#I’m convinced that people wouldn’t be half so hard on him if he weren’t going into the clergy

[razzmatash]

Only One Day 9 - Christmas Market Love and Deepspace Sylus x f!OC 1580 words Read on Ao3 banner by firefly-graphics

Exhaling slowly, Sylus looked over the crowd filling the area. This was...not his idea of a nice afternoon. His hand unconsciously tightened on Calliope’s as he tried to figure out the best way to get through this.

“We can come back another time,” she murmured, picking up on his mood immediately.

“And have your sister bitch about me more?” He honestly didn’t care what Carrow thought, they’d been at odds for far longer than the Hunter could even imagine, but he didn’t like the thought of Calliope having to suffer because of it. He knew she didn’t tell him half of the shit her twin complained about and he wasn’t going to willingly add to it.

“She doesn’t do it as often anymore,” Calliope said quietly, leading him off to the side so they weren’t blocking the flow of foot traffic.

She still did it. He wondered if she was still trying to convince Calliope to leave him. She’d been less than enthused when the news had broken that they were doing more than just resonating and he still had the flurry of texts the Hunter had sent him in response. He hadn’t taken any of them seriously because he knew that no matter how much Carrow wanted to hurt him, she wasn’t going to willingly hurt her sister.

Calliope popped up on her toes and he obligingly leaned down to meet her. The kiss was quick and sweet with a hint of the sugar cookie she’d had earlier. “Tell me if you want to leave,” she said honestly, holding his gaze as she dropped back down. “I know this is a lot for you and I appreciate that you agreed to come with. But I want to know if it’s too much.”

Smiling, Sylus stroked the back of his fingers over her rosy cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m serious.”

He knew that. But he wasn’t going to be the reason they called this off early. He would endure the market and her sister because he was still spending time with her. Lifting their entwined hands, he kissed the back of hers and smiled again. “Let’s find her before she gets mad.”

Calliope huffed out a laugh. “I know where they are,” she said dryly. “Zayne found the macaron booth.”

It was a wonder the man still had any teeth with the amount of sweets he consumed. Sylus kept his mouth shut as she kept a firm grip on his hand and led him into the market. Even though they were in Linkon City and no one was likely to recognize him, his body tensed at how many people were around them. It would be so easy for someone to hide in the crowd. What’s more, he stood out so easily that it wouldn’t be hard to make a move against him. While he knew how it would end, he didn’t like the thought of putting Calliope in harm’s way if he didn’t have to.

He pushed out a breath as her thumb stroked against his hand, trying to soothe him as best she could. The effort was appreciated but it would take a lot more than that to really help him. Maybe he could convince her to tuck into a quiet place with him afterwards, just the pair of them. Have an early dinner before he had to leave town again.

Although, it was highly likely that her sister would also want to do something with her.

“There they are,” Calliope said. “Right where I said they’d be.”

His gaze skipped over the booths, seeing her twin and the good doctor standing in front of a colourful display with boxes already in their hands. “How many do you think they’ve bought?”

“He’d get them all if Carrow wouldn’t bitch about it,” she muttered.

He smirked as her sister turned to them, almost like she’d heard her name. Her face lit up for a moment before a faint scowl marred her expression as she locked on him. “Hunter,” he said as they came up to the booth. He looked it over before going back to keeping his attention on the people.

“Skye. I didn’t think you’d make it.”

His brow twitched at the name but he didn’t react beyond that.

“Can you not antagonize him the moment we get here?” Calliope growled. “We can leave if you don’t want us here.”

“I want you here.”

“Well, he comes with me so stop it.”

Sylus smiled to himself and gently squeezed her hand. She didn’t have to fight his battles but it amused him that she immediately leapt to his defence, no matter who was on the other side. He didn’t need to look to know that Carrow was trying not to seethe and rein in her own dislike. His disinterest probably wasn’t helping matters either.

“Carrow, did you want anything else?”

Calliope leaned into him a little as Carrow was distracted by Zayne and he looked down at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.” It would take a lot more than some barbed words to get him to leave and if he did, he was taking her with him.

She gave him a little smile before looking around. “Do you see anything you want to look at?”

Here? The market was full of small businesses and artisans. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t find something interesting but it wasn’t his usual scene. “Do you?” he countered.

“There are a few cider booths that Carrow wanted to look at.”

Sylus flicked a look at Zayne at the comment. How long had they been here that they’d already scoped out the place? And cider? They all knew that Calliope didn’t drink so would it really be that interesting for her?

“Lead on.”

Carrow watched both of them for a moment before she followed Zayne as he started into the crowd.

Leaning down, he murmured, “Only one.”

Dark blue eyes looked at him and he didn’t miss the huffy pout on her face. “It’s just cider.”

“One.”

“They’re small samples.”

“Do you want me to have to carry you out of here? Because I will.”

Her nose wrinkled. “One,” she mumbled in agreement.

He smiled and didn’t let go of her as she started off after the other pair. While he enjoyed how giggly and flirty she got while she drank, he knew she didn’t like that it only took one glass to get her there. He might be comfortable with her having one while they were in the comfort of one of their homes, but he knew it happening here was not going to go over well.

But he still looked over the booth with interest, curious to see if there was anything worthwhile.

“This is our featured cider for the month,” one of the vendors said, showing a bottle to the other couple. “It’s a rose cider with a blend of apples and berries. It pairs well with most meals.”

Leaning past Calliope, he picked up a little cup of the cider they were talking about. Her eyes followed him, waiting for him to try it first, and he couldn’t help his smile. Was he to be her measuring stick for which one she’d pick? Taking a sip, he let it wash over his tongue and slowly inhaled as well. He could definitely smell the rose aspect of it but he wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate the dryness of it. “Not bad,” he admitted, tossing the little cup aside. “But you deserve something better.”

Her eyes narrowed at him but not before he saw the way they were dancing.

He tipped his head slightly, smiling at her, and he looked at the vendor. “Do you have something with more sweetness?” he asked, drawing their attention away from the other couple. “Not overwhelming though.”

The woman blinked at him for a moment before smiling and nodding. “This one has notes of caramel and vanilla,” she said, picking up another bottle to show them. “It’s medium bodied as well, if you want something a little milder.”

Reading the name, he plucked up another sample and tried it. He considered it and hummed quietly. “Better.”

“Good enough for my one?”

“I haven’t tried all of them, have I?” he tossed back at her and picked up the bottle to read it.

“Or I could have more than one.”

“You shouldn’t do that, Calli.”

Sylus flicked a look at Zayne. So the good doctor was aware of Calliope’s non-existent tolerance.

“Not you too!” she protested. “It’s just cider!”

“Did you eat something? You shouldn’t have more than one on an empty stomach.”

Sylus hid his smile by turning to Calliope and lifting his brows at her. “Doctor’s orders,” he teased.

“Oh, now you play nice,” she growled.

“I always play nice, kitten.”

She snorted and carefully picked up one of the cups.

He watched as she sipped at it, her nose wrinkling a little bit but he recognized this look.

Turning back to the vendor, he smiled. “We’ll take a bottle,” he told her, “and you’re still only allowed one.”

He heard Carrow snort and quickly try to cover it up but he was more focused on the flush that was already settling on Calliope’s cheeks. Well. Maybe she was only allowed one over all if she was already going to react to it. He’d been willing to let her try at least one more but his kitten was just too much of a lightweight.

[sailforvalinor]

The thing is I want an accurate but GOOD Mansfield Park adaptation so so bad but I don’t trust anyone except for 5 or 6 people on this webbed site in the depths of the undercity of the internet to make it because NO ONE understands Edmund Bertram except for me, the author, and a handful of my beloved mutuals and friends

[itneverendshere]

Could you please write btchy!pogue where shes the one whos jealous this time and rafe savors the moment.

don't like the way she's looking - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x raf

the cut had a party tonight, like most summer nights.

the music was loud enough to shake the ground, beer kegs were getting drained faster than anyone could fill them, and people packed into the yard like sardines. 

it wasn’t fancy, but that was the point, pogue parties weren’t about appearances, you showed up, you drank, you made some bad decisions under the string lights, and you went home.

it wasn’t your favorite kind of night, but rafe had convinced you to come out, promising it’d just be a chill hangout. he lied.

instead of spending the night with you, he’s currently perched by his truck, surrounded by a rotating cast of pogues. you’re leaning against a beat-up picnic table, a half-warm beer in your hand, keeping one eye on rafe while he did his thing. 

by “his thing,” you mean selling weed to every pogue with a crumpled-up twenty and a dream.

to his credit, this is probably his best hustle yet.

rafe cameron, reformed asshole, and your probationary boyfriend, has somehow turned himself into the cut’s go-to dealer. it’s a whole thing, people like him now, which is fine. 

good for him, whatever, but some people like him a little too much. 

case in point? the girl currently throwing herself at him like a damn frisbee. you clocked her the second she strutted over. 

she wasn’t subtle about it, either—crop top hanging so low she might as well not have bothered, denim shorts so short they were illegal in some states. she’s leaning against his truck, like she’s in some fuck ass music video, her body language loud and clear. it’s the hand on his arm that does it for you. 

that, and her laugh. 

jesus, her laugh. high-pitched and fake, like a dying bird trying to flirt.

you’ve been rolling your eyes from the second she started talking, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

“you’re really good at this whole business thing, huh? bet you’re good at lots of things.”

you gag audibly from your spot, but of course, she doesn’t hear you. 

rafe, for his part, looks mildly amused but doesn’t say anything. still, you stay put, you’re not here to play babysitter. he’s not that stupid—he’ll shut her down. 

he better.

her next move is placing her hand on his arm. on. his. arm.

like she isn’t aware that his girlfriend is sitting fifteen feet away, the audacity. she’s batting her lashes and laughing at something he says like he’s the funniest guy alive, and you can see his shoulders stiffen, the slight step back he takes when she puts her hands on him.

“so, like,” she giggles, twirling a piece of hair around her finger, “what if i can’t, you know... pay in cash? ’m sure we could work something else out?”

rafe’s reaction is immediate, “i have a girlfriend.”

“oh,” her pout deepens. “that’s fine. she doesn’t have to know.”

at that, he laughs—an incredulous, slightly panicked laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “yeah, see, that’s not gonna work for me.”

she doesn’t take the hint. 

instead, she tilts her head, giving him what you’re sure she thinks it’s a seductive look. “c'mon, rafe. it’s just a little fun, bet she wouldn’t even care.”

you freeze mid-sip of your beer, brain short-circuiting.

you slam it down on the table so hard it splashes everywhere, your vision zeroing in on her like a predator spotting prey. you’re halfway across the yard before you realize you’re moving.

oh, you care, you care a lot.

rafe’s already holding his hands up like he’s trying to ward her off. “don’t know what you think is happening here, but it’s not. i’m not interested.”

“not interested in me?” she asks, like the idea is physically painful.

“correct,” you announce loudly, “he’s not interested. crazy, right?”

she squares her shoulders and glares at you. “who are you?”

“hi, i’m the girlfriend” you shoot back, “just wondering if you’re planning on embarrassing yourself any more tonight or if that’s it?”

rafe rubs the back of his neck, looking between amused and mildly terrified, “baby—”

“don’t ‘baby’ me, cameron,” you snap, shooting him a glare before turning your attention back to the girl. she’s still standing there, trying to figure out if she should fight or flight.

smart money would’ve been on flight, but apparently, she’s the stubborn type.

she smirks, seemingly not the least bit fazed by you. “pogues share.”

“how about i share this fist with your face? that sound good to you?”

she whips around, her fake-confident expression faltering “uh, excuse me?”

“you heard me,” you only stop a foot from her. your hands are on your hips, ready to pounce if she even thinks about mouthing off one more time. “can’t you take a fucking hint, or are you just dumb?”

“i didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she rolls her eyes.

“everyone here knows he’s with me, you just thought you’d try it anyway, didn’t you?”

“it’s not that deep,” she shrugs, her voice going fake casual. “it’s just rafe. pogues share—what’s the big deal? you’re overreacting.”

rafe winces, stepping back as if to give you space to handle it. good, he knew better than to get in your way.

“you wanna find out how much more i can react? i’m feeling real generous tonight.”

her mouth opens to say something even dumber, but you’re already pouncing , not even thinking—your body just reacts.

“whoa, whoa, whoa!” rafe’s arms are suddenly around you, yanking you before you can do any real damage “okay, we’re going home.”

“i’ll punch you too,” you hiss, squirming in his grip. “let me hit her.”

he only holds you tighter against his chest when you try to kick out at her. “baby, come on.”

“this bitch said pogues share!’” you cram your neck to glare at her over rafe’s shoulder. “i just wanna share some sense with her.”

she’s already backing away, her hands up in surrender, “okay, whatever, no dick is worth dealing with a crazy bitch. ’m leaving!” she snaps, turning on her heel.

rafe’s grip lightens up slightly, thinking this is enough to calm you down, but unfortunately for him, you take it as a chance to get what you want. as soon as he lets you lose, you take one giant step forward and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her back just as she tries to escape.

"get your ass back here," you growl, tugging her head back.

“jesus christ,” rafe’s eyes widen and he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind once again, pulling you back. “baby, let her go!”

she lets out a surprised squeal, trying to pull away, but you’ve got a grip on her so tight she can’t. “what the hell is wrong with you?!” she screeches, hands desperately trying to pry your fingers from her hair.

“okay, you’ve made your point,” he chuckles despite the situation, “let go of her hair.”

you release her, but not without one last, satisfying shove to her back. she stumbles, glaring at you over her shoulder with her hand pressed to her scalp.

“keep your hands to yourself next time,” you warn with a sneer.

she glares at you, and opens her mouth like she’s about to start some more shit—but then she seems to think better of it. with a huff, she turns on her heel and stalks off, her footsteps retreating into the crowd.

rafe stands there, rubbing his neck nervously as he watches her go. “you’re gonna get arrested one day, y’know that, right?”

you look up at him, eyebrow raised, a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. “and you’re gonna get your balls ripped off and be single for the rest of your life. how’s that sound?”

his mouth falls open as he stares at you.

