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thaliagracesgf · 11 months ago

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i get a boyfriend

part two of the casual series! (requests are in progress, i just churned this out because it is my baby)

warnings: making out and luke being cocky asf

wc: 1.2k

the sun streamed through your eyelids in the morning. you shifted in bed, cozying up in rebellion. you really did not want to get up. you felt luke behind you, starting to move, and you closed your eyes. you knew he wouldn’t be able to wake you up just yet.

his head finds the crook of your neck, and his curls brush against your face. you’ve never felt so safe.

“jesus christ,” you’re rudely disturbed. you keep your eyes shut. maybe beckendorf will leave.

a knot grows in your stomach as luke grumbles from behind you. “fuck off, man. i was sleeping.”

“yeah. i noticed.”

“what are you doing here? this isn’t your cabin,” he said, sleep evident in his low voice.

“yeah, isn’t hers either. so are you two a thing now? you finally hook up last night? what’s the sitch here, because silena needs her update.”

with that, luke pulls himself up. “shut up, man.” he looks down at your ‘sleeping’ face, hoping you didn’t hear. “have some respect.”

you did hear, of course, and at first it did make you feel gross, but the ‘finally’ catches you, and you remember that luke wants you. he isn’t jack, who just wanted to fuck somebody, he’s been waiting, and yeah, the older kids at camp sometimes fuck. it’s relieving to realize that beckendorf doesn’t know about last night— he would never had said that if he did. besides, luke’s attempt at a defense, though hampered by his sleep-addled brain, is adorable.

“i’m just saying! don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. every person in this godforsaken camp can see it, ’cept maybe her.”

“can you seriously fuck off? i’ve got my girl, don’t make it my problem that you’re scared of yours.”

you laugh softly at that one. you don’t open your eyes, but you can feel luke freeze behind you. beckendorf doesn’t notice, but your gig is up anyway.

“your girl?” you mumble, a smile crossing your lips. beckendorf stifles a laugh.

“alright, i’m heading out! good luck with this one, man.” you open your eyes, and even as they’re adjusting to the light in the cabin, you swear you can see him wink. you’re not sure which one of you it’s to.

“die,” luke calls after him, throwing his head back on the pillow, but pulling you into his chest.

“hi.” you say, still facing away from him, and he tucks his head into your neck again.

“hi.” luke says.

you turn yourself over to look at his eyes. they’re such a deep brown. he tilts his head forward. you smile. you let his lips graze yours.

it’s exactly like it was when you were fourteen, and a million times more. he’s soft and gentle, pulling back between each kiss. your arms move around his neck, his wrap around your waist. you’ve never felt so secure in your life.

but you have to pull away. “i— i…” you start.

luke sits up. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m so sorry. fuck, that was so stupid of me. i’m so sorry, gods, what was i thinking?” he ran his hand through his hair. it was adorable. you reach out to his arm. (gods, he’s jacked). you wish you had allowed yourself to stare sooner. you’d been depriving yourself.

“it’s okay, luke. it was…it was really nice.” it seems like such a cheap thing to say, and by the look on his face, it wasn’t all that convincing. “i’m not… this is just a lot to process.”

“in what way?” he probes. you aren’t used to people asking questions. usually hannah just stares you down until the words come out of your mouth.

“i mean,” you try to word it in a way that won’t set him off. “it would be kind of shitty to jump into anything, right? after what happened with jack?”

luke gives a contemptuous look at the mention of his name. “no,” he scoffs. he’s still sitting up, looking down at you lying in his bed. you figure it might be a bad time to tell him how badly you want him to kiss you again.

“well, i don’t know. doesn’t it look like i’m just hopping around from guy to guy?”

“ok. first of all, i’m pretty sure there are only, like, four people who know about you and jack. second of all, at the risk of sounding like an absolute dick, aren’t you supposed to be in love with me or something?”

you gasp. “what the hell?”

he grins. “it’s just what i’ve heard. you know what the camp gossip mill is like.”

