#I would just like to see some more hugs sometimes

[ylangelegy]

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are. 

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you. 

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. 

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes. 

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone. 

There you are. 

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none. 

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly. 

“Still public.” 

“Still don’t care.” 

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat. 

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.” 

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter. 

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world. 

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without. 

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.” 

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest. 

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you. 

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness. 

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.” 

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack. 

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.” 

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing. 

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look. 

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely. 

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you. 

If only he could get you to stop working. 

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by. 

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning. 

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” 

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. 

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” 

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. 

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.” 

“Were you?” 

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you. 

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.” 

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore. 

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?” 

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back. 

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.” 

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts. 

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away. 

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?” 

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back. 

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that. 

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick. 

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?” 

“I mean, yeah—” 

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away. 

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you. 

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home. 

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.” 

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.” 

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back. 

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation. 

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently. 

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead. 

“Because of me,” he repeats. 

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned. 

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.” 

You— 

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.” 

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing. 

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him). 

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do. 

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.” 

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” 

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” 

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his. 

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.” 

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement. 

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve. 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?” 

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores. 

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise. 

He presses, “And the week after that?” 

“The week after that, too.” 

“What about the month after?” 

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.” 

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head. 

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment. 

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can. 

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again. 

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you. 

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. 

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. 

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot? 

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

[strawberrymoosetracks]

I read this as if it were in the modern day, and that the aforementioned God of War has taken on the modern form of someone who would be consitered the most powerful soldier, or the epitome of modern war. To me, the epitome of modern war is just a relatively fit guy who sits in a room with a PC. Heres my take on it, I didn't put much effort into this so sorry if it sucks :)

I've got to hand it to humans, they are great at making things efficient. Their innovation is beyond any other species I've encountered. One of their favorite things to make more efficient is war. Back in the old days, they trained young men, put them in armor, gave them a sword, and marched them thousands of miles for a fight against other young men who were similarly armed.

They started including horses, which sped up the transportation process. Then they came up with guns. A marvelous invention really. It made war much quicker, but it also forced armor to get better. As much as I liked the shiny armors, it was always too loud. It was nearly impossible to sneak anywhere, and seeing was a nightmare.

Nowadays, the most powerful warmonger is a guy at a desk. One may think that is crazy, but in all fairness, that guy has the ability to shoot a thousand suns at whoever they want to. I've had this job for eighty years, under three seperate faces.

I love efficiency...but the God of War gets bored when the people capeable of war are too scared to fight eachother. The Cold War ranks the lowest out of all the fun wars. Sooo, I look for fun in other ways. I started in the eighties when I could find someone who wasn't an anti-war hippie, but wasn't a complete jerk. That was when I realised my love language. I love physical touch. It's like my kryptonite. Maybe it's that it's been years since any soldier was willing to hug, especially in high war time. I had forgotten how great it felt to hug.

And now we get to the modern day, I have a girlfriend. She's super sweet, but sometimes she has some...interesting ideas. We get into conversations and find out that she has the strangest ideas. We go to the bar with friends and get into conversations about the romans, and as someone who was there, I have to set them straight. They always brush me off, saying that it can't be true. Maybe in my next iteration I can become a historian and set these lies straight. Anyways, we were at a bar with some other soldiers, and we were talking about Ares. That used to be my name, but I have been though too many lives since then.

"You think you can buy the loyalty of the God of War with something as small as affection? Don't be stupid." Leah said, taking a sip of her drink.

As the others seemed to agree, I just had to intervine. "As the aforementioned God of War, she's wrong you can absolutely do that. I'm basically a cat; pat my head and l'l be your loyal servant for... five minutes, give or take?"

The group was completely silent. They all stared at me, trying to work though it. Leah started laughing, "You're funny, Levi. You don't even get in real combat. Like come on." She slowly stoped laughing as my face continued to be serious. "You're not joking? You really think you're the God of War?"

"I don't think, I know." I said, staring into their blank faces, "Ok watch." I looked around the bar and eyed two guys who were friends. I pointed at them, and they immediately became enraged. They yelled at eachother, mostly nonsense. There was no real greivance, just some pent up anger I was using. One was about to swing when they suddenly stopped, sitting down and continued to talk as normal. I turned back to my drink and took a small sip.

I took a deep breath in and out, my shoulders dramatically rising and falling. It had been centuries since I told anyone I was the God of War. Since the romans went out, people stopped believing in pantheon gods. I would have shown the middevial europe my real self, but I had inconveniently been turned into a woman at that time. Calling myself a God was an easy way to get burnt at the stake, and getting out of that was too much work.

"No way..." My girlfriend muttered, staring at me.

I slowly turned to her, "Well, do I give loyalty for head pats?" She nodded slowly, her mouth agape.

My buddy next to her slowly leaned over and patted me on the head, "Please don't kill me."

I smirked, "Wasn't planning on it." I drank the rest of my drink and set it down, not really knowing how to start back up the conversation. It just became dead silent, everyone grapling with my revealed identity. Well I just ruined the night with this again, teaches me to never reveal myself with my close friends. So many centuries into this, and I apparently still have many things to learn.

—"You think you can buy the loyalty of the God of War with something as fickle as affection? Don't be foolish." —"As the aforementioned God of War, she's wrong. You can absolutely do that. I'm basically a cat; pat my head and I'll be your loyal servant for… five minutes, give or take?"

[puddinrin]

IDIOTS EVERYWHERE! >TEAM THANOS X F!READER

summary: being the babysitter of literal grown men with your gorgeous wife se-mi

pairings: se-mi x f!reader (wlw because we all wanna be her bitch), platonic! thanos, nam gyu, min su & gyeong su x f!reader

warnings: man children

a/n: (name) is a fashion designer!

part one: lady boss! here

literal man child. all of them.

you think min su at least is more responsible than the other three

but no, boy can literally be utterly clueless sometimes

namgyu at 11.40 am

min su ask lady boss if we could bring allen into the apartment

dw u cute she wont get mad at u

"(name), nam gyu asked if they could bring the german shepherd from downstairs into the apartment." min-su asked, looking up from his phone after reading the message that was sent to him.

"sure. tell them to get its dog certificate from the owner and it can sleep in my room too." you replied, full of sarcasm as you and se-mi, who let out a snicker at that - prepare the coffee table for lunch.

min-su perked up, shocked that you agreed without any arguments. "really?!" you looked at him, baffled, searching for any signs he realised that you were just being sarcastic.

spoiler alert, he didn't. god bless this man and your patience.

thanos has a habit of holding the handle of your bag when going through a crowd

his brain shut down at random times

so he needs you or nam gyu or anyone else to make sure he don't face plant into a pole or smth

while nam gyu holds you by the back of your neck while he walks behind you

leading you to wherever you guys are going

you and se-mi love to spite the others by being lovey dovey with each other

can't help with how se-mi can't keep her hands to herself too

while you walk with the others, she has a hand on your waist or hip, keeping you close to her

she love holding your hands too

keeping your intertwined hands in the pocket of her black leather coat when it's cold outside.

"your hands so cold, baby." se-mi frowned as she held your hands, caressing your skin. she then intertwined your fingers together before putting it in the pocket of her black coat.

you smiled giddily as you couldn't help but feel flustered from her action. "let's get some warm soup later, the one you like." she suggested, rubbing your knuckles with her thumb.

"okay." you nodded, before holding her arm with your other hand, hugging it.

from behind, nam gyu dramatically gagged at the scene in front of him. "gosh, couples."

thanos groaned, slinging his arm around min-su's shoulder, pulling him to his side. "min-su, cutie. come on, hold my hand too."

"i refuse." he replied, trying to push him away.

you have to hold back se-mi from killing them

however, se-mi doesn't bother holding you back from jumping them whenever they get on your last nerve

she encourages you to send them to hell and have the devil personally give them a tour of it

especially when you're taking measurements for their outfits

"su bong, hold still!" you groaned, smacking his stomach. he let out a playful 'ow', holding his stomach dramatically. "so fierce, senorita."

nam gyu chuckled as he watched the scene before him, snacking on a bag of lays chips.

"don't blame me if your pants drop in the middle of your performances because i couldn't get the right measurement." you threatened lightly, circling the measuring tape around his hips.

thanos gasped, grinning as he clapped his hands. "the fans would love that, wouldn't they?!"

gyeong-su cackled, looking through the designs of outfit that you had planned for them on your ipad. "nah, you would blow up on X."

nam gyu laughed, brushing his hands against each other to get rid of any chips dust. "that would be great publicity for black stones wouldn't that?"

