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pingutats · 3 years

Note

could you write a really fluffy bit on harry kissing every single self harm scar on your body? like, stroking them and cuddling with you and reassuring you that your body is beautiful and okay even with scars? 🥺

thank you for requesting this! this was genuinely quite therapeutic to write so i’m glad i did it — it’s longer than i meant it to be at about 2.4k words, but anyway. here’s a difficult conversation with new boyfriend!harry.

major trigger warning for discussions of self-harm and scars. this is not a story for everyone, and could definitely be triggering if you are not in the right headspace. please be responsible and look after yourselves <3

this is also pretty unedited so forgive any mistakes. okay!! onwards!

It’s getting late when Harry asks you, ‘Do you want to spend the night?’

The meandering film you found on Netflix is drawing to a close, finally. The characters are on a boat, drifting away into an Italian sunset. You barely have a grasp of how they got there — mostly, you just listened to Harry talk over the dialogue about a pretty little café he knows just around the corner from where this scene was filmed, or how cool the water gets at night there and so the actors must have been shivering. All of it wrapped up, of course, in a quiet suggestion to take you there someday so you can see for yourself. You get a little thrill every time he says something like that. It means he’s thinking of a future with you, which means he wants one, even though it’s only been just over a month since you’ve been seeing each other.

He trails his fingers up and down your arm, bringing up goosebumps beneath your sleeve, and looks at you. ‘Or I can drive you home, if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.’

You hum. ‘No,’ you say. ‘I’ll stay. I’d probably end up falling asleep in the car anyway. I’m so tired.’

His dimple appears. ‘Good, because I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.’ He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, then pushes himself off the couch with a groan. He holds his hand out for you. ’C’mon, then.’

You grab his hand and he hauls you up, his other arm coming up to your back to pull you into his chest. You fall against him, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself. The two glasses of wine you’ve had tonight have thrown your balance off. He presses a kiss to your hair as you giggle. Then he brings his hand up to your jaw to tilt your head up to look at him properly. You nearly melt at his green eyes.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’ His gaze is completely sincere.

You haven’t slept together before, both in the literal and figurative senses. You haven’t had sex with anybody at all, actually, and Harry seems to have picked up on your hesitancy. He’s never asked for anything. He lets everything stay on your terms.

That’s what makes you trust him.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you tell him.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, just to make sure. ’Right,’ he says, breaking into a smile.

He finds a new toothbrush in his cupboard for you, and you brush your teeth together. It feels like a big step to do these nighttime rituals with him. It’s so domestic. He shares his cleanser with you and offers his moisturiser that smells like vanilla. You imagine spending every night like this.

As he leads the way back into his bedroom, he pulls his shirt off. ‘I get hot at night. D’you mind?’

You giggle — you can’t help yourself, at the sight of his muscled torso with all of its tattoos. He’s so handsome. ‘Not at all,’ you tell him.

He throws the shirt into a hamper in the corner, and the birds on his chest seem to fly with the movement of his shoulder, then looks back to catch you ogling him. He chuckles, and the sight of his dimples gives you butterflies.

‘You like?’ he asks.

You narrow your eyes. ’Are you flexing?’

He relaxes. ‘Yeah, a bit. Just wanna impress you.’

You snort at that. ‘Like you need to do anything to impress me.’

He grins. ‘D’you want something more comfortable to sleep in?’ He rummages around in his drawer for a moment, then pulls out a t-shirt and holds it up for you. It has an incredibly faded image of Flinstones characters on the front. ‘How’s this?’ he asks.

You smile at his courtesy. ’Perfect. I love your t-shirt collection, by the way. Where the hell do you find things like this?’

‘Oh, you know… Here and there.’ He tosses it to you.

You catch it with some semblance of grace — you’re proud of yourself for that. ‘Thanks.’ You glance at the bathroom door. ‘Alright. I’ll just… get changed in here,’ you say, slipping through the ajar door.

‘Alright, love.’

You shut the door, and realise you’ve forgotten to turn the light on, leaving you in pitch-black. You grope against the wall for the switch and turn it on, and take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous, so frazzled? It’s just Harry. You shimmy out of your leggings, then pull your sweater over your head.

You look at your reflection. Well. There’s a problem. It’s easy for you to forget when you’re alone, or wrapped up in layers of clothing — it’s just a part of your body now. Artefacts from a different time, years ago. Even the memory of how you got them — how you gave them to yourself — is slipping away, thank God. It’s all a haze. These scars were carved by a girl that you don’t see much anymore. They aren’t really a painful reminder anymore, just a fact of life. You know they're there. The problem is, no one else expects it.

You stare down at your wrists, seeing the lines that never faded. Maybe if they were all like the thin white lines, barely visible until you look closely, you wouldn’t mind. You’re going to sleep, anyway, and it’s not like he’s inspecting your forearms. No, it’s the three darker ones, hard twisting scar tissue that you can feel even through sleeves. Times where you went just a little too deep, were a little too reckless. The ones you regret the most. They’re big, and ugly, and too obvious. He’d notice them right away.

But he gave you his t-shirt.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brows. You adjust your pose, twisting your arms around so the inside of your wrists are hidden, facing behind you. You look ridiculous. You know, as soon as you see Harry, you’ll reach for him, and he’ll see.

Would that be so bad?

You look down at your arms again. It’s been years, and they’re still there. They’ll probably be there forever. They’re as permanent as the tattoos on his skin — except those are beautiful, and what you have is not. You can’t show this to him. The world where these scars exist, and the world where he exists, should never cross over. It wouldn’t be right.

You pull your long-sleeve back on, covering them again. Then you put the t-shirt, which is long enough to be modest on you. This is fine, right? It’s better than any alternative, at least.

You leave the bathroom holding your folded sweats up to your chest, nervous now realising that you are standing in front of Harry in just your underwear, more naked than you ever have been in front of him.

He’s checking something on his phone as he sits on the bed, back against the headboard and long legs stretching down the covers, but he brightens up at the sight of you. His gaze drops to your legs — which makes your cheeks burn, but his boyishly excited expression dissolves your nerves — then rises up again to your shirt. He frowns at the long-sleeve.

‘Are you cold?’ he asks. ‘I thought it was pretty warm but I can turn the heat up if you need.’

You shake your head, dropping your sweats on the floor beside the dresser. ’No, it’s fine.’

He sits up straighter, swinging his legs over the side so his feet rest on the ground. ’Can’t be comfortable to sleep like that.’ He hesitates. ‘You didn’t have to wear the t-shirt if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I want to. I do.’ You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation in a way that won’t end in him being annoyed or disgusted. ‘It’s just…’ You trail off, but one glance at his frown, at the way he leans forward and hangs on every word, makes your resolve crumble. You’ll have to have this conversation at one point or another. ‘Okay. Shit, Harry, can I talk to you about something?’

The way he answers immediately makes you want to cry. ‘Yeah, of course. Anything.’ He sits up straighter, pats the covers next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You sigh and cross the room to sit next to him, not daring to meet his eyes. How the hell do you explain this?

He moves his arm behind you once you’re sitting. Not touching you, but enough so he’s close. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompts. ‘Do you need me to drive you home instead? Because I didn’t—’

‘No,’ you interrupt. ‘It’s fine. It’s just, I kinda…’ You take a deep breath. ‘Okay, please don’t freak out?’

He frowns. His next words are measured. ‘I’ll try not to. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ you whisper. It feels like the greatest effort in the world, but you curl your fingers around the end of your sleeve and pull it up, revealing your wrists. ‘So, I have these…’ Your voice shakes.

‘Oh, baby,’ Harry says quietly, and that’s all you need to hear. His arm behind you reaches around and pulls you into his chest, hugging you close to him. His thumb rubs circles into your shoulder as you sniffle, his other hand resting on top of yours.

‘It’s in the past, you know,’ you say, muffled into his shoulder. He smells good, you notice. Not that it’s really important right now, but you appreciate it all the same. ‘Not a big deal. Just didn’t want to scare you or anything. ’S embarrassing.’

‘Listen to me,’ he says, pulling back and holding your face in his hands. He waits until you manage to look him in his eyes. They’re watery, you realise, and that might be the most painful thing about this night. ’It’s not embarrassing, alright? I don’t want you to feel like that. They’re part of you, and I really like you, every part.’ He smiles. ‘I really do, you know.’

You sniff, wiping at your cheek with your fingertips, trying to calm your tears. Suddenly all your fears seem ridiculous. Did you really expect him to turn you away, disgusted? Ask to never see you again? You knuckle at your eyes. ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey.’ He springs from the bed to grab the tissue box from the dresser and brings it to you, pulling out a tissue and dabbing under your eyes himself. He’s so gentle. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, that you were worried to show me.’

You chuckle, grabbing a tissue from the box and blowing your nose. What more can you say to him? He’s so wonderful to you. It’s early days still, and you’re wary of moving too fast and coming on too strong. You aren’t experienced with relationships in the same way that you know he is. But you love him. You’re sure of it. You’ll tell him, one day. Soon.

‘You don’t need to wear my shirt if you don’t want to,’ he repeats once you’re calmer.

‘I’ll wear it.’ And to show him, in your sudden burst of confidence, you undress right next to him, taking off both layers and then putting the only t-shirt back on. You turn to him, and giggle. He’s turned his head away. ‘You can look,’ you tell him, nudging his knee with yours.

He looks back with a sheepish smile. ‘Didn’t want to be a creep.’ He scoots backwards onto the bed, settling his back against the headboard. ‘C’mere.’

You crawl over to him, settling with your back against his chest, sitting between his legs. His arms wrap around your middle, anchoring you to him. He presses kisses to your neck, the scruff on his cheeks tickling you. You curl up, twisting your neck away, giggling.

‘Harry!’

‘Sorry, love.’ His hands relax, and find your own. He rests his chin over your shoulder, and gently turns your palms upwards, so your wrists are visible to him.

You shiver, but allow it. You feel this is important. You don’t want to hide with him.

‘Y/N…’ he says quietly. You feel his chest push against your back as it expands with a breath. ‘Am I… am I allowed to touch them?’ he asks.

You’re surprised. You thought he would want to avoid them. You nod, then, realising he can’t really see you, you add, ‘Yeah.’

Your fingers are tense. You can’t help it. His thumb presses into your palm, massaging the tension away. He pulls the back of your hand to his lips and brings it back to your lap.

You close your eyes.

When he finds the first hard lump of scarring with his thumb, he pauses. He takes a shaky breath, then he runs his thumb up and down the length of it.

‘Y/N,’ he says softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. ‘Mm?’

‘You’re beautiful, you know.’ He pulls your hand back up to his lips, but instead he kisses the biggest scar on your wrist. ‘No matter what. You are.’

‘Harry,’ you whisper, because you don’t know what to say.

He kisses the scar again, then trails his lips up your wrist, covering them all. ‘I don’t want you to be ashamed of anything. You survived. That’s a wonderful thing.’ He drops your hand and cups your jaw, turning your head towards his. He leans around your shoulder to face you properly. ’I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?’

You never were good at taking compliments, so you just cross the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

When you’re lying together in the dark a little while later, with his arm thrown over you protectively and his soft breaths hitting your neck where his t-shirt doesn’t cover, you feel safe. Your arms are bare, you’re with another person, and you feel safe in this situation for the first time in years. It’s a wonderful feeling. All because of Harry.

You can’t wait to wake up in the morning and see his face again.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic #self harm tw

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lihikainanea · 2 years

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idk if you’ve seen it lei but there’s this on going joke online about girls randomly messaging their boyfriends, “would you love me if i was a worm?” i totally see tiger texting bill, on her period and super hormonal, one night and asking that and he’s literally just like… what ? and she gets all sad about it.

OH MY GOD but this is the cutest thing? Half the time I legit just don't understand the trends on TikTok because I'm old and uncool.

