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babygirlgalitzine · 4 years ago

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to the future (ao3)

to all the anons who asked me for a nye fic and gave me prompts for it too - i hope you all enjoy this little fic with everything put into it x

one

It’s boiling hot in the club, far too hot, and clammy too. It seems as though everyone and their mother has had the exact same plan to see in the New Year, but right now, Ben’s regretting ever even thinking about it.

He’s in a foul mood, and has been all night, ever since his first steps into the club. Originally, the plan was for him and Jay to go out together, drink as much as physically possible, do the countdown together and then wake up the next day with the worst hangover in existence. But right now he’s just drinking to get through the night, because Lola’s there too. Lola, who has been seeing Jay for the best part of the last few months. Her and Ben get on like a house on fire usually, but Ben’s jealous that she now has all of Jay’s attention. Instead of having the best night out, he’s spending it playing gooseberry - and not even that, even worse than that - he’s being set up with Lola’s friend from home. Callum.

He’s attractive, Ben will allow that. Attractive and tall and he’s got the most beautiful smile Ben reckons he’s ever seen. He smells good and his arms are utterly perfect and he fills out his white shirt as if it’s nobody's business. But still, Ben hates being set up like this.

Callum stands next to him, and they watch as Lola and Jay dance. If it was anyone else, Ben would be cringing, but he somehow just accepts it, though his face shows he’s still in a mood. The music changes and more and more people rush to dance, even though there’s barely any room to breathe anymore. Ben can feel Callum’s breath hitting his cheeks, and he turns to face him, noticing that Callum’s crouching down a little bit, though it’s not berating. “Do you fancy another drink?” Callum asks, nodding in the direction of Ben’s hands, pointing out the now empty cup.

Ben smiles softly, trying to hide it but he’s ultimately unable to do so. “Go on then.” Ben says. “I’ll come with you, leave the lovebirds in peace.”

Callum lets out a low chuckle and Ben wishes all the music would cease to exist, because he just wants to hear that properly now.

So they get drinks together. And they talk, or rather shout over the music. It’s nice. Ben watches as Callum’s neck moves as he finishes off his drink, swallowing it down, and there’s a feeling of complete and utter want that just rushes through Ben suddenly. He’s aware it’s edging closer and closer to midnight as they walk back to the main dance floor, right where they’ve left Jay and Lola. Callum has his arms around Ben, guiding him there, because apparently he can see better with the extra few inches he has on Ben. They eventually make their way back, and Jay gives Ben a knowing look as Lola reaches up and pinches Callum’s cheek, laughing as he squirms away from her touch.

The countdown starts, the DJ pausing the music temporarily, though the sound is even louder now with everyone counting down to the turn of the year.

Everyone around them starts to join in on the countdown, the shouts getting progressively louder. Ben side eyes Callum, and notices that Callum’s doing the exact same.

Smiles start to grow on their lips, both of them threatening to burst out in a fit of laughter, just because they caught one another looking in their direction.

Callum nudges Ben’s shoulder softly, a shy grin on his face now.

Ben nudges Callum’s shoulder too, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes with how wide he’s grinning now, his annoyance of the evening long forgotten.

“Do you want to?” Callum asks, his lips close to Ben’s ears, all hot.

Ben nods, and turns his face to respond. “May as well.” He says, trying not to sound too pleased about the whole situation, but Callum can see right through him with that smile.

Callum’s hands fall to Ben’s waist, holding him there. Into the last few seconds now, and it shows in everyone around them.

Ben hooks his arms around Callum’s shoulders, both of them facing each other now. He can see the blush on Callum’s cheeks, and he’s fairly confident he’s red in the face too, however well disguised that may be by the flashing lights up above them.

Everyone around them prepares, screams and shouts everywhere. The tension is palpable.

Here goes nothing. This is happening.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The entire club explodes, confetti raining down from the ceiling, loud music suddenly playing again and Ben’s standing on the tip of his toes to kiss Callum. It’s hot and passionate for two people who only just met for the first time mere hours ago, but that just makes it better. Callum’s hands are on Ben’s waist still, his thumbs circling against his skin, and his touch is sending shivers right the way down Ben’s spine. Ben grins into the kiss, trying to reach higher and higher, falling deeper into the kiss itself and Callum struggles to hold them both up with his legs that are for some reason turning to jelly.

Callum pulls back for a moment, their foreheads touching. “Well that was a great start to the year.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best New Years kiss I’ve had.”

Ben grins and bites his lips shyly. “Really?” He asks, his hands on Callum’s face now, feeling the heat of his cheeks under his touch. “Reckon I might need another one, you know, just to be sure.”

Callum hums and leans in to kiss Ben once again, accepting the invitation without even so much as a second thought.

two

“Can you believe it’s been a year?” Callum asks.

Ben’s sitting next to him, or rather, half on top of him. Callum’s threading his fingers through Ben’s hair, and it’s comforting. Ben hums and falls further into Callum’s touch. “Craziest year of my life.” He says, and it’s true. He’s fallen completely head over heels in love with Callum, and he never thought his life would turn out this way. But a year later, here they are, celebrating the New Year for the second year in a row, happy, in love, and as far away from any sweaty club as possible.

Callum’s leg might be going numb with Ben half sitting on it, but he doesn’t care one bit. It’s exactly where he wants to be. Ben in his lap, beer in his hand, family and friends surrounding them as they wait for the New Year to be rung in live on television. It’s somewhat of a low-key affair this year, but he doesn’t mind so much, because they’ve experienced the clubbing New Years together once before. “Are you all really setting off fireworks?” He asks lowly, fingers on Ben’s back, warming him up.

Ben looks towards him with a soft smile on his face. “Yeah.” Ben says. “We do it every year.” He sees the nervousness in Callum’s eyes, and rests his hands against Callum’s cheeks, just as he had done a year previously and it relaxes Callum almost instantly. “Hey, it’ll be fine. If it’s too much for you, we’ll come back inside.”

Callum smiles softly, and turns his head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of Ben’s hand. “I don’t deserve you.” Callum whispers. “At all.”

“Course you do, don’t be stupid.” Ben whispers, fully aware that his family would be able to hear their conversation, even if there’s music blaring from the television and everyone’s chatting amongst themselves. “Come in the kitchen.” He says, and stands up, holding his hand out for Callum to grab.

Ben’s family watches them, but they don’t say anything. They’ve welcomed Callum this year, and he spends most of his time around them now, it’s not unusual to see him and Ben cosying up to one another, nor holding hands.

Callum watches as Ben shuts the kitchen door behind them, blocking out the sound from the living room where all the family and friends remain. Ben pulls him into a hug, letting Callum rest his head in the crook of Ben’s neck. His breathing slows down to a calm rhythm, inhaling and exhaling to the same beat of Ben’s hand running up and down his spine.

“We can stay here if that’s what you want.” Ben says. “Nobody will care, they’ll understand.”

Callum sighs for a moment, and takes in the familiar scent of Ben. He kisses Ben’s neck softly and warmly and then pulls away. “I’m not ruining your New Year. I’ll be there. As long as I’ve got you, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, running his thumb along Callum’s bottom lip.

Nodding, Callum smiles. “I’m sure.” He confirms and he’s just about to lean in for a kiss, a proper kiss, until there’s a short knock at the door and Lola pokes her head around.

“We’re heading out now, there’s five minutes to go.” She says.

“We’ll get our coats in a second.” Ben says, and waits for her to leave them be. “Are you definitely sure?”

“Yes Ben.” Callum rolls his eyes, but it’s more teasing than anything else. “I’m definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent sure.”

Ben chuckles softly and unravels himself out of their embrace, opening the kitchen door to reveal everyone filing out into the hallway, shrugging on all their coats. Ben picks up his coat first and then Callum’s, handing it to him with a warm smile.

It’s freezing outside, breath visible as it swirls around in the air. Ben links his fingers with Callum and they walk hand in hand with everyone else, heading over to where all the fireworks line up.

This year, there’s no countdown, not a proper one anyway. This year, they just rely on everyone around them to realise when midnight eventually hits, and when it eventually does, the fireworks set off all around them, not just from the Mitchell’s, but other displays too. They all light up the night sky dazzlingly, a multitude of colours exploding everywhere. Ben stands on the tip of his toes yet again, just as he did the year previously. His hands are cold against Callum’s face, but neither of them seem to care at all. Their lips collide, and it’s a familiar feeling now, even though it still sends tingles down their spine. Callum jumps as a firework booms overhead, but Ben keeps holding onto him until he forgets it all and focuses entirely on Ben, and kissing him. Callum pulls back for just a moment, just one tiny second as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes are still shut, and Ben’s all encompassing, surrounding him. “I love you Ben.” He breathes out and he eventually opens his eyes, finally watching Ben, and watching as his eyes light up at Callum’s words. “More than anything.”

“I love you too.” Ben says, his words barely above a whisper. “So much.”

three

This year, it’s another more relaxing New Year. After such a chaotic year, it’s welcome. This year, they finally got their own home, a space they can call their own. It’s still very much a work in progress, even months after moving in, because Ben’s discovered a newfound love for interior design and has been trying to make their home as perfect as possible for them. The original plan was for them to host a New Years party, but with Ben deciding that the house isn’t quite ready, they’ve put it off for a year, and instead, they’re all back at the Mitchell’s house, this time with more people there, given that the family constantly seems to grow each year.

Music is playing, a cheerful song from years past, one that everyone seems to remember and know, judging by the amount of people tapping their feet or humming along. Callum’s sitting on the sofa, waiting for Ben to reappear with their drinks, and when he does, Callum watches how Kathy pulls Ben in, making him dance with her. A few people join in with them, though it’s mainly just the younger children being all hyperactive from the sugar rush and the excitement of finally being allowed to stay up way past their bedtimes. Ben puts their drinks down for a second, when he finally escapes his mum’s dancing as she moves onto one of the younger children, and there’s a bright red blush on his face but his complete and utter happiness is captivating.

“Come on.” Ben says, holding his hand out for Callum to grab.

Callum shakes his head, though he’s laughing too, mainly because the whole situation is ridiculous, but also because he’s happy. “Absolutely not.” He says, and he’s adamant that he won’t get up and dance. “You’ve had too much wine. It’s gone right to your head.”

“I don’t care.” Ben grins. “I want to dance with you.” He holds both of his hands out now, and squeezes the air to tell Callum to take his hands.

They stare each other down for a moment, both of them teasingly narrowing their eyes at one another until Callum finally concedes, rolling his eyes and he lifts his hands up for Ben to take, which he does gladly, linking their fingers together with a bright and beaming smile on his face. Ben finally gets Callum dancing, though it’s more standing in one position and moving ever so slightly whilst everyone runs about around them, but he doesn’t care one bit, he’s enjoying seeing in the New Year with his boyfriend. The music changes over, though it’s only on for a minute or two before the presenters on the television announce that the New Year is only a minute away. Everyone stands up, all huddled around the television, trying to sneak a glimpse of what’s going on in the city, someone quickly hands out party poppers, making sure everyone has one to pull when the clock strikes twelve and chimes. They’ve decided not to set off fireworks this year, because the weather isn’t good enough for it, so party poppers and glitter confetti will have to do.

The countdown begins, ten right down to one. There’s excitement in the air, anticipation for what’s to come. People steady their hands on the party poppers, streamers and confetti, but not Callum. He holds onto Ben, the most precious thing in the world to him. Ben turns his face and watches Callum, watches as the lights hit his face, watches as his eyes light up too, and all the little freckles that are just sitting on his skin, right under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. There’s only a few seconds of the year remaining and yes, Ben might be drunk, but he doesn’t care one bit. If anything, the alcohol in his system spurs him on.

There’s shouts of happy new year, and suddenly tissue paper explodes everywhere and falls cautiously to the floor. Ben turns Callum’s head and presses an electrifying kiss to his lips, all passion and warmth and heat and there’s sparks flying everywhere. It’s perfect, and just as electric as their first kiss together was. When they eventually pull apart, streamers and confetti are stuck in their hair, but they don’t focus on that. They focus on each other. Ben smiles shyly, and picks up Callum’s left hand and kisses his knuckles gently, looking into his eyes as he speaks assuredly. “This time next year.” He says. “There’ll already be a ring on that finger of yours.”

#ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell x callum highway #myfic

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nerdypanda3126 · 4 years ago

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Countdown to Midnight

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge.

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. (I only added like 600 words this time! Yay!)

Prompt: New Year's party with a New Year's kiss

Read on Ao3

—1 Hour to Midnight—

Marinette bit at her thumbnail and checked her phone yet again as she waited for the increasingly late Métro. A minute hadn’t even passed since she’d checked it last. But every minute counted tonight. She only had an hour to get to the party, find Luka, confess everything to him, and somehow ask him to be her New Year’s kiss. More and more this plan was starting to seem too complicated. How had she let Rose talk her into this? Oh, that’s right, Rose had sighed about how romantic it would be and Marinette couldn’t possibly have argued with that logic.

M: waiting on metro. might not make it

She sent the text to Juleka, then resumed biting her nails.

J: I’ll wait a bit to tell him 😢

Marinette wanted to throw her phone. This was her chance! And because of a stupid late train she was going to miss it.

—30 Minutes to Midnight—

Someone tapped Luka’s shoulder and he turned to find Juleka frowning at him.

“She’s not going to make it.” Juleka was actually raising her voice to be heard over the music, which was a first. She waved her phone at him to indicate the text she’d gotten.

His heart dropped to his shoes, but he shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I didn’t think she would.”

Juleka gave him that look. She knew he was lying, but wasn’t going to call him out on it. Still. A strange sense of relief washed over him, mixed with a dose of worry. If she wasn’t here, then where was she? But if she wasn’t here, then he wouldn’t have to wonder if he could ask to kiss her at midnight or if she would maybe kiss him or—

He shook his head clear and smiled at Juleka before he tapped his fingers against his empty cup and used it to gesture downstairs. Juleka nodded and as he turned away he let his smile drop. He definitely needed another drink.