"oh my god, no one wants to see your weeny, choi su bong!"

se-mi didn't have to hold you back from killing them

but she had to hold you back from strangling yourself with the measuring tape hanging around your neck

they love taking pictures of you

they your personal paparazzi

especially thanos, nam gyu and se-mi

it could range from you looking like an utter goddess that graced the world to the most mememable picture of you.

their birthday posts and instagram stories of you is whole rollercoaster ride

> thanostone4u

liked by semilw, gyeongsuuue and 23k others

thanostone4u happy birthday to my highness

> thanostone4u's story

caption: came to support us or to make yourself at home?

> namgyu124's story

caption: girl complains i don't take enough candid pics of her 😒

> namgyu124's story

caption: she's missin slippers bcs girl threw them at me

> semilw

liked by namgyu194, minsublackstone, blackstoneofficial and 18k others

semilw my princess

> semilw's story

caption: she amazes me everyday

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Hugs That Feel Like Home

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Max Verstappen x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: None✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

She made a definitive decision when she chose to move to Monaco with Max. It was a leap of faith—no matter how much love was between them, it meant leaving her family and friends behind for him. But isn’t that what love does? It pushes you to take risks, to step into the unknown, all in the name of something greater than yourself.

That didn’t mean she didn’t visit her family; in fact, it was quite a regular occurrence. She often went to see them, though her family was, more often than not, a chaotic mess. She would always return in a less-than-great mood, her mind still spinning and her temper simmering from all the drama.

Max carried the suitcase into the bedroom and set it down with a quiet thud. When he turned back to her, she was still leaning against the doorframe, looking worn out but trying to not let it show so intently.

“How bad was it?” he asked softly, already reading the answer in her expression.

She sighed, her fingers brushing her hair out of her face. “Oh, you know, the usual—overbearing opinions, unnecessary arguments, and somehow, I’m always the referee,” she said with a tired smile.

He crossed the room to her, his face soft with concern. “And you’re still standing,” he said, stopping just in front of her. 

“Yeah, like Elton John,” she chuckled slightly, her humor that bad when she was exhausted. 

Max chuckled at her bad joke, knowing by it just how tired she was. His hands found her waist as his eyes searched hers. “Barely, though.”

“I think I’ve mastered the art of surviving family chaos,” she quipped, though her voice cracked slightly under the weight of the experience.

He didn’t say anything at first, just smiled at her in that easy way he always did, like he was trying to siphon some of her stress away. Then he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Max...” she started, but her voice trailed off when his lips moved to her temple, then her cheek.

“Hmm?” he hummed softly, not stopping. His hands slid gently from her waist to her lower back as he kissed the corner of her mouth, then the tip of her nose, then her other cheek.

“What are you doing?” she asked, though her tired smile was starting to grow.

“Helping,” he murmured, kissing her again—her jawline this time. “You looked like you needed this.”

Her laughter came soft and unbidden as he kissed her chin, then her cheek again. “You’re so goofy sometimes,” she said, her words lacking any judgement, shaking her head slightly but not pulling away.

“I know,” he said, grinning against her skin. His hands slid lower, resting on her thighs. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but when his hands gave her thighs a gentle squeeze, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Without a word, he bent slightly and hoisted her up, her legs curling naturally around his waist. His grip on her was firm and secure, one hand bracing her just beneath her thighs, the other resting on her lower back.

She let out a surprised laugh, holding onto him tightly. “Max!”

“What? I’ve got you,” he said, his tone light as he kissed her forehead again, this time lingering. “See? No more thinking about whatever they said.”

Her face softened as she leaned into him, resting her forehead against his. “You’re the best,” she whispered, smiling with warmth.

“I know, babe,” he said, swaying slightly as he held her. “And you’re smiling again, so I win.”

She smiled wider, her earlier frustrations fading like a distant memory. “Yeah, you win.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <333

[rebelliousstories]

Girl’s Night

Relationship: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Drinking and Alcohol

Word Count: 809

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When Emily invites another girl to the BAU’s girl’s night, no one is expecting this girl.

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“They’re gonna love you. Stop fussing.”

“Em, these are your friends and the ones you work with. I have a reason to be nervous.” This had been the argument for the last thirty minutes from their shared apartment to this new one.

Emily Prentiss had not only spent the last thirty minutes arguing with her girlfriend, but the better part of the day trying to convince her to come along on her annual B.A.U. girl’s night with her friends. This would be the first time that anyone from work would be meeting someone special to her. It was nerve wracking enough on that qualification enough. Not to mention the fact that she was officially coming out; Emily might be a bit more nervous than her girlfriend. But one of them had to be calm.

Holding a bottle of wine in one hand, she turned to her girlfriend. “Listen, honey, I know it seems scary right now. But they’ll love you, okay?”

“Yeah.” She replied, but did not sound convinced. Sensing this, Emily went over and captured her jaw in one hand, while planting her lips onto hers.

It got her girlfriend to calm down long enough to be stable again. Releasing her, Prentiss waited till she got a nod from the woman, before knocking on the door. A bubbly blonde yanked open the door, far too energized for how late in the day it way.

“Emily! And friend, hello. Come on in ladies.” Penelope ushered them in. Looking back at her girlfriend, the dark haired woman smiled and nodded her head towards the apartment.

“Jay-Jie, Em and her friend are here.” Garcia called out into the room. Another blonde came out to find their new guests arriving with some more wine, which got her to smile even bigger.

“Hey, glad to see the party is finally here.” JJ came around to hug Prentiss tightly before setting her sights on the new woman.

“Hi, I’m Jennifer. Everyone calls me JJ. And that bundle of unicorn sparkles is Penelope Garcia. It’s so good to meet you.” Holding out her hand, the new woman provided her name to the rest of the group.

In the meantime, Emily and Penelope were pouring the new bottle of wine to go with the rest of their snack type foods. JJ led her over to the couch, letting her take it easy for her first girl’s night. She, along with her other two friends, brought food over in waves. Popcorn, candy, pretzel bites, chips and dips; you name it, they had it.

When everyone finally planted themselves on the couch, the questions began.

“So, how do you know our fair brunette bombshell?” Garcia asked, in between bites of popcorn.

“Oh, uh…” she trailed off, looking at her girlfriend. “We met at a makeup store. I was working the counter and Emily needed help finding a new lip liner. Her old one was discontinued cause they stopped making it like ten years ago.”

Her tease made the brunette near blush as she hid her face behind her glass of wine. Emily started up just as soon as she recovered, “hey, I want to remind you that I got you to change from a flip phone to a smart one. There was no way I was going to be calling on that ancient piece of tech.”

“Yeah, sure. There was nothing wrong with my flip phone. Anyways, after I helped her find a new lip liner, she passed me her number. And from that day, it was history.” The woman shrugged, taking a sip of her wine.

“I love that she is getting some more lady friends. Honestly, the B.A.U. is a testosterone nightmare sometimes.” JJ commented, not putting too much thought into her words. However, everyone noticed how quiet the other two women got. This caused both blondes to also pause.

“Everything okay?” Jennifer asked, eyes darting between everyone in the room.

“Yeah, um, she’s not just my friend. She’s my girlfriend.” Emily stated, setting down her wine glass. There was a pause as they processed the information.

“I think we need something extra to celebrate our beloved Emil Prentiss finally getting a date! I think I’ve still got some cake in the fridge.” Garcia was gushing over this, while JJ sat there stunned.

“Is everything okay?” The woman piped up, unsure as to how her girlfriend’s colleague was taking it.

“No, yeah. I’m fine. Trust me, nothing to do with you being lesbian, I just… I’m amazed that you’re dating someone.”

“Well, believe it.” Prentiss chuckled.

However, JJ happily leaned over the coffee table towards the other woman, catching her attention. “I can tell you wonderful stories about all the different people that have tried to tame this mare.”

“Okay. You know what, I think we should be going…”

“I have cake!”

[noc1818]

A Score to be Settled - Chrollo X Reader Fanfic

Hey everyone! I've had this idea for a Chrollo fic swirling around in my head for a while now, where Chrollo wrongs the reader, who's also from Meteor City, during their childhood. This event impacts them so deeply that they’re willing to go to any lengths to seek revenge and settle the score. This chapter is just the backstory leading up to the main plot. If you're interested in reading more, let me know—I’m really enjoying writing it and have a lot more I want to explore! Plus, it’s a fun project to help me get back into writing again. I truly appreciate any support!

Also, this is mostly unedited because I was too excited to share, so feel free to let me know if anything needs fixing!

A few warnings for this piece: Dark themes, death, angst, and intense struggles for survival.

Chapter One: The Debt

Meteor City - Residential Area, 1984

Digging through the scrap was a common occurrence in Meteor City. It was the only way to survive. It always astonished you that people would just throw out and dump some of this stuff without a second thought. Had they never had to scavenge for food or clothes? The idea of having a roof over your head and some form of food security felt like a distant daydream. But that was not your reality. Even at such a young age, the harsh truth of Meteor City was ingrained in your very being.

