#makes sense for why I’ve been Sad and Mad and shit the past few days though ig

[buysomecheese]

Who up barfing to Step by Vampire Weekend on this Monday evening!!!

[devildomwriter]

One Little Thing, A Ring Part IV | Mammon x Reader

1.1K Words | GN! Reader | CW: Angst

You came home late again that night from work and were surprised to find Mammon already asleep. The past few weeks you’d been working extra hard, Mammon had stayed up for you and offered you a rose he’d stolen from a bouquet somewhere in the house. But tonight he was sprawled out under the covers and his cheek was pink and puffy.

You inspected closely without waking him up and felt the skin had liquid beneath. Using your magic you identified the perpetrator and healed his wound, draining the last bit of magic you had in you for the day.

Not bothering to change out of your old clothes you lifted the blanket and fell asleep next to Mammon.

Mammon was practically comatose but he could sense your presence and his pained face grinned as he snuggled closer to you, head on your chest.

You smiled and held onto him as you drifted into sleep.

Mammon was sad the next day to see you’d left early again. He noticed your slippers by the bedside and began to wonder if you’d actually been there or if he’d dreamed it up.

He pulled out his D.D.D. to call you but you couldn’t answer and he gave up after a few tries and sighed.

He scratched his back and stretched, trying to wake up his body before being put back to work. Despite the cheer of the holiday season, Mammon stayed occupied only with work and didn’t enjoy it as he normally did. All he could focus on was money and this time it was for a good reason. All of this was for you.

Mammon’s brothers had all learned what was happening and dealt with it in their own ways. Lucifer’s way of dealing was to occasionally ensure Mammon had more work to do but he remained at the castle a majority of the day to make sure he wasn’t worked too hard.

His brothers began to randomly appear at the castle and soon after some kind of disaster would occur that they’d never be punished for.

Eventually, Mammon caught on and he wasn’t happy. He put up with a lot of shit from them over thousands of years but he wasn’t having it and called for an intervention.

They didn’t listen to him so Lucifer forced everyone to come together and hear him out. Mammon got a pardon from work so everyone could meet up at an acceptable time of the day.

“Okay, why’d you call us here?” Leviathan asked annoyed and focusing more on his D.D.D.

Mammon growled, “Dammit, you know why. All of ya do!” He pointed his fingers at his brothers.

Asmodeus gasped and placed his hand over his chest. “I’ve done nothing wrong, how could you accuse me!”

Mammon glared at him and Satan nudged Asmo to cool it with the theatrics.

Belphegor rolled his eyes at Mammon’s declaration. “What did you expect?” He hissed, in demon form.

Beelzebub put a hand on Belphegor’s shoulder trying to ease his anger but it was palpable.

“You guys know damn well why I’m working and you’re makin’ it harder what gives!”

Satan glared at Mammon now, “as Belphie said. What did you expect?”

Mammon clenched his fists and his demon form slipped out which surprised his brothers. Mammon didn’t often lose control like the rest of them, even when they beat on him, called his names, or won their money back, Mammon would stay calm. But not now, Mammon was beyond pissed.

Lucifer remained silent, he knew what Mammon was going to say and he knew that Mammon would be right too.

“Do ya realize that by gettin’ in my way, you’re really just gettin’ in ___’s way!”

They froze in silence.

“I get that you’re all mad they didn’t date you instead! I get that cause I’d feel the exact same way! Y’know how pissed I got all those times I thought they were dating one of you! Or when they kissed Lucifer that time he got amnesia!”

Lucifer chuckled and earned hateful glares from each brother.

“Anyways, I get it! But this isn’t about me, it’s about ___! And if you really care about them then you should want them to be happy and like it or not, they’re happy with me! And I’m tryin’ to give them a ring they deserve and I’m doin’ honest work! So quit comin’ into the castle and screwing everything up! It’s not cool and you know that!”

Everyone was silent for a while and Mammon finally tucked away his wings and sat on the couch facing his brothers.

Lucifer finally spoke with a small nod. “I know.” He relented. “You’re right. All of us are making things harder on you.”

“Hey! You don’t speak for me,” Belphegor snapped but Satan shook his head.

“Give it up Belphie. We’re too obvious.” Satan looked Mammon in the eye. “Fine. We’ll stay out of your way and we’ll do it for ___ not for you.”

Asmodeus nodded and Beelzebub looked at the ground.

“But know this,” Satan continued. “I’ll be waiting for the moment you slip up and when that happens I’ll be the one by their side.”

Leviathan set his D.D.D. down and glared, “That goes for me too.”

Everyone agreed and Mammon sighed. “Whatever, that’s not gonna happen so you’re all gonna have to suck it up for ___’s sake. You really think they want you guys trying to ruin their relationship the second you can?”

Satan turned red and Beelzebub blushed in some sense of shame. They wouldn’t admit to it but they still intended to romance you any chance they could get. Similarly to Diavolo, they were hoping that after hundreds or thousands of years with Mammon, polygamy might be on the table.

Mammon knew this and stayed wary of his brothers but took solace in the fact they wouldn’t dare upset you, so his relationship was safe as long as you were happy. That scared him at the same time.

The closer Christmas got the more he panicked. Was he really good enough? Could he really make you happy forever? He couldn’t even make up his mind on a ring because everything looked so damn perfect when you wore it and he couldn’t afford to get them all.

Mammon looked at the calendar one more time before collapsing into your bed, “the twenty-third already…” he sighed and covered his face.

He was so close to eternal happiness but at the same time feared letting you down. Mammon had nightmares that night until you shook him awake.

“Huh! What’s happening!” He shouted with a start, his cheeks stained with dried tears.

“Mammon…” you said in a gentle tone and wrapped your arms around him. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part V

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives. 

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up. 

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.” 

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.” 

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man. 

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

[missymurphy1985]

The Extra (part 9)

Warning - illness, mentions of death

Authors Note - I have personal experience of this horrific disease - I hope I don't upset anyone with it, but it's a topic very close to my heart.

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

A month had passed since you'd deleted his number and blocked him. You were staring at the letter in your hand, shaking. You knew this day was coming, but you'd pushed it so far down that you had only truly thought about it when Cillian had told you he loved you.

You'd told Liane the truth. Why you couldn't commit to him, even though you desperately wanted to. Truth be told you'd fallen for him just as hard - and that's exactly why you'd pushed him away. It was bad enough you had to live with this, you couldn't force someone else to. She'd encouraged you to get tested - and you knew she was right. It was time you took your life in your hands once and for all. You'd spent too many years since your mother's and sister's untimely deaths burying it.

Picking up the phone, you dialled the number, heart pounding. The receptionist answered.

"Morning. My name is y/n y/l/n. I had some tests. I've had a letter to say the results are in?"

"Can I ask what the test was for?" The receptionist asked.

"My GP referred me. It's for the breast cancer gene. I'd like to know if I carry it."

"Let me check our records Miss Y/L/N. Yes, I have your results here. Would you be available to come in this afternoon? We've had a cancellation?"

"Can you not tell me over the phone?"

"I'm not allowed to, the doctor has requested to see you in person." Your heart lurched, that was never a good sign.

You immediately wanted to call Cillian, but remembered you didn't have his contact details any more. You called Liane instead. She would pick you up at 2pm and go with you to the appointment.

Sat in the waiting room, Liane held you hand to calm you. Your nerves were in tatters. This disease had already taken so much from you - your mum, your older sister, two cousins... You knew there was a strong chance it was going to take you, too. The doctor called you through.

"Your results are here y/n. And I'm pleased to inform you -"

"What?" You gasped. The doctor smiled and took your hands in hers.

"Y/n, you don't carry the gene. It isn't there - your chances of developing breast cancer are no higher than mine, or Joan Bloggs on the street. You're going to be okay." Even the doctor had tears in her eyes. Liane was gobsmacked. You just burst into tears.

"I'm not going to die?"

"Oh honey if I had the cure for that I'd be a millionaire!" She laughed, you did too. You felt like the world had just been lifted off your shoulders, taking a dark cloud with it. A dark cloud you'd been living with for nearly 10 years. The real reason you'd split with your ex. The reason you refused to get your breasts out for auditions. The real reason you backed away from a life in acting. You didn't see the point if you weren't going to be here for the long haul... But now?

Now you'd been given a new life. A new start. And your thrown away the best chance of happiness you'd ever had in one stupid click of a button.

Liane noticed your sadness in the car on the way home. You suddenly realised you weren't actually heading home though, you were on the M6 heading to Wolverhampton.

"Erm.. where are we going?" You asked, seeing the sign for Wolverhampton fly past.

"Road trip."

"Destination?"

"It's a surprise!! Do you trust me?"

"Always..."

"Then don't ask questions."

You rolled your eyes and figured you were probably en route to Bicester Village in Oxford. That was your happy place - a day of shopping, good food, few drinks in the evening... Before long though, your eyelids grew heavy. You always fell asleep on car journeys, this one was no different. Within ten minutes you were out cold.

You felt Liane nudge you gently, waking you. Opening your eyes, you looked around, expecting to see the car park. Instead you saw terraced houses, a green park, and a street sign with 'London Borough - Kilburn' on it.

"Why am I in London??" You asked. Liane shrugged her shoulders.

"Fancied a change - never been before! Just got on the motorway and drove. Been years since we've done that hasn't it! Just drove with no destination?" You grinned, remembering the random road trips you used to take years ago. You'd ended up all over the UK, even catching a ferry to Amsterdam one Friday night just because you were bored!

"So what's the plan?"

"Let's go explore!" She paid for the parking via an app on her phone and you both climbed out the car. The houses were all Victorian style and beautiful. The park was glorious - the sun shining on it beautifully. Liane suggested a picnic in the park first to line your stomachs, then cocktails.

"Aren't you driving us home later?"

"Yes - I'll be on the mocktails! Come on, let's go find food... There's loads of little deli places over there!"

Picnic done, it was cocktail time. Sadly, there didn't appear to be a cocktail bar anywhere near... But there was a nice looking pub over the road. Settling on a normal G&T, you both made your way over. Liane sent you inside to get the drinks while she sat in the beer garden out the back.

Heading outside with two G&Ts, you looked around for her but she was nowhere to be found. You quickly scanned inside again just to make sure you'd not missed her. Setting the drinks down on a bench outside, you waited. Must've gone to the toilet. Taking your phone out you sent her a text letting her know where you were.

Ten minutes passed - still no sign. You were worried now. A ping on your phone.

"For god's sake woman open your eyes and look in the corner!!" Liane... What the hell? You looked up and nearly dropped your phone. Sitting ten feet away from you, on his own... Holding his phone in his hand and staring at you the same way you were staring at him. In complete disbelief.

He looked back at his phone and shook his head. Both of you realising you'd been set up. Completely played.

He stood up, you were convinced he was going to leave but he didn't. He sat opposite you instead.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey..."

"Can I talk before you do?" He asked. You nodded.

"I know... I didn't... Fuck this makes so much more sense in my head..." He laughed.

"Can I talk instead?" He nodded. You took a deep breath and told him the truth. About your family. The deaths. The illness. The tests.. and the results.

"That's why I pushed you away. That's why I push everyone away. But you were the first one I pushed that I regretted... I regretted it so much because no one had ever made me feel as alive as you did. No one made me float on air like you did. No one made me forget about this cloud hanging over me like you did..."

"You thought I'd leave you if you had the gene?"

"My Dad left when my mom was diagnosed. He couldn't handle it so he bailed. Wasn't a great role model."

"Your dad's a dick. I'm not." His brutal, dead pan response made you laugh. In fact you didn't just laugh, you were in hysterics. He laughed with you, and took your hands in his.

"If I promise not to tell you I love you, will you let me see you?"

"No."

"Erm... Okay?"

"I want you to tell me you love me, if you mean it. Then I'll decide."

"Y/N... I. Love. You. I fucking love you. I adore you. I've had the most miserable four weeks of my life thanks to you!" He laughed.

"Yeah I'm sorry about that.."

"It's okay. You can make it up to me."

"You're giving me a second chance?"

"I never gave up on the first one. But this time, we take it slow. Get to know each other. I'll start by asking if I can take you out to dinner tonight?"

"I have nothing with me... All my stuff's at home..."

"Fair enough. Then we have two choices. You go shopping with Liane and get yourself something.. or go home and we can arrange to meet another time?"

"I'm already here, and shopping was on our to do list. Dinner tonight sounds lovely."

"Unblock my number. I'll text you the details later, okay?" He finished his drink and pulled his jacket on, quickly typing a text as you unblocked his number. If only you'd known it was that easy to get his contact details again... The message pinged through.

"Thank you..." You smiled reading it. He leaned over and kissed your cheek softly, before walking away. Glancing back, smiling, as he left the pub.

Liane was with you in seconds.

"You sneaky little shit, how did you do this??" You laughed.

"Anto contacted me last week, said he was sick of Cillian moping. We kinda worked together... Are you mad at me?"

"Not at all. Where's Anto?"

"Right here." Anto appeared out of nowhere and you threw your arms around him.

"Thank you. For everything?"

"No need to thank me. This was Liane's idea. Bit of a rush to sort once you'd got those results but luckily you live 3 hours away and you sleep like the dead!" He laughed. "Now get yourself gone - you have a date to prepare for!"

[staynskz]

Making Amends

Pairing: Husband Bangchan x Wife female reader

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.5k

Warning(s): None

 Prologue: You and Chan had dated for some time before deciding it was a good time to marry. You both had children soon after marriage; Aris, your daughter, is 5 years old, and Eli, your son, is 3 years old. You both had a wonderful marriage. Compromises were always made to work around everyone’s schedule, but you were sure to make sure everything was always in order around your home. Sometimes, those compromises were you being too forgiving at times. It was hard, but it could be worse. Chan was always helpful, but there were also times where he overworked and forgot to worry about his responsibilities at home. Those were times that got dark and hard for you.

There were so many blessings in your life: your two children, Aris and Eli, your husband, Chan, and so many more people you’ve gotten to know over the years. Sometimes, life would get in the way, but it was so hard to try and smile through it all. You understood that Chan was busy producing and leading the group, but you also knew that there could’ve been ways around both of your schedules to make time for each other. If you could do it, Chan should be willing to compromise too. You felt like you were giving too much time to everyone else but yourself. It was getting harder and harder every day. Chan kept coming home late and was overworking himself, but you loved him too much to bother to ask for any help. The children were still so young, and you wanted nothing but to watch them grow up. It was too much now. You were overthinking, weren’t you?