—20 Minutes to Midnight—

As Marinette stepped onto the deck of the Liberty, the party was in full swing. How was she even supposed to find Luka in the middle of all of this?

She found a spot along the wall where she could watch the other partygoers. All of them were swaying to the music pouring out of the Liberty’s speakers, all of them had red cups in their hands, and all of them had already paired up for their midnight kiss. Maybe Luka was out there with someone else? Not that—it was okay if he was because she hadn’t—okay, so maybe she needed to tell him she wanted to kiss him before she got jealous that he might kiss someone else for the first time of the new year. But first she had to find him.

—15 Minutes to Midnight—

Luka sighed as he tucked himself into the cockpit. It was the one space that wasn’t crowded by bodies, and the music was fainter here, although the thudding bassline still rattled the glass. It had taken him all of fifteen minutes to struggle down the stairs, get himself another drink from the fridge, and swim back upstream until he ended up here. If he could take a minute and hear himself think, maybe he could convince himself he was actually okay that Marinette was somewhere else. Probably with someone else.

When Juleka had told him Marinette would be coming and the way she had refused to tell him any more about it had made him think—but it’d been stupid to get his hopes up anyways. He sighed again and tapped his fingers on his cup along to the booming bass from the deck as he slid to the floor and stretched his legs out. Just a minute here and he’d rejoin the crowd. He closed his eyes to recenter himself. Just for a minute.

—10 Minutes to Midnight—

"Have you seen Luka?" Marinette shouted to Juleka over the music. Juleka tapped at her red cup. He'd gone to get a drink? When? And if he wasn't there could she get downstairs and back up before—?

She tapped at her wrist and Juleka frowned in sympathy before she shrugged. Marinette huffed and pushed her way towards the stairs.

—5 Minutes to Midnight—

Luka's eyes snapped open when his phone chimed in his pocket. He'd drifted off for a minute or two there. He rubbed his eyes before he checked his phone. Five minutes to go, then. The text was from Juleka. As he read the preview on his screen, his heart started thudding in his ears.

J: Marinette’s looking for you 😘

Juleka didn’t send kiss emojis to him. Which meant she was implying that—

He started to his feet and tore out of the cockpit. He had to find Marinette. He checked his phone again. Four minutes to go.

—2 Minutes to Midnight—

Marinette was frantic. No Luka downstairs. No Luka on deck. No Luka anywhere to be found and with two minutes to go. She thought she'd have enough time. She thought she'd be able to make it.

She shoved her way back upstairs, hoping that maybe she'd just missed him in the crowd.

And as she reached the top of the stairs, there he was. Although he was facing the other way, his phone clutched in his hand, and he seemed to be searching for someone.

He ran a hand through his hair and pulled up his phone, typed up a text, and he looked up again when he sent it. Marinette clutched her own phone. When it buzzed not a second later she almost dropped it. But a quick glance at her screen showed her it was from Luka and a smile stretched across her face. Luka was looking for her, too.

—1 Minute to Midnight—

Luka spun in place. He’d texted Marinette to try to figure out where on this houseboat she was, but he wasn’t expecting an answer in the next sixty seconds. So what? He tried to reason with himself. Marinette wanted to kiss him. Wasn’t that enough? Why did there have to be a deadline on it?

But then his eyes caught on hers. She’d been downstairs, maybe retracing his steps from earlier. She was holding her phone up, smiling, and she waved as a perfect pink blush bloomed across her cheeks. He was drawn to her as if pulled by a magnet—irreversibly and inevitably. She pulled herself up the last few steps and stood in front of him.

“Hi,” she mouthed.

“Hi.” He knew he was grinning, although he couldn’t seem to stop.

“30 seconds!” Someone said over the microphone. “Better find someone to lock lips with because it’s almost time for the count!” The crowd whooped collectively, but Luka’s eyes hadn’t left Marinette’s.

He raised his eyebrows in a simple, silent question. Her blush darkened as she nodded to answer him and took a step closer.

As the countdown from ten began, his hands fell to her waist and her breath hitched as he pulled her a step closer to him.

5 — Marinette pushed up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

4 — He leaned his forehead against hers, and she wasn’t sure if it was the music pounding in her ears or her heartbeat. He was so close.

3 — Her warm breath fanned across his lips and his eyes fluttered closed.

2 — She slid a hand into his hair at the nape of his neck to ground herself in this moment, here, with him.

1 — One of them moved, impossible to tell which of them, and their lips brushed against each other, featherlight, before they fell together.

Happy New Year!

There were little pops all around and Marinette could feel confetti raining down on them from the tiny champagne bottle fireworks she’d seen everywhere tonight. Luka lifted her against him, supporting her with an arm around her back and even though she knew the cheers around her were for the New Year, she felt like cheering, too. She smiled into their kiss and dug her fingers into his hair, committing every second to memory.

He lowered her back down, still refusing to let go of her lips until her toes touched the planks of the Liberty.

“Happy New Year, Marinette,” he said in her ear before he pulled away.

When she opened her eyes again, she giggled and brushed some of the confetti out of his hair. “Happy New Year, Luka. I think it’ll be a good one.”

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #ml fic #lukanette #lukanette endgame #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #lbsc sprint fic challenge #panda sprints

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reminiscing-writer · 4 years ago

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Off The Deep End

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, pregnancy, sadness

“Isn’t she a beauty, Griffin?” Ace licks his chapped lips, running a thumb over his knuckles.

“She looks like- what do they say, Boss? A lady in the streets, but a freak in the sheets.” He cackles with his whole belly.

Spencer sat facing the two men, completely helpless. His one arm bound to the chair, and other arm lying limp on his lap. His hand was covered with a dirty rag which was now stained red. His eyes were bloodshot, and still streaming fresh tears every time his wife’s name was mentioned by his kidnappers. His mouth had been gagged for so long, his tongue had gone numb.

Worst of all, the two men never allowed Spencer to get sight of the screen they were watching. A screen that was playing live surveillance of Amelia.

After the little scenario with Spencer’s finger being forcefully amputated, and his ring being stolen from him, Ace had revealed that he had a man watching the dear doctors apartment from a secondary location. He’d had a man watching Spencer and Amelia for nearly three months now.

Just the thought of that had brought bile up to the back of Spencer’s throat (which he quickly regretted, due to the gag in his mouth causing the bile to sting his throat).

“She’s clever.” Ace raises an eyebrow. “But, scared.” Spencer sniffles his snot-leaking nose, and looks up under his tired brows, “She’s kept her curtains drawn this entire time. She has your entire Geek Squad sitting front and center in your living room, and yet, she’s still pacing back and forth between the kitchen and back.” Griffin walks towards Spencer after receiving a nudge from Ace, “It’s almost as if she feels... unsafe in her own home.” Ace smirks.

Griffin takes out Spencer’s rag-gag, causing him to gasp at the sudden intake of oxygen. A dry cough later and Spencer speaks quietly, “Quite the profiler, aren’t you.”

“I don’t blame her, Spencer.” Ace takes a step towards his captive, emphasizing his name, “She has a literal sniper on her head.” Spencer holds his breath. “And, whether she gets her fucking brain blown out within the next 48 hours, is all up to you.”

“You’re a liar.” Spencer replies with a coarse voice, not wanting to believe him. Ace’s eyes darken within seconds, and he clenches his jaw hard. Noticing a slight change in the large mans behavior, Spencer antagonizes him further, “You have no control over anyone or anything in your life, so you’ve turned to blackmailing him,” Spencer tilts his head slightly towards Griffin, wincing to his fresh bruised cheek, “ and kidnapping me. You won't hurt her, Ace." he spits his name like venom in his mouth. "Because, you need this password. And, even you know, that if you hurt a hair on her head-" Spencer's threat is cut short by a punch swinging at his already battered and bruised face.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME A FUCKING LIAR!!" Ace’s voice booms throughout the empty building. Spencer’s mouth is drooling crimson red. Spencer receives another jab, this time at his left eye directly, causing a scream to come out of his mouth. “I have so much power that I can hurt her without ever touching her, you fool! Do not underestimate me,” Ace growls, pointing an accusing finger at his bleeding victim, “because, I swear to you Spencer, by the time I’m done with the two of you, you’ll be giving me the password willingly.” Ace growls grabbing a fistful of the half conscious doctor.

“Do whatever you will with me, please,” Spencer’s voice grows weaker with each word. His eyes can barely stay open as he pleads his captor, “please, don’t hurt her.”

Ace lets go of Spencer. leaving his weak body slump in the chair. “Please, don’t hurt her. Not my Amelia. Please.” Nonsense pleads ramble out of his mouth until a darkness succumbs him.

Back at the apartment, it was early in the day. Although, it didn’t matter much for the team and Amelia, because no one could eat, or sleep, or for that matter, do much of anything.

To be precise, it was three in the morning. JJ and Morgan were in the kitchen trying to fix up something light for the team to eat. Garcia was getting in a quick nap before any new information needed internet seeking. Hotch had gone out to get the team coffee from any café that would be open at the bleak time of night.

Amelia, however was bent over the toilet puking whatever little food she’d eaten earlier that night. Unbeknownst to her, Emily was standing on the other side of the door.

Morning sickness was getting the best of Amelia, and although this should’ve been the happiest of feelings for Amelia, because of the three years it had taken the couple to finally conceive, she couldn’t help but hate every moment of it. She had never gotten to tell Spence the big news. She didn’t get to share this happiness with anyone. She-

“You okay in there?” A knock at the door startled Amelia.

She cleared her throat before speaking, “Yeah, I’m fine.” She sniffled, wiping the tears that had taken place on her cheeks. “Bad Chinese food, that’s all.” She forced a half smile as Emily entered the bathroom.

“You were throwing up before you ate, so it can’t be that.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, and sat on the bathroom floor, beside her friends wife. Amelia lowered her gaze onto her hands in her lap. “JJ’s done this twice already, Amelia. She knew from the moment saw you.”

Amelia looked up, for some reason an odd guilt taking over. “I didn’t want to tell anyone.” She spoke timidly.

Emily watched her softly. She placed a kind hand on her new found friends knee. “I understand, and that’s okay. You don’t owe it to us to tell us everything-” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Amelia’s shoulders shake as she started bawling.

“No- I, I wanted to, and he would be so happy to tell all of you. You’re his family. And, he’s been waiting for this moment for so long. But,” She hiccupped through a cry, “I can’t tell anyone if he didn’t even get to know.” She started sobbing even harder.

The young lady’s cry attracted JJ into the bathroom, and when she saw her fellow colleague wrap Amelia into a hug, she knelt down on her knees. Emily and JJ spoke no words, but communicated all they needed to through their eyes.

As Amelia calmed down a bit, she took in a shaky deep breath, wiping her tears. Tucking a loose strand of her short brown hair behind her ear, she looked at JJ with watery eyes. “He didn’t know, JJ. I was going to tell him, but I never got a chance.”

The blonde gave her a sympathetic look, almost motherly, “And, that’s alright. He’ll be home before you know it. For now, the best thing to do, is try and take it easy, both for you and the baby. When Spencer gets back home,” JJ holds Amelia’s face in her hands softly, “Emily and I will pretend we don’t know, and you and him can announce it to us. Sound like a plan?” She earns a tiny smile from Amelia.

The three woman fix themselves up slightly, and head into the living room to be greeted by a very frustrated Penelope. Morgan stood behind her, peering over her shoulder, snacking on some crackers.

“Sugar, I don’t by any means mean to sound rude, and you know I love you and Spencer, but, Love,” Penelope starts typing furiously, just to stop and glare at Amelia from the tops of her glasses, “your internet is so slow. How do you get any work done? I can’t even get my laptop connected to a hotspot, nothing is working!” She exclaims, placing her computer next to her on the couch she sat upon.

Amelia apologizes, “Yeah, I know, sorry. It’s been bothering us for a few months now. Spencer never really uses the internet, so he wasn’t seeing the problem. I, however, do.” She sits on the floor next to Garcia’s feet, and takes the computer off the couch and onto her lap. ”For some reason, the hotspot on my phone connects pretty well, so I think that might work.” With a few clicks and clacks, she hands the laptop back to the eccentric woman who was once frustrated, now just confused.

“I- I just tried, I tried that- but-,” She stammers, but a very humorous Morgan hushes her as he pats her head and walks away.

On cue, Aaron walks in with two trays of 5 hot, and one cold (Amelia’s), coffees. Hotch passes everyone’s designated drinks around, and as the team slowly starts to ingest the heavenly caffeine, Derek starts pacing the floor, speaking aloud. “So, just a refresher. Spencer is gone, and all we have right now is the it’s a two or more person job,” he takes a loud slurp of his coffee, “he’s down one finger,” Amelia winces at the mere mention of the previous memory, “and…?”

The team stares at each other blankly. They had no other information. He was kidnapped, he was hurt, but that’s all the information they had. They didn’t know who was doing this, they didn’t know where he was being held captive. And, although Aaron had a slight idea as to why he might have been taken, he wasn’t about to disclose this information until he had further proof that that was exactly why this was happening.

Derek walks to the windows and starts to mess with curtain. Opening and closing and just peering over the city lights. Amelia watched him with slight gloom in her eyes.

She fell back into a daydream of the couple sitting by the window one warm July evening. Fireworks were taking upon the Summer sky, and it was just about to get dark. “You know, my parents anniversary is on July fourth.” Amelia had said. “On independence day?” Spencer sipped at his cold drink.

She hummed in agreeance, “It was always a fun day for the family. We would a have a small barbeque, and my siblings and would gift them something, and then a then, as the night took over, we would go for a drive to the beach and watch the fireworks from there.” Amelia reminisced with her husband.

Spencer watched her eyes glisten as she watched outside. The perfect golden hour sun hit her skin beautifully and he smiled as she gave him her classic toothy child-like grin. “Do you think we’ll have any family traditions like that?” He asked, tucking a hair behind her ear and giving a soft kiss on her cheek.

