#and I thought it was Than for a second but no it’s this sad fucker oh my god 😭😭 i’m obsessed

[heydragonfly]

okay I’m playing Hades 2 and every character has been absolutely wonderful BUT

ICARUS IS IN THE GAME!!!!! (this is the incomplete/temporary art they’ve used for the other allies of this section hence why it’s sketchy)

also??? I think he’s Melinoë’s ex???? “not about to let you fly out on me again” is LOADED

meli 😭😭😭😭

#hades 2 #hades 2 early access #hades 2 spoilers #hades melinoe #hades icarus #the way i SCREAMED he shows up with a title that says “’Death From Above’ #and I thought it was Than for a second but no it’s this sad fucker oh my god 😭😭 i’m obsessed #he took my by surprise A bc he’s a deeply random and suddenly encounter #but also most of the other allies thus far have been witches #or related to the odyssey (theme of returning home and all that) #such a lovely surprise

[ange1ace]

DONT YOU LOVE ME ANYWAY?

tw: slapping, slight breeding kink, smut, dark!luke, corruption kink, daughter of aphrodite!reader

a/n: from your #1 yappist

There was something sacred about it-how he would desecrate-ruin you. Bruises littered your inner thighs, neck, anywhere he could find to mark you. Own you.

And he did.

There was some thrill in it for him, that you'd allow him to fuck with you like this, turn you into something as depraved and corrupt as him. Watching the guilt settle in your eyes when he finishes fucking you, mock disappointment crafting his words.

"should cover those up, yeah?, cant have everyone knowing what a cock dumb slut you are now, can we?"

People began to notice it, slowly. The way your face would burn with embarrassment turning into shame when they pointed out the hickeys. The fact that you were luke's toy to fuck and use as he pleases. And it was, until it became because even after he betrayed you, its his name that falls from your lips when you cum on your fingers.

You shouldve known better. Maybe checked the borders harder, more than twice-brought more weapons. Anything, that would take you back from being here. The metal presses against your throat, sending shocks of fear through you as he tilts your head up, back pressed against the rough bark of the tree.

Clarisse and the others had left camp for some special mission, chiron called it, leaving you and the other year rounders. It was calm for the first few weeks, until it wasnt.

Monsters started attacking more frequently, breaking the borders which you couldve sworn you thought could never happen. And there was only one culprit. The same one that had his head between your thighs-just weeks earlier and now a knife under your chin.

"isnt it past curfew sweetheart?" he asks tilting his head as he smiles "should report you for that"

Like the fucker cares.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, looking for atleast a dagger, seeing most of your weapons discarded too far from arms reach. He sees you, of course, eyes darkening in irritation.

"None of that yeah? just want to talk-"

Something in you clicks, anger that causes you to almost bite at him. "now you want to talk? you fucking left me luke!, no note, not even a simple goodbye-i had to hear about this from annabeth, a-and you want to speak to me with a sword at my throat?!"

He shifts, eyes moving to unreadable, as he backs up only slightly.

"There wasnt enough time-couldnt get you roped up in this shit and risk somethin' happening to you, you wouldnt have understood-"

His words fall on deaf ears, not caring-trusting-what he says anymore. You're quick to move, acknowledging that his sword is now at his side, completely out of the way. The first fist hits and you cant tell when the second one reaches. He lets you hit him, takes it until it actually begins to hurt, grapping your wrists as you attempt to fight his grip. He discards his sword on the ground, moving his other hand to keep you still. "Stop before you hurt yourself" he says sternly, backing you right up against the tree. Theres tears on your face now, he cant tell if they're from sadness or anger, choosing the latter pains him less.

"Just calm the fuck down"

Its the same tone he would use with you before, whenever you'd ask him to stay with you after he'd fuck you for hours on end. Producing the same result, tears brimming along your waterline until his tone changes. "I'm sorry okay? just dont-dont-fuck- stop crying, cant take it when you do that to me"

Your lip stops trembling, soaked eyes looking up at him as his hand cradles your chin. Its silent, none of you knowing what to say anymore and even though, you know better, you kiss him. Your lips are soft against his at first, but when luke gets over his shock? he's all teeth and blood. Violent and angry and so so desperate. Your brains in a fuzz, a high from the way hes kissing you. Maybe you've spent too long alone since he left, maybe you should've moved on. But whatever it is that leads you to do something like this, you're to fucked out of your brain to care.

Fuck elysium, he's got his own little heaven right here, in the way you sculpt your lips into his, letting him find solace in you after everything. His hand reaches to the curve of your waist pulling you into him, as he begs you to let him go further. To fuck out his frustrations onto you once again. He's sick for even asking, and you? you're just as bad for agreeing.

He practically rips of your skirt, ruining the pretty lace hem, muffling your protests with his lips. "I'll but you ten, okay a whole fuckin' set after-"

A promise you know he's not going to keep, but for now, you let him have it. His hand trails over your panties, pressing the damp spot he sees there. "That desperate huh? been waitin' for me princess?"

Somewhere in your stupor, your lips form into a pout.

"Dont be silly"

His lips form into a smirk at that, slapping your clit from your tone as you yelp. "Yeah? you've just been whoring yourself out since ive been gone?-looks like i needa remind her who she belong to hm?"

Another slap connects at your silence.

"Y-yes-fuck-please-n-need it so bad-" you babble out mindlessly, pushing your hips up into his hand-a desperate attempt to get some friction. He chuckles at your neediness, like his cock isnt leaking through his pants right now. He pulls your panties to your knees, fingers teasing at your hole, gathering your slick before he's sliding both inside of you. The sound you make is pathetic, giving him exactly what he wants, to see you pliant and indigent for him again. He's not slow or careful, instead fucking you with his fingers like hes almost enamored with the motion.

"L-luke-!" you whine, when you feel his other finger pinch your clit, the stimulation making your body jolt in pleasure. "I know, baby, I know-'s really abandoned her didnt i? dont even know how much ive missed this pretty pussy"

His words are so sweet, an illusion for how fucked up this all is. He continues to pump his fingers into you, feeling how you tighten up around him as his hand goes back to circle your clit. Your hips buck up into his hand, letting him use it as motivation to move faster. Head falling back, feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach as whimpers emit from you, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Your brain goes white when you cum, thighs trembling as you clamp down on his hand. He pulls out of you, watching the wetness that drips down your thighs.

"theres my girl"

He's quick to pull out his cock, all angry and red, precum dripping along his veins. He rubs his cock along your thighs, shivering at the feeling. He's slow at first, easing himself in, until he fully enters you, a wheeze coming from him.

shitshitshitshitshit-shit-" his thighs quiver, jaw clenching from holding himself back. "g-gotta relax for me, mami-fuck-"

He buries his head into your neck, gritting his teeth as his hands tighten on your hips. It take everything in him not to just rut into you right there.

For your sake, he tries to be slow, be patient as he thrusts into you at an antagonizing, gentle pace. You mumble something under your breath, begging him to go faster, to ruin you again, to break you. And he remembers that really? he was never a patient man.

His hips snap into yours, his movement prompted from that primal need to fill you with him to the hilt. Its disgusting, lewd-almost pornographic sounds that come from you as his curls stick to his forehead from sweat. He fucks you like an rabid animal, harsh, violent and angry-he doesnt understand whats wrong with him-why he needs it so bad. To feel you clench around him, scream out his name as if everythings normal again, as if he's human again. He presses against your stomach, causing a mixture of a moan and a sob to come from you, as he moves against you faster-harder.

He's on cloud nine when you clamp down on him. Hips stuttering, choked out whimpers falling from him as he buries his face back into your neck to try and stifle his sounds. Stars dance across your vision, and you swear you're drowning-mouth formed in a permanent 'o' shape, thighs trembling as you sink deeper. Crash after crash of ecstasy hits you-coming in relentless hard waves that make you see white. Your speech is slurred, rambling about how you love him so much-need him so much, begging him not to leave you again.

And thats what pushes him over the edge. He knows hes gonna leave you again, abandon you like the piece of shit he is, but the reprieve he has is too good to deny. He cums with a fucking sob, your name echoing from him like a solemn prayer, not even recognizing the fact that he just came inside of you as he holds you to him.

He cleans you up, carrying you back to the aphrodite cabin. Lucky for him, its empty. Most of the year rounders being in his old cabin. Laying you down on the bed, as your eyelids flutter, he sits on the side of your sheets, watching your face until you fall asleep.

And whether its guilt or regret, this time he stays and holds you until he disappears in the morning.

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan #luke catsellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo series #pjo #charlie bushnell #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan fanart #just pretend this makes sense #yeah! #zee writes ౨ৎ

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

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@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife

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@sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d

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[leascorner]

j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing:  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn’t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

#jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman top gun #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun x y/n #lea's writing #hangman imagine

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge— Chapter 9

When you died, you were going to have an all white funeral. 

It was something that had been decided by your entire family, not even by your agreement but by tradition. According to them, a funeral was a celebration, not an occasion to be sad. 

When you joined the 141, they were required to ask how you wanted preparations to be set up, if there were any “special requests.”

Your mom answered that one for you. 

Never in his life did Gaz actually assume he would show up to a funeral in white. 

He almost thought he would have to do it. 

“This is bull shit!”

Soap’s yell snaps Gaz out of his thoughts, and he looks back at where the man is sitting on the edge of his seat yelling at the others in the room. Specifically you, who’s sitting there half in tears. If your laughing or crying is still completely unknown to him. “That clue is bull shit and you know it.”

“I’m literally HANDING you the answer!!” You yell back at him, almost choking over both your words and laughter at the same time. 

“NO. YOU ARENT. THAT ANSWER IS SO SHITTY A TOILET WOUKDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!!!” Soap hollers back, and the rookies explode with laughter. 

“ITS A FUCKING MOVE THEY DO!”

“I don’t know what the fuck a pas de deux is but it does NOT. EXIST.”

“Bitch i was one of these hoes for twelve years, I WOUKD KNOW”

And so it continues. It had started out with a simple game between the four of you, well, three considering Si opted out, but it quickly turned into a good natured screaming match over the game. Headbands always turned out like this though, at least whenever Soap played. 

“Thirty seconds, suds.” Price grumbled from the couch, and you snapped your fingers quickly, trying to think of something to give him a hint.

“Fuck uhhh, okay The Nutcracker?”

“Actor?” 

“No, no but you’re close. They move around a lot more?”

“A soldier.”

“No, damnit. Like, like— fuck, fuck!! Okay pink fluffy skirts-“

“DANCER!”

“Yes!!” You scream, and you both jump for joy. Everyone in the room cheers, and Gaz even notices Ghost crack a smile under his mask. 

“Fuckin ‘Pas de Deux’ what kind of a clue is that” Soap grunts, knocking back another drink. You just roll your eyes, sighing loudly. 

“It’s literally a dance move everyone knows. I could have said pirouette and you still wouldn’t catch on, I don’t see a difference.” The silent insult makes him chuckle, and Gaz’s smile widens.

