A color that symbolizes happiness, hope and friendship.
It was the color of your bedroom walls in your small apartment that Harry found himself longing to be at with tears down his face.
Two knocks, a pause, another knock. That was Harry’s signature knock on your door. And even though it was 2 am, you had barely closed your eyes to sleep, instead writing in your journal at the early hours.
Your eyebrows furrowed, standing up from the floor where you were seated and walked towards the door, peaking at the peep hole to make sure it was the man who you had became close to after your first spaghetti date and your countless hang outs after.
And there he was, standing with closed eyes, face directed towards the sky as if making silent prayers and lips pressed in a line. You unlocked the door, opening it to look at him. He looked down at you, making you notice the tear marks on his cheeks and his red eyes.
“I couldn’t think of anyone I’d go to now.” He said in a broken tone, hands tucked in his jeans pockets.
Worryingly, you led him inside and seating him on your couch, taking his hands in yours. “What’s wrong?” You asked in a voice not a pitch above a whisper, not wanting to trigger him.
“I just-” He stopped himself, shaking his head before sniffling. “I need someone to hold me. Will you? Will you hold me, Y/N?” He looked at you with pleading eyes.
Taking him to your room and tucking the both of you in bed, Harry had his head on your chest, his long body tangled with yours as you stroked his hair, your heartbeat lulling him to comfort. Your eyes were fixed on the warm color of yellow of your walls, mind drifting to different scenarios that could have broken the young man before you.
“Thank you.” He whispered tiredly, letting out a small hum when you wrapped your arms around him tighter as if it was piecing his broken pieces together.
And you know he was a private person; someone who liked to keep to himself but seeing him let down his guard and allowing you to hold him while he showed a side of him that he didn’t wish to be revealed to you so soon, you knew you were in it in a whole new level. You knew this wasn’t just a fling or a distraction, you knew what you had is something that is going to stay for a very long time.
Yellow was the color of hope; the hope that was restored in Harry once your warm body blended in with his shelter-seeking one.
Yellow was the color of the donuts you held in your hand for him and the boys during their soundcheck, a happy grin that was contagious enough for the 4 of them to match it with one of their own.
“There you go, a good luck donut for each one of you for tonight’s show.” You opened the box, each one of them taking one donut.
Harry the last one, a finger hooking your jeans’ belt hoop to pull you closer, pressing a kiss of gratitude to your lips.
“Thank you, love.” He smiled before taking a bite of his donut.
“You’re too good to us.” Niall hummed, licking the donut’s icing.
You giggled. “Messing up our diets, you’re a true friend, Y/N.” Liam said, giving your cheek a chaste kiss.
“Don’t tell your management, I already piss them off.” You stiffled a laugh, rolling your eyes.
Harry chuckled, resting his hand on your waist before offering you a bite from his donut to which you gladly accepted.
Yellow was the color of the nail polish bottle, the brush gently painting your nails by Harry.
His lips puckered to the side in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as he eyed your nails, gliding the brush along carefully as to not get the color on your skin.
“I’m painting your nails when mine dry off.” You informed him, looking at your collection of nail polishes beside him.
It was midnight but neither you or Harry were tired, deciding to paint each other’s nails.
“Black?” Harry asked, his eyes not leaving your nails as he painted your last pinky.
“I got this new grey metalic one, would you want that?” You asked him before blowing on your nails to speed up the drying process.
Harry smiled up at you from his place on the floor, nodding. “Yes.”
You smiled at how adorable he looked, leaning down to press your lips to his.
“Hey, careful with the nails, they’re still fresh.”
Yellow was the color of flowers you found on your doorstep, a smile drawn to your face as you took the large bouquet, closing the door as you entered.
You put the flowers down, your hand on your baby bump, rubbing it soothingly while the other hand held the envelope that was propped against the flowers.
To Y/N & Baby S. From H. x
Your heart melted, eager smile on your face as you opened the envelope, sitting down when your swelling feet began to hurt. You opened the paper, eyes first falling on the messy inked hearts he left throughout the paper.
Yesterday, we had a real Jamaican tour around the place (I promise to give you one when you fly out here in two days) and I learned that yellow flowers represent friendship, trust and compassion. It’s also the colour that represents happiness and hope.
Friendship because not only are you my girlfriend, you are also my best friend who I would always confide in.
Trust because I trust you with every fiber in my body and I hope you return this trust in me, too.
Compassion because you are someone I will always comfortably let my guard down around, knowing you still think I’m strong.
Happiness because well, you’re you.
And hope because this is how I am towards our future together; our future with Baby Styles.
Can’t wait to see you. I love you.
P.S Can you please get my yellow tropical shirt? I forgot to pack it. (Please)
Yellow was the color of the first stuffed toy held by your newborn, Elle James Styles. A girrafe that Harry had bought for his daughter from back home.
With an arm around your waist, your head leaning on him and his head leaning on yours, you watched the 1 month old baby who was a combination of you and him, sleeping peacefully in her crib.
“We did pretty well, huh?” Harry asked quietly, staring at his daughter with loving eyes.
You giggled, wrapping your arm around him. “I did the pushing, Styles.” You joked.
Harry raised an eyebrow at you, “Yeah? So did I.”
Your cheeks flushed, looking back at your oblivious daughter.
Yellow was the color your small family wore, matching. A one year old Elle was sat on your lap in her yellow dress that had white little flowers along the bottom of it, a single daisy flower that someone from the backstage crew had given her was propped behind her ear, shown among her wide brown curls. You in an off shoulder pastel yellow top, black jeans and simple flats, your hair straightened down as you sat among the audience at the front on The Jonathan Ross Show.
“I can’t help but notice, Harry, you’re matching with your wife and daughter?” Jonathan asked Harry who sat in his yellow suit.
Harry smiled, glancing at you and his daughter who sat on your lap, playing with your hair while talking quietly to you in the language only she understood. You did catch some “Mumma”’s and “Dadda”’s though.
He nodded, looking back at Jonathan. “We are.”
“Is that your uniform? Do you all just normally wear yellow and match?” He asked, making the audience laugh and Harry to laugh.
“We’re a very colorful family.” Harry spoke.
“How old is your daughter? Her name is Elle, right?”
Harry nodded, “Elle, yes. She’s 1.” The audience awed, gaining little Elle’s attention who looked around with a giggle before looking at Harry.
“Dadda!” She made grabby eyes at him, beginning to fidget on your lap.
Once again, everyone awed, including the other guests and Jonathan. “Go get your daughter, Styles. What are you waiting for?” Jonathan told Harry, feigning a scolding tone.
You stood up with Elle on your hip, meeting Harry halfway who surprised you with a peck on your lips as he held Elle in his arms, making the entire room - once again - to awe.
“You’re a family man, aren’t ya?”
Harry grinned, bouncing Elle on his knee. “Very.”
I think this is my personal favorite writing I have written on here so far to be honest. Let me know what you think! xx
RatedT for mentions of murder, death, mature themes
Word count: 10.5k rip
Synopsis: In his long career, Yoongi had quickly learned how being a professional killer required many do’s but only a few dont’s - just two, to be more precise: nr. 1 never miss your target, and nr. 2 don’t ever get caught.
And yet, after meeting you, it was crystal clear that he had never considered the most important one.
Nr. 3: never fall in love.
Author’s note: Finally!! This is my first request, with the prompts sniper!Yoongi, His beauty could kill you and They all die in the end. To the cute anon: I hope you like it just as much as I enjoyed writing it even tho this is the angstiest shit I have written until now.
Also, special thanks to @inktae and @sugajpg for bearing with my existential crisis about this <3
Yoongi doesn’t really feel ashamed of his job.
Sure, he kills people in exchange of money – good money, to be more precise; but it’s not something that actually bothers him in his sleep. Well, he is blessed with dream-less nights after all, thus he can’t really be definite about it: maybe, if nightmares of blood and screams and horror filled his mind, then he wouldn’t be so serene, so apathetic about it. Maybe, he would feel a decent amount of regret.
But again, that isn’t the case, and so he’s able to look at everyone straight in the eyes, lips guiltless and always curved in a faint smile – they would have been murdered anyways, if not by him, surely by somebody else. At least, Yoongi gives them a quick death.
And it’s not like he targets innocent people anyway – well, as much as someone could be innocent nowadays. Oh no, he usually works for the Mafia, sometimes even for the Intelligence when they need somebody to act outside the law: the flies he has to kill are always the dirtiest ones, buried in some horrid shit up to their neck, and thus with a bullet into their throat they die. Or in their forehead, or between their lungs – it doesn’t really matter, does it?
So no, Yoongi doesn’t really feel ashamed of his job.
Warnings: It’s sometimes sad, but overall cute. Mentions of torture.
Summary: After the events in the Leipzig airport, queen (Y/N) is taken to the Raft and tortued to say something about the whereabouts of Captain Rogers; she endures everything and even got rescued by a fellow monarch whom she knew from a life that she thought she would never get back to. Diplomacy is key.