“I would like to,” she smiled leaning into him, “you know, something the kids can grow up looking forward to every year. But,” she gave him a nudge, “I think we have some time before we start thinking of family traditions.” She laughed.

“Well, you never know, Buttercup.” He stood, taking her hand in his as he got up. She giggled at her favorite nickname, “Our little one could enter our lives at any moment.” He tapped her nose, her scrunching it in response. He pulled her close by the waist and twirled her.

The couples laughter and giggles filled the apartment. Amelia and Spencer spent the rest of the night dancing to music only the two could hear. They started making up more silly family things, like going out to get breakfast together every Sunday. Or, how if they had a girl, Spencer could teach her how to her hair and Amelia could teach their son how to play basketball (just for the laughs).

Amelia’s daydream was called to a halt as Garcia started bickering with Morgan because his messing with the blinds was messing with the internet she barely had a hold of. She was cruelly reminded that her once lively home was now a silent hell.

She zoned out all the team members in her living room as she pulled her knees up to her chest. She buried her head in her knees, and went back to her thoughts. Letting silent tears roll down her cheeks, she went back to thinking of her husband. At least, in her daydream Spencer was safe. He was smiling, and laughing, and the two were happy.

Spencer was awoken abruptly by water splashing on his face. He panicked for a split second, forgetting the circumstances he was tied up in (quite literally).

“It’s show time, Dr. Reid.” Ace grinned ear to ear.

Spencer was disoriented for a moment. His body ached, and his left eye was swollen shut. Hair was sweaty and matted to his forehead, and his hand which was minus a finger was beginning to show (or rather feel, because it was still wrapped in a dirty rag) signs of an infection.

Breathing labored, he managed to croak out when he noticed Griffin set up a camera a few feet in front of him. “Another picture already?” He swallowed dryly.

“Something of the sort.” Griffin snickered from behind the camera. “We’re ready, Boss.”

Ace grabbed Spencer roughly by the jaw and forced him to look up at him. “This is a chance to give us what we want, Spencer.”

Spencer jerked his chin hard but failed to be free of Ace’s steel grip. “Go to hell.” He spat.

Ace squeezed his finger tight, pursing Spencer’s lips. Getting close to the doctors face, he growled in a low voice, “This, Spencer, is how I am going to hurt your dear Amelia, without even touching her.” He smirked. “And, best of all, you’ll be the cause of it all.”

“You are going to say what ever heartfelt bullshit you have for your little lady, anything you want,” Ace explained, letting go of Spencer, and stepping behind the camera with Griffin. “But, the minute you mention anything regarding the two of us, I will slit your throat and have your wife watch you bleed to death.” Spencer stared at the two men in front of him silently. He sees Griffin press a button, and a small green light starts flashing. “Whenever your ready, Spencie.” Ace chuckles the nickname.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying his best to think clearly. “Amelia,” he starts, trying to play strong. He fails, the mere mention of her name causing his bottom lip to quiver. “I am so sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and I would never have hoped you would be involved in this also.” He tried looking straight at the camera, but his swollen eye stung, causing him to look down onto his lap. “We’ll figure this out, Buttercup.” He says her nickname with all the love he has for her. “Just you and me, against the world.” He smiles small to himself imagining her.

“And, Amelia, I promise you,” he swallowed hard, looking back up once again, “once I get out of here, you and me, we’ll go on that date to Griffith Park observatory you’ve always wanted to go to. But, maybe we’ll skip the ending, I don’t like the end of the observatory.” Spencer began rambling, hoping he was making some sense without putting off his captors. “And, then, maybe we could watch a movie. Like, that one Jim Carrey film. What was it? Something, Ventura? It was top class acting, I know you said that.” Spencer held desperate eye contact with the lens in front of him.

“Please, Amelia.” He didn’t even know what he was pleading her for. “I love you.”

“Hey, Lover Boy!” Ace’s voice snaps Spencer’s attention. He walks slightly closer to him, keeping his back to the camera, “Would you like to give us the password now?”

Spencer knew what the game plan was now. He either give up the password or get beaten to a pulp on camera. That footage would be sent to Amelia, and Spencer couldn’t put her through that. The password was top secret. But, the girl never killed a fly. She cries at every Disney movie. She has a heart of gold and-

A punch straight to the gut knocks the wind out of Spencer, “Couldn’t hear you, dear,” Ace chuckles, cracking his knuckles, “speak up for me.” When Spencer doesn’t reply, Ace delivers another punch to the chest.

“Please stop.” Spencer pleaded, spitting blood.

“You know what I want. Give it to me, and I’ll stop.” Ace watched Spencer. When Spencer turned away, Ace walks back towards Griffin grabbing a metal rod.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut. He was trusted with the password by all of the BAU. He couldn’t just break trust like that. But, at the same time, pictures of Amelia flood through Spencer’s mind. Spencer and Amelia laughing, and kissing and dancing. Future imaginations of Amelia pregnant and the two growing a family and a future.

He opens his eyes to see Ace swinging the metal rod back, ready to swing. Just in time, Spencer musters up the last of his strength to scream out, “I’ll tell you!” Just something to keep me alive for my Amelia. My team will find you soon. he thinks to himself.

Tag Team!

(Drop a comment if you also want to be tagged when the next part goes up!)

@twentysomethingloser92 @spencerreidsthings @mbowles23-blog

@andiebeaword ord @dontshootmespence @notdisneychannel @tiktokslut

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer x reader #og stpry #og story #off the deep end

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myblueeyedbuggers · 4 years ago

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My Boys

Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count:1843

Warnings: Slow Start, Language.

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Annnddd I’m back! so I know it’s been a while since the last update and I just wanna thank you all for having patience with me while I finished up with college, just a warning this chapter may feel a little awkward to read due to me just getting back into my writing mind so apologises in advance for this one. Anyways I’ll quit blabbering, Enjoy everyone! :)

This was my day of reckoning, my punishment for all the bad deeds I’d done over the past couple of years…I was finally being sent to school. Okay maybe that was a tad dramatic, but can you blame me? I mean who wants to be trapped in a building against their will for 7 hours straight learning about dead guys?! No sane person would willingly agree to that crap!

I’ve tried just about everything to avoid my approaching doom, hell I even went as far as hiding in the basement surrounded by cobwebs to try and get out of this, but as per usual neither Steve or Bucky took mercy on me, hence why in currently trapped between the two. “You are aware I’m perfectly capable of walkin’ by myself aren’t ya? The looping of the arms is not needed boys” I swear down these two are being more annoying than usual, and I didn’t think that was humanly possible cause these two are basically the living embodiment of annoyance. Steve turned and raised his eyebrows at me, shaking his head as he let out a small laugh, “Yeah there’s absolutely no way I’m fallin’ for that again, last time that happened it look me and Buck an hour to get you outta that tree”. Ah crap there goes that plan.

I’m pretty sure the noise I made wasn’t even human, it was a mix between a seal and a possessed monkey “I’m not gonna get outta this am I?” “Nope” and que another frustrated groan. “Is this payback for the time I placed that bucket of flour above your bedroom door and watched the both of you turn into ghosts? If it is then I want you to know I regret nothin’” both of them stopped and glared at me, for some reason they didn’t find that as funny as I did, and I have no idea why. Okay whatever you do y/n don’t laugh, even if Steve’s face looks like a slapped arse don’t laugh! A snicker slipped past my lips and a few seconds later I was full on laughin’. Goddamn it.

Both of em just let out a bunch of sighs and started draggin’ my butt along the street, wait there’s somethin’ I haven’t tried yet…in hindsight this is completely stupid but screw it. “OH MY GOD LOOK A SPACESHIP!” I’m pretty sure poor Bucky jumped outta his skin, Steve ended up trippin’ up and falling down, I’ll admit that I felt bad about but hey may plan worked! So why am I still standin’ there?… maybe we try this thing called running y/n! I quickly pulled my arm away from Bucky and used my new-found freedom to run in the opposite direction of them, I could hear the shouts of protest from the both of them, so I decided to kindly ignore them and absolutely leg it. “GODAMMN IT Y/N! THIS IS THE FIFTH TIME THIS MORNIN’!” when were the boys gonna catch on that I didn’t wanna go? Do I need to prepare a firework show and blast it in their faces or somethin’…probably.

I know I probably shouldn’t be smiling, but the feeling of the wind flowing through my hair as my feet hit the ground made me feel free, after so many years I could finally begin acting my age and enjoy my childhood. I finally felt content with my life, which is probably the opposite of what I should be feeling at this moment in time, considering I was currently making my grand escape. And to completely honest I’ve got no bloody clue as to where I am. I glanced behind me to see where the hell those idiots were, to my surprise Steve was directly behind me, Buck was somewhere in the back holdin’ his knee and I’m guessing the daft sod decked it. Why am I not surprised? Okay maybe I should of kept my mouth shut cause literally a second later my foot tripped over a rock and, you guessed correctly, I landed on my ass for the thousandth time!

“Sh*t! Cr*p! B*lls! That f**king hurt!” and that ladies and gentlemen is my fine command of the queens English, a groan of pain made me loose my train of thought as I turned my head to Steve, to put it simply he was laid flat on his back with his eye closed. Well there’s the rush of guilt I’ve been waiting for, “Sh*t Steve I’m sorry, you okay down there tough guy?” I quickly offered him my hand to help him up, I mean it’s the least I could do. Steve’s hand grabbed mine, a not so quiet grunt of pain made me feel even worse, quick question why am I such an assh*le at times? “Yeah, I’m fine y/n, don’t worry about it you know for a fact I’ve had worse” a quiet sigh left my lips as I brought him in for a hug, which was a tiny bit awkward due to the height difference. Once we pulled away from each other, I couldn’t supress the need to check him for anymore injuries, much to Steve’s embarrassment and Bucky’s amusement, “Jesus I’m gonna have to start wrapping ya up in blankets and pillows, Steve how the hell did you manage to get a bruise on your ear?!”

The sudden gasp behind me pretty much answered the question for me, it’s safe to say barney boy is in trouble…for the first in my life Bucky looks pretty f**king terrified of me, perfect. Slowly I started inching towards him, the glare I was sending him would probably make a demon cry for his mum…so yeah imma go kill the boy. I didn’t even have to say anything, he just started runnin’, “IT’S NOT MY FAULT HE STOLE MY FR**KING PUDDIN’ AND THE PUNK KNOWS I LOVE MY PUDDIN!’” YEP DEFINITELY KILLIN’ HIM “HE IS A SMALL AND GENTLE BOY HOW IN THE NAME OF HELL CAN YOU EVEN THINK OF LAYIN’ A HAND ON ‘IM?!” god this sounds like a bleeding soap opera.

At this point I wouldn’t be surprised of someone called the cops on us, all everyone woulda seen was a big lad runnin’ for his life as a small lass tried to murder him while a smaller lad ran after the pair yellin’ for em to quit it. Now that I think about, that’s actually hilarious. Wait, where was I? ah yes the murdering of one James Barnes…okay that is not a normal sentence I am aware. “HE.STOLE.MY.PUDDIN’! THAT A CRIME WORTHY OF DEATH!” oh for f**ksake “HOW THE HELL DO YA KNOW IT WAS HIM?! DID YOU NOT THINK IT COULDA BE BECCA?!” I think he made a sudden realisation, cause the dumbass stopped running and BOOM I was on the freakin’ floor. Again. We both groaned, mine was mostly in annoyance more than anything, but seriously the bloody floor is quickly becoming me best mate! “…. It just dawned on me that that could be a possibility…” if my neck twisted any quicker I’m 100% sure that I’d end up doin’ that weird owl thing “Oh now you realise?! Ya gonna say sorry to Steve or not?” a few seconds of silence gave me my answer. “Don’t give me that look y/n! I ain’t doing s**t till I’ve got some evidence so he’s still under my list of suspects!” oh my Jesus Christ this is gonna be the day I get arrested for murder isn’t it?

“Barnaby…you have exactly five seconds to run for your life so I highly recommend you get your affairs in order and kiss ya ass goodbye” oh hey look at that I didn’t yell at him! Well done me I’m so proud! “could you two quit trying to kill each other for 5 minutes?! We’re already late enough as is it and I ain’t explainin’ to the teacher why Buck’s outta it on the floor!” my f**kin god Steve just yelled! At me! why do I never have a camera when this s**t happens? “Jeez, alright I’ll murder him later, calm your damn t*ts Rogers” and cue the sound of barely contained frustration in 3,2,1….

“I’m beginning to get the feelin’ that you don’t like me y/n” oh really? I wonder what gave that away “wow you catch on quickly don’t ya Barnaby?” by the looks of things I’m really doing wonders for his ego, buck’s head looks like it’s gotten smaller so the risk of him turning into a hot air balloon’s gone down. The feeling of a pair of eyes glaring at the back of my head once again reminded me that the blonde boy was quickly getting tired of our crap, my worst fears were confirmed once I met Steve’s surprisingly intimidating glare…how he manages to be both adorable and beyond f**king terrifying is a mystery to me. “Okay I’m comin’ just stop staring at me like I just murdered your kitten!” and the little s**t has the nerve to smirk and look pleased with himself, ugh he’s been hanging ‘round me and Bucky too long that’s for sure.

“Ya know Buck and you are gonna be the death of me” right do I be offended or pleased with that statement? “actually, if anything it’s gonna be the pair of you that send me to an early grave cause god knows the both of ya don’t know how to stay outta trouble” two muffled sounds of protest came from my left and from behind me, “what’s that supposed to mean?!” once again the point has been missed “do you really wanna know the answer to that? I’ve got my report and presentation ready on how you two are a pair of numpties”.

