax. And today, he needed it.

He had already spent several hours lying awake, tossing and turning, his mind whirring, until finally giving up on sleep once he heard the first birds singing outside. Rolling over, he pressed a kiss against your bare shoulder, then left the bed to start his day.

The air outside was cold enough that his breath created little puffs of mist, the remnants of frost biting his cheeks. He paid it little mind; it helped clear his head. And so, he crouched over the few bushes that needed pruning this early in spring, settling into a calming rhythm as the world around him slowly grew from a milky gray to pink and orange.

His rhythm was disturbed as something brushed up against his knee. Looking down, he spotted the white kitten he had presented to you on your wedding day, just a few days before the new year began. You had been infatuated with the cat (as had he, as were both of you even now), and you had aptly named it Snowmoon in honor of the full moon hanging in the sky, casting lambent light over the snow-covered ground of the garden outside your windows.

The memory of that night still made him smile.

Snowmoon raised itself on its hind legs, the little bell on its collar jingling. It propped its front paws against his knee, and chirped imploringly. Jing Yuan could only assume that he had been so engrossed in his gardening that the sound of the bell had gone unnoticed.

How did you get out? he wondered as he picked up the kitten, holding it up in front of him.

The kitten returned his gaze evenly with its brilliantly blue eyes and began to purr. Cradling it to his chest, he stood, intending to put the cat back inside. It had yet to learn that the birds of the garden were off-limits. And the birds had yet to learn what the sound of the bell signified.

But as he stood, he caught sight of another figure in the morning light. You were bundled up in several layers of clothing, seemingly ready to spend a while outside.

Jing Yuan frowned. “What are you doing out of bed, my love?” he asked. “It is still so early.”

You looked away, trying to hide the shy smile forming on your lips. You were still not used to the terms of endearment which he favored.

“I wanted to lend you a hand,” you said.

He appreciated the sentiment. But he found it difficult to imagine you crouching in the dirt like he had been.

“There is no need, my dear, I am almost finished.”

Your mouth set in a stubborn line. “Then I will help with the last of it.”

The firmness in your voice made his heart flutter. He enjoyed all the work you put into getting to know him better. And he made sure to return it tenfold.

“Very well, my love. Let me just put this little rascal back inside.”

As he came outside once again, he found you crouched over the rosebush he had been working on, your long sleeves almost trailing in the dirt.

That will not do.

Jing Yuan pulled out the long ribbon holding his hair as he moved closer. Crouching behind you, he deftly wound it first underneath one sleeve, across your back, then underneath the other sleeve, tying it at your shoulder. His actions left your arms bare, sleeves far out of harm’s way.

You shivered in the cold air, goosebumps forming on your newly exposed skin.

Jing Yuan rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth into your body. “You are still free to go inside.”

You huffed. “I will not.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Handing you the pruning shears, he showed you where to prune, guiding your hands. The two of you chatted idly about the roses for a while, when he expected them to bloom and what colors he had planted. Then the topic moved to the future as a whole.

“Tell me, my love,” Jing Yuan said, wrapping his arms around you, “I know you have only been with me for a few short months, but how do you like it so far?”

You leaned back against him, nestling further into his embrace.

“I enjoy it so very much. I appreciate the freedom I have, compared to the inner court. And…” You turned enough to meet his gaze, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “I have grown quite fond of the master of this house.”

He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Do I need to be jealous of this man?”

“Perhaps,” you said, a smile lingering on your own mouth. “He has been very kind to me.”

“I suppose I shall have to be even kinder, then,” he said, before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

Maybe there really was something to the saying of ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Jing Yuan was certainly feeling very fortunate at that moment.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Birin 💖

#hsr #honkai: star rail #jing yuan #fem!reader #arranged marriage #domestic fluff #budding romance #pet names #x reader #x you #drabble #drabbles

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romanticintheory · 2 days

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Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.

AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(

also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.

johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)

-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.

-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.

-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.

-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).

-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.

-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.

-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.

-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"

-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.

-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.

-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.

-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"

-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"

-"come live with me."

-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.

-"what?"

-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?

-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).

-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.

-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.

-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)

-"you hurt me!"

-"oh, please."

-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.

-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.

-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.

-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.

-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.

-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.

-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).

-"you're injured. you came home late."

-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.

-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.

-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"

-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.

-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.

-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.

-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.

-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.

-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.

-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.

-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"

-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"

-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.

-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.

-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"

-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?

-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.

-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.

-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.

-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).

-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."

-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.

-"it isn't?"

-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"

-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.

-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.

-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.

-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.

-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.

-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.

-"no, just of you."

-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.

-"oh."

-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.

-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.

-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.

-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.

-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.

-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"

-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x you #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish imagine #soap imagine #cod mw x reader #soap x y/n #johnny mactavish x y/n #rarawrites

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melbatron5000 · 2 days

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Heartache

Since I put up my theories that Crowley and Aziraphale faked the break up in the Final Fifteen, I've had a LOT of people comment, "Then why are they so sad?"

LISTEN.

Imagine you and the person you love most in the world have to keep your relationship secret. Because no one would approve of it, and one or the other of you could be hurt or killed or imprisoned over it. So you keep it casual, and have to pretend you're not even friends.

Then you get a chance to change everything. You get a chance to save the world, and maybe have that relationship you both want so badly together. You even plan your proposal. You throw a big party and make it as romantic as you know how.

Then your party gets crashed by people who hate you.

And then an authority -- one that has the power to make both your lives horrible and maybe end them -- comes sniffing around. He's figured out you're up to something, and that you've teamed up, and been teamed up for a while. He maybe suspects you're more than friends, when even friends is something you are not allowed to be. He essentially black mails you into coming back with him, to what essentially amounts to prison, though he offers that your love can come with you. You'll both be in prison, and maybe not be able to save the world, but you'll be together, and safe.

You tell the person you love most in the world what's going on, that your plan has been uncovered, and beg him to come with so he will be safe. And your beloved says, "No, I'm not going, I want to fight for this. I want to fight for you, and for us. I want to save the world. We need to pretend to break up so I can keep working on our plan. You do what you can from inside prison, and I'll do my best from here, and let's try for this. For us." And then he breaks your heart and forces you to reject him. While your enemy watches and waits to take you to prison. And he doesn't let you leave without kissing you first. He gives you something while he kisses you that he hopes will help you. And then he goes.

Imagine your beloved tells you an authority has come sniffing around -- he suspects you're up to something and wants to haul you both to prison. Your beloved has no choice, he absolutely is going to prison, right now, but he wants you to come with him. You want to fight, you want to be free with your beloved and you want to save the world. So you tell him you have to fake a break up in order that one of you can stay free and hopefully make it work. And then you break his heart, and force him to reject you, while your enemy watches and waits to take him to prison. And you do not let him leave without kissing him first. You give him something while you kiss him that you hope will help him. And then you leave.

If you could do that while feeling nothing, totally confident that you're still a couple and everything is actually fine, you've got a different head than me. I wouldn't be okay, watching my husband get taken to prison for the crime of being in love with me. I certainly wouldn't be okay pretending not to care, or like we never meant much to each other after all.

The break up is fake. That doesn't mean any of those emotions are.

It actually makes it worse, in my opinion.

If Aziraphale had actually chosen Heaven over Crowley, Aziraphale would be sad, but not miserable. But he hasn't. He's going to prison without the one person he most wants to protect and be with. And he has no guarantee that Crowley will be safe, or that they will ever see each other again. He must be devastated.

If Aziraphale had chosen Heaven over Crowley, Crowley would have every right to be hurt and angry. But Aziraphale hasn't. He's being dragged to prison, where Crowley can't be with him and make sure he's okay, where Crowley knows he'll be treated badly, and Crowley's going to try to save the world, and if he succeeds, they can build that life together they've wanted for so long; but if he fails, they may never see each other again. He must be devastated.

Stop asking why they both look so sad if the break up is fake.

They are devastated.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #the final fifteen #ineffable divorce #final fifteen #our poor husbands #it's so much more sad than it first seems

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mcflymemes · 16 hours

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CHALLENGERS (2024) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

who says i want somebody to be in love with me?

i don't want to fuck you to prove a point.

fuck me because you want to.

are you gonna do it or not?

tastes even better than it looks.

i just told you i missed you.

i really want to kiss you right now, but i'm worried that if i try, you'll think i'm the worst friend in the world.

you know, it hurts me sometimes how little you believe in yourself.

decimate that little bitch.

let's be honest, you gotta feel bad for the kid.

you're not a spring chicken anymore.

dude. he's a pancake. you're gonna flatten him.

how's this feeling?

we're ready for you.

so obviously this isn't the result you wanted today.

you choked.

i don't want you to embarrass yourself.

i'm just a little rusty. it's a confidence thing.

get your fucking confidence back. i can't do it for you.

i'm so sick of you using this as an excuse to have a fucking meltdown.

you said we could watch a movie.

you're evil.

i'm gonna quiz you on it tomorrow.

sir, i don't know who you are.

i don't think we have much more to talk about.

i haven't spoken to you in five years.

i was just taking a little nap.

move, or i'm calling the cops.

you were really something back then, huh?

we always talked about how amazing it would be to win this together.

i'm a crazy person.

any predictions about how that's going to go?

can you do me a favor? can you not, like... demolish me tomorrow?

