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pcvensies · 3 years

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*.• what do the jjk boys do when you have a nightmare.

{ itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, nanami kento + female reader }

Itadori Yuuji.

Your rooms are next to each other at the school, because of you both coming in last.

Because you two didn’t know many people there, and were the new ones, you had grown very close.

That was around a year ago, and now, you two were dating.

Yuuji knew you had nightmares sometimes, being a sorcerer wasn’t easy.

So when he woke up to your pained screaming, he rushed to your room as fast as he could which was very fast!

He opened the door, and found you in your bed, your sheets all tangled, and your palm pressed against your chest as you gasped.

Your teary eyes found his figure, and his heart shattered at the sight of your terrified eyes.

He rushed to your bed, holding you in his arms as he knelt next to you.

Yuuji’s hand held your head to his chest, as you sobbed, fists clenching onto his tshirt.

“Shhh... it’s me, babe... just me princess, you and me”.

His fingers combed your hair softly, lips pressed against the crown of your head as he cooed you.

“You’re safe, okay? I’m here now, I’ve got you”.

You held onto him like if he was going to disappear, or someone was going to take him away from you, and he noticed.

Yuuji let go of you for a second, hands cupping your face as he laid down, pulling you back with him.

You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a small kiss to your temple.

He held you in silence for a few minutes, humming little melodies in your ear, as your breathing started to match his.

“Yuuji..?” “Right here, princess”.

He looked down at you with those brown puppy eyes of his, and you felt warmth grow inside of you, calming you down.

You sniffed, and he wiped away a tear that rolled down your face, leaning down slowly to press a sweet kiss against your lips, then your nose.

His hands roamed up and down your back, his gentle touch grounding you again. He was here. Yuuji was here, and you were safe.

“I’ll always be here”, he whispered as he caressed your cheek, and your eyes closed again.

Fushiguro Megumi.

Megumi didn’t have a heavy sleep, he never has have.

So when his phone started vibrating at four in the morning, he woke up immediately.

Your name popped up in the screen, and he frowned, worry shaking away any kind of tiredness he could have in him.

“Y/n?” “...” “Babe, are you okay?”.

He was away in a mission with Itadori and Nobara, and anxiety started growing inside of his chest, knowing how far away he was from you.

His heart stopped when he heard you sob from the other side of the call.

“Angel, what’s wrong? Please talk to me, let me help you”.

His voice helped you to calm down a little, and you took a deep breath as you managed to speak.

“N-nightmare”.

Megumi sighed softly, relief filling his body, and he put the phone away from his ear.

You heard silence for a few seconds, before the Facetime screen appeared, and you picked up.

His face dropped at the sight of you, tears rolling down your cheeks and red eyes looking at him with panic.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, angel?”

You told him how you had dreamt of him dying in the mission, and your boyfriend sighed softly.

He turned on the small light besides him, and he gave you a small smile.

Your heart started beating normally almost immediately.

“Still in one piece, see?”, he reassured, giving you a soft look that was only for you to see.

You nodded slowly, arms wrapped around yourself, and he noticed you were wearing one of his tshirts.

“Smells like you... sorry I took it”.

“Don’t apologise, please. It looks better on your anyways”, he spoke softly, and smiled, “Why don’t you try to sleep again, huh? I’ll be right here”.

“You don’t mind? I don’t want to keep you awake, ‘gumi...”, you said shyly, worried that he wouldn’t rest well, and would be tired during his mission.

He shook his head, laying down again, as you did, resting his phone against the nightlight so you could still see him.

“I’ll sleep better if you’re with me, angel”.

Gojo Satoru.

Satoru sighed deeply, opening the door to your apartment and dropping his bag at the door.

It was late, almost three in the morning, and he had just arrived back from a week-long mission turned into ten days.

It got complicated, and the elders hadn’t allowed him any contact with home, as he ‘had to remain concentrated on the mission’.

He knew it was a punishment to him, but it angered him that you got some of it too.

He took off his shoes, followed by his blindfold, and he walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

That’s when he heard it, a soft whimpering coming from your shared bedroom.

He ran to the room, senses still in alert, and opened the door with a push.

Nothing was there, just you, twitching in bed as you mumbled in your sleep.

“No... No, no please... P-please don’t... Not S-Satoru...”.

Gojo walked to the bed, kneeling in front of you, and he shook you softly, hand in your forearm.

You opened your eyes at the unexpected touch, jolting up and screaming.

“Hey, hey... It’s me, little one, I’m home”, he spoke through your soft cries, as he took your hands, guiding them to his face.

Your shaky fingers caressed his skin in the dark, soon finding his hair, and then his shoulders.

A sob left your lips as you pulled him into your body, his weight making you both fall in the bed.

He turned you around, so you were on top of him, and he chuckled softly.

“Someone really missed me, yes?”, he asked softly, pressing a kiss to your head, “It’s alright, baby, really... I’m alright”.

You nodded against his chest, face buried in his clothes, and he caressed your hair gently, feeling your breathing slow down.

“They... I had a bad dream, and you... y-you... they had...”, you struggled to find the words, but Satoru already knew what you wanted to say.

His blood boiled with anger, rage for what those old bitches were putting you both through. But he simply clicked his tongue, pulling you from his chest so you could look at him.

“Here, look at me, Y/n. I am the strongest, remember?”, he asked, and you nodded slowly, “No one is taking me away from you, alright? No one, bunny”.

You nodded again, rubbing your eyes, and Gojo covered you both with the blankets as you kept looking at him, still shocked by his presence.

He looked down at you, a sweet smirk plastered on his face, and he held your chin with his fingers, pulling you closer to his face to kiss your lips.

“I’m sorry for being late, little one... I’ll make it up to you, ye-“, he started speaking, playful tone disappearing as he realised you had fallen asleep again.

“Sleep well, Y/n... I’ve missed you too”.

Nanami Kento.

It was 5 pm when Nanami’s phone rang, but he couldn’t pick it up.

He was in the middle of a mission with Gojo, fighting a special grade that had taken a school.

His eyes coloured with worry when, at seven, Ijitchi came to pick them both up, and informed him that you had called to ask for your boyfriend.

“Please, drive me directly home”, he asked, ignoring Gojo’s questions about what had happened, or if you were alright.

He knew the white haired man was being genuine in his worry for you, but he couldn’t think about anything.

When he got home, he called for you as soon as he opened the door, but you were already there.

Your frame was cuddled on the couch, a blanket over your shoulders as your head rested on your knees, which you were holding to your chest.

“Darling, what happened? Are you sick, is everything alright?”, he asked, walking to you.

You didn’t give an answer before throwing yourself onto his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you started crying.

Kento knew what had happened as soon as you did that, and he held you gently, rubbing your back with one hand, as the other pulled your legs to wrap around him.

He walked to the kitchen with you in his arms, and with one shift hand, he put water to boil.

“Do you want to tell me what you saw, my love?”, he asked gently, looking at you as he sat you on the counter, his hands brushing some strands of hair away from your eyes.

You shook your head, and he hummed in understanding, hand now on the back of your head to pull you closer.

He kissed your forehead sweetly, fingers running through your hair as his free hand held one of yours, thumb running over your knuckles.

When the water boiled, he poured it in a cup, and threw in a bag of tea and some sugar.

Kento carried you back to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap, and he held the cup for you, as your arms were still wrapped around his neck.

He wasn’t much of a talker in this situations, knowing his words were not what you needed, but his presence and touch.

He caressed your back with his free hand, and pressed another kiss to your forehead as you rested your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick up, darling”, “It’s okay... You’re here now, and that’s what matters”.

He rested the cup in the table, wrapping his arms around you to hold you as close as possible, and smiled when you pressed a little peck to his shoulder.

“That’s all what matters...”.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #yuuji itadori #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

“I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

“Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

“Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

“I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

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jaesqueso · 3 years

Text

Rain

pairing: toxic boyfriend!hendery x fem!reader

summary: You finally decide it’s time to say goodbye and on the way you reminisce about how it all started. And how it ended.

(moodboard)

word count: 2,074

warnings: angst, strong language, cheating, domestic violence, death

a/n: I originally thought of this for a music video but since I’m just a simple girl living a simple life I turned it into an actual story. do remember this a fanfiction, I’m not saying Hendery is this type of person! do give me some feedback please! ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

You wake up as the sun shines in your face through the window. You get up and go to the bathroom to take a shower. You don’t even bother checking the time, there’s really only one thing you need to do today. You get dressed in the darkest clothes you own that contrast with the bright day outside. You look in the mirror and take a deep breath. Today is the day you let go.

You grab your purse and as you open the door you notice the umbrella standing against the wall. You look at the window and there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. But you still take it with you. You walk down the street, sunglasses hiding your tired eyes. Your steps are not too fast, you know that you have to finally do this but you want to take your time. You know you’re not going to back down, as you’ve been doing for the last two weeks. Today it ends.

As you pass the park you remember when you first meet him.

⭐︎

Three years and two months ago

“Hey! Watch were you’re going-” You started scolding however bumped into you but stopped when you saw his startled expression.

“I’m so sorry!” He apologised as he removed his headphones. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You look down and check your camera to see if you at least got the shot you’ve been trying to get for the last twenty minutes.

“Wow, those look amazing!” He glanced at the little screen in your hands checking your work.

“Oh, thanks.” You awkwardly smiled at the nosy stranger.

“Are you a photographer?” He curiously asked.

“Not yet, I’m still finishing my degree. These are actually for a school project.” You explained as he was showing interest in your favourite subject in the world. You could talk about photography for hours.

“Nice! I bet you’ll the best in class with those pictures.” He genuinely smiled and you suddenly felt shy. “Are they going to be displayed anywhere?”

“Well, by the end of the semester there will be an exhibition on campus. You should drop by.” You gulped as maybe you’re being too straight forward with this person you’ve never met before.

“I would love to.” He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Hendery.”

“Y/N.” You shook his hand returning the smile.

⭐︎

And he did came to the exhibition like he said he would. Until then you had exchanged texts, calls and even went on a few dates. At the time you were amazed by him, everything you learned about him just made you fall more and more.

⭐︎

Three years ago

“You made it!” You smiled and walked to Hendery giving him a warm hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He hugged you tightly before letting go. “This is for you.”

“For me?” You gasped as he extended a single red rose your way.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like to receive a bouquet so I thought just one would spare me some embarrassment.” He scratched the back of his neck looking down with a shy smile.

“That is so thoughtful, thank you Hendery.” You took the rose as you felt your cheeks burning up.

You showed him around the gallery until you were in front of that photograph you were trying to take the day you met. He pampered you with compliments on your work the whole time and you felt like your heart could burst at any minute. Unfortunately a couple of hours later he had to leave so you accompanied him outside.

“Thank you so much for coming, it means a lot to me.” You bit your lip. “And for the rose of course.”

“My pleasure.” He flashed you a nervous smile.

“What?” You asked curiously.

“I have something I want to ask you but I’m afraid your answer will break my heart.” He mutters as he looks down at his shoes.

“Hendery,” you took his hand and squeezed lightly, “I would never break your heart.”

“Will you be my girlfriend then?” You gasped at his words. “I’m sorry, it’s ok if don’t like me back-”

“Yes!” You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to give him the first of many kisses you would share along the years.

⭐︎

You smile at the memory of what was one of the best days in your life. You always choose to remember the happy moments you spent with him. The dates, the smiles, the laughs, the I love you’s and the promises, even though they were bound to be broken.

In your relationship you loved and you hurt each other, but you would always find a away to make up and get back into each others arms. He proved to be more than you could handle but you couldn’t let him go because you weren’t perfect and also made a lot of mistakes. But you always forgave each other and promised to be better. Unfortunately some things never change.

You kept walking to your destination but stop as you pass by your favourite bakery. As much as you’d like, the memories you try so hard to forget always find their way back.

⭐︎

Two weeks ago

“I’ll take the pink one please.” You ordered a small cake in his favourite colour for your third anniversary together.

As the lady behind the counter carefully puts it in a box wrapping it with a silk ribbon you sigh. Yet again he forgot an important date in your relationship. You had been taken things easy on him as you’d been fighting a lot lately because he’s always working and never has time for you, so you just decided to surprise him with a nice gesture and maybe you could forget everything and have a nice evening with him.

You walked back to your shared apartment, cake in your hands and a smile on your face. It was a beautiful day as the last rays of sunshine lit up the streets. He wasn’t picking up your calls or replying to your texts but you wouldn’t let that affect you today, he was probably glued to the couch playing video games with his friends, lost in the virtual world.

You opened the door and was surprised when you didn’t see him in the living room so you tried the bedroom. As you walked through the corridor you heard muffled sounds but ignore them as you admire the pictures on the wall that decorate the hallway along with that one you took on your first encounter.

“Hendery-” You gasp as you open the bedroom door, dropping the cake on the floor.

⭐︎

You look up at the sky as clouds gather above you in all different shades of grey. You open up the umbrella you brought and open it over your head as the first drops of rain fall from the sky.

And in the blink of an eye a beautiful sunny day turned into a gloomy rainy disaster. Just like in that day.

⭐︎

“Y/N!“ He pushed the girl on top of him on the bed as he looked at you. “It’s not what it looks like, I can explain-”

“Fuck you, Hendery!” You walked out and headed towards the living room.

“Babe wait!” You heard him shout as he tumbled on his feet to put some sweatpants and a t-shirt on and go after you.

“Don’t fucking call me babe now!” You gathered your things and walked to the door.

“Please, let me explain!” He stepped in front of the door to block your exit.

“What is there to explain? I’m pretty sure I know what I saw!” You screamed. “In our fucking bed, Hendery! At least have the decency to take your whores somewhere else!”

“Like you do?” He defied you.

“Oh so I’m the bad guy now?” You walked back into the living room not wanting to look him the face.

“You are!” You shot him a death glare as he continued excusing himself. “You’re acting like you are so perfect but you fuck up too! You hooked up with my best friend of all people!”

“It was a fucking game Hendery! Don’t act like your seven minutes in heaven with that random girl where all that innocent!” You yelled.

“That was a year ago!” He walked in your direction.

“Oh you want something more recent? How about that fucking slut in our bedroom right now?” You pointed to the hallway.

“She means nothing, she’s just a co-worker-” He shrugged his shoulders which made even more mad.

“A co-worker?” You interrupted him, tired of his excuses. “So she’s the reason why you always stay late at work now? Shit, I should’ve know.”

“And who are you to talk about co-workers when you keep texting that fucking guy?” He raised his voice again.

“He’s my assistant! We need to talk about work!” You widened your eyes in disbelief.

“Your assistant, right. I bet he assists you in everything you need-” He stoped as you slapped his face. He took his hand to his cheek and looked you dead in the eye. He grabbed you by the neck and pushed you into a wall. “How do you fucking dare hit me?”

“You can hurt me whenever you want but I can’t give you a slap when you’re talking shit?” You muttered struggling as he restrained your breathing. A few seconds later he let you go off his grip and you dropped your hands to your knees taking in as much air as you could. “Why do we do this to each other?” You asked as you get back up.