But listen, she's super sensitive, she's a soff bean and just has so many ~feelings~. She's hormonal. She's achey. She ate all the gummy bears and Bill isn't home so he can't even go get her more gummy bears and she's just a teeny, tiny little ball of woe and agony.

And Bill is away filming somewhere, but he's checking in as much as he can because he knows it's shark week for her and this one seems to be hitting a little worse than usual, she misses him and wants to be taken care of and is small and whiny and there's just nothing he can do for her.

So maybe she's in her feels one night, sad and missing him, doubting everything they ever had together because he's off on set with some beautiful women shooting like, 8937475959 million sex scenes. And tiger sees this trend on TikTok and in her emotional, slightly drunken state she thinks here we go--this is it. This is the one thing that will prove whether or not he loves her, whether or not he ever did--if he'd still love her if she was a worm.

And listen. It's like, 4AM where Bill is. He just woke up to start his day on set, he's bleary eyed, he doesn't know where his glasses are, he doesn't know where he is. He just gets this text from her asking him if he'd love her if she was a worm.

And he's just...he's very confused. And that's legit all he texts back--just a small what?

And tiger like, bursts into tears.

He sees the little dots on his screen appear, and he knows that she's typing. Then they disappear. Then a few seconds later, they reappear again. He has no idea what's happening but he knows enough to recognize she's having a meltdown.

He just has no idea why.

So he calls her.

"Worm?" is all he mumbles sleepily when she picks up. But he hears her sniffles, her shaky breaths, and he's even more confused. He sits up, shaking the sleep and fog from his brain.

"Why are you crying sweet girl?" he asks.

"Forget it," she sniffles, "I have to go."

"Don't you dare," he says a bit harshly--partly because damnit he hates it when tiger just hangs up on him, but also because he recognizes already that she's a bit small, and sometimes she needs something a bit harsher to ground her--especially when he's not physically there.

She quiets down on the other end of the line--but she doesn't hang up.

"Tell me why you're crying kid," he demands.

"It's stupid," she mumbles pitifully.

"Tell me anyway."

"I don't want to," she resists.

"Tiger," he snaps, "I'm not going to ask you again. And if I have to fly you out here just to spank you for this smart mouth--I will. Don't test me, kid."

She sighs.

"You're supposed to love me even if I'm a worm," she mumbles lowly, and he can't make it out.

"What?"

"A WORM, Bill," she wails, "I don't know but you're supposed to love me."

"I....okay," he acquiesces, and he's no less confused.

"I saw it on TikTok," she says quietly.

"What did I tell you about that site?" he rolls his eyes, but now his lips are tilted up in a smile. She's such a goof, and she's clearly small for him because she's upset over something so weird.

"I'll love you even if you're a worm sweet girl," he tells her.

"Will you?"

"Yes. I'll love you even if you're a worm," he repeats, "But what I don't love is this little smart fucking mouth you're getting while I'm away. Are you forgetting our rules?"

"Oh," she says quietly, "N-no."

He hears her sharp intake of breath--she needs this. Something to feel balanced again.

"Do I repeat myself?" he asks harshly, "Or are you supposed to be my good girl and answer the first fucking time I ask?"

"I'm good," she murmurs, "I can be good."

"Too late for that," he says. But y'know, it's kind of self-serving too. He wants to see her. But if he just sends her a ticket--she'll get pissed. She still has a thing with his money. But this? This is different.

"You need a reminder. I'm sending you a ticket," he says.

"Are you going to punish me?" she asks quietly.

"Yes," he says, "That little attitude of yours earned you a spanking. I'll see you this weekend. Will you be good until then?"

"Yes," she says, "I...I can be good."

"Good."

"I love you Billy," she murmurs, and his heart just explodes.

"I love you too, my weird little worm."

#BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard fiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fic

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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

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Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

#anon ask #anon #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #re8 #resident evil 8 #the duke #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil village fanfiction #gender neutral #headcanons #re8 headcanons #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #yeah i had a lot of fun with this #thank you again anon

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violetlilysunshine · 3 years

Text

Always the Prettiest

Chris Evans x Actress Reader

Requested

Anon: Could you please write a Chris Evans imagine where the reader is an actress and has to shave her head for a role and is worried that chris will no longer be attracted to her anymore? And he reassures her that he loves her no matter what?

Summary: You have to change your appearance for a role, and you're scared of Chris’ reaction.

WC: 1,155

Warnings: insinuation of smut

A/N: Thank you so much, nonnie for my first request! This practically wrote itself! I assumed fluff because it wasn’t specified; I hope you like it!!

MASTERLIST

You’d gotten your script a few days ago, and of course your attention went to the story itself and memorizing your lines. You didn’t exactly know what you were signing up for when you started, but soon you were falling in love with your character.

You read through the first half of the script at record speed, dying to know what was happening. Obviously you knew the general plot, but the story was so beautifully written and captivating. You couldn’t wait to start filming and made a mental note to seek out this screenwriter again.

You finished reading the script in the bathtub the next morning, having fallen asleep with it on your chest. The absolute last thing you read was your character’s physical description, your heart sinking when you saw the last detail. Nevermind that for now, you knew Chris was supposed to come home today and you wanted all of your focus to be on him. You didn’t want to spend your limited time together thinking about your next project; as much as you had planned for that not to happen, it did.

Chris walked through the front door that evening, immediately being tackled by Dodger. He welcomed the reunion for a little bit, missing his best friend, before turning his attention to you. You’d been standing at the end of the hall, ankles crossed, leaning against the doorway, and hands fiddling together in front of your abdomen.

“Hiya, beautiful,” he whispered breathily, taking you in. His eyes trailed up and down your figure hungrily; he loved seeing you in his clothes. His t-shirt reached your mid thigh, your biker shorts barely poked out the bottom, and his fuzzy socks falling down your ankles.

He walked to you quickly, engulfing you in a hug. His arms found their home, tightly around your waist, and yours latched around his neck instantly. As anxious as you were, you relaxed in his arms as always. He pulled you together for a chaste, but passionate kiss. It didn’t last as long as you hoped, but you relished it none the less.

He leaned back slightly, mouth still hovering over yours, and whispered gently, “hi.”

“You already said that,” you giggled.

“Yeah, but someone didn’t,” he answered, laughing slightly.

“Hi, bubba,” you whispered.

He pulled you in again, tightening his hold around your waist and kissing you again. This time filled with tongue, but just as much love.

Once you were both thoroughly out of breath, he pulled back again, stepping out of the embrace and turning around.

“God, I missed you so much,” he told you over his shoulder.

“Missed you too, stud muffin,” you answered, eyes trailing down his body and to his backside as he bent over to pick up his duffel bag from in front of the door.

“Stud muffin?” He laughed.

“Well, I like what I see…” you shrugged at him.

“Let’s go, doll,” he answered, grabbing your hand and leading you through the house to your shared bedroom.

He plopped his duffel at the foot of the bed and breathed deeply, “feels good to be home.”

“It’s good to have you home,” you told him earnestly, “for more reasons than one.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “oh yeah? Already, darlin’?”

“Been waiting since the day you left,” you told him, chuckling.

“Me too, babe, me too,” he laughed back, “let me freshen up a second first.”

He padded into the bathroom, closing the door gently; in the meantime, you spritzed on some perfume, checked your hair, and admired yourself in the mirror; you were going to take advantage of everything you had while you had it.

“Babe, is this your script?” He called from the bathroom after opening the door.

“Oh yeah, I left it after my bath,” you answered, “sorry.”

You jogged into the bathroom, hoping to get it from him before he flipped through it at all.

“Tell me about it?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah, well…” you told him the basic plot while he brushed and flossed his teeth. He asked a few questions here and there, mostly trying to find out who was starring with you out of jealousy; no one had your heart but him, for as long as he would keep it anyway. You trailed off toward the end of the story, before he began to ask about the costuming.

“Well, the style is gonna be cool I think, very different from my own, but there, uh, might be a few appearance changes I’ll have to make…” you trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t ask and you could get on with your activities.

He finished flossing and turned to rest against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, “yeah? Like what?” He asked, thinking maybe it was a few fake tats or another ear piercing, maybe some fake colorful extensions.

You mumbled the answer, not wanting to come to terms with it yourself, but also fearing his reaction.

“What was that?” He asked, weary as to why you wouldn’t tell him.

You took a deep breath, “I sorta have to shave my head,” you answered slowly, eyes trained on the floor.

“Really?” He asked, his interest piqued.

“Yeah,” you whispered, scared out of your mind.

Chris knew something was off, he thought maybe you were just nervous to do it because you’ve always had long hair, and maybe you used it as a security blanket, “What’s going on, pretty girl?”

“I’m scared,” you whispered to both yourself and him, still not making eye contact.

He reached forward and grabbed your hands slowly, not wanting to push you, but so desperately needing to comfort you, “what’s so scary about it?”

“I’m afraid you won’t like me anymore because I won’t be pretty anymore and I don’t know I just don’t think I can rock a shaved head and I just really don’t want to lose you and if you really hate it then I won’t do it and I’ll drop out of the movie but mostly I don’t want you to leave me,” you rushed out, fully crying and squeezing his hands.

“Baby,” he whispered back, processing everything you said, “I’ll think you’re beautiful no matter what. Hair or no hair, any tats, any piercings, the whole lot. You’re stunning,” he reached his hands up to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him as he gently wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Are you sure?” You whispered, sniffling.

“Positive, sweetheart. You’re always the prettiest thing in the room.”

You looked in his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and love. Your heart swelled at the gorgeous being in front of you, “well, I’ll take second place.”

“Second place? To whom?”

“To you of course,” you giggled, kissing him quickly before pulling back just a little bit, brushing your noses together.

“Second? Never.”

“I love you, stud muffin,” you giggled.

“I love you too, hot stuff.”

Part 2!

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #anon request #chris evans one shot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x fem reader #violetwrites

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff.

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

#sob #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland series #crying on main time #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #tfg #ahhhhHHHHH screaming truly #what am i gonna do with my fridays when im finished with this series!!#:((( anyways #please let me know what you're thinking :)))#almost didn't include the final scene in this part but :)) i thought it deserved to make the final cut

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kelieah · 4 years

Text

work things out

tom holland x pregnant!reader. angst + fluff. language. inspiration. main masterlist. tom holland masterlist. taglist.

not too long ago tom was out the whole day for interviews and press. usually you’d go with him lately but you weren’t feeling too well. given all the strict guidelines, you stayed at home in the apartment in LA that you and tom share. you can’t deny that it did get lonely from time to time, with how busy tom is but your relationship with him is still stronger than ever. it’s a joy, every time he’s off or gets to spend time with you. the both of you cherish it and make every second worth its while.

you both have been together for about four years now. met when you were 19 and he was 21. you truly couldn’t be happier. he’s great, the dates are great, the sex is great. you couldn’t complain. though it did get pressuring from time to time when the whole world relentlessly asked if the two of you are planning to engage, marry or even have kids. the topic has popped up in a couple of conversations between you and tom, but it was never really serious. yet.

yet, you say because you recently found out you’re pregnant. that’s why you’ve been feeling real sick lately and now you’re absolutely terrified to tell tom. usually you’d say luckily. but unfortunately, he’s home now, meaning you know you’d have to tell him soon. but how? tom mentioned that he’s wanted kids, but now? you doubt it. you pushed your insecurities and overwhelming thoughts away for awhile and decided to enjoy tom’s time off with him.

so here you are, a couple of days after his recordings. tom’s in the bathroom freshening up while you’re in the living room relaxing. you plan to tell him soon. eventually. tomorrow.

shaking off the nervous feeling, you smile softly as you watch the newly released interview of tom in esquire. he looked absolutely divine. hair perfectly molded, turtle neck enhancing his clean look. god, you’re in love with him. you giggle at some of his remarks and notice him walk over. “what are you watching, babe?” he hums and sits next to you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you.

