so many feelings coming out of my eyes

I told you I had feelings about that scene in Moira’s Origin Story

Jack had always been a light sleeper and the knocks on his door would have woken up the dead. He fumbled looking for his phone and grumbled out loud when he saw the time.

5:35

He had slept only two hours, who the fuck

“I’m coming!” He groaned hoping to make them stop with the incessant noise.

The door swished open to reveal none other than Gabriel Reyes, Jack could feel his posture stiffen, he brushed a hand over his eyes. Either Gabe was here for a round of hate sex or to fight; Jack was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, for the first and the second could very well wait office hours.

“For God’s sake Gabe, do you know what time is it?” Jack sighed.

Keep reading

Clark’s Niece - Part 1

So I’m gonna change their age a little bit. The reader is 8 and Damian is 10.

 ———-

You were terrified. Uncle Clark wants to take you up to the Watchtower to meet the rest of the Justice League. Neither you or Clark is entirely sure how you ended up on Earth, but according to the DNA test that Batman had run, you were definitely related to Uncle Clark. Connor had also taken an instant liking to you, mainly because you preferred to be around your cousin more than your uncle.

The Zeta tube announces the arrival of Superman, and everyone turns toward the sound. You reach out, gripping the edge of Uncle Clark’s cape, hiding behind him. “Everyone, this is my niece, Y/N”

You duck behind Uncle Clark’s cape, there are too many strangers for you to feel comfortable. Uncle Clark chuckled and moved his cape, balling it up so you can’t hide anymore.

A red blur zooms up to you, crouching beside you, “Hello! My name is Barry! It’s really nice to meet Big Blues niece!” The man pulled off his mask, revealing a young face and kind eyes.

“Uncle Clark” you whisper; your shaking hands griping the leg of his costume.

“It’s alright” Clark crouched down so he was eye level with you, “Come on, say hello to Barry”

“H-Hello Mr. Barry” you whisper, shyly holding out your hand. Barry grins, gently shaking your hand, he’s obviously excited. You can feel him almost vibrating beside you.

“Just Barry is fine, sweetheart! Or Uncle Barry”

You smile shyly and nod, the other League members slowly come forward to meet you, until you have been introduced to everyone but Batman and Robin. At that point you have come out of your shell a little bit.

“Hello, Batman! Hello Robin” You float up until you are eye level with Batman’s face, “You’re my favorite League member! It’s really nice to meet you”

Bruce lips quirk in a smirk, “It is very nice to meet you too, Y/N. My name is Bruce. This here is my son Damian”

You immediately drop down to face Damian, “tt, Father I do not understand why I had to attend this meeting”

You tilt your head, and suddenly dart in, wrapping your arms tightly around Damian. Several of the adults gasp, tensing ready to separate the two, “Hello, you are gonna be my best friend”

Damian struggles for a minute, before he gives one last sigh and begrudgingly hugs you back. Every League member freezes, fully expecting Damian to attack you for touching him. “I suppose I can allow you to befriend me, having a Super at my side could have its benefits.”

You smile, happy to have finally made a friend, you grab onto Damian’s cape, making sure you don’t lose your new friend.

There’s a flurry of wind and suddenly your cousin is standing next to Uncle Clark, “Sorry I’m late, Y/N! I had to do a quick patrol before I came up here”

You let out a happy shriek and shoot into Kon’s arms. “Kon!! I missed you!”

The older Kryptonian chuckled, “It’s only been a day, honey!”

You grab onto Kon’s hand and drag him over, “Have you met Damian? He’s my best friend!”

Connor chuckled, “Didn’t you just meet the little brat? How can you be best friends already, squirt?”

You giggle happily and zoom back over to Damian, who immediately folds you into a hug. You squirm until you’re facing your cousin, but still wrapped in the older boy’s arms. ” Come say hi, Kon!!”

The adult Justice League members smile and shake their heads at you younger heroes’ antics. “I’m gonna call it” Barry announced, loud enough for the adults to hear, but the younger ones were too preoccupied to be paying attention so they didn’t. “Those two are going to be married someday”

Clark stiffens immediately, turning to look at the two youngest. His mouth opens in horror when he sees Robin gently cradling his niece against his armored chest. The smallest Super wiggles out of Robin’s hold and hangs onto his cape, letting herself be pulled around wherever Robin goes.

“Not going to happen, Barry” Clark growled

Bruce raises one eyebrow, “And why not? Do you think my son isn’t good enough for your niece?”

Clark turns around, “I didn’t say that, Bruce. Damian is a good kid, but I mean, Y/N is so young …”

“Well they can be friends, can’t they? I mean there’s no harm in that” Bruce smirks, placing a hand on his best friends shoulder, “What harm could it do, they’re both young, and there are so few young people in the Hero role. It’ll be good for them to have a friend”

Clark looks like he wants to argue again, but he doesn’t want to start anything, “I suppose Y/N could use a friend”

Bruce’s smirk gets bigger, “I’m glad you see it that way, Clark. But Barry … I do have to agree with you, those two are going to get married”

Clark gapes at Bruce as the other League members laugh. Bets are made while Clark just stands there in complete shock. He is the only one to say that the won’t be getting married.

“Dami!” You call. Damian had vanished, he had been right behind you, but when you turned around he was gone. You could feel tears build up in your eyes, you had already lost your first friend and it hadn’t even been a day. You were alone, and you were scared. “Dami!!!” You sob.

You fly around, frantically looking for your best friend, but you can’t find him. Damian is actually the one who finds you.

“Beloved? Why are you crying?” His eyes are wide behind his mask, “Who hurt you? I will kill them!”

You fling your arms around his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug, careful of your advanced strength. Damian stands up, picking you up with him and sits down in a nearby chair. “I was so scared” you sob, “Thought I lost you!”

Damian rocks back and forth, “Hush, Beloved, hush. I am here. I am so sorry for leaving you, I did not realize how much stress my disappearance would cause you”

You sniffle, nuzzling into Damian’s throat, “Just … Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Never, Beloved, never.”

“Y/N it’s time to go!”

Tears immediately fill your eyes, “I don’t wanna go Uncle Clark”

“We have to go back to the farm. Grandma and Grandpa will be worried if we don’t head back soon”. Uncle Clark crouches down so he’s eye level with you.

The tears spill over, “I don’t want to leave my new friend. Damian said that we are gonna get married. If we are married, then you can’t separate us”.

“How dare you upset my Beloved” Damian snarls, taking a step in front of you. He whips out one of his swords, leveling it at Uncle Clark’s chest, he was ready to fight for you.

Everyone froze when Bruce let out a chuckle, “It seems like the children have taken a liking to each other. Why doesn’t Y/N come back to the Manor with me, the two can have a sleep over?”

You zoom over to Clark, “Please? Please? Please Uncle Clark?!?”

Uncle Clark looks like he’s in pain, “Alright, but just for tonight”.

At the conformation Bruce full on smiles, and Uncle Clark growls at the man, “This means nothing” Uncle Clark hisses. Bruce just shakes his head and leads the two young vigilantes to the Zeta tube.

Savior

She found herself in an abandoned warehouse just a few blocks from the run down apartment her father had rented until he gathered the insurance money from their original apartment that had burned down days before. [Y/N] sat with her feet dangling over edge of the catwalk, her body facing the industrial sized window that overlooked the dirty and deserted streets of the city. 

Looking down, she pulled out the pill bottle from her hoodie pocket. Running her fingers over the label, she fought back the tears. Closing her hand over the prescription bottle, she looked out the window and mustered up the courage to uncap the poison in her hand. 

Just as she was about to swallow all the pills, she jumped at the sound of glass shattering below her. She cursed as the oxycodone fell from her fingers and onto the warehouse ground. Standing up, [Y/N] peered over the catwalk and noticed a figure struggling to stand. Her eyes strained to adjust to the dark. Gasping when she caught sight of the famous red and blue, she scrambled off the catwalk and down the stairs to the first floor. 

“Oh my god.” She panted as she made it to the figure. Slowing her steps, she assessed the situation. It was definitely Spiderman, that she knew. What she didn’t know was why he was covered in enough blood to fill up a bathtub. Shrieking when he collapsed onto the ground, she ran to him. 

Kneeling on the hard ground, she propped him up on her knees. She looked down at her hands that were now covered in sticky, wet blood. “Oh god.” [Y/N] shuddered, she hated blood. Clearing her throat, she gently tapped his masked face, “Hey? You with me?” She scanned over the rest of him, her eyes widening at the ripped suit and exposed torso. Her heart rate increased, he wasn’t just covered in blood, it was his own blood. 

“Holy shit. Hey, hey, hey!” [Y/N] shook him slightly, “We need to get you to a hospital!” She pawed at him, struggling to find a cellphone. Finally finding one, she cursed loudly as it slipped from her hands “I need you to stay with me!” Trying to unlock the phone with her blood soaked fingers, she screamed when he grabbed her forearm. Leaning down, her brows knitted together at the muffled sounds coming from where his mouth was located. “What? I can’t, I don’t know, I can’t understand you.” He continued to mumble with her still unable to understand him. 

Taking in a deep shaky breath, she set down the phone away from the spreading blood puddle. “I can’t understand you with your mask on,” [Y/N] said gently. Biting her lip, she reached for the bottom of his mask. “I have to take your mask off, okay?” Not waiting for him to answer, she gently and slowly revealed the face that laid underneath. [Y/N] gasped softly when she finally removed the cover, her heart sped up even more. How was this possible? 

“Peter?!” [Y/N] cried out. Spiderman was a kid, a teenager? More importantly her lab partner in Chemistry. So many questions rolled through her brain but was quickly cut short when she remembered that she needed to call 911. 