“Lay offit ay? Not my fault nobody knows dance terms.”

“I actually knew that.” Gaz pipes up, and Ghost nods in agreement. “It is a pretty common dance move.” 

You throw your hands in the air as if to say see fucker, I was right. 

Soap just rolls his eyes. 

“Didn’t know you danced,” Gaz said, lifting his drink to his lips. He tries to ignore the way your eyes follow the movement, or how it takes you a few seconds longer than usual to respond. 

“Mhm. Did it with my sister for a while. Wasn’t very good, unfortunately.” Gaz nods, humming. 

“When’d you quit?” He asks, pretending to swirl his drink around in the glass. 

You eye him suspiciously, trying to blink through the haze the alcohol has made in your mind. “Few years back, round the same time I enlisted.” 

Gaz nodded. It felt wrong, using you for information like this. But this had become more than just some challenge for him, it was genuine curiosity. Like there was a constant itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t get to die down unless he got some answers. 

Usually, Ghost was the tech person. He would be the one to hack cameras, snoop on people, be the physical stalker. The problem they all ran into, though, is that a lot of your life was online. You were the youngest of them all, younger than Gaz even, and while they gave you shit for it, it meant you were way more online than they were. 

Because of that, they couldn’t rely on just your files to tell them everything. There was a world hidden somewhere in all your deleted accounts, messages encoded in emails and photos from after your graduation. Piecing them together was too big of a job for one man alone, especially men of their age. 

So they didn’t do it alone. 

It took your near death experience to make grown ass men to realize how fucking stupid they were being about this. Simon said it himself, the 141 didn’t operate by itself. It was a team. They were a team. They did things together, which meant they would get  their answers together. It also meant they would get to share you at the same time, but that wasn’t a foreign concept to them. 

And none of them really had an issue sharing with each other. 

That night, after everyone else had turned in , Gaz got to work. He used the best lead of you he had (your beginning of the year photo for Junior year, taken just before everything disappeared) and worked his way down. He flew through all of your files, finding names, dates and addresses. Long ago he figured out that numbers were the most important thing in a task like this. Without them you could get nowhere. He followed paths he had taken dozens of times, different directions to get to the same conclusion. There wasn’t anything there. Just like you predicted, it all stopped at your junior year. 

This time, though, that wasn’t what he was looking for. 

Once he hit that wall again, He went back and retraced his steps. He included references to clubs in his search, finding every extra circular at your school and looking into their history. Nothing came up for a long, long time. 

It was nearly sunrise before he found something. Normal people would have seen this and not batted an eye, but Gaz was too keen in his research to miss it. 

In an article about your schools dance team, just a few months before graduation two names glared out on the screen at him. Your name, and someone else’s who rhymed quite well with yours. The gears spun in his head, and he laughed to himself in pure shock.

They were on a a wild goose chase for the wrong person. 

It explained why he was physically unable to find anything on you, because he wasn’t even looking for you in the first damn place. He was tracking down your sister. 

He took the two names and pasted them into his system, hitting enter on the keyboard. 

Over three hundred search results came up, but only one caught his eye. 

“Local College student gets killed in school shooting, family is left devastated.”

He might have to do a bit more digging than he thought. 

Finding the photos was the easy part. Now that he knew who you were, they were everywhere. You really had gotten up to a lot behind their backs, you had at least tried out every club once and volunteered everywhere in your damn state. It was impressive that you managed to switch personalities so quickly, going from someone so loud and outgoing to… well, you. He knew hiding this much information wasn’t easy, having to go under an alias a few times to escape capture taught him that the hard way. But you did it with ease, as if you…

Oh. 

Oh.

He had to tell Price.

AN: if you can spot the audio reference and tell me which audio it comes from, who made it and give me a time stamp i’ll post the next chapter early (as in; as soon as i see the ask/comment)

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

[lost-between-letters]

Pick me up?

Pairing: Dean Winchester & daughter!reader (she/her)

Requested by: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 798

Warnings: crying, hurt/comfort (heavy on the comfort though)

Summary: Your night makes a turn for the worse. But you have a dad who actually picks up his phone and listens

A/N: look who's not dead (me). I decided to abandon the tag list because I'm not sure how updated it is anymore

This was worse than any monster he had ever faced before, Dean decided. Certain death by the next most freaky thing this world could come up with? A piece of cake compared to this.

His little girl. His pretty, brave, witty daughter shaking with gutwrenching sobs, clinging to his jacket like her life depended on it - mere seconds after he'd stopped the car in front of the house she and her friends had gone to for the night.

Dean wanted to go back into that frat-house, and find the fucker who made his girl cry like that. But Y/N was here, holding onto him, and if there was one thing he had learned on the road, then it was to know when to pick your battles.

So he didn't act on the violent thoughts threatening to cloud his mind and instead hugged Y/N tighter. He cupped the back of her head, easing over the messy up-do that must have come undone at some point of her night out, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Seeing Y/N smile again was more important than finding the cause of her tears. For now.

But it was freezing here, and he had a perfectly functioning car right behind him. A car Dean knew his daughter loved just as much as he did.

"Sweetheart, how do you feel about getting out of here?"

She burrowed her head deeper into his chest and nodded. "Please, dad."

So he carefully extracted himself from the hug and followed her around the car to open the door for her. She slid in without another word and immediately curled up in the seat.

It tore at his heart. To see his outgoing daughter - the same girl who'd faced down a phalanx of angry ghosts while giving her uncle shit for his fighting techniques - so small. Dean took off his jacket, draped it over her frame and got in the car himself before she could comment.

The first few miles, he let the radio wash over them, pretending that he didn’t hear the quiet sniffles from the passenger seat. Dean didn't have a particular destination in mind - and he didn't need one. Y/N was much like Sam in that aspect - she didn't need space, she needed background noise, and a moving vehicle to stop her mind from spinning. And what was better than the low rumble of the impala and abandoned roads?

Soon, Y/N was drumming her fingers on her knees in time with the song, and Dean knew the worst was over.

He dared to look over at her fully now. "Wanna talk about it?"

She snorted. "That's Sam's line."

"Watch it," he threatened playfully, almost embarrassed by the all-consuming relief he felt at that little laugh.

"You watch it, old man." She shot back, but she was smiling as well.

The smile faltered as a thought, or maybe a memory, crossed her mind, and Y/N leaned her head against the window. The street lights illuminated the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I don't wanna talk about it."

No. That just wouldn't do. His daughter was not allowed to be sad, and Dean was about to find out who would pay for this.

"Sweetheart -"

"Please, dad." She tugged his jacket higher around her shoulders. "Not tonight. I don't want to think about it anymore."

After a long moment, Dean sighed. It wasn't like screaming would help. She'd just get stubborn and close off.

It wasn't even like Dean wanted to rage. Not at her, at least.

So he took a few deep breaths like Sam had advised him to (and gotten mercilessly ridiculed for) and nodded. "Okay. Not tonight."

Y/N smiled genuinely for the first time since she called him crying. "Thank you. For coming and picking me up."

Dean reached over and squeezed her knee. "That's what dads are for, Y/N. I'll always come when you need me."

He would. He'd promised her when she was just a wrinkly frowny ball of newborn, tiny eyes blinking up at him in that wretched hospital. Dean would be there for his daughter, whether it was guns blazing and fighting or nights curled up under blankets with only chocolate and heating pads - because growing up was a lonely affair without someone you could hold onto. But his little girl would never have to find that out firsthand. Dean made sure of that.

"So you'll agree to watch Mamma Mia with me?" She looked at him hopefully, knees pulled up on the seat, her eyes still red and swollen. "Auntie Charlie got me the DVD, and it really would cheer me up now. Please, dad?"

Dean groaned. Since when had she gotten so devious?

"Fine, you little monster."

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester & daughter!reader #supernatural fic

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Hello everybody! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Love seeing all the comments, they make my heart smile. You guys rock my socks <3

Previous chapter

James and Y/N drove in silence through the streets of Small Heath. It was a silence that hung in the air like the end of a bad joke, except no one forced a polite smile, especially Y/N. All she wanted to do was curl in a ball on her bed and hope for sleep to take her away from Tommy. It seemed to be the only time she could truly escape from his grasp on her. It was when she saw the outline of The Garrison did she realize she had another outlet to forget about Thomas Shelby.

“Let me out here,” she said, not bothering to glance at her date. She felt the car slow to a stop and she hopped out. It was then that she spared a glance at James. There was a pitiful air to him, one that told her this was the last time she would see him.

“Get home safe.” Was all he said, before pulling her door shut and driving off. She watched the automobile disappear into the darkness. She would get home how she got home at this point, all she knew at this moment was she needed a glass of whiskey in her hand. She walked through the front door of The Garrison and was surprised to see it almost empty, except for a few patrons and one familiar figure.

“Look who the hell decided to show up.” she teased, a smile musing upon her lips. Arthur turned to face her, a goofy smirk on his face.

“If it ain’t Y/N,” he got up from his spot at the bar, approaching the younger woman and enveloping her in a hug. “How are you, love?”

“I’m alright,” Was all she was willing to disclose to him. He didn’t dig deeper as he ushered her toward the bar. 

“And what will the lady be drinking tonight,” he asked, motioning for the bartender to approach.

“The strongest whiskey you have,” she replied, eliciting an eyebrow raise from the bartender. He could sense her present level of intoxication, but he didn’t question it. He poured her a glass, nodded toward Arthur, and began to clean the bar. She took a large swig, letting the amber liquid slide down her throat. It burned going down but the buzz that was there afterwards made up for it. 

“I never took you for a whiskey girl,” Arthur said, taking another sip of his own.

“I guess it’s one of those nights,” she said, preparing herself to guzzle down the rest.

“So, who’s the bastard who broke your heart this time?” She smirked to herself, knowing Arthur had seen this show before. He was well acquainted with the bad luck that seemed to revolve around her love life. During her years of friendship with Tommy, Arthur would be pulled into the teenage drama that revolved around the duo. He pretended to be annoyed by all the chaos and gossip that accompanied the teens, but she could tell he enjoyed hearing about their lives.

She waved down the bartender, asking for another drink before responding, “Your fucking brother.” 

A sigh escaped Arthur’s lips, “What’d the fucker do this time?” he asked. She shook her head to herself as the bartender poured her second drink of the last few minutes.

“He told me he didn’t want to see me anymore,” She took a sip, “He said our friendship didn’t make sense. What the hell does that even mean? It doesn’t have to make sense! It’s not a bloody algebra problem! It’s such bullshit.” She could feel the steam coming out of her ears.

“What a bastard,” Arthur said wistfully, as if there were words between the spaces of that sentence that needed to be said. 

“A bastard indeed,” Was her response. She stared straight ahead as Arthur turned to face the younger woman.

“Tommy will kill me if I told you this but,” he gestured to Y/N, “I can’t see you looking that sad. It breaks me heart.” A stifled chuckle escaped her lips, bringing the cup up to her mouth to take another long sip. Everything inside her tried not to look at Arthur because she knew the second she looked into his eyes, she would break. 