“one of your interviews,” you reply and place an arm around him, running a hand through his hair. “i quite like this one, you look rather dashing if i don’t say so myself,” you tease in a british accent.

he chuckles and stuffs his face in the crook of your neck, “yea, yea.”

you watch this next clip and stifle a laugh at the image of tom and nicki minaj photoshopped horribly on a family stock photo. “nicki minaj has announced she’s expected her first child with her husband tom holland. best of luck to the happy couple. this actually really stressed me out,” tom’s voice rang from your ipad.

“oh god, that one. i honestly don’t know how or why the two of us were put together. no relevance,” he murmurs into your skin.

“i honestly don’t know either,” you snicker and continue to watch the video.

“so, that was a big relief for me. because i’m not ready to have kids. i’m not even ready to have a dog properly. anyway,” he said and shifted around in his chair.

those words repeated through your mind immediately and repeatedly, sending a chill down your spine. tom feels you tense up, “love? i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that in the interview i know—”

“tom? do you mean that?” you sit up a bit and pull away from his embrace.

a bit hurt from your sudden actions, tom’s face falls into a frown. “what?”

“y-you’re not ready to have kids?” you stammer and hug your knees to your chest.

“no,” he replies honestly and looks at you with eyes full of concern. his sharp and confirming reply drives a stake through your heart. you’re fucked now, you thought to yourself. “but i thought we’ve talked about this, sweetheart. right? after we get married,” he scoots closer and hesitantly pulls you back into his arms.

“yes i know— i know. but what if,” you begrudgingly comply and fall back into his chest, pressing your face up against his built. “what if we had a kid now?”

“it’d be really difficult that’s for sure. i’m barely home, and i’ve got many films coming up. press, premieres, and shows. you know? i have some auditions coming up as well, and i don’t know. what about you, baby? aren’t you graduating next year? how would you handle baring a child during school and work. honey?” he repeats himself, noticing how you became silent.

“tommy,” you manage to croak out after feeling a lump build up in your throat. you look up at him with teary eyes and a face flushed with embarrassment.

“yes, y/n?” he sits up and cups your face, swiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek with his thumb. “shit. i’m so sorry baby, but we have to think realistic here. with my career, your career. our schedules and all. we can’t, right?”

“i suppose,” you sniffle and purse your lips. “fuck tom, you’re going to hate me when i tell you this.”

“this?” he trails off, a hint of suspicion in his eyes as he had a feeling about what you were about to tell him.

“i-i’m pregnant,” you say cautiously and shut your eyes closed tightly.

if only you could see the look on his face. he jumps up and brings you with him making you squeal as he holds you up high. “what!? are you— are you actually!?” he cries out and pulls you back down, hugging you closely.

“yes,” you whine, bit surprised at his reaction as he sways you in his arms. “y-you’re not upset? you just said you’re not ready?”

he shakes his head and tenderly presses kisses along your shoulder and back up towards your lips. “just because i’m not ready doesn’t mean i don’t want to have kids with you. i’ll be ready. i’ll fucking, shit i’ll make myself ready. my sweet, love, darling. hell, i’d never. never be upset for you baring our child, never. never in a million years. are you, are you actually?” he asks once more for safe measures.

“yes,” you begin to cry out in joy and nod excitedly. “i-i took one of those pregnancy tests but to be sure i just took the whole fucking box. so i pissed on like five sticks and— and they were all positive, but i still wasn’t pleased so i went to the doctors and tom. i’m already three weeks,” she whimpers

“holy hell, has it really been that long since we’ve had sex!?” he exclaims and your jaw slacks. he laughs loudly and you shove him harshly down onto the couch. “i’m joking! just joking, oh darling. oh my love. i’m so happy i couldn’t express myself more, i don’t know what to say—” he rambles on while you straddle his waist. you place a finger on his lips and he instantly shuts up, carefully placing his hands upon your hips.

“i love you,” you sigh and lean down, placing your forehead against his.

“i love you more,” he responds and pulls your waist closer. “we can work this out. i’m sure you’ll be able to manage college, but work? maybe it’s time you quit that bloody job of yours with the asshole of a manager. i know you don’t want to depend on my money but angel, c’mon. been together for almost five years now and i’ve barely spent a dime on you.”

you sigh and nod reluctantly, “i know. i’ll quit the job. definitely don’t need the extra stress. but this doesn’t mean spoil me, tommy. you know that right?”

“why not!?”

“because! because well, you don’t need to. it’s waste.”

he lets out an offended gasp, “how dare you insult my future wife and child like that. spending money on you both, will never be a waste. you hear me?”

“tooooommy! i meant me, yes spoil our child but not me.”

“i’m not arguing about this, sorry darling,” he shrugs.

you slap his chest and huff frustratingly. “but, what about you?”

“i obviously can’t cancel the films, but i’ll take out press i don’t really need to do, you know? with covid still around, i doubt there’ll be any press tours for another year so that’s nothing we need to worry about. though, i think i can manage a way to work from home more. besides recording days, obviously. i’m an idiot, ignore me. anyway, and i won’t audition for any upcoming or new films until we’ve settled, yea?”

you take in his words and glance at him in complete adoration. “you’d really do all that for me? for us?” you whisper.

“oh darling, in a heartbeat. i’d do anything for you, for you both. we’ll work things out,” he tilts your chin down and kisses your forehead. “okay?”

you smile lovingly and nod. “okay, thank you.”

“love, don’t thank for me. this is all a given, you hear that?”

“yea, i hear that,” you sigh and curl up in between his legs, cuddling into his embrace.

“good, i love you new mum.”

you flush and hide your face into his shirt. he laughs loudly and wraps his arms around securely, pressing multiple kisses against your head. “i love you too, new dad.”

#kelly's drabbles #tom holland #tom holland drabbles #tom holland blurbs #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x pregnant!reader

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wdwmarveldisney · 4 years

Text

She’s gone

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Summary: Peter and reader are dating when she finds out she has hodgkin lymphoma and makes a few videos for Peter.

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t know why I wrote this but I did. I was also emotional when doing so, so that’s probably why it turned into angst. This idea has probably been done before but eh.

Tw: Talks about Hodgkin Lymphoma (a type of cancer) and death of a character.

(Gif isn’t mine)

The camera was unfocused, the bright light that shone in the background making her a blurry silhouette. Slowly everything became clear, the girl in the driver's seat tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and staring ahead. From what was passing by the window, the people seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, passing the nothingness as they went. The last few seconds of a song faded out and another began, the girl immediately smiling to herself and reaching it over to turn it up and scream the lyrics. For You by Why Don't We was a great song but not exactly the best with her out of tune screams of the words. "HEY! SHE SAID 'I REALLY MISS THE OLD YOU'! THEN FOUND SOMEONE BETTER!" A laugh had escaped the lips of whoever filming, camera shaking as the girl finally turned to face them. "Peter, put it away! I swear to fucking god!" She reached over, the car seeming swerving every so slightly making Peter laugh at her panicked expression. "Stop being such a dick! Stop recording!"

"No, it was adorable," Finally Peter spoke before the camera flipped and moved so both of them could be seen. His eyes were practically glowing in the light, his brown hair reflecting in such a way the ends looked golden. He pouted slightly at her when she held up her middle finger to him. "Fuck you Parker," her little annoyed mutter made him smile as he faced her, intertwining their fingers and resting them on the compartment in between. "You do," the girl's jaw literally dropped as she glanced between him and the road, stuttering out responses that were really just noises strung together to make up nothing translatable. Peter's laugh echoed once more but this time his grin was captured in the shot too. It was wide and as bright as the light that filled up the car with this vintage kind of vibe. Finally, his laughter subsided, his eyes going to her and then the camera. "Anyways, I'm recording because I think it's cool to document moments like this. So future us and anybody else watching this video, me and my wonderful girlfriend here," she pulled a stupid face to the camera, tongue sticking out and nose scrunching up, before looking back to the road, "Are on a road trip. We just visited her extended family and are on our way back to her apartment where her mum is waiting and the roads are basically empty,"

"And Peter almost killed my grandma!" This time his jaw dropped, a blush making its way to his cheeks as he shook his head repeatedly. "I didn't, I swear. All that happened was that I gave her a hug and with my super strength, it hurt her like a tad," she shook her head this time, looking to the camera as she spoke, "She has bruises," Peter had a guilty and sorry expression on his face that made her laugh as she continued, "And yet, he still got more birthday cake then me. On my birthday!" They both laughed this time, the camera zooming in on her perfect grin before the video ended.

This time, the camera was on Peter who sat leaning against the headboard of a bed on his phone, no doubt scrolling through some form of social media. The camera was moved so it became propped up against something and once again the same girl was in the shot, sitting next to Peter whilst glancing between his screen and his concentrated look. She moved to rest her head in his lap, the boy moving the phone to see her cheeky smile. He grinned back, turning his phone off and immediately playing with a strand of her hair. "Hi," she mumbled and it seemed to make his grin go wider as he leaned down and pecked her lips, "Hey," the girl sat up and reached over to the camera to stop the video, Peter's arm going round her waist as she did so.

It was the same place as before where the camera was propped up except this time it looked like a sunset or sunrise, Peter sleeping whilst his girlfriend filmed herself. "Hey Pete. Okay so, I want to just quickly point out how fucking adorable you are for starters," her hushed tone was a clear sign that she didn't want to wake him up but the over the top pointing could of easily hit him in the face. "But what I really wanted to do is say I love you. I've got a secret from you but by the time you see this, you'll know and so this is just me, telling you again, I guess. I know I'll tell you soon because I can't lie to you," tears had welled up in her eyes, a small sniffle being heard as she faced the sleeping Peter, "Oh god. I don't want to leave. You deserve so much better than this. Ok," she took one deep breath, calming herself as she looked to the camera again, new tears already flooding down her face like an overfilled river. "Um, I recently found out that I, er, I have," there was a pause, the next bit being too hard to say, "I have hodgkin lymphoma. It's a, um, a type of cancer," she took a shaky breath, her focus on her fingers that had reached across to a sleeping Peter's hand and began to fiddle with his, "And I'm having treatment but, it's bad," Peter began to stir and she had been quick to wipe at her face and shut off the camera, cutting off the her actually telling him.

Peter was shown having a slushy, holding hands of the person holding the camera. He smiled brightly, face scrunching up, no doubt thinking it was another picture and not a video. "Ok, we are going into that store over there and you are picking out clothes for me and some for you and I'll pay for all of it," the girl from behind the camera spoke and Peter's face immediately dropped as he finished his slushy and chucked into a bin not too far away, "You will not pay," the camera flipped round to face her, her chapped lips twisted into a teasing smile, "And they say chivalry is dead," she was suddenly standing up, half of Peter's face visible in the shot before he placed a peck to her cheek and hugging her, the girl simply continuing to film over his shoulder. "I love you," his calm whisper into her hair was muffled but she could still hear it, responding in a small voice, "I love you too,"

When they got into the shop, he disappeared with a small "Bye," and his girlfriend moved to the side, sitting down in the shoe area and holding the camera up. "So a public place isn't the best area to do this but I wanted to have happy moment before each of these because that's what we are. And this is the first video of a few. I love you and I know you better than anyone else. Maybe not May, but still. The point is, I know when I'm gone you're going somehow flip the blame onto you. You've already started doing it since I told you and I hate it. This isn't your fault and it isn't mine. These things can happen and I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that it's happening to you. Because I know and have excepted that I'm going to the unknown but you, you have to live with this and you are so strong. You been through so much and you're still the best fucking person I know and I can't believe that had the privilege to know you let alone love you. You are everything that is good in the world rolled into this little package of adorableness and no matter how many punches you take, you always get up and laugh with people and make jokes and be the best human being to ever exist. So this first video is me telling you, don't blame yourself and move on. Because you deserve more than anybody can give you and I want you to be happy for the rest of your life," she was full on sobbing, looking extremely weird to passers by. "I need to go so then you don't know I did this because I cried my fucking eyes out," and once again the video stopped.