This had always been the case, at least since you could remember. Your first true memory was when you were five years old, hiding in a broken refrigerator with your little sister, Sumi, who was only two at the time, from some less-than-favorable characters searching the area. That was the reality for all the kids in Meteor City—except for Sumi. She was always a ray of light. Even in the darkest moments, she could spin a positive outlook, which, while uplifting, was sometimes a bit overwhelming.

Recently, she’d been going on and on about a group of kids, she’d met who performed shows for anyone willing to watch. Every day, she came back excited, telling you all about the latest show and its colorful cast of characters. You had promised her that one day you’d go with her to check out the performances. But the reality was that most of your days—hell, your entire childhood—had been spent scavenging and trying to make the best shelter you could for Sumi and yourself.

Still, if you were honest with yourself, your efforts were starting to pay off. You had gathered enough food and non-perishable goods to start a stockpile for the coming winter.

Not only had you been gathering food, but you had been saving Jenny, hoping to accumulate enough to get you and your sister out of the city. At thriteen years old, hidden in your makeshift shack and buried deep within an old metal tea kettle, you had quite a bit saved up. The reality was that it wasn’t much, but to a child with nothing, a hundred Jenny could change a life. Soon, you and Sumi would leave this scrap heap behind and start a real life. You’d be able to give her a solid foundation and a secure future.

As if on cue, scrambling down the narrow paths between the trash heaps, Sumi appeared. She ran toward you in her oversized pink sweater, patched and worn where the fabric had torn over time. She wore frayed blue shorts and dirty old sneakers. As she approached, you noticed her shoes were untied again and made a note to try to teach her how to tie them properly.

Upon seeing you, Sumi immediately called out, “Big Sis!”

Looking up, you gave her a warm smile and a wave. “Sumi, be careful running like that! You might fall!”

Hearing your call, she slowed down and made her way to your makeshift shelter. You had found a space between two scrap heaps, covered with metal sheets that mostly kept the rain out during downpours. You’d draped a cloth over the outside to help keep out the cold and block prying eyes from seeing inside.

Sumi walked over with a big smile, immediately hugging you tightly. “Big Sis, the show today was so cool! They were doing a musical.”

You hummed in acknowledgment of her excited ramblings. Your focus was more on her worn shoes and thinking how you might be able to get her a new pair. But Sumi bright, attentive eyes and her soft call of your name brought your attention back to the present.

“Y/N, are you listening?” she asked, tilting her head with a playful smile.

You nodded, ruffling her hair as you gave her your full attention. “Yes, I’m listening. Tell me all about the play. You said it was a musical, right?”

Sumi’s face lit up as she started rambling in detail about the play, the songs they sang, and the performances. It made you happy to know she had found something that made her so happy and allowed her to still be a kid.

Sumi’s gaze then shifted to the bread rations you’d found and set out for the two of you. She eagerly sat down on the dirt, ready to eat.

“Also, Big Sis, my friend from the play... Can she come over to eat sometime?” she asked, her brown eyes filled with hope.

Typically, you would say no. It was hard enough to feed just the two of you. But this was another kid—another kid from Meteor City—and she made your little sister happier than anyone else could. So, with a reluctant sigh, you nodded, saying, “Sure, but just her, okay?”

Sumi’s eyes widened, and she beamed. “Oh, good! She’ll be so excited when she gets back!”

That last part caught your attention—when she gets back. You wondered what Sumi meant by that, but rather than ask, you focused on the task at hand: getting something to eat. Hunger was often your main drive, having never truly been full your entire life. The two of you ate your bread and chatted the night away until it was time to sleep. You shared a torn-up mattress you’d found one day.

As your sister fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, you found yourself wide awake as always. The night was especially cold, even with the cloth covering the sides of your shelter. The cold air still billowed in, leaving you shivering to your core. Unable to sleep, you quietly got up and made your way outside.

Despite the chill, it was a beautiful night. The full moon illuminated the ruins of the city, casting a soft light on the heaps of metal scrap. The sky was clear—a rare sight since the smog usually made it nearly impossible to see the stars. But tonight, they shone bright and radiant, lighting up the darkness.

Little did you know, that on such a peaceful night, your life would change forever because of one mistake.

The sound of scrap being knocked over in the distance caught your attention. Despite your maturity for your age, your curiosity got the better of you. You crept toward the sound, the noise growing louder with each step. Expecting to find an adult out to cause trouble, you peeked cautiously around a corner. To your surprise, there stood a boy, slightly older than you.

He had his back to you, but you could make out his raven-like hair, which ended just above his ears. He wore a yellow-striped shirt and grey shorts, his sneakers as worn out as those of the other kids in the city. You also noticed his pale complexion. But it wasn’t just his appearance that caught your attention—it was the palpable anger radiating from him.

The boy was frantically searching every crevice in the piles of trash, looking for something—or perhaps someone. When a spot didn’t reveal what he was searching for, he would kick and throw things, sending the scrap tumbling down. But it wasn’t just his actions that struck you. There was an energy about him, an intense, almost suffocating wave of anger and despair that filled the air, making it feel heavy and thick with emotion.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do. You had never encountered such a crushing presence before. The weight of his emotions was almost too much to bear. It took him a while before he realized someone else was there.

He turned toward you, taking a moment to process your presence. Even at his young age, it seemed like he was studying you, trying to figure out who you were. His expression was unreadable, but your silence seemed to provoke him. Without a hint of fear or caution, he started walking toward you. You weren’t surprised—after all, what could a bone-thin girl like you possibly do to a boy older than you?

As he drew closer, you noticed something you would never forget—his eyes. Steely grey, cold as steel, eyes that no child should have. They held a depth of pain, rage, and fear. It was as though his gaze could pierce through you, reading your every thought. The emptiness in them was unsettling, yet beneath that emptiness was an ocean of raw, unspoken emotion.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze remained locked on yours, unflinching. Then, in a voice that matched the indifference in his expression, he asked, “Why are you out here?”

You hesitated for a moment, processing his question. Finally, you answered in your quiet, almost inaudible voice, “I couldn’t sleep... it’s freezing.”

He listened, his eyes still fixed on yours, and after a brief pause, he nodded slightly. His tone remained flat, as if unaffected by the cold, the silence, or even the raw emotions swirling between you. “I suppose it is quite cold tonight,” he said.

You ask him the same question in return. “Why are you out here?”

Without hesitation, he responds, “I’m looking for someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. Why would he be out here, so late, searching for someone? And what’s more, he’s dressed lightly, yet he doesn’t seem bothered by the cold. Curiosity laces your voice as you ask, “Wouldn’t it be smarter to search in the morning, when there’s daylight?”

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, as if that option simply isn’t available. “Not possible. I’ll find her tonight.”

Normally, you would’ve dismissed him, turned away, and continued with your own business. But he’s another Metor City kid, and something in the back of your mind nags at you. He’s not dressed appropriately for the cold, and if he stays out here like this, he’ll get sick. You remember finding a man’s jacket a while back, one that was too big for you or your sister, and you think maybe it’s time to put it to good use.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here like that,” you say, a note of concern in your voice. “Come with me for two seconds, and I can give you a spare coat we have.”

Your tone is free of malice, just genuine care, and that catches his attention. He gives you a curious glance, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to decipher your intentions. Every kid in this city knows that nothing comes without a price, that nothing is truly free. So when he speaks, his words are cautious.

“I don’t need the jacket.”

His dismissal stings more than you expect, and you sigh, visibly irked. You take a few steps toward him, frustration settling into your voice. “Just take it. We don’t need it.”

At the word “we,” he raises an eyebrow. He’s perceptive, you realize. He takes a step closer, and you suddenly feel the suspicion radiating off him. “You have others with you?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment, but you recover quickly. “Yeah, my little sister, Sum.”

He pauses, his face unreadable, before asking, “You’re Sumi’s older sister? You must be Y/N, then.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. How does he know your name? You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah, my apologies. Sumi talks about you a lot. She’s always at shows with me and the others.”

That explains it. He must be one of the performer kids Sumi has befriended. You smile, relieved to understand the connection. “Oh! You’re one of Sumi’s friends. She never stops talking about all the shows you all put on. I hear about it all the time.”

“I’m glad she enjoys them so much,” he says with a chuckle. “My name’s Chrollo, by the way. It’s nice to officially meet you, Y/N.”

You extend a hand to him, offering a handshake. “Nice to meet you too, Chrollo.”

As you both shake hands, the conversation continues, and you press him once more to take the spare jacket. He doesn’t seem to trust easily, but the fact that you’re Sumi’s sister seems to put him at ease enough to accept the offer. You can’t let one of your sister’s friends freeze, after all. In your world, you cherish the small acts of kindness, especially when life is so unforgiving.

