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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year ago

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So...hi

I may have decided on a whim to continue Your Scars Are Mine for no reason.

No reason at all. Nope not me.

Why's he gotta be so pretty how dare he

No need to read the previous fic, this one is still a oneshot.

Anyway here it is.

Ten Years

Hurt/Comfort and Smut

NSFW

Trigger Warnings: Trauma, Mentions of Self Harm, Depression

OPLA!Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

♫♬ Medusa in Chains — The Fratellis ♬♫

Before this whole thing began I had some sense of pride

Just one more night with your lips, your company is hard to eclipse

Four days.

Nearly four damned days had passed since you had last ate. Last bathed. Last done so much as dragged yourself out of bed to do more than half-stumble to the bathroom, and Mihawk was growing as impatient as he was concerned. It had been a few weeks since he had brought you to Kuraigana Island, and you had spent a fair amount of time flitting around the castle learning its halls and corridors front to back, dusting corners that even he had forgotten existed.

Then, a few mornings ago, you had simply refused to get out of bed.

Refused to speak as to why.

The warlord had told himself it was fine. That it wasn't as if he wasn't accustomed to having the sprawling stone castle to himself, that he could let whatever was ailing you play out, give you your space to work through it on your own.

But it was clearly doing no good, not to him or you. He had already grown too accustomed to your presence there, and seeing you in your present state was driving him completely mad.

He lingered in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed and leaning his shoulder into the doorframe, his eyes scanning slowly over you as you lay there with the sheets pulled up to the nape of your neck and your back to him. He had known you for nearly five months, had deemed to call you his lover for two of them. You did have a tendency toward the silent treatment when you argued, as much as that drove him mad, but this was different. This hadn't come on the crest of any argument, and it clearly ran far deeper than that.

You weren't doing this to get under his skin. That was clear to see, and Mihawk was at a complete loss on how to approach it.

He gave a small growl of annoyance at the sound of his transponder going off in his pocket, digging the thing out and shoving it into his ear as he turned the corner into the hallway outside the bedroom you had all but made your tomb.

"Little busy," he said impatiently. "Make it quick."

The last thing he wanted to deal with now was the goddamned government.

"Oof. That bad, huh?" Mihawk's eyes darted toward the transponder, the pad of his index finger pressed against it to hold it in place as Vice Admiral Garp's gruff brogue went on in his ear. "I figured. How's the kid holding up?"

Mihawk furrowed his eyebrows, and then lifted one if them as he glanced back toward the doorway of the bedroom.

"What are you talking about?" he said slowly. Garp knew something, and the old Marine had an irritating tendency to withhold information.

"Sounds like ya know damn well what I'm talking about, Hawk-Eyes." His jaw set at a rigid angle, gritting his teeth, Mihawk considered for perhaps the thousandth time just pulling the transponder from his ear and tossing it out a window. "Your associate. I'd be willing to bet your old bounty that she's not doing the best right now."

"Is this a business call or are you truly this insistent on wasting my time?"

Mihawk cringed at the sound of Garp's laughter in his ear.

"Little of both," he said, amused. "Word came down to me that my grandson may have formed an alliance with Fire Fist Ace in Arabasta a couple days ago. Around...the thirteenth, I believe. Something I asked you to keep an ear out for personally. And it's not really like you to not know what's going on around the Grand Line."

"As I said, I'm busy," he said through his teeth. Mihawk had no intention of standing around being insulted—particularly not with you in your current state. "My apologies if I haven't been babysitting your grandson closely enough for your liking."

"I can handle my own family affairs," said Garp. The amusement dropped from his tone as he went on. "This is more of a personal call. Your associate. I'm checking in. I imagine this hasn't been a good week for the girl." Mihawk remained silent, his eyes shifting to the open bedroom doorway once again, waiting for Garp to continue. He had no intention of letting on to anyone in a place of authority just how much he had come to care for you—not when they could very easily use it against him, threaten you to gain further control over him. "The sixteenth will mark ten years since the day she witnessed her home destroyed."

And today was the fifteenth.

That put quite a few things into perspective.

Mihawk leaned back against the wall behind him, pinching at the bridge of his nose as a slow sigh left his lungs.

"She's barely moved in three days," he said finally, quietly to ensure his voice didn'treach your ears—if you were even capable of listening right now. "Or spoken."

"Aye, I figured." Garp let out a heavy sigh himself. "I don't like to admit the failures of Marines any more than any other of my comrades, but...what Admiral Vesper did ten years ago was an insult to what we're supposed to stand for. I'd have seen the man executed a thousand times over for it if I could have. It was a goddamned massacre. All but, anyway, since he left her alive. I can't imagine how the poor girl even sleeps at night, honestly."

You didn't sleep well. Mihawk had noticed that from the start. Your hours of unconsciousness were frequently plagued with nightmares that you claimed not to remember, but he was sure you had to remember some of them. He was sure of it from the distance that lingered in your eyes some mornings as you sipped a cup of coffee or tea, from the way you spaced out and barely heard a word anyone spoke to you.

"I would like the coordinates of the island," Mihawk said after several long seconds, still rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"There's nothing there. Her village was destroyed. It's just a rock in the water at this point."

"I don't care."

He rolled his eyes when Garp gave a snort of laughter—but the man did at least rattle off the coordinates without any hesitation, as if there were a map sitting right in front of him.

"N 22°6'5.3535" by W 159°33'55.7474". I'll give you a minute if you need to write it down."

Mihawk definitely hadn't expected the vice admiral to have the coordinates all but memorized. He sighed, ducking around the corner into the bedroom where you still lay motionless several feet away. He crossed to the desk, and leaned over it, lifting a pen and pressing it to a pad of paper.

"Again," he said shortly, and he quickly noted down the letters and numbers as Garp repeated them. And he added, just as shortly as he set the pen down, "Thank you."

Garp gave a short laugh. "White roses and blue orchids." Mihawk's brow furrowed as he crossed the room, glancing at you before slipping out the door again, ascertaining that you still hadn't moved an inch. "Those were her favorites."

"Sounds as if you were fairly familiar with this pirate."

"Oh, quite a few men were. She wasn't called The Siren for no reason." He sighed, and chuckled a little. "But yeah. I guess I was more familiar with Helena than most."

Mihawk barely had a moment to wrap his head around the connotations of that claim before Garp spoke up again.

"If you're at Kuraigana and you take that eyesore you call a boat, you'll have about a twelve hour trip due East," he went on. "Probably best get going if you plan to make it there tomorrow."

And with that and nothing else, the call ended.

Mihawk pulled the transponder from his ear, staring at it for a moment in mild alarm, before pocketing it again, glancing toward the bedroom door to his right.

Garp was familiar with your grandmother. He couldn't help but wonder whether you were aware of that.

Now wasn't precisely the best time to ask, however. He had to find some way to coax you out of bed, to get you dressed and—

And you had, at some point, rolled onto your other side, so when he entered the room again you were facing him. Your eyes locked onto his as you lay there on the four poster bed with your hand tucked between your cheek and a pillow, and Mihawk stopped abruptly in the doorway.

"We have a job, I take it?"

For a moment, Mihawk remained silent, standing at the threshhold and simply staring at you. This was the first you had spoken in days with the sole exception of the occasional single-word reply. His eyes passed quickly over you—and then he gave a brief nod.

"Yes," he said, crossing the room to the wardrobe at your side of the bed.

He wasn't sure how you would react to the truth of the matter, but he had a sneaking suspicion that you would resist, and he preferred not to even erect that bridge, much less cross it. Ten years had passed and you had gotten absolutely no closure—however much it would hurt, you needed this.

"You'll need to bathe and dress," he said, pulling clothes out for you and setting them across the foot of the bed. "We'll leave within the hour."

You nodded, your eyes shifting away from his as you sat up, letting the covers fall away from you and standing. You were wearing one of his shirts, unbuttoned with nothing but a pair of black panties underneath, and had it not been for your despondent state at the present he wouldn't have been able to resist tearing them off of you and pushing you right back into bed.

Instead, he watched you pick up the clothes he had set out, head into the adjoining bathroom, and close the door quietly behind you.

This wasn't like you. None of it was. Your proneness to dry remarks and comebacks, your snide little smirks that infuriated and enticed him in equal measure—there had been absolutely none of it for days now, and it was getting under his skin like nothing else had in years. He took a seat on the bed, kicking off his boots in mild frustration and reclining back against the headboard, staring at the closed door you had just disappeared through.

Folding his hands over his stomach and listening to the sound of running water at the other side.

Waiting.

Thinking.

It would be both unfair and unsafe, he decided as you emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, not to give you some hint, some clue of his intentions. You were already dressed—at least half dressed, your shirt hanging open over a lacy black bra, a towel hanging around your shoulders to catch the water still beading in your damp hair. You paused in buttoning your shorts, meeting his eyes as he pointed at the edge of the bed next to him.

"Sit," he said, his tone light but commanding—halfway for the sake of observing your reaction.

You would often snap that you weren't a dog, roll your eyes at him, intentionally try to aggitate him; but now you simply sighed a little and did as you were told, taking a seat at the edge of the mattress, your hands resting at either side and your head declined to stare down at your knees.

"Here."

You glanced at him briefly when he held out a hand, and you placed yours in it after a moment. He tugged you down to him, across his chest, curling his other hand in your hair, searching your eyes and your face for anything.

And finding nothing. Not sadness, not anger, just a blank numbness that gave the impression you weren't even there. Despite the weight of your body, despite your forehead resting lightly against his, you were as good as a ghost.

He moved a hand to your waist, and your breath hitched in alarm when he flipped you onto your back, moving both of his hands to yours at either side of your head, entwining his fingers with yours to keep you there—to keep you from bolting, as you were so prone to doing when anything about your past came up.

"Were you planning on telling me what's going on, little one..." said Mihawk, lowering himself to his elbows, his forehead to yours, giving you nowhere to look but his eyes. He moved one hand over, brushing a thumb lightly across your bottom lip, "or do you prefer me hearing it from our Marine friend?"

Your eyes widened just a little at that—and your breath hitched again when he moved his thumb to your cheek and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss. It had been days since he had gotten a single taste of you, and your lips were much too tempting to resist.

He felt your grip briefly tighten on his hand before pulling away, close enough that he felt the warmth of your slow, trembling sigh brush across his own lips. "Ten years tomorrow, isn’t it?" he asked quietly.

Your gaze shifted away in an instant, your eyes slipping shut. "It's my problem," you said quietly. "Not yours."

"You wasting away in bed for three days straight makes it very much my problem." You bit your lip for a moment. Swallowed. "We've had this discussion before. And not very long ago." A small shudder crept through you when he released your hand, trailing his fingertips down the length of your left arm, where your white sleeve hid the marks you had put there over the years yourself, marks of defeat. The freshest wound there still had yet to heal fully, and he could feel the bandages wrapped around your arm just above your elbow through the thin material of your shirt. "Hiding things does neither of us any good."

You gave a short nod, your eyes remaining shut, your breathing the slightest bit uneven as his fingertips brushed across your cheek and returned to your hand, slipping between your fingers. "S...sorry," you forced out in a whisper. "It's just...not really..."

"Don't apologize." You opened your eyes at this, meeting his gaze. "But next time something of this magnitude comes up..." A slow sigh left your lips as his brushed at the edge of your jaw, near your ear. "You'll tell me."

You gave another small nod.

"Good girl."

His eyes drifted down your body, your smaller form pinned beneath his, his fingers drifting across the bare strip of skin between the folds of your unbuttoned shirt, brushing over the soft lace at the center of your bra, barely grazing the edge of your breast. In any other circumstance he wouldn't have hesitated for a moment to tear it away from you right that second—but now wasn't the time. As much as he detested not being in control, that had to be on your terms for now.

So he left you with one last slow, deep kiss, his hand moving to wrap around your waist under your shirt and pull you against him for a moment, for as long as he could stand to, before parting from you and standing from the bed.

"Finish getting yourself ready," he said, pulling his own half-buttoned shirt over his head and off and laying it at the edge ofnthe bed. "We'll be traveling for a little over twelve hours, with one stop on the way. The sooner we leave, the better."

You didn't say a word as he crossed the room, dropping the shirt into a hamper by the wardrobe, but he heard you shift on the bed behind him. Heard the matress creek as you rose and crossed the room slowly, your bare feet a whisper against the cold stone floor, stopping just behind him.

He paused in taking down his long overcoat as your arms wrapped around him, your cheek pressed against the back of his shoulder.

"I am sorry," you repeated quietly. "I...I didn't know it would be this..." Your breath shook a little as you took a step closer, as he looked over his shoulder and saw only the crown of your hair from the way your head was turned. "It's been almost ten years, I shouldn't be...."

Mihawk sighed, letting go of his coat as he felt you trembling against him. This was still something he was entirely unaccustomed to—he had seen you in this vulnerable a state only once before, only a few short weeks ago, when he had caught you pulling the blade of one of your daggers across your arm. When you admitted you had been doing so for the better part of ten years—a tally mark, a physical reminder for every mistake you made.

After a moment, he took your wrists in his hand, pulling your arms away.

He turned to face you, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, resting a hand near the crown of your hair to cradle your head against his shoulder, leaning back against the wardrobe.

"Have you considered that that's what happens when you spend a decade blaming yourself for something that was beyond your control?" he said lightly.

Your breath hitched and stuttered, your shoulders shaking as you struggled against the torrent of emotion you had been fighting off for more than three days. Fighting within your own head, leaving you so exhausted that you could do little more than lay in bed and stare at the wall.

"I—if I had stayed hidden like she told me to, she—she'd have—"

"No." It was a hard truth, but it was one you needed to hear. "In all likelihood, you both would have been killed amid the destruction." A small whimper escaped you as he moved his hand down, cupping your jaw lightly to lift your head. Your eyes snapped shut immediately. "Don't do that," he sighed, shaking his head. He lowered his own, resting his forehead against yours. "Look at me."