A/N: Feedback is love.
“What you did to them
was not as cruel as what they did to you.”
It was the first thing (Y/N) typed down. She
was home at last, and more or less safe and she firmly needed to believe her
The medical team that took care of her told her
that if she wasn’t keen on talking, she could probably write things down, let
her memory and fingers do the job, but that was easier said than done;
especially when her memory only played the same images again and again. She
took a deep breath, feeling her chest inflate with the income and slowly
exhaled everything away. The thoughts wandered in and out, and following her
meditation teacher’s instructions, she tried not to make a whole story around
begun in Vienna. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have been there. I
shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But I did. I
went there and I can’t change that. I was there only to hear what fat men
wanted from people with powers; people like me. But I am not their property and
I don’t want them to register me or mark me as something I am not. I am a
queen, I am a ruler and I am powerful. I am graceful in what I do and god knows
I am. I just wanted people to feel better, but their emotions turned confusing
and I just couldn’t do that anymore.”
By the end of her first stream of consciousness
session, (Y/N) was already shaking and crying. She grabbed her head in her
hands tightly, trying to shake away all the images that followed those
inauspicious events. Leipzig, and then the Raft. She remembered hiding in the
shadows, unbeknownst to everyone, as she toyed and manipulated their anger and
their feelings of blind justice.
Captain Rogers had hidden friends outside the
avengers, and she was a most appreciated one, so it was not a surprise when he
told her to please help him out with a little something. He mentioned the
dangers and the exposure, but he also explained how important it was for him to
have his friend back and the accords not signed. (Y/N) understood that very
well. The meaning of family and the promise of a free life.
Once she was there, hiding behind the
structures, containers and trucks, she felt a familiar presence. But she could
not recognize anybody; not their breathing and not her thoughts. She moved
around like the shadows and with them, trying to remain unseen from everyone.
But then the fight was over and the million tricks under her sleeve were gone
and people were dragging her to a plane to throw her into a prison in the
middle of the ocean. The Raft, they called it.
There she met her fellow inmates, the archer,
the man that could shrink, the man with the wings and the woman with the mental
abilities. She could not escape and she could not use her powers to feel less
lonely. Little by little, she locked herself into her own mind, unwilling to
maintain a conversation with anybody, and each passing day she seemed more and
more unbreakable, even though she was tortured in several ways to get the
information about Captain Rogers and his whereabouts. She knew and believed in
the value of loyalty, even if it meant rotting in her cell.
She was about to give up on everything and
everyone, but then she saw the light, or more like the light going off. Steve
Rogers appeared, almost horrified by what happened to his dearest friends and allies.
Cap’s team was taken to Wakanda, a nation she didn’t know she knew.
They were all welcomed by the king himself, a
tall man of dark complexion; he irradiated authority and kindness, even though
he saw before him the people that he once tried so hard to get rid of. (Y/N)
felt even smaller next to him; being a queen herself, she knew in her heart
that she wasn’t as good as he was. People around him smiled as they vowed their
heads, but when her people passed by, they bowed their heads in fear.
King T’Challa was a very caring man, not only
for his people, but for people he didn’t know too. He was in charge of all the
attentions the newly arrived would have; from their bedrooms to the different
recovery therapies they would be under. Each one of them different for each
The physical therapy was one thing, getting
regular check-ups with the castle’s medical team, but then there were the
therapy sessions that (Y/N) dreaded to attend. T’Challa was informed of this
and of course he worried, he wanted everyone to be as mentally healthy as
possible, even though he understood if it took a long time.
The king decided to ask (Y/N) why wasn’t she
attending the sessions and if there was another thing she’d like to try so he
could make the arrangements for it to be done, but before he could put the
question into words, she had already disappeared.
The queen came back to her own palace, in the
safety of her walls and the safety of her people. She still thought about
T’Challa and the brief encounters they did happen to have. She couldn’t escape
all day from him, and even though she never tried to, she still had little to
no words to say to him other than answering his questions. Among those
questions, there was the moment when he found out she was a queen also, a very
young one; younger than him. Later he found out that his deceased father was
once an ally with hers, and a light-bulb lighted up inside his mind.
“You got a letter, your highness.” One of the
maidens said, carrying with her a golden envelope with the queen’s name on it.
The queen didn’t pay much attention until the maid said where it came
from. “This comes from Wakanda.” (Y/N)
turned her head to look at the envelope and reached out her hand for it to be
handed to her.
“Thank you.” The queen bowed her head and
smiled lightly, and the maid turned on her heels and left (Y/N) alone again
with the pile of papers she still had to revise.
Ever since (Y/N) came back to her lands,
everything was busier than ever. The world was now aware of her secret society
and trying to get the press away from the limits was a terribly exhausting job.
She was not very good at the social contact and she preferred not to do it
anyway; she had people to take care of public relationships, but there was one
thing she couldn’t escape from. Diplomacy.
She opened the letter to find a handwritten
I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a
few months since you left Wakanda without even saying goodbye and I believe we
have a few matters to discuss. Political ones mostly, but I suppose we can find
the time to discuss other things.
As you might be aware of, our fathers shared a
close friendship, and both kingdoms were war allies before and we also did a
lot of commerce; that is relationship that I wish to re-build now that we have
become public personas and that we have properly met (the circumstances were terrible,
but at least everyone got something positive out of it). Would it be okay if I
ask you out for dinner soon? Whatever your answer may be, reply this letter as
soon as possible and I’ll make the arrangements to meet your convenience.
Looking forward to hear from you.
(Y/N) held the letter for a few more minutes
before she could realize that she was thinking about the ruler of the peaceful
kingdom that received her just months ago. She was still surprised that he did
it, and on top of that, he was asking to meet her again. Yes, they had some
important topics to discuss, but for the words and their underlying meaning, he
was quite eager to see her.
She took a deep breath and wrote the reply
herself. She didn’t want to waste any other precious second. She called the
same maiden and asked to send the letter away and that it was extremely
important that she made sure it would arrive as soon as it could be.
The venue for their dinner would be the
gorgeous city of Marrakesh; they agreed that a neutral place was the best
option for their not-official diplomatic meeting. (Y/N) appeared in a
restaurant wearing a tight black dress. It had no back, and the cleavage was low,
but not low enough to show her breasts or to look tacky. T’Challa was blown
away by her beauty; he remembered quite well the girl in his palace, but the
girl back then used to hide herself under baggy clothes, or hide herself in her
bedroom if possible.
“It’s nice to see you out,” T’Challa commented
as he conducted her to their table, “how are you feeling?”
“It’s hard to get back on track,” she nodded,
feeling the weight of her words, “but I got some good people to take care of
The drinks started to pour on their glasses and
the food arrived to them. Spicy food was one thing, but the dishes there were
more condiments than actual ingredients. It was a fun meal, and even though
they could not speak very much, the looks they shared said more than a hundred
(Y/N) felt how he observed her every move, from
the way she ate, to the way her lips captured the glass and the liquid went
down her throat. She started to like the way that his feelings were so out
there, she was not even having an insight of his mind, but instead; he was
giving it all away as if he wanted her to witness everything that he was going
“It’s kinda funny to think our parents were
once allies,” (Y/N) started, “I still have your father in my memory. He’s one
of the memories I cherish the most.” She smiled almost to herself. “I remember
that he gave me, for one of my birthdays, a small sculpture of a panther.” She
giggled heartedly. “I never thought I’d learn the hard way that apparently the
panther is the national animal in Wakanda.”
“I actually made that,” T’Challa admitted,
scratching the back of his neck and feeling a strong warmth spreading through
his face, “and I wanted to give it to you so badly, because you were the only
other child I knew that knew exactly what I was going through, but I got sick
the few days before that and… I was bound to be in bed for about a week so… I
was destroyed by that.” He chuckled. Just a few seconds after, they fell
silent. They searched in each other’s eyes for conversation, and that was
enough, but T’Challa broke the silence between them. “You know, I spent my
teenage years imagining how you had grown up, and if there could be a chance of
us keeping a future together—for the sake of our kingdoms, of course.” He
hurried to add.
“That’s a heavy wonder to carry for a teenage
boy.” (Y/N) conceded, swirling the liquid in the glass with her powers. She was
absent minded, thinking about the little boy she once met; it was hard to
believe that the boy had grown up into such a majestic man, not to mention how
handsome he was. She shook her head, as if it made the thoughts go away, but
she still had in mind the words he said, and how he thought about the future.
“You know, my father was not a very sentimental man, and he was most probably
worried about the future of the people rather than my future, but he always
said that it would’ve been a good idea to keep relations with Wakanda.” She
pursed her lips into a smile. “He said, it was one of dreams to see me married
to the heir. And now that I know him… I believe my father knew what he talked
“And what is that?”