When you lead Chrollo into your home, you notice his gaze lingering on Sumi, who’s still fast asleep despite the chilly draft in the room.

“She sleeps like a rock,” you say with a smile, reassuring him. “Don’t worry, we won’t wake her up.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, then shifts his attention back to you. “Really? She always seems so happy, so it’s not surprising.”

“She’s always been that way,” you reply, a fondness in your tone. “She’s able to find the bright side of things. I’ve always admired her for that.”

“That’s an admirable trait, but a bit naïve,” he remarks, his eyes scanning the room. “And you, Y/N? Which side do you find yourself on?” His intense gaze meets yours, as if he already knows the answer, as if he’s searching for something more.

You hesitate before answering, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. “While I’d like to see things in the best light, it’s not always something I can afford to do. Life is tough, especially in the city. I’m sure you know that. I guess, if anything, I’m just realistic.”

Your words hang in the air, and you meet his gaze. Life hasn’t been kind, not forgiving, and you’ve learned to take things as they are—even if that means accepting a certain darkness. It’s how you survive. It’s how you cope.

Chrollo watches you as you pull the coat from the cooler you’ve repurposed as a storage bin. You turn to hand it to him, but before you can react, he’s right there, standing so close that you nearly jump in surprise.

“Oh, my—” you start, startled. “You surprised me, Chrollo.”

He chuckles lightly. “My apologies. It wasn’t intentional.” He accepts the jacket with a graceful nod. “Thank you for this.”

You watch him pull the coat on. It’s a bit oversized now, but in a few years, it will fit him perfectly. The jacket is a unique shade of royal purple, with white fur lining the neck and sleeve ends—definitely a one-of-a-kind piece.

“Well, Y/N, I have a search to continue,” he says, turning to leave. But before he pulls the sheet up to shield himself from the cold, he pauses and looks back at you.

“I’m also a realist,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “But there’s something so lovely about dreaming, isn’t there? I look at this life from both spectrums. Sometimes, I even think those dreams we chase so desperately can become our reality—if we push hard enough. Just something to think about.”

With those final words, he leaves before you can respond, disappearing into the night.

You stand there, staring at the door as his words linger in your mind. At first, you feel a sharp irritation. He didn’t ask for your opinion, so why did he offer unsolicited advice? And as for his belief that dreams could be turned into reality with enough force—that seemed utterly delusional, especially for kids like you, or anyone from Metor City. Hell, you’d be lucky just to make it to eighteen.

But something about what he said sticks with you, curling into your thoughts like a stubborn seed. You don’t dwell on it for long. You curl up next to Sumi, trying to shake the thoughts away, and drift into sleep. But as you do, you can’t help but wonder… what if, just for once, he was right?

 The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Sumi’s sobs, her distress pulling you from sleep. Instantly, you pull her into a tight hug.

“Shh, Sumi, it’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? What happened?” Your voice is steady and calm, a skill you’ve mastered over the years, both as her big sister and in moments of chaos. You’ve always had a knack for calming people in hysteria, and Sumi, in her younger days, gave you plenty of practice.

After a few minutes of reassurance and gentle prodding, she starts to calm down. She looks up at you, her eyes wide and teary, her lip trembling.

“Big sis, it’s… it’s all gone. Our food… our money… it’s all gone,” she says, before breaking into fresh sobs.

At those words, your heart drops. What does she mean? Gone? Your stomach twists with dread.

You pull away from Sumi for a moment, moving quickly to the cooler. There’s no way it could be empty. But when you lift the lid, your breath catches. The cooler is completely bare. All the food and supplies you had gathered for months—some even for years—are gone.

Frantically, you move the cooler aside, only to reveal an empty hole beneath it. The kettle where you kept all your jenny, your coins, your savings—also gone. There’s nothing left.

Panic rises in your chest. How could this happen? Who could have taken everything? Why didn’t you hear anything during the night? Your mind races with a hundred questions, each more frantic than the last. Beneath it all, though, a seething anger begins to bubble. How could anyone do this to kids who had nothing?

But then, Sumi’s sobs break through your clouded thoughts, pulling you back to reality. This is where you need to be the bigger sister. You need to calm her down, to give her the reassurance she needs, even if it means making false promises in the moment.

You pull her into another tight hug, patting her head in an attempt to soothe her. “Shh, Sumi. It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. We’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Your words, however, don’t seem to help. Sumi’s crying only intensifies, her distress deepening.

“No, Y/N, it’s not! It’s almost winter! I may be younger, but I’m not dumb. I knew it took you almost all year to gather what we had, and that was mostly lucky finds. This is my fault!” she says through ragged sobs, her nose sniffling.

“It’s no one’s fault, Sumi,” you reply, your own voice breaking slightly. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, but you fight them back, continuing to hold it together. “We’re going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

But Sumi, seeing the tears in your eyes, crumbles further. “Big sis, you don’t understand. This is my fault! It was my friends at the play. They took our stuff. I shouldn’t have told Big Sis Sarasa where we live. She must’ve told the others. But I don’t know how—she’s been missing for a few days now!”

Your heart sinks, piecing together exactly what’s happened. It was Chrollo. He and his friends took everything. You allowed yourself to be blinded by the fact that he was another kid, someone you thought you could help. But instead, he took advantage of your kindness.

It takes everything in you to hide your shock. You can’t let Sumi see your own pain and disappointment. Instead, you swallow your anger and fear, and lie to her, thinking that protecting her from the truth is what’s best.

“Sumi,” you say, forcing a smile, trying to sound reassuring, “I bet your friends are just borrowing some food from us. Nothing to worry about. They’ll bring it back soon, okay?”

You can see the doubt in her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of hope there too. That spark—the same one she’s always had—begins to flicker. “Prove it, big sis. How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, hoping the lie doesn’t show in your eyes. “I just know, Sumi. I’ll make sure everything’s okay. I promise.”

Even though she doesn’t fully believe you, the fragile hope in her eyes is enough to make you cling to your own false reassurance. For her sake, you need to keep it together, even if it’s falling apart inside.

After Sumi had calmed down enough to be let go, you stood up, needing some space to think and to get some fresh air. You reached for the jacket you had thrown haphazardly over yourself the night before to stay warm, and as you put it on, a small white note fell from the pocket. Sumi, too absorbed in her tears, hadn’t noticed it before.

You hesitated for a moment, but your curiosity got the best of you. You unfolded the note, already knowing who it was from. It could only be one person—Chrollo.

The note read:

Y/N,I am sure you are angry, and rightfully so. It was nothing personal, of course—just my family needed it more than yours. Take this as a lesson and grow stronger from it. Never trust a stranger, no matter what they look like.Best of luck, and do take care of Sumi. Thanks again for your generosity.

As you read the words over again, the initial shock wore off, and a seething anger filled you. That bastard had taken everything—everything—because he could. And now he had the audacity to call it a lesson.

Your blood boiled. You would find him. You would make him pay.

In the midst of your fury, you didn’t notice Sumi, still sitting on the floor, glance over your shoulder and read the note with wide, curious eyes.

“Big sis? What does it say?” she asked, her head tilted, voice uncertain.

You froze for a moment, her question catching you off guard. Then, your mind raced. You knew Sumi couldn’t read—something that, under normal circumstances, would be a problem. But today, it was a relief. More than anything, you wanted to preserve that spark of joy in her eyes, to keep her from losing that innocence and hope.

With a forced smile, you turned to face her and lied through your teeth.

“Oh, it’s just a letter from your friends. They’re gathering more food and are going to bring it to share with us.”

At your words, Sumi’s face brightened. The sadness left her eyes, and joy returned to her expression as she beamed up at you. “Really, big sis? That’s great!”

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile, though inside, your mind was still spinning with your plan for revenge. Sumi spent the rest of the day telling you about the shows and how amazing they were. You listened, but your thoughts were elsewhere, planning the next steps, knowing full well that your reality wasn’t one that relied on hopes and miracles. You would have to be ruthless to survive in this world—and you would.

Meteor City – Residential Area, 1995

Years later, you found yourself standing once again among the scraps of Meteor City, holding a small yellow daffodil. You gazed down at the modest grave, an unreadable expression on your face. Deep inside, though, the wound was still open and raw. The stone atop the grave was crudely carved with the name Sumi. Her grave was one of the few places in this wasteland where life seemed to thrive—a small patch of grass and flowers growing amidst the decay.

You offered a faint, sad smile, thinking that even in death, Sumi brought hope and life wherever she was.

Your mind wandered back to that brutal winter in 1984 when you lost your little sister. After the Phantom Troupe stole everything—your food, your money—you were left with nothing. For months, you scavenged, but it was never enough. The freezing nights and lack of food took a toll, and Sumi grew terribly ill. You searched high and low for medicine, anything that could save her, but the world wouldn’t help two poor kids from Meteor City. Every time you tried, you were chased away or kicked out.

