#apparently football lovers have a soft spot for him

[chodzacaparodia]

Luckily, Ryusei prepared Chifuyu for this collab with Blue Lock

He's probably still playing shit, but maybe Bachira will teach him a little and Chifuyu will understand why he lost so much to Ryusei

*jealous Ryusei noises in the background*

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part one

PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 2.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T O N E 🎶 good girls ( john carpenter remix ), chvrches

“Why is she even here?”

“Steve!”

A loud smack cut the air in two as Robin slapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder, rendering the rest of group there in Max’s trailer silent.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, cheeks burning under his gaze, lips twisted into a scowl and trying hard to hold back the daggers you wanted so badly to throw at him.

“She doesn’t know what the hell we’re up against! How’s she supposed to–“

“Steve, none of us knew either, cut her a break.”

“Cut her a break and then what? We all get eaten by a fucking melted people monster?”

“That’s not fair–“

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Nancy,” you cut the girl off, standing quickly from your spot on the couch.

They’d been talking like this since you showed up. Like you weren’t right there in the room with them and honestly you kind of wished you weren’t anymore.

“I need some air,” you grumbled before giving Steve a pointed glare and shouldering open the front door.

The air outside was crisp as you sat down on the front stoop. Not a cloud in the sky and sunlight washing everything in soft golden light, but it all still felt so dark. Like it was harboring thick shadows. Long, spindly, and pitch black. Waiting to wrap their twisted fingers around you.

Waiting to dig into you and squeeze tight.

Waiting to lift you twenty feet into the air and snap your bones like twigs.

Waiting to leave you for dead.

And here was Steve fucking Harrington asking what right you had to be there. Asking what purpose were you gonna serve amongst this “holier than thou” joke of an army. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie had already gotten their asses handed to them by what they’d called demobats, Steve arguably needing serious medical attention, and they wanted to go back? It took everything you had to not leave right there on the spot.

Hell, maybe you should, you thought for a minute. You didn’t owe them anything, especially Steve, but you did owe it to your best friend. The one who basically had a hit out on him. The one who wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly, but all of Hawkins had already decided he was guilty and you weren't about to leave him.

Eddie.

❝ SO SAVE YOUR BREATH, GIVE A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU HAVE LEFT – DO THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON’T? ❞

You met him two years ago under the bleachers at the Homecoming football game. It seemed like the perfect place to smoke the joint you’d messily rolled in the car right before you’d come into the stadium and apparently you’d been right, but someone else had already laid claim to it...

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is kind of my spot.”

He’d been all black leather and denim. Dark curls and clove. Silver rings and chains and heavy boots and maybe you should’ve been more intimidated, but the smile lines at the corners of his mouth gave him away.

“Don’t see a sign anywhere,” you’d shot back, no hesitation. Looked over at him all skeptics and attitude and took a long drag from your joint. Blew the smoke off in his direction and it made him grin like an idiot.

“Been sellin’ weed down here for like…the last three years so–actually, yeah. What the fuck, man. Someone owes me a sign.”

...And that was it, you were a goner. Laughing mid-toke and coughing so hard you cried and it made him feel so bad he gave you a baggy for free. Eddie "the freak" Munson and you – best friends.

Skipped all the stupid dances and football games with you. Paraded around the lunch room like an idiot with you. Threw fries back at the jocks for you when they called you a loser and sat on the floor in the bathroom with you when you cried.

So fuck “King Steve” Harrington.

You had every right to be there, probably even more than he did and you were gonna tell him to his face, but—

“Can I sit?”

The sudden sound of someone else made you jump.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and sat down next to you. Gave you a sidelong glance and a small lopsided smile. “He’s really not so bad–”

“You’re joking. Right? Tell me you’re joking.”

The boy hummed, dropped his gaze down to the rings wrapped around his fingers and twisted the one on his thumb.

“He doesn’t want me here. None of them do,” you grumbled, frustration fed further by his non-answer and it pulled his eyes back up to you.

“Hey now, that’s not true–”

“Yes it is! Even Nancy looks at me like a kicked puppy.”

That pulled a laugh from him. Made him scoot closer to you and bump his shoulder into yours. “Listen, sweetheart,” the nickname made you soften, but you tried to keep your scowl in place, “We’re all in over our fuckin’ heads, hm? And Stevie boy…he’s seen some shit. He’s just trying to–”

“Just trying to what? Be a complete dickhead about it? Mission accomplished.”

Eddie sighed and roughed a hand over his face. Rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. He knew what you felt because he’d felt it too. Knew what it was like to get laughed at and mocked in the lunch room. Knew how it was supposed to be between him and the other boy. Hell, he nearly cut Harrington’s face off with a broken bottle a few days ago, but one thing was clear.

Change was possible and Steve Harrington was proof, he just wasn’t great at showing it.

“Alright. He could be less of a dick,” he conceded, propping his chin in his hand and looking at you with his big brown eyes. How could you be mad at that?

You mumbled under your breath about that not being the only thing, but fine, okay, only for you, Eds.

Reaching over he flicked at your fingers and looked at you from under his curls with a stern pinch between his brows. “He’s helping me, sweetheart. They all are. Shit, without them I’d probably be in jail already. Or in Carver’s trunk,” he tried a laugh, but it fell short at the end with the weight of his words and it made you grab at his hand and squeeze it.

“Shut up,” you chided softly, no heat behind it. The anger that had been swelling in your chest all but extinguished.

Silence settled between the two of you then, heavy and tinged at the edges with worry. With everything that was at risk and it started to gnaw at the pit of your stomach. What if you couldn’t fix it? And even if you could, this Vecna asshole was about to end the world anyway so what the hell did it matter?

How were a bunch of kids going to do anything about it?

“Ahem,” the door knocked into your back and jolted you back to earth. Pulled a gasp from you and when you looked up over your shoulder you felt your anger return ten fold. “We’re leaving, geniuses,” Steve announced, pushing at you with the door.

“Least you know you’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath, standing up from your spot to glare at him at eye level.

“Real cute,” Steve shouldered past you on the stoop, took the last two steps in one go and turned to face you both as he landed on the grass. “For you, Munson,” he said, throwing a mask at Eddie, “Courtesy of Mayfield.”

“What’s that for?” you couldn’t help asking as Max appeared at your side and pointed so casually – too casually – at the mask.

“Gonna steal a Winnebago. Get that on, dingus. Let’s go.”

“Nice,” Eddie grinned up at the red-headed girl and yanked the mask on over his head, “Thanks, Red.”

“Let’s go,” Steve urged, waving his hands at everyone to get out of the house and you felt your heart racing.

“Steal a Winnebago? Eddie. Fuck that–”

“Honey, I’m already a wanted man–” Eddie cut you off and readjusted the ridiculous looking mask a bit. “–c’mon,” he said, tugging at your belt loop to get with it.

“I–that doesn’t mean you can just steal–”

“We’re way past that,” Dustin chimed in, shoving past you just like everyone else, “Besides, if the world’s gonna end anyway, what’s it matter?”

Shit. The kid had a point. It was probably fine. It was just a trailer. Maybe you could give it back afterward? You needed it more than they did. Right?

“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, now the only one still standing around. “Wait for me!”

❝ THEY TELL ME I’M HELL-BENT ON REVENGE, I CUT MY TEETH ON WEAKER MEN, I WON’T APOLOGIZE AGAIN ❞

The first time you ran into Steve Harrington was sophomore year. In the hallway before Click’s class. You were cramming everything into your bag, but struggling with your history book when you heard it coming.

Tommy Hagan’s stupid laugh.

Your stomach sank, eyes glued on your things and trying to ignore it. He was in your science class the year before along with his ditzy girlfriend Carol and they always made sure to get a spot in the back just to make out.

“Need some help?”

When you finally looked up at him he’d stopped right in front of you, the grin on his lips sharklike as Carol smirked out from under his arm. Another boy you didn’t know was standing just behind them wearing a stupid member’s only jacket, half unzipped, and had hair that sat perfectly in place. Too perfect.

“That looks heavy, hm?” Tommy said grabbing your book, voice all saccharine sweet and sharp around the edges. Flipping through the pages he pulled a face, clicked his tongue and weighed it in his hand, then made a show of dumping it on the floor. “Whoops. Sorry!” he half-laughed and your cheeks burned.

“Bite me, Hagan,” you snapped back, bending down to grab your book, and it only made his grin grow wider.

“Ooo. She’s fiesty today, Stevie. I like it.”

And then he chimed in. Stevie. The had-to-be-douchebag that everyone called 'King Steve.'

“Probably on her period,” he said scoffing a laugh, all confidence and bravado and the look on his face was so smug. Thought he was so clever and funny and when you finally turned around it was to take the two steps up to him in one.

“Really? My period? So original.”

It made him swallow hard. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he blinked back the flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes. He took a quick glance at Tommy like he didn’t want to disappoint him and then hardened his expression. Crowded down over you and nodded.

“Explains you being such a bitch.”

And it took the air from your lungs. Stuck in your sides sharp like a knife and you felt your throat tighten as Tommy and Carol snickered, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not here.

“Yeah. Bet you wish you had an excuse for being such an asshole,” you cut at him and it pulled an Oh shit! out of Tommy as he doubled over laughing, Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough as you shoved your book in your bag and turned to leave, but you refused to run. Refused to let them see weakness, and as Tommy yelled down the hallway after you about tampons you raised a middle finger high in the air to punctuate just how much you hated them all.

Eddie met you in the bathroom after that, the one nobody used on the other side of school, and you told him everything. He let you have the joint he had tucked behind his ear for emergencies, listened to you and told you they weren’t worth it. Especially not Steve. Because even though Tommy started it, Steve was the one who dug in. Could have left it alone but didn’t and that was what really got you.

How obvious it was he knew how shitty they were being, but went along with it anyway because he had to maintain his status. Had to uphold how ‘cool’ he was and keep the line in the sand drawn between him and ‘the freaks’ like you.

So he wouldn’t get a second chance.

And he wasn’t worth your time.

Not then and sure as hell not now.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES, PART TWO AND THREE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[a-square-minus-one]

Honey 6

Sorry I’m so late. Here is chapter 6. Warning: things are getting more explicit in this chapter. Please do not read if you are not older than 18.

There are many things Jacob loves. He loves the soft smacking sound a woman’s lips make when she parts them to let out a little whimper. He’s partial to the whimpers let out after he’s first buried himself in her, the ones towards the end are just a little too high pitched for him. He loves the full chested groan a man makes when he releases. He loves the soft, hesitant touch of a tongue on his lips begging for entrance. And he loves human bars. The precursor to many of these experiences. There is never a shortage of horny people at human bars.