Peter’s eyes fluttered, his mouth moving but very little sounds coming out. “Call Tony, not 911, please.” He croaked out. 

“What? Tony?!” She yelped, who the hell was Tony? “But, you need help!”

“Call……Tony……please.”

[Y/N] started to shake, she could feel his body temperature start to drop. Struggling to find this mysterious Tony number, “Come on, come on. Yes! Okay, come on, please pick up….pick up, come on.”

“Listen, Parker. You better have a damn good reason-”

“-Oh my gosh! Thank god, um, Peter told me to call you. I don’t know why, I should be calling 911. He’s bleeding out….there’s a lot of blood. I don’t know what to do. We need help! Why am I calling you instead of 911, oh my god, I’m so stupid. He’s probably going to die because of this phone call. Oh my god.” 


[Y/N] leaned her head against the frame of the window that showed Peter sleeping soundly in his hospital room. Her hands and arms were free from his blood but the reminder of almost seeing him die in her arms were still soaked into her clothes. 

“Here you go, kid.” 

Standing up straight, she looked up to see Tony hand her a fresh set of clothes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a pressed smile. “You can get changed over here.” Patting her back, he calmly spoke. “He’ll be here when you get back, I promise. Come on.” 

Reluctantly following Tony, she thanked him and closed the curtain to change. Wincing as she peeled off her clothes, she looked around to find a spot to place them.

“There’s a little washing station off to her left there.” 

Following his direction, she sighed in content to know that she could wash the rest of the blood off. “Um, thank you.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” Tony twirled around, his hands clasped behind his back. “So uh, Peter’s never mentioned you before. Are you two friends?” 

Running a wet towel over her torso, she shook her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No, not really.” Running it over her legs, she sighed again. “We’re just lab partners.”  

“Oh.”

Quickly changing into the fresh clothes, she slid the curtain open. 

“Much better?” He smiled as she nodded.

Guiding them back to Peter’s room, he slowed his steps as he got to the window. It was a close call and Tony was so unbelievably thankful that he made it. 

“He saved me once,” [Y/N] said softly. 

“Hm?” Tony asked, distracted from his thoughts. 

She motioned towards Peter, “He saved me, about two weeks ago.” Hugging herself, she bit her lip. “My apartment building caught on fire and I was stupid enough to go back up the six flights to get something and just as I was about to go back down, the stairs collapsed on me.” [Y/N] met Tony’s eyes, “I never got a chance to thank him and for the past week and a half, I’ve been sitting next to him.” 

“I’m sure he knew,” Tony reassured. Following her gaze to Peter, he frowned, “What were you doing at that warehouse anyway? Seems a bit morbid to be a teen hangout spot.” 

[Y/N] inhaled slowly, “I lost my mom during the battle of New York. We were on our way to see a movie when everything hit the fan. Our taxi got flipped over on its side and the doors were jammed. So, my dad kicked the window out and threw me. I broke a few ribs and my arm but I didn’t feel it at the time because all I could focus on was the fact that there were aliens swarming the city. My mom had suffered a concussion from the wreck and was fading in and out of consciousness so my dad climbed out first to get better leverage. He was a little shaky from it all too so he lost his footing and fell to the ground. I just remember standing there in shock and in panic from it all that I almost didn’t notice the gas leaking from the other cars. I screamed for my dad to hurry but the taxi blew up before he could even stand up to try.” 

Tony stood in silence, his heart breaking. He felt responsible for everything that had happened in New York. And it hurt even more to be standing in front of someone who had lost so much during it all. 

“You asked why I was in the warehouse and the reason was that ever since that day, my dad was never the same. And to a degree, I changed too but he just became so cold. Every time he looked at me, I could see disgust in his eyes. I reminded him so much of the woman he failed to save that he couldn’t even bare to look at me. Abuse isn’t just physical, Mr. Stark. It’s verbal too and every day since then, that was what I had to deal with. Him degrading me as a person, making me see myself in a way that my mother would never let me see myself as. I went to that warehouse tonight to be reunited with my mother. To be reunited with the one person who would have loved me no matter what.” 

Tony inhaled sharply. Nodding, he placed a warm and firm hand on her shoulder. “I tend to be hypocritical at times and this is one of those moments when I say I believe in fate which I normally don’t. But, had you not gone to that warehouse, Peter would be dead. Instead of ending a life, you saved one.” 


Peter’s eyes fluttered open, groaning from the pain, he went to raise his hand to his head but immediately regretted his movement. It felt like he had been hit with a train ten times over. Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the girl sitting in an arm chair with a Chemistry book in her lap. 

“[Y/N]?! What are, what are you doing here?” Panic started to settle into his bones. 

She looked up from her textbook, untucking her legs from underneath her, she set the book down. “You were involved in a serious car accident-”

“-wha?” Peter tried to recall this accident but all he remembered was being seconds from being ripped apart. 

“Peter! You’re awake!” 

“Aunt May?” Peter exclaimed, completely dumbfounded at what was going on. “I don’t understand.” 

Aunt May started to sob, “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so worried about you.” 

[Y/N] stood up, grabbing her backpack, she smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t remember the car accident, Peter.” Walking over towards him, she gently patted his hand. “You were walking me back to my apartment after our study session when you pushed me out of the way of a speeding car. I can’t thank you enough for saving my life. Hopefully one day I can return the favor.” Just as Aunt May wasn’t looking, she winked and motioned a phone signal with her hand and mouthed call Tony. Turning towards Aunt May, she smiled, “If it’s okay, I’ll leave Peter’s schoolwork with you.” 

Aunt May nodded, tears soaking her eyes. “Of course!” 

Handing it off, she looked at Peter. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you around.” 

Peter still dumbfounded, nodded. “Yeah. uh, see you around.” 

Once she left the room, Aunt May wiped away some tears. “I know you’re in pain and everything but she’s cute!” 