“I don’t know.” He sat in the couch with his hands on his head.

“Why did you have to do this in our anniversary of all days?” You shook your head, as if him cheating on you another day would make a difference.

“Our anniversary?” He looked at you in surprise.

“Just another one you forgot. And to think I was willing to forgive you-“ You stopped as you saw the girl from before peeking through your bedroom door. “But I’m done Hendery, I don’t need this, I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me?” He got up again, eyes filled with anger and fists clenched. “You have someone else to go to now? A fucking bitch like you will never find someone better than me.”

You were about to slap him again but he quickly held your wrist while his other fist landed in your cheek.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to do that-” He let go off your wrist and took a step back widening his eyes.

“Fuck you, Hendery! I never want to see you again! I wish you were dead!” And with that you stormed out of the apartment.

“Y/N, wait!” You heard him yelling as he came after you.

When you got outside it was raining hard which made your vision even blurrier as tears were already forming in your eyes. You ran, not really knowing where you were going but you knew he was right behind you as you heard your name being called over and over again.

You crossed a street not even checking for any cars but as you reached the other side you stopped your steps as you heard a car braking and hitting something.

No, it couldn’t be…

⭐︎

You stop walking and take a deep breath. This is it the place you’ve been avoiding but it’s time. It’s time to let go, it’s time to set yourself free. It was not your fault.

You enter the cemetery and search for his grave.

“Hi, Hendery.” You whisper as if you don’t want anyone to hear it, only him, wherever he is. Your eyes start watering as a single tear rolls down your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

You squat down and lay a red rose next to his gave stone.

“We were never good together, and we knew it. I’m sorry that we let things get this far. I’m sorry that I didn’t let go sooner and maybe you’d still be here.” You take a deep breath. “But it’s time to finally let you go. I forgive you for hurting me. And I forgive me for loving you.”

You lower your umbrella as the rain stops and the sun shines again through the clouds.

“Goodbye, Hendery.”

#cznnet #hendery #hendery angst #nct #nct angst #wayv #wayv angst

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aiiwa · 3 years

Text

FMK - kenma, kuroo, yaku. - tumblr is being an absolute pain in my ass and won’t let me answer this directly.

@0ik6lut SAL THIS WAS SO HARD SHSKSKSK I LOVE ALL OF THEM SM

FUCK. yaku morisuke. i been thinkin’ bout him lately...yes.

knowing your boyfriend since high school, it became easier over the years to read him. although yaku never tried to hide his emotions, hot-headed and straight forward; there were some days he’d come home from training, and something about him would just be off. no matter how hard he would try to hide it, you always found out - chastising him for not confiding in you. as his girl friend, all you wanted was to care for him, and you knew exactly how to do so.

“f-fuck, y/n, feels so good.” yaku moans, cocoa coloured eyes set on the lewd sight of you between his legs.

the steady bob of your head was entrancing; the way you swallowed his full length down your tight throat, pink tongue darting out to kitten lick at his balls, before coming back up to suck on his red tip. focused on making yaku feel good and timing your breathing, a mixture of your drool and his essence dribbling down your chin, you know he’s close when he starts throbbing in your warm mouth.

what you don’t expect is for yaku to pull you off of him, pushing you onto your back, to straddle your chest. instinctively your hands press into his toned thighs, as you stare up at him excitedly, already knowing what he wants.

“gonna cum on my face, baby?” you ask, rubbing soothing patterns into his skin, finger tips trailing up towards his tense stomach. “then do it, want you so bad- nghh!”

yaku shoves the tip of his pulsating cock on the flat of your tongue, as he fists himself. you enjoy the way his flushed face contorts in pleasure, the furrow between his brows, the way his sandy locks stick to his forehead. he pumps himself once, twice, three times - before he’s blowing his warm load all over your tongue. praising you through laboured breaths before moving down, and pressing his lips to yours.

MARRY. kozume kenma. he makes me soft, wanna be his wife ahhh.

if you thought sharing a bed with a significant other would take some time getting used to, then try doing so with a professional gamer as a boyfriend. during the couple of years of dating with kenma, it had definitely been trying, learning to fall asleep to the sounds of guns blazing or spell casting from whichever gaming device he had in his grasp as he lay next to you. yet thankfully, by the time the two of you married, it was simply part of your nightly routine.

but now that you were around six months into your first pregnancy, your baby starting to react to sounds and voices, kenma had decided to take some extra measures to ensure you and your little princess’ comfort. he started to wear headphones as he played at night, despite how uncomfortable it was for him as he usually wore them all day during streams and filming videos. you insisted he could continue to play as normal, but he was stubborn.

surprisingly, sleep now evaded you, with the way your baby was constantly shifting around restlessly in your tummy. kenma had begun to worry, with how tired you would look in the mornings, even struggling to hold a nap during the day that was longer than twenty minutes. it took you almost two weeks to figure out what was wrong.

“kenma.” you mumbled, turning around to look at him stretched out beside you. he was just about to slide those ridiculous headphones over his ears, though he halted, golden eyes appraising you questioningly. “please play with the sound on.”

“y/n-”

“-i think she likes the sounds of your games.” you confess, offering a shy smile as you rubbed soft circles around your belly.

“oh…”

your husband seemed almost dumbfounded. reaching a hand out, he presses his warm palm against your rounded belly, feeling the little kicks of your baby girl. shaking his head amusedly, he puts away his headphones, turning the sound up; and instead of leaning back on his pillow, he shuffles down a bit to lay his head on your lap. his cheek resting against the underside of your belly.

and as he starts a new mission for whichever game had caught his interest tonight, only then did you and kenma feel your baby calm down. when you were lulled to sleep by the same sounds that used to keep you up at night, you missed the words your husband whispered to your tummy as he paused his game.

“do you really like the sounds of daddy’s game, princess? you know, mommy used to complain all the time, even threatened to kick me out on the couch a few times. she never did it though...loves me too much.” the subtle tap against his cheek from a kick, has him chuckling, snuggling into your belly more. “i hope that’s you telling me to keep playing instead of trying to kick me out of my own bed.”

KISS. kuroo tetsurou. going to those lame ass work christmas parties with him, yeah that’s the vibe.

it was when your less than sober coworkers began singing along to whichever crappy christmas carol was playing, that you truly started to question your existence. or at most your sanity on why exactly you chose to attend this work party. you were notorious for your lack of attendance to such events - so when you showed up, faux excitement and all, everyone had gaped. yet only one had smirked and winked in your direction.

said coworker was currently seated at one of the of the tables, nursing a red cup filled with punch, watching everyone else disinterestedly. he was the reason you were here right now, and when you finally swallowed your pride and made your way towards him, a nameless, drunken coworker had elbowed your back - sending you right into kuroo’s lap.

“shit!”

“oh? this is a nice surprise.” kuroo teases, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. “finally here to thank me for convincing you to come to this…” dwelling on what exactly to call what was happening before the two of you, you decided to fill in the blank.

“train wreck?”

kuroo blinks once before throwing his head back to laugh. he really had that hyena guffaw down to a tee, but the face a stupid greek god that had a funny feeling in your tummy settle.

“oi, y/n! kuroo!” you both turn at the sound of your names, to find another random coworker off hisface. you were trying so hard to understand what he was trying to say, but felt yourself stiffen once he dangled something over you and kuroo’s heads. “mistletoe!” he cheered.

before you even have a chance to decline, kuroo has slides his hand to hold the back of your neck; turning you to face him and then pressing his lips against yours. your eyes widen in shock, but as he gently caresses your mouth with his, you slowly close your eyes to savour the sweet kiss. moments pass by before he breaks the kiss, forehead against yours as he wears that same teasing grin. no, it’s not teasing, it’s...affectionate.

“i’m glad you came tonight, y/n.” he admits, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

slightly breathless, you whisper - “thank you for convincing me to come.” and then your lips are back on his.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #yaku x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fmk #haikyuu x reader

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catboyshinsou · 3 years

Text

sick headcanons!

anon request: i love your writing smmm !! 🥺 can i request mha sick hcs where they take care of the reader when they don’t feel well 🥺 you choose who !! <3333

a/n: sorry it took so long <//3

pairings: Kaminari, Kirishima, Tokoyami and Monoma x sick,g/n!reader

warnings: none rlly, mention of throwing up in monoma, slight manga spoilers

can be seen platonically and romantically <3

kaminari:

Tbh i think he’d be quite Useless

Just rlly panicky n stuff bc what the fuck does one do with a sick person???

*walks into your dorm* “hey y-n wanna- WHAT THE FUCK YOU LOOK TERRIBLE”

*you in a blanket and not having enough energy to be offended* “i think i’m dying” “y/n WHAT”

He’d try his best regardless tho

He goes to sato and helps with doing something soothing and welcoming

On his way back to your dorm he passes aizawa and tells him you’re sick in THE worst way

“Oh yeah Aizawa-sensei, y/n is dying-” “THEY’RE WHAT”

Kami would definitely storm into the room with him and be just as worried

What if it was something really serious??? Like the plague?????

They find you just laying in bed, sniffling and groaning

Turns out it wasn’t the plague and just a bad flu

Flu with its whole jazz, you had a fever of 38C and you could barely move

Aizawa got you excused from classes for about a week and left again

Kami just stood there with his soup and went “oh thank god you're not dying”

like i said i think he'd be useless but try his best

he checks up on you every half hour either in person or via text during classes

he brings you stuff like blankets and foods even though you can't taste any of them or have any type of appetite

but! thanks to the fridge in your room you just had snacks for about… forever

he gave you extra attention too

sometimes he'd just sit on the ground and talk about his day and theories while you just laid under your blanket

you appreciated it though

except for aizawa, sato and tsuyu nobody came over and even they just came in every few hours

kami stayed for hours on end and even tried to convince aizawa to let him sleep over so he could “watch over you” incase you “stopped breathing”

it's not like you slept much when he was around anyway, nights were not ideal for a good rest on a sick day

it was endearing seeing him lay on a futon on the floor and poking you when he had to get up for class

he leaves notes and stuff to make sure you didn't get worried

did he do anything to make you feel better physically? not rlly

did he lift your spirits and make you feel less lonely? most definitely

kirishima:

hear me out

this boy is an angel when it comes to caring for people

when he got into the whole essentially self care stuff he also knows what's best for others

he was probably one of the first to notice you being ~off your game~

whether in class or just yknow vibing, he'd tap your shoulder and softly “you okay man?”

he calls everyone dude and man and bro no matter gender or anything he's just that into the manliness stuff

and yes he puts you in essentially self isolation more for yourself than for others

“your body needs to rest y/n! can't properly get better if everyone keeps bothering you!”

he calls you every night tho and he has aizawa bring you stuff when he checks up on you (he's allowed because he's the teacher ofc also as long you're a UA student like one of your legal guardians which is like a dad and dads can see their kids sick right?)

stuff ranges from just bowls of soup to compresses to the handmade ointment against a sore throat to like socks he knitted or something his parents sent in bc he told them you were sick

yes this boy tells his parents you're sick

i mean someone probably told yours but like twice the parents means twice the comfort!

alternatively if your parents are *cough* he'd tell his parents and put you on the phone with them because everyone needs some parental love from time to time (don't act tough about it, he's gonna make you cry and tell you how manly you are for doing so)

when you're back on your feet he probably still treats you like you're about to fall over for like two or three days more

he praises you for how well you did during your essential quarantine and when you say you didn't do anything he says some cheesy stuff about manliness

“bro i'm so proud of you for getting through it!” “i didn't do anything kiri-” “don't say that! it takes so much energy and manliness to keep in self isolation and get better, you did amazing”

tokoyami:

i love birds

also look at baby toko he's so cute

do birds get sick?

anyways

tokoyami is like.. helpful but tries to be undercover about it

he's not gonna ignore you or anything

he's the type to like silently nudge teachers into your area so they could see you were clearly sick and send you back to the dorms to rest

but he'd never actually ask you or tell anyone

it would ruin his whole ~vibe~

dark shadow tells him to tell someone and he rlly does especially if he sees you struggling through it in class but he's also just not great at talking with people so a nudge or “secret note” will have to do

it does work, you're in your dorm right before combat training because mic had sent you up and excused you

mic is sweet he said he'd send aizawa up when he finds him but that you should rest

he also tells you that you have some really attentive friends

you're at this point just letting the sickness take over you so you have no idea what he just said (you heard him but the words just didn't register in your brain)

you get into bed and the first thing you do is sleep through afternoon classes

tokoyami is only at 50% today and so is dark shadow

tokoyami swears he isn't worried, the teachers are capable of taking care of you in an appropriate manner so that you will recover in no time

dark shadow on the other hand is all gittery and doesn't wanna focus on anything but you

off topic but i just think dark shadow is tokoyamis way of showing emotions or well like… like his internal thoughts? not like his internal dialogue but ya know his feelings

so he can act all goth and dramatic but dark shadow is a good way of still giving some of his feelings an output

back to you

so training is over and so is your nap

but you wake up to pillows, stuffed animals, blankets and more pillows surrounding you

half of them weren't yours either

they laid around you like some kind of pillow fortress jusy surrounding you and making sure you didn't hit your head on the wall or fall from the bed

it kinda felt like a nest- oh

you tried getting up, your head almost immediately flinging uoh back into bed but you needed to see if a certain someone would come back in to build the nest

“dark shadow, be quiet we don't want them to w- oh you're up”

tokoyami came in with more stuffies and an extra blanket like it was a siberian winter and your rooms only source of warmth was an almost dying candle

“are those yours?” you asked half asleep, your head absolutely booming

you could barely keep your eyes open, that's how exhausted you were but you made an effort to smile at the bird and his shadow

“uh no, yaomomo-san insisted on making some blankets for you and hagakure-san, ashido-san and uraraka-san gave me all their stuffed animals when they heard i was paying you a visit-” “but the blue star blanket and teardrop pillow are from fumi!! he brought them from home because he can't sleep without them!!” “DARK SHADOW!”

you only chuckled before breaking out in a cough again

aizawa came in some time after and had a hard time finding you under all the blankets and stuffies and even offered to tell the class to stop bothering you

but you just laid there all cozy and told him to let them be

“it's how he shows affection, it's nice”

monoma:

oh so the 1A student got sick??? huh??? I thought 1A was invincible hUUUUUUH??? *manic laughter*

coughs

anyways

so basically the two hero courses are more “in tune” after the joint training

they often have dinners together and it isn't rare to see kendo come over with monoma and tetsu^4

she came over to hang with the girls and tetsu had training sessions with kiri

nobody rlly knew why monoma tagged along though

all he did was spout about how average everything is for the “superior hero course”

he did secretly like the classes growing together more though

he'd sit on the couch with you and occasionally laugh about something else other than his team beating yours during joint training

one day he came in and didn't see you at your usual spot

“ehhhh??? where's the only tolerable person in this course??”

used to his lowkey insults deku pointed you out at the dinner table, head resting on your hand and looking over some homework

“y/n what are you- oh my god you look horrible”

“thanks monoma, you're as nice as ever”

your face was drained of any colour, eyes heavy lidded and you could barely control the pen that scribbled over the paper

he tried grabbing your wrist but pulled back immediately

you were way too hot and the fact that he noticed by grabbing your wrist meant that it was more than just a high fever

“is 1A that incompetent that they couldnt even notice their classmate falling sick??? can you guys do anything but trouble???”