“what? i’m innocent! i didn’t do shit. you just went wwe smackdown on her. i was standing there, minding my business.”

“minding your business while she was all over you?” you challenge, “she was practically trying to crawl inside your skin.”

“told her i wasn’t interested!” he defends, throwing his hands up. “even used the line— i have a girlfriend! that’s...the ultimate force field!”

you snort, crossing your arms. “she walked right through it like it wasn’t even there.”

rafe sighs dramatically, stepping closer, his voice dropping, that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “gotta admit, that was kinda hot.”

you narrow your eyes at him, trying not to let his charm sway you. “hot?”

“yeah,” he grins, “watching you go full psycho really does something for me.”

you can feel your lips twitching upward despite yourself. “you’re such a fuckin’ loser.”

“am i wrong, though?” he teases, slipping his arms around you, his lips tickling your ear as he adds, “never felt more horny—or scared—in my life.”

you huff a laugh, shoving at his chest playfully, “stop trying to make me laugh, i’m mad at you.”

“you’re mad at me?” he leans in impossibly closer, pulling you flush against him.

“rafe—” you start, but he’s already tilting his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

“mm, y’know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “i like you mad. all fired up, it’s sexy.”

“don’t even,” you warn, hoping you sound firm, but it’s hard to when he’s trailing slow kisses down your neck, the press of his mouth sending shivers straight to your toes.

he doesn’t stop, of course. his kisses get sloppier, his lips parting so his tongue can flick against the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“can’t help it,” he groans in between his work, nipping at your skin. “my girl’s too fucking hot.”

your hands come up to push at his chest, but they end up curling into his shirt instead. “i’m so fucking serious. you can’t sweet-talk your way out of this.”

“m’not sweet-talking,” he slurs, teeth grazing your skin, followed by the soothing heat of his tongue, and you gasp despite yourself. “just... appreciating you. can’t a guy admire his girlfriend after she defended his honor?” he bites down and then sucks at the spot until you’re squirming in his arms. “got me so gone for you, shit, it’s embarrassing.”

“good,” you mutter stubbornly, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he practically purrs at the contact, his lips dragging down to your collarbone. “you’ve ruined me, y’know that? can’t even look at another girl.”

you laugh, your grip tightening in his hair. “keep talking, cameron. see how far that gets you.”

he grins against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing and setting you on the edge of the picnic table.

“guess i’ll just have to show you instead.”

"rafe cameron," you start, intending to scold him, but your words stop in your throat as he steps between your legs.

“now you’re quiet,” he’s leaning in so close his nose brushes against yours. “where’d all that fire go, mm?”

your glare is half-hearted at best. “don’t push your luck, you’re still on probation, asshole.”

he hums thoughtfully, his hands sliding up your legs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “not luck, baby. skill.”

“you’re so fucking insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, slipping under the hem of his shirt to splay across his warm skin.

his abs tense under your touch, and you relish the reaction, how his breath hitches as you dig your nails in just a little.

“irresistible,” he counters, his voice rough. his lips hover over yours, daring you to close the gap, but he doesn’t make the first move.

he waits, his eyes locked on yours, the faintest flicker of a challenge in his pretty blue eyes. two can play that game, matter of fact, you know you’ll win.

you pull back, smirking as you trace your fingers over the waistband of his jeans, “that’s pushing it, don’t you think?”

he exhales a chuckle through his nose, his hands moving to your waist, tugging you closer. “you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“me?” you scoff, your fingers dipping beneath the fabric of his jeans, making his tighten, his smirk faltering enough to make you feel victorious.

“yeah,” he repeats, though his voice is strained now. “practically begging me to fuck you here.”

“please.” you tilt your head, your lips grazing his jaw, “you’re the one begging.”

rafe’s laugh is low and throaty, a sound that sends a thrill to your core. his control visibly slips as you trail your lips down the line of his jaw, peppering kisses that grow increasingly slower, more deliberate.

his sharp exhale and the way his grip on your hips drops for half a second tell you everything you need to know.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, his forehead dropping against your shoulder for a moment.

you grin, pleased with yourself, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“don’t sound too surprised.”

he shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it, but he can’t seem to stop staring at you. “god, i hate you sometimes,” he breathes out, his lips quirking up into a smirk that betrays his words.

“funny,” you retort, fingers sliding back into his hair to tug lightly. “don’t believe you.”

his jaw tightens at the sensation, a groan slipping past his lips before he catches it.

 “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says again, but his mouth is already back on you, a bruising kiss that steals every smart-ass remark you had locked and loaded.

your mouths move together with instinct, and when his tongue flicks against your lower lip, you don’t hesitate, opening up for him. he groans low in his throat as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours, slick and overwhelming in the best way.

it’s messy and unrestrained, the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy and drenched. 

rafe’s lips leave yours only for a second, his teeth tugging lightly at your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to let it drag between his teeth, his eyes locked on yours, all dark with something feral.

you don’t let him stay in control for long, your hands tighten in his hair, tugging him back to you, and this time it’s your tongue that takes over, sliding against his in a way that has him moaning like a bitch in heat into your mouth. he sucks on it lightly, the sensation only making your panties stick harder to you, and you press closer to him, your legs tightening around his waist, looking for some kind of friction.

when he pulls back, both of you gasping for air, his lips are swollen and glistening, his eyes glazed over with that unmistakable lust.

a string of spit still connects your mouths, and you watch, entranced, as he swipes his tongue across his lips, catching it before smirking at you.

“you kiss me like that again,” he murmurs, “’m not responsible for what happens next.”

[laenordeservedbetter]

Thieves & Prophecies

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Poseidon)

Synopsis: When your friends accuse Clarisse of stealing the lightning bolt, you make a choice that dooms Olympus.

Warnings: PJO EPISODE VI SPOILERS, r has anger issues, r isn't too fond of the gods, ooc!clarisse, Luke. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: People say you should write to get over writer's block, so here's another Clarisse x reader. The new episode had me stressing out for Clarisse and she wasn't even there. At least we got good Percabeth scenes.

masterlist || previous work

---

You’re leaning against a wooden crate while Grover proceeds to explain why Clarisse is the lightning thief. The pounding of your heart was the only thing you made yourself hear, tuning out of the conversation. You couldn’t believe it. You refuse to believe it. Clarisse wouldn’t do something like that. Something’s wrong. They are wrong.

“Y/n?” Percy stands in front of you, looking apologetic. You meet his gaze, realizing that they must have finished talking. You don’t say anything, figuring that your conflicting emotions are visible to them. “I’m sorry about Clarisse. I know that you think she’s not capable of stealing the lightning bolt, but all signs lead to her.”

The glare that you send Percy makes him flinch. “She didn’t do it.” You claim. Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you weren’t done talking. “I know she didn’t. I’m sure of it.” You say the words with such conviction that Percy can’t help but feel bad for you. You scowl upon seeing his sympathetic look, shaking your head. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Y/n…” Grover interjects, moving to stand beside Percy. “I know that this is hard to hear since Clarisse is your—” Grover cut himself off, “But there’s no other half-blood Ares could possibly want to protect except his favorite daughter.” He says softly, trying to reason with you.

You were far past reason, however. Not when Clarisse is involved. You walk a few steps closer to them, your jaw clenching. They both take a step back, their backs hitting a combination of crates and cages. They weren’t used to seeing you like this. They’ve watched you protect them from monsters, but they haven’t experienced being on the receiving end of your wrath. It was not a good feeling.

“Say one more word about Clarisse being the lightning thief and I will make sure none of us get to the underworld in time for the solstice.”

Grover and Percy merely nodded, too afraid to argue.

You retreated to the corner furthest away from them; feeling more exhausted than you had been since the quest began. A part of you wanted to ensure that Percy completes his quest and that he clears his and your father’s name, another part wants nothing more than to protect Clarisse, but the emotion that overpowers both is your anger.

How could they all just sit there and come to that conclusion without thinking it through? Their accusation didn’t even have that much of a backbone to support it with. You were mad at yourself for not being able to convince them otherwise. You were mad at Ares for taking Grover’s bait and for not ratting out the real thief, which you probably shouldn’t say out loud. Though, at this point, you didn’t care because tomorrow morning, Percy and Annabeth were going to send an Iris Message to camp and there will be nothing you can do to stop Chiron, Mr. D, and the rest of the demigods from going after Clarisse. You needed to act and you needed to act fast.

---

As soon as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover fell asleep, you stood up and silently moved to the truck’s doors. Percy was leaning against one of the cages, his eyes peacefully shut. Sometimes, you forget that he’s still a kid. He should be enjoying his childhood, not going off fighting monsters. But unfortunately, that’s just the way life goes when you’re a half-blood, being in constant danger. Yet another reason to be mad at the gods. You shake your head, trying to ignore the pang of guilt when you think about leaving your brother. If there had been another way, you would have taken it.

You just hope Percy forgives you when all of this is over.

…Or if he survives the solstice.

You stop in your tracks, wondering if what you’re about to do is the right decision to make when Annabeth starts to stir.

It was now or never.

You continue making your way to the door, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

The bag that Ares gave.

There was something about it that drew you in. You know you shouldn’t, but you grab the bag, opening the top zipper. There was cash, clothes, and golden drachmas, exactly what the god of war said. You had no need for cash or clothes, so you take those out. You scoop a few drachmas and place the rest on the floor, putting the coins inside the bag since it would be handier than putting it in your pockets. You sling the bag over your shoulder and bolt for the doors, the metal making a loud bang the moment you force it open. Before either one of the trio could go after you, you were already a few miles ahead – or behind, depending on which direction you’re looking from – of them.

You don’t stop running until you reach a coast. You wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep going until your feet touch the water. Sighing in relief, you close your eyes, allowing the water to give you strength. The wind was chilly tonight, darkness looming above you. The possibility of war was getting closer yet here you were, having just abandoned your brother for Clarisse.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when you reached camp. Would you try convincing Chiron that Clarisse wasn’t the culprit? Would you run away with your girlfriend? Or would you take the blame despite not having the lightning bolt yourself?

You hear a whine before you, prompting you to open your eyes. A creature with the head and front legs of a horse but with the tail of a fish appeared in front of you, tilting its head a little. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “Did my dad send you?” You asked.

Yes, my lady.

Your brows scrunch even more (if that was possible) at the term. Your hand reaches out to pet the hippocampus, the creature leaning into your touch. You were still surprised that your father, Poseidon, decided to help you. He did listen to your prayers most of the time, but you thought that he wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment, seeing how you were about to go to camp and possibly ruin his reputation. You guess you were wrong. A small smile graced its way onto your face as you mumble, “Thank you, father.” You get on the hippocampus, the creature making sure you were properly seated before it started moving.

---

The sun had completely risen by the time you reached camp. Being on a hippocampus was by far the best mode of transportation, in your opinion. You got good sleep this time. You get off of Summer (you learned that that was her name when you were trying to make conversation), your feet landing on the shore.

“Thank you, Summer. I promise I’ll give you a snack when I see you again.” You promise, smiling softly.

Summer made a noise of approval before diving back into the water.

You look towards the woods, feeling like something was about to go wrong. “You can’t back down now.” You mumble to yourself. Clarisse needed your help. This is the reason why you came back to camp. You will your feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

---

Sneaking into camp was easy. Getting past the campers was the hard part. If they saw you, they would bombard you with questions. You can already sense the kind of questions they’d ask, the things they would say. You grit your teeth in annoyance. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Though, the number of campers in the archery practice range and the dining pavilion were smaller compared to the last time you were here. Odd. You shake your head, trudging forward, trying to look for Clarisse.

“You stupid moron! I told you. I didn’t steal the lightning bolt!”

Ah, there she was.

Your heart flutters upon hearing her voice. There was no mistaking that that was her.

You see Luke get out of the armory. You could make out a figure behind him, a girl tied against one of the tables. Your expression hardens as you stare at the Hermes cabin councilor. Before he could meet your gaze, you hide behind one of the cabins.

Anger coursed through you again. Your fists clenched, leaning your head against the structure of the Zeus cabin. You wait for a minute, then another, then another, before you feel your anger subsiding. You use the back part of the cabins in order to get to the armory, rushing past groups of campers before they could spot you.

The armory was unguarded, which was a bad decision on Luke’s part. Like seriously? The armory is the best choice you can come up with to lock up the alleged thief in? There are dangerous weapons in there. If they had caught the real thief and locked them there, it would have been a bloody day. You scowl at their incompetence, but your expression morphs into one of worry when you open the door and see Clarisse.

She glances towards you, squinting her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” You march towards her and settle yourself in front of her. Her hands were tied. “Gods, what have they done to you?” You mutter, grabbing a dagger from the table above her and using it to cut the rope.

“They’re accusing me of stealing the lightning bolt, which is stupid because I didn’t do it. This must be Percy’s doing.” Clarisse grumbles, an apologetic look crossing her face after she says the last sentence. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but…”

“They’re wrong. I know.” You nod reassuringly. Not a second after you finish cutting the rope, Clarisse surges forward to pull you into an embrace. You laugh in surprise, pulling her closer, “Woah, there. Hi.” You close your eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to have her near you again. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on her hair. “I missed you.” You say.

“I missed you too.” Clarisse replies before reluctantly pulling away. She places both of her hands on your face, as if memorizing it all over again. Her brows were scrunched as she looks at a scar that wasn’t there before you left and you found yourself wanting to ease her worries.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She scowls. “You got hurt.”

“I’m okay now.” You insist. Before she asks follow-up questions, you try to state why you were here in the first place. “I tried to convince Percy, Grover, and Annabeth that you didn’t steal the lightning bolt, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I jumped out of the truck when they were sleeping. I got a few drachmas in case of emergencies. Then, I went to a beach, where a hippocampus appeared and brought me here. And now I’m realizing I didn’t think too far ahead because I don’t know what to do now. If I can’t convince Mr. D or Chiron that you’re innocent, I… We can run away. Yes, that we can do.”

“You did all of that for me?” Clarisse had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to kiss you, yell at you, and cry all at once.

Your brows furrow. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That was really stupid.” She says.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized the quest.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve experienced your father’s wrath.”