 After finishing the dishes, showering the children, and tucking them into their beds, you finally were able to sit on your bed before ending the night by closing your eyes. You couldn’t close your eyes. You didn’t know what tomorrow held. Chan still wasn’t home either. All of the thoughts in your head brought you to tears. You hadn’t cried like this before. You were broken, burnt out, and exhausted. Being a loving mother, doting wife, and friends to others was too much now. You could only keep crying into your hands. It felt like it was nonstop. You weren’t you anymore; you’d changed. Wanting to avoid getting puffy eyes in the morning, you decided to get up and clean your eyes before going to bed. As you looked up, you saw a figure that made you jump from shock. It was Chan. Trying to wipe your tears away before he could see them, you smiled at him saying, “hi babe, you’re home early.” He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you. He knew you were hurting. You always did that. You hid your pain regardless of how much it hurt you to keep it altogether. To avoid the worried stare he had in his eyes, you got up to go to the bathroom. Hurrying past him, you hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about your crying. Chan knew how to read the room. He knew that you didn’t like to talk about anything until you were ready. “Babe…why were you crying?” he asked quietly. Darn it! He asked! Shit! Shit! Shit! What do you say? Turning around, you saw that Chan was still staring at the bed. Before more tears could form, you assured, “I was just watching a really good movie. It touched my heart, so I’m just relaxing from it.” “You don’t cry like that over movies, Y/N…” “Well this just reminded me of a lot of sad stories I’d heard about,” you were doing anything to lie to avoid a scolding from Chan about you not opening up to him about your problems. “Y/N-” “I’m telling the truth, Chan, it’s not that serious-“ was all you could muster before he turned around and stared at you. That stare was like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He was so tired, yet so worried about you as well. His eyebags were dark and bigger than the night before. You just hoped that he would let it slide. You went silent. When Chan looked at you like this, you were unable to lie and say that you were okay. He knew you, inside and out. You were both inseparable-soulmates as some would say. The red string that ties your souls together was being pulled from you both and drawing you far away from each other. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You know I don’t like it when you lie. We said we would be open and honest from the day we’ve been together until now. There’s nothing that we should be keeping from each other.” “Chan, I…” Should you keep lying until you get out of this rut? You were able to fool Chan for awhile sometimes, but this time it wasn’t going to work. “I’ve just been stressed…” “Stressed about what?” he asked as he slowly approached you. “About everything, honestly. There’s so much that I need to take care of, and the kids are still growing up, and I’m trying to make dinner every night, I’m trying to sleep every night, I’m trying to make sure you’re doing okay, I’m trying to make sure all of my duties at work are complete before the day ends, it all just keeps going around and around, Chan. It’s never going to stop. And… it feels like you’re not here to help me, Chan. I feel so alone, and I’m trying to make sure everyone’s doing okay while I’m not okay…” Chan was always a good listener; whatever problems you had, he was there to offer knowledgeable advice. He was silent this time around. You looked up at him staring straight down at you. “So, you’re saying you’re mad at me?” “Wait, no. Chan, I’m not-I mean-I am, just a little bit, but-” “Why didn’t you just say it then? You know that you could’ve just told me. I’m always here to listen to whatever problems you have, babe.” “Well… you’ve been so busy producing that I didn’t want to bother you at all. I wanted to make sure you weren’t stressed for whatever project you have going on at work.” “But we said-” “Yes, Chan. I know what we promised each other when we got married, but sometimes it’s not enough for-” “So you think I’m not doing enough?” “What? No. Chan, I didn’t mean it like that.” “You could’ve just said it to me if you wanted me to do more, Y/N. You know that I love you and I want what’s best for our family. Why do you-” “How am I supposed to tell you when you’re always busy, Chan?!” There it was… your limiting point. You hated it when people asked you why you didn’t say anything in the beginning. You were too considerate for your own good. “How am I supposed to talk to a husband who’s never home?! My husband isn’t home to help me cook dinner, bathe the children, and can’t even get home to eat least enjoy dinner with me?!” “Oh, so you ARE mad at me. Well, if you said anything to me, I would’ve-” “Stop saying that! Stop saying that if I said something you would’ve done something, Chan! You know that I’m busy, yet you leave me home with the children to care for, and I do everything for this house! If you truly cared, you would’ve SEEN that I was exhausted from doing this all on my own!” “Well, I’ve just been-” “Sometimes, it doesn’t even feel like I’m a married woman, Chan! These women out here have husbands who worry about them, who take care of them, who do everything they can to make a house function, but you just worry about work! Do you even care about us?! Your wife who works AND cleans your house?! Your children who barely get to see you as they’re growing up?!” You weren’t thinking clearly. You were angry. You were angry at life, the world, and especially Chan at this moment. You didn’t think those words would come out of your mouth, though. You never meant to say hurtful things to each other, but stressful times would sometimes get the best of you both. Chan scoffed at your response and walked backwards toward to closet. “Well, I’m sorry that you feel like a single mother, Y/N. Sorry that I can’t be the perfect husband for you or be the perfect father for our children.” “Chan…I didn’t mean that. I-” “We’ll just leave it at that,” Chan said as he grabbed his suitcase and jacket, leaving the bedroom. You knew where he was going… back to the studio to produce more. You were frustrated as hell, but you had work in the morning and were already tired from the day, so you decided it was time to call it day and slid into the covers to sleep.

 Over the next few days, you and Chan barely spoke to each other. You didn’t want to speak to an angry Chan, and hurting him with your words was enough. However, the kids were able to sense the tension between you and Chan. They knew that on normal days, mommy and daddy would wake them up, and everybody would get ready together. On normal days, mommy and daddy would cook dinner together with daddy back hugging and kissing mommy until mommy had to kick him out from being too annoying. When cleaning after dinner, mommy and daddy would have a dance session in the kitchen. On normal days, daddy would put on a show for them, and have them all tackle and tickle mommy until mommy gave up laughing. On normal days, daddy would come home from work early, and daddy would share what daddy created in the studio. The past few days weren’t normal. Aris and Eli knew that. Even at a young age, they knew that mommy and daddy weren’t happy. On Saturday morning, Aris asked you, “Mommy… are you and daddy mad at each other?” Lost in your own train of thought, you snapped back into reality as your daughter tapped you for an answer. “Huh? What was that, honey?” “I saidddd are you and daddy mad at each other???” What were you supposed to tell your kids? That you and Chan had an argument? Hell no. “No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? You need to eat your breakfast before you go to uncle Binnie’s, okay?” Eyeing Eli suspiciously, she goes back to eating her breakfast. Trying to hide the tears brimming in your eyes, you smiled at the kids before going back to eating your own breakfast. Today was a Saturday, and you didn’t feel prepared to work at all. You had been hauling your ass around at work for the past few weeks preparing for a project you had to present today. They’d pushed dates around, causing you an even bigger headache, and making you have to change plans last minute. The kids were dropped off at Changbin and his s/o’s house. They’d volunteered to take care of the kids since you and Chan were both working.

 After work, you were on your way to Changbin’s house. Outside his house, you saw Chan’s car parked in front of his house. You texted Chan that the kids were going to be at Changbin’s house, but he never replied. You were surprised he didn’t inform you if he was going to pick them up or not either. Inhaling deeply, you got out of your car and walked towards the front door. Ringing the doorbell, you heard little bits of laughter and shrieking coming from inside. The kids always loved their uncle Binnie; he never failed to entertain them. Chan was the one who came to open the door. You stood by the front door, instructing the kids that their fun time with uncle Binnie was over. Bummed out, they said bye to their uncle and auntie Binnie.

 After tucking the children into bed together, Chan approached you. “Why do the kids know that we’re not happy right now?” “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” “The kids told Changbin that we were arguing and were mad at each other,” he explained. You stood speechless. You knew children would say random things, but you didn’t think your daughter could pick up so easily on small clues. “Don’t act so innocent, Y/N. I know you’re always gossiping on the phone with your girlfriends about how unhappy you are in our marriage.” Those words stung. They hurt even worse than if someone were to take a knife and penetrate your heart with it. “How would I know, Chan?! Maybe it’s because they don’t see their father! Maybe it’s because they know that none of us are happy in this damn house!” “Don’t play the victim. I know that it’s because of your big mouth that our children have to hear about this!” There he was… attacking you again-for something that was entirely out of your control. “MY BIG MOUTH?! I HAVEN’T EVEN SPOKEN TO MY FRIENDS FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS BECAUSE I’VE BEEN SO BUSY! IF YOU ACTUALLY KNEW MY DAY TO DAY SCHEDULE, YOU WOULD KNOW THAT OUR CHILDREN AREN’T DUMB, CHAN! YOU WOULD KNOW THAT YOUR CHILDREN ARE GROWING UP WITHOUT YOU!” He was angry-trying to stay calm, but the silence was from anger, not from understanding nor from love. Where did your marriage go wrong? Where did you both turn into hate-filled lovers, who can’t even speak to each other without raising your voices? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care. You had been patient enough. You were silent for too long. It wasn’t going to change anything. There was so much that you wanted to say, but you knew Chan wasn’t going to do anything either. His compromises were the bare minimum. To hide the tears that were falling down your face, you turned your back towards Chan, and walked out the door. It was hard enough that you felt like a single mother. Before leaving the room, you admitted to Chan, “You know what, maybe I am unhappy in this marriage. I do feel like a single mother taking care of my own children…Maybe it’s time we find new things to do rather than stay in this worthless relationship, Chan.”

Your marriage was failing. Not was… is. Your marriage was something you’d wanted to be so proud of since you were a little girl. You imagined yourself being the caring, doting mother and wife, and being the one everyone else was envious of. It was the total opposite now. Everyone pitied you because you had a husband who didn’t care for you, probably hated you as well. There were so many things going on inside your head, you couldn’t think clearly anymore. At work, you couldn’t focus. The words you’d said to Chan-that you knew pierced his heart as well. You felt so guilty. Was your marriage going to end in divorce? Was it going to be the relationship you promised to never have? Either way, it was going to be one hell of a struggle trying to please everyone’s schedules.

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Author’s Note: Hi, I’m just barely starting out this series. I’m not sure how many parts I’m gonna write, but hopefully you guys liked it! :) Give me some critical feedback or advice on my writing if you want too! I want to continuously write better!

Tag list: @crispbang 

[justcallmenikki7]

BTS Reaction To: Boyfriend Moments

Twilight!Au & Imprint!Au

Hyung Line

Summary: cute moments with your protective, goofy, werewolf boyfriend

Warnings: twilight/imprint!, mates, cutesie shit, badboy!hobi, protective hyung lines, sassy seokjin, jin roasting a girl, sad?insecure?reader?, namjoon’s part is pretty emotional and the reader is depressed/distressed? I don’t know how to explain it. min yoongi being whipped for read. I think implied d/s relationship for both yoongi and hobi’s part. Oh, hobi being whipped 10000000%%%

W.C.: 2.17 k

Notes: I don’t know why namjoon’s turned emotional but it did, I guess I wanted to show the emotional side/connection that the imprint bond brings in the relationship. Also, in this on yoongi’s and hobi’s part, I tried to dabble in the d/s theme a little bit… I hope that is okay? I’m trying to expand my writing a little bit!!

Kim Seokjin:

Too be honest, and you are saying this with all of your heart, your boyfriend, or imprint, is one of the most extra person ever.

And also, one of the sassiest person, or werewolf (besides Jungkook and Taehyung), ever.

It is very entertaining though, especially when someone pushes his buttons when it comes to cooking, sense of humor, or and most especially, you. When someone, especially women with no boundaries, he is defending you until his death. There are times when certain, rude, women try to flirt with Seokjin (because have you seen the man?), and they purposely try and act that you are not even there. So, Seokjin, being himself, brings you into the conversation.

And that is one the one thing that you love about the man, he makes sure and puts his paw down by showing you off to that woman.

An example would be right now.

The pack and the imprints are at the local bar, or night club, and are enjoying the Friday night that Namjoon had allowed due to the victory of defeating the newborn packs with the Cullen’s. Everyone is dancing with their imprint and are having a blast, but you and Seokjin are relaxing at the bar, not feeling the dancing spirit like everyone else is. You are cozied up into Seokjin’s side, loving the protectiveness and warmth that only wolves and their imprints get with one another. It is very peaceful and nice, especially with the two young ones making a scene by dancing like idiots and having dance offs with one another. The looks that both of their imprints are making to one another is having you giggling, the look of embarrassment that is mixed with adoration warms your heart.

“Well, you look lonely,” a woman’s voice purred, knocking you out of your thoughts.

Shifting in your boyfriend’s embrace, the first that you see is a older woman, who in your opinion is beautiful, is ogling your boyfriend, clearly ignoring his hold on your waist (which is now gripping it).

“I’m clearly not,” Seokjin commented, his tone is as if he is talking to a peasant. “If you have not noticed, I am with my lady,” Seokjin spoke, making you blush.

“Well, she is not that entertaining since you seem bored. I think I can help you with that boredom,” shocking you to the core due to her insinuation. You cannot believe she just said that with you standing right in front of her.

Seokjin right away sensed your discomfort and down mood, knowing that you want to speak up but cannot due to your anxiety. Sighing, “It is a shame that some women do not follow the girl code…” he began, “But also have, you need to realize that throwing yourself at someone does not look good on you, sweetheart, desperate does not suit you.” And with that, Seokjin grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the other end of the bar, “Come on, love, let’s go someplace else.”

You still think that you do not deserve Seokjin, and as if hearing your thoughts, Seokjin squeezed your hand a little harder, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. And that is all of the confirmation and comfort that you needed.

Min Yoongi:

Some people found it very adorable on the dynamic that you and Min Yoongi, your imprint and werewolf boyfriend, had. It was never a bad view on your relationship, in fact, it was the best view that you believe people had on it.

To the outside world, Min Yoongi was the cold, reserved, grumpy, or in Stiles Stilinkie’s term, “sour wolf,” person. The reason why people viewed this is because they can never see the adoring smile that he held for you out in public, but you can see it and the pack can see it. Yes, it may look like a blank face, but only those who know him can see the twitch at the corner of his lips and the head-over-heels look in his eyes.

“Please?” You whined, pouting at your boyfriend in the candy store at the mall, wanting to get some more snacks.

“No.” Your boyfriend grunted out, trying to not fall into the trap of giving into your adorable puppy (lol) eyes.

Stomping your foot, earning a look from your boyfriend, “But why?” You asked in a cute, whiny, tone that made Yoongi melt along with his wolf.

But, not liking the stomping of the foot that you made, he gave you a daring look. “Don’t stomp your foot at me, princess.”

Looking down at your feet, you slumped your shoulders, realizing that you were not able to get candy because of the orthodontist explaining that you have been having too many sweets, especially with your braces, and that you need to cut back on them. But! In your defense, you have another four months that you will not see them, so you can start cutting back on next Monday! Knowing that your boyfriend is very protective and always is very concerned for your well-being, he takes these kinds of things very seriously – even having a nightly flossing schedule that you both do every night.

Hearing the defeated sigh that held sadness with it, both Yoongi and his wolf can not and will not stand the thought of knowing how devastated you are. Sighing himself, Yoongi wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and pressed several kisses that earned your giggle, a sound that brought joy to him and his wolf. “You can have a little bit of candy, but this should last you several weeks because we cannot have you sick off of candy and running around like a hyper bunny.” Yoongi bargained, a bargain that you agreed to and happily chose the candy that you wanted.

Yoongi only forgot that a little to you is three bags of candy – he just could not be mad.

Jung Hoseok:

One thing that the pack was for sure about when it came to Hoseok whenever you were not near him, was that he was constantly texting you. Now, this did not upset them at all, in fact, they were happy to see their hot headed, angry, but caring pack member happy. When you and Hoseok first met, they knew that it was going to be a long journey of finding your guys meeting points. But, the whole time it was worth it because they got to see their brother become a better person and a happier person.