we get it, you’re gay.
my sexuality is not a shirt that I take off at the end of each day, it is not dirty. I do not dress myself in lesbianism just for the fashion perks; homophobia is not in style. i am not a living light switch, I do not turn myself off to solve all your problems, my light will not go out because it’s too bright for you.
we get it, you’re gay.
if I stop talking about it, it will not go away. I would say I am sorry to disappoint but I am not sorry, I am gay, I am very gay and I am not sorry for who I am, I am only sorry that you have a problem with self-liberation and confidence.
we get it, you’re gay.
I can tell when someone is uncomfortable and my sexuality is making you uncomfortable, you are upset that I am comfortable in my own skin, you are upset that I am comfortable with the fact that I love girls and you are uncomfortable about the fact that I won’t shut up. you can’t silence my sexuality, actions speak louder than words.
we get it, you’re gay.
you don’t mind that I’m gay you just don’t want me to be too gay, because being too gay is distracting. you want me to be quiet gay, nice gay, understanding gay, your-gay-friend gay, let-you-get-away-with-everything gay. I can like girls but I’m supposed to whisper that kind of thing, not shout it. the neighbors aren’t supposed to hear.
we get it, you’re gay.
you say you understand, but you’d rather just push it under the rug. it’s okay if I’m gay, but I shouldn’t rub it in your face. you don’t mind, you say, but you can’t help but notice how many people are gay these days and you assume it must be some kind of practical joke. I am not a joke, my life is not some riddle, do you see me laughing? this is not funny.
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, I’m just rebellious, I’ve been told. a rebellious teen confused by the media, so tell me, where is my army? where are my hundreds of thousands of lgbt soldiers, ready to fight this war on love? we stand united but we are not armed, because if we bring the weapons we have guaranteed ourselves a two-minute five o'clock news slot, tragic tragedy, one-more-gay-gone, let’s save the world, let’s save the gays.
we get it, you’re gay.
“lesbians have ruined flannels for me” because the community was supposed to ask for a style after you denied us basic human rights? I’m sorry gay girls have ruined plaid for you, but it never looked too great on you anyway. maybe you should stick to solid colors; if you put too many shades on one shirt, it might look like a rainbow and someone might accidentally think you’re gay. can’t have that.
we get it, you’re gay.
don’t annoy the straights! eyes wide open, avoiding ticking bombs of discrimination, it happens all the time but there’s no way to prepare yourself for hate speech coming from the mouth of your mother or your teacher or your best friend. I bite my tongue to keep from coming out but you’re just so sure that you can trust me, I’ll get it, no offense, no hard feelings, I will understand.
we get it, you’re gay.
I am not going to hit on you, just because I like girls does not mean that I like you, I love myself and I love being gay. do not make my sexuality about you, my life does not revolve around you. I’ve undressed in front of you my entire life but now you insist on changing in the next room. you don’t say it, but I know. I’m not a friend, I’m a predator.
we get it, you’re gay.
you can ramble all day about how that kid in your physics class is just to die for, but the second I mention that a girl in my history class is cute then all eyes are burning holes into my skin. you don’t have to bring your gay with you everywhere, leave it at home most days, it’s too embarrassing to share.
we get it, you’re gay.
I don’t look gay enough, I’ve heard. do I need to carry a sign with me everywhere to broadcast that I Am Not Straight, I am g-a-y gay, rainbows all over my body and in my back pocket, just so you can see?
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, but you tell me that I am not gay I am not gay because I am a girl that likes girls, I can only use the word lesbian. I didn’t know that I erased my name tag and handed it to you, I didn’t know that you were in charge of what I called myself, I didn’t know you were allowed to police my labels; I never asked for your opinions but that never stopped you anyway, do you understand?
we get it, you’re gay.
so, by gay, do you mean really gay or just a little gay? lipstick lesbian, three-way fantasy, am I right? what stereotype would you like to claim, or would you prefer that I choose?
we get it, you’re gay.
truth or dare has always been a death sentence for me, and anyone that says that party games aren’t lethal doesn’t know pure poison, I grew up drinking venom from vodka bottles because alcohol was nothing to a child on the run. so explain to me why I would stop now.
we get it, you’re gay.
in every wedding aisle there’s a “mr.” and a “mrs.” who’s the man in the relationship, they’ll ask us, nothing about us is traditional but they’ll insist we wear white anyway. marriage equality, what else are you fighting for?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re the cool straight friend. you’re the best straight friend any gay person could ever have, asking for fashion advice and introducing me as your “gay friend.” you say that you have a pretty great gaydar, and you knew all along. do you also know that I want you to shut the fuck up?
I get it, you’re straight.
capital s “Straight,” straight as a telephone pole, straighter than a ruler. so straight and everyone knows without you saying a word because you people are everywhere. you’re on cereal boxes and billboards and in every television show. you’re the main character but we’re just there for a little drama, an episode or two, and then we’re gone.
I get it, you’re straight.
you have never had to come out of the closet because you were never in one to begin with, you own the entire house and didn’t even give us enough room to be. has anyone ever told you how dark and crowded a closet is? it is so hard to breathe with so little space to exist, I’m surprised my thoughts didn’t suffocate me over the years, would you have even noticed?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re a girl and you like boys, only boys. I mean, everyone experiments in college, right? everyone loves that song, I kissed a girl, because everyone loves just to give being gay a try without the weight of what it really means. it’s not cheating if it’s with a girl, right? right?
I get it, you’re straight.
no homo, bro! holding hands, sharing drinks, making eye contact, it’s not gay, no homo. just two pals being gals, no homo, don’t worry, we’re straight!
I get it, you’re straight.
you have learned how to hate since the moment you were born. no worries, I have been too, but I unlearned heteronormativity so I could fall in love with myself. you preach it every sunday in church and every weekday at work, you learn that serving me is optional, that you can turn me away because you don’t like who I love.
I get it, you’re straight.
lets talk about me as a topic of class discussion, I am the focus of today’s debate, go. argue your stance. do you think this girl at table three should have the right to get married, the right to adopt, the right to buy milk, the right to exist? do you think this girl at table three is just trying to fit in? do you think the girl at table three should be allowed to go to prom? tell me, let’s talk about the girl at table three, no harm done.
I get it, you’re straight.
you are in every book I’ve ever read. the love stories are always about you, how can you expect me to grow up and not feel flawed? these novels teach me to hate who I am, it’s a miracle in and of itself that I’m still here.
I get it, you’re straight.
“there’s a war on straight people,” excuse me? we are just beginning to come out of the shadows because the earth is only now a little less haunted and you have the audacity to say that you are the ones under attack?
I get it, you’re straight.
every step we take is monitored and broadcast for the world to see. you are just a person allowed to make your own decisions but everything I do respresents my entire community and there is no space for me to make mistakes. I am not perfect but I am trying.
I get it, you’re straight.
you say that me being gay is not a big deal to you, it could be anyone, no big deal, not at all. but it’s a big deal to me, this wasn’t an easy thing to say. why should I silence myself, am I overreacting?
I get it, you’re straight.
there’s no rule book for being an ally and sometimes the borders become a little blurred, it’s easy to cross a line. I will help guide you but I will not hold your hand. I cannot always be there to watch the words that trickle out of your mouth, you have to remember that I am a secret.
I get it, you’re straight.
please stop talking about me like I am the latest news story, I am not a headline in big bold font, sometimes I just need a moment to breathe. I have these words printed into my skin just like a newspaper and I’ve never been more black and white.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be gay? oh, you know what I mean, so when did you know? which girl turned you gay? why did you lie to us, how many times have you done it with a girl, what about with a guy? how can you be gay if you’ve never done anything? can you ever really know? what if it’s all a phase?
I get it, you’re straight.
the words we identify ourselves by are your insults. they lock us up for holding hands, they criminalize and sexualize our daily activities because they don’t want us corrupting the children. I’ve spent my entire life in an invisible prison with see-through shackles, this is on my permanent record.
I get it, you’re straight.
have you ever considered that my backpack is heavy because I have to carry the weight of your judgment to and from school every day, I have to carry a fire extinguisher in my lunch box because these toxic words are flammable. I might break my back but at least you don’t know.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be “normal”? to never have to deal with the undercover I’m-sorry-for-you stares from the kids in the hallway, the I’ll-pray-for you promises spoken by nice ladies in their sunday best?
we get it, you’re gay.
when I’m telling my love story I do not want to lie. I will not censor the pronouns to protect the innocent because my happiness is not guilt-ridden. I am leaving this book open.
—  we get it.
Flames (Peter Parker x Female Reader)

Request: Hey honey! How are you? Can I have an imagine that you are the youngest avenger and in love with your friend peter parker? when he figures it out he distants himself cuz he likes liz. but with new scholarship program jean (your bff) and pietro (your ex) comes to the tower and something blossoms again between pietro and you so Peter becomes jealous and finally realizes his feelings? I would really like to read that so pls?? <3 Love you!

Word Count: 1,796

A/N: decided to try out Peter’s POV for this one and honestly I kinda loved it ngl. Hope you enjoy!! -Claire xx

Originally posted by over-et


“Oh, god, Y/N, how many times can I embarrass myself in front of her?” I run a frustrated hand through my hair.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. “Calm down, Peter. You knocked over a book.”
“I knocked over her book!”

“And then you picked it up, like a gentleman, and said sorry-”

“I stuttered, like an idiot, for fifteen minutes.”
“It was thirty seconds. I was there.”

Keep reading

tired [frank castle]

first time writing for my dear murder husband don’t kill me!!!!

this is a load of fluff and cheese and im nOT sOrRY

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers


Keeping yourself awake waiting for Frank was getting easier once you got used to the bitterness of black coffee. You didn’t understand how the man could drink such excessive amounts of it, nevertheless it kept you awake and it was worth it. Every night was a struggle to get through considering that you knew that any day could be the day that he does not walk through that door. You were used to seeing him bloody and messed up by now, it was routine. He comes back, apologizing for taking so long, you stitch him up and you go to sleep peaceful and safe in his arms.

You stared at the TV in front of you not really paying attention to what was on it. It was around 2AM when Frank finally stumbled in through the front door of your shared apartment. A cap covered his face, it was too dark for you to see him, but he saw you as your eyes lazily blinked, indicating that you really needed to get some sleep. He didn’t deserve this. At least so he thought. Frank never thought he was worth the struggle you went through to be with him and he didn’t understand why you stayed. He exhausts you, but at the same time you will never understand how grateful he is to have you in his life. You were persistent and said you would never leave. And you never did.

Tired eyes shifting from the TV, you felt a lazy smile tug at your lips as you man was finally home. You stood up and walked over to him. The cap covering his face you knew to be intentional. He never wore it unless he wanted to hide his newly acquired injuries from you. You worried about him. A lot. And he hated stressing you out, but you knew that this is who he is. Cleaning up the streets was something he made his job and you couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a good deed.

When you finally made your way over to Frank your hands instinctively went to his neck, slowly trailing up to remove the cap. Another cut on his cheekbone, right above the one which had almost healed. This one was more serious though, definitely requiring stitched.

You felt a sigh escape your lips as your thumb traced the rugged skin of his face. You heard him mumble a barely audible ‘sorry’, but he didn’t need to apologize to you and you never understood why he did it. Just nodding your head slightly you walked back into your kitchen, looking for the first aid kit, which unfortunately rested on top of the cupboards that you couldn’t reach. Frank walking behind you chuckled at the sight. He walked over to you and handed you the kit.

“What would you do without me?” He laughed lightly, walking over to a chair and sitting down. You fixed him up so many times, you didn’t need to give instructions anymore.

“I think the real question is what would you do without me.” You smirked, walking over to him. Throwing the kit on a counter, you got out everything you needed and walked over to your man. You rested your legs on each side of him and sat down on his lap, straddling him.

You started cleaning the wound before you could stitch it up, his eyes never leaving your face. Something about the concentration in your eyes when you helped him drove him mad. Eyebrows knitting together, biting your lower lip, the sight was so beautiful to him. You could feel his stare, but you had more important things to pay attention to. You would be lying if you said that his eyes trailing your face didn’t make your knees weak. He admired you and you knew it, but the raw emotions that he showed made your relationship so much more real.

Once you started to stitch his wound, his hands shot up to your bare legs. He could handle pain and his face didn’t budge, but of course it hurt. His calloused and rough hands felt so wrong against the soft skin of your legs. You were wearing nothing but a pair of underwear and a shirt of his that looked way too big on you. And yet again it felt so wrong to him, but it was so right for you. Frank’s hands trailed up to rest on your thighs, his thumbs massaging circles on your skin.

“Why do you put up with this, Y/N?” His question caught you a little off guard. Your hands stopped moving and you moved your eyes to meet his.

“Because I want to.” You stated.

“You deserve so much better, someone who could make you happy.”

“You, Frank, you make me happy.”

“Every single person in this city shakes in fear when they hear my name. How is this happiness to you?”

“Frank, we’ve had this conversation so many times.” You breathed out, leaning back so you could get a complete look at his face. Eyebrows knitted together, eyes filled with so much emotion, you knew that he was serious about this. “They don’t know you like I do. To Hell’s Kitchen you’re The Big Bad Punisher, but to me you’re just Frank. They talk about you like a psychotic murderer and I feel like the articles make you doubt yourself. And I’m here, every night you come back home to remind you that you are a person like all of them too. I know you will never hurt me, there’s nothing for me to be afraid of.” You went on and leaned back in to finish stitching up his cut.