“I know.” A small laugh escapes you.

Clarisse shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes.

“Gods, I love you.” Clarisse mumbles.

You sport a teasing grin, “Aww, you do?”

“Shut up.” She punches your shoulder playfully.

“Ouch!”

“What are you doing?”

Your playful banter came to an end when you hear Luke enter the front door, two of the kids from the Athena cabin standing behind him. You turn, stepping forward to stand in front of Clarisse. You’ve been in similar positions in the past, except she was the one protecting you. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Both Athena kids step forward on Luke’s signal, dragging both you and Clarisse outside, where there was a cluster of campers watching you.

Great, a show. Just what you needed.

“What were you doing with the lightning thief?” Luke questions.

It took a shake of Clarisse’s head to stop you from attacking him. You settled for “accidentally” stepping on his toes instead. “Clarisse is not the lightning thief.” You state. Around you, there stood at least two dozen campers. You spot Chiron and Mr. D amidst the campers and your eyes light up. “You don’t even have proof that she stole the lightning bolt, so how can you be so sure that it’s her?”

Luke ignores your question entirely. “Just give up, Y/n. Stop protecting her. You know that she stole it. We all do.”

“She didn’t steal it!” You yell, meeting Luke’s eyes. It felt like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Yeah, well, how do you know?!” His voice raises to match yours, his cold gaze almost scaring you. Almost.

You fall silent, not having a proper answer to that. Truth was, you didn’t. You could just feel it. But making choices based on feelings isn’t a good enough reason for anyone in this camp. You turn towards Chiron for help, but he doesn’t say anything. The entirety of the Ares cabin is quiet as well. That’s when it occurs to you that if they don’t speak up, there is a zero percent chance that anyone else will.

Luke appears smug, as if he had proved his point. “Exa—”

“Because I did it.”

You shock even yourself at your words, but you do nothing to take them back. You weren’t able to see any other option left. You were surrounded. If you’d try to escape with Clarisse, you weren’t making it out of camp alive. This was your last resort.

“What?” Clarisse says beside you, her voice barely above a whisper. You force yourself not to look at her. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look of betrayal on her face. You’d rather have her hating you than have her punished for something she didn’t do.

Luke scoffs, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

You don’t break eye contact with Luke as you say the words, ignoring Clarisse’s screams of protest.

For once, Luke was taken aback. He keeps shaking his head, “No, you’re lying. Just give up already. You can’t protect her anymore.”

“I stole the lightning bolt.” You say, louder this time around.

“Miss L/n, that is a serious admission.” Chiron says, his tone grave. You could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Are you sure you stole the lightning bolt?”

“She’s bluffing.” Luke announces, but he sounds unsure.

Your bag grows heavier, as if someone placed a boulder inside it while you were talking to Luke. It was too much to carry. Naturally, you removed the bag from your shoulder, setting it down on the grass. You open the backpack’s zipper, your breath hitching when you see the thing that has been weighing it down. You pull it out of the bag, hearing gasps and words of alarm from the campers.

The bolt crackled in your hand, the color mesmerizing you. You tilt your head with a sly grin, your eyes fixed on Luke.

“Do you believe me now?”

[luveline]

jadeee!! how are you?? I was rereading everything asf universe and I thought, as a belated weasley twin bd treat, perhaps a drabble of r and Fred at Angelina and George’s wedding and Fred realised how much he wants that for him and r?? i wanna see them get hitched soo bad!

that whole universe is sooo special to me, endless thank yous to you and your amazing brain for writing it❤️

I love you!! It’s so special to me too!!!! And I’m so grateful to you for reading!!!!! fem, 1.2k

cw mental health issues

Fred gets you in his lap, but it takes all day, and only after the speeches. 

“You were very brave,” he says. 

“Don’t patronise me.” 

“I’m not,” he says, his arms folded around you, your side to his front so as to keep his gaze on your face. You’ve genuinely never looked so beautiful, not ever. It’s the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever worn, and you’ve smiled all day. He can’t believe it. 

“Was it an okay speech?” 

Fred finds your hand to hold. 

I didn’t know what it was like to have a friend before I met George and Fred, you’d said, staring hard at Molly rather than the crowd, your nerves apparent in every word. I’ve never known someone to love as hard or as generously as he does. I… wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. And so it makes me so happy to see him loved like that in return. I know he’ll be a good husband, because he is a great friend, and I think that’s half the battle, and– and he tries so hard. I wish you both a happy marriage and… a great honeymoon. 

George didn’t beg you to say something, but he’d begged Fred to convince you, and everyone could see how much it meant to him that you’d managed to do it in front of so many people. George had no trouble proclaiming that you were his best friend in the entire world and that he would kill anybody who ever crossed you, including his twin, if it were to come to that. 

It will never come to that. Fred will never break your heart. 

“I didn’t know you were going to say that much,” Fred says. 

“Too much?” you ask, looking down at his chest. 

“No, sweetheart, no. It was lovely. I just knew it was gonna be hard for you.” 

“You talked for half an hour,” you say. 

It’s an exaggeration, but not by much. “I had to embarrass him fully. That’s what getting married is for.” 

You press your cheek to his shoulder. The lights in the hall are low, your seats at the main table shaded from the lights and the music. George and Angelina’s family mingle, dance, and sing quite drunkenly. It’s very normal, but you’ve had a long day. Fred’s not sure you’re up for dancing. He doesn’t mind. 

“It was a lovely speech,” Fred affirms. He’d murmur if he weren’t worried you’d miss it with all the noise. “He knows public speaking isn’t for you, and it was probably a better gift for him than the DFS voucher.” 

“Better than a new sofa?” you ask. “You’re joking.” 

He laughs at your joking and presses a heap of kiss all over the side and top of your face. You melt under his touching, slouching into him, the curl of your smile palpable on his shoulder. He can feel it.  “My mum’s coming. She’s trying to be subtle. Shall I send her away?” 

“I like your mum,” you say. 

She’s in a dress with huge draped sleeves, her hair piled away from her face, her lips a pale pink to suit her red hair. When she talks, Fred can see the happy tear tracks that mark her powder. “Hello, you two.” 

You sit up to a slightly more respectable position, but it isn’t as though she hasn’t seen you and Fred touching. “Hi.” 

“Hi, mum.”

“How are you both? There’s more champagne around the side, dearie, your father can get you another bottle if you like.” She beams at you both. “You look exhausted.” 

“It’s a long day, mum,” Fred says, mildly apologetic. 

“I know. Imagine how much worse it is when it’s your own.” She brushes a strand of hair from Fred’s face. “Well, alright, I’ll go bother someone else.” 

“You’re not bothering us,” you say quickly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” She gives you a motherly shoulder squeeze. “I just wanted to make sure you were both okay. I’ll make sure they play a few slow songs for you to dance to. I need good photos for my wall.” 

Fred laughs against the back of your head. “Thanks, mum.” 

She leaves you quickly, attention snatched by Percy where he’s calling for her to come and dance, and leaves Fred in particular with an idea he’s been trying and failing to ignore all day. He knows it’s cliche, but his brother's wedding has made him think of his own, and how it will go and when it will be. If he asked you to marry him, would you say yes? 

“You really do look so pretty,” he says. 

“You’ve told me a couple of times,” you say shyly. 

“I can’t believe it. I’m coming to terms with it.” 

“Do you think we’ll get married?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, startled, and wondering for the thousandth time if you can really read his mind. “I suppose you’ll have to let me ask you first, but of course I do.” 

You nod distractedly. It’s not the reaction he’d hoped for. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. 

Loving you is learning when to manage a crisis. Not that you’re always in crisis, but it’s an essential skill he’s obtained nonetheless. He waits for you to answer his question patiently, his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up gently to his eye level. 

“Do you remember the first Christmas I came to stay with you?” you ask. “Before we were together.” 

“I remember.” 

“I told you that I didn’t think anyone would ever marry me. That I’m not that… sort of person.”

Fred shifts his legs under your weight. You aren’t heavy, the chairs are uncomfortable, and he plans to have you here for hours upon hours if he can swing it. “Yeah.” 

“But you said you’d prove me wrong. We hadn’t even kissed.” 

“And you still didn’t think I had a crush on you,” he teases. 

You gather your arms to wrap behind his head, sitting taller, cwtching his face to your neck. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Ghost, I know everything about you. It makes total sense to me, believe it or not. And I will prove you wrong, I promise. If that’s what you want– it’s what I want, I just haven’t figured out how to ask you yet. Can you give me a little more time?” 

You suck in a strange breath. He’d like to say it was delighted, but it’s better labelled as shocked. “Okay.” 

“Thank you. We’ll have much better music.” 

You turn your heads to the dance floor, where Arthur has unearthed those extra bottles of champagne Molly promised, and the Weasley troupe are dancing like an especially ginger entourage of fools to something abrasive by the Weird Sisters. 

“Should we go dance?” you ask. 

“In a minute. After my dads discovered that champagne isn’t regular champagne, I think.” 

You shed the panic you’d been fostering to kiss his warm cheek. “Idiot, what did you do?” 

“It’s his wedding, Ghost, what did you expect?” 

You kiss his cheek again. A third time and he’s blushing. “Love you, Fred. Do you think George will forgive me for bending the truth?” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“‘Cos I was lying, you know, when I said he’s the most loving person I’ve ever met. That’s you.” 

Ugh, he thinks, dipping you backwards for a kiss. What a girl. 

[frvnkcastles]

heyy i love you writing 💓(reader and frank who are dating) and she is diagnosed with anxiety and starts shaking uncontrollably during a meeting with friends and Frank notices and helps her.

YOUR SWEET HAVEN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank helps you through a peak in your anxiety during a night out.

Warnings: Anxiety, mostly fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s note: Anxiety is such a bitch, I swear. Like I wrote in the fic, I feel like Frank would/does struggle greatly with anxiety about losing his loved ones but I don’t think he’s really a socially anxious person? Just a very introverted kind of guy. So I feel like he’d totally understand some aspects but others he’d have to learn about a lil more and he’d gladly do it for his partner. Just my two cents on it :) Hope you enjoy, anon, and I’m sending you lots of hugs!! You’re not alone <3

Frank’s first impression had been that you were sweet as hell but extremely, highly shy. His attempts to get to know you had required some effort as you had always steered the conversation away from yourself or given him half-answers, but when he had told you he could leave you alone, you had quickly protested. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his company — you just weren’t the best when it came to having attention on you.

When you spent more and more time together, it dawned on him that you weren’t shy. It was anxiety driving you to stutter and apologize over and over again, even about things that weren’t your fault, and it made you fidget and overthink and feel nauseous; all things he either noticed with time or you shared with him. It was embarrassing sometimes, the way your anxiety limited you and turned the simplest situations into ordeals, but Frank was understanding. For him, anxiety manifested through his fear of losing people, but he didn’t really struggle with the social aspect, being a bold, direct person who didn’t really care what people thought of him, yet he still knew it wasn’t a choice. You couldn’t help it, and he didn’t make you feel any lesser for that.

Even before you started officially dating, he went out of his way to reassure and encourage you. Whenever you got stuck in a loop of apologies and overexplaining yourself, he shushed you softly and promised you that he knew exactly what you meant and that there was no need to be sorry for what you had said or done. This happened often when you talked about his family and you were afraid of overstepping or upsetting him, only for him to calm your racing mind down and insist that he wouldn’t have brought the topic up if he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

But he wasn’t too careful with you. He also knew when and how to be firm, and it often came out when you had a phone call to make or an appointment to attend. Especially if it was something important like getting your prescription refilled or seeing your doctor about the palpitations in your chest, he wasn’t playing around — he made you do it, convinced that you had it in you, but holding your hand through it, regardless. If you ever felt too anxious to go anywhere alone, all you had to do was call him and he would be right there.

He understood and listened to your worries, and that was probably why you fell so hard for him. No one had ever been so open-minded and judgment-free with you, and it was refreshing and left you thinking about him day and night. In fact, your anxious thoughts had to step aside to make room for Frank. He could tell you were into him, and the feeling was very much mutual, and so, you both took a leap of faith and decided to give it a go.

He met your friends early on, and they all approved of him pretty quickly, as they could see just how head over heels he was for you. It was no surprise that he was invited to multiple outings — while you still had girls’ nights every now and then, they really didn’t mind Frank tagging along, especially if they had brought their own partners with them.

Another night with all of you was in your plans for the evening, and as much as you loved your friends, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Your hands trembled just a little as you got dressed and your mouth was running dry, not to mention the sickening twist in the pit of your stomach that made you feel like throwing up.

And Frank noticed immediately. ”Hey, sweetheart, we don’t gotta stay for long, yeah?” he reminded while buttoning up his shirt, and with a glance at him, you nodded. He could tell you weren’t comforted by that thought, so he went on. ”It’ll be okay. Y’know they love seein’ you. No one there is gon’ judge you, baby”, he noted, listing off things he knew that bothered you the most.

You gave him another nod and sighed. ”It’s just a lot of people. I don’t like crowds. Also, what if I can’t make conversation? Or I do, and I say the wrong thing. What if I don’t like any of the food or drinks they serve there?” you pointed out in a nervous ramble, stopping to take a deep breath. It wasn’t unusual to get stuck in a cycle like this, unable to see everything that could go right instead of wrong, but Frank was happy to be the voice of reason.

”You never say the wrong thing, darlin’. You don’t gotta talk if you don’t wanna, lettin’ other people talk is fine, too. And you googled their menu already, and you know for sure they do serve something you like—and no, I don’t think they’ve magically run out of it for good��, he countered, walking over to you with his big hands reaching for your arms and rubbing them soothingly. ”We’ll make an appearance, and if it gets too much, you just gotta squeeze my hand, aight? I’ll take you home the second it gets unbearable”, he swore, knowing that sometimes you needed a little push and that all discomfort wasn’t bad. He wanted you to explore the boundaries of your comfort-zone, but just like he had promised, he wasn’t going to put you in a spot that would paralyze you.

And you knew that. You knew you could trust his word, and you knew it was healthy to challenge the anxious thoughts every now and then. So, you agreed to his terms, choosing to believe in him more than the nagging voice in your head.