shut the fuck up.

if it matters to you so much, i can just give it to you.

i need it to look like i really beat you.

don't guilt me with your dying grandmother.

she's the hottest woman i've ever seen.

you were... fucking incredible.

baby, we've got to get going.

i'm not going to that party.

are you that threatened by me?

we can't both just go in there, dicks swinging.

i'd let her fuck me with a racket.

hey, do you smoke?

of course they will remember you.

see, that's your problem. you think you're like an artist or something.

you just want to win because you love it when people tell you how talented you are.

are you on facebook?

i told you tennis was boring.

you just got this crazy look on your face.

are you on a date?

i don't kiss and tell.

why did you want to have dinner with me?

i think you might be the worst friend in the world.

i didn't know you were so concerned about my feelings.

of course you still have a thing for her.

we just had what i'm assuming is the best sex of our lives.

i fucked your brains out?

what do you think you need? a cheerleader? a fuck buddy? a girlfriend?

you're talented, you're charming, and you've got a big dick.

excuse me for inconveniencing you.

don't expect to sleep here tonight.

stop going easy on me.

i'll be whatever you need me to be. i'll fuck off if you want me to.

i need you here, actually.

you're referring to when i declared my love for you.

you're not in love with me anymore?

i've been dreaming about this for five years.

i'm gonna propose something to you, and it's gonna make you angry. it's gonna make you very angry. but you have to hear me out, okay?

i'm finally ready to listen to you.

how dare you fucking ask me that.

do you think it's cute what you're doing? do you think it's funny?

that's the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.

i've always wanted you.

you didn't do anything to me. i did it all to myself.

i think i've reached the limit of my willingness to have this conversation with you.

do you understand how embarrassing it is that you're here?

you've never beaten me.

tell me it doesn't matter.

will you just hold me?

i'm not here to fuck you.

i miss watching you play. you were so beautiful.

#challengers #mcflymemes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #look at me making memes left and right today

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vivalas-vega · 2 days

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new perspectives // part eleven // jake 'hangman seresin x reader

boy oh boy -- I've been working on this part since I posted the last one (and mind you... this version of it I wrote and completed within the last three hours - there's about 10,000 additional words with different versions of this) - I just could not figure out how to continue it and I don't know if I'm happy with it fully but here it is !! this one is more focused on Rooster and Jupiter and their friendship because I haven't gone as in depth with it as I would have liked in past chapters. as always - please let me know what you think !!

new perspectives // part eleven // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 4.1k

warnings: mentions of war (but nothing too detailed), mentions of gunshot wounds (again, nothing too detailed), slight suggestiveness at the end

The stars above Rooster, twinkling and shining, served as some kind of mockery as he sat on the beach and looked for constellations, though he wasn’t finding any because he wasn’t trying very hard. He wished he could be in his jet right now, wished he could feel the controls in his hands and see the earth below him because maybe then this wouldn’t be so scary, maybe he wouldn’t feel so helpless.

There was just enough alcohol coursing through his veins for the weight of his emotions to get on top of him, but not enough to forget what he’d heard entirely. He knew what his job was right now. Your last request of him, bestowed not too far from where he was sitting with that sweet smile of yours and eyes full of stars, had been replaying on a loop for the past few hours. Take care of them for me, take care of him. You knew they were equipped to handle this, their lives weren’t all that different from the one you were currently living but there was one key difference that was not lost on anybody… while they were too high above the chaos to truly see, you were down in the middle of it all. While they may have been equipped to handle a friend's deployment, they weren’t all that prepared to think of you as the boots on the ground.

Take care of them for me, take care of him. You knew eventually things would catch up, that the reality of your absence would set in and that when it did they’d need you… and the next best thing was Rooster. You were always thinking eight steps ahead, it’s what made you a good friend and a good doctor, but right about now Rooster found it infuriating. You saw those eight steps ahead, you saw this getting on top of everyone at one point or another, and you made it Rooster’s problem. You knew Jake wouldn’t be able to offer much through his own worry and you wouldn’t have expected him to, but you expected it of Rooster.

He found himself wishing you’d never connected, never bonded. He wished he hadn’t played Drops of Jupiter that very first night, hadn’t harmonized with you and pulled you out of your shell simply because he couldn’t help himself. He wished he hadn’t offered to tour houses on your behalf, hadn’t spent countless hours working alongside you to bring your vision to life. He wished you’d never looked his way because you saw him in a way that was terrifying, you understood him and you pushed him. You pushed him further in his rekindling with Maverick, and you pushed him right into Eliza’s arms because you knew what he needed and what he wanted.

He wished he’d never realized his infatuation with you wasn’t romantic, because maybe if he’d chalked it up to being an asshole with secret feelings for someone who belonged to the man who saved his life he wouldn’t be sitting here right now with worry eating a hole through his stomach. Maybe he would have distanced himself from you, kept things cordial and casual to protect his own heart, but he did realize. He did see that it wasn’t romantic and it never was, he was simply misreading his own emotions because he’d never had a friend like you before. He’d never admit it in the light of day because he found such terms ridiculous but you were his platonic soulmate, through and through. And right about now he wished he’d never figured that out.

He wished none of it had ever happened, because here he was sitting on the beach feeling so utterly helpless because you’d bestowed an impossible task on him and he couldn’t even be mad at you because he’d heard it. One minute he was telling you he loved you, on his way back into the bar to give you space with the man you really needed, the next you were under fire… and you seemed calm. In the face of it all, your tone hadn’t changed, your disposition hadn’t changed. You’d told Jake you loved him without an ounce of fear or apprehension in your tone and hung up, because this was a common occurrence for you now. In the face of it all, you were fine, and here he was sitting on the beach struggling to keep it together.

Except, he didn't wish any of those things at all because you were you, and he couldn't imagine not having you in his life. And so he was trying, because that’s what you’d asked of him. If you could do the impossible, if you could save lives with those two little hands of yours under gunfire or worse, he could keep it together. He could do what you asked of him. He’d remain calm and collected, his usual goofy self to keep the anxiety at bay the best he could, because that’s what you needed. You’d asked for them, but really you’d asked for yourself. You needed to know Rooster was looking out for them so you didn’t have to worry, because you had enough to worry about.

And that’s exactly what he did… he went back into the bar and got Jake a fresh drink, set him up in front of the dartboard with Coyote. He’d filled everyone in on what happened. She’ll be fine, this is her life now and she’s Jupiter. She’ll be fine and so will we because she doesn’t want us spinning out, she wants us here having fun with each other so that’s what we’re going to do.

And then he’d lingered, made sure everyone made it home safely and wandered out onto the beach to look at the stars and feel everything he knew you didn’t want him to. “There’s only so much you can ask of me, JJ,” he whispered to himself as he took in the mass of twinkling lights above him because he was choosing to believe you were under this sky too, and though you couldn’t hear him, maybe you could feel it. You could feel that he was keeping up his end of the promise, and that you needed to keep up yours.

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a while dad, but… well, if you’ve been paying attention I don’t need to fill you in,” he started, openly talking into the night air because this was what he did. When it all got to be too much, when things started to get on top of him he looked to the sky and talked to Goose. “I don’t know if you’ve got any connections up there, I hope you didn’t use them all up sending Hangman after me and Mav but… she needs to come home. Please don’t let what happened to mom happen to Jake,” he said, choking on his words before clearing his throat. “Please don’t let what happened to Maverick happen to me. She’s my best friend, and I… I can’t lose her. Jake can’t lose her. None of us can.”

He was pleading because he knew he was right, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to uphold his promise to you if you didn’t come home. He wouldn’t be able to take care of Jake, or Coyote, or Phoenix… he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself. You swooped in as this mysterious old friend of Hangman’s and won everyone over in the course of an evening, and you only grew more important with each passing day. They’d all been friends before you, but in the wake of you they became a family. You were the glue, you were the last to join the group but you became the nexus, and if they lost you he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t want to find out.

So he let himself cry, let a few tears slip before saying goodbye to his old man and packing it down. He couldn’t let himself spiral any more than he already had, and he couldn’t have you coming home to realize he hadn’t kept his promise when you’d kept yours. He spent the next day and a half being Rooster, he was goofy and borderline annoying but he kept everyone together, he made sure everyone kept their spirits high and their worry to a minimum, and he made sure Jake got out of bed. He did what he could, and in the end it was everything because there the squad was with beers in their hands and smiles on their faces as they watched Jake kick Coyote’s ass, because even though he was falling apart and he didn’t know if you were even alive, he’d never give anyone the satisfaction of ousting him at his own pool table.

“Any word?” Bob asked quietly to Phoenix who shook her head and when he let out a relieved sigh the few people in hearing distance snapped their attention to him, varying degrees of disbelief and disgust on their faces. “If she were dead we’d know by now.” he supplied, and while his lack of tact was surprising, Bob was always mindful of what he said and how he said it, this served to ease people’s nerves. He was right. If you were dead, Jake would have been notified by now and none of them would be standing around the bar.