“shut up monoma, we tried getting them to bed but they insisted on finishing up first and there's nothing in the world that can get y/n away from what they've put their head to”, kaminari yelled from the living room space

how were you gonna get anything finished if your head was falling off your shoulders if you didn't hold it up

class 1A really was incompetent

“sato-san, give me a hand”

sato, who was currently cooking up dinner, just held out his hand and some type of chocolate bar which monoma grabbed and ate up

“this is incredibly sweet, i don't know how you do it”

it's become like half a routine for monoma to copy quirks for whatever reason

kiri and tetsu used it to determine which quirk was handier

uraraka’s quirk made cleaning up after a game night easier

it was training for all of them

monoma could train his copy and the others could measure how much they've grown from his reaction to it

anyways

sato’s quirk kicked in and he lifted you up over his shoulder

“monoma!” you could barely lift your voice, faintly kicking

before you knew it he placed you on your bed in your dorm and sighed

“you're lighter than i thought”

“i think i'm gonna throw up”

so you hurled into your garbage can

monoma held back whatever there was to hold back

(he was very much disgusted but even he knew that this wasn't the time to let any type of negative emotion show)

“jolly gees y/n, what did you have for breakfast?!”

you laid in bed as he passed you a water bottle

“you need to drink something, you lost a lot of water”

“awe caring for me, monoma?”

“this is for general health, y/n. i would never as much as care for anyone, especially not a brat from 1A. who even knew that any of you could fall sick huh?! weren't you supposed to be superior to the rest of us??!”

he said all of that while putting a blanket on you and opening the window for fresh air

“god you 1A fools really are incompetent!”

he went into your bathroom and soaked a small towel in water

“i'm only doing this so you don't infect anyone. god you could cause an epidemic at UA and in the end 1b would fall victim to you as well! this is all just for the general well-being!”

you didn't even hear what he was saying anymore

with a half empty bottle next to your head, you slept peacefully

monoma let out a deep breath when he saw you

“i'd never care for anyone in 1A, i'm better than that…”

he whispered those words to himself

(he did care)

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chrwrites · 3 years

Text

On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers 250 Follower Celebration, I picked prompt #25 from 50 Wordless ways to say "I love you": Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

warnings: Implied sexual content and fade to black

read on ao3

If there was something Luka Couffaine hated doing, that was doing the laundry.

Hanging the clothes out to dry wasn’t much of a problem, just like ironing or putting them away didn't bother him. But sorting through the clothes and separating them according to different fabrics and their colours? That was something he couldn’t do.

No matter how hard he tried, or how many times the amazing fashion designer he was dating showed him how to wash clothes the correct way and was patient enough to repeat herself countless times, Luka would always manage to mess something up.

Why couldn’t he just put all the clothes in the washing machine with some detergent and softener and just start it like he had always done before he started living with Marinette, anyway? The clothes came out fine.

Except, Marinette didn't think the same when he accidentally got her favorite sweater to shrink three sizes, and she officially discharged him from doing this annoying chore after she came home to find Luka struggling with yarn and knitting needles, trying to follow some online tutorial that would help him make her a new sweater to replace the one he damaged.

But now that Marinette would be away for a month, Luka didn't have the heart to let the clothes pile up and give her more work to do when she came back. He had to take care of it.

He sighed as he resentfully loaded the washing machine, only looking at his white clothes to make sure he didn't pick anything that would get them stained. He was almost finished when his hand landed on a small red garment that was definitely not his and distracted him from his task, the memories of the wonderful night spent after taking that small piece of clothing off his girlfriend flooding his mind.

God, he missed her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room, and he scrambled to put the rest of the clothes inside the washing machine before he went to answer.

Marinette's cheerful voice greeted him, and Luka couldn't control the smile forming on his lips as soon as he heard her, “Hello, love. How's Milan treating you?”

He listened as she rambled about her day and told him about the challenges she had to face while working in another city, but the happiness and excitement in her voice made him smile along with her. He went back to the bathroom to set the washing machine in what he hoped was the right way, and started it.

“But enough talking about me,” Marinette said from the other side of the phone, ”I want to know what you've been up to.”

“Well,” Luka sighed, “Nothing much. Still working on the album. I've been trying to write, playing… Missing my muse...”

Marinette’s soft giggle rang in his ears, making his heart stutter the same way it did when they first met, “Aw, I miss you too,” she said, “I'll be back soon.”

“I know, it’s just not soon enough.”

“It’s only another week,” Marinette reminded, “then I’ll be back and I’ll be all yours.”

“I can’t wait.”

Smiling to himself, Luka set his phone down and grabbed his notebook and guitar. He settled on the couch and let the sudden rush of inspiration flow through his fingers to form a soft gentle melody that could do his love for Marinette justice.

He was so lost in the music that he forgot about the world around him, and when he heard a beep coming from the other room he jumped from the couch. He groaned when he realized that it was the washing machine signaling it was done, leaned his head to the back of the couch and closed his eyes to get his focus on the music back. The laundry could wait a little longer. But the beautiful rush of creativity that had previously caught him didn't seem to want to come back. Luka let out a helpless sigh and set his guitar aside, getting up to reach the source of the sound that disrupted his creative process.

Marinette had gotten so excited the first time she realized that their new washer also made sounds, and Luka still teased her for that sometimes. She would do a happy little dance whenever he heard the machine beeping, and as much as Luka loved to see her excited, he kinda hated that the stupid thing made sounds. What was the point of having a silent washing machine when it beeped when it was done?

So that you don't forget it, dummy.

The voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Marinette's, and it reminded him of his girlfriend getting up whenever that silly sound interrupted what they were doing. One moment, Marinette was resting her head on his shoulder, absently playing with Luka's hands as he hummed a soft melody in her ear; then, as soon as that damned washer beeped, she would abandon him.

“Can't it just wait?” he'd ask, and Marinette would laugh and tell him that they couldn't leave the clothes in the washing machine for long, “Otherwise they'll stink. I know, I know," he'd complain before lazily following her so that they could go back to what they were doing sooner.

“I swear, sometimes it looks like you love doing the laundry more than you love me.”

“You know that’s not true! I love doing you much more,” Marinette teased, making Luka struggle to keep his composure while he helped her hang the clothes, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Well, Marinette was going to kill him for real now.

Much to his horror, the first items he pulled out of the washing machine had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Shit,” Luka muttered under his breath. He pulled out more clothes, only to find that they all suffered from the same fate of the first ones. His t-shirts, his socks, his boxers were all pink.

How could that happen? He had paid attention this time, didn't he?

He sighed, tossing the now pink, old and ragged Jagged Stone t-shirt he didn't have the heart to throw away (much to Marinette’s annoyance) in the basket. At least he didn’t wash any of Marinette’s clothes, so he didn't have to worry about hearing her yell at him from another country for ruining her clothes as well. Maybe this time she would laugh when he’d tell her what happened to his clothes. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now.

He pulled out the last pieces from the washing machine, sighing when he found what caused his clothes to turn pink. Marinette’s polka dotted slips were of an apparently harmless bright red despite having tinted everything around them. At least it wasn’t totally his fault, he could blame it on his girlfriend’s underwear, couldn't he?

Marinette would have called him stupid and it would have ended there.

He let out a helpless sigh, opting not to try to find a solution for turning half of his wardrobe pink and hanging the clothes to dry instead.

What was some more pink in his life, anyway? His girlfriend was the epitome of pink and pretty, and he loved her for that. Even if he had to convince her not to buy all the pink home appliances she could find for their new apartment. She would complain, and he would kiss her adorable little pouts away before they went on looking for what they needed to make their new apartment feel like home. Two months living together and he still felt a little thrill of excitement whenever he was reminded that he was sharing the roof with the love of his life.

He couldn't really complain about some more pink in his life. He loved it.

Marinette greeted Luka with the warmest smile when she found him waiting for her at the airport. She ran into his arms, Luka’s chuckle ringing in her ear as he caught her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They shared a long, sweet kiss.

He shivered when Marinette pulled away, his eyes still half lidded as he settled her down. Marinette traced slow patterns on his chest, biting down a teasing smile when she looked up at him, “Is this new? Pink really suits you,” she said, making Luka smile before he leaned for another kiss.

When they got home, his lips left hers only for the amount of time they needed to catch their breath. Luka ignored Marinette's gasp as he let her suitcase fall ungraciously on the floor and led her to the couch. She giggled when she fell on top of him and Luka’s arm wrapped around her.

“I missed you so much,” Marinette whispered, her bluebell eyes locking into his. His free hand reached to thumb her cheekbone, “Me too,” Luka said slowly.

Marinette snuggled close to his chest, her hand absently drawing patterns on his arm while Luka left soft kisses on her head from time to time, his hand brushing through her hair. They stood in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence after so long of not being able to, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughs.

Luka held her tighter, closing his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. Finally, their apartment felt like home again.

It was much later, when Marinette shifted and slipped away from his arms that Luka groaned, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t go,” he whined, stretching his arms to grab her waist and pull her closer, “I didn't get enough of you.”

Marinette giggled, “When did you ever?” she asked rhetorically.

“Never?” Luka grinned proudly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, playfully slapping the hand resting on her hip.

“I really have to unpack,” she said, struggling to be serious when she saw Luka’s pout, “Stay with me, please?” he asked.

Marinette managed to shim out of his hold and blew him a kiss before disappearing behind the door. Luka let out a lovesick sigh, getting up from the couch to follow her into their bedroom.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said casually as Marinette opened her suitcase and took out her clothes.

“Just say you can’t stay away from me for one second,” Marinette teased.

“Can you blame me?” Luka shrugged, “I have the most amazing girl by my side, and I want to–

Luka interrupted himself mid-sentence, noticing how Marinette's expression shifted into a frown when she opened the closet.

She put her clothes away, only to rummage a bit longer in the closet to pull out two pink t-shirts from Luka's side of the closet.

She suppressed a giggle as she turned to look at his boyfriend, whose expression dropped.

“How come half of your closet has turned pink?” Marinette asked, letting the amused tone in her voice speak for her.

“I…” Luka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Marinette raised an eyebrow as an invitation for him to confirm her suspicions, and Luka sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I messed up the laundry,” he could feel his cheeks grow warm at the confession, and he braced himself for any reaction from her.

“No way, I thought you got Rose so mad that she decided to colour all your clothes pink,” Marinette giggled, “Not that I'm complaining, you know how much I like pink, and it looks really good on you.”

“Oh really? You're not mad at me for messing up the laundry again?” he asked.

“It depends…” Marinette said, crossing her arms when she got up, “Tell me, Luka, did you ruin any of my clothes?”

Luka gulped, despite knowing he had nothing to worry about, Marinette looked quite menacing when things didn't go her way, “No.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, satisfied with his answer, and closed the distance between them wrapping her arms around his neck, “I can fix these,” she said, eyeing at the clothes she dropped on the floor, but Luka shook his head.

“You don't have to.”

“What?” Marinette asked, frowning in confusion.

“I wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have too much stuff to do when you came back. I don't want you to add more work to your list because of me,” Luka's thumb grazed her cheek gently. “Besides,” he added, his hands moving to her hips to pull her closer, “I like pink.”

Marinette smirked, “Don’t you think it will ruin your image, rockstar ?”

Luka shook his head, his smile brushing her lips, “Screw image, pink is very rock and roll.”

“That's why I like it so much,” Marinette's soft giggle died in her mouth when he kissed her, and she tilted her head to welcome him fully, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands made their way down his chest, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, “As much as I like pink…” she purred, moving her lips to his ear and making Luka shiver, “I think you'd look better with this off...”

Luka didn't find Marinette sleeping in the bed next to him when he woke up. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he got up and followed the unmistakable clattering of pans coming from the kitchen.

Marinette was standing near the stove, wearing nothing but the pink t-shirt he wore the previous night as she stirred something in a bowl.

He leaned against the door frame, not daring to disturb her and admiring her from his position instead. She was humming while she got the breakfast ready, a habit she picked from him, and Luka felt a familiar warmth spread in his chest. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that Marinette was really there by his side and loved him just as much as he loved her. Her sole presence lit up the darkest of corners, and Luka was lucky enough to be able to watch her shine without her light hurting his eyes.

She squeaked when his hands squeezed her hips and he pulled her back against his chest, “Luka!” she scolded when he left a quick kiss on the exposed skin on her shoulder. He smiled and made her spin around so that she could face him, his ocean eyes bright with admiration.

“You’re so beautiful,” Luka whispered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

Marinette let out a small laugh and put some distance between them to look up at him, “My hair is a mess, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. You're only saying this because I'm wearing your clothes,” she countered playfully.

Luka chuckled and leaned in, “Not true, I'm saying this because I love you,” he whispered before pecking her lips, “And also because pink looks great on you.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, making Marinette sigh on his lips before she reluctantly pulled away, “I love you too, but could we not have burned pancakes for breakfast?”

#lukanette #lbsc 250 followers celebration #Endgame Lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng

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harrysbbby · 4 years

Text

Super Rich Kids

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/N are young and in love, not to mention filthy rich. But does money really buy happiness? Based on Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean

Words: 3k

Warnings: drug use, swearing, mentions of su*cide so please be mindful if this would be triggering. a whole lot of angst

Start my day up on the roof

There's nothing like this type of view

Point the clicker at the tube

I prefer expensive news

Rafe Cameron was an anomaly. Too spoilt to hang with the Pogues, too much of a delinquent to fit in with the Kooks. But he made do.

One of his favourite things was watching the sunrise from the roof next to his room’s large bay window. It centred him, calmed him. His mind was constantly racing, so seeing the orange glow rise over the trees, was nothing short of relaxing.

He would usually do this while scrolling through his phone, checking Instagram, seeing what party had happened the night before across Figure Eight. Fox News would send him updates, you know, rich people paying rich people to tell middle class people to blame poor people. And he supposed he fed into that idea, but as the sun hit his eyes, making him squint, he didn’t think further into it.

New car, new girl

New ice, new glass

New watch, good times babe

It's good times, yeah

Wind blew through your hair as you drove along the highway. You laughed raising your hands above the open windscreen, feeling the air on your fingertips. You could feel the diamond ring wobble on your finger, pulling your hands down to admire it. It matched your icy diamond bracelet, courtesy of your new boyfriend.

Rafe leant over placing a hand on your thigh, the cold feeling of his Rolex catching your attention. You could see your reflection in his glasses as you smiled at him. You leant over, placing a kiss on his cheek, before throwing your head back, whooping into the open air.