Anyways, Hoseok was currently texting you, a small smile on his face, but a serious expression apparent. Everyone was out at the beach, a bonfire put on by the maknae line, wanting a fun Saturday night. You were showing up with your cousin, inviting her with you to the groups hangout since she was in town for the next few days. You felt your phone buzzing with texts from your boyfriend, the feeling of your heart doing flips with just the thought of your lover. Pulling out your phone, you smiled at the message.

           Hobi: when will you be here? I miss youuu

Smiling at the sentiment, the one thing that Hoseok will ever show you and not anyone else. He only acts like a whiny puppy with you, always wanting to keep his cool front on in front of everyone else. But you have began to notice that he has started to let his walls come down in front of his pack.        

           You: almost there! I cant wait to see you!!

When you and your cousin showed up at the bonfire, the first thing that your cousin noticed was that the man who had a stony expression and a powerful aura surrounding him that screamed danger stood up from the chair, making their way to you. She could see the way your body lit up, smile shining so brightly that it made her smile also. The look of love and adoration was what surprised her when she saw it shine on the males face.

Ah, that is the Hoseok that you were talking about.

When Hoseok reached you, he brought you into a short, but sweet kiss. The both of you did not want to pull away, but having respect and liking to keep that part of your life to yourselves anyways. Hoseok wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side protectively before realizing that he has yet to meet the cousin you have been talking about for the past week.

“Oh!” You gasped, bringing Hoseok’s attention solely to you (as if it was not already on you). “Hobi! This is my cousin, Linda! She’s the one I’ve been telling you about! Linda! This is Hoseok, my boyfriend!” You introduced the two happily.

Linda could see the smile that was brought onto Hoseok’s face so easily, jealousy slightly burning at that. She wished for something like you and Hoseok, especially from everything that you had told her about. She knew that Hoseok took great care of you.

“It is nice to meet you, Hoseok.” Linda spoke kindly, smiling at him.

Nodding his head, a kind small smile on his face. “You too, miss.”

“Let’s get food! Linda! Come, come!” You made sure to not leave your cousin alone since she is new here. “Hobi! We forgot an extra chair. Is there one that we can borrow for Linda?”

Not giving it another thought, Hoseok leant down and kissed your forehead before taking off to find a chair. As if on a mission to find gold, Linda watched your boyfriend search for a chair, realizing that you, his girlfriend, did not realize how your boyfriend would fight through hell if it meant to make you happy.

You truly are the luckiest girl, ever.

Kim Namjoon:

If there is one thing that Namjoon is for sure about, it is knowing you like the back of his hand. Now, he is not saying this just to say it, he is saying it because it is true. Ever since he met you at the farmer’s market, accidentally bumping into you, he has observed you every minute that he is with you. He knows your little quirks, your dislikes and likes, wants, and your favorite terms. He knows that you hate burning hot chocolate milk, so he makes sure it has cool down just enough to still be warm, but cool enough to where you have to blown on it to where it is not burning your tongue.

Another thing that he knows is that you have moments where you are completely down. It is as if a switch got switched off, making you completely emotionally vulnerable, the one thing that you are needing is comfort and his attention – but you hate asking for help. You are completely stubborn, hating to ask for comfort and his time because you know that he is busy with the pack. But, what you do know is that Namjoon knows when these times happen. They happen once you are completely happy, having no worries in the world, but once you get home, you shut down because you believe that you do not deserve happiness. Why? Because in your past, every time you had a good day, or feel happy, and something snatches it from you. Something like a text from a friend that sounds mad, but you know in the back of your head that you cannot read emotions over text. Or, your mother snapping at you for something that was out of reach. It has, and Namjoon knows that this will always happen, but that is okay, because he knows you and he loves you.

So, once you opened the door from a night out with your friends, Namjoon can sense the sudden wave of sadness from you. He could feel it once you left the bar, a imprint bond perk that he loves so he knows what to do, and he could feel your distress from a mile away. The distress being your questioning of whether or not you deserve happiness. And as you are taking off your heels, Namjoon comes up behind you, helping you take them off by kneeling down and unzipping them for you.

You stare down at your boyfriend with tears forming in your eyes, suddenly crying, but Namjoon this from your heartbeat beating a little faster. Standing up, Namjoon wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him, the both of you relaxing at the touch of one another. Breaking down, you clutched onto him tightly, fearing that he will disappear on you.

“I don’t know what happened, everything was perfect and I had a good time—” you were cut off by your sobs, face nuzzling into his neck, the familiar sent of him helping you calm down.

“I know baby, I know. It is okay, I’m here, I’m not leaving beautiful.” He promised, kissing you the side of your head. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

[sylvies-chen]

Test Runs

Summary: Matt agrees to help Sylvie babysit a 5-month-old Brian Cruz for the night to help Chloe and Joe out, and gets a glimpse at a life with Sylvie he thought he could only ever dream of.

Words: ~5.5K

Warnings: None?? It’s just pure baby fever and heart eyes and canon-compliant established Brettsey

Tagging: @fighterkimburgess Cíara, this one’s for you. I hope you enjoy your much anticipated gift— and some very long, plot-less tooth rotting fluff :)

A/N: I don't know what this is and I'm pretty sure I zoned out while writing this so let me know what you think of this because this is the least edited thing I've ever written lol

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Matt’s in the locker room at the end of a tiringly long shift when he hears Sylvie’s voice coming from behind him.

Their shift has been filled with an endless amount of intense calls. House fires, a harrowing ambo call according to Sylvie, car crashes galore. He’s more than ready to go home and enjoy his next few days off. He and Sylvie had even agreed to make tonight a date night, staying in with a bottle of wine and watching a movie (or, in their case, not watching a movie). It makes him even happier to be done with this shift. Just a regular, normal, peaceful night.

That’s what it’s supposed to be, at least. Only he hears his girlfriend’s voice and, instead of its usual soothing effect on him, is filled with something tense and nervous. He turns around and lo and behold, Sylvie’s standing in front of him with a perpetual wince.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I may or may not have told Joe and Chloe I’d babysit Brian for them tonight,” she explains nervously, her palms stretched out flat against each other. “Which means I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that date night we’d planned.”

Matt instantly finds it hilarious that she’d been so worried to tell him about it. “Sylvie, it’s fine,” he assures her. “Date night can be any night, we’ll just postpone it for another day.”

“Really? You’re not bummed out?” “I’m extremely bummed out,” he corrects her, his hands flying to her arms and rubbing circles on them gently with his thumbs. “But I’m not mad. I just wanted to spend time with you after a long shift, that’s all.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. Joe just kept going on and on about how he and Chloe haven’t had a minute to themselves since the baby was born and I just remember thinking how, if that were you and I, it’d make me really sad not getting to have a night off with you.”

Matt swears his heart melts right then and there. Sylvie’s compassion is pretty much endless but when she mixes it with that adorably longing look in her eye, and with words like that? Yeah, Matt’s a total goner.

Things between him and Sylvie have been going so great. They’re going on six months and not a single day goes by where he doesn’t feel like the happiest guy in the world. He knows tonight is one of their only nights off between shifts and he’d prefer not to have to share her quite yet during those nights but Joe and Chloe are their friends, Sylvie was right to offer them a kind gesture.

So an idea forms.

Matt’s always been good with kids, he’ll never complain at getting the chance to look after one. Especially not when it’s with the woman he loves. Besides, he sort of loves the idea of spending the night watching Sylvie gush over Brian Cruz. She was sort of adorable with Amelia, he can only assume it will be the same with Brian.

So much for a normal, peaceful night. (Although frankly, Matt thinks normal is overrated.)

“What if I came with you?”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “What if I looked after him with you? I’m sure Joe and Chloe wouldn’t mind, I’d be more than willing to give you an extra set of hands.”

She gives him a puzzled, slightly skeptical look. “So you mean to tell me,” she starts, “that you want to spend one of your few nights off in between shifts babysitting a screaming, crying, spitting five-month-old baby, just… because I am?”

“That’s sort of the idea, yeah,” he chuckles. “I’m good with kids, I can handle a little spit-up. Besides, I’ll take any time I can get with you.”

Ok. So maybe that was a little cheesy. It still rings true nonetheless. Spending time with her in any capacity is good enough for him-- and he has a feeling this will be a lot of fun.

She seems to think the same thing too, and smiles sweetly at him. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You just are,” he shrugs amusedly and leans in to kiss her soundly, sinking into it for a minute before he realizes he shouldn’t get carried away when they’re in the locker room. He’ll save the PDA for Stella and Severide. When he pulls away, she moves to pick up her bag and shut her locker, the two of them ready to leave. “So I’ll pick you up then? What time did they want you there?”

“5:00. But I should warn you,” Sylvie warns teasingly with a pointed index finger. “I will be singing a lot of Wiggles songs. It will not be sexy.”

He lets out a chuckle from deep in his chest and Sylvie returns the laugh as she heads out of the locker room and to her car. Even when she’s gone, Matt can still feel himself smiling like an idiot.

Like he said: Sylvie Brett makes him feel like the happiest guy in the world.

“Hey. You’re in a good mood.” Matt’s about to get his own bag and leave when he turns around to see Severide coming into the locker room.

“Yeah, well, I’m on babysitting duty tonight,” he explains. “With Sylvie. Joe and Chloe needed some time off so she volunteered and I thought I’d tag along.”

“Uh-oh,” Kelly teases. “I sense a little baby fever coming on.”

“What? No, Sylvie’s not baby-crazy, it’s not like that.”

“I’m not talking about her,” Severide explains. “I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You’re a sucker for kids, man. You’ve wanted them for as long as I’ve known you. You’re going to have that little pipe dream back in your head by the end of the night, I’m telling you,” he warns, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’ll be fine,” Matt grumbles in response. “I think I can handle one night of babysitting. Besides, we’re just helping Cruz. Kids are something for down the line. Way down the line.”

“So you have thought about it,” Kelly replies victoriously, raising a single, cocky eyebrow.

“What about you and Kidd, huh?” Matt knows deflecting won’t work forever, but he’s not ready to admit to himself that he has thought about it, nevermind Severide. So switching the subject back onto his best friend seems like the safe option. “You’re the ones who are married now. You two haven’t thought about having kids?”

Kelly bites his tongue, blushes slightly. It’s a rare occurrence for him, but one reserved uniquely for all matters related to Stella. “Maybe,” Severide shrugs. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.” Matt huffs, picking up his bag and shutting his own locker. “I can handle myself. I was just giving you a heads up in case you wondered why I wasn’t at the loft. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Matt heads out after that making a beeline for his truck before anyone else can question him about this.

Severide doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He and Sylvie are enjoying their time together right now, taking things at their own pace. Matt’s not about to ruin that for some fantasy he had that’s slowly dissipated. After all, what’s the point in wanting kids if you don’t have someone you want to have them with? After Gabby, he’d given up on that until what was once a pipe dream became something completely irrelevant and blurry in the back of his mind. Besides, six months of dating is a little soon to be thinking about that. There’s about a million steps they have to go through first, a million milestones before kids would be in the question. So yeah. He and Sylvie are not in any rush. For now, Matt is perfectly happy to be able to wake up to her for as many mornings as he can. Just him and her. That’s always going to be enough for him, no matter what. His small fantasies are a thing of the past.

At least, that’s what he tells himself as he drives home to the loft and gets ready to pick Sylvie up. He repeats it over and over until eventually, it doesn’t feel like a lie anymore.

********

When Sylvie hops into his truck, she’s wearing jeans and an old graphic t-shirt. She figures it’s best to wear something she won’t mind dirtying a little. She explains this to Matt when they’re in his truck and he nods thoughtfully at her smart thinking. He even leans over to kiss her on the cheek while waiting for one of the traffic lights to turn red. Only then does it truly register in Sylvie’s head about what they’re doing tonight.

They’re really, truly, spending an entire night together with their friend’s adorable baby.

She really hadn’t expected Matt to offer his help tonight. She doesn’t need the help-- Sylvie knows her way around a five-month-old, after all-- but he’d offered it anyway which somehow makes it even sweeter. Joe and Chloe had been more than okay with it. There’s no one more decent and reliable than Matt Casey, after all. Together, Brian Cruz is guaranteed to spend the whole night being showered with love. She’s sure of that, so she’d obviously been thrilled to have him tag along for babysitting. Until the weight of it all sinks in, that is.

Things between them have been going so great. It’d taken them longer than she’d hoped to sort out their feelings but it’d made the release all the more satisfying. They’re here now, together. And even though they’re only six months into this relationship, she knows that she’s never backing out. This is it; for both of them. It adds an extra layer to her happiness, knowing that everything she does with him will be her last firsts. It’s wonderful and beautiful in all the best ways. They’re still fairly early on in their relationship though. She doesn’t have an exact plan for the future-- it’s the only thing she can’t plan out thoroughly, unfortunately-- but she knows six months is still fresh in the grand scheme of things. And whereas she thinks a kid or two might be nice, it’s still too early to have a conversation that’s that detailed with him. Up until now, she’d been perfectly fine avoiding that talk. Now though, it’s going to be the big, plus elephant in the room. They’re getting a glimpse at what it would be like to have a kid together. It seems silly, but she’s almost scared to let her mind wander.

She goes over it in her head quietly in the car. It’s not a big deal, she reminds herself. They’ll just look after Brian, have some fun, and put him to bed at a reasonable hour. And most importantly, under no circumstances will daydreaming about their future be allowed. Ever.

They reach Joe and Chloe’s house and Matt takes her hands as they reach the front door. She’s been quiet the rest of the car ride, ever since he kissed her on the cheek. She’d gotten so preoccupied reminding herself not to get ahead of herself tonight that it’d picked up his attention, but she gives his hand a gentle squeeze as they wait for Joe and Chloe to answer the door and he smiles, thinking nothing of her quiet mood.

“Hey,” Joe greets them when the front door finally opens. His face is beaming, and it really dawns on Sylvie how excited he must be for tonight. He and Chloe haven’t been out of the house for weeks, never spending more than five minutes alone without baby Brian Cruz. “Come on in.”

Sylvie flashes a friendly smile and lets go of Matt’s hand to step inside, looking around the place. Chloe’s putting her earrings on in the mirror, preparing the finishing touches of her date night outfit. Which, in Sylvie’s opinion, is gorgeous. Saying her friend looks amazing is almost an understatement. “Don’t you look fancy,” Sylvie teases from behind Chloe. “Sylvie! We’re so glad you two were able to make it,” Chloe cheers, leaning in to give Sylvie a tender hug and then doing the same for Matt. “Thank you so much for this. We owe you one.” “Don’t worry about it,” she hears Matt speak. “I think we’re both just happy to lend a helping hand, right?”

He looks to Sylvie with raised eyebrows, and she nods in agreement. “Yes, we really are. You two seriously deserve some time off.”

“You’re right about that,” Joe nods. “I thought being a firefighter would mess with my sleep schedule but it’s nothing compared to this kid.”

“Where is Brian anyway?” She asks.