”Attagirl”, Frank praised, taking your hand in his own and squeezing it just to emphasize that was all you had to do to give him the signal. You held onto him tightly, always finding comfort in his grip and the warmth he radiated.

You made your way to the bar where you were supposed to meet your friend group, and you tried your best to be calm but it didn’t seem to be working. You got hugs and excited questions about how you were doing, and you wanted to feel appreciated but all you could do was stew in the anxiety that came with being the center of attention. They wanted to know everything, and in the panic of the moment, you blanked entirely and couldn’t think of anything to say. Frank jumped in for you, keeping the conversation going, and your friends didn’t seem to question it.

When the rest of the group decided to order some food, you felt a lump in your throat, but Frank was already whispering into your ear. ”I got this. Don’t worry, sweetheart”, he reassured you before handling your order for you. Every now and then he encouraged you to do it on your own, but he could tell this wasn’t a good night for your anxiety, so he gladly took charge.

He checked in with you periodically, too. ”Feelin’ okay, pretty girl? Wanna go yet?” he queried softly, and as much as you wanted to plead him to take you home, you felt bad about the idea of ditching your friends. You tried to push through, giving Frank a smile and insisting that you were still doing good. He could see right through it, but as long as you weren’t showing any of the usual tell-tale signs of losing control, he was allowing it.

But just like he feared, you did begin to spiral. You lost track of time and space, not really processing anything your friends were saying, but at the same time, the chatter mixed with the loud music was becoming too overwhelming. You began shaking, unable to stop, the nervousness and worry bleeding from your thoughts to your body, and you felt the burning urge to just get out of there.

It didn’t take Frank long to detect your trembling, feeling the tremors against his chest as you were seated in his arms, and a frown deepened on his face. He tilted his head down at you, trying to reach you with soft calls of your name, but you couldn’t say anything.

”Sweetheart? You still with me?” he questioned quietly, knowing you didn’t want any extra attention drawn to yourself. His hand grabbed yours, and at the feeling of his fingers interlocking with your own, you felt a little safer. His large hand swallowed up yours entirely and he gave it a squeeze, trying to bring you back down from the panic you were riding.

”Aight, we’re headin’ home. My girl ain’t feelin’ so well”, he cut into the group’s conversation, digging out some bills from his wallet to pay for your food and drinks. He climbed out of the booth and gently pulled you with him, supporting your shaking body with his arm around you. Your friends were sad to see you go, but Frank wasn’t going to let them guilt you into staying. ”Thanks for invitin’ us, y’all. Have a good night”, he told them before steering you outside.

He walked you across the parking lot and helped you into the car, buckling you in before striding to his side of the truck and hopping in. ”You’re okay, baby. We’re goin’ home, yeah? Just you and me”, he spoke into the quiet car, making sure to turn down the music to avoid overstimulating you any further.

You were still silent, but as he began driving and let one hand hang between you and him, you instantly reached for it. You held onto his fingers tightly, needing the physical comfort, and he made sure to draw patterns against your skin with his thumb in an effort to soothe you. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the silence and the feeling of his hand in yours, letting it ground you.

He didn’t want to make your head spin with his incessant questions, so he didn’t speak for the remainder of the drive, just kept holding your hand. Only when he pulled up at your apartment building, he turned to you with a worried look in his eyes.

”How you feelin’, sweetheart? I know that was real shitty. ’M sorry I didn’t call it a night sooner”, he apologized, and the guilty tone got you to look at him and shake your head.

”It’s not your fault. I tried to push myself, I—I guess I just wanted to make you proud”, you shrugged shyly, dropping your gaze down to your conjoined hands.

Frank chuckled, not because he thought it was funny but because he thought his feelings for you were obvious. ”I’m already proud of ya, girl. I always am. You don’t gotta prove anythin’ to me. You definitely don’t gotta make yourself that uncomfortable just to show me”, he insisted, lifting your hand so he could kiss the back of it once, then twice, then once more.

You smiled weakly and squeezed his hand. ”Thanks for taking me home. I feel better now”, you told him, and with a nod, Frank let his lips twitch up in the most careful of smiles.

”That makes me real happy to hear, darlin’. Scares the shit outta me when you get all shaky like that”, he admitted, and when you opened your mouth, he knew exactly what you were going to say. ”Don’t apologize. It ain’t your fault. I just worry, y’know?” he added, earning a sigh from you.

”Yeah, I know. But for what it’s worth, you always help. It’d be way worse without you”, you mentioned, fully truthful. With Frank by your side, you had gotten much better at fighting back at the anxiety and not letting it control every aspect of your life, and when nights like these occurred and you lost your footing, he was always there to lift you back up.

”Anythin’ you need, baby, you know that. Now, how ’bout we go inside and I’ll make you somethin’ to eat, huh?” he suggested, painfully aware that you hadn’t been able to get a single forkful in at the bar. Touched by his thoughtfulness, you agreed and reluctantly let go of his hand to climb out of the car.

As soon as the doors were locked, though, Frank took ahold of your hand once again, loving the contact but loving the comfort it brought you even more. Whenever things got tough, you reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate to hold on tight — and he never would.

[bananabeebenson]

Romcom kind of idea: Helmeppo and Garp takes Koby drinking to relax since next day they have to start training some new recruits. At the bar Koby see a pretty lady and get pushed by the other two older marines for him to go talk to her. After talking, drinking and maybe even a little make out session with the lady, Koby goes home all relaxed and happy. Next day, still with a little hangover, Koby goes to talk with the new recruits just to spot who in the crowd? Cute lady!!!! And she looks just as surprised as him. What now?

Pairing: Koby x Reader

Warnings: None (SFW/Fluff and some awkward Koby)

Word Count: 1,940

Fic is under the cut

Requests are open

Koby should have known this was going to be a mistake.

Garp, the famous Hero of the Navy, had pulled only a handful of strings in pulling his two apprentices away from Marineford to an island only half an hour’s travel away, where a ‘perfect bar was calling them’. Koby had been trying to ignore their insistence that he join them. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have enjoyed the idea of a couple of drinks possibly in the house, or Garp’s own tab, it was that the next day they would find themselves training their first new wave of Recruits. Koby and Helmeppo had struggled to get as far as they had come, fighting through tribulations and their own self-inflicted doubts to get to the point they were. Not to mention the thin ice they sometimes found themselves on due to their light association with Luffy D. Monkey. Not that they would complain. Garp’s name would usually be enough to back off most who threw doubts their way, or their own accomplishments they’ve managed in most locations. This had put them in good enough graces to finally take on a small group of new recruits to be trained. It wouldn’t be permanent, like Garp with them, but more so a temporary thing to last only a few months before they would be split apart and shipped off to different areas. Some would remain in Marineford, but not many.

“Come on.” Helmeppo spoke, tilting his head to the side just as the boat rocked to the right a little too hard. It wasn’t a Navy ship like they were used to, more so a simple Ferry built to withstand the waves of the Grand Line. It wasn’t something built to go for several days or harbor hundreds, thus it rocked in uneven motions, tossing the people who weren’t prepared for it back and forth. Compared to others, they were holding on just fine, with Koby’s hands gripping the side of the boat. He still couldn’t believe they had managed to convince him to come along. Maybe he was more stressed than he had realized over the situation.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” It wasn’t bitter, but he was pouting in a strangely young way, something to remind Helmeppo just how young the two of them were compared to others out here. He huffed.

“Don’t look so guilty and miserable about it. You’re acting like we kidnapped you at gunpoint or something.”

“You both threatened to, and I quote, carry me out here anyways. I don’t think I had much of a choice.” His smile was weary, small on his face. His goggles fell suddenly from a sharp rock and he steadied them back to the top of his head.

“Well, you needed to get out.” Helmeppo said. He nodded, agreeing with himself and propped up against the railing. Koby knew when he was fighting a losing argument, so he resigned himself to simply enjoy the quiet he would have before arriving.

The bar was definitely crowded with young, new faces that Koby had never seen before. Some older Marines, people he had seen around Marineford, were also there and nursing harder drinks in their reclusive corners. Garp and Helmeppo wouldn’t leave Koby alone, much to his own simmering annoyance. It wasn’t that he wasn’t unthankful nor wished for a lonely presence, but he did wish for some quieter drinking company. His own drink was fruity and light, something he could enjoy at least while he watched everyone around him continue to grow louder and louder. 

Then, he spotted you.

It was a creeping feeling. A sudden realization that he had been staring at you as you laughed at something another person said, your own drink also being softly nursed with small sips. He didn’t even notice his staring or how he was acknowledging how you snorted into your hand when you laughed a little too hard until Helmeppo had noticed he was zoned out and no longer listening. Bending over his shoulder he looked over and grinned something broad and dangerous.

“Oh, spot you someone?” Koby jerked into a stiff seated position and quickly looked away from you, red burning across his cheeks. Garp’s attention was immediately dragged over when he tried to stutter an excuse, one that had Helmeppo smirking.

“What’s wrong? Got tongue-tied or something from a beautiful lady?” Garp slapped a hard hand onto Koby’s shoulder and his weaker drink was spilled, the shattering of the glass covered by the loud atmosphere of the crowd around. “I thought you learned how to talk to someone like that from me already. Or did you?” Garp shook his head and delivered another harsh slap, knocking him from the seat.

“Go talk to her.” Helmeppo said. “She doesn’t look like she’s here with anyone.”

Koby choked on a response to them and found himself urged away, shooed off with waves and hollering that followed his ever growing reddening ears. You were still where you were though, as they had said, you were alone. Whoever you had been talking to had moved on, perhaps to another face, and you were still nursing your own drink, twisting the straw that stuck out of it. You were dressed formally. No, not formally, but better than he was in his casual clothing that had been thrown to the back of his closet, almost forgotten about until this time. He felt underdressed compared to you and it made him hesitate even further. But the shame of what Garp and Helmeppo would do if he returned without at least attempting to speak to you far out-weighed any nerves of his attire, so he swallowed nerves down deep and approached you with the first thing he could say.

“I like the color of your shoes.”

He was doomed.

You blinked up at him in confusion, poised for a sip you would abandon in return for eyeing the man before you. Koby remained unmoving, hands sweating and flexing in his pockets as he tried to maintain some calm atmosphere about him. 

Then you laughed.

“Well, I’m glad I suppose. I like them too.” You looked him over once, twice, then shifted on the seating you had been perched on. A bench, definitely meant for outside, had been pulled in. “Did you come over here to speak only about my shoes or….”

He definitely did not.

“I-I came over to talk to a pretty lady like you.” Garp would have been proud of his word choice, but the ever flustered Koby was slowly curling in on himself, turning away to hide his embarrassment. You found it charming. Cute, in a way, and masked your giggle around the rim of your cup.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” You asked. The teasing tone did urge him to look at you and you were so nice when you spoke. Up close like this he got to smell the perfume you had on, something sweet to lure him in a bit closer, which helped to ease up his nerves. “You look a little uncomfortable though. You sure that’s why you’re over here?”

Busted.

“I-It isn’t that I don’t want to talk to you. My friends just, ah, they saw me looking at you and just, well.” He choked and you fought your grin until he found his words. “They…wanted me to try talking to you.”

“I’m glad.” He blinked, looked you over once, then blinked again. “No, really. I promise, my friends dragged me out here too for some celebration I’m not even a part of. Or, well, I don’t want to be a part of.” You spared a glance to a gathered group of young, fresh faces to the far side and he followed it. They were drinking heavily, a few encouraging the others as fresh shots of something strong and smelly passed around. You lightly cringed around your own fruity drink, something Koby would have liked. 

“You were dragged out too?” He relaxed a bit more then, finding you in a similar situation. “Well…guess we have no choice but to keep each other company then, right?”

Keeping each other company turned into a few drinks. A few drinks turned into a couple shots, bought by the beaming Garp who raised his own glass. And a few laughs and stories shared between the two of you turned into shoulders brushing. Then it turned into him helping you to a corner where there was less light to try and fix your shoe, which had broken when you stood to get a drink.

Then it turned into a drunken spur of the moment kiss that evolved into more than one.

Maybe he should have paid attention to the facts you spoke, but he hadn’t drank in a long time and it was definitely potent when it settled. These kisses you shared were sweet and warm. A breath of fresh air to the cold reprise of Marinfore, and he was sighing into them whenever you both broke apart. He was respectful of any boundaries you had and you were respectful that he was still intoxicated, so your touches were restrained. Held back to simply brushes of fingers on fingers, or fingertips touching at the shoulders or bottom of the kneecap. The kisses continued on, the sounds of the background falling apart, it all became too much and when you finally pulled back, head lightly spinning, a hand clasped onto Koby’s shoulder.

 Garp.

“It’s getting late.” He stated, a gruff voice rough from his drinks and a couple of smoke breaks he had taken with others in the Marines. Koby blinked up at him in confusion before you seemed to put the pieces together. Garp was charming with his smile, but he was also aware of how late it had actually gotten. Koby seemed to want to disagree, but your hand on his wrist distracted him briefly as you agreed.

“You should head back. I have a few things to take care of tomorrow too.” You looked down at your person and frowned. “I…don’t have a way to communicate, but I could meet you back here tomorrow night? If that’s okay?”

That was more than okay in his eyes.

Then, nothing. He was on the rocking boat, listening to Helmeppo tease him about the “loving eyes” he had been shooting you, all blitzed out of his mind from his drinks, but he didn’t care. Garp didn’t speak much on anything, enjoying the cooler evening air and soft sounds of the Ocean. Then he was in bed, curled into his pillow and still remembering your perfume, the taste of your sweet drink on your lips, and how soft your hand was on his.

He slept with a smile on his face.

That smile would be abruptly taken the next morning, when he was dressed in uniform and standing at the end of a long lineup of people, all dressed in similar uniforms. They all looked similar. Young, fresh, and new to the Marines. Similar to how he had been long ago when he had first joined, except there was an issue. Standing in exactly row five, three to the left stood a familiar, equally shocked face.

You. There stood you, with your eyes wide and mouth partially open at the realization of what had happened the previous night. Helmeppo, thankfully, hadn’t recognized you or he would have never heard the end of it. Garp wasn’t there, busy with something else that these two were to handle.