“He must have had some idea about the kind of
man you have turned into.” She exhaled heavily and let her back rest
comfortably on the chair. “I’m not the kind of girl that’s good with words, let
alone those words being about my inner thoughts and the mind beyond my mind, so
I’ll say this quickly: I like you, and I like the man you’ve become. I like you
because you took care of me like no one else would have, even though I was the
one who made you feel so enraged. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and
playing with your feelings was one. If you want me to answer your teenage
question: yes, there is a chance of keeping our kingdoms together, but I don’t
want to be with you because of that, I want to be with you because the feeling
is corresponded. If not—”
“I thought those words would never come.”
T’Challa chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about those words since I can remember,
and… they feel a hundred times better.” He rested his elbows on the table and
reached out for (Y/N)’s hands, but she couldn’t move. “I’ve been in love with
you, and the thought of you for long, and you can’t imagine how broken my heart
was when I saw you under arrest… and what they did to you at the Raft…” He
clenched his fists and his knuckles whitened from the strength used. “I
couldn’t stand it. I mean, the thought of what you went through still keeps me
up at night.” He stopped for a few seconds, just to get his thoughts straight.
“I don’t care about what you did; that’s buried in the past and I have no
interest in bringing it back. I like who you are now, and I want to learn from
you… Let’s give this a try, and if this does not meet your expectations, or if
something happens along the way, just promise me you’ll be as sincere as you
have been throughout the night.”
“I—I will.” (Y/N) stammered nervously, as she
timidly intertwined her hands with T’Challa’s.
She smiled at the contact between them; it was so childish, so innocent,
but she knew she was making the right decision. “I’m just so… I thought that,
once you found out that it was me who toyed with everyone’s mind and that I was
involved with Captain Rogers, you’d shut me out and probably you wouldn’t even
talk to me about diplomacy… I thought you’d… exile me out of your life.” She
said, with a taint of gloominess in her voice. Her fingers gently traced the
veins on the back of T’Challa’s hand. She took a deep breath, experiencing in
first person the feelings that occupied the mind and heart of the king. “Have
you always been this intense?” She giggled when she saw herself affected by the
“Only when the woman I’ve loved all my life is
wearing something like that.” T’Challa smiled slyly, not even feeling
intimidated by being busted. He let go of (Y/N)’s hands and stood up to take a
few steps next to her. “May I take the fun somewhere else?” He offered his
“Yes,” she nodded, taking the hand and standing
up, “you may…” Before T’Challa started to walk away with her, she tugged at his
arm and made him turn around to pull him closer to her and kiss those plump
lips that had hypnotized her all night long. His kiss was soft, and his hands
on her hips were even softer. She held on tightly to him, feeling every inch of
his body mold to hers and his muscles tightening. She pulled away, needing some
air to think straight. “Perhaps we could take the fun to my room… My king.” She breathed to his ear,
knowing the reaction it would have in him.
Words: 11.2k Genre: Fluff & Humour, Cinderella!Au Summary: Yes. You went to the ball. Yes. You ran into the prince. Yes. The shoe fits. BUT-! You aren’t that Cinderella bitch. THEY’VE GOT THE WRONG PERSON! Warnings: Swearing…that’s really it. lol
Midnight strikes the clock.
A child is curled up at the fireplace to stay warm. The cinders crackle, dusting along her cheeks but the girl pays no mind, staring straight into the flickering flames. A few of the orphans behind her snicker beneath their hands. “Look at the new kid! She’s so dirty! We should call her Cin-”
A chunk of coal smacks the boy right in the forehead and he falls back on his butt, outright stunned. The mischievous smiles of all the other orphans fall as she holds a steaming fire iron like a sword.
“You want to fight?! Fight me like a real person instead of laughing behind my back! Huzzah!”
The children scream in terror, arms in the air as they scatter and run. A bunch of them end up toppling over each other in a heap and you laugh, swinging the device that’s used to poke the fire. The mother of the orphanage comes over in hysterics, dragging you away. “Let go of me!”
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Reader (Y/N Y/L/N)
Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Summary: Jensen forgets an important day for the Reader and he tries to come up with a good way of apologizing.
Word Count: 2k-ish
Author’s Note: Heyy guys! This is my entry for @buckysmetallicstump‘s Disney Quote Challenge. My quote is bolded! I hope you guys like this! I’m still trying to get back into the groove of writing. I’m sorry if this isn’t up to par. *hides face* feedback is always welcomed!!
Eleven missed calls.
I knew I had screwed up when her phone went straight to voicemail after the third ring. She was avoiding my calls, that much I knew. I tried racking my brain, coming up blank with reasons for the cold shoulder she was giving me.
A/N: I honestly didn’t mean to be biased but i’m so soft because i love jaehyun so much so this boyfriend! would be much longer than the rest. i love all the members but im so sorry i got carried away ㅠㅠ
Word Count: 2,349 Style/ Genre: Headcanon/ very fluffy Date Posted: 7 Sept 2017
Jack skates through the crowd of his teammates who are currently mobbing the small blonde freshman who brought pie of all things into his practice. He’s kind of intending to ask the kid what the hell he thinks he’s doing feeding these guys before they have to go run drills, anyway. Like seriously, does he want a rink full of projectile-vomiting jocks? Cuz that’s an ugly scene that he does not want to explain to the ice crew. But he’s the captain, and so when guys on his team act like morons, Jack is always the one who has to go apologize on behalf of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team.
He’s more than ready to lay into the new guy, but when the crowd parts, and new guy looks up, he smiles this nervous little smile and says,
“Hi! I’m Eric -” and then everything goes black.
Coach Bittle got into the habit of always checking the janitor’s closet on his way out of the building every night. After what happened to Junior, he ended up just sort of gravitating there. The first time he’d had the urge to check inside, he’d ignored it and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, imagining a tiny freshman, plopped on a bucket and crying their eyes out. When the custodian showed up at 5, Coach was already waiting in his truck with a cup of coffee. Now he just gives in. Figures that as far as compulsive, guilty urges go, it’s not that bad. Only takes him another minute out of his way, and now he goes home and sleeps like a baby.
Luckily, depite making it part of his nightly routine for the past few years, nobody’s actually been locked in there. Well. Locked in. There were certainly a few encounters he interrupted. Those times he was delayed more than a minute having to make uncomfortable phone calls to parents.
The first and only time that Coach Bittle rescues someone from the janitor’s closet is actually not even during the school year, and he isn’t actually checking for anyone. He’d just come in to do some paperwork for preseason and spilled coffee on his desk, and when he goes to get the actually absorbent paper towels from the closet, he finds a very large, very confused man in full hockey gear.
“AHHHH!” They both scream and jolt back, Coach stumbling and catching himself on the drinking foundtain, the large hockey man, being not so lucky and still wearing skates, sits in a mop bucket. His only solace seems to be that it’s currently empty.
“What in the sam hell!?” Coach yells, regaining his footing. Hockey man flinches and his eyes dart around like a cornered racoon.
“Where am I?” he chokes out. “What’s - what’s going on?” He looks up and meets Coach’s eyes. Coach looks down at hockey man’s jersey. Samwell Men’s Hockey. And he is not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, so it takes only a few stunned seconds to realize that this must me Junior’s soulmate. Why else would one of his teammates have been catapulted down to Georgia?
“You’re in Madison, Georgia, son. Looks like you just met your soulmate.”
“My - but I - I was at practice?” Hockey man looks up at him, and from way down there, looking so goddamn confused, he finally looks young enough to be playing with Dicky’s team.
“And now you’re here. So what does that tell you?” Coach raises an eyebrow.
“That…I…met my soulmate?”
“Sounds about right. Also sounds like you probably need to be getting on your way back, don’t it?”
“Um, yes. That would be. I should. Um. Go.”
“Might want to start with taking off the skates first.”
“Oh, I. Yes.” Hockey man awkwardly lifts his legs one by one and scrunches up to untie his laces. Coach helps him pull the skates off, and then offers a hand up out of the bucket.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Jack Zimmermann,” he introduces himself and holds his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Eric Bittle Senior,” Coach tells him, trying not to feel a little pleased when the boy’s face goes pale in recognition. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back where y’all belong.”
“But I - That’s Massachusetts.”
“I know what I said. Hussle, you’ve got another practice tomorrow mornin’ I bet.”
“Then we oughtta hope traffic’s on our side.”
Meanwhile, Bob Zimmermann nearly cuts his ear off shaving when he hears a loud thump followed by a sqeuak behind him. He turns to find a strange young man in a Samwell Men’s Hockey jersey sprawled across his bathroom floor, clutching a pecan pie to his chest.
“Chrisse!” He yells, razor clattering to the sink. He manages to catch his towel before it falls, luckily, but his yelling seems to have startled the poor kid even more. He’s shaking a little as he sets the pie down gently and sits up. The blades of his skates clink against the tile.