“He’s in his crib right now, hang on,” Chloe tells her, stepping into the room next to them and pulling Brian out of his crib. The little boy sits perfectly against his mother’s chest, his feet dangling slightly. He’s wearing a onesie too, the light blue fabric covered with little robots. It’s quite possibly the cutest thing Sylvie’s ever seen and she has to fight back the urge to coo at him.

“Say hi to Auntie Sylvie and Uncle Matt, sweet cheeks!” Chloe coos to her son, grabbing his tiny hand and waving it at Sylvie and Matt for him. He can’t talk yet but he flashes a smile at them and it melts Sylvie’s heart. Man. Tonight is going to be amazing and yet so tough to get through. “So there’s fresh formula in the fridge but we just fed him so he should be fine for the night. His toys are all laid out on the floor if he needs tummy time and we normally put him to bed at 7:00. If there’s anything you guys need or any questions, just call us. We’re bringing our phones with us and the number for the pediatrician is on the counter just in case,” Joe explains to them.

“Got it,” Sylvie nods.

“Ok,” Chloe nods to herself, handing Brian over to Sylvie. The small boy fits just as nicely against Sylvie’s chest but he tries to turn his head as soon as she holds him, urgently looking for his mom. Chloe stands back, staring at Brian nervously. “I gotta go now, buddy. I’ll see you later.”

“It’s harder than you expected, isn’t it?” Sylvie asks her, already well aware of the answer. Leaving your kid with a sitter is tough, she imagines, especially when it’s your first kid.

“Yes,” Chloe admits, slightly pained. “I know it’s only a few hours but we’re going to miss him.”

“We’ll take good care of him, we promise,” Matt assures them, already moving closer to Sylvie to see Brian and let his tiny hand wrap around his thumb. “Thanks again you guys,” Joe nods appreciatively.

“Of course, anytime. Now go on, have fun, you crazy kids,” Sylvie teases.

“Alright, bye!” Chloe keeps waving until their front door is fully shut, leaving Matt and Sylvie in total silence.

Matt glances at Sylvie up and down, taking in the sight of her with baby Brian, and something in his eye lights up. It sends a warm tingling down Sylvie’s spine, but he just nods at her. “He really is a cute baby.”

“I know,” she raves instantly. “Look at how small his little hands are!”

“You’re just so tiny, aren’t you, little buddy?” Matt talks to Brian, wiggling his hand.

Brian giggles, his arms wiggling amusedly at Matt’s gesture. He looks over at the front door though, waits expectantly for Chloe and Joe to come back in. A few seconds pass where Matt and Sylvie watch as Brian stares at the door. It’s almost as if everything that happens next happens in slow motion. They watch as his face turns back to Sylvie, his twinkling eyes turning sad as his face sours. The wail comes next, matched with flailing arms as Sylvie feels his body shaking in her arms.

He’s not hungry, Joe said he and Chloe just fed him. And he can’t be tired since they haven’t done anything with him yet. So really, he just misses his parents. It’s not all that abnormal for a kid his age but it still hurts Sylvie’s heart, watching this little guy wail in her arms.

“Oh no,” she blurts out, slightly panicked. “Shh, it’s okay! We’re right here. I know you miss your mommy and daddy but they’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He continues to wail, sticking his hand out and wiggling to try and get to the front door. “Who am I kidding, you don’t understand what that means,” she mumbles under her breath, beginning to bounce him.

His wailing isn’t as shrill after the bouncing starts but he’s still crying at a volume comparable to 61’s sirens. She tries her best to calm him down but it seems unsuccessful. Dammit. Sylvie and Matt aren’t five minutes into this night and Brian’s already crying.

The reminder that Matt’s there is enough to snap her out of it. Only she turns to where he was not five seconds ago and he’s gone. “Matt?”

“I’m in here, just a second,” he calls from the family room. Sylvie moves down the hallway away from the entrance to find him. When she does, he’s hovering over a small, wooden chest and rifling through it. Brian’s still crying as she pats his back and offers soothing hushes.

“I think we just broke Cruz and Chloe’s baby,” Sylvie tries teasing, her face still making a worried wince. “Shh, it’s okay Brian. You’re okay, it’s okay.” Matt grabs something out of the chest, moving to close the space between him, Sylvie and Brian. “Here,” he tells her, revealing the little, plush blue and green robot in his hand. “I figured a toy might distract him.”

“Right, good idea,” she nods, turning to meet baby Brian’s eye again as he grabs a fistful of her hair. “Uncle Matt has some of your toys, you want to play with them?”

Sylvie turns him so he can see Matt, who extends the soft plush robot and wiggles it playfully.

“I bet you like that one, huh? He even matches your pyjamas,” Matt points out.

Brian instantly becomes mesmerized with the toy, his eyes sparkling as they follow it’s trail as it moves in the air. His cheeks are still glossy with tears but he sticks out a hand to clumsily grab at the toy. The shift from upset beyond consolation to pure fascination with something so simple as a toy robot is enough to astound Sylvie-- and, admittedly, send relief washing through her body.

As soon as her shoulders relax, she feels Brian relax in her arms too. He even smiles as she wipes his cheeks clean of the tears, pointing towards the toy and cooing incoherently. Matt keeps wiggling the toy and bobbing his head along with the toy, eventually handing it to Brian and letting him play with it on his own. He squishes the robot’s rectangular head, then mimics Matt’s movements with it and moves it around in the air. Sylvie watches in happy surprise. She’s about to move her head to send a bewildered yet appreciative look at Matt but when her eyes look up, he’s already looking at her. There’s a slight twinkle in his eye, similar to the one Brian had when he saw the robot. It’s nothing but pure wonder, and her heart skips a beat.

Up until now, she’d been trying to keep herself from getting ahead of herself. Apart from the logical reasons of it being really early and soon on in their relationship, Sylvie also just doesn’t want to freak him out with baby fever. But he’s staring at her as she coddles Brian, a smile dancing over his face, and it seems pointless.

Maybe she’s not the only one picturing them doing this with a kid of their own.

Maybe, he’s just as much of a daydreamer as she is.

********

Matt’s not trying to give himself away too much. He swears he isn’t.

But damn. If Sylvie with this little Cruz baby isn’t the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, he doesn’t know what is. It’s been an hour since they arrived at the Cruz residence. An hour since they’d walked in and immediately had to deal with a screaming, crying baby Brian. Thankfully, they mellow out pretty quickly after that. Matt and Sylvie pull out as many toys as they can and try to distract him. His tears dissipate as they play around, keeping the young child preoccupied.

Sylvie, as promised, even starts dancing and singing Wiggles songs. Matt started out singing and dancing with her but Brian had tried crawling away while they were both up so he’s now sitting next to Brian, who’s on his stomach on his mat in the family room propping himself up to watch the show as Sylvie keeps dancing and singing.

“The Big Red Car rolls along the street

And to all the people that we meet, we like to say hello

Say hello! To the people that we meet!”

Sylvie sings, spins around, and does comically dramatic gestures as Matt claps along with Brian, making a few sound effects himself to help out with the number. The songs are too catchy not to sing along, so he does. That just seems to make the baby giggle even more, and he tries crawling over closer towards Sylvie.

She finishes the song and does small but amusing jazz hands, practically out of breath. “That was exhausting,” she exhales heavily. “How’s that for entertainment, little guy?”

He coos and waves his arms around in the air, trying to cheer for her. Matt chuckles and claps along himself, keeping an expectant eye on Brian.

The baby keeps wagging his arms though, and when they realize he’s asking for an encore Sylvie leans over with her hands on her knees in exhaustion. “You want more of this?” She addresses Brian, not expecting a response. “We’ve been at this for nearly an hour, I’m getting more of a workout from this than from Foster’s infamous spin classes. How is he not more exhausted?”

“Different sleep schedule, I guess,” Matt shrugs. “Don’t worry, you can tap out and I’ll take over.”

“More romantic words have never been spoken,” she replies teasingly with a relieved groan. She wipes at her brow and moves to find space on the mat but instead of the encore, Brian turns to her.

“Oh,” Matt says. “Looks like he doesn’t want more singing and dancing after all.”

The young boy starts reaching for Sylvie’s hair, grasping at the blonde strands that fall just above her shoulders. He manages to find a fistful but Sylvie pulls him in closer so he can grab her hair without yanking it. “I think he likes you,” Matt points out with a grin. “Good, my plan is working,” she teases, resting her head ever so lightly on Brian’s head. “I’m hoping to work my way up to his favourite aunt by the time he’s two. I’m going to be your favourite, aren’t I, little man?”

Brian coos in her lap, smiling wide at Sylvie. But he looks over at Matt and reaches out from Sylvie’s hold to grab at Matt’s hand too. Matt’s heart melts.

“He seems to like you too,” Sylvie adds.

“Yeah, I’ve never met a baby with so much trust in people,” Matt replies. “And so many robot toys too. What’s up with that?” He gestures at the spread of robot toys they arranged in a row on Brian’s mat.

“I think Joe was hoping he’d get him interested in tech stuff like Otis was,” Sylvie explains, a wistful sigh falling over her. Matt gets serious too-- not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of their dear, fallen friend. Thinking of where Brian Cruz gets his name from is always a sharp reminder of Otis, and this new piece of information doesn’t make it any better.

Matt throws Sylvie a sympathetic look, which is returned. There’s nothing much to say to that, nothing but to let there be a gentle and solemn moment of silence as Brian wiggles in Sylvie’s criss-crossed legs on the floor.

The silence is broken when he crawls out of Sylvie’s lap, slowly finding his way to Matt. Somehow, some way, he can sense Matt’s heavy heart and reaches to grab his hand. Brian doesn’t try to lift it, just puts one hand around Matt’s thumb and one around his pinky. He looks up at Matt, his eyes twinkling energetically.

“I bet your mom and dad tell you all sorts of stories about Uncle Otis, don’t they?” Matt asks as he lifts Brian into the air. He giggles, waving his arms and toes in his little onesie. Matt knows the kid can’t talk yet but he takes that as a yes. When Matt brings him back down from the air, he presses a kiss to the kid’s forehead and pulls back with the small smack of his lips. It makes Brian laugh even more.

Man. He really is a cute kid. Maybe Severide was right, maybe Matt’s already feeling that little pipe dream of his coming back. Because he’s sitting there with this tiny little kid in his arms, having the time of his life as Sylvie watches them amusedly, and it feels like he’s getting a glimpse at their future. The idea of a family, one with someone he loves as much as Sylvie, feels so right. It’s enough to send a warm and electric feeling throughout his body.

“This is fun,” Matt admits to her, meeting her eye with a hesitant but hopeful gaze.

Sylvie pulls her lip in between her teeth, fighting a smile. “Yeah, it is,” she nods. “It’s nice, I’m glad you offered to tag along. It’s like a little test run.”

“Test run?” Her eyes widen slightly and her cheeks heat up ever so slightly, to the point where Matt thinks he imagined it for a second. “I-- I mean, for babysitting,” she backtracks, shaking her head. “You know, if Joe and Chloe decide somewhere down the line that they need more nights out.”

Matt’s heart skips a beat.

Sylvie’s a terrible liar. She knows it, he knows it, all of 51 knows it. He can tell when she’s fibbing. She gets all flustered, fumbles her words just like she is now. Only now, he can see right through it and it excites him beyond comparison. He can see it in her eyes: she’s been thinking about kids just as much as he has.

“Right,” Matt chuckles lightly, going along with it. “For babysitting.”

She knows he can see right through him and sucks in a sharp breath. She looks more hesitant than he does now. “I don’t know, a kid or two might be nice somewhere down the line,” she admits nervously. “Right?”

“It would,” he replies softly with a smile. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it once or twice tonight.”

“Really?” When Matt nods, she smiles and her shoulders relax.

“Well Severide said I should probably keep that to myself but I don’t care.”

“I don’t want you to keep it to yourself,” she tells him firmly but kindly. “You, Matt Casey, are always allowed to share what you see in our future with me. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods happily. “I guess this test run isn’t so bad then, is it? If we’re on the same page about things.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her eyes light up and it’s all the confirmation Matt needs that he’s not alone in his baby fever. Their eyes stay fixed on each other, a soft and exciting tension washing over them.

The moment, however, is interrupted by Brian. He’s still in Matt’s arms but Matt suddenly hears what is probably the quietest, cutest yawn he’s ever heard come from Brian’s mouth.

“It’s getting late,” Sylvie realizes.

“Yeah, his bedtime was…” Matt checks the clock and his eyebrows immediately shoot up. “Twenty minutes ago?”

Sylvie looks at the baby in Matt’s arms, surprised. “You really had a lot of energy tonight, didn’t you? You were dancing past your bedtime, little buddy!” “Well I don’t blame him, your performance was very entertaining,” Matt muses. “Maybe a little too good,” she realizes with a giggle. “Come on, let's put him in the crib.”

“Aw come on,” Matt pleads. “Just a few more minutes? I don’t think he wants to move.”

“You are a bad influence, Matt Casey.” Sylvie shakes her head amusedly. She soaks in the sight though and can’t resist. Brian is draped over Matt's chest, his head now resting on his shoulder as his eyes flutter tiredly. Matt’s hand covers the little boy’s entire back, rubbing circles on it gently as he stabilizes the boy. Sylvie bites her lip for the second time that night and Matt knows she’s going to concede. “He does seem to be comfortable there though,” she counters reluctantly.

“Very comfortable,” he corrects her. What can he say? He just wants to sit in this little fantasy of his for a little longer. He so rarely lets himself hope like this that it feels almost necessary to extend this for as long as possible. Besides, Brian Cruz is adorable, it’d be crazy if he didn’t think of a kid of his own-- at least a little-- while he’s here. “I, however, am not.”

“Well here, come up to the couch. That’ll be more comfortable for the both of you,” she tells him, her voice now hushed and soothing so as to calm Brian down and not interrupt his process of slowly falling asleep.

Matt carefully gets up and shifts onto the couch, Brian still in his arms. He leans back and lets Brian sprawl out against his chest. The boy is light, no more than 15 pounds, but it’s still enough to put a light pressure on Matt’s chest.

He doesn’t mind. In fact, it’s the opposite. He loves it.

Sylvie stands up too, clearing the toys off the floor as Matt watches Brian’s breathing, the rise and fall of the small boy’s chest against his. It’s weirdly soothing and he soon feels his breathing match Brian’s, his eyes fighting to stay open. The singing and dancing and playing around really took the energy out of both of them.

When she’s done, she looks down at the two fatigued boys, smiling gently at the sight before curling up next to Matt on the couch. She holds Brian’s hand with her index and her thumb, and runs a soft hand over his head, before Matt’s arm wraps around her shoulder and she tucks her head in the nape of his neck.

“That’s better,” Matt beams, a tired smile on his face. He moves to press a kiss to Sylvie’s forehead.

“Much better,” she agrees quietly. “But we shouldn’t stay like this forever. He’ll need to go to his crib soon.”

“We’ll put him there soon,” he tells her. “Just five more minutes, babe…”

********

Wake up.

She feels those words ring through her body like an alarm. It sends the lights in her brain slowly turning back on as she eases into consciousness.