“What is it?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. 

A long exhale escaped her friend as he responded, “He misses you like hell, kid.” She impulsively turned toward the man beside her.

“He sure has a shitty way of showing it,” she said, a quiver in her voice. 

“Since whatever happened that day on the lake, he hasn’t been himself,” Arthur said, taking a swig of his drink, “He’s been more solemn than he already is and that’s saying a lot. Usually, you’re the one to make him less depressed” A bitter laugh erupted from her as she tried not to roll her eyes.

“So, he didn’t say that he missed me, you just think there’s the possibility that he might miss me.” She watched the way the ice settled in her drink, wishing she could sink.

Arthur shook his head to himself, knowing that he would not convince Y/N, “I know my brother, Y/N. Something went out in him after that day. The only thing I think it could be is you.” 

“Well,” she said, putting her drink down on the bar, “if he truly missed me, wouldn’t he have said something rather than push me away?” Arthur cocked an eyebrow at Y/N as she relayed the events of that night. 

Arthur finished off his drink before responding, “Tommy is who he is, and whatever is up his ass might just need a bit more time. You know as well as I do how he can be.”

“We’ve never fought for this long, Arthur,” she gazed away from him toward the bottles of liquor behind the bar, “Even as children when he hit me with the baseball, he was at my door within minutes to apologize.” If a child can see the difference between right and wrong that quickly, she could only imagine what an adult would do in that exact situation. To her surprise, she heard a light chuckle leave Arthur’s lips.

“Did he never tell you what actually happened that day?” Arthur questioned. Y/N looked toward him, tilting her head in confusion. “I guess he didn’t. Might as well tell you.” He brushed a hand through his hair before continuing, “That day, he wasn’t going to apologize.” This made her sit up straighter.

“What?” she asked, her whole friendship with Tommy rushing before her eyes. 

Arthur smirked and nodded, “He was ready to let you go, that’s how he has always been with everyone. Then I asked him if he was really willing to let you go over a stupid baseball game. I don’t know what it was about that but something clicked and he ran after you. That night when he came back home and I asked how the apology went,” Arthur paused, looking at Y/N, “he smiled and said ��I think I met my best friend,’” Y/N could feel her heart soften at the end of that story. She knew she felt that way that day but she didn’t know Tommy felt the same. She felt a tear come into her eye and a finger go up to her eye to wipe it away.

“Why are you telling me this story?” she questioned.

“Sometimes, Tommy needs some convincing to realize he is making a shit decision,” Arthur motioned to the bartender to top off his drink, “And I just don’t think anyone has called him on this shit yet. I’d say you will have Tommy back soon.” Arthur’s words along with the alcohol softened Y/N.

“You really think so?” It felt like a plea coming from her lips.

Arthur nodded, “He needs you as much as you need him.” Y/N was ready to hug the older man when she noticed something, the music on the phonograph slowed to a tune she could recall from anywhere. It was The Girl With The Flaxen Hair by Claude Debussy, one of her favorite songs. Arthur saw the change in her expression and smiled at her.

“Care to dance?” he asked, holding a hand out to her. She looked around the room but the bar seemed empty except for the stray patron or two. Perfect.

“I would love to,” she responded as Arthur led her to the center of The Garrison. Her left hand goes into his and her right hand falls onto his shoulder. His left hand gives hers a squeeze and his right hand falls onto her back. She couldn’t help but smile at the man before her. He was the brother she always dreamed of having, tough but loving. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder as the song went on. For the first time in a long time, she was at peace, but that was only momentary. She felt Arthur stiffen as the song came to an end. She looked up at him to see him staring at the entryway. She followed his gaze to see a man she did not expect to see tonight.

“You two look to be having a good time.” Tommy’s voice felt like a dagger, punctuated by the exhale of a cigarette in her direction. Arthur immediately detached himself from Y/N, taking a step away as well. Y/N looked over at Arthur, her eyes pleading for him to say something, anything to make this situation less terrible.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” That was the last thing she wanted him to say. Before she could interject, Arthur had already made his way into the back of the bar. 

Tommy turned to the remaining patrons, “Out. Now.” As if his words were a spell, they followed what he said. Now, they were truly alone. He takes his jacket and hat off, placing them on a table before asking, “What are you doing here?” 

She shrugged her shoulders, “It’s a bar and I wanted a drink.” 

Tommy let out a sigh, bringing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and rubbing it, “You know this is my bar.” 

She gave him a sarcastic smirk, “I didn’t think you would be coming here tonight, your date seemed like a pretty sure thing.” At that, Tommy approached the bar, opening up the side door to go behind it. He began to pour himself a drink.

“I can at least say I tried.” He mumbled to himself.

“Tried what?” Y/N asked. 

“To make you leave.” He puts the bottle down. “Seems I can’t get rid of you.” He throws back the drink.

“Tommy,” she said, approaching the bar, “Why do you want me to leave? Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to go away?” Tommy didn’t meet her gaze, as he poured another drink.

“I want you to be safe, Y/N.” He put the bottle back on the counter, “You know the way that my life is going, that won’t be possible anymore.” 

The alcohol went around her shoulders like a blanket, giving her the confidence to say, “That’s so stupid, Tommy.” A real smile and laugh came out of Tommy. One that she had not seen in six months.

“Now that is not how I expected this conversation to go.” He took another drag of his cigarette, “In all the ways I thought of this talk going, I did not imagine you calling me stupid.” 

She giggled to herself, taking a seat on the barstool, “So, you knew we would speak again.” 

He leaned against the bar, his face inches from hers, “I told you, I can’t seem to get rid of you and you can’t seem to get rid of me. Maybe that’s just how life is supposed to be, you and me.” Her thoughts began to swim. She wasn’t sure if it was the booze or the fact that Tommy smelled like whiskey and soap. All she knew was that she didn’t want to move away from him. She only moved when the next song came on, one that she remembered well. The movement was a chuckle that turned into a laugh as Tommy followed suit. 

“You remember this song?” She asked, motioning toward the phonograph. 

He smirked and nodded, “How could I forget?” 

The first time that Y/N heard this song was a moment that replayed in her head from time to time. It was a hot August day. She was 16 and Tommy was 17. There was nothing to do that day but lay on the floor of Tommy’s room and listen to music. They stayed side by side for hours as track after track played. Finally, a track with provocative lyrics rose from the phonograph, causing Y/N to giggle and blush. Tommy looked over at her and smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” she said, shaking her head as if she was trying to shake the blush off her cheeks. 

Tommy nudged her shoulder, “Come on, tell me.” 

She paused before answering, “I don’t know, the words are just so… raunchy.” The blush came back onto her lips as Tommy let out a belly laugh.

“What? Have you never had a shag?” This caused Y/N to burst out in laughter.

“I haven’t even had my first kiss, let alone slept with a man.” She expected Tommy to laugh along with her but when she looked over at him, he was already sat up, looking down at her. 

“Really?” There was a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She sat up and faced him, “Really,” Y/N said. She shrugged to herself, continuing, “I just don’t think anyone wants me in that way.” There was a long pause as Y/N expected Tommy to say something sarcastic but all he did was stare. Y/N matched his gaze. 

He then took his best friend's hand, “Don’t say that,” and continued to stare. He took a deep breath before saying, “If you’d like, I can kiss you.” Y/N didn’t know how to respond, all she could do was gaze into her best friend’s eyes. Neither teen knew what to do except let their faces grow closer together. His breath graced her lips, so close. Then the song changed, and so did her mind. 

“No, Tommy,” She backed away. “Not like this.” He backed away.

“I understand.” He said with a nod.

“I want it to be with someone I love who loves me back.” 

Y/N felt her mind come back to 1913 as she giggled to herself,  “Fuck that is what you said!” Tommy said as he took a large sip from his drink. 

She shrugged, “I was harsh, it might be why I didn’t have my first kiss for another year.” 

“I remember that,” Tommy said, sitting beside her at the bar, “George Milton, right?” 

She nodded, “By the bridge. He bit my lip and it bled.” Tommy let out a snicker. A comfortable silence fell over the two old friends. Tommy was the first to break it.

“So, why did you say no.” She looked up into his blue eyes to see a sense of curiosity there.

“I told you, my sixteen year old self wanted it to be with someone she loved,” Y/N took a sip of her whiskey before continuing, “She wanted magic and delusion. Still haven’t found that yet.” James crossed her mind for a fleeting second and left as quickly as he came. Tommy’s gaze did not leave hers, watching how the words stayed in her mind. Then the song changed again. The tune was a waltz, one that made a smile come onto Y/N's face. 

Tommy held out his hand, “Arthur can’t be the only one dancing with you tonight.” Y/N gave Tommy her hand as he led her out to where she and Arthur danced earlier. Their hands found their homes on each other's bodies easily as the couple began to sway to the tune. Y/N looked up into Tommy’s blue eyes and he gazed down into hers. His hand relaxed on the small of her back, sliding down and pulling her closer. She laid her head on his chest feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. She moved her arm behind him, holding him tight. The pair swayed as Tommy laid his head on top of hers. 

“Y/N?” She moved her head off his chest to look up at him, “You’re not delusional. You just want what you deserve.” That was when she felt her lips begin to grace his. As soon as they touched, Tommy backed away. 

The pair stopped and pulled apart.

“I have to go,” Tommy said. Before Y/N could question him, he was out the door.

Next chapter

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#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #cillian murphy imagine #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fluff #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader

[i-amm-mj]

Convenience - Katsuki Bakugo x Reader - Angst

Part 2 here!

You just rejected Katsuki Bakugo´s marriage proposition after 3 years of relationship in front of a full restaurant... The reason? You know he doesn´t love you, at least not as much as you love him.

And you know that because he mentioned twice that he hasn´t contemplated marriage on his short-term plans. The first time he mentioned it, you both were having breakfast. He said he didn´t want to get married, not before he got to the Top 3, and right now he were the fourth, but his agent and the press have been pressuring him to get married and start a family because Deku, the Number Three hero already did, which was helping him to get the approval of the citizens. “There´s nothing better than a man of family to protect civilians” they had said. 

You are sure Deku got married because he wanted to. Everyone noticed how in love he was with his wife when he started to cry after seeing Ochako in the beautiful dress you and the girls helped her choose. And you are sure of what Katsuki thinks too... You know him too well to know that the explosive blonde would never waste the opportunity to compete with Deku and show him that he was better than the “fucking nerd”... and as a girlfriend, you were good with it. You admired Katsuki and were proud of him for being so compromised with his dream. You just never thought that he would use you to achieve it and it hurted you... it hurted you so bad that when he kneeled in front you, you started to cry, but not because of happiness, your crying was a product of sadness. 

In other conditions, Katsuki proposing to you would have been the happiest moment of your life and you would have accepted him without any doubt. You really wanted him to be the man next to you at altar and the father of your children, but it seems that to him you are just a ladder to help him escalate the ranking, and you were not going to take it. You had dreams too, you wanted to do things by and for yourself and he didn´t considerate that at all... so you just left the restaurant without saying a word and headed straight to your apartment to cry even harder to your bestfriend... 

