#i wrote this on my lunch break today like a possessed person

[glorious-spoon]

far away from nothing [Stranger Things; Steve/Eddie, Steve & Robin]

Rating: Teen Wordcount: ~1700

ON AO3

The thing is, Steve knows he’s the dumb one. Between Nancy’s straight-A report cards and Dustin’s wild brilliance and Robin’s multilingual code-cracking skills—yeah. He’s just Steve Harrington, who graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA and got rejected by every fancy college his parents made him apply to. Fine. He’s cool with that, actually. Plenty of smart people in the gang. Steve’s unimpressive IQ and GPA and other assorted initialisms aren’t an issue. Somebody needs to guard the door and take the hits while the rest of them save the fucking world, and he’s more than okay with that somebody being him.

The other thing is, most of them are brilliant in a way that he’ll never understand, and dumb as hell when it comes to human relationships. And that’s the one thing Steve’s got going for him. He doesn’t get Shakespeare or math or eighty percent of the references Dustin tosses out as easy as breathing, but he gets people. He knows what a crush looks like. He knows that Vicky is just as into girls as Robin is, and he knows that Robin might have moved on from that particular crush going by the way she babbles like a maniac in Nancy’s presence.

And he knows what it means that he can’t stop looking at Eddie. Eddie Munson, the drug-dealing, D&D-playing, Satan-worshiping freak of Hawkins High; Eddie Munson, who stole away Dustin’s attention and admiration since the first day the kid turned up at Family Video wearing a Hellfire Club t-shirt.

Eddie fucking Munson, with his big dark eyes and his wild mane of curls and his hands that are always moving, long fingers flickering, rings flashing. Steve watches him and feels a warm pull in his gut, and he knows exactly what it means, unfortunately, but the world is about to end and they all have bigger problems right now.

They drag Nancy back out of Vecna’s deadly mind-world with the help of Eddie's guitar and Steve's spotty memory for the tapes she always played in his car, and they both tumble down onto the stained mattress that the kids set up on the floor of Eddie’s trailer, and Steve grabs her into a quick tight hug, burying his face in her hair and feeling her shake against him, murmuring, “Shit, Nance, shit, I thought we lost you, I thought—”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she says, and she sounds shaky, horribly shaky, but she’s here. She’s still here.

“Come on,” Robin says, reaching down to help Nancy up. She’s looking pretty fucking shaky, too. Eddie’s got a guitar slung across his chest and he’s chewing his bottom lip so hard it looks like it's about to start bleeding.

“Shit,” he says expressively, and shoves both hands into his hair as he spins, guitar clanking against his hip. “Shit, shit shit, oh my god.”

“Eddie,” Dustin says in that same gentle voice he used in the boathouse the first night when it all went to shit. Christ, Steve thinks, the kid’s growing up, but then he shifts his weight the wrong way and the splintering agony of his fucked up abdomen makes it hard to think about anything else for a second.

He staggers. Dustin and Lucas lunge to catch him, but Eddie’s the one who actually does it. His hand splays across Steve’s shoulder, preventing him from collapsing face-down on the trailer floor, and for a single unforgivably selfish moment, Steve sags against him and lets Eddie take his weight.

Then they go to find a first aid kit and get the hell out of there before the police or any more monsters show up.

“You okay?” Robin asks, once they’re in the back of Eddie’s van, jolting down the twisting road at a speed that would probably worry Steve if he didn’t currently have bigger problems.

Steve nods. He’s not actually sure he trusts himself to speak without puking right now, and the palm he has shoved into his injured side is worryingly slick with blood still leaking from the wound. He’s been knocked around enough to know that it should be clotting by now. Something in those fuckers’ teeth, maybe. Or maybe Robin was right and it is rabies.

Up front, Nancy has a pair of headphones over her ears, expression pensive as she gazes out the dark window. The kids are arguing about something that might be Lord of the Rings, or their latest D&D campaign, or maybe an actual plan to save their asses. It’s not completely clear which it is, and Steve’s definitely not in a state to contribute right now in any case.

Robin is still staring at him with huge, worried eyes, so he swallows twice and says, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You’re so full of shit, Steve, we should really get you to a hospital.”

“I concur, Harrington,” Eddie says from up front, and Steve jumps slightly, then winces.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. Then, to Robin, “Remember the Russians?”

“That’s not reassuring!”

“Russians?” Eddie asks, sounding faintly hysterical as well, and then Dustin and Erica are both explaining at the same time, voices overlapping, which means that Steve can close his eyes and sag against the side of the van and let himself drift for a little while.

He resurfaces to discover that the van has come to a stop outside of Hopper’s cabin, and he’s tilted against Robin’s shoulder in the backseat. Nancy and Max are huddled together on the porch talking quietly while the kids and Eddie clatter through the house. Nobody seems injured or in dire peril, so Steve closes his eyes again.

“Steve?” Robin asks sharply. Her cold fingers fumble for his wrist like she’s checking his pulse.

“I’m still alive,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” Robin says, and doesn’t move her hand. Their heads are tilted together close enough that he can hear her even though she speaks barely above a whisper. “So this is probably an inappropriate moment for this conversation but I feel like I should tell you that I think I’m developing a really stupid crush on your ex.”

Steve laughs, then winces when that pulls at the shredded muscles in his sides. Her fingers dig in a little more. “Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. And then, “If we make it out of here, you should go for it.”

“I should—Steve, you can’t just say things like that! Besides, Nancy’s—”

“Pretty awesome, I know.”

“Yeah,” Robin says, sounding small. “Yeah, she really is.”

“You know, I can see it. You and Nance.”

“Not helpful. She has a boyfriend, dingus.”

There is that. He knocks his shoulder against hers. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just going to blame it on the fact that you’re probably infected with demonic rabies and going septic—oh my god,” Robin adds. “We need to get you to a hospital, Steve, I’m serious, once it gets in your bloodstream—”

“Pretty sure Upside-Down bat things don’t have rabies, Rob.”

“You don’t know that!”

He does not, in fact, know that. He will concede that much. It’s just not something he has the mental space to worry about right now. Benefits of a below-average intellect, he supposes.

“Tell you a secret?” he murmurs, and she takes a deep shuddering breath, holds it, then lets it out. Then again, until the shaking stops.

“Sure,” she says eventually. “Go for it. Distract me.”

“I think I’m developing a stupid crush, too.”

Robin turns her head slightly to peer at him. The planes of her face are curious in the dim light, familiar and soft. He loves her, he thinks. She’s the best friend he’s ever had. His soulmate, if he believed in such a thing.

Her voice is soft when she speaks. “On Nancy?”

“Nah,” Steve says. “That ship already sailed. And sank. And… yeah, I think that metaphor’s getting away from me a little, sorry.”

“A little,” Robin agrees. She’s quiet for a moment. Then: “It’s not me.”

“Not this time.”

“Good.”

Steve laughs, muffles it against her shoulder. “Yeah.”

The quiet stretches out a little longer. Then the cabin door swings open and Eddie emerges, head turned back to speak to whoever’s behind him. Someone’s lit a camp lantern inside, and the flickering light illuminates his profile in gold.

Robin is watching Steve when he looks back at her. After a moment, very carefully, she says, “Eddie?”

Steve swallows hard, shoves his fingers into his hair, and finally nods.

“Holy shit,” Robin whispers.

Steve laughs raggedly. Shoe’s on the other foot now, although at least he doesn’t have to be afraid that Robin will hate him for this. She’s braver than he ever could be. Brave in a way that he didn't really understand until this very moment. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

“Did you know? Before, I mean? That you’re, like—”

“No, that’s what I’m saying! God!” He tilts his head forward, gripping his hair in his fists.

“Wow,” Robin says after a moment. “Talk about bad timing.”

“Right?” Steve groans. “Like—oh my god. What the hell.”

There’s silence. Then Robin lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a giggle.

“Are you—” Steve lifts his head and stares at her. “Are you laughing at me right now?”

“I’m sorry!” she gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just—remember last summer, in the bathroom at Starcourt—”

“Yeah, that vaguely rings a bell. But hey, look on the bright side: if we die this time around, at least we’re not gonna die wearing sailor suits.”

Robin squeaks, jams a hand against her mouth, then folds over, cackling. The sound loosens something in Steve’s chest. He lets his head fall back, laughing breathlessly, and that’s when the back door of the van swings open.

“Okay, are you guys coming or…” Dustin trails off and looks between them. “What the hell are you laughing about?”

“Inside joke,” Robin gasps, and Steve collapses against her shoulder, snickering helplessly through the pain swamping his body. It hurts, a lot, and somehow that’s funny too.

“Are they, like, possessed?” Eddie says from behind Dustin. He looks kind of genuinely concerned about that, his eyes wide, his mouth parted. He looks very pretty, Steve thinks, and thumps his head against Robin’s shoulder again. She lifts a hand to pat his hair, and he’d complain about her messing it up, but that’s probably a lost cause by now.

“I have no idea,” Dustin says. “Are you guys possessed?”

“No,” Steve says. He tilts against Robin, then forces himself to straighten. Her hand splays against his back, steady and warm. “No, I’m good. Somebody help me up, let’s get this show on the road.”

#stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #my fic #i wrote this on my lunch break today like a possessed person

[fizzyxcustard]

Secret Photos. 

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Stay Close.

Pairing: Ray Levine x Fem!Reader (slight)

Warnings: Language. Stalking (kinda).

Summary: Based on this imagine. Ray comes in to the office where you work to drop off his SD card, but little does he know, he's handed over the wrong card. Requested by @sweetestgbye, @shiinata-library and @dreamalittleebigger

Comments: As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Ray dropped the small, plastic box down next to you. It was only about a centimetre and a half wide, with a tiny SD card inside.

"There should be around fifty pictures on there for the Williams story," Ray said, giving you one of his gorgeous smiles, which always made you melt. He rested himself against your desk, his tight backside just resting against the wood. "I was wondering if maybe you fancied going for a coffee or something on your lunch break?"

You looked up at him, feeling your heart rate increase. "Y...yeah, sure. I'd love to. I've got to finish up here with another story before I download your photos for the Williams one. But I shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Yeah, no worries. I'll pop back to my flat and then come back for you. How about one?"

"That's perfect," you replied, hoping that you didn't appear too eager.

You watched as Ray walked out of the office, finding the flex of his back mesmerising. There wasn't anything about him that you didn't find mesmerising.

Ray drove back to his flat, his fingers tapping away on the steering wheel while some cheesy 70's song played away on his radio. He never realised that he was smiling for the entire ride back to his flat.

Once inside, Ray sat down and began checking through the SD cards, making sure all of them had been formatted. However, there was one that he kept a secret, hidden away in his desk drawer.

Just a peek.

Ray put the SD card into the adapter and connected to his MacBook, seeing thumbnails instantly begin to generate.

Something was wrong.

A bolt of heat hit him in the chest and head as he saw all the Williams photos appear on his screen. A local celebrity who had been indulging in a gambling and alcohol addiction.

Shit! Shit! Fuck!!

On the other side of town, you began to download the photos which Ray had handed in. The thumbnails appeared. Were you really seeing what you thought? You blinked hard and then opened one of the files, only to see yourself getting into your car. You opened a second photo, and it was you stepping out of your front door. Quickly, you exited the photos, checking that no one behind you had seen your screen.

Ray never appeared for the coffee. You waited, checking your watch. Two. Three. Four. You kept checking the door behind you, hoping he would walk through it. How long had he been photographing you? And what for?

Just before the end of your shift and you approached the office manager, Julie, requesting Ray's personal phone number. "I just want to ask him a couple of questions about the photos he handed in today. Nothing wrong," you told Julie. The middle aged woman, who was constantly vaping, wrote down his number and shoved it across her desk, while she maintained a conversation on her mobile phone.

Ray stood in the middle of town, terrified of what was about to happen. Of course after seeing the photos, there was no way you would ever want anything to do with him. Ray was sure of that. What had possessed him to even begin taking pictures of you? He saw Simon flirting around you often, one of the men who worked in the office. You always seemed only interested in passing pleasantries, nothing more. A photograph was his way of capturing a tiny amount of your essence; that spark in your eyes, the compassion in your smile. He could take that essence and treasure it forever. Ray had always believed that photos captured part of your soul within them and preserved it.

His phone began to ring. The loud tone made him jump, and he reached for the nuisance from his jacket pocket. A mobile number, one which wasn't saved in his phone.

"Hello?" he asked apprehensively.

"Ray?" Then you told him it was you.

"Please...let me explain. I know..."

"Ray, it's okay," you said softly. "It was only me that saw the pictures, and they can be easily swapped."

"I don't care about them being swapped. I'm just so sorry you had to see them. I know what it looks like..."

"Please, it's okay. I was still hoping that we could talk over a coffee or something."

Ray stood to his full height and grinned to himself. "O...of course."

"Are you free now?"

You agreed for Ray to come to your flat, and once he appeared at the door, you felt that all too familiar flush hit your cheeks. He was so handsome, dressed in his usual leather jacket. Did this man realise how gorgeous he was? Those photos hadn't creeped you out; they'd made you want him even more. You had always seen the sweet man that Ray was. There was nothing remotely creepy about him.

Ray stepped into your flat, his head lowered the whole time. Until, you shocked him and wound your arms around his neck, and stood on tip toes.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Fuck, it's a wonder you don't think I'm some kind of creepy pervert."

"I would never think that of you," you said softly. "In fact." You slipped your arms from around him and took a small object from your pocket. It was a boxed SD card. "I was hoping that you'd take some more, and this time, I can be a proper model for you."

***

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#Richard Armitage #Ray Levine #Fanfiction #Stay Close #Ray Levine x You #Ray Levine x Fem!Reader #Ray Levine x Reader

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf. 

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao. 

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to. 

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together. 

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him. 

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

#dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x reader #the alienist fanfic #victorian age #v writes #the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.8)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] [CH.7] previous chapters

[CH.9] next chapter (now avaliable!)

You tiptoe yourself towards the room where detention was being held that lunch hour, not surprised to see a familiar face after Jaeyun's warning of Sunghoon or Heeseung being there. You clashed eyes with Sunghoon whose eyes flickered up and down at you like a light switch as you entered the room. Sunghoon's stone face would only vanish into the only other facial expression you've ever seen him give, a sinister smile.

"Have a seat... Y/N" Your gym teacher lowered her head, visibly more interested in the flyer she had in hand.

You took a slow gander at the other people in the room, a couple of recognizable lower classmen and duos of pranksters. Sunghoon stuck out like a sore thumb, remaining the centre of your attention. You willingly took up the vacant desk beside him at the very back where a few shadows lingered.

"Unexpected meeting." Sunghoon was subtle, speaking in a deep voice was just audible enough to be heard by you. You both didn't make eye contact as it would've made it obvious you were talking and God knows how many more detention sentences you'd be given for being caught chatting.

"Jaeyun told me you're here all the time, no surprises for me." You whispered while making yourself at home in your chair.

You blink in frustration as you realize if you had brought your physics textbook, you could've worked on the questions you hadn't done in class. You pull out some notes to study in the meantime, dreading the fact you were about to spend the next half hour wasting brain energy reviewing for a test you were getting quite confident with.

After using most of the detention time repeating your study terms, you peek over at Sunghoon who rested his head down on one of his arms that dangled off the front of his desk. You got the idea of passing notes to communicate with Sunghoon in the last 10 minutes of detention. Tearing off a medium-sized square of paper, you began to write in a sharp font:

hey, just wanted to ask if you're flirting with dahee or something?  rumour has it you already have a girlfriend... i won't tell anyone :-)

You fold the paper and carefully flick Sunghoon's shoulder, eyeing the teacher while you're at it out of caution. Sunghoon slowly lifted his face, squinting to adjust to the bright light before seeing the paper you held out for him. With a raised brow he grasped it between his thin fingertips, stretching it out of its crumpled form. You don't bother looking at his reaction and rather wait for him to write down a response in the empty spaces you left. Within a quick exchange, the folded paper was back in your possession with a couple of words written, his writing a lot smaller than you imagined.

since when did I have a girlfriend? and who says I'm flirting with dahee?

You obviously only pretended there was a rumour of Sunghoon having a girlfriend to avoid telling him the truth. From what you could recall, Sunghoon would "kill" Kyungeun if he found out what you saw. You weren't just going to throw Kyungeun under the bus and get her into trouble so here you were stuck thinking about your reply. Your pencil began to move once a response was in mind.

I saw it with my own eyes yesterday! something is up between you and dahee

Sunghoon took the paper right off your desk before you could fold it nicely as if he was reading as you wrote. This time he scribbled in loose and long lines as a way of communicating faster.

why does it matter? let me answer my own question, I know you saw me with Kyungeun

Your eyes went white, blinking in horror as you read the paper over and over. How could he have known you were there? You could've sworn it was too dim in the library that day.  It would also be practically impossible to identify anyone behind or even through the cracks from where Sunghoon was standing. The only answer would be Jaeyun then, right?

The teacher extended on knee down to push herself into a standing position "I'm going to the bathroom, there are only a few minutes left but I better see all of you still here and quiet when I get back."  The teacher left in a flash, probably doing her best to get back as quick as she could. But it didn't take more than 20 seconds before people broke the silence and started chatting it up with each other. You also took the absence of the teacher to speak.

You stood up in disbelief to interrogate Sunghoon, "Who told you I was there?" You looked around to make sure no one was watching while you moved in closer to Sunghoon.

"I could sense you there, behind the fiction bookshelves" He slumped back in his chair to observe your face in full light, "No one told me you were there."

You swallowed harshly at the correct observations of his, you believed he was lying just to scare you. "Cut the bullshit. So what is it about my friends that you NEED so bad? Sex?" You gasped in your head at your own retort.

"Sex?" He wheezed, hitting the table with an open palm. His loss of breath was an indication that he found your assumption pathetic. "I'm not that low Y/N," He pulled you in more than you had expected to increase the volume of his whisper, "Kyungeun will be of no use to me once I have Dahee... I'll let Kyungeun free soon, don't worry."

You hear footsteps against the waxed floors of the hallway and immediately sit down along with the rest of everyone in the room. The whole class shifted in a prim and proper manner as if no one moved an inch while the teacher was gone. You rummage through your bag to find the book you had taken out from the library to help sell the act.

"I'm surprised half of you didn't leave while I was gone... You are free to pack up now."  She nodded and left the class to probably catch her own lunchtime.

"Why will Kyungeun be of no use?" You get back on track with Sunghoon after the short commercial break.

"What's this book?" He ignored you, snatching the stack out of your hands without much thought.

"Don't ignore my question! And it's for one of my classes." You added.

He flipped to a random page like you had done when you first saw the book. He scanned the text and made all kinds of expressions, "Why the fuck do you have this?!" His jaw slightly lower than usual before an unexpected cast of excitement took over his face "This book you have, I'll have to confiscate it, pretty girl."