A loud bang followed by a frustrated scream was the first thing that filled the speakers. Peter had the camera on him, staring off at something out of shot with this dopey grin on his face. "You okay there?" He asked cautiously, hand running through his curls. Suddenly his grin was wider, rushed footsteps in the background, and he stumbled as if just pushed or hit by something. The camera lowered to show his girlfriend hugging him. "School fucking sucks," She looked at the phone, pouting slightly as she snatched it out of his hands. "That's mine," he laughed, hugging her from behind as she aimed the camera towards them, "Yeah I stole it. I was texting Ned on there 'cause mine's out of battery," the girl gave a small nod, moving her head to snuggled closer to his neck as he pecked her cheek.

Another bang was heard from elsewhere and Peter sighed, glancing behind him. "That's May. I've gotta go help her," one quick kiss to her forehead and he was gone and her smile slowly faded. "This isn't exactly how I planned to do this one but I'm gonna go with it. Hi again, this is the second one and I want to start again with I love you. I want you to do something for me. I know I live with my mum and I've rarely met the Avengers but I also know you deflect pain. Most of the time it's to helping people but when it's all too much, you get angry and you yell at people at random points 'cause you're bottling it up and I know that it's just going to be those heroes who get it. So I want you to, every time you want to scream and shout and blame someone for some small meaningless thing, I want you to tell them how you're feeling. I want you to talk about everything because as much as I love you, your dumb as fuck to not see how many people care for you and are willing to hear you out. I don't care if you don't want to burden anyone, okay? 'Cause you're not. They are there for you so be a man and talk about your feelings. I'm sure they'd prefer helping you than being at by you, okay? You're probably going to get back soon so I should go but, um, there's only one more to go and I love you," The camera shut off, her wobbly smile and tear stained cheeks being the last things to be seen.

The camera zoomed in on the intertwined fingers before going to the ridiculous amount of snacks and finally to the movie playing on the screen. Then it faced the side where Peter was shoving a hand full of popcorn into his mouth and trying not to choke when he saw the camera on him. He had a buzz-cut now, no doubt recently shaving his hair off. "It's movie night! Put it away!" The camera flipped to show his lovely girlfriend who now had no hair. And yet, she was still smiling and laughing despite things not exactly being okay. She then turned to get them both in the shot, a massive grin on her lips. "Look what this amazing human being did for me! How am I so lucky?" Peter snatched the phone, turning the video off.

There was a lot of shouting in the background, laughter mixed in. the camera faced the cream ceiling, pieces of hair visible every now and then."You can't Peter! It's bad luck! Get out!" His laughter became muffled after the slam of a door and the camera finally showed the girl, no different to the time before except maybe slightly paler and she had a little bit of makeup on. She smiled brightly to the camera and moving over to some sort of desk to prop her phone up. "Ok, so no happy moment before this one because if you can't tell by the dress I'm wearing or the me just kicking you out my room, it's the non official wedding," Her hands went to the waistband of her white dress that ended at her knees and looked like something you'd wear to a prom. "You're a terrible husband if you don't remember that and I want a divorce," She let a breathy laugh leave her lips, placing her hands on her head. "In case you actually don't remember or there's someone else watching this, MJ did the ceremony, Ned walked me down the aisle and was best man and Harry was the maid of honour but he refused to wear the pink dress I got him because it didn't work with his eyes so he's got that blue dress that he's wearing. Right, this is the third and last one. I can't believe you set this up. I told you that I was so upset that I wouldn't spend the rest of my life with you and wouldn't get to have a wedding with you and you set this up because legally we can't get married so we're getting fake married. My mum and May are literally the only guests and they are getting flowers so I'm alone right now in my room until they get back and fuss over me,"

She sat down in the swivel chair, smile still present on her face. "Alright, this one is pretty much what I've been saying the last two videos except I'm actually saying it this time. I want you to look after yourself, okay? I don't want you doing anything stupid when I'm gone like getting yourself hurt overworking as Spiderman. Take a break, there are other heroes out there who are more than willing to help you if you can't do it. Move on, please. I know that it's going to be hard but I'm always going to be a part of your life, whether I'm there or not and you just have to accept that. Also, I know this probably won't help with the move on but can you check in with my mum every now and then. She's trying to act all strong but she's just like you and she's losing a daughter so just, keep her happy, for me? Please. Just be good to yourself and move on. Ok this is the last one and I'm about to talk to my mum about sending you these when I'm gone so, I love you," And the camera stopped, catching the girl's broken expression rather than bright beautiful smile.

There was cheering, the video focus on Peter and his girlfriend kissing, whilst the few people around them clapped and cheered for the 'married' couple. Peter was lightly brushing away tears from her face when they pulled away, her doing the same to him. He suddenly smiled wide and picked her up bridal style, kissing her once more. "Ok Parker, you can stop kissing my little girl now!" Her mother shouted, Peter smiling sheepishly towards her but was soon brought into another kiss. When they pulled away, she stuck her tongue out to her mum before turning to Peter and pointing down the makeshift aisle.

The lights were dim but the video was still clear. It was the two dancing, swaying to the slow song as Peter rested his chin on the top of her head. She was clearly crying as was Peter, the two looking like they were holding on for dear life. Sweet whispered 'I love you's were shared and then the video stopped.

Peter wiped at his eyes harshly. It was the third time watching them since... And he still sobbed his eyes dry. I mean, of course he did, it was his first love. He hadn't even told the Avengers, whenever they asked if he was going to bring her to another party or if they'd get to meet her again, he'd just walk out. Go try not to break down somewhere where no one could see him. But he felt okay watching this on the big screen in the living room of the compound because no one was home or at least that was what he thought. And to begin with, they weren't. Actually it was the time he took to set up linking his phone to the TV that they all walked in quietly. That they all saw everything on those videos. That they finally understood why he was holding back from missions or patrolling every night. Why he wasn't free for dinner every Wednesday because 'he and May had dinner with someone important'. Why he wasn't spending his entire day talking about you anymore. They had thought it had been a break up, like a really bad one but it wasn't. So Peter sat sobbing on the couch, the superheroes crying behind him, yet to make their presence known. Even Natasha and Bucky were crying.

"Hey kid," Tony finally managed to say, Peter jumping up and spinning round to see them all there. "Um, how long have you been... there?"Just from their faces he knew, trying to cover up the fact he'd been crying but Tony immediately held his hands out as if it would stop him. "Wanna talk about it?" He looked like he was going to say no but then his eyes met Tony's and he had launched himself at the man. "She's gone," He cried into the man's shoulder, holding on like he was a lifeline.

"Y/N's gone,"

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker fem!reader #mentions of death and grief #mentions of a type cancer #angst #marvel #avengers at the end

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blu-joons · 4 years

Text

When He Realises You’re The One ~ GOT7 Reaction

Mark:

It was only when Mark took you to America to meet his family, did he realise how hard he was falling for you. Getting along with his family was a big deal for him in knowing that he’d found the one to spend the rest of his life with.

As he sat by the pool next to his sister watching you splash around with his nieces in the water, did he feel his heart skip a beat. Their gleeful expressions and shrieks of delight told him everything in how well you were all getting along.

His family, of course, could see it too. His siter smiled across at him as his eyes were fixated in watching you swim around to get out of their way in looked like a fun game of tag. His sister cleared her throat causing him to look across at her. “You love her, don’t you?” She asked him, although the answer was already obvious to her.

“She’s just incredible, how is it possible not to fall in love with someone like her?” He challenged, giggling as she shrugged her shoulders.

He was lost in a daze, love was a strong word, a word he’d yet to openly used to talk about the two of you before.

“Yeah, I really do love her.”

Jaebum:

You crept into his studio, smiling as he was undisturbed by your figure walking into the room, tapping his shoulder lightly, removing the headphones he wore. “I knew you wouldn’t be looking after yourself,” you frowned, placing a bag of food in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He giggled, taking a hold of your hand tightly.

“You’ve been so busy here recently I just thought I’d stop by and bring you some food, someone’s got to look after you when you’re forgetting to eat,” you frowned, taking a seat in the chair that was beside him, closing his computer down.

He pushed the sleeves of his jumper up, pulling out the containers that were all tightly packed into the carrier bag, each time revealing one of his favourite dishes. “Will you stay for a while? I want to enjoy your company for a few moments.”

“If that’s what you want,” you smiled in return.

Jaebum took the lid off the first dish, passing the first forkful of food across to you, if you were going to be there to look after him, he was also going to be there to look after you.

Jackson:

You couldn’t help but smile as you leant against the barrier, watching as with each step Jackson came closer and closer towards you, touching hands with each of the fans that had waited patiently to see him live.

His vision was tinted by the shade of his glasses, but as his fingers brushed a certain hand, he could’ve recognised that feel anyway. He peered down through his lens, eyes widening in surprise when he saw you stood before him. It was a complete surprise to him, everything you’d hoped for having travelled half way around the world just for this moment.

“What are you doing here?” He blushed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“The boys told me you missed me, so here I am,” you giggled, glancing up as they all looked down at you.

His head shook trying to be calm, but it was clear to everyone just how much your gesture had touched him, forgetting momentarily exactly where he was. He took in your features one last time before pushing his glasses up.

“You’re incredible, I won’t ever forget this!”

Jinyoung:

Walking around the film set was naturally overwhelming to you, little snippets of the set had matched the descriptions perfectly that Jinyoung had told you on your multiple calls. As the director called action, it was hard for you to stay quiet as you walked along the street, accidentally bumping into his character, trying to hide your face.

“Watch where you’re going!” He shouted.

His eyes widened when he spun around and saw there was no extra in front of him, but instead there was you, with your arms opened ready to engulf him. “That’s no way to speak to me,” you teased, feeling his lips press to his cheek.

For weeks he’d been desperate to bring you to the set and show you a bit of his world, but instead you’d managed to get him and prank him, melting his heart in the process.

“I can’t even tell you how thankful I am to have you here,” he whispered into your ear, “for so long I’ve just wanted to be able to see you again, I never imagined I’d miss you as much as I have.”

“It’s a good job I’m here now then!”

Youngjae:

You could hear him sniffling beside you for quite some time, but it was only when you turned to face him did you notice the tears that freely fell down his cheeks. “Jae, is something wrong?” You asked.

His head shook, but even you knew him better than this, for a while now you had a feeling that something was wrong with him, but you never wanted to push it in case you weren’t ready in your relationship to be so open with each other.

A simple hand resting against his thigh was enough for him to turn and face you, biting hard on his bottom lip to try and stop himself from crying in front of you.

“I don’t know if you want to talk, but I hope you know that I’m here for you,” you assured him, brushing your hand against his cheeks to remove his tears. “If it’s not something you feel comfortable talking to me about, please talk to the boys, I’ll still be here regardless for you.”

His head nodded, but the words he uttered next, neither of you really expected. “Thank you…I love you.”

“I love you too Youngjae.”

BamBam:

It had been hours since the two of you had last spoken, you’d never shared an argument as big as your one at dinner tonight, and you were far too stubborn to back down. “I didn’t mean what I said,” BamBam continued to protest whilst you stayed silent.

You were blind to how badly you were hurting him, he’d never seen you so hurt before, he missed your words and your laugh more than he ever cared to admit, he just wanted to know that he wasn’t going to lose you because of one stupid mistake.

His pleads continued until finally you couldn’t take anymore, throwing your phone onto the sofa. “If I say I forgive you, will you leave me alone?”

“So, you’re not mad? You don’t want to leave me? Because you gave me quite a scare there,” he quickly questioned, desperate for an acceptance from you.

“Why would I leave you because of an argument, all couples argue,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

“I know, but it scares me because you make me so happy, I didn’t want to make you sad,” he whispered.

“It’s forgotten, I promise.”

Yugyeom:

He sighed contently as he looked across at your sleeping figure, the features of your face lit up beautifully from the reflection of the sun beating through the small gap he’d accidentally left when he draw the curtains from the night before. His hand tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your as you slowly began to stir.