“Are you sure you are not overreacting?” your bestfriend asked through the phone “I mean... you´ve been together for 3 years now...” But no, you weren´t overreacting, you heard him yourself, but you didn´t want to remember the second time he mentioned it and his hurtful words. 

It was one week ago, when you finished your shift and headed to his office just like any other day. His secretary had gone home a few minutes before so there weren´t anyone to announce your presence. When you were ready to enter his office you stopped, there were voices coming from it. You recognized Kirishima and your ex-boyfriend´s.

“C´mon, man” Kirishima said “It´s not that bad. The press said that i look ridiculous in swimsuit and haven´t take it so seriously, they say shit all the time about everyone” 

“Those fuckers have been up my ass for four months since that nerd and Ochako got married...” Katsuki groaned “They even dared to say that marriage could help with my image of an asshole”   

Kirishima laughed “Yeah, that could be true, but you can´t force yourself into a marriage, can you?”

“Not with her at least” he murmured. Was he talking about you? You felt the pain in your chest but tried to ignored it, Katsuki would never talk about you like that, wouldn´t he? 

“Of course not! You couldn´t do that to Y/N” Kirishima protested. 

You then knocked the door, panic crawling your skin at his words: He was talking about you... and you didn´t want to know the rest. Your brain was processing. Did you really hear that? No, it was not possible. You have been together 3 years, he must love you. He wouldn´t say something so crude. You were in denial, yeah, he was just chatting with his best friend, it was just and inocent conversation between two legally single men, the type you would have with your best friend too.  

Ten seconds later he let you in. You fixed yourself and put on the best smile you could offer. 

“Hi, honey” you said “You ready to go home?” When he heard your voice, Katsuki got up from the chair and a grin appeared on his handsome face, matching yours. 

“What´s up, pretty girl?” he walked towards you and gave you a kiss on the lips “I´m ready when you are ready” 

You were now laying on your bed. Remembering. Crying. It was really hard to know that Katsuki Bakugo didn´t love you that much. And you really didn´t get it. You were sure of his feelings for you for a long time now, but all this happened so quickly that it didn´t give you time process it. You weren´t sure why Katsuki would do this to you... 

#bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo angst #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha bakugou

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

———

“Keith Kogane, you magnanimous dumbass, would it kill you to ask me out like a man. Something like that.”

Hunk presses the pause button. He tucks his phone back into his pocket. He turns to Shiro, expectant, prepared.

“So,” he says.

Shiro stares at the space in front of him, fingertips pressed together and in front of his face.

“So.”

“Your brother is kind of an airhead.”

“He is indeed.”

“No offense to Keith. He has his smart moments. Probably.” Hunk’s mouth twitches. “Sorry. I said that to not be mean and then immediately thought of the whole Voltron cheer situation and laughed in my head. I promise I don’t actually think Keith is stupid.”

Shiro’s mouth twitches. He forces his face to remain neutral. It is a challenge.

“Keith refused to name his pet gecko as a child,” he shares. “He insisted the gecko would reveal its name when it was ready.”

Hunk bites his lip very hard. He looks deliberately away from Shiro.

“He was thirteen.”

The yellow paladin presses his hands to his eyes. He tries visibly hard to compose himself. He fails.

“…I see.”

“My fiancé often said he must have been born blond.”

“Boy, do I have news for you.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “More news than your recording of Lance processing his love?”

“There was an incident beforehand,” Hunk explains. “You know how Lance does those leg stretches sometimes? When we have agility training?”

Shiro inclines his head.

“Well, apparently last week he did them in front of Keith and Keith was so distracted he walked into a wall and broke his nose. He had to go into a healing pod.”

Truly, Shiro would love to say that he’s surprised. He’d love to say that his brother, known gay, was not so fixated on a cute boy that he walked into a whole ass wall hard enough to break his nose. He would love for that to be true.

But he knows his dumbass brother.

“Oh my God.”

“And he still isn’t picking up Lance’s hints.”

“Oh my God.”

Hunk nods, patting Shiro’s hand sympathetically. “We gotta do something, man. I can’t keep watching this.” He pauses. “Also, I really want to stop hearing about what Lance thinks about Keith’s Galra form. I really can’t hear any more talk about fangs in places fangs should not be placed. It’s not good for my mental health.”

Shiro sighs. Even he has heard Lance’s mutterings about Keith’s fangs, and Lance still gets all shy and star-struck around him. At this point it’s gotta be a human rights violation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promises.

———

He finds his brother in the training room, because of course he does, getting absolutely demolished by the training bot.

“You’re getting your ass kicked,” Shiro observes.

Keith grunts.

Shiro makes himself comfortable at the edge of the mat, sticking a straw in a juice pouch and sipping it leaisurely as he watches the twerp get pummelled. It’s amusing, in the way watching those test-dummy car crashes are amusing. Or videos of kids crying in fear of Santa Claus.

“Level failed,” echoes the pleasant voice of Space Siri, as Lance and Pidge have dubbed the disembodied robot voice of the training room. “Try again?”

“Fuck off,” Keith mutters to it.

Shiro stretches out and pokes him with his toe. Keith only half-heartedly tries to slice him about it.

“Somebody’s brooding.”

Evidentially deciding he would rather vent in Shiro’s direction than fall for Shiro’s transparent attempts to goad him into a fight, he flops down dramatically, stealing Shiro’s juice pouch and rudely sucking back the rest of it. Fucker.

“He’s so confusing,” he says, free arm flailing. “Just — all the time.”

Shiro politely refrains from asking him to clarify. He knows who he’s talking about.

“Hm,” he says instead, supportively. “How unfortunate for you.”

“Right!” He throws his hands up in the air, sending his bayard flying in one direction and the empty juice pouch in another. Shiro watches it go with great sadness. “One second it’s — Keith, you suck so bad, ugh, you’re such a weird dweeb. And the next it’s I’m hanging out with Coran and you’re not allowed to come and also I hate you.” He looks at Shiro expectantly. “He’s so!” He gestures vaguely. Shiro assumes it’s meant to mean something.

Shiro stares at him.

“See, to me there’s no dichotomy there,” he says slowly. “You said that as if it was two different sentiments. But in fact that was the same opinion expressed twice.”

“The tone was different,” Keith insists. “The dweeb thing is affectionate. He says it in a friendship way. I’m sure of it.”

“Friendship,” Shiro echoes.

“Exactly,” Keith agrees.

Shiro hums. He’s quite sure, now, that he is not going to explain to Keith in any words of his own how much of an oblivious dumbass he is. There is no sentence or string of sentences that Shiro can use to demonstrate just how obvious Lance is being, and how obtusely Keith is responding. He’s going to have to be clearer than that.

But. For his own amusement.

“Could you maybe explain how Lance shows his friendship to you? So I can better understand, of course.”

“Well, for starters, he says we’re enemies but always wants to pair up,” Keith says. “That’s friendship, right?”

“That’s certainly one way to put it, sure.”

“And the fact that we hang out so often.”

“Of course.”

“And the clothes stealing, of course. Lance says I have gross mullet germs but he’s always stealing my jackets, so that doesn’t add up.”

Shiro purses his lips. That is — whew. Poor Lance is in the trenches.

Keith pouts. “I just don’t get why he flips around it all the time, man. I mean, one second he’s all smiles and nudging my shoulders, and the next he’s bright red and stomping away. He’s so confusing!”

Shiro can take this no longer.

“Keith, I am going to show you something,” he says, digging his phone out of his pocket and pulling up the file Hunk sent him. “Okay?”

“…Okay,” Keith says hesitantly.

Shiro stares at him for a moment longer. Then he sighs, shoves the phone into Keith’s hands, and presses play.

The video starts shaky, audio muddled, and when it clears Lance is lying sprawled on Hunk’s bed, pillow strewn dramatically to the side.

“I just wish I could get it through his fool head that he is loved by me particularly in such a way that I want to hold hands and kiss and generally be nuisances of the affectionate kind. You know, romance,” he is saying.

Keith goes still next to him. With every passing word his jaw drops lower and lower.

“You could also ask him out like a man,” Hunk is explaining.

“Choke and die,” responds video-Lance, and then the audio cuts. Shiro puts his phone away.

“So?”

“I have to go immediately,” Keith says. He’s up and halfway out the door before Shiro can blink.

“Shower first!” he calls. “You just sweated it up with the training hot for God knows how long. Wash off before you do anything romcom-y.” Keith disappears around the corner. “Keith, do you hear me? Shower first! Keith!”

———

next

#i’m sorry keith they’re all doing you so dirty 😭😭 #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #shiro #takashi shirogane #hunk #hunk garrett #broganes #keith & shiro #hunk & shiro #pining lance #pining keith #klance #pre klance #whipped lance #oblivious keith #my writing #fic #longpost

[kissesforsatoru]

Hello,

Can I ask for some yandere Mikey Sano headcanons?

pairing : mikey x gn!reader

summary : general yandere hc’s for mikey

⤷ cw : NSFW 18+, general yandere themes, violence, threats, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships.

– mikey is the kind of yandere that would fall for his darling just by them doing the simplest thing for him. maybe you ran into each other and felt so bad that you offered to cook him some food as an apology. he's not really interested at first, and quite frankly, he couldn't care less that you ran into him. he understands it was an accident, there's no need to go to such lengths to apologize for something as little as this. but whatever, you keep insisting and mikey knows draken would be disappointed if he denied someone just trying to be nice.

– so, as he sits in your kitchen, waiting for you to finish cooking, he can't help but watch you. he observes you carefully, trying to understand what kind of person you are. if you're dumb to be inviting a stranger in your home, or just genuinely naive. and then you set the food in front of him and start to explain how you usually eat alone, and that you really appreciate him for allowing you to cook for him. there's a sad smile on your lips that he just can't ignore, and a feeling of want over comes him--he wants to know you, he wants to protect you, he wants to have you.

– and oh god, once you have mikeys interest, it's over for you. the second he decides he likes you, you're his. it's as simple as that--if he wants you then he has you. nobody can refute him, certainly not you or your family that doesn't even care enough about you to enjoy a meal with you, not even draken can control mikeys urges towards you.

– and mikey absolutely is not patient. he won't wait for you to come to him, and he won't try to win you over or manipulate you, he just takes you. he genuinely thinks you're his, so he thinks he has the right to you.

– he's very clingy, like suffocatingly clingy. you're never allowed to leave his side and he always has to be touching you. he likes to have you in his lap specifically, but he's okay with you holding your hand or having his arm around your waist--holding you so tightly against him that you can barely even squirm, let alone leave. he likes to cuddle you, and if he could, he would just sleep all day with you tucked nicely in his arms, or with his head on your lap so that you can gently run your fingers through his hair. he really loves it whenever you do that.