She wash my back three times a day

This shower head feels so amazing

We'll both be high, the help don't stare

They just walk by, they must don't care

The steam of the shower blended in the air with the smoke of weed, creating a damp leafy smell. Your soapy hands ran over his skin, washing off the dried saltwater. You grabbed the shampoo, foaming it up in your hands before reaching up to run it through his hair. He held your waist, securing your stance against him as you washed the salt and sand and seaweed from his hair.

He leant his head back, letting the water run over his head. He could feel your lips on his neck. He let out a throaty groan, gripping your bare ass. You giggled into his neck, hand running through his hair, ridding him of the rest of the shampoo.

He felt euphoric.

The two of you were giggling uncontrollably as you exited the shower, leaving puddles along the lavish floors of the main bathroom. You were wrapped poorly in the white fluffy towels, when you heard the vacuum cleaner whir from down the hall.

“Oh shit, the maid is here,” you cursed. Rafe’s bloodshot eyes lit up as hushed chuckles escaped his mouth. You tried to shush him, but your laughter was louder than his.

You made a run for it, sprinting down the hall, leaving drops of water behind. You slinked past the maid in the open living room upstairs. She didn’t even flinch as your white-towel clad bodies raucously giggled all the way to your room. She had seen similar scenes a hundred times through. She’d found the bottles of alcohol hidden in your room, or your stash of weed. She needed the money, she needed employment from your family, she didn’t care what you did. You and Rafe collapsed onto your bed, still giggling out of your minds.

A million one, a million two

A hundred more will never do

Rafe went home that night. As he entered the house, he heard his dad summon him to the kitchen.

“Hey son,” he greeted him, not looking up from his paper, “I transferred some more money into your account today, saw you made some pretty decent purchases.”

“Yeah,” Rafe cleared his throat, “they’re for my, uh, new girlfriend. You always told me how to treat a girl right, Dad. I really think you’d like her.”

“That’s lovely,” Ward eyes never wandered from the page he was intently staring at. Rafe’s shoulders hunched as he made his way upstairs, unsure his dad even registered his retreating footsteps.

He took out his phone, opening up his banking app, surveying the hefty total. His heart didn’t pick up like it used to when he saw the number rise. He felt empty and unloved, but as your name appeared in a notification at the top of his screen, he thought, maybe, he would have a chance of filling that void.

Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce

Too many bowls of that green, no Lucky Charms

“I never understood what this is called,” your words slurred as you held the bottle up to your eyes, squinting as your hazy eyes struggled to focus.

“Who gives a shit! It tastes good either way,” Rafe leant forward, snatching the bottle from your hands, taking a large swig. You drunkenly laughed before pulling him into a kiss.

Music blared as the party pumped around you. Topper, who was sitting on the other side of Rafe, rolled his eyes.

“It’s ‘mow-ey’ if you’re show-ey and Mo-et if you know-it,” he said taking the bottle from Rafe’s hand, pouring the bubbly liquid into two flutes and passing them back to you and Rafe, “so please, be classy.”

You immediately downed the drink in one go, tipping your head back as you went.

“Or,” one of Rafe’s other friends drawled, reaching into his back pocket, “we could do some of this.”

You eyed the bag of leafy green substance. You held onto Rafe’s bicep, as he grabbed the bag from his friend’s fingers.

You were slouched on the couch, Rafe lazily slung over your middle as you stoked his hair.

“Do you ever wish we had a normal childhood?”

Your high took away your inhibitions, your mouth moving before your brain could stop it. Rafe swivelled in his spot below you, glancing up at your face. He thought about what he had the other night: the void in his chest, the feeling of being unloved, but the feeling of doing whatever the hell you wanted when you wanted was so freeing, but was it freeing enough? He answered honestly.

“I…I don’t know.”

The maids come around too much

Parents ain't around enough

Too many joy rides in daddy's Jaguar

“Why is your house always being cleaned? How does it even have enough time to get dirty again?”

You laughed at Rafe’s question as you led him into the garage.

“You know my mother, she’s a germaphobe. One speck of dust and she brings the cleaning day forward a half a week!”

You opened the door to the garage, smiling as Rafe’s jaw dropped. He inspected the glistening gold, pristinely kept Jag.

“Now, my parents are out of town, which is the only reason I’m letting you do this,” you pointed your finger at him, before tossing him the keys. As he ran past you to the car, he planted a kiss on your cheek, swinging open the driver’s side door, “Please be so careful, my Dad will kill me if we do anything happens to it.”

You joined him in the car, smiling as he delicately ran his hands over the interior, little ‘oh my God’s escaping his lips. He placed the key in the ignition, hearing the car turn on, allowing an appreciative moan to escape his lips.

“Let’s take this baby for a spin!”

Too many white lies and white lines

Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends

Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends

You walked inside the party, Rafe’s friends immediately ushering him away from you.

“Look, what I’ve got.”

Rafe’s eyes train in on the white powdery substance in the small plastic bag. He gulped. He’d drunk and done drugs before, sure. But cocaine was different. Although its white colour glistened against the glass of the table, its darkness was encompassing.

“Babe! Where are you?”

Rafe heard you call his name. He hushed the boys around him.

“Later, later.”

He ran up the stairs, finding you and spinning you around, capturing your lips in a kiss. It caught you off guard, but you melted into it.

You hummed as he released you before capturing the sight over his shoulder.

“Ew gross. Cocaine is disgusting. Makes people so violent. Promise me you won’t become like them,” you caressed Rafe’s face nodded your head towards the guys behind him.

“Yeah of course. I would never,” he nodded, allowing you to drag him away, casting one final look at the white powdered table as you went.

It was hours later, and you still couldn’t find Rafe. He left you at the beer pong table to go to the bathroom, but had never returned. You weaved your way through the party, before his blue polo caught your eye. He was hunched over a table, a group of rowdy, aggressive boys surrounding him, one hand up to nose. You stomped over to where he was faced away from you, tapping his shoulder harshly.

He rose, turning his head, catching sight of you. He stood to his feet quickly, hastily wiping the white under his nose.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but your raised hand cut him off.

“No Rafe, I’m just… so disappointed, I really didn’t think this was you.” He looked like a scorned puppy, eyes wide and lip pouted. Problem was, he was meant to be your ride tonight. All your things, including your car, at his house. But very obviously he could not drive. You crossed your arms over your chest, “Give me your keys. I’m leaving. I don’t care if you come or not.”

He quickly fished into his pocket, handing you the keys as you continued to glare at him. You stalked away. He felt one of the boys hands come to grasp his shoulder as another laughed.

“Bro, your Mrs is mad!”

“She’s gonna give you the best angry sex—"

“Just, shut up!” Rafe snapped angrily. The rage burning inside of him was like nothing he had ever felt before. The heat rose, as if steam emitted from his years, his skin felt like it was on fire. He shrugged the guy’s hand off his shoulder, jogging to catch you before you left.

Real love, I'm searching for a real love

Oh, real love, I'm searching for a real love

Oh, real love

You and Rafe had just exited the Golf Club, walking hand in hand towards his car. It was your 6 month anniversary. You celebrated with an amazing meal, and Rafe even surprised you with an amazing new dress and shoes for the evening. You were super impressed he had managed to pick it out, but understood more when he said he had gotten Sarah’s help. Regardless, it flattered you, as he had clearly been paying attention as the dress was the same one you had eyed off shopping together just weeks previous.

The chilly night air hit your skin causing you to shiver. Rafe let go of your hand, shrugging off his suit jacket, before wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smiled. You reached his car, leaning against the passenger side door as Rafe held both your hands, “I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” he pulled your head up to meet his, placing his lips gently on yours. This kiss felt different than the others, more passionate, slower and more tender. Rafe pulled away looking into your eyes. He felt a warm feeling in his stomach, like it was summer, butterflies floating around. His knees felt weak, as he whispered, “I love you.”

He had never said it before. He don’t even think he had felt it before, ever. He didn’t get this feeling when he was with other girls or his family. He felt nervous, worried that this wasn’t the feeling he was meant to have.

“I love you too,” the anxiety pulsating through his body subsided when he heard those words. He pulled you in for another kiss and he knew. This was what it was meant to be like: love. Real love.

We end our day up on the roof

I say I'll jump, I never do

But when I'm drunk I act a fool

Talking 'bout, do they sew wings on tailored suits

You had reached the Cameron house, following Rafe up to his room. He immediately moved across the room, stepping outside his large window. You huffed, following him, knowing your argument wasn’t over. You sat next to him, bringing your legs up to your chest, looking out over the trees, looking as if they were glistening under the moonlight.

“You know, sometimes, I think it would be easier if I jumped.”

His voice was solemn, yet serious. He sounded as if it was something he had genuinely considered, hard expression staring off into the middle distance.

“Rafe,” you started, but he continued.

“I think, it would be so much easier to just end this life, start the next. See what’s in store for the afterlife. But then I think, would there even be a spot for a person like me in heaven?”

You didn’t know what to say. Your skin felt hot and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“You’re not a bad person, you just… do stupid stuff sometimes,” you tried to calm him. But his expression didn’t change.

I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm

She slaps my hand

It's good times, yeah

Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall

The market's down like 60 stories

He was stood now, but his feet were unsteady. He looked almost unwell, sweat beaded across his forehead. You stood slowly arms outstretched, watching as his feet shuffled. They took one too many little steps, missing one of the roof tiles, causing him to wobble.

“Rafe!” you screamed, reaching forward grabbing his arm. You used all the strength in your body to pull him towards you. It worked but sent both of you falling back onto the roof. He landed next to you. You groaned as you sat up, rubbing your elbows which took the brunt of your fall.

“What the fuck was that Y/N?” his voice was gravely. He shoved you away from him, as he struggled to get to his feet again. You stood slowly.

“What the fuck was what? You were gonna fall, Rafe!” you yelled back, your face holding a bewildered expression.

He felt the fire burning inside once again. But now the voices that had been drowned out from the sticky substance flying up his nose, had begun crawling out of the void

No one loves you.

Your father thinks you’re a failure.

No one loves you.

You’re not gonna get anywhere.

Why would she love you?

“I don’t need your fucking help, okay?” His voice was venomous. You could feel droplets of spit hit your face, burning as if they were poisonous. Tears welled in your eyes as he continued to scream, “I’ve never wanted it. You were a good fuck, but you don’t mean anything to me!”

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered. It was the drugs talking. He was Rafe, your Rafe, and he loved you.

“Yeah, I do.” The certainty in his voice was piercing. The voices were egging him on: you mean it, you mean it. But really, he felt it. Nothing meant anything to him. The void was swallowing him up whole and he didn’t want to take you with him. “Everything in my life is shit, okay? Including you. I don’t need you telling me what to do and I especially don’t need you for anything else. We’re done.”

Tears were falling rapidly down your face. His expression was so hard, it alone couldn’t have cracked your heart. Sobs began escaping from your lips, watching as he breathed heavily. This was not the boy you fell in love with. This was the shell, overtaken by his self-loathing and unfulfillment. You wiped your face, collecting yourself.

“So what that’s it?” you asked, already knowing the answer. Rafe didn’t say anything, the only movement coming from him being the heavy rise and fall of his chest. “I really hope you figure out whatever’s going on with you,” your voice was so shaky the words nearly didn’t come out. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you hastily climbed back through the window, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible.

The heat had subsided from Rafe’s body as he watched you leave. Your tears had dampened enough of the fire for him to realise what he had just done.

She never loved you.

You’re a failure.

How could anyone ever love you?

He heard your car start from the driveway, seeing the red reflection of your lights against the trees get dimmer and dimmer. You were gone. And you were never going to come back.

And some don't end the way they should

My silver spoon has fed me good

A million one, a million cash

Close my eyes and feel the crash

So you and Rafe broke up. You’d run into each other at parties occasionally, barely making eye contact and definitely never speaking. Over time you showed up with a new boyfriend, clad in designer wear. Rafe continued to hand in the corner, snorting blow and a bottle Moet in his hands, desperately clinging to the last thing he had left, you.

The Cameron money stood well over time, aiding Rafe and his addiction. But every snort came at a different kind of price. His emptiness grew larger and wider, fully encircling his body. The only thing reminding him he was alive was the pit in his stomach, ignited every time he got high.

At night when he would close his eyes, begging slumber to take him he would see your face. The wind blowing through your hair. Your smile. What it felt like to feel loved. Something he hadn’t felt until he met you and hadn’t felt since he lost you. He was empty and unloved.

Real love, ain't that something rare

I'm searching for a real love, talking 'bout real love

Real love, yeah

Real love

I'm searching for a real love

Talkin' 'bout a real love

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

a/n: I never really write angst jsjdjajsj but lemme know what you thought.

Tags:

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#rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron x reader #drew starkey #obx #obx fanfiction #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe outerb #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine

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kinglazrus · 3 years

Text

Not Your Danny – Ch 4. Who Understands

Previous | First | Next | FFN | AO3

Word count: 3739

The memorial notebook sits open on Jazz's desk. For the twenty minutes, Jazz has sat here with her rule and pencil carefully tracing out a template for the event schedule. The hour of the event, pencilled in as one to two p.m., is broken into fifteen-minute increments which have three bullet points each. The bullet points, along with the fifteen-minute boxes, are colour coded and measured out to perfect, equal distance.

At the top of the page, the words "Memorial Schedule" are written in a loose, flowing script and dark ink. Eraser smudges behind the ink are the only indication of how much time and care Jazz put into making those letters.

Now, the blank schedule stares up at her, waiting only for Jazz to finalize the plans. The memorial itself is still three weeks out, but it is still too soon. Even though they buried Danny a fortnight ago, the memorial feels more final. Jazz doesn't want to say it, but she already knows why she feels this way.

Danny was a halfa. He was her sweet, human brother, but he was the town hero, too. There's a chance, no matter how slim, that he might still be out there as a full ghost. There has to be a chance. It doesn't matter that he died as Phantom. It doesn't matter that Sam and Tucker themselves were there to see his ghost half fizzle out, see the human body it left behind. There has to be a chance.

The funeral was for Danny Fenton, but the memorial is for Danny Phantom, for the whole city to mourn the loss of their hero. For Jazz to acknowledge that her brother, in his entirety, is gone forever.

Suddenly, looking at the notebook makes her feel nauseous. She closes it and shoves it aside. It's late enough now that she could go to bed, but she doesn't feel tired, not physically. After the fiasco at dinner, Jazz wants to shut everything out for a little bit. Pretend she lives in her own bubble where everything is fine.

How could she have forgotten? Seeing Dani's human face certainly took her by surprise, but she was not unprepared for it. Unlike their parents, Jazz didn't have trouble separating Fenton from Phantom. They were the same to her and looking at Dani's ghostly face was already close enough to seeing her little brother. Instead of the face itself, Jazz was stunned to see Dani in human form at all. At the same time, it brought her comfort. Dani and Danny, no matter how similar, are not the same. But having her here, seeing her do the things Danny used to do...