“I - Um - Oh dear, I am so sorry! I don’t - I don’t know what happened! I was at practice and then - I mean - I’ll just be going.”
“Non!” Bob rushes to assure the boy it’s fine, but when he steps forward, it startles him all over again. Clearing his throat, Bob steps back and switches to English. “I mean, there’s no need to apologize. I know why you’re here, I just - wasn’t expecting you at this particular moment.”
“You…were expecting me?”
“Well…not you exactly, but…the…concept? of you? Jack’s soulmate. We - His mother and I, we knew when he met them, they would show up here.”
“Oh…I…guess that makes sense?”
“I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I feel terribly underdressed.” The boy stares at him blankly until Bob cracks a smile. Then, he breaks out into loud pleals of laughter. His eyes are a warm brown and crinkle at the corners, his nose scrunches. He looks like such a happy person. Maybe happy enough that some of it will rub off on Jack.
Hockey boy stands up and shakes the hand that isn’t holding Bob’s towel up. “Eric Bittle, pleasure to meet you.”
“Bob Zimmermann, nice to meet you too.” Another good (although strange, very strange) sign: there isn’t a trace of recognition in the boy’s face at hearing the name “Bob Zimmermann”. Of course Jack’s soulmate would be the only hockey player alive who had no clue who the fuck his father is.
Eric hobbles out of the bathroom and sits against the wall in the hallway to take his skates off before making his way downstairs to the kitchen where Bob had said his wife Alicia was probably hanging out. Sure enough, when he found the (gorgeous. stunning. drool-worthy.) kitchen, there was a tall, blonde woman sitting cross-legged on one of the barstools, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other propping open a book.
“Hello,” he announces himself quietly. She’s still startled, though not nearly as much as her husband had been. When she turns and gets a look at him, she puts the coffee down and lets the pages of the book flop freely, unfolding herself from the seat.
“Hello. You must be…”
“Eric. Eric Bittle.”
“Right. And -”
“Jack’s soulmate. Yes ma’am, it would seem so.” He smiles timidly, and is most definitely not expecting to be enveloped in a hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Zimmermann.”
“Well,” Alicia steps back and puts her hands on her hips, regarding Eric with a motherly smile. “Can I get you a cup of coffee while we wait for Bob?”
Jack and Coach switch drivers every state. Coach insists that each time, they take a photo in front of the Welcome sign. Jack snaps a few pictures on his phone when he’s in the passenger seat. When it’s his turn to drive, he tries to educate Coach on the finer points of hockey and the top NCAA teams, and Coach in turn tries to explain how the hell football works.
The Zimmermanns put Eric on a plane back to Massachusetts that night with his hockey gear stuffed in a duffel and wearing the least obviously early 2000s clothes they could find in Jack’s old dresser.
“We wish we could go with you,” Alicia tells him, seeming genuinely sad to be sending him off alone.
“But Jack probably wouldn’t appreciate…intruding. He likes to keep his life at school seperate from his life back home, you know?”
“Of course, don’t worry a bit. It was so nice meeting y’all.”
When the airport shuttle leaves Eric in front of his dorm, he’s exhausted from the trip and starting to stress out about seeing Jack. His soulmate. Who he’d barely seen in the first place, only a quick impression of tall and eyes before he’d been wormholed to Montreal. He thinks he has to be seeing things when he first catches sight of his father’s old blue truck pulled up against the curb.
He shakes himself and starts for the building, but from behind him, Coach’s voice calls,
“Dicky! Er- Eric!” Eric’s head spins a little with how fast he turns around. Because there’s no way. His dad hadn’t been able to get away from preseason long enough to drive Eric up to school in the first place. There’s no way he’s - But the there’s Jack, sliding out of the passenger seat. Because Coach had driven him. All the way from Georgia. Because he’s Eric’s soulmate. Coach is hand-delivering the love of Eric’s life and he just…cannot with this day anymore.
So he focuses on the one tiny part that he can wrap his travel-weary brain around. He walks up to Jack, who’s watching him raptly, eyes darting everywhere like he’s trying to make sure he memorizes everything before he disappears again, and says,
“I don’t think we managed to introduce ourselves properly last time.”
Exo’s reaction to you flinching during an argument
hi i was hoping i could get exo’s and got7’s reactions to their s/o flinching during a fight due to a rather unpleasant past relationship?? (they thought they were gonna get hurt) (also i hope this doesn’t break the rules for requests!!)
*TRIGGER WARNING: Harmful Past relationship. Exo in no way harm you.
This was your first real argument after he came back from tour in Hong Kong and you were beginning to doubt if you could handle his absence for so long. “Minseok, I come back to an empty house, empty bed, for months. You have the boys, the fans.” Minseok subconsciously steps towards you, his voice rising momentarily before you flinch quickly. He would freeze and feel his heart break, all arguments forgotten as he cautiously opens his arms for you. You’d run into his hug immediately and feel his hands soothingly rubbing your back, kissing the side of your head. Hours would pass as you both sat down and talked it out, past and future, promising to be there for each other.
“Not all my relationships were as happy and loving as you Minseok…but I do love you”
“I would Never touch you like that. Ever.”
Junmyeon would come back to you after a very hard day of almost everything going wrong at SM. As he walked in late you jokingly complained “Junmyeon I can’t believe you made me wait longer for dinner” and he looked up at you frustrated, snapping “Look if I’m really that much of a burden, you should eat alone” before shame crashed through him at his words and your small step back. Junmyeon would immediately slowly approach you, hands up as his eyes filled, sighing in relief when you tucked your head into the crook of his neck and breathing your scent shakily in. He’d apologise in the softest voice, explaining his troublesome day but not excusing his treatment of you before you’d frame his face, showing your forgiveness.
“Junmyeon, you are not a burden. To me or anyone.”
“I’m so sorry jagi, I shouldn’t have snapped, I appreciate you completely.”
Yixing and you rarely argued as you both trusted each other’s decisions and choices however it was the last straw for you when Yixing yet again pushed himself impossibly far and fainted. You’d plead with him “Baobei, please have a break, lighten your load! I cant take watching you get weaker!” but all Yixing could think of was the expectations of all those who supported him and his own determination. He would gesture to the side emotively as he argued back watching your eyes flicker to his hand and close. Sorrow filled him at your past, rushing to gather you up against his warm chest as his familiar voice calmly soothed and comforted you. Sitting you down and brushing your tears away, he swore he would watch his health.
“I never want you to feel like that again y/n. I will always be here for you.”
Baekhyun being the cheerful, playful man he is would rarely have reason to argue with you but he can’t always be happy. It would be a day where he wakes up tired, too tired to put that warm smile on his face and you’d be aware of the sudden shift. Being 6 month into this relationship you’d be clueless on how to help, trying to make him laugh or cuddle him which would only cause him to groan “Can you just leave me alone for now.” as he began to push you aside with his long hands, making you curl into yourself. His usually bright eyes would widen at the sight and he would tentatively stroke over your back, speaking in hushed tones to relax you. He’d hold you on his lap for a long time as both of you find quiet contentment in one another.
Jongdae is the member who always looks out for the others, and tries to look after them to his best ability. Walking in on a brewing argument between Jongdae and Junmyeon, you’d quickly step forward to break it up before something was said that would escalate the situation. Jongdae would shake your hand off his broad shoulder, frustrated and trying to get across how he felt a little taken for granted before Junmyeon took him by the shoulders to turn him towards you, looking down with your shoulders shaking. Junmyeon would quietly leave as Jongdae would realise how he had taken you for granted, repeating all the things he loved about you as he held your hands, smiling that unique grin that made your heart melt.
“I’m an idiot jagya, You’re always just trying to help. Thank you.”
You hadn’t meant to delete the track. Chanyeol always let you mess around and compose your own songs on his laptop, almost communicating with each other through music. Your finger had slipped and when Chanyeol came home and found out, he groaned loudly into his hands and berated you. When you told him what track it was, he stood up fast “The title track. You deleted the title track.”. You knew he hadn’t meant to but his height, usually endearing and clumsy, was intimidating when standing so fast, reminding you of your past. Lowering your head with your hands clenched you would feel his arms envelop you; murmuring into your hair how he’d just make another, that maybe you’d like help compose it.
“Please don’t feel intimidated jagiya, Let’d have some hot chocolate, then we can start our song.”
Kyungsoo is another who wouldn’t argue often, being very self aware and introspective. However when he told you of the news of his new romantic drama and the possibility of a heated scene, you were happy for him but couldn’t help that insecurity that welled up. You’d quietly say “Please don’t… what if she’s perfect for you”.Kyungsoo would bring his large hand up to bring you into him to reassure you but seeing you back away quickly at his hand cause his face to fall, his heart to fill as he held up his hands to wait for when you were ready to be held by him. Seeing each other’s misunderstanding would bring you into a long hug, his hands smoothing down your waist gently.