– mikeys also incredibly possessive. if anyone so much as looks at you they're a dead man. you're his pretty angel, no fucker should get the privilege to look at you. and if some dumbass has the gal to try and take you from him? shit, rip to them cause i honestly think mikey would actually kill them without hesitation. but his possessiveness means that he's also very strict with you. you can't do anything without asking him first, and you're especially not allowed to go anywhere without him. he needs to be able to protect you at all times, and he can't do that if you're off with family or friends, or if you're decide to do something dumb without his knowledge. but that's okay sweetheart, all you need is him anyway. he'll give you everything you could ever want, so just stay with him, kay?

– to mark you as his he'll probably make you get a tattoo. most likely his name so that the proof that you're his is literally ingrained into your skin, but that bonten tattoo would also work for him. other than that, you'll be covered in hickeys all the time. mikey can sometimes get lost in thought while he's sucking on your pretty skin, far too engrossed in leaving his mark on you to realize that you're squirming uncomfortably cause your skin is so sore. and no matter how many times he tells you he's sorry and that he'll try and be gentler next time, he doesn't mean it. he likes seeing you covered in his marks, and he loves kissing your sore skin better afterwards too.

– mikey would absolutely adore you, especially in bed. he takes his time showing you how much he loves you by kissing every inch of your body, and he'll definitely make you come on his mouth a couple of times before he even thinks about fucking you, and he does all of this while telling you how perfect and precious you are to him, you're his everything and he's gonna make damn sure you know it. he can't ever have you doubting his love and adoration for you. when he finally decides it's time to fuck you, you'll see stars. he's so attentive and hits all of the right places that make you scream and writhe, and goodness, he fucks you so good you probably won't be able to talk properly afterwards. and his aftercare is top tier too. he carries you to the bathroom and leans you against his chest while he bathes you, kissing your skin where it's sore and rubbing you soothingly. god, you're so well loved by him.

– but as much as mikey loves and cares about you and wants to keep you safe, if you ever defy him or try to run away, he will take care of this behavior thoroughly. he doesn't like doing it, but he will hurt you. slaps, punches, cuts, bruises--he'll do it all as long as you learn to listen to him in the end. he also doesn't mind isolating you or depriving you of basic necessities like food and water, and you definitely won't be getting his attention during a punishment. i really don't see this happening at all because it goes against everything, he's worked towards with you, but if you do something really terrible, he'll act like a heartless bastard towards you and call you really disgusting, degrading names to make you feel absolutely worthless. it's not pleasant or something you'll easily be able to ignore.

– just be good though and he won't have to do any of that. you can stay his pretty little lover that he adores, and you can stay right by his side forever as long as you obey him.

#[niko requests 🐰] #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere thoughts #yandere headcanons #yandere hcs #yandere x reader #yandere mikey #yandere manjiro sano #yandere manjiro sano x reader #yandere mikey x reader #yandere tokrev #yandere tokrev x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere things #yandere mafia #yandere themes #dead dove do not eat #tw obsessive behavior

[thebearer]

okay but lip (angst that turns sweet?) concept! so we agree that like, he's definitely the fuck the attitude out of ya. however, he's also not the best at reading situations (I feel unlike Carmy, because he senses his girl's moods more quickly just because he's more soft and attentive in nature)

so imagine lip coming home after his gf had a horrible day and she's just done and usually, she fires back at lip and enjoys their little fights that turn to sex. but today she's done and lip just keeps at it, at first, until she snaps and goes off, "lip i cannot do this right now, can't you see that?" and her voice breaks and she tears up. and lip freezes at first because he's an idiot and could not see this coming but he turns so quickly? he sees you starting to turn and walk toward the bedroom but he's sure as fuck not going to let his girl be and sad by herself, especially since he was a part of it, so in a second you're wrapped in his arms and his cooing and apologizing and stroking your hair. the evening ends up quite different with lip and his girl cuddled up, she's wearing his shirt and watching her fav movies together and it's the first time she's seen lip so fucking soft and it ends up just changing the relationship for the better <3

lip just likes a brat idk something about the fight and best of all the taming of a brat just does it for him.

sometimes you make it wayyyy too easy on him. you’ll come home in a little attitude that’s got his cock twitching, mouthy and ready for a fight, only for him to have you absolutely dumb on his cock later while he fucks you quite literally brainless.

then there’s nights lip is in a mood for it, and will look for any sigh that you are too. normally you’re more than happy to oblige him, play along when he starts being a little mean to you. not tonight.

maybe it was the slight whine in your tone when you told him to stop, really you were just overwhelmed and trying not to get emotional.

“lip, I told you I’m not in the fucking mood.” you snap.

“the fucks wrong with you, huh?” lip scoffs. “being a bitch today.”

normally, that type of degrading would have you on your knees, but not this time. your eyes well up with tears, a small whine that has lip’s eyes bulging.

“wait, shit, I’m sorry.” lip says quickly. “what’s wrong? hey, I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. look at me, please? I-I didn’t…”

you cling to him anyways, small hiccuping sobs that has lip cringing lightly, your face buried in his shirt. “I just… I had a really bad day at work.”

“what happened?” lip cooed before he meant to. his hands fell down your spine, stroking it gently while you told him.

“what’s that fuckers name? I’ll fuckin kick his ass.” lip growled, shaking his head furiously.

you grin, wiping at your eyes. “‘s ok.” you shrug, arms still around his torso. “I just… I don’t wanna do too much tonight.”

“no, no, I get that, baby. I’m sorry. I thought you were… it-it doesn’t matter. c’mere. I gotcha tonight.” lip pulls you into your shared bedroom, helping you out of your work clothes sweetly. even taking off your shoes, giving your feet a nice rub that had you swooning.

you settled in one of his shirts, one soft with wear that smelled just like lip. he fucked you into the mattress, right to sleep all sweet and loving, lips on yours, on your cheeks, nose pressed against your temple while his hips rolled into yours.

#thebearer #bearblahs #lip gallagher #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher blurb #lip gallagher x female reader #lip gallagher x reader #shameless

[weird-an]

Neil is gone for the whole weekend. What a fucking blessing.

It's too hot for dumb chores and beatings and Billy just wants to fucking relax. He drives out to Lover's Lake right after school. A whole weekend full of disrespect and no responsibilities.

It's the only kind of beach here in Hawkins and while it does nothing to soothe the ache in his heart when he thinks of saltwater and waves, it's still way better than the sad community pool he's working at.

He's spreading out on his mint green beach towel, mullet in a messy bun using one of Max' blue scrunchies, aviators that he stole from Harrington last week in school when that idiot wasn't watching, on his nose and cracks open a cold one. He's watching the glistening surface and listens to the water gurgling. Tiny waves, almost putting him to sleep. And with Neil gone, far away in another town, he's feeling lighter.

"Are those my fucking aviators?" Harrington's voice startles Billy. He blinks, a bit dazed by the sun and the hazel eyes shining brighter than it.

Harrington stands over him, only wearing pink swim shorts. They are wet, dripping on Billy's shoulders. His chest that Billy remembers rather vividly is covered with an impressive amount of hair. That hasn't been there before.

"No idea what you're talking about." Billy grins at Harrington, all teeth and mischief, delighted by the exasperated sigh he's getting in return.

Harrington grabs the beer can out of his hand.

"Hey!" Billy sits up. "This is my beer, asshole."

"Says the thief himself," Harrington scoffs. He downs the can and crunches it with his hand. He seems to think for a few seconds, tapping his finger against his pink lips.

"Gimme another beer." Harrington says, snatching off the glasses from Billy's face.

"Fuck off," Billy barks. It's way too bright.

Harrington doesn't fuck off. Sits next to Billy on his towel which is way too small for two guys. His knee, cold from the lake's water, knocks against Billy's and stays there.

"Let's race to that buoy over there and I'll give them back to you," Harrington says. "Or are you scared to lose?"

"I never lose," Billy says, getting up.

Harrington's laugh follows him when he walks into the water. The water is fresh and cool, nearly biting his skin. He swims, fast and long strokes.

To his surprise Harrington is faster. Overtakes him with ease. No way this fucker is winning.

Harrington cackles, nearly reaching the buoy. "I was captain of the swim team, Hargrove."

Billy is always winning. No matter what. So he's playing dirty. He reaches out, grabs Harrington's swim shorts. Pulls them down.

He thought Harrington would stop. Maybe even shriek and blush. But he just laughs again and Billy stares at his pale ass, still holding the shorts.

"Oh, you could have just asked me, Billy."

Billy's face burns. He can't look away. Harrington's hand touches the buoy.

"So, what's my price then?" he asks, a brow raised. "Can I choose? Or are you afraid?"

"Never," Billy lies - which is easier today, with Neil far away.

"Pull your shorts down," Steve says. "If you're already getting me naked."

Billy nearly forgets how to swim. The heat must have gotten to his head.

#man i wanted to keep this short #okay now I have to write them doing it at lovers lake I mean that lake is called that for a reason #summer vibes #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Soooooooo...basically a rewrite of Hobie's entire part in the movie? Except more awkward teenager and much, much more rambling. This does feel a bit all over the place so...enjoy, if you wanna.

Meeting Gwen for the first time wasn’t anything particularly memorable or anything like that, Hobie didn’t think. It was a simple thing, really; LYLA had found an anomaly, Miguel had reluctantly put Hobie on the case, Hobie had gone out of his way to ramble on about how he wasn’t a cog in Miguel’s system (man looked like he wanted to punt Hobie out of the office, and that just added more pleasure to his insubordination), and then Jess had sort of insisted that Gwen tag along to learn how to inter-dimensional travel and also how to deal with the anomalies as they occurred. Her exact words, if he remembered right, were “she needs to learn how to deal with these things in a team setting, and also maybe get some more friends her own age” or something similar that Gwen had immediately protested against.

He’d protested as well, as if it would change anything, as if these two would take him any serious. Hobie told them that he didn’t believe in teams, or in teamwork, and Jess put her hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and told him very sternly to get over himself. Miguel was in the back, rubbing his hand over his face with one hand and waving the other at them in a motion that screamed ‘just go’. The mission itself was fine, easy job for a sole Spider let alone two Spider-People, but Gwen had been pricklier than he’d been expecting. He thought she was spunky, but particularly withdrawn for a Spider, and she’d snapped at him several times before the mission had ended. Afterwards, they’d gone their separate ways and he didn’t think too much about her, focusing on being the one and only Spider-Man (Spider-Punk, the newspaper headlines screamed, and he’d hated the name with a passion when he was younger, but found the title had grown on him over the years) in Camden.

Then they got paired together again. And again. And again. There’d been a genuine moment of concern that Miguel and Jess were punishing him for something, because they kept sticking him together with this small wisp of a child who looked like she wanted to bite his head off any time he asked her anything remotely personal, whether it be about her family or even her favorite kind of music. Hobie couldn’t even begin to figure her out, but decided that if he kept pushing, especially if they kept getting put on missions together, she’d have to crack eventually, right?

(It was worse when he realized she was actually older than him, even if it was only by three months. She held it over him for days, blocking his every question and prompt with “I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m older than you are.” Like a kid. Like a little kid, and how in the hell was she older than he was? It was unjust, it was.)