He didn’t have anything to say back to you. Frank was used to you always knowing what to say, but your words always had the same effect on him. His arms trailed up to your hips and pushed you up, closer to him. You giggled at his actions, the sound music to his ears, making him smile too.

Once you were done, you leaned back, examining your work.

“There you go. Good as new.” You spoke, smiling warmly at him.

A low chuckle escaped Frank’s throat as he looked at you with loving eyes. His hands moving up to cup the sides of your face, you leaning into his touch. Your eyes struggling to keep open.

“Don’t know what I did to deserve you, doll.” You just smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his toned torso and leaned in to hug him, his arms around your neck as he held you close. Resting his chin on the top of your head he stroked your hair lightly, relaxing you, sending you to sleep almost instantly.

Frank heard soft snores escape your lips and smiled to himself. He stood up slowly, carrying you to the bed, moving as swiftly as possible not to wake you. He knew you deserved rest with everything that he puts you through.

There was a point where Frank thought that he will never have anything nice ever again, but seeing you in his bed, in his clothes, in his arms, it drove him crazy. But most importantly, he finally felt happy.


hAAaAaAaa

what am  doing w my life idk man you tell me why am i always most attached to murderers idk idk does anyone know tho

Anti and the Septiceye Theory

Okay, I’m writing this as fast as I can to try and make as much sense as possible. I am fully aware this was probably said by accident, but GOSH DARN IT THIS SOME GOOD THEORY MATERIAL.

**cracks knuckles** Here we go.

“Why does my eye hurt all of a sudden? Is the Septiceye coming back to kill me?”

Okay, the reason this stands out to me so much because it calls back to a theory I feel like was buried in the Antipocolypse. It came so late in the game and was buried by so many other things, it became forgotten. I can’t exactly remember how the theory went or who originally posted it, but let me explain it as best as I can remember, then we’ll dive in.

Judgement Day.

August 3rd.

Among all the chaos, Jack fucks up his twitter, as tradition demands it. Everyone panics, and naturally, the amount of chaos and theories, stuff gets buried. Important stuff.

Some people liken the profile picture to the septiceye.

Jack’s signature icon.

And people start to wonder.

What if, the signature septiceye had something to do with Anti?

What if it was his eye?

After all. The septiceye always there, always watching. All of Jack’s social media, Jack’s channel. That was how Anti was able to see everything.

Speculation kind of stopped there.

There were better things to look at.

But now we’re all looking back at the old evidence? I’m glad this buried theory can be brought to the forefront again.

And remember Jack’s specific wording here. The SEPTICEYE COMING BACK TO KILL HIM. NOT ANTI.

Looks like it’s time to have a look at Anti’s connection to the Septiceye. I can’t promise all the answers right now, I need time to think.

But what if the reason Anti is able to see through the Septiceye is part of his origin story?

Where Sean first got… infected?


EVERYONE WELCOME TO DISCUSS!

hebelu  asked:

What about like an AU where they are pen pals for some assignment and then do like school exchange? Sid goes to Russia and stays with Geno and then Geno comes to Canada and stays with Sid

Sidney had a pen pal when he was in elementary school. It’d been for a project, everyone had a pen pal. And approximately three weeks later, he received a very short letter from one Evgeni in Russia, no last name. It was much like his own introductory letter: his name, age, what school he went to, and hoping that his pen pal enjoyed hockey. The letter was written in shaky English and signed with ‘Zhenya,’

The first letter was followed by a third, and then a fourth, until Sidney had taken to writing to Zhenya far past the project end date. It felt nice, tossing his secrets and fears and happiness out to Russia, where as far as he knew, no one would ever know of it besides Zhenya.

Dear Zhenya, I couldn’t go to practice today, Sidney writes, wiping his eyes. One falls anyways and blurs the Z on Zhenya. Mom was scared the other kids would hit me. We’re waiting another week. I wish I could have a friend there.

Sorry, Sid, came the response two weeks later, with a doodle of two people holding hockey sticks, Wish I play hockey with you in Canada.

When he entered Shattuck-Saint Mary’s, the letter-writing became less frequent, but Zhenya’s English has vastly improved. Sometimes, late at night, he imagines what Zhenya would look like–a blur of a handsome face with a prominent nose, very tall and lanky, with a silly grin to match Sidney’s equally silly laugh. He didn’t dare ask Zhenya for a photograph, for fear of ruining his fantasy, and Zhenya never did ask either.

I think about you many times, one final letter comes on Sidney’s 17th birthday, to Sidney’s surprise. His hands are shaking as he reads, You have not write for many months. I know you are busy. I am too,and you maybe forget me already, which is okay. But I have to tell you before I regret forever. I miss your letters. Play good hockey, Sidney. You are the best. Happy birthday. I love you.

Sidney tries to send one back, one that says, I miss you, too. I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry, I didn’t forget you– But it comes back, a few weeks later, with a “Return to Sender, not able to forward to recipient.”

Sidney gets drafted, and he kisses Zhenya’s last letter after rereading it. It’s one of his rituals for every game, and not even Flower knows about it. He wonders if Zhenya can see him playing a game, wherever he is.

Evgeni Malkin escapes from the KHL soon after, and Sidney has a flickering hope of, Can it be him? before he meets Evgeni. He seems exhausted, happy to meet Sidney, but there’s not a single sign of recognition.

And so Sidney’s first love was lost, just like that. Destroyed by the post office, apparently. Sidney doesn’t know if it’s silly or not for falling in love with a man he’s never even met. But he keeps all the letters. And he reads them, and reads them, and reads them.  

-

The Pens win the Cup, and Geno gets on his knees as Sidney pours champagne in his mouth. It’s a good feeling.

Sidney won this for himself, but also partly for Zhenya, whose constant encouragements kept him going despite the abuse at the rink, from teammates and parents alike. 

He’s in his hotel room early, rereading Zhenya’s last letter, when there’s a knock on the door. 

It’s Geno, loose-limbed from the alcohol and partying. He ends up collapsing on Sidney’s bed after saying a few greetings and bringing him an unopened bottom of champagne over.

“You old man now, have to drink in silence,” Geno says, then starts snoring a few minutes later.

Sidney lets him sleep, and tucks the letter back into the drawer. 

-

“Good morning,” Sidney says, toothbrush in his mouth as Geno groans. “How do you feel?”

“Like ass,” Geno says. “How you up so early? Sorry for pass out on bed.”

Sidney rolls his eyes. “I got hungry.”

He goes back to the sink to rinse, and when he comes back, he freezes completely at the sight of Geno holding Zhenya’s letters. The one, worn after so many years, saying,  Play good hockey, Sidney. You are the best. Happy birthday. I love you.

“Geno,” he scowls, trying to snatch it from Geno’s hands. “That was–did you open my drawers? Stop snooping.”

Geno backs up. “Where you get this?” his voice barely restrained with emotion. 

“It’s none of your business,” Sidney says. Why is Geno being so defensive? “Stop being a dick, G, give it back.”

“No,” Geno says, his hands trembling. “No.”

“What the fuck? You’ll tear it,” Sidney demands, starting to get angry. “It’s important to me, stop fucking around–”

“Is my letter,” Geno says stubbornly. “I’m write it, is mine.”

“What?” All the fight goes out of Sidney. He feels like a deflated balloon. “Geno, what are you talking about?”

“I write to Sid, when I’m little, not know which Sid,” Geno says thickly. “Sidney in Canada, play good hockey, needs a friend.” 

“These are from Zhenya,” Sidney whispers. But he starts to hope. Oh God, he hopes he’s right.

I’m Zhenya,” Geno says mournfully. “Sid, you not ever write back. I think, maybe he not think same, maybe he hate me after this letter–”

“I didn’t–I tried–” His heart is beating so fast, like a panicked hummingbird. “Geno, I wanted to so badly. I tried. The letters wouldn’t send–the address wasn’t right, the letters kept coming back, I couldn’t find you.” He’s babbling now. “Zhenya. Zhenya, I loved you. I love you.”

It’s quiet for moment that drags on too long. Sidney fears that it’s all over by now, that there’s no fixing either relationships with Geno, his alternate, or his first love, Zhenya. But then he looks up, and Geno looks like he’s in awe, like early-morning bed-head Sidney is the most amazing thing to walk in front of him ever. 

Sidney,” Geno says, low and hopeful. He makes Sidney’s name sound like a prayer, and Sidney can’t stop marveling. “Sidney.”

“Hi,” Sidney says wetly. “Hi, Zhenya.” 

Please help me get my friend noticed.

Hey Taylor,

So I know you probably have a lot on your plate, what with a new album to be released. I’m sure you have been baraged with “follow mes” and all that jazz but I need a favor from you. My friend Amber-aka @redlipclassicswiftie13, has been a fan of yours since the days of your first album. She will continue to stick around for all the other eras to come because you have given her light. My girl is a remarkable person who has accumulated a rather large memorabilia stock pile and has attended 8 of your concerts.

It is because of you that I was able to find her in this world full of misfit toys and I hope you can find her too. She hasn’t been feeling too well and I thought a special post would bring some sunshine to her eyes.


Please give a little shoutout to my friend Amber as you will make her dream a reality. Honestly, if you sent her an emoji wave, she would pass out on the floor and then recuperate miraculously. You have that effect on so many of us you know.


Ok so here she is…

Please make her dream come true. Thanks.