Maybe that was a tad harsh…okay wait never mind it seems I’ve learned how to fly again with the assistance of one James Buchannan Barnes. “this is coming from the girl who can’t walk five feet without fallin’ over somethin’?” as much as I hate to admit it the walking embodiment of frustration and annoyance has a point “what you call fallin’ I call floor hugs, now how about you pUT ME DOWN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” wait when did Steve walk off? See this is what happens when an overgrown ape demands attention. I don’t even have to look at Buck to know he’s givin’ me that look that says, “what the hell?” and “I’m not surprised by this” at the same time, “Nah I don’t think that’s gonna happen doll” the temptation to kick ‘im where the sun doesn’t shine is too much to bare for me at this point. “And you wonder why I love Steve more that you” Buck’s face kinda looked like someone just shoved a whole lemon in his mouth, I’m almost certain that he woulda dropped me on my ass if it wasn’t for the fact that Steve came over and dragged us both through the gates of hell.

This is gonna be so much fun!……said no-one ever.

Okay…maybe it didn’t suck as much a thought it did, hopefully my skills as a writer will come back for the next couple of chapters XD Thanks for reading ! :)

Rose xxx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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lovelykei · 4 years ago

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Cliches come in three’s✨

Okay maybe I went a bit crazy with this one.. I just got so much information from @i-sleep-like-napoleon that I couldn’t help but let the inspiration flow. Not to mention I feel really strongly about mental illness and self harming so I really wanted this to make her happy. I can’t do much, I’m just a girl on tumblr writing stories, but if I can make just one person feel better about their body or their scars or just themselves in general. That’s enough for me. This is another flower shop request! I hope you guys like this one aswell!❣️

It was too much. Lately things just keep falling apart. Sure maybe some of them were minor inconveniences like your pants ripping yesterday. But we all get overwhelmed when the tide gets too high. Which is why you now found yourself leaning on a tree behind your school. Your eyes fluttered close as you took in your surroundings. The birds, the wind blowing through the trees, the grass swaying back and forth. Within minutes you were knocked out. Around 1 hour later you woke up wrapping your jacket tighter around your body. Your eyes shot open as you looked around frantically, until you saw a familiar bed head. “I didn’t have a jacket so when I pulled it closer to me I got surprised and that’s why I jumped, hey aren’t you in the volleyball club I think I’ve seen you around before” you were rambling. The dark haired male looked at you, his mouth hung open as he kept staring at you. “And now you’re staring it’s because I’m rambling right? Yeah I uhm do that, ramble I mean. Sometimes I just get nervous and /this/ is making me nervous.. it’s like some cliche romcom and...” your rambling was abruptly cut off when the male infront of you let out a hearty laugh. “I am in the volleyball club yes, I’m Kuroo Tetsurou and practice started 5 minutes ago but I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself.” He stood up and dusted off his pants before turning and getting ready to leave. “Just give me back the jacket later, we gotta keep the romcom trope going after all” and just like that he was gone. “okay if an animal starts talking to me right now I’m pulling up to school in a princess dress tomorrow” you muttered to yourself before standing up and dusting yourself off.

It had already been about one month since you met Kuroo and....you haven’t talked since. So much for you romcom. Infact you hadn’t seen him around at all, you thought about going to the gym to give him his jacket back but..there’s people in the gym. And kuroos jacket was extremely comfortable, since he was so tall the jacket really wrapped your whole body up. Maybe that’s why you were getting punished, karma was coming for you because you stole an innocent mans volleyball club jacket you thought as you looked outside. The sound of the rain hit the windows, harshly reminding you of the umbrella you forgot to bring. When the bell rang you slowly packed your stuff up, there’s no reason to rush out in the rain anyways. But no matter how slowly you moved you were now at the door. The last shield from the pouring rain outside. “Now is when he should show up, this is key point in a romcom, walking home in the rain” you muttered to yourself as you pulled your hood over your head. “You forgot your umbrella? We should come up with a name to our movie already” you turned your head so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. He motioned you closer with a smirk and unwrapped his umbrella. “Let’s go princess, your knight in shining armor is here” you weren’t about to deny the shelter that came with the umbrella. “I’ll have you know I’m n o t a damsel in distress and I could run home in the rain-“

“Oh okay I’ll just go then-“ “hold on you didn’t let me finish. I could run home in the rain but this is important plot development, after this the crush phase starts” you said and grabbed ahold of his arm. “No no the crush phase started after I gave you the jacket” he voiced and opened the door for you guys to go out. “Maybe but then we would’ve had to be simping from a distance, you know seen that at the lunch line or by-“ you were rudely interrupted by the loud crash of thunder booming through the streets. Naturally when someone is scared they will cling onto the nearest thing, that’s just how it works. So there you were practically hanging of off Kuroo. “You’re scared of thunder? So now according to the laws of romcoms I’m obliged to atleast hold your hand-” he paused to wrap an arm under your thighs supporting your body. “But apparently we’re not writing a slow burn so we’re skipping to second half of the movie, where you desperately throw yourself into my arms.” “This thunder won’t last forever and when it stops-..” you muttered against the crook of his neck before once again getting interrupted by the booming sound. A shiver ran down kuroos spine as your breath hit his neck. “Hey we’re in the second half of our romcom, call me Tetsurou” Kuroo wanted to rub your back and tell you everything was gonna be alright, but he still had to cover you guys with the umbrella. Almost as if you could feel his dilemma you spoke up again. “Thank you for calming me down ku-Tetsurou. You can call me y/n”

—

Since the day you walked home in the rain with kuroo you guys had built some type of relationship. Constantly bumping into eachother in the most cliche ways. Suddenly you’re partners in chemistry class? You didn’t even know you guys had that class together. You got locked in the storage room together, 2am calls became a thing when he found out about your bad sleeping habits. It was one of those 2am calls that led you to your current situation. You and Tetsurou were sitting on your roof, stargazing and talking about everything and anything. “Can you imagine yakus face when he realized lev ran away??” He leaned back, holding himself up with his hands as he laughed. The moonlight shone on him making him seem almost ethereal. His hair fell lazily over his face and his eyes, his hazel eyes shone beautifully as he gazed up at the moon. “What were you doing sleeping by that tree? You know the first time we met” he asked softly and looked at you. A soft smile spread on your face as you recalled that day. “escaping. When reality gets too overwhelming I escape” you replied softly leaning back to look at the stars. “Do you ever..escape in other ways..not by just taking a nap against a tree?” Although his tone was light you could feel an underlying troubled tone. “You shouldn’t ask questions you already have answers to” you whispered back. The stars in the sky suddenly shone just a bit too bright, or atleast that’s what you told yourself when you closed your eyes. 1..2..3..4 you started counting, trying to even out your breathe when you felt Kuroo lift your hand. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. “W what are you doing?” Your voice shaked ever so slightly. “Kissing your scars” “I’ve never seen that in a uhm.. in a romcom” you tried to joke and pull your arm away from him, but he held it firmly. “Then this’ll be the first one, I’m not done yet keep still.” He made his way all the way from your wrist to your shoulder, kissing each scar individually. You were frozen, 6 months ago you never would’ve thought you’d be sitting on your rooftop with the volleyball club captain while he kisses your scars. “T that’s alright Kuroo y you don’t have to keep kissing them im fine now” the words awkwardly fell through your lips. “That was a while ago, I mean.. not thaaat that long ago but still uhm a while ago, sometimes we just do stuff and then the stuff is done and you end up with scars but truly I-“ Fireworks. Butterflies? Fireworks and butterflies? You weren’t too sure what was going on in your heart and tummy. All you knew was that Kuroo Tetsurou was kissing you, his soft lips molded perfectly against yours and you couldn’t help but melt in his embrace. You had never been kissed like this before, with so much love and sincerity. It was addicting, and you never wanted this to stop but eventually you had to pull away. “We’re at the part in the romcom where I can do that right? I can cut you off with a kiss?” His eyes met yours, his forehead was resting against yours and his hand was softly cupping your cheek. “Cliches come in three’s” you whispered against his lips. Kuroo didn’t reply he just made a sound of uncertainty. “Giving me your jacket, walking home in the rain, kissing under the stars our three key cliches” the blood rushes to your cheeks as you were explaining. The quiet that followed did nothing to calm your nerves and you were just about to start over analyzing when his silky voice rang out. “I like that, that’s our movie name then Cliches come in three’s” he placed another innocent peck against your lips before pulled you on top of his chest as he laid down. “Let’s stay like this for a while” Who were you to deny the shelter that came in the form of kuroos arms.

#kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq kuroo #kuroo imagine

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stripyhorse23 · 4 years ago

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TV of 2020

1) I May Destroy You

I May Destroy You might not have been written during the pandemic, but when it arrived in June it felt like the sort of complicated, cathartic show that could have been. Detailing one woman’s experience of rape and its aftermath, Michaela Coel (who wrote every episode) continually found rich narrative avenues in which to explore her characters’ individual experiences of sexual assault and consent. If that makes the series sound concept-driven, it always placed its characters first; the push-and-pull between Arabella, Terry and Kwame is key to the ways in which Coel’s tender, curious writing is able to explore power dynamics within relationships, friendships and hook-ups. Other, lesser shows that are this deliberately open-ended might feel opaque: it’s testament to the show’s confidence of voice that isn’t the case here.

2) Normal People

Like plenty of others, I binged the entire series of Normal People in a weekend, although one of its many pleasures is how Sally Rooney and Alice Birch’s adaptation teases out the episodic nature of the former’s bestseller. From Connell’s early days at university, to a Tuscan holiday turned sour, and an exchange year in Sweden, Normal People was about the ways in which the people we love move in and out of our lives over the years. It wasn’t immune to mis-steps (the show draws something of a crude line between the abuse Marianne suffers at home and what she seeks out in romantic partners), but the sheer emotional heft of the show was undeniable, nowhere less so than Paul Mescal’s floodgate-opening performance in Episode 10.

3) Adult Material

Perhaps one of the year’s most overlooked shows, Adult Material follows Hayley Burrows as she attempts to balance life as the harassed mother-of-three and the twilight years of her career as adult performer Jolene Dollar. The slyly comic edge of the first episode is quickly eroded after Jolene becomes embroiled in the abuse of another actor on-set. A stark portrait of alcohol abuse and loneliness, it’s also a sharp indictment of how little the so-called ‘culture wars’ surrounding pornography are meaningfully impactful on sex workers themselves. Hayley Squires gives the sort of white-hot star performance usually reserved for 90s Hollywood rom-coms, a veneer of frustration and resignation overlaying even her character’s most abrasive moments.

4) Cook, Eat, Repeat

Why not in this interminably shitty year, choose the one show that offered the sort of balm it’s impossible to reverse engineer? Following hot on the heels of a disappointing series of The Great British Bake-Off, Nigella Lawson’s warm, inviting half-hour new series was the televisual equivalent of a long bath and a facemask. Her fish finger bhorta, brown butter colcannon and black pudding meatballs have already made it into this household’s repertoire, but there’s something innately comforting about the luxurious silliness of Nigella that almost transcends criticism. Whether it’s the giddy nonsense of her liquorice box, the ‘did I hear that right’ moment when she revealed her pronunciation of ‘microwave,’ or the seductive self-care of making a creme caramel for one, no other show elicited such pure enjoyment from me this year.

5) I’ll Be Gone In The Dark

The true crime documentary series boom has increasingly leaned into a focus on the victims, from last year’s The Yorkshire Ripper Files to Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich, but none so effectively or compassionately as I’ll Be Gone In The Dark. Less a story about the hunt for the Golden State Killer and more a study of trauma and obsession, the series splices together home footage of the late Michelle McNamara’s investigation with survivor testimony to create a haunting portrait of one man’s legacy of pain. The early episodes are replete with skin-crawling tension, anguish and tears, but the later episodes allow that to fall away, focusing on the mental fortitude necessary for the survivors at its centre and the sense of community fostered by meeting other women like them.

6)The Salisbury Poisonings

I had no interest in watching this BBC limited series initially: the advertising made it look dry, the story itself (the Novichok poisonings of 2018) seemingly devoid of juicy narrative material. That I’ve watched this three times in the space of a year speaks to its robust, urgent filmmaking. Like several other shows on this list, it arrived into the context of a pandemic it couldn’t have foreseen, but watching the rapid, careful response of local government (crucially and deliberately obstructed by Whitehall) to this crisis presented a sort of horribly watchable what-if scenario. What seemed at first blush to be middle-of-the-road programming evolved over three episodes into the sort of spare, quietly terrifying journalistic drama that invites comparison to last year’s Chernobyl.

7) We Are Who We Are

It turns out that Luca Guadagnino’s woozy, seductive style transfers perfectly to television, and despite We Are Who We Are lacking the timelessness that typifies I Am Love or Call Me By Your Name it thrillingly captured the turbulent adolescence of its teenage characters. Equally effervescent and raggedly emotional, the show’s joy always felt hard-won, bumping heads with the often cynical, unreadable motivations of the adult characters. A tender and frank depiction of queer identities within traditionally restrictive environments, it’s also a love letter to young friendship and the lifeline that can provide during our formative years. Spellbinding.

8) Selling Sunset

Perhaps the year’s most impressively constructed reality show, I was slow on the uptake with Netflix’s Selling Sunset only to have it take over my life for a few weeks during the summer. Manufactured reality series are tough to get right, but much like The Hills (surely this show’s biggest influence) Selling Sunset gains a lot of mileage from gaming pre-existing friendships for maximum impact. Christine and Mary’s beleaguered relationship and, obliquely, their respective responses to fame continued to provide wildly watchable fireworks, but the build-up to Chrishell’s separation from husband Justin Hartley was exquisitely handled. Suddenly Davina’s strangely uncharismatic shit-stirrer and Christine’s predictably OTT wedding were forced to take a back seat to something approaching genuinely moving television. Trying to tease out what was real and what wasn’t, and following the ways this all spilled out onto social media, was pure, unmitigated pleasure in a year sorely lacking in just that sort of unfettered escapism.

9) My Brilliant Friend

Two seasons in and there might not be another character on TV that I’m as continually frustrated and fascinated by as Lila, the eponymous ‘brilliant friend’ of the show’s title. Sparingly warm, often cruel, seductive, Season 2 of HBO’s masterful adaptation sees her trapped in a loveless, abusive marriage but as ever it’s her fractured relationship with Lenù that forms the emotional spine of the show. There’s often a strange sort of snobbery around the term ‘prestige drama,’ as if all that money on the screen is a smokescreen for a dearth of anything to say; My Brilliant Friend uses every colour in its paintbox to portray the yawning void that opened up between Lenù and Lila as they entered adulthood, from the lavish, provocative outfits Lila’s adopts after she marries Stefano to Max Richter’s evocative score and the detail poured into the show’s supporting characters. Rewardingly complex.