You clearly hesitated, swallowing, before allowing your eyes to slowly open, meeting his. He brushed his thumb lightly across your cheek, his eyes shifting for a moment to your lips as they trembled a little.

"I can replace most of the things I have in my possession." His sharp yellow eyes moved back up to meet your gaze, keeping his voice quiet, as gentle as the caress of his thumb across your skin. "You, my little bird, are not one of them." Mihawk moved his other hand to your shoulder, slowly pulling your shirt down to expose your left arm, his fingers grazing over the bandage wrapped around your delicate skin, across the scars. "I won't stand to watch you hurt yourself, be it with your blades or by any other means."

He saw as well as heard your breath hitch in your chest, your brows furrowing as your gaze softened.

And then your hands slipped from his shoulders, meeting at the nape of his neck as you tilted your head up to press your lips firmly to his.

You were impossible to resist, your breath shaking amid the fierce kiss. He pulled his arm tighter around you, tugging your shirt down your other shoulder, tossing it away onto the floor. His hands wrapped around your arms as he pushed you back toward the bed, pressed you back into the mattress as he bent over you.

His lips drifted away from yours, curling his fingers in your hair and tugging at the roots to turn your head and give him better access to your soft skin.

"I thought—" You gasped, arching your back as he pushed his hand up your waist, under the soft fabric of your bra. "You said—we need to leave soon—"

"It can wait," he growed into the crook of your neck. The soft moan that left your lips as his thumb brushed across your nipple was like music to his ears. "You've made me wait nearly four days." Perhaps it wasn't fair to phrase it in such a way—but it was the truth of the matter. He turned your head, his eyes burning into yours as he murmured against your lips. "Do you have any idea how much I've craved you?"

It seemed with that you had no further protest, no further questions—you simply gripped a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and crushed your lips to his, arching your back and moaning breathily into the passionate kiss.

He curled his arm under your back, deftly unhooking your bra, and had it ripped away from your body in seconds, shifting you further back onto the bed and trailing his lips down the column of your throat. He had no intention of punishing you, of making you wait—not this time. No, his only focus now was purely your pleasure; making you forget, if only for a brief spell, everything that had been tormenting you.

He lifted you off of the bed to pull one of your nipples into his mouth, his eyes shifted up to watch your head fall back against the comforter, your soft moans filling the sprawling bedchamber as his tongue swirled around the sensitive protrusion. Shifting to your other, a slow sigh leaving him as you arched your hips to grind against his knee between your thighs.

If you wanted more, then, oh, you were going to get it.

He trailed his fingertips down your stomach, quickly unfastened the buttons at the high waist of your shorts, and pushed his hand into them, under the elastic waist of your panties, spreading apart your folds.

Once more he pressed his lips into the crook of your neck, then again just below your ear.

"Yes," Mihawk breathed against your delicate skin as a soft cry left your lips, reveling at the shiver that crept through you, the way your clit twitched and throbbed under his touch. "Break for me, my darling."

You turned your head and pressed your lips to his, drawing in a sharp breath as your hips rolled slowly under his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. Your breath left you in a soft whimper as your tongues swirled together between your lips amid the deep kiss, his dragging across the roof of your mouth before drawing back, your eyes glazed over in lust as your gazes met.

"More." Your soft, breathless whisper against his lips was almost enough to drive him into a frenzy—your fingertips trailing down the hard lines of his abdominal muscles, stopping at the buckle of his belt. "Please."

And that was enough.

He hated losing control, but goddammit, you made it utterly impossible for him to retain it.

In an instant he slipped his belt loose, shoving his pants down his hips as you kicked your shorts away. His gaze drifted down your body slowly for a moment, admiring every inch of you as if you were the finest work of art lying beneath him, just waiting to be vandalized and ruined.

He shifted you a bit further back on the bed, grasping one of your thighs and pressing it down against your chest.

The way you arched your hips when he thrust into you—the way your eyes rolled back and a quivering moan passed through your lips as the warmth of your tight, slick channel wrapped around him—the way you clung to his neck as he thrust intonyou again and again, your eyes glued to his and your nails digging into bis skin—to say he had been craving this, craving *you* would have been a grievous understatement. It was more than that now, an intrinsic *need* that he couldn't shake, one that he had felt so deeply with no one but you. Without even being consciously aware you had become an addiction—your body, your touch, your moans and whimpers and sighs and gasps, you.

You were wound so tightly from the brief teasing that barely a minute passed before your hips arched high against his, a deep, breathy moan leaving your lips as your thighs clenched around his hips and shook, as your walls clenched tight around his cock. He pulled himself up onto his knees, pulling you up with him, holding you against his chest as he pressed a hard kiss to your lips, groaning quietly into your mouth.

One of his hands found your hip, grasping your soft flesh hard enough to bruise as he tore his mouth from yours, eyes brimming with lust as he growled one quiet word against your lips.

"Again." He pressed his lips to yours again briefly, gripping the nape of your neck. Pressed his lips to your neck, your chest, lowering his hand to push one of your breasts up, kneading at the soft flesh as he guided your hips to roll onto him again and again, before you had even recovered from your intense orgasm. "I."

And again and again, almost as if you were made for the sole purpose of coming undone under his touch. Every one of your wordless moans and breathless whimpers fueled him, drove him wild, his lips trailing across every inch of your skin he could reach—across your chest, the soft swell of your breasts, down your smooth neck and across your shoulders.

Until he couldn't the any more, until the tension building in the pit if his stomach was too much to bear—until he gripped a fistful of your hair and pulled you down hard by your hips, crushed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss and thrust into you hard, shoving you down onto your back and pinning your hands over your head as he completely lost himself within you, his breath shuddering into a low groan that was drowned out by your breathless moans.

Your hips rolled together slowly on the crest of your shared euphoria, your breath leaving you in soft whimpers as his grip on your hands loosened, allowing you to lower one to brush your fingers back through his dark hair. A deep sigh heaved from his chest as his lips parted from yours, and he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him to lay across his chest.

His fingers combed down through your hair as you lay your forehead in the crook of his neck, both of your catching your breath. Mihawk lowered his head enough to brush his lips to your temple, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "You're going to be the death of me, little one."

You swallowed, laying your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes closed as your soft fingertips caressed the back of his neck, the light touch sending a slight shiver down his spine—as did your breathless, whispered reply.

"I love you."

It wasn't something either if you said often. It had remained more or less of an unspoken understanding between the two of you since he first said it himself a few weeks earlier—and maybe that was why it seemed to have so much of an impact when the words were spoken aloud.

He turned his head and brushed his lips to yours, pulling his thumb across your temple to brush your hair behind your ear.

"I...love you."

The words still felt strange rolling off his tongue—strange, unfamiliar, but not wrong by any means. He tilted his head until his forehead touched yours, closing his eyes. It was the truth, a truth that was difficult to admit after years of solitude, but one that couldn't be left unspoken.

If Mihawk was to expect truth from you, he couldn't withhold it himself.

For sometime he just held you there against him, his arm curled around your back, his thumb brushing slow circles against your waist...and then he spoke.

"We're not going on an assignment." Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his in question. "Twelve hours east of here," he said quietly, slowly, "is the island where you grew up—no," he interjected, when your eyes widened and you began to pull away. He pulled his arm tighter around your back, his other hand at the nape of your neck, curling in your hair to keep you from pulling away. "We're going. You need to." The pain that dawned in your eyes was almost enough to make him relent—but he wouldn't. He couldn't. He shook his head. "You know you need to."

You swallowed, your gaze falling away from his. "I...I don't know if I can..."

"You can." He brushed his lips against yours, fingers combing through your hair, and you lifted your gaze back to his. "You..." He brushed his thumb across your cheek, his eyes boring into yours, "...are the strongest woman I have ever met—don't do that," he added in a lightly chiding tone when you rolled your eyes. He curled his hand around your chin. "You'd have to be strong to have such a chokehold on me, little one."

You rolled your eyes back over to his at that...and you gave a small, quiet chuckle, nuzzling your cheek against hid shoulder. "Touché." Your eyes flickered away for a moment, but returned to his quickly. "I just..." You swallowed, and shook your head. "There's nothing there. Just...a rock in the water."

Your claim echoed Garp's eerily—but the claim echoed just as empty as his had. The mere thought of that rock made your eyes fill with emotion, made your voice break. That rock was the final resting place of one of the most infamous pirates that had ever sailed the Grand Line—the woman that had raised you. Your trainer, your caregiver, your role model.

Your grandmother, the Siren.

"There's a lot more there than just a rock. I think we both know that." You swallowed again...and, after several long seconds, you nodded. Your eyes slipped shut and your breath hitched, and he combed bis fingers slowly through your hair. "We'll rest for a bit, and then we'll leave."

"Y...yes." You gave a short nod, and a slow sigh, your eyes opening to meet his again, full of renewed resolve. "Okay."

His thumb brushed across your cheek, his eyes glued to yours. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but pain was often a necessary catalyst in healing. He sighed slowly, his forehead touching yours.

"I love you."

Your eyes glued to his, you echoed his murmured words without a second thought.

"I love you."

#opla #dracule mihawk #mihawk one piece #one piece fanfiction #mihawk opla #fanfic #one piece #fluff #opla fanfiction #smut #mihawk #mihawk x reader

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raz-writes-the-thing · 7 months ago

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Who's In Danger Now? (Bad Samaritan One-Shot)

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader

Fic summary: Cale forgot about your birthday and now he's the one in danger

Fic type: crack treated seriously

EVERYTHING: @winchxters

Bad Samaritan: @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @madspads @merrilark @jaziona92 @iguirisu @pansexual-imp @bunnypill (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You're going to take him apart the next time you see him, you just know it. It's your birthday, and he's forgotten- it's not like there's one a month or anything. Just the one day once a year and he forgot. You're not sure if you should be surprised, in all honesty.

He's always got his head shoved up his computer hard drive's ass, after all.

Anyway, more on to the point- when you woke up to find Cale already gone, you weren't overly surprised. Disappointed, sure, but not surprised. But as time went on through the day you became less and less sure that he'd done something nice for your day. You weren't needing anything elaborate or expensive or anything- you'd have been elated with just a message, to be quite frank.

But no. No muffin on the counter for breakfast, no card on the bedside table, no flowers delivered to work, no dinner for you when you got home.

To be honest, the dark and cold of the house once you stepped back inside after your very long day felt very off-putting. More so than usual.

And where was Cale? Of course, huddled in his office in the dark. The bastard didn't even leave a light on for you to traverse the stairs.

"Good evening, Cale," you said as you passed the door slightly ajar. It was deliberately worded that way, cold and distant. Petty, sure, but he deserved it. Sort of. You disregarded his half-hearted reply and made straight for the shared bedroom, shucking your jacket and plonking down on the stool at the foot of the bed to undo your shoelaces.

There was an almost imperceptible creak as the door opened back up again where you'd pushed it almost closed. You looked up, rubbing at your sore feet. Cale stood in the doorway, hallway light casting the front of him in shadows. He was menacing, leaning in the doorway shrouded in the dark like that.

"The fuck's your problem?" He asked with a sniff. He appeared uncaring, but the way his eyes shone with calculation told you otherwise. He was trying to figure you out. Was it him who had done something now, or someone else from work?

"Nothing," you replied, tone clipped. Cale rolled his eyes- something you did not miss despite the shadows playing across his face.

"Okay- don't fuckin' lie to me. You know how I feel about the lying."

You sighed and stood to face him, crossing your arms defensively.

"I have to wonder if you might have forgotten something important today, Cale," you said, giving him what he wanted. The truth. "Something that only comes around once a year?"

"It's not our anniversary," Cale answered with a sneer. "I'd fuckin' remember." Plus he had an alert, but he wasn't about to tell you that. "What else could it b-oh."

Your brow arched solemnly.

"Yeah. 'Oh' is correct," you frowned irritably. "Now, I know you're very scary and all but I need you to move out of my way so I can go downstairs and make myself some dinner because you didn't leave me any. Scoot, go on. Fuck off."

Cale hesitated for only a moment, gaze tightening before he sighed in resignation.

"Alright, don't get your fucking panties in a twist. Here, lay down. I'll make you some dinner and we can watch a movie, okay?"

He didn't seem that keen on the idea, but you knew by tomorrow or the day after that he'd be doing his best to get into your good books again.

"Okay," you relented, slumping a fraction. "But I'm choosing the movie."

You could hear Cale's grumbling all the way down the stairs.

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #cale #cale erendreich fanfic #bad samaritan fanfic #cale erendreich x y/n

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f4ll-for-you · 2 years ago

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The Work Trip | Modern AU Aegon

Based on the Headcanon - Aegons Summer at Targaryen Corp Warnings - slight nsfw, mentions of sex Series: Falling For You / Rum and Coke / I’ll be yours

Aegon has been working at The Targaryen Corporation for two weeks, fucking his way through the summer interns, Until you.

“Morning Y/N” Aegon smiled, he was sat on top of your desk, smirking at you, a coffee in hand. “Vanilla Latte?” He offered you the coffee, the usual routine he’d begun a couple of days prior. “Thanks, Aegon” you smile at him, but I really need to get to my desk. You liked Aegon, he was sweet, misunderstood, but you weren’t going to fall for him. You were here for a job, not for a needy child.

“You could work in my office today?” He smirked, you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “I think I’ll pass.” Aegon pouted and made his way back to his own office, you were the only person he seemed to listen to here.

You sat down at your neat desk, smiling at the coffee Aegon had brought you. You could see why people liked him, he was handsome, smarter than he realised and incredibly funny, but you couldn’t let that get in the way of your job. Unlike Aegon, you needed the money. You put your headphones in and started working, ignoring everyone else around you.