Love,

V

@taylorswift @taylornation

Acceptance as a Queer Asian American

Coming out as pansexual to my grandmother was an extremely important, and I believe, pivotal moment in my life as a queer, Asian young adult. I believe this for many reasons, but there are two specific ones that over shadow the rest.

The first of those is what it meant to me as a Japanese-American woman to feel safe enough and confidant enough in who I was to come out to my grandmother. For the majority of my queer journey up to this point, I was dead set on the fact that I could never tell my grandmother my sexual orientation. No matter the circumstance, I was sure that my grandmother would not understand or approve. No matter the circumstance, there was a great chance of my losing my relationship with her, my strongest tie to my Japanese heritage and her presence in my life as a third parent could be gone forever. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the love between us or isolate myself even more than I already felt from the Japanese community.

As much as my refusal to share my identity with my grandmother was based in my fear of her not loving me anymore, a good portion was also based in how I felt my faux-heterosexuality was essentially tied to my right to my Japanese heritage. I already felt like an imposter for being biracial and I felt that my admission to being attracted to more than just men would give the community more reason to exile me, revoke my membership that I’d come to believe I could only have if my grandmother backed me first. After all, my grandmother was the closest resource I had for my culture and language. Everything that made me feel Japanese I could attribute to her: my round face, olive skin, and almond eyes, my short stature and straight frame, my knowledge of Japanese tradition and lore with her songs and stories, my induction to Japanese pop culture with Studio Ghibli, candies and sweets, cartoons by Sanrio, and watching her Japanese shows on the TV, my love of the Japanese food she’d raised me on, the miso shiru and gyoza that marked my childhood, my interest and grasp of the Japanese language that she’d spoke and sang to me all my life. If she disowned me for this, it would feel like the entire Japanese and Asian community behind her would disown me as well.

When I finally decided to come out as pansexual to my grandma I was twenty. Four years after my official acceptance of the label, I’d gained enough confidence in my intersectionality of identities, enough love and pride for them all, that none of them could be affected by her acceptance or disapproval. My forgiveness and acceptance of my white, Scottish family and heritage had allowed me to discard the shame I felt for being mixed race in the Asian community. My growth and education in my Japanese heritage, history, and language had given me confidence in my identity as a Japanese person that no amount of racial slurs, stereotypes, or discrimination I received from any group of people could shake. My growth and knowledge of my self as a sexually and gender queer person and found footing in the LGBTQ+ community had shed the self hatred and fear of rejection from my mind. As painful as losing my grandmother would be, it would not and could not break me as might have before. I was tired of living behind lies. Being able to do something about that without fear of losing myself in my lost relationship was the most liberating thing I’d felt in my history with my Japanese and queer identities.

The second of the two reasons is absolutely the way my grandmother responded to my coming out. She both met my expectations and surprised me in the best of ways. And by that I mean that her reaction was so explicitly something my grandmother would say and do, but my fear of the worst case scenario had clouded my ability to perceive this outcome over the former.

I saw the opportunity to tell her over a conversation we had started about the recent mass shooting of LGBTQ+ people in Orlando, Florida. The devastation she expressed over the massacre, her clear understanding of the hateful prejudice behind the crime, it allowed me to see her clearer than before.

“I don’t understand why people do that!” I remember her shouting. “Why you got to hurt and kill people just because you disagree? Megan, it does not matter who you love, who I love, it doesn’t matter! Just because you believe doesn’t give you right to take another’s life!”

With her words my perceptions changed. My biases that often allowed me to view her as a stubborn child with an adult’s face and experiences had been pushed aside. Instead of the previously held image I’d had, my view of my grandmother had shifted to that of a women who’d experienced much hardship and shut out many new people and ideas because of it, but was still capable of growth and acceptance of new social norms and ways of thinking. This new image, this new perception of my grandma was a kinder, softer one than I’d met previously. It was one that I was safe with, I could feel it in my stomach and my cheeks.

“You know, it’s kind of scary for people like me, people who like more than just the opposite sex, people like those killed in that club, to be alive right now,” I said. “I’m like them, I like more than just boys, I want to date a girl someday, and it scares me that someone might want to kill me for that.”

My grandmother stared at me for a moment, her bony arms encircling her small legs, a high hum coming from her throat. That hum and the noise of her TV that never got turned off were the only sound in the room for several moments.

“You like girls?” She asked, then gestured to the news on the TV. “Like those people?”

I nodded and she made the same high hum.

“Well you know, Megan,” she said, looking down then back up again. I could feel my heart pounding heavily against my chest. “it does not matter who you love what you believe because you are my granddaughter. You are my first granddaughter and I will love you and take care of you always.”

I felt tears pricking my eyes and my heart slow its pace. I’d cried coming out to each of my parents so far, but this was the first time my tears were from joy.

With my mother I’d cried with frustration and anger at her lack of understanding and patronizing questions. Despite her general acceptance and “I’ll always love you” concluding statements, it’d hurt that she’d had so many concerns and objections. With my father I’d cried with rage, the pain of betrayal, the pain of lost love, and a fear for my livelihood then forward. He’d made me feel like a child running from home who truly had no option of turning back. He’d made me feel like his promises to love and care for me all these years had been out right lies.

But with my grandmother, all I’d felt was an overwhelming happiness from her words. Her straightforward acceptance, her attempt to understand me with out being invasive… I hadn’t been aware of how desperately I’d needed her to respond in this way until she had. With it I felt a tremendous weight lifted off my chest and a surge of love and emotion.

Seeing my watering eyes, my grandmother leaned forward and hugged me. I laughed at how her arms could hardly reach around my shoulders and I scooted closer so to make it easier for her. She patted my back with her bony, knobby, hands and kissed my head.

“I don’t care who you love, Megan. I love you first and that’s what’s important.”

I sniffled and laughed, squeezing her waist in my arms.

“Arigatou gozaimasu, obaachan. Aishite,” I said. “Thank you, grandma. I love you.”

I just watched the Bojack Horseman episode where Todd tells Bojack he’s asexual… and I cried my eyes out. bc I’ve never gotten representation like this before

A fucking asshole cartoon horse reacted to an ace coming out to him better than anyone I’ve ever come out to.

Im not sure how many allos here realize how important this is to me. So I’m just gonna say it here!

bless this show! thank you, Todd Chavez, for making me feel a little less empty. 💜

pet shop girl

Harry is lonely and meets a girl at a pet shop 

 I slowly pulled in and parked in the spot directly right in front of the shop. I turn off the ignition and pull the keys out of the socket and stuff them in my pocket. I reach for the door handle and pull it down to step out of the car. I stroll up and step on the side walk, reaching and ripping the door handle open. I hear the loud chimes as I opened the door all the way. I see an older woman feeding a few of the puppies some kibble, when she notices my presence she lifts her head up and look over towards my way.

Keep reading

Truth or Dare

Summary: Betty, Archie, Veronica, Jughead, Kevin, Cheryl, and Y/N are spending the night at Y/N’s house. Kevin suggests Truth or Dare at some point and they all decide to play. Shenanigans ensue and eventually certain feelings are shared, but will they be taken seriously or laughed off? Possible angst.

Pairing: Jughead x Reader (maybe)