As the weeks dragged on, one night Sumi’s fever spiked too high. You held her until she fell asleep, but then you heard it—those final, shallow breaths. That’s when you knew. Your sister was gone.

Now, standing over her grave, you reached into the satchel you carried and pulled out three items: a ticket to a masquerade ball, a key, and new identification papers. These were the tools you’d carefully acquired through a contact to forge a new identity—a whole new life in Yorknew City. They were your tickets to escape Meteor City, to avenge Sumi, and to strike at the heart of the Phantom Troupe. You couldn’t let them know who you truly were.

You had devoted your life to this, to rebuilding yourself and taking them down—especially Chrollo. He was the one responsible for her death. It was all for greed. But that was going to end now.

Looking once more at Sumi’s grave, you made a vow, your voice firm and steady.

“Sumi, I swear I’ll come back once the debt’s been repaid. After all, we’ve got a score to settle.”

With that, you turned away and walked towards the tinted car that waited to take you to the next step in your journey. The road ahead was long, but it was one you would walk with purpose. Chrollo Lucilfer—the leader of the Phantom Troupe—had no idea what was coming for him. You would make him pay, and you would not stop until you did.

[bbearthyy]

headcannons of TWD characters

these are just some headcannons i have for characters from the walking dead. are these extremely unlike the characters? well, yes! do i give a fuck? no, not one!

tw: none lol there’s angst but just typical TWD stuff, these are mostly during the prison era

- carl and beth stole daryl’s cigarettes one of the first nights at the prison. they snuck up on the roof and huddled close to fight the cold. worried daryl would notice if too many disappeared, they chose to share one. (carl blushed over the fact that they basically kissed, beth only noticed how cold the cigarette was after his puffs.) they both decided they hated the taste, and swore they wouldn’t do it again, but every year on the anniversary of beth’s death carl finds a pack of cigarettes and smokes a few, letting some burn a little longer so she can smoke with him.

- rick tried teaching judith to say carl (or bubba), beth, and daryl, before he ever tried to teach her ‘dada.’ he felt guilty for the fact that in her first few days of her life he neglected her, and wanted her to acknowledge those who took such good care of her when he couldn’t.

- judith’s first word was actually ’mama,’ due to how often everyone told her stories of her mother. when she said it rick had to hand her to beth, and walked away. him and carl disappeared for a while after that. rick came back after a couple hours, but carl didn’t show till the next day. they both had bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks, but nobody commented on it.

- (1) after lori’s death carl had awful nightmares almost every night. they were usually of his mom as a walker, blaming him for her death. when he had these nightmares he’d leave the cell block, sneaking out onto the roof. he’d wrap his arms around his torso like a tight hug and rock himself back and forth, before listing all the constellations he could see; just like his mom did for him when he was little.

- (2) daryl started noticing carl sneaking out, and followed him out once. they talked about it, and carl cried… a lot. daryl didn’t mind, he just pulled the boy onto his lap and rocked him while he cried. it became almost routine after that: carl would wake up in tears, daryl would walk with him onto the roof, he’d hold the child in his arms and rock him, and when carl fell back asleep daryl would carry him to bed. they never talked about this routine, and when the prison fell it never happened again. but sometimes, in alexandria, when carl wakes up with tears pouring from his eye, his instinct is to find daryl, and he has to rock himself back to sleep. (*whispers aggressively* daryl misses the rocking too. and sometimes he’ll sit on the porch counting the stars and wait for his nephew to come find him. he never does)

- rick absolutely adores hugs, and carol meets his enthusiasm towards the embrace every time. the man is such a hugger and if he ever gets a “dry hug” from someone, where they merely patted him on the back and walked off, he’d immediately search for carol to make up for the loss. this never changed, even during his relationship with michonne

- when the children of woodbury first joined the prison, rick appointed carl with the job of telling them about all the adults of the original group. most of the younger kids didn’t understand that they weren’t all carls family, so he just told it like they were. there was not a dry eye amongst the group when they found out carl had introduced them as his grandpa hershel, aunt maggie & uncle glenn, uncle daryl, aunt carol, and so on.

- hershel panics a little more every time a patient comes into his cell. he begins a prayer when they come in, and doesn’t end the prayer until they leave. he gets angry when they leave in a body bag, and sometimes curses God. he apologizes profusely less than a minute after, and finds relief in the fact that every other patient he has/had that day survives.

- maggie is allergic to strawberries. no i will not elaborate. glenn was not aware of this fact and nearly had a panic attack one day when he tried to kiss his wife after eating one of the strawberries from the garden. maggie had seen glenn eat the berry and pushed him away quickly when he leaned in for a kiss. the Korean man looked like a kicked puppy when she did so, and maggie was quick to explain, giggling as she did. glenn never ate another strawberry after that, but they used to be his favorite.

- beth was actually carls first kiss. after the kids from woodbury came, carl and beth would often find themselves tucked away in a forgotten spot of the prison, backs pressed to each other as they read silently or went about their own hobbies. one day, carl was reading a spiderman comic, and must’ve made a strange sound, because beth turned around to look at him with a curious hum. “this makes it seem like kissing is this crazy world shattering thing. it’s just lips pushing against each other. what’s so great about it?” beth offered to show him what was so great about it. carl blushed profusely but obviously agreed. the kiss was sloppy at first due to carls inexperience, but they got used to each other real quick. carl found that he really liked kissing. they kissed quite a few more times after that. carl was very disappointed when beth got a boyfriend and they couldn’t kiss anymore, but beth snuck him a goodnight kiss every once in a while when she knew he had a bad day.

- daryl got sick one time at the prison, just a little head cold. he refused to acknowledge the fact that he felt sick until he nearly collapsed on top of rick while they were tending to the pigs. when he awoke the whole group was piled into his cell, some teary eyed, others just trembling in fear. daryl felt extremely guilty afterwards, and to this day he makes sure to let someone know if he so much as gets the sniffles.

- carol used to have a pug. his name was diesel and he was her baby. when she started dating ed, he told her he hated dogs. carol didn’t care, and refused to get rid of diesel. one day when carol came home from work, ed was asleep on the couch and her pug was no where to be found. when questioned about it, ed claimed he had no idea where the dog was. but carol saw blood on the front tires of his worn down pick up truck. it’s why she slashed said tires, and claimed she had no idea who could’ve done it.

- carl let someone trim his hair ONCE. and of course it had to be maggie. it was when they first got to alexandria. the ends of it had curled up and matted in some places and he knew it wouldn’t be worth the hassle of trying to pull the knots out. he sat in front of the couch and maggie reassured him multiple times that she was only trimming the ends, and that he didn’t have to let her do it. he held judith while maggie cut his hair. and if he cried a little bit and maggie had to pull judith away from him and hold him till he could breathe again? that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

- carl hates the smell of gardenia flowers, but they were beth’s favorite. they grew like crazy at the back of the prison, where most chose to avoid. every morning beth woke up to three fresh gardenias in the mason jar on her bedside table, and every morning carl washed his hands vigorously as he gagged at the smell. beth never found out who brought her the flowers, and carl stomps on every gardenia he sees after she dies.

- rick actually hated being sheriff, and was going to quit his job a month after he began. but one day when he was picking carl up from school, rick saw his son gushing to some of his friends about how his dad was a “totally awesome super hero cop.” rick decided he loved being sheriff not long after.

that’s all for right now but i have SO many more. let me know if you liked this and i’ll make a part 2🫶🏻

[hihigherdi]

She’s home.

I’ve thought about this painting every single day since I saw it. I went back today in pursuit of another errand but I had it on my heart so stopped by to see if it was still in the gallery. It was. I asked the owner what the price was, he recognized me and said “you had a strong connection to this piece, I could see it.”

My eyes filled up and I choked out, I am in the final stages of breast cancer treatment and I see myself in her. That’s probably narcissistic but I cry each time I look at it, I feel it in my heart somehow. That I’m alive and I’m moving and it’s with intention now. I’ve thought about her everyday. So I’m going to buy it, I think that’s what art is supposed to do.

He got emotional and whispered he’d lost his sister to breast cancer 10 years ago. Stage 4. We hugged goodbye for a long time.

Sometimes you just know it’s the time to talk about it.

I put it in my room, it will be the first thing I see when I wake up. It was pretty reasonable for art (I guess?) and the artist just got a piece in the Triton Museum which is so cool, that’s a local museum here in Santa Clara.

The owner took my info and asked if he could share the story with her and I said yes yes yes. Please do. Thank her for me.

I put it where the painting of Mary and Jesus was, a picture that hung in my mom’s chapel. I realized that I can love, honor, respect my mom’s faith for how it healed her but it’s ok I don’t take it in myself. I don’t think my mom in her heart of hearts would have wanted that anyway.