Immediately making you jumped on both feet to block any further travel, "Why? No? It's rightfully mine!" You scrapped the question and got more worried about the book.

He held the book as high as he could so you wouldn't even attempt to snatch it from him, "I'm starting to think you're fooling us more than we're fooling you. How much do you actually know about us?" He was clearly amused by you.

"Am I that clueless???" You bit down on your tongue, the word murderers coming to mind. But somehow that answer didn't seem right. "Fine keep that book and don't answer my question."  You muttered bitterly.

Sunghoon spun around in his slender form, "I'll answer all of your questions and give you this book back." You watched as he steadily gravitated toward the door, "Meet me at the front of the woods at dusk." And so he left the room, his mysterious intent making you uneasy.  The meetup was being held so late, in the dark, far from school grounds.

...

"I figured you had detention Y/N..." Hyesun tsked, "How was it?"

"It was alright, got some studying done... Funny, I saw Sunghoon there." You shivered just saying his name aloud.

"Sunghoon? Of course... He's sort of a snob to the teachers. Speaking of Sunghoon, Dahee told me this morning that she couldn't stop thinking about him." Hyesun bit deliciously down on her strawberry pastry, "But by chance... Do you by chance like him?"

"Why do you ask?" You answer not thinking at all.

"Dahee thinks you do, apparently by the way you look at him...? I mean, she really doesn't want to get too attached if that's the cas-"

"YES! I do like him!" You cut Hyesun off with the thought that by saying you liked him would get Dahee away from the dangerous prick.

Were you screwing up something up by saying that? Hopefully not.

"Oh, then you should tell her... I think the sooner the better because she was really wondering this morning whether or not to keep flirting." Hyesun suggested before her eyes grew large out of their sockets as she looked over your shoulder, "Hey Jungwon?"

You jumped out of the table, your mind in full freakout mode, "Jungwon??? Hey!?" You panicked as you were positive Jungwon heard literally everything that just came out of your mouth. "Hyesun I need to talk to Jungwon about a project if you'll excuse us." You were full of lies today and you were sure it would come to bite you back somehow.

Yanking Jungwon's wrist, you led him outside the dining hall and into the courtyard where there were actually people hanging around in the warm autumn noon. Jungwon shook your hand off of his coldly.

"Since when did you like Sunghoon?! He's fucking insane he will fucking ruin you!" Jungwon screamed with his voice that even began cracking up. He was yelling so loud, not giving a damn if the full basketball court heard him.

"Stop getting so mad?! I know he's a fucking bad guy! I don't actually like him calm down!" You tried raising your voice over his, trying to control the temper in your body.

"Then why in the hell did you tell your friend you do?! Why are you getting so involved with him dear God!" Jungwon breathed fire through his nose, resting the side of his fingers over his brows to avoid looking at you.

"Because I'm trying to protect her??? Would you stop acting like this? I don't understand why he's a bad person but it's clear he has some malicious intentions with my friends so just get off my fucking back would you? You don't even wanna explain to me either so just chill out!" You exploded with emotions right then and there but you had more fuel to the fire, "Are you just leading me on by caring about me this much? Are you jealous Jungwon? Do you like me? Answer me!"

In your deepest wishes, you wanted him to say yes but part of you was plain tired. You didn't know where all this talk of yours was coming from but somehow your feelings blended into the chaotic mixture of the moment.

He hesitated to answer which was enough to boil up some sort of pain and frustration in your heart, "I-I don't know!? I just really care for you Y/N!" Jungwon held his head as he lost his balance his face expressing he was not feeling well. He took a few steps back, his voice a lot softer as he began to breathe a bit heavier. "I think I'm gonna throw up." He groaned in pain as he held onto his head tighter.

In an instant, you snapped out of your anger and looked around for help while still checking on him, "Jungwon are you alright?!" You slid your bag off of yourself and put your hands near his sides in case he fainted, to which he was already in the process of doing. "Holy shit! Jungwon?!" His legs gave up on him completely, melting down into the pavement. Luckily he would not smash his skull if it weren't for the instinct of your arms to catch him.

You turned to the basketball court to see Jay had already approached the situation, a beat-up basketball in between his fist and torso. Jay knelt down with worry, "I knew this would happen to him..." He mumbled in frustration

#enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen vampire au #enhypen au #enhypen x reader

[liddolwhynot2000]

Signal

____________________________________

Summary: And Petra had to watch as you cemented your place in the heart of the man she could only dream about.

Pairings: One Sided! Petra/Levi, Levi/Reader

Genre: Angst, one sided love

____________________________________

Soldiers in the Survey Corps had an extremely low life expectancy, so no one ever bothered to make long term plans for themselves. Petra was the same--except a part of her traitorously dreamed of a life that wasn't meant to be.

For she doubted she'd live long enough to see it become her reality.

She imagined that someday, they would end the titans. They would walk outside the walls, breathe in its fresh air and be celebrated as heroes. A far fetched dream, but one she couldn't get out of her head.

After joining the Special operations Squad, she had begun to hope even more. Captain Levi and his stregnth had made her imagine a future for all of them. His calm and composed demeanour, no matter how awful the situation, inspired her to work harder and do better.

But what began to affect her most was the man himself. The way he sometimes smiled a little into his teacup. How cleaning gave him joy. How collecting tea leaves was a hobby he hid from everyone. Little by little, she learned these things about him, and they only made her heart beat faster.

Slowly, her dreams began to involve the Captain. Once titans were gone, she would confess to him. She had never seen him around any other woman, knew for a fact that he wasn't in any relationships, so her mind conjured up a world where he would accept her feelings. He would allow her to give him all her love and attention--and he would fall for her right back.

The two them would get married someday--and maybe even have children. Her father already liked him- having heard more then enough good things about him in her letters home. She could see a nice life with him in her future.

She knew better then to confess right now. Titans were very much alive and kicking outside the walls, but she figured it was only a matter of time they got together. She was the only woman who knew how to make his tea, the one he consulted on what suit to wear and one of the few people who could approach him when he was in a bad mood. He never said anything, but Petra thought her feelings were clear enough. While he never made a move towards her, the fact that he never outright rejected her gave her more then enough hope. So she decided to just wait it out and observe for any signals on his part. To hint that he was ready for more.

The day they set out outside of Wall Maria, and found out that they had in fact gotten rid of all titans, Petra began to dream even more. Her desired reality was so close--just one signal and she would be on her way to the life she wanted.

She waited, hoping for the signal. Maybe Captain looking at her a little too long when she was dressed up, or asking her to stay back more, in order to spend more time together. Days went by, and she saw nothing.

Until one random day.

They had been out in town, having some free time. She had watched Captiam go into a jewellery store, and had felt her hopes rise. Just before leaving, he had asked her

'You- I mean, women like jewelery right? Earrings or some shit?'

Years of remaining composed in front of him had been the only reason she hadn't balantly blushed.

'Yes Captain. Bracelets and rings are nice too.'

He had hmphed and gone off to the jewellery store, coming out of it with a box in his hand. Petra had felt like her heart had leapt out of her chest at the sight of it. Could it be-would he really jump straight to-

Suffice to say, she had trouble sleeping that night.

The next day, she saw that box again--and it's contents. It had only been briefly, but she had seen the small sized golden hoops. Her heart had plummeted at it not being a ring- but it was still expensive jewellery. One that someone only bought for a special occasion.

So, with her heart giddy and nerves aflame, she waited. Petra went out of her way to give him ample opportunities to give it to her--staying up late to help him with paperwork, chatting more then usual while bringing his tea. The signal was almost there. She could see it.

And she did see it.

Except it wasn't for her.

His eyes did glint- with softness and possessiveness--but not for Petra.

He did start spending more time with someone, but not with Petra.

It was you. The newly hired cook for the Garrison Engineers.

How did she know it was you?

She had seen you wearing those earrings. Late at night. While stumbling out of the Captain's office, with your hair and clothes ruffled up.

By all means, you were a nobody. An ant in the grand scheme of things. But, you had ended up being the most important person in the world of Humanity's Strongest Soldier.

And Petra had to watch as you cemented your place in the heart of the man she could only dream about.

She tried to pretend it wasn't happening--but it was. Captain Levi was doing everything she had ever wanted him to, but none of it was for her.

He would smile softly at you when he thought no one was looking. Go into jewellery stores and buy expensive jewellery for you. Even on missions off the island- he would go into stores to buy you gifts. She had seen you wear them. His lunch breaks were almost always with you and if one arrived at the right time- they would see you setting out to work from his room each morning.

She resented it all- a part of her hoping it would all fall apart. That it wouldn't work. But she squashed those thoughts down and carried her broke heart as she worked.

It would work for a few years--even though they had been incredibly painful for her, having to watch the man she was desperately in love with be so close--yet so far.

None of her resentment had affected his life--he had gone on to become a family man. Getting married, having children, buying a house.

She had thought that one day he would signal her, and they would do all those things together. Who would have thought that she had been thinking of walking on a road with someone, who clearly never meant to take her along?

And who would have thought she'd try to join him on that road- walk alongside him- against his will?

Not Petra. Or at least, not the old Petra.

When Premier Zackley called her into his office and made her that ludicrous offer, to marry the Captain. To bear his children, in order to ensure the Ackerman strength would accompany the military in the future, the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

'Yes. I'll do it.'

Some people had to be okay with others tagging along in their walks, even if they didn't want them to. Her head knew better, but her heart, desperate for the man that had it in its hold, said that maybe the Captain would be too.

She was proven wrong the very next day--because Humanity's Strongest Soldier had quit the military. For you.

____________________________________

A/N: I wrote this randomly because I- have too much time on my hands apparently. I don't actually but I'm lazy and- okay back to the note let's not expose me today.

So, this is set in the 'Falling' Universe. Its a sequel to it. I made it so, you can understand this as a stand alone. But if you want to read this in order then:

(1) Falling

(2) Signal

(3) For you

I wish I knew how to link these 😭😭. If anyone knows how, please DM.

I know I was supposed to write a confession chapter--and I have it drafted. But I need some more time, so here's some angst to hold y'all over!I hope you enjoyed! My asks are open-so request away. Till next time!

#AOT #Snk #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #Levi x reader #One Sided Love #Angst #Petra/Levi #shingeki no kyojin

[libraryofloveletters]

Amnesia

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, cheesy love letters, crying, break ups, mentions of blood and injuries 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: mkay, I didn't use the whole song. It flips back and forth between the reader and Spencer’s pov, flashbacks of their relationship are in italics!

Song: Amnesia 

----

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted

Aaron placed a paper on your desk. You glanced up at him as he gave your shoulder a small squeeze. Spencer’s eyes were on you and you could feel it. You weren't ready to tell them that you were transferring. 

Working with Spencer after the breakup was hard. 

You did what you believed was best for the team. You stood up and walked out to take a phone call, leaving everything where it was, figuring that you’ll pack up after everyone leaves. 

Spencer watches Penelope walk to your desk, her eyes scanning the paper on your desk. “It’s.. oh my god” she says, Derek looks over at her “what is it mama?” 

“Transfer papers. Y/n’s leaving the BAU”

Everyone’s eyes were on you as you walked back into the bullpen, everyone but Spencer. Penelope sat at your desk, the paper in her hand. “You’re really leaving ?” she had a small pout on her face, you nodded. “Oh baby” she pulled you into a hug, soon enough everyone came over.  

Everyone knew why you were transferring, it didn't need to be said. Spencer was on the team first, it was only fair that if one of you were going to leave then it would be you. 

“Come and visit all the time” JJ said as she and Emily hugged you, Emily nodding in agreement. 

“I’m gonna miss you mama” Derek gave you a good solid squeeze, “gonna miss you too, D” 

In typical Rossi fashion, you were greeted by two kisses on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger kid” you smiled at him. 

Penelope hugged you once more, “promise you’ll come and see me all the time. Oh! and we’ll still have our weekly lunch and gossip” you laughed, “of course Penny, I wouldn't miss it for the world” 

Even Aaron seemed sad by your departure, “take care of yourself y/n” “you too Aaron” he gave you a small hug. 

Finally, Spencer stood up and made his way over. He gave you a quick and semi awkward hug before wishing you good luck. 

JJ, Penelope and Emily helped you pack up your desk and made you promise once more that you’ll come visit them. You glanced over at Spencer on your way to the elevator, his head was down in his book, his finger trailed across the page as he read. Once again, JJ, Emily and Penelope pulled you into a group hug before letting you get in the elevator. You smiled at them as the doors shut. 

The thought of your hug with Spencer replayed in your head. 

And even though your friends tell me you're doing fine

Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he's right beside you?

When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?

7 months have passed since you last set foot in the BAU. You had been keeping up with the team outside of work. You had seen the girls for drinks one night, popped into Rossi’s for dinner, went over to help Derek with his latest house project and visited Aaron at one of Jack’s games. Only person you hadn’t seen was Spencer. 

At one of your girl’s nights, you met a guy named Jacob. The two of you hit it off and exchanged phone numbers, which led to a date which ended in you and Jacob starting a relationship. 

You had kept the girls in the loop about your budding romance with Jacob, but only the good parts. They didn't know about the fights and the sleepless nights. 

You were currently have one of those sleepless nights. Tumbling through your boxes of stuff from your apartment with Spencer, you came across a stack of letters. 

You opened one of them and began reading,

“To my darling y/n, 

This week has been tough. I wasn’t sure how to help you physically but I decided to help you the way I know how too, through words. Just a little reminder to make you feel better, hopefully. It was 2 years ago tonight that I asked you to be mine and you told me you loved me. You changed my life that evening, leading us on a journey that would bring us so much joy. 

Every time I look at you, my love for you grows deeper, a degree of love I didn't know I possessed. Whenever something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell and when something bad happens, I know I can count on you to take me in your arms and tell me that everything will be okay. I can only hope that I'm that person for you because I want to be, because I'm here for you and I always will be. 

I’m the luckiest man in the world because I can say with all of my heart, that I'm in love with my best friend. I know that I can't give you the world, but I promise to hold on to you forever, there is nothing that would give me greater joy than seeing you happy. 

Your love is everything to me.

There’s not another in the world that can hold a candle to you, my love, as you are my one and only. I love you more than even the most heartfelt words can express. 

Yours always, 

Spencer. R” 

The tears rolled off your face and onto the paper. Spencer had always had a way of telling you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you weren't with him. 

Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

Y/n and her boyfriend sat at Rossi’s dinner table with the rest of the team. He had invited her to the team dinner because they all missed her, even Spencer, although he would never admit that. 

Spencer knew she was coming, he just didn’t expect her to bring her new boyfriend. It felt wrong for her to do that because he would never bring another girl to a team dinner. 

There would never be another girl for him. 

They sat there laughing along with everyone as Derek told his story. His hand was on her shoulder and her smile was still as beautiful as it had always been. Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, she had captured his attention once again. 

“Pretty boy” Derek called out to him, breaking Spencer’s gaze away from her. 

“What is it ?” 

“Did you hear what I said ?” 

“Fran took your sister to the doctors only to find out that it was a hickey and not a burn mark. I heard you Derek” 

Y/n’s eyes were on Spencer as he spoke. Spencer glanced over at her, their eyes meeting. It felt like forever before either of them looked away. She gave him a small smile before shifting slightly which caused her boyfriend’s hand to fall off her shoulder. 

A glimmer of hope flashed through Spencer’s body. Her boyfriend’s hand falling off your shoulder, maybe it was intentional, maybe she was trying to tell him that she wanted Spencer and not him. 

Or maybe it was all in his head, he was reading too much into it. 

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

The two of you stood in your bedroom screaming at each other. 

“How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking Spencer ? I can't read your friggin’ mind!” 

“Maybe if you paid attention to someone other than yourself, you’d know how I felt!” 

You scoffed and shook your head, you could not believe him right now. “What? you know it’s true y/n” he uttered, taking a seat on the bed

“I can’t believe you. Out of all the people in the world, you call me self centred ?” 

“I didn’t say tha-” 

“No, but you did. If only I paid attention to someone other than myself right ?”  

He rolled his eyes, he was acting like a child and he knew that. The last few weeks you’ve been wrapped up in work and honestly, yes, you had been a little distant but you were going to tell him why tonight. Since he wanted to act like a child and argue with you, why not give him what he wants? Since you never pay attention right? 

“I try my best to be there for you Spencer, I always do and you know that. You told me I coddle you too much, so I gave you your space. When you were worried about your mom, I sat up with you all night and helped you come up with ways to help her. When you were in the hospital, I sat by your bed day and night. Whenever you needed me, I was there for you. I dropped everything for you. So don’t you even dare to pull that I only focus on myself shit with me.” 

He was quiet, you stood in front of him. His arms reached out for you but you stepped away. 

“I don’t think you love me anymore y/n” Spencer whispered. 

“What?” you were in shock. 

“We haven't been okay for the last few weeks. This isn’t working, we barely talk and we see each other everyday, all day.” 

“Spence, I know I've been busy with work but I-” he cut you off 

“y/n, please. don’t.” He looked up at you with a sadness in his eyes. The tears threatened to fall but you held your ground. You couldn't let him see you fall apart, you wouldn't. 

“That’s it then ?” you looked at him, your face expressionless. “3 years for nothing?” 

“I’m sorry” 

“You’re not.” You picked up your go bag from the corner of the closet. “I’ll be back for my stuff another day” 

The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone

I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone

And all my friends keep asking why I'm not around

It hurts to know you're happy, yeah, it hurts that you've moved on

Spencer was moving out today. He couldn’t stay in a house full of memories.

Memories of her.

Derek had come over to help him pack up the last of his stuff. Spencer emptied his clothing into a suitcase, just throwing everything from the drawers into the suitcase. 

A picture had fallen onto the pile of clothes, it laid face down. It must have been buried between the clothes. Spencer picked it up, flipping it over. A smile creeped onto his face, it was one of those 4 frame pictures from a photo booth. You had managed to convince him to take one with you on your first official date as a couple. 

He sat on the bed, his finger brushing over the picture. The memories of that day coming back to him like it was yesterday. 

“Spence pleaseee” you begged him. 

“Y/n, do you know how many germs those photo booths have?” He gave her a stern look. 

“I promise to let you shower with bleach or lysol. Whatever will get the germs off” you laughed, he shook his head with a smile on his face. 

“Just this once” you grabbed his hand. He nodded, “just this once” 

The first picture was of the two of you laughing, your hand rested on his cheek. The second picture, you were in the same position, the two of you were smiling at each other and his hand rested on yours. The third picture, your foreheads were against each others and the final picture was of the 2 of you kissing. A tear rolled down his face, how could he have let you go like that? It hurt him just to think of you, let alone of how he let you go. 