Still, he’s a little disappointed when he walks in at noon to find the bar is empty minus the very tired looking bartender. He rolls his eyes, humans have an arbitrary way of deciding when it is the proper time to imbibe. He almost walks out but he also loves the indulgent food humans decide to fill themselves with. He’s convinced humanity never needed him or his brothers; they have a beautiful way of wrecking themselves. 

Jacob smiles at that thought before the bartender, who apparently is acting as a waiter too, drops the steak and fries in front of him. No. All wrong. He almost loses his appetite. He quickly moves his plate approximately two inches away from his fork on the left and approximately two inches away from his knife on the right. He shifts the angle of the napkin in front of him so that it is perfectly parallel to the plate of steak. There. No. Wait. He grabs his fork and shifts over the two fries that are touching his steak. Finally, there. He cuts into his steak at exactly a forty five degree angle. He finishes his steak and fries when he sees them walk in. 

Ah a brunch date. He leans back in his chair. The woman is in red heels, her hair tousled in a way that suggests she’s laid with someone but he can’t smell sex on her. She must have spent a good amount of her time achieving that look. She looks annoyed as she drops her purse at the bar. Her date, who looks like he didn’t clean himself up after work, almost bumps into her back because he’s too focused on the recaps of last night’s sport in front of her. What pathetic human entertainment is it? Basketball or football? Jacob questions, then quickly realizes he doesn’t care because he catches a whiff of the woman’s hair conditioner when she flips her hair over her shoulder. 

It was clearly a first date but Jacob didn’t sense a spot of lust in the woman for this man. She’s typing furiously on her little device, red painted nails making a clicking sound against her phone screen. She doesn’t even bother to disguise her annoyance. It’s not like the man was much focused anyways. Jacob sips on his water, watching the pair with interest until the man mumbles something about needing to go to the bathroom. At this point the bartender/ waiter is tending to a group of people who just walked in. 

How can I do this cleanly? 

Jacob moves a table in front of the bathroom entrance with his powers. Then he saunters up to the woman and takes a swift seat next to her. His eyes trace the outline of her full red lips and chin. He looks down the slope of her neck. Where it connects to her chest. His eyes trail down to where her breasts disappear into her shirt. She’s distracted by her phone but jumps up when she’s noticed someone has come near her. Her lips part over brilliant white teeth. Yes. Jacob thinks. He can sense the first inkblots of lust staining her insides as she looks him over. Jacob looks towards the group at the opposite end of the restaurant and at the waiter who walked behind doors to put in their order. Jacob uses his powers to block the waiter’s exit with a jukebox. All the while maintaining eye contact with the woman in front of him.

“That man is too inattentive to be a good lover.” He doesn’t leave her any room to argue. She doesn’t try to. He watches as she moves her drink to her lips, wetting her lips. She puts the drink down. 

“The suggestion there being that you actually are a good lover,” the woman rolls her eyes, putting the glass against her lips again. She shakes an ice into her mouth. Jacob takes the glass from her hand and places it slowly onto the bar. The woman watches him, her lips parted deliciously. He needs to move this along much faster. He flicks a strand of her hair over her shoulder and leans his lips close to her ears so that his lips are touching her with each word.

“I can show you,” Lust says, dropping a hand on her upper thigh. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look in her eyes. “I can show you right now. In this seat,” he says, hand massaging circles into her thigh. He feels the woman’s legs part slightly. He starts stretching at the edges of those inkblots of lust in her the higher up her leg he goes. He moves his hand. “Do you want me to touch you? Right here in the open?” 

The woman nods once and he grins. “Spread your legs,” he says. His fingertips graze the edge of her lace panties, where her right leg meets her body. The woman lets out a little breath, looking at the group of people in the corner of the restaurant. Lust places his lips on her ear again.

“They can’t see you,” he says, and he’s done with the whispered touches as he clutches her tightly over her panties. The woman rocks forward with a whimper. He trails his index finger up and down over her slit. The woman looks towards the bathroom.

“He won’t come out,” Lust assures her. “I’m going to finger you in the middle of this restaurant,” Lust says. The woman clutches the edge of the bar. 

“I don’t - ah- know your name,” she says, managing to break his trance momentarily. Lust pushes her panties to the side and touches the outside of her wet lips. She whimpers again and he nuzzles his nose into her neck. 

He has one knuckle inside of her when he feels himself getting pulled back. 

Fucking shit. 

He lands on his feet and turns 360 degrees as quickly as possible. 

Only to recognize that he is in a completely...different room?

A hotel?

Then he recognizes him.

“Was that necessary?” Jacob says, rubbing his wet finger against his pant leg. Jared looks down at the finger Jacob rubbed on his pant leg. His face, with its close lips and dead eyes, shows no glimmer of emotions. Jared takes his time answering Jacob’s question, deciding it was more important to find a comfortable place to sit. He finally decides on the blue, floral print recliner in the corner of the room. The chair looks comically small as Jared sinks his huge, muscular body into it. Jared crosses one leg over the other one and places his hands on his knees. 

“I’m assuming since you are off gallivanting in the streets that you’ve convinced our sister to join our league.” 

Jacob throws his body on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I’ve done no such thing,” Jacob says, picking at something beneath his nail. Jared pauses. Jacob shifts his own body because he can swear Jared is frozen in position. It’s silent.

“So you’ve handled her teammates,” Jared eventually says, moving nothing but his lips. Jacob says nothing, playing with his nail again. One second Jacob’s looking at his nail and the next he’s dragged off the bed by his shirt. Jared’s face is transformed, his teeth are bared and saliva is running down his chin. 

“Our plan runs on a limited time line,” Wrath booms, his spit landing on Jacob’s face. His human form slips and his two eyes split into four blazing red ones.

“Your plan was sloppy,” Jacob says, forcefully removing himself from Wrath’s grip. “And you are not my maker.” He plops down on the bed again. Jared’s lip twitches as his eyes return to normal.

“Sloppy? You hand an appendage inside of a stranger. In the middle of a bar. At noon!” Wrath booms, and his eyes split back into four again. 

“Okay, either two eyes or four. The back and forth is an unnecessary expenditure of energy,” Jacob sighs, looking up at his brother’s tight face. Jared takes a deep, long breath and his eyes return to normal. He returns back to his seat and sits in almost the exact same position as before. Jacob looks at his nails again.

“If you ruin this plan I will rip out your heart with my bare hands and chew on it,” Jared says clearly and slowly. 

“My heart isn’t the best part of my body anyways. I’m sure I won’t miss it. Now as for everything below the belt…” Jacob trails off. Jared’s jaw ticks.

“Did you at least speak with her?” Jared asks. Jacob looks up at his brother and shoots him a closed-lip grin.

“Sometimes I enjoy completing the task you assign to me.”

“What words did you exchange with her?”

“Well…”

.......................................................................

Gar keeps peeking up from the spice packages in front of him to look at Raven. She was thumbing through the packages slowly and gracefully, like when she turned a page in one of her books. Raven looks up and he has to force himself not to look down. He’s not going to be the one to break eye contact. If she can look him directly in the eyes, he can return the favor. 

“Did you find the anise?” Raven asks, her lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. She looks...slightly annoyed. Garfield can feel that his mouth is hanging open but he can’t make words. It’s the first words she’s said to him since her brother left the common room. He wonders how she can look annoyed right now; had he not heard it properly when her brother announced they wanted to be together?  “Changeling.”

“Right...um...still looking,” he says, hating himself for the nervous way he averts his eyes from hers. He stares down at the packets in front of him but no matter how many times his eyes run over the letters he can’t seem to read the words. He can feel her eyes burning holes into his shirt. He hears her suck her teeth and peaks up to see the bottom of her feet walking away from him toward the crystals section. 

She hadn’t even tried to address what Jacob said when her barrier broke. She just started barking out directions to everyone. You go to the florist...And you get the mortar and pestle...And Garfield will come with me to the wiccan shop. And she had looked at him directly in the eye, with her chin tilted up as if daring him to question whether it was odd for them to go on a solo trip after what had just been said. He thought she was insane. Did she not have a hundred questions in her head right now? She was more militant and precise than Nightwing.

Anise! He plucks the package. Finally, his eyes were working again. 

Raven. Sexually attracted to him. He drops the anise package. Holy crap. He’s spent the whole past hour chewing on what she could possibly be thinking that he hadn’t even thought about that. How did one even begin to think about that? They are close friends now, always had been, but Garfield is sure he isn’t exaggerating when he remembers that there was a solid year where Raven would roll her eyes anytime Garfield parted his lips. Raven? Wanting to be near him? Desiring him? Garfield shakes his head. He looks at Raven who places a purple crystal into her bag. Her eyes meet his. Again. He scampers to pick up the anise package and hits his head against the side of the table. Garfield clenches his eyes tightly, resisting the urge to yelp out. After a few moments he peaks at Raven through his lashes.

Raven’s lips are in a tight line again. Her shoulders look straight and tight. He feels irritation pricking his own skin like a thousand little needle points. She could at least look a little concerned. She tilts her chin to the checkout line.

They wait in line, shoulder to shoulder, with probably exactly six inches between their bodies. How does she not feel the weight in the air? He looks at her, purposefully, waiting for her to turn her head and meet his eyes. She’s staring intently at the potion bottles behind the cash register with such a disinterested look that Garfield is sure that she had to do a lot of work to make her lips the perfect distance between a frown and a smile. Because there is absolutely no way. He knows she has a tight rein on her emotions but she cannot possibly be this comfortable in the knowledge that was just dropped on them. But Gar isn’t about to bring it up in the middle of a wiccan shop. 

So they stand in line. Silently. 

Then take a long flight back to the Tower. Silently.

Then enter the elevator of the Tower. Silently.

“So we’re going with ignoring it?” Garfield challenges, arms crossed over his chest. Raven glances at him. “Just trying to make sure we’re on the same page.” 

Raven looks forward and doesn’t say a word. He notices her fingers are pink because of how tightly she’s clenching the plastic bag of supplies.  

“And taking it out on shopping bags apparently,” he says. She loosens her fingers immediately. 

“We have more pressing issues.”

Garfield pauses. They’re almost to the common room.

“If we talk about it it would probably be a lot less awkward.”

“It’s not awkward.”

“You sure? Because you’ve been switching from making the most eye contact I’ve ever seen you make with anyone to starring anywhere but my face for the past half an hour.” 