When I was making a lot of money, I rarely spent it. I’m barely making ends meet now and I’m spending a lot, particularly on my home. It’s always been important but now I’m making choices out of what I love, what I want most instead of that desperate hunger to create a home. It’s different, I’m not sure what’s changed. I found a chair that feels like you’re sitting in a cloud. And it’s a recliner. I’m getting it.

I also spontaneously said yes to meeting some of my best friends in Cabo San Lucas. I leave on Saturday. I called one of them randomly a couple of days ago and she’d just landed there - there are so many grey whales and humpbacks in that specific location right now having their calves. S called me later from the beach and said “ I just saw a whale spout on my walk. We have two extra rooms in the Airbnb, so free place to stay, can you come?”

I said no. And then I said yes and burst into tears. It’s for three nights which is perfect. A trip to the mall knocked me out today, this anemia is no joke so a big trip freaks me out but no one expects me to perform or be on. It’s just to love and be loved by lovely people. I feel ok leaving the cats for that length of time though leaving them is always the worst part.

Your girl is definitely in her healing era, maybe in more ways than one.

[athenamikaelson]

Hi, Athena!

Sometimes, I just write my reactions as I read, so as I was reading chapter 25 (and rereading 24 to get in the mood again), I wrote some thoughts that I'd like to share with you. 🌝

Chapter 24 thoughts:

I bet Klaus would low key pay for her tuition fees or compel her a paid scholarship.

The scene in the parking lot of Mystic Grill triggere inspire this little paragraph of Pukey about how I imagine she might've felt...

"And suddenly... I'm a little girl again, trying to stick to the wall in hopes I can disappear into it as my father, the one who was supposed to protect me, yells and closes in. But you, Kol? When you held me up as I fell on those stairs... That was all I needed when I was a child - an older brother who can hold me up, to just hug me and defend me. That was all I needed, and no matter how hissy I get at you, I am grateful. God knows how grateful I am, because some broken parts in me just healed as I stood there under your protective arm... As if you're my older brother who has shielded me our entire life."

How she just hid behind Kol totally gives Boo getting scared of Sully vibes. Also... Did Kol remember Rebekah or Henrick when they'd hide from Mikael's yelling behind him? Cuz ik Kol gives neglected middle sib vibes, but he's still an older sib.

(Not my gifs)

"What's it gonna be, boys?" She asked as if they wouldn't give her anything she wants.

Chapter 25 thoughts:

Theo: juggling two bitches.

Me: Well, that's one way to put it. *cracking up at that*

I DIED WHEN KLAUS CALLED THEO "Your infant here" LIKE WHAAAAAA

"Theodora???' I'M DEEADDDD

I love how Klaus just barely tolerates him and is ready to match Theo's pettiness, but Elijah just acts like he keeps telling himself "Elijah... Calm down. He's a child. A traumatized one. Don't lash out." almost like Theo is an entertainment to Elijah.

So those are my wild thoughts! Sorry, they're unorganised, but I had a hard time trying to make them make sense that I knew if I spent more time on them, I would totally back out of actually sending them.

No because you’re so right. If Klaus found out the reader wanted to go to a specific college he would go there himself and compel them to give her a scholarship.

I love the little paragraph. I def think Kol and Rebekah remembered what it was like to have a younger sibling. And it’ll be shown in later chapters but Rebekah definitely sees Theo as the little brother she lost.

Klaus and Theo are probably going to be one of the most annoying duos in this story I have to say. Klaus is petty but Theo is PETTIER. And poor Elijah just wants peace for yn

[callme-holly]

hey!! you should do some readerXcurly hcs! absolutely no pressure at all, i hope you’re not swamped with requests rn as i really don’t wanna overwhelm you😭💗 your work is amazing and ty for all that you do, thank you lovely💗💗

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

a/n: might be a little slow y'all. just a heads up !!!

Dating Curly comes with a lot of chaos, and you need to be able to keep up with him at all times. He’s impulsive, very headstrong, and doesn’t tend to think before he acts, which can lead to him getting into trouble more than you’d like. 

He loves dragging you along with him wherever he goes, and sometimes having you there with him is just enough to make him behave a little more than usual, but he’s still no angel. 

He tries to act tough in front of everyone, putting on a big guy act, especially around Tim’s gang, but deep down he’s a little softer than he’d ever admit. It’s only ever you who gets to see this side of him, especially if he’s tired, but if you were to ever point it out, his walls would go back up immediately.

He’s incredibly protective over you. If anyone even glances at you the wrong way, he’s getting snappy and making comments until they back off. If it comes to it, he will fight someone to defend your honour despite your protests. 

He loves to tease you, and it very quickly becomes a key point in your relationship. He’ll call you random little nicknames, poke harmless fun at you, mimic you... you name it, he does it. However, if you ever tease him back, he’ll sulk and pout until you apologise. He’s just petty like that.

He isn’t the best at expressing himself, but he’ll show you how much he cares about you in his own ways, holding your hand secretly, giving you quick, shy kisses, and randomly hugging you from behind. 

He can get very jealous sometimes, and he is not at all shy about showing it. If he noticies someone getting even a little too close to you, he’s very quickly stepping, making loud comments to make it clear who you belong to. 

Most of your dates will probably happen at night when he drags you out to the notices or on late-night walks around town. He loves sitting on rooftops and talking with you for hours or laying in the lot with you.

He isn’t a huge fan of PDA; he thinks it makes him look soft. He might occasionally hold your hand or give you a quick kiss, but don't expect much more. In private, however, he’s a lot more affectionate. He’s a big cuddler, so expect him to be hanging off of you a whole bunch.

PLEASE PLAY WITH HIS HAIR!!!!!

Curly has a very short temper, so arguments aren’t rare between you both. However, when they do happen, they’re never serious, and you tend to make-up pretty quickly. He’ll always make up some lame apology, giving you a small sheepish smile thats almost impossible to be mad about

Once Curly opens up to you and lets you into his life, you’re pretty much stuck with him. He’s incredibly loyal to you and cares about you a whole lot. He might be reckless, but you will always secretly come first.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute - Chapter Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After deliberating with yourself for weeks about committing to a date with Dean, you finally take the plunge after some much needed encouragement off of your best friend and the desire to see Dean again.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of past relationships, Matty is something else 😂

AN: Here it is! I'm excited to finally be sharing this with you all and hope it was worth the wait. I do apologise for it taking so long, but I wanted it to be right. Also, I am from the UK, and know very little about American customs and their multicultural societies etc 😅 What is included in this chapter is purely based off of research, so I do apologise if any of it is wrong.

Main Masterlist

TMC Masterlist

The first few weeks after the wedding weekend flew by in a blur. Work had been relentless, and though you had Dean’s number and exchanged a few texts, you just couldn’t find the time—or the courage—to meet him again. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. Every time his name lit up your phone, your stomach would flip, and you’d catch yourself smiling before you could stop. But the thought of stepping into something new, something that could hurt as much as it could heal, was terrifying.

Matty had been the loudest voice in your ear, even from across the country. After the wedding, he’d returned to LA, and his absence was palpable. Phone calls and late-night texts were all you had now, and this evening was no different, and as perusal the topic was brought back to Dean. 

“Babe, you’re doing that thing again,” he said in a sing song voice over the line. “You’re overthinking, overanalysing, and over-everything-ing. Just go out with him. It’s one date.”

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, picking at the edge of your blanket you had draped over your legs, a glass of half-drunk wine sat beside you. Outside, the rain drizzled against the windows, the soft patter mirroring the unease in your chest. It was a common denominator in your augment of why you hadn’t gone on this date already. 

“You don’t understand,” you said, your voice quieter now. “The last time I let someone in, it broke me. You were there, Matty. You saw what it did.” Although it had been nearly 3 years, sometimes the wounds still felt fresh, no matter how much ‘healing’ you’d done. 

The line was silent for a moment, and then Matty’s voice softened. “I did. And I also saw you rebuild yourself. You’re stronger now, more than you realise and you deserve to be happy. Don’t let fear keep you from that.” You sighed softly, knowing and hating that he was always right. But it was moments like this that made you only cherish your friendship more. 

“Now, onto more important topics. Has he sent you a dick pic yet? And can I see it?” 

After scrubbing, to no avail, at the wine stain you’d made by spluttering all over your beige blanket as a result from choking on your wine.

Leave it to Matty to turn a tender moment vulgar.

His previous words had stuck with you long after the call ended. 

They echoed in your mind as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. You’d spent so long guarding your heart, building walls to keep the pain out. But those same walls had also kept joy at bay. Could you really let someone in again?

The decision came one evening when a text from Dean popped up. It was a meme—a goofy, exaggerated depiction of a woman in an elaborate ball gown captioned, “Me: ‘I have nothing to wear!’”