“We’ll know when we know,” Rooster said before walking down to the bar to get a fresh drink but something stopped him in his tracks, a brief flash in the distance beyond the windows that had him questioning his grip on reality because it was gone just as quick as he’d seen it… but he could have sworn he saw you. He tried to push past it, blame it on fried nerves and too much on his plate but he couldn’t. He had to be certain so he pushed past those doors and tentatively stepped out onto the beach, “way to go, Rooster. You’ve officially lost it,” he muttered to himself as he peeked around the side of the building but he hadn’t lost it. He saw what he saw, and he stood there gobsmacked as he got full sight of you, your body facing outwards towards the ocean with your hair messily strewn across your shoulders and donning a standard issue uniform… minus the top which left you in a tight tank with a concerning amount of gauze wrapped around your arm.

“JJ?” he asked, approaching slowly and you startled, jumping as you turned to face him and he could see it clear as day. You were scared, and while the appropriate assumption would have been everything you’d gone through, maybe the story linked to those bandages, he knew you well enough to know that wasn’t it. There was something else keeping you outside the bar instead of reuniting with your family.

“Roo,” you started, but you didn’t have anything else to say so it fell flat. There were tears in your eyes and you looked relieved but that fear was just under the surface and his steps were fast to close the distance, wrapping you up in his arms as carefully as he could and he was almost taken aback by the way you gripped onto him, latching on with seemingly no intention of letting go.

“How long have you been out here?” he whispered into your hair and he felt you shudder beneath him.

“A while,” you answered, and he realized that shudder was a humorless laugh. “I didn’t… I don’t know why, I just couldn’t-” you tried but your voice was thick and you didn’t need to say anything more. He understood. He knew coming home would be difficult for you, especially under these circumstances, and he didn’t need you to explain that you weren’t out here because you wanted to be, but because you felt like you couldn’t go inside.

“I know. You’re home and that’s what matters,” he pulled back to look at you but he didn’t go far, keeping his grip firm on you because he had a feeling it was what you needed. Much like the way you’d loop your hand through his when you were telling a story, so animated and excited you could barely get the words out fast enough, because you needed the physical tether. You needed to feel grounded so you didn’t get swept away by whatever it was you were saying or thinking.

“I uh…” you shook your head and cleared your throat. “I got evacuated, by the time this healed and I was cleared I’d be going home anyways,” you said, nodding to your shoulder. “I didn’t call and I-”

“Stop, you had bigger things going on,” Rooster said, cutting you off entirely. He had tears in his eyes looking down at you, your hands gripping his arms so tightly and your features so soft and vulnerable in stark contradiction to the khaki pants and clunky boots and suddenly he felt selfish. “Let me go get Jake,” he started, beginning to pull away from you but he stopped when your brows furrowed. “You don’t want me to?”

You shook your head, “no… no I do, I just… god, I keep doing everything wrong,” you sighed. “I signed up to go to war without so much as a heads up, I told you first, I… I couldn’t even call to tell him I was okay before just showing up and standing out here lost in my own thoughts for half an hour,” you let out another humorless chuckle. “I keep doing this wrong.”

“You’re doing the best you can. You know he doesn’t expect anything from you, right? He doesn’t have some grand idea about how this would go, he knows this isn’t going to be like your reunion at his tap out or at your match day,” he said and you smiled sadly.

“I forgot I told you those stories,” you said.

“That’s not what he’s expecting, he’s… you know, he handled it better than I thought he would but he hasn’t been okay and that’s just because all he wants to know is that you are. He wants to know that you’re mostly in one piece, and he wants to hug you the way I am right now- well, okay… maybe not the way I am because it has been several months since you left and I would imagine-” he started to joke and you let out a laugh… a real one, and you went to push his shoulder, disentangling yourself from him but it only served to make you wince.

You shook your head when his eyes widened, “it’s okay, just sore. You’re right… will you- will you go get him? And be cryptic,” you said, referencing the way Jake had called Rooster out minutes before your call disconnected. “I don’t know if I’m ready for everyone yet.”

“On it,” he replied, already moving to head inside.

“Wait, Rooster?” you called and he stopped, turning to face you. You gave him one of those blinding smiles, one that felt like a glimpse of the you before you left, the one that didn’t wear standard issue khakis and clunky boots, the one that wasn’t harder and shaper, and the one that hadn’t confessed to him you didn’t know if you were okay. You gave him that smile that was so you as you ran and jumped into him, squeezing him so tightly it sucked all the air from his lungs and he laughed as he caught you, twirling you around. “Thank you.”

“What for, JJ?”

“For being my person.”

“Thanks for coming home,” he replied and you gave him one more squeeze before dropping down to the ground and he gave you a nod before disappearing inside. You resumed your earlier pacing, already feeling lighter after seeing Rooster and for as selfish and awful as you felt for always getting this wrong with Jake, it took the edge off. It made seeing him feel less daunting, and while you’d spent the previous half hour working yourself into a tizzy about how he would react or what he would say you now felt silly. Rooster was right, all he wanted right now was you, just like you wanted him. He wouldn’t be mad at you for not calling, he wouldn’t be mad at you for having a reunion with Rooster first, he would simply be your Jake.

“What the hell is so urgent with your precious truck? I don’t even want to be here but you made me and now you’re ruining my streak,” you heard Jake complaining as the door to the bar opened and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you waited for them to round the corner.

“Okay, first of all, it’s not a truck, it’s a Bronco,” Rooster corrected, “and once again you might not want to be so hard on me when you see what it is,” he added and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face. You weren’t okay and you knew that, but you would be because you had them. You had your people and you were home, and that’s all that mattered.

“What does that- what the fuck?” You’d walked closer, not wanting the distance to be any further than it already was when he rounded the corner and he nearly walked right into you. “Jupiter?” he asked, blinking in surprise and simply staring at you because he couldn’t be certain what he was seeing was real.

“Hey you,” you replied, ignoring the single tear that streamed down your cheek and you let out a laugh as he crushed you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and forcing your legs around him to keep your balance.

Rooster stood and watched for a moment, soaking in this moment of unbridled joy between his two best friends before taking his leave. “So much for it not being like the tap out,” he said and you mouthed thank you to him over Jake’s shoulder as he went back inside.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, one hand firm on your waist and the other cupping your thigh as you pulled back slightly to look down at him, to commit that beautiful face of his gazing up at you with pure adoration to memory.

“It’s a long story and I… I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you answered and he nodded, slowly lowering you to the ground to cup your face and press a kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to, not until you’re ready, I just…” he pulled back to look at you again and the emotion in his eyes cracked your heart wide open, and with it the flood of anxiety and uncertainty you’d pushed aside. “I was so worried something had happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you started, that single tear giving way to an onslaught and his face crumpled at the sight. “I should have called, I should have-”

“Hey, no no no… that’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to reassure you as he smoothed his hands along your back. “I’m just so happy you’re home,” he said, trying to quell your tears but it was no use. He finally got a chance to really look at you, to soak you in and his heart broke when he noticed the bandages around your arm and you started to shake your head.

“Come on, come sit with me?” you asked and he nodded, catching one of your hands as you walked further out onto the beach and sank into the sand and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to find the words. You didn’t know if you were ready to talk about it yet but you needed to, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go no matter how hard he tried to be supportive. “What you heard… we got ambushed, I’m still not entirely sure what happened but uh… it wiped most of the camp out,” you said, voice shaking and Jake tried to keep his feelings off his face as you spoke. “My call to Rooster saved my life, anyone that was near the command center-” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I did what I could, I tried to get to as many people as I could but there wasn’t enough time, or enough hands and I got caught in the crossfire,” you said, gesturing to your arm. “It was a lucky shot, if you could even call it that. I’ll be okay, just not cleared to work yet which is why I’m home. It’ll be another few weeks before I am and at that point my deployment would have been over.”

“J, I’m so sorry…” he started, his hand gently cupping your arm just beneath the bandages. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he said, pulling you into him and you moved into his lap to wrap your arms around him more easily, not paying any mind to the way you felt your stitches tugging.

“I’ll be okay. I can’t… I don’t think I can tell you any more, not right now.” You pulled away to look at him seriously, “it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… things are different over there, I was different over there. I did things and I saw things I can’t begin to unpack right now but I want you to know that I plan to set something up at the hospital, a specialist to talk to so I can sort it out. I just… right now I really need everything to just go back to normal.”

“There’s no rush, sweetheart. You’ll tell me when you’re ready and if you never do, well… that’s alright too, as long as you talk to someone. All I cared about was you getting back home to me, even if Rooster had to get the first look at you,” he teased and you pouted.

“In my defense he wandered out and found me, that wasn’t intentional,” you protested.

“Yeah sure, whatever… the pornstache is your person and I just have to deal with that.”

“He might be my person but you’re the love of my life, you know that right? You are who got me through everything over there, and you are who I thought about day in and day out.”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it you thought about?” he asked, that famous smirk of his playing on his lips and you rolled your eyes.

“The audacity to call Rooster pornstache when you are trying to put the moves on your wife who just got back from war!” you laughed and he shifted you in his lap, pulling your leg to the side so you were straddling him and the contact on your core elicited a reaction that completely undercut the way you were trying to tease him.

“You did say you wanted everything to go back to normal,” he muttered, letting his lips trail along the column of your neck and he was right… you did want everything to go back to normal and this was something you’d thought about every moment you could while you were gone.

“This is utterly indecent,” you sighed, feeling him growing hard beneath you and you pushed him back because if he kept going you’d scandalize the beach. “And mind you we are both in our uniforms right now,” you added.

“Yeah, by the way? This is super hot,” he said, letting his eyes trail over you appreciatively. “You’ve got a real Lara Croft thing going on right now and I’m into it.”