“I’m so eternally sorry if I haven’t been keeping track of how long I’m looking at you Changeling. My brothers are trying to release my father from Hell.” She says it like she’s seconds away from picking her nails but of course that would require her to look anywhere but the elevator buttons she’s intently focused on.

“Yeah I know, one of them told all our friends we wanted to fuck each other,” Garfield says and he knows its crude but if she’s going to be this difficult he’s going to give himself room to act the same. 

“Jesus-” Raven exclaims, smacking a hand to her forehead and turning to face him. He thinks she looks kind of like a tornado. 

“I think your brothers are a little further south than him,” he says. Because apparently he wants to die young.  

“Clearly Jacob is saying anything to distract us,” Raven bites out, pointing a finger at his chest. He’s come a long way from the sixteen year old boy seeking constant validation but her words make him play with the point of his left ear.

“Clearly?” Garfield asks lamely. Raven’s eyes widen at the same time he realizes he wants to vacuum the word back into his mouth. Raven pauses, her fingers now curled in a loose fist between them. 

“Yes. I mean- you’re not attracted to me?” Raven mumbles, her words tumbling past her lips in a weird pitch. Garfield has long since sucked his lips into his mouth, hoping nothing else would come out. He tries to find the right words. ‘No I’m not’ would do just fine, he tells himself. 

But instead the elevator opens up on the whole team. Plus Aqualad. And Terra. His girlfriend. Raven’s already halfway out of the elevator. She turns away from Garfield in a millisecond but it’s slow enough for Garfield to watch the way her lips return to their frustratingly perfect line. It takes Garfield a few more seconds to exit the elevator with the same level of nonchalance. 

[lvlyhao]

Moments (Tom Holland x reader)

A/N: first Tom one-shot I actually completed! The reader is a female since it’s what I am used to working with. If I keep writing, I’ll try to make everything GN. Sort of proud of this, and I hope you all like it^^, and if you do, please like and reblog! 

Warnings: none. This is pure fluff.

Info you might need: Castellucio is a small village in Italy, and a very pretty one at that. It’s known for the flowerings that take place in the fields, every Spring. There are fields of lentils, poppies, violets... and I chose the red poppies.

Y/N = Your Name. M/N = Middle Name. L/N = Last Name. H/C = Hair Colour. E/C = Eye Colour. F/C = Favourite Colour. 

----------------------------------------

When the first rays of sun peek through the sheer curtains, Tom’s eyes flutter gently. The world is hazy the moment he opens them, seeing the entire room melt golden under the light. The air feels warm and balmy over his bare skin, immersing the two bodies in amenity as the early birds chirp outside.

Two bodies.

Finally coming to himself, the brown-haired boy stirs under the satiny sheets, looking for the glow of his lover. When his hand bumps into her, his heart beats faster. There she is, fast asleep, snoring softly and sprawled on her back. Her delicate skin seems velvety where glorious drops of light dance upon it. Her hair, H/C and silky, spreads over the ivory pillow like a halo. Soft, swollen lips give out peaceful breaths, and her hands are neatly folded over her stomach. A dot of glimmer attracts his gaze, and on her left hand, he finds the elegant ring. His ring, that he gave to her just yesterday.

Thinking back to that moment, it seemed like ages ago. The crimson fields of poppies of Castellucio encircled them and contrasted with her F/C dress—the one he always said was his favourite. His chocolate locks were an absolute mess from the wind, and he could only imagine how sweaty he looked, wearing a polo shirt and dress-pants under the scorching sun. Y/N didn’t seem to mind it that much, though. 

The second he kneeled on the grass, she started sobbing and grinning like a dork. It was endearing, how she couldn’t refrain from smiling even when he was talking about their (many) embarrassing memories. That tiny detail made him fall even harder for her. Every sliver of doubt he had left dissolved when she interrupted his speech, falling to the ground in front of him and lacing her arms around his neck. 

“That was enough”, she had muttered, “just ask the damn question already!”. Tom chuckled, reviving the way his voice cracked when he followed her request.

“Y/N M/N L/N, darling”, he grasped her hands, “will you marry me?”

Tears flowed down their faces as she nodded soundlessly time and again, too thrilled to find her voice. He slid the ring in her finger and they stood there, arms around the other and bawling their eyes out. For an instant, there was nothing else there—the flowers were gone, the Sun was hidden by the clouds, the winds turned into a breeze and even the smell of the Italian summer vanished. It was just the two of them, clinging onto each other for dear life and drowning in the chaste feeling of love. It was easily the best moment of his life.

Was it really?

Drinking in the sleeping figure of his fianceè, Tom thought about the day he met her. 29/04/20, a Wednesday, when he went live for the Marvel pub quiz. It had been genuinely amazing, to interact with his followers like that. He could still hear Harry's voice, telling him what to do to invite people to join the transmission.

“Such a grandpa”, he had said, shaking his head in amusement. Tom ignored him, randomly calling a username from the live chat to answer the final question—what does S.H.I.E.L.D stand for? 

The bright face that popped onto the screen one second later took his breath away. She had the most beautiful E/C eyes, sparkling with kindness and life. H/C strands framed her face, and her smile made his heart skip a beat, even with the low quality of the video. 

It was like everything around him froze; no one dared to move, fearing the moment would shatter. 

Except for his brother, though, seated to his left. 

“Oi, mate”, he nudged Tom, “read the question.” 

The brunette boy snapped out of it, covering his blush with a smirk and pretending he couldn’t hear Haz snickering behind him. Is it that obvious? 

Yes, of course, it was. How could it not be, when not only was she the loveliest girl he had ever seen but also a Marvel fan?

Y/N got the question right, not missing a beat when he asked. The three of them, on the other side of her screen, cheered a bit louder than necessary, and then he ended the live. Both his brother and best friend teased the hell out of him for the next few days. The fandom, of course, made memes about it, and eventually, Tom slid into her DMs. It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Tenderly clasping her right hand, not to wake her up, the boy shifts and stares at the ceiling. It is painted baby-blue and makes him think of the sweater she wore to the first Christmas spent with his family.

While juggling university and her job after quarantine ended, meeting his family wasn’t a top priority for Y/N. She and Tom always spoke about it, guessing how it would be like, but she was not ready the day he made the offer. 

“Go to my family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I promise you it’s gonna be awesome, they’re gonna love you! And if you feel comfortable, you can sleep there and spend Christmas with us. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to get you home in time. Please, love”, cue puppy-eyes. She couldn’t find it in her to say no to that, but she had never felt more jittery than in the week before the dinner.

When the 23rd rolled around, she was tense the entire day. Tom had tried everything to make her unwind, from running a hot bath to giving her a massage and attempting at making muffins (which turned out burnt and very salty). When he started to feel as helpless as his girlfriend, 5 pm struck, and they left to his parents’ house. The ride there was made in silence, only broken when he turned to her to whisper how much he loved her.

The next 2 hours or so went by in a blur. He couldn’t exactly spot how it all went—the first contact with his brothers and parents, finally meeting Haz, introducing her to Tessa… the first memories of the actual dinner began with what she told him, days later, about the exact moment she clicked with everyone.

The first person she befriended was Harrison. He was very sweet, keeping her company when Tom would leave to help his mom with something and making her feel at ease. The one point that made the two grow close was his cooking. She had seen both the hot bread and the pancake video, and just couldn’t help but bring them up. At first, he seemed quite bashful, but when Y/N said she couldn’t cook either, he decided he liked her. They talked for a long time, telling their most awkward cooking stories, and Tom watched everything from afar. I knew they'd get along.

Next was Harry, the sassy younger twin who seemed sort of intimidating. It’s not that he was mean, not at all, but he had a strong presence and for a split of a second, she thought he hated her. The tables turned when she mentioned her interest in photography and directing. It was all laughter, jokes and deep conversations by the fireplace after that, talking about some of their favourite films, photographers and directors. Harry turned out to be very kind, and the time she spent with him made her feel welcome.

With Sam, things were a bit different. Whenever Tom mentioned the twins, she thought the two of them would hit it off immediately. Apparently, though, she was too shy to initiate any kind of interaction with him and vice versa. Haz sensed her discomfort from the other side of the room and went to her aid. For the next 45 minutes, he acted as a bridge between them, keeping the chat going until they were talking like old friends. They bonded over the fact that they were huge Marvel fans, and discussed several theories for the next movies, as well as their favourite characters. Oh, how she loved the twins.

Getting to know Paddy was a challenge as well. He wasn’t timid but also didn’t seem very interested in talking. For most of the time, he played with Tessa quietly, time or another chiming in with a remark about something. It didn’t help that he was the youngest. Thinking back to everything Tom had told her about him, she couldn’t find a single topic to bring up. He was a high school kid, and that summed up everything they didn’t have in common. What would she talk about? Physics? Football? 

Things only clicked in her head when Tessa left his side to come to lick her hands, asking for pets and tossing around a rubber ball. So Y/N went outside and played catch, mutely hoping the boy would come around to play too. Soon enough, he did, and she bonded with the two of them at the same time.

By the time Nikki and Dom were finished with dinner, they were the only ones she hadn’t talked to a lot just yet. All the nerves that had gone away while she got to know the boys were back the moment everyone sat at the table. 

That was it. His parents. If they didn’t like her, chances were slim the relationship would last very long. Tom was a family person, and she'd never make him choose between them and her. 

She put on a charming smile, praying they’d get along, and complimented the food. A lot. Probably way more than she should, but there was no stopping now. It was her anxiety talking the wheel, after all. Luckily for her, they took it as a sign she was putting effort into making a good impression, and that was enough for them.

In one month, she was the closest thing to a sister the Holland boys had ever had. Things were fantastic after Christmas, and Tom could see a bright future for them. Waking up by her side was what he loved the most, but he could go on and on about every little thing he adored in her and their relationship.

One time, he did. It was their anniversary of two years, and Tom giggles at the mere thought of that. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong with his plans did go wrong, and he cried in front of Y/N, thinking he had ruined their special day. She took him in her arms, standing in the downpour at his favourite beach, where they were supposed to have a nice picnic. A long-forgotten basket was by her feet and the two were soaked to the bone, feeling a rainbow of emotions at once. 

Of course, she wasn't particularly cheery, but seeing Tom like that hurt, so she pushed her own frustration aside to take him home. There, wrapped tightly in 3 blankets and with a cup of cocoa in his hands, Tom was spoiled to death. They watched a bunch of Pixar movies, ordered pizza, took a bath together and, when the clock struck midnight, went to bed. 