“Pretty bo- what’s wrong?” Derek walked into the room, taking a seat beside him on the bed. Derek looks down at his hand to see the picture. Spencer looks at him, face covered in tears. Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, instead he falls into Derek’s arms. 

“Shh, it’s okay. let it out man, you’ll be okay”

“Why did I let her go?” Spencer mumbled into his shoulder 

“What do you mean ?” 

“I just let her leave. I should have tried harder” 

“Spencer, she’s happy. Don’t beat yourself up okay ? You’ll be happy again too. I know you will” 

It's hard to hear your name when I haven't seen you in so long

It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

“Oh my sweet Derek!” Penelope’s heels clicked as she made her way into the bullpen. 

Derek spun his chair around at the sound of her voice, “hey mama. What’s going on?” he got up and gave her his chair. She sat down and Derek leaned against the edge of his desk, she grabbed his hand. 

“You’ll never guess who came to visit me today!”

“Who was it babygirl?” 

“y/n! and she bought my favourite cold brew for me, oh man I miss her” Penelope let out a big breath between leaning back in Derek’s chair. Derek chuckled, “how is she?” 

Spencer’s head perked up when Penelope said your name. He couldn’t help but wander over to Derek’s desk. “She’s good, her and Jacob ended things but she’s happy.” Penelope smiled at Derek. 

“Hey Spence” Penelope smiled at him, he gave her a tight lipped smile. “Just needed to borrow this stapler” he picked up the first thing he saw which was the stapler. 

“You have one on your desk pretty boy” Derek chuckled, “yeah. mines broken” 

The truth was that Spencer just wanted to know how she was. He was glad to hear that she ended things with her boyfriend, maybe he could talk to her and fix things. There was that glimmer of hope again. 

He knew it was foolish to think that they could go back to what they had, or to even be friends but he truly hoped that she would come back to him. 

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

Spencer sat at his desk when the door unlocked. You stepped in and sighed, “hey” Spencer looked up at you from his book. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't realize you’d be home. I figured you were still at the office” you mumbled, shutting the door. 

“It’s fine. You're here for your stuff?” he asked, watching as you place your keys beside his. You nodded, “everything is still where it’s always been” he said before turning his attention to his book. You headed into the bedroom to pack up the rest of the clothes you had left. 

You bumped into the bedside table knocking over the picture frame that was on it. “Shit” you bent down to pick up the pieces but you cut your finger on a piece of glass. Spencer walked into the bedroom after he heard the frame fall. 

“Y/n, are you okay ?” he helped you up, leading you to the bathroom. 

“I’m fine, I just cut my finger in the frame” you ran some water over your hand. You watched as the blood washed down the drain, not waiting to make eye contact with Spencer. “Let me get you a bandaid” he bent down to get one from the drawer, his head brushing against your leg. 

“I’m fine” you walked out of the bathroom, his hand grabbed yours. He wrapped the bandage around your finger and you let him. “Thanks” you mumbled before stuffing the rest of your clothes into the suitcase. He walked with you to the front door. 

“Thanks for letting me come get my stuff” 

“You don’t need to thank me y/n” 

You went to unlock the door when you felt Spencer’s hand on yours. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer asked you quietly, you shook your head and let out a shaky breath. “Spencer... don’t do this. please” 

“I can't let you go” 

“it’s over, okay? you can't stop me from leaving” 

“y/n I love you” he whispered, looking at you. 

“I love you too Spencer, but what’s done is done” 

Spencer stood there, the two of you looking at each other. His back against the door and your hand on the knob. You felt the tear roll down your cheek, you watched his hand reach up to wipe it away. Spencer’s hand rested on your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly against your face. 

Right then and there, you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again but you know you had to hold yourself together. 

“Move, please” you looked at him, pushing his hand away from your face. 

A small okay left his lips before he stepped away from the door. 

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

If today I woke up with you right beside me

Like all of this was just some twisted dream

I'd hold you closer than I ever did before

And you'd never slip away

“Good morning sleepy head” you smiled at him from the door. 

Spencer sat up and smiled at you. “Morning” you made your way over the bed with a cup of coffee for him. You set the mug on the bedside table before hopping back into bed with him. 

Spencer lays back down making himself comfortable against your chest. “How’d you sleep sweets?” you asked him as you ran your fingers through his curls. 

“I slept okay” he flipped over and onto his stomach. He rested his cheek on your stomach while looking up at you. 

The sun shined through the cracks in the curtains. The light glistened across your bare skin, accentuating your beauty. 

“Angel” Spencer mumbled smiling up at you. 

Your thumb rubbed softly against his cheek, “hm?” you smiled at him. 

“You look like an angel” his words causing you to blush. 

Tell me this is just a dream

'Cause I'm really not fine at all

Spencer's alarm goes off. 

6am. 

He rolled over to find an empty bed. Being back in your arms, you looking like an angel from the heavens was all a dream. 

You were actually gone. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #song fic #criminal minds song fic #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm imagines #cm imagine #cm oneshot #cm fanfic #cm song fic

[magicalmarauder]

The Trouble with Love Notes

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.9k+

Summary: You love showing your boyfriend that you love him by leaving him sweet, little notes for him to find in various places. However, when you overhear him talking to his friends about how clingy and obnoxious they are, how will he respond when those notes suddenly stop? Fluff/angst!

Grabbing the lunch bag on the seat beside you, you clambered out of your car, closing and locking the door behind you before turning to make your way into the studio where your boyfriend was currently working on his latest album. You and Shawn had been dating for about three years now and the two of you couldn’t be happier with where your relationship was at currently. The two of you had overcome a lot in the past few years and although you hadn’t necessarily enjoyed the trials that your love had to undergo, you were grateful that those things had strengthened and molded your relationship into something so beautiful and solid. Your mom had constantly reminded you growing up that when the person is right, those trials and hardships that you encounter suddenly don’t seem so earth-shattering. And that was advice that you had found to be absolutely true. Despite all the distance, rumors, outside opinions from fans, and so many other things, Shawn was the one for you. He loved you, challenged you, protected you, and encouraged you so well. Being his and being loved by him made up for all the bad days. He was your perfect counterpart and you were his.

However, as much as you loved that incredible man, one thing you decidedly did not love was his forgetful nature. You swore that boy would forget his own head if it wasn’t physically attached to his body. Hence, the reason why you were rolling up in front of the studio on your lunch break to deliver the lunch he had forgotten at home earlier that morning.

Shaking your head softly as you considered your boyfriends forgetful habits, you couldn’t help but be grateful for this particular instance. Because although you had to drive down here to deliver Shawn’s food so he wouldn’t go starving when trying to create another incredible album, you relished any extra opportunity to see him. With his crazy schedule that often took him to the opposite ends of the planet, you were thankful for the times he was close and you could pop in and see him, even if it was just for a short visit.

Opening the door, you smiled as you heard the sound of soft piano music playing and laughter as Shawn sat with his friends and co-creators of this album, attempting to envision lyrics to match this awesome melody they had created the other day.

Standing in the doorway, not wishing to interrupt, you merely watched your boyfriend, loving how passionate he was about his music. It was incredible to see him perform his songs and interact with his fans, but you secretly preferred this aspect of Shawn’s job even more. For one, it meant he was usually close to you, the studio he wrote in being only a few short blocks from your shared apartment. But mostly, you loved seeing him create. He possessed so much talent, for sure, but you just loved seeing him pour his heart into his songs and to see the smile on his face when he would nail a melody or put together lyrics that perfectly portrayed what was in his heart. You couldn’t really describe the feeling you got when watching him in his element, you just knew that your heart never failed to swell with love and pride at seeing him like this.

Your admiration was cut short however when Brian, who had been lying on the couch and throwing a tennis ball up and down in the air while listening to Shawn softly sing various different lyrics in search of the perfect one, noticed you standing there and greeted you. “Y/N! Welcome to Studio a la Shawn! What brings you here today?”

“Someone forgot their lunch,” you explained, holding up the bag with you as evidence.

“Aww,” Brian hummed in understanding. “Wouldn’t want our favorite rock star going hungry, now would we?” He grinned.

You returned the sentiment, chuckling softly. “No, of course not,” you teased, looking over to Shawn who had stopped playing and turned around to face you at the first mention of your presence.

“Ok, ok, enough you two,” he rolled his eyes, standing up and crossing the room to greet you.

You grinned up at him as he reached you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to himself. “Thank you for bringing me my food again, baby. What would I do without you?” He questioned, soft brown eyes boring into your own eyes.

“Starve, probably,” you teased, smiling innocently up at him.

He rolled his eyes as Brian barked out a laugh behind you two before pressing a quick peck to your lips and grabbing the bag out of your hands. “Are you going to stay and eat with us?” He questioned, going to place the bag down on a nearby table before returning to your side.

“No, I can’t,” you responded, heart melting at the pout he gave you in response. “I have to get back to work. I’m swamped today and have to get back soon if I want to get out at a decent hour tonight.”

Shawn sighed, disappointed, but understanding that your job was just as important as his and that it needed to come first sometimes.

“Ok,” he nodded. “Next time.”

“Definitely,” you agreed, lifting up onto your tip toes to press another kiss to his lips, smiling as he deepened the kiss, ignoring the groans and protests from the boys behind you.

“I’ll see you tonight, ok?”

“Ok,” you grinned, reaching up to press one last kiss to his cheek before stepping out of his grip.

Before walking out, you called out a goodbye to the team in the studio, receiving a mixture of responses in return. Smiling to yourself, you made your way back toward the front of the building where your car was parked, now re-energized to finish your work and get home to the love of your life. However, right as you were about to climb into your car, you remembered that you had forgotten to ask Shawn what he wanted you to pick up for dinner on your way home tonight. Contemplating whether you should go back in or simply shoot him a text, you re-locked your car, opting to go in and ask, hoping to maybe sneak in one more quick kiss before heading out.

As you made your way back into the studio, you were stopped dead in your tracks when you heard one of the recording artists you didn’t know quite as well mention your name, followed by several snorts of laughter. Unable to help yourself, you stopped in the hallway, trying to hear what was said of you that had garnished such a reaction.

“Does wittle Shawn need love notes from his mommy?” You heard one of the boys mock, making kissy noises.

Peeking your head around the corner, remaining careful to keep out of sight, you saw Shawn sitting at the table with his lunch opened in front of him and the boys gathered around him as one waved a piece of paper around, a scrap of paper that you had placed in Shawn’s lunch for him to find that morning.

One of your top love languages had always been words of affirmation and giving gifts, so you had combined those traits into one, loving to give encouraging notes to friends and family. It was something you had always done for as long as you could remember. Meeting and dating Shawn had only given you your favorite recipient in which to bequeath these little notes to. It was something you had done randomly when you had first started dating. Shawn had gotten home that day and kissed you silly, claiming that your note had given him the perfect pick-me-up in the midst of his very busy, stressful day and you had been leaving notes for him to find ever since.

“Shut up, man,” Shawn grumbled, ripping the paper from the guys hands and placing it in the front pocket of his skinny jeans, safety out of reach of any of the other men in the room.

Shawn’s flushed cheeks only seemed to encourage the group; however, as their teasing only picked up.

“Enough!” Shawn finally shouted. “It’s not like it’s my fault. I didn’t ask for her to leave these annoying little notes! She’s just clingy and can’t get it through her head that I don’t need her to constantly be up in my business all the time!” He scowled. “I didn’t ask for her to do this, man. But how am I supposed to tell her that she’s being obnoxious? That’s just not something you say to your girl!”

You were frozen in shock, unable to believe the words you were hearing from your boyfriend’s mouth. Shawn had never given you any reason to believe that he found your notes annoying. In fact, you had thought he quite liked them. Given his reaction after receiving the first one, you thought he found it cute? When did that change? Insecurity began to fill your heart and mind as you thought back to every note you had left Shawn and how he had responded. When he thanked you and insisted on how adorable you were for reminding him of your love through surprise, written notes, had he been lying? Did he really think you were clingy and obnoxious?

Unwilling to stick around any longer to find out more of his thoughts on this subject, you turned on your heel and strode out of the room. If he didn’t like your notes, you wouldn’t write them anymore. It was as simple as that.

. . .

The following day, Shawn was once again in the studio, him and his team still trying to nail down the lyrics to one of the final songs on the album. They had made such incredible progress, but had seemed to hit a road block this week. After an intense morning of writing and re-writing different lyrics in an attempt to find the perfect verses, the team had decided that taking a much-needed lunch break and reconvening in an hour would be best.

Opening the lunch that his beautiful girlfriend had packed him that morning, a small smile formed on his lips, knowing that you usually left him a cute little note to find. It had been a tough morning of constant frustration and disappointment as the spark was lacking from the song. A note from you was just what he needed. However, guilt tugged at his heart as he remembered the conversation from yesterday. Matt had seen the paper fall out of his lunch bag yesterday and had been quick to snatch it up, reading it aloud and proceeding to mock him along with the other guys. In embarrassment, Shawn had lashed out and said words that were completely false. He made it sound like he hated your sweet notes, when in fact they filled his heart with so much joy, knowing that his girl loved him enough to take the time and write about how much she loved him and how proud she was of him and to remind him that she believed in him, always.

Digging through the bag, Shawn frowned when he came up empty. No note. That was odd, he thought.

Although, the more he thought about it, the more he remembered how rushed you were this morning. Rationalizing in his mind that you were probably just busy this morning and didn’t have time, he pushed away the thoughts of worry and dug into his food, joining in with the conversation around him.

. . .

About a week later, Shawn was sitting in your living room, leg anxiously bouncing up and down as he waited for you to get home from work. It had been a week now of no notes in his lunch. No notes left for him to find on the fridge in the mornings. No sweet “I Love You” messages scrawled on the bathroom mirror in red lipstick. And it wasn’t only that. You had been quieter. You weren’t as easily affectionate as you had once been with him. You were more reserved. Distant. And it scared the living hell out of him. You were the love of his life. He didn’t think he could live without you. Had your feelings for him changed? Had his crazy lifestyle finally caught up with you? He didn’t think he could handle that if it had.

At first, he had simply written these subtle changed in your behavior off, but he couldn’t do that anymore. He knew something was wrong and he was determined to find out what so he could fix it.

His head snapped in the direction of the door as he heard your key turn in the lock.

He stood up as you stepped through the door, hanging your coat up on the hook and placing your purse and keys on the table by the entryway. He bit his lip as he watched you, silently running through the words that he wanted to say to you.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured.

You looked up, slightly surprised to see him home already and standing poised in the living room waiting for you.

“Hi,” you responded cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he reassured. “I just wanted to talk,” he murmured, wringing his hands together nervously. “Can you come here and sit with me?”

Your own anxiety spiked up at that statement. Uh-oh. That didn’t sound too good.

Slowly, you made your way over to him, taking a seat and angling your body so that you were facing him.

Shawn reached out and took one of your hands in both of his and taking a deep breath. “Baby, before I say anything else, I just want you to know how much I love you, okay? You know that, right? That I love you.”

You nodded. “Of course, Shawn. I know that. I love you too.”

Shawn let out a breath, nerves easing slightly at the reassurance of your love for him.

“And you would tell me if anything was wrong, right?” He questioned earnestly, eyes seeking yours for something you weren’t aware of.

You nodded hesitantly, still unsure as to where this conversation was going.

“Then honey,” Shawn began. “What happened to my notes?”

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “Your what?”

“My notes!” Shawn exclaimed, voice raising slightly in panic as he let his confusion, frustration, and hurt slip into his tone. “The ones you leave me everywhere! In my lunch, on the fridge, in the bathroom, everywhere! They’ve stopped! And that’s not all,” Shawn continued, now on a roll. “You’ve been distant! You’ve been quiet at night. You don’t cuddle me in bed like you used to. Sweetheart, what did I do?” He begged. “Tell me, honey. Tell me and I’ll fix it right now. I love you! I’d do anything for you, you know that! Just . . . just, come back to me!” He begged, voice breaking and breaths coming hard as all his fears came tumbling out of his mouth like an uncontrolled waterfall.

You stared at your boyfriend, mouth slightly agape. Whatever you had been expecting, that certainly wasn’t it.

“You - you miss my notes?” You questioned, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Yes!” Shawn breathed. “Of course, I miss your notes, honey! Why would you ever doubt that?” He pleaded, squeezing your hand and inching closer to you so that your legs were brushing against one another.

You looked down, mind racing as you tried to discern what was true. Did Shawn mean what he was saying? Or was he simply worried you were pulling away and just using the lack of love notes as an example?

“I heard you,” you whispered, glancing up quickly before looking back down, not really wanting to let Shawn know you had been eavesdropping on his conversation last week, but seeing no way around it.

“Heard me when, sweetheart?” Shawn questioned, lifting a hand under your chin and gently tilting your face up, searching your eyes for answers.

You blew out a long, slow breath. “Last week,” you finally admitted. “When you forgot your lunch and I came to drop it off at the studio. After I left, I remembered that I needed to ask what you wanted for dinner that night. So, I came back in, but before I could, I overheard apart of your conversation.”

Shawn paled as realization sunk in and he recalled exactly what conversation it was that you had overheard and what words had been said. “Honey . . .” he trailed off, words failing him as he didn’t even know what to say. God, he was such a jerk. How could he say such blasphemous lies about you? His sweet, perfect angel. And now to know that you had overheard him saying such false things about you. It broke his heart, but he had no one to blame but himself.

Mistaking his silence for something else, you began to ramble. “It’s ok if you do think that,” you began. “You’re entitled to your own opinion and if you think that something I do is clingy and obnoxious, just tell me. Don’t make fun of me behind my back with your friends. I can take it, I promise.”

Shawn shook his head, becoming increasingly more angry with himself as he realized that his senseless words had caused you to doubt not only yourself, but his love and appreciation for you. “Sweetheart, stop,” he interrupted. “I love your notes. I love knowing how much you care. Those notes make my entire day.”

You looked down, unsure as to whether he was telling the truth or simply guilty at the fact that he had been caught.

Shawn, seeming to sense your hesitation, again lifted your chin so that he could look you in the eye. “Baby, I’m telling you the truth, I promise. The guys started ragging on me and I got embarrassed. And in my embarrassment, I lashed out and said some really stupid, untrue things,” he explained, shifting even closer to you on the small couch and moving his hands so that they were now cupping your cheeks, forcing you to keep your attention on him. “But I never should have let their teasing get to me,” he continued. “I am so unbelievably proud to have you as a girlfriend and so lucky to be so freely and openly loved by you. You have to believe me, baby. Say you believe me, please.”

Searching his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerely. But still, you hesitated. The hurt from that conversation still lingering in your mind and in your heart. You wanted to believe him so badly, but the sadness of this last week wouldn’t just wash away so easily.