‘Well.’ He thought, looking away with his ears a vibrant pink once again. ‘At least I won’t have to meet you there tonight.’

[funniestbitchinfaerun]

BG3 Kinktober Day 16: Formal Wear

aka: "Kestrel Ruins a Perfectly Good Suit"

look i said i was going to do this and i am a woman of my word. prompt list from here.

length: 1500 words. no idea how that happened.

pairing: halsin X my tav Kestrel MacDuff, Selune's okayest soldier (you can find+replace her name with "the girl reading this" if you like)

warnings: wanton destruction of expensive trousers. having sex in a backroom at a fancy party. wild speculation about Councilor Florrick's post-game career trajectory.

---

“I suppose it’s too late now to back out of this.”

“Well, considering the party starts in twenty minutes, I would have to agree,” said Kestrel, attempting to slick down a misbehaving lock of auburn hair. “But look, it won’t be so bad. Three hours, tops, and I’m sure we’ll know at least half the other guests. Besides, I’d feel horrible if we weren’t there to support Councilor Florrick–well, Duke Florrick, now.”

“You know how I feel about stiff, formal clothes–but you do look ravishing.” He looked over her pale blue suit appreciatively, gaze lingering on her hips. “I look forward to unwrapping you like a gift at the end of the night.”

“She’s a decent sort,” Halsin agreed. He looked uncomfortable, though ridiculously attractive, in a chestnut brocade jacket that made the blue of his eyes stand out, and Kestrel once again congratulated herself for convincing him to accompany her. “Though I will admit, part of me wishes it was our own Wyll receiving this honor.”

Kestrel sighed. “I know. And maybe if–when–he and Karlach find a way out of Avernus, we’ll be going to another one of these parties. But for now, we may as well support an old friend.” She set down the hair pomade and turned away from the mirror. “How do I look?”

“For someone who’s nearly four centuries old, you are awfully like a randy youth at times.” Kestrel shot him a wink. “Contain yourself, dear…for now.”

—

Florrick was a popular figure, and her ballroom was crowded, but not so much that Kestrel couldn’t still spot her lover from halfway across the room. He’d had a drink or two, she could tell as she drew nearer–his cheeks were flushed, and he was grinning from ear to ear like a schoolboy.

“Kestrel!” he exclaimed, causing half the room to look in her direction. “You utter beauty, how I’ve missed you.”

They’d only been separated for about half an hour, but Kestrel didn’t point this out. After all, she’d missed him too.

She tapped the half-empty glass in his hand with a grin. “Someone’s been indulging a bit, I see.”

“Well, it is a celebration. And we so rarely have a night away from the children, we might as well indulge.” Halsin raked his fingers through her hair, undoing all her hard work from earlier, not that she minded.

“I love watching you charm all these people,” he whispered. “I suspect half of them are already dreaming of having you in their bed.”

“And I suspect you’re exaggerating. Have you seen how gorgeous Florrick looks? I don’t hold a candle to her. Besides,” Kestrel said quickly, before he could argue, “even if some of these good folks are attracted to me, I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed. There’s only one person here who’s tempting me to behave badly.”

“Is that so? I hope you mean that, my dearest love, because I am finding it very difficult to keep control of myself.” He pulled her into his arms, close enough that she could feel the huge, hard bulge in his trousers pressing against her belly. “If we don’t find somewhere private soon, I may end up mounting you on the banquet table.”

“I’m sure some of the guests would enjoy the show…but if you’d rather sneak off somewhere, I certainly wouldn’t object.” That was an understatement. She’d only had half a glass of wine, but desire and excitement had her completely intoxicated. Waiting until after the party suddenly seemed unthinkable.

The first door across the hall opened into a small, tidy office, with an intricately carved rosewood desk and several tall shelves stuffed with ledgers.

“Is this Florrick’s office?” Kestrel wondered. “Actually, you know what, I’d rather not know. Ignorance is bliss.”

“I can think of better forms of bliss.” He pulled her into his arms for a fiery kiss that left her gasping for air. “Turn around and put your hands on the desk.”

Kestrel obeyed enthusiastically. There was something so utterly thrilling about being bent over like this, practically helpless, unable to tell what he might do next. Not a situation she’d relish being in normally, but here–here she was safe, and loved, and she could take anything. She wriggled a hand under her abdomen to unbutton her breeches, but apparently Halsin was too impatient even for that. From behind her came a sharp ripping sound, and a rush of cool air hit her suddenly exposed sex.

“You know, I paid good money for this suit,” she said in mock annoyance. “Haven’t you ripped enough of my clothes?”

“Clothes can be mended. And at least,” he remarked, “ you are not wearing underwear.”

“Well, you know me. Always prepared–in this case, prepared for whatever debauchery I knew we’d get up to.”

“When we first met, I remember you turned bright red when I so much as touched you. And look at you now.” He slid one thick finger into her channel, testing her readiness and making her squirm. “Usually I would take hours to prepare you, but I’m afraid we’ll have to be quick this time. For propriety’s sake, and because I would rather finish inside you, rather than on your lovely suit.”

“Then hurry,” Kestrel gasped. Hours of preparation would have been superfluous anyway; she was already so wet it felt like a flood. “Take me, I need you.”

“I live to serve, my beautiful bird.” Warm, firm hands slid up the backs of her thighs, pushing her legs further apart, before withdrawing for an agonizing moment. She heard the rustle of fabric and, finally, felt the thick head of his cock pressing against her entrance. There he lingered, for far too long, teasing her cruelly.

It wasn’t until she let out a pleading wail, loud enough that she was certain one of the other guests would hear, that he finally relented and pushed into her. There was a not-unpleasant burn as he entered, followed by a rush of pure bliss.

Halsin swore under his breath and dug his fingers into her hair as he began to move steadily inside her. “By all the gods, you’re perfect.” The slight tremble in his voice was delicious. “I swear, I could fuck you ten times a night for a thousand years and never tire of you.”

“Then I’ll have to live a long time, just so we can test that theory.” Kestrel allowed herself a moment of self-satisfaction. She might be the shorter, younger, considerably sillier person in their partnership, but she had power over this beautiful, brilliant man, and it was thrilling to remember.

“Don’t hold back,” she panted, when he still hesitated. “We need to be efficient, remember?”

He growled in response and gripped her hips so tightly she’d probably have bruises in the morning, picking up the pace and pounding into her mercilessly, at the most perfect angle. At first Kestrel tried to keep pace with him, but it was easier to simply relax and let him use her as he pleased; after all, it pleased her just as much.

She came with a shriek of delight, hips bucking and legs trembling. If anyone in the ballroom heard, well, good for them. Halsin followed her a moment later with a deep, desperate groan of her name.

At last he withdrew, sending a gush of fluids down her thighs–as if her clothes weren’t ruined enough. At least the suit had sacrificed itself for a noble cause.

Halsin pressed a soothing kiss to the top of her head. “That was wonderful. Are you all right, my love? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Not a bit,” she replied, shakily standing, “but I don’t think I’m in any state to walk back through a crowded ballroom. You did a number on these trousers, and I’d rather not have any patriars seeing my bare nethers.”

Halsin didn’t look embarrassed, which was unsurprising, since he didn’t seem capable of the emotion. “That is a predicament. What do you suggest we do?”

Kestrel shrugged. “Sneak out the back? I think I’ve got an extra invisibility potion in my inside pocket. You know me…”

“Always prepared,” he finished with a gentle chuckle. “One of the things I love most about you.”

She looped an arm around his waist. “Let’s get back to the inn,” she said, “and you can list off all the things you love about me. But first, I think we’d better leave our poor host a note.”

Dear Florrick,

Awfully sorry we made a mess in your office and left the party without saying good night. We are terrible people. Congratulations on your new title!

Lots of love, 

K&H

[xxsabitoxx]

Being Sanemi’s Tsugoku

Other pillar versions (coming soon?)

A/N: it’s been a hot mother fucking minute since I’ve posted Sanemi. With Demon Slayer Sundays just a week away it’s only right that I return to my roots of posting some demon slayer content

Pink text is You — Green text is Sanemi

(Cosmo and Wanda think they slick—)

You couldn’t lie, you were initially petrified when Kagaya appointed you as Sanemi’s tsugoku

It was typical for the Hashira themselves to pick someone, usually someone they knew and trusted. Someone they could put their full faith in to fulfill their duties if it just so happen the current pillar was to lose the fight

That wasn’t the case for you. Kagaya himself appointed you for your outstanding performance and understanding of wind breathing

Needless to say, Sanemi wasn’t thrilled

“Just keep your mouth shut and maybe I won’t kill you.”

You could feel your brow twitch, you didn’t let anyone talk to you in such a tone. Wind pillar or not, you’d sooner die than be walked all over.

“Watch your tone and maybe I won’t beat your ass.”

Thus began Sanemi’s never ending torture. Torture he had to tolerate solely because Kagaya appointed you.

Hell it was likely a test at this point, put some sort of humanity in him so he wouldn’t get himself killed.

Sanemi’s training was nothing short of su!cidal, honestly by the end of the first day you were convinced he was trying to k!ll you

It consisted of training from sunrise until sunset followed by accompanying him on his patrolling. It would be a full twenty four hours until you saw your bed again.

“No wonder you look so psychotic, you don’t fucking sleep.”

He, of course, didn’t answer you. It seems he had taken his own advice to heart and decided keeping his mouth shut would save him the headache.

This intense regimen would continue for a full month, only half a day break in between so you could get some sleep.

You’d quickly learn his goal was to break you. Get you to leave the corps with your head hung low.

“Ya know, it’s kinda odd you’re so determined to get me to leave. It’s almost as if you care about me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. The corps is no place for weaklings, nothing more than demon bait at this point.”

“Ain’t that what you’d want then? People to lure the demons to you. Makes it easier than hunting them, pretending to be the prey I mean.”

Sanemi ended that conversation with a simple glare, something in his eyes that you’d never seen before. For once you let him drop it, not willing to uncover the man’s traumas against his will.

Sanemi’s behavior towards you mellowed slightly after three months of you being his tsugoku. You simply weren’t going anywhere any time soon so he didn’t think the hard ass attitude was quite necessary.

That’s not to say he started taking it easy on you… not by a long shot actually. If anything his schedule for you only got more intense. But it was different.

You could tell he was training you with the intent of keeping you alive, not scaring you out of the corps.

“I think we’ll be friends soon.” You laughed softly as you ate your lunch, sanemi was sitting a few feet away under the shade of a tree. “I don’t make friends.” It was gruff, food getting shoved into his mouth a moment later. “Okay tough guy, you’ll realize soon enough.” All you got was a nose scrunch in return.

The thing is, you were right. Sanemi should have known it would be impossible, even for him, to spend nearly every waking moment with someone and not enjoy their presence.

Around the six month mark of being his tsugoku, you found it easier to hold a conversation with him. Especially since he’d actually entertain it. Hell you’d even crack jokes with one another. It was safe to say he tolerated you now.

And not out of obligation

“I want you to leave the corps. I’m telling Master that you aren’t up to my satisfaction.” You froze, head whipping around to see if he was joking. The look on his face told you he wasn’t. “Aren’t we past this bull shit, Shinazugawa?”

Truth was, he’d gotten attached to you in some odd way. It fucking terrified him.

“You’ll do as I say, as your overseer. You have to obey my wishes.” You couldn’t quite understand why his attitude had switched, as if six months of work had suddenly never happened. “Bull shit. What the fuck happened?” He only shook his head, not able to maintain eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It wasn’t long before it turned into a full blow yelling match.

“I’ll tell Master you’re full of shit. Chances are he’ll fucking believe me, Shinazugawa.” For the first time, he was losing a battle in more ways than one. “Oh fuck off.” Was all he could muster, brain moving a mile a minute as he tried to figure out a better way to reason with you.

What had you done to him? He wanted to reason with you? That thought terrified him even worse.

In the end, all of his logic flew out the window as he uttered the very words he didn’t want to say out loud. Not because he didn’t mean them, but because he didn’t want to make things worse. He was already struggling with these new emotions, never mind making them known to you.

“I care about you a little too much to let you throw your life away in this hellish profession.”

That got you to freeze, eyes wide as you tried to gauge what exactly he meant by that statement. Silence hung between the two of you, you weren’t sure how long you both stood there in the back yard of his estate. But by the time you had gotten the courage to even make a noise, he was turning his back to you.

“Woah hold the fuck on! Don’t run away from me after saying something like that? Hell, Shinazugawa you never run from anything never mind me!”

For a moment he really wished some divine force would come down and kill him on the spot.

Yet, he steadied himself, realizing that you were right. He’d never run away from a fight, never mind being a coward with his own feelings. So he stopped, turning around to stop you in your tracks.

“I fucking care about you, what’s there to not understand?”

“That’s not where I’m confused you moron.”

He knew what you were implying, he knew what you wanted to hear and yet he found himself struggling. Being a Hashira gave him no right to admit he had feelings for you. It would only be cruel to you, especially since you were to be his successor.

“Shina—no—Sanemi. Explain yourself.”

That was his breaking point, eyes shutting as he exhaled slowly. Hearing his first name fall from your lips, this wasn’t exactly the situation he wanted to hear it for the first time. Yet it was enough to give him courage.

“I care about you, more than a friend, more than a tsugoku. There, happy?”

The shit eating grin that crept up your face was more than enough to show him that you were.

“See… I was right. I told you we’d become friends.”

“I just said I liked you more than a friend.”

“Fair enough, I guess it’s safe to say I underestimated you, master.”

“I’m still making you leave the corps.”

“Maybe if you offer me your hand in marriage I’ll consider it.”

He was starting to question why he even grew to like you in the first place. Though, the smile on your face had him mentally reminding himself to thank Kagaya for giving you to him.

[the-hopeless-haze]

When Will the Clouds All Disappear? (ch1)

Gregory House x Reader - part of Series If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: heavy suicidal ideation

“Kind of rude to make a cripple head to the roof of a building to look for you.” You hear his voice, loud and clear behind you, gravelly and distinctly masculine. You’d know it was him anywhere.