The day was perfect, just not in the way she and Tom had imagined. It was better, actually, and the British boy decided to show her that with an impromptu speech. He had never been very good with words, but when he delicately cradled her face between his hands and began talking about the reasons why he loved her, he couldn’t stop. He told her about every tiny detail in her, from the way her nose crinkled when she smiled to how considerate she is. Recalling the moment she shut him up with a teary kiss, Tom realized he might have a tendency to overdo speeches. 

Now, lying side by side with the person he treasures above any other, he feels overwhelmed with love. The urge to take her in his arms, hold her close and defend her from the world brings a grin to his face as he gapes at her once more. Her eyes are starting to flutter, and soon she’ll be awake. 

Then, they’ll make plans for the afternoon and the night, since the morning is ending at this point. They’ll build one more memory for him to think about and laugh, and to someday tell their children about. They’ll go and live their dreams, cherishing and caring for one another. They’ll go and live thousands of perfect moments, because every moment by her side is the best of his life.

------------------------------------------

tagging some people I love here: @chaoticpete​ @underoosjae​ @spider-parker04​ @gwenvrse​ @lost-space-ranger​ @allegra-writes​

[fandom--desires]

Try To Fix You - Part 2

Fandom: Marvel

Rating: T Character(s): Loki Word Count: 2,216

Part 1 

“Her name was Sigyn.” Loki spoke quietly. So soft you could scarcely hear her. “She had been a childhood friend, someone who listened when I fell in Thor’s shadow and an accomplice to my schemes and jokes. As we grew, so did our friendship. It blossomed into love and we became inseparable. When I learned I was not the son of Odin she stood by me and supported my… betrayal. I kept her safe, hidden from the Etins as they raided Asguard.

When Thor returned and I was presumed dead, she failed to give up hope. She searched for me tirelessly until she found me in the servitude of the Chitauri. When she could not bargain my release she joined me in service and stayed by my side throughout all of it. She never gave up hope of our return to Asguard and would envision the two of us ruling together, side by side.

But when I failed to retrieve the Tesseract, I failed her. Thanos took her prisoner and returned her to me in a small box. I couldn’t save her. I failed Odin as a son, Thanos as a soldier and Sigyn as a lover and protector.

So do you see? You waste your time when you say you want to ‘help’ me. I don’t deserve help. I don’t deserve to feel better. I destroyed the only thing dear to me and now she’s resting at the bottom of a hole in a two foot box.”

Loki ended with a sneer, peering down his nose at you. You in turn sat numbed, shocked that he’d opened up to you and what he had experienced.

“I’m sorry.” You eventually managed to utter.

“’Sorry’?” Loki mimicked with a turn of the lip. “You’re sorry? Sorry for what, exactly? Forcing me to relive what I wanted to forget? For asking me in the first place?”

“I’m sorry that you’ve suffered as much as you have.” You laid a tentative hand on his leg in the hope of offering some comfort.

Loki sprang to his feet as though you had burned him with a branding iron. “Do not touch me!” he hissed, eyes full of hatred and self-loathing. “Do not offer me your false pity. You do not care for me. I murdered your parents and countless others. You feign curiosity and concern but you are nothing more than a liar and a manipulator.”

“Manipulator?” You raised your eyebrows. “I didn’t manipulate you into anything.”

“You pushed and you nagged to find out information I didn’t want to share. I do not know you, I do not wish to and I most certainly do not like you. I would give my own life to have one more day with her, yet you talk as though I can just forget and move on. You Midguardians are all the same; pathetic, whiney and annoying.”

It’s just the grief. This is the grief and the self-hatred talking. You told yourself over and over as you forced yourself to remain calm. “No one is keeping you here.” You told him evenly. “As you said, you murdered a lot of people. No one really wants you here, but still we are making an effort. I don’t want you to suffer. Personally I believe everyone deserves a shot at redemption, but if you don’t want it then that’s fine. Take your things and sod off to a remote island somewhere.” You stood and dusted off your thighs, as though trying to brush off his words. “If you don’t want my company then that’s fine, although I give you my word that what you have told me will remain a secret. Good luck with your healing process, Loki.” You turned on your heel and stalked from the library.

Although you repeated your mental mantra of it being the grief talking, you weren’t totally certain that was true. Loki had always thought lowly of Earth and its inhabitants, so there was always the chance that he was just speaking from the heart, his words unchecked from the grief that consumed him.

Nevertheless you still wanted to help him. You had meant what you said about everyone deserving a shot at redemption. If you hadn’t been given that chance by your parents then you would’ve probably been a homeless drug addict by now.

Deciding that you could use a second opinion you changed course and headed towards the communal lounge. Sure enough you found Clint draped across a sofa, snoring away with a newspaper crumpled on the floor besides him. You kicked it away, disgusted at the headlines which still read ‘AVENGERS WELCOME NEW YORK MURDERER WITH OPEN ARMS’. People had not taken well to the news that Loki would be staying at Stark Tower. Tony had done well to dissolve the protests, but the papers still harked on about it.

You wiggled Clint’s foot lightly and he stirred, peeking out at you from under a half-lidded eye. “Yes?” he yawned, vaguely attempting to sit up.

“I have a question.”

“Think I can help?” Clint yawned, managing to sit up a little more. He pulled his legs up, allowing you room to sit.

“Yes. You’ve successfully done what I’m trying to do.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Would this involve our resident war criminal?” he laughed at your surprised expression. “Kid, I may be half deaf but I’m not blind.”

“I want to help him.” you explained. “I don’t want him to suffer any more than he has. Thor said he was punished accordingly on Asguard, and from what he told me today he’s suffered just as much as us.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Clint stated, folding his arms, “but why exactly do you think I can help?”

“You got through Nat’s thousand barriers. You got to the real person hidden away under all that anger, hatred and self-loathing. How?”

Clint sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose. “It takes time. A lot of it. And twice as much patience. If, and I say you shouldn’t, but if you want to get through to Loki then you’re going to need to be persistent. Don’t be pushy but be present, selfless and willing to help him. And be prepared to be given lectures, be lashed out at and possibly almost murdered.”

“Thanks.” You smile, patting his shin. “See, you can be useful!”

“You’re welcome.” Clint smiled, before frowning slightly. “Wait, who said I wasn’t useful?”

You grinned and waved at him as you headed to the door.

The next stop on your list was Thor. His living quarters were near the top of the tower, allowing him easy access to the helipad, should he feel like flying off somewhere. They were large and open, constructed entirely by one-way glass with the exception of his bedroom. A plush blue rug lined the floor and, as always, the door wasn’t locked.

Thor was flopped in a giant beanbag watching some football match on his TV. He grinned at you with a mouth full of popcorn when he saw you. “Frenth!” he greeted before swallowing his popcorn. “Come, sit! Have some of this popped corn.”

You politely took some popcorn and perched on the edge of the beanbag. Buster licked your hand eagerly from his mini beanbag on the floor. Apparently he and the God of Thunder were having some bro-bonding time.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Thor boomed over the TV.

“It’s about Loki.” You said, picking at your handful of popcorn.

“Ah, yes! My brother tells me you have been keeping him company! Your snake was with him but yesterday!”

“He told me about Sigyn.”

Thor’s smile falters and he reaches over to turn off the TV. “He did?” he seems both surprised and confused. “I confess I did not think my brother would ever tell a mortal. He must truly consider you a friend.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” You chuckle. “He had some truly colourful things to say about me and my species, but that’s not why I’m here. I want to help him, Thor. I want him to feel a bit better. Not ‘go out and murder thousands of people’ better, but more himself. You know?”

Thor nodded. “I too wish for my brother to return to his good self again. I believe he will become better in time.”

“Is there anything we can do to help him along that path? Preferably without getting mulched in the process.”

“My brother enjoys the finer things in life. Good books and fine food. He also enjoys pranks, should you be inclined to try and execute one on him.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Books and food I can do, but pranking the God of Mischeif? Possibly pushing it too far.”

“Perhaps, but this is a strange world. There is much he does not understand about it. I believe you and your fine animal companions could pull something off.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon watching the game with Thor, but thinking about his brother. How on Earth were you meant to prank the God of pranks and mayhem? You didn’t even know Loki’s routine well enough to even begin planning such things. But Thor was right; you had the help of your animals.

That night you rounded them all up and explained what had transpired today, without giving away any sensitive information. It was agreed with Beerious and Pharrah would take turns following Loki and trying to locate his room. Jasper and Lily would keep an eye from on high and Chi-Chi would continue to spend time with him for a few hours a day. As Buster, Digby and Maddie were incapable of being discreet they would go about their daily business. Finally, your monitor lizard Taz was on recon. His job was to hunt out spots for potential pranks. It was ridiculous and absurd, but what was done was done. And it was entirely Thor’s fault.

~~

For two days you gave Loki a wide berth. Not that it was hard as he had confined himself to the library. Chi-Chi kept him company and Taz made sure to introduce himself. On the evening of the second day you received word that the rest of the team were finished in Dubai and would be home in three days once they had given their reports. It was your turn to prepare the ceremonial ‘well done on not dying’ feast and you could think of no one better to help than Loki.

But Loki was not amused.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

“That’s petty.”

“My answer is still no. I have better things to do with my time.”

You laughed, taking a quick glance around the library. “I bet you’ve read all the books in here already. You must be bored and besides, it’s a good way to express your thanks to the team.”

“My thanks?” Loki sneered.

“Yes, your thanks to Tony for disbanding the protests outside and to Steve for going on record to defend your stay here. Your thanks to Nat for not killing you already and your thanks to everyone else for giving you a second chance.”

Loki glared at you but, sure enough, three days later and the team was sitting down to a meal prepared by you and Loki. Well, it was mainly Loki. You had merely observed to make sure he didn’t try to poison any of you. As it turned out, Loki was an excellent cook. He had prepared a selection of cured meats, smoked fish and roasted vegetables along with fresh salad, homemade bread fancy cheese. Although the other had been unsure of it at first, even they agreed that the food was without fault.

By the end of the evening you could have sworn Loki was smiling. But then again maybe he wasn’t smiling, so much as no longer scowling. He almost seemed happy when Pepper suggested he cook monthly meals for the team.

As the rest of the team filtered through into the lounge you stayed behind to wash up. It wasn’t until you were loading the second dish washer that you realised Loki had stayed behind. “You did well tonight.” You assured him. “They were genuinely grateful for the food.”

Loki said nothing, just remained sat at the table watching you pack up.