The first thing she sees, just barely and surrounded by a tired blur in her vision, is Matt. Brian’s still on his chest, both of them sleeping soundly. She smiles to herself, noting how peaceful her boyfriend looks in this position. Everything feels so warm. She’s cuddled up next to him, he’s lying with the baby. It all seems so picture perfect. She revels in it, if only for a moment.

She looks up and realizes it’s been twenty minutes since they’d fallen asleep— and Matt had promised only five. For a minute, she considers waking him up and telling him to bring Brian to his crib. She decides against it though, choosing instead to cuddle back into him and relax.

Joe and Chloe are going to be back any minute now. But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t soak every minute of this moment in. Before they’d figured things out and gotten together, Sylvie had scarcely allowed herself to feel things for him, nevermind daydream about the life they could have. But she looks at them, sees how truly good and comfortable Matt is with Brian, and can’t stop now. It’s addicting, dreaming about her future with Matt Casey. She intends to chase that feeling like it’s her only fix, especially since now she knows he’s thought about it too. Her dreams are his; theirs.

To Sylvie, that makes for a pretty good test run.

She falls back into Matt’s embrace, the three of them dozing off. They don’t wake up again until Joe and Chloe come back.

It’s the first night Brian Cruz gets a full night’s worth of sleep.

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.” 

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um…” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. “I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.” 

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

[mymoonagedaydream]

ps, idk what the biker/college bucky story will include but i can throw out the idea of doing the modern day army veteran Bucky as a one shot or something? or whatever you don't include in the series lol

Recluse

Summary: You barely even expected to get a conversation out of Steve’s reclusive roommate, never mind anything more than that.

Pairing: Modern Veteran!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, smut references, references to military service

Author’s Note: You bet your butt I can do that for you anon. This one really got out of hand idk what happened man I couldn’t stop.

---

You’d been living with your friend Sharon for a couple of years now, and it was still going pretty well.

Your ground-floor apartment was very compact, but she was so considerate and easy to get on with, you barely even noticed the lack of space. She cooked for you occasionally, always paid rent on time, even did your laundry without being asked.

You just couldn’t help thinking that things were much more fun when you were both single.

Nothing much had changed in your life, you were still a lone wolf, but she’d been with Steve for almost six months now and you barely ever saw her anymore. 

Most nights you were just left to your own devices, clattering around the apartment like some sad old spinster.

It got to the point where, one Friday when you got home from work, you heard Steve and Sharon talking in the kitchen and got excited at the prospect of just having some company for the evening.

Sharon almost jumped on you as soon as you walked in. ‘Y/n! Are you free tonight?’

‘Yeah, totally, completely. You guys sticking around?’

‘You think he’d ever agree to that?.’

‘We were actually thinking of going out for some drinks. You in?’ You contemplated for a second, not wanting to come across too eager, then gave her an enthusiastic nod.

As she grinned back at you, you saw an idea dawn on her. ‘Steve, you should totally bring Bucky.’

Sharon frowned in resignation. You had no idea who they were talking about, their conversation going completely over your head.

Steve went home to change, leaving you and Sharon with a couple hours to get ready before heading out, so you thought you might as well try to probe a little deeper.

‘Who’s Bucky?’ You asked casually, sitting on her bed, watching her hold dress after dress up to herself in the mirror.  

‘Steve’s roommate.’

‘I didn’t know Steve had a roommate?’

‘I’d be more surprised if you did.’ She turned towards you. ‘In six months I’ve only met him twice.’

Your eyebrows darted up. She spent so much time at Steve’s place, that made no sense at all. 

‘What? Why?’

‘I’m pretty sure he makes a point to avoid people generally.’ She flopped herself down next to you on the bed, her tone lowering to one of deep sincerity. ‘He was in the army with Steve. Apparently he just really struggled to adapt when they got back, collapsed in on himself for a while. I think he’s a mechanic now but Steve is still the only person he really speaks to.’

‘Shit, that’s awful.’

She gave a grim nod and shrugged slightly, before standing back up and starting to get changed. 

You figured you should do the same, shuffling back to your room and finally taking off your work clothes, relieved at the thought of getting out of the apartment for the evening.

Just as you were about to leave, Sharon’s phone pinged.

‘Holy shit.’

‘What?’ You’d never seen her look so shocked. She put her index finger up at you while quickly typing something back. ‘You’re killing me here Sharon, what the hell is going on?’

‘Bucky’s coming.’

---

You managed to find a cramped table in the back of the bar. Sharon made you wait for Steve to arrive before ordering drinks, because for some reason he always insisted on buying the first round.

About ten minutes after you arrived, she glanced over to the door, grinned and waved her hand above her head. Following her gaze, you saw Steve pushing through the crowd, followed closely by a statuesque, tower of a man.

Studying him intently as he approached, you noticed how visibly uncomfortable he was, his jaw clenched tight and his hands folded into slowly whitening fists. You let your eyes dance over his huge shoulders and wide chest, feeling your stomach flip a little as he got closer.

‘Hey guys. Sharon, you remember Buck?’ Steve gave his friend a proud pat on the shoulder. Sharon nodded and grinned at Bucky, getting only a short, tight smile in return. ‘And this is y/n.’

Looking up to his face, his sharp blue eyes briefly met yours, prompting you to quickly avert your gaze. He looked tense enough without you gawping at him.

‘Nice to meet you.’ You adopted the friendliest tone possible, doing your best to put him at ease.

Steve went to grab some drinks and Sharon volunteered to help him, leaving you at the table with Bucky, bracing yourself for some intensely awkward small talk.

‘So, you’re a mechanic?’ He nodded. ‘Do you enjoy it?’ Another nod.

Alright, he obviously wasn’t in the mood for chatting. 

Christ. If you didn’t break free from this spinster shit soon, that’s exactly where you’d end up.

You didn’t want to force it if he wasn’t comfortable, you could happily sit in silence if that’s what he’d prefer.

You moved your eyes to scan the room, eventually landing on an older woman propping herself up at the bar, downing martinis, eyeing up young men and wobbling on her insanely high heels.

‘What do you do?’

It was barely a mumble, you hardly heard it over the bar’s background music. 

Your eyes returned to Bucky’s face, meeting his hesitant gaze.

‘I work in HR, so boring admin stuff mainly.’ He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking nervously between the table and your face. ‘But occasionally I get to use the shredder, which is pretty rad.’

He cracked a brief smile, the sight of it giving you a wave of goosebumps. ‘Sounds thrilling.’

‘I’ve never been here before, have you?’ You were determined to keep this conversation going, especially if there was a chance that you’d be able to make him smile again.

‘No. I haven’t been to any bars recently.’

‘You’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do then.’

Resting your head on your hand, you gave him a mischievous smirk, and felt a little smug as you noticed his shoulders relax slightly and the corners of his mouth curl upwards.

Hours passed, the bar called last orders, and the four of you traipsed out to begin walking home.

Then Steve and Sharon came back with the drinks, pretty effectively ruining the moment you’d been setting up.

Bucky went quiet again, keeping to himself for most of the evening, only speaking when spoken to. You felt his gaze fall on you occasionally, but each time you tried to meet his eyes they were quickly averted.

‘Oh hey, I forgot to ask.’ Steve gestured towards you. ‘Sharon said you went to visit your parents last weekend? How was that?’

‘I couldn’t go in the end, my car's fucked. It’s my own fault, everyday there was a new rattling sound but just ignored it.’

‘I’ll take a look at it.’ Your eyes snapped over to Bucky, a little shocked at how enthusiastically he’d come out with that. ‘If you want.’

You gave him a wide smile. ‘Wow, yeah, that’d be amazing. Thank you.’

---

A few days later, you were faced with another evening alone while Sharon was at Steve’s.

You unenthusiastically pulled a ready meal out of the fridge and poked some holes in the plastic, shoving it in the microwave and reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine on the counter.

‘Hi. Sorry. I was coming this way and Sharon said you’d be in, I thought I could take a look at your car?’

Just as you went to grab a glass out of the cupboard, you were stopped by a faint knock at the front door.

Shuffling over and yanking it open, you saw Bucky standing on your doorstep, looking just as uncomfortable as he did walking into that bar.

You were a little embarrassed that he’d caught in your pyjamas at 6:30, but that feeling was hugely outweighed with how pleased you were to see him.

‘Yeah, great.’ You gave him a warm smile. ‘I’ll just grab my keys.’

You found your gaze pretty quickly drawn to his arms, propping him up as he leant over the machinery like thick, hefty tree trunks. It was amazing how entranced you were by them, but considering how long it’d been since you’d even brushed past an attractive male, it made sense. God the things you’d let him do, if he-

You slipped on your shoes and led him over to the rustbucket, badly parked on the street outside. He flicked open the bonnet and immediately started tinkering.

You had less than no idea what was happening, but it looked very impressive.

‘Could you start it up?’ His deep voice pulled you out of your hazy fantasies.

‘Hmm? Oh, yeah.’

You tried your best to hide how flustered you were as you climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key. An intense rattling started, which he listened to for a second before signalling for you to turn it off and closing the bonnet.

‘You were right, it needs a lot of work. It’s definitely not safe to drive.’

‘Shit, stuck with the bus then.’ You sighed and climbed out, slamming the door behind you. ‘Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to do this. I appreciate it.’

‘Anytime.’ He smiled politely, taking a couple steps backwards before turning, dropping his head and starting to walk away.

‘You can come in for a drink if you want?’ You called after him, a little shocked at your boldness but not at all mad about it. He spun round. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

He took a sip and turned himself slightly to face you. ‘Look, if you bring your car to the shop where I work, I can probably keep the price down.’

His polite smile evolved into a wide grin as he nodded, following you inside.

You grabbed him a beer from the fridge and gestured for him to join you on the couch, smiling to yourself at how nervous he seemed as he balanced himself right on the edge of the seat.

‘Are you sure?’ He nodded. ‘That's so nice, you barely even know me.’

He looked a little sheepish at that, scurrying around for his words. ‘Sharon was pretty keen for me to come take a look, it’s probably best to keep Steve’s girlfriend on side, y’know.’

‘Oh I do know, Sharon can be terrifying.’ You both chuckled as Bucky edged back, settling himself into the couch a little more. ‘So you and Steve met in the army?’

‘We’ve been friends since we were kids, we signed up together.’

‘That’s nice.’ You tilted your head at him, deciding to take a slight gamble on your next question. ‘Do you miss it?’

He fixed his eyes on the ground and faintly shook his head, nervously starting to pick at the label on his bottle.

Shit, you really didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, you were just curious.

A swift subject change remedied the situation somewhat, and after a while you sensed him beginning to relax again.

You finished off your glass of wine and checked your phone, your hand shooting up to your forehead in shock when you saw that it was close to midnight.

Over the next couple hours he slowly came out of his shell even further, eventually chatting and laughing with you like you were his good friend. The two of you unconsciously edged towards each other throughout the evening, ending up face to face with legs folded up on the couch, as close as you could get without touching.

‘Shit, I have work tomorrow.’

‘I’m really sorry.’ He put his bottle on the coffee table and stood up quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to keep you up.’

‘Oh you don’t have to apologise, it’s not your fault. I had a really nice evening.’

‘Me too.’ He smiled and buried his hands in his pockets, following you to the front door. ‘I’m working every day this week, you can come in whenever.’

‘Friday would be great? I have the day off.’

‘See you then.’

You watched him disappear down the street, feeling your limbs tingle with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again so soon.

---

You usually used your days off to sleep in till midday, but on Friday the tow truck showed up at 7am to take your car to the shop. You didn’t even get up that early on workdays. A pint of coffee was barely enough to keep you from passing out on the ride there.

He eventually noticed you stood there, staring, and your face immediately heated up as he approached.

You hurried inside the garage, scanning the room and eventually spotting Bucky underneath a hoisted truck, reaching up to work on it. His arms were glistening with oil and sweat and his shirt was riding up, exposing the faint trail of hair starting underneath his bellybutton.

Lord in heaven, what a view.

‘Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘That’s alright.’ He pulled a dirty rag out of his pocket and roughly wiped his hands. ‘Did you bring the deathtrap?’

‘Yep, just outside.’

‘It’s gonna be a while. I finish at four, d’you wanna come back then?’

‘Sure.’

You walked up the driveway ten minutes early, which you thought was reasonable, and asked the very intimidating guy out front for Bucky. He just eyed you up and down and gestured vaguely to the side of the building.

On the way home you kept accidentally walking into roads, your mind completely occupied with Bucky’s midriff.

The whole day dragged. In your boredom you ended up leaving for the garage about an hour too early, meaning you had to loiter in an off-license, probably looking like you were shoplifting.

Turning the corner, you were met with a pretty impressive, cinematic wide shot of Bucky’s arse as he was leaning over the inside of your bonnet.

You should probably say something. Tell him you were there. Say hello.

Yeah, probably should.

Yeaaah.

You sighed and reluctantly shuffled towards the car.

‘How’s it-’ Bucky jumped and whacked his head against the propped-up bonnet. ‘Fuck! I’m so sorry, are you alright?’

He smiled at you, standing up and rubbing the back of his head. ‘Yeah, all good. Happens all the time.’

‘Oh, really? In that case you might want to consider a career change, could end up with some permanent damage.’ Chuckling, he reached up and slammed the bonnet with one powerful movement. ‘How’s it looking?’

‘Not bad. Want to take it for a spin?’

‘Sure.’ He held up the keys and you grabbed them out of his hand, excitedly hopping in the driver’s seat while he walked around and got in the passenger side. ‘You coming?’

‘Can’t just let you drive off without paying, you might never come back.’

You shot him a wide smile as you fired up the engine, amazed at how smooth it sounded, and pulled away from the garage.

‘I can’t believe it, it didn’t even run this good when I first got it.’ He smirked a little and nodded. ‘Thank you, Buck.’

You were already in the outskirts of the city, so you decided to drive out into the sticks a little, eventually pulling up into a dusty layby on a narrow side road.

Glancing to your side, you saw that Bucky was struggling not to look very pleased with himself.

As he began stroking his thumb along your knuckles, he cautiously pulled his gaze up to your face, looking at you like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

His hands were resting on his thighs and, almost unconsciously, you reached out to grab the one closest to you and squeeze it lightly.

He stared down at it for a few seconds, eventually turning his hand over and squeezing back.

You could barely even remember what happened next. You remember the back of your neck tingling, your stomach tightening almost to the point of becoming painful, the feeling of Bucky’s rough, calloused hand against your cheek and the way your heart jumped when he leaned towards you and pressed his mouth against yours.

Eventually pulling away, he buried his face in your neck, planting short kisses along your jawline between laboured breaths. You pushed his head back against the seat and pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes and letting your hands dance down his chest.

It was slow and tender at first, but it quickly picked up, becoming feverish and passionate.

He threw his arms around your waist and roughly pulled you over onto his lap, holding you so tight to his chest that you couldn’t tell whose heart you could feel thumping like a steam engine.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve done that.’ He sighed, bringing a hand up to bury itself in your hair.

‘Me too.’ Your mouth curled into a smile. ‘It’s been even longer for other stuff.’

Melting into each other in a cacophony of limbs and flesh and tearing clothes, both of you eventually found the release you so desperately needed. 

There was a loaded silence, you opened your eyes to see Bucky staring at you intently, wearing an expression that made your toes curl.