That was until you heard shouting, Aegons shouting. You gently pull your headphones off, listening to Otto and Aegons argument. It only takes a moment for you to figure out Otto is looking for the folders you have, and that Aegon must have left them on your desk this morning. You stand up slowly, all other interns staring at you, daring to go into Aegons office whilst Otto was there, you grabbed the folders you'd just finished working on and knocked on the door.

"What" Otto shouted at you, looking at you angrily through the glass door. He almost snarled as you walked in, gingerly walking towards Aegons desk. You look into his eyes and smile "thanks for letting me read these, sir, they really helped with what I was looking into." Aegon looked up at you, shocked and confused for a moment, and then realised what the folders were, you gave him a look. "Oh, thanks Y/N, sorry grandfather, I'd forgotten I'd lent the folders to Y/N" he smirked at his grandfather, shoving the folders over his desk and propping his feet back up. Otto glared at you, he did not want someone else 'helping' his grandson. "Thank you, Y/N" Aegon spoke, as if to say 'you can go now.'

As you walked out, the rest of the interns were still staring at you, half the girls angry that you were in the presence of their Aegon. You ignored them, walking swiftly back to your desk. Their eyes are quickly averted as Otto storms out of Aegons office, not even bothering to look at the interns he employed. You looked up towards Aegons office, the frosted glass making him difficult to see. You could make out his head in his hands. You felt sorry for him, but also, you did just save his ass, you knew better than to accept a true ‘Thank you.’

You stayed late that night, as usual, your glasses perched on your nose as your eyes grew weary from the computer screen. “Last one here?” A familiar voice asks you, you assumed he’d gone home long ago. “Yeah, usually am” you replied, not looking up from your computer. He moved over to you, perching on the nearest desk. You finished typing and looked up at him. He just started at you for a moment, not used to seeing you with glasses, before he spoke. “Thank you” he paused, “for earlier.” He ran his hands through his hair, something you noticed he did when he was uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect you to do the work, I didn’t realise I’d left them on your desk this morning” he continued, his eyes staring into your own. You smiled, you’d got an apology out of Aegon Targaryen, you almost expected some kind of fanfare. “It’s alright, I thought it was my work anyway” you replied. You could tell he wasn’t used to any kind of ‘friendship’ dynamic, just being shouted at by his family and being fucked by women. “Could I make it up to you?” Aegon asked, looking nervous. “No, it’s fine, you don’t need to” you replied quickly, feeling a bit awkward now. “Well, it sort of helps me too” Aegon spoke. Of course it does, you thought, wouldn’t be asking otherwise would you. He looked up at you “I…have to go on this business trip, to a conference about the stuff that you worked on today, and I don’t know anything about it, that’s why I stayed late, to try and work it out, but I can’t” he admitted, you’d never seen him so vunerable, so, genuine. “You don’t have to pay, it’s on the company, my father was going to go but Otto is making me, he knows I didn’t do the work” he finished, his eyes pleading you to agree. You looked down at your hands, thinking, it was a bad idea and you knew it, but also, it did look good on your CV and no other intern would be offered this. “Okay” you replied quietly. Aegon looked at you, shocked and pleased. “No funny business though, friends, just friends” you said sternly. Aegon giggled at your choice of words, “no funny business” he replied, smiling. He stood up, grabbing his bag and smiling, before heading for the door. You smiled and then realised you had no idea when the trip was “when is this?” You shouted as you heard him call the elevator. “Tomorrow morning, see you at 9!” He smiled and winked before stepping in to leave. Fuck, you thought, and laughed to yourself. What had you signed yourself up for.

The next morning you woke up at 7 to your alarm going off, regretting staying so late at work and then having to pack a bag for the morning. You’d managed to forget to ask Aegon how long the trip would be, hoping you’d shoved enough if your bag for a couple of days.

You sat at the breakfast bar in your flat, drinking a coffee and munching some cereal before a loud knock made you jump. You got up, confused why someone would be knocking so early, especially with you still in a baggy hoody and joggers. You opened the door and immediately went bright red, a smirking Aegon looking back at you. “How do you know where I live?!” You almost shouted at him. “That’s not a nice way to greet your boss in the morning” Aegon fake pouted, “are you going to let me in?” He asked, looking past you and into your small flat. You awkwardly stepped to one side, wanting the ground to swallow you up. “I’m not ready yet, and you say to be at the office for 9!!” You complained, running your fingers through your hair. “Thought you might want a lift to work” Aegon said as he plopped himself down on the sofa as if it were his own home, looking you up and down. “Wear that, you look cute” he smirked. You shook your head, “wait here, do not come into my room” you said sternly, as if he were a child. “Fine” he mumbled, getting his phone out.

You hastily got ready, matching Aegons smart suit with your own a line black skirt and white shirt. You popped your head round the door to see Aegon where you left him, going back to do your makeup. Of course, as you packed your makeup into your wash bag Aegon had got bored of waiting and made his way into your room, sitting on your bed playing with a pair of your panties from your overnight bag. “AEGON!” You shout, your face once again going red, pulling them out of his hands. “You should just wear those” he smirks back. “Fucks sake why are you in my room!” You shout again, getting flustered and frustrated, pulling your bag away from him as he starts to rummage again, a childish smile on his face. The pout you have become used to reappearing as you pull the bag away with one hand, the other trying to frantically brush your long dark hair.

He sat there, just watching you get ready, packing the last of your things before you leave. “C’Mon” you gesture for him to leave, cheeks still rosy from embarrassment. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed” he grins. You push his hand away, grumpily looking up at him. “Out!” You say, opening your front door, pushing him out of it.

He follows you downstairs back to the car, his driver waiting for him. Surprisingly, he takes you bag, placing it in the boot while you get in the car. Still mad at him, you slam the door behind you.

“So, which airport are we going to?” You ask, pulling out your phone. “It’s not far, about half an hour” Aegon replies, giving you an annoyed look as you pull some folders out. “You don’t need to work now, we’re in the car” he sighs, putting his hand on his forehead. “Aegon, as nice as it is to come on this trip with you, I still have work to do” you reply, scribbling something down in one of the folders you’d just opened. Aegon goes back to his phone. As much as he admired your dedication to your work, it also pissed him off that he didn’t have your full attention.

You looked up as you pulled onto an airstrip, Aegon smirked. “You do not have a private plane” you commented, rolling your eyes, “of course you do.” Aegon just smiled, feeling pleased with himself for impressing you, even if you did roll your eyes. He lead you out, quickly making his way around the car to lead you up to the plane, desperate to impress you further. “Aegon” the pilot nodded at him, Aegon nodded back, introducing you. Still a bit taken aback by the grandeur, all you could do was smile in reply.

You both took your seats on the plane, taking your work out yet again to Aegons annoyance. “Can’t you just talk to me” he grumbled at you. “I actually did have some questions about the conference” you replied, not looking up from your work. Aegon grumbled again “not about work.”

“Aegon, I’m really grateful for all this, truly, but I’m not like you, I’m an intern and if I don’t get this done your grandfather will fire me” you replied, looking at him. You did feel a bit bad, you could see he wanted your attention, and yes, the work could probably wait a bit, but in truth, you didn’t want to fall for all of this, to be lured in by his charms. He sat back into his seat, putting his own headphones on, finally letting you get on with some work.

Once you’d landed, you were taken straight to the hotel, Aegon insisting on carrying your bags as you made your way to the checkin desk. “Mr and Mrs Targaryen, here for the conference?” The Receptionist recognised Aegons white hair, a Targaryen family trait. “No-“ you began, but Aegon interrupted you. “Yes, thank you” he looked up at you, smirking. “Here is your key” she handed a small white card over the desk, smiling at Aegon, ignoring you.

You ran after him as he strode towards the elevators, pressing the button. “Aegon!” You whisper-shouted, “Aegon!!” He looked around at you. “You better not tell me we are sharing a room!!” You glared at him. He looked at you, half smirking, half awkward. “Well…this was sort of a trip my mother and father were meant to be on, but my grandfather got angry with me, and forced me to go instead…I sort of forgot to mention I would be bringing you…” he looked at you, hoping you wouldn’t be too mad at him. “Book. Me. Another. Room” you glared at him, completely and utterly furious. As the lift arrived, he quickly stepped in, attempting to get away from the anger he’d created. You followed him as he tried to ignore you by pressing the 4th floor button. “Aegon, I can’t stay with you, I won’t” you complained. “Look, I’m sorry, I wanted to make it up to you, but if I book another room everyone will know I brought you with me” he replied, looking a bit sheepish. You sighed. “Fine, but you are sleeping on the sofa” you relented, knowing it was a bad idea.

Taglist: @evisnotok @raphaellathedragon @howyouloveyourdragon @fan-goddess @dk65

#aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon targaryen #aegon x y/n #modern aegon #prince aegon #aegon fluff #house of the dragon #house targaryen #aegon fanfic #aegon imagine #aegon the second

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for-quill-with-love · 6 months ago

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I sighed, sitting on my sleeping bag to take a break after spending the morning building.

Or getting ready to start building.

I answered the messages on my comm I'd been neglecting and--

Well that was concerning.

Why couldn't I send any messages to [aliferous-ly]? They were all coming back with a strange error code--

I took a deep breath, steadying myself and setting my com aside. I wasn't going to let that bother me.

I had other things to do! Like-- like making that pot. And the cider. I'd completely forgotten about that.

I pulled the glass and bricks from my smelter, and crafted myself a pot and a number of glass bottles. They weren't my best work, and I wasn't sure the pot would hold water but--

It worked beautifully!

The pot was soon merrily bubbling away. I was absolutely delighted! I wanted to try shoving all the food I had into the pot to see how each one would come out.

Cider first though.

I harvested some of the sugarcane I'd planted when I first found out about the cider. I put the newly ground sugar and apples from the trees I'd cut down right into the pot to simmer.

The smell was amazing. It was sweet and floral-- like when you pop chorus fruit. But it didn't sound like chorus fruit; no violent popping that made you wonder if you were going to damage something. The sound was more akin to the brewing-- a soft bubbling simmer.

I let it bubble all afternoon, adding more apples and sugar as it cooked down. I threw more raw copper into my furnace to smelt as I did so. I could babysit both at the same time.

I used the time to sit and relax. Something I hadn't had a chance to do since before I was--

Since before--

The smell of cider was different than the thick, cloying incense demanded by our-- by her--

I was brought out of the haze by Bee's chirping. As much as my birds stuck around, they hadn't done much other than roost in the trees nearby and come down every morning and evening for a handful of seeds.

Bee was sitting on my knee, staring up at me with a confused little tilt of her head. If birds could look confused, that was.

I sighed, clumsily digging through my inventory for Bee's dinner. I had pins and needles coating my hands, making it hard to hold them steady as Bee hopped up onto my hand for her dinner.

Soot was perched on the furnace. It'd run out of fuel and I hadn't noticed. It was cold by now. Soot was still more skittish, so I left her seeds in a pile on my workbench.

I scooped out a bottle of cidar from the pot. It was warm in my hands, chasing off the chill from the night breeze.

I nursed it for a while, taking little sips and letting the sweet drink warm me from the inside out.

There was something to the echoes I kept finding. I knew that I'd had memories at some point. There had to be some way for me to find more than just those echoes. Maybe I could trigger them on purpose?

I knew there was an incense involved somehow. If I could find the right things to burn, maybe the smell would trigger more of that memory.

So far I'd been fighting the wisps of recollection, but if I could just get more information-- maybe it would help me get out of here. Or at least explain why I'd been put here in the first place.

There had to be a reason for it.

I would figure out what I wanted to do in the morning.

#day 8 #gimmick blog #minecraft story #modded minecraft #story blog #first draft

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borderlineconfessional · 1 year ago

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Don't stop, never give up, hold your head high and reach the top.

I lived my childhood the only way we were allowed, the only way we knew how. I lived a girlhood, where I assumed we were all learning how to pretend to be something we're not. But I didn't know that then, I didn't have the words.

I have the words now, and the blessing of perspective; 25 years is a long time to ruminate. A quarter of a century, which has held the full fledged boom of the internet; 25 years of books, articles, forums, Tumblr, Reddit, JSTOR, PubMed, magazines, Autostraddle, PinkNews, fanfic, deviantArt. My adolescence and adulthood, spent unpacking and turning over each moment, each memory, like a long forgotten object that's spent years gathering dust in an attic, finally coming back around to look at my girlhood with interest and desire to understand, rather than bitterness and confusion, without feelings of unfairness, residual regret and shame.

I was a girl, a confused and lonely one, always on the outs with some other girls, always called names and bullied. I was a girl, always bullying someone else in turn, pushing the pointing fingers towards someone else, someone who wasn't me. I was a girl, always afraid that if they looked too long, pointed too much, they'd finally find the thing that I knew was wrong with me, we'd all have to see it, and I'd have to face it, alone. I was a girl, and I was always afraid. I was always watching, trying to figure it out, what clothes to wear, what boys to like, what shows to watch, what words to say. How could I be a girl when I didn't know how?

It was exhausting, trying to be good at being a girl. I wanted to climb trees, play sports, get dirty, jump my bike off stairs, scream with wild abandon while running through fields with bugs and mud.

But the girls in my life didn't want to get muddy. We put posters up of boys, pretended to kiss them. We sang Spice Girls and S Club 7, and no one wanted to be Sporty or Jo, they weren't sexy, they weren't cute, they were too athletic, the boys liked Ginger and Posh, liked Hannah and Rachel. We played Sailor Moon and all vied for the love of our Tuxedo Mask (the irony of the anime being very queer isn't lost on me). We played Barbies and they had fabulous parties, outfit changes, steamy love triangles.