“Lara Croft!” you laughed, “she never even wore pants.”

“Please let me objectify my super hot, super tough wife in peace, thank you,” he said, and as you stared down at him you realized you hadn’t kissed him yet and you couldn’t believe you’d overlooked it. You pressed your lips to his softly, all pent up love and emotion but quickly it turned hungry… all tongues and biting lips as you gripped his biceps.

“Take me home then, objectify me all you want, Lieutenant,” you said, pulling away to catch your breath and his eyes darkened as he was quick to stand pulling you up with him and you couldn’t help the squeals and laughter falling from your lips as he hurled you over his shoulder. You felt everything in your life right now was unsteady, you had no idea to come back to civility after what you’d been through but you had the tools to do it the best you could, and more importantly you had Jake who was everything you needed him to be and more.

There wasn’t any sort of guidebook you could follow, and you didn’t know if this was how your return should have gone. You thought maybe you should be more damaged, you shouldn’t be laughing as your husband ran across the beach with you in tow, or maybe that’s exactly what you should have been doing. You didn’t really know, and you didn’t really care because you were home, and whatever came next you’d handle as it came with Jake by your side.

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roomsofangel · 1 day

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LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter three

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 1.6k

chapter warnings none that really come to mind

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wooyoung had thought he had everything figured out when he was nineteen. he thought the life he had then, he would have forever. he thought that all he wanted and all he needed was you, and it would be the same way at twenty-four. he was sure of it, sure of his feelings and sure of his future.

how naive he had been, now he was stuck. stuck with no direction, no plan, just himself and the constant feeling of things spiraling further and further out of control. he couldn't even remember how he used to be so sure, how he had felt so confident for the future, how he had the certainty that nothing would change. it was a distant memory, a different time and a different world that didn't exist anymore. the future was a mystery and a burden he didn't want.

but he couldn't say any of this to you now. he felt ashamed, as if he had fucked up everything and now he had no choice but to make it worse. he felt as if everything was doomed, and it was all his fault. it was his fault that your connection was unsalvageable, his fault that everything was over. you had every right to leave now if you desired to do so, and he understood. he just hoped if you were to go, he’d find comfort in the fact your presence was no longer being haunted and plagued with his.

"and if you go, i wanna go with you,” he remembers singing one night, his fingers whizzing across the strings of the guitar while you moved about him, dancing in his shirt. the memory was so clear in his mind, as if it had only happened last night. he could recall you and this memory with vivid clarity, as if he had just left your tiny apartment before you two agreed on living together because at the time, who would have ever thought he’d be the wreck he was today?

he recalled the way he wanted nothing more than to stay like that with you, how he desperately wanted you. the way he wished you would stay with him, and the moment would never end. he craved your presence, wanted to be close to you, and felt drawn to your every movement and gesture. he was intoxicated by the feeling, wanting more and more of you with every moment that passed.

and if you die, i wanna die with you

"do you remember when we used to go down to the beach and just… stare at the moon?” you mentioned one night as you sat outside on the curb, flicking the lighter in your hand that you used to light wooyoung’s cigarette for him. the warm summer nights and the soft sand were always a comfort. the vast expanse of the moon as you lay on the beach, and the gentle waves of the ocean were all soothing elements that you dearly missed.

wooyoung hummed first in response, “i do.” he said it quietly, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear him. “i always do.” the words seemed like an echo of the past, as if he was still the same person from those warm summer nights. the moon was still beautiful, and his humming was still comforting. but somehow, it felt different. everything felt off, like you were in a dream or this was a memory.

you amused, reminiscing more as you brought up one of your favorite memories. “you remember how you tripped into the water because you tried getting a seashell for me?” your laughter was music to his ears, and he couldn't help but grin. the way you laughed was contagious, and the memory brought back fond memories of times when everything was simpler and the future hadn't yet been tainted. the warm summer breeze and the sound of the waves were all nostalgic reminders of that time.

wooyoung whispered with a smile trying not to form as he focused his sight ahead. “yeah... i do...” the memory brought a smile to his face, but it was tinged with sadness as well. “and how you were freaking out getting me a towel because you didn’t want me sick.” he chuckled, remembering that frantic moment. the moment stuck with him even after all this time.

“and then... we got back to our apartment.” you whispered, glancing towards him as you watched how the cigarette smoke left his lips. some even exhaling through his nose, making him resemble a dragon. it was amusing, though bittersweet in light of the situation, and it made you smile despite the serious talk that came afterwards. “you said something that night...?” you asked quietly, wanting to hear the answer one more time before you had to let go.

but, wooyoung didn't seem as eager to speak as before. he avoided your gaze as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. “uh... yeah...” he finally acknowledged, the words spoken in a low, timid tone. he was clearly uncomfortable, and you didn't know why. it seemed as if the memory itself was painful for him.

he met your gaze, his eyes saying more than he has ever said verbally these past few months. his eyes were full of unsaid things, like a book waiting to be read, and you were desperate to know what he was thinking. "do you remember?" he finally spoke, as if he was asking for something. It was obvious something was wrong, that he was holding onto something. he was holding onto more than just the past, he had something he wanted to tell you.

he held your gaze still as he waited for your response, his eyes pleading with you. you knew he was about to tell you something he had kept quiet for such a long time. the tension was palpable, and you were ready to hear what he was going to say. "do you remember?" he repeated his question, and this time his voice was more resolute. he was going to say what he'd been holding in for months.

and then he finally said it. the words were spoken with conviction, with no hesitation or reluctance this time. it was as if he had made up his mind about saying it, no matter the consequences. "i told you that i loved you that night," he said flatly, as if he was trying his best to be blunt. he didn't want to dance around the topic or make it more complicated than it was. he just wanted you to hear it.

you whispered quietly, "and i told you that i loved you, too." the moment was silent after that, as if everything else had ceased to exist but the two of you. you had both admitted how you felt, and now you were waiting for a reaction, a response. it was like the air was stilled and time had stopped just for the two of you, as if the world was waiting to hear what would happen next.

after what seemed like an eternity of silence, wooyoung stirred. his gaze shifted to you before looking back ahead. his expression was still unreadable, but you could see something pass over his face. was it relief? was he happy? was he ashamed? you needed to know, you needed some sort of answer. "you really meant it," he said quietly, as if he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

you could feel him searching your face with his eyes, searching for any sign that you were just saying it to appease him, anything that suggested you hadn't meant it when you said it. "you really meant it, didn't you?" he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. he could not believe that you had meant those words, that you truly felt the same way. he had ruined everything, and he couldn't understand how you were still there, still beside him.

but you weren't saying them to appease him, you weren't saying them as if they were hollow gestures. you meant them, every single word of them. "i meant them," you answered, though you were surprised at how soft your voice had been. it sounded so different from the strong, determined voice he knew. was that regret and shame you heard in your own words? did you regret admitting your love? did you regret having given it away?

wooyoung was still staring at you, staring at your face as if searching for something within you. he wanted to see if you meant it, if you still meant it after everything. "is that how you feel still? do you..." he started to say, but his voice caught before he could finish. his gaze shifted from your face to something that was out of your sight before he shook his head. "no—, it doesn't matter. just please tell me, do you still feel the same way?”

wooyoung’s voice was still tinged with disbelief as he asked you if you still felt the same way. his tone was uncertain, full of doubt. he was afraid of the answer, of what you may say. the thought of you no longer feeling the same way terrified him, because he knew that he might have screwed up everything too much for it to be fixed.

"i never stopped," you replied quietly. and it was true, you had not. even when you were angry, frustrated, and hurt, you never stopped loving him. your love was stubborn and resilient, and it had endured everything. it had endured the arguments and fights, the harsh words and bitter silences, all of the times your love felt unwanted.

because you knew, deep down, you’d love wooyoung until he told you not to.

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sebstan2020 · 2 days

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Red Ties

Chapter 40

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Mary winced as she sat on her stool at her desk. Her ass was still sore from the erotic flogging James had given her a few days ago. Since she was new to this BDSM lifestyle, her body was still getting used to all the painful implements James wanted to use on her. Her body marked much easier than the regular submissives's at Vanilla, and James enjoyed every moment of seeing her bright red ass when he could. But Mary was finding it hard to hide her discomfort, and Anya gave her a confused look at the clear wince in her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and Mary looked at her, plastering on a smile.

"Yeah, fine, I fell over the other day and landed on my butt, so I was just a bit bruised," if only Anya knew. Mary still had yet to tell her about their kinky antics. She wasn't sure how she would react. James and Mary had been together for at least six months, and time seemed to be going by fast. Anya definitely had approval of James, so there was no chance of her disapproving him now, but still, Mary wasn't sure how to bring up the subject.

a Christian girl admitting her boyfriend whips and ties her up for his pleasure as much as hers. A girl who had never drunk alcohol until a few weeks ago, someone who barely crossed into the dark side of life, was now submitting willingly to a dominating, possessive mafia boss. And she had yet to tell her that as well. She felt guilty for keeping that from her and knew she had to bring it up soon.

"So, when are you seeing James?" she winked.

"Tonight," she answered.

"You might as well just move in with him at this point; you basically live at his, and why would you live in that shitty apartment when he literally owns a mansion?".

"Thanks, Anya. Well, I did suggest taking it in turns, staying at mine and his."