It's so easy. Having Dani fill her little brother's place on the couch when the watch TV. Having her by Jazz's side when they cook. She can't help it. It's almost like having Danny back, so soon after they lost him. And every time Dani doesn't fill that hole, it hurts in a way Jazz never expected.

She rubs her eyes and leans back in her chair. Maybe she should go to sleep after all.

—

"You want us to host... a memorial?" her mother asked. It was obvious Maddie had been crying that day, her eyes red and puffy. Perhaps not too long before Jazz came to talk to her parents.

Jazz herself had been in tears not too long ago when Sam phoned her with the idea. She nodded. "Yes. I know it's only been a few days, but this is Sam's idea and I think it's a good one. Mom, Dad..." she took a deep breath, bracing herself. "I knew. All along, I knew about Danny being Phantom. And it was so important to him. A memorial to Phantom could help you come to terms with not knowing about this side of Danny."

Maddie's hand, flat on the table, curled into a fist. "Jazz, we haven't even... the funeral is tomorrow. I've been on the phone with Alicia all day because she can't make it down in time. Chartering a plane costs too much and there isn't a flight out for weeks. I know this is important, but—"

"I think it's a good idea," Jack said. Stretching forward, he reached across the table and patted Jazz's shoulder. "But I think what you mother means is that we need time to consider it. It's hard adjusting to all this."

"I know. But promise me you really will think about it? It would mean a lot to him." Jazz waited until her father nodded. "Okay. I'll just... yeah. Think about it."

She left the kitchen in silence. That went okay. A shorter conversation than Jazz would have liked, but small steps are still steps. She needed to text Sam later and let her know the verdict, as tentative as it was. For now, she will leave her parents to think, hoping they eventually agree.

Halfway to her bedroom, a noise from Danny's room made her pause. She couldn't be certain, but it sounded like the squeak of his bed springs. Tip-toeing closer, Jazz stared at the crack under his door. A faint white light shone through.

"Danny?" Jazz whispered.

There came another creak.

Jazz's breath stopped, caught in her throat. She crept closer, pressing her hand against the door, and eased it open. In the dark of Danny's room, the figured outline in glowing light leapt from the shadows, impossible to miss. The aura, far brighter than the dim light of hall, nearly blinded Jazz, but its colour was unmistakable.

She pushed the door open. "Danny!"

The figure flinched and threw themselves into the air, twisting around to face Jazz. She slapped her hand against the switch on the wall, flooding the room with orange light. No longer blinded, she found herself now face-to-face with a Phantom. Not Danny, though, but Dani-with-an-I.

She looked horrible, her white hair caked with mud, dirt smeared along half her face. Suit wrinkled and damp.

"Oh, my God, Danielle." Jazz gasped.

"It's true?" Tears welled in Dani's eyes. "It's true? He's gone?"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't even think..."

That was all Dani needed to hear. She spun away and bolted, flying through the wall.

"Dani, wait!" Jazz called after her, but the young halfa was already gone. Jazz threw the window open, leaning out over the alley to a dangerous degree. Searching the sky, she tried to find and trace of Danny's clone, but everything around her was dark. Not a single glimpse of silver light to be seen.

Jazz pulled herself back inside and dropped to the floor, hands pressed over her mouth. She had forgotten, completely, that there was another person out there important to Danny, someone who wouldn't know about his death right away. In the days since Danny's death, Danielle's existence hadn't crossed Jazz's mind. It made her feel rotten. Dani had been important to Danny, but she slipped so easily from Jazz's memory.

However, through the wave of guilt, Jazz could not forget that single moment before she turned on the light. No more than a second, but still the happiest she felt in days, when she saw the aura of a Phantom and believed that her brother had not died after all.

—

The star shirt fits well, better than Dani expected it to. She drapes her hoodie across the back of Danny's desk chair before sliding in front of the mirror. It fits and it looks good. Looking herself up and down, Dani blushes. She has never thought of herself as a self-conscious person but seeing herself in something other than her regular hoodie fills her with warmth. She likes wearing something that doesn't look two times too big for her, showing off more of her form.

Although she has never said it out loud, that is part of the reason why she likes being in her ghost form so much more. The pants, the crop top, she likes them so much better than her human clothes. Until now, they were her only option, since she didn't want to cart around a backpack full of clothes, but now she has a room. She has a place to keep things, her things.

She could actually have things. The temptation to own stuff has always eluded her, but the longer she stays at Fenton Works surrounded by things that are not hers, the more she understands.

Dani rarely stays in one place for so long. Only a week and one day, but it feels so much longer. Looking at herself in the mirror, she's struck by the realization that this is home now. She has a home. Her mind still struggles to wrap around the idea, but the word does not feel so foreign anymore. After Vlad, all she wanted was freedom, and she got it. But while roaming the world was fun and exciting, it was also incredibly lonely.

She had always had Danny, though. Their relationship wasn't perfect, and they never acknowledged how they were related beyond the loose label of cousins, but she had him. And then he was gone without her even realizing.

Dani didn't know what to expect when Jazz extended her the offer of moving into Fenton Works. And, to be honest, she still doesn't know. Things are strange, and still lonely sometimes, but not bad. That has to count for something, right?

She toys with the buttons of the shirt, wondering if she could somehow tie the bottom, wear it shorter than it is. As she considers the style, her hands drop to the waist of her shorts, bright red and loose. They don't go with the shirt very well. Unfortunately for Dani, she has already been through all of Danny's clothes, and she does not like any of his pants, even if there were some smaller, older pairs that might have fit her.

There is a hint of promise, though. Dani has seen how much junk fills the Fenton garage. They are the kind of people who hold on to things until they absolutely do not need it anymore. Judging by Danny's drawers and closet, clothes get the same treatment as any other junk.

Jazz must have a few old pants lying about. A skirt sounds nice. Dani has never worn one of those, but girls always look so pretty in them.

Her door is open when Dani makes the trek down the hall. Jazz herself is slumped over at her desk, arms folded under her head.

Dani walks into the room and pokes Jazz's shoulder. "Did you sleep at your desk last night?"

Jazz wakes with a start, flinching at Dani's touch. She rubs her eyes, then the side of her face. A thick red mark overtakes her cheek where it had been laying on her arm.

"Dani?" Jazz's voice is thick with sleep. She sits up, stretching her arms and arching her back until it pops. Her neck cracks a few times as she roles her head. "What are you doing?"

"Do you have any old clothes?"

Jazz blinks. "It's rude to walk into someone's room without warning them."

"You were asleep, though. Clothes?"

Blinking a few more times, Jazz clears her eyes and looks Dani up and down. Her gaze lingers on the shirt. "That’s..."

"Found it in Danny's closet. I can't believe he actually wore something like this."

Jazz shook her head. "No, he didn't like it. Sam got it for him as a joke, because of the stars. I don't think he ever wore it."

"Really?" A smile breaks out across Dani's face. If Danny didn't wear this shirt, then technically that makes it hers. She owns something now.

"Yeah. Did nothing else of his fit? It's okay if you want to wear it. I think that would feel better than packing it all up," Jazz says. "You don't have any clothes besides the pyjamas Mom bought, right?"

Dani actually forgot that she has those. "I went through his clothes already. Didn't really like them much. Do you have a skirt?"

Jazz's eyes go wide. "A skirt?" For reasons' Dani can't fathom, Jazz says it like it is the strangest thing in a world. Dani wanting a skirt? Preposterous. "Danny never liked skirts."

There it is. "Duh, Danny was a dude."

"I know, but I mean. He wasn't comfortable in that kind of clothing before he transitioned. Your hoodie and cargo shorts aren't so different from what he used to wear, so I thought..." Jazz trails off, but her point is already made.

"Jazz, I'm comfortable being a girl. I like being a girl. Being made from his DNA doesn't make me his clone."

Jazz opens her mouth to correct Dani.

"You know what I meant." Dani wraps her arms around herself, feeling small like she did her first day here. "I don't know why I need to keep saying this, but I'm not Danny, okay?"

Jazz grimaces. "I know, Dani. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you were."

That isn't what Dani meant, but she doesn't press further. "So, about that skirt?"

—

Later that day, when Jazz asks Dani if she wants to watch a show, Dani says no.

—

"What did you do when you weren't in Amity Park?" Jack asks. The question comes out of nowhere, as they always do. In the few days since he took Dani's samples, she has seen him outside the lab far more often. Joining them at mealtimes, coming upstairs in the evening. Sometimes she hears the heavy beats of his approach moments before he pops into the room with a question on his tongue, like now.

Dani holds a moment, her gaze lingering on the models surrounding Danny's desk, before spinning in the chair to face Jack. "I travelled."

Jack, rightfully so, takes her answer as an invitation and comes further into the room. "Oh, yeah?" He sits down on the bed facing her. "Where did you go?"

"All over. I mostly stayed in the United States, at first, but there's so much stuff to see out there. The pyramids were awesome."

Just as Dani found her rhythm with Maddie and Jazz in her first days at Fenton Works, she and Jack seem to be finding what works for them. She likes the time they spend together. His questions feel genuine. Sometimes, he asks her about what being a ghost is like, what abilities she has. His eyes glow with fascination every time she answers. Dani has never seen anyone so engrossed by a single topic before.

But her favourite times are when he asks about her. What does she like? Does she have any hobbies? She gets the feeling that this is how Jack shows interest in people, by asking about themselves, and she returns the favour whenever she can.

"Have you ever been to Egypt?" Nudging the desk, Dani pushes herself back and forth on the chair, turning slowly in place. Her eyes keep catching on the models she had been examining when Jack entered.

Danny had a lot of models, all of them related to space, apparently. Planets, spaceships, little astronaut figures. Much like the posters on his wall, Dani sees no use for them, but Danny obviously liked them. He has two spaceships that look identical. One sits on his desk, safely kept behind a glass box. The other stands tall on the shelf above the desk.

"No." Jack's voice pulls Dani back to the conversation. "Mads wants to go, though. What was your favourite place that you saw?"

Dani has to pause and think about this. The pyramids are high contenders. She went to Japan for a few weeks last year and explored the natural landscape. There was so much beauty there. She has been to a lot of beautiful places, but none of them are her favourite.

"I don't know where it was. It was back when I could barely hold myself together, when I was destabilizing, remember?"

Jack nods. Dani told him that story only yesterday.

"Flying was really hard then, and it made me tired. I got lost a lot between cities if I wasn't following a highway. When I was heading back to Amity Park, I passed out once when flying." Dani hugs her knees. That was one of the scariest moments of her life, second only to melting in Vlad's lab. Before passing out, she could barely see, the sky and the ground blurring together. Her very core ached and, when the darkness started creeping in, she thought she was done fore.

"I woke up in this woman's home. She found me out in the forest and took me in. Didn't care that I was a ghost. I stayed with her for a few days. She actually... she offered to let me stay forever." Dani said no, of course. She had to get to Amity Park, to Danny, to get fixed. "She didn't even know me, but when I told her I didn't have any family beyond a cousin, she just... said I could stay. I left as soon as I could fly again. Haven't been able to find my way back."

Jack's heavy hand settles on her head. He ruffles her hair, the small act of comfort filling her with warmth. "Sorry you didn't get to take that chance, kiddo."

Dani ducks her head and rubs her eyes. There are no tears, but she needs the excuse to look away. There is a weight behind Jack's words, one Dani can feel, but not decipher. She thinks, perhaps, that Jack's words aren't entirely for her.

"So, what were you doing just now?"

Grateful for the distraction, Dani slides the chair over so Jack can see the desk. "Looking at stuff."

Her endeavour of going through of Danny's things has proved harder than she originally thought. It's so easy to get distracted by some small trinket, and she often finds herself wondering what Danny did with it, why he kept it all. Cheap toys from fast food restaurants. Paper airplanes stuck between book pages. A ball of rubber bands bigger than Dani's fist.

At first, she only wanted to look, commit these items to memory. Jazz said it took time before people put away a lost loved one's things, and even though Dani didn't understand, she would respect it. But Jazz's comment about the clothes has been lingering in her mind all day.

Despite Dani's own assurance of her personhood, was there anything she could like only because Danny did? She thought she might find the answer if she pondered long enough, but so far all its done is made her question why people collect things.

She touches the box encasing spaceship.

"That was his favourite."

Dani starts, jerking her hand away from the glass. For a moment, she forgot he was there. His face is turned toward her, but his eyes fixate on a point to her left. Dani doesn't need to turn back around to know what he's looking at.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Space Shuttle Columbia, the first of the Space Shuttle program. At least that's what Danny said it was. I can never tell the difference."

Dani looks from the Columbia to the second model on the shelf, this one smaller and lacking a protective case.

"Are you sure they aren't the same shuttle?" she asks.

Jack chuckles. "Absolutely. Danny never let it go if anyone mixed the two up."

"What's so special about this one?" Dani taps the Columbia's box.

"It was maybe the third model that he got? The first two were pretty cheap. He saved up for them himself. Took a while. I didn't even realize he had them until he mentioned wanting a third. Didn't even realize he liked space so much... I bought this for him a week later and gave it to him after school."

Dani nods along as Jack speaks, although she doesn't see the point yet. Lots of people have expensive things; that doesn't automatically make them special.

"We built it together. I wasn't interested in stars and astronomy, but Danny asked me to help him with it, so I did. I never got why it was his favourite, though. He had better ones, models he saved up for penny by penny. He made that one"—Jack nods to the model on the shelf—"with Sam and Tucker. But sometimes, I think..."

Jack falls silent.

Dani catches his reflection in the glass display case. He has one hand pressed over his eyes, the other fisted at his side. Dani has yet to see either Maddie or Jack cry since coming to Fenton Works, and she thinks that streak is about to end.

"I know we weren't the best parents. There've been times when we've... neglected our duties to focus on ghosts instead. I never thought about it before, but it couldn't have been easy on a couple of young kids. All I ever wanted was for Danny to follow the Fenton family footsteps. But space was his. And sometimes I think he liked this model the best because it was the first time I showed any interest in something he liked."

Jack shudders as he exhales.

Dani resists the urge to go invisible. This heart-to-heart stuff really isn't her thing. Their little question and answer sessions have been fun, but talking about the woman in the forest was already deep enough for Dani. Now things are getting a little too intense.

If Jack does start to cry, she might flee out of sheer awkwardness. He doesn't—thank God—but when he pulls his hand away from his face, he looks old and tired.

Dani racks her brain for something to say. "I think... maybe... he liked it the most because it showed that you loved him, not just because it was about space. Or something."

Jack meets Dani's eye through his reflection and cracks a smile. "I guess if anyone could say what Danny might think, it would be you."

The words cut through her.

"Right," Dani says, her voice empty. "Sure."

Jack nods, as if Dani has revealed some great truth to him, and turns away. His footsteps are louder as he heads for the door, more like his regular self. Dani has no doubt that Jack is leaving this room feeling brighter than before.

All Dani feels is an uncomfortable twist in her gut.

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#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #notyourdanny #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #trans danny fenton #trans danny #nyd chapter four

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shyvioletcat · 4 years

Note

Rowan and Aelin talking about their dream house

Guess who’s back? Enjoy the return of our favourite firefighter.