“You are the only one I’d imagine. I promise you that.”
Jongin would be frustrated at how reluctant you were to go public. He would perfectly understand your cautiousness and apprehension but when he sat you down with a picnic and ask softly again you could only softly refuse. You’d feel awful but the thought of all the cameras, the invasion of privacy, you just couldn’t. Dragging his rich brown hair back in confusion, he replied sharply “It’s not about that, its about showing the world it’s you I love, in order for us to move forward!”. Hearing only his sharp tone, you’d drop your head, leaning away before his soft hands tilted your face gently up to look into his calm brown eyes, his small cheek dimple on display as he smiled reassuringly at you.
“Okay y/n we’ll do this on your time, I’ll wait with you.”
This argument happened after Sehun noticed how much you liked to hang out with his hyungs. He trusted you and them completely, he knew how much you loved him just as you knew how much he loved him. The issue was that you would tease him about being younger, being the maknae with them. So today he would snap, angrily telling you “If i’m so young, such a baby, why’re you even here. I’m 23.” You’d avoid his eyes, immediately making yourself smaller. Sehun would instantly curse himself at his temper, sitting down and coaxing you to cuddle him on the sofa. You understood where his annoyance came from and promised him he was very much someone you respected and loved.
“I mean, I admit I can be childish…but not all the time…”
“You’re the most loyal, caring and genuine man i know Sehun.”
Summary: You were on Team Cap for the fight in Germany, but it turns out you had a connection to a certain spiderling on the other side. With you in prison and then hiding Peter doesn’t know what to do.
A/N: Gets a bit angsty so be prepared. Still debating if I’ll continue this.
“Wanda, please,” You begged, pleading with the other girl as you ran up to where she was laying in Vision’s arms, ‘We need to go - now.” You were losing, badly, Wanda had collapsed, and you’d lost sight of your other teammates.
“No. We stay with the team. We will lose this battle.” Wanda replied as you helped her stand up as Vision slowly moved away.
“But-” You start, trying to protest. You’d already found an easy escape route to take.
“Steve got away.” Wanda says, cutting you off, “We completed the mission. That’s how we do things around here. We’re a team so we stick together.”
Before you could argue back you were surrounded by guards. It was too late for hiding now.
“Wanda, what should I do?” You asked, panicked as you looked around nervously. You’d never seen someone point a gun at someone else before, let alone at you.
“We surrender.” She replied, pulling herself to her feet shakily, placing her hands on her head.
You glanced around again, scanning the rest of the airport, hoping for someone else from your team to help you out. You looked around only to see all of the others already in handcuffs being shoved into a heavily armed truck.
You made eye contact with Clint for a fleeting moment. You could tell that this man, the man who had asked you to come fight this war could see the fear in your eyes and all you could see in his own eyes was regret.
You reluctantly placed your hands on your head and allowed them to restrain you before throwing you into the truck with the others, each of you in your own personal cage.
Despite your insistence that you would come willingly you were forced onto a cot and strapped down. At times you could hear the others so you knew that they were in cells close by. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.
“-Tony Stark.” You hear Clint say loudly, and judging by the bitterness in his tone the man himself was actually here, “You better watch your back on this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it.” You heard as you forced yourself out of the daze you’d been in.
“How dare you-”
“Are you kidding me, Tony? They’re kids and you’re treating them like animals.” Clint replies angrily, his paternal instincts coming out as he argues about the two teen girls.
“With no suit, wings or arrows, you’re nothing.” Tony says, “Those girls are fully armed and dangerous.”
“Mr. Stark?” You called out straining to lift your head off the cot with your arms still chained down, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who was responsible for you being here, “Huge honor by the way, is there any chance of you letting us go? Because I have a massive Physics test on Wednesday and my teacher is going to kill me if I don’t show up.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” He taunts as you see him saunter over.
“Oh come on, I know you’re reading my file on that watch of yours.” You reply, rolling your eyes, “(Y/N) (L/N), Midtown School of Science and Technology, Sophomore, honor roll, super speed. It’s all there.”
“Along with a series of behavior reports from your foster parents,” Tony Stark adds.
“See? I may be chained down but I’m not an idiot.” You reply with a slight smirk, “If you’re not going to let us go, can you tell Parker that I’m going to miss the robotics competition?”
“Parker-how do you know about him?” He asks quickly, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and surprise causing you to grin, glad that you have his attention.
“Don’t worry, I just snuck a peek under the mask during the fight, his voice sounded familiar.” You explain, “We’re friends, we go to school together -I’d be surprised if he didn’t figure out who I am too- but that’s not the point, the point is that I’m on the drive team for robotics so they need to find somebody to replace me.” You told him, thinking of the scrappy geek of a friend that with no doubt was back at school already and hopefully wondering where you were.
But Tony Stark was already walking away and you let your head fall back onto the cot, “Well, fuck you,” You muttered, realizing that no one would even know where you were.
“She’s where?!” Peter practically yelled into his phone, confused and angry, “Doesn’t she have to get a trial or something?”
“They’re considering them weapons of mass destruction. Those don’t get trials.” Tony’s detached voice told him.
“But she’s just a kid!” Peter protested.
“And so are you, but you two have abilities, those abilities make you different and hold you to a higher level of responsibility, you accepted that responsibility and so has (Y/N), now she has to face those consequences.” Tony explained.
“But-” Peter started to say before getting cut off.
“This wasn’t a game Peter, this was an all out war, and it makes her a criminal, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about it.” Tony said before hanging up, leaving Peter dumbfounded, confused, and just generally unsure of what to do. How could he help her? It so painful to think of (Y/N) being held in some sort of insane prison when there were actual criminals being allowed to run free. Not to mention the fact that Peter had been developing a bit of a crush on you, he felt like he had to save her.
You were restless, all of the pent up energy you had meant that you couldn’t sleep or even think clearly. You didn’t realize you were being broken out until the cuffs around your wrists and legs that you’d grown so accustomed to were suddenly opened.
Before you could mentally respond your body was sitting up right, “Oh thank god,” I cried as you launched yourself out of the door to your cell and into the open where you wrapped your arms around Steve, enveloping him in a tight hug before running to Wanda’s side, helping her out of her own cell and the straightjacket they’d put her in.
Minutes later you were sitting in the Quinjet with the rest of the team, Wanda was sitting quietly next to you (she still hadn’t said anything to anyone so you were just waiting it out), Clint was standing a ways away talking on a burner phone to his wife and kids, Scott was sleeping on a row of seats, and Sam was up front with Steve and Bucky.
“What do you mean they broke out? What’s going to happen to her? Is she going to be safe?” Peter asked, each question rapidly succeeding the other as he stood with Tony outside of Rhodey’s rehabilitation center.
“We’re not sure where they are or how exactly they got out, but she’s with Cap so she’s safe. Steve mentioned her specifically in his letter with specific hopes that you would know that she was okay.” Tony told the young man.
“What should I do? What can I do?” Peter asked, looking to his mentor for advice.
Tony sighed, unsure of what to say, “For now? Replace her on the robotics team, I’ll see if I can’t find a way for her to get back.”
You were wandering T’Challa’s mansion (it was the only place you were allowed to go freely since you and the rest of the team were still wanted criminals and with your powers you couldn’t handle sitting still for more than an hour) when you came across Steve.
“Captain Rogers,” You greeted him, “I really appreciate the whole breaking me out of maximum security prison thing, but when do I get to go home?” You asked. You obviously didn’t want to go back to The Raft, but you were feeling really cooped up and just wanted to get back to some semblance of your old life.
“(Y/N)…You can’t, they’re looking for you, for all of us. If you go back they’ll find you and throw you back in prison.” Steve told you.
“I have a life, school, friends back in Queens. What will they think if I just disappear like this?” You asked, surely people were still confused as to where you had disappeared to.
“We got some intel on that, when you were arrested they told your foster parents and school you were arrested on drug charges.” Steve told you, giving you that look of pity that people who felt bad about your situation always gave you.
“So no one cares that I’m gone.” You replied with sigh, you’d only been at this last home a few months, of course they wouldn’t care to look into what happened to you, you were just another troubled kid to them.
“I’m so sorry (Y/N), with your record it seems like everyone accepted it would happen. I know it’s not fair. Considering the fact that you know that spiderman kid, there’s no way you can go back to your old life and pretend none of this happened.” He said before pulling you into an awkward hug before walking away.
You knew Steve was right, you’re not stupid. But it didn’t change the fact that you were standing in Wacanda with no hope of freedom. Would you ever see Peter again?