"Jesus, only you would suggest such a thing; what does God have a rule about not living in a million mansions?" Anya said.

"No, I just... I don't know; maybe I'm not ready to move in," she shurried, even though that was a complete lie. Anya was right; she practically lived there already, but Mary was worried that she'd overhear their illegal business and the dirty, dark details of Jame's profession, and she didn't want to hear any of it and have another argument. although she knew that she couldn't let it bother her. It seemed everyone around her these days was into some organised crime business—James, John, maybe even Anya. At this rate, she might as well assume everyone is involved.

"What? Don't be so stupid; you are ready to move in with him; just do it. The longer you leave it, the more you won't want to move in." Anya was right; god, she hated it when she was always right despite her questionable choices in life.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Mary admitted, rolling her eyes, and Anya patted her back, sending a shock of pain as she touched a tender spot the flogger had attacked. She held back her wince through gritted teeth, and when Anya left the nurses station, she hissed. She was going to have to tell James not to torture her on a work day.

"Hey Mary!" Peter walked in, carrying a stack of papers, and dropped them heavily on the desk.

"Hey Peter," she said with a big smile, and Peter instantly relaxed. Luckily, James hadn't made much of an appearance in the parking lot, and Peter didn't have to avoid him. Things were much less tense between him and Mary, and he was glad to have his best friend back, although his feelings for her weren't gone and he didn't think they'd ever go. He would always have a crush on her, and he tried not to think about her spending the rest of her life with James.

selfishly, he wanted them to break up, but he knew that would only cause more heartbreak for Mary, and gaining from that would be cruel. So instead, he ignored what he could of James and spent what time he had with Mary. He was glad Mary didn't devote every single second to her new boyfriend like some first lovers do, and she'd spend time with him outside of work, much to James dismay.

"Hey, I wondered if you wanted to come over tonight for some takeout. We can put a film on, chill out, and my apartment is pretty much done," he asked, and Mary nodded.

"Sure. that sounds great".

"I mean, as long as your boyfriend is okay with it," he teased.

"Well, he'll have to be," she shrugged, and Peter secretly jumped for joy inside. Yeah, fuck James and his opinion.

"Great, we can go back after work," he said with an excited grin.

Mary texted James that she didn't need picking up after work and that she was going to Peter's. She could have simply said she didn't need picking up, but then James would question the reason for that and wonder why she didn't come home. Besides, she had nothing to fear from him; if he got all jealous and possessive, that was his problem. It was clear her simple text had fueled a little fire in him, as he instantly replied with 'oh'.

She could imagine him now, red in the face, a scowl on his lips. Oh well, he'll live. She wasn't going to let his jealousy take control of her life.

Peter's apartment was beautiful, with everything in its place now and the walls not looking so bare. He had hung several pictures up and placed some furniture in small places to add more depth to the room, rather than it being so empty.

"Wow, Peter, this place is amazing," Mary said as she slumped down on the sofa.

"Yeah, I'm so happy with how it turned out. How's your place, by the way? I know you were having issues with it," he said as he stood at the ktichen plating up the Chinese they brought on the way home.

"Oh, it's okay; I rarely spend time there since I'm always at James's house. In fact, I'm thinking about moving in with him," she said, and Peter looked with a slightly more shocked face than he would have liked.

"Oh, really, that's soon," he shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it, even though it kind of was. Things seemed to move so fast with her, and James and Peter's feelings were getting in the way. He couldn't help but worry and wonder if Mary could end up getting hurt. He still didn't trust him much, especially after the whole 'stay away from Mary' chat they had in the parking lot.

"Yeah, but I rarely spend time at my apartment, and his house is a lot nicer than mine; I mean, he does live in a mansion." She tried not to sound like she was bragging about it, and she wasn't, but when your boyfriend lives in a million-dollar mansion, it's hard not to sound like you're bragging.

"Remind me what he does for work again?" He asked as he came over with the plates of Chinese food, consisting of sticky chicken, noodles, beef, and a small bowl of soup, along with prawn crackers. It smelled divine, and Mary was starving.

"He's an accountant and has his own business," she said warily. If Peter knew he was a mafia boss, he'd spend the rest of his life convincing Mary to leave his ass.

"Right, he must be amazing at his job to afford a house like that," Peter said as he sat beside Mary, crossing his legs.

"Yeah, I don't know. I'm still in two minds about it; I haven't fully decided yet," she shrugged, and Peter smiled.

"There's no rush; take things slow; you've got plenty of time to figure those things out, and there's nothing wrong with having your own space.".

"Yeah, it's nice to be able to have some quiet me time," she giggled, and they tucked into their dinner. They spent the rest of the night laughing and watching funny films, remembering funny moments in their lives, and dying with laughter. Peter offered for her to stay at his so she didn't have to make the trip back, but she kindly declined. She knew James would either be worried about her or be so jealous that she didn't come back to him that night.

It wasn't until late that Mary arrived at James, and the moment she stepped into the bedroom, his hands were on her, cupping her face, kissing her deeply, forcing her to the bed, and falling on top of her. He kissed her lips, her neck, and the lobe of her ear, and a sweet moan escaped her lips as she fell into his trap. He did this when he was pent-up with jealousy and frustration. He wanted to show his possessions to her, and boy did he.

The next morning, she woke to find dark kisses left on her neck and chest, his arms wrapped so tightly around her waist as if he were holding on to a piece of wood at sea or as if she were going to drift away from him. She sighed and rolled her eyes at his entrapment. His arms were like a little jail cell, and he kept her captive.

She turned in his arms, which woke him softly, and he moaned gently, pressing a kiss on her temple. "You know you don't have to get all possessive like that," she pointed out.

"Like what? I'm just kissing the woman I love." Those words gave her a tingle, and she grinned immediately, her cheeks heating up. She wouldn't get over how he confessed his love for her. After a petty apology and an introduction to his ex-submissive, what a way to say you love someone!

He pressed a kiss on her lips, and she moaned in them. "Alright, if you say so," she shrugged with a tease in her voice, and he chuckled. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Mary was working her shift with her private clients away from the hospital, first starting with Mrs. McKenzie. She had a million questions and, of course, wanted to know the dirty details of her love life with Mr. Handsome. She giggled, shaking her head, and reluctantly gave up some details, despite Mrs. McKenzie asking her naughty questions about that woman and her mind. but it was nice to be able to catch up with her and talk about all things girl. She had popped in to check on Yori and make sure he was okay as well.

He was so much more relaxed the first time she met him, and he was more than happy for her to visit him. Her and James were the only visitors he wanted; no one else. But he wouldn't be Yori without making a moan about his noisy neighbour McKenzie. Mary didn't think their feud was ever going to settle.

On her way to her next patient, she needed to stop at the pharmacy and pick up a few prescriptions for them. She parked her car just outside, grabbing her bag to run in. The streets were busy, and she dogged the grumpy people of New York and weaved her way inside the pharmacy, the clean smell of disinfectant hitting her nose. She wasn't there long and made her way back to her car, but stopped just in front of it and stared across the street.

There was James, standing next to a very pretty woman, dressed in a tight skirt and blouse with shiny black heels. Her hair was in a volumous blowout, all curls and waves cascading down her back. She was stunning with light makeup, from what it looked like, and she had a beautiful smile. They were talking very intimately, and she reached and placed a hand on his shoulder. A sudden pang of jealousy rippled through Mary's body, something she hadn't felt before. So this was how James felt when he saw her and Peter together.

but this was different. She didn't know who this woman was or why he was standing there with her. and then he reached down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, and Mary's heart sank, a shiver leaving her body and mouth. The woman smiled and turned on her heels, with James following.

Mary felt cold inside, as if her heart had been taken out and hammered into a tiny number of pieces. Who was that woman, and why was he kissing her like that? Yes, it was only a friendly kiss on the cheek, but she didn't know who she was or why he was with her, and seeing that kiss only made her heart shatter. and now he had followed her, like a puppy to their mother.

Mary threw herself in her car and took a shuddering, deep breath. What should she do now?

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

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seramilla · 14 hours

Note

If / whenever Odette proposes to Verosika— it’s not something big or grand. Instead it’s intimate and quiet when Odette shows the ring to verosika, it’s a beautiful ring— it had probably cost Odette a pretty penny. No one had seen it coming, not even Carmilla—who knows her girls like the palm of her hand.

Odette and Verosika have talked about marriage before. It's to be expected after watching, and participating in, Carmilla and Sera's wedding. Theirs had been an extravagant, social affair, thanks to Zestial and Lucifer, with every blue-blood in Hell who was on good terms with them present. But to the girls, neither really finds those kinds of huge public expressions of love appealing.

Verosika has to put on a show every day, so she'd told Odette, if and when it happens for her, she wants it to be more real. Not during one of her shows, and certainly not on stage; just something small between herself and her beloved. Odette can't say she disagrees. In fact, that's exactly what she'd hoped Verosika would say. Because that's exactly what she'd been planning.

Verosika already has everything a demon could want, and then some. So does Odette, honestly, and while both demons can afford to give each other the world, that's not really what Verosika wants, or what Odette wants, either. She desires to make it special, but also not too over-the-top. She decides to get Ozzy's advice on the right way to approach this. He is, of course, very helpful...but mostly about the honeymoon, and all the fun things that can come after.