10) Mrs. America

I laboured over what would take my tenth spot this year since there was so much TV that I loved, and especially this year so much of it felt essential to how I was receiving the world around me. Ultimately, Mrs. America’s mixture of astute political commentary, character-driven writing and host of enjoyable performances tipped the scale in its favour. Cate Blanchett’s all-timer of a performance as Phyllis Schafly understandably received the majority of attention, but Mrs. America gave us so many memorable moments: Sarah Paulson’s Alice ringing the bell at reception whilst high, Uzo Aduba’s Shirley Chisholm speaking to a potentially bugged hotel ventilator, Margo Martindale’s Bella Abzug quietly realising she’s no longer the radical of her youth on a busy New York street. This sort of deft, smart political drama isn’t often this much fun to watch, and what an ending...

11) This Life

An honourable mention to a show made almost twenty-five years ago that nevertheless helped define the year in TV for me. Shows that were once considered part of the zeitgeist can often feel quaint and old-fashioned in retrospect, but Amy Jenkins rambunctious flatshare drama isn’t one of them. Whilst it can sometimes feel like the show’s characters are universally adverse to making even one good decision between them, there’s a compassion and care underpinning This Life that means it never comes across as overly cynical or sneering. There’s also a lot to be said for discovering a performance that you genuinely consider to be one of the best of the decade, and no other character this year frustrated and moved me in the ways that Daniela Nardini’s Anna did. Bonus points for the genuinely chaotic final episode, perhaps one of the best I’ve ever seen.

And FWIW, these are ten performances from shows not on the list above that I loved this year: Marielle Heller in The Queen’s Gambit, Nicholas Hoult in The Great, Sarah Lancashire in Last Tango in Halifax, Poorna Jagannathan in Never Have I Ever, Michael Sheen in Quiz, Imelda Staunton in Talking Heads, Leila Farzad in I Hate Suzie, Alison Pill in Star Trek: Picard, Gillian Anderson in The Crown and Andy Allo in Upload.

And ten episodes of TV that I loved too: ‘Terry and Korvo Steal a Bear’ (Solar Opposites), ‘The Gang Deals With Alternate Reality’ (The Good Fight), ‘Uncle Naseem’ (Ramy), ‘The View From Halfway Down’ (Bojack Horseman), ‘The Vat of Acid Episode’ (Rick and Morty), ‘I Am’ (Lovecraft Country), ‘No Small Parts’ (Star Trek: Lower Decks), Seven-Spotted Ladybug’ (Everything’s Gonna Be Okay), ‘Daytona’ (Cheer), ‘Whenever You’re Ready’ (The Good Place).

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reimahowaido · 4 years ago

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Spyro: Reignited review part 5

Magic Crafters! Oh boy. I'm not sure on how to feel about this. Ok firstly, I like the icy snowy stuff. The pink-purple in the original was pretty great, in the Reignited version stuff looks great too, and I'll have to take a better look when I pick up the game again, but as of now, I'm just trying to not die. This is new territory, there's not as many walls. And I'm Fairly certain that this is where the power-ups happen. This is the area where the super charges and stuff become a thing. Those things are limited time. I'm. I'm not ready to rush. I'm not good enough. So I'm not very confident in my skills here I've yet to 100% this level, one of the enemies lifted a wall and didn't lower it, so either there was no way of going around it, I didn't bother looking or chose to just go to the next level that was right there - or accidentally stumbled in there - many possibilities. Either way, I've not yet freed Zantor, who is one of my faves. Love the card boi.

Alpine Ridge! Bruh. BRUH. So far, this, this has to be my least favourite level. It is pretty, yes, and it starts off really nicely. The yellow beast things are easy to defeat and I kinda find them cute in a way. Making good progress, the jumps are scary but we're succeeding and doing well. The armored druids kinda scare me with their blank expressions and the way in which they silently and motionlessly glide, they're like ghosts approaching you with the intent to kill. But I can still panic charge them and they die so we good. So... Why do I hate and despise this level? Well. Let me tell you. About that egg thief chase. And more over. Those freaking firework explosives. So firstly, the thief. My controls on the Switch Lite are already stiff, I'm scared of turns and stuff when charging because the turns are stiff and nowhere near as smooth or easy as the youtube videos show. I was very careful and slow just when collecting the gems on that path, and then you're telling me I have to Run there? Oh god. Oh boy. Oh no. And I ran and ran, chased the thing, tried all sorts of sneaky things after falling off the side many times and having to stop and panic just so I wouldn't fall again. It was a pain. And trying to use your flame on that thing? It just didn't work. I was so close. And either the fire didn't happen or somehow didn't hit the thief. It was painful. And then when I finally hit the thief, I jumped, it was sudden, it was like hitting a wall without the bump, no warning, I got scared for a bot because I didn't expect to catch the thief etc. My body was having that same reaction to it as you do when you're falling asleep and you jolt awake. So that was painful. But even Worse was/is the firework section. Firstly. Getting to that first platform is hell. I watched clips on youtube, I tried so many times. After over 10 deaths I finally get over to that platform for the first time, and boom, I die on the explosion even if I tried to dodge. More attempts, I somehow eventually survive and get the 1st of the 3 firework gems. First of 3. My god. So. The area as a whole is precise platforming, with hard jumps, and if you fail you're pretty much insta death. And the area is pretty much at the other side of the level, a level that's, very wild and I dunno how to exactly navigate, the map is full of floating islands too. So 'cheat death warping' isn't really a good option here to avoid death because it'd take super long to travel back and forth. I've not mentioned the loading times or the lag they have yet. It's not awful, I can manage, but it's not instantaneous either. So the struggle is real. I can't even make the 1st of those jumps all the time, I still die on that jump occasionally and it ain't fun to be punished for missing this precise jump with an insta death. At least there was a dragon right there so the travel to that spot is like, you're already there. But still. Make it to 2nd platform after several more deaths, die in explosion pushing you to water. What am I supposed to do? The game I Think wants you to jump back to the last platform really quickly, but bruh just getting here was hell, you expect me to turn in a blink of an eye and do all of that hard work I still can't do perfectly half the time. You really expect me to do that? ..... You expect too much, I'm not ready for this... So I struggle. Lose life after life. I'm running out. I have 1 life left. I go for the jumps and stuff, I get to that 3rd firework, I try the jumping back thing but somehow the explosion hits me on my way or something. But. But oh? Did.. Did I just see a 10? Did I see a golden gem with a 10 signifying that I got the gem? I'm not sticking around to find out. I'm warping out of there to Peace Keepers. I'm not dying here. So I've not yet finished a single Magic Crafters level. I lost 30 lives there, I'm not exactly a big fan. I spent the next hour listening to podcasts and grinding for lives between PK and Dr.Shemp. MC stuff made me a little frustrated. Ice Cave jumps had gotten to my nerves a little bit, but this was muuuuch worse. The

desperation and anger-nearing annoyance I felt here. God... I'll go back to the game, it's been a few days, I've not had the time because I've had to and wanted to draw, but I'll go back. And I'll 100% those levels. But bruh. I'm really hoping I'll be able to beat these games. I'm scared for Tree Tops. I've heard that that one is hard. I've seen it. It's got charging and jumping an boosts. Mmmmmmmm. Magic Crafters & Alpine Ridge songs I've not yet gotten to listen to too well. Negative memories. AR has some nice sounds to itself, but they're a little tainted by the repeated circle of death. But from what I'm listening on the youtube, the og soundtrack, most of the super nostalgic songs seem to be from here. Like I remember hearing these songs in places. So I suppose I've got those to look forward to? While I also fear what's to come But it's 6am, I sleep now and write about Peace Keepers dragons later~

#Spyro #Reima gaming and makin' some reviews I guess

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agent-styles · 6 years ago

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golden hour | bucky barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary/request: it’s new year’s eve!!!

word count: 1.1k

a/n: i thought this was a request but i got my prompts mixed up... so here’s a super cute nye one shot w/ bucky <3 (the gif isn’t mine)

warning(s): a lil angsty but mostly very fluffy

Tony spared no expenses on his New Year’s Eve party again this year. The Avengers Tower is decorated in excess. There’s a team out back prepping for a special “Avengers themed” fireworks show, whatever that may mean. Everyone is gathered around the wall of flat screen TVs to watch the countdown. You smile as you look around at the group of people you are more than proud to call your family. Once everyone starts turning to their significant others or towards the mini bar, you start to look around for the man you planned on kissing at midnight. Your brows furrow when you can’t place him in the room of familiar faces.

You spot Steve and knock elbows and shoulders with the others as you make your way to him. His eyes spark when he sees you. He pulls his beer away from his lips when you ask, “Have you seen Bucky?”

“I think he said he needed some air,” Steve replies.

You nod and stick your hands in your back pockets. Steve narrows his eyes as he watches your eyes wander over the sea of people again. He places a hand on your shoulder, bringing your attention back. “I’m sure he just got a little overwhelmed by all of the people and the noise,” Steve adds to ease your mind.

“Yeah,” you answer, “I’m sure you’re right.” Steve nods. “I’m going to go find him.”

You turn away from the super soldier and with what seems like three long strides, the loud music and the chatty people are left behind a closed door.

You start popping your head in and out of the abandoned rooms, hoping to see the glisten of a metal arm from the moonlight. You can’t help but think about how all of this could be triggering for Bucky. Sure it can bother all of you in some way, shape, or form, but you’ve had more time to acclimate to the sound of fireworks - to enjoy them rather than fear them. Bucky, who has been in and out of ice and subjected to mind control for so long, probably hears the fireworks and gets flashes of the war or missions he was forced to complete. It hurts your heart to think about what he must be going through and how he probably clings to those memories he had with fireworks with Steve by his side in the 40’s.

That’s when you start jogging down the hallway. The desire to find him feels even more dire knowing that the clock is getting closer to midnight. You can only imagine how the few distant pops of fireworks will be replaced by the massive booms of Tony’s show.

You turn the corner to your room, out of breath and clinging to the door frame, and that’s when you finally see him. Bucky stands near your giant windows that overlook the water; his hands in his pockets.

You relax against the wall, “I didn’t think I’d find you.”

“I needed some air,” he replies, back still to you.

“Yeah, that’s what Steve said,” you push yourself away from the door frame and towards him. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” Bucky whispers.

You stand next to him and join him in admiring the view, waiting for him to speak again.

“I wanted to get away from all of the…” he gestures in the direction you came, “...the music.”

You turn your head towards Bucky and catch his eye, “I know it’s not what you’re used to but dubstep isn’t all that bad.” You can’t finish your sentence without cracking a smile. He does too. “Okay, you’re right. It’s bad.”

You turn your whole body towards him now, “Is the music the only reason why you left?”

Bucky sighs and looks down at you. “I just wanted it to be quiet for a minute.”

“That’s understandable, Buck. Days like this can be overwhelming. Especially, considering…” you trail off because Bucky doesn’t need you to recap his traumatic past to him. Bucky presses his lips together and nods.

He takes your hand in his, “I knew you’d come find me.”

“Of course,” you whisper with a grin, “I’ll always find you.”

Bucky takes a step towards you and that’s when both of your heads turn towards the door. You chuckle as you register the shouting as your family yelling along with the countdown.

10!

The pops start getting a little louder, colors appearing in the sky across the river. “Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?”

Bucky places his right hand on your cheek and you lean into his warm touch. He lets his hand fall so that it rests between your shoulder and your jaw. He lifts your head up towards his.

“I’ll be alright.”

“How can you be so sure?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Because I have a pretty nice distraction.”

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes, “And what’s that, Barnes?”

His metal arm snakes its way around your waist, pulling you so close to him that your chests are touching.

Your arms wrap around his waist and travel up his toned back. You feel the tension leave his body as your hands massage his back.

“Oh, I think you know…” Bucky whispers against your lips. Your faces are so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

1! Happy New Year!

Bucky’s lips press against yours, his right arm meets the other around the small of your back to lift you off the ground. You arms fall around his shoulders. Your right hand runs through his long hair. The sound of the fireworks is a mere murmur in the background. Bucky smiles against your lips when you press into him, deepening the kiss.

He sets you back on the ground and pushes your hair out of your face. You reach up and try to wipe the red lipstick from his lips. Bucky laughs and grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips. He looks over your knuckles at you, “Happy New Year, y/n.”

“Happy New Year, Buck.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #mine

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footbaliimagines · 6 years ago

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New Years Kiss (a Jesse Lingard imagine)

Hello!!!!!! It is me, returned from the dead (I can’t find the gif but insert the bitch thought u saw the last of me gif from American horror story gif here)

Idk what this is really these bits and bobs are NOT chronological they are just like fragments if that makes sense?? So even though the 3 words bit is when they were together its like a ***flashback*** but I wasnt sure how to make that v clear also the chapters are like numbers counting down from ten like at midnight ygm??? Okay I am rambling so will shut up hope u guys like it and hope you have a wonderful nye <3 I hope and am sure 2019 will be wonderful for all of you <3

TEN minutes after you meet him, you realise that you’re kind of fucked.

(And by kind of, you mean completely, overwhelmingly, catastrophically fucked.)

It happens quickly, in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

So quickly, as a matter of fact, that when he locks eyes with you for the first time, and when he grazes your arm when brushing past you to grab his drink, it’s like a switch has been flicked inside of you that you were never sure even really existed.

You put it down to the bubbles from your prosecco that you’d downed just before chatting to him, and that the tipsiness and the buzz of alcohol is the only reason you could be feeling the way you do right now.