“You could become the tower’s cook.” You chuckle. “We could make you a TV show; Cooking with Loki.” You laugh aloud as you turn on the dishwashers. The three machines whir to life and you frown. There shouldn’t be any whirring. These were Stark machines. They were meant to be quiet as a mouse. With a frown you start poking buttons at random on the display. You manage to get one of them to pause and the door pops open, sending warm water and bright blue bubbles all over the floor. You jump back with a shriek as your socks are soaked.

From the table Loki starts chuckling.

“You! This is your fault!” you point an accusing finger at the snickering God.

Loki raises his hands. “Entirely me. Have fun.” He rises from the table, shoots you a teasing smile and stalks from the kitchen, leaving you to deal with the flood of bright blue bubbles and dirty water.

Part 3 

[nerdylittleshit]

* there might be more than 13 fics on this list

For ages I wanted to make a Destiel Fic Rec List. For my own purposes, but of course for others as well to discover some new fics and for the writers to get the regocnition they deserve. Most of the fics on this list are a bit longer, meaning at least 10.000 words or more. If you look for shorter fics to read you can search through my fanfic tag, where I mostly reblog one-shots. (Also once a year or so I write a fic myself, you can find them here and here)

Alternative Universes

A Beginner’s Guide to Communing with the Dead by suspiciousflashlight/ @huntingthehaggis

Words: 77.159

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

Hands down, this is my favourite fanfic of all time. Exellent world building with an urban fantasy that takes a lot of the elements from Supernatural and makes it their own. As far as AU fics go this is the story that has Cas most in character. He isn’t human in this fic as well, and the author nailed down how otherwordly and at times scary Cas was when he first entered the show. There is also a lot of angst in this story too and some very dark themes. Though the fic ends happy it is rather bittersweet. One of the most beautiful written stories out there.

An Exercise in ‘Worthless’ by beastofthesky/ @basiacat

Words: 26.547

 "I mean, you’re–” He gestures at Cas, in his neat oxford shirt and nice pants. “–and I’m a high school dropout who tattoos for a living.”

---

Wherein Dean makes a hefty living as a tattoo artist who owns the space next to Gabriel's cafe. Sam attends the local university. When Gabe's cousin comes to live with him while starting grad school at Sam's university, Dean thinks for sure that all his negative karma's coming to bite him in the ass because Cas clearly has a thing for Sam. No one would ever choose him over Sam. That's just logic.

Dean is a tattoo artist firmly believing he will never be good enough for Cas, trying the best friend thing and loving him from a distance. Sounds familiar? There is a lot of pining here, with some angst, but ultimately a happy end.

Asunder by rageprufrock/ @rageprufrock

Words: 23.817

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

Though this is a Destiel fanfic with lots, LOTS of pining this is also a fic about Sam and Dean. Set in the real world Sam didn’t get addicted to demon blood but real drugs instead. Ruby is still part of the problem and the reason Sam and Dean had a fallout. Except that Ruby is also the one helping Sam getting better and now they get married and Dean is conflicted about attending the wedding at all. He does in the end, invinting Cas, as a friend, except not because he is in love with him for quite some time now. This is a fic that contains some very dark themes (drug use, child abuse, death & loss) but does it in the most beautiful way. A true masterpiece.

It’s Always the End of the World Somewhere by Annie D (scaramouche)/ @no-gorms

Words: 21.126

The status quo is this: Dean is the popular captain of the football team, and Castiel is the off-kilter nobody who doesn't so much as breathe the same air as Dean. Then senior year happens and the status quo is shot to smithereens.

Did someone say highschool-AU? Enter popular Dean and not so popular Cas, who used to be friends, until they weren’t but somehow manage to find their way to each other again. This Cas reminded me a bit of Endverse!Cas, except as a teenager. There are also several timestamps for this fic.

Kerouac and Thursdays by dilangley

Words: 6.356

 "You think God thinks this is a sin?"

 Castiel stared down his entire lifetime's worth of beliefs and denied them. "No."

 "Me neither."

---

They met on September 11, 1959. The beginning was clear, but for Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, the ending was anything but.

A non-linear look at a love story.

Can I call this retro-fic? Set in the fifties there are many reasons why Dean and Cas aren’t out & proud, with Dean being married one of them. As the summary says this is a non-linear-story. Short, but very poetic.

Not Part of the Plan series by Annie D (scaramouche) / @no-gorms

Words: 317.608 

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

In Search of a One Night Stand

Takes Two to Make a Pair

Elephant in the Room Makes Three

Four-Point Landing

Capital Five FM

Six Degrees in Either Direction

And On the Seventh Day...

As you can see this is one of the longest fics on this list. Even though it is an AU there are still a lot of the elements of Supernatural in this story. There is an exellent world-building in this fic, and Dean and Cas’s love story is the catalyst for an even bigger story. This is an arranged wedding fic, that has Cas and Dean coming from two very different backgrounds and the beauty of this fic is how they both come together, how they try to understand where the other is coming from and over time fall in love with each other. The same I fall in love with this fic over and over again.

Out to Drift by beenghosting/ @beenghosting

Words: 20.898

Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. 

This is a fic that works with so many canon elements that it had me wondering if it isn’t canon adjacent, especially in the beginning when this story was still a one-shot and before the author added some more chapters. Though it turns out it is an AU, it is still pretty close to canon and also rather dark, but ultimately it ends happy. A rather unique read.

So Glad We Made It by Annie D (scaramouche)/ @no-gorms

Words: 16.421

At twelve years old, Dean makes a friend, who becomes his best friend, who will eventually become the love of his life. 

Your classic friends-to-lovers/Dean-and-Cas-through-the-years fic. Dean and Cas are best friends until Dean realizes he is in love with Cas. He doesn’t make a move though because... well because. You know the drill.

The Colour ‘Verse by whelvenwings/ @whelvenwings

Words: 10.746

Dean the Firefighter lives in a world of greys, reds, oranges and yellows. He's a lower-spectrum, and the only way he can get his kick of green or blue is by sharing his colours with strangers in back alleys - until one day Cas crashes into his world, bringing the whole of the glorious upper spectrum with him.

This story is set in a world where most people are only able to see a few select colours, but not all of them. The only way to see other colours is to touch someone who can. Enter Dean and Cas, who realize they can only see the entire rainbow whenever they touch ;)

(I made this fic sound gayer than it already is #noregrets)

The open sky (is mine tonight) by weatheredlaw/ @weatheredlaw

Words: 21.932

Castiel Novak is a wedding planner in San Francisco who doesn’t have the time or the energy for a relationship right now. After an accident introduces him to the charming pediatrician Dean Winchester, he thinks that might change. Unfortunately, Dean is engaged to Castiel’s new favorite client, Anna Milton, and it’s suddenly a game of tug-o-war between what Castiel wants and what Castiel needs — but as he comes to find out, often times those things are exactly the same. 

Yes, this is loosely based on “The Wedding Planer”, but what can I say? I have a soft spot for wedding fics that aren’t about Dean and Cas’s wedding (it’s a niche). Have all the nonsense wedding planing stuff, a Dean who is questioning all of his choices and a Cas stuck in the worst moral dilemma.

The World at Your Feet by casfallsinlove/ @casfallsinlove

Words: 8.207

When he was a kid, Dean Winchester learned to dance in secret. Now he's twenty-six and has arrived at ballet school in New York City on a scholarship. He's homeless, lonely, and spends his days doing the only thing that keeps him sane: dancing.

Castiel is, ostensibly, a librarian. But when his younger sister Anna needs another dancer for the routine she has to choreograph, he finds himself agreeing to fill the role. He expected a few weeks of rehearsals with three ballet school suck-ups. He did not expect Dean Winchester.

What can I say? I love ballet, I love ballet movies, so when I found this Destiel ballet AU I couldn’t resit. This is a very sweet short story. And because Dean and Cas dance together it involves a lot of touching. And a lot UST. Enjoy.

Canon Fics

A turn of the earth by mishcollin/ @mishcollin

Words: 95.274

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

Did you ever wonder how pre-series Dean would have reacted to Cas? Especially a Cas from the future, who remembers all of their past and all the reasons why they can’t be together, but he can’t tell Dean, because this is the first rule of time travelling. On top of that there is also a reason why Cas travelled to Dean’s past in the first place and why he never stays for too long. And it’s not a good one.

This is the perhaps best time-travelling fic I have read. It combines cocky young Dean with a Cas burdened by his past, a lot of pining, a lot of angst, and even though it doesn’t look like it, a happy end. A must read.

Any port in a storm by mishcollin/ @mishcollin

Words: 52.738

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

This fic is set after the season 8 finale, with a newly human Cas living in the bunker with Sam and Dean. Some of my fondness for this fic (other than the exellent writing) is that I joined fandom in the hiatus between season 8 and 9 and I remember the exictment about human!Cas and the possibility of him living in the bunker and all the domestic fics it produced. This fic though is more a case fic, including a cruise and fake boyfriends and Dean and Cas forced to talk about all their crap (something I wish the show would force to do them as well). The pace in which their romance develops feels just right, the characterisation is on point, it is pretty much perfect.

Coda Fics by xylodemon/ @xylodemon

Deancas codas: season 9

Deancas codas: season 10

Deancas codas: season 11

Deancas codas: season 12

Xylodemon is hands down the master of canon fics and has written a lot of coda fics over the years. I love them all.

Dean (and Cas’) Top 13 Zepp Traxx by pantheon_of_discord/ @pantheonofdiscord

Words: 82.450

Dean eases Baby down the frontage road, trying not to look in the rearview mirror as his home gets smaller and smaller behind him.

He’s done this a hundred times. He’s driven down this road in the soft morning light, heading out to some little town in some distant corner of the country. This is a job like any other.

“It’s not like we’re never coming back,” Cas says from the passenger seat.

---

Dean and Cas and the open road, to the tune of Led Zeppelin. A post-series story in thirteen parts.

Set somewhere after season 12, this fic is a case fic as much as it is a Destiel fanfic, and something I could totally see happening on the show and how I wish the show would end. You get a bit of everything with this fic: case fic, hurt/comfort, smut, and even Sam gets his fair share (and a dog!). This really reads like a season of the actually show, with the only difference that Destiel finally becomes canon. So whatever the future brings this fic already provides the perfect happy ending.

Equinox by luchia/ @luchia13

Words: 12.101

In which Castiel is the weird time-traveling freak who just might be the love of Dean Winchester's life.

A short but well written time-travel-story that works with the established canon. And somehow manages to make Dean and Cas’s love story even more epic.