“What do you want, Greg?” You ask, sniffling. You're sitting on the ground, your back against the ledge, having made yourself sick staring off it for a good ten minutes before he arrived. Your head is in your hands, blocking him out, blocking everything out. You can’t open your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“You know,” he says firmly. You wish you had four hands so you could block your ears, too. You wish you were senseless. It would be so much easier. So much more peaceful.

“You wouldn’t have to worry anymore. I would just be gone,” you say, and you hate this, you hate everything, you wish he didn’t come up here so you could jump. Guilt-free. You know you look fucking ridiculous, with your hospital gown riding up to your thighs and those stupid non-slip socks damn near falling off your feet. Your hair is blowing wildly in the bitter January wind, and you feel lightheaded and woozy as it is, having pulled out your IV that hooked you up to fluids a half hour ago now.

“That isn’t what I want. I want you to come back downstairs with me.”

“How did you even know I was up here?” you question.

“You’re the one thing I can and can’t predict. Knew you’d come up here when they said you left the bed… still don’t know if anything I can say can get through to you. If you jump I jump?”

You shake your head. “No. You deserve to live.”

“And you don’t think you do?”

“No. And I don’t want to either.”

“Why not? I thought we had fun together.”“But you don’t care—“

“Why am I up here with you freezing my ass off if I don’t care?”

“Just go.”

“Not without you, sweetheart.”

You grimace at the pet name, it sounds so fake coming from his lips. “You didn’t even come to see me,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know what to say.”“Anything would’ve been better than nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’ll say anything so I don’t jump,” you say, tasting bitterness acrid on your tongue. You wish you could turn off your brain, but you’ve been here before, seconds to an attempt and still gone through with it with no one to stop you except for your diseased brain. And it was diseased, every impulse usually hardwired to keep your body alive at all costs screaming to be let out of its misery and to just let you die, please. It’s almost like an addiction, instead of one more hit, it’s just like, one more thing to let go of. One more thing to convince yourself doesn’t matter, one more person to convince yourself wants you to die or doesn’t care if you go, one more event you’ll never get to live through that you convince yourself you didn’t want to attend anyway.

“I mean it,” he says urgently. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’ve been a shitty boyfriend, lover, friend with benefits, or whatever you want to call me. I know I’m not the reason you’re contemplating this right now. You’ve struggled with this all your life. I’m not going to fix it. But Jesus Christ. You and I both know this isn’t the goddamn answer. You spent your whole life going to school and working to prevent people from offing themselves.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you,” he says. “I came for the surgery—“

“You had plenty of time to see me. You weren’t there when I needed you to be! I’m just another patient, is that it? Don’t come visit them unless you think you’ll learn something? What was it, you never got to see a D&C before? I called you, Greg. You never answered. I had to call Wilson to make sure you weren’t dead but of course, you weren’t, you were just avoiding me and why should I expect anything more from you? Of course you run when things get hard; when the woman you’ve been fucking might need a little more than after-sex cuddles.” You stand up as you say this, turning your back to him, looking over the ledge. Fuck.

“I’m sorry. Just please don’t jump,” he says and if you were in your right mind you’d notice that he was getting increasingly desperate, but you aren’t noticing much of anything right now. Except that your plans were thwarted. You see firefighters and they’ve already set up a trampoline on the side of the building. You don’t say anything, nothing at all, and you start to walk away from that ledge and then sprint toward the other one, hoping that you can get over there, run faster than he can, but he’s on you, and he moves fast for someone with an injured leg when the adrenaline kicks in, and you feel yourself knocked to the ground, his warm breath fanning your face.

“Got you. You’re not getting away from me that easy,” he says, and you finally look at him for the first time since you’ve been up here. You wish he would crush you to death but he’s barely putting his weight on you, just enough that you can’t move.

“I can’t go through this again,” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut, and you expect the hysterical tears but they never come. You feel numb. Empty.

“You can. You can and you will.”

“You’re going to put me on a hold?”

“I have to,” he says, and you could trick yourself into thinking there’s guilt in his blue eyes when you open yours again. “I’ll make sure they give you the good stuff. Say you need to be chemically restrained. Order you Haldol, Ativan, or whatever you want. But I need… I need to know you’re safe.”

“So you’ll sedate me?”

“It’s the only way I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Just like you to make it about yourself, huh?”

“Shut up,” he says sternly, tacking your name on the end of the command like a warning. “This isn’t about me. None of this is about me. I know that.”

“Then you should have let me go.”

“One day you’ll thank me,” he says, digging his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Hey. Yeah. I need help bringing her downstairs. She’s not going to go willingly.”

You hate how he’s talking about you the way you would talk about patients to your coworkers, and you hate him for calling Wilson to help him walk you down the stairs. Wilson’s a certified sap, and the look on his face, his brown eyes sympathetic and his brows furrowed… makes you want to hit him, and maybe you’d try if you had the energy to. You don’t want pity. You want to be left to your own devices. You want nothing, hatred, you could stand, but Wilson looking at you like you were a kicked puppy is more than you can handle right now.

“I wasn’t going to jump,” you say, and it’s unconvincing even to your own ears. “I wasn’t even on the ledge when you came up here.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s enough that I don’t believe you,” Greg says. “Your track record sucks. Every attempt has been after a traumatic event. Forgive me for being a little worried.”

You’re about to protest, say he doesn’t know anything, but you know he went through your medical files before the first time your lips touched his. Fair enough. Two could play at that game, certainly, and you took what you felt you could without him getting suspicious out of your file. You looked through his, too, because what’s good for him is by all means fucking good for you too, and if you can’t have normal conversations like a normal couple, at least you could learn about each other unconventionally. Isn’t that love, at least kind of love, searching high and low for information, trying to memorize somebody else like you know yourself?

Never mind that it’s illegal.

You feel his mouth on yours, his scruff scratching pleasantly at your skin, and… yeah. That’s when the fucking tears come.

You wish neither of these men saw you like this. You were meant to be firm, cold but compassionate, distant but likable, albeit only from that distance. You didn’t get close to people, not since you were younger, because you knew how you’d get and you knew it was a horrific sight. Wilson, you love like a brother, but Gregory… you love irrevocably, irreverently, irreversibly. Intense is an understatement, and you wish it wasn’t the case, you wish so badly you could turn it off and become the woman you were before that man and his cane hobbled into your life. You wish more than anything you were alone right now.

But then again. You might not be alive.

“Shh. It’s okay,” he says, and you don’t believe him. He doesn’t believe it himself. It’s just something to say. And he hates those clichés. He hates talking just to talk. Yet … he says that to you. He lies to you, just for your benefit. Everybody lies.. but it's usually for their own gain. “I don’t want to make this worse than it has to be,” he says slowly. “Make this easy for us.”

“You have drugs on you, Greg,” you say, rolling your eyes through your tears. You hate that you know him this well. “You’re prepared to sedate me regardless.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t want to have to get to that point. Would you rather be sedated? Because I can arrange that.”

“Get off me.”

“Are you going to walk with us?”

“Yeah,” you huff.

“Good girl,” he says, and in a different context that would lead to something very different than this. But no. He lifts himself off you instead of dicking you down, wincing when he puts his weight back on his leg, and he and Wilson both help you off the concrete roof. It’s now you realize your back is scraped from when Greg pushed you down, and you grimace as you stand up. Everything hurts.

You have four strong hands on your body now, Wilson’s thin graceful fingers wrapping around your left arm, the other hand on the small of your back to steady you. Greg, you’re more fine with seeing you this way, he’s a train wreck himself and you’ve gotten him out of his shell before. But Wilson? He’s got everything together, well, except for his marriages. House’s larger hands grip you too, one hand firm on your right shoulder and the other around your side.

It’s a slow walk down the stairs, back into the building and you feel a rush of relief at the feeling of heat on your body, but then it becomes too much and you don’t know what you’re fighting for because you know there’s no way you could run, you may be faster than Greg but there’s no way you’d get by Wilson in your current state, and then you’re pushed against the wall in the staircase, Wilson’s calling for security on a radio and a gurney on the radio, and they’re both holding you there and you’re struggling against them, arms you try to push out of the way and legs you try to kick but it’s to no avail, you feel the slight pinch of a needle in your arm and … that’s it. Maybe this is what you were asking for but you were too ashamed to say, too ashamed to acquiesce verbally to the sedation, too embarrassed to say “no, I need to be unconscious for this, thank you.” But you weren’t too embarrassed to pull a fucking nutty in the staircase of the hospital you work at.

“I would’ve just given it to you,” you hear Greg say. “You don’t have to do everything the hard way.”

And then, thankfully, mercifully, pleasantly, you fade out and away.

[egcdeath]

a bundle of nerves

pairing: joel miller x reader (technically part of the soccer parents au, but can 100% be read as a stand alone)

summary: when anxiety paralyzes you in the morning, joel lends you a helping hand.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: au: no apocalypse, kinda hurt/comfort, mostly comfort, fluff, joel is a big softie, kinda body worship later on, reader is very anxious and stressed, run on sentences, established relationship, no use of y/n

author’s note: i can’t believe i’m finally breaking my hiatus!! huge shoutout to @pedges who has listened to the 1000000 thoughts i’ve had over the past few days.

You were so stressed that you thought your heart might burst—but really, that was your fault. Because as stressed as you were, as much as your heart pounded so hard you could feel it in your throat, or how your hands were sweating so hard you had practically created a waterfall—you were still laying in bed, nowhere near ready to take on the day.

Joel had volunteered to take care of the majority of your shared morning duties; waking up early to make breakfast for the kids, bringing them to school, he even packed your work bag so you had one less thing to worry about that morning.

Yet, the head start he’d given you had essentially amounted to zero, as from the time he pressed a kiss to your forehead and wished you good luck, and now, as he came back into the room to grab his watch before dropping the girls off at school, you still laid in bed—wildly sprawled out across the mattress, forehead damp with sweat forcing your undone hair to stick to spots of it, and still in last night’s pajamas.

“Honey, what’s going on?” Joel asked, clearly concerned with your lack of movement and general disarray. Thinking back on your relationship, you weren’t sure that he’d ever seen you stressed to the point of you being strung out.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you confessed, barely budging from where you were laid out, not even shifting your eyes from the ceiling to your boyfriend.

“Yes, you can,” his voice changed a little bit as he sat down next to you. You finally looked over at Joel, into his soft and sympathetic eyes, and felt just a smidge of your stress fade away. “What’s got you feeling this way?”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, finally managing to sit up so that you could lean against Joel’s steady body. “I’m scared that I’ll fuck up in front of everybody. All of my peers… all of my superiors. After everything I’ve done to get here, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of humiliation.”

Joel wrapped an arm around you as you confessed your fears to him, which only made you feel more secure in telling him your predicament. He obviously cared about what you were worried about, and seemed dead set on genuinely listening to your fears and making you feel heard.

“It’s normal to be scared, honey. But you’ve practiced in front of me more times than I can remember, and you’ve fuckin’ killed it every time,” Joel attempted to console you, giving you a gentle, yet reassuring squeeze.

“But that’s different. I’m comfortable with you, and you probably only said I was good because you have to say I’m good.”

“No, I’d be honest with you if you weren’t. I just didn’t have to be, because you impressed me every time,” he gently nudged you in a way that forced you to look him right in the eye. “You are a force to be reckoned with. They wouldn’t have asked you to do this presentation if you weren’t. You’re one of the smartest, strongest, and most charismatic people I know. You’re gonna go out there, and blow off everyone’s socks, the same way you blew off mine. Now can I help you get ready so you can look as good as you’re gonna do?”

You weren’t even sure how to respond to the praise, so you opted into awkwardly half-chuckling instead. Joel did seem to have a point though, and he said all of the right things with just enough conviction to convince you that maybe getting ready was the right thing to do.

Finally getting out of bed, you freshened yourself up in the bathroom while Joel picked out your freshly dry cleaned skirtsuit from the closet. Once he’d finally found the piece, he’d found you at the vanity, now working on touching up your hair as fast as you could. Being the sweetheart he was, Joel helped you put on your clothes while you multitasked in getting yourself more presentable.

He pressed soft kisses to your ribcage as he helped you get a bra on, peppered kisses on your neck while buttoning your blouse, and trailed his fingers on your thighs while helping you into your skirt. Not only did he make you feel good about your appearance, but made you feel thoroughly loved in the process of doing so.

With your teamwork and multitasking, you had managed to pull yourself together surprisingly quickly, with Joel on his knees helping you slip into heels to complete your outfit just as the sound of his truck’s horn honking began to ring out, a sure sign that the girls were ready to go and tired of waiting for Joel to come down.

“You’re gonna kill it today, honey. And when you get home, we’ll all do something to celebrate, yeah?” he suggested, pressing one last kiss to your knee before standing up.

“Sounds good,” you smiled to yourself, still feeling nervous about your presentation and the risks associated with messing it all up, but feeling infinitely better after Joel helped to prepare you for it, both physically and mentally. “Thank you, Joel. I don’t know if you realized the actual miracle you performed on me this morning, but I really appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

He simply smiled and bashfully shrugged, never a fan of receiving praise for the work he did. He grabbed your hand, and you followed his lead as he took you downstairs, then into the garage where he prepared to say farewell.

What you weren’t expecting was for Joel to pull you into a tight hug, pressing one last kiss into your hair as he held you.

“You’re gonna do great. Just remember that you are the fucking best. I love you,” he informed you, as if he hadn’t made it abundantly clear in every single way that morning.

“Thank you, Joel. I love you too. As much as I would love to stand here and have you tell me how great I’m gonna do, if we don’t get out of here soon, the girls are gonna be late and so will I,” you laughed softly, a warm feeling of love and adoration running through your veins.

“You have a point there,” he chuckled, finally and reluctantly pulling away from you. “Go crush it, honey.”

With him bidding you farewell, and a quick wave to the girls in the backseat of Joel’s truck, you were off to work. While your nerves were still there, you couldn’t deny that Joel’s little routine had made a huge difference on your outlook on the day.