Now he’s a face that you can put a name to, instead of just viewing him as Marcus’ other footballer friend, that familiar grinning face you’d spotted at gatherings who always offered you a shy, awkward smile whenever you shared eye contact but someone who you’d never actually found the balls to speak to.

(Sure, as a regular human being with functioning eyes you knew that he was attractive, but he was way out of your league.)

(The constantly grinning, elusive, life of the party Jesse Lingard, who Marcus had raved about to you pretty much since the day they’d met, with his 5 million Instagram followers, ridiculous dance moves that no self-respecting 26 year old man should let the world see, and that smile- God, that stupid, infectious shit eating grin, when his eyes crinkled and made everyone else look mediocre in comparison to him.)

(He wouldn’t look in your direction even if the world was about to end.)

It’s New Years’ Eve, and his Christmas jumper smells like Baileys and cinnamon, lasting remnants of the festive period. “Nice to meet you.” You practically have to shout over the music. “I know Marcus.”

“You what Marcus?”

“I know Marcus.”

“You know who?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, dismissing his question. “Doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“I said.” You shout. “It doesn’t matter.”

He nods and smiles again, leaning in, “I don’t want to be weird or anything, considering we just met,” his gaze is hazy and clouded with the effects of the beer he’s clutching in his right hand, “but you’re really fucking pretty.”

You can feel your face flush, a blush superior to the one your red wine had already given you, and the next thing you know it’s nearly midnight, and you’re drunk and giggling and he’s flirting and tracing between the gap between your jeans and jumper with his fingers, and you’re both leaning in and your friends are counting down from ten, and he kisses you, amidst cheers and shouts and fireworks.

And you tell yourself, what’s the worst that could really happen?

“Only NINE stops.”

You trace your finger over the plastic Metrolink sign, running it up and down the line connecting the two tram stations, marking your place and his. “Nine stops to get from me to you.”

He snakes his hands around your waist, pressing his chin into your shoulder and kissing the exposed skin of your neck. “Stop.” You laugh, voice breathy. “We’re in public.”

“We’re in Manchester city centre on a Thursday night.” He pulls away, leading you towards the platform and laughing loudly, his voice booming throughout the cold night. “There’s no one fuckin’ here!”

He’s had a few pints, and he’s tipsy, handsy, flirty, silly Jesse, one of your favourite versions of him, kissing you breathlessly and grinning, hands running up and down your tight jeans and hooking into your belt loops and murmuring in your ear about how excited he is to pull them off of you later.

“Nine stops, you know,” He hums as the tram pulls away and you lean into him, watching the city pass you by, “is pretty far.”

“You’re such a city boy now.” You roll your eyes. “It’s like, 20 minutes. If we went back to my hometown, you’d be lucky to see a bus more than once every half an hour.”

“You wouldn’t have to do the whole 9 stops if you moved in with me.”

You crinkle up your nose and quirk an eyebrow at him. “What are you suggesting?”

“What do you think I’m suggesting?”

Laughing, you prop your feet up on the empty seat opposite and lean into his side, as he flops an arm around your shoulder. There’s no one else with you two and your voices and shared laughter echo throughout the empty carriage. “I’m serious!” He holds his hands up and looks at you with wide eyes. “Do it. Move in with me. You can cook me breakfast every morning, and make me my tea for when I get back, make me a brew whenever I want one… you’ll make the perfect little housewife.”

“Now that you’ve said that, you can fuck off.”

And you both brush it off and don’t speak of the topic again, but when he leaves for training the next morning, there’s a spare key for his flat lying on a post-it, with a hastily scribbled note.

You don’t have to properly move in – no pressure or anything like that. But I had a spare key lying around and wanted you to have it. Jess x

(When the breakup comes, you don’t work up the courage to give it him back, and it’s still lying in your bedside table draw, post-it long gone, gathering dust and eventually added to the pile of his things you swear you’ll get around to giving him back one day.)

(There’s a strange feeling in your stomach every time you pass by his stop.)

It’s EIGHT in the morning.

You’re sat in the coffee shop equidistant to your flat, Marcus’s house and United’s training ground, where every Sunday without fail, the three of you would meet up for breakfast.

(Well, where you used to meet up every Sunday.)

(Minus that one time you were too hungover to leave the house without projectile vomiting on your own feet.)

For the first time since the breakup, Jesse had appeared, the sleepiness still drooping over his eyes and his hair mussed by his pillowcase. Your mind flashes to the image of him sleeping face down in his pillow, a position that made you nearly piss yourself laughing every time you saw him, but you suppress the memory quickly.

“Everyone can see it except the two of you, you know.”

Marcus tips his chin upwards and nods matter-of-factly. You roll your eyes and huff. “You’re a prick. And not just for saying that. But for inviting him out for our thing, our tradition, again, when you know it’s just going to be fucking awkward. He didn’t have to be here.”

“I’m only saying.” He raises his eyebrows and holds up two hands, as if to say, not my fault, I’m not interfering in the slightest, I’m just telling you that I know you’re still in love with your ex, and I know he still feels the same, and that even though there’s a very high chance things could still go catastrophically, terrifically, hugely wrong, I’m going to tell you and mess with your head anyway?

You reply snappily, huffing and folding your arms across your chest, “You’re messing with me, and it’s pissing me off. Fuck off. Tell him to fuck off too while you’re at it.”

He barks out a laugh and you roll your eyes. “I’m trying to reunite my two best friends, that’s all. Get the gang back together and all that!” He whines and shuffles closer to you, flinging an arm around your shoulders loosely. “Let me live. You both know you’re both being stubborn. Just talk to each other. It’ll all work out.”

“I don’t even like him anyway. Not like that. Not anymore.”

It’s a lie, a stupid, threadbare, slap you in the face lie. Marcus knows it too, and snorts. “Yeah, sure. I believe you. It’s not like you’ve been pining over each other for the past 3 months and you’re giving the girl he’s talking to at the moment daggers.”

You pull away your gaze sharply. Jesse’s in the queue- well, he was in the queue, now he’s loitering by the serviettes - and he’s been pulled to the side by a beautiful girl. They’ve been chatting amiably for the better part of the last ten minutes and you can feel your blood temperature rising steadily. “I’m staring,” You begin, and your head starts whizzing at a million miles an hour to come up with a decent excuse. “Because Jesse has our coffees and I don’t want them to get cold just because he’s in the middle of a stupid conversation.”

“’Stupid conversation’,” Marcus air quotes your words and smirks. “Jealousy isn’t a very attractive trait, you know.”

“I’m not jealous.” You scoff. “I’m just thirsty, that’s all.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Fuck you.”

A few minutes, and plenty of glares and continuous teaching jabs from Marcus later, Jesse approaches and smiles apologetically. “Sorry about that.” he chuckles, and hands you your mug.

Your fingers bump and it’s so meaningless and tiny but you kick yourself for still flinching when your skin made contact. “Careful. It’s still hot.”

(See, he cares about you. Maybe it’s not all just in your head!)

It’s an instinct to smile back at him, a repressed reflex to not pat the empty space next to you and rest your hand on his thigh, but you gulp as he sits opposite instead, far away from the table, from you. “Make conversation.” Marcus hisses.

You can feel your face blossoming cherry red, feel the discomfort in the air rise, feel your palms grow sweaty, and you shoot him a dirty look, mouthing, “Stop making it obvious.”

“You’re the one making it obvious.” He hisses back.

“Hm?” Jesse looks up from his phone to across the table.

He’s wearing that stupidly adorable, confused look on his face again, and you want to kiss him, you want to throw your boiling hot coffee in his face, you want to slap him, do something, do anything that would be less unbearably awkward than the three of you making small talk about the new Kenyan variety of coffee beans Marcus was trying out.

“Hm what?” You gargle.

“I was just asking what you guys were mumbling about.” He leans back, hands gripping his mug.

“Nothing.” You interject, before Marcus can start up again. “Marcus’s just being a dick, that’s all.”

You kick yourself for acting like such a lovesick, pathetic idiot, because you’ve never been like this before, you’ve constantly sworn to yourself that you’d never going be like this, but now he’s in the picture and it’s like everything that you ever held dearly to you has gone straight out of the window. Marcus pipes up, “So, who was that girl?”

(Now he decides to fucking speak.)

“Which girl?”

This time, you’re not quick enough to interrupt Marcus from piping up. “The girl you were flirting with before, Jesse, who you might go out with, who seems really nice and wasn’t a baby by actually talking to you about her feelings instead of hiding behind her emotions because she’s so scared of rejection and open communication, that she’d be willing to sacrifice the possibility of something really great?”

(You’re this close to chucking your cappuccino over his head.)

Jesse side eyes Marcus, opening his mouth to reply but then shaking his head and exhaling instead. “She’s right, you are being fucking weird today.” He shakes his head, tipping his chin upwards slightly and shrugging. “Besides, she’s not really my type anyway.”

(She was beautiful.)

(She’d be anyone’s type.)

He’s looking at you dead in the eye this time, ignoring Marcus’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, and you venture, “What is your type, then?”

He pulls a face, like come on, are you really asking that, you know what my fucking type is and you know it’s not that girl I was talking to strategically 2 foot in front of you so you’d see and get jealous, and when he doesn’t answer, you take it as a silent victory for #TeamYouWereRight, not #TeamJesse.

“That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

You let Marcus fill the silence of the rest of your breakfast, and when you leave you’re too much of a coward to even look Jesse in the eye.

It only takes him SEVEN days to move on

When the cover of Ok! on your best friend’s coffee table catches your eyes, you can almost feel your wine and the tequila shots you had knocked back rising back up your throat. Your vision is hazy and the bitterness, the anger, the hurt surges through your veins as you pick it up and throw it to the floor, out of sight and out of mind. You were right, the featurette screamed out at you, he wasn’t, isn’t worth it, isn’t worth you crying over.

It only took him a week to find someone else to fuck and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to go out tonight with the same intentions.

Deep down you know you’re being childish and if you were sober you’d probably never have sunk to such a level, but the tequila is buzzing in your blood and you can’t stop thinking about that fucking photograph.

(A photograph of Jesse revelling in a post-Boxing Day victory glow, crowded with Paul and Marcus in some swanky inner city bar, with his hand on the thigh of a beautiful woman whose Instagram account you made a mental note of to stalk when you were in a soberer state.)

There’s a tranquil voice somewhere in the back of your head telling you to step back and be rational. You’d been friends with Marcus and the boys for far too long to trust the split-second capture of a loitering paparazzi over his word.

It was probably just a one-night stand, that rational voice piped up again. Plus, he’s single now. Give him a break. The boy is gonna need to get laid eventually.

(But he’d told you he didn’t want to be with anyone else, that he’d rather have quiet nights in with his teammates to celebrate, probably just PS4 and takeaway, that he wouldn’t enjoy going out if it wasn’t with you.)

(That rational voice in your head could go fuck itself.)

You shrug off the worry at the back of your mind and post the picture to your Instagram story regardless.

Your phone buzzes 2 minutes later.

Who is he?

You hate yourself for revelling in his jealousy, but the sense of satisfaction you gain overrides any rationale that sober you would have considered.

Who the fuck is that guy?

Can you reply?

I can see you’ve read these messages, you know.

Are you fucking him? Is he your new boyfriend?

Fuck you.

Happy SIX months, babe. Love yaaaaaaaa!!!

is what the balloon reads, as the delivery man comes by Jesse’s house with a bunch of flowers almost the size of him and a handful of personalised helium balloons.

“Delivery for Mr J Lingard?” The postman reads off his phone, before handing Jesse the assortment of romantic gifts and offering up a screen for Jesse to sign.

He smiles tiredly and nods.

(He swore he had remembered to cancel this order after you’d broken up.)

“Ta mate,” He replies, taking the flowers inside and dumping the balloons behind him in his hallway.

“Anniversary, eh?” The delivery man smiles. “She’ll love the presents.”

(He’s going to throw up.)

Jesse attempts to smile and brush it off with a laugh, but it’s not convincing. “Fingers crossed, yeah.”

“Best of luck.” He walks back down his drive. “Have a nice day.”

“And you.”

He’s alone again in his hallway, the gifts surrounding him, a flurry of red and pink bows and yellow roses, your favourite, your name written onto the balloons.

He imagines you in the kitchen with him, you, being your typical over-emotional, dramatic self probably welling up at the card he’d written, tactfully arranging the balloons for an Instagram photo, talking about inhaling the helium and taking a video for his Snapchat speaking in funny voices, getting stressed out about doing your eyeshadow for your dinner later that evening.

He can imagine looking at you from across his kitchen table like you just hung the moon in the sky, the thought of being with you, eating breakfast with you, talking to you all making his stomach churn. Because the breakup hadn’t been formal nor had it been official, and it was only after you blocked most (well, all) of his social media accounts, and your face no longer appeared, grinning and slightly flushed, in the stands of Old Trafford, that he had realised the severity of what had happened between the two of you.

And Jesse kicks himself over it every day, he could have done more, could have turned up to your house or your office and demanded an answer or at least a conversation, but his stubbornness and obstinacy had prevented him from doing so, and your unwillingness to communicate had landed you both at a stalemate.

(If he could go back in time, he would.)

He leaves the anniversary gifts in his spare room upstairs and doesn’t even open the door.

05:02 – Are you up?

05:14 – Lol of course you won’t be

05:14 – Soz for texting. I can’t sleep and I think I’m just getting a bit caught up in own head

05:16 – I just

05:16 – I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind

05:16 – I just don’t know why this is still so fucking difficult. It’s been like 3 months and I still can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you and how everything went wrong

05:19 – I’m sorry if I pressured you when I told you I loved you and I’m sorry for not fighting more

05:20 – Didn’t meant to rush you. Just wanted to be honest.

05:20 – And now I’ve fucked everything up. And I’ve fucked it with Marcus too, jt’s always awkward and I know he’s taken your side and everything is just shite

05:26 – Fucking hell

05:26 – I can’t do being just friends and I can’t do platonic. Maybe we just should just cut if off completely

05:27 – Please come and see me so we can talk it over

05:27 – I just can’t do this, this in between

05:28 – I love you and I know you still love me

05:28 – Is that not enough???