You dived clumsily into the backseat and pulled him after you, giggling as you both adjusted yourselves, trying to get even slightly comfortable in such a tight space.

And both of you did all you could to savour the feeling of finally having someone to hold close.

---

[fangirlovestuff]

Smile - Thor Odinson x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this is for this lovely request by @cotton-candy-clouds-26​ , thank you!! i just couldn’t bring myself to write Steve cheating, i love him and i just don’t think he’d do that, but i hope it’s okay. enjoy!<3

Summary: you and Steve break up and it’s rough, but luckily there’s someone out there that helps you get over it. you could say he’s worthy of your affections (i had to hehe)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Some curse words and a little angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Steve?" you called out, "you ready to go?"

"Just a couple seconds!" he replied, and you sat down on the couch, scrolling on your phone while you waited for him.

It was your six months anniversary, and you were getting ready to go to dinner with Steve. He's been acting a little weird the past few days, and it was starting to raise your suspicion.

Maybe he's getting me a surprise, you tried to shrug your worry off. You knew Steve wasn't that good at keeping secrets, especially from you, and you'd try and get it out of him tonight.

"Ready t-" you began to ask, but stopped once you saw he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. "Stevie, you know I love your t-shirts," you said, appreciatively eying the bulge on his muscles revealed by the sort, tight sleeves, "but I was under the impression we're going to a fancy restaurant tonight. You know, the kind that won't appreciate anyone, including Captain America, coming in a t-shirt and jeans," you smirked.

"I'm not going," he sighed, sitting down next to you.

"You're not goi- is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell? I mean, I didn't even know you could get ill, but-"

"I'm not sick," he shook his head, "I just… I thought I could give you this one nice night, but I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? Steve, what's going on? Are they calling you on a mission or something?"

"No, no mission. Not today anyway." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I think we should break up."

Your mouth agape, it took you a couple of seconds to register what he just said. You closed your mouth and swallowed. "What?" you asked, your voice nearly a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he said, averting his eyes to the floor, "I just… I don't think I feel the same way about you anymore, and I don't wanna hold you back or anything. I thought the right thing to do was to treat you to a nice dinner before I…" he trailed off, his eyes fixed ahead of him, away from you, "Anyways, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to lie to you, or lead you on. You deserve better than that," his gaze finally turned to you, waiting for your response.

You didn't know what to say. You knew he was acting weird, but you'd have never seen this coming. "So this is it?" you asked disbelievingly. "This is how we end?"

"Look, I'm so-"

"Sorry, yeah, I know." You took a deep breath, willing your tears away. "I think I'll just go home," you got up, getting your stuff.

"Wait, I didn't cancel the reservation. If you wanna go yourself you— can," he called after you, the last word after you'd slammed the door behind you.

Outside of Steve's room, you let out a shuddering breath. He was living in the Avengers compound, so you had to keep yourself together until you got out of here, in case any of them saw you. You started getting outside, but your distracted state of mind probably led you to take a wrong turn in one of the corridors, because now you had no idea where you are.

"Shit," you mumbled under your breath before turning to look around you. You heard what you thought was the noise of a TV from behind one of the doors, and you knocked on it tentatively. You heard some shuffling and then the door opened to reveal none other than Thor. You know, God of Thunder Thor. God of Thunder Thor that was standing in front of you right now, waiting for you to say something because you were the one that knocked on his door.

You willed your brain to go back to functioning. "Um, hi," you said hesitantly, "I was just… I was on my way out of the compound and I got lost. Could you, um, point me in the right direction?"

"Of course," his voice was deep, you could almost feel it rumbling around you when he spoke. "Who are you looking for?"

"Oh, just the exit," you shrugged.

"Alright. I apologized, I just assumed, from the way you're dressed…"

"No, it's alright. I was supposed to go to this fancy restaurant for dinner, but then… anyways, I wouldn't want to go alone," you sighed.

"Well, in that case, would you like me to accompany you? I wouldn't mind dining with a lovely lady such as yourself," he smiled.

"Oh," you blinked in surprise. You weren't really planning on it, but you were actually kinda hungry. And hey, eating in a fancy restaurant with Thor does sound a little nicer than eating at home and wallowing in self-pity. The wallowing could wait. "I mean, if you'd like to," you smiled back at him, "but you'd have to put on a suit, something fancy."

"Oh, I'm sure I have one of those," he said, leaving the door open and heading back inside. "Come in," he said, loud enough for you to hear it. You guessed he headed into the bathroom to change, since when you got in all you saw was the room itself. It was simple, not a lot of personal touches. Makes sense since he's probably not here most of the time, but in Asgard, which would also explain why you hadn't met him yet.

"How's that?" he asked, getting out of the bathroom. The suit was slightly tight on his tall, broad frame, but it was more than okay with you.

"Perfect," you smiled, "we'll blend right in."

You drove the two of you to the restaurant, spending the time making small talk about 'Midgard habits', as Thor called them, or, as you called them, social norms.

When you got there, the hostess smiled at you and asked for the name of your reservation. By that point you had nearly forgotten it, but your shoulders sagged as you mumbled "Steve Rogers."

"I'll let you right in," she smiled and led you to your table.

"Wait, so Steve was going to come with you?" Thor asked once you got to the table. "Are you his girlfriend I've heard so much about from Tony?"

"I'm… not his girlfriend anymore," you said, averting your eyes to the table, playing with the napkin.

"Oh."

"He broke up with me today," you said, your voice breaking before you could get your emotions under control.

"My apologies," he offered, and put his hand over yours, "I know how unpleasant it is to be… broken up with."

"Yeah? Who'd ever dump Thor?" you chuckled, raising your gaze to meet him.

"Quite a few people over the years," he smiled, lighthearted.

"Well, I'm sorry," you squeezed his hand in yours.

When you were waiting for the main course, you had an idea. "Hey, you can't get drunk, right?"

"Not on your Midgardian version of booze, no. Why?"

"Perfect. Hey!" you signaled for a waitress to come over, ignoring Thor's questioning look, "Can we get a bottle of the most alcoholic wine you got here?" you smiled.

If the waitress thought the request was weird, she didn't show it. She just told you how much it costs, which nearly made you give it up but you really needed this tonight.

When you were done ordering it and the waitress went to bring it, you turned to Thor. "I know we just met each other, and this probably isn't the best first impression, but please can you just call me a cab at the end of dinner? Because I'm kinda planning to get drunk."

He chuckled, again making you experience the illusion that you could feel the sound between you. "Of course. If that would help."

"That would help a ton, thank you," you grinned at him, just as the waitress came back with your wine and the first course.

A whole bottle of wine consumed exclusively by you and a few dishes later, you knew it was time to go home. You paid the bill, trying not to freak out at how expansive it was. Thor wanted to pay too, but you assured him that it was fine, and it was you that dragged him out here anyway.

While you were standing outside waiting for a cab you could hail, you shivered a little in the cold.

Steve always gave you his jacket when you got cold.

Maybe it was the drinks, the late hour or just plain old breakup sadness, you felt tears come to your eyes, unable to stop them from flowing out.

You started sniffling and Thor noticed, his head immediately turning to look at you. "What's wrong?"

"He left me, Thor," you cried, "I thought everything was fine and he dumped me. And he was nice about it, so I can't even be mad and blame him, and that just means that," you barely contained your sobs, "it means I'm not enough. Everyone leaves me because I'm never enough." You buried your face in his bicep, too wound up in your misery to even notice how nice it was.

"Now, now," his other hand lifted to stroke your hair. It was a little awkward, but in your inebriated state you couldn't care less. "You're more than enough. I met you today and even I know you're wonderful."

You lifted your head to meet his eyes. Sniffling once again, you tried to stop crying. "Thank you," you said once you felt you gained enough composure. "I'm sorry I sprung all of this on you. I'll get a cab, go sleep it off," you said, awkwardness now prominent. God, you just made a fool of yourself in front of… a god. A literal god. Fuck.

"Where do you live?" he asked, seemingly unbothered. You gave him your address. "Well, I believe it's not that far. Do you need to wait for a cab or can you walk home?"

"I mean, I could walk, it's just that New York City at night isn't the safest place for a girl to walk alone," you smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, yes," he frowned, "I suppose you're correct. I could walk you home, if you'd like?"

You looked around. No cabs in sight. "Actually, yeah. That'd be cool."

The chilly night air sobered you up a bit. Once you got to your building, you bid Thor goodbye, thanking him again, before going up to your apartment and stumbling tiredly onto your bed, where you fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, you woke up still wearing yesterday's dress and with a slight headache, groaning as you got yourself out of bed to shower, change and drink some water, get an aspirin.

Once you had done all that, you checked your phone for any messages. You weren't supposed to come into work today, so you weren't expecting anything, but just to make sure. Surprisingly enough, there was a text from a number you hadn't recognized.

It said it was Thor and he asked how are you, but there was no way that was true, right? I mean, you didn't think Thor even had a phone, let alone your number. On the other hand, you couldn't think of anyone else who'd know enough to text you that.

Skeptical, you texted back that you were fine, not too far from the truth but still kind of far, and were planning to spend the day watching movies and eating ice cream, which was the truth.

How'd you get my number? You texted again before he could answer.

Jarvis had it, he texted back. He's quite useful. I do wonder why he won't leave his room.

You laughed. Either this was actually Thor, or it was someone really, really good. Before you could think up a reply, you saw the three little dots signifying he was typing again.

Would you perhaps want some company while you watch these movies?

You gasped out loud even though there was no one there to hear it. Was Thor really asking to come over and watch movies? With you? It was hard to believe. Maybe it is someone else after all.

You texted him he should come over if he wanted to. Thor knew your address, if it was really him, he'd come over. If it was some crazy stalker, you just wouldn't let him in and continue in your plans of bawling in front of some sappy movies. If it was actually Thor… well, you'd have to cry in front of him, you guess.

You already started on your ice cream and started The Notebook, figuring it was a good way to start your wallowing fest, and you were starting to get really into it when you heard a knock on the door. You moved as quietly as you could towards the door, looking through the peephole. To your momentary relief, it was Thor and not some stalker. Why momentary? Because holy fucking shit Thor was standing at your day and you were in your pajamas.

"Just a sec!" you called out. You figured you didn't have time to change, but you at least tried to get your hair in some sort of order before you opened the door, hiding your PJs clad body with it.

"Hi," you smiled bashfully once you closed the door behind him.

"Hello," he said, smiling. "Ah, I see you've already started. What movie is that?"

"Well, it's called The Notebook. Do you know it?"

He replied that no, he didn't, and you explained the plot briefly to him as you sat down, wrapping yourself back up in a fuzzy blanket before taking your ice cream back.

"Oh, where are my manners, would you like some?" you gestured the ice cream towards him.

"Yes, sure!" he nodded, and you were glad he at least knew what ice cream was. If someone hadn't bothered to introduce him that would just be cruel.

You went to get the ice cream, the blanket dragging behind you like a cape, and you returned with another tub of ice cream and a spoon, bringing them to him before sitting back down and starting the movie.

You two didn't speak much throughout the movie. When it got to the really sad parts you started crying silently, but by the ending you were just fully sobbing, and, as it seemed, so was he.

"That was so… sad," he said, "is this the entertainment Midgardians always enjoy?"

"Not always," you said, stopping to blow your nose, "we have happy things too. It's just, I got dumped last night, so I'd like the chance to cry a little, you know?"

"That's fair. And it was very beautiful. They loved each other."

"They did," you said, your eyes filling with tears again.

"What's next?"

You watched some more sad movies, and then introduced Thor to the wonderful world of takeout food while you changed to some rom com, a little more cheerful. He laughed the whole way through, and the movie wasn't even that funny, but you giggled along as well, unable not to join his roaring laughter.

You ended up falling asleep on the couch in the evening, exhausted, mostly emotionally. The next morning when you woke up he was gone, but he did text you that if you needed anything you could tell him.

Over time, you and Thor started hanging out some more. Mostly at your place or outside, since you really didn't want to risk running into Steve.

It took you time, getting over Steve. Time and tears.  And really, Thor being there helped. A lot. He was a rock, a shoulder to cry on.

A broad, muscular shoulder to ugly cry on.

At first, the thought of starting something with Thor didn't even cross your mind. Sure, he was sweet, but it was platonic, and you were busy getting over your breakup anyway.

But then, you realized it became something… more. To you at least. Because despite the tears, he didn't leave. Never wanted to.

Long story short, when Thor invited you to go to dinner one night, a few months after you met each other, you tried really hard not to think of it as a date. A friend-date, if anything.

"How's it going?" you asked, sitting down in front of him in the small diner.

"Good," he smiled at you, "You?"

"Great," you smiled back.

"So, I have some news," he started, continued once you gave him an encouraging nod, "I have to go back to Asgard in a week or two."

"Oh," you said. It made sense, Thor being on earth as long as he already has been should've raised your curiosity, but you didn't really want to think about it until this moment. "I guess you're happy to go home."

"I am," he hummed, "But… there was something I wanted to ask you before I leave. And be honest. Would you like… well, would you give me the opportunity to court you?"

You sat in stunned silence for a few moments. "Like, you're asking me to date you?" you said incredulously.

"I am," he chuckled nervously, "But you don't have to- I know you might not want to because of Steve and-"

"I haven't thought of Steve for a really long time," you cut him off with a smile, "mostly thanks to you. You make me really happy, and I would love to let you court me," you giggled.

"Really?" he asked, awestruck.

"Really," you smiled, leaning across the table, intending to press a kiss to his cheek. At the last moment he turned, making you plant your lips on his in a soft kiss.

You pulled away smiling, and so was he. He took your hand in his from across the table, and you continued to eat your food like you two usually do. Well, almost. Now there were timid exchanges of looks, gently hand squeezes.

And a breathtaking goodnight kiss.

But it was so natural, so normal, you couldn't bring yourself to admit the absurdity of him being a literal god and you being… just a human.

You spent the week he had left together, making the best of it.

In the future, you'd visit his home, he'd visit yours. And he'll always make sure to remind you you're not just a human, you are, in fact, his favorite one.

It never failed to make you smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this was my first time writing for thor, i hope i did him justice:))

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[notbleachtea]

Birthday Night

With my birthday coming up I had some ideas in my head lol.

Word Count: 2000

SFW fluff and angst

Just wanted to post this already so if you like it any want me to continue a not sfw version, let me know!

Legend:

Joseph, Kakyoin, Polnareff, Avdol, Reader, Jotaro

It’s been a couple of weeks now since you’ve started this journey with the others. You were just glad they agreed to let you join them so you could pay back DIO for trying to control you by implanting a flesh bud in your brain. Your 18th birthday was fast approaching, only a few days away, but you really didn’t want to make a big deal of it. There were more important things on the agenda and you didn’t want to waste their time. You thought about telling Jotaro but you didn't want to make things uncomfortable between the two of you. You didn't really know where you stood with him. You talked to him all the time, but it seemed he never made any moves.

Things have been kind of slow this week and you all had some free time on your hands. You just went along with Jotaro wherever he wanted to go and the others all pretended they had other things that they wanted to check out. Once you two were gone…

“So tomorrow is y/n’s birthday.”