Tears welled up in Shawn’s eyes as he took notice of the internal battle going on in your mind, heartbroken that he had caused you to doubt him and his affection for you. Wracking his brain for some way to get you to believe him, his eyes lit up as he remembered something he had secretly been collecting since the beginning of your relationship and something that followed him on tour always to help him in those tough moments of missing you.

“Wait right here, I’ll be right back!” He exclaimed, as he jumped up from the couch and raced up the stairs, sprinting into your bedroom and pulling out the small scrapbook that he had stored in his suitcase underneath the bed.

Running back down the stairs, he returned to the living room and sat back down next to you on the couch, placing the small book in your lap.

“What’s this?” You questioned, looking up at him in confusion.

“If you have any doubts that I love receiving your cute, little notes, this should reassure you,” he smiled softly. “I take it with me whenever I leave for tour, anytime I’m going to be away from you for any period of time. To reassure myself that you’re here and you love me and that you’re always in my heart, even when I may be physically distant from you.”

Giving him a look, you hesitantly opened the book and gasped when you saw the first note you had ever written to Shawn staring back up at you. You raised your head, gazing at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smiled and nodded at the book, silently encouraging you to keep exploring its contents.

Flipping through the pages, you found more of your notes. They ranged from simple I love you’s to long paragraphs explaining why you loved him as well as quick encouragements cheering him on before important shows or award ceremonies. Reaching the end of the book, you found the note that you had given him just last week, the last one you had written, and the one that had spurred on the fateful conversation that had ended those very notes.

“I’ve saved every single note you’ve given me,” Shawn murmured, grabbing the book and placing it on the table so that he could grab onto your hands. “I love stumbling upon your words of love and encouragement to me throughout the day, whether that be in my lunch, my jacket pocket, or any of the other creative locations you’ve managed to stash them,” he chuckled.

You cracked a smile at that, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“So, believe me, honey, when I tell you that I am so sorry that I ever made you doubt that. I’m an idiot. A complete and utter idiot and I am so, so sorry. Can you forgive me, sweetheart?” He begged, eyes earnestly boring into your own.

Smiling at your sweet boyfriend, you nodded, overcome by emotion as you leaned forward and passionately pressed your lips to his own, hands coming up to embed themselves in his curly hair and tugging, eliciting a groan from him as his own hands wrapped themselves around your waist, tugging you into his lap, causing you to break away in giggles. Shawn laughed as well, relieved that you were back in his arms. Relieved that the light and love was back in your eyes. He pressed a series of kisses to your face, your eyelids, forehead, temple, nose, anywhere his lips could reach.

“Shawn!” You squealed.  “Stop!” You laughed.

“Not a chance,” Shawn growled through kisses. “I’ve missed out on a whole week of affection from you, we have a lot of making up to do!” He explained, standing up and throwing you over his shoulder as he ran to the bedroom, hellbent on showing you exactly how much he loved you.

#shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #couple goals #cute #fluff #angst #magicalmarauder

[namjoonchronicles]

bones | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, reader

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 3.0k

↳ summary namjoon’s only dream is to change the world, and sometimes when he couldn’t, he would turn to no one. even as it eats him up, spit him out and left him lifeless. the greatest mistake in love is to hand someone else the responsibility to your happiness, but is it really a mistake?

↳ warning depression; loosely inspired by the recent the return of superman show

↳ song shawn mendes ‘wonder’, maggie lindemann ‘couple of kids’

↳ author’s note new year greetings came four days late this year, sorry about that... i was searching for a suitable theme to write, so i opt for a non-serious one. i planned to engage in a 7-day writing challenge this week, starting with namjoon on monday. wish me luck! and happy reading! <3

“Please turn them off…” the deep grovel of his voice took you by surprise. It wasn’t like you to not have noticed when he walked in. The television had the show ‘The Return of Superman’ playing. By the sound of the troubling huff he let out, as he stood, hanging his long coat on the coat hanger, it seemed like he had a rough day. He didn’t look at you in the eye when he walked in, and it seemed like he would like to disappear today. You blinked to the view of his back disappearing into the hallway to the right, heading to his home studio. Hanging your face down to your lap, you pointed the remote to the screen and it turned to a black screen. Long story short, the kids in the show wanted to see him. And long story short, they weren’t able to reach a meeting point resulting in the kids meeting another artist instead. By the looks of it, Namjoon isn’t taking it lightly. By the looks of it, he seemed a little disappointed. And for that, you don’t really know how to interfere, or if he wanted you to.

Namjoon and you really stood in the grey area sometimes, when it comes to trespassing each other’s boundaries. It’s really difficult to read him sometimes, because he keeps so much to himself. It was something you both mutually understand when you both ended up together. The go-no-go point had always been a grey. There’s so much at stake and your intricated mind combined with his sometimes doesn’t allow room for negotiation. When something like this happens, you have to analyse where he stands. And sometimes you miss your hit. The more time you miss, the more frightened you are where the next one comes. They say, if you don’t have to watch your words with someone, you’ve found the right one. But when it comes to Namjoon, you refuse to say the wrong words because you don’t want to hurt him. Not after all he’s been through. So you took light, careful steps towards the door to his home studio. Watching him bended over his chair, mouse running wild. His face shone by the light from the computer screen.

“Hey,” you softly whispered. Leaning your face against the door frame, hand clasping the edges of the door.

He hollowed his cheek, tutted his tongue out and said, “Hey” to the screen instead. A short silence followed. Then,

“I didn’t know they were coming to see me. They lied to those kids saying they’ll meet me, and they didn’t. They must have felt so betrayed.” He hung his head low. He rubs his nose. “What can you do? It’s a show… It doesn’t make you a bad person,” your voice, gentle, persuasive as ever. It was the only way you think would get to him.

Since when did it matter what others think of him? You would be foolish to say that. Knowing Namjoon as long as you did, you know criticism no matter how constructive or harsh, they dent the same deep to him. Be it his music, be it his words. Silence from his side, yet again. Moving away you decided to say one last thing for his consideration.

“There’s always more than one way… My husband used to tell me,” you shut the door behind you, a lopsided smile on your lips.

Stunted by the pitch darkness he sat in, your words resonated in his mind and he looked down the keyboards and grinned. You are right, there’s always more ways than one.

More ways than one. To say that Namjoon had a perfect childhood would be vastly inaccurate. His brilliant mind was not without a cost. You both hid behind words you didn’t say. The pain that felt so familiar and the fear that is mutual. For a while, he somehow convinced you to push through. And with him, the glass is always half full. And by glass full, Namjoon’s quiet determination and drive would inspire you to keep going. When he is sound asleep at night, the dim light draws the shape of his body, you would place your palm on one side of his face, thumbing his cheek, just to feel him there. His breathings would slow down. His most vulnerable state, and just hours ago, he was reading to you a poem he wrote. The stirs would stop and you pulled the blankets further up his chin. You brushed his bangs back and placed a kiss on his forehead, letting your lips linger a second longer than usual. It just felt a while. Like it was a dream.

Gravitating towards Namjoon, it only seemed natural. The bike nights rides along the Han River, he bulleted through the summer night breeze while you opened your arms wide sitting behind him. The moon and the stars were witness to it all. He blew air bubbles to the sky while you tried to catch them all with your open palm. Sitting on the grass, his arms around your waist. You were falling heavenly, recklessly. Sharing lilac cotton candy, and meeting each other's lips through it. He tasted like cotton candy, sticky and sweet. You could feel him smile against your lips. “We can’t save everyone, Joonie,” you spoke softly, “Those we can, we could…”

With his shut eye, he said, “I did all that I could… but why didn’t it feel enough?”

It’s a terrible thing to feel helpless. To feel restricted, to feel limited. The barricades are held up and for someone like Namjoon who is adamant to strike barriers head on, there seems to be places he couldn’t break through. And that feeling is discouraging. It is limiting and groundless. Namjoon is determined to make changes in the world, wherever it fits. There are places he couldn’t go though, despite the remarkable footsteps he had already pioneered. Namjoon is brave, relentless. He refused surrender and the louder his voices are, the more shackles they put on his ankles. It is only due time that he would explode. He just had hearts too big for his body, and if you think he doesn’t have more to give, you’re wrong. He is as possessive to the things that are his, you just need to name it.

Possessive. The word would seem so harsh. But it was everything Namjoon is. You had just bawled the night away for having to marry a family friend’s son who had gotten divorce from two of his wives. You had never been so scared because not only was the man twice older than you are, he was also your tutor when you were 15. He had been eyeing on you since then, and it disgusted you so. With no words from Namjoon for days after you told him the story, your faith in him was fading. You felt so unprotected and sold away by your own parents. No one cared. The next day, the predator will come and he will take your hand in marriage whether you want it or not. You considered running away. But where would you go? Anywhere would have been just fine.

That same night Namjoon stormed into your parent’s house, drenched in the rain, pounding on the door. Then you heard your father open the front door to the porch.

“I may not be the son-in-law you dreamt of, nor am I a perfect son to my parents. I have nothing to give her. I am not adequate but I have dreams larger than myself, and that dream is to have your daughter as my wife. I am not the son-in-law you want, but I am the husband your daughter needs. My name is Kim Namjoon and I cannot let her marry anyone else but me.”

His wedding vows were immaculate. The night before your wedding, you asked him, “You want to take care of my heart?”

“Absolutely,” he said, without an ounce of hesitation and crinkly eyes, with a big smile.

When you think about those impeccable moments, you know his devotion is pure. That’s why loving him is easy and difficult.

What do you like most about me? What an odd thing to ask. Watching the people cross the road as the traffic light turned red for them. The fine dust reading shoots off the roof again today. The wedding ring on your ring finger, curled around the steering wheel of your worn out car. The diamond catching the light, decorating the roof of your car with little rainbows. You smiled to your chest then to the side. When is it ever not strange when it comes to Namjoon. Of course he had to ask you the easiest yet the most difficult question as you were rushing out the door with minutes to spare. Hopping on one feet, holding on to his stomach to keep your balance.

But you couldn’t forget those eyes. Those pleading eyes. Felt like it mattered to his life what your answers were.

The light turns green. You dropped the brakes and gently pressed on the accelerator. It could have been easily his heart, or his mind, mostly both. And possibly everything in between; no, most definitely everything in between. Or is it his arms, that feels like an asylum or a fortress, depending on the situation? Or his lips, with the things it says or the things it does? Or his ears that continue to earnestly listen to you whining or screaming or the static silence he demanded to make sense of?

Why did it have to be what he offers you? Why can’t  you love him for what he didn’t offer you?

The answers aren’t simple at all.

And as the answer you said loomed over you, hours on end at work and through lunch and important meetings, you feel like the clock is ticking in your ear. Why didn’t you look at his expressions when you left? What were you rushing for? You made it on time but you left things unsettled at home. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right at all.

“Namjoon, you’re a firework.” The words you threw ringing in his ear like it was only yesterday, since he said he wanted you. It was the most remarkable, most detrimental, most damaging words he had ever heard someone say to him. It didn’t help that he was deeply enthralled by you. He was broken, so beautifully broken. The way his edges are both sharp and blunt and in patterns unique to him; he was a deliberately planned masterpiece. He understood what you said; and you talk in riddles he is fluent in. You hide in metaphors and intricate words of a poet. Your true feelings never fully revealed. Sometimes he feels like he is walking in circles, or falling in a bottomless pit. Sometimes he feels like he’s found home away from home and finally talking in a language someone spoke.

Firework. It could be a compliment and an insult. They are the prettiest in the darkest night, the glittering lights, the adrenaline inducing sound of explosion; always the highlight of a celebration, an achievement, the peak--everything good in life. But when the fireworks ended, the darkness loomed again, the adrenaline fell as the silence grew; anticipations dug its grave with each moment passing without sound--excitement, plummeting to the ground. Fireworks are temporary happiness. You said you were a mere spectator. It was both a compliment and an insult. Namjoon realised that what he projected wasn’t the same thing you were looking for. You wanted forever. He looked in your eyes the same way he looked at you when you left for work this morning; with longing he didn’t quite fathom the depth of.

When he sits in his room, getting lost in the words carried by the author, he forgets about all the things that worry him. With the desktop lit up of a wallpaper of you mashing his face between your hands, face so close to each other, smiling contently, behind him. This house is littered with love. They are in the walls, on the floor and all over the ceiling.

“I am terrified of you,” you said, laying next to him in bed one night. It felt like an untimely confession. The words he never expected from you. At first, he thought it was due to how intimidating he looks. He’s almost six feet tall, he frowns at everything, almost tactlessly blunt to anything about quality-- terrified is a weak word. He looks like he hates everything and won’t stay behind for anything that doesn’t interest him. But it wasn’t. Your fear was not from how he is built but the way that he stayed. You always expected people to leave after a certain time spent. But he just keeps coming back and everytime he does, you get scared.

“I had never had anyone stay that long before,” you looked up at the ceiling while he looked at you, counting your eyelashes.

“I don’t know what to do…” you turned to him and casted your eyes downwards, “People like you aren’t supposed to be with people like me.”

Everyone deals with pain differently. In the commotion of a subway station, in front of the crowded cafes, the congested road and the beeping from the cashier’s counter. These faces staring at the floor, these fast-paced steps, the little jogs to the closing elevator door. The beginning of the year always feels overwhelming. The expectation is high, the spirits and passion is off the roof. Guess it was the disappointment that scares you the most. How many years did January begin the same way and December had it all taken away or drained till you are hollow on the inside?

A pair of supple lips, butterfly kisses trail up your shoulders to your cheek, a pair of strong arms snaked around your hips, pulling you in a rib-cage squeezing hug. A smile grew on your lips.

“What are you thinking so hard of, it's’ not even noon yet?” the deep grovel of his voice disrupted your train of thoughts, much to your dismay. Then you switch to face him, pointing your index finger to the ceiling as his hand rests on your bum.

“There’s a time in your life that you’re scared of me pushing you away when you kiss me,” your eyes twinkle at him and he wanes in his stance.

“Why are you making me nervous so early in the morning?” throwing his head back, showing you his frustration, “We’re married now, you can’t push me away…I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

When the light caught his luminacing brown eyes, you thought about how astonishing it was; to be loved, to be understood, to be broken and healed at the same time--all by the same set of eyes. The way it catches the sun, rain and storm. There’s something a pair of eyes could say without words.

In autumn, when those eyes cried a river, head filled with broken dreams and dreaded nights, and you caught the net, the whirl of the still moments stole your spineless sanity. The dizzying concoction of despair and anger the year had. And in a few more days, the new year will come. With every year passing, the more you dreaded the things you didn’t do. You blame yourself for the things you couldn’t change. The year felt like a dream; floating in the air, weightless. With no stone to keep you in place, you wandered like a lost soul, the only thing familiar was those lumineering brown eyes. Those eyes, when you see them--home.

As he sat there, talking, endlessly, chuckling, showing you his phone screens and wishes he got for both of you, you drifted into space. You didn’t hear a thing he said, you just, existed. And you watched him, in all that he is. All the troubled nights he didn’t speak to you about, the pain he hid away, the things he didn’t say and everything he felt. Then you think about all the times that he saved you when you’re in pain. When his hugs were as strong as the deteriorating war in your head, when his whispers were louder than the demons, and the hand he held tighter than the things you couldn’t fight against. There’s forever in his eyes. And you hadn’t seen that in years.

In winter, when the cold is numbing and the only thing warm is his breaths, the world is white in snow and those eyes searching the crowds land on you and turn into a pair of crescents. No stones left unturned, the battles he faced-- Namjoon was the war you chose. It was then you realised that even if the world collides and the ground turns to skies, it's his hand you want to hold. Driving along the same route you came from, your tired eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror, you heard yourself asking, “What do you love most about you?”

Namjoon. Loving Namjoon is what I love most about me.

He shows you that no matter how self centred you were, you were capable of infinite love.

Namjoon might have lain awake for hours before you did. Arduously, he loved. Silently, he thought. In his mind, he would have kissed you awake. Then, when he asked you what you loved most about him, he least expected a deep answer, not at the time frame that was given to you. He felt found and kept safe. He found forever in you. No words would have sufficed. 

“Bones.” “Bones?” “Bones… I love your bones. They make up everything you are.”

Curling his arms around your waist while you sleep soundly, he nudges his face in the back of your hair as he pulls you close. These bones love you too. Ferociously, immensely, profoundly. . . . . . Namjoon sent a video to the kids that wanted to see him that day. The kids are more excited than ever. They may not have met, but Namjoon’s sincerity flourished through the video message. You are absolutely right, there’s always more ways than one. We can’t save everyone, but we could save those we can. .

.

.

.

copyright © january 4th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for your time

#bones #moonchildnetwork #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #thekimlinenet #kimnamjoonnet #thekimlinenetwork #established relationship #namjoon fics #kim namjoon fics #kim namjoon #namjoon ff #bts rm ff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts namjoon #rm fics #rm fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bangtan fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #bangtan fluff #knj #knj fics #knj fic #knj fanfic #husband namjoon

[mystic-shadows42]

Possessive {Part 4}

A/N: It’s been awhile since I wrote for this series.

Warnings: Language

The next day you tried to avoid Ivar as much as you could. He had followed you as soon as you left out the door.

He didn’t say anything. He just watched as you looked anywhere but him as you sat down at the table in the great hall. He had purposefully sat by you, glancing over at you now and again.

He always did this. Trying to earn your forgiveness with simple touches or words he doesn’t truly mean. He’ll even bribe you with lavish gifts.

He reached out to touch your hand only for you to scoot your chair back and leave abruptly.

You didn’t want to hear what he had to say. You just weren’t ready to talk to him so soon.

Of course, when you resorted to being in your room just to avoid him, you were followed. It was none other than Aslaug. She opened the door and closed it behind her.

She gave you a look that you knew all too well. She was going to try to persuade you to talk to Ivar. She always did when you two were opposed to something.

“I’m not talking to Ivar.”

“You should.”

“Why should I?”

“Ivar loves you more than anything. Perhaps even more than me.” You looked away from her at what she said. You and Ivar were just friends. “You remember what I told you when you were little?”

“That I’m Ivar’s friend and he needs me?”

“Not just that. You understand him where no one else does. Give him another chance. It doesn’t have to be right away but you will forgive him eventually.”

Aslaug put her finger under your chin for you to face her. “I love you like a daughter. I just hate seeing you two like this.” She got up and left the room.

You took a deep breath and left. The thought of facing Ivar shouldn’t keep you stowed away forever.

When you walked into the dining room all the brothers were starting to walk in as well gathering for lunch.

Ivar wouldn’t stop bothering you unless you talked to him.

“Tell me what I’ve been doing wrong and I’ll fix it. Whatever you want.” Ivar pleaded once you sat next to him.