I had a girlhood, filled with going along with the crowd, making the right sounds of approval or disgust when required, when expected. But I had a secret childhood too, as I'm sure we all did. My secret childhood held whispered love affairs between Barbies, with the Kens nowhere to be found, other than to raid their clothes, elastics and tape forming their suits to my Colour Splash Barbie's curvy hips, my Skipper doll's hair cropped short, sporting Ken's lifeguard visor and jacket. My secret childhood held kissing games with my best friend, for practice with boys we told each other. My secret childhood held envy, wishing I could play lacrosse like Derrick, wear a jersey and cheer for hockey teams, look handsome in a suit like Jesse on his way to church, run around without a shirt on in the sprinkler like Travis and his friends. My secret childhood, a girlhood that wanted to be anything but.

My secret childhood did try to live in the light- baseball caps with my long hair shoved under it, boys runners, baggy sweaters from my older brother's closet. A scratched up pink bike that flew over jumps, that made impressive skids in the road dust, that took me to the dirt tracks where the boys raced their RC cars, or the tangle of trees and brush where we built forts and had battles with stick swords. But girlhood always found me, with braids and tights, crimped hair for holidays, skirts for church, and hairbrushes for microphones.

My girlhood left me lonely, never certain, always wondering how to act, how to stand, when and how to laugh. It always felt like I was in a play without knowing the lines, never knowing stage entrances or exits. I was a small girl child, always in the front row, always the first on stage, always standing under the hot stage lights in front of microphones that picked up my high voice.

My girlhood prepared me for discomfort, gave me unease like an unwanted gift from a distant aunt, it forced me through and I came out still standing. I'm not thankful, but I'm grateful. I'm grateful because I know what it is to stand in discomfort, in humiliation and fear, and know you'll live. My girlhood prepared me for the discomfort of adulthood, gave me strength and conviction that would see me into my gender dysphoria and out the other side into an identity that feels like a comfortable sweater. My girlhood gave me sealegs, where I can ride waves of uncertainty like a seasoned sailor, where I can feel the waves rolling under my feet and they don't take me down. I can get through the most uncomfortable of conversations about gender and pronouns, discussions of biology and sex, be misgendered and dead named, experience micro aggressions and hate crimes, and still be myself, still certain I am who I am, and the strength to remain so.

My girlhood taught me that a moment is just a moment, another one will come along whether you're ready or not, whether you know your lines or your stage exits, so you might as well ad lib, because we all make it up as we go along.

I wish I could tell all of this to the girl I was. That in that next moment you'll know how to stand, you'll feel at ease, you'll cut your braids, you'll say you don't think Nick Carter is cute but Jo from S Club gives you butterflies, you'll throw your hat backwards and then land that jump, and your skinned knee will be a reminder that you did something unexpected, something brave. That this time you'll take a deep breath and scream with abandon, running full on through that field, mud puddles be damned.

#actually borderline #avoidant personality disorder #girlhood #nonbinary #borderline personality disorder

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white--moon · 2 years ago

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He scoffs a little, but he likes that smile. “Fine. Lesson learned.”

He didn’t figure Shiro would care that he hasn’t bothered being tested, but he’s trying to point out that at least Shiro knew he was safe. Ichigo might not sleep around as often, but he still thinks his actions were less responsible. Shiro either doesn’t care or didn’t pick up on his meaning. Only it’s such a sensitive issue, Ichigo thinks he’ll point that out later.

He blinks at Shiro as his new boyfriend seems to forget what a booth is and looks around like he’s forgotten why and where he is. His drink nearly sloshes out before he snatches it up as the table lurches, only setting it back down once Shiro stops pushing at it. “So… you’re one of those people that don’t like to share one side, aren’t you?” He’s teasing, but that was a lot of fuss. Except he catches the trace of something more closely resembling alarm the next time Shiro twists and he spots his eyes. Though they’re calming quick enough. Weird. “Shit. Are you claustrophobic? No. Wait. What’s the one where you’re afraid of being trapped places? You wanna sit over here?” He thinks he’s heard the name, but it won’t come to mind.

He snorts. “Why? It wouldn’t have changed anything. I really wanted to fuck you. I wasn’t thinking of anything else.” He’d been trying not to think at all, and it seems like it worked. “That was the first time I’ve ever not been protected.” Since they’re apparently hopping full tilt onto this topic.

He's completely going to ignore the fact that something in Shiro’s tone makes Ichigo think that could absolutely be a kink he could get behind. Which also reminds him Shiro once offered to tie him up unprompted. He shifts, feeling flushed then wrinkles his nose. “That’s not it! It’s just nice not to constantly worry whether or not I’m gonna bulldoze you with my opinions. And I can say what I mean. Unless it’s embarrassing, because you’re an asshole.” He is about two seconds from finding a way to get his tongue in Shiro’s mouth.

He blinks when Shiro’s plate is pushed toward him, but then shrugs and takes a bite. It’s good. “Think I like this place.” He looks over. “What were you on?”

He snorts. "A quick learner. I like that in a guy."

He's a little hyperaware and his gaze finds that glass being set down, before cornering when Ichigo talks. He thinks it's a serious question for about half a second, and then he strongly considers shoving Ichigo out of the booth and hopefully onto his ass. The only thing that keeps him from retaliation is that Ichigo seems to realize Shiro's not fucking around so quickly and basically takes it back. His brows raise. "There's a word for it?" Which he supposes is confirmation enough that that's what's going on. He nods when Ichigo offers to switch him places. "Yeah. I mean, this is ok. It's better since the table's not really much of an obstacle. But... yeah, I'd prefer to switch places."

His expression shifts to something between skeptical and dry amusement. "That's flattering as hell but damn, you got kinda lucky." He shakes his head a little, but mostly because it seems like such a dumb mistake and dumb luck that Ichigo decided to bang the sketchy drug dealer that actually doesn't have anything to pass along. "Well. It's outta the way and we don't have to worry about it now. Not that you were." He feels a little stupid for bothering, but better late than never. It's not like it's totally irrelevant.

The little bit of shifting about Ichigo does makes his smirk widen. "It can be two things." Because he thinks maybe there actually is a kink aspect here. "You can still say what you mean, even if it's embarrassing. I'm only an asshole sometimes."

He steals another bite off Ichigo's plate, before dipping into the third plate like it's all just one big serving instead of three completely separate meals. "Yeah, me too. It's not bad at all." But he shrugs. "Too much of everything. Depended on the day. Sometimes I didn't even know what I was takin'. Whatever I could get my hands on was good enough and delivery method didn't matter. Anything I could shoot up was preferred though; fast high, and I didn't like the bloody nose that comes with snorting too much. It's amazing I'm not dead."

#ask #blacksun

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crazylovemail · 2 years ago

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🌸 ~ yer not a puppy, are ya?

“tired out of your mind and with an empty stomach, you stumble to the school's gates where you find your favorite wolf.. And he came prepared”

Dedicated to my favorite KogaP @kogaminotes . Please do follow them ♡

Word count: 614

A single glance at your watch was followed by a sigh, you had made it in time. Although you hadn't reached the gates just yet, you knew it wouldn't take even a minute to arrive and there was just about enough time left. So much for the heart attack you were about to get when you figured you had slept through your alarms. In your hurry you even forgot to grab breakfast, not even a cup of coffee, though it wasn't as if this was the first time something like this has happened to you.

'Shouldn't have stayed up that late' you'd say, but honestly, were you really at fault? Was it really your fault that you just couldn't manage to sleep at night, no matter how much you'd try? Was it really your fault that school demanded of you to wake up this early? And was it really your fault that the same school loaded you with so much work that you could barely find any time to rest?

The sudden sound of a loud, loud grumble coming from your stomach halted your train of thoughts, making you clutch your stomach instead. Not grabbing anything to eat really was a bad decision, but you couldn't go back in time and change that now. Most you could do was deal with it, maybe you could grab something from the cafeteria before class? Was there enough time for that?

“there y'are. Yer a li'l later than usual, ain't ya?”

Quite immediately, you jerked up, eyes wide and a smile on your face, the painful feeling of hunger was already forgotten.

“Koga!”

Running the last bit, you threw an arm around his neck and embraced him in a warm hug, feeling the poor wolf's body tense up beneath your touch instantly. No matter how many times you'd do this, he just refused to get used to it..

“well shit, good t'see ya too I guess”

The moment you let go of him, you could see an evident blush painting his cheeks a rosey pink, his eyes avoiding yours purposely. Though, when he did take a quick glance in your direction, his expression dropped immediately. He was looking at you, but your eyes didn't meet. Instead, his were fixed somewhere a little, tiny bit lower...

“again?”

Ah, he saw your eye bags. Were they really that bad? Last time you checked they were barely even noticeable, but based on Koga's reaction, they certainly got worse. You tried to brush it off, but your boyfriend didn't look amused at all.

“thought I'd told you to take better care of yerself already, didn't I? Yer not a puppy, are ya? Try to get yerself together.”

His words might've sounded harsh, but you knew he meant well. It's just how he shows he cares about you in his own tsun way. You were about to respond when the wolf suddenly shoved a paper bag in your arms, the sudden warmth of it nearly making you yelp. Taking a look in, you noticed your favorite pastry and a coffee, just the way you liked it.

“you noticed I didn't eat?” you said in disbelief, looking up at Koga who was once again blushing.

“y'know I know ya too well. Grabbed that on my way here just in case. Now eat it before classes start.”

Such a little gesture it was, yet it managed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach, and you could swear you felt your cheeks heating up just a little. And so, as you take a huge bite from the pastry, you smile and hum in delight.

“you're the best, Koga”

“..... Don't mention it”

#❁‧₊ lovemail #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #koga oogami x reader #oogami koga x reader #koga oogami #enstars #ensemble stars

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ijustloveharry · 2 years ago

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Prompt Request - "Hey, random request, but Harry x sister and she gets her period unexpectedly with him and she’s so embarrassed and mortified (maybe crying) and doesn’t want him to know and he just kinda figure it out (don’t know how though) and is sooo sweet about it 🥺" / 2k words / siblings & fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steph stared at the mess in her underwear, completely frozen in place. Of course she got her period while her parents weren't home.

They had gone away for the weekend, sparing their kids the details but taking some needed alone time.

Harry was 17, he was old enough to watch his 14 year old sister for 3 days. Hell, they would have left her alone at this point. They couldn't head out fast enough.

"Text me if you need anything" Her mother had said, suitcase in hand

"Try not to need anything" Their dad said to Harry, winking at the two of them.

"We'll be fine." Steph rolled her eyes.

They left after that, kissing both their heads before piling into the car.

Steph wondered if Harry was planning to throw a party or if he meant it when he promised not to.

He didn't have anything planned. Steph was a nark and he figured he could just go to a friend's house if he wanted to hang out. That was true, Steph usually told their parents when Harry made bad choices. She had a pretty firm grasp on right and wrong.

"Pizza for dinner?" Harry asked, knocking on her bedroom door. She was hidden in her ensuite bathroom but could hear him lightly.

"Sounds good." She yelled back, hoping he couldn't tell she had tears streaming down her cheeks.

She debated texting her mom, but decided she was old enough to deal with it on her own. It was bound to happen - she was the last of her friends to get it and she knew it was only a matter of time. She wasn't going to tell Harry, it was mortifying enough and she didn't want to drag him into it.

Huffing, she put the stained underwear back on and snuck out of her room. She went into the main bathroom and scavenged the drawers. Nothing, to her dismay.

She didn't really want to snoop through her parents things, but figured her mom might stash them in their own bathroom. Nothing, she just found tampons and she didn't really want to go there. Her friend's mom had warned them profusely about toxic shock syndrome and Steph figured it wasn't worth the risk. She just shoved a ton of toilet paper in her underwear and headed to the kitchen.

"I can pick it up, if you want. I was gonna take my bike to the store so I'll be out that way anyway."

Harry looked at her puzzled, they had just gone to the store the previous day and couldn't possibly think of what she could have forgotten.

"The store? What for?"

Steph shuffled awkwardly

"Just forgot something yesterday. I'll be quick"

She couldn't dart out fast enough, and Harry followed out the door after her.

"I was gonna pick it up anyway - just placed the order. Let me give you a ride, weirdo."

Steph cursed to herself and nodded. How fast did this it happen? Was she gonna bleed in the front seat of his car?

She pushed the anxiety away and hopped in. The ride was silent and he could tell something was off about her, but decided to leave it. She was probably going to meet some boy and he was satisfied he had intervened.

She didn't get out of the car when they got there though. She just sat and stared at the doors to the supermarket. What if she ran into someone she knew? What if Harry asked to look in the bag when she came back?

"You should get the pizza." She stated "I can walk back."

Harry eyed her for a moment, and decided that no, she would not walk back.

"All good, I'd like to get some soda anyway. I'll just come in with you."

"Fuck." She mumbled to herself. Harry pretended not to hear. What was she up to?

She abandoned him in the store quickly, rushing towards the pharmacy. He opted to get the soda and figured they would meet back at the checkouts.

He waited for a few minutes, but she didn't come. He was about to get impatient before she was darting past, heading out the front doors without a word. Harry quickly left the soda and followed after her.

"Hey - what are you doing? I haven't paid yet, where-"

He was cut off by her wide eyes, which were not directed at him. He turned to follow her gaze and there was a security guard eyeing the two of them.

"Sorry - I didn't pay but I left the items inside." Harry said awkwardly "Wouldn't bring em out without purchasing them, obviously..."

"Maybe you wouldn't." The guard said simply "But she did"

Steph's palms were sweating. She hadn't taken the whole pack - just a few pads to hold her over until her parents got home. She figured it wasn't a big deal and shrugged. He wasn't going to search a young girls pants.

"Miss, are your parents with you? I'm going to need you to remove the contraband, please."

Harry's eyes shot at his sister, who was standing there squeamishly. Is she fucking kidding?

"Jesus, Steph. What've you taken?" Harry turned to the officer "I'm sure this is a misunderstanding. She wouldn't do that."

Steph was nervous now. She had gotten caught and made everything worse than it needed to be. She debated running the few blocks home and locking herself in her room until Monday.