You burst out laughing. It was the latest in a string of silly back-and-forth’s you and Dean had been sharing. The unofficial competition to ‘out-meme’ each other had been one of the lighter parts of your chaotic weeks. His text reminded you of the morning after the wedding, when he teased you about your hug faux pas and your insistence that you didn’t need rescuing. 

Somehow, this guy—the one you’d hugged by accident, who had laughed with you through one of the most unexpectedly fun nights of your life—was still here, making an effort.

The thought hit you like a jolt. Dean had stuck around. Even through your genuine excuses of being busy, he hadn’t given up. And he still made you laugh.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you typed out a reply.

You: Okay, you win. When are you free?

His response came almost immediately.

Dean: I’m free Friday. There’s a little Italian place just outside of town I think you’d like. I’ll pick you up at 6?

You: Deal. 6 it is.

Friday evening arrived quicker than you expected. You spent far too long debating what to wear, rifling through your closet as Matty’s voice echoed in your head.

"Wear something that says, ‘I’m interested but not desperate’”.

“Easy for you to say.” You huffed, settling on a simple pale-yellow sundress paired with some cute wedges you’d purchased a couple of weeks ago, but had yet to wear. By the time you were done with your hair and makeup, you were flustered but cautiously optimistic.

When Dean had texted that he was outside, your stomach was a bundle of nerves. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag, forgoing a jacket since it was the middle of July and the weather was decent enough to not need one, and headed out. 

You were taken by surprise when you first saw his car. It was a classic black Chevy, sleek and immaculate, and somehow it suited him perfectly. Dean leaned casually against the driver’s side, dressed in a dark green button-down that made his eyes stand out even more, paired with some dark-wash jeans and boots. He looked delectable.  

Dean’s grin widened the moment his eyes met yours. "Wow," he said, his voice carrying a mixture of warmth and awe. His gaze swept over you—not in a way that made you feel self-conscious but as if he genuinely appreciated every detail. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips as a blush crept up your neck. His words, paired with the sincerity in his tone, had you feeling flustered in the best way. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

Dean stepped closer then, his movements unhurried and natural, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. When he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips barely brushing your skin, it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"It’s really good to see you," he said softly, his voice tinged with a genuine warmth that melted any lingering nerves.

The unexpected intimacy left you momentarily stunned, your heart pounding in your chest. You barely managed to maintain your composure, though the scent of his cologne—woodsy with a hint of spice—was distracting in the best way. And the way his hand lingered briefly on your arm as he pulled back didn’t help your spiralling thoughts. Damn, why did he always have to smell so good?

"You too," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. Meeting his eyes for a brief moment, you felt a jolt of something unnameable. It left your stomach flipping and twisting, and before you could overthink, you broke eye contact, glancing toward his car.

“Nice car,” you blurted out, gesturing toward the polished vehicle behind him. Immediately, you wanted to kick yourself for your awkward comment, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his grin grew even more excitable.

“She’s my baby, my pride and joy,” he said with a touch of affection, running a hand over the gleaming roof. His tone held such earnest admiration that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your baby?” you teased, raising a playful brow.

Dean didn’t falter, not even a little. “What?” he said, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Are you a little jealous? Afraid of some competition?”

You chuckled, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Oh no, I can clearly see I’m outmatched here. You’re a loyal man. I know my place.”

The two of you laughed together, the teasing exchange breaking the last of the tension. You nodded your thanks with another shy smile as he opened the passenger door for you, even closing it behind you.

As he settled behind the wheel, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The ease in his smile, the gentle confidence in his movements—it all felt strangely reassuring. Then the teasing voice of your best friend entered your mind for the last time that night. 

“I told you so.” And in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to argue.

The restaurant was charming, with rustic wooden beams and string lights casting a warm glow. The scent of garlic, basil, and freshly baked bread filled the air, making your stomach rumble. Dean held the door open for you, and the hostess led you to a table by a window overlooking a small, fairy-lit garden.

As you sat down, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. Dean seemed to pick up on it, his expression softening.

“You, okay?” he asked, leaning slightly forward.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, then added with a small laugh, “It’s just been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Me too,” he admitted, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his usual confidence. “But hey, there’s no pressure, alright?”

His reassurance settled some of your nerves, and you nodded in kind. Soon the conversation began to flow, and you talked about your favourite books and movies, the quirks of your jobs, and shared embarrassing childhood stories that left you both laughing. Dean’s laugh was deep and genuine, and you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute.

“So, the garage,” you said, resting your chin on your hand, you’d just finished a hearty plate of delicious pasta, both of your now empty plates sat off to the side. “How did that happen?”

Dean’s expression shifted, a flicker of something more serious crossing his face. “It started after my mom passed. My dad… he kind of fell apart. The garage became his way of coping, and eventually, it became mine too. It gave us both something to focus on, something to build together.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom,” you said softly.

“Thanks,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. “It was tough, but it taught me a lot about resilience. About not giving up, even when things feel impossible.”

His words struck a chord, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Before the moment grew too heavy, Dean smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“What about you?” he asked. “What’s your family like?”

You hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. “Well, my mom remarried when I was six, and she and my stepdad, Jeff, had Amy a year later. Jeff’s been amazing—he’s the only father figure I’ve ever known since…” You trailed off but Dean interrupted, seeing it was a tough subject.

“Sounds like a great guy.”

“He is,” you said, your voice warming at the thought. “Growing up, the age difference between me and my sister sometimes made it hard to be super close, but now that we’re older, we’ve found our niche. And I’m so proud of her.”

Dean smiled affectionately at that, maybe because he could relate himself, in that regard.

The rest of the dinner passed by in a blur of laughter and shared stories. When the check came, you realised you weren’t ready for the evening to end.

“I don’t know about you,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin, “but I’m not ready to call it a night yet.” 

Dean’s smile widened and it instantly dampened your rising anxiety from your confession. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s a fiesta festival back in Topeka,” you said. “It’s been going on all week. They have some great sweet treats too.”

“You had me at something sweet, let’s go.” He said, his enthusiasm making you grin. 

Downtown Topeka was alive with vibrant colours, lights and the hum of music. Strings of Papel picado fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of spices and fried dough filled the air. Booths lined the streets, offering everything from handmade crafts to authentic Mexican dishes.

Dean’s eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning as you passed by a churro stand.

“You want one?” You offered, stepping closer to the stall, he nodded furiously eyes alight with wonder at the cinnamon sugar-coated fired dough, and you exchanged a few dollars to the merchant for two servings. 

After enjoying the sweet treat and finding amusement in Dean’s adamancy that he needed to revisit these little fried pieces of heaven.

You wandered through the festival, stopping to watch traditional dancers perform in brightly coloured dresses. Dean bought you both a drink from one of the stands, and you couldn’t stop teasing him as he tried to pronounce "champurrado" while ordering the warm drink.

“This is incredible,” Dean said, taking in the bustling energy around you. “Do you come here every year?”

“Pretty much,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It’s one of my favourite parts of living here. What about you? Do you guys have anything like this back in Lawrence?”

Dean tilted his head slightly, his gaze scanning the lively festival around you. “Not like this,” he admitted, the warmth of the surrounding lights reflecting in his eyes. “Sam would love it, though. He’s a big culture guy—always reading up on traditions and history. Stuff like this would be right up his alley.”

“How is Sam, by the way?” you asked curiously, stealing a glance at him as you strolled side by side along the strip. The stars above were fully awake now, scattered across the velvety black sky. The fading hues of twilight had been replaced by a soft chill, and without realising it, you drifted slightly closer to Dean, drawn to his steady warmth.

“He’s doing good,” Dean replied, his tone infused with a mix of pride and affection. “Working a lot as usual. But—big news—he and Jess finally set a date for the wedding.”

“Wow, that’s great!” you said, your excitement genuine. “I’m really happy for him. Though…” you added with a playful smirk, “Matty’s gonna be crushed. He was holding onto hope that Sam would switch sides.”

Dean let out a hearty laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Maybe it’s best you don’t tell him, save him the heartbreak.”

“You’re probably right,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I guess we’re both victims of our younger siblings figuring their lives out before us, huh?” The thought lingered as you looked ahead at the vibrant festival, your tone shifting slightly.

Although you were proud of the life you’d built for yourself, a small part of you had always assumed you’d be the one to walk down the aisle first. It wasn’t jealousy—more a wistful acknowledgment of how differently things had turned out. Your chest tightened briefly at the thought of the man you’d once believed would stand by your side.

But that memory no longer felt sharp. The sting had dulled, replaced by clarity. That relationship would have been suffocating at best—a living hell at worst.