“How’d you figure that one out?”

“Well when we first encountered her I asked the SWF to run a background check on her and I noticed her birthday was fast approaching.”

“Oui! We should do something as a thank you!”

“What do you think she would want?”

They all smirk and look at each other.

“Heh, Jotaro.”

“You don’t say?”

“Isn't it obvious she's fallen for him? And I'm damn near certain he's taken a liking to her, I've never heard him talk half as much.”

“So let's set them up on a date! We could trick Jotaro into admitting his feelings for y/n.”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

The gang discusses possible scenarios before deciding what was best. They all went out shopping for presents while you were still out with Jotaro. They went to countless stores to pick out the best outfit they could for you. After much deliberation, they all agreed on the perfect set. They were so excited to shower you with gifts and celebratory smiles. They needed this. The journey has already been so difficult, they just needed a small chance to cheer up.

“Okay everyone, let's rest up here tonight, we've got a big day tomorrow.”

You go along just thinking tomorrow will be another long day of travel. You were ready for some much needed sleep.

Usually you share a room with one of the guys, but for some reason they put you up in your own room for the time being. It was kind of nce to have a little bit of peace and quiet.

The following morning you wake up, a little sad to be honest. It's your big day after all and you have no one to knowingly share it with. Maybe some breakfast with the boys will cheer you up.

Once the six of you all gathered around the table, Joseph stood up to make an announcement.

“It's been a tough journey so far, but who doesn't like to have a little fun?”

“Good grief old man, stop wasting our time already.”

“So as a thank you y/n, we all decided to pick you up a gift for your birthday.”

Jotaro quickly tries to cover his eyes with his hat, but not before you could see the oh shit look he put on.

Polnareff gifts you a pair of gorgeous black heels with gold accessories.

“My oh my y/n these would look so amazing on your already lustrous legs.”

Avdol picked out a matching black and gold crossbody handbag so you can pair the two.

“It’s much easier to keep all the things you need most nearby in this y/n”

Kakyoin was excited to give you his gift next, which was a small bottle of strawberry perfume and a tube of lipgloss in the matching flavor.

Joseph was last to pick up a box. He handed it to you with such a mischievous smile, he could hardly wait for you to open it.

“It’s gorgeous Mr. Joestar! I really don’t deserve this.”

“It was no trouble at all y/n! You fight so hard and you only turn 18 once. I really insist.”

You can see that there are no other boxes left around the table with just Jotaro left sitting in silence.

After a little bit of small talk it seems like everyone is ready to go back to their rooms for the day and get ready.

“Why don't you try on all that new stuff for us y/n? I'm sure that'd cheer everyone up a bit.”

Only moments after getting back to your room you heard a knock on your door. You walk over and look out the peephole, you only see a tall broad chest, but you'd recognize it anywhere. You open the door up for Jotaro.

“Hey, don’t be all sad or whatever because I didn't get you anything.”

“It's okay Jotaro, I really wasn't expecting anything today.”

“It's not that I forgot, I just didn't know it was your birthday.”

“I didn't tell anyone, so I don't know how they fou-”

“So I'm taking you out tonight.”

“You’re what?” your heart jumps and your eyebrows raise in question.

“I'm taking you out to dinner tonight, on me, so you have something to do in your new clothes.”

It didn't matter the circumstances to you. You were just happy he was agreeing to do something alone with you.

You took the next few hours for yourself to really get ready. You took a nice bath, gave your legs a fresh shave, and wrapped your hair up so it would fall into perfect curls when it dried.

You threw on your new gown. It felt so soft against your freshly cleaned body. You were kind of amazed at how perfect it fit you too. You never really dabbled too much into makeup, so for tonight you just put on some mascara, cleaned up your brows and sported the new lipgloss gifted to you by Kakyoin. All that was left was your heels and a spritz of perfume.

Jotaro shows up at your door exactly at the exact time he said he would pick you up. He hides his blushing face underneath his hat,

“Looks like you're ready to go on time for once.”

You grab your new purse and chase after him, already halfway down the hallway.

You couldn't make it out of the lobby without the others catching you first, exactly what Jotaro was trying to avoid.

“Mon cheri! What did I say about those legs! You look like a true vision of beauty mon amor.”

“You smell just like fresh strawberries y/n. I wonder if your lip gloss tastes just as good as you smell, even though I would much rather prefer cherries.”

Jotaro notices you starting to blush and the whole room can sense the brooding scowl he's just put out towards the two.

Avdol and Joseph compliment you on how you look in your new dress and insist on taking a photo of the two of you like they’re proud parents.

“Good grief just get it over with,” Jotaro snaps, knowing he has every intention of getting that photo for himself later.

While out on the town, Jotaro insists you hold his arm. He says he doesn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you from your clothes and try to touch you.

As scary as he made it sound, you were just as happy to hold his large arm.

With you being this close to him, he couldn't help but breath in your intoxicating perfume. He made it clear to Kakyoin in the past that he prefers strawberries, especially over cherries, so he was sure they were all up to something from the start.

Jotaro takes you to a nice looking place. There's no way it doesn't cost a fortune to eat here.

“Dont worry about it, I can handle it,” he says,picking up on how nervous you already were.

“All right, this way for the young couple.”

“We're not together,” Jotaro snaps.

“My apologies, my good sir.”

While it was true you were not together, it still hurt your feelings for him to say that, especially so quickly.

It kind of sets your mood for the rest of the night. You were thrilled he took you out, but it just didn't feel good knowing you wanted more than him, thinking this was just a pity dinner.

After your meal arrived you tried to start up some small talk. Usually your conversations are so deep and easy, but this felt like pulling teeth.

You set your cutlery down in a sophisticated huff.

“You know what Jotaro, I'm just going to go back to my room. I appreciate you trying to take me out for my birthday, but it's clear you don't want to be here.”

You began to stand up and he grabbed your wrists and sits you back down.

“Y/n, I wanted to take you out.”

“You're not even looking at me when I talk to you Jotaro, just take me back.”

You start walking back to the hotel at a quick pace and trip over yourself on the brick paved streets. You're not used to walking in heels after all. You pick yourself up and try to continue walking on, but it appears you've sprained your ankle. You're too stubborn to admit that though and keep on.

Jotaro scoops you up with no hesitation and with such ease. You're still mad at him, but thankful to not have to walk back at the moment.

“Y/n, please calm down, let's take you back and get some ice for your ankle.”

You didn't say anything the whole way back. You didn't need to. The message was loud and clear by the expression you wore on your face.

It was starting to get too much for him to handle. He was already embarrassed having to carry you like this through the city, keeping his hands close to your rear so you wouldn't flash everyone in your short dress. He couldn't escape the sweet smell of you either, only further clouding his judgement.

Jotaro takes you up to your hotel room and sits you down on your bed. At this point you're over the night.

“I'm going to get ice. Don't move.”

You just sat there in a mixture of silence yet excitement by the strict demand he just spit at you.

Jotaro came back, kneeling on the floor before you, delicately lifting up your ankle and setting an ice pack atop it. He looked up into your sad eyes, he had to know what that lip gloss tasted like. It's only fair. You'd been pursing your lips out at him all day anyway.

“I'm looking at you now.”

“What?”

“I said, I'm looking at you now y/n, and I have been looking at you all night.”

Jotaro, still kneeling on the floor in front of you,

“I can't take my eyes off of you, it's not fair. How am I supposed to act normal in public when you go and dress like this?”

He stands up to steal a long awaited kiss from your lips. You didn't have time to think about it, you just naturally kissed him right back with as much want.

Breaking from the kiss,

“Jotaro I-,”

“I've wanted to do that for so long, y/n.”

“Do it again.”

Without a second thought, Jotaro plants another kiss on your shining lips. He places one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your hip, guiding you to lay backwards on the bed, never breaking the kiss, his large body now towering over you. You don't want to stop and you don't want him to stop.

“Y/n, let me show you how I really feel this time.”

[elliesguitarstrings]

Silence (Part 2)

Masterlist//Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way... at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: Thanks for the love on my last post lol :) Sorry it took so long to post this I’ve just been so busy with school but I just got out for winter break so hopefully I’ll be able to write a lot over the next few weeks! Also sorry this chapter is so short and probably really bad I wrote it super fast because I just wanted to post something. I promise part 3 is going to be a lot better than this haha.