With a smile on your face as you practiced your speech aloud to yourself in the rearview mirror, and far-less shaky hands gripping your steering wheel, you realized that maybe Joel was right.

You were going to do great.

[shubblelive]

— [ TENSE +2 ] UNWANTED PROPOSAL

summary : (from marriage proposal) timing is everything.

genre : fluff

warnings : talks of marriage (again, mostly silly), like 2 swear words

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x cc!reader

pronouns : none (you/yours), i think 1 or 2 uses of "them"

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

word count : 1.4k

note : i am back!!! i have so many will drafts that i am slowly but surely getting them out. i started college since i last came on, so i have wayyy less time and energy but i am doing my best i promise.

You met Wilbur because of a bit.

No one thought you’d like each other when you first met, with Wilbur first discovering your channel while he was streaming. You were a lot softer than him, from your voice - preferring to bring your mic closer to your face rather than yelling. You played video games, sure, but you liked games that you could just play by yourself without much stress. You were big on crochet and painting, and Wilbur was taken with you almost immediately. 

You, however, were harder to convince. “Who is Wilbur and why is he bullying Ruby?” You gestured behind you to where there was a small anteater figurine on the shelf. She was given to you by one of your fans, painted specifically for you and you’d named it after the girl who gave it to. 

From then on, you would go back and forth, each picking on a small thing that the other did. This went on for a few weeks before it suddenly stopped. Your viewers were disappointed, but they assumed the bit had finished, and you guys would go back to pretending the other person didn’t exist. 

You did the opposite, much to everyone’s delight. You flew out to see each other every few months, streaming for hours with Wilbur’s head resting on yours, your hands fiddling with each others under the frame of the camera. But it was the times that you weren’t streaming that you loved the most. 

Waking up with Wilbur’s face inches from yours, him coming to stand between your legs while you sat on the kitchen bench, head resting on his shoulder. His hand under your jaw as you beamed up at him, smile so bright he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage so hard he was convinced you could feel it. Spending what felt like centuries memorising the shape of his face.

It was years of friendship captured online, with all the love and tenderness obvious to anyone who saw. It didn’t show the whole story, didn’t show the kisses pressed to your cheeks in dark rooms. Didn’t show the tears when he left you for another four months. 

Everyone on the internet could see Wilbur loved you, but you were the only person who knew just how much. At least he thought so. 

It was one of Wilbur’s extended stays at your flat, and you had an early morning stream planned; an important one. Wilbur had woken up late, and went to go check on you. He wouldn’t go in - he was still in his pyjamas and people didn’t need to see him half awake and full-hearted. 

He was just intending on standing right outside the door and listening for a few minutes before he’d go entertain himself while you worked. You were playing the Sims after having just announced new merch and a new project you’d been working on, and Wilbur found himself biting back a smile.

“I’m really struggling, chat.” Your tone was light, but when was it not? Why hadn’t you said anything? “Now, I know we like to keep things nice and cosy here, but maybe one of you can help me.”

Wilbur frowned, knowing he’d have to bring it up with you later. You were struggling? And you felt more comfortable sharing it with the entire internet rather than with him? “So, chat. We all know Wilbur, right? We know Will, we love Will. Now, I think I love Will more than anyone else, and I thought he loved me.” You huffed. 

What were you talking about? Of course he loved you. Had he not been showing it enough recently? He pulled out his phone and immediately went to look at your calendar. The two of you had combined work calendars years ago, so even if you weren’t in the same place you knew what the other had going on. It was your idea, but Wilbur was immensely grateful in that moment. You had another thing early tomorrow so you wouldn’t want to be out too late. You had to go out immediately after the stream, but you’d be back by lunch. That was more than enough time for him to set something up. “I have been trying my hardest, chat. I want to marry Wilbur and he just refuses.” He almost dropped his phone, his heart leaping into his throat. You wanted marriage? It was one of those things, where if you wanted it he’d more than willingly give it to you. But marriage was something Wilbur thought you didn’t want. 

Okay, he could do this. Maybe not before lunch, but he could do it. He’d just need a ring, and all the other fancy shit that people did. What should you buy your partner before you propose? Candles? You weren’t big on the smell.

Maybe he could make dinner, though you preferred not cooking when he was there, hating washing up even more. He would figure it out. He knew you better than anyone else, he would make this the best proposal ever. 

Sim-Wilbur was not co-operating. You had spun a wheel at the beginning of your sim’s life to find out who their love interest would be and your real life boyfriend was the lucky person. 

You had tried your best to get your sim to propose to Wilbur but he kept rejecting them no matter how high your relationship was. You ended up deciding to play something less frustrating until the end of the stream. After, you emerged and found Wilbur on the couch, typing furiously. “You alright, Will?”

“Of course, love,” he barely looked up. “You off?”

You nodded, but he didn’t even look. “Yeah, I’ll be back around eleven-thirty. Want me to bring lunch?”

“Sure.” He looked up for long enough to kiss you quickly. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more present when you get back I promise, just work stuff.”

“Okay,” you felt a bit silly, even trying to talk to him when he was clearly distracted. “I love you.”

At least he made sure to say it back before you left. You shook off your weird feeling, and went to your meeting. You had a bag of food in one hand, struggling to hold onto it while you unlocked your door. “Will? Can you come help me please?”

You managed to get the door closed, and when you spun around you were met with your boyfriend. On one knee, with a ring.

You dropped the bag. 

“What?” you couldn’t think of much else to say besides that. “What?”

“Darling.” He had practised twelve times, absolutely determined not to show you how rushed this was. He’d re-propose later, of course, something much more extravagant. Or less, if that’s what you wanted. He didn’t know what you wanted, this was something he hadn’t even considered in this phase of his life. Not that he wouldn’t do it, he’d do anything for you. “We’ve been together for a while now, but even if we hadn’t I’d still know that I don’t want to love anyone the way I love you. I don’t even think I’ll be able to if we split up. I know sometimes I’m shit at showing it, and I’m sorry if you were putting out signs and I was ignoring them. But I promise, I love you more than I can even say. So, after all that…” he took a breath. “Will you-”

“I don’t want to get married!” You blurted. 

He faltered. “You don’t?”

“No,” you spluttered. “I thought we talked about this! I told you I was happy with how we were, and I thought you were too. It’s nothing to do with you. I’m just not a marriage type of person, at least not right now.”

“But you said-” He wobbled as he stood up, dusting himself off. “You said you were trying to marry me but I was being stubborn or something.”

You shouldn’t have laughed, but you couldn’t quite help yourself. “Video game, darling,” you said softly.

God, he was an idiot. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not.” 

“You’re still laughing at me!”

You pulled him closer to you, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you, Wilbur. But the answer is no, I will not marry you.” He started laughing as well, and he kissed you back; open mouthed and giddy. “Your chips are on the floor.”

“Doesn’t matter,” his hands found yours, squeezing gently. “I can eat chips whenever. You only don’t get engaged once.”

“If you’re lucky.” You said, not able to wipe the smile from your face despite the fact that literally nothing happened.

“Trust me, I’m so lucky.” 

[officialleehadan]

To Listen

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by Kat! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Low and High

+++

It was a gamble to go among the soldiers, but most of what Oriel did these days was a gamble. This was, at least, somewhat less of a gamble than many things. With Lovan and Tavion at her sides, silent guardians wherever she went, she felt rather more secure about leaving the castle.

Yahiva explained their presence to Elman as traitors, half-bloods who hated the River Lord and all he stood for. In a way, it was true. Their grandmother was of Kalman, before things got so bad, and they owed their skin, lighter than Oriel’s own, but not by much, to her blood. It was an advantage. They drew some questioning looks from the other soldiers, but not enough to concern Oriel’s father.

It didn’t hurt that, without their helms, it was clear Lovan and Tavion were brothers. Tavion was enough younger they would never be taken for twins, but they shared the same sharp features and keen eyes.

“You sure you want to do this?” Lovan asked, face hidden behind his helm, but his spear close to hand. It was a common weapon among the Zaisi, but among her own people as well, simply for the efficacy of it, and for a spear’s many uses outside of war. “Plenty of these men want you dead.”

“They don’t want me dead, they want change,” Oriel corrected him and took a deep breath to center herself. She had dressed carefully for this challenge. A simple linen underdress in undyed cream, beneath a soft green dress in the same style the healers favored. She carried a knife on her belt. Lovan was teaching her to use it, in the moonlit nights when they wouldn’t be observed. “They hate my father, and who can blame them? This campaign was foolish in the beginning, but now it’s simply madness. We don’t stand a chance against the forces hidden in the delta.”

“The Zaisi are used to water travel, your army isn’t,” Tavion said quietly. Both he and Lovan were careful never to refer to the Zaisi as us or ours, in an effort to convince anyone who might be watching that they were loyal to Oriel. They were, of course, but not in the way that anyone spying for Elman would realize. Yahiva was working hard to keep it that way. “And the dangers of it. Hopefully your gifts will win some good-will from the soldiers. I know it would work on me.”

The gifts in question were socks. Good, thick, dry socks of knitted wool that would be warm even when it was wet and would dry quickly. It was a small thing, small enough that Elman allowed her to give them out as she pleased, but both Lovan and Tavion assured her that, for a soldier, clean, warm socks were better than a full meal of hot stew. Food would warm them for a night. Socks would warm them until they wore out.

Of course, Oriel also came bearing food. It too, was not much, but a brick of good tea, brought down from the mountains, for each troop ought to win some smiles.

Her first task, as Yahiva and Lovan explained, was winning the hearts of her people. She just had to let the soldiers see that she wasn’t her father.

The first few fires among the army were decidedly chilly to visit. Each troop had their own fire surrounded by a ring of tents, and all of them were decidedly damp. Nobody was having a good time with the campaign to take the River Lands, but the soldiers on the front line were getting the worst of it. The only saving grace was that the River Lands were warm enough that they weren’t fighting the cold as well as everything else.

“It’s not much,” Oriel said to the troop leader, but she turned her smile on all of the soldiers in he troop as she came to the third fire. They bowed to her, but it was begrudging at best. She pretended not to notice. Respect could come when they knew her better. “But I’m told warm socks and tea are a soldier’s first love in a war. I hope they help.”

As hoped, the gifts brought surprise, but also the tentative offer to join them at the fire, at least for a minute. Oriel, glad for even the slightest hope of winning these men over, took the invitation gladly.

“What else do you need?” she asked them earnestly as the men settled back down after offering her a barre to sit on. It too, wasn’t much, but it was the best they had to offer, and that made it everything. “I can’t arrange much, but I can at least bring your needs to the generals.”

“They won’t care,” one man said hotly, and silenced when one of his fellows elbowed him, but Oriel held up a hand to stop him. They watched her cautiously and she tried to channel Ratana’s unflappable, reassuring calm. “You… you really want to know?”

“I really want to know,” Oriel said into the sudden hush around the fire. “I know His Majesty has not… done his best for you, and I can’t do much more, but I can try. I want to try, for you.”

“You won’t report us for talking, right?” another man asked. He was a ragged fellow with a healing cut that went across his nose almost from one cheekbone to the other. Oriel paused, and then fished in her pocket for the little jar of balm he kept for her own use. It was far finer than anything these soldiers would see, but she could get more whenever she wanted it. She tossed it over the fire to him, and he stared at her in shock. “Thank you, Highness.”

“Please, my name is Oriel,” she replied and nodded to the balm. “Share it around. It doesn’t take much. And no, I won’t be repeating any names. Just your needs. I’m asking every camp.”

“To think, a royal down here in the mud,” the troop captain said, lit only by the small, smoky fire as he made a fresh pot of tea for his men. “But sure. If you really want to hear us complain, there ain’t much off-duty soldiers like better.”

“I want to hear it all,” Oriel told him and settled herself more comfortably on the barrel, very aware of Lovan at her right, just close enough to feel the brush of his armor against her sleeve. “Tell me your complaints, captain. I’m here to listen. Maybe if I listen enough, I’ll find a way to help us all.”

+++

Low and High: (FULL COLLECTION)

Crisis Conscience

Face the Storm  (Subscriber Only!)

Whispered Words

Brace for What's Coming (Subscriber Only!)

In the Dungeons (Subscriber Only!)

Escape Plan

Secret Knife (Subscriber Only!)

To the Orchard

Meeting of Minds

Allies Returned (Subscriber Only!)

To Listen (NEW!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[simpforwebtoonmen]

I see dead people || Daniel x reader

˚✧₊⁎ Daniel Park thinks he saw a ghost, a.k.a you. He goes to his friends for advice and they claim to have seen the same thing. ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Warnings: not proofread and is pretty long.

a/n: This isn’t really a Daniel x reader in a romantic sense, but more like a new blossoming friendship. Also, this might turn into a series depending on how people like this😓.

Daniel Park had to stay after school for cleaning duty. He was wiping the board clean when he heard a series of ‘clacks’ followed by a gasp. He quickly turned around to see a person standing next to the mops and brooms that had fallen onto the ground. And as quickly as he saw them, they disappeared. into thin air. Like they weren’t there to begin with.

Daniel stood in place for a moment, his jaw to the floor and his hands gripped onto whatever cleaning supplies he had in his hands. And then the next moment, he grabbed his belongings and bolted out of the classroom and didn’t stop running until he made it home.

The next morning came and a sense of dread took over. He didn’t want to go to school in fear of seeing the ghost again. But he couldn’t miss school because of it, he worked hard to get into the school. And he couldn’t tell anybody about it because they’d think he was crazy.

So, Daniel Park had no choice but to go to school.

He sat himself in his desk, his movement was rigid and stiff. Everyone could immediately tell that something was wrong. Multiple people had approached him and asked him what was wrong, but they only got silence in return.

Daniel flinched and whimpered when he felt a pressure on his shoulder. He looked to see that was only Jay trying to catch his attention. He sighed in relief but saw the frown on Jay’s face. “hm? Is something wrong, Jay? I’m acting weird? Did something happen? O-Oh, I guess you could say that…” Daniel looked away from his friend in shame, he hadn’t realized that he was being so obvious.

But to his mistake, he saw the ghost again. They stood at one of the classroom windows, the top half of their head peaked out as they stared directly at Daniel.