“I don’t know if you can fix it. The problem is your attitude. You get angered easily and lash out. You hurt me with your words and you don’t even really seem to care. Don’t you understand that things can’t fall into place simply because you want them to? I can’t forgive you so quickly. I need time.”

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I was pressuring you to do something you aren’t comfortable with. I just hope you can forgive me and my behavior.” He was bold enough to hold your hand in his and kiss it. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Some time away from Ivar would do you good. You left the table so he can enjoy lunch with his family. He didn’t try to stop you this time.

Ivar had a permanent scowl on his face at dinner time. Of course, Sigurd ridiculed him about it all day.

“Planning on bashing in your skull today, Ivar?” He snickered.

Ivar didn’t know who had spread the news of what happened yesterday but as soon as he finds out they’ll never speak a word again.

“Leave him alone Sigurd,” Ubbe spoke up tired of his brothers always arguing.

“He’s a big boy Ubbe. He can defend himself.” Sigurd turned his attention to Ivar once more. “So why’d you do it? Over Y/N? Is she finally gaining some sense and leaving?”

“She’s not leaving.”

“That’s only because you won’t ever let her.”

Hvitserk smirked to himself. “Can you blame him. Ivar is the only person she’s ever trusted since they were children. It’s brilliant if you ask me. She’s loyal to him.”

“Not so much anymore,” Ivar murmured.

Ivar was deep in thought. He reminisced. He thought of everything he could’ve done differently. It was his actions that made you pull yourself away from him.

His biggest fear was losing you. All he wanted was happiness with you.

Ivar looked up when he heard a door squeak open.

You walked through the great hall briefly glancing towards Ivar who had now perked up at your presence. He followed your figure walk outside accompanied by some of the thralls.

He had his hopes up that you’d be joining them but the feeling diminished with every step you took away from him.

Once you left he brought his attention to his brothers who all stared after where you had just left. He clenched his fist growing angry. He didn’t like it when others looked at you.

“What are you all staring at?!”

Hvitserk had his horn cup of ale in his hand and pointed in the direction you left. He smiled slyly alongside his brothers.

Ivar slammed his fist down on the table clattering all the objects on there.

“You all don’t get to look at her.”

“You can’t tell us what to do Ivar. You’re the youngest.” Ubbe replies cooly.

“He just wants her for himself,” Hvitserk said as he drank his ale. “That’s why he always kept her close to him. He never wanted us to get close to her because we are older and have urges. Did you ever think she wants us?” Hvitserk knew teasing his brother was never good but he wanted to rattle him a bit.

Ivar’s eyes narrowed and burned with anger. His nostrils flared as he looked at each of his brothers who stared back at him in amusement.

“I don’t know why you keep her from us. There’s not much you can do anyways.” Sigurd chuckled at his own comment.

Aslaug gave him a look but said nothing as she drank her drink.

“You all want her in your beds don’t you?” Ivar asked seething as he clenched his fists tighter. The thought alone made his blood boil.

“It doesn’t exactly have to be on a bed with me. We could do it standing up, in the woods, on a boat. I’m not picky,” Hvitserk smirked. His brothers chuckled at his comment.

“None of you will touch her!”

“Oh, shut up already!” Sigurd threw a piece of food at Ivar’s face hitting him on his cheek.

This time Aslaug spoke up.

“Sigurd, that’s enough!”

Ivar fought the pain in his legs and stood with the help of the chair.

“You won’t touch Y/N whatsoever! If I so much as see any of you, brothers or not, you won’t be waking up, come morning. She’s mine to touch. Mine to kiss. Her body belongs to me and me only. I’ll be her first for everything. None of you will ever be special to her.”

All the brothers began to laugh.

“That’s up to her if she wants you to be her first. What scares you the most is losing her. You will lose her Ivar if you keep trying to control her.” Ubbe spoke from his spot.

“I’m not going to lose her. She wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Don’t be so sure. We all heard about the incident last night. She might be planning on finally leaving.” Sigurd smiled up at Ivar condescendingly.

“She’s not going to leave me. What we have is real, pure. Something none of you will have.”

Ivar believed in what he said. They had a special bond and he’d be damned if anybody tried to break that.

Tagged: @belovedcherry​ @lordsexmachine​ @lol-haha-joke​ @mariaenchanted​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @walkxthexmoon​

#Ivar #Ivar x reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar fanfiction #Vikings fanfiction #Vikings

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, ep 12-16 thoughts! these episodes, in comparison to the first 10 or so, felt way more laid back and low-stakes, which I appreciate sometimes. I didn't appreciate how lazy jack's halfa design was in masters of time, it made me so annoyed I redesigned it. 👎🏻 u_u

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-'picking a fight with me and my upgraded form!' 'you upgraded to a mullet?' DANNNNY. YOU CANT SAY THAT TO TECHNUS. YOUVE HAD A MULLET TWICE NOW ('fun' split danny, and evil future danny BOTH HAD THEM). I HAVE THE RECEIPTS.

-danny seeing technus hurting valerie and yelling I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF. SAMEEEE <3

-axion labs is now a part of vladco. FUCK YOU VLAD. hes not even really IN this episode, but just thought I'd throw out a nice fuck you anyway.

-'capable of blasting a single person into space in (2) minutes!' tucker. that would kill someone. i mean yeah they might get to space, but theres NO WAY THEY WOULDNT CATCH FIRE, OR THEIR ORGANS WOULDNT LIQUIFY BECAUSE OF THE STRAIN. THEY'D PROBABLY PASS OUT BEFORE THEN, BUT. ...no, okay, I get why vlad bought this company. this is RIGHT up his alley.

-danny KNOWS VAL DIDNT DO THIS, THAT SOMEONE STOLE THE SUIT. AND SPENDING ALL NIGHT CHATTING WITH HER. <3 and val is a 9TH DEGREE BLACKBELT?? danny's mom is, too!! omg and she hunts ghosts, his parents would love her. and her fav fruit is kumquat bc its a funny word. im so with danny val is amazing. I love her and I Do Not Want To Hear It From Sam.

-I knew danny wanted to be an astronaut, but the bowling tidbit is like. yes give me more useless info abt these characters, I love tiny details that make them feel more human, and im glad hes got hobbies aside from ghost stuff, we dont really see a lot of that!!! (I mean, we knew 'fun' danny from when he split himself in half liked bowling, so obv it makes sense he LIKES it, but hes very GOOD at it. so proud of him, bowling king) val calling him neil armstrong and them teasing each other. LOVE THAT.

-technus you are my favorite grandpa for setting this up. SAM WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CREEPY BE HAPPY FOR YOUR FRIEND!!! STOP SPYING ON THEM!!! who actually cares if technus did 'set them up' together, theyre having fun and enjoy each others company!!! 'you think the universe wants you two to be together?' 'i dunno, but maybe /I/ do!' EXACTLY DANNY!!! SOO TRUE.

-and valerie being happy sam said she wants to try and be happy for them and make room at the lunch table for them. and hugging sam over it. VAL NEEDS MORE FRIENDS.

-VAL GOING AFTER TECHNUS IN HER SUIT WITH (1) MILK, AND (1) TREE BRANCH AND KEYS!!!. I LOVE YOUUUU BEST GIRL. her new suit kicks ass

-dannys like 'HEY IM AN ASTRONAUT :D' AW. ...HES IN SPACE... the fact he's actually intending to give her the ring. with SAMS NAME ON IT?? IM CRINGING DANNY NO. YOU CANT DO THAT...thank god he didnt. thank god valerie cut it off and said they can just stay friends for now. tbh, they both have a lot on their plates!! they obv both still like each other...it can be a future thing!! when she knows about phantom! youre 14 theres no need to rush. I just want her to have friends and be happy :(

-...danny struggles to do (1) pull up. SAME. but all the ghost fighting in phantom form REALLY doesnt carry over at ALL? that sucks

-sam being as fit as she is, is not just a goth. shes a goth jock.

-honey I Shrank Our Kid, One of his Enemies, and his Bully: the episode

-dash's crush on phantom is So Obvious. fitness buddies :) watching them interact always makes me laugh. also, phantom, with PANTS. 'how many costume changes you gonna go through, what is this, vegas??' DASSH DJKSFHASKDF

-MADDIE GOING AFTER THE MOUSE WITH A BROOM, WHAT THE FUCK. AAAH. JUST BUY SOME KIND OF MOUSE TRAP.

-danny likes lime and vinegar chips. which sound very good.

-'our boy finally has the physical prowess of a 60 year old president!' ...poor danny LMAO

-'what's wrong with beauty pageants' oh tucker you sweet naïve child. what ISNT wrong with them. who approved this for a high school?? (I mean, yes. unfortunately child pageants exist, but...) also danny and tucker once again treating the pretty girls like objects. I need to meet the grown man who wrote this, I just want to talk...

-prince aragon's dragon form reminds me of maleficent (color scheme wise) which is always a bonus. considering the episode is called beauty marked, I feel like the sleeping beauty references are deliberate

-sam with the fake fangs. once again her accessories never miss. hate the 'not like other girls, girls who get sucked into this kind of thing are all shallow and all want to be carbon copies' bs tho.

-sam trying to be the Worst Bride, being rude as shit. DORA IS GOING TO GET KILLED. DID YOU MISS THE PART WHERE SHE SAID THE PRINCE WILL HAVE HER HEAD IF YOU ARENT THE IDEAL BRIDE. YOU /KNOW/ DANNY WILL COME SAVE YOU. JUST ACT CHILL UNTIL THEN. even if you were doing fine to get him to take off the crown, consider maybe not letting his poor sister get punished also?? sure, she could also take off the crown and has dragon powers, but did you know that for sure?? dora didnt even really realize it until you guys talked!! (or at least, she was scared to stand up to him. you had no guarantee she would...) but. good for dora. ANOTHER friendly ghost to add to the List :)

-tucker is so under appreciated in his time. if he was doing a tech-based campaign today he'd have a better shot. people in 2004 had NO IDEA how much tech would be a part of our day-to-day lives...altho. tbh if you're going to be running for student council president, maybe you should..focus on things to actually improve the school? since he's going for a tech angle, he could say like, he would be running fundraisers for the schools computers to be upgraded, etc? we've already SEEN he can be good at money-making entrepreneur type stuff!!

-oh my god wait. this episode is JUST YUGIOH?????! A REBORN PHAROH USING A TEENAGER AS A VESSEL?? YESSSSSS

-tucker using his new minion to feed him grapes and carry him. AND LOCUSTS ONTO THE BULLIES. I love how when he's possessed, he gains winged eyeliner.

-this episode is giving me big 'plankton makes everyone in bikini bottom his slaves and build monuments of him from the spongebob movie' vibes. and the pharaoh has a traitor who works for him? VERY big yugioh vibes. aknadin confirmed

-I like that danny is still completely exhausted after using ghostly wail. (still patiently waiting on him to get duplication)

-LOVE the fenton's 80s outfits. I get hes 14 and embarrassed by everything they do because theyre his parents, but. cmon, this is one objectively cool thing theyve done. love 80s fashion.

-...was vlad just standing on that streetlight waiting for danny to come out? how'd he know they'd be coming out the back? how long has he been up there???

-oh, wait, his ecto-acne has flareups? that SUCKS. danny was...well I dont want to say he was LUCKY HE HALF-DIED, but he was lucky his was pretty instant (I'm assuming that had to do with the power/scale of the portals being different?) I remember in the ep we met him, vlad made a point of saying he was stuck in a hospital for a long time, so. that really actually sucks and I feel bad. not that it excuses anything he's done...but like. it does suck.

-vlad being so sure danny wouldnt help him he made it somehow contagious to his friends to make sure he'd get help? danny is a nice boy, he wouldve helped if it was anyone else. the only reason he wouldn't have is because of the shit vlad did to him, on purpose. vlad 100% dug his own grave by being the biggest asshole, so it is very hard to feel bad for him.

-clockwork is back!!! and making danny learn lessons The Hard Way. Uhhh, okay. I kind of get Danny’s logic, that time traveling this far back would prevent vlad from becoming a halfa also, ergo no arch nemesis or ectoacne to worry about. But the fact that was basically the first solution Danny came up with to solve this problem is actually so funny. It’s so extreme

-APPRICIATION FOR THESE 80S LESBIAN BG CHARACTERS.

-vlad telling maddie in the lab (in the 80s) he has something he's wanted to tell her 'for a long time'...how long have they known each other? I assumed they met in college, since jack always calls vlad his college buddy/roommate, so jack and vlad for sure met in college, but did vlad know maddie longer? thats surprising if so. Tho we don’t know what year of college they’re in so they could mean they met as freshmen and a few years have past…speaking of maddie shes crushing the 80s look.

-vlad blames jack, but. maybe dont stick your face 2 inches from the portal??! THIS FEELS LIKE LAB SAFETY BASICS. IF SOMETHING HAS POTENTIAL TO BE DANGEROUS, DONT GET NEAR IT. WITH YOUR FACE UNPROTECTED IN ANY WAY. (altho jack didnt really give a Big Warning besides screaming BONZAI. so. also that, but cmon.) also, they need gloves, goggles, and to pull all of their hair back tbh. but fuck lab safety, I guess!

-cryyyyinnng at how lazy they were with jack's ghost form design, its just plasmius' design on jack!!! you couldve given him his own design!!

-there. I did that in about 10 minutes and its somehow less lazy than what made it into the show. embarrassing! better yet, I think the episode would've been better if maddie would've gotten the ectoacne. or maybe its just me, wanting to see her design! anyway. I'm sure people have already done redesigns of them both as halfas. I have to go look after I finish this watch through. Also mildly frustrated jacks resentment and bitterness is basically also a copy paste of vlads backstory. They’re different characters, I really don’t think jack would stew in bitterness and jealousy the same way vlad would!! I also don’t think he’d give up after one time of trying to hunt ghosts and getting laughed at. Our canon timeline says different…I dunno, I get it was for laughs, but I’m annoyed because the POTENTIAL this plot has…

-did vlad really wear a stupid cheese hat to his wedding. ok actually that kinda rules. and the cheese door knocker. the dairy-only buffet table. vlad still got rich, just on being the New Dairy King. (Assuming that means he owns a lot of dairy businesses?) ok! this actually is great. hope maddie isn't lactose intolerant!

-'no matter how hard I tried, I could never get rid of my ghost half, the half I knew Maddie could never accept' ohh, ouch, what a horrible thing to say to her HALF GHOST SON. 'YOUR MOM WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU' BASICALLY.

-maddie strapping danny to the table with a lazer pointed at him in a secret lab she keeps from vlad that she makes a point of saying is sound proof so he can scream all he wants...CHRIST. DANNYS POOR PYSCHE.

-also, not to feel bad for alternate vlad (because, he did lie to maddie saying jack blames her and never wants to see her again...) but. being married to a woman 20+ years and she immediately goes back to jack? if she didnt love vlad and feels like she had to hide shit from him, and says she wasted her best years with him, WHY MARRY HIM. it feels like leading him on!!! cannot believe im feeling bad for vlad, but. this alternate timeline vlad is significantly Less Horrible than Our Vlad. did she not think she'd get funding for her ghost stuff? (which, fair assumption since they're considered 'ghost fanatics/nuts in canon...but...) why did she think jack or vlad would be her ONLY OPTIONS? be like your sister. be single. Actually, this au could’ve been really interesting if after the accident, vlad lied to her and said jack never wanted to see her again, but she stays single. Imagine how much that would bug vlad… like, in her mind, it was never a competition it was jack or no one type situation…

-danny being like 'leave him ALONE' this jack is a HOMEWRECKER, DANNY. let them go to court and settle this at the least. ...or just throw vlad into the portal. (100% human, defenseless vlad) CHRIST, MADDIE THATS BRUTAL. THATS MURDER.

-danny seeing his mom immediately accepting him and his dad being half ghosts in this universe, if I was him this would be a great sign that his universe's maddie would also.

-*maddie voice* "clockwork will help!" *2 seconds later, with clockwork* "I will Not Help." TOUGH LOVE KING. YES LET DANNY SEE THE SODA HIMSELF AND DEVOLP BETTER OBSERVATION SKILLS.

-when clockwork ""reset time to the way it was"" just before danny "meddled"" ...did he really erase a whole alternate timeline? ...damn. because maddie and danny both called it an alternate timeline by name, it splitting when the college incident went different, so it wouldnt have really mattered if he reset it, right. like because danny's timeline is on a different stream? why didnt clockwork just. show danny a replay and not Reset That Timeline. wh...I wonder how many people that Erased From Existence. Anyway! once again stating clockwork is casually terrifying!

#danny phantom #dp thoughts #sanchoyorambles

[ri-ahhh]

Ooooh but like what if it's gray getting jealous and a teeny but insecure too when MJ mentions some of her work mates and other close guy friends w whom she hangs out and drinks and parties yk?And when he finally meets them he might not be able to get some inside jokes or be pissy on how touchy one of her guy bffs is?!And just goes like"baby am I too young for you?"🥺maybe some cute fluff and hot makeup sex?? ;p Sorry if this too much or straight up lame It's cool if you don't wanna concept this

Ok, first of all, I love this. Second, this is my first MJ concept and I’m soft af🥺

If there’s one personality trait Grayson Dolan wouldn't normally attribute to himself, it’s that of being easily jealous. Why would he be? His life, despite it’s occasional heavy downs, is relatively picturesque in the grand scheme of things. He’s got a loving family, an amazing career, a beautiful girlfriend, and he’s narcissistic enough to proudly say he’s a good-looking dude.

But the little green monster first starts to stir in chest when said beautiful girlfriend lays back on his chest one morning, scrolling through Instagram while the two of them laze in bed. MJ is looking through the pictures she had been tagged in at a company dinner the night before, double-tapping her phone screen occasionally and diverting his attention away from his own phone when she does.

“Who’s that?” he asks, trying to sound as casual as possible as he eyes a certain picture with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Hm?” MJ had already scrolled down to the next photo, but she goes back to the one in question. Grayson points to the guy standing next to her. “Oh. That’s Jesse. He’s one of my teammates.”

Grayson doesn't respond right away, his gaze focused on the way the attractive young man has his arm wrapped tightly around MJ’s waist in the group photo. MJ is leaning away from him, but it still gives him a bad vibe — not from her, but from him.

“He looks friendly.”

MJ glances up at him and slaps the other side of his bare chest with the back of her hand jokingly. “Relax, we all had to squeeze in to get the picture. He’s just a colleague.”

“Yeah, to you,” Grayson mumbles. He tosses down his phone and turns on his side so he can throw his arm over her middle, nuzzling into her hair.

MJ smiles and scratches her nails up and down his sculpted arm, his warm breath tickling her ear. He’s not really the possessive type, too confident in himself and trustworthy in her for this to have ever been an issue in their relationship, but her work world is one entirely separate from him. She doesn’t think it’s too irrational for him to be suspicious, especially since she can admit feeling a little iffy about the way Jesse had so easily sidled up to her for that photo.