Being the Sheriff’s kid, there was a lot of stuff Kevin Keller could do. One of which was get himself and his group access to the gay nightclub “Innuendo” for the night of his eighteenth birthday. You had never been to a club before and although you weren’t a fan of crowded public places, you had always wanted to check out a club. Your parents would’ve never allowed you to go, which is why you didn’t tell them you were going and were eternally thankful when they announced they were leaving on Friday morning to go on a couple’s retreat, giving you the place to yourself for the whole weekend. Your best friend Jughead on the other hand had never wanted to check a club out and seemed to have planned to spend his entire life away from crowded public places. Nevertheless he came after you begged him for days to join you. In the beginning, the two of you were just hanging out at the bar talking to each other. Then the bartender snapped at you to either order a drink or leave the bar. The two of you complied, not wanting to give up your seats. One drink led to two. Which lead to three. Then four. After that, everything was a blur.
The bright light peering through the blinds was just one of the many things that woke you up in the morning. Combined with the pounding headache, your aching limbs, and the ringing in your ears, you felt horrible.
You opened your eyes and groaned as the light nearly blinded you. The only thing you noticed was that you were in your room.
Good you thought. At least things didn’t get too crazy last night. Probably just had too much to drink.
You fumbled blindly for your phone on the stand next your bed before your fingers came into contact with a cool screen. You forced your eyes to open again as you attempted to read the messages that had come in. A second later, you felt the full extent of your hangover hit you and you swallowed down the bile that threatened to come up.
God. How drunk wasI last night?
You forced yourself to look at your phone and tried to read through the messages again.
You got crazy last night! Hope you had fun with Juggie! ;) -Ronnie
Wow, Y/N, I didn’t know you had it in you! -Betty
I told you you and Jughead were endgame! -Kevin
Do you know where Jughead is? He hasn’t responded to my texts. -Archie
You frowned and pulled your covers back, sitting on the edge of the bed, still looking at your phone. It was then that you noticed you were completely naked and your cheeks became bright red as you held your sheets up to your chest.
What had happened last night between you and your best friend?
You froze as you felt movement from the other half of your bed.
Did you dare turn around?
You turned your head slowly and you eyes widened when you saw the all too familiar black hair splayed on the pillow next to yours. You didn’t have to be a genius to know who it was.
He was on his side, his bare back facing you, his body slowly moving up and down with each breath he took. You panicked.
“Jughead! Jughead!” you exclaimed.
Jughead jerked awake immediately and fell off the bed with a thud. You quickly got up, holding the sheets around you.
“Jughead?” you asked, quieter this time.
A groan sounded from the floor as Jughead pulled himself up.
“Y/N?” he said groggily as he stood up all the way, still half-asleep.
Your eyes widened and you quickly turned around once you saw he was naked as well.
“Juggie, you’re naked.” you quickly said, cheeks reddening.
Jughead was now wide awake as he looked for something to cover his lower region. He quickly settled for the pillow he slept on, now on the floor.
“Uh, okay, you can turn around.” he stuttered.
You turned around and the two of you gave each looks that said, “What the hell happened last night?”
“Okay, don’t panic,” you said. “Jug, what’s the last thing you remember?”
Jughead racked through his brain trying to find something that stood out. He looked up at you.
“I don’t know, we had three or four drinks and then after that it’s all fuzzy. What do you remember?” he asked.
You were about to answer when you ran a hand through your hair and winced as it got caught on something. Your pulled your hand away slowly and you eyes nearly popped out of your skull when you saw you were wearing a wedding ring and plastic engagement ring. You looked up at your best friend who looked like he was going to pass out. You then realized he had on a wedding ring too. Jughead followed your gaze and turned as white as a sheet when he saw the metal on his finger.
“What. Happened. Last. Night?” he asked.
You looked down at your phone on the bedside stand and got an idea.
“Just—Just look through the photos and videos on your phone. I’ll look through mine. Maybe they can tell us what happened,” you said. “But first… Let’s put some clothes on.”
After the two of you got over your initial shock and gathered up your clothes, you could focus on your hangovers which had dissipated a little after the both of you threw up three times each. You had just heard Jughead spit out his mouthwash when he emerged from your bathroom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Okay,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, pulling his phone out from his pocket.
“Let’s see what went down last night.”
The two of you went through your photos and videos. Unfortunately there weren’t a lot, just some blurry photos of you and Jughead at the bar and some of you dancing. Then you found a video.
“Hey,” you said, getting Jughead’s attention. “Check this out.”
You played the video and were greeted by the view of a wood floor.
“Is it recording?”
“Juggie, I know how to use my phone! Wait, let me turn it around.”
The camera flipped so it was facing you and Jughead. Anyone could see that the two of you were very obviously plastered. Based on the background of the video, the two of you were at the town hall.
“We’re married!” you said as you and Jughead held up your hands, revealing your rings.
“I want to thank the lovely judge who married us, I can’t remember her name but she was really nice! Oh, and to the town hall who gave us these wedding rings!” you said loudly.
You winced at drunk you’s loud voice.
Video Jughead looked at your ring and frowned.
“You know the diamond in your engagement ring is fake right? It’s plastic. I found it in the cereal box we bought earlier.”
Video Y/N shrugged.
“I don’t care. I’ll always love you no matter what.” you said.
“I love you too.” Jughead said before the two of you kissed, the video cutting out.
You slowly put your phone down and silence enveloped the air.
Why didn’t you feel upset? You were still in high school for God’s sake! You had a whole life ahead of you!
“How… How do you feel about all this?” he asked.
“Honestly… I’ve had worse.” you said, letting out a breathless chuckle.
“Yeah, same.” he said.
The two of you were quiet again. You decided to take a chance.
“You know, what I said in the video…” you began. “That was true. That wasn’t the alcohol talking. It was all me.”
You didn’t know why you were unleashing all of this on him now. The two of you were already overwhelmed with so many thoughts and feelings.
Well… One more wouldn’t exactly hurt now, would it?
“Really?” he asked.
You smiled and nodded, shyly looking down.
“I feel the same,” he said quietly and you turned to look at him.
Jughead chuckled again.
“Kind of wild, huh? Best friends for six years and then straight to marriage. We never got to do cheesy confessions of love and the dating in between.” he said.
You decided to be bold.
“We could do it now,” you said. Jughead looked at you. “The dating. I mean… we have the rest of our lives right? Til death do us part?”
A smile grew on Jughead’s face.
“Til death do us part.” he agreed and held your hand linking your fingers together.
So maybe everything was moving a little too fast. Maybe you and Jughead were pretty young. Maybe your engagement ring was a plastic toy found from a cereal box the two of you had bought at four in the morning to satisfy your drunk cravings. But as long as you and Jughead were together, nothing could stop you.
A/N: Holy SHIT, this took me five hours. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Send me feedback! The huge mashup one will be posted later tonight!
Summary: US Army Capt Steve Rogers has never had a family of his own, but after receiving a random card while on deployment - he suddenly feels like he has one. Sometimes home can be a place, sometimes it can be a person, and sometimes it’s a place you’ve never been. A story of love, family, and home.
*based on the movie The Christmas Card*
You sit at the counter of Maria’s Diner, munching some fries as you thought about what to write. After seeing a special on the war, you went to your father, an Army veteran, and asked how you could help. He had told you that what soldiers wanted most was a taste of home. That is what they missed and craved most, they wanted normalcy. So after finding out through a local service group that you could send something to a random soldier you signed up and a week later you had an address.
“Writing a love note Y/n?” You look up to see Maria standing in front of you leaning on the counter. You snort at her and roll your eyes.
“No, you know there isn’t a man in this town I would date. I know them all too well. This is for a soldier. I just want to brighten someone’s day. Problem is, I don’t know what to write.” You look down at the blank card furrowing your brows.
Maria let out a hum, “Write it as if you were writing to a friend. That’s what these soldier’s want right? Something not so military.”
You laugh at her scrunched up nose as she said the word military. You smooth down the open notecard and began writing, when you had finished you placed a selfie of you and your parents in front of your parent’s farmhouse inside and sealed the envelope before asking whoever was listening that this card brings someone comfort.
US Army Capt Steve Rogers had been deployed for 6 months when a random card was found in his bunk after a mail call. This was far from normal, Steve never got mail. His best friend however, Bucky, a handsome dark haired Sargent, always received goodie boxes from his wife Natasha. Steve on the other hand didn’t have a family. Both his parents had died when he was young, he entered the military as soon as he was able. The Army had been his family for most of his life. So when he saw the small cream envelope he was shocked. Dropping his gear careless on the floor beside him he picked up the small envelope and inspected it carefully. Opening the envelope like it was made of glass, he pulled out the card allowing your photo to fall on his lap, while he began reading your words.
Request: a fic where the reader is like 16/17 but lies to get casted in a movie and everyone thinks shes 18/older and bill falls for her? But he doesnt know. And like she acts very cold towards him but he finds her upset and she spills and he says he still loves her and its super cute?
WARNINGS: underage drinking
Word Count: 1.4k
sorry ahead of time for any spelling/grammar mistakes
You were never supposed to actually get the part. With only a few commercials under your belt, who the hell would have thought you would land a role in a major film? You certainly didn’t. You only went to the audition because your best friend convinced you to. For the exposure, she said. So you lied and said you were 21 instead of 17, went to the audition, and actually got the part.