He does know the name of a jewelsmith in Greed, though, and after some conversations with them back and forth over the phone, Odette orders a personalized pink diamond in a gold band, fit exactly to Odette's specifications. Not a big one...it's honestly rather small, but still worth a small fortune, she comes to find out. She still thinks it's more than enough to make Verosika happy. Odette hopes so, anyway.

Odette chooses to ask her on a night after Verosika gets back from a tour. They'd already had a date at Ozzy's planned. The king of Lust didn't have any other shows planned, and just reserved a small corner of the showroom for the two of them, allowing the musical stylings of Fizzarolli to complement their dinner of something Odette is too nervous to eat at the moment.

Verosika seems to notice Odette's not eating. Her girlfriend does have a hard time remembering to feed herself sometimes, and she brings it up to Odette, who is quickly shocked out of her state of internalized anxiety.

"Babydoll, you going to eat anything? You look pale."

"Oh! Yes! Sorry! Umm...shit. I was just thinking."

Verosika takes a sip of her wine. They'd only ordered one bottle; Odette wanted to be sober for the events yet to come.

"Thinking about what?"

Verosika reaches across the cozy table to touch Odette's hand. Odette's other hand is fumbling with the small box tucked safely into her pants pocket. Fizz has finished his last musical number, and walks off-stage to take a break. If there's any moment to act, Odette thinks, it's now. Taking a breath, she stands, and moves toward Verosika, before kneeling on one knee at her feet.

"Verosika Mayday...!" Odette starts, pausing more out of anxiety than dramatic effect. She hopes it makes her look cool, and not anxious, at any rate. "Ever since I met you, here, after what seems like a lifetime ago...my world has never been the same. I never imagined a literal pop star would ever look my way, let alone talk to me. You've taught me so much about actually living, and loving...and to never take anything for granted."

Odette pauses again, getting the box ready in her pocket.

"You've also taught me patience, and to love myself, and to never judge a book by its cover. You're my best friend. My confidant. My north star. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you, for however long that lasts. So, um, will you do me the honor of, uh...hold on..."

After a few fumbling attempts and only a little blushing, Odette manages to take the box out of her pocket, and opens in it front of Verosika. The succubus is wide-eyed, the pink of the diamond shining back at Odette through her eyes. Odette finishes her question with only a little bit of a flush on her face. She hopes Verosika will forgive her awkwardness.

"Will you marry me, Verosika?"

Odette doesn't even have to wait for an answer. One minute, she's kneeling at Verosika's feet, and the next, Verosika is lifting her off the ground, and placing her on the table on her back. The rest of their food and drink be damned. It gets everywhere. Odette's glad she's not wearing one of her lab coats, because it's soaking into the black pants suit she wore for the occassion. She puts the ring down on the table, before she drops it.

Verosika kisses her, full and flagrant, forcefully on the lips, and pulls away with a smack! She only lifts from Odette long enough to screech into the room, "Yes! Fuck, Odette, yes! I will!" before she's kissing her again, pushing Odette even more into the table. Odette worries they might be causing a scene. Unfortunately, her fears are confirmed, because Fizzarolli's already making obscene hand gestures behind the stage, grinning with his tongue out the side of his mouth.

So much for being discrete.

Fuck it, Odette thinks. Let him watch. She brings Verosika down further on top of her, and really starts sucking face with her girlfriend -- no, her fiancé -- right there on the table. Ozzie and Fizz give them two pairs of thumbs up, but neither of them notice. They're too busy celebrating, in their own little world, ignoring the captive audience behind them.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #odette hazbin hotel #verosika mayday #asmodeus helluva boss #fizzarolli helluva boss #odesika #ask #anon #fan theories #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seramilla #zestial hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar

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cressthebest · 16 hours

Text

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 22

chapter 38:

1. “"Right, so, your stylist?" Marlene asks, settling in as they continue to sway. "The one who looks like a fucking goddess? Yeah, so get this, she says we're friends…"”

james and marlene gossip sesh <3333333

2. 😧 MCGONNAGAL??????????

3. wait i think mcgonnagal is good. i’m pretty sure she’s from the phoenix. i’m not sure. i’m hopeful. i’m so hopeful

4. aww huey is kinda sweet. i like that’s he’s reg’s breath of fresh air when it comes to talking to the hallows

5. reg, i understand your anger, but please don’t make one of the only good sponsors feel bad

6. jealous james >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

7. “"I like your tea," James offers. "Maybe I'm biased, but it tastes better than anyone else's. What do you do to it?"

Regulus hums and lightly says, "I spit in it."

Without missing a beat, James replies, "Ah, that explains it."”

😭😭😭😭😭

8. “"Would you—" Regulus chokes on another relentless giggle, gasping a little. "Wait, would you actually drink my tea if I spit in it, James?"

"Love, I would let you spit directly into my mouth," James announces with absolutely no shame in his tone whatsoever.”

😭😭😭😭 james i love you

9. awww i love that barty is the most consistent part of reg’s life. i love barty

10. 😬 riddle is unconvinced in their love story. i- yikes

11. okay, right, mcgonnagal is good. thank god

12. dorcas wants to keep marlene out of the war, but only one of them has had a pov so far, so i’m not hopeful

13. oh shit marlene sounds hot

14. also, to add in, i’m so fucking glad there’s like no homophobia (that we know of) in this world

15. i do NOT want dorlene to be a tragedy in this universe

16. 😟 she gave back the ring. AHHHH

17. oh no. shit shit shit shit shit what did riddle do

18. “Riddle didn't even grant the liberty of leaving bodies behind for them to bury.” 😟😧

(but also, orion and walburga were dicks, so like, i’m not sad, just scared)

chapter 39:

1. aww regulus finally invites james in for tea

2. “On the day he accidentally kills a bee while tending to his flowers, he goes through the five stages of grief in less than an hour, which has nothing to do with the bee and everything to do with Vanity.” STOP! THE VANITY MENTION HURTS TOO MUCH

3. “When Regulus wants more time with him, he adds bagels, which James has now unconsciously been Pavloved into thinking of as his favorite food for that very reason.” STOP THATS SO GAY

4. sirius being dramatic about james and reg liking each other is TOP TIER in this fic, in the most realistic, aggravated, obnoxious, and completely loving way

5. BWAHAHAHHAHA JAMES GETTING A PIGGY BACK RIDE FROM SIRIUS IS GOLD

6. oh shit, (i’m not the best comprehensive reader, but i should have figured this out sooner), but from sirius’ perspective, he has to do the back and forth with remus his whole life. he doesn’t have the knowledge that i do, that a war is coming and they’ll finally get a chance to live together. he thinks he only gets to see remus once a year for two weeks at a time. this- this shit is heartbreaking yall

7. “”I watched him stand to his feet and tip himself into a river of blood in an act so tender that I'll never again be able to look at him with anything less than pure love. Every other member of the Black family, including you, fought and clawed their way home to their family, oftentimes to a family that never truly made them feel loved at all. Regulus? He fought and clawed through that arena, the entire time, for James. He's far more gentle than anyone gives him credit for."”

y’all, i’m crying over this. this is so lovely. effie is right, and i’m crying over how right she is

8. 😒 i know what’s coming. riddles a bitch. a right bitch. he’s gonna announce that previous victors are competing and i’m PISSED

9. so far, all three potters offered reggie food. they’re so hospitable, i love them

10. “He hasn't forgotten what it is to long for James. He still knows what it is to want him so badly that he'd be willing to kneel at the altar of James Potter and beg; he'd drop down on his hands and knees and crawl if that's what it took, if that would prove his devotion. He is the manifestation of longing built up with nowhere to go, and he craves, he yearns, he covets.”

both of them are so down bad

11. omg reg is so horny. his inner monologue is literally only like “”””“rip my clothes off please, read my mind and rip my clothes off”””””

12.AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW IT WAS COMING! BUT IM SO MAD!!! FUCK RIDDLE

13. effie is a queen. she is a godsend. and i’m so upset right now

14. not effie making them promise not to volunteer, and immediately james and sirius arguing over who’s gonna volunteer for her

15. i’m seething. i’m pissed beyond belief. i’m so angry it’s indescribable. my babies are going back into that arena. honestly, fuck riddle

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #fanfic #jegulus #sirius black #effie potter #euphemia potter #sunseeker #starchaser #dorcas x marlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #crimson rivers

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thepoetsmanuscript13 · 2 days

Text

A football team ― Peter Pevensie modern au

author’s note: hello everyone! a weird first post honestly but i was feeling it after talking about it with my friend sooo... :) a totally out of pocket au in which the pevensies are all alive and well and live in this century and peter is a married man 🤭 i don’t know how i feel about this thing, though, like i’m having mixed feelings about it, but if i don’t publish it now i’ll never do it lol

pairing: peter pevensie x female reader

summary: Peter Pevensie had started being sure of things the moment he met you by accident during his first year of university. You two didn’t even study the same degree, but you’d happened to see each other frequently in the same spot at the library, and when he finally dared to ask you out, years passed in the blink of an eye. Nowadays, you’re happy to call him your husband and the father of your children.

warnings: female reader, reader is pregnant, modern au in which everyone is happy and alive (lmao), peter pevensie is a teacher and a football (soccer) manager, plot’s not even a plot (lol), too many children, fluff, english isn’t my first language (i don't think i missed anything)

word count: 1869 words

requests are open, i write for many fandoms (maybe i can make a list of them idk)

You couldn’t help but love your chaotic family. It was the best thing that had happened to you, along with marrying Peter. Your life was a busy one, but it was also full of love. You saw it in the mornings, when your household became a place of madness and your four children ran around the hallways while they got ready for school. You saw it when you got in the car with them―of course, one of those big cars with too many seats because you wouldn’t fit in a regular one―and your husband drove for more than twenty minutes to some place, leading to fights and shouts and cries. You saw it at dinner, when the six of you sat at the table and ate whatever Peter had cooked and they all talked about their day, screamed over each other’s voices, and protested about not liking peas or broccoli or carrots. You saw it at night, when you and your husband fell into bed completely spent once the house was, finally, silent and all of them were sleeping.