Fluffy prompt-a-thon masterlist

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin was only half way and she had given up. She had three more flights of stairs to go and she was puffed and exhausted and didn’t know how long it would take her to gather the strength to get up the rest of them. The fact that it was winter was a blessed relief, at least she didn’t have the heat to contend with, even though she was most definitely sweating. She was only 7 months pregnant and she was struggling to make it up the stairs. How was she supposed to do it once she was even more pregnant? How was she supposed to climb six flights of stairs with a baby?

Those were things that she had been thinking about a lot lately. She loved her little dingy apartment, or rather loved what had happened there. That was where she met Rowan, where the whole door fiasco had happened. He had proposed to her in that apartment, carried her all the way up these damned stairs after they had got married. The apartment meant a lot to her, but it was getting more and more obvious that their time here was running out.

Finally catching her breath and willing away the tears in her eyes Aelin started to climb again. And she refused to stop until she got to the apartment door, even if that meant she had gone at a snail's pace at some points. She was just glad that Rowan wouldn’t be home and she would be able to compose herself and swallow back her emotions for when he got home, hopefully. Her emotions and hormones had not been her friends of late. So when she opened the door and saw him sitting on the couch it caught her unawares and she almost burst into tears at the sight of him.

Rowan immediately saw that something was wrong and he was up from the couch, taking her work bag from her and put it on the ground before gathering her into his arms.

“Aelin,” he said onto her head and she held him tighter. “Love, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Aelin said into his chest, her voice muffled. “It’s just a lot of stairs.”

Rowan kissed her head once then let her go. “You sit down, I’ll get you some water.”

Aelin did just that, sitting on the couch and taking her shoes off her swollen feet. Rowan was back in a few moments, giving her the bottle of water as he sat down beside her. Aelin immediately lent into his side, taking comfort of the feeling of his body against hers. Then she took a drink.

“What are you doing home?” Aelin asked, her voice still a little strained.

“I convinced Lorcan to let me be on call from home,” Rowan said. That explained while he was in his uniform. “I had a feeling you might need me.”

That was what broke the dam on Aelin’s tears. Damn him and his intuition.

“We can’t stay here,” Aelin said before he could ask. “We can’t stay here and that makes me sad. Because this place was so important to us, but we can’t have a baby here. I can’t do the stairs pregnant, I can’t do the stairs with the baby. There will always be so much to carry and I know I can’t do it. We can’t do it.”

Rowan looked down at her, as she looked up at him. “I know.”

“You do?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah,” Rowan said, the left corner of his mouth dropping in a frown. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

“You have?”

Rowan just nodded. Then they were both quiet for a while, both just thinking Aelin guessed. That's what Aelin was doing, a thousand different thoughts running through her mind. All of it getting a little overwhelming. Would they buy? Would they rent? Where would they go? When would they go? They were on a pretty defined deadline.

“One step at a time,” Rowan said quietly, no doubt reading the tension in her body. “We don’t even know what we want.”

Rowan was right again, they had never really talked about moving in a real sense. It was one of those things they just assumed they would do when the time was right.

“What’s your dream house?” Rowan asked, relaxing back into the couch. “What makes or breaks the deal?”

Aelin took another sip of water as she thought. “I think it has at least four bedrooms.”

“Four?” Rowan said looking down, brows high. “What on earth are we going to do with all those rooms?”

Aelin smiled coyly up at him, her hand running over her belly. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Rowan chuckled. “I think I want a place with our own private bathroom.”

“Why’s that?” Aelin asked.

“Privacy,” Rowan said simply.

“For?” Aelin pressed.

Rowan just rolled his eyes at her. “Whatever your imagination wants, Aelin.”

That made Aelin laugh, then she glanced around the room. “I want a dining area. Somewhere we can have a real dining table. And a big kitchen. Not huge, but big enough that we can move around in it together without running into each other.”

“I like running into you in the kitchen,” Rowan said.

“But things always burn, or we’re late. I think it’s best if we have some space,” Aelin explained matter of factly, but she didn’t miss how Rowan's arm tightened around her at the mention of taking ‘space’, like the thought of it right now was abhorrent. Aelin found his hand and squeezed it. “I want a yard. Big enough so we can get a dog.”

“And space for the baby to play and run,” Rowan added.

“I want the house to be cute too,” Aelin told him. “I don’t want some ugly modern thing. I want it to have character.”

“I like that idea,” Rowan said. “Maybe we could find a place on the edge of the city. Still close enough that we can keep our jobs, but a little quieter, more land.”

“I think I would like that,” Aelin agreed. “I don’t want to leave all our friends.”

“Even Lorcan?” Rowan asked.

Aelin let out a burst of laughter. “Yes, even Lorcan. But mainly for Elide’s sake, but please don’t tell him that.”

By some divine intervention Rowan wasn’t called out to an incident, so they spent the whole evening talking about and discussing their new house. They playfully fought over room colours as they ate dinner, whether they would have carpet or floorboards in the bedrooms as they half paid attention to the show on the TV, discussed what exactly they would use all those bedrooms for while they got ready for bed. By the time Aelin was tucked into Rowan’s side under the covers they had a decent idea of what exactly they wanted from a house.

Unbeknown to Aelin, Rowan started looking while she was asleep, trawling through pages of houses. By the time his own eyelids were dropping he hadn’t found anything, but he knew he would find something, it might just take a little bit of time.

~~~~~

It took Rowan about 2 weeks to find something that fit almost all their requirements. He hadn’t expected to find the perfect home but this came pretty damned close.

He’d spent the night at the station on night shift, using the quiet the time waiting looking through every real estate site he could think of searching for right house. And found it he did. It was nearly 2 am so he didn’t call or message Aelin in case she was sleeping, something she was getting less and less of these days, but it left him humming with an excited energy.

When he walked through the apartment door Aelin was in the kitchen making herself breakfast. Rowan went straight to her, kissing her sweetly before holding his phone up for her to look at.

“Rowan, what…”

Rowan watched for her reaction, as her brows furrowed in confusion but then when she saw what was on her screen her eyes went wide.

“It’s… that’s perfect,” Aelin said, taking his phone from him.

“Well, it’s not,” Rowan said, swiping his fingers across the screen to flick through the photos. “The kitchen is old and terrible and the paint job throughout the old house is retro and not in a good way. But those are all things we could fix. The yard is huge, there’s this big old tree in the yard we could hang a swing from. It’s got some flaws, but I don’t think we’ll find anything much better.”

“I love it Rowan,” Aelin said, putting his phone on the counter and wrapping her hands around his neck. “I’ll contact the real estate on my lunch break and –”

“I already have,” Rowan said with a smile. “I’ve emailed them, expressing our interest. I’ve got it all started.”

Aelin grinned and then kissed him. “Thank you, Rowan. You are too perfect.”

Rowan smiled, “Anything for you, my love.”

~~~~~

I just love these two SO MUCH!

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captaindodson · 3 years

Text

7AM confessions (t.h oneshot)

Synopsis: You just finished working a graveyard shift at your summer job. Just as you’re about to get into your car to leave to sleep the weekend away, a familiar face appears to confront you on what happened.

Paring: Tom Holland x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Angsty (?), Swearings??

Once your apple watch displayed 7 AM you knew the long week you had was finally over. The assembly line filled with car parts ready for inspection remain still and untouched as everyone switches off with the next group of shift workers who are already coming onto the floor. Luckly, its Friday, so you get to sleep the weekend away and reset your sleep schedule for your last week of shifts before the fall semester starts. You tidy up your small station and when you think you’ve done enough you turn around to leave and then you see your co-worker/work friend Raj approaching. You both wear matching white hard hats, blue gloves, white jackets, dark blue work pants, and brown steal toed boots.

“Hey, how was this morning,” Raj stops a few feet away and raises his hand to fist bump and you happily reciprocate before sliding your hands into your jacket pockets.

“It wasn’t a bad night, Lauren didn’t come in tonight cause she was sick with a stomach bug. Oh I did finally registered for my university courses during my break, and I got so lucky with my extra circulars.The moment I went to register there was only one spot left for the ones I wanted.”

Raj just nods and glances around the work station, inspecting to see you cleaned it to his standard. You notice his wandering eyes but you aren’t bothered by it. You’ve been in that position where you have to work a long eight hours on your feet and the person before you at your assigned station leaves it a mess and you’re stuck cleaning it for the first hour of your shift. So after he finishes inspecting he meets your eyes and nods in approval.

“Oh shit really? I should probably do that sooner rather than later. I’ve been going to university for three years and I almost always forget every time to register on time,” He replies.

“Don’t you have your final research seminar and reading seminar this year? I thought certain classes had a small capacity?”

“Oh. Well guess what I’m doing during my lunch break,”

You lightly laugh at him as the sound of a warning buzzer echoing through the factory floor goes off. You look around and see that most, if not all of your night shift people are already off the floor and you take this as your cue to leave.

“Anyway, talk to you later Raj,” he gives you small smile in response and steps around you to get started. You make your way off the floor and to your designated locker, providing some of the people from dayshift a warm smile as you walk past them.

You walk through a pair of white double doors which leads into a a bright baby blue hallway which eventually guides you to where the designated bathrooms are with the lockers. When you get to the end of the hall you turn left and head into the female washroom where the you’re met with an empty room. Usually, when everyone’s shift ends they’re rushing to get out (and you’re no exception). You would normally find yourself squeezing by people and dodging elbows trying to get to your locker but today is different. Staying behind for an extra few minutes to talk actually lets you take your time for once. By taking your time it also means the parking lot won’t be backed up as usual and you can drive home without any major delay to sleep your weekend away. That’s the only thing you have to look foreward to, your bed because there is no one at home, no roomates, no pets, no boyfriends, no nothing. The place you were at two months ago was totally different from where you are now. You lived abroad in London with your then boyfriend for six months until you broke it off because you were lost.

You had to get out because your identity slowly became tightly intertwined with the person you were with. Everything revolved around them and their job and you were going no where in life. Your dreams were pushed to the back of your mind as you stayed in fancy hotel suites, alone waiting for your ex-boyfriend to come back from an exhausted day on set to only desperately try to keep his eyes open when you two watched a movie or went out for a night on the town.

He really did try his best to make your time with him exciting even if he was burn out from working all day. He made small dates in your hotel room feel magical. He had your hotel room decorated in fairy lights and planned a romantic dinner looking over the city you two stayed in. He made love to you in the early hours of the morning to the organy rays of the morning sun. Or another time, when he wasn’t allowed to leave the hotel at all, he took you to the hotel roof to slow dance under the stars to music playing from that headphones you two shared. You’d pay a million dollars to experience these small moments over and over again.

Over a weekend back in London by yourself while Tom had to catch a flight last minute to do film re-shoots in LA, you decided to have a self-care night. After lighting some candles, ordering take-out, dimming the lights, and scrolling through Netflix to finally find a good-feel show, you finally sit comfortably on the couch and relax. You found a generic rom-com from the 2000’s that looked mildly interesting and even if the plot wasn’t any good you could still get a good laugh about it.

As the movie progresses and the main character struggles to choose between a boy and her dream job you find your mind slowly loosing focus with what is happening on the screen and reflecting it back into your own life. After a few seconds pondering you realize something, had no idea what you wanted to do. You were in your early twenties, you were doing school part-time online with a program you liked but you spent most of your time with Tom. Traveling to country to country to join him while he filmed, staying in hotel rooms waiting for him, sometime visiting set when you were allowed too, it was truly an exciting and calming lifestyle.

Even though you believed you finally found the guy that you could spend the rest of your life with, a second family you got along with, a place you could see yourself settling down in, you didn’t have anything for yourself. When you thought you of trying to return to in-class schooling with a larger course load and renting a place for the semester and trying to sustain a long-distant relationship with someone in the limelight, it just stressed you out. You knew it wouldn’t be easy and just seeing how deflated Tom looked when he returned to you after working, you knew the relationship would push him to his limits.

Even after initiate moments you realized how tired and over worked he was. The look in his eyes when he had to leave for work the next morning couldn’t go unnoticed. You felt your heart squeezing itself and your breathing became heavier. You would never want to cause Tom any pain on your behalf, and you can’t continue to drag your feet with your education because you felt like you . So, you did what you did best, shut someone out and leave. You made up lie about how this relationship wasn’t working on your end, broke it off and flew back to the town where you had been attending school online. Scrambling enough money together to buy a used car and a small studio apartment and apply to as many jobs as you could. You got lucky, that when you were applying that a car factory needed more summer students and they were paying their workers a decent living wage and you just jumped on it. The job helped you get settled but it also helped ignore the small amount of regret you felt. It is too late to turn around now and now you must live with your choices.

You shake yourself out of a daze you didn’t realize clouded your mind, and it seems your feet have carried you to the front of your small grey locker. It looks like what all typical high school lockers look except half the size. You raise your hand to the lock to do one full twist to the right, one full twist to the left, and half a twist to the right again and my the lock pops off with a light pull.

You reach in to collect your phone, black spring jacket, dark blue water bottle, then you reach into your jacket pocket to fish out your car keys. You hum in satisfaction when you feel the cool metal of your keys in your pocket. You drape your jacket over your arm as you shut the locker quietly and slide the lock over the hook and push it shut. You proceed to continue to follow the baby blue hallways until you’ve reached the double glass doors of the exit. You push open the glass door and is met with a cool morning breeze also paired with a peach colored sky.

You make your way across the concrete of the parking lot, following the line of different coloured cars parked next to each other, eyes wandering at the different licence plates, soaking up the calmness of the morning sun until you stop dead in your tracks. You look up to see someone leaning on the hood of your car. This person is dressed in some blue jeans, a black hoodie, dark red hat, and it seems they’re just casually looking down and scrolling through their phone unaware of your presence a couple feet away. You think for a minute before speaking, should you just walk back inside and get someone to confront this guy or should you just do it yourself? I mean it is your car in a private parking lot, someone will hear you scream right? After a few seconds go by you just say fuck as the longer you stand here the less time you get to spend sleeping.

“Ah hem, excuse me you’re leaning on my car. Can you please get off,”

You keep your distance and tightly grip your waterbottle. Just so you have a head start if you need run back into the factory or even defend yourself. Their fingers stop scrolling, but their gaze is still facing downwards, hood and hat hiding their features.

“Uh hello, you need to get out of this parking lot its a private. Ill call security if you don’t move, ”

You shallow nervously as the figure stays still, unresponsive. When it seems like this figure is just going to continue to ignore you they stand up abruptly causing you to jump.

“Hi Y/N,’ An english accent comes out from the hood and your expression changes from fear to dread in seconds. Heart still pumping fast in your chest and you feel yourself getting even more nervous.

“What are you doing here, Tom”, You cross your arms the best you can and start staring at your feet to avoid eye contact.

“Can’t I come visit my girlfriend after she finishes work,” Tom questions as his foots steps get louder as they get closer.

“I am not your girlfriend remember. Besides the point, how do you even know where to find me. I haven’t talked to you in two months.”