"Saw the whole thing on camera." The guard said, remaining firm. "Gonna need her to give it back or I'll have to call the police. Please don't make me do that."

Harry's mouth fell open, and he stepped back towards his younger sister.

"Well, Steph? Give it back."

Steph shook her head. She was mortified and she didn't want to make her embarrassment even worse. She'd rather go to jail.

"We can also just ring it up, if you're willing to pay. Can just call it a misunderstanding." The guard offered.

Harry eyed his sister and groaned, following the guard back inside. Steph stood by Harry's car and cursed herself for allowing this to happen.

Harry's demeanour was different when he came back, carrying the torn open package of pads she had left in the aisle. This was a delicate situation and he was not equipped to handle it. He sighed before unlocking the car.

"You don't have to steal." He finally mumbled, and Steph looked out the window.

"You should never steal." He said again. He debated calling his mom but thought back to what his dad had said.

"Sorry." Steph said sheepishly, sinking further into the seat. "I didn't mean to get caught."

"You shouldn't have done it to begin with. Why - er, why didn't you just tell me?"

Steph scoffed, still refusing to look in his direction.

"And then what?" She sighed, still looking out the window "Then what would you have done?"

"And then we could have went to the bloody store and got some pads - jesus." Harry ran his hands through his hair "You're lucky he was nice, that could've been way worse."

Steph shrugged, praying for the conversation to be over. It couldn't possibly be worse, she thought.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't care." He said, eyeing her quickly as he made the short drive home. The pizza was long forgotten. "And you shouldn't be ashamed, you're allowed to talk about it."

"It doesn't feel like it." Steph said, almost in a whisper. She was so embarrassed and emotional and she didn't know what to do. Harry was about to say something else before she burst into tears. His gaze softened.

"Hey - look, it's okay. It happens to everyone, or, every young girl, I guess." Harry cursed himself and hoped he wasn't making it worse. "Mom may have had some-"

"She didn't." Steph said, finally looking at Harry. "I looked and she didn't."

"Okay." He said plainly. "No biggie, we could've just went and got some then, you don't have to be embarrassed, and you definitely don't have to steal."

Steph began to cry harder, and buried her head in her hands. It was a big deal; she didn't want this to happen and it did and now everyone was going to know. Everything was going to be different and she couldn't handle that.

"I don't want this - I don't want to be a girl" She cried, fresh tears pooling from her eyes. "I feel so sad and angry and also weirdly happy and my stomach hurts and I'm overwhelmed"

Harry smiled to himself. She was going to be okay, he thought.

"Yeah, I've heard that happens." He said, reaching out to her. "We have a heating pad to help the cramps, and I think advil or whatever should help a bit too. In terms of the emotions, yeah I mean that sucks and I can't pretend I relate but we can have ice cream and watch a sad movie or something"

Steph sniffled and glanced to her brother. He was being nice, she thought, and she didn't have to be a bitch even though she kind of wanted to.

"Okay." She finally said "Am I gonna feel like this forever?"

"No" Harry laughed "Not forever. Just like once a month for the next 40 years. It'll get easier."

Steph chuckled at that, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her chest tightened as she realized she should have just gone to him - she was being stupid and she was lucky he was there to take care of it.

"You can always come to me for anything, you know" He said softly "Especially if you're embarrassed and feel like you can't go to anyone else."

"Okay" She agreed. She shed a few more years before climbing out of the car. She stopped and checked the seat of the car, sighing in relief that she hadn't bled through the make-shift pad she figured was barely holding on.

"it would come out, you know." Harry said knowingly. "Cold water gets blood out pretty well if you're quick, i've had my share of nosebleeds and sport injuries and it doesn't stain that bad. Don't worry."

"Thanks, Harry." Steph smiled. She would be okay.

"No problem" He chuckled. "You're silly."

She smiled sheepishly and headed into the bathroom. Harry made sure she was okay for the rest of the weekend and didn't tattle on her when their parents got home, to her relief.

"Some things don't need to be shared. It'll be fine."

"Thanks" Steph smiled.

She didn't have a problem leaning on her older brother after that.

#harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles sibling #older brother harry

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theimperialnuisance · 2 years ago

Text

FFXIV Write 2022 //ffxivwrite info//prompt list//character info//master post//

Prompt one: Cross /adjective annoyed/ Words: 775 Characters: Syren Ligeia, Aymeric de Borel, mention of Estinien Varlineau CW: None Spoilers for 4.56. Mentions of Estinien x wol

((Late to the party as usual but hey! I'm only 3 days behind and still have a chance to catch up! I thought I'd start off with Syren this time, a dark knight Viera wol who is in a completely separate universe from Kien's. (worry not, he's still my main <3) This prompt was too good to not feature him first! I hope you enjoy!))

————-

The wood-beamed ceiling blurred into view as Syren was pulled from the depths of slumber. He let out a low groan, his fingers curling on the soft bedsheets as he tried to make sense of how he got into a bed when the last thing he could recall was the cloaked figure reaching out to him.

He blinked a few times in effort to rid the haziness in his mind and the uneasy feeling that he had forgotten something else. Suddenly, an image of Zenos’s blade about to cut him down flashed through his mind and he bolted upright with a gasp, his memories just before he collapsed rushing back to him.

“Syren!” The Viera turned at the sound of his name, instantly recognizing Emmanellain’s page Honoroit who startled backwards a bit. His head spinning, Syren could feel the tension drain from him and he slumped forward with a breath. “I’ll go get Aymeric!” The young Elezen quickly took off out of the room, allowing Syren to calm his nerves down in peace. He knew he wasn’t in any immediate danger so it didn’t take long for his heartrate to slow down and his breathing to even out. He slowly straightened up and stretched his sore muscles, leaning carefully against the pillows as the door creaked open again and Aymeric jogged into view.

“You’re awake!” He beamed, his expression of worry washing over with relief. “Thank heavens.” He turned to Honoroit and nodded his thanks before striding into the room and closing the door. “For a moment, we had feared you’d suffer the same fate as the rest of the Scions after that battle…it’s a relief to see you conscious.” He sat down in the chair next to Syren’s bed and leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

Syren reached a hand to his head, pressing it firmly to ease the his throbbing temple–now that the adrenalyn wore off, a headache emerged in full swing. “Like hell,” he grounded out. “but I’ll survive.” He looked up to meet Aymeric’s gaze. “What happened? Where is Zenos?”

“I see you recall that much at least,” Aymeric began as he leaned back and clasped his hands in his lap. “It is said that you faltered in the midst of your duel and the crown prince seized the opportunity to deliver a mortal blow–however, before his blade could find its mark, he was distracted by the arrival of a second adversary who bore you away from the battlefield and into the hands of our Chirugeons.”

Syren raised a skeptical eyebrow at Aymeric who looked far too amused to say, “Lest you wonder, he left before you woke. As is his wont.”

Estinien. He should’ve known. A twinge of annoyance flashed across the Viera’s face as he felt his blood begin to boil. Hadn’t it been not even a full moon ago they had promised to start over and keep things open and honest? Why in the hells would he rescue him and leave without so much bothering to see if he was alright?

Syren lowered his gaze to his lap, his hands curling in on the fabric of the bedsheets as he tried to keep his cool. “That bastard,” he muttered. “After everything we talked about, and he’s still avoiding me?”

Without missing a beat, Aymeric replied, “You know as well as I do that Estinien is never one for emotional farewells, or greetings for that matter.” His tone carried a hint of amusement but that went unnoticed by the Viera as the scowl only became more prominent on his face.

“Not if I can help it.” Syren growled. He shoved the covers off and swung his legs over the bed. “How long ago was I brought here?”

“Not even a full two bells.” Aymeric replied as he watched Syren wobble to his feet.

“Good,” Syren huffed. “He couldn’t have gotten too far then.” He hastily pulled on his boots and marched for the door, not bothering to grab a jacket or his blade, his focus on one thing alone and that one thing was to find Estinien and give him a piece of his mind. All else could wait.

Aymeric watched him silently all the while, an eyebrow arched in amusement as he knew all too well there was no sense in trying to stop the Viera once he made up his mind.

Just as Syren turned the doorknob and made way out of the room, he could just barely catch Aymeric’s careful but still amused parting words. “Don’t be too cross with him now.” Syren let out a tsk noise as the door closed behind him.

“No promises.”

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thewidowsghost · 3 years ago

Text

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Y/n) stands in the kitchen of her mother and step-father's apartment, making the bean dip Smelly Gabe liked so much.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the counter but then she lets out a yelp as something hits her in between her shoulder blades.

"Hurry it up, girl!" Smelly Gabe snarls.

"Yes sir," (Y/n) murmurs.

A few minutes later, Gabe stalks into the kitchen, takes the dip without so much of a thank you.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the shoe on the ground before she moves to her room. She climbs into her bed, getting under her covers. (Y/n) turns, facing the wall.

She closes her eyes, falling to an uneasy sleep.

(Y/n) watches, disconnected from the others in the dream, as one of her brother's teachers turns into something that reminded her of a demon, or something similar that she'd read books about. The woman had bat wings, claws, and a mouth of yellow fangs.

Then (Y/n) looks around, her eyes widening in shock as she sees her brother holding a bronze sword.

Percy swings the sword, the demon exploding into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot.

A hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder has (Y/n) jolting awake. "Honey? Are you okay?" Sally Jackson asks.

Catching the wide-eyed look of horror on (Y/n)'s face, Sally wraps her daughter in a hug.

(Y/n)'s breathing steadies, and she breathes in her mother's familiar scent - chocolate, licorice, and all the other things she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central Station.

"Did you get all your work done?" Sally asks softly, her thumb brushing over a slightly visible bruise that had appeared at the base of the back of her neck.

(Y/n) hums in reply.

. . .

The next day, (Y/n) is once again lying in her bed, not wanting to have to deal with Gabe throwing more shoes or glass bottles at / near her.

. . .

Percy walks into the apartment, dragging his suitcase behind him, hoping his mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN; chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom? (Y/n)?"

"Mom's working," Gabe says. "The girl's in her room. You got any cash?"

"That's it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight since the last time Percy had seen him. Gabe looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He has about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp.

"I don't have any cash," Percy replies.

Gabe raises a greasy eyebrow. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which is surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he says. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looks at Percy with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he says. The guy just got here."

"Am I right?" Gabe repeats.

Eddie scowls into his bowl of pretzels. The two other guys pass gas in harmony.

"Fine," Percy says. He digs a wad of dollars out of his pocket and throws the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain boy!" He shouts back at Percy. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

Percy slams the door to his room, which isn't really his room. During school months, it is Gabe's 'study.' He doesn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loves shoving his stuff in Percy's closet, leaving his muddy boots on the windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne, cigars, and stale beer.

Percy drops his suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home he thinks.

Gabe's smell is almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

Percy sits, lost in his thoughts.

Then he hears his mom's voice, "Percy?" She opens the bedroom door, and his fears melt. "Oh, Percy," she hugs him tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas."

Sally had brought Percy a bag of 'free samples' the way she always did whenever he'd come home.

The two sit together on the bed. While Percy attacks the blueberry sour strings, she runs her hands through his hair, demanding to know everything that he hadn't put in his letters. She doesn't mention his getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that.

Percy tells his mother that she is smothering him, but secretly, Percy is really, really glad to see her.

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally - how about some bean dip, huh?"

Percy grits his teeth. My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should be married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

(Y/n) pads into Percy's room, and the dark haired boy brightens at the sight of his younger twin.

"I've got the dip, Mom," (Y/n) says softly. Sally gazes at her daughter for a moment, her gaze sad.

"Wait, (Y/n)," Sally says, and (Y/n) turns back to face her mother. "I've got a surprise for the two of you," she says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin," Sally replies.

"When?" (Y/n) asks, looking excited.

She smiles, "As soon as I get changed."

(Y/n) can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk in the last two summers because Gabe had said that there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in the doorway behind (Y/n) and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

Percy wants to punch him, but he meets his mother's eyes, and understands that she is offering him a deal: Be nice to Gabe for a little while; just until she's ready to leave for Montauk.

"I've got it, Gabe," (Y/n) says.

"Sorry, honey," Sally says, looking at her husband. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes get small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," Percy mutters. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," Sally says evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money."

(Y/n) turns to face Gabe, smiling as kindly as she could. "What if I make a seven-layer dip that'll last the whole weekend?" she asks. "Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softens a bit, then turns back to face Sally. "So, this money for your trip . . . it comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

"Yes, honey," Sally replies.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratches his double chin. "Maybe if the girl hurries up with the seven-layer dip . . . and if the boy apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, Percy thinks. And make you sing soprano for a week.

"I'm sorry," Percy mutters. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important power game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrow. His tiny brain is probably trying to detect the sarcasm in my statement, Percy thinks.

"Yeah, whatever," Gabe decides; he goes back to his game.

"Thank you, Percy," Sally says. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about...whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, (Y/n) can see anxiety in her mother's eyes, but then her smile returns, and (Y/n) figures that she must've been mistaken.

. . .

An hour later, the three are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch (Y/n) and Percy lug the bags to his car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her and (Y/n)'s cooking - and more important, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," Gabe warns Percy as he loads the last bag into the car. "Not one little scratch."

Like I'd be the one driving. I'm fourteen, Percy thinks.

Watching Gabe lumbers back towards the apartment building, Percy gets so mad that he does something he can't explain. As Gabe reaches the door, Percy makes the hand gesture he'd seen Grover made on the bus, a soft of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over his heart, then a shoving movement towards Gabe. The screen door slams so hard it whacks him the the butt and sends him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon.

. . .

(Y/n)'s POV

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There's always sand in the sheets, spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

Mom, Percy, and I had been going ever since Percy and I'd been a baby. Mom had been coming even longer. She'd never exactly said, but I know why the beach was special to her.