Face to Face with the Skies by quiddative/ @quiddatively

Words: 42.168

(Set right after 4.22) Castiel was not killed by Raphael on the night of Lucifer’s release. Instead, he’s sent to the year 1996 and encounters the Winchesters. Unable to return to the present, Castiel resigns himself to traveling with them on their hunts across the states.

Meanwhile in the year 2008, Dean has barely gotten used to being back in the land of the living when he gets the biggest shock of his life; the man he fell in love with when he was eighteen has seemingly come back from the grave as well, claiming to be an angel of the Lord. The thing is, he doesn’t have a clue who Dean is.

This is a time-travel fic that works in two-time-lines: 1996 and 2008. As a teenager dean falls in love with Cas, until he disappears, only to come back to him a decade later, revealing himself to be an angel but with no memory of Dean. Next to the actual love story there is also the mystery of who Cas is and how and why he travelled through time.

Good One’s Gonna Be Me by remmyme/ @remmyme

Words: 37132

Castiel Novak receives a rather alarming text message from an unknown number, and what started as a simple misdial quickly turns into the greatest friendship Castiel has ever known. But Dean has many secrets, dangerous truths about the life he lives, and would like to tell Castiel exactly none of them.

A (slightly) AU, (mostly) text fic, S3 fix-it romance (of sorts).

A canon divergent story that tells season 3 from a new perspective, with an author who has a great feeling for their characters and the right amount of angst (as if season 3 wasn’t angst-ridden enough).

Like a Thrift Store Jacket, Still Good But Used by triedunture/ @stuffimgoingtohellfor

Words: 5.656

Dean is a natural bottom, loves to take it up the ass like no one's business. Problem is, he's hung like a horse, or at least big enough he pings every guy's secret size kink. So, Dean ends up topping even though that's not what he wants. Enter Castiel.

A short very smutty story, that satisfies all your bottom!Dean needs. Set in season 4 this Cas is still very other, and this isn’t an epic romance story. But so so hot.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master/ @sass-master-stina

Words: 20.277

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

A classic case fic, with lots of UST, until the levee finally breaks. This fic is part of a longer series, though I have only read this first part.

Sweet Home by xylodemon/ @xylodemon

Words: 7.209

Dean hates Alabama, and this hunt is turning into a pain in the ass.

Set in season 10 this features some exellent jealous and angry Dean, with a special guest appearence by Hannah. Dean and Cas never talk it out but they sure know how to use their mouths.

The little engine by orange_crushed/ @robotmango

Words: 13.347

"He, uh," Sam says. "He just needs space, I think."

"Of course," Castiel says. His own voice sounds like it is a million miles away. "I understand." It’s an outrageous lie, the kind of thing he is learning that people tell all the time, because they must, to keep afloat. He does not understand. He does not understand at all. He does not actually like the flaxseed bread Sam buys. He is almost never fine.

He pins the postcard on the board in the library and then goes into the bathroom to splash water on his face. He runs the tap and puts his hands over his eyes but he still sees them, sees the handwriting and the smudge where the ink was still wet, where the skin sat across it and drew it over the paper, the last mark, the proof of life, the only touch he’s had in months, this ghostly impression of an absent hand.

 I’m not coming back.

This is set after season 9, with demon!Dean on the run and a desperate Cas trying to find him and to bring him home. It’s a short but rather poetic story, with a different Dean than the one we saw at the beginning of season 10. Though it features some dark themes it is a rather beautiful story.

The Mirror by cloudyjenn

Words: 24.568

When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

This is somewhat of a fanfic classic and one of the first stories I ever read. Through a magic mirror Dean is send to different realities, where he meets alternative versions of himself, his brother and Cas. The only thing they all have in common: he is in love with Cas. It’s almost as if the universe wants to send him a message.

The Tunnel of Love by xylodemon/ @xylodemon

Words: 21.421

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."

Dean just stares at him.

A classic case fic that forces Dean and Cas to make out, brought to you by the master of canon fics. What more is there to say?

The Way Out by awed_frog/ @awed-frog

Words: 67.482

Things are going pretty good, which is why Dean should have seen it coming. Sam and Toni are so in love it’s disgusting, the big monsters are all gone or dead, and Dean and Cas - yeah, okay, so they kissed and now they're kind of together, okay? Shut up.

No, the second Dean had caught himself thinking about food processors and beach holidays, he should have fucking known his happy ending would turn around and kick him in his fucking teeth. And now it has, and they're supposed to get on a damn plane and put on monkey suits and have Christmas dinner at Lord and Lady Bevell's, and Dean just can't - he can't face it, he can't breathe, he can't even see through the injustice of it all, because Cas - Cas -

 Tell me why. I deserve that much, at least.

This is perhaps one of the most fascinating stories I have read. It is told from different perspectives: one set after season 11 with canon Destiel, the other some strange AU that has Dean in Italy with Charlie at his side, meeting a handsame stranger. The mystery is how those stories are conected. And how the author managed to work this in within the esrablished canon.

This story features some of the most heartbreaking scenes I have read. It is sad in the most beautiful way (but don’t worry, there is a happy ending). One of the best stories I ever had the pleasure to read.

This Story has a Happy Ending by xylodemon/ @xylodemon

Words: 3.399

The one where Cas tries to fuck the Mark of Cain away.

The summary tells it all. How season 10 should have ended.

Unfinished duet by mishcollin/ @mishcollin

Words: 5.894

Sam watches Dean and Cas over the years and notices a few things. (Or, Dean and Cas unscripted.)

I love Destiel fanfics from an outsider perspective, in this case Sam. Fullfills all your shipper!Sam needs.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon/ @xylodemon

Words: 8.568

No one ever tells Dean anything.

(or: Dean Winchester and the not-relationship crisis of 2014)

I think I have read this story so many times I know it off by heart. Dean and Cas finally end up together, but in true Winchester fashion they don’t talk about it. Come in for the smut, stay for the miscommunication.

We shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon/ @xylodemon

Words: 15043

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

A case fic that is beautiful linked to Dean and Cas’s own love story.

[bugheadjones-the-third]

Title: Don’t Run Away . Summary: Just after his father convinced him to stay, Jughead goes back inside to look for his girlfriend. It’s going to be a long night for those broken lovers. . A/N: Okay. This is my theory of what happened in between the party and their meeting at Pop’s. It was so unfair of them not to show it, therefore, I felt the need to write down the vision I have in my mind. This one goes as far as the time they leave Archie’s house, so tell me if you think I should continue! Hope you enjoy, and please, send me some feedback! . . . . The party was already a mess, but shit hit the fan only after his knuckles crashed against Chuck’s cheekbones after those stupid words came out from his lips. The former player- football player- decided to tag along with Cheryl in her stupid revenge plan, and much to their delight, chaos was created in what was supposed to be a small, unwanted birthday party. People ended up hurt, physically and emotionally, and even if his face hurt like hell, his heart had never been any tighter than at that very moment.

Jughead was a train wreck, with blood coming out from his bruised face, and all he wanted to do was to go home, wherever the hell that might be at that very moment. He left the Andrew’s residence as a soldier who returns from war- broken and troubled- and he didn’t want to look back on his decision to leave. He didn’t belong there, he knew. Yet, he could feel a strange force pulling him back inside.

It was pulling him towards her.

But his feelings had already caused too much trouble for one troublesome night.

He had to leave. And that was exactly what he was going to do before his father decided to  interfere.

“ Where the hell are you going?” FP bumped on his shoulder, taking him off the flow of people leaving the house.

“What!?” Jughead screamed, anger filling every letter of his statement. His troubled expression shocked his father, for never before had he seen his concealed son so troubled because of a stupid party. “ You gonna give me some advice on my right hook?”

The South Serpent let out a sigh, feeling somewhat annoyed to see that his son’s sarcasm was still present at such a crucial time. That boy really has no cure, and he would make sure to put some sense into his stubborn head. “ I want you to go back inside and talk to your girl.”

“ I don’t think it’s gonna work out. We have irreconcilable differences.”

It was easy for FP to see how hurt the boy was just by the way his eyes were cast down and how he was normally more aggressive with his sentences. His son was heartbroken and he had the right to be. Still, as an adult who has gone to hell and never entirely returned, his father knew better than to let him throw away what could be the only healthy and stable connection of his short, troubled life over a stupid thing like that. He wasn’t going to let his son lose a girl who’s crazy enough to love him for everything that he is.

He was not going to let Jughead make the same mistakes he did back then, for sure.

When the teen tried to make his way past his father, he was obviously held back once more. Another unsatisfied expression took over his juvenile face, as he refused to make any kind of eye contact with the Serpent.

“ Don’t run away from it! Don’t run away.”

His words struck hard in both his and Jughead’s hearts, for it was clear that FP was not just talking about what had just happened minutes before. He was talking about the whole thing and how he didn’t want to see history repeating itself, with his son as the new protagonist of another love tragedy staring the Jones family. “ You’ve got something good here- with her, with your friends. Something that we could never give you.”

Jughead remained silent, allowing his father’s pep talk to sink into the depths of his gloomy soul. For the first time in his life, the words coming from his old man were making sense and igniting something inside his core. The bruise was long forgotten, and he was impressed that he, Jughead Jones the Third, was actually being convinced otherwise.

Things were really messed up that night.

“ Also, man up.” Jughead looked at him, feeling somewhat encouraged. “ After what I just saw in there, she needs you.”

And that was when the whole thing wrapped up inside his heart. The figure of a blonde girl, with eyes on the verge of tears got even clearer in his head, and at that time he just knew he couldn’t leave her behind, especially not after everything she had listened to on that night. Harsh words were thrown at her simply because she was trying to do something nice, and more than ever he recognized his share of the guilt at that moment.

He was still hurt because of the party and because of their fight, but the idea of tears streaming down her soft cheeks was the one thing that was troubling him the most. That night, she was humiliated and exposed, and not only by people such as Cheryl and Chuck. He hurt her and took her for granted because of his own demons, and more than ever Jughead just wanted to punch every single one of them in the face.

Betty should have never gone through such terrible experiences like that, no. Not when he’s supposed to be around to protect her.

Not when he’s the one she calls boyfriend, and especially, not when she needs him.

Tch, he couldn’t believe his father had actually made him do the right thing.

Without thinking twice, the beanie boy turned on his heels and returned inside in order to seek for his girl. His greenish-blue eyes were scanning the whole place, looking for her golden pony tail in between the many heads that were heading towards the exit, but finding no sign of the girl. The entire place was a mess. Blue and Gold decorations spread around the floor, red solo cups forgotten everywhere, along with beer bottles and things he didn’t even dare try to identify.