She shifts her head on the pillow so she’s facing him, kissing his lips softly but soundly. It’s an unspoken reassurance between them, and they both let the topic go.

A few days later, they’re in the kitchen together, a pass only she is allowed while Grayson cooks. MJ sits on the island, her feet dangling over the cabinets as Grayson stirs the vegetables he’s sautéing on the stove, when her phone buzzes on the marble countertop beside her. She picks it up and chuckles, her manicured fingers typing away.

“What’s so funny?” Grayson asks nosily.

MJ hits ‘send’ in the text response she wrote. “Jesse sent a stupid meme that reminded him of this super difficult exec we have to deal with for one of our clients.” She holds up her phone so Grayson can see it, but without the further context he doesn’t really see the humor in it. It causes a weird sensation to bubble in his stomach, one he can’t quite place, but it definitely makes him give the veggies an extra vigorous stir that has some of them flying out of the pan on accident.

He draws the line on this guy in his head when MJ sends him a text the next afternoon while he’s in a Wakeheart meeting downtown, just a few blocks from her office.

ugh baby i’m so sorry i have to cancel our lunch date :/ jesse wants to keep working on this report we have due this afternoon and i’ll look like a dick if i leave.

Grayson huffs and feels the back of his neck flush with anger. Why is Jesse controlling whether or not she can take her lunch break? She has a habit of skipping it to begin with, which Grayson can’t stand and actively tries to make sure she doesn’t do, so his irritation with this dude is through the roof now. His mind can’t help but wander to the possibility that maybe Jesse is doing it on purpose; he knows for a fact all of her coworkers know about him, so who’s to say he’s not trying to keep her to himself today? Before he can type out a heated response, however, MJ double-texts.

i promise I’ll make it up to you tonight. whatever you want, on me. literally and figuratively ;)

She knows him too well, can probably sense his frustration a few streets away. Grayson sighs, but his mouth lifts in a little smile, because he loves her and he’s low-key looking forward to that promise now.

Alright. I’ll be thinking about that to get me through this meeting. Pls eat tho baby, it makes me worry when you don’t.

me too lol. and gonna order some kreation now, don’t worry. ily

She punctuates her message with a few heart emojis, and Grayson returns the sentiment before pocketing his phone once more. His mind is far from the financial projections he’s supposed to be paying attention to, but luckily this is much more Ethan’s territory in the business than his, anyways.

Friday, he and MJ are cuddling on the couch watching a movie when out of nowhere she gasps a little and sits up from where she’s leaning on him. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. You and E doing anything tomorrow?”

Grayson chuckles and shakes his head, amused by the suddenness of her question. He pushes a lock of her hair, damp from their shared shower, behind her ear. “Not that I know of, other than we might go to the skatepark.”

MJ grins. “Well, my boss is making us do our monthly team-building workshop at a climbing gym, if you want to tag along. I don’t think you’ll be able to join us during the middle of it, obviously, but afterwards it would give you the chance to meet some of the people I work with, if you want.”

He considers it. He hasn’t been climbing in a while, and he’s actually been itching to get back into it. Not to mention, it’ll give him a chance to keep an eye on Jesse while he’s around MJ in the skin-tight lycra she wears to work out in.

“Yeah, I’m down. I’ll ask E if he wants to come, too.”

The next day, the three of them roll up to the gym in Ethan’s Tesla. Grayson wastes no time in taking MJ’s hand in his as they walk through the parking lot, just in case a certain set of eyes are watching. MJ squeezes his fingers reassuringly; she’s not dumb, not impervious to the fact that when he kisses her goodbye once they step inside and before they go their separate ways that he had caught a glimpse of the man from the picture that put his guard up to begin with.

When he pulls back but makes no move to join Ethan on the other side of the gym, MJ shakes her head with a grin and cups his cheek softly.

“No need to stake your claim, Neanderthal,” she says.

He looks down at her with a pout that makes her heart and her panties melt. His wide hands plant themselves on her hips and tug her a little closer to him, anyways. “Am I being obvious?” he asks.

“Only to me,” she winks, rising on her toes to give him one more chaste kiss. “Now go with E, before Chanel gets here and I have to reverse the roles.”

Grayson laughs but does as he’s told, giving her waist a gentle squeeze before they part ways. MJ’s company had rented half of the gym, which was roped off for them. He chooses the open wall closest to the one they're using, eager to keep his girlfriend as nearby as possible for the couple of hours they would be separated.

As he sits on a bench and slips on his climbing shoes, Grayson can’t help but search out where Jesse is. He’s easy to spot, that’s for sure. Not only is he already next to MJ, chatting animatedly while she smiles and nods politely in return, but he stands out with his curly mop of hair, caramel-colored skin, and pale blue eyes. Maybe his attractiveness is part of the reason Grayson is somewhat intimidated by his obvious interest in MJ, but he’s also part of her everyday life, one he knows nothing about other than what she shares with him.

It’s never been something that bothers him, because it’s healthy to have a life outside of a relationship, but he’s always dated — hooked up, whatever you want to call it — in his industry. There was always a mutual understanding of what work and life in general entailed with those flings, and it’s taken Jesse for him to suddenly realize he doesn’t have the experience or the knowledge of how to handle his feelings with that not being the case with MJ. It makes him feel out of control, not good enough somehow.

Grayson Dolan does not like to be out of control and he most certainly does not like being below his own standards.

“Who’s that?”

Grayson is brought out of his daze by his brother’s voice and the hand he had clapped to his shoulder. If he were able to laugh at himself in this moment, he might have found Ethan’s question funny, since it was exactly what he’d said when he first saw Jesse, too. Ethan’s gaze is fixed on MJ and the man in question, who had placed his hand on her elbow as he talked only for MJ to duck down to ‘tie her shoe.’

“Jesse,” is all he says, standing up to buckle his chalk belt around his waist.

“Oh,” Ethan replies, nodding his head a little. “Do we like him?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Ethan becomes another set of eyes for Grayson while they climb, giving him nudges or a little whistle every time he catches Jesse standing a little too close to MJ, or finding a reason to touch her, or to ‘help’ her as she climbs up the wall. Grayson glowers over every time, trying his best but probably failing to not to come off as the jealous boyfriend. Every once in a while MJ will catch his eyes, giving him a quick wave or a thumbs-up with a pretty smile just for him. It makes his heart settle some, only for his chest to tighten again when Jesse starts cheering for her a little too loud.

The two hours pass by a little faster as he settles into the rhythm of climbing, trying to put her touchy coworker in the back of his mind. He trusts MJ with everything in him, but he knows how men can be — ignorant either by choice or by idiocy to a woman’s obvious signals of disinterest.

“Gray!”

He’s just reached the top of the wall when his girlfriend’s voice cuts clear through the loud chatter around them. He looks down and sees her on the mat, hair pulled back in a cute high ponytail, freckled cheeks flushed from the exertion of the day, as she waves him down with that same bright smile.

He grins, excited to have her to himself once again. “One sec!”

Once he’s made it back down the wall, he greets her with a kiss. She’s tied her jacket around her waist, leaving her top half covered only by a pretty green sports bra that happens to be both his favorite color and one that makes her eyes pop beautifully.

“I like this,” he says suggestively, hooking his finger in one of the straps and tugging gently.

MJ rolls her eyes and reaches up to adjust the center of the Wakeheart cap he’s got backwards over his hair. “Come on. You can meet the idiots I have to put up with every day.”

She leads him to the group, who are all standing around chatting, gulping down water, gathering keys and such as they prepare to leave. He gets introduced to them a couple at a time. Some of them he recognizes by name, such as Valentina and Jude (both of whom MJ actually likes and considers friends), MJ’s intern Alessia, and Chanel, of course, who bats her eyes so obnoxiously it’s almost comical.

And then there’s Jesse, who’s immediately sizing Grayson up with those striking eyes as soon as they approach him standing in the corner on his phone. Grayson doesn’t back down in the slightest, a smirk fixing itself on his lips when MJ leans into him and wraps her arm around his back. He drapes his own over her shoulders, pulling her that much closer to him.

“Hey Jess. This is the famous boyfriend I’ve told you all about,” she introduces, patting a hand on his hard stomach and smiling up at him for a moment.

Grayson lets go of MJ long enough to extend his hand. “Grayson.”

Jesse accepts and shakes his hand politely. “Jesse. MJ and I are teammates.”

“So I’ve heard,” he says, keeping a tight smile on his face as Jesse continues to square up to him, like Grayson has posed some kind of challenge.

Jesse nods, a grin of his own popping up as he gets the idea that MJ has maybe talked about him before. Grayson wants to roll his eyes, but he stays trying to be the bigger person here.

“So what do you do, Grayson?” Jesse asks.

Another hot flash overcomes him. He’s heard the question often enough to know there are two ways people ask it: innocently and genuinely; or knowingly and almost maliciously, like Jesse is now, waiting for him to say the ‘i’ word and berate him for it passive-aggressively.

MJ tightens her arm around him some, and it calms him down enough to answer with an even tone. “I do social media.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, though,” MJ steps in for him with a grin. “He and his brother have a whole production team under them. And they're CEO’s and part-owners of a fragrance company, Wakeheart. I think I’ve told you, whenever you compliment my perfume, that it’s Grayson’s, right?”

She’s incredible, really. Grayson smiles and shows off the diamonds in his teeth, which glint in the harsh artificial light. “Well, Jesse, if you like MJ’s perfume so much, I’d be glad to send you our whole collection. Maybe you’ll find one that’s right for you.”

He can see Jesse’s resolve start to waver, especially when MJ stands on her toes to kiss Grayson’s stubbled cheek. “Very generous, huh Jesse?”

Jesse clears his throat and digs his keys out of his pocket tellingly. “Ah, yeah. Thanks, man, good to meet you. See you Monday, MJ.”

He brushes past the couple without another glance, and he at least has the decency to blush a little from embarrassment. MJ turns and wraps her arms around Grayson’s middle, staring up at him with big green eyes that sparkle with amusement.

“Do you think he got the picture that I’m completely, totally, head over heels in love with you?” she asks, swaying slightly as he wraps his arms around her as well. “And that he has no chance in this universe whatsoever?”

“I don’t know, I feel like you could’ve laid it on a little thicker. Hyped me up a bit more,” Grayson jokes, dipping down to brush her lips with his. A blonde statue glares at the pair of them when he pulls back and glances over MJ’s head. “Chanel is staring daggers at us. Should we make out right here so she can see how I feel the same about you?”

MJ giggles and shakes her head. “Unfortunately, nothing will faze that bitch.” She nuzzles his nose with hers affectionately, the chaste display a perfect disguise for the dirty whispers that comes out of her mouth next. “Mm, my CEO boyfriend can take me home, though, and fuck me nice and hard in the shower.”

Grayson’s eyes turn a shade darker, and he bites his plump lower lip. He wants to slip his hands down to her ass, but he’s also very aware of how public they are right now. “If we even make it to the shower,” he murmurs.

MJ scrunches her nose and raises her brow in a look of mild disgust. “Gray, if you think I’m sucking your dick after it’s been in a cup for nearly three hours, without you taking a shower, you better think again. I don’t think even Chanel is down for that.”

Grayson lets out a belly laugh and releases her, taking her by the hand instead to go find Ethan. “Noted, baby. Noted.”

#no smut but #might post some tomorrow👀 #thank u again bb for sending this in it means a lot❤️ #dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson mj #grayson mj blurb #blurb #g blurb

[apparitionism]

Monday

I wrote the following brief scenes a while ago as part of a potential story that refused to coalesce. It may yet, someday, but for now this is merely a scrap of unfruited AU narrative; I’m posting only to prove to myself that I’m not completely incapable of doing writing-related things, even if it’s just tidying up generic, trope-y bits of dialogue. I intended Christina, about age seven, to be an important story lever in this, with this Myka and this single-mom Helena as coworkers of some sort (I was thinking insurance, possibly, because risk management has been on my mind). Such fuzziness was part of why the story as such never took off... in any event, it doesn’t matter. Here is what does matter: if you are a U.S. citizen who is able to vote, do it; choose Biden/Harris and every down-ballot Democrat. This HAS TO BE a landslide repudiation of that horrific, corrupt individual and the party that enables him.

Monday

Turning points arrive in their own time.

Myka and Helena were eating lunch together. That in itself was of course not unusual, for they were colleagues and friends. And as colleague-friends, they tended to eat lunch together.

“You seem upset,” Myka noted. Helena was picking at a salad, but differently than she usually picked at her salads. Usually she picked because she was picky and would eat only the most pleasing elements; today she was merely moving salad components from one region of the plate to another.

“I’m not upset.”

“But you seem upset.”

“Well... I have to break an engagement. It’s impolite.”

Being forced into incivility was indeed the kind of thing that would drive Helena to stab, lift, and re-place arugula. “Why do you have to break an engagement?”

“You know Mrs. Carter, the neighbor who usually sits with Christina. She was called out of town. An ill relative. This morning—but I had plans tonight.”

“Could your plans happen at your house instead? Without sitting?”

Helena wrinkled her brow. “It’s a first date. Far too soon to bring a new person into Christina’s life like that.”

A first date. The words punched Myka hard, leaving a queasy burning in their wake. Her analytical side leapt to make sense of this extreme response: It’s the first time you’ve heard Helena say anything about such a thing, so it surprised you. You’ve never liked surprises; ergo, you’re just reacting poorly to being surprised. Because of course Helena would go on a first date, because of course she would want to find someone, someone to be with, and Myka didn’t know why that hadn’t occurred to her before, but she and Helena hadn’t really talked much about relationships, so maybe Helena went on a lot of first and other dates that she hadn’t bothered mentioning to Myka, and maybe that meant their friendship wasn’t as close as Myka had thought, because maybe they really were more colleagues than friends, and... Okay, just stop. Whatever this is, stop. She breathed her way through the aftermath of the punch and said, “I’ll do it, then. Babysit.”

“You will?”

“You were planning to go out. You should go out.”

“You haven’t asked me with whom.”

“That’s probably not my business,” Myka said, because it wasn’t, despite her unexpected, inappropriate impulse to claim it as entirely her business. Just stop.

“Claudia’s new manager in platform development. Claudia described her to me as, and I quote, ‘absolute fire.’ Which I presume is good.”

“So you asked her out.”

“No, she asked me. And I said yes, because... well, is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

Was that intended as bait? But it couldn’t have been. Logicking it out again: Myka had never felt such a weird surge (no, a twitch, it was only a twitch) of possessiveness before; thus Helena couldn’t have identified it so quickly, and with such precision, that she would immediately challenge Myka on the point. Could she? “Of course not,” Myka said. “What time do you want me to show up?”

*

That evening, Myka kept her still-reeling gut at bay by concentrating on Christina, who was delighted to have Myka all to herself. “You and Mom talk about boring things,” she pronounced as soon as her mother left. “Tonight you don’t have to do that!”

No... all Myka had to do was imagine what sorts of non-boring things Helena was talking about with her date who was absolute fire. But she managed not to do too much of that imagining, at least while Christina was awake, while they were building with Legos and renaming her plastic and puffy animals and manipulating slime. This latter was a fad that had, according to Christina, faded some time ago, but she found the texture soothing; she asked Myka, very seriously—as if Myka’s verdict would be the final word on the subject—whether that meant it was okay not to give it up. Myka said that in her experience, truly calming things were few and far between, so she thought it was more than okay. Christina enjoyed the phrase “few and far between.”

Myka was tempted to let Christina stay up late, late and later, but she supposed it wasn’t fair to deprive a child of sleep just to rescue herself from herself.

She fell asleep on the sofa, and that was a blessing; she didn’t have to hear Absolute Fire’s car, didn’t have to think about anything that might be happening in that car. She awoke just as Helena was stepping inside and taking off her coat. Helena turned around and smiled, and Myka struggled to sit up and look alert, saying a sleep-hoarse “sorry” as she did.

“What for? Being asleep at ten at night? That seems reasonable. Ideally I’d have been asleep by now, if I’d been home.”

“It’s only ten?”

“Dinner was short. The fire may be absolute as far as Claudia is concerned, but there were no sparks that I could see. Or feel.”

Thank god, Myka thought, too fervently. Then, Just stop. Aloud, she tried for indifference: “Maybe Claudia should go out with her instead.”

“Maybe she should. Did my own small bit of fire behave herself?”

“She was great. I’m never going to fully appreciate the appeal of slime... but I can report that bath, story, and bed were peaceful. No conflagration.” This news would make Helena happy: meltdowns at bedtime were common. Christina was often fearful of some unspecified something that would happen overnight, and she was never clear on whether it would be a good something or a bad something, just something, of which she would be unaware.

Helena did, in fact, smile her relieved “Christina is fine for tonight” smile. “Did she wear you out completely? Or might you stay for a glass of wine?”

“Weird way for you to end your date. A drink with the babysitter?” Trying to sound normal. Like the friend she was.

“Better than the date. No, that’s too callous. It was fine. But it wasn’t anything.”

Myka had the drink. Just the one, slowly, as they sat and talked about what Christina would have deemed “boring things”... but Helena had two. And a half. She was eyeing the bottle like she might be inclined to head for it again, so Myka said, “I really should go.”

Helena said, “Should you?” Myka wanted (wanted so much) to make of that what she was pretending she didn’t want to make of it, but she determined instead to make nothing of it. No one should make anything of what anyone said when they’d had a couple of drinks at the end of a long week. And at the end of a failed date, she reminded herself, then cringed at the pleasure she took in knowing that it had failed. Whatever this is, stop.

Standing by the front door, Helena gave her a vaguely unsteady half-hug, a clasp of her left arm around Myka’s shoulders. Myka didn’t want to not reciprocate—trying now to act normal, like the friend she was—so she let herself move her own left arm fully around Helena’s waist, allowed herself to rest her hand for just the press of a second on Helena’s hip.

For that press of a second, Myka leaned close and inhaled against the sharp sweet angle of Helena’s cheekbone. For that press of a second, a slide to a kiss was a warm looming certainty; then the second passed, and it was a receding dream. Myka released Helena’s body and said, “I’ll see you Monday.”

*

NOTE: I’d say “TBC,” but since I don’t know whether this will ever function as part of a larger piece, I’ll leave it as a little misfit story-island. You know B&W will find their way to each other; they’re just not quite connecting, in that “this friendship means everything to me and I can’t stand the idea of blowing it” way, on both sides. Anyway I’m not sure who these characters really are, other than coworkers and friends (who clearly need to be something more); plus there’s a gaping hole where a plot should be. Why are these people here? What are they doing? Should any reader care? I have no idea. Again, here is what matters: vote vote vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris and Democratic Senate, House, and local candidates.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Monday #AU week #I wish narrative made sense to me right now #but my wife has progressed to walking with a cane #and if you had told me that would be the best news of 2020 by a mile... #well really who is surprised by 2020 anymore?