‘You left without a much of explanation. You said when I came home from LA that this was over because you couldn’t handle this relationship, it stressed you out to much. I thought everything was going good mutually good in all aspects of the relationship, but I guess I was wrong. After months of trying to unravel what I could have possible done wrong, I just had to find you and get the truth of why you left,”

He ignores your question as he bends his knees to try and get a look at your face. Your mind almost speeds up, unable to come up with a good enough half-assed response, you mouth blurts out the truth without much thought.

“I love that you’re able to pursue your dreams, and god Tom I wouldn’t want you to do anything to compromise that. But I want to be able to pursue my dreams too Tom. The only way I can do that is if I leave and doing a long-distant relationship hardly ever works out for anybody! I don’t want you wearing yourself out because of me and being long-distance was going to tear you apart,”

You sniffle away the tears building up in your eyes while focusing on the curves on the concrete.

“Darling, why didn’t you just talk to me? I would and do understand if you want to pursue something on your own. I would never want to settle for anything less. “

He reaches out a finger to find a place under your chin to lift your head gently so your eyes will meet. You glossy eyes meet his soft, gentle brown eyes and that alone makes you want to cry. You never meant to cause pain to reach those eyes, you just thought you were doing yourselves a favour.

“Baby, we could’ve done this together you know that. We would’ve never survived our first year together if we didn’t talk stuff out. Trying to make a relationship work with a person I’ve loved since our first date is worth the endless amount of stress life causes. Y/N, my darling, I would do anything to make you happy but also stay in my arms forever,”

His soft tone makes your knees weak and that is when the dam of tears breaks from your eyes and they flow down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I-I just thought I was doing the right thing for both of us. I was watching a movie and I started stressing my sell-out and just thinking for myself .I’m sorry I put you through this, I know I can’t turn back time, but please forgive me for causing you any pain because my love for you got me all fucked up, “ You say trying wipe away the salty tears dripping down your face.

“I’m not mad nor am I upset with you. I’m just glad I can have you back in my life again.”

Tom smiles even bright as he pulls lightly on the hand he has a hold of to drag your body over to his. He embraces you into his warmth and your body curls into him and all you can think is there is no place you’d rather be.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your place and catch up on some sleep huh? Then you can give me tour around your new place and make up for lost time,”

He hums into your hair as you pull back from his embrace to look up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve to look at Tom more clearly.

“Yeah, I’d like that”.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland drabble #dodson writing #Tom Holland x gender neutral reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Note

“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” + Jupeter

I wrote this for @spiky-lesbian because she’s had a rough week so here’s some angst babe, go figure

----------

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Juno was pretty sure PIs were supposed to think that sort of thing when they were doing something cool and dangerous, like leaping the gap between the cars of a moving train or ducking behind crates at a harbour to avoid laser fire.

Rather than crawling on their stomachs to get their pet sewer rabbit’s favourite ball out from behind the sofa. But hey, it was his day off.

Then again, Small Fry did look delighted when he straightened back up with a loud groan and the cracking of some vertebrae, whiffling her nose and hopping excitedly, shaking the floorboards of their little apartment. Smiling fondly, Juno threw the ball off down the hallway so she could chase it, squeaking happily.

“Next time that happens I’m not getting it out for you! You can go make goo goo eyes at your daddy for a change,” he called after her, brushing dust from his curls and his shirt. But the smile didn’t fade from his face, even after she had rounded the corner to go and cause mischief somewhere else. Anyone who said keeping a massive sewer rabbit in a modest Hyperion apartment was a bad idea was just too afraid of cleaning up the occasional broken lamp or gnaw marks on the walls.

He was about to straighten back up and go back to the book he’d been reading, he got so little time to do things like that these days but his husband was still at work, the boys were asleep and Bianca was happily playing in her room, giving him a rare hour or two to himself that he didn’t want to waste. He was mildly tempted to crack the lock on the drawer where Nureyev stowed away any case files he brought home so he couldn’t continue working himself ragged outside of his own office but, contrary to the size of the lock and the dedication with which his husband hid the key, he really was getting better at giving himself time off.

After all, it had been a hell of a long time since work was the only thing he had to keep him going.

He was about to do that when something else behind the sofa caught his eye, something that wasn’t just a toy of Bee Bee’s that she’d forgotten or one of Small Fry’s hordes of left socks that she liked to build nests out of. He was about to sigh and mutter something about the wonders of having three kids being that you’d find trash in the weirdest places but something wary ran its way down his spine. Something that was maybe instinct, maybe his detective brain putting pieces together and proving yet again that the years spent theoretically on the other side of law and order hadn’t dampened his skills.

Whatever it was, it made him reach out, once again feeling the twinge in the base of his spine, using his hip to nudge the couch further out so he could snag it and bring it out.

It was a small bag, something designed to be inconspicuously held at the waist or over the shoulder, dark in colour so it wouldn’t catch the eye. Juno frowned, the wariness growing stronger as he sat on the couch and opened it up.

He recognised the precision and fastidiousness immediately, like it was rolling off it in waves like too much perfume. It was in the way everything was crammed in so tight there wasn’t a spare inch of space, everything chosen for its shape and size so it would go in seamlessly like a game of tetris. It was in the items themselves, every possible scenario accounted for; dried rations, iodine pills to purify water, vouchers for shuttle tickets that would take you anywhere in the galaxy, tightly rolled stacks of genuine honest to god Earth currency to take you even further than that, no questions asked, clothes folded so tightly they looked like napkins at first. And, in an even more closely concealed pocket on the inside seam, fake documents, fake IDs, fake cards loaded up with fake creds.

And a knife. If Juno had been entertaining any doubts, any lingering threads of uncertainty, then seeing his tired reflection in that razor edge snipped them neatly away.

He sighed, long and low, filing through the emotions rising in his chest, sending away any that he knew weren’t helpful or were just offshoots of his anxiety, counting backwards from ten like Buddy had shown him until all the messiness sorted itself out.

He didn’t pick his book back up. He watched the clock and waited for his husband to come home.

Nureyev really enjoyed working at the salon. He kept waiting, expecting to get bored or frustrated with it all, but it hadn’t happened yet. He just laughed at the conversations with his colleagues more and more, got more familiar with the smell of hairspray on his clothes and felt a small spark of pride at the ache in his ankles at the end of a long day.

It was enough to make him feel something approaching hope.

He slid off his shoes, not wanting to track any dust from outside into the apartment. Living on Mars had meant needing to get used to the fine red silt clinging to his soles every day and turning up in the most inconvenient places, no matter how careful he tried to be. Juno, the Aurinkos and Rita barely even seemed to notice it. Nureyev assumed that came from growing up with the stuff.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet, enough that he was already getting ideas before he walked into the living room and saw his wife sitting on the sofa.

“What exactly have you done with our children, my love?” he grinned, “Bought us some alone time?”

Juno started a little at his voice, even though he should have heard him come in, the door closing, his keys rattling into the bowl. And when his eye lifted and met Nureyev’s, it was immediately clear that his ideas had been far off the mark.

“Yeah, Rita has them,” Juno’s voice was even, not full of scowls and snarls as usual, not in any way a ‘we’re in serious trouble’ voice but Nureyev’s veins still flooded with adrenaline as he rooted to the spot, a discordant clashing in his ears, “I did want to have some time with just you and me.”

“And yet you’re still dressed?” Nureyev was a little impressed with himself, how his tone came out still perfectly light and joking, like he wasn’t completely gripped by panic and his brain wasn’t scribbling blue prints behind his eyes.

It would seem hairdressing hadn’t lost him all of his skills.

“Babe, listen,” Juno sat forward, eye gentle, “Just come and sit with me, okay? Nothing’s wrong, nothing bad has happened or anything like that. I just want to talk.”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he had lost his skills a little. Or maybe they’d just never worked on Juno.

But he did sit, stiffly, still braced for something awful in spite of his wife’s reassurance. And when Juno wordlessly produced one of his getaway bags and set it on the coffee table between them, he was ready to run.

But Juno didn’t let the moment build, he didn’t keep him hanging. He simply sighed and reached across the gap between them to take his hand.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Nureyev looked up, certain he must have misheard.

But Juno’s expression was firmly set in penance, mouth turned down, brow fallen across his eye which was soft and sad, “I never once asked you if you were struggling to adjust to the way our lives are now. I never thought to check in with you. I let you down in that and I’m sorry.”

“I...what?” Nureyev was well aware he was falling short of his usual articulation but no more words were coming in to fill the blank gap in his mind, “You’re not...you’re not upset with me?”

Juno frowned a little, shaking his head, “No. No, why would I be?”

“Because…” Laughter, of all things, raw edged and disbelieving bubbled up in his chest, “Because the only thing to take from this is that I’m insane or I was going to leave you?”

“Are either of those things why you’ve got these bags?” Juno asked evenly.

Nureyev winced, “You found the others?”

“No but I know you enough to assume.”

Nureyev took a shaky breath, “I’m not leaving you. And...and I don’t know whether I’m insane or not, honestly.”

The sadness in Juno's eye deepened and he squeezed his husband’s hand, “I don’t think you are but we need to talk about this. What exactly were you trying to prepare for with these?”

“I...I don’t know…” Nureyev didn’t like this one bit, this reversal of their usual roles, Juno being so calm and collected and even while he sat here struggling to leash his emotions, “Nothing! I...I wasn’t…”

Juno exhaled, something cracking through his calm, “Don’t do that. Nureyev, please, don’t shut me out. That’s the one thing I need you not to do right now.”

Nureyev felt his throat close and he couldn’t have said anything if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to shut his wife out, he really didn’t, but it was so hard to unlearn something that had been your first line of defence since childhood.

But if there was anyone who understood that, it was Juno.

“Listen, Nureyev, there’s no answer you can give me that will make me angry with you or upset me. I just want you to feel safe here with me and with the kids and...finding this, it’s just made me worry that you don’t?”

Nureyev forced his lungs to pull in air and turn it into words, determined to not be the man who had shut Juno out for years, the man who had packed those bags.

“I do feel safe here, I am happy here,” he promised, feeling the truth of it and drawing strength from that, “It’s just been so long since I stayed in one place, since...since I could feel safe. And sometimes it feels like another cover I’m wearing for a little while, like something’s going to change and I’ll have to run again. And I guess I just wanted to prepare for that, even if it isn’t what I want. Even if I’m praying it never happens, I just can’t let myself be unprepared. It’s not how I was raised. And having those bags...I can breathe a little easier. I can settle into this more because even if the absolute worst thing happens, I’ll survive.”

Juno nodded slowly, eye never leaving his husband’s face, “Nureyev, we both knew this was going to be a change. And change is hard, even if it’s for the better. And if this helps you settle down, I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not,” Nureyev croaked, wanting to wipe his eyes so the tears there didn’t fall but also not wanting to let go of Juno’s hand, “I don’t want to live my life like it’s not mine. This isn’t a cover, it’s my family and my home and I want to feel like that.”

Juno squeezed his fingers, “This is yours, Nureyev. I’m your wife and they’re our kids and this is our home. No one is taking any of this from us, I promise. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will, every single damn day for the rest of our lives if that's what you need. And it fucking sucks that everything you’ve lived up until now is telling you different.”

“Yeah,” Nureyev mumbled, the tears falling and dripping off his nose now but they hit Juno’s hands before his own and he didn’t flinch, “It does.”

“Come here…” Juno murmured, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as their bodies fit themselves together, “You can cry, it’s okay.”

Nureyev did. Because he believed Juno when he told him it was.

They spent the rest of their rare evening alone pulling out all of the getaway bags Nureyev had stowed over the first week of their retirement from the Carte Blanche, all of the stockpiles of food as well, everything he’d hidden underneath their new life with Mag’s voice and the voice of a hungry child guiding his hands. They didn’t get rid of it, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but it went into a box under their bed instead.

And Juno still told him he was proud of him.

Nureyev thought there was always going to be that part of him that had Mag’s rules in it’s mind and a constant hunger in its belly. All he could ever do was fold it up as small as he could make it and find space for it in the back of his brain.

But with Juno’s arm around him and red dust on the soles of his shoes, that felt easier than it ever had before.

#jupeter #tpp #the penumbra podcast #post canon #angst #hurt/comfort #angst prompts #juno steel #peter nureyev

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anobscurename · 4 years

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XV — masterlist

concept: the three times chris comforted you, and the times you returned the favour. the slowest of slow burns, the angstiest of all angst. part sixteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 3,8k

warnings: drinking, so much fluff, heartbreaking angst

author's note: this one, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, is for @fangirlovestuff because it's her BIRTHDAY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABYYYY (and i'm sorry in advance). the songs are linked, so if you don't know them, you can check 'em out :)

In your ten months of knowing him, Chris had always known how to cheer you up, irregardless of how big or small the issue was.

You would even go so far as to call him a master of distraction – because by the end of the day, you wouldn't even have known you'd cried at all.

You could recall three times he had been there for you, and the two times you returned the favour.

The first time he had seen you cry – about three months into your living situation – he had been by your side immediately, pulling you flush against his body. He held you in his big arms for the longest time, and just waited the sobs out.

He wasn't the type of person to press, and he knew you'd tell him what was wrong if you wanted.

Instead, he asked you what you wanted.

You were lightheaded and cry‐drunk, so it took a moment to come back to yourself. "Huh?"

"Do you want to be quiet or loud?"

"I just..." You struggled to find words that didn't make you sound needy, but you found none. "I don't want to be alone."

"That's out of the question," he smiled knowingly. "So, what will it be, {your last name}? Quiet or loud?"

He had a twinkle in his eye, one that suggested his question delved deeper than the words implied.

"Quiet."

And then he was pulling you up off the couch and out the door in total disregard of your chosen attire.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Chris, I'm literally in my pyjamas–"

But he was already opening the garage, the creaks of the gears overshadowing your weak protests.

"You're wearing pants this time," he winked at you. "So we have that going for us."

And then you were in the car, location still a mystery.

Any attempts to get a modicum information was shut down with a simple "it's a surprise."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Because then it wouldn't be a surprise."

And you were glad he hadn't told you, because soon, you were pulling up outside a place you hadn't been to since you were a kid and going on school trips. You'd never been to any L.A. ones, having moved there only half a year ago. But the way your whole body immediately was overcome with such calm...

It was like you had been hoping to come here since you'd woken up that morning, and had received the news of your grandfather's admittance to the hospital earlier that night.

But there was no way for Chris to have known that your grandfather had taken you to the aquarium when you were young, telling you about all the fish, helping you make up increasingly bizarre backstories for them.

He just knew you had to leave the house, and go somewhere quiet.

And it was a weekday, so the chances of kids screaming and running through the aquarium hallways were slim to none.

So while you walked in the tinted blue light, eyes scanning over information plaques and watching the multi-coloured aquatic animals lazily drift past the glass panes in a comfortable silence, you reached out to give his wrist a gentle squeeze.

His hands had been sitting in his pockets, giving you your space, but hovering close enough to you to let you know you weren't alone.