Warnings: language, a little bit of angst, Peter being kind of a jerk (sorry but I promise he doesn’t mean it lol)

~~~~~~~~

Sitting in Peter’s bed, you look beside you to see that he is still asleep. You want to shake him awake and yell at him to get up and celebrate your one year anniversary, well friendiversary, that is. But instead, you choose to admire him in all of his cuteness for a few more moments. You smile looking at the way his cheek presses against the pillow, his fluffy curls strewn across his forehead, his mouth slightly open, snoring quietly. God, you’re so in love with him. But he’s not in love with you, and you know that. You’re just friends, and that’s all you’ll ever be. But you still had that small sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe he likes you as much as you like him.

You couldn’t bare falling for him more, so you rustle him awake.

“Pete! Get up get up get up! Guess what day it is?” you say, repeatedly slapping his arm.

Peter stirs, slowly opening his eyes, smiling at you as you stand over him on the bed.

“Well good morning to you too princess.”

You can’t help but blush, as you do every time he calls you that. Princess is his nickname for you, and even though he says it multiple times a day, you never seem to get over it. It only makes you fall for him harder.

Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you repeat your question, “Guess what day it is?”

Peter’s eyes widen, “Oh no, oh my god. Is it your birthday? Did I forget your birthday? Shit shit shit-”

You cut him off, laughing, “No stupid, you didn’t forget my birthday.”

“Then I give up, what day is it?”

“Come on Pete, you can’t give up that easily! Guess again.”

“Well, it’s not a major holiday, I know that much. And it’s not either one of our birthdays, so I’m lost. Just tell me.”

“It’s our one year friendiversary! It’s officially been one year since we met!”

“Oh, really? It seems like way longer than a year, but that’s cool I guess!”

You couldn’t help feeling a little hurt that he didn’t remember. But at the same time you didn’t really expect him to. It wasn’t like he had been tracking the days in a journal or writing down all the memories from your time together on little pieces of paper to look back on when you were sad like you’ve been doing for the past year. But that didn’t mean he didn’t value the bond between you two, right?

“Well, I have a big day planned for the two of us! We’re going to do all our favorite things today. We’ll have pancakes for breakfast, and then we’ll go walk around New York City and go to Delmar’s for lunch, and after that we’ll come back to the compound and watch all of the Star Wars movies for the rest of the night in the theater! We can even set up a tent and buy a bunch of snacks and candy like we did for our first movie marathon!” you ramble excitedly.

“Oh, um, well I was planning on hanging with Ned and MJ today, but I’ll text them and tell them I’m hanging out with you instead if you want.”

Your stomach dropped. Today meant so much to you, and he was planning on hanging out with his other friends?

You wanted to scream at him, tell him how much of an asshole he was being. But instead, you bottled up your feelings, just as you have been all morning.

Faking a smile, you say “Oh, well they can tag along if they want to. More people, more fun, right?”

“Are you sure? It can just be the two of us if you want, I don’t think they’ll mind much.”

“No, no, its totally fine. Tell them to meet us at Delmar’s at noon.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll text them. Today’s gonna be so much fun!”

You’re on the verge of tears, and you have to get away from Peter before you break, so you quickly stand up and say, “I’m gonna go shower and get ready. You can start on the pancakes if you want, or you can just wait for me and we can make them together.”

Without waiting for Peter to answer, you leave his room, shutting the door behind you probably a little too hard. You run across the hall to your room and fall on your bed, immediately starting to cry.

Maybe you’re overreacting, making a huge deal out of nothing. Is it that big if a deal that he just wants to hang out with people other than you? Were you being possessive? But on the other hand, when you think about it, it’s been more than just today.

For the past two months or so, Peter has been ditching you to hang out with his school friends. It made sense at first, since school just started back and he hadn’t seen them all summer because he was hanging out with you. But recently, it seems he’s been choosing to hang out with them over you.

In fact, the two of you haven’t spent time together outside of the compound in weeks. Sure, you’re still close, but only when you’re in the compound around the other avengers. Every time you ask if he wants to go to the movies or go to Delmar’s, he always has an excuse, usually that he already has plans with Ned or MJ. Or both.

This only makes you cry more. How could he do this to you? Why is he doing this to you?

Then you realize. MJ. He fucking likes MJ. He would rather hang out with her than you. That’s why he always ditches you for her and Ned, why he never hangs out with you anymore.

And now you have to spend an entire day with her. God, you should have just told Peter to tell Ned and MJ that he couldn’t hang out, but you panicked, what else were you supposed to do?

Suddenly, you hear a knock at your door. It’s Peter.

“Hey, are you okay? You ran out of my room pretty fast. Are you mad at me for inviting Ned and MJ or something?”

Shit. He knows. How the fuck does he know everything?

“Oh, uh, no, no its fine! Um, I just know that we only have a few hours until we meet them and making pancakes can take a while and I can take a while to get ready and I just wanted to get a head start that’s all.”

You definitely sounded suspicious. You said that way too fast. But somehow Peter seems to buy it.

“Oh, well, okay! Why don’t I get started on making the batter while you finish getting ready and then we can finish making them once you get downstairs.”

“Yeah, um, sounds good. Be down in like thirty minutes.”

“Okay! See you then!”

Fuck, even his voice sounds cute.

Stop, you can’t do this. Not anymore. He likes MJ, not you. You’re just friends.

While you shower and get dressed, you try to come up with a plan on how to keep your cool and attempt to act normal today. Usually, you didn’t have to think about a thing when you hung out with Peter. But now, it’s different. Well, for you it is at least. For Peter, nothing has changed. But for you, it seems like everything has.

In the span of about fifteen minutes, Peter destroyed any chances of you two being together. Not that he said anything, but you just know. You just know he likes MJ.

[amyscascadingtabs]

the way you keep the world at bay for me

post-the set up, a.k.a jake taking care of hungover amy, hungover amy taking care of sad jake, and mac caring mostly about himself because he’s a baby 😌

read on ao3

Jake doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, and for once, it's not even Mac’s fault. It's not even due to the pizza parlor simulator game either, although he does play a couple of rounds when Amy's finally snoring next to him after ranting to herself about the babysitter’s club for a solid ten minutes, but not even that can fully distract him from the dull sense of doom that's made itself at home deep in his chest. 

This is bad. Holt wants to see him tomorrow, and Jake knows there will be consequences. There has to be. There should be. He made a mistake, and he's going to get punished for it, and there is nothing he can do but accept his defeat. He already knows what he has to do; the nerve-wracking thing is the fact that it's still hours away, and his brain is spinning too fast for sleep.

He really wishes he could talk to Amy. She's sleeping on her stomach with her mouth open, arms straight out to the sides like she’s trying to push him out of bed, but he still can’t be mad at her. He hasn’t seen her this drunk since before she got pregnant, and he’s seriously worried about the hangover she’ll be sporting tomorrow, but he also knows she did it for him. Because they’re a team. Because she trusts him, sometimes even when it turns out he was wrong.

He wrongfully arrested someone. The sentence keeps repeating in his head, appears pasted in bold font on the inside of his eyelids if he tries to go to sleep, and displayed in luminescent letters on the ceiling of his bedroom when he gives up and opens his eyes again. He should have known better, has learned his lesson time and time again since his early days of constantly glorifying his job and letting his impulsivity get the best of him, and he still made a mistake.

  /

He just wants someone to tell him it doesn’t make him a bad person. If only Amy wasn’t so drunk he’s scared to wake her up right now, Charles wasn’t so devotedly biased in all questions involving Jake’s role as a detective, and Mac wasn’t, well… so completely unable to grasp any of the concepts involved in the question.

Amy lets out another mighty drunken snore, and Jake hopes she will consider it a testament to his love for her that he doesn’t voice record it. He turns his head instead and picks up his phone to go back to the pizza game. Maybe just a few more virtual customers will be able to lure him to sleep.

 ~

 He must have fallen asleep eventually, because when Mac does start babbling to himself over the monitor, the morning sun is shining through the windows, and Amy’s stopped snoring. She’s only moaning uncomfortably to herself now, and Jake’s guessing from her strained grimace that the headache has kicked in hard.

“I’ll get you coffee and aspirin as soon as I’ve checked on Mac,” he whispers to her with a kiss to her neck, and he thinks he sees the hint of a smile as she reaches out for him in what’s probably an attempt of a pat on the back, but ends up more of an unintentional slap to his butt. Or maybe she’s still drunk, and it is intentional. It’s hard to tell.

  /

Mac may have no clue about what’s currently going on with Jake, but at least it’s impossible not to smile when he hauls himself up and rocks back and forth on unsteady feet in excitement over the fact that someone’s coming to get him. He greets Jake with that wide grin that shows off all of his four teeth – two up and two down, and they’ve kept everyone up at night for weeks, but they’re so pearly white and cute so maybe it was worth it – and a laugh that’s been Jake’s favorite sound on Earth since the first time he heard it.

“Good morning, bud,” Jake tells his son as he lifts him up in his arms. “What do you say we get you a bottle and mama some coffee? Hmm?”

“Bah,” Mac repeats. Jake decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it means he agrees on the bottle.

“Bottle, exactly. You're so smart,” he says, booping his little nose and smiling as it makes Mac giggle. “Let's try another one. Dada.”

There's a tense moment of them both just staring at each other, and then finally, his son goes,

“Bah.”

“One day,” Jake says with a sigh as he carries Mac out of the nursery. “As long as you say me first, okay? We’ll get there. We’ll practice.”

  /

He puts Mac in the high chair while he tries his best to work the coffee machine and the bottle warmer at the same time. It's trickier than to be expected on almost no sleep, but at least he manages to pour the breast milk from the freezer bag into the bottle and not into his coffee this time. He's only made that mistake once (fine, maybe twice, and he kind of liked how sweet it tasted but he's never gonna tell anyone), but he suspects Amy's never gonna let him live it down. He gets Aspirin from the medicine cabinet while he waits, and puts a couple of slices of toast in the toaster. His own day feels already pretty much beyond saving, but at least maybe he can improve Amy's.

  /

Though, when she stumbles out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas with her huge glasses and hair on end and looking like she's either seconds from being sick or going straight back to sleep, he worries whether she might just be beyond saving, too.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as she gives him one drained look before walking up to the couch and face-planting on it with another pained groan.

“I think I might be dead.”

“That's called a hangover, babe. I think you used to be familiar with the concept once upon a time, but I guess it's been a while.” Jake grins at Mac, who only reaches his chubby hands out for the bottle out in response. “Toast?”

“Do I have to?”

“It's going to help.”

“Fine.” Amy pushes her head off the pillow to look at Mac. “He's not drinking the milk I pumped yesterday, right?”

“I poured that out for you. I know they say moderate amounts of alcohol are fine, but, well, you were speaking British.”

“Good call,” Amy mumbles as he puts the coffee, aspirin, and toast down in front of her. “See, this is why I married you.”

Jake just hums, but he does smile to himself as he goes to grab his own cup of coffee.

  /

“I wish I could call in sick to work today,” Amy says between bites of toast, and Jake looks up from where he’s absentmindedly brushing crumbs off the countertop while finishing his own. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I mean, you did very much go through contractions while managing an entire precinct during a blackout once. You could think about that?”

“No, this is worse than giving birth,” she states confidently, and Jake has to try very hard not to laugh. “Don’t tell my past self I said that. Or my future self if I ever give birth again.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty terrified to go, too.”

“Why?”

“Because yesterday? All of it?”

“Ohh.” Amy sighs. “Right. Maybe we should both just stay home.”

  /

Jake’s about to tell her how much he wishes that was an option when Mac drops the finished bottle against the tray, immediately starting to twist in his seat. Jake unclasps the belt and lifts him out before he manages to rock the chair – that kid’s shockingly strong – and Mac immediately crawls away towards the walker. He doesn’t use it to move yet, but he’s been pulling himself up with it for over a month, and the anticipation is high every time he lets go with one hand only to sit back down on his booty the next second. Sometimes Jake could swear his son does it for attention. At least Mac doesn’t seem to have inherited his impulsivity, Jake thinks, and then he’s back to beating himself up in his head.

  / 

“I just don’t know why I did it,” he mutters as he sits down on the floor next to Amy’s head on the couch. She nods slowly, and Jake takes it as a sign she might actually be able to listen to him now. “I should know better, right? These are, like... the kind of mistakes I used to make. I thought I’d gotten better at this kind of stuff. Smarter. Less impulsive. Less of a bad cop. But instead I arrested and tailed an innocent man, all because I thought I had a gut feeling and thought I was being set up.” He shakes his head. “I guess that FBI jerk was right about gut feelings.”

“You’re a great detective,” Amy says without missing a beat. “A lot of the time, your gut feeling is right.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“No.” Amy sighs. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It sucked.”

“Yeah. It did. But there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person for it?” The question comes flying out of him, and Amy frowns.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because it was a shit move! And because I’m definitely gonna get suspended for it, and that’s going to lose us money. And then we’re not going to be able to save as much for Mac, or pay for his baby music class or baby gymnastics. And then he’s going to end up broke and untalented and it’ll all be my fault, and then you’ll be ashamed of me and leave me and I’ll die sad and alone in a ditch.”

“And you don’t think you’re spiraling just slightly right now?” Amy asks. The smile on her lips is one of amusement, and it humbles him, bringing him out of his cycle of self-pity.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she says, and that does make him feel a bit better. “I think you made a really stupid mistake. There's no getting away from that. I’m not happy about it. But… I know you'll take responsibility for it. That’s already a whole lot further than a lot of people care to go.”

  /

Her fingers brush through her hair, calming him as she speaks. The hangover has made her voice a little scratchy, Jake notices when she's this close. It reminds him of mornings after long evenings out before they were parents, a time that always feels far longer ago than it was. Sometimes he thinks everything before Mac might as well be another lifetime.

  /

“And we'll work it out if you do get suspended,” Amy continues, talking over the obnoxious melody playing from a toy Mac has found. “It's not great, of course. But we can save lots of money on daycare if you stay home with Mac. That helps.”

“Like a paternity leave,” Jake says. He does like that thought.

“Oh yeah.” Amy laughs. “You’ll be just like one of those hip Scandinavian dads who get to stay home with their kids because they live in countries where they don’t hate people for having kids. And you two can go to all of the cool classes and playdates together. You’d be the sexiest dad at baby swim class for sure.”

“Wouldn’t I also be one of the only ones?”

“Good point. Make sure to mention your wife a lot. But hey, Mac’s going to love it.”

 /

As if wanting to confirm Amy’s point, Mac crawls over to Jake and tries to climb up on his knees to sit in his lap. He does this sometimes when he’s playing on his own; retreats to their arms for a hug or a quick cuddle, only to try and wriggle out of their grip and go back to whatever it is he’s doing in the next moment. Jake thinks it might be one of their son’s sweetest qualities. Mac rests his head against Jake’s chest, almost hugging him like that, and he wonders, not for the first time, how a person that’s not even one year of age can make every other issue in the world seem so insignificant. Even if it's just for a moment, it's a pretty damn good moment.

 / 

Fueled by the most powerful motivation of all – their son’s love and attention – Amy sits down on the floor too, patting her knees.

“You want to come to mama, Mac?”

Mac squirms for a moment in Jake's arms, and Jake lets go of him. Using the couch as support, for a second it looks like he’s almost about to take a step toward her. Both parents gasp in anticipation, and it must confuse him, because he reacts by giving Amy a shocked look and sitting right back down on his butt. Jake laughs as their son crawls away again, heading for the soft building blocks outside the playpen.

“He's such a tease.”

“He gets that from you,” Amy says, and Jake huffs in mock-offense. “Are you sure we shouldn't just stay home from work?”

  /

Jake thinks of his upcoming meeting with Holt. He's been fearing it for so many hours now, and he's starting to wonder if the anxious anticipation might just not be worse than the meeting itself. He already knows what he has to do; the only thing left is to rip off the band-aid.

“I don't think it will make anything better if we don't.”

“Yeah.” Amy sighs, closing her eyes and leaning on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too. And you should probably shower and put on makeup unless you want everyone to know exactly how hungover you are.”

“I know you're right, and I hate it.”

Jake grins and strokes her hair before getting up from the floor. “I’ll go get Mac ready for the day.”

  /

“Jake?” Amy calls out before he can leave for the nursery with Mac in his arms, and he turns around. Her voice is still a little hoarse.

“Yeah?”

“It's going to be okay, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

 / 

Jake brushes his fingers through Mac’s already unruly curls. He thinks of playground dates, the storytime for toddlers their library holds every Wednesday, and how much time he’ll have to make sure Mac says his name first now. Then he thinks of the bigger image; of daring to set a good example for this child, even when it's hard. If he wants the world to be a better place for his son, he's going to have to start by taking responsibility for his own actions.

“Yeah. I know.”

  /

For the first time that day, he dares to believe it.

[sortavibing]

losing face I suna rintarou

yes. im doing a part 3 :) i love this series so i'm probably going to do the whole album (im sorry y'all) PSA: all the characters here are in college/have a job, because we don't stan underage drinking here

part one part two

fuck my life

suna was laying on his bed, unable to sleep, making quick glances at the clock every few minutes, seeing the time pass from 3 am, to 3:10, to 3:15... he sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to get any sleep (yet again), and got up, stretching his arms, as he dragged his feet to the bathroom. he flicked on the lights and squinted, temporarily blinded by the sudden change in lighting. as his eyes adjusted, he stood there, looking at himself in the mirror.

is this really me?

he shook his head, as if to reset the reflection in the mirror, to what he was before you broke up with him. as he stared at the figure, hair a mess, face pale and almost transcluvent, and eye bags so dark they rivaled his black hoodie he was wearing, all wrinkled and creased. suna looked like a ghost. and the thing is, he was. without you, he was nothing but a shell of what he was before, nothing but a emotionless robot, intent on doing nothing but rot away, secluded and silent, with lifeless eyes and weary bones. without you, his life has lost all meaning, and after the last voicemail he sent you, he lost all sense of hope that you were coming back. he turned off the lights, not wanting to see himself anymore, and stumbled to the kitchen, opening up his mini fridge and pulling out a can of cheap beer. as he slumped in a nearby chair, he popped the tab of the can and took a long swig. this was his life. every day the same. dont sleep, wallow in sadness, refuse to speak to anyone, and repeat.

what have i become?

suna took out his phone, and immediatley opened instagram, to see if you posted anything about your new boyfriend. you did. he rolled his eyes as he looked at the post. you were beaming, as you were getting a piggy back ride from your new s/o, who was smiling just as wide. the world looked perfect in that post, even the light was a golden hue. he groaned a loud fuck as he turned off his phone, unable to see you so happy, while he is so fucked up. he finished the rest of his beer and crushed it. absentmindedly throwing it into the overflowing trash can. as he sat down once again, a sudden memory rushed into his head, giving him whiplash. it was a memory of you, back when you guys were still together. and happy. you and suna were at a local cafe, eating the specials and sharing a drink. you were laughing at some stupid thing he said, and he had a light smirk on his face. after your giggles subsided, you looked at the cafe sign, and started to speak.

"you know, we should start a cafe together, when we are like, old and married."

"you know i can't cook for shit, how tf would i help"

"your good looks would bring in customers."

it was suna's turn to laugh, as he gave you a light kiss on the cheek.

"sure. that sounds like fun."

and as soon as the memory started, it was over, the happiness shattering like broken glass, as suna was brought back to reality by the ringing of his phone. he was about to turn it off, thinking it was just a spam caller, or osamu, trying to make him see sense, but he noticed your name. he immediatley stood up straight in his seat, lightly wincing at the sudden change in posture, and then picked up the phone, and answering.

"hey."

"hey suna. um- i heard your voicemail..."

"forget it. please. i was mad, and i just ended up fucking this entire situation even more."

"i think you meant what you fucking said suna. i was just calling to give you a piece of my mi-"

"can i just have a chance to speak?"

"why the fuck would i let you do that?"

"please"

you stopped talking, and suna thanked every god that he could think of, happy that you actually agreed."

"first and foremost, oh let it be said my dear,"

"dont call me dear"

"i was going to be a good boyfriend to you, so this is not an act of spite, it's a visceral breakthrough."

"cut the poetic crap and spit out what you want to say."

"secondly i know i haven't been that great, you know the way i can be. today im fucking drunk, like i have been every single fucking day. you've lost a piece of you in me, but i've lost all my past."

"oh so am i supposed to forgive you since you are now a drunken bastard?"

"is he better than me? has he seen more to this life? can he smoke more? can he fuck more? can he break me? can he break you? oh, I don’t know what i’m to do. i don’t know what I’ll fuckin' do."

you stopped talking, hearing how serious suna was about this. his voice cracked, like he was on the verge of tears, and then continued.

"i've seen our café, i've clocked our plans. oh, what could have been. if you didn’t go and fall in love, and ruin everything. i've seen him. i've been him. i've felt the same way, so in love with everything about you, that you will just- do anything to see you smile. i've seen him going out with you. i've seen what he can do, so touch him, and break me, as i see him doing everything that i wanted to do with you."

"i ruined everything? you literally cheated on me. don't go victimizing yourself, like you always fucking do. when are you going to realize that you are the problem, not me. thanks for that sob story and everything, but i don't want to talk to you until you come to terms with your own toxicity, so call me back when that happens."

you hung up, and he sat there, frozen, for at least 30 seconds, trying to process what just happened.

am i really the problem?

am i the reason why everything is fucked up?

am i?

suna slouched once again, realizing you were right. he turned off his phone once again, and sighed.

how am i supposed to change?

i hope you enjoyed!

[nugnthopkns]

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k 

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy 

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both. 

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying. 

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing. 

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring. 

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall. 

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego. 

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens. 

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner. 

“Nolan?” 

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell. 

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point. 

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food. 

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk. 

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation. 

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink. 

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?” 

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup. 

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups. 

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his. 

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks. 

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics. 

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident. 

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen. 

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep. 

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it. 

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place. 

☀☀☀☀

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