The sad part was, Hobie wasn’t even sure when things changed, with Gwen. Rather, he wasn’t quite sure why they had changed, though far be it from him to criticize someone’s changing of their mind. They’d gone on a mission, catching an inter-dimensional Doc Ock in some bizarre backwards universe made up of graffiti art that had her particularly subdued and snappish with him; she’d just given a thirty second rant that had cut Hobie deeper than he’d wanted to admit and they were swinging around searching for the Doc in a strained silence that had lasted until they’d found the fucker; at some point in the fight, the Doc had her pinned and Hobie’d yelled for her to cover her ears, and used his guitar to blast the scientist off of her at the last second, using his regular webs to yank her from where she’d been embedded in the ground; they’d, somehow, ended up victorious back at HQ and handed the Doc to Margo to send back to the proper dimension, went to Miguel and Jess to report their success. Hobie set his watch to his home dimension, the portal had opened up, and then —

“Hey, can I…” He’d half-turned to Gwen, eyes wide on his mask to showcase his paying attention as Gwen held her left arm tightly in her right hand, pointedly not looking at him and using the longer left side of her hair to cover her face. She’d taken off her mask, though Hobie had never really felt comfortable enough in the Spider Society to do so very often, and he could see the uncertainty in her face as she finally spit out, “can I…crash with you? For a bit?”

“Like, in my dimension?” Hobie’d asked, and she rolled her eyes so hard that her head followed the motion automatically. Something warm and pleased grew in his chest as she pushed past him roughly, muttering something sarcastic under her breath, and he didn’t even notice Jess watching them from behind as he nudged her shoulder playfully while they walked through the portal together.

Gwen started hanging around more after that, even when they had to keep moving from abandoned house to abandoned house in order to keep a roof over their head for the night. She didn’t stay over every night, but it was often enough to leave some of her shit laying around for him to trip over. He discovered she like playing drums and incorporated her into his band, more or less the only permanent member aside from him despite the inter-dimensional shenanigans. ‘Gwen’ became ‘Gwennifer’ (she threw her drumstick at him) which then became ‘Guinevere’ (he’d barely dodged the swing she leveled at him for that) became ‘Gwendolyn’ (she’d webbed his mouth shut) became ‘Gwendy’ (she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but he’d caught the pleased look on her face for that one). Over time, she started opening up about her dad, her indefinitely on-hold Spider-Woman work in her home ‘verse, her Peter…

Miles.

The name lit up something at the back of his head, the first time she’d mentioned it, and Hobie couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. It wasn’t until she mentioned something about a particle collider that it came rushing to Hobie; he was Miguel’s “original anomaly”, the one who had apparently weakened the multiverse apart enough for the Spider Society to be kept busy damn near constantly. Hobie could respect a Spider who could throw the multiverse into chaos like that, even if was accidental and wasn’t even his fault to begin with. He tried prompting her, through trial and error, into talking about Miles damn near constantly; it worked better than he’d hoped, and for a hot minute all she would talk about was Miles. What he looked like, what he’d say, the way he’d stuck his hand to her hair when he’d first gotten his powers and she’d had to cut it off on the sides (“and you kept the hairstyle?” “Fuck off, Hobart — ” “Ew, no thanks mate, ‘o the fuck is Hobart — ”). She talked about him so much that Hobie felt like he knew the damn kid all on his own without ever having met him.

And then Gwen got herself assigned to a mission in his universe. Not only that, but she was allowing herself to miss her friend enough to stop off to visit when she went, though she had a brief moment of panic before she’d left and she’d called him for ‘moral support’ or whatever it was she’d hissed at him when she called. Hobie felt proud of her for that, even though he couldn’t find his chucks the day she left and he nearly brained himself tripping over her damn jumper when he headed to the bathroom.

It was her first mission on her own, officially, and Hobie was pulling out damn near every trick in the book to keep him from worrying. He was sitting at her drum set where they had it set up in a practice warehouse, listlessly banging on the cymbals when his watch went off a second time. Heart jumping up into his throat, Hobie answered the call and whipped his way into Mumbatten, which was exactly where Gwen was not supposed to be at this current moment. He’d barely even taken the time to suit up, nearly forgot to grab his damn guitar, and didn’t even pause to take in the situation before strumming the thing and bursting through what looked like a barrier. He’d heard Gwen and Pavitr shout, but he’d landed with his back to them and then he’d gotten rushed by Pav the second he caught his breath.

Then he’d turned fully, pushed Pav off of him, and nearly swallowed his tongue when he caught a good, solid look of him, dressed in his black suit with pops of red; it had to be Miles, the Spider-Man-Who-Wasn’t-Supposed-To-Exist-In-Earth-1610-Specifically, which for some reason both was a surprise and yet was completely expected.

“This the kid from 1610?” He asked first, like he wasn’t fully aware of who Miles was to begin with. Gwen’s head rolled, a sure sign she was rolling her eyes, and he’d glanced her way briefly before looking back at Miles, who was complaining to Gwen. He’d gotten close enough when Pav thanked him for destroying the barrier in time to hear him (“I weakened it!”) and shot a quick demonstration of “use your whole palm, mate, not just your fingertips”, complete with hand visuals. Miles looked, low-key through his mask, like he wanted to strangle him. Gwen looked away, but Hobie could tell her shoulders were shaking from held-back laughter.

He wanted to crawl into a small hole for a minute. For a hot second, Hobie debated the pros and cons of potentially just jumping back through the portal and going home, there were three Spiders to deal with the Dalmatian over there, he wasn’t really needed for this, was he? He was distracted for all of two seconds before remembering there was supposed to be a fight going on, and he was supposed to be helping, and that Miles was standing in front of him.

So, naturally, once he was back online and fully focused, he opened his mouth and immediately put his foot in it.

“What’s up with his suit, is he bleeding from the armpits?”

“Wha-Who even is this guy?” Gwen introduced them quickly, Hobie talking even faster as they prepared to fight the Dalmatian-looking dude in front of them, and though Miles looked slightly lost (“I thought you hated labels?”), Hobie had hope that they’d be able to get along swell.

Then he stuck his foot in it again.

“Gwendy, you left your jumper ‘round my place.”

“What’s a jumper?”

“It’s a sweater!”

“How many sweaters do you own?”

And, because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut to save his own damn life even as Gwen clearly tried to salvage that mess, Hobie continued.

“And your toothbrush.” He kind of wanted to die. What was the deal with this spotty dude? Hobie wondered if the dude would shoot him into another dimension if he asked him nicely enough. He hated asking nice though, and it was pretty obvious this guy happened to be the villain of the week (as it were), so his best bet was staying here. Shame, that. He was really fucking things up right about now, and he just knew Gwen was gonna give him shit for it later too.

Things happened…weirdly fast after that. They fought the Dalmatian, they lost the Dalmatian, Mumbatten’s AlcheMax began crumbling and they had to save the people. Normal Spider stuff, and Hobie was glad for the distraction — well, not glad glad, he didn’t want Mumbatten to fall apart and Pav was far too little a Spider to be dealing with this kind of cosmic mess — just because Miles took off with Pavitr and left him and Gwen to hold the building up. Even better, Gwen was all the way over there, so she couldn’t even give him shit for how he’d been acting the fool in front of Miles.

God, he just hoped it wasn’t noticeable. To Miles, at least.

Then after the building collapsing was the bridge falling apart, and Miles diving to save the Inspector. Hobie had skid to a stop next to Gwen, the both of them staring down as Pav tried to save the bus and his girl, and Miles tried to save the Inspector. Gwen’s eyes were wide, taking up the entirety of her face as she held onto the railing in a death grip with one hand, the other still outstretched; she’d grabbed Miles then, right before Hobie had gotten there, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why she’d done it.

“He’ll be aces, yea?” Hobie said to her quietly, eyes still on the bridge.

“It’s a canon event. He’s interfering with it.” Gwen said somberly, and Hobie scoffed with a roll of his eyes — she sounded just like Miguel, there, for a hot moment, and he wondered if he should begin extracting them both before the man’s ideals managed to get in any deeper — but Gwen didn’t seem to notice him. When the bridge finished collapsing, she didn’t hesitate to jump over the rail, yelling for Miles as she did so. Hobie followed after her, beelining his way to Pav first to help him with the bus. Once it was on solid ground, relatively speaking, the passengers disembarking and Pavitr trying to smooth things over with his girl, Hobie turned on time to see Gwen lift a giant piece of rubble to reveal —

Miles. Holding a small child, with the Inspector right behind him. Both were fine, probably filled with adrenaline but relatively unharmed, and Pav’s girl was rushing past them all to embrace her father. Hobie followed her, not to the Inspector, but to Miles; Miles, who had been facing Gwen, who hadn’t heard him approach and therefore wasn’t anticipating it when Hobie grabbed his shoulders from behind and shook him eagerly.

“Miles, my guy!” He said cheerfully, and even the city cheered for them (and wasn’t that just novel, that’s never happened to Hobie before), and then —

There was a hole, big and black and looking similar to the spots on the Spot, sucking in pieces of Mumbatten. There was Jess, and her team of Spiders trying to keep it contained (points to Spider Society!) and her just blatantly blowing off Miles in a way that made Hobie’s hackles rise and ordering them all back to HQ to talk to Miguel (negative points for their diligent leaders!). Panic spiked at that, briefly, for Hobie; he leaned on Miles and tried to get him out of it, get them both out of it, but Miles shrugged him off in order to practically run into the belly of the beast with his fist in the air like he’d won something. Hobie dropped his face into his palm, but followed along anyway. Just to see what was going to happen.

Miles looked slightly awed when he took off his mask, which was kind of an ego boost, if Hobie was being honest; his whispered comment was met with one of his own comebacks (“how are you even cooler under the mask?” “I was this cool the whole time.”) that made Gwen press her lips together as she repressed her snort of laughter. Hobie glowered at her slightly, and she rolled her eyes in the opposite direction. Even Jess looked somewhat amused, and Hobie grunted softly at both of them.

He tried, honest to god, he tried so hard to keep Miles from meeting Miguel. Once he’d realized that Gwen had met with Miles and yet told him nothing about the Spider Society, told him nothing about how he fit into all of this as the supposed “original anomaly” (he had ThoughtsTM about Miguel’s thought process, is all, ThoughtsTM that he didn’t necessarily have time to delve into at this specific moment) — he couldn’t let him walk in blind. Miles didn’t deserve the way Miguel was gonna treat him on a normal day, short-tempered and blunt as the man was, let alone a day where a mission was fucked up bad enough that the BBG got away and another dimension was in peril of nonexistence. There was just no time to prepare him, not right at this moment, and he’d completely messed up his entrance to begin with so it wasn’t even like Miles would wanna even listen to anything Hobie had to say, let alone believe it, so…Hobie stalled.