It’s FOUR in the morning and Jesse’s regretting even leaving the house in the first place.

His head is pounding with the deep bass coming from the speakers behind him, as he gingerly sips at his lime soda, thoughts of his alarm ringing at 7:30am tomorrow morning looming in the back of his mind, thoughts of what his Mum would say if she knew he wasn’t getting a healthy 8 hours of sleep before a game, thoughts of you in that little black dress, swaying to the beat, standing far too close to that short-back-and-sides-probably-a-fuckboy idiot whispering something that Jesse doesn’t want to imagine down your ear.

(Thoughts of what he’d like to do to you in a dress like that.)

You eventually shrug the other guy off when he gets a little too eager, a little too handsy, and pull your hair loose from its ponytail, eyes scanning around the club and pausing when the land on Jesse.

He’s stood in the corner, not speaking to anybody and hardly moving, and that’s when you know he must be in a bad mood, because the DJ’s just started playing Sicko Mode and he’s not even flinched. Then one of his mates appears by his side, hollering down his eardrum, and Jesse doesn’t even respond with a smile or a laugh, he just shrugs him off and walks towards the doors.

You’re not sure why, but you follow him as he heads towards the smoking area. You lose him eventually in a sea of drunk people, and exhale, the wind suddenly sobering you up.

Fucking typical, you think, lighting a fag and leaning back against the brick wall, eyes closed.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

You open one eye and there he is, stood there in front of you, looking at you with a mixture of fondness, annoyance and disapproval. Looking at him dead in the eyes, you lift it to your lips and inhale. “I must have a tendency for going back to things that I know are bad for me.”

He looks at you, and you can tell he wants to bite, to start another fight, but then he bites his tongue and exhales. “How have you been?”

“I’m alright.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

“Good.”

“Jess?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

(The next thing you know, you’re in a taxi togetther and he’s telling the driver his address and your hands are all over him and his are all over you.)

(And you fall into bed with him again, like always, like you know deep down happens every time, as if its a habit, and when you wake up the next morning in his shirt you tell yourself that this time really will be the last time.)

You hadn’t anticipated saying those THREE words to Jesse so soon.

God, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of things lasting between the two of you for longer than a few weeks, but now here you were nearly 6 months later, lying on his sofa with his head in your lap and your fingers running through his hair. “Hey,” Jesse speaks and sits up, switching the volume of the telly down to zero.

“Hm?”

He looks away, before turning almost as red as the United shorts he was still yet to change out of, then gulping and shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He cuddles back into you and though your heart melts, you wiggle him off and jab him with your elbow.

“Talk to me.” You whine. “You’re no fun when you’re being weird like this. What’s up?”

Jesse heaves a sigh, and for the first time during your conversation, looks you in the eye before burning bright red again and glancing away. It’s like he can’t bear the sight of you, and his determined avoidance of both a proper conversation and sharing eye contact with you makes you feel slightly nauseous.

A few moments of silence pass before he looks at you again. “I, well- I feel weird right now.” He stumbles. “Because, um, I-“

“Jesse, what is it?”

Your pulse begins to race as your mind inevitably wanders, and the pessimist in you instantly leaps to the worst possible thing. Was he breaking up with you? Things had been going so well, and surely Marcus would have called to give you a heads up if he knew something weird was going on with Jesse.

(Then again, you had cancelled on date night for the past 3 weeks to binge the Great British Bake Off.)

(Still, would that really have warranted a breakup?)

(And plus, Jesse was the Bake Off’s second biggest fan, after yourself, naturally.)

It could be something smaller, something to do with his family, or his career. But he never felt uncomfortable discussing football with you, despite your feelings towards his club, and his relatives treated you like one of their own.

(Your mind does eventually wander to the possibility of him cheating, or him finding someone else, but due to your own stubbornness and for the sake of your sanity, you’re quick to expel any ideas like that straight out of your head.)

“I love you.”

His voice is soft and cracks at the end, and it’s so, so far from what you had been expecting, and so unlike the usual confident, grinning Jesse that you were used to that a lump forms in your throat. “Oh, Jess-“

“I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to scare you off.” He mumbles. “But I’m finding it way too hard to not have those stupid fucking three words replaying in my mind every time I look at you. Because that’s what’s happening, I swear. I’m trying to play it cool and casual but all I can think about every time you smile, or speak, or laugh is the fact that I’m in love with you.”

A smile pulls on your lips and you immediately scramble forward to wrap your arms around him. He laughs and you feel his chest rumble underneath you. “You don’t have to be scared.” You comfort. “Trust me, I was shitting myself way imagining the worst just now.”

Jesse laughs. “Cos like, it terrifies me, it fucking scares the living daylights out of me, because I’ve never felt like this about, well- anyone before. And I was petrified that you didn’t feel the same way.”

You grin, before leaning in and pressing your lips to his with force. It’s a hasty, reassuring kiss, and your teeth clash and you murmur in between kisses, “I love you.”

(Months had passed since that night now and those three words hadn’t lost any meaning.)

(And you just wish you could say them to him again.)

“I know we said it the last TWO times, but we really need to stop doing this.”

His voice is soft, breaking the silence you were lying in.

(You’re grateful that he was the one to speak first, but you’re not so grateful for him bringing up that wretched conversation yet again.)

He looks across at you, the dim light from your lamp illuminating the side of your face, your knotted hair and smudged lipstick, and then at your bedside clock, reading 01:23. Jesse sighs and you can feel your heart sinking into your stomach, as he reaches for his boxers and pulls them on. Your bedroom is a mess, cushions and throws tossed to the floor, and he speaks up again, “I mean it, this time.”

“Okay.”

He continues, though he really doesn’t need to. You’ve got the message loud and clear. “I think it’s just good for our, er, healing. Isn’t like, not sleeping with your ex like the number 1 thing not to do after a breakup?”

“Probably, yeah.”

You hug your duvet up around your body protectively, before reaching for your bra and t-shirt that had been tossed to floor just two hours earlier, when the expected texts had come, the are-you-awake, the got-plans-tonight?, the I’m-horny-and-I-miss-you-let’s-not-waste-any-more-time texts.

(Leading to the exact opposite of what was good for you after the breakup.)

(For fucks sake, you tell yourself.)

(Dua Lipa did not write New Rules for you to be this pathetic, this needy, this easy.)

“Fine, then.” You say, blasé, casual, giving off an air of nonchalance and indifference that couldn’t be further from the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “You don’t have to spend the night. Can you see yourself out or do you want me to get up?”

The way he looks back at you after you speak is enough to break your heart all over again. It’s a pleading look, and he’s willing you with his eyes to try and communicate for once, for the first time, but you refuse to meet his eyeline.

“I can see myself out.”

“Right.”

He dresses in silence, grabs his stuff and stalks out your flat, slamming your door on his way out. You scramble out of bed to watch him walk down your street, the way you used to when you started dating, when he used to blow you kisses as he ambled off your drive, or when you used to watch him run to a taxi on mornings when he was late for training.

This time, for the first time, he doesn’t look back at your window.

It’s been ONE year to the day since you met him, and you hate yourself for noticing the parallels as you walk into the living room at Marcus’s NYE party and he’s the first face you can recognise.

It’s like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy and it makes you want to die.

(Fortunately, he doesn’t quite spot you yet, and you’re free to make a beeline to the kitchen, in peace and quiet with an unopened bottle of Chardonnay as your company.)

(It lasts about 15 minutes.)

“Hey.”

You turn around and you see him, smiling at you in that same, stupid, garish, adorable Christmas jumper, holding out a Quality Street chocolate. It’s a peace offering, an olive branch, and you take it with a nod. “You alright?”

Jesse nods and takes a seat on the sofa behind you. “So, what are your New Year's resolutions, hey?”

You settle on the sofa next to him, knocking your knee against his accidentally, cursing and looking at him from over the rim of your glass of wine.

Jesse chuckles then shrugs sarcastically. “Can’t improve perfection.”

Your instinct is to let out a cackle, and you do, you burst out laughing so dramatically your drink nearly projects out of your nostrils, because he’s not even wrong and there’s not much about him that could really do with changing.

(Scrap that, he should learn to cook.)

(And definitely how to use a tumble dryer.)

(And call time of death on those dances he insisted on doing every time he scored a goal.)

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“What are your resolutions then, hey?” He knocks his knees with yours.

“Eat more fruit.” You fib.

Stop being so stubborn and accept that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Stop bottling up your emotions. Don’t be afraid to let people know how you feel. Stop being such a fucking coward all the time.

(Resolutions that Jesse of all people didn’t need to know about.)

“Boring.” He hums.

“Drink more water.” You add, nodding. “Start going to yoga again.”

“That’s so generic.”

“Fuck off. It’s called self improvement.”

“It sounds like every basic 23 year old girl I’ve ever met.”

You peek at your phone when he looks away: 23:58.

Fuck. How the fuck had it got so late already?

Your friends begin to gather in hordes in the kitchen, the TV broadcasting the fireworks in London has been switched on and drinks are poured and held aloft. Jesse jumps to his feet and offers you his hand as you do the same; his hand feels warm and familiar and when he lets go it suddenly feels like there’s acres of space between you again.

“I think I’m getting déjà vu.”

You roll your eyes, resisting the urge to smile. “Déjà vu to when?”

“That night. The first time we met.”

Jesse tips his chin backwards, and someone behind him trips, bumps him forward, and he stumbles into you, by reflex finding your waist and your free hand pressing up against his chest.

He’s inches in front of you, and you can feel your pulse in your eyeballs and his breath across your face.

You splutter out, “I’m really, really fucking sorry.”

Jesse laughs. “What the fuck are you on about now, mad woman?”

“I’m sorry. About it all. About everything.”

He shakes his head, as if to say it’s okay, stop apologising, we haven’t been this close without wanting to kill each other since the break up and I don’t think we should even tempt the possibility of us arguing again.

And he’s leaning in, and you can smell his cologne and it’s comforting and reassuring and confusing, and makes your head spin but grounds your feet, and you’re closing your eyes as your friends begin to shout.

Happy new year!

And he’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you can feel his hand gripping your waist, holding and squeezing you and you can feel your stomach fizzing. When he pulls away he’s looking at you softly, gaze mellowed by tequila and the closeness between you two. “Happy new years, Jess.” is all you can muster, as he leans in and smiles again.

“Happy new year.”

#My writing #jesse lingard #jesse lingard fanfiction #jesse lingard one shot #jesse lingard imagine #england nt #england nt fanfiction #england nt imagine #manchester united imagine #cant believe i just typed that i feel DIRTY #footballer fanfiction #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer one shot

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thisgameissonintendo · 6 years ago

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This or That

Tagged by: @dont-stop-believin-in-klaine thank you so much! This is so cool!

Musicals or plays - Definitely. Been to 5 musicals last year and already have 3 planned for this summer

Strawberries or raspberries - I HATE raspberries so easy choice here

Winter or summer - Summer is like raspberries so. Easy one as well ❄️

Beaches or forests - Beaches! (But only on a horse and in full speed! 🐎)

Planets or constellations - Not really sure. I like both

Pastels or neons - All the wayyy

Diners or cafés

Unicorns or dragons - I love horses what includes loving unicorns. They’re the most precious things 🐴

Gemstones or crystals - Sapphire is my favorite 🔵

Hummingbirds or owls - Don’t like how owls can turn their head that’s just scary

Fireworks or sparklers - Afraid of fire so I’ll take the sparklers ✨

Lunch or happy hour - Both. Food is food and always good

Sweet or sour - Sour apples are the best

Rome or Amsterdam - Amsterdam is beautiful. Especially when sailing away at 12pm. Not so cool - cruise ship doesn’t honk. (I mean I always scare myself because you’re talking to a family member or friend or get your camera ready and you know it’s coming in a few minutes but you’re not actually prepared for it because it could be literally any second and when it comes then BOOM YOUR EARS ARE FALLING OFF [probably because I always prefer to stand DIRECTLY under it] but worth it)

Classic art or modern art

Sushi or ramen - I could eat Sushi for days.

Sun or moon - Since I am a night person and hate summer - moon 😂

Polka dots or stripes

Macaroons or croissants - Macaroons are the worst. If you haven’t tried any - DON’T

Glitter or matte

Aquariums or planetariums

Coloring books or watercolors

Fairy lights or candles

Dinosaurs, pirates, or aliens - Just because... Colin O’Donoghue in OUAT ⚓

Hoodies or cardigans - Love me some good oversized hoodies!

Books or movies - At the moment I am too lazy to read books (but books are ALWAYS better) and just because of that - movies

Tagging: I don’t know who has been tagged, so sorry in advance if this is your second or maybe third tag but - @toomanyfandomsshreya @waldenbeckboys @thethistlegirl @alchemist-rising @shadokatninjakitty @ownlittleworldofideas @bisexualstokes

#tag #game #this was funnnn

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savetheblackpaladin · 7 years ago

Note

Yooo I love this blog!! What do you think it would be like if you were really good friends with Shiro, but you guys flirt a lot and everybody knows you guys are pining for each other, what would it be like when you finally hook up? Friends to lovers is my jam!!!

You and Shiro have known each other for years. We’re talking decades here. Like you two have been thick as thieves from the moment your new neighbor invited you to play in his tree house rather than unpack the millions of boxes off the moving truck.

It was practically love at first sight.

Except that 5 year olds don’t conform to your heteronormativity and cooties exist.

Cooties aside, there was hardly a moment you two weren’t attached at the hip, so there was little surprise when you two proudly showed off your dual scholarships to the Garrison’s Exploration Program. Shiro would join the fighter pilots and you to the engineering division where, once again to zero surprise, you two would become partners-in-crime with Matthew Holt.

And Matt, bless his heart, saw exactly what your families have known for years: You two were madly in love with each other and too stupid to realize it. The question now was: does he just suffer with your mutual pining OR does he get you two together and potentially walk in on you two sucking face (or, let’s face it, worse) in the practice ship?