You had a lot to celebrate with a family like that. People―mums from school―usually asked you how you managed. How you and Peter could take care of a family like that and still have time to love each other. Your answer was that you loved each other while you took care of your children.

And, of course, leaving the kids with their aunts or uncle or grandparents when you two wanted to have a weekend for yourselves also helped.

But, most of the time, it was you and Peter, and you were happy like that. It was a life that’d been made for you. Because, being honest, you’d never wanted to get married or have children. You’d always said those things weren’t for you. That you’d be the single, cool aunt type.

Until you met Peter during your first year of university. It changed everything you thought you were sure of, and you realised you simply hadn’t wanted that kind of life because, until then, you hadn’t met a person you’d like to have those things with. With him, everything changed. You saw yourself walking down the altar. You saw yourself building a home with him. You saw yourself thrilled because you two were waiting for a child. You saw yourself growing old with him by his side.

You’d never believed in the “right person” thing until you met him. Once you had, everything fell into place. And now you were at the peak of your happiness after discovering you were pregnant with your fifth child. Well― Fifth and sixth. Twins.

It had been an accident, really. Well, kind of an accident.

When you found out you were pregnant again, you and Peter had agreed that this was going to be the last one. Four children were already a significant number. You two were managing quite well with your numerous offspring, and a fifth was already going to be a challenge. But you knew your man. You knew him well enough to know that he somehow would manage to trick you one last time.

He indeed did when the doctor announced that you were carrying twins. You remember Peter’s mischievous grin. And your first reaction―slap his arm and call him a bastard. But you weren’t mad. It was going to be a challenge, but you could never reject what was the product of the love you and Peter had for each other.

You sometimes regretted your thoughts, though, during your eighth month of pregnancy. Some days you felt like giving up and staying in bed all day. Your back pain was killing you, and those two babies were definitely Peter’s, because they knew how to kick to make themselves known.

“You don’t have to come, my love,” Peter told you, and pressed a kiss to your hair.

You scoffed. “But I will,” you replied.

Your husband grinned and leaned to kiss your lips tenderly. His hand snaked down your body to settle on your round belly, and he smiled in the middle of the kiss. Your babies kicked in that exact moment, like they knew it was their father greeting them.

A long “ew” was heard from the kitchen’s doorway, and you two turned your heads to look at your second son, Samuel, who was already wearing his football kit. A grin appeared in your face and you gestured to him to come closer.

“You don’t like seeing dad kissing mum, Sam?” Peter asked him while ruffling his hair. The little boy put his hands on your knees and pressed his cheek to your baby bump.

“No!” Samuel answered. “It’s gross!”

“Oh, baby,” you laughed and stroked his blonde hair―you were still wondering how it was possible that all your children had inherited Peter’s golden hair―while he interacted with his unborn siblings. “It’s not gross. We do it because we love each other.”

“You don’t kiss me on the mouth but you love me,” he replied, thoughtful.

His father chuckled. “‘Course not, lad. Those kisses are just for partners,” he explained with a smile, amused by his son’s reasoning. He was a clever boy, they knew that much.

“Hmmm…” he mumbled, and narrowed his eyes in deep thought.

You couldn’t help a grin. Samuel was always asking questions and making up his own reasoning about why something was one way or another. Peter said he reminded him of his brother Edmund, who used to spend the time with his nose buried in books, but with his youngest sister Lucy’s character, who was definitely much more adorable and less… Well, less “Edmund”.

Peter kissed his son’s head and went upstairs to get the girls, who were probably still playing with the last Lego they’d been gifted. Legos were a must in your house. Legos everywhere. In the bedrooms, in the bathroom, in the back garden, in the living room. More than once you had stepped on one, and they hurt a lot. You always told them to gather the pieces and put them in their box, but your words were often ignored and forgotten. As a mother of four, you were used to it by now.

You heard giggles coming from the upper floor. Your husband was such a girl dad. He did what was necessary to put a smile in Audrey’s, Ruby’s, or Emma’s face. From letting them do his makeup―the amount of pictures you had with Peter’s face covered in red lipstick was infinite―to buying them a little foam sword and teaching them how to use it. You were scared they would take an eye out with those, but he was chill about it. He said that his girls needed to defend themselves from the bad guys. You thought one day they would end up punching someone for real with all the things he taught them.

Football, swimming, using a sword, makeup… He’d even tried to teach Audrey how to bake―no need to say it didn’t end up very well, and he spent a whole afternoon cleaning the counters and walls and floor. To this day, you hadn’t seen a mess like that one.

Some minutes later, Peter came back with three little monkeys clinging to him, the monkeys being your three daughters. Emma, the youngest of them, was in his right arm, while Ruby, the one in the middle, was in the left, and Audrey, the eldest―seven already, how time flew!―was hanging from his back.

You were going to die from a heart attack one day.

“Audrey! You’re going to make dad fall!” you said, standing from the chair while Sam held your hand.

“No, mum! I’m Spiderman!” she said, making her father grin. Since they had gone to the cinema to watch the last Spiderman film, Audrey had been pretending that she had superpowers. It’d been funny until she tried to start climbing the walls and you almost had a heart attack.

You shook your head.“Peter, do something,” you scolded your husband.

“Audrey, darling,” he immediately said, and you smiled―so obedient―, “I wouldn’t like your mum to get mad at me.” When his daughter opened her mouth to protest, he added, “And we’re going to be late to the match if we don’t hurry.”

“Yes, football!” Both Samuel and Ruby cheered, while Emma mimicked her siblings’ words in her father’s arms. Your little girl was two years old and she was such a brilliant kid already. She loved to grab Mr. Badger, the cat, by his tail and to do all kinds of villainies to him. The poor cat endured too much with your daughter, but he also was extremely protective of her and always made sure she didn’t hurt herself.

“Football it is,” you declared, and winked at your children.

The whole of your family exited the house and went to the car. You sat on the passenger’s seat―not without great difficulty―while Peter took care of your children. With your big belly, you were grateful you could even walk on your own. You could barely wait until the birth day, not only because you wanted to see your babies, but also because it was exhausting, being pregnant with twins.

Once your husband had secured all of your children in their seats, he drove to the school. He worked there as a science teacher, and thought at first it hadn’t been an option, when the previous football manager―who’d been some maths teacher―had retired, the juniors didn’t have anyone to train them, and Peter, loving kids and football as much as he did, decided to take the responsibility. Now, you knew he couldn’t picture himself without being the manager of those kids.

When you arrived there, most of the team was already there, and so were their parents, and the rival team. Peter quickly kissed you and he, Samuel, and Ruby left to get ready for the match. Meanwhile, you, Audrey, and Emma went to sit at the stands. You couldn’t stand for too long, and you liked getting seats close to your husband so you could watch him close during the match.

It was adorable, watching him interact with the kids. He ruffled their hair when they walked past him, encouraged them to be their best, and treated them like adults. They liked Peter a lot and he liked them back, and all their parents, but especially their mothers, always told you that you had struck gold when you married him.

As if you already didn’t know that you were the luckiest woman in the world to have him in your life.

You were sure that Peter was almost like a second father for many of those kids. They spent a good amount of hours together every week, training and at the matches, and it was very easy to like your husband. Even if he got a little competitive during every football game.

“Pass the ball to your brother, Corin!”

Maybe too competitive.

“Eyes up, Alice! Eyes on the ball!”

But, whatever he did, it seemed to work, because the school’s team won most of their matches. After the game, the kids all cheered while their parents clapped. Peter’s eyes met yours for some seconds and you smiled.

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie x female reader #peter pevensie modern au #peter pevensie imagine #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #narnia au #narnia modern au #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie is a father of 6 #you cannot convince me otherwise #he loves kids i'm so sure

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msfcatlover · 2 days

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I have been thinking so much about Jean-Paul Valley in my Reverse!Robins AU. Specifically, how he’d react to Steph’s return.

Because, listen: here is a man who had his autonomy stripped from him. Had his identity stripped from him. By the cult his father secretly raised him to serve, while letting Jean-Paul think he was having a normal childhood (and he did. That is one of the things I like about JPV as a character; in the original “Azrael: Fallen Angel” & “Knightfall” stories, he had a perfectly normal childhood… aside from the hypnotic brainwashing implanted while he slept.) This guy who was tricked into murdering several people, when he never, ever wanted that.