It's the place where she'd met my Dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turn the color of the sea.

We get there around sunset, open all the cabin's windows, and go through the usual cleaning routine.

Mom, Percy, and I walk on the beach, feed blue corn-chips to the seagulls, and munch on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples Mom had brought home from work.

I guess maybe I should explain all the blue food.

Gabe had once told Mom that there was no such thing. They had had this fight, which had seemed like a really small think at the time, but ever since, Mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes, mixed blueberry smoothies, bought blue-corn tortilla chips, and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - is proof that she isn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, just like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells Percy and me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents had died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what is always on our minds whenever we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure she would tell us the same things she always did, but neither Percy or I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom replies. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle too, like you, (Y/n)." Mom says and I soften. "You have his black hair, Percy, and you both share his green eyes.

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you two. He would be so proud."

I wonder how she could say that when I'm the girl who cowers from her stepfather. The girl who hides in her room to get away from said stepfather.

"How old were we?" Percy asks, pulling me from my thoughts. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But . . . he knew us as babies."

"No, honey," Mom replies. "He knew I was expecting twins, but he never met you. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact that I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow, maybe a smile.

Percy and I had always assumed that our father had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt that it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I feel angry at my father. Maybe it is stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom.

"Are you going to send me away again?" Percy asks. "To another boarding school?"

Mom pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey," her voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" Percy says and I flinch, avoiding both his and Mom's gazes.

I glance up to see that Mom's eyes had welled up with tears. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

"But you never send her away," Percy says and I look up, eyes wide with surprise.

Mom looks at Percy, eyes wide with shock.

Finally she says, "I have to keep both of you away from each other as much as possible. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"I tried to keep you as close to me as I could," Mom says. "They told me it was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy, (Y/n) - the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just . . . I just can't stand to do it."

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask.

"Not a school," Mom replies. "A summer camp."

My head spins. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around to see me and Percy be born - talk to Mom about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," Mom says, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I - I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp . . ."

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression, that if we asked any more questions, she would start to cry.

Word Count: 2413 words

#annabeth chase x female reader #annabeth chase x fem reader #annabeth chase x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VII/VII)

"apart"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language (?) Angst

A/N: P L E A S E DON'T MURDER ME YET THERE'S AN EPILOGUE OKAY?! OKAY now enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part VI: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Since the Amortentia incident, Y/n had barely looked at me; not in the way I had avoided her after New Year, though, this time, it was different. She didn't seem to be doing it accidentally, rather than on purpose; she appeared to be too lost into her turmoil of thoughts to realise what she was doing, which scared me more.

I had figured the Amortentia would have had something to do with it, but it took me two days to pick up on it.

Undoubtedly, Y/n had smelled Fred's scent on it, and it dawned on her how twisted what we were doing was.

I cried myself to sleep the night that my mind stumbled upon that information. I let myself sob violently, pouring out as much pain as I could, wanting to wash away the recurrent thoughts that creeped on my mind, thoughts that were not unfounded.

That was it— I had lost both a friend and the woman I loved.

Once the tears seem to die out, a new thought appeared in my mind; maybe I was meant to be alone. I could barely function alone, how was I supposed to function with another person?

Perhaps I had always be meant to be alone.

I was going to be alone forever.

I was alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

It took my careless arse a hot minute to be aware of how obvious my emotional rollercoaster was from the outside; George had been getting visibly upset by it —I'd dare to reckon he even cried the past night because of it—, and I had to stop that, but how?

I knew it was always best to tell the truth, but where would that take us? Nowhere good. I couldn't just tell George I was in love with him and expect us not to fall apart even harder.

He would think I'm lying, or that I'm using him as a second option —I couldn't let him think that—, but again, his mind had probably gone to those thoughts due to my radio silence.

I had to tell him the truth, and face the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of our front door's lock opening snapped me out of my own mind, and even made me jump a bit in the couch I sat. I had been waiting for George to arrive for a good couple of hours, weighing on how I could approach the topic, but I didn't seem to come up with anything remotely good.

He stepped into the flat with his eyes casted down, so it took him a moment to acknowledge my presence. "I—" his now dull eyes observed me with confusion, as if he wasn't expecting to see me in my own flat. "what are you doing awake?"

"Waiting for you." He closed the door, scrutinising me with furrowed brows. "I— well—" I cleared my throat and got up, causing his shoulders to tense up. "I wanted to tell you something."

I thought I would have to fight his childish behavior and convince him not to dodge the subject, but he only leaned on the door, his hands behind his back and his eyes casted down. "I... I wanted to tell you something too."

"You go first." I prompted him, planning on using those extra seconds to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to say —as if I hadn't been trying to mentally prepare myself for two hours already.

He peeked at me and sighed, his eyes coming back to his shoes before speaking. "I don't know how to say this— I" he pursed his lips and I could see the struggle irradiating from him. "I think you should move out." Now I knew why he refused to meet my gaze. "We— we need time away y'know— Fleur offered to help you look for an apartment. I'll go back to the Burrow until you find one— and I'm not firing you but I would appreciate if you didn't attend the clients if I'm there."

I should have spoken first, I scolded myself.

"Why?"

"What why?"

"Why you should've spoken first?"

"I— well, so you see," I tugged on my sleeves; it was my turn to avoid his look. "W-when I spilled the Amortentia— well I— I smelled—"

"I know."

"You... Do?"

"Yeah, that's... That's why I think we need some time away."

I had never in my life had my heart shattered in so many pieces in such a short span of time. The pain was so immense that I wasn't able to shed a single tear. Out of every outcome, this was the least expected.

"O-okay." We kept sneaking glances at each other in a dreadful silence until our eyes accidentally met. "I think—"

"I should—"

Another best of silence fell among us after we simultaneously spoke.

"I should go pick some things up." He muttered, passing by my side as fast as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning I caught him, as I expected, sneaking out of the flat with one of the bags he had carried in months ago.

He was already exiting when I jogged out of my room, managing to catch his hand.

I could see the goosebumps in his arm, and I thanked Merlin he couldn't hear my heart threatening to leaving my chest to go with him.

"I'm really sorry, George." I whispered, squeezing his hand. Although I had a tiny bit of hope that he would change his mind and step back into our home if I said those words, it was more of a goodbye.

He just shook his head, letting me know there was no need for an apology, and squeezed my hand back before pulling away.

His fingers slipping away from mines was such an emptying feeling, as if my connection with him slept away from my grasp forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I went to sleep that night hoping George's parting would have been a nightmare, and I cried the morning after when my brain took in that it was, in fact, very much real.

A heavily pregnant Fleur showed up that afternoon; she made me dinner and tried to cheer me up a little before making me get dressed so she could drag me out to look for flats in the Diagon Alley. It was an unsuccessful trip, but the Triwizard Tournament Champion wasn't about to give up so easily, so she came the next day, and the following, and on and on for a week.

As if summoned by the woman's will to find me a new home, we found a cheap, acceptable apartment near the shop.

I purchased it instantly, and soon enough I was moving out my things with Bill's help, to stop his wife from helping me herself.

"That's the last one, right?" Bill questioned, nodding at the bag laying on the couch with a box in his hands.

"Yup." I pulled it up and hung it on my shoulder.

"Need anything else?" I shook my head no. "Alright then I'll leave this at your place and apparate back home." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I know it's none of my business but... Whatever happened between you two— it's fixable, believe me."

"I really don't think so." I muttered, gripping the bag's strap.

"It is," he repeated, adjusting the box in his arms. "just don't give up." He gave me a small, reassuring smile and disapparated.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was fixable. Taking a look around the now emptier apartment, I thought it surely didn't seem like it, but hope is the last thing you lose, right?

In a final attempt of getting him back, I grabbed a notebook from the bag and teared a page off it; I left the bag besides me as I knelt down and reached for a pencil forgotten over the coffee table.

Three Days Later

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I entered the apartment— it was quiet, similar to a cemetery, just like the first time I stepped on the apartment after the war.

This time, it was empty, though.

Y/n didn't rush to the door when I opened it.

She didn't catch me when I fell on my knees and broke down to tears.

I was alone.

After Godric knows how long I managed to get myself back to my feet. I passed Y/n's old room as fast as I had first passed Fred's room months ago.

Once I got to my room and lay down on my bed, my mind cleared up enough for me to realise that I would be seeing Y/n the next day —at least once— at the shop.

"Fuck." I muttered, burying my face on my pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

He had asked me not to leave the office while he was in the shop.

He had explicitly asked me not to, but I needed to know if he had read my letter— no, I need to know if I had taken a step in the right direction by writing the letter.

So there I was, descending the stairs in his direction, and taking my time to do so since he was talking with a couple of clients.

"Y/n!" Verity rushed to me with what seemed a defective portable swamp. "I need your help with this," My eyes, still on George, caught the way his head snapped in my direction with sheer fear on it. "I've got a woman there threatening with suing us because the swamp send one of her children to St. Mungo!" The girl managed to get my attention with her anxious rambling.

"She can't do that." George, who had probably caught on Verity's words, spoke before I could. "She agreed on our shop policy." He reminded her, walking to stand by my side.

"I already told her that Mister Weasley, but she said she's 'not taking the words of a pipsqueak'." She replied in a whisper.

"She said what?" George questioned in disbelief.

"I'm gonna shove that lawsuit up her arse." I spoke, spotting the completely out of place middle aged woman who stood in front of Verity's till. "Send her to the office." Verity looked at me and then at George for confirmation, who simply gave her a nod.

Once Verity left, I turned to the ginger, whose warm eyes were already fixed on me. "How are you?" He inquired in a way that let me see it was out of politeness, which made my hopes die a little.

"Been better." I replied, ready to somehow test the waters. "How about you?"

"Same, I suppose." George didn't even try to put on a happy face, and I started to get anxious; there was no way he would have missed the note —I left it on the kitchen table— so that meant he had read it and- "You should go back to the office."

My heart attempted to hold onto the possibility of him not having read the note, but my brain knew better than that. "Alright." I nodded and went back to my workplace; I would deal with that woman and after that, I would prepare a resignation letter.

George was right, we needed to be apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't that bad, I lied to myself, sitting down on the sofa while undoing the tie's knot.

My mind was about to begin the overthinking of Y/n's words when my stomach growled. Without noticing, I had gone without a single meal for the entire day.

I listened to my body and moved to the kitchen to prepare myself something. While the stove heated up, I turned around and took a look at the kitchen; just like the rest of the rooms, it seemed gloomier without Y/n lighting up the apartment.

Stop thinking about her.

My eyes landed on a piece of paper with one of Y/n's rings over it. Before properly realising it, I was sitting down on one of the chairs and reading what had been written in the scrapped page.

Dear George,

I know what happened is on both of us, but I can't help but blame myself, as selfish as it might sound.

You don't know this, but while at Hogwarts, I found you and Fred rather annoying— I didn't understand why everyone seemed to fancy you so much. Then, you hired me to work in this amazing shop, and I understood.

During these past two years I had the pleasure and honour to call you my friend; you made my life much better, I'd like to think I did the same.

I wanted to apologise for everything I've done since New Year. I'm so very sorry for falling in love with you. Though it was something so easy to happen, I never thought it would go this far.

I don't know what is this letter (a proper goodbye? I don't know), but I want need you to know that I never wanted to harm you nor our friendship, and that I'm still going to be here for you, feelings aside.

Love,

Y/n.

I re-read the fourth paragraph at least five times before taking it in.

She had fallen in love with me.

That's what she had meant to say when she spoke to me about the Amortentia— that she had smelled my scent— Oh no.

My reply— she probably thought it was unrequited; she probably thought I had kicked her out because she was in love with me and not quite the opposite.

Without thinking twice, I ran down to the office with the letter clutched in my hand; she had to be there, she was always the last one to leave.

She had to be there.

I was so focused on reaching the office on time that I missed Y/b's figure exiting the shop.

I slammed the door open, just to find the table's surface, which used to be full of Y/n's things, clean in its entirety, aside from an envelope which had written on it 'resignation'.

"No."

READER'S P. O. V.

I had just left the small box with my things over the coffee table, and was taking off my shoes when an apparition noise followed by a couple of bangs on my front door made me jolt.

Out of a sad habit I, among the rest of the Order, had gotten during the war, I grabbed my wand and approached the door.

My arm fell limply on my side while I stared into George's eyes, which seemed to hold back a storm of mixed emotions.

"C-can we talk?" My gaze then fell on the paper his hand was gripping, and that I assumed was my resignation.

"George, listen, I can't—"

"I'm in love with you."

Words had stumbled out of his mouth in panic, and the only thing I could reply was, "What?"

#george weasley headcanon #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader angst #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley smut #george x reader smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #things never go as planned

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gyucore · 4 years ago

Text

to reach a happy ending

pairing: beomgyu x reader

tags: fluff, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 1.6k

warnings: beomgyu swears like once

prompts:

017: "A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face."

023: "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

— requested by ⛅ anon! sorry this took so long to make. i hope you like it!! ♡

"Ew, look at this." You hand the dusty old photo album to Beomgyu who's sprawled across the floor by your side.

"Wait—" He stops you, rolling away before letting out a sneeze so loud that it managed to echo off the dusty untouched walls of his old room. The poor guy couldn't help it, his room hadn't been cleaned since he moved out in the middle of high school, and his mom preferred to keep things as they were— dust and all. You wonder if it was simply an excuse to clean one less room.

Beomgyu did say he had dropped in yesterday without notice. You'd think he'd want to spend some quality time with his parents first, but he'd decided to invite you over after spending a single night under this roof. Having heard nothing but radio silence from your best friend in years, you were thrilled to get to see him again. And what better way to shed off the ever present awkwardness in the beginning than to go through old photo albums?

"Okay, show me." Beomgyu rolls back to your side, scooting in closer to rest his head on your lap.