Multi-fic: Yes? I’m splitting this up into a couple chapters so *finger-guns*

A/N: First Riverdale fic so sorry if anyone here sounds a bit OOC. Also, I don’t really write so *shrugs* be nice please. I had this idea just pop up and HAD to write it.

~~~

This was a horrible idea. Truly horrible. It hadn’t even been a half hour into the game before people started getting crazy and clothes were lost. It had started out as a simple sleep over. I just wanted all my friends to be in one place for once without someone trying to rip another’s throat out. My parents had left for the weekend so we were all situated in the living room, Cheryl and I sat in the loveseat, Betty, Veronica, and Archie were on the couch, Jughead was on the recliner (legs crossed and as usual on his laptop), and Kevin was perched on the coffee table between the couch and recliner.

Within ten minutes of the game starting Veronica had dared Betty to keep her shirt off for the rest of the night, Kevin had dared Archie to take his pants off, Cheryl dared me to lose my shirt, Betty (with a face so red you’d think she would’ve passed out) had dared V to ditch her dress, I got Kev to take his shirt off, and Archie got Jug to lose his shirt. Jug had just dared Archie to not be an idiot for the rest of the night, which made everyone laugh. Everyone except Cheryl was somewhat nude and embarrassed.

“Y/N,” Kevin called my name. “Yes,” I answered, staring right at him, trying to be cocky. “Truth… or dare?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye. Everyone stared at me as I debated my choices. I decided I didn’t trust that twinkle, and no matter what choice I made I’d be in trouble. “Truth.” I sighed. Kevin’s face almost split in two at my answer, his grin enormous. I tried not to gulp in fear. “I want you to tell everyone here what you really, truly think about them.” Kevin answered as he emphasized his words. ‘Fuck,’ I thought. ‘Not good.’ I looked him dead in the eye as I said fine, and re-positioned myself on the couch. I took a deep breath before looking at him and speaking. “You’re first then hun,” I said as a small smile grew on my face.

“Kevin, I love you, and I mean that in the most platonic way possible. You were the first friend I made here, and you’re my best friend, and I’ll never forget the way you introduced yourself,” “Oh god Y/N please no!” Kevin cried, a blush creeping up on his face. “Y/N yes,” I mocked. “It adds to the story. Anyways, we were five, and I had just moved to town the day before. I was walking through the park when all of a sudden I see this kid come running towards me at full speed, only to fall flat on his face three feet away,” Everyone started laughing while Kevin’s face grew redder. “Y/N!!!” He wailed. “Hush!” I said, still chuckling. “I ran over to him to help but he just sprung up and grabbed my hand and started shaking it. ‘Hi, my name’s Kevin, what’s your name? Wanna play!?’ I mocked in a little kid’s voice. Kevin hit me with a pillow. “I didn’t sound like that!” “Kevin shut up or she’ll never finish.” Cheryl spoke, mock irritation in her voice. “Yeah,” Archie spoke up. “I kinda wanna hear what Y/N has to say about me too some time tonight.”

Kevin made a zipping motion with his hands over his mouth before sitting back down, playfully glaring at me as well. “I told him my name and he said it was very pretty, and then he asked me if I liked boys, girls, or both. I was really confused at the time but Kevin just repeated it and told me he only liked boys ‘There’s a word for that you know, it’s called gay, and that’s what I am, so are you gay too?’ I just shook my head and said I didn’t like anyone.” I gave a light chuckle. “Kev gave me a weird look before he shrugged and said that was fine, and to come to him if anyone was being mean to me about not liking boys or girls. I knew at that moment we were going to be best friends,” Betty and Ronnie “Aww-ed”, Cheryl rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile in them, Archie smiled and Jug gave a smirk. 

“You’ve always been there for me Kev, every time I needed you, and I feel honored every time you come to me because you need someone. You pushed me out of my comfort zone so many times, and for the most part you knew when to back off. You’re so sassy and confident and I’m so jealous you have the confidence to be who you are. You always try to look on the bright side of things and keep everyone in a cheery mood. You’re amazing and wonderful and I never wanna let you go.”

I paused to look at Kevin, his eyes were watering up and I could tell he was trying very hard not to cry right then and there. “You mean the goddamn world to me Kev, you’re the twin brother I wish I always had. I’d crawl on broken glass for you. I’ll always be here for you whenever you need someone to vent to, or if you ever need someone to have your back in a fight.” We smirked at each other, my eyes starting to water up as well. “I love you Kevin Keller, with every fiber of my being, and I’ll be damned before I let anyone hurt you.” As soon as I had finished Kevin jumped at me, a couple tears streaming down his face and falling on my shirt as he nearly squeezed the life out of me. I hugged him back immediately and held him just as tightly, a few tears of my own falling as well. “Oh, I love you too Y/N! You’ve always been like a sister to me. I swear you mean the world to me too!” 

He kissed me on the cheek as we pulled away. When I looked around I saw that everyone had gotten misty-eyed, even Jughead, who was trying (and failing) to make it look like he hadn’t been paying attention the whole time. Kevin eventually made his way back to the coffee table, wiping his eyes before looking straight at me. “I swear to god Y/N if the rest of your speeches go anything like this I’m grounding you.” Everyone laughed while I looked around the room, trying to see who I would talk about next.


A.N.: Okay! First part is up! Let me know what you guys think and who Y/N should talk about next *wink* Also if you wanna be tagged that’s more than fine just let me know please!

Tag List (okay just *blushes*): @mrsjugheadjonesthethird, @supernovares

Leo

Shawn Mendes x Reader

Word count: 1,074

A/N: Anon requested ; Shawn’s about to go on tour and y/n is sad so before he leaves he gives her Leo so he can protect her and its super sentimental and sweet and symbolic. I hope this is alright!

Masterlist


I wake up to the sun bleeding through the blinds, leaving rainbow reflections on the wall. I turn over to see Shawn’s bare back, his hair messy. He’s leaving to go on tour again today, a day I’ve been dreading for weeks now. We’ve basically spent every day together, trying to make up for lost time in advance. I hate it when he goes away for so long. I’m always so happy to see him pursue his passion and his love for music but it hurts so much to be separated for so long. I trace my finger lightly down Shawn’s spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He groans as he turns over to face me. He rubs his eyes lazily before placing his hand under my chin, his thumb gliding along my bottom lip. “Good morning, beautiful.” He croaks, his voice so deep, as it always is when he first wakes up. “Not a good morning.” I say to him, pouting playfully. “I know… Hey-” he says lifting my chin up so our eyes meet again. I try to smile but Shawn sees right through me, knowing how I really feel. “2 months, then I’ll be home for a little while and I won’t let you leave my side. I promise, baby.” He says, trying to comfort me.

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Imagine Dean not missing a beat to tag along, when he finds out Cas will meet you, because he has feelings for you but you have no idea.

“I really appreciate you coming here, (Y/n). I know you’re usually very busy.” Castiel said with a small shy smile but you shook your head.

“Oh Cas, no. I’m not busy lately and honestly you know I’d do anything for you.” you chuckled, shrugging as you looked around the place for a moment “You’ve… saved my life, both you and the Winchesters so many times I can’t count. It would be fair if I at least tried to do the same.” you cleared your throat, your eyes focusing again on him.

“You are family, (Y/n). You know that, Sam and Dean feel the same too.” he said with a small shrug, squinting his eyes only for a second at your peculiar behavior.

“Uh speaking about-” you tried to say as casually as you could “How come they are not here with you? I mean yeah I know they are usually more busy than me but I just thought, you know, maybe… at least… Dean would… be here with you.” you ended up mumbling, as you looked at him through your lashes and he only shrugged.

“Oh uh no, he had some work to do. I- I told him I’d be here with you and he did offer to drive me here but- no, Sam held him back for something that he needed, I didn’t understand much.” he said with that tight but so adorable smile of his.

“Oh it’s fine then, I guess.” you put on a smile as you looked at your best friend “Nothing like some time with my best bud, huh?” you grinned and he gave you a shy smile. Castiel was family to you and it was always amazing to spend some time with him.

“I suppose-” were the only words he had the time to utter before a huff left his lips when he was pushed and squished as a grinning Dean came to sit next to him, followed by a shyly smiling Sam.

“Uh hello guys.” you giggled as your eyes fell on the older Winchesters in particular. You’d known them for about three years now, seeing them here and then, but you always knew from the first moment you met that he was the ne that would steal all of your attention along with heart. And so it happened.

If only you knew same went for him.

“Hey sweetheart!” he grinned at you, winking as you giggled at him.

“Hey (Y/n), sorry for this.” Sam said with an apologetic smile “Sorry Cas.” he mumbled to the angel who sighed, and rolled his eyes.

“I- I kinda tried to hold him back but- yeah.” he cleared his throat and Cas rolled his eyes, the mere action making you laugh.

“What are you guys doin’ here? I thought you had a job or something.” you said glancing at Cas who seemed to shift more in his seat.

“Sammy did-” Dean pointed at his brother “-I just wanted to see you.” he gave you that boyish grin that made you weakon the knees and you were so thankful suddenly that you were sitting.

“See me? You could always call, Winchester. You have my number.” you shrugged, giving him a shy smile.

“Of course I could but as much as I love your voice nothing can compare to the sight in front of me. Nice shirt by the way.” he winked at you and you felt your cheeks heat up even more.

“It’s yours, you forgot it the last time you guys were at my place. But- I think you might be exaggerating a little bit.” you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands.

“Oh stop it, you know I can prove you wrong in every possible way now.” he chuckled “I’m only pissed at these two that I found Cas was meeting you last minute. Been a while since we last saw each other and I’ll admit I couldn’t wait to jump at the opportunity.”

“To see me again?” your eyebrows shot up, your face burning even more as he shrugged “Well, to be honest I never thought there would come a day I’d hear Dean Winchester say that to me.” you said biting your lower lip.

“Why not? Sure maybe you will blackmail me for this later but- I’m an open book to you already. Besides-” he licked his lower lip, giving you what you could only describe as an adorably shy smile – yes Dean Winchester getting bashful with you – and continued “Cas keeps all the beautiful things to himself, and yes I know you’re his best friend but- it’s still not fair.” he shrugged.

After all you didn’t know how he really acted the moment he found out you would join them in this case. Needless to say there were about three to four plates and glasses minus in the bunker at the moment as he tried to go on with his routine but failed because he was – and it was Sam’s words – daydreaming like a fourteen-year-old girl about her crush.