Jughead even found Vegas’ toy spread around, and for his four-legged pal's safety, he would definitely remember to get rid of that thing as soon as he fixed things with his girlfriend.

He searched for her everywhere, checking the garage, the backyard and even the rooms upstairs, asking everyone who hadn’t still left if they had seen the Cooper girl. He placed a hand over his beanie, taking a deep breath as he took time to think before continuing his desperate search.

Betty had to be there. He didn’t remember seeing her leave, and hopefully, he didn’t miss her by accident while he was upstairs or in any of the other places where she wasn’t. He knew that if she had returned home, then his chances of talking to her would be close to zero. Her mother is a strong person, and even Jughead knows messing with Alice Cooper is a terrible mistake.

He had to find her before it was too late.

And thankfully, after passing by his favorite place in the house, the Jones boy finally spotted that beautiful, crown sweater she had been wearing since earlier. She was at the kitchen, leaning against the cupboard and with her back turned to him. Her right hand had a tight grip around the trash bag, and her left one was resting over the mahogany structure as if she was using it to support herself. Her shoulders were tensed, and as he slowly approached her, he could hear small sobs coming out of her mouth.

So she was crying, after all.

“ Betty.”

Her body shifted immediately at the sound of his voice, and he watched as she quickly used her free hand to wipe away her face. She took a deep breath in response, and as if she hadn’t heard him at all, the Cooper girl continued cleaning up and throwing the empty bottles inside the dark bag in her hand.

“ Betty… We need to-“ He reached out for her shoulder, but before he could even touch her, she took a step away, creating an even bigger barrier in between them.

“ Why are you still here, Jughead?” Her voice was harsh and hurt, and not being able to look into her eyes was simply killing him. She was trying to keep a distance between them as in a protective measure, and even if he had tried to do it before, Jug knew he couldn’t let her do the same.

“ I couldn’t leave you all alone in this state. Not after that stupid game.”

"You were on your way out before the game even started, so I don’t think that’s the case.”

“ Look, about what Chuck said… It was not your fault. He’s just a jerk. He-“

“ He was right!... He didn’t say a single lie about me and I’m the only one to be blamed for this whole night.”

“ No, you’re not. Tch, you can’t let that guy get the best of you. You’re a good person, Betty. You’re-“

“ Perfect?”

Silence stuck in between them, as they were now taken back to their fight earlier that night. Back to when their differences collided, and when his introvert personality made him say things he didn’t mean at all. He regretted his words more than ever at that moment, as he was blaming himself for labeling her like that.

A straight A student. A cheerleader. The perfect girl next door.

He had judged her for all of those things people normally do, not caring about the fact that maybe she was just as broken as he is. For him, Betty Cooper has always been the purest center of everything that is right in the world. For him she has always been, indeed, perfect. However, after learning more about her family and after listening to Chuck revealing her darkest secret, Jughead realized that his conception of right did not apply on her.

She’s a weirdo. A damaged, loner, outsider from the wrong side of the tracks who was trying to seem perfect for the others.

She’s an idiot. And so is he for letting the beast within her hide behind that facade.

“ Y-You’re not perfect… I’m sorry about what I’ve said.”

“ You shouldn’t. Neither you nor Chuck. It’s just the truth.”

“ No, it’s not. Betty, I-“

“ Look.” She raised her voice, making his eyes widen and his words disappear in his tongue. She was clearly not okay, and apparently, his approach was just making things worse. Still, he was not going to give up on her. He was not going to give up on them. “ I think you should just go. Your room is not a mess, and… Just go.”

“ I’m not going anywhere, Betty.”

“ Please, Jug.” Her voice crackled, and at that moment, he knew she had completely lost herself in her own guilt. “ Go away.”

Her pleading words made his heart pound, for many of the times he actually said those words to the ones close to him, all he really wanted was for one of them to stay. Even if her voice was telling him to go, he couldn’t care less about that. He was not going to do as he was told, and he was certainly not going to leave his girlfriend alone.

He was not running away that time.

“ No. I want to fix this.”

“ Jughead, there’s nothing you can do.“

“ I want to try.”

“ You can’-“

“ I want to help!”

"..." She bit her lower lip, as a tear fell from her eye. “ So clean this whole mess up!” She finally turned to face him, red eyes stinging from the wiped tears and all her insecurities forcing their way out of her body. She let go of the trash bag, and both of her hands were turned into fists. Betty was not mad at all, he could clearly see that. She was just hurt in the same way he was before, as she addressed herself as the personification of the word mess.

Betty was begging for help. And he would never ignore her silent call.

“ I’ve tried cleaning it all by myself, but I just can’t, Jug! I’ve tried, but in the end I just can’t. I’m crazy just like my family, and even if I’ve tried to rely on your words, I know that I’ll eventually drag them down with me. I’ll drag you down with me!”

“ No, you won’t! Betty, you’re destroying yourself right now, and you just can’t do it right now. This was just a mistake, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“ Yes, it was, Jug! You were right! I don’t know what you like or not, and I probably just did this party for myself… To prove that I can be perfect at something. I was trying to be the perfect girlfriend, but I can’t. I’m not and I’ll never be…” She took a step closer, placing her right hand on his soft cheek and lifting his head so her eyes were now focused on his bruise. “ As your girlfriend, I’m only good to get you hurt, Jug.”

“ No, you’re not.” He held her hand in place before she could move it away, and he could feel something different in the texture of her palm. It got him intrigued, but before he could check on it, he saw as her eyes shifted in a mix of sorrow and fear. He carefully let go of her hand, and watched as she turned it into a fist and brought it to her chest. There was something more causing her pain and by the end of that night, Jughead would make sure to find out what.

But not before he could mend their broken hearts.

“ Yes, I am…” She said, in a whisper, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“ No, I’ve already told you that you’re not.” His expression was soft and tender now, and as he placed his hands on her cheeks, he could feel a strong need to pull her closer in a hug so he could shield her from the entire world. He wiped the tears that followed behind the first one that hit the floor, and he looked deep into her beautiful, blue eyes. “ Betty… We’re both hurt by things we both did. The party, the fight… This is not us. We’re better than that.”

“ H-How? We’re both so different, Jug.”

“ …. I don’t know, but…” He brushed his thumb across her right cheek, soothing her heart before letting his hands fall from her face to her shoulders. Her eyes looking at him with so much hope gave him strength, and Jughead knew exactly what he had to say. " But we have something- something different. We both have our secrets that we’re afraid to tell, but it’s definitely not because we don’t trust each other. We are different, but I also don’t think anyone would ever understand us as we do. Tonight… Tonight we just didn’t know.”

And by didn’t know, both of them understood what Jughead really meant with his words. He meant they didn’t know each other enough yet. They didn’t know each other’s tastes and dreams, and they certainly didn’t know all their fears and insecurities. Somehow, they felt like they didn’t know each other at all, even if they knew that was not true.

They knew they could trust each other.

They knew they could count on each other.

They knew their love was real.

Both Jughead and Betty knew that it was time for them to be completely honest about what’s inside their hearts, even if none of them actually knew exactly what they could find there. They were ready to face the unknown together, fighting against their darkness and secrets, and not caring about how vulnerable or how exposed that would leave them.

Only together they could win that fight. Only together they could fix their hearts.

And that was exactly what they were going to do.

But not in a place like that.

“Jug…"

“ I think that since we want this to work…” Because he knew they did. "We’ll need to talk about the things we don’t know.” He said, not taking his eyes away from hers. A soft, small smile crossed her lips, as she was silently thanking him for guiding her through that lightless path she had ended up following that night.

She was thankful for him being there, with her.

And she just knew things would, eventually, be okay.

" I think we’ll need milkshakes for that.”

“ Yeah…" He felt his chest getting warmer, as he caressed her arms." Shall we?”

“ Let’s go.”

And with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, both Jughead and Betty left what was left of Archie’s house. They were walking together to the one place where they knew they would find peace, and to the one place where all their fears wouldn’t be able to hurt them.

They were heading out to Pop’s. And in between milkshakes and words, they would certainly recover their lost birthday.

[thelookingglassalice]

When It Began Chapter 1

Chris Evans x OC Ivey (Masterlist)

Chris meets an intern on set of his movie ‘Street Kings’. Ivey is ruled by impulses, enjoying everything she can. But over the course of their relationship, as Chris’ fame grows, the problems do too. (Begins in 2007) Thank you @emilyevanston for beta-ing for me

(If you’d like to be tagged let me know♥)

@mumbles411 @chrisevans-imagines

I loved writing. That’s all I could ever remember wanting to do. My imagination got me in trouble more than once. Apparently, the line between storytelling and lying was not as fine as I had thought.

My mom raised me on her own and found my personality endearing. The school disagreed. You’d think a school just outside of Las Vegas would be less uptight. Anyway, my overactive imagination served me well. I moved to LA to attend USC. I graduated last spring with my bachelors of fine arts. I went with screenwriting because I could write books and screenplays. Since so many books become screenplays I was hedging my bets for my future. An internship came up and my adviser suggested I do it before I start my masters. She knew the script supervisor for a picture that was filming needed an assistant. Street Kings, was the title. I agreed and went to work. I was a secretary, for the most part. I stayed at the production office fielding calls and doing the paperwork.  I would get to go to set on occasion to take continuity pictures of sets and costumes. I would also get to hand out any revised scripts to the actors. There were some popular ones. Keanu Reeves, Forest Whitaker, Hugh Laurie. I had to run lines one day with one of the ladies, Martha.

The crew started to refer to me as Sunny. I asked them why and they kindly explained that I was always upbeat. I liked to talk to everyone and be friends with everyone. It was true. I liked to talk to people and have fun. But I only bothered the other interns and the crew. I knew better than to start grilling the talent. I got asked out sometimes, I would agree. But I usually spent the date explaining that it was nothing against them, but I really didn’t have the time to date someone regularly. Between school, the internship, and my two nights a week job, there wasn’t room for anyone.

I was passing out the sheets for the day. The shoot was outside and I had on sunglasses with my dark hair loose. I chatted with the assistants for a bit and came to my last copy. I needed to find Chris Evans’ assistant. He was new on the shoot today. I had no idea who his assistant was so I asked where his trailer was. I stood outside and read through the script, I was supposed to make sure he understood the intensity of the scene. Where was his assistant?

“Hey.”

I heard a deep voice and turned to find a tall guy with a buzzcut behind me. He was in a suit and sunglasses.

“Hi, Chris Evans?” I pushed my sunglasses up and squinted at him.

“That’s me.” He pushed his glasses up and took the papers from me.