“You look gorgeous when you sleep,” he whispered, greeting you to a brand new morning with a sweet kiss being peppered to your lips, bringing the smallest hint of a smile to your face as you slowly woke yourself up to the light.

“I could be woken like this every day,” you mumbled, feeling his hand rest against your arm, his smile growing as your eyes opened and found his bright orbs.

You were the first girl he’d ever shared moments like this with, but in his heart he knew too you were going to be the last girl he’d share these moments with too, there was no other face he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life.

“Let’s share another great day together my love.”

---

Masterlist

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uhgoodmoni · 4 years

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Oil Paints | MYG

Summary: t’s Yoongi’s bday!!! His girlfriend has noticed how he’s been blowing off the idea of anything happening for his birthday. Everyone will be busy. You don’t have to get him anything. He just wants to relax. Blah blah blah. Despite all that, she still wants to do something a little special. Nothing crazy because she knows he wouldn’t like that, but just a nicely set dinner, some wine, and a couple of gifts to surprise him when he gets home from work. It’s perfect, mood lighting at all! Surprise, surprise! He’s not answering his calls, worrying her to death.

(This is so late for his bday but thats okay because life happens! Thanks for reading!)

Warnings: - angst, pure angst - fluff -

Ao3 - Wattpad

How’s it going?

This was the tenth message that I had sent to Yoongi. It was also the tenth message he didn’t respond to. He was just busy. I already knew that. He told me. But I was just worried. He had a horrible week. Each day was more draining than the last, and I was sure that he wasn’t giving himself a break either. I can always tell when he’s about to hit his limit. I wish he wouldn’t hold it in so much. Especially since it was his birthday. Big Hit wouldn’t overwork him on his birthday? Would they?

Well, they probably would, except I knew that Yoongi himself was overworking himself too. He works so hard. Too hard sometimes, and the boys or I would have to remind him to take some free time. But he wanted the projects to be perfect. I was proud of him for working so hard but I just wished he would take a break when given the chance.

Today was one of those chances. Of course, he went to work early, so did I. But he said he would be working a bit late, he wouldn’t get home until around eight. It was a little disappointing to not be able to spend his birthday with him. Not that he wanted me to plan anything, but just being able to shower him with affections would be enough. Watching movies, listening to him rant about his next mixtape. That’s all I wanted for today. Instead, I had to watch his birthday live from my work desk. He seemed happier than he had been the whole week. Namjoon and Jin came in to visit him. It was refreshing to see him smile so freely. He really was happy doing this job, it just always seemed to nag at him, till he overflowed. Even the things you love can be stressful. Usually, he never got this bad, holding onto the stress and then letting it out on a song for something, but recently he hadn’t found time to work on his solos. Busy with schedules.

That’s probably the same reason Yoongi’s bday live didn’t last very long. Yoongi didn’t seem too happy to be leaving. But he had said that they had more filmings coming up, and to look forward to new works. How much work did he really have? I just couldn’t wait for him to get home. He could kick up his feet, enjoy some good alcohol and be the little spoon if he wanted.

Despite his wishes for me to do absolutely nothing for him. I had catered his favorite dinner to the house. A surprise for when he got home, I didn’t mind a late dinner. With his busy schedule he hadn’t found time to do more art. He enjoyed painting so I got him some art supplies for home. Tonight I knew he would just want to stay home and relax so I figured dinner from home and maybe a movie didn’t sound too bad. The boys had already greeted him separately from their busy schedules and now it was my turn. Waiting, waiting.

The day went by slowly. My worries were rapidly taking over my mind, however, I tried to assure myself that he was just busy. He’ll come home and the rest of the night will be okay.

Except he didn’t. It was nine and he wasn’t home. No answer to any of my calls or texts. I tried to not spam him too much, but knowing that he normally always answers, I was beginning to stress.

“I’m sorry for calling, I just am really worried about him.” I bite into the skin of my finger, tapping my foot on the floor. In front of me, the dinner sits. Cold now.

“No it’s okay, maybe he just fell asleep in the studio.” Namjoon hums through the other side of the phone. I let out a strained chuckle. That would be such a relief. Worked himself so hard he just took a nap. Namjoon is always the right person to call in these situations. He doesn’t sound as worried. He knows Yoongi a bit better than I. Maybe I should be less worried too. “Mhm, he’s not here. I’ll give him a call, but maybe he just left and is on his way home. Maybe his phone died.” Namjoon’s explanations were perfectly rational. But that didn’t change the fact that I was worried.

“Okay…” I tried to hide my tone, “I’ll let you know when he gets home.”

“Yup, and I’ll let you know if I hear from him before that.”

I sighed, “Thank you.” We said our goodbyes and hung up. Now all that was left to do was wait. But each moment was an itch in the back of my head. Something must have happened. Why else would he not respond? Why would he just disappear like that? What if there had been an accident? What if he got into an accident on the way home. There were so many possibilities. What if he got mugged. Oh god, I was starting to sound ridiculous. But maybe there had been a car accident… no.

Not allowing myself to continue thinking like that I packed up the food into containers. He can take it tomorrow for lunch. I’m not hungry anymore anyway. After I packed up the food I tidied up around the house, distracting myself with anything. The house was already clean but double-cleaning isn’t bad. He still wasn’t home after everything was cleaned up. I took to the couch, watching the door with a frown. No texts from him, and no texts from Joon.

Constant fidgeting. What was I supposed to do? Glancing at the phone, I see that it’s now ten pm. Something was not right. With nothing else to do. I called his number again.

It rang, no answer. It went to voicemail. “Yoongi where are you?” It was only the same exact thing I had been leaving in his messages before. It’s just that I knew he was having a rough time and I didn’t want to guilt-trip him. At this point though… “You’re worrying me and the others. Please just let us know you’re okay.”

I hung up, wondering if he was even receiving them. Damnit. I threw my phone over on the side, it was only making it worse. Maybe I could just go to sleep? But then if something was really wrong… What if I wasn’t there when he needed me? What if...

With the click of the door opening and closing slowly I flipped my head down the hall. I swallowed, stunned at the sight of Yoongi. Who else would it be?

He was hunched over, hood over his head. A shadowed form in the single yellow light of the hall. My body found itself immediately at his side, scanning over him for any sign of injuries. What had happened? Why was he gone so long? Except I didn’t really know how to start the conversation with him. He just stood there, dropping his bag off by the door, sliding off his shoes. Silent.

“Yoongi…” There was something. Something keeping him from talking to me. Something keeping me from really talking to him. It just felt wrong to ask. Because I already knew. Knew that he was struggling. I often tried to get him to open up to me. But he always did it in his own time. Over the course of our relationship, I had learned to let him come to me when he was ready.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, and I barely heard him, his face hidden away under a cap.

I shook my head trying to lift his chin to me, but he didn’t budge. “Yoongi why didn’t you answer my calls?” I bit my lip, obviously, he didn’t want to talk that’s why.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I…” his hands clenched at the zipper of his coat. My mind was spinning. I didn’t know what to say to him. I wanted to be careful. I didn’t know where to start.

“It’s okay…” I hummed, thinking. “What happened?”

He swallowed, still not looking up at me, head hanging low. His thumb traced over the corner of the zipper sow. No response. Okay. That’s okay. My hand reached, outstretched, and offered for him to take it.

His hand trembling, tentatively took hold of it. It was cold. It was cold outside after all. “Are you hurt?” Internally I rolled my eyes. Of course, he was hurt. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a physical injury. He shook his head. “Okay.” I smiled a little, squeezing his hand softly.

“Kei…” He sighed, unable to say anything more than my name.

Although he wasn’t giving me much to respond to I wanted to assure him that it would all be okay. That he would be okay. “It’s okay…” I repeated, pulling him by his hand into an embrace. He didn’t put up any fight, his weight falling over my shoulders as I pulled him close. “You can…” My sentence was immediately cut short by the muffled sound of his sobs into the fabric at my collarbone. My heart instantly broke. His soft sobs heightening to weeping, his arms squeezing me closer and closer. His fingers clung to my back, my shirt soon soaked.

I too held him closer, rubbing softly at his nape. He didn’t let up, it was likely that he needed it. It had been coming a long time. But I wish he knew that it was okay to have come to me before. I was always here for him, and so were the others.

Something had released in him, and even after the sobs turned into lone tears he hadn’t moved from my shoulder. And although my feet were beginning to ache from standing there for so long, I didn’t mind staying there for him.

“Kei I’m so sorry.” He eventually whispered, his breaths still evening out.

“Yoongi it’s okay.” I pressed against his cheek to lift his face up to where I could see. “What happened?” My eyes stayed softened, hoping that he knew I wasn’t mad. Why would I be? I was just worried. So I told him just that. “I was just worried about you, but you’re safe here.”

He sniffled, rubbing his fingers against his dampened eyes, lashes clinging together. “I just…” His face contorted once more and he shook his head. I remained, holding his hand and soothing the words out. “I had an awful day.” He shrugged, almost giving a halfhearted laugh. “I thought maybe because it was my birthday I could ignore the pent-up shit.” He shook his head clearing his throat.

I nodded to show I was listening. He continued, “I thought that vlive would help.” He frowned, “and it did, but I was so busy I couldn’t stay on long, and…” he was starting to ramble. “And then after work, I just wanted to think for a little bit I had my phone shut off and it only made it worse. And then I realized that you were waiting for me and I felt like such a dick.” For the first time that night, he made eye contact, tears dripping down his cheeks. “And I really was a dick.” He cried, pulling me back into his arms.

“Yoongi…” “I love you.” He squeezed tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Yoongi babe, seriously I know.” I kissed his neck where I was able to reach. “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to tell me these things before you disappear. Yeah?” He nodded. “I want you to be safe…” it sounded silly, after all, he wasn’t a child. But bad things can happen to anyone.

He hummed in response keeping me in his clutches, “Can we stay like this?” He asked quietly, and I nodded, taking a deep breath.

“You must be tired though Yoons,” I pushed him off softly, “Why don’t we go to bed?” He took a shaky breath and nodded in agreement. He slid his jacket off and set it aside. I wanted to ask him more questions but I didn't want to pry. But had he cried while he was driving? I hoped not, hoped he hadn’t been alone either.

We walked back together, me picking up my phone on the way back. I texted Joon, knowing that by now he’d probably be worried too. Yoongi looks around, “You didn’t do anything for me right?” He seemed to be more worried that he had missed it rather than him not wanting anything.

I shrugged, “Dinner, but you can have it tomorrow.” He frowned as we left the living room and into the bedroom. “Do you want to open your gift now?” I whisper, looking at the box wrapped up. There were oil paints and special brushes. I remembered he wanted to experiment with them.

“Mhm, yeah.” He sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his cap, hair falling over his forehead. His eyes were swollen, maybe I could get him a cold spoon.

He took the box gently, sliding the silver ribbon away, and picking up the lid. I couldn’t help but smile, as he looked down on the tubes.

His lip twitched, and he set the box to the side, holding out his hand to mine. He kept his eyes on the ground as he pulled me in by my hand, hugging me close all over again. “Thank you.”

I pet the top of his head, with a soft smile, “Do you like them?”

He shook his head into my neck. “Of course I do.” His breath was hot on my skin, and his body shook into another bout of tears. Pursing my lips, I leaned into him.

Lightly teasing, “Well who would have thought paint could move you to tears.” I kissed the top of his head, and he continued crying. I knew he didn’t let it all out by the door. I was stuck standing again, caressing his back, soothing him until he calmed once more.

“I love you.” He sighed, burying his face into his hands.

My fingers brushed his hair back. “I love you too.” I finally sat down next to him, both of us lying back onto the bed. My eyes found his and my thumb brushed his cheek. “You can tell me all about it.” I wipe away a stray tear, “Or not, whatever you feel comfortable.”

He let out a hum, pulling me into his chest, much warmer now after all the previous embraces. “Okay.”