[syrinxsilenus]

You’re Mine

Summary: Ryoma and Sakuno are dating for three years. Everything seems going well and they're going strong until a transfer student from America suddenly appeared and shake their relationship foundation. "So you drunkenly set me up with some girl when I was four? How can you be so crazy oyaji!"

You're Mine

Written by: SyrinxSilenus

Chapter 1: Ryoma has a fiancee?

Sakuno couldn't believe that it had been three years since she and Ryoma had started dating. Sometimes she couldn't help but still questioned herself if everything that had happened was real or she had been trapped in a very realistic dream for so long.

Who would even think that Ryuzaki Sakuno, a plain, clumsy, and directionally challenged girl would have the Prince of Tennis, Echizen Ryoma's interest?

Four years ago…

She couldn't understand the significance of Ryoma giving her his red tennis racket before he left for America in their first year in middle school.

Sakuno had been confused because she knew the racket was precious to Ryoma and that he didn't just let anyone touch it. At the same time, she felt exhilarated, like wild butterflies were fluttering inside her belly.

Sending Ryoma off to America for the second time hadn't lessened the ache in her heart, but Sakuno knew that the world needed to discover Ryoma's tennis. She believed with all her heart that he would be number one.

Sakuno was still depressed even a week after Ryoma's departure. Not seeing him in the court felt as if a big part of her had been ripped off. So imagine her surprise when she had suddenly received a letter from Ryoma containing his current address in America.

Overwhelmed with happiness, Sakuno had squealed and jumped in delight and muttered about things that she wanted to write to him in a daze.

She had sent him letters every week since then. Informing him of everything that happened to the senpais and her life. To her surprise, Ryoma actually wrote back whenever he could. Although his letters were short and direct to the point, Sakuno didn't care at all. She was just happy that he had bothered to reply.

Exchanging letters with him made her feel like he hadn't really left and that they finally had some sort of connection. A year passed by so quickly and she was finally entering her final year in middle school. That was when he returned.

One morning, when she was hurrying out of the house to go to school, she almost had a heart attack when she saw him leaning casually beside their door with his hands tucked inside his pockets. A tennis bag on his shoulder and his signature fila hat on his head.

Sakuno had gaped at him like he had grown three heads before he finally looked at her.

"Yo, Ryuzaki," he had greeted her as if he hadn't been gone for more than a year.

She didn't know what possessed her, but the next thing she knew, she was already wrapping her arms around his neck as she cried happy tears. She hadn't imagined that from then on, the two of them would be inseparable.

She couldn't remember how it started, but they slowly transitioned from mere acquaintance to close friends.

She, a dense idiot like no other, hadn't thought much of it until one of their schoolmates tried to ask her out on a date and Ryoma had launched a deadly twist serve towards the boy's face.

He spat out a spew of angry words that she couldn't remember aside from: "She's mine. Don't touch her."

Utterly flabbergasted, Sakuno just stood there, mouth wide open like a fish out of the water until Ryoma grabbed her hand and dragged her to the rooftop.

When she came to, Ryoma had already trapped her with her back on the wall, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned his forehead on hers, demanding her to go out with him.

Still reeling from everything that happened, all Sakuno could do was to nod frantically with her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

She squeaked a high-pitched, "Yes!" and Ryoma smirked in satisfaction.

It took her the whole day before everything sank through her and she ran inside her grandmother's room to scream, "Ryoma-kun asked me to go out with him! And I said, yes! Hoeeee!"

Sumire laughed at her, saying, "Took you long enough to realize that? You're staring at Ryoma in a daze since the tennis practice started and he even walked you home, holding hands."

Sakuno let out another squeak, sounding like a dying rat as her face shifted to different shades of red. That night she hadn't had much sleep as Ryoma invaded her thoughts until morning came.

That confession happened three years ago.

Now, here she was, staring at the blackboard as their homeroom teacher blabbered about a transfer student from America.

Sakuno blinked as Tomoka kicked her desk lightly, pulling her out of the memory lane.

"Psst, Sakuno, Nami said that she saw a blonde girl in the registration office earlier and that she's so pretty like a supermodel. Looks like she's our new classmate," Tomoka whispered beside her.

Blinking twice in confusion, Sakuno tilted her head to the side, "We have a transfer student?"

Tomoka looked at her in disbelief just as someone started chuckling behind her.

Sakuno blushed in embarrassment and Tomoka rolled her eyes while the person behind her lightly tugged one of her braids.

"Neh, off to dreamland again?" She could practically hear his smirk.

She ducked her head to hide her flustered expression. "Mou, stop teasing me, Ryoma-kun."

"Heh, whatever do you mean, Sakuno?" Ryoma replied, amusement was clear in his voice while he continued to twirl her braid in his hand.

She wondered what kind of obsession Ryoma had with her hair when he told her a long time ago that it was too long. Also, he loved to bury his nose on the crook of her neck or the top of her head. He was so weird sometimes.

She heard Tomoka giggling beside her and she pouted.

"Yu-san, please come in and introduce yourself."

Their attention was brought back to the front as a beautiful girl entered their class. Her straight blond hair danced gracefully as she walked with model-like strides. The beauty smiled charmingly, earning murmurs from the class

'So pretty…' Sakuno thought as she observed the new transfer student.

The girl had a pair of beautiful forest green eyes, a cute pointed nose, and red lips – obviously painted with lipstick. Her eyelashes weren't as long as Sakuno's, but they were long enough to enhance her big eyes. Her eyeliner was thick and obvious, but they made the green in her eyes even more prominent. Her school uniform looked so fitting that her beautiful curves were shown so clearly along with her perfectly shaped legs.

Sakuno squashed the sudden urge to check her own legs.

'Tomo-chan said mine are to die for, but she's probably just trying to cheer me up. Mou…'

Sakuno liked to observe beautiful girls in general, not because she was envious, but it was because of Tomoka's habit of pointing out their looks. Though in Sakuno's part, she focused more on the beauty they tried to conceal or seemed unnoticed by others.

She had always been down to earth, always looking for the best in people. That was why Tomoka always scolded her for her naivety, but she couldn't just change her views in one night. So it was a shock to her when she suddenly felt a twinge of envy towards the transfer student.

"Oh my god, Sakuno! She's staring at Ryoma-sama!"

Especially when Tomoka hissed that beside her.

Ryoma continued to twirl Sakuno's braids as their homeroom teacher rambled on and on. His girlfriend's attention was back to the front but his mind was elsewhere. He just wanted for lunch break to come faster so that he could spend a private moment with Sakuno.

He was getting bored again and sleep was starting to draw him in. He yawned as he rested his cheek on his desk, putting one of Sakuno's braids on his nose like a mustache for him to smell.

'Strawberry.' He really liked Sakuno's shampoo, although it lacked another one of her natural scent – vanilla – it still didn't fail to lull him to sleep all the time.

'Is homeroom not over yet?' A yawn escaped his lips for the second time.

'It's so quiet here...wait, quiet? Since when did my classmates learn to shut up?'

Suddenly awake, he slowly lifted his head to check his surroundings only to find all of his classmates staring at him.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow as they started murmuring while flickering their gazes from him and to the blackboard.

Utterly irritated, he followed their gazes only to blink in confusion as an unfamiliar girl stared back at him with so much intensity Ryoma was tempted to glare back at her.

"Psst, Echizen, do you know this chick?" Horio whispered beside him.

"No," Ryoma smoothly replied with his forehead creasing.

"She's looking so intensely at you, as if she's stripping you off your clothes," Horio added, snickering.

Ryoma glared. "Shut up."

"Umm, Yu-san. You have to introduce yourself," Ms. Kanagawa reluctantly stated, shifting her eyes nervously between her and Ryoma.

The girl eyed their homeroom teacher for a second before she returned her gaze back at him, fluttering her eyelashes.

Ryoma cringed internally. He hated girls like that.

"I'm Yu Reina, 17 years old. I'm a Japanese-American and we just moved here from Los Angeles yesterday. Please take care of me," the girl introduced herself, bowing politely.

'Yu Reina? Why did that sound familiar?' Ryoma thought as he scratched his head. The girl was still staring at him which unnerved him so he laid back his head on the desk and put Sakuno's braid on his closed eyes.

"Why did you move to Japan?" Ryoma heard one of his male classmates asked.

"I returned here to claim my fiancé since it's due time we meet each other again."

Gasps echoed around the room, but Ryoma was back to being sleepy.

'Sakuno's hair really smells so good.'

"Is your fiancé here in our class?"

'What bento did Sakuno cook for us today?'

"Of course."

Ryoma could vaguely hear the murmurings intensifying around him, but he was so close to succumbing to unconsciousness that he just ignored them.

"WHO IS HE!" Horio's annoying voice jolted him out of his drowsiness and Ryoma raised his head to glare at his loud teammate.

He lifted his foot to kick Horio's desk when someone suddenly stood in front of him, blocking his view of Horio.

Annoyed, Ryoma glared at the person who interrupted his little revenge when the smiling face of the transfer student greeted him.

Ryoma glared at her. "Oi, move out of the way," he demanded but the girl appeared not to hear him as she just continued to smile at him.

The classroom turned eerily quiet. Ryoma shifted his gaze to his girlfriend only to find her staring at the transferee in disbelief.

"Ryo-kun, it's been a long time," the unknown girl said.

Ryoma narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

The girl giggled. "Don't be like that. We spent a lot of time together when we were little, you can't possibly have forgotten about me."

His annoyance increased. "No. I seriously don't know you. Now move out of the way," he demanded.

"Ryoma-kun…" he heard Sakuno murmur. There was something in her voice, something that he didn't like and made him feel alarmed.

"Sakuno?" He asked and was about to touch her shoulder when Sakuno's loud-mouthed best friend suddenly stood up.

"Are you saying that Ryoma-sama is your fiancé!? Don't kid us! Ryoma-sama is already dating someone!" Osakada screamed, looking red in anger.

His eyes grew three sizes larger and he immediately backed away from the girl as if she was carrying a deadly contagious disease.

The transferee frowned. "That can't be right Ryo-kun. Our engagement has long been arranged. You can't have any other girl but me," she said, staring at him in accusation.

He didn't like the way she was looking at him. No, it's not just that. He simply didn't like her ever since he saw her earlier.

"Shut up. I don't know you nor am I engaged to anyone yet," Ryoma stated firmly, eyeing Sakuno who was staring down at her lap.

"But Ryo-kun, I'm not lying! We were always together when we were kids–"

"Tennis," he interjected, making the girl stop in her sentence.

"Tennis is what I have done since I was a kid. I didn't have time to play around with toddlers so quit your nonsense."

"No! I'm your fiancé! Ask your parents! They know about it," the girl insisted.

Ryoma was about to spat something nasty when their homeroom teacher cleared her throat.

"Yu-chan, Echizen-kun. You should talk about personal matters after school. We should all calm down and sit now."

The transfer student stared at him in frustration before she huffed and crossed her arms.

"We're not done yet," she declared before she marched towards the empty seat in front.

Ms. Kanagawa cleared her throat again. "I'll be checking your attendance now," she said as she started calling out names.

Ryoma barely paid attention to her. He was focused on his girlfriend who was facing the front, neither looking nor saying anything to him.

Somehow, Ryoma was engulfed with a sudden feeling of fear. He didn't do anything wrong, but with what happened, he was worried that Sakuno would…

He suddenly stood up. "Sakuno's not feeling well, Ms. Kanagawa. Let me bring her to the clinic."

Sakuno jolted. "W-What?" she blurted out, blinking at him in confusion.

Ms. Kanagawa gazed at Sakuno worriedly. "You look pale, Ryuzaki-chan. Very well Echizen-kun, make sure she doesn't collapse on your way there," she said as she pushed her eyeglasses up her nose.

Ryoma inclined his head before he gripped Sakuno's hand and stared hard at her, demanding her to just go with the flow.

His girlfriend sighed as she stood up and let him guide her out of the class. He could feel everyone's eyes staring at their backs, but Ryoma couldn't care less.

Sakuno was quiet as they walked, even when he guided her to the opposite direction of the clinic and led her to the rooftop instead. Ryoma squeezed her hand as he felt his heart start to beat faster.

'Is she mad?'

He and Sakuno rarely argued since they started dating. She was always so understanding that sometimes, he was the one who felt guilty whenever he did something wrong.

The only time she got mad at him was when he stubbornly insisted to attend tennis practice even though he had a fever. It was the first time Sakuno yelled at him. Ryoma hadn't felt that kind of fear since his mother caught him skipping classes with Momo and Kikumaru-senpai once.

Since then, he was cautious of making Sakuno mad, but she was too kind that she would just stay quiet and let him scold her whenever they had a disagreement.

Now though, this was a different matter. Ryoma knew that Sakuno had low self-esteem and was extremely selfless, so he was afraid that she would...break up with him just because some girl claimed to be his childhood sweetheart. He was afraid that Sakuno wouldn't fight for him and just surrender to the other girl.

He shut the door of the rooftop as they arrived and faced his still quiet girlfriend who was looking down on her feet.

"Sakuno…" He didn't know what to say.

He was getting frustrated when his phone rang and he answered it without looking at the caller's ID.

"What?" he spat out.

"Oooh, you don't sound so happy seishounen." His perverted father's singsong voice greeted him, making

his irritation skyrocketed.

He eyed Sakuno, not letting go of her hand as he answered his father. "Oyaji, what do you want? I'm busy–"

"This is about Yu Reina, you brat! She might go to your school to–"

"Too late, she's here. She invaded my class and caused me a lot of trouble. What is she spouting about, some stupid engagement?" He noticed Sakuno looked up at him. Their eyes met.

He squeezed her hand one more time before he shifted the phone to loudspeaker.

"Ah… that. It happened when you were still four. Mr. Yu and I are buddies, y'know. So we joked around about marrying you and Reina-chan together since she was always following you around, and ah...we were kinda drunk and things just happened..."

"And?" Ryoma prompted, his temper rising by a minute.

"So...we signed a written agreement..."

Ryoma heard his father's nervous laugh on the other line and his grip on the phone tightened.

"So you drunkenly set me up with some girl when I was four!? How can you be so crazy oyaji—Oi, Sakuno! D-Don't cry." He frantically let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, rubbing her back as tears started rolling down her cheeks.

"Oops, so Sakuno-chan's there. Hehe, sorry seishounen. I think there's a misunderstanding about this agreement so you should bring Sakuno-chan here and we can discuss this properly later. For now, you should...comfort your girlfriend or you'll end up being sing–"

Ryoma dropped the call and returned his phone to his pocket as he lifted Sakuno's face up to meet his eyes. Her nose was turning red now; he hated it when she cried.

"Sakuno, I–"

"A-Are you g-going to b-b-break up–" He didn't let her finish her stupid question as he abruptly claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

Sakuno clutched on his uniform as he gripped her hips tightly, backing her up to the wall.

"R-Ryoma," she murmured against his lips as he heatedly kissed her, making her whimper. Reluctantly, he moved away from her to gaze deeply into her brown eyes.

"Don't start spouting nonsense. We're not breaking up. You hear me?" Ryoma firmly stated, eyes never wavering from Sakuno's.

"B-But what about y-your engagement? Nanjiroh-san said that they signed an agreement and–"

Ryoma shushed her frantic mumblings with another kiss that ended in three seconds. Kissing her was the best way to shut her up whenever she started to babble.

"Don't worry about unimportant things. I'll have my idiot father fix his own stupidity. There's something wrong with that agreement. If you're going to insist about that stupid engagement, I'm hauling you to Hong Kong to get married," he seriously said, causing Sakuno's cheeks to redden.

"Mou, Ryoma-kun, stop joking about something like this, I–"

"I'm not joking," he scowled at her, feeling insulted, "I will definitely marry you if they force me to be with that girl, and not even Ryuzaki-sensei can stop me."

Sakuno blinked at him in surprise as her grip tightened on his shirt. "Y-You won't leave me f-for her?"

Ryoma leaned his forehead against her, looking straight at her brown eyes. "Never."

A single tear rolled down her cheeks and he wiped it with his thumb as he slowly descended to kiss her again. Gentler this time. The familiar fluttering in his stomach returned full force as Sakuno's soft lips brought him to a sea of explicable sensations that made his instinct take over his body.

'Like hell we're breaking up!' Ryoma was a selfish person. He was aware of that all this time. If he wanted something, he would have it. Ryuzaki Sakuno was no exception. 'She's mine!'

His hand expertly unbraided her hair, letting it cascade like a waterfall on her back as he weaved his fingers through her silky strands.

His mind shut down as the smell of vanilla and strawberry invaded his senses, making him forget about their problem, where they were, or his own name.

He softly nipped on her lower lip before slowly releasing them, panting slightly while his fingers ran down her side. He felt her shudder from his touch as her grip tightened around his neck, but her fingers on his hair were gentle, lightly combing through his dark tresses.

"W-What are we going to do n-now?" Sakuno muttered, looking straight into his eyes with a worried frown on her cute face.

The redness on her cheeks looked darker than before and her eyes looked a bit glassy. She was definitely quite frazzled. It was a wonder she still managed to ask him a question.

Ryoma rested his forehead on her as he let out a deep sigh. "We need to talk with my father first."

His girlfriend nodded slowly. "I-I don't want to get back to class," she murmured.

He grinned and chuckled a little in response.

"What?" She asked with a pout.

"This is the first time I hear you suggest we skip class," he said between chuckles.

Sakuno hit him lightly on the chest. "It's not funny! It's just...just–"

Ryoma buried his face in the hollow between her neck and shoulder whispering, "Okay" under his breath.

He sat down and leaned his back on the wall with Sakuno sitting on his lap, resting her head on his chest as he placed his cheek on top of her head.

The wind blew softly, rustling their clothes and Sakuno's hair as the smell of vanilla and strawberry wafted through the air, lulling Ryoma to sleep as his arms tightened around her petite body.

That was where they spent their time until lunch arrived.

To Be Continued...

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13871251/1/You-re-Mine

#tenipuri #prince of tennis #ryosaku

[avmisworld]

Jungkook as your boyfriend:

●     Y'all know Jungkook is MAJOR bf material

●     The cutest bean uwu

●     At the start of your relationship he was probably a bit awkward

●     The poor guy is so inexperienced he forgot what it's like talking to a girl who isn't doing his makeup lol

●     Is scared to do something you won't like so he's always really careful with his words and actions

●     Eventually he'll ease into it and become the shameless loving crackhead you know today

●     But sometimes he'll still get a little shy

●     Whenever he says something too cheesy or makes a cute mistake or you compliment him

●     Always has the cutest bunny smile during these moments

●     Always puts your needs before his own

●     If you're a foreigner, he'll spend hours learning your native language

●     Even though you know Korean and you have no problem communicating uwu

●     Makes sure you're eating well and sleeping enough

●     Even when he's on diets and sleeps two hours a day max :(

●     Always insists to help you even if you don't need it

●     "Y/N, let me help you"

●     "Babe, I'm combing my hair..?"