“You’re such a flirt, you know that?” you laughed, shaking your head as you looked down at your food playing with it.

“Me flirt? Nah I am only saying the truth. But hey can you just answer me this tiny question I have?”

“What?” you giggled as he leaned forward and you saw Sam roll his eyes.

“How do you become even more beautiful every time I see you, just when I think you’re already perfect?”

The Date

5:50

I let out a long sigh after checking my phone for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. It wasn’t anything fancy really. Just a beat up flip phone that had been in my family for what I assumed was generations. Playing with it did help with my nervous energy but now I was exhausted. Was he really not going to show up? I checked through my texts again, hoping to see one from him, but alas, there was nothing.

The restaurant that we had chosen was nice enough, not too overdone. It had a modernish rustic kind of feel to it. But most importantly it didn’t require me to wear a dress and that’s really what counted. I’d dressed up in a white crop top with black and white striped flowing pants paired with my favourite choker and sunglasses. The outfit was perfect for a hot summer day, but now as evening quickly approached, a chill began to set in the air.

Fiddling with the neatly folded napkins was a nice way to ignore the pitying glances of those around me. I flipped my phone open again. 6:01. I gritted my teeth. As much as I tried to fight it, I was getting annoyed. Like spit at your feet and flip you off kind of annoyed. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the same kindly waitress who has asked my order twice in the past hour already. This time I was debating on just getting a takeout and taking a cab home.

“Would you like to order now, miss?” A knowing glint was in her eyes. I smiled thinly at her, hands in a death grip around the water glass as I brought it to my lips. “You know what, thank you for asking Theresa, but I think I’ll just leave.” That’s right. I’d been here so long I even knew her name without needing to glance at the silver tag clipped at her chest. “Why don’t you get something to take home first, dear?” she suggested. “It’s on the house.”

This time my smile was genuine. “Thank you,” I said. I knew what I wanted without even looking at the menu. I’d spent my first hour waiting here memorizing it. If they needed a new waitress I was sure I would get the job without even blinking. “I’ll have the chicken fettuccine alfredo, please.” Theresa scribbled it on her notepad then looks up to smile at me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, you just wait right here.”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” I mutter as she walks away. I sighed again, this time at the irony of that statement. Thankfully the wait for my food wasn’t long. Theresa handed me the bag. I thanked her again and rose from my seat hoping to scurry out the door without anyone staring at the miserable girl who’s date didn’t come. It wasn’t working. I could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on me. My cheeks heated in anger and embarrassment. Perhaps I would use my time while eating to plot how I would make him pay for this. Ignore his texts all week maybe. Or I could post an embarrassing photo of him and tag all our friends. Hmm, so many options.

I was so caught up in my revenge plot that I didn’t even notice the boy who has sunk into the set across from me in the booth giving me an apologetic smile. He shook out his leather jacket and placed it beside him. “Sorry I’m so late, babe, traffic is crazy right now,” he says loudly enough for the whole room to hear. My eyes must be as wide as saucers as I gape at him. “I’m Cal, by the way. Just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn’t bother to show up is a complete dick,” he quietly adds. I force myself to relax for the eyes still watching us. I guess I had to go along with whatever the hell this was. My hand tightened on my bags, prepared to bolt if this stranger was really just a jerk who thought picking on me would be funny. Relax, breathe. “Of course, I understand. But you’re here now and that’s all that counts,” I say smoothly, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. What the hell kind of situation was this? I cursed in my head. Trouble seemed to trail me wherever I went. My response silences the whispers and giggles. The words sounded warm and charming though I felt anything but.

Say something else Mare, the poor fool is just sitting there looking at you. Oh right. “I’m Mare. Mare Barrow,” I introduce myself to this odd stranger. Well odd was one word for him. Another was jaw-dropping. Stunning. Hot. It was unfair how attractive he was with that glossy black hair in a messy bed head kind of style that suited him paired with warm amber eyes that looked like flickering flames when they hit a certain light. He had a nice stubble along his cheeks and chin and was dressed in a casual green sweater and blue jeans with his brown leather jacket. His lips curled into an amused smile when he noticed me checking him out and I blushed furiously. Something about him was oddly familiar and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Don’t be embarrassed about it. If we’re being honest, I was checking you out too,” he says nonchalantly. Under the table I pinched myself just to make sure that I was awake and that this wasn’t some crazy dream. But it wasn’t. This was a crazy reality which was even worse. What’s so bad about being on an unplanned date with a hot guy? a traitorous voice inside my head whispered. Well, I couldn’t argue with that logic. Cal settles into his seat looking strangely relaxed. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he put his feet up on the table. He casually sips on some water while I gawk at him. “Well,” he sighs, “I suppose you have some questions.” “Umm, yeah?” I say in an its so obvious tone.

“What’s your full name?” He purses his lips at that one. I can’t hep but feel slightly suspicious at his reaction. “Okay, you caught me. My real name isn’t Cal, it’s–” he hesitates, silent laughter dancing in eyes. “It’s technically Tiberias Calore the Seventh, but that’s kinda long so people just call me Cal.” He seems nervous while speaking and it take everything I have to not burst out laughing. I didn’t know why his nervousness was so endearing to me. “What about you Miss Barrow? Is that your real full name?” he asks me. Cal rests his chin on his hand while observing me.

“It’s Mare Molly Barrow, but I mostly ignore the middle part,” I confess, shrugging.  "Second question, what are you doing here and why are you helping me?“ He grins at me, waggling a finger. "Nuh uh, that’s two questions.” I roll my eyes. “Well I as going to ask you sooner or later, and may I remind you that you’re the one who jumped in on my non-existent date, so I get to ask the questions here how I like.” Cal doesn’t seem fazed by my response at all, in fact, based on his expression that he approved it. Like he was expecting me to bite back.

“I expect no less from you,” he says, that same infuriating yet adorable mischievous smile plastered on his lips. Goddammit Mare, stop staring at his lips. Once I register his words I feel my face scrunch up in confusion. “Expect?” I repeat, dumbfounded. “Do I know you?” He chuckles at my confused expression. I narrow my eyes at him, hoping to place his face. I knew I recognized him, but from where? He lets me puzzle it out, watching and sipping on his water all the while. A one-night stand perhaps? Nope, I didn’t do those. A friend of a friend maybe who I didn’t remember? “I’ve got nothing,” I finally sigh. 

“We used to go to the same high school,” he shakes his head in mock hurt. “I can’t believe this. You don’t remember me.” He has to be lying. There was no way that I could forget someone that attractive. “When did you graduate?” I ask him, watching carefully for any sign of a lie. “Last year. I was captain of the senior football team,” Cal says, this faraway look in his eyes, like he was reliving it in his mind’s eye. Perhaps he was. A faint flash of a memory flitted across my mind. I was up in the bleachers with Kilorn watching as a game took place below. It was my first time going to such an event, and all I remember was wanting to go home. I didn’t even notice when the captain scored thee winning goal, but I pretended to cheer along with everyone else. I was sophomore when he graduated which is likely the reason I didn’t remember him much, other than that. "How did you recognize me?“ I ask him, suddenly aware of the thought. Was he a stalker or something? Or just really good at remembering people?

He notes my tense posture and his face softens. "You don’t need to be afraid of me, I’m not going to hurt you.” I don’t relax. His jaw clenches and he gives me a strained smile. “How could I forget the girl who spray painted the principals car?”

 My shoulder stiffen in surprise at his words. Ever so slowly my lips part into a smile and I laugh. Cal watches me, smiling as well. It was genuine, soft crooked smile that tugged at my heart. “Oh my god I can’t believe you remember that,” I groan, hiding my face between my hands to conceal the red blush flaring on my cheeks. Slowly, softly, he takes my hands in his and I stare at him. He blushes as well at my struck expression. “Sorry, I just…I think your blush is…” He fumbles with the words, tripping over them. “You look really beautiful and I–” He stops when he sees my wide eyes. “Ugh that came out wrong, sorry–” he says, looking very much like he would love nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there. “You don’t need to apologize,” I tell him softly. He smiles hesitantly. “And thank you.”

“I’d always wondered why you did it,” he muses. “That’s what puzzled me about you.” I stare at him in wonder. I had no idea that he’d even knew my name, much less thought about me often. “I’ll tell you if you answer my questions and stop avoiding them,” I say. “Alright,” he agrees. “I came to visit my friend on his first day of work here. I hoped to see him, but I haven’t, which probably means that he’s doing a terrible job at this and I need to yell at him.” “But,” he adds, “I’m sure his boss has that covered.”

“Secondly, I came over here because you looked sad and slightly pissed. Well actually, more pissed than upset,” he laughs. That fades as he turns serious. “But I heard people whispering and…” He looks down, fiddling with something. I had a feeling he was trying to avoid my gaze. “The things they were saying were terrible, so I thought maybe I could help out this girl that they were talking about.” I wasn’t sure I was breathing normally anymore. It caught in my chest and squeezed painfully. I knew people’s opinion shouldn’t matter to me, and it didn’t, but I couldn’t stand the whispers. It reminded me too much of sophomore year when hushed words would follow me wherever I turned. They thought I couldn’t hear them, but they were wrong. Look, it’s the troubled girl who spray painted the principals car, one person would whisper, and another would accompany it. I heard she did it on purpose. Why would someone do that on purpose? Someone would snort. Because they’re stupid and lack a brain, another responded.

“Then I saw you, and I recognized you. You were sitting there and I thought that whoever didn’t show up was a total ass,” he scoffs. “That ass is my ex, by the way,” I say, tilting my head at him. He flushes. “Sorry for the language.” His brow furrows slightly. “You were meeting your ex?” he asks, confused as to why someone would even do such a thing. “No, but he is now,” I clarify, shrugging. He laughs and that same heart-wrenching grin returned.

“So, I’ve answered your questions. Now it’s your turn to answer mine.”

I nod. Fair enough.