He gets saved by the Bats. And they help him. They really, genuinely help him, and sure, Duke & Damian are still teenagers (JPV’s like… 20-22 at this point in my mind,) but they’re also his anchors to reality. Damian, who also was raised to be a weapon by someone he should’ve been able to trust. Damian, who has experience with cults & rebuilding your identity after losing everything. Damian, who’s basically JPV’s “Brainwashed Cult Assassins Anonymous” sponsor. Duke, who also had a normal childhood. Duke, who knows Gotham like only a kid who was raised in its heart can. Duke, who agrees that this whole situation is certifiably fucked, but never hesitates to help Jean-Paul potentially recover a lost memory or find a new one, because it’s not just about who Jean-Paul was before the cult of St Dumas got their hands on him, it’s about remembering that he’s a living human being right now.

They take him in. They save him. They help him save himself. Bruce offers to pay for him to go back to college, for fuck’s sake!

They gave him his life back.

Jean-Paul can never, ever repay them. They tell him they don’t need it, but he wants to and he can’t. He feels so selfish to take & take without giving back, but how do you pay someone back for all that?

So his couch is always open to them, whenever they want. He’ll be their ally, their friend, their confessor, their confidant, their homework editor if need be. And when newer batkids join, well, Jean-Paul would’ve done his best anyway, but the fact he’s entrusted with Duke & Damian’s apprentices is just. It’s something else. And it’s hardly a hardship—the kids are a delight. Obnoxious, sure, and messy, and pushy, and constantly interrupting, and sometimes they break his stuff, and always they eat all his food, but Jean-Paul has more civilian friends now, and they tell him that’s just what kids are like.

What matters is that he loves them. He loves them because Duke & Damian love them, and then he loves them for being them.

And then. Stephanie. Dies. (Because Jean-Paul is broken, he’s a sinner, he can never make up for what he’s done, what he is, and he can never have nice things. Because Steph was sunshine & rage & stubbornness, because she joked that “We blondes have to stick together!” Because no one was there for her when it mattered most. This has to be punishment, right? He got too close, and Steph paid the price.) (His therapist says he’s being irrational again, but it doesn’t feel irrational. They say they need to adjust his medications. Jean-Paul knows better than to trust himself, but he can trust in Bruce to make sure the therapist is safe, so Jean-Paul doesn’t fight it. He’s not happy, but he doesn’t fight it. Because if he starts hallucinating again, he knows it won’t just be his father hovering over him, demanding to know why Azrael refused to avenge them. So yeah, sure, adjust the meds if you think it’s needed—he doesn’t miss Steph that badly. Yet.)

And then. Steph. Comes. Back.

She’s not dead. She’s not dead, but she’s different, she’s so very, very different. Damian says she fights like she spent time with the LoA, that same cult that raised Damian which he’s told Jean-Paul so much about over the years. Training like that takes time, but it’s been 6yrs, and she’s back, risen & gifted back to them! And she’s killing, but Jean-Paul’s killed before, and he’s been kidnapped by a cult before, and he thinks he knows how this goes. Death Mask isn’t Azrael, but he thinks it’s close enough.

And. And. And. He can save her. Because he knows what to do now, after nearly a decade in recovery. He can make up for his sins, he can bring her home again, and maybe, finally, he’ll have finally managed to pay them all back! He can give Steph her self back to make up for—(“You didn’t kill Stephanie,” his therapist reminds him, “you never laid a finger on her. Remember? You didn’t hurt her. It’s not your fault.” But it feels like it is, it feels like it, he can’t shake the idea that he did)—and he can give the Bats their sister back to make up for all that they’ve given him over all this time! A life for a life, and yes! This feels right!

He cooks up scenarios, imagines Steph reaching out in a moment of lucidity, or showing up injured on his doorstep guided by muscle memory, or running into her on the street or in a cafe and the look of alarm & recognition in her eyes as she—like he did, still does occasionally—knows that she knows him but can’t remember. He imagines the conversations they could have, all the different variations, and knows that it will take time, but patience is a virtue and Jean-Paul’s gotten rather good at it. He can be her anchor.

He just needs to figure out how to start.

(And meanwhile, Steph’s on the other side of Gotham like, “Why are my ears burning, and why do I feel like I’m staring down a tsunami-level wave of second-hand embarrassment right now?”)

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comicarc · 3 days

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Just a walk down memory lane. I just haven’t found many fics about Jason before he was killed, so I thought I’d write one.

wc: 1182

My first memory of Jason was when I first met him in the alley. I was strolling down the streets at night naive and oblivious to the dangers surrounding me. It was one of the few times I was carefree and ignorant of consequences. I felt so happy walking down a puddle-filled sidewalk. Homeless people left and right, the road lined with potholes and men running around mugging people. In this part of Gotham, this would be the best it gets.

It was drizzling and I was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. It’s almost never sunny in Gotham, but I was determined that today would be different. To my surprise, the day had been cloudless, but as evening approached the clouds began rolling in. Little me, holding on to the little hope I conjured, decided not to change or even grab a jacket before heading for my stroll.

By now I had managed to walk over five blocks to an alley. I heard laughter down the way and was curious enough, against my better judgment, to follow the voice. Nearing the origin of the voice I saw a boy about my age. He looked tired and beaten up, but his voice was full of pure joy. He wore a bright red, worn out hooded jacket. His jeans were tattered and his shoes had enormous holes in them. There was a small corner next to him with stacks of blankets and used pillows. Did he live here?

I walked up to him and asked, “What’s a boy like you doing out here laughing?”

“Can’t I laugh if I want to?” He retorted as he swung his body to face me. A knife pressed against my throat.

“I guess you can.” I gulped. I was not prepared for this to happen.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just out of habit.”

“I guess it must be a daily occurrence if you’re used to doing this by now.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many psychos run around trying to rob a child.”

“I bet.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Not unless you want to meet people like me or want to get killed.”

“Maybe I like meeting people.”

He chuckles before nudging me to the opening of the alleyway. “Go home.”

He then proceeds to hand me his jacket seeing as I was shivering from the weather. I put it on after a few protests and he pulle the hood above my head. His touch felt rough but loving.

I was enchanted for a few minutes, staring deeply into his eyes until I replied, “Alright, but before I leave I want to know what to call my new friend.”

“Name’s Jason.”

“I’m y/n.” I said as I exited the alley and ran back home.

After that incident, I hung out with him in that alley all the time before he became Bruce Wayne’s ward. He became distant soon after he found a new family, but he still tried his best to wish me on my birthdays and congratulate me whenever I won or competed in competitions at Gotham High. I never realized it then, but his presence always lifted my spirits. Made me elated beyond comprehension. Without him, I don’t know what would have happened to me.

My favorite memory of him occurred as he attended a prestigious school around the time he was 18. We’d been distant lately, but I visited him every now and then. This night I decided I would go to his dorm and treat him to a night of relaxation. It was 9:00 pm, so he would most definitely have been awake, but when I arrived he didn’t open the door. After an hour or two of waiting, he finally greeted me and let me into his humble abode. Distraught by the reason why I had to wait so long, I questioned his whereabouts until he finally gave in.

“I was showering”

Completely flabbergasted I replied, “What the actual fuck Jason. Who takes showers for two hours?”

“Me.”

I laughed before taking the food I had brought out of the grocery bag and laying it out on his living room table. His body was definitely drenched, but not in water, rather sweat. I knew he was lying, but why? He was always sweet to me ever since we were kids. There was no reason for him to lie to me, he knows I would help through anything and accept all his endeavors happily.

Still, I wasn’t going to get mad over nothing, so as he proceeded to leave the room to bring blankets for us, I sat down and put on our favorite movie, My Bloody Valentine . When he comes back and sits on the couch I let him lie his head on my lap as we watch. The blankets cover Jason’s entire body and my legs, making the couch a makeshift bed and my lap a pillow. Unconsciously I begin stroking his head, and only realize it by the end of the movie. By then Jason had also fallen asleep.

It was one of the few nights he seemed at peace. We were so close, and I gained that he truly felt the world of me by trusting me. More than anything it was the night I realized that I loved Jason.

My most recent memory of him was the day he died. I was mad. No, I was absolutley furious. He never told me he was Robin. Did he not trust me? No, maybe he did it to protect me. Still, knowing would’ve been better than nothing. I had the right to know, not interfere but to at least know. Our relationship was longer than anyone else’s, and yet, he never trusted me enough to tell me something so important. Now he’s gone forever. I’ll never be able to hear his sweet words, bathe in his warmth, or even tell him that I love him. I will never have that opportunity again, all because of his damned crime fighting persona.

Today, on his birthday, I sit on the couch, playing My Bloody Valentine , with a cake set in front of me. It reads, “Happy Birthday Jason!” with one lit candle in the dead center. I looked at the clock with puffed eyes. I had been crying the whole night, reminiscing on past memories of Jason.

Right when the clock struck twelve I heard a thud come from the balcony of my apartment. Since I was alone, I prepped myself to confront the intruder. Taking the closest weapon I could find, I begin heading to my balcony. Outside, the light breeze makes me shiver. Holding the weapon with two hands I slowly approach the shadowy figure at the corner of my balcony. As I near, I see him wearing cargo pants and a leather jacket. The figure begins walking towards me. At this point I’m scared out of my wits as he comes close.

He pulls me into a hug before saying, “I’m sorry y/n. For everything.”

Confused and comforted at the same time, I question, “Jason?”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood #dc robin #gotham #angst #cliffhanger #some fluff

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