Who’s he kidding. He’s going to walk off the edge of the Grand Canyon if he has to suffer through Shiro describing once again, in perfect detail, how you fixed their (fake) hydraulic stabilizer in 30 seconds flat. There’s only so many times a guy can listen to ‘…and the way they used a hair tie to hold it in place was revolutionary…’ without wanting to gag.

There’s was only one thing he could do.

After weeks of researching romantic comedies (and reading certain books he’d rather not admit to) he was ready to whip out the best of the best. But boy did you two make it difficult.

He tried getting you two to kiss via a spin-the-bottle game during a bonfire. Keyword: tried. Apparently coca-cola bottles defy the laws of physics and Shiro gets downright obstinate the more beer he has and just wouldn’t let Matt spin for him. But the two of you did end up drunkenly falling asleep in the back of Matt’s pickup, Shiro spooning you closely to his body as you happily held his hand against your chest. Unfortunately, someone set off fireworks and you woke up in a panic, accidentally elbowing Shiro in the face and spending the rest of the night in the ER so he could get his nose reset.

He tried setting you two up on a blind date for Valentine’s Day but, of course, you both assumed it was a double date to make things less awkward and both your dates stood you up. Matt’s not sure how you two swung that one because your table was in a nice secluded corner and only had two chairs.

There was the fake love-note taped to your dorm door talking about how ‘my love has burned years for you’ and ‘I only wish I had the courage to tell you face to face’ but ‘I’m scared to jeopardize our strong friendship’ and other sappy things that may or may not have made Matt tear up himself. Unfortunately, you never went home that day and when Matt and Shiro showed up to hang out (and for you to happily tell Shiro you loved him too) the note was still on your door. Shiro quickly ripped the note off with a violence rarely seen, his face darkening with anger as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and burned it right then and there. He still denies it to this day even though Matt was literally right next to him.

Then there was truth-or-dare but no matter how hard Matt tried, he couldn’t seem to score either of you as victims.

He ditched you two at meals so many times that the two of you staged an intervention because you were worried something was terribly wrong with him.

He even tried getting a recording of at least ONE of you admitting you liked the other but damn if you two aren’t hard to manipulate.

He was reaching the end of his rope and it wasn’t until he got through chick-flick number 18 that he found the answer he was looking for.

“Matt, remind me why we’re watching you play with the chemistry?”

Matt snorted, “Because Shiro, you two can’t tell the difference between perchloric and hydrochloric acid and I really don’t want to die today.”

You and Shiro both scoffed but didn’t say anything else. Matt was right. Your lack of culinary skills also extended to chemistry and it was only last week Shiro brought the wrong acid and created a small explosion. Or that time you forgot your hot plate was on and you exploded your beaker simply by leaving it empty on the plate. To be fair, that was probably a result of crappy equipment but still.

Satisfied you two were properly chastised, Matt quickly added his ingredients for disaster. “Hey, Y/N? Can you get me some paper towels from the supply closet?”

“Uhm, why?” You’re voice wavered in concern as Matt sheepishly tried to hide the foaming mess behind him.

“Because I…added something wrong and in about 60 seconds there’s going to be graphite foam covering the table. And the floor.”

You cursed and immediately rushed out the room. If you didn’t get that shit cleaned up as soon as possible it was gonna take hours with a scrapper to get that off the tile. And there was probably some hefty detention involved too.

“And Shiro?”, Matt flushed as Shiro shot him a smug look, “Can you go with them? I need some methanol too and I think Iverson keeps that on the top shelf.”

Shiro snorted and slowly stood up, making a show of languidly stretching before taking controlled steps after you like he didn’t want to run to your side. Matt’s smirked deepened as he snuck off after him. Five seconds should be more than enough of a head start.

“Oh, hey Shiro!” You blushed lightly as Shiro joined you in the closet, “Matt need something else?”

You pretended not to see his blush as he reached above you, his chest brushing against your shoulders as he stretched. “Methanol, I’m assuming for easier clean–HEY!”

You both jumped as the door to the supply closet slammed shut and locked. Matt’s innocent whistling sounded on the other side.

“Matt! Matt, what the hell?!”, Shiro’s voice boomed above your head as he leaned around you two bang a fist against the door. You felt your temperature skyrocketing as this caused his back to press even harder against you, very nearly pinning you to the door.

“Matt!”, you’re voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, “Let us out now! This isn’t funny. It’s really, really cramped in here!” Yeah, you didn’t know how long you could last feeling nearly every bit of your crush pressed against you.

Matt’s voice was cocky as he leaned against the door, “Oh no. I’m not going to let you out. You’re going to get yourselves out.”

“With what,” Shiro scoffed, “I conveniently forgot my crow bar in my bedroom.”

“Tsk, tsk, Shirogane. Have patience,” Matt teased. “I’ll let you out when you two stop being stupid and kiss or something.”

You both stiffened in the closet, your voices caught in your throats as Matt continued. “And don’t try to act like you don’t like each other because I have eyes. So like, just say it.”

“I-I don’t–”, you felt as if your face was glowing in the dark of the closet. There was no way you could tell Shiro you liked him. You grew up together. Practically like siblings. And he was so handsome and so smart, there was no way he could like you back. He was destined for greatness. For a supermodel or a politician or ROYALTY. Not the kid next door.

“Y/N”, Shiro’s voice was soft as he gently maneuvered you to face him. He felt you shaking as he tilted your head up towards him and he felt a great surge of fierce protection, an urge to pull you close and never let go. “Y/N, Matt is right.”

You gasped as he stepped closer, fully you pressing you against the door with his body, holding you up while simultaneously stopping you from escaping. Not that you had anywhere to go.

“I’ve loved you for years, Y/N.”

“Shiro…”, his name was shaky on your tongue and you couldn’t, you couldn’t say the words.

He leaned close, his hair lightly brushing your nose, “Do you really like me back?”

The words were trapped in your throat. Of course you loved him. You’ve loved him and only him. No one could even compare. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t get your voice to work! There was no oxygen in here…you couldn’t breathe…your heart was racing he was so close! Even in the dark of the closet you could make out the outline of the face you loved. Feel his breath on your lips. The smell of his cologne.

You were helpless against him. This ridiculously handsome man. You’re knees were about to give out.

There was only one thing left for you to do.

You kissed him.

And oh! Those lips felt exactly as you’d imagine. Soft and warm and full as he immediately pulled you against him. His arms wrapped around your waist and a hand to your neck as he deepened this kiss. His tongue finally tasting the one person he’s ever wanted. You felt light headed.

It was happening.

It was finally happening!

Why did you wait so long?

“I-I love you, Takashi.”

~*~If you enjoyed this or any of my other works please consider donating to my Ko-fi or Digital Tip Jar!~*~

#shiro X reader #takashi shirogane X reader #voltron reader insert #voltron imagines #voltron scenarios #takashi shirogane #i wrote shito instead of shiro and i made myself laugh

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daydream-hobii · 7 years ago

Text

Golden Heart | Chapter 10

Genre: Hybrid!AU, fluff

Pairing: Hybrid!Hoseok x Female!Reader

Summary: Y/N’s best friends all have hybrids, and she loves them with all her heart, but she doesn’t want to be the same as everyone. She loves hybrids, and knows her friends are kind to them, but hybrids are part human, thus they should have their own choices. Many people, unfortunately, abuse their hybrids and use them, so she tries to fight for their freedom of choice. Her closest friend, Namjoon, convinces her to rescue a hybrid so that it can be safe from harm, and her perspectives changes entirely.

Warning: Mentions of Abuse! Mentions of sexual assault, read with caution!!!

Word Count: 1,364

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 // Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 [FINAL] //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 10! Thank you so much for taking the time to read it! Like always, tell me what you think of this chapter!! I really hope you all enjoy it! ^_^

It’s been two months since the incident with Dojung, and my wounds have healed up nicely. The boys continue to come with me to school, even though Dojung no longer works there. The board thought the students did ten times better with the hybrids around, so they joined me a lot. Everything was in line.

We all were one, big, happy family. We all went to the park quite often, where the four hybrids played and had fun. At home, Taehyung and Hoseok constantly cuddled with either each other or us. It made me so happy to see Hoseok smile all the time now. When he first came with us, he was so broken and scared when we first got him, and now he’s laughing and smiling all the time.

Recently, he’s been acting a little strange… Don’t get me wrong, he’s so happy and bubbly, but it’s like he’s always nervous around me? I caught him a couple of times with my sweater, constantly smelling it and keeping it near him. He gets very shy and bashful around me, and always has to be touching me. Not that I’m complaining, I love holding his hand and hugging him, but the vibe about it was different. He always took longer than normal to let go, which again, I didn’t mind, it was just different.

We were at the park once more, the boys and I sitting in our regular spot. The four hybrids were playing with a frisbee, throwing it around and laughing. I watched them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the boys talked.

“You okay, Y/N?” Someone asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Hmm?” I asked, looking at the speaker. It was Jin, and they all looked at me concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?” Namjoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hobi,” I said, frowning. “He’s been acting so weird lately. Has your boys ever taken your sweaters and hid them to smell?”

“I mean, no. Jimin has taken some sweaters of mine when I’m gone for long periods of time, but never when I’m always here,” Yoongi said, squinting his eyes. “What else is he doing?”

“Well,” I said, thinking. “He’s hugging me a lot longer than normal, not that I don’t love it, I do! It’s just so different… and he always has to be touching me, no matter where we go. At night, we share our bed, and if anyone walked in with no context, I promise that they’d think we were dating.” They all smiled at me, catching something that I obviously didn’t. “What?”

“Y/N, I think Hoseok likes you,” Namjoon said, smirking.

“Of course he likes me,” I replied, giving him a confused look.

“No, he means he really likes you,” Jin said, making Yoongi roll his eyes.

“Y/N, look at me,” Yoongi said, making me turn to him. “The kid wants to kiss you and love you like any man would a woman.”

“What?” I practically shouted, causing a few stares. “You’re lying, Hoseok doesn’t like me. He’s a hybrid, he should have a hybrid mate.”

“Why not?” Namjoon asked, smirking. “Humans and Hybrids date all the time, it wouldn’t be weird.”

“I never said it would be weird,” I replied, giving a small glare. “No, he doesn’t like me like that. He’s my best friend, that’s impossible.”

“Why? You’re a beautiful girl who has such a kind heart,” Jin said, making blood rush to my cheeks, shaking my head.

“No, people don’t like me,” I replied.

Before any of them could respond, the hybrids ran over, plopping onto the blanket out of breath. Hoseok laid his head on my lap, making me smile softly at him and scratching behind his ears, making him sigh in content.

“Boys, isn’t Y/N pretty?” Namjoon asked, deadpan. I glared at him, shaking my head as the hybrids tails wagged, in Jungkook’s case, twitched.

“Yeah, she’s so pretty,” Jimin said, smiling bright.

“She’s so nice and pretty,” Taehyung said, giving a playful glare to Jimin.

“I think she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my lifetime,” Hoseok said, staring at me with a serious face. I raised my eyebrows in surprise as he stared at me with such intensity, it was embarrassing.

“I’ll race you guys to the playground,” Jungkook said, getting up and running.

“Hey, no fair!” Jimin shouted, the three hybrids running after him.

“Told you so,” Yoongi said, smirking. “He loves you, Y/N.”

“No, I refuse to believe it,” I replied, looking away and biting my lip.

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Namjoon asked, clearly frustrated.

“He’s way too good for me,” I blurted out, looking between them. “He deserves someone a lot better than someone like… me.”

“Y/N, come on,” Jin said, grabbing my hand. “You’re perfect. You’re drop dead gorgeous and have a heart of gold, you deserve to be happy.”

“And sounds like to me you like him just as much,” Yoongi said, making me think. Oh god, did I love Hoseok?

That night, Hoseok was laying on our bed as I graded some homework at my desk. What Yoongi had said was stuck in my head all day, and I found it difficult to focus. I could feel Hoseok look at me every now and then, away from the book he was reading. Since the incident, he’s been a lot more brave and outspoken, and I no longer had to talk down to him. Every now and then, he presented a dominant state with me, but he quickly stopped that as soon as he started at it, worrying about me.

I bit my lip hard, finishing the papers before me. If I didn’t bring this up, I wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night. I turned in my spinning chair to find Hoseok already looking at me with concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice strong and booming. “You’re scent changed. You smell worried.” He frowned, making me gulp.

“Hobi, did anyone ever teach you what a relationship was?” I asked, squinting my eyes. He shook his head yes, sitting up straight and crossing his legs, tail wagging slightly.

“Yes, my first owner. She was an older lady who had me and my mom. She told me a relationship is something that happens when two people love each other a lot and want to kiss and be near each other all the time,” He said, smiling bright.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said, biting my lip. “I have a question.”

“Yes?” He asked, eyes hopeful, making me wince.

“Do you… like me, Hobi?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Like… you like me enough to be in a relationship with me?” His face became all too serious, making me wince. His tail stopped wagging, and he had a small smile on his lips.

“Yes, I do,” He replied. He spoke so softly, it gave me goosebumps. I felt my face begin to get hot, and quickly turned away, trying to keep my composure.

“Hobi, you should find someone better… Someone who can be your mate,” I replied, biting my lip as my heart went a hundred miles an hour.

I heard movement, and my chair was twisted around. Hoseok was on his knees, holding the arms of the chair so I had no escape. His pupils were slightly dilated, while he had a serious look on his face. My eyebrows were raised in surprise, and he seemed to be taking in my scent, along with my facial features.

“You are my mate, Y/N,” He said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine.

Is it too cliché to say there were fireworks? Because that’s exactly what happened. As soon as his lips hit mine, I reciprocated the kiss. Our lips moved with such rhythm, in sync with every motion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, making him stand up and turn to slam my back onto the bed. He pulled away first, hovering over me as we gasped for air.

“I want to be in a relationship with you, Y/N,” He whispered, making me smile. “Will you let me kiss you every day?”

“Of course, Hobi.”

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