Like this? This is a drabble from my A Year of Fics with Han series found here

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

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𝑀𝑦 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑃𝑡. 4 (𝐵𝑎𝑑𝑏𝑜𝑦! 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

Pairing: Badboy! Park Seonghwa (Ateez)/ Reader (Female)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, College AU.

Synopsis: Final part of the bad boy! Seonghwa series. Y/N finally tells Seonghwa her answer to his confession.

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

"Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa pulled away and stomped his foot on the pavement, gritting his teeth.

"Fucking hell, can't even get a break." He complained, sighing in frustration.

Seonghwa helped Y/N get down from the railing. She fanned her face as she suddenly felt hot from the compromising position she and Seonghwa were in a few seconds ago. She watched as a shorter male with ash blonde hair ran over to them, somewhat out of breath.

"Hongjoong you better have a good excuse for interrupting me." Seonghwa glared daggers at the younger male, his arms crossing over his chest as his foot tapped impatiently on the pavement.

"Well would you count Mingi getting his head stuck in a lamp shade as good enough?" Said Hongjoong mimicked Seonghwa, crossing his arms over his chest while tilting his head to the side.

"What the?! How even?! Ugh! Where is he?" Seonghwa could already feel his head pulsating with a coming migraine.

"In Yunho's room, who's probably trying to calm him down at the moment." He gestured behind him at the house.

Seonghwa inhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out an exasperated breath.

"Fine. Let's see what I can do."

Without even thinking, his hand linked with Y/N's and he began pulling her back inside the house. Hongjoong was taken aback when he saw them holding hands. He looked back and forth between them.

"I thought he said they weren't a thing?" He thought to himself but ultimately decided to let it go, chuckling secretly to himself.

They went back inside the house through the back door so they wouldn't have to pass all the wild people dancing in the living room and hallway. In the kitchen, they were greeted by a very drunk and overly emotional Yeosang, who was currently crying on Jongho's shoulder, the latter helping him stay standing as he petted his hair.

"Yeosang?" Hongjoong looked at him.

"Ok, what happened to you now?" It seemed Seonghwa would have to fix yet another problem.

He began mumbling something incoherently due to his sniffling and talking while his face was pressed on Jongho's shoulder.

"I got him don't worry. Go help out the idiot upstairs." Jongho assured them as he tried to keep Yeosang from collapsing on the floor.

Seonghwa looked back at Y/N

"You don't mind waiting here a few minutes do you?"

She smiled and reassured him she'd be fine. He let go of her hand and that's when it dawned on them both that they had been holding hands the entire time. Seonghwa stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets and walked away with his head hung low. Hongjoong who was next to him leaned in to say something to him, which resulted in him getting elbowed by the taller male as they went upstairs to fix whatever commotion was happening.

"You know, for 2 individuals who keep denying they're in a relationship, you sure act like you're in one." Jongho told her, snapping her gaze away from the staircase.

"Huh?" She looked at him, not paying attention to what he said.

Jongho snickered. "Exactly that. Lovesick puppies that can't seem to function without each other."

Yeosang whined loudly when he heard him mention the word 'love.'

"What's wrong with him anyway?" Y/N was worried for him. She leaned in and wiped some of Yeosang's tears away.

"Long story short: flip a coin, San goes home with Wooyoung for the night." Jongho explained as he rolled his eyes at the stupidity of it.

"Oh no, I'm sorry Yeosang." She brushed some of his bangs away from his face.

"Don't be, this always happens. If it had landed tails, then it'd be San crying here."

Yeosang grunted at the sound of his name and harshly dug his nails into Jongho's arm.

"Whoah ok Hyung, calm down. I get you're upset now but I'm already doing you a favor by keeping your drunk emotional ass company. No need for the agression."

Yeosang lifted his head up and groaned.

"Do me another favor and take me to nearest bathroom."

Seeing Yeosang's pale face, Jongho cringed as he lifted him up as if he weighed nothing.

"Seriously, shouldn't I be the reckless drunk getting taken care of you older guys? Why is it the other way around?"

Jongho excused himself and carried Yeosang to the bathroom as swiftly as he could before the poor boy threw up on himself or worse.

Y/N leaned back on the kitchen island. Her foot began drawing circles on the floor as she waited for Seonghwa to come back. She took the time to think about what Jongho said:

Do we act like a couple?

"No! Absolutely not! Besides, I don't even like him that way...." She thought to herself then immediately began questioning the veracity of that statement.

"Do I?"

She couldn't deny that Seonghwa was extremely attractive, especially with his leather jacket and tight jeans that hugged his thighs in the most dangerous and tempting manner. But besides his obvious beauty, he was also a very kind and genuine person. From the beginning, he stated his intentions and he was very open about what he did and didn't do. He was an open book and didn't try to conceal anything. He was also a complete gentleman towards her and was literally waiting for her to say yes.....

So what's keeping me from accepting him?

She was startled when she felt someone slide next to her, making her forget about what she was thinking.

"Hello there." An extremely attractive male with long pink hair smiled at her.

"Hi." She replied awkwardly, scooting a bit away from him.

"I'm Hyunjin. May I know your name?" He asked, his head tilting down to check her out.

"Y/N." She responded.

"Pretty name on such a pretty face." He grinned, coming closer to her.

Y/N retreated away when she felt him come closer, closer than she felt comfortable with.

"Don't be scared beautiful. I only want to talk." Hyunjin chuckled.

Y/N hardly believed that.

"Oh really? Just talk?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Hyunjin hummed softly.

"Well unless you're up for something else. Then I'd be happy to oblige."

His hand moved to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"So what do you say? Wanna ditch this place and come home with me?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"No-no thank you." She brushed his hand away which resulted in him gripping her wrist and pulling her against him.

"I promise you won't regret it." He smirked at her.

In a flash, Y/N watched as Hyunjin was yanked off her by none other than Seonghwa.

"She told you no Hwang Hyunjin. Can't you take a hint?"

Hyunjin scoffed as he straightened his jean jacket.

"Stay out of this Park Seonghwa. This doesn't concern you."

Their voices were raised to the point that a lot of people there were now looking over or whispering, wondering what all the commotion was about. Seonghwa chuckled sarcastically.

"Oh but you see, it does concern me cause..."

Taking 2 steps, he swiftly took Y/N's arm, pulling her close to him and wrapping an arm protectively around her.

"She's my girl." He declared.

Audible gasps were heard when he said that, a few females letting out either romantic "awwws" while others were fuming at this new information.

"Fucking knew it!" Yeosang declared, pointing a finger upwards as Jongho tried to stabilize him once again and shushing him.

Hyunjin looked surprised but then he laughed mockingly at him.

"Your girl? Do you actually mean a girl, or is she just another slut of yours that you're going to fuck and call it a night?"

Seonghwa grabbed Hyunjin by the collar and slammed him against the wall harshly, rage coursing through his veins.

"Say that again about her! I dare you to!" Seonghwa warned.

Hongjoong immediately stepped in and grabbed Seonghwa's shoulder.

"Seonghwa....this isn't the place-"

But he couldn't get his statement out because Hyunjin shoved Seonghwa off him, getting ready to fight.

"I'm not scared of you Seonghwa. So try me." Hyunjin threatened.

Y/N looked over and saw many people taking out their cameras, ready to film what was going to happen. Then she took in Hongjoong's and Jongho's worried looks. Realizing she did not want to see him get hurt, she stepped in between them, making Seonghwa look at her in confusion.

"Y/N move. I don't want you to-"

He stopped talking when she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly so he wouldn't move.

"Please don't do this. Please just don't..." She begged him.

Seonghwa opened his mouth to speak but ultimately didn't. His hands that were balled up into fists loosened themselves and moved to caress her lower back. He took a deep breath and began to calm down.

"Ok."

That was all he said as he unwrapped her arms from him, smiling down at her to make her stop worrying. He looked to Hyunjin one last time before threatening him:

"Don't ever let me hear you disrespecting her again or I'll bust your face open."

Seonghwa linked his hand with Y/N's and began pulling her away from there. Exiting the house, he guided her over to where he parked his car. Y/N fake pouted.

"No motorcycle tonight?" She asked in a whiny tone.

Seonghwa snorted. "If I remember correctly, you called it a 'death trap'".

"It is! But you know......makes you look even more attractive." She teased him.

Seonghwa pushed her up against the side of the car, his hands trapping her in between his body making her get flustered and look at him with widened eyes.

"Don't tease me or I won't be able to hold myself back. " He cautioned her.

He then moved her slightly away so he could open the door for her. He waited for her to get in before pacing over to the driver's side. Turning on the car, he swiftly pulled out of the driveway and started heading back to her house. They sat there quietly, unable to say anything. Seonghwa noticed how Y/N kept glancing over at him every once in a while.

"What's on your mind doll face?" He finally spoke up.

"Oh um....well that thing you said back there....at the party...." She mumbled out.

"I said a lot of things Y/N, you're going to have to be more specific." He looked at her momentarily before paying attention to the road again.

"The part where you said I was....your girl?" She said the last part very quietly.

When Seonghwa didn't respond for a while, she slumped her shoulders back, internally cursing herself for even bringing it up. She decided to just look out the window for the remainder of the ride. She didn't get it. Why was Seonghwa not answering her question? Did he not mean it? Was he going back on his word? Her mind began to swirl with all kinds of questions that she didn't notice that Seonghwa had already pulled in front of her apartment complex until he was clearing his throat.

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry. Thanks for the ride. I'll see you around."

She grabbed her purse and wanted to speed out of the car as fast as she could, but Seonghwa clutched her hand before she could move.

"Y/N wait!" He blurted out.

Taking off his seat belt, he turned to look at her.

"I didn't respond before because I wanted to talk about it calmly and with no distractions."

Y/N calmed down when he explained why he didn't immediately respond to her minutes before. Seonghwa looked down and took a deep breath before confessing:

"Y/N you know how I feel about you. From the beginning, I told you I liked you. I was attracted to you at first, but spending these two days with you, getting to know you even more..... I'm falling for you harder than I ever imagined I would..."

Gathering his courage, he looked up at her surprised face.

"I won't get my hopes up.... but it would honestly make me happy if you accepted to be my girl....make it official between us..... and actually start dating..."

He cringed at himself and the way he asked her. He for sure thought she would reject him.

"Seonghwa?"

Y/N's voice made him snap his head up.

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind getting out of the car?" She asked.

Her request puzzled him, but he did so nonetheless. He ran over to her side before she could even open the door, as he did it for her.

"Ok, why did you-"

He was cut off when Y/N grabbed the sides of his leather jacket and pulled his face down to hers, making him get his words caught in his throat. Y/N smirked at him.

"I thought you said you wouldn't hold yourself back if I teased you again?" She chuckled at his shocked expression.

Getting the hint, Seonghwa pulled her hands off him and held them in place.

"I'm not."

He closed the gap between them and cupped her cheeks as he kissed her tenderly, all of the feelings he had kept inside finally coming out in his kiss. Y/N pulled her hands out of his grasp and they went to the back of his head, running themselves through his hair as she kissed him back just as intensely.

Seonghwa pulled back briefly to ask.

"So....is that a yes or...?"

Y/N giggled and nodded yes before pulling him back in, this time kissing him even more passionately. Her hands moved to his arms that were clad with his leather jacket, yet she could still feel the muscles underneath the material. The thought of them exposed made her unconsciously bite down on Seonghwa's lower lip.

Moaning softly, Seonghwa pulled her off him once again.

"Ok ok, easy there kitten. If there's going to be tongue and second base involved, let me take you out on a date first." He joked, poking her nose.

"I thought you already did." She reminded him.

Seonghwa smiled. "Well then...how about a second date?"

Y/N hummed and thought about it. "Deal."

Seonghwa beamed with joy.

"Great then. I can't wait."

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

Y/N could feel the stares from some of her classmates, but she didn't care. Let them think and talk about whatever they wanted. She couldn't care to pay attention to them, let alone pay attention to what any of her professors were saying. All day long, she kept thinking about Seonghwa and about their date later tonight. It was the only thing keeping her from going insane during these boring Monday sessions.