“Funny how things work out,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

Dean huffed softly, a sound of both agreement and amusement. “I guess we've just been holding out for the right person,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

The gentleness of his words made you glance over, only to find his eyes already on you. His gaze was steady, holding something unspoken but unmistakable. It wasn’t just the charm he wore so effortlessly—this was deeper, more earnest.

Your stomach flipped, the air between you charged with something that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

“Maybe,” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper as you held his gaze a moment longer.

The sounds of the festival buzzed around you—the distant laughter of children, the rhythmic thrum of music—but it all felt distant, as though the world had shrunk to just the two of you. Dean’s hand brushed against yours briefly, a subtle, tentative touch that sent a shiver up your spine.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his, and Dean took the hint, intertwining his hand with yours. The simple gesture sent a warmth through you, a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realised you needed.

The night continued with more laughter, another helping of churros, at Dean's request, and even a few carnival games. Dean won you a small stuffed bear at a ring toss booth, grinning proudly as he handed it to you. 

You felt like a giddy teenager on her first date. There was something about Dean—the way he carried himself with that effortless blend of cool confidence and boyish charm—that disarmed you completely.

He had a knack for making you feel at ease, like you didn’t have to overthink or try too hard. By the time he walked you to the front door of your building, after driving you home, the evening felt like something pulled straight from a dream.

Dean lingered there with you, the warmth of his hand enveloping yours as his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles. The simple touch sent a familiar current rippling up your arm, a spark that had been present from the very beginning but now felt undeniable.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, his voice low and genuine. “I haven’t had this much fun in… I don’t even know how long.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, clutching the stuffed bear he’d won for you against your chest with your free hand.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. “So,” he began, a faint, hopeful grin tugging at his lips, “is it too soon to ask if I can see you again?”

The space between you felt smaller somehow, his presence radiating warmth against the chill of the night air. His closeness was grounding yet thrilling, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face, making your cheeks ache in the best way.

“Not too soon,” you replied, your voice tinged with quiet certainty. “I’d like that.”

Summoning a burst of courage, you rose onto your tiptoes, leaning in to press your lips softly to his. The kiss was brief but full of emotion, and when you pulled back, the surprise on his face was endearing. His lips parted slightly; his eyes wide as though he hadn’t expected it, but then his expression shifted. The initial shock melted away, replaced by a bashful, almost boyish smile that lit up his features.

Your heart raced as you searched his face, the warmth of his lips still lingering on yours. A wave of panic crept in—had that been too much, too soon? You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t thought beyond the pull of the moment. But before you could second-guess yourself, Dean stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as he leaned in.

This time, the kiss was deeper, his lips meeting yours with a tender determination that left no room for doubt. It was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorise every second, every sensation. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you under the quiet night sky.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with your own. His voice was softer now, almost distracted, as though he were still lost in the moment. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, the words carrying a promise you could feel in your bones.

You pressed on more lingering kiss to his lips, unable to help yourself. There was just something so intoxicating about the way he kissed you—gentle but determined, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

A part of you already felt the addiction creeping in, the kind of pull that made you crave more even as you tried to pace yourself. His lips left a tingling warmth against your own, a sensation you knew you wouldn’t forget.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, your gaze lingering on his as you tried to steady your breathing. “Goodnight, Dean,” you said, a knowing smile playing on your lips, your voice steadier than the whirlwind of emotions inside.

Dean cleared his throat, as though grounding himself, and took a small step back. “Night, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice rougher but no less tender.

You watched as he retreated toward his car, the sound of the engine breaking the silence of the street. As his taillights disappeared around the corner, the events of the night replayed in your mind like a dream—the laughter, the easy conversation, the way he had made you feel so seen and safe.

Clutching the stuffed bear tighter, you leaned against your door, a quiet smile still lingering on your face. For the first time in what felt like forever, a spark of hope flickered in your chest. It wasn’t just a fleeting feeling—it was a sense of possibility.

Maybe, just maybe, you could let someone in again.

AN: And there we have it. I'd love to know what you all thought? How did you like 'the date'? Are you excited to see where it all leads with these two? 👀 Also I know Matty is a fan favourite for some, and his part was much smaller, but there will be more of him to come 😁 As always thank you for reading 💕

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @lyarr24 , @nancymcl

Series Tag List:

@zepskies , @roseblue373 , @muhahaha303

[moonlight-tmd]

Let Bulkhead join in! I mean, it would be even more angsty if Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Longarm were best friends.

I live for anguish with a happy ending :)

Oh, obviously!

Longarm, Bee and Bulkhead were the bestie trio back in boot camp. They spend their breaks together chatting and sometimes helped one another with a project or two.

Bulkhead was the only one who knew what really was happening between his friends. Even though both Bee and Longarm acted as normal friends he knew the little things they did that gave away their real feelings for one another.

When they were stuck on Earth Bee sometimes told stories from boot camp, he often mentioned Longarm in them and how good of a friend he was and that he missed him. When Elite Guard showed up Bulkhead did not suspect a thing and only greeted Longarm like an old friend. He did notice Bee behaving off though, it took a while to get Bee to confess what was bothering him cuz he kept insisting it's nothing and probably stupid. When Bulkhead heard what Bee thought he brushed it off as Longarm being mature and living up to his new role as a Prime. Bee seemed to believe that.

But then Bee went missing during the investigation mission, they were worried something must've happened. Prowl has been sent to investigate Bee's disappearance and found the ships missing from the location. The team considered two options; Bee was forced to board the ship for some reason or he was found and killed. They really hoped it wasn't the latter. They had no contact with him for over a week and the 'cons have been growing restless, seemingly arming up and ready to attack. It was only then that their min computer picked up an emergency call and they've heard Bee's distressed voice. He was babbling about a discovering something and help, they could hear Jazz's voice in the background seemingly trying to fix something quickly. Bee calmed down enough to tell them he found Longarm- the real Longarm. And that the one with them was the impostor.

Bulkhead couldn't believe what he was hearing... Bee was right all this time? His spark ached as he listened to his buddy crying over the call, he knew how much it must've hurt him to see Longarm like this, let alone acknowledge what happened. Bee and Jazz were halfway to rescue the real Longarm from wherever he was while Team Prime was left to deal with the impostor.

Optimus called on Sentinel and few that he knew he could trust and told them what Bee found out. Sentinel realized where the info leaks have been happening and they devised a plan to capture the spy. But they needed to find him first, Longarm has disappeared a while back with agent Blurr and there was no contact with either. Luckily Prowl managed to track down their spark signature traces and saved Blurr from being cubed. Soon Decepticons have struck and the Autobots were left to defend Detroit from being destroyed.

Shortly after the fight Sentinel has received a call about their missing emergency pod being found with 3 mech inside; two severely injured, one unresponsive due to stress. As soon as Steelhaven landed Optimus rushed to the control centre with others following and saw Bee. He was so shaken up he could do nothing but cry apologies while the Prime comforted him. Bulkhead joined in soon, just wanting his buddy to feel better and not cry. Everything was okay now.

He couldn't have been happier when Longarm awoke, although he was there when he did so for the first time he visited as soon as he could. He missed him so much, and Longarm missed him too. Bulkhead had to be real gentle with his hug but Longarm didn't mind.

He was happy when he heard about Longarm joining the team and even more so when Bee told him they were gonna quarter Long with him. He watched as Bee and Long became more affectionate that ever, Bee helped Long with rehab and soon Long was able to go on his own (minus the therapy calls every week).

One day they were hanging out with the whole group when Sari perked up and smugly addressed the two. "So... You two more than friends?"

By now all of Team Prime knew Bee and Long were close and acted as such but they've never said anything. There was a brief glance between the two before they're answered both seemingly confused.

"What? What do you mean, we're just friends." Longarm spoke while casually wrapping his arm around the scout. "Yeah. Where did you even get the idea?" Bee followed up while also reaching up to hold Longarm's servo and lean into the hug. "We're just friends." "Two mech being pals." "Yup, nothing more." All while they were clearly not acting as "just friends".

"Okay, now you're being obnoxious." Sari smiled, knowing the two were playing a game right now. Longarm just smugly added "Did you expect anything else from us?" with Bee bursting out laughing. The whole room acknowledged the situation and they were happy for them. Bulkhead could not be more proud of them.

I like this one a lot, I think imma actually add this to my AU collection.

[sophieswundergarten]

YOU KNOW WHY HUGS ARE BETTER THAN KISSES? YOU CAN HUG ANYONE!!!!!!

HUGS ARE SO MUCH BETTER THAN TRUE LOVE'S KISS

MAGIC HUG YOUR FRIEND YOUR SISTER YOUR PARENT YOUR TEACHER YOUR KID MAYBE EVEN YOUR ROMANTIC PARTNER

BUT THE NEAT THING IS THAT HUGS ARE NOT INHERENTLY ROMANTIC

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)