He let out a shriek, flinching back into Jay’s embrace. He saw the ghost flinch as well, their head ducking down beneath the window and disappearing once more.

After a moment of recollecting himself, a series of back rubs from Jay as well as Jay shooting glares from behind his bangs to anyone who dared to approach Daniel in his stressed out state. Daniel convinced himself that maybe that ghost person didn’t disappear yesterday but instead ran away so quickly that it seemed like they disappeared.

Morning classes end and lunch starts. Daniel abruptly stood from his seat and stormed out of the classroom. For half an hour, Daniel searched the halls and classrooms for this mysterious person. But to his luck, he didn’t find them.

He slumps against a random wall in the hallway. He sighed out defeatedly, tilting his head back enough that it hit against the wall. He stared upward as he began to think. Perhaps it was in his imagination. He probably wasn’t getting enough sleep and/or was stressed enough to begin seeing things.

“You alright, man?” A familiar voice asked him. Daniel looked back down to see Vasco looking at him with a concerned look. “I heard that you’ve been freaked out by something the entire morning, is something wrong?” He asked.

Daniel only nodded his head, denying anything and everything. He was going to tell Vasco that everything was okay, but then he thought about it. Maybe Vasco knows something, he’s been here longer than Daniel. Plus, Vasco wouldn’t think of him as crazy since he was a bit…childish, in the nicest way possible.

“Actually, yeah…have you maybe seen someone around…like someone who can just suddenly disappear?” Daniel tried explaining without making himself sound crazy. Vasco’s eyes widened with surprise and fear, “U-Uh- yeah! You’ve been seeing them too!?” Vasco asked rather loudly, jumping closer to Daniel.

“Seeing who? What the hell are you two up to now?” Another familiar voice spoke up. The two boys look over to see Zack in his standard bad boy pose, one hand in his front pocket while his other hand held something, in this case, a chocolate bar.

“A ghost! have you been seeing a ghost around too!?” Vasco jumped in before Daniel could. Daniel was sure that Zack would just call them crazy but instead he saw a surprised look on his face that then turned into fear. “N-No way…is it someone with (color) hair, (color) skin, and (pants/skirt) uniform!” Zack described.

Now all of them stood in fear, realizing that they weren’t crazy after all and that there is a ghost roaming around the school.

-

“Alright, I had Jace do some research- here are some of the students that had passed away while attending J High School,” Vasco laid out a series of files on his desk. All three of them looked through the files, taking good looks at the pictures shown.

In the end, none of them could recognize a single person.

“Ugh! This was a waste of damn time!” Zack groaned out. He threw himself into Vasco’s chair, slumped and had his arms crossed over his chest all while frowning/pouting.

“Maybe they aren’t from this school…” Daniel suggested. “Or maybe there is no ghost in the first place,” Jace chimed in. He sat in his own desk and was observing the trio go through the files.

At this point, they started to think that Jace was right.

-

Your pov

Ever since you moved to this school you were curious of the people in different departments.

During the afternoon, you would only peak into the classrooms to see if anyone was there.

First, you saw Zack. He was just sitting at his desk, not doing the chores he was supposed to do. You were only staring for a second, but when Zack looked at you, you got startled and made yourself disappear.

As you ran away, you could hear his chair screeching against the floor as well as fall.

Second, you saw Vasco. He seemed to be looking for something in his classroom when you passed by. Instinctively, you approached him and offered to help him. Though, you could only say ‘hey’ before he screamed and jumped back, falling onto the floor. His sudden scream made you scream as well and instinctively, you disappeared.

As you ran away, you cursed at yourself for disappearing again after telling yourself that you wouldn’t do it again.

And third, Daniel Park. He was humming a lovely tune as you walked past his classroom. You couldn’t help but feel entranced and you walked into the classroom without thinking. Accidentally, you kicked down a couple of mops and brooms that laid against the wall. Looking back up, you saw Daniel with his jaw hung low. Then suddenly, he gathered his things and bolted out of the classroom.

Confused, you looked down at yourself and saw your translucent body. You groaned and cursed at yourself for doing it again. After that, you decided to start heading home right after school instead of sticking around, knowing that it wouldn’t end well for you.

-

It was lunch time and you were sitting at your desk with your iPad, working on another art piece. Suddenly, a shadow loomed over you and everything became dark.

You looked up to see piercing eyes glaring down at you. You gasped as you recognized who it was.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding…in the animation room,” Daniel said in a low tone. His presence alone was incredibly intimidating.

“a-ah…” the words were stuck in your throat, even though you had nothing to say. You were stuck and didn’t know what to do. Did he find out that it was you who was spying on him?

His eyebrows began to furrow, “so what are you…if not a ghost?” he asked.

-

“I died two weeks ago. My physical body is six feet underground but somehow i’m still…here,” you explained as best as you could.

The two of you decided to talk things out after school when everyone was gone. He saw you disappear before his own eyes and saw you once again when you went back to check (spy) in on him. You didn’t think he’d see you, but unfortunately he did. And now you felt as if you owed him an explanation.

Daniel hummed as he thought, “hm, you seem very…physical to me?” he poked you with his index finger and as expected, it didn’t go through you. Instead, he felt skin and the muscles underneath.

“Yeah, I’m confused about that as well. I can turn invisible whenever I want and I can also form a physical body but I can also be…not physical? Here- give me your hand,” without looking for permission, you took his hand and brought it up to your own. Once his hand got close enough, he was expecting to feel your skin once more, but instead his hand straight through yours and suddenly your hand looked transparent.

Surprised, he yanked his hand back and whimpered. You were surprised yourself by his sudden actions. You had never revealed this secret to anyone else, so you figured that this was a normal reaction to it.

You chuckled, “sorry, that was probably really freaky, huh?” He snapped out of his trance and nodded his head, “no no! It’s not freaky! Well, I mean it is…but I was more surprised than freaked out!” he fumbled as he tried to cover up for himself. You shook your head and smiled in amusement, “you don’t need to lie, I mean, I was pretty freaked out myself.”

“Heh, I suppose that makes sense. Oh, what about your parents? Do they know about this?” Daniel suddenly asked. You were taken back by the question but quickly recollected yourself, “no…they’re still in (home country). Just…how am I supposed to tell them that their dead child isn’t actually dead, ya’ know?”

Daniel nodded, “yeah I get what you mean…” He said absentmindedly. You tilted your head in confusion, “you do…?”

He perks up and realized his mistake, “o-oh! ah- well…since we’re sharing secrets and all…”

-

“You have two bodies!?”

“Shhh! not so loud, please!”

[snarky-wallflower]

This is definitely a vent post. I try not to make these. And honestly, please skip over this. I just need to talk into empty air.

I can’t sleep.

it’s four am, I have a class at 8:30 in the morning, and I can’t sleep.

Getting Threads was a mistake. I’ve just been scrolling it for the last hour and a half, and…god, the amount of people I’ve seen who are just as sick as I am, if not more so, the amount of people I’ve seen terrified for the future—people are going to keep fighting, I know, but it’s terrifying seeing what effects have already happened. It’s terrifying seeing the logic of those who voted for Trump, the logic of those who voted third-party—I can’t claim to understand the American electoral system, can’t claim to be an expert…but…god.

I am so, so scared for my friends. My American friends, who all deserve so much better than this bullshit. Who shouldn’t have to fear their rights being taken away. I hope every initiative from Project 2025 is blocked. It’s sickening, it’s horrifying—and I know Canada’s problems will only be increased by the fact of who’s in power right now.

my mom called me yesterday, maybe an hour after I found out. She asked if I seemed sick. Somehow, despite being able to talk about it here, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it with her. I just said I was tired, yeah, and didn’t bring anything else up. I’ve never been much good at communication, maybe that’s why.

…it’s really fucking sad I don’t feel comfortable enough to talk about this with her. I genuinely do think part of that is on me. They do want me to communicate with them. I just got so used to hiding—both fandom and otherwise—that it’s…hard, for me, to talk about a lot of real things with them.

(Like, I remember accidentally putting a TGOA poster in frame when I was on a call with my dad and my little sister. They almost seemed amused by it, and I just dismissed it by telling them it was a show I liked. Maybe I was being over sensitive. I was probably being over sensitive. I kind of get panicky when they start showing any form of interest in stuff I like. Shoutout to when they put on Wolf 359 in the car and I was convinced they were doing it to make fun of me, while they told me they really weren’t. That was months ago. It’s something I need to work on.)

I’m so, so fucking terrified that if I bring up the election with my family, they won’t take it seriously. My dad is an American citizen. I never asked if he voted. I think he voted for Biden last time around, but I’ve never asked if he planned to vote in this one. He’s made jokes about Trump before. I swear, my family seems to think it’s a joke, that I hate him. I should explain things better—but why is it my job to do that? Why is it my job to explain why I stopped supporting people like JKR, why I don’t like to make jokes about Trump—my parents are adults who can educate themselves. I just never bring up politics if I can help it. I’m a coward for it, I know. But I just…don’t.

Maybe they would support me. But I’m so scared that I would tell them how scared I am of Trump being elected, and they wouldn’t listen. I’d rather be scared than be proven right, even if I don’t know the odds.

an aunt I don’t really text…ever from America asked how university was going for me yesterday. When I asked how she was in response, she said great!! Maybe it’s just because we’re not close, and I’m not brave enough to ask how she feels great on that day.

(god, I hope she didn’t vote for Trump. But I still remember when my grandfather on that side said Jim’s here, and Cassie’s a queer! And I think I saw FOX News on their radio. I just…I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Fuck if I know, I’m not going to text them out of the blue and ask! I don’t want to be right.)

I’m not even going to tag this one, I think. I just need to get it out somewhere. I’ll probably delete this in the morning. It’s a 4 am vent post, it doesn’t need to be coherent. Or even reasonable.

[monkiva]

Chapter Two- Flashing Lights

Warning/s: References to ED

Aliva was woken to the sound of heavy footsteps and murmurs. She thought it was a nightmare..again. She felt water but didn’t know where it of coming from

She flinched at the slight feeling of someone touching her arm. It was only Heeseung. Heeseung knew Livia since trainee.

“Go wash up, I’ll fix you breakfast,” Heeseung said. Aliva let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t comfortable with Heeseung touching her but in his presence, Aliva knew that Heeseung wouldn’t hurt her.

Aliva washed her face and did her hair. She was honestly disappointed in what she saw in the mirror. Living with 7 boys would be a disgrace to her parents but they wouldn’t care, will they? They weren’t here with her.

-

Aliva saw that Jungwon and Sunoo were eating. Heeseung was waiting for her. Heeseung had half a smile when he saw her..

“Here..” Heeseung said softly. Aliva didn’t feel like eating, she wanted to get work. “How is it?” Jay asked her. “It’s…okay,” Aliva said. Jay patted her head. At least she wasn’t completely alone in this group.

Aliva didn’t notice that she stopped eating. She was just playing with the milk. “Is everything okay?” Sunoo asked. “Am...I..okay?” Aliva questioned. “Yes, you aren’t eating,” Suno answered. “Yes,” Aliva said. Her voice was like a robot, programmed to say very few words, certain responses. Sunoo gave Aliva a faint smile.

Sunoo didn’t understand Aliva. Why was she closed-off and quiet? Why was she so..clumsy? How could she have not seen that there were stairs? That there was a wall right there? It didn’t make sense.

None of them knew Aliva. Even if they knew her while they were trainees. She was the same way even then, quiet and reserved. They could only go off of their assumptions.

-

During the photoshoot, she was quiet. She spoke occasionally and when spoken to.

“Hi…” Sunghoon said shyly. She bowed to him. “Hello,” Livia said in a monotone. “How..are you…feeling?” Sunghoon asked. “Fine,” Livia answered. Sunghoon had recognized Aliva from trainee days.

He remembered her being verbally abused by the instructors. It was awkward but it was hard to watch. She struggled with dance and always making mistakes.

Which caused her to be bullied by many other trainees. Sunghoon stared at her, with pity.

“Hey,” Sunoo said. Aliva was eating when Sunoo came by. The food truck had came. “Seems like you were hungry, are you enjoying it?” Sunoo commented. Aliva frowned at the comment. “Yes,” Aliva answered.

Sunoo sat beside her. It was comfortable silence, something that Livia knew nothing about.

-

Sunoo had convinced Aliva to sit with him on the way to the restaurant. Sunoo was on mission to get closer to Aliva.

“Can l get your contacts?” Sunoo asked. Alivia didn’t hear Sunoo. Sunoo tapped Aliva’s shoulder. “Hm?” Aliva hummed. Sunoo handed her his phone but Aliva gave him a confused look.

“Your number? Can you add it?” Sunoo explained it. “I don’t have a phone,” Alivia said. “You don’t,” Sunoo whispered. Alivia shook her head. Sunoo was confused. I mean, she should have a phone.

-

Aliva sat next to Jay, a member who she was familiar with. She didn’t get to eat out like this often, sometimes she didn’t even eat at all.

She didn’t the people there. There was too much noise and cameras. It was all overwhelming for Aliva.

“Are you not going to order?” Jay asked. Aliva was preoccupied with everything going on that she forgot to order her drink. “No, I’m fine,” Aliva said. “You sure?” Jay asked. “Yes,” Aliva answered.

Alivia was anxious, everything was suddenly loud and bright. She couldn’t eat where there were people, possibly watching her.

Her leg was bouncing. It didn’t make sense why she was this anxious. She was shriving. “Hey,” Jay said, she flinched. “Are you okay?” Jay asked. Aliva nodded. “Are you sure? You didn’t reply to Ni-Ki,” Jay said. Aliva looked at Ni-Ki, he seemed concerned. “I said I’m fine,” Aliva said in passive aggressive tone. “I-I have to go to the bathroom,” Aliva said, excusing herself from the table.

Jungwon’s POV

She was in there for quite a while, almost the whole time. When she came back, she seemed more anxious than usual. It looked like she had…thrown up. She barely ate anything.

I felt uneasy. This girl…There’s something off. Why did take so long in the bathroom? Why did she smell like thrown up, she barely ate anything.

Tag/s🏷️: @lene03