You turn the photo album, pointing at one photo in particular of you and Beomgyu dressed as a knight and damsel in distress— Beomgyu playing the role of the latter. Contrary to the roles, you were pummeling Beomgyu to the ground as if having caught a thief, and Beomgyu was shoving his handkerchief to your face, blocking your eyesight. The context behind the photograph alludes you, but this might just be a case of seven-year-olds doing whatever they want whenever.

"The fuck you mean ew? I look great in that dress!" Frowning, Beomgyu grabs the album to stare longer at his past self's glory.

"Lying to yourself isn't good for you, Gyu." You jokingly disapprove. It was fun seeing his reactions right after.

"Oh, look at these."

Beomgyu points at a photo of you and him on stage, wearing the same costumes as before. You figured it was for a play back in first grade when you two had been classmates. The next series of photos included one of you holding out a sword towards a kid in a cheap dragon costume, one of Beomgyu holding back his tears after tripping over and ripping his dress, and ones of you rushing to Beomgyu and kissing away his tears.

"This takes me back." Beomgyu lights up with a smile, failing to notice the surprise on your face. "Remember when your mom made us believe that kissing any injuries we had would make it go away? I knew you wanted to help me back then but I couldn't stop crying and tell you were it hurt, so you started kissing all over my face hoping it'd go away."

You find yourself laughing at your past self's foolishness. "But did it work?" You ask in between laughs.

"Well," Beomgyu chuckles, getting up from his position on your lap. "I don't think it would've worked if another person had done it. But since it was you— Wait." He takes one last look at the album, letting slip a wheeze before placing it back in its box. "Mom wrote something right below the photo."

"What did she write?" You ask, holding out your hands for Beomgyu to grab.

"A fairy tale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face." Beomgyu tells you as he helps you up, trying his best to keep a straight face after delivering that line.

The two of you burst into laughter at his mother's words. You knew she'd been fond of fairy tales all her life but the caption was taking you out. Beomgyu was literally crying in the photo yet somehow this, to her, was a happy ending.

You eventually take notice of all the photos plastered around his room, some framed, and some simply stuck to the walls— memories of happier times. Most were of you and him, and in some, just you. He'd shown off the Polaroid camera his mother bought for him in seventh grade, proclaiming he'd only take photos of moments he'd want to keep in his memory forever. It never actually crossed your mind that a lot of them would be of you.

Beomgyu notices your wandering eyes and chuckles, placing an arm around your shoulder. The distance between you shrinks as he holds you closer. And at that moment, you take note of everything that's changed.

He'd gotten taller since the last time you saw him. Gone was the lanky boy you knew, evident in the way his muscles flexed with every small movement you wish you hadn't noticed. Beomgyu had grown his hair out; the thick, wavy locks tucked behind his ears, covering the back of his neck. The deepness of his voice had been a surprise when he greeted you at the door earlier, but you held back from pointing it out.

You feared that if you acknowledged all the changes, you'd be forced to face reality. That things weren't the same anymore, no matter how hard you tried. After all, Beomgyu wasn't the only one who changed. You had quite the few character development arcs yourself, and experiences which Beomgyu remained oblivious of. And somehow despite that, in his presence, you started to feel like your old self again.

Beomgyu's invitation had come as a surprise last night. You thought he'd forgotten about you, what with all the silence these past few years.

Life continued on as it should even without Beomgyu by your side, but you could argue that all the amazing experiences you've had on your own would've been better if he were there to experience it with you. And now here you were in his old room, pretending everything was the same as he'd left it.

You look up at your old friend, wanting to tell him what had been plaguing your thoughts the entire day but find yourself tongue tied when his dark eyes stare back into your own. And you wonder, how many times had it been that you'd stared into each other's eyes just like this? How many times had he pulled you close into his arms all those years? And just how many nights had you spent wondering if your feelings for him had grown into something more?

"I missed you." Beomgyu speaks first, his gaze never faltering.

Hearing his voice, you swear you could've melted right then and there. Part of you had wished he'd tell you those exact words, confirming that it hadn't been just you who'd been wanting to see him all these years.

"I missed you too."

Beomgyu could only smile at your response.

His arm leaves your shoulder— hands slowly finding their way to your own. His hold was gentle as he slowly guided you to face him.

"Don't laugh, but," Beomgyu starts. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Love at fir—"

The question throws you off.

"What?"

"I heard you the first time!" You cut him off, wanting so bad to cover your face from the secondhand embarrassment. "I can't believe you just said that. What even happened to you in college?"

"Hey! At least hear me out before you make fun of me." Beomgyu bursts out laughing at your reaction, his thumbs caressing the back of your hands to help you calm down. "Judging from your reaction, I'm guessing your answer is a no. And I honestly felt the same too until a few hours back."

"Okay, you lost me there."

"Shut up. What I'm saying is," Beomgyu squeezes your hands, leaning in closer. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch the last few years. I had a lot of trouble adjusting, and it took a while for me to really get the hang of living alone. I wanted to talk to you as soon as I got there but then I thought that maybe it would've been better for you if I left you to live your own life for a while too."

"Beomgyu.." You squeeze his hands back, sensing the sincerity in his eyes.

Beomgyu shakes his head. "I know this sounds silly and all, but I didn't want you to feel the emptiness I felt when I left. I wanted you to go and make experiences of your own without me."

You frown, refraining to speak until he's done.

"But then I couldn't stop thinking about you. Everywhere I went, I'd think of you and how the place would've been better if we got to hang out there together. Every time I had fun or ate something that tasted good, I wanted you to share the experience with me."

Beomgyu sighs. "Honestly, I thought I could make it through my visit home without seeing you but I passed by your house on my way home yesterday and I just.. I couldn't hold back. And when I saw you for the first time in years at the front of my doorstep.. I knew I had to tell you."

Half of you knew what to expect, and the other half doubted the reality of the situation. But all the doubts instantly melt away as soon as Beomgyu closed the distance between you, pressing your foreheads together.

Face flushed, you stare at him in awe and notice he had his eyes closed shut. "Cute." You thought.

He whispers in a voice so quiet you could barely hear.

"I like you."

You couldn't hold it in any longer, the rush of emotions crashing into you like raging waves against a cliff. The next moment, you find yourself inching closer and closer, face heating up even more as you press your lips against his as a reply.

Beomgyu's eyes widen, body freezing in place. He hadn't exactly expected you to respond so soon, especially not like this. And he couldn't be happier.

You feel Beomgyu returning the kiss, his hands going up to cup your face— his hold gentle. The two of you wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment for as long as life permits, because for once, you could finally see the path to your happily ever after slowly unraveling.

This was just the beginning.

#txt #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fic #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fluff

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mammonprotectionsquad · 4 years ago

Note

“You can ask me as much as you want, I’ll say I love you each time.” + “Piggy back ride?.” if it’s not too much with v please? Thank you a lot💚💚

Thank you for the request! I loved writing this one 💕

If anyone else would like to send a prompt as well, here's the Soft Sentence Starters list 😊

"I'll always say I love you each time."

V/Jihyun x Reader

It wasn't out of the ordinary for Jihyun to spend majority of the day in his studio, especially when inspiration struck. Time easily forgotten when he was working on a canvas. Sketching out his general idea, mixing colors, painting, redoing parts he wasn't satisfied with, trying to figure out what was missing to make it perfect...

Taking breaks barely happened, when he got so absorbed by the piece.

And while he knew that most people would've probably easily gotten annoyed by that, maybe even demand that he spent less time in the studio... You were the complete opposite.

Of course he made sure to spend as much time with you as possible, because he loved you and also loved to be around you whenever he could. But work was still work.

Not only did you constantly encourage him to pursue his dreams, you also checked up on him regularly to make sure he had everything he needed. Food, something to drink... And sometimes you would even just sit with him, giving him input on his current piece or watching him work.

Moments like that were already enough to help him, when he felt stuck. Like your presence alone was enough to bring up an entire new spring of inspiration and ideas in him, which he was always eternally grateful for.

That day was no different. He sat on his stool in front of the tall canvas, a couple specks of paint covering his cheeks. His brows were furrowed in concentration, while he tapped the end of the brush against his lips.

A quiet knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts and his expression softened as soon as you entered the room, making him feel lighter. Like a breath of fresh air streaming through open windows.

You set down a small tray with a cup of coffee and a bowl of various fruits. And maybe it would've only been a small thing to some, but it made his heart skip to see that you cared for him like that.

"I thought I'd get you something to snack on", you chirped and stepped closer, brushing his bangs out of his face, before you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

The feeling of your soft lips against his skin made his eyes flutter shut and he hummed quietly.

"Thank you, love", he murmured and, after putting the brush aside, wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, both of you now facing the painting.

With your hands resting on his arms, you leaned back into him and he used the current position to rest his chin on your shoulder.

"How is it going?"

"I think I'll be done, soon... But something is still missing."

Both of you stayed quiet for a moment and you tilted your head a little, lips ever so slightly pursed. Something you usually did when you were lost in thought and Jihyun thought it was absolutely endearing.

"Mhm... Why don't you try some more sunset colors for the sky? Some pink and peachy shades? Maybe also some clouds in the right corner? I think that would look pretty."

After shortly thinking it over, he came to the conclusion that it would indeed look rather nice with the rest of the color scheme.

"You may or may not have just saved me from mulling things over for hours."

"Well, just make sure to mention me as co-artist", you joked with a chuckle and turned around in his arms, lifting one hand to gently rub on the dried paint on his skin.

"Darling... You're not my co-artist, you're my muse", he said quietly, smiling warmly at you, before he tilted his head to be able to press a kiss to your palm.

Even when you said nothing, your cheeks began to flush and you gave him a light shove, something you liked to do whenever he managed to fluster you in one way or another.

"Alright, I better leave you to it, then."

Though before you even had the chance to only attempt to leave, he wrapped his arms a little tighter around you, with his face buried in your hair.

Once again you were ever so patient with him... Not asking him to leave the studio, even though he knew it was time for dinner, soon.

And like so many times before, he was wondering why you were still around, only calling him out on his habits when you knew he needed a break to recharge. Not once did you get mad or annoyed with him for spending so much time painting.

"I can hear you thinking", your amused voice snapped him back into reality. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Gentle fingers carded through his hair and for a moment he just melted into you, nuzzling your neck.

"I've just been wondering why you're still putting up with me. I mean... I've been in the studio quite often, recently. But here you are, being all sweet and even bringing me food. Why?"

It wasn't the first time that conversation came up, but the thoughts always returned, at some point.

"Jihyun... You can ask me as much as you want, I'll always say I love you each time. That's why."

He felt one of your hands move to his back, rubbing slow, small circles into it.

"Besides, I'm not "putting up" with you. I'm happy that you finally have the chance to do what you love and I'll gladly support you wherever I can."

As soon as he pulled back and looked into your eyes, he was met with nothing but unconditional love. Still, he was wondering how he deserved someone as perfect and wonderful as you. But whatever it was, he was more than just thankful for it.

Without any hesitation, he leaned in to plant a kiss to your lips, one he felt you smile into.

"I love you, too. And I won't ever stop doing so. Now... How about we call it a day and cook dinner together?"

You entire face lit up at that and you nodded enthusiastically. Cooking didn't always end up with perfect results, mainly because you two got distracted rather often, but it was always fun, which was the most important thing.

"Alright, then hop on~", the artist grinned and, after getting up from his stool, he bent down a little to give you better access to his back.

Without any hesitation, you jumped on it, your arms and legs wrapped securely around him, while he rested his hands on your thighs to ensure you wouldn't end up slipping down.

That way he carried you into the kitchen, with you brushing your lips teasingly along his neck, which sent a shiver down his spine.

"Sweetheart... If you keep that up, I can't promise that we'll actually make it to the kitchen."

You giggled and placed a last kiss right below his ear.

"Maybe for dessert~First we gotta make sure that you'll eat properly."

Masterlist

If you'd like to get added to the tag list, please let me know 💕

@ayamewhump @white-wallflower @ultrasupernini @just-a-key

#request #mystic messenger #mysme #jihyun kim #mystic messenger jihyun #mysme jihyun #mysme v #mystic messenger v #jihyun x mc #jihyun x reader #mystic messenger oneshot #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger fanfic #my writing

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crashdevlin · 3 years ago

Text

Fool For Love 10- Compromising

Fool For Love Series Masterlist , Fool For Love Story Masterlist

Author’s Note: Get ready for some heavy angst and some angry alpha Dean acting an ass. This series is also available on Archive.

Summary: Sam is determined to fix things between his brother and their omega, but with Dean stuck in his self-hatred and Y/n stuck in her self-pity, that's a little harder than it seems.

Pairing: former Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, mentions of Beta!OMC x Beta!Reader

Word count: 3261

Story Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, angst, past kidnapping, Dean having no clue how to fix shit, some awkwardness, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! knotting sex, heat, oral (fem rec)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you, Sam. I really could have figured it out myself, though,” Y/n said as Sam set the LOMMARP down in her living room.

"Well, I know, but I wanted to help," he said as he stepped back to examine the placement. He bit the inside of his lip for a moment before he cleared his throat. "And, uh, I didn't end up putting it together. It was Dean."

She looked away and sighed. "Yeah,” she responded softly. “I can smell him on it."

"He told me not to tell you, but I didn’t want to lie.”

“Well, thanks for respecting me enough not to lie,” she said, turning away from the bookshelf and sitting on the couch.

“Of course I resp-” Sam took a deep breath. “Y/n, I know that you were burned by Dean’s-”

“I was destroyed by Dean,” she interrupted. “He killed me and then he killed my boyfriend and then he killed my beta existence.”

Sam’s shoulders tightened with tension. “You chose to become an omega again. It wasn’t him.”