“I did it because for some idiotic reason I wanted to get suspended. Teenage rebellion, I guess,” I joke halfheartedly. The truth was I did know why I did it. That was around the time Tramy had been leaving to follow in Bree’s footsteps and join the military. I had been so angry at everything and everyone. My parents tried to console me at first, but then they would get exasperated, my mother most of all. And that hurt. Everything had come crashing back, my bitterness of being the shadow to my sister, the pretty, sweet talented sister that I could never live up to, the anger of never being seen by my parents as nothing more than nuisance though I knew deep down that it wasn’t true. They loved me in their own way. Only Shade could put up with me, and he was my first friend as well as my older brother.

I’d poured all of that emotion into that stupid action, hoping to get back at my parents somehow, show them that they were right. I was the only the bitter shadow they thought me to be. I struggle to keep the tears in as I explain this all to Cal who patiently listens to me without interrupting. When I finish, he stands up and my heart sinks. He was going to leave, my story had scared him off.

Instead of running off as I expect him to, Cal slowly reaches out to touch my shoulder, his eyes holding a silent question. I nod once and he comes to sit beside me. Cal wraps his arms around me, and I lean on his shoulder, pressing my face into his broad arm. He brushes my hair back from my face and I bite my lip. We stay like that for a while in comfortable silence. I even spot Theresa giving me a wink from across the room, and I try to stifle my laugh.

“I should go now,” I say quietly at last, shattering the silence that had wrapped us both. “What time is it?” He takes out his phone from his pocket and I note that it’s the newest model. Thank goodness I’d asked him first so he wouldn’t see my flip phone that dated back to prehistoric times. “It’s 8:51, he informs me.” I jolt and jump of my seat. Cal’s face contorts in worry. “What is it?” “I was supposed to be home by seven, or at least call my parents,” I explain breathlessly, quickly gathering my things. Don’t panic, don’t panic, I chide myself. I scrambled through my purse for my bus pass, letting out a cry of frustration when I come up empty handed.

“Hey, calm down,” Cal urged. “I’ll give you a ride back, no big deal.” That stills me. “You…you’d drive me home?” He smiles softly. “Of course.” The words sooth me, but only slightly. I didn’t want him to see where I lived. Our sorry excuse of an apartment flashed through my mind. I would have to get him to drop me a couple of blocks ahead then walk the rest of the way. “Thanks, again.” He shrugs. “No problem.”

We head out together. I shiver when a cold gust of wind sweeps across me, and I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to keep my teeth from chattering. Cal shrugs of his jacket and hands it to me. I stare at it then him. “Aren’t you cold?” I inquire. He shakes his head. “I don’t get cold often strangely enough.” I accept the jacket and put it on.Thankfully it was lined to keep out the cold but thee fit was much too big. I looked like child playing dress up. Cal’s eyes widen when he looks down at me and I suddenly feel self-conscious. “What, what is it?”

He looked slightly dazed. “Nothing’s wrong.” I struggle to cross my arms due to the bulky jacket. “Tell me the truth.” Cal sighs. “You don’t let anything go, do you?” “Nope,” I said, popping the p. "Alright, I was thinking that the jacket looks better on you than it does on me,“ he confesses. Stunned, I don’t say a word. I can only follow him to his car hoping that the darkness would conceal my blush. It was unfair really how flustered he often made me.

My jaw almost drops at the sight of his car. It was gorgeous. Like I’d date it kind of gorgeous. It was a shiny red Volvo trimmed and plated with chrome, shined to perfection. I would bet that it looked even better in daylight. Cal glances at me, enjoying my look of awe. "What are you thinking right now?” he asks. Fine. It was a fair question after all. “I’m thinking that like to date your car,” I tell him. He huffs, amused. “Sorry, but she’s mine.”

 "Who said it was a she?“ I counter playfully. "I fixed her myself. I think I would know,” he responds with a wide smile. “Ugh, gross!” I exclaim, smacking him in the chest. I can feel his laugh reverberate in his chest, and I pull my hand away after I realize that it’s been there too long. He catches it deftly and links his fingers with mine. I inhale sharply. He doesn’t pull away once we settle into our seats and neither do I. He asks for my address and I instruct him where to go seeing as he wasn’t familiar with the area. We pass through the tall buildings which slowly level out to townhouses. I knew that they formed the border that separated my side of town from the nice part of the city

“Turn here,” I point. He obliges and we pass through the neat row of houses. 227, one of them reads. “This is it,” I say, hoping he won’t notice the lie. The house was close enough to the edge that it wouldn’t be a long walk on this chilly night. I begin to shrug off the jacket when Cal stops me. “Keep it. As I said, it looks much better on you anyway.” I stare at him in disbelief, the jacket still hanging loosely around my elbows. He fixes it so that it rests on my shoulders and fastens a few of the buttons. I sit there and study him as he works.

“It was nice talking with you,” I say, slightly breathless at his proximity. He looks up and stills as well, suddenly realizing the same thing. The moment felt suspended as if hanging by thread that could fray and snap at any time. I couldn’t think of anything except how beautiful his eyes were. They reminded me of warmth, of autumn. I wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing anymore as he touched my cheek lightly. With his other hand, he raises my own to his lips and presses a kiss to the back. “It was nice talking to you too,” he whispers.

As I start to pull away, he keeps a gentle grip on my hand and I turn back around. “Yes?” I ask him, just as unwilling to let go. “I–” he stutters. “I have one more question for you that I forgot to ask earlier.”

“What is it?”

“I was wondering,” he says softly,  "if you would like to go on a real, actually planned date with me.“

I knew I didn’t even need to think about it. I was sure of my answer.

I smile at him, broad and without restraint. "Yes, I would love to go on a planned date with you.”

He lets out a relieved laugh. “Good.” Cal looks at me almost shyly. “I’ve never been on an actual date.” I pat his hand reassuringly. “You’ll do great, I’m sure of it.” “I hope so,” he replies.

“Just show up in that car and you’re set.”

He laughs again. “Noted.”

We exchange our numbers and I’m careful to keep my phone hidden but he spots it anyway. "Don’t be embarrassed. If it’s any consolation, I think it’s pretty cool. They don’t even make them like that anymore.” I roll my eyes fondly. “Of course. Only a dork like you would notice that.”

“I confess, I am a bit of a nerd,” he smiles teasingly and my heart flutters.

“Goodbye, Mare.“

"Goodbye, Cal.”

As I walk the rest of the way home I can’t stop the infectious grin that worms its way onto my face. My heart felt light like I would float away at any moment. Is this what you were supposed to feel like after a date? I’d never felt that way with my ex. Internally I sigh at the thought of having to break up with him. I’d do it in person. I could do that much.

 When I finally get home, mom and dad sigh in relief when I find them at the kitchen table with Gisa. “Where have you been?” She demands. Sometimes I felt like she was more like a mother than my actual mom was. “Calm down. My date wasn’t showing up and I bumped into an old friend from high school and we lost track of time–”

“What do you mean lost track of time,” my dad growls. I sigh heavily. “Calm down dad it wasn’t like that. We just talked.” “That’s what they all say,” he mutters under his breath

.“We’re glad you’re home, darling. Next time, please give us a warning,” mom says tiredly.“I know, I know. Sorry mom,” I sigh again.“Next time?” Gisa huffs. “There will be no next time young lady. Now go to your room.” I crack a small smile at her adult behavior. “Alright, fine,” I concede. 

“Wait, where’s Shade?” I ask them. Mom and dad glance at each other while Gisa plays with her hair. “He went out to look for you,” she explains. “We– we thought that something had happened and–” I hold up a hand and she stops speaking. “I got it. Seeing as I’m not dead, you should probably call him and tell him that I’m home.”

Mom jumps to her feet. “Of course, how could I forget.” She practically trips over himself to get to our old home phone. I leave them to it and go to my room. Once I shut the door, I climb into my bed, inhaling the smoky scent of the jacket. It smelled just like him, and I lie there with a stupid grin at the thought of seeing him again.

It was only a matter of time.

***

@tiberiaschooseme, @stars-above-luna, @calmareforever, @queeniriscygnet, @didmavenkillyou–metoo, @littlelightningirl, @universegamer, @emotionscanhurt, @chaoslaborantin, @maudthebookeater, @redqueenfandom

Here you go guys, hope it was up to par! See if you can spot the small Hamilton reference ;)

Based on this prompt

Ah, there you stood, with that vague
charm of yours. And since history has devoted
just a few lines to you, I had more freedom
to fashion you in my mind’s eye…
I made you handsome, capable of deep feeling.
My art gave your face an appealing,
dreamlike beauty. In fact, I imagined you
so vividly last night, that when my lamp
went out—I let it go out on purpose—
I actually thought you had come into my room;
you were there, standing before me,
just as you would have looked in defeated Alexandria,
pale and tired, ideal in your sorrow,
still hoping for mercy from those vicious men
who kept on whispering ‘too many Caesars.‘
—  C.P. Cavafy, “Caesarion”
My Basty Bear

A/N: Hey guys! In celebration of my blog reaching to over 100 followers (author’s mind is blown), I decided to write out this one shot! I wanted to post another one I made of Sebastian Stan, but since this is a bit special, I made a different one. I hope you guys enjoy it! (I apologize for any grammar mistakes in my story) 

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader
Warnings: Language, angst, fluff
Word count: 6,300
Summary: Reader has a habit of coming home late because of her love for painting. Unfortunately, that also starts to raise Sebastian’s suspicions of her habits. 

★ ★ ★

The music blasts through my earphones as I move the messy sponge along the canvas in rough dabs. I dip the edge of the sponge into the black paint before blending the colours into the canvas. I hum to the music, bopping my head back and forth. I was lost in this canvas. Nothing else matters right now.

I stare at the piece for a while before deciding to fix another area that I don’t think looks convincing enough. My favourite song comes along and I can’t resist it. I set the palette and sponge down to dance in place. I move my body around to the beat as I sing along out loud.

This is the norm for me. Singing, dancing and painting all at the same time. I was alone in my studio after all. I’m doing a painting for Sebastian for our anniversary gift. I want it to be perfect.

I do a quick spin to the music. I catch a glimpse of the large clock on the wall. My eyes widen and I stop immediately. I stare at the clock carefully. 8:23. I look through the window and sure enough, it was dark outside. I let out a gasp before quickly clean myself up. I wash out the brushes, palettes and sponge and cover up the canvas.

I store it into the storage room before locking it up tight. I lock up my studio room and run down the hallway. I’m so late. Sebastian would be home any minute and I haven’t made dinner. Argh, this is why I shouldn’t paint without someone there with me to remind me of the time. I always just lose myself in paintings for hours on end.

When I arrived at our apartment, it was brightly lit. I smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Great… he’s home. My heart aches. I feel a little terrible for doing this, possibly, the hundredth time to him.

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