●     Is always ready to tell you how amazing and beautiful you are whenever you get insecure about your body and talents :'(

●     Is legitimately confused why you would ever be insecure in the first place

●     When he is insecure tho

●     You just tell him the harsh truth

●     That he's the world's cutest, most talented and golden bunny, and he's precious to ARMY and to his members uwu

●     Tells you he loves you at least a hundred times a day just to see you blush and avoid his eyes cutely

●     His favorite thing is making you laugh

●     Loves it when you make him laugh as well

●     He's an hilarious person so he doesn't have to try much to succeed

●     Loves to make funny faces at you during one of your fake-serious banters

●     You two have a shit ton of private jokes (wtf is funny about a plastic cup????)

●     You live on sending each other memes and stupid videos of people falling down stairs lmfao

●     You two are severe crackheads oof

●     It's very likely to find the two of you awake at 3 am having a dance party or karaoke after too much wine

●     Constantly having tickle fights, wrestling matches, pillow fights, what not

●     Do not forget that JK is a savage little shit

●     And that doesn't change because you are his girlfriend *sigh*

●     Teases you about everything and anything

●     Places things high up on purpose just so he can show up later with his chest puffed out and take it down for you with a smirk

●     "Did I hear a damsel in distress?"

●     But makes sure not to take it too far uwu

●     This kid is competitive af omg

●     A relationship with him means turning everything into some race or bet

●     "I bet I can finish this hot dog faster than you"

●     "Whoever brushes their teeth faster gets to shower first!"

●     You see this a lot when the two of you game as well

●     There is no way you can date Jeon Jungkook without playing Overwatch at least once lol

●     Video game tournaments

●     He wins most of the time but if he'll ever lose it's because he let you smh

●     Is competitive also when it comes to other people

●     Always has to prove to you that he's the best and that you made the right choice dating him

●     Like you would ever doubt that pffft

●     Whenever someone impresses you Jungkook would just jump out and be like

●     "That's pretty cool, but did you see the new move I learned?" *breaks neck*

●     Going to a fun fair would just be you going back home with a truckload of plushies from Jungkook winning in all the booths kfkfkd

●     Dates with him are so cute and fun

●     He loves taking you out sm

●     It doesn't matter if it's movie night, ramen dates, dinner dates, lunch dates, beach dates, amusement park dates, coffee dates, workout dates, study dates, ice-skating dates

●     Jungkook's inner child always comes out with you

●     Probably because he never really got the time to be a real child :(

●     You're the only person aside from his members and family who gets to see the real him

●     He's so whipped for you

●     Literal heart eyes

●     Can't stop staring at you with twinkling eyes and a wide bunny smile

●     When you catch him he'll look away and blush but he'll feel satisfied when he sees you blush as well uwu

●     He finds everything you do adorable and can't help but send you bashful laughs and affectionate gazes

●     even if he won't admit it kkk

●     Compliments you all the time

●     Compliments about your looks, your outfits, your smallest, most insignificant achievements uwu

●     Always notices the small things about you that no one else does

●     "Wow, Y/N, these new earrings look so good on you, babe"

●     Basically Jungkook loves to spoil you hehe

●     Buys you presents all the damn time

●     You don't encourage him to do so because you hate feeling like he's your sugar daddy or smth and you aren't with him from his money

●     But he just can't help it when he sees something he knows you'll like

●     Spends more time shopping for you than for himself

●     But it's all worth the gleam of excitement in your eyes when you see his presents

●     Even if you playfully slap him and pout

●     "I told you to stop wasting money on me!"

●     Also makes you his own personal presents uwu

●     Usually gives you them before he goes on tour to cheer you up

●     Anything from portraits of you he drew secretly, to paintings of beautiful landscapes, to songs he wrote for you, to a collage of pictures you took of you

●     Jungkook loves taking pictures and videos of you

●     Takes snaps of you secretly cause he knows you're shy uwu

●     His camera roll and gallery is entirely filled with pictures of you sleeping, eating, laughing, smiling, staring, talking, etc…

●     Plus cute selfies and candid shots of the two of you with huge grins and arms wrapped around each other

●     And memey selfies of the two of you that you would literally bury yourself if anyone would find lol

●     Also has little, random videos of you just scrolling on your phone or something

●     "Y/N, look at mee~~"

●     It's really hard when Jungkook leaves for tour for both of you

●     Late night video calls almost every day

●     Even when Kook is after a concert, with his eyelids sticking to each other like glue π-π

●     Calls you half asleep and the two of you just talk about meaningless stuff until one of you falls asleep uwu

●     Sends you snaps all day of him and the guys and everything they're doing

●     Does it so you'll see he's having fun and staying healthy

●     Wants you to do the same so you send him selfies of you and your boring university lifestyle

●     He insists that he finds it interesting and that he wants to see your face

●     "I can't be deprived of touching you and seeing you! It's too much."

●     Doesn't answer texts ever so you mostly communicate through phone/video calls and snaps/memes

●     When he comes back from tour you wait for him at the airport

●     His face lights up when he sees you and he smiles so wide π-π

●     No matter how exhausted he is he runs to you like a lighting bolt

●     Hugs you tightly and twirls you around while the other members watch fondly

●     One of the few times he'll agree to so much PDA

●     Usually he doesn't really like being too touchy in public

●     But he always holds your hand just to make sure you're next to him, safe and sound uwu

●     Brings you so much souvenirs from his trip abroad to make you feel like you were there with him

●     Snow globes, magnets, clothes, key chains, plushies…

●     All of it to remind you he thought about you every single day he was away

●     When you're together you're so domestic

●     If it's making food together, Jungkook teaching you BTS' newest choreo, working out, or even cleaning the house together

●     Nothing's boring with Jungkook

●     He's a whole different person when you're alone

●     Calls you sweet nicknames like "baby", "babe", "jagi", "princess" and "angel"

●     He's singing all day so it feels like your constantly stuck in "The Greatest Showman"

●     But you can't really complain cause Gukkie's sweet honey voice is your favourite thing to hear

●     Sometimes he'll talk to you in songs only to piss you off

●     But most of the time he'll sing to you when you can't sleep or when you feel sad or sick

●     He'll comb his hands through your hair gently while he sings to you softly *heart-attack*

●     Picks you up all the time

●     It might be because he loves to prove that he's strong enough to protect you and cherish you

●     But also because he loves hearing your shrieks of surprise and soft laughter

●     Piggybacks on the street, carrying you bridal style around the house, lifting you up like a baby in his arms when you playfully fight and twirling you around

●     Just all the time really

●     "Okay, okay, I'm sorry~~ Please let me down"

●     Because you live together when he's in Korea you're always stealing his clothes

●     He pretends to not like it and demands you to give it back to him

●     But if you're ever cold or in the need of some clothing he'll be the first to throw you his wardrobe

●     His slightly possessive nature feeds off seeing you all small and soft in his clothes

●     It probably turns him on tbh

●     Because of this he has a big thing for couple items as well

●     Whether it's outfits, phone cases, lockscreens, accessories, and eventually jewelry (like promise rings uwu)

●     Brags about you to the members 24/7

●     "Look at this picture I took of Y/N when she wasn't looking! Isn't she the prettiest?"

●     "Hyung, did you hear that Y/N was voted for best student in her class? Wah, I was really so impressed! She's a genius."

●     The members high-key tease him for it and say it's annoying

●     But they secretly think it's adorable how happy you make him and adore you so much for it fr

●     You getting along with the rest of the members so well makes Jungkook really happy

●     Even though he might get too protective sometimes

●     Gets jealous often and is horrible at hiding it despite not saying it directly smh

●     Watches from afar when you laugh at something Taehyung says, pinching his cheek lightly

●     His eyebrows are furrowed and he's tonguing his cheek like he always does when he's jealous

●     Eventually he has enough and comes over to you

●     Pecks your cheek or pulls you to sit in his lap and tells everyone about the date you have planned for tomorrow

●     "So, me and Y/N are planning to go to a picnic tomorrow at Han river…"

●     And you're trying so hard not to smile cause he's just being so obvious and you find it cute

●     A few time his jealousy leads to fights tho

●     Fighting with Jungkook in general is a rare occurrence

●     But when you do fight it can get pretty bad

●     Rather than shouting or losing his temper, Jungkook tends to shut himself off when the fight is serious

●     He stays quiet and talks only when it's necessary

●     "Whatever" "Do what you want"

●     It's mostly because he's afraid to say something he'll regret later

●     He'll probably leave the apartment and go to the gym/studio/dorm room to calm down and clear his head

●     Because both of you have big egos, it might take a few days to make up

●     If Jungkook's at fault, he will eventually swallow his pride and apologize to you

●     If it were the other way around tho

●     You're not going to hear a word from him until you admit you were at fault

●     No matter how much it'll hurt him to be away from you

●     Even after the fight is over it might take a little time for things to go back to how they were

●     Because Jungkook's pride and insecurities might get in the way of him approaching you

●     But with enough patience you'll be back to being the inseparable couple you were before

●     In case you think I forgot

●     Skinship is a must in your relationship

●     Jungkook loves to cuddle with you

●     He's always the big spoon, with his hands underneath your (his) shirt, just gently caressing the skin of your stomach and hips

●     Or with you laying on top of his chest, legs tangled together

●     A lot of times cuddling leads to heated make out sessions and even more

●     When he's troubled or exhausted he likes to nuzzle his head in the junction between your shoulder and neck and just breathe you in

●     Tight hugs when you see each other after a while with his hands pressing your face to his chest protectively

●     Back hugs are a must obviously

●     Creeps up behind you when you're working and scares the frick out of you when he wraps his arms around your waist

●     Loves forehead kisses because it's another opportunity to boast about how tall he is smh

●     Also cheek kisses, nose kisses, ear kisses, neck kisses, knuckle kisses and lip kisses ofc lol

●     Kisses you out of the blue and then pretends like nothing happened

●     "Sorry, I couldn't help it"

●     Lots of sweet, soft, loving kisses uwu

●     Has a thing for nibbling/biting you (mostly your earlobe/bottom lip/fingers)

●     Loves giving hickeys oml

●     It fits his possessive nature perfectly

●     The more people know you belong to him, the better

●     Loves when you sit in his lap skdjd

●     He wraps his arms around your stomach and pulls you closer so he can place his chin on your shoulder, occasionally leaving butterfly kisses all over your neck and shoulders

●     Also into cuter things like poking your cheeks when you do something cute, ruffling your hair, tickling you and pinching your cheeks and bopping your nose.

●     When it comes to bed, Jungkook is definitely a dom

●     Just like he is on stage kdkck

●     Puts your pleasure before his own and makes sure you're a 10474859% with whatever he's doing beforehand

●     Sex after a fight or after he gets jealous and needs to remind himself you're only his

●     Dirty talk ahhhh

●     He can also be soft tho

●     Like when he's making love to you omg my hearteu

●     Whispering praises and sweet words in your ear

●     Staring into your eyes with his dark, intense ones

●     Moans alot and likes it when you do too

●     Occasionally he lets you have the upper hand

●     Doesn't spend too much time on aftercare because he wants to go back to holding you as quickly as possible

●     The two of you fall asleep naked with your bodies completely tangled together

●     Also likes showering with you

●     less in a sexual way and more as another opportunity to pamper you

●     Scrubs you carefully and puts shampoo for you

●     Uses soap foam to grow you a fake beard this boi srsly

●     Basically he loves you like no one else and you're destined to be

●     The best boi there is <3

#jungkook #jung kook #justin seagull #BTS jungkook #bts jungguk #bts jeon jungkook #bts jung jungkook #bts #bts fic #BANGTAN SEONYANDAN #bangtansosodone #bangtan #kpop #kpop icons #kpopidol #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop fluff #bts fluff #fluff #bts angst

[djarinbarnes]

novaturient; eleutheromania

eleutreromania ○ an intense and irresistible desire for freedom

Author: Dina. @softboibarnes

Word Count: 1527

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: none. 

Summary: a deeper look into a web of lies......

A/N: I finally got the idea of how to continue this. I’ve been so lost of inspiration tbh, but then it just appeared. I hope you enjoy!

masterpost

Months passed, and in those months, you learned just how vile some people could be. You had never expected that you would be talked down to by someone who seemed so interested in you, and it made your heart clench in your chest.

The first month after the date, James had asked you for multiple reconciliation dates, to which you all answered no. You agreed with yourself, that there was just no way in hell he had changed his set of mind. After his countless attempts, he finally gave up and left you alone.

Or so you thought.

It was barely two months after your first day at the office when the first rumors started going around about you. Something about you and the technician, who you didn’t even know. You heard it in the women’s restroom where you were hiding out for the lunch break, the cramped office becoming too much for you.

“Did you hear about Y/n and Loki? I heard they’ve been canoodling since she got here.” You heard a voice pip up from outside the stall. Your head shot up and your brows furrowed at the confession. You heard another voice speak up shortly after.

“God, she’s over all the guys at this place. First James, then Steve, I think I heard that too, and now Loki. God she’s such a slut.” The two women laughed in that annoyingly nasal way. You sighed, your eyes filling with tears yet again.

This was, apparently, your new every day. Sitting in the restroom, iced coffee in hand, just minding your own business. Listening to gossip, from the witches who had so few braincells, that gossiping was all they could do in their spare time.

It only got worse. Apparently, after a week, you had also seduced the college intern, Peter, who you had barely ever spoken a word to. Then, unimaginably, you had shagged Mr. Tony Stark himself to get a promotion.

You feared you would never find out where the rumors came from, until you a month later found a breach in the office system, leading you to a thread of mails, sent by none other than [email protected].

With a swift command P, you finally had some kind of relief from the countless hours you’d already spent in Mr. Stark’s office, trying to address every blatant lie that had been told about you. And now that you finally had your proof, you still halted outside his office doors.

You sighed as you looked down at the papers in your hands, biting your lip to prevent the tears from falling on your cheeks. You were standing there, proof in hands, yet doubting what you were about to do. You know he could potentially get fired, which delighted you. But still, you found yourself feeling bad.

Your fist rapping against the foggy glass door on its own accord pulled you out of your mental battle. You heard him call for you to enter, and you took a few deep breaths before doing so. Once you stood in front of him, your heart was beating so loud in your chest you barely could make out the words he was speaking.

“What can I do for you, y/n?” his warm brown eyes were encouraging you to talk. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as he took you in, eyes falling to what you had brought along.

“Mr. Stark…” you took a deep breath before handing him the stack of papers you had been carrying. “I wanted to tell you about something that has been going on for the past two or three months.” You watched as he started flipping through the papers you had handed him, his eyes roaming over the letters.

“Sit down please, y/n, I’m guessing you want to go into details with this.” you nodded before sitting down in front of him, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How did these mails come into your possession?”

“I stumbled upon a small breach in the firewall when I was doing checkouts on the main account. It was like an anonymous tip email – you could send an email from your own and it would be sent out to selected company emails.” You explained and watched as Tony nodded.

He cleared his throat before signaling you to find it on his stationary. You quickly typed in the passwords and soon after found the small breach, right where you’d found it last time. You retreated back to your chair, and watched as Tony scrolled through the site before closing it down again.

“So, I want to hear your side of the story. And please, start from the beginning, where you think this has its roots.”

With a sigh, you told Tony everything. He watched you as you spoke, telling him about your first week, the date with James, the way he’d overstepped your boundaries and the many times he’d asked you out for a rebound date. How rumors had started to surface, spreading like wildfire throughout the office, and how you’d just a few minutes ago discovered where the rumors originally had come from.

He looked down at the papers, before flipping through, landing on one, before he started to read out loud.

Y/n Y/l/n has taken desperation to new heights with the idea of a promotion lodged so far into her brain, she’s willing to ruin a family in order to get it. I’m not mentioning names, but a certain Stark has been the victim of her latest sexcapade.

Your chin quivered as you heard the words coming out of Tony’s mouth, making it all a little more real. You didn’t know what to say, so with your eyes trained on the floor in front of you, the embarrassment becoming way too much for you to handle, you clamped up like an oyster.

You felt gross, dirty, even though you knew it was a lie. You heard the papers glide over each other, before Tony cleared his throat, making you look up at him. You could clearly see the way he was thinking everything over, and how he was considering his options.

He put the papers down on his desk, before he leaned over the table, elbows resting against the mahogany and chin on the heels of his hands. “Y/n, I would like to hear what you expect me to do about this?” His eyes were friendly, welcoming, and you found yourself trusting him. Before you had the chance to stop yourself, you caught yourself saying,

“I don’t want anyone fired.” With a sigh, you watched as Tony’s features softened. “I don’t want anyone to get fired because of this. It’s blatant lies. I just want… To hold them, him, accountable for what he’s been saying about me.”

“Y/n, I’m going to ask you this, for the sake of these papers. I know it’s personal, and it’s completely alright if you don’t want to tell me.” You nodded, possibly already knowing what he was going to ask you. “Have you had any relations with the men mentioned in these statements?”

You exhaled through your nose, understanding that if just one of the statements were true, some others would be as well.

“No. The only relation I had was with Barnes during my first week. I don’t even think you can call that a relation.” You fiddled your fingers as you awaited his next words, heart beating so loudly you were afraid that Tony would hear it.

“Alright.” Tony straightened himself before he flipped through the pages again, finding his highlighter and marking every sender on the different mails. “I’m going to go through these mails with Barnes. Would you rather I kept it a secret, that you came with these?” Tony looked up and watched as you nodded.

“Very well then.” His eyes fell back onto the papers, his fingers grabbing a pen before scribbling something in his god-awful handwriting. “I’ll have a talk with Barnes.” You let out a relieved sigh, offering him a small smile.

“I can’t promise you there won’t be consequences for him.” Tony wrote another note, before handing it to you. “Most likely a time out and time off for him. A month? Two?” Tony asked you, and you looked down at the note in your hand.

Barnes

Restricted mail access

Starting today

Ending when I say so

You nod, before whispering out a “I guess one month is alright.”

“Great. Will you hand that to Mrs. Potts on the way down? I’ll make sure there will be put an end to this, alright?” Tony rose from his seat and walked around his desk, standing just a little taller than you as he led you to the door. “I want my company to be a safe space. Thank you for bringing that to my attention. You did the right thing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” You smiled at him before heading back to your workstation, handing Mrs. Potts the note Mr. Stark had given you on your way back. You could already feel the tension lightening as you passed Barnes’ workstation, noting that he hadn’t come in today.

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