“Okay, I’m supposed to tell you that the tone needs to be…” I made a vague gesture with my hand. “...intense?”

“Intense?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It says ‘intensity increases, nervous gestures’. I’m not an actor so this is out of my range.” I shrugged and turned to leave.

“It also says to run the lines with me.” He called. I looked back at him.

“Well, I usually don’t...don’t you have an assistant?” I felt the need to get away from him. Actors, as a rule, were trouble. If I couldn’t date a ‘regular’ guy, an actor would be impossible. Plus, I had some serious issues with the idea of being watched all the time. I preferred to keep my skeletons in my closet.

He gave a half-smile and I felt my stomach clench. Panty dropper is a phrase used a lot, but with him it was a distinct possibility that my panties had vanished. I shook my head to clear it.

“She’s gone today. I could coach you?” He offered as he moved up the steps to his trailer.

“Can I ask you a question?” I stopped with one foot on the steps. “Are you going to hit on me?”

“Um…” He leaned on the door frame, his face scrunched in concentration. “Maybe?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. I don’t, I’m not like that. “ He frowned, looking off of a moment. “Are you going to hit on me?”

“I don’t know. What are your qualifications?” I asked as he sat at the small kitchen table. It took him a moment and then he started to laugh, grabbing his left pec for some reason. He laughed with his whole body and I was fascinated by it. His face was so childlike, unburdened.

I decided to ignore my rules. I wanted to get to know him, I would find time.

I ran the lines with him. He kept deepening his voice to try and make me emote tension. All it did was make me lower my voice so I was growling. He had to keep stopping so he could laugh. I got a page on my phone and checked it. Diane, the script supervisor, wanted me to take some continuity photos and head back to the office.

“Boyfriend?” He smirked.

“Diane. Back to interning.” I stood from my spot at the table. “By the way, I like your accent. Bostonian.”

“Yeah, I usually don’t slip into it very much. Where are you from?” He stood up and put his hands in his pockets. “And what’s your name? I can’t believe I didn’t ask that.”

“Nevada.” I moved to the door and opened it. “And it’s Ivey.”

“Ivey, wait, we didn’t get to discuss my qualifications.” He followed me down the steps. I laughed as I started to walk faster, I was on a time crunch.

“Can we discuss them later at 901, a place near USC? I wrote my number on the script!” I called over my shoulder as I neared the set.

“That was presumptuous, but I’ll get my list of qualifications and call you later!” He yelled as he reentered his trailer. I smothered a laugh as I pulled out the Polaroid camera.

-

“I like this place. I wish it was football season.” Chris grabbed a chicken wing and looked up at one of the TVs.

“No you don’t. This place would be full of drunk college bros. I knocked a guy out once for grabbing my ass.” I took a drink from my bottle of beer.

“Okay, so no ass grabbing.” He smirked. He had changed into a white tee with writing on it and jeans before he met me for dinner. I had on a similar outfit and we looked like a typical couple out on a date.

“Hmm, let me grab yours first and we’ll talk.” I waved to a classmate as she sat with her friends.

“Agreed. So you’re a student, obviously.”

“Yeah. Starting my masters in fine arts. Emphasis on screenwriting.”

“You write your own stuff?”

“I did a few scripts for projects. Just student films.”

“Wow. School, internship...I’m surprised you didn’t tell me you were too busy to hang out.”

He ducked his head.

“Ah, I already have a reputation onset, don’t I?” I laughed and tucked my hair behind my ear. We were almost done with our food, we’d lingered for a couple hours.

“A little.” He nodded and made a face.

“I try not to ‘hang out’ very much as a rule. Sex is fun and beneficial, but relationships are more tricky.” His eyes widened at my frank tone. “If you have to see someone every day at work after a one-night stand it gets awkward.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked thoroughly confused. “So why did you ask me out if you hate relationships and-”

“And don’t plan on fucking you?” I lowered my voice and leaned over so no one but him could hear me.

“Basically.”

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that piques my curiosity. And, to be honest I do plan on fucking you.” I gave a little nod and stood up from the booth. We paid and he followed me as we walked towards my apartment off campus.

“Do you still need to see my qualifications if you’ve already decided this whole thing?” I chuckled and I linked one arm around his.

“Sure.” I skipped along. “What is your favorite thing?”

“That’s a qualification? I guess my family, my dog.” He scratched the back of his head.

“A dog! I have to meet it sometime. And family...okay. Anything else, what would you do if you weren’t acting?”

“Animation. Like, Disney.”

“Are you playing a line here? Or are you actually a family oriented, animal lover who is into Disney? Not to mention all-” I gestured to the muscles that were evident under his clothes. “- this you got going on here.”

“No, no lines.” He laughed like he did in the trailer, grasping his pec with his free hand. “I’m just...me.”

We reached my apartment and I punched in the code to unlock the door. I held the door open with one hand and grabbed his shirt in the other. I pulled him into a kiss, his hands went to my waist and he kissed me back. He had some stubble that scratched my skin, but his lips were soft and his mouth was warm.

“I don’t want to throw myself on you, if you like to wait and go for the slow burn we can do that but-” I cut myself off and started to kiss him again, aligning my body to his.

“Promise we can address your qualifications in the morning?” He was walking us through the door and to the stairwell.

“I’ll even tell you my last name.” I grinned against his lips.

“Oh, right, I’m not doing this in the right order am I?” I turned to walk up the stairs, tangling my fingers with his.

“No, but I get the feeling you actually do care and are too amped to take your time. I’ve been told I have that effect.”

“Effervescent.”

“Hmm, complicated word for bubbly. But yes. My personality can be overwhelming. I have a serious problem with impulse control and I get overstimulated easily. I guess my qualifications aren’t as good as yours.”

“I don’t know. The overstimulated thing sounds fun.” He was behind me as I unlocked my door.

“You’ll regret that, but it’s sweet of you to say.” I entered the apartment and darted one arm out into the hall, grabbing his arm and pulling him in.

[luchorgasm]

Send me a ship and I'll tell you who Plans the dates: Lucho does. Every. Single. Time. Pep can't plan a date for the life of him. Okay, that's not entirely fair of him. But let's look back at the one time he planned a date. He bought tickets to a Coldplay concert (a band they both love). Brings them both to the stadium. BUT the damn THEY went on the wrong day, wrong time, and wrong stadium. Let's just say Lucho fondly never lets Pep forget. As for Lucho, he likes to surprise Pep. Loves finding a way to book a near impossible restaurant to reserve a seat in. He likes to take Pep on hikes, HAVE him try out drunk karaoke, swim with stingrays, that sort of thing. One time Lucho brought Pep to class where they were taught the basics of tango, salsa, and the like. Successfully planned dates for Pep are a bit home based. Like the homemade dinner he made on their anniversary. A multitude of seafood, merlot soaked vegetables, and a richly fried bowl of rice. Keeps the other up at 3am: Pep does most of the time. He's always working. Football? Most likely. Catalan independence? Most likely. He roams from spot to spot in their home or whatever temporary place of residence they are in. It's always the same: paper scattered all over the floor, soft melodic Catalan music played, videos of demonstrations or past games played on every screen, and him with an unopened box of sweets poring over binders and books with pure concentration over his face. It's the commentators from the tvs that end up being too loud. A loud cheer or two ends up preventing Lucho from falling into R.E.M. or it brings him out of it. He's grumbled about it every evening/night it happens. Sometimes he resorts to turning everything off. He makes off-hand comments about how Pep will win or lose and no amount of prep for the game will change it. Or he cusses loudly in Catalan and rants about how in Austuria he never had to deal with this. The only times when Lucho is the one that is up late and keeps Pep awake is when Lucho is either horny or on rare occasion, looking for a fight (which may or may not lead to sexual activity). Likes watching outside when there's a storm: They both do but for different reasons. Pep sees a storm is remind of Lucho. He sees how the clouds come together in his lover's eyes. The clap of thunder is Lucho's voice and the lightning is the emotions that he feels whenever he's around Lucho. Lucho has a slight fear of storms. They make his skin crawl and shake. Is it because they seem so familiar? He doesn't know for sure. But when the rain starts, and the noise begins, he finds himself outside every time - hoping for one day that he isn't afraid anymore. Having Pep out there with him helps. Is the most addicted to coffee: Pep is. He considers himself an expert of it. He slurps when he drinks it saying that if you do that the taste will be stronger. He knows his brands and his beans just as much as he knows the leaves of tea. It helps that he hardly gets hyperactive because of it. He doesn't need it to keep awake or get more energy. He drinks it because it tastes good. Never give Lucho coffee. Pep did by mistake and chaos ensued. Picture a shirtless Lucho, lips twitching and eyes blinking rapidly, as he narrates everything around him to the smallest of details. "I just blinked." "You just blinked." "The door is closed." "There's dust on my shoe." "My finger just went numb." "The paint on the wall is uneven." "There are squares on you." Imagine Lucho unable to stop moving, runs around the training ground, hands flapping, and his mind races. He starts to flirt, longer and more loudly, than he normally does with Pep. His hand no longer "accidentally" graze Pep's body. Instead he just grabs and squeezes, or strokes what he can get. Mind on overdrive. He comes up with fifty different ways for an apple to be used for sex and death. Baked cakes and other treats for no apparent reason: Lucho likes to bake and he's surprisingly good at it. But Pep still is better at it than him. He can come up with recipes at the top of his head. Lucho likes to use YouTube. Eats the last piece of cake/pie: Pep does though he will deny it every time. He got caught one night at a hotel room eating the last slice of cheesecake. When confronted, Pep just shrugs and said, "You weren't going to eat it. If I didn't eat it, it would have gone bad." Will cause an argument if something isn't right: They both are on equal footing when it comes to this. Pep usually makes a comment, softly in tone, in Austurian, never looking at Lucho when he says it. It's almost an off-hand comment, almost rhetorical, maybe a passing joke. But they both know the intention of it. Lucho likes to be a bit more direct when he starts arguments. He doesn't have as deep of an arsenal of words like Pep has. So he goes straight to things, in his simple way, says outright what kind of piece shit Pep may be being at the moment. Sleeps on the couch in an argument: Pep does. When Lucho gets sent to the couch, he ends up choosing to sleep on the floor. He brings all the blankets and pillows down there with him. Comes to the other after a fight to apologize: Lucho normally uses his words. He likes to coo in Catalan. Pep tends to use actions more. He likes a soft caress on the cheek. @brozukas ugh you sent me my favorite ship ever. I tried not to get into too much detail. I just wanted it to be basic and yeah, but you know me with this ship...