“No, it was you,” she reminded, softly. “And yeah, some of it was me. I convinced myself that it was the right thing to do, so I’m at fault for my condition too, but the simple fact of it is that none of this would have happened if Dean hadn’t killed me two years ago.”

Sam took a deep breath and sat next to her on the couch. “You need to talk to him.” She looked over, her eyebrow raised. “Look, I’m very happy to have this time where it’s just you and me and you act like the sun shines out of my ass, but…” Sam licked his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You love Dean and Dean loves you and don’t argue about it because being mad at him for what he’s done doesn’t change the fact that you love him.”

She looked away from him and scratched at her neck so Sam set his hand on her knee. “You wouldn’t have saved him if you didn’t still love him. I know you’re angry. I’m angry too. We lost out on two years with you because Dean fucked up, but we can get past it. We can get past the anger and find the love again...but not if you don’t talk to him.”

"Talking to him is...too hard, Sam."

"No, it's not. I'll be with you. Come on, Y/n." He squeezed her knee and she sighed.

"Okay. But not here...and not at the Bunker. Neutral ground."

Sam smiled. "I know just the place."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The park, Sam? Really?" Dean bitched as he parked the Impala and looked around the parking lot for a sign of Y/n.

"It's neutral, Dean. It's not her place. It's not our place," Sam explained as he pushed open his door and climbed out. "Plus, it's open air so no one can claim that pheromones played a part in the discussion. It’s the best place for this."

Dean rolled his eyes and exited the Chevy, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and sighing. "This is not gonna work."

"Yes, it will. She still loves you. It'll work," Sam promised, walking away toward the picnic area.

"Would you forgive me for all the crap I pulled on-"

"I already have." Dean looked over at Sam, confused, but Sam was looking ahead to where Y/n was sitting at the nearest picnic table. Sam took the spot on the bench next to Y/n and Dean took the middle of the bench on the other side.

Dean's eyes couldn't lift from the table top as Y/n looked over at him, waiting patiently. She knew well how hard it was for Dean to speak on his emotions. "Sorry" would come easily. Admitting when he's messed up was easy for him, but talking out the whys was always hard.

Awkward silence dragged out over a few long moments, Sam opening his mouth to try start the conversation but thinking better of it each time. Dean reached out to pick at a splinter in the wood, absent-mindedly playing with it as Y/n watched.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I-I know that doesn’t mean anything but I am so sorry, Y/n.” He finally looked up and caught her eyes, tears making his olive orbs shine even brighter. “I’m so sorry about everything. I wish I had helped you when you were sick and I wish I had been able to walk away when I found out you were alive. I’m sorry I-I went feral and fucked your entire life up. What I did to your fiance...he didn’t deserve that. He just fell in love with the most wonderful woman in the world and that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve what I did and I’m so sorry.”

Y/n shook her head, anger dripping into her scent. “He didn’t get the chance to actually be my fiance, Dean. You beat him to death before I even had the chance to say ‘yes’.” Tears filled her eyes at the memory of Malcolm covered in blood with his face smashed. “He was a good man. All he ever did was love me, support me, lift me up. And you killed him. You killed him. How is sorry supposed to fix that?”

“It’s not,” Dean answered, shaking his head. “It’s not supposed to fix anything. But I been…” He took a shaky breath and let his tongue out to run along his bottom lip. “Since I woke up and realized what I did, I’ve been sick about it. I ruined everything for you and I ruined everything again after you worked so hard to put together a good life without us and…” He shook his head as tears finally fell. “I’m so sorry.”

"Yeah, me too. I'm sorry I was so forgettable that you could toss me aside so easily. I'm sorry I picked beta existence instead of Chuck just taking my marks because if I'd chosen the first option, I'd be the only one affected. Malcolm would still be alive and you never would have gone feral, because you wouldn't be mated anymore." Dean's bottom lip trembled as she stood. "Would've been better for everyone."

"Y/n," Sam started but she shook her head and leaned over Dean.

"I was raped by a demon because of you and you never touched me again after. Do you even understand what that did to my self-worth? Do you understand that I thought I was ruined because my alpha wouldn't touch me? How broken I already was about what that monster did and how I felt so destroyed-"

"It was Amara, Y/n, she got in my head and-"

"And you couldn’t push through it. Not for me…and you couldn’t tell me why and you could-" Dean stood and moved like he was going to grab her, but stopped and stepped back instead. She let out a deep breath and licked her lips. "You hurt me in a hundred ways, Dean."

"I know. I wish I could fix it."

"You're talking again. That's a start," Sam said, moving to stand too.

"Right. A start." Y/n cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. "I'm, um, gonna get going. I've got work in a half hour."

"Okay," Sam said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "Love you. Text me?"

"Yeah," she agreed before nodding at Dean and walking toward the parking lot.

The brothers watched her walk away until they couldn't see her anymore. "Told you it wouldn't work," Dean grumbled before walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I was thinking we could do dinner...with Dean," Sam suggested as he brought Y/n a cup of coffee. "It's been a few days, you've calmed down. I know you've been thinking about his apology, right?"

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of the coffee. "Yeah. I guess I've been thinking but...it’s...I’m just tired of...compromising, I guess?”

“Compromising?” Sam asked, shaking his head a little.

“Putting aside my feelings and my desires to be...because omegas make things easier, omegas soothe and fix, omegas-”

“You don’t have to-”

“Of course, I do. I’m the omega, it’s my lot in life.” She cleared her throat. “It’s fine. I’m...it’s fine. Let’s just...if you want to have dinner with Dean, we can have dinner with Dean.”

“If you don’t want to, then-” Sam started.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” she dismissed.

“Yes, it does!” Sam argued. “Of course, it does, Y/n.”

“No, it doesn’t, because what I want in my head is a different thing than what I want in my body and my body is going to win out in the end because of these stupid fucking marks.” She closed her eyes tight and scratched her nails across her eyebrows. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Call Dean. We’ll do B&E, get some pizza or something.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. Gonna have to fix things eventually, right?”

Sam nodded and pulled out his phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was nervous as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He wasn’t sure why he kept letting Sam talk him into this stuff. Y/n was never going to forgive him. She shouldn’t. He fucked up. He fucked everything up. He ruined everything.

She was sitting at a booth with Sam when he walked into the pizzeria. Dean swallowed thickly and approached the booth, taking the seat on the opposite side. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Sam and Y/n echoed.

“Have we, uh, have we ordered?”

“No. Figured we should wait. That’s the polite thing, right?” Y/n asked, looking down at the tabletop.

Dean bit his bottom lip and shook his head with a sigh. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. You’re obviously uncomfortable and-”

“I’m on the edge of my first heat in years,” Y/n interrupted. “I can feel it starting to claw at my insides. Little cramps, uncomfortable anxiety...it’s just been a while since I felt it, okay? That’s why I’m on edge.”

Dean nodded. “Sorry. I...I couldn’t smell it over Sammy’s scent. I...I hope...I mean...I don’t suppose you’re excited about it, but...Sam’s gonna be good to take care-” The powerful way Y/n rolled her eyes stopped Dean mid sentence.

“Sam won’t be enough, dumbass.”

“Y/n,” Sam chastised quietly and Y/n rolled her eyes again.

“He is. If he’s already forgotten how I almost died last time,” Y/n snapped.

“I didn’t forget,” Dean said, softly, picking at his paper napkin. “I just figured you’d wanna go as long as possible without touching me. Figured I’d be a last-ditch effort, keep yourself away from me until you absolutely have to-”

“You think I’d rather subject myself to rejection sickness for a while instead of having sex with you? You think I hate you so much that I’d put myself through that pain again?” she asked, seriously. Dean just shrugged, still not looking at her. She sighed and shook her head. “If I hated you, I’d’ve let you die...feral and lost. I don’t hate you...much as I want to.”

"So...you don't hate me?" Dean asked, shyly.

"I wish I did. I really tried." Y/n shook her head and picked up her drink. "I tried to hate you when you said I wasn't really dying and I tried to hate you in Seattle and I tried to hate you when Sam asked me to save you, but I couldn't. Even after what you did to Mal...I couldn’t." Y/n took a sip as Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "There was so much potential in our relationship. We got through you being a demon and the Mark making you dark...we could have gotten through anything together."

"'Til I killed you," Dean whispered. "And I did. I killed you, Y/n. I'm the reason you left and Chuck found you and I'm so sorry." He looked up and caught Y/n's eyes. "I'm sorry I'm the reason your family thinks you're dead and I'm sorry I hurt you so badly. I'm so sorry."

The server walked up as Y/n opened her mouth to reply, so she stopped. They ordered their food and fell into a tense silence that followed them across the entire meal. Y/n cuddled closer to Sam as they ate. She was feeling needy, her abdomen cramping more the longer she was around her alphas, but she was doing her best to ignore it. She wasn't exactly happy to be reduced to base animal cravings again and she planned to fight it until the fever hit.

Dean picked pepperoni off of his pizza and sneaked looks across the table. "You should hate me," he whispered eventually. "I do."

"You hated yourself before all this," Y/n snapped.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded and stood, tossing a twenty dollar bill on the table. “It made sense then, too.”

Sam stood as Dean started to walk away from the table. “We’ll call you when she starts her heat.”

“Not until she really needs me, Sammy. You should take care of her needs. I don’t deserve-”

Sam shook his head. “She’ll need you faster than you think she will. First heat. It’s just like a first heat, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “Just call me when she needs me. I don’t deserve to touch her.”

“Coward,” Y/n whispered as Dean walked out of the restaurant.

Sam sat next to her and kissed her forehead. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you through this.”

“Don’t really have much of a choice, do we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s temperature spiked as Sam drove her to her house. She squirmed in the passenger seat of the classic pickup truck as she rolled the window down to get air circulating in the cab.

"God, this feels almost as bad as…" she whimpered, curling in on herself.

"As bad as?" Sam asked, reaching over to set his hand on her thigh.

"The first one. The night at the bar," she whined, spreading her legs in silent invitation. Sam slipped his hand further up her thigh and pressed the seam of her jeans into her mound. She grabbed his hand, grinding against it as she made him put more pressure on her. "It's so overwhelming."

"I'll take care of you, Y/n," Sam promised, rubbing at her clit through her jeans.

She was a sweating mess of pheromones by the time Sam got her to her house. Sam held his breath as he moved to pick her up and help her out of the truck. If he breathed in the powerful scent of her, he likely wouldn't make it inside with her. He didn’t need her neighbors to witness him knotting her on the front lawn. She clung to him as he helped her inside, pulling her keys out of her jacket and opening the door. She whined his name as he helped her in and immediately turned right into the bedroom.

They hadn't done more than kiss and grope each other since she came back to Lebanon. Dean had gone further than Sam. As Sam grabbed her head and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, she clawed at her clothes, desperate to be free of the constricting material. Sam grabbed the collar of her t-shirt and tugged, growling as she gasped against his mouth.

"Pants off. Bed," he commanded, pulling at his own clothes. She scrambled to kick her shoes off and fumbled with the button of her jeans as she stumbled backward toward the mattress. “I’ve been thinking about this for months. Getting between those legs again, listening to you whine. Tasting you. Fuck, I missed the way you taste.”

“Alpha, please,” she whined, dropping back onto the bed and spreading her legs for him.

“God, you are so beautiful,” he whispered, joining her on the bed. He was overwhelmed by the way she smelled and how she looked, sweating and spread out before him. He ran his hand across her collarbone and down into the valley between her breasts, loving the way she pressed herself closer to him. “I’m going to make you feel better, Omega.”

Sam leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly despite the desire to bite down and make her squirm. Her hand came down and buried in his hair as he laved his tongue over her skin, making the sensitive skin pucker at the attention. Sam couldn’t put into words how much he’d missed the scents and sensations attacking his brain in that moment. A million memories assaulted him as he kissed his way down her body to lick his way along her mound. This was Heaven for Sam. Hearing her noises, hearing her gasps, feeling her fingers grabbing his scalp like her life depended on it, as he feasted on her slick. He wanted nothing more for the rest of his life.

When she came apart on his tongue, he immediately climbed up her body and looked down into her lust-glazed eyes. “Do you want to present or...or should I take you like this or-”

“Let me ride.”

Sam’s cock twitched at the breathless request and he nodded before dropping to the bed beside her. He licked his lips and brushed his hair out of his face as she set her hands on his chest and moved to straddle him. She looked apprehensive for a moment before reaching down and lining his cock up with her entrance. He put his hand over hers on his chest and smiled up at her. “It’s okay, ‘mega.”

She leaned down and kissed him as she started working her way down his shaft. Thick alpha cock filling her up was exactly what she needed and she sighed in relief when he bottomed out inside of her. “Fuck, Sam.”

“You feel perfect, baby. Such a beautiful omega, so tight and wet. Perfect,” Sam praised as she started to roll her hips.

She wouldn’t have admitted to it in Seattle, but she missed this kind of sex. She missed an alpha dick in her, knot swelling at the base. She couldn’t say she dreamed of it, she hadn’t had any sexual dreams. But she did think about it. She thought about Sam and she thought about his brother, her original alpha, her original love. She missed them both. She missed this.

Sam let her work herself into a frenzy. He let her ride as fast as she wanted to. He let her slam her body down on him and only gave quick thrusts every once in a while to let her know he was enjoying himself as much as she was. When his knot started to fill, she leaned down to kiss him again, nails digging into the back of his neck as she finally fell over into oblivion. Sam reached down to grab her hips and braced his feet against the mattress as he started to thrust up into her, chasing his own ending, wanting nothing more than to knot her once more.

His knot caught and they both moaned loudly, kissing as he continued to try to thrust, his cock twitching inside of her. They were dripping sweat and satisfaction as she dropped to lie against his chest. “That...was amazing,” she whispered, panting harshly.

Sam chuckled and held her closer to him. “Yeah. You feeling okay?”

“For now.”

~~~

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#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!sam #alpha!dean #omega!reader #reader-insert

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