Easily reaching out and grabbing anything potentially useful, Hobie distracted Miles as best he could. Bet this don’t even do anything. Why’d you wanna join up anyway? (The scoff Miles gave him when Hobie told him to make his own watch was not cute, Hobie did not find it endearing at all, and he was shit at lying to himself) What’s your set up — loving parents? (He was thankful Gwen was walking ahead of them for that one and not paying them any attention; the way he’d leaned on that unused portal more or less broadcasted his interest, especially combined with the way he’d fallen through it. He was also infinitely grateful Miles was too preoccupied to notice that blatant display). Hell, he even planted himself in front of the damn kid, sitting in the chair and stretching his legs out onto the table top so that Miles wouldn’t advance anymore, and felt his heart flutter in his chest when Miles simply pushed past him without even stopping.

Then it stopped when Miguel showed up, acting more Miguel-ish than usual. Miles greeted him brightly, holding up the empanada he’d gotten from the cafeteria, but Miguel was having none of it at the moment. Hobie glared at him out of the corner of his eye when he threw the empanada, then dipped out of sight in order to steal more tech that he needed; he lost track of what was happening all the way up to the loud crashing noise, and he’d popped his head back over to see Miguel yelling at both Gwen and Miles. Sniffing irritably, Hobie opened his mouth and was cut off immediately by Peter Parker from Earth 616 making his appearance. Miles was happy to see him, Hobie could hear it in his voice, and against his better judgement he went back to what he was doing.

When Miguel trapped Miles, way before literally trapping him in a cage, Hobie made his way to Miles’ side while keeping a small distance from him. He kept his eyes on him, watching how he ranted against Miguel’s idea of ‘keeping to the canon’, how he fought against the idea of letting one person die just to save others, how he argued that as Spider-Man they should be able to do both. Watched how he turned to his original allies, Peter 616 and Gwen and even Peni, and how they all couldn’t look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. Encouraged him when it seemed like he needed it (“Here we go.” “Hobie, you’re not helping.” “Good.”). Miles realized it was a trap a second too late, and once Miguel had him caged, chaos began to descend upon them all. His friends were yelling at Miguel, who was yelling back, and Miles was panicking. He couldn’t break himself out, and Hobie’d had enough.

“Oi, Peter Pan.” Hobie hissed at him, and Miles stared at him with wide eyes. He didn’t touch the digital net, all too aware of the fact that it would draw attention from the others, but he spread his hands out just in front of it. Hobie repeated his advice from earlier, complete with visual demonstration, without speaking out loud. “Use your palms.” Miles seemed to take a breath at that, his shoulders lowering from around his ears as he pressed his hands fully against the barrier, palms and all. Since Hobie was the only one paying attention, he knew to brace himself when electricity started crackling up and down Miles’ arms; when the barrier exploded, he was the only one who wasn’t knocked over aside from Miles, who seemed to freeze for a sec when he realized he was free. He chuckled, smiling proudly when Miles’ wide brown eyes met his again, without the barrier this time.

Then Miles turned heel and booked it down the corridor, where the door was wide open and awaiting his exit. Hobie sort of regretted that breaking the door so it would stay open meant that the other Spiders also had easy access to go after Miles, but they were still trying to pick themselves up off the floor and that gave Miles a solid four second head start. It was the best Hobie could do for him, given the situation, along with one last thing.

Miguel yelled for everyone to go after Miles, and they complied. Hobie activated his watch, creating a portal to his home ‘verse. Sneering at all the Spiders rushing past him, Hobie shouted “for the record, I quit!” and threw his watch off once he was safely in the portal.

He crash landed towards the edge of the bed in the room, close enough to where he was aiming originally. Sighing heavily, Hobie sprawled out on the bed and listened to the drones flying overhead, watched as their lights illuminated the room he was staying in currently. Gwen’s jumper was still on the floor where she’d left it, her shoes dropped carelessly two feet beside it. (Seriously, her shoes were right there, did she really have to take his?) With a soft sigh and a quiet groan, he pulled himself back up, stretched, and started pulling shit out of his pockets. He’d actually grabbed a lot more things than he’d needed, courtesy of trying to hold the door for Miles, and he tossed aside the things he didn’t need in order to get started. Several other watches dropped out of his pocket as well, the ones he’d made before staying on him for safekeeping — one for him, one for Pav, one for Gwen.

Just because Miles didn’t want to make his own watch didn’t mean Hobie couldn’t make one for him.

#punkflower #spider punk #spider gwen #miles morales #hinted punkflower #like just a taste of it #spiderman atsv #more hobie pov of his part in the movie than anything else #starts before the movie events

[pengujoon]

A HOPELESS DEVOTION (ii)

content. oikawa x bsf!reader, reader has a crush on oikawa, oikawa is a douchebag, iwaizumi is their mutual best friend. angst and more angst, cw: suicide. Iwaizumi gets super sad at the end i'm sorry baby. too many tragedies in this

a/n: i keep deleting the story so i have to do the formatting again and again i'm so done. didn’t know people would like the first part sm so here’s the second part as suggested!

part i

Of course the atmosphere in high school the next day wasn’t the best - one of their most famous students killed themselves. Who are we kidding? They’re known throughout the entire province as the infamous volleyball captain’s best friend!

But to him, he hated their very presence. They were nothing but a nuisance. Yeah, initially he wanted to become friends purely because he saw that they had no one to be with - until he realised that they are the child of the president of the Miyagi prefecture volleyball association. Then everything went downhill from there.

All those times that you wore his jersey to watch his games made his stomach churn - he couldn’t possibly see you taint the jersey that was exquisitely his. He couldn’t possibly replace it with a new one, no no. His act would be easily blown by keen eyes. He had a reputation to uphold. 

But little did he knew that his carefully articulated plan of using you to get close to your father was blown way earlier than he ever expected anyone to know about it. And undoubtedly, it was none other than their very setter.

“Iwaizumi!” it was an undeniable fact that he made the group become a trio because all three of you were childhood friends: the only difference was that you didn’t know who oikawa was and vice versa. But the both of you knew Iwaizumi, which then led to the formation of the current friendgroup that took Aoba Johsai by storm. 

From the very beginning, Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa wasn’t someone you’d like to be with - especially so if you’re naive. Maybe it’s instinctive, but Oikawa is especially manipulative and is probably one of the most skillful people pleaser Iwaizumi has met in his entire life. 

And such is the reason why he was worried when he saw a sudden change in Oikawa’s behaviour to you - it was as though he was trying to please you, to not make you angry - to put simply: he was sucking up to you.

But to him, it didn’t make sense! Why? You couldn’t even possibly do anything that would benefit him - until he saw you walking towards the Miyagi Prefecture Volleyball Association building. Remembering that your father was the president of the association, it hit him that Oikawa wanted to get to your father through you.

The situation at hand was not favourable to Oikawa - the party took place in Iwaizumi’s home. It just happens that Iwaizumi’s family was well off and affluent, allowing him to have access to the cctv footage that captures the in and out of the entire penthouse. 

After being taught since young to watch over the day’s cctv footage to identify anything that seems remotely out of place, he made it a habit to watch them right about to sleep, something like a bedtime story. 

The moment he started the footage, he found you. 

It was offputting seeing the way you stood outside the kitchen. You looked… tired? Fearful? The cctv couldn’t really capture your expression given the distance, but at least he could make out the fact that you were hiding from someone. 

Probably Oikawa, he thought. 

His thoughts were confirmed seeing the very man in the kitchen with another friend of his. Thank goodness the situation was of use to him. The room was pin-drop silent, save for the soft distant humming noises of music and people from the living room.

He quickly put his earphones on to listen in on their conversation. 

And boy, he was pissed. 

The next day - with no warning signs and no nothing - the moment he saw Oikawa practicing alone in the gymnasium, he saw red. 

“You fucker!” Iwaizumi ran up to Oikawa and pushed him so hard he fell on top of the pile of volleyballs that lay dormant below him. 

“The fuck you want?” Oikawa shouted back in retaliation, surprised by Iwaizumi’s sudden outburst. 

“What did you say the other day when you were over at my house?!” He shouted, not bothering if anyone could hear it even if they were feet away from the now closely shut gymnasium.

Before Oikawa could even respond, Iwaizumi quickly added to his statement. 

“Before your ‘best friend’ stood outside the kitchen, they were happy! They skipped around when they were outside at the rooftop before looking so fearful when they were outside by the kitchen!”

Everything went blank after Oikawa heard Iwaizumi say the first 8 words. You were outside there hearing him talk about you like you’re nothing? That’s probably way you commited suicide. 

It then hit him like a truck.

Oh god, he thought, what does that make me?

“You’re a fucking murderer!” 

Ah, that’s who I am. 

“You think I don’t know that you got close to your now dead best friend only to reach her father? You think I don’t know that’s what you’re planning?

“It’s fucking tiring having to juggle your issues. They loved you! They were about to confess to you on that very night itself but look at what happened.”

He took a brief pause.

“They’re dead.”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them. “Now what do you have to say about what happened that day in the kitchen?”

Oikawa remained silent, his head hanging low.

“Speak, you asshole!” He flinched hearing Iwaizumi roar at him. “What is it that you said that made your best friend jump off my penthouse?”

“I said I hated them!” Oikawa yelled in retaliation. “Said that I should get an award for acting that I like them so well.” Although he whispered the last part under his breath, it reached Iwaizumi’s ears and he had to put in all his effort to not beat this sorry sake of a best friend up into a mush.

 Iwaizumi turned his back against Oikawa and began pacing around the court. Anyone could tell that they shouldn’t get close to him right now: one wrong step and you’ll be done for. The fury in each step scared Oikawa - he had never seen him so angry before. Never once in his entire life.

“Did you know?”

Iwaizumi asked out of the blue, prompting Oikawa to look up at him. Oikawa hated how weak he was in this situation, so vulnerable and powerless against Iwaizumi. He hated the power imbalance.

“They have a name for themselves on a public diary website. I interact with them a lot there, but they doesn’t know it’s me. Although no names were mentioned, I just knew it was you. They wrote about what they felt for you and I could feel the love ooze out from the words beautifully articulated in her entries.” 

Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa, his eyes evidently teary. 

“You’re a bitch. Imagine finding out that your best-friend-turned-crush never liked you and fucking depises you. You should be grateful that they never found out that you got close to them only to suck up to their father.

“Imagine if they did. Your life with volleyball will be no more.

“Just like theirs.”

The pain from your death engulfed them both like an unending storm. The suffocating weight of guilt and remorse crushed their spirits, leaving them shattered and lost - they simply had no more reason to live. Losing someone as dear as you left a void in them that seemed impossible to fill.

Iwaizumi withdrew from everyone, shutting himself off from the real world. The once lively young man with a life full of potential became a mere ghost of his former self. For weeks and weeks, he blamed himself for not recognising the signs of your inner struggle, completely breaking down on the inside.

Every night, he replayed the scenes of the cctv footage on the outside rooftop, wondering what he could have done differently to prevent such a heart wrenching outcome. He would cry himself to sleep every night, knowing that he could no longer find solace in your presence anymore.