As soon as the bell rang, she stuffed her books in her bag and strutted out the door. Her plan was to get home as soon as possible so she could shower and change as quickly as possible for their date. But those plans were crushed when she was met by a familiar head of black hair sitting by the benches outside. Catching sight of her, he got himself up and walked over to her, looking her up and down.

"Hello doll." Seonghwa winked at her.

"I thought you said you didn't have any classes today?" Y/N remarked.

"I didn't." Seonghwa affirmed.

"Then why are you here?" She questioned him.

Leaning in, he responded.

"Got impatient and couldn't wait to see my little kitten."

Not caring that others would see, he cupped her chin and softly kissed her. When he pulled back, he muttered a soft 'cute' at her pink cheeks. Taking off his leather jacket, he wrapped it around her.

"It's kinda chilly. Put it on."

Seonghwa held her books as she put on his clothing, chuckling when he saw it was definitely big on her. Linking their hands, he took her out into the parking lot.

"Oh my God! You seriously brought that?!" Y/N complained when she caught sight of his motorcycle.

"Get used to her babygirl, you're going to see a lot of her too." Seonghwa handed her a helmet.

Y/N huffed as she put on her helmet. "I swear to god, you like this thing more than me."

"Nope trust me, I like you a lot more. A lot." He insisted as followed suit and put on his helmet.

Seonghwa waited until Y/N firmly adjusted herself behind him, his heart jumping when she wrapped her arms around him once again.

"Tell me when it's over." Y/N shut her eyes, gripping him even tighter.

"Calm down doll, I won't let anything happen to you. After all.....

You're my girl."

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

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rosalineandrosemary · 3 years

Text

one final goodbye

hi! i wrote this for @maribat-angst-fluff-april with prompt 14, goodbye. you can check out my partner, @yoltastic09 ‘s fluff submission here. anyway, warnings for major character death and descriptions of blood and the fic is below the cut!

the video is blurry, filmed with shaking hands. when it focuses, they see a girl coated in red spotted spandex. she’s leaning against a wall, eyes closed and smiling softly, but their eyes are locked on the stab wound through her abdomen.

“thanks… thanks alya.” her voice is soft and raspy, and behind the camera, someone chokes on a sob.

“lb, please. just hold on a bit longer. chat... carapace. Someone will bring your lucky charm and it’ll be okay.” the voice, alya, trembles, and the spotted girl’s eyes fly open.

“i didn’t tell you, did i? alya, there’s no saving me. that’s why we’re recording this. I have his miraculous but my lucky charm can’t fix me. it’ll fix paris and i’ll still be here.” the camera falls to the ground with a clatter, and beyond the black screen they can hear alya’s sobs.

“alya please, I need you to do this. I need to be able to tell them myself. I need to be able to tell you myself.”

“tell me what?” alya’s voice is thick and broken, and the camera is lifted off the ground. they see a girl, fox ears coming from her head and in another spandex suit, before the camera focuses on the bleeding girl again.

“hello viewers, hi alya. my name is marinette dupain-cheng, also known as ladybug. and this is my final goodbye.”

the dark room where they sit is filled by the sound of things shattering, a mug falling to a ground, a wine glass being crushed in someone’s tight grip.

“alya, i love you. it’s been an honor fighting alongside you as ladybug, and despite our ups and downs, and even how things were before you got your head on straight, it’s been amazing being your friend. i’m so sorry that this is how things turned out.” alya sniffles, and her soft words are easily picked up by the mic.

“mari, please. you can’t leave us, please.” marinette smiles and looks away, faltering. she takes a deep heaving breath and looks back at the camera.

“maman, papa, i’m so sorry i couldn’t tell you about this. i’m so sorry that i can’t say goodbye properly. i’m sorry that i lied and i’m sorry that i kept this from you. i just didn’t want you getting hurt. you two are the best parents a girl could have and i’m so grateful to call you two mine. please don’t blame yourselves. i chose to keep this a secret to protect you, and you raised a pretty clever little girl. there isn’t anything you could have done to stop this.” marinette is crying at this point, tears streaking across the red of her mask and down her cheeks. “make sure they see this alya. please make sure they see this.”

“of course, i promise girl. i’ll do anything.” alya’s voice is broken but marinette nods solemnly before continuing.

when they see this, marinette’s parents wail and sob, the sounds echoing throughout the arrondissement. their neighbors tense, waiting for the destruction their akuma could cause, but hawkmoth is gone, and tom and sabine dupain-cheng are free to mourn their only daughter.

“bruce, or, well, dad. i thought you might want to hear me call you that at least once, considering i’m not going to be able to meet you again for you to hear me say that legitimately. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you about this. i’m sorry that when i said goodbye, that when i said i’d see you again soon, that it turned out like this. it was nice being your daughter, at least for a little while.” the viewers turn to look at him with the mention of his name, and bruce opens his palm, glass shards falling to the floor. he stands up, staggering to the side, and walks out of the room.

when bruce had first met marinette, he thought she’d fit in with the rest of them. he wasn’t oblivious to the jokes his kids made about the black hair, blue eyes, and the way she held herself made him think she’d fit in in other ways too.

she was always cautious, always nervous, like she was expecting something to attack her out of nowhere. she was good at hiding it, beaming sunshine smiles and a charming yet genuine demeanor, and he could see the resemblance from miles away. he had seen her baking with alfred, laughing with dick and jason, drinking coffee with tim. she had found a slot in their family and fit herself there perfectly, and in the short time he knew her, he had grow to care for the daughter he was unaware he had.

the last time he saw her, she hugged him and smiled, a soft tentative thing, as she whispered goodbye. she turned to leave, but her back was too straight, her shoulders too tense. he swore to himself that he’d find out what was troubling her back in paris and that he would see if there was anything he could do about it.

bruce never got the chance.

“dick. you’re a great older brother. i’m sorry that i couldn’t be your younger sister for very long. it could have been fun. we might have done acrobatics together, or you could have showed me trapeze if you wanted. you try so hard to take care of people, please remember to take care of yourself.”

marinette, dick thought, was tiny. she was so much shorter than he was, and she looked up at him when she introduced herself. bruce’s other unknown child. she has the hair, and the eyes, clouded with the same world-weariness he had seen in all of them. he hadn’t been the first to meet her, as that honor had gone to bruce and alfred, and tim had been walking by when she walked in the door, but he had been the first to declare her his younger sister. he asked her questions and she responded, she asked him questions and he responded.

he learned of her love of fashion and cooed as she bashfully showed off her outfit that she had sewed and designed herself. he told her of his gymnastics and trapeze skills, and she was wide eyed and nearly glowing when she asked if he could teach her. he had swallowed heavily, looked away and back at her, and told her that “maybe we can next time, marinette. i think b-man has an itinerary for you and everything.”

she had looked disappointed for a second before composing herself. “okay, maybe next time. but speaking of mr. wayne, i should probably go find him again, talk to you later dick!” he had heaved a sigh of relief, scared of bringing her so close to something that had already taken his family once.

when he hugged her goodbye before she left for the airport, small hands clasped around his back, dick resolved that he would try to teach marinette the trapeze next time she came over. There would be nets and she wouldn’t get hurt and then there would be more memories of the trapeze that didn’t come with the bittersweet tinge of all his memories at haly’s circus.

dick didn’t get that chance.

“hi jay. i was making you something, did you know that?” marinette laughs softly, then inhales sharply as she aggravates her wound. and yet, she continues. “no, of course you didn’t. i didn’t tell you. it was almost done, just had a few finishing touches. you could still wear it though. it's a leather jacket. i saw that the one you had seemed to be getting worn out, thought you might want a new one. a new leather jacket for my big brother.” her tears quicken and she attempts to curl in on herself, even as her body lay against the wall. she looks so small. “even if your advice wasn’t the best you were still there and i was happy to be ‘pixie pop.’ i wish you were here. you’re safe, you know that? you feel safe, like if anything tried to hurt me you’d fix it. And i’m scared but at least other people are safe now. Thank you for making me feel safe.”

jason todd did not think he was a good man. there was too much blood on his hands for that. and even if the bastards had deserved it, it still didn’t make him a good person. so when he had seen the tiny slip of a girl who ran into him as she attempted to find bruce, his first instinct had been to stay away. she was so tiny, so pure, and no amount of washing would ever be able to clean his hands.

but then she had flinched and started spewing out apologies, hands flying everywhere as she drove herself further down this spiral, and he saw in her what he had seen in so many of the other street kids. fear of retaliation, a desperation to appease him because she was afraid of what he might do.

and jason was furious. not with her, but with whoever had taught this girl (bruce’s daughter. he had warned them all about her, telling them to hide the objects that showed their “nightly pursuits.” he hadn’t told them she’d be so small.) that she had to apologize like this. whoever had traumatized her in this way.

“hey, no need to apologize, pixie pop. no harm, no foul, right?” she had looked up at him, confused, and he grinned at her and clenched his fists, trying to dispel some of the anger festering in his chest.

“who’s pixie pop?” she had said, eyebrows furrowed adorably.

“you are, of course. because you’re so tiny, like a little fairy. and all my siblings need nicknames, like dickie-bird, or replacement, or demon spawn. and since you’re my little sister now, you get a nickname too.” she had smiled and nodded, responding with a soft “okay,” and he swung an arm around her shoulder.

“so let me help you find bruce. but on our way there, is there anyone you’ve got any problems with? Any bullies you’d like big bro jason to deal with?” she had tensed, pursed her lips, and shook her head.

“there’s nothing you can deal with. it’ll be fine.” he hadn’t believed her, but he wasn’t going to pry.

when he hugged her goodbye, she had shook, clutching the sleeves of his jacket within her hands, but when he went to ask her what had happened, she said she’d tell him next time. he said he’d help her through anything.

jason never got the chance.

“cass.” with this, she attempts to lift her hands from where they lay on the floor. she’s shaking with the effort, but manages to hold them up to her chest. slowly, she signs out every word with her hands. “i think that you could tell something was up. i don’t know how, and i’m not sure even you knew it would end up like this, but i think you could. thank you for trusting me, even if it ended up like this. thank you for being my friend, and i’m sorry i couldn’t improve my sign language fast enough to have a full conversation with you. i hope this is good enough.”

cass could tell that marinette was like them from the way she held herself. she had muscles curled under her clothing, and whenever she tripped she shifted her center of gravity if she didn’t catch herself first.

cass hadn’t really spoken with her, standing as bruce introduced her to marinette. she could tell when marinette had processed bruce saying she preferred sign language, and when marinette’s shoulders sunk, she could tell it was with concern instead of malice.

marinette turns to her with a small frown, apologizing for not knowing any sign language. marinette smiles afterwards though, and reaches out a hand. “i’d love to learn asl though! and i’d also love to be friends if you’d want to be. of course we don’t have to be, i don’t want to…” she trails off as cass takes her hand and nods. marinette’s smile grows wider and a small warmth grows in her chest.

friends sounds nice. and marinette promises that she’ll try to learn asl and they’ll have a conversation in a way that cass is comfortable with, talking with that same smile.

the last time cass sees marinette, she signs goodbye. marinette’s right hand goes up, thumb out, and she closes the rest of her fingers to her palm. she continues with the sign for cass’ name, and cass responds in turn, goodbye and marinette, and marinette leaves, excited at getting it right.

marinette inhales, a wheezing breath, and the video is interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls and a man’s calling voice. “ladybug? rena?”

alya lets out another sob and the man approaches. they can tell when he sees marinette, as he stalls before sprinting towards them.

he’s clad in blue and snake print, teal tips at the bottom of his black hair, and he goes directly for marinette, trying to press a red and black spotted objects into her hands.