"Thank you," you croaked out softly.

When you turned your head to look at him, he had been looking at you, a smile of heartwarming endearance on his face.

If you hadn't been so consumed by the exhibits, you'd have known that he hadn't taken his eyes off you the entire time, and you'd have known he also hadn't stopped smiling. Smiling at you, seeing just how happy you were, even though your eyes were still watery and worry was still thick in your throat.

He slid his hand out of his pocket easily to lace your fingers together, loose enough for you to pull away if you had wanted, but tight enough for you to know that he had no intention of letting go first.

But you didn't pull away, instead strengthening the intwining grasp.

And so you continued, walking through the aquarium in that comfortable silence. And at some point along the way, you found laughter again, pointing out the ugliest fish and saying it was him, only to have him gasp in mock surprise.

"My God, you're such a flirt," he'd say.

And then he'd point out the most beautiful fish he could find.

"That's you."

——————

The second time was a week later.

It was your grandfather again, but the issue had been more serious than any one of your family members initially believed.

You didn't cry this time, but Chris could sense the immeasurable sadness in your posture, the way you sat on the couch, staring blankly ahead.

He came to stand in front of you, and gently knelt down so your eyes would focus on his. Everything about his stature screamed concern as he caressed the hair away from your face.

"Quiet or loud?" He had asked so softly, so simply.

"Loud."

He helped you up, careful with your fragile state. He walked you to your room, into the bathroom, and left you to take a calming shower by yourself.

When you'd gotten out, gotten ready for whatever surprise excursion was next – dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, scuffed sneakers on your feet but Chris would claim you looked prettier than he'd ever seen you – Chris was waiting for you by the front door.

You knew better than to ask him where he was taking you this time. And honestly, you were too drained to even muster the words.

You wanted loud, to drown out the misery.

And you got what you wanted.

Chris had taken you to a local pop-up carnival, and in spite of the cloudy weather mirroring your emotion, threatening rain, it was filled with screaming kids and the sounds of joy.

"They come by once every six months," he explained while you waited in the line to enter. "I wanted to take you under different circumstances, but..."

"It's wonderful," you assured him, although your tone didn't sound like it.

He paid your entrance fees – buying a large roll of game tickets for the both of you – and with his hand ghosting over the small of your back, he guided you inside.

Your smile first came when you were on the ferris wheel, and it didn't fade until you were back home, saying good night.

You had spent the whole afternoon there, and even most of the evening, until around ten, when they had begun to take down the stalls and unpitch their tents.

"I'm totally going to crush you at this," you had grinned at him at some game or another. And you did, but only because he wasn't entirely focused on the game, but watching you.

He would tell himself later, as he lay in bed, the reason he couldn't take his eyes off you was because he had wanted to make sure you were alright, and having a good time. But that was a half truth. The full truth was simply because he couldn't stop looking at that smile he loved so much, on the girl he loved more.

A sense of pride would swell in his chest at the very thought of him having played a part in your happiness.

And so you did absolutely crush him. But only because he'd been distracted, and, if truth be told, because he let you.

You held your prize – a hilariously massive teddy bear, drowning you in its fluff – with both arms, laughingly taunting him for his loss, which had got him a much smaller bear (a participation trophy at best) which he carried in one hand.

You had also gone to the circus they had there, your teddy bear seated beside the two of you, taking up a whole seat by itself. You marvelled at the trapeze artists, the charisma of the ringleader, the fire juggler from Prussia, and even found it in yourself to giggle a little at the clowns who you thought you'd be irreparably prejudiced against since you watched Stephen King's It.

And if you were to now scroll back in your camera roll, you would find the hundreds of pictures you had taken together in the hall of mirrors, and the beautiful twinkling lights of the distant city that sparkled like their own constellation from your view at the top of the wheel.

But you wouldn't scroll back now.

Not now.

———————

The third time had just been a bad day.

Nothing set it off, but you'd woken feeling like trash, and it really didn't sit well with you.

It had been post kiss, post Vegas, in that week Chris had returned, and he could feel it the second you stepped into the kitchen.

His usual morning greeting of "good morning, Sleeping Beauty" fell short on his lips.

"Both," you said to him, already knowing the question he was going to ask.

You had managed to get yourself dressed that day, thinking that that one step into productivity would pull you out of your slump. It hadn't. So you told him "both," and he immediately complied.

Setting the mug down, coffee unfinished, he grabbed his keys off the counter. He called for Dodger, and you were in the car again.

This time, you already knew where you were going. It wasn't a difficult puzzle to solve, especially with Dodger there with you.

And your suspicions were confirmed when he pulled up to a remote beach, a hidden gem that only locals would know about.

And in the secluded bay, you walked alongside each other, Dodger prancing ecstatically into the water and darting across the sand.

You watched him greet other dogs, tail wagging. You encountered very few people, giving them a greeting smile in passing.

It really was the perfect mixture of both – serene in the best way possible, ocean waves loud in their crash on the shore.

Chris made no effort to hide his gaze on you this time, aside from a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, obscuring his eyes.

"Why are you wearing those?" You chuckled.

"What?"

"You're wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. Did it not come with instructions or something?"

"Oh, that," he grinned. "I wear the cap for the aesthetic, sunglasses for the disguise."

You had to reach up on your tippytoes to do what you did next – which, if you were so inclined, could be referred to as theft in the court of law.

You easily snatched the cap off his head, and, dancing out of his reach, put it on. It was a size too big, and dipped into your eyes, making him laugh through the stern demeanor he was jokingly putting on.

"Give that back," he warned. "You're ruining the aesthetic."

You repeated him mockingly, and then he was chasing you down the beach, your squeals of delight interrupting the peace and grabbing Dodger's attention.

You weren't being chased down by one Evans anymore, but two, and hoping to find sanctuary, you made your way into the water.

The sea lapped eagerly at your knees, stray droplets clawing to soak into the frayed denim of your shorts.

Chris had been wearing jeans – not exactly intending for a beach day that morning – and you'd hoped that would be enough to halt the attack.

"If you think that some water is gonna stop me from righting this injustice," he began, equally as out of breath as you were. He had been holding himself back from outright catching up to you, and you knew that – Chris was the epitome of fitness. What did you expect? To outrun Captain America? – "nay, this crime, then you are dead wrong."

"I'm in international waters!" You called back, flicking the peak of his cap teasingly. "I'm out of your jurisdiction!"

"Fuck jurisdiction!" He yelled out, and then he was wading towards you.

Water slowed both of you as you tried to keep out of his grasp, but he had the benefit of being naturally quicker. He had you in a bearhug, trapping your body against his as you struggled to break free.

"Give it back," he playfully growled into your ear.

"Never! You'll never take me alive!" You fought the words out through your laughter.

And then Dodger was there too, all but pushing you over into the shallows of the shore.

You both lay there, allowing yourselves to be drenched, through and through, Dodger licking your faces excitedly.

And as the laughter slowly subsided and the cold the breeze introduced to your wet forms finally registered, you both got up.

"Alright, have your stupid hat back," you sighed, moving to take it off.

He captured your hand in a lightning quick grip, stilling your movements. "Keep it," he smiled. "Looks better on you anyways."

You smiled back sarcastically, rolling your eyes, before pushing him back down onto the sand playfully. "All this?! All this for me to keep it?!"

He propped himself up on his elbows to peer up at you, sunglasses knocked askew.

"Dodger, as my head torturer," you said to the exhilarated mountain of a dog. "I command you to execute this man."

———————

It was hard to watch a strong man crumble, and there were days when that happened, too.

It was the day of Dodger's operation – a hip surgery, nothing too life threatening – but Chris, with all his quick wit and charming smiles, was a shell of himself.

Of course, you were worried too. But Chris needed you more than you needed him, and so, in the mournful silence of the waiting room, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He flinched a little at the sudden contact, but didn't pull away.

"Quiet or loud?"

In all definitions of the word – in the hour he had been in that waiting room, leg bouncing – he never thought he could hate quiet as much as he did now.

"Loud."

It took some effort to tug him to his feet, his body sluggish with worry. But he was up, and you were guiding him to the door, leaving your number with the vet secretary for any updates.

You didn't want Chris to be worrying and checking his phone every five seconds, because you knew how that dread felt. No, he needed a distraction.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You had never understood why Chris enjoyed doing that to you, never telling you where he was going to take you, but with the thrill of him not knowing, you got it. Spontaneity ran in his veins, and he didn't press like you so often did in the past.

You had been in L.A. long enough to find your own little secret spots, and to know exactly where you were without much guidance.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn't really know where you were taking him until your legs had absentmindedly taken you to an old vintage diner you knew had once been the talk of the town – filled to the brim with hipsters – before once again slipping into obscurity.

It was late into the night, but the diner was open 24/7, and you knew Chris hadn't eaten in a while.

When the bell jangled upon your entry, the waiters jolted, having taken to sitting down in the vacancy of their restaurant.

A few customers lingered here and there, club goers drunkenly scarfing down fries to try and sober up a little before hitting the next party and insomniacs downing their third cup of coffee that hour.

But for the most part it was empty, and, unfortunately, quiet.

"You here for karaoke night?" A bubblegum popping waitress asked. It really felt like the cliché, but it weirdly added to the charm. She stood, perched on the rubber stop of her roller skates, waiting for your response.

"Oh, hell yes we are," you grinned.

She took you to a table situated in front of a makeshift stage, a jukebox-karaoke machine hybrid standing proudly to one side.

Chris sat down, anxiety still heavy in his bones. You quickly ordered – two burgers, and a milkshake to share – before you were shedding your jacket and making your way on stage.

You didn't care about making a fool of yourself. The only thing you cared about was seeing Chris smile again, and in that moment, you'd do almost anything to make that happen.

You hummed in thought as you perused the songs available to you. You didn't expect much from the collection, given that the whole vibe of the diner was 50's through to early 90's. A total pocket dimension in time.

A song caught your eye and you grinned, selecting it immediately. Chris didn't want quiet – and you were going to be the loudest bitch here.

You could hear the whir of the machine as it came to life and you made your way to the vintage microphone. It crackled and whined when you pulled it closer to yourself.

You had caught the eye of the sobering-but-still-quite-drunk party animals, and they had come over to investigate.

"Sorry," you winced, voice booming on the mic. "This song goes out to my good friend Chris."

And then the music started to play, and he groaned. He knew the song decently enough, it having been one of your most replayed disco bops of the week.

"This is Sunny, by Boney M," you said over the intro. "Hope you enjoy."

And then you started to sing, intentionally bad at first to wheedle that cry strained laugh from Chris, and then finishing off in that voice he knew you had.

Every time the song mentioned "Sunny," you'd look directly at him, giving him an exaggerated wink. And at "I love you," you'd point at him, smile growing on your face as you danced ridiculously with the mic.

He was laughing, whole body shaking at how over-the-top you were being.

And when the song wrapped, you whooped into the mic, feedback squealing. "Thank you, everybody!" you panted.

The club goers applauded, screaming their drunken praises.

"YES, QUEEN!"

"YOU GO, BABY!"

"FUCK YES!"

"BEYONCÉ WHO?!"

That last one earned some shocked gasps and scolding. "Woah, dude. Too far."

"Thank you, thank you," you grinned, feeling alive. You could see the laughter starting to fade from Chris again, and so you moved to put on another song.

"This one," you whispered into the mic, "is a duet. So, please. Good friend Chris, wouldst thou riseth to the occasion?"

He shook his head, cheeks flushing at being called out.

"Oh, come on," you whined, the music already beginning to play out the intro. "For me?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, already smilingly weighing the pros and cons of his embarrassment. You batted your lashes. "I know you can sing, Evans. Don't start this shy shit now."

"COME ON, CHRIS!"

"YEAH, COME ON CHRIS!"

"Give the people what they want," you wiggled your brows.

He shrugged, muttering "fuck it," and reluctantly rising from his seat, he hopped on stage with one jump.

"You were working as a waitress at a cocktail bar, when I met you," he started singing flatly, eyes on yours, letting you know how much he didn't want to be up there. You arched a brow, pushing him let loose.

Slowly, with the encouragement of your smile, and the cheers from the drunk, he lost himself in the performance of "Don't You Want Me" by The Human League, even taking to dancing at your part of the duet.

And that's how you spent the rest of your waiting period – singing bad karaoke, shovelling food into your mouths between songs, and returning the favour of cheering on the clubbers when they had resolved to stay and sing because they decided the best time they were probably going to have that night was in that stuffy little diner on a street they probably would've walked right past on a regular day.

And when your phone rang for Dodger, you paid your bill, leaving a hefty tip in apology to the staff for having to endure your wailing. You said your goodbyes to your newfound friends of the night.

And Dodger was fine when you took him home.

And Chris was smiling again.

———————

You couldn't bare to dwell on the second time you took it upon yourself to cheer up Chris Evans, because the fact of the matter was, that just reminiscing about those other four had you muffling sobs all over again.

You thought about that day – the road back from Vegas, pulling off to Route 66, taking him to the food truck park – and the alcohol you urgently gulped down did nothing to numb you.

You had often looked back on those memories fondly. But now it was a gaping hole in your chest.

You were sitting on the balcony, overlooking the beach. In the distance, under moonlight, you saw a couple walking hand-in-hand, and you knew it was them.

"Thought I'd find you out here," a familiar voice said. It wasn't Chris', and that had you swigging another shot from the near empty bottle in your lap. "You holding up okay?"

"Ask me again in a month," you stated blankly. You hadn't even moved to address the newcomer, nor had you shifted over to make room for him. He sat all the same. "If you want to put a number to how long it takes to move on, ask Chris. The answer is a month."

It had taken a month for him to move from you to Lily. But it wasn't exactly like any of you had made your feelings and intentions known, aside from a kiss that you had claimed you'd been drunk for, and a confirmation of friendship.

If you let yourself think about it too long – which you had, on more than one occasion, this one specifically – it was your fault.

Sebastian reached over and gently pried the bottle from your iron grip. He looked at how much was left, surprised. And still, you gazed numbly ahead.

"This is how day one looks, huh?" He attempted a joke. Even he knew it fell flat, and instead took a sip to ease himself.

"The alcohol content in that bottle is directly proportionate to how many fucks I have left to give," you shrugged, voice monotonous.

"How much more are you going to put yourself through before you've had enough?"

"I've had enough," you sighed. "But I'll probably suffer a little more."

"You have more strength than I do, then."

His sympathetic arm wrapped around you, and you melted into his side, the comfort another person brought acting as a placebo salve to the pain. Like an ice pack on a shattered femur.

And you realised why you were so sad. Those memories meant nothing to you now.

They had lost their meaning because he wasn't there with you, on this roof, asking you that question when you needed it asked the most. Quiet or loud.

He wasn't there, and the taste of whiskey was chased away by ash.

#dina writes #dina cries #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans/you #chris evans fluff #chris evans/reader #chris evans angst

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agentsofsupernaturalmarvel · 4 years

Text

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

Masterlist

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

“I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.