Oikawa, too, fell into a downard spiral of self-destruction. His dreams of volleyball success and fame lost all meaning; volleyball, once his passion and escape, now only served as the constant reminder reminder of the consequences of his mindless actions. 

The court, once a place bustling with energy and euphoria, now felt desolate and empty. He turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms, hoping to numb the pain that threatened to consume him.

Their friendship, once a rock-solid bond, slowly fell apart under the weight of their shared pain and regret. They became distant, unable to find solace in each other as they once did. The loss of their friend had left an irreversibly deep impact on them, altering the course of their lives and leaving wounds that seemed impossible to heal.

The weight of his sorrow became too much for Oikawa to carry. Without uttering a single word, he vanished from the world of volleyball and from Iwaizumi’s life. Their once unbreakable friendship shattered like fragile glass; the void he left behind felt like another gaping hole in Iwaizumi’s heart, an emptiness that could never be filled by anyone else.

Iwaizumi searched for Oikawa relentlessly, but his efforts were in vain. He couldn’t help but blame himself for driving him away, believing that he had failed his friend once again. The pain of losing you and now Oikawa as well was too much for him to bear.

Their paths crossed again one rainy evening. 

Iwaizumi, aimlessly wandering the streets, found Oikawa standing on the edge of a bridge, the constant raindrops mixing with his tears. It felt as though the sky was an accurate representation of their inner turmoils, hitting just a little too close to home.

The sight of Oikawa hopelessly standing at the edge of the bridge with no one else in sight pierced Iwaizumi’s heart, the pain inevitably obvious in Oikawa’s very own eyes.

“Don’t,” Iwaizumi pleaded, his voice choked with emotion. “Don’t do it, Oikawa.”

Oikawa turned towards the black-haired male, his face a mask of anguish and sorrow. What was once the captain of a powerhouse oozing with nothing but confidence was now a broken soul adrift in a sea of hopelessness.

The sparkle in Oikawa’s eyes had dimmed, and his once infectious smile had vanished, leaving only a haunting emptiness within him. 

“I can’t bear this pain, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa choked back a sob. “It’s all my fault. I pushed them away, and now they’re gone.” 

Iwaizumi took a shaky step forward; he was treading on a very fine line here - one wrong step and everything’s precious to him will be gone. “We can’t bring them back, but we can try to make amends. To live for them.”

Oikawa’s trembling intensified as he clung to the slippery railing. “I don’t know if I can, Iwa-chan. The guilt is consuming me inside.”

“I feel it too,” Iwaizumi admitted, his tears now streaming down his face. “But we can’t live on like this. They wouldn’t want it.”

The rain continued to pour down around them, as though it was a metaphor for the tears they both shed for their lost friend. In that somber moment, Iwaizumi realised how much pain Oikawa was holding within him, how deeply the loss had scarred his very soul.

As Iwaizumi watched in horror, his heart pounded in his chest, desperately hoping that somehow he could reach Oikawa before he jumped. He reached out to his friend, refusing to let go, trying to anchor him to the present, to the life they once shared.

“Please, Oikawa,” he implored, voice breaking with emotion. “Don’t do this.”

Oikawa’s grip on the railing tightened, eyes hollow and distant. He seemed lost in a world of his own torment, disconnected from reality, from Iwaizumi’s pleas. The rain mixed with the tears on his cheeks, but he remained silent - it was as though the ages of torment had stolen his voice.

The darkness within Oikawa was too much to bear, and the pain too overwhelming.

Iwaizumi watched in horror as Oikawa let go of the railing and disappeared into the raging depths below, swallowed by the darkness of the river. Iwaizumi’s heart screamed in agony as he desperately reached out to save his friend, but it was too late. 

He lost both his best friends, and what was once a trio bustling with energy now felt like an abandoned and desolate place. The laughter that had once filled the air now echoed back as haunting memories in his heart. 

No words, no gestures, no comfort could bridge the chasm that had opened in his soul - a void that could never be filled, a longing that could never be satisfied.

just so you guys know, i wrote this story while i was on a call with this certain crush that inspired this story lol XD but he doesn’t know and we’re just minding our own business but still being on the call to keep each other accompany because we’re not sleeping hahaha edit on my a/n: fuck this. i fell asleep on the call again. this happened twice im not letting this happen anymore  also i don’t know why oikawa keeps appearing in my stories like im sure there are other characters too but it seems that he fits these type of topics given his attitude and the fact that there’s iwaizumi to fight him

#haikyuu angst #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu oneshot #penguwrites #sup. it seems as though suicide is a common theme in my stories (or at least in my mind) #haikyuu hurt/no comfort #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x you #haikyuu hurt #oikawa x bsf!reader

[pastafossa]

🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

 “Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

  “Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

  “You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

#the red thread #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil x reader #fic #fanfic #reader fic #x reader #fluff #daredevil #matt murdock #christmas fluff #christmas fic #christmas trees #nice long little one shot so enjoy #foggy's makes references all the time fight me #foggy has watched all christmas movies in existence #surprise cameo is a surprise #matt deciding that this tree is a representation of his own value so he has to do it so that you will love him #but it's ok cause you know how he goes and reassure him #i measured those ceilings as best i could you know you could fit a massive ass tree in there

[stellamancer]

empty threat (implied-ish gn!reader x satoru gojo)

notes: hi my name is niku and for some fucking reason everyone i know and love thinks i am a gojo fucker. first of all, they are wrong. uh anyway. one of them said a thing and that’s why this fic exists. it’s also @willowser​’s fault so they should take responsibility. thanks to fabi for checking this for me cuz never wrote this man before. 

word count: 1.1k

“What the hell!”

You’re not sure what you were expecting when you asked to spar with Satoru Gojo. To spend twenty or thirty minutes of your time chasing after a basically untouchable foe until he got bored and decisively ended the fight? To get your ass handed to you as he reminded you, once again, of the difference between you and him? To totally and magnificently lose?

What you can say is you definitely weren't expecting to end up pinning the man who holds the title of the world's strongest sorcerer to the ground. You both know it's not due to your skill as a sorcerer or even due some dumb luck. The only reason why you've got Gojo pinned is simply because he's letting you.

And it pisses you off. It's not like you were expecting to win, but this is just…

"What's wrong?" Gojo asks, mocking you with that disgusting saccharine voice of his. "You look upset. I thought you wanted to beat me."

You do your best to remain calm and not respond to his provocations. Even so, your grip on his wrists tightens ever so slightly.

He notices because of course he does and winces dramatically. "Owie!"

"I know it doesn't hurt," you tell him flatly, resisting the urge to squeeze tighter. It won't do anything to him, but maybe it'd make you feel a little better.

"Nope, not one bit!"

Before you can stop it an annoyed growl escapes your throat and Gojo latches onto it, ready and more than willing to weaponize anything he possibly can. “Come on, what’s got you all frustrated? You can tell me, you know?"

Stupid fucking dumbass piece of shit jerk knows exactly why you’re mad. He probably let you get him because he knew how much it’d aggravate you.

“No need to be so shy,” he continues purposely ignoring your growing rage. “We’re friends after all, aren’t we?”

You choose to remain silent and instantly find it’s the wrong response as Gojo starts to prattle on and on about how he thought that you were friends and how sad he is that you, as his friend won't talk to him, won’t rely on him and blah blah blah. He really loves the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he? Normally, you would just tune him out, but your agitation has left you impaired and on edge.

You need Satoru Gojo to shut up.

Like yesterday.  

Instinct takes over and your body moves on its own, you pull back just a bit before slamming your head in his direction full force. But the hit doesn’t connect because of course it doesn’t. Instead, you feel like you are just hovering over him like an empty threat that you’ll never make good on.

He laughs and your frustration flashes in your chest hot, agitation at its peak. “You know, if you wanted to kiss , you could have just asked.”

“I do not want to kiss you!” you snarl, refusing to take the accusation in silence.

“Oh? You don’t?”

“Hell no!”

“What a shame! I made sure to put on one of Nobara’s lip masks on last night so my lips would be super soft today!”

In a moment of weakness, your eyes flicker to his mouth and his lips curve upward in a smirk. Fuck. It doesn't matter that it was for just a split second— he caught you looking. You consider accusing him of stealing Kugisaki's skin care products to deflect the accusations that are sure to come but before you can the infinity between you dissipates unexpectedly bringing you mere inches from Gojo's infuriating face.

"Well?" he asks, voice intentionally seductive, his warm breath perfuming your face. You manage to suppress a shiver. It's an act. It's an act. He's just trying to get under your skin. "Wanna see for yourself?"

Your refusal lingers at the tip of your tongue— stuck for some reason you don't care to delve into right now.

"Come on." He almost sounds like he's pleading with you, and you keep reminding yourself that the bastard is just fucking with you. "I promise they're really soft."

Your eyes, traitorous things that they are, try to look again, but you force your gaze upward. Maybe if you try headbutting him again it'll work. There's nothing between you now, right?

No harm in trying.

You shift, trying to conceal your movements as best you can before going in for another headbutt. Surely Gojo will put infinity between you when he realizes that you're trying again, saving you both from what could be a massive headache.

But he doesn't.

You end up stopping yourself this time— your mouths even closer now. Too close. You finally take notice of your heart thumping wildly in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears. You should move. You need to move. Now. If you don't, one weird move from either of you will likely close the distance between you.

It's unfortunate for you that Gojo is a fan of weird moves.

He shifts beneath you, just slightly, his chin tilting up and you feel like a thread that's just snapped in two. You reel backwards, repelled by the thought of kissing Satoru Gojo, rejecting the thought, the notion, that for the breadth of a second your lips connected. It didn't happen. It didn't. You still want to wipe your mouth though, just in case. You don’t because you don’t want him to think that maybe there was contact.

Beneath you, Gojo laughs again, amused as he always is. Unsure of what to expect, you jump off him and assume a defensive stance. He rises so that he's sitting up, and you can't tell for sure with that blindfold but you feel like he's watching you.

"I think that's enough for today," he says, pushing himself to his feet. You eye him nervously, keeping your guard up in case it's a fake out. Gojo walks past you nonchalantly and you think that's confirmation that he really is done for the day.

"It was fun," he remarks cheerfully and the fact that it sounds like he means it annoys you a little. Then, his voice drops as he adds, "We should do it again some time."

The way his voice sounds makes it seem like you've just wrapped up a date and not a fight. It makes you feel funny inside and you scowl as you turn to face him, fully intending to tell him to shut up.

But you don't.

Satoru Gojo instead blows you a kiss, immobilizing you before he saunters out the door looking far too pleased with himself.

You stare, your heartbeat erratic and your face warmed by what you're determined to call rage.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #nikuniku fics #tbh there was going to be talk of going feral and thinking about ripping his jugular with his teeth #but that didn't happen because uh the positioning of it i guess #i think it could be done with a tie yank sort of thing but that is neither here nor there #i wanna beat him up #i put a lot of my heart into this reader LMAO #as i also wanna beat him up #infinite loop!verse