You were so excited to hear that you had been casted that you didn’t realize the weight of the situation until after you hang up the phone. Immediately, you dialed your best friend. This was all her doing, anyways.
“Imagine being the Jokers daughter. Because of him, you have power and money but it all comes with a price. You don’t want to be evil like your father. The only chance you have is to team up with Jokers biggest adversary, the Batman.”
Requested by @jokerhastakenmeover, “YN is Jokers daughter and Joker makes her work with him, she can be more scary or intimidating than him, but her and batman speak whenever they can to try and figure out how she can get Joker in prison and work with Batman because she doesn’t want to be evil, they get a plan”
A/n: I really wanted to explore this further so I decided to make this a series~ I hope you guys like this, I’m really enjoying it so far.
It was an ordinary night for the daughter of the Joker. You were leaning against the counter of bar, drink in hand as your eyes moved over the people grinding against each other on the dance floor. You watched as a woman walked up to a seemingly random, but rich judging by his watch, guy who had been dancing with a different girl. She told him her name and once they were passed introductions, she wasted no time shoving her tongue down the mans throat. You rolled your eyes at the sight, some people just didn’t have any class. You swirled the contents of your glass around as you looked away for the gold digger.
@mary-waitforit-lou: Maybe a From Hate to Love au, at first they can’t stand each other and then…
I asked for prompts a few days back and immediately felt the need to write this one. It’s a classical trope that I feel can be quite interesting. I received a couple of other ideas, that are already in store - some are meant to go later into my existing works. Thank you for inspiring me!
Scalpel & Needle (Part I)
“I’d be bloody thankful if you didn’t come into
my OR like some kind of unwanted saviour and start to order me around!” Claire
snarled, ripping off her surgical cap, her curls exploding in the air after
sudden liberation, her hair bobble tearing with an audible “pop!”. “I didn’t ask for your help!”
“The patient was crashing.” Jamie tried to
explain, remaining eerily calm in spite of the angry woman facing him, looking
like a rattlesnake ready to pounce. “Ye couldna possibly deal with all those
bleeders. I thought a second pair of hands…”
“I already had a second surgeon!” She hissed,
pointing at the frightened young resident who had sought refuge against the
wall, clearly wishing to be swallowed by it – and away from the two galvanized
surgeons. “I was in control, using the technique I prefer! But you decided to
come and show off, like some goddam star!”
“I was only trying to help, lass.” He grunted,
gripping his fists. His blue eyes were dark and dangerous, tumultuous seas
waiting for ships to wreck on their waves. “It seems to me ye have a bit of a
problem admitting when ye need help and it’s perfectly…”
“Oh, you bastard!” Claire roared, advancing to
face him – even though he had the clear advantage of his imposing height.
“Don’t you dare call me “lass”, as
you do to the young nurses, melting them away to do your biding. Stop pretending
you know the first thing about me! You just want to please the board, so
they’ll give you the most challenging cases!”
“I couldna care less about the board, Doctor Beauchamp.” Jamie said through
clenched teeth. “Ye should be thanking me that the patient isna heading to the
morgue - instead ye’re yelling at me like a mad banshee, because I wounded yer
Claire’s cheeks were throbbing with heat, her
chest constricted with a fury she couldn’t even begin to understand. She raised
her index finger and poked him on the chest, wielding it like a dangerous
dagger. “Stay the hell away from me and my OR, Fraser. I mean it!”
bas! Fine!” He roared, raising his hands in exasperation. “I won’t meddle
again, as much as I think ye might need it. Ye blind woman, stubborn as a
mule…” And he reverted to clipped Gaidhlig,
grumbling in a low voice as he strode down the hallway.
“Claire!” She heard the voice of her friend, Geillis
Duncan, gaping at her with her mouth noticeably ajar. Claire was panting, her
vision almost blurred from anger, as she contemplated James Fraser retreating
with a cold satisfaction. “What’s this ruckus all about? Is something amiss?”
“Just my esteemed
colleague, James Fraser, being an insufferable prick.” She glared at the other
people surrounding her, frozen in contemplation of the spectacle, silently warning
them to return to their own business. “I really don’t know how someone can be
as egocentric, misogynistic, smug…”
“Well, don’t hold anything back, darling.”
Geillis laughed, gently pushing her by the arm to a nearby resting room. “Yer
feud with the man is becoming legendary. There’s probably people placing money
to bet on yer next fight.”
“Someone has to show him he’s not even half as
impressive as he fancies himself to be.” Claire puffed, filling a glass with
cold water from the machine in the corner and drinking it down.
“Most people think him charming, Claire.” The
nurse pointed, sitting on the small couch – a myriad of unidentifiable stains
garnishing the old fabric. “A verra capable surgeon, kind and concerned with
his patients, humble but with a sharp mind, and a brilliant sense of humour.”
“Damn Geillis, don’t you hold anything back either.” She rolled her eyes in disbelief.
“One would think you very enthralled by the man.”
“Everyone – well, every lass and probably John
Grey too – kind of is.” The redheaded girl gave her a mischievous smile. “That
is one hell of a ginger fox, Claire. How can ye not want to ride that…”
“That’s quite enough, thank you!” Claire hawked
and tried to tame down her revolting hair with her fingertips. “I happen to be
immune to whatever spell he has been casting around here.”
“I just don’t understand why ye hate him so
much.” The nurse looked at her with studying eyes, slightly biting her index
finger, her nails a gaudy shade of pink. “Are you trying to conceal the fact
that ye actually find him attractive?” She said in a soft voice. “I know that
after Frank it’s hard for ye to…”
“Don’t.” Claire said in a serious voice, the
shadow of a smile gone from her face. “Don’t say that. This has nothing to do
with Frank. I just don’t see what you see, that’s all.”
“Alright, I’ll let the subject go – for now.”
Geillis stretched herself like a cat and grinned, preparing to resume her work.
“Drinks tonight at Leoch’s?”
“Sure.” Claire nodded absentmindedly, already
studying her next patient’s chart. “I’ll meet you there after I finish my
“Behave until then, ye hear me!” She warned
Claire, leaving her alone to face another surgery.
Claire opened her locker, blood pulsing rapid
inside her vessels, so much so she felt the tidal waves of blood on her
temples. Like she had foresaw, a lonely envelope was there, a bit crumpled
after being pushed through the small gap. With shaking hands and a smile of
anticipation, she opened it.
“It has come to my
attention that you had a rough day. I’m sorry to hear it. I thought I would
make it a little better – but this time I’m borrowing the words of a wiser man.
«My struggle is harsh
and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth,
But when your laughter
enters it rises to the sky seeking me
And it opens for me
all the doors of life.»
I hope to see it again
soon. I shall miss your laughter every second you hide it away.
With l Yours,
It had started six months before. On a day when
night had forgotten to go away, leaving everything immersed in shadows, rain
pounding over the roof like a furious fist banging.
She had lost a patient that day. She recalled
it vividly, because it had been the first since she had moved to Edinburgh. Not
only that – it had been a young woman, with the same hopes and dreams that she
had, heart broken into a million pieces but still hopeful. Losing her had been
like losing a piece of herself, an entire world shattered away under the lights
of the OR.
Claire accepted the sympathetic words of her
colleagues, the gentle hands that touched her back, assuring her that not every
battle was meant to be won. But she had lost – so brutally, so completely, so painfully. She walked to the locker room and
bolted the door, allowed herself to cry on the floor, to sob until her heart
had melted and gone away.
When she opened her locker to retrieve her
things at the end of her shift, she had found a sketch there, pencil on paper
like the tears on her cheeks. Someone drew a hand – elegant fingers with a thin
wrist, which eerily reminded her of her own – holding a scalpel. And touching
her palm underneath it, as if the fragile scalpel had been too heavy to hold on
her own, a second hand helped her to hold it. The touching image – it had
brought tears to Claire’s eyes – had been signed in a crooked handwriting. “Scalpel”.
The drawing had been on her nightstand since
that day, a reminder that someone out there truly understood – knew – the loneliness of her work, the
hardships she endured and how much she needed a presence to hold her when her
strength failed her.
The second gift came a week after that – a pressed
blue flower, perfectly preserved, clearly saved for quite some time between the
pages of a book. Claire inhaled it, hungry for the perfume and words still
trapped in it. A short note came with it – “Will
you make a home for it with you? Scalpel”.
After a few weeks – time in which she had
received poems, caricatures and photos of landscapes – she decided that her
secret friend – for the mysterious person clearly meant to forge a relationship
with her through those small tokens – deserved an answer.
She had scribbled it at home, sitting at her
desk – the pressed flower next to her, on top of an organized pile of paper –
and left it lodged on the door of her locker, where he’d certainly find it.