“ladybug please, please take it you can fix all of this with the lucky charm. just do miraculous ladybug and the magic will fix it.” he begs her, voice jumping. marinette clutches the object in her hand but makes no motion to do anything with it, and he speaks again. “ladybug…” he hesitates for a second before continuing. “marinette, my melody, please don’t die on me.” her eyes widen slightly before she looks away.

“i should have known you already knew, mon coeur. but you also have to know this is the end.” she smiles at him, lifts the object in her shuddering hands and attempts to yell miraculous ladybug. she’s cut off halfway through by her own coughing, shaking her whole body and sending blood spilling from her lips.

it works regardless though, and the remaining waynes watch in awe as glowing ladybugs reverse the property damage. they fix the walls and the pavement before crowding around marinette’s body, but when they leave the wound is still there. the blood is still there.

marinette’s eyes are drooping, and when she tries to talk, it comes out a whisper. “damn it. i thought i had more time.” she coughs again, more blood dripping out of her mouth. “tim, i was so happy to be your work buddy. steph, you are so fun and so important and it was so so lovely being your sister and your friend. damian, i wish i could have been your sister without scaring you, but that won’t be a problem anymore.” her breathing is shallow but she continues going, trying to say all the words she’s scared she wouldn’t be able to. “alfred, being your granddaughter, baking with you, all of that was such a pleasure. babs, spending time with you was so much fun and i wish we could do that again, that we could be friends for longer. duke, i know we didn’t interact much but i wish we could have.” she exhales, leans her head back against the reformed wall. her eyes flutter closed.

“goodbye.” she says, one last word before her chest stills and marinette dupain-cheng dies.

#maribat angst and fluff april #maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #rosaline writes

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hyetomi · 3 years

Text

Pairings: gn reader x taehyun

Genre: soulmate au, angst, a little bit of fluff

Warnings: mentions of death, major character death

Summary: Kang Taehyun was so in love with you. You were so in love with Kang Taehyun. You were both in a lovely relationship, one that friends and passersby would always be jealous of. No one expected the ending of the relationship that should’ve lasted forever to be this tragic, though. Alas, happy endings only happen in fairy tales. This, however, is reality.

Notes: not proofread !! im so sorry it's really bad because i'm so busy with school i'll edit as i post this tysm for understanding!

Dear Taehyun,

Hey, love. How are you? If you’re reading this, that would mean that I’m either gone or I’m nearly there. I hope you don’t miss me too much. You might be wondering: why didn’t I tell you? Well, it’s because I was afraid. I was afraid of everything happening. It all just… went by too fast. One day I was playing Mario Kart with you on the sofa, then I fainted the next. I was so scared. The doctors told me I had an incurable disease which I had since I was a child. There was no more hope for me, unless I got a heart transplant. Of course, I couldn’t. I had 3 months to live. It was hard as it is to find a heart donor. And even if we found one, my parents couldn’t afford it.

So, I lived the next 92 days to the fullest.

I had 2 goals 一 missions 一 to fulfill within those 3 months. One, it was to complete my bucket list. Two, to make sure you know I love you. So, I went around the city trying my best to tick off my list. Roller skating, rock climbing, go-kart riding… I tried (and succeeded) to persuade you to join me in my adventures. Honestly, I wanted to go bungee jumping as well, but my sickness wouldn’t allow me to do so. We had a lot of fun, didn’t we? I was so happy! It might be because the activities were fun itself, but I believe it was because you were there. There is a reason why the universe chose us as soulmates.

Remember when you first met me? I’d be forever thankful that Huening introduced us. Without him, I’d be too shy to approach you and we wouldn’t have met. When we shook hands while introducing ourselves, the glow in your eyes was so pretty. I would do anything to go back to that time. The feeling of meeting your soulmate… I will never forget it. I’m so glad you’re mine, I would have never thought that the boy I had been crushing on would be my soulmate, the one destined for me.

I never told you why I love you, have I? Buckle up, Tyun. You’re in for a ride.

I first saw you in English class. You helped that one boy in our class and I was literally the heart eyes emoji. I’ve never seen someone so gentle in teaching. When he didn’t understand your words, you explained it over and over to him, not a hint of annoyance crossing your face. If I were you, I’d give up right there and then. But you didn’t. You taught him again and again and again until he understood. I admire your kindness, truly. Not just that, but you’re so pretty! I know you’re probably tired of me saying this every day, but I’m serious about your prettiness. My first impression of you was: ‘So pretty… your eyes are so big… your nose is literally perfect….’ It’s literally illegal to be this pretty, Tyun.

Not only on the outside, but you’re also pretty on the inside. You’re so kind, brave, thoughtful… you’re basically every good adjective out there except I can’t think of anymore because I’m in so much pain. You’re basically perfect. I’m very lucky, aren’t I? I’d like to think I’m the luckiest person in the world because I’m dating you, Kang Taehyun. I mean, no one else would ditch their most important class of the day just to take care of me because I’m sick. Or walk for 20 minutes during Winter only because I wanted my weekly donut. I didn’t even ask you to do these things for me, you did it from the kindness of your heart.

I’m really sorry. I’m sorry for being sick. I’m sorry for not being able to spend the rest of our lives together. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for everything. I wish that we weren’t soulmates so that you don’t have to bear the pain of losing your soulmate at the age of 19. Maybe, in another life, we could be together again. Maybe then, we could be as free as the wind. In another life, we would be soulmates again. I’m sure of it.

Promise me this: be happy. I don’t want my death to cause you any pain nor stop you from being you. Tyun, you’re one of the biggest positives in my life and I don’t want you to stop being a source of happiness for others. Go live your life, do things you love, be free! But please don’t forget about me. Ha.

I’ll end this letter here. I attached a picture of us in the roller skating rink that I took with the polaroid camera you gave me. There’s still some film left in the camera so you can use it! Take a picture of the stray cat near my house, or of the boys, or my funeral for I care, I just want you to make memories with that polaroid just like I did. Anyways, I love you a lot. I’ll miss you so much, but I will always look after you from above. We’ll meet again when the time is right. I love you!

With lots and lots and lots of love,

Y/N

Taehyun curls up in a ball in your untouched room. It has been 3 months without you. 3 months way too long. He misses you everyday. He misses your smile, your laugh, your eyes, your hugs, your everything. He hasn’t opened the letter because he holds onto it like a lifetime. He fears that when he does read it, you’ll truly be gone. Without his soulmate, it hurts so much. He wipes his tears away, sniffles, and faces the ceiling, holding onto the polaroid you attached with the letter.

“I miss you. You’re looking after me, right? So you can hear me saying this. I miss you a lot. I miss you more everyday.” he voices out, his throat in pain after crying, voice dry.

He looks across the room to see the desk where you two would usually do your homework together, annoying each other and laughing while the night goes on. There sat the polaroid. A pastel blue one, your favourite colour. Next to it lies your photo album. He still remembers every photo, but he decides to open it anyway.

Although his legs ache, he still walks toward the desk. He grabs the album and flips through every page. He holds onto it tightly, like it might slip through his hands and he’ll lose it forever.

He sighs. Taehyun looks toward the polaroid. He puts the album down and grabs the polaroid softly, sniffling once again.

“I’ll make more memories for you, Y/N. Thank you for everything. I love you.” he whispers.

Taehyun grabs the photo album, the letter and the polaroid, trudges towards the door and pulls it open. He took several steps before looking back onto the now unowned room. He smiles, and closes the door. He sniffles again before finally leaving the house. He takes in a deep breath of fresh air and walks home to try and start a new life without his soulmate by his side.

#txt #tomorrow x together imagines #txt imagines #tomorrow x together #taehyun #taehyun imagines #taehyun imagine #taehyun au #tomorrow x together au #kang taehyun #letters to txt

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sunlightwoo · 4 years

Photo

wc: 1027

“Kevin, why are you breaking my limbs, I’m literally right behind you.” You huffed out and stared at the male that was standing in front of you with a cheeky smile on his face, his hand on the knob knowing that he had something up his sleeve.

In fact he did, which was why when he reached out to Chanhee to make sure that you and Changmin would stay in the same room when his youtube video releases to know the truth. The day that Kevin was filming both of yours and Changmin’s answers for your interviews, he had a plan to get you both back together knowing that you were both too stubborn to even admit the evident feelings that lingered between you both, and thought this might be the best way to let it all out.

Hence why he felt as though his palms were going to fall out of his bare hands when he was reaching the front door of his home.

By the time that you both make it inside, you notice that there was another person on the couch and your instincts immediately almost kick in to leave, just when Kevin was already holding onto your wrist so that you wouldn’t leave. After giving you a silent argument with his eyes, you could only strangle him mentally knowing that you weren’t in the position to want to talk to Changmin at the moment, much less be in the same room as him.

“We’re all going to watch my new video together, and yes this was planned.” He grins as he makes sure to sit in between you both so that there wasn’t anything that could break out while the video was playing in front of you three.

And luckily there wasn’t as you watched how Kevin’s video came out considering you had always admired how well he had edited his videos, up until the part where the interviews finally happened. Your face warms up at the confessions that you remember making to Kevin as the only noise filling up the room was your embarrassment and confession of still loving Changmin and you could’ve sworn that if it weren’t for Kevin holding down both yours and Changmin’s arms down, then you would’ve left.

However, it was now up to Changmin’s part of the interview that Kevin motions for you with his eyes to pay attention, and a frown that was evident on your face spoke measures as you did anyways, despite the embarrassment that was building up in your stomach. You listen in for a moment as you watched Kevin ask him the questions that were similar to yours, up until there was a question that made you freeze in your seat seeing as though it had gotten serious.

“If you were given a chance to have a relationship with Bubbles again, would you take it and see how it goes?” Kevin asks, seeing as though Changmin had looked more serious by the time that he asks him the question as the latter shifts in his seat momentarily before nodding slightly.

“I’m scared to imagine that I would even have the slightest chance to take back Bubbles. I don’t think I deserve to have something as good as that in my life, knowing how badly I had hurt them in the past. I think that is why when she asked me to keep our relationship platonic, I was relieved because she was always and has been my best friend even before we dated, but it still kind of hurt knowing that there will always be those feelings that I kept only for her because she wasn’t like any other person that I have ever dated.”

The video suddenly pauses as you could feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and you knew that there was definitely a pair of eyes settling on yours, just as you hear Kevin mumble quietly that he was going to be back and left the room. Glancing over to your side, you see Changmin curled up on the couch with his knees up to his chest and he was already looking at you with glossed eyes that mirrored yours, neither of you saying a word as the video was still settling into your brain to process.

He still loves you, and he meant it this time around sober.

The silence and tension building up between you both continued to grow as you weren’t sure what to say, but there was something about how Changmin slowly unraveled himself to take a breath that you weren’t sure of whether or not you should speak up first.

“I still love you, Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped when you finally came back,” He breathed out quietly, sitting in front of you with his hands in his lap and you sniffled a bit as there was a single tear that you felt escape from your eyes while you reached out to wipe it.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to even say it.”

The fact that your heart was pounding loudly in your chest spoke more than what your mind was yelling at you to do, which was to kiss him, because you wanted to just let him back in again to see what happens if you both went out again. The only downfall was that you were scared of the vulnerability that you would be putting yourself at, and it might’ve been the only thing that was holding you back.

Your mind somehow was faster than you can even say anything, because you sat up from where you were currently sitting to reach over and kiss him softly, his lips fitting against yours like puzzle pieces that completed the other. Tears were now streaming down your face as the kiss you were sharing now felt different than the one that you filmed the other day, knowing that this was real and filled with lost emotions that were found again rather than a staged one that felt empty.

He was your missing puzzle piece, and somehow knew that he was your endgame even with the curtains closed.

UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT: CURTAIN CALL

chapter twenty: curtain call

a/n: last chapter before the epilogue :(( how are we feeling guys :)

summary: after the curtain closes, you know that you are no longer the character that plays the love interest of Ji Changmin’s character. all feelings that could possibly be felt towards him could be you being immersed into your own character. how much of it was actually true considering you couldn’t tell what was real and what was acting.

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