I’m not sure why you
think me deserving of such kind attentions, but I have to say you seem to read
my mind! Not only I find everything you give me fascinating, but you seem to
guess when I’ll need it the most. If someone ever told me I’d have a secret
correspondent, I’d laugh and swear them insane. But in truth I find great
solace in you and cherish every thought you spare me. Thank you for being a true
friend – the more selfless kind.
P.S. – Of course you
know my real name, but it seems only fair that the both of us would have secret
code names. I’ve been told to be sharp as one - and equally resourceful.”
their correspondence became two-sided. A week hadn’t gone by without a sign
from him and Claire realized they were incredibly close – intimate, even. She
had tried to suggest for them to meet and talk in the cafeteria – at least for
him to reveal his name, so she could put a face on the person that meant so
much to her. His answer had been concise and clear: “One day I’ll tell you everything. But not yet.”
Claire placed the note on her pocket, where her
fingers could brush it – touching it, savouring it through the next hours. She
headed for the pub to meet Geillis – blissfully unaware of Scalpel’s existence - wondering how one could be enamoured with a man
made only of words on paper.
“Who am I?” You repeat, stunned, “Honey, I’m your wife, Y/N. You remember me, I should say us, I mean.” You say placing a hand on your stomach,
“I’m married?” Harry asks confused.
“Yes, we got married two years ago. Back in your hometown in the small chapel.” You explain.
“No, no I’m not married.” Harry states. “I’m I’m…” He trails off trying to remember how old he is.
As Harry thinks, trying to remember his age, the doctor walks in, and pulls you aside.
“Hi Mrs. Styles, I am Doctor Carter, I’m a neurologist. Harry has experienced a concussion from the accident because of the force of inertia.” The doctor explains.
“Will, will he be okay?” You ask nervously, picking at your already peeling nail polish.
“He should be fine. It may take a bit for him to remember things, but he should be fine. In order for proper recovery, he should wear sunglasses most of the time, not think too much or too hard, and not look at a computer or phone screen.”
As the doctor explains what you should do when you bring Harry home to make sure he recovers properly, you can’t help but to focus your attention and vision on Harry. You’re husband, who you’ve been married to for two years and dated close to seven years before that didn’t remember you, or you expecting child. But, you try to convince yourself that with proper recovery, he will be back to his old self, and back to your perfect life you both had before.
When you put Harry into the car, you make sure that you take his phone, and put sunglasses on him. After a quick car ride, due to little to no traffic, you set Harry down on the couch, and let him rest for a bit.
“Do you need anything, Harry? A water, a blanket?” Harry doesn’t seem to notice you, or the fact that you brought him home since he slept most of the ride, and is startled at your unexpected presence.
“Who are you? Why do you keep following me?” He yells, standing up, backing away from you.
“Harry, you need to relax. It’s Y/N, your wife. Okay, baby, now I’m going to need you to sit down.”
“I’m not married, and I don’t know who you are. You need to leave me alone.” Harry demands.
“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone.” You say calmly.
“Thank you.” Harry breathes out, sitting back down on the couch, and closes his eyes.
You walk towards the door, open and close it, never leaving the house. Harry does not flinch at the door opening or closing, signaling that he is fast asleep.
You decide for the next few weeks, that instead of you taking care of Harry, that a nurse comes, so Harry is not frightened that a random girl the his house taking care of him. For the past few weeks you stayed with a friend, who made sure you were taking care of yourself and the baby in your current situation. After a few weeks, you came back to the house, to find Harry sitting on the cough, writing.
You walk over to the couch, hesitant and ask, “Hi Harry, how are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling good. How are you, Y/N?” And you look at him with a smile as he remembers your name.
“I’m doing well because you are doing well. I’m so happy.’’ You say smiling so big.
“I’m glad you’re here Y/N.” Harry says turning to you. “Since I have been home for a few weeks, and have had no distractions, I have been thinking.”
“But you’re not supposed to be thinking too hard Harry. You’re still recovering.” You say cautiously.
“I know, but I couldn’t help it. Can you promise me something? That you won’t be upset.” Harry asks.
“Of course, Harry. Why would I be upset?” You ask, now feeling nervous, as Harry looks nervous.
“I want a divorce.”
You look at Harry with absolute disbelief.
“A divorce?” You ask, hoping that you heard him wrong.
“Yes.” Harry states.
You look at Harry trying to read his expression, but you can’t tell anything. But, there is no emotion on his face.
“But Harry, we have been married for two years, we are expecting our first child together. What did I do wrong? Is there anything-“ you ask nervously, but Harry cuts you off.
“You did nothing wrong. It’s just, I’m 25, and married. I’m too young to be married, or to have a kid. I have a career that I didn’t think about, that I had put on hold for…”
“For your family.” You say, finishing his statement.
“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Harry apologized trying to reach out for your hand.
“No Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that your wife and daughter are such a burden, and that we are holding you back.” You spit out.
“I will leave.” Harry says getting up. Harry walks into the other room, calling a friend to stay with for the next few days, and grabbing a bag of clothes.
And then you watch him walk out the door. You think it’s just a fight you two had, and that it will pass, and that he will be back. Harry always comes back. He promised you and you’re little girl that he would never leave. But as a few days pass, you hear nothing from Harry.
When you thought you lost all hope, you hear a knock on the front door.
“Come home Harry, come home.” You whisper to yourself as you walk to the door.
But, when you open the door, you see a woman in a black pants suit, hand out an envelope with a face of pity looking down at your now six month pregnant stomach.
You thank her, and close the door. You walk into your kitchen and sit at the table, and open the large envelope, and read.
And realization finally hits you, you are really getting divorced.
A/N:Thank you so much for reading!! Do you guys want a part three? There could be two things that happen, Y/N and Harry get back together because he remembers everything again, or something else. Tell me what you guys think!
honestly all of my childhood hero kristi yamaguchi’s (as scott hamilton would say: “fall down, get up, and smile like kristi yamaguchi), but i’m gonna list her 1992 winning olympic freeskate because it’s a fandango and who doesn’t love that??
i’m gonna be honest with you: i actually tend to find women’s singles boring. there’s too much of the same thing, too much influence from the likes of michelle kwan and sasha cohen: the judges like tiny bendy girls, instead of girls who may actually be the better skaters. that’s why i’m really excited about elizaveta tuktamysheva, who is just super weird and spunky, and this free program of hers in particular, “sandstorm”
they may not jump, but these days, ice dancers are the best skaters in the world. that wasn’t always the case - they used to be really good at posing and not much else. the team who did the most to see that changed that is shae-lynn bourne and victor kraatz, who were often too ahead of their time to ever get the medal recognition they deserved. they did, however, give us one of the most famous figure skating programs of all time: their iconic riverdance free dance
torvill & dean are probably the team that started the change, and their “bolero” is still famous
johnny weir: “poker face” (OBVIOUSLY… what an ICON), “creep” (this is new, and so beautiful), “i put a spell on you” (NERD; also like basically every us figure skater of the last 20 years is in this program?)
brian orser and josee chouinard: “brian’s hat” (honestly just so charming… also, somewhere in my stepmother’s house there is a newspaper clipping with a picture of me sitting on brian orser’s lap, taken the same night i first saw this performed)
and i will leave you with this, the most important program of all time, performed by evgeni plushenko:
Request from @isabellsantiago:
I don’t know if you are still taking requests but i’ll try. My request is a Peter Pan x reader when she is the daughter of Hades bu she is good, very powerful, and she lives in Storybrooke and when the group (including her) needs Pan because of a new threat they hate each other at first but she starts falling in love with him and Pan act like he doesn’t like her back until she gets really injured to protect him and he saves her life with the true love kiss. Please consider my request :)
Note: I had so much fun with this one so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
Peter Pan x Reader
Warnings: Violence, blood, angst (but then some fluff so don’t worry lol!)
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine.All credit goes to their creators <3
we like it or not we need his help.”
You weren’t saying anything as you stood inside
Granny’s Diner with the heroes of Storybrooke; you despised the fact that you
were even having this conversation. Although you had never met the person they
were speaking about you knew all too well how devious and manipulative he
was…..hardly sounded like someone you wanted to ask to help.
He had already managed to get out of your father’s
grips….out of the hands of Death himself.
You may not have followed in the footsteps of Hades,
having chosen to go down the good path, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t
care for him. He was still your father and the fact that someone had managed to
get the better of him infuriated you.
“[y/n] are you okay with the plan?”
Regina’s voice pulled you out of the daze you had
unknowingly gone into but the frown upon your face didn’t change as you
“I guess I’m gonna have to be. It’s either that or I
lose my magic.”
This was all down to Rumpelstiltskin, your father
should have destroyed him when he’d had the chance, at least then you wouldn’t
have to be turning to a demon of a boy. The former Dark One was determined to
rid this realm of magic entirely, aside from his own, meaning that he would be
unstoppable and would have control over everyone here.