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so not fair.”

and he laughs, he really laughs. “how is it not fair?”

“you are such a dick. this is so embarrassing. i’m going to kill you.”

“you seem pretty content under those blankets for someone plotting a murder.” you look through your fingers. his smile is so, so, unbelievably cute. “how is this not fair?”

“because you totally know everything and i don’t know anything.”

“okay. what to you want to know?”

“shut up. die. i hope you drown today.”

“are you really going to make me say it, jack-jack?”

“i hate you.”

“i like you.” you go quiet. “i really, really like you. i think i’ve had a crush on you since we were fourteen. and i fucking love you. not like we already say everyday. like i think i’m actually fucking in love with you.”

he lays down beside you. you’re facing away from him, so he traces swirls on your shoulder.

you turn to face him, and for a second he has the decency to look nervous.

you narrow your eyes at him. “so how do you really know i’m not just in this for the sex?” and he bursts out laughing. and before you know it, you’re laughing with him. and he loves the way your eyelids almost close when you do.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he grins.

“well, who are you hooking up with these days? i’ll have to see if you have good reviews.”

“good luck with that, it might be difficult.”

“what, like you’ve never hooked up with an aphrodite girl after a bonfire.”

he shakes his head, and you’re honestly stunned. luke castellan, the most gorgeous boy on long island, is a virgin?

“i mean,” he starts. “it’s not like i haven’t had offers.”

“oh, shut up, you asshole,” you try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arms around you, and at his next words you freeze.

“but i was holding out hope that it would be with you.”

fuck. that was really hot.

you look up, into his eyes. “i hate you,” you roll your eyes.

“i love you,” he murmurs, his eyes on your lips.

this time when he kisses you, you’re never letting him go. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him atop you. it takes everything in you not to roll your hips into his, but you don’t stop yourself from reaching down his torso to find the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and running your hands along his stomach. fuck, you think for the second time that morning. he’s jacked. he smiles into the kiss, and you know you’re stroking his ego right alongside his abs.

“so,” you say, biting your lip as his trace your jaw and neck. “what was that about ‘your girl’ earlier?”

you’re expecting a sly remark, a grin, or something. instead, he doesn’t hesitate—“be my girlfriend,” he almost moans. “please.”

and you don’t have it in you to leave him waiting.

“okay,” you whisper.

#pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke pjo #percy series

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brunchable · 6 months ago

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We Can’t Be Friends || Doctor Strange x F!Reader.

Genre: Angst(?) || Song MV inspired

Pairings: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Quick Summary: Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.

A/N: Lisssteeen, this is not proof read lol. I haven't written in a while, I am feeling rusty so please be forgiving hehe. Every nice interactions are most valued <3

Stephen had been gone for a month for the third time, with no word, no warnings. You had spent countless nights worrying, wondering if he was safe, if he would ever return. And now, as the sparkle of the portal opened and caught your attention, Stephen stepped out, looking weary and worn from his latest mission.

You were waiting for him in the living room, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration, yet your expressions show otherwise. You had been rehearsing what you would say, but now that he was here, the words felt heavy on your tongue.

“You're back. Where in the seven hells have you been this time?” You began, your voice firm but calm, you had that motherly tone when a teen returns home from sneaking out.

“Seven hells pretty much sums it up… can we do this later? I just got back,” Stephen chuckled, rubbing his temples, the tone of your voice grating and adding up to his headache, “I’m exhausted.”

“No, I think we should address this, now,” You insisted, pointing to the ground for emphasis.

Stephen sighed, sensing the confrontation he so wanted to avoid. “Alright, I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Stephen, you’ve been gone for a month. No warnings, no pass the message from Wong. . . What is going on?”

“Y/N, you know what my responsibilities are. The world needs me. I can’t just ignore that,” Stephen said defensively.

“A heads up would be nice. Like how you were before. It feels like I’m nothing more than a distraction to you,” You shot back, your eyes narrowing.

Stephen’s expression hardened with irritation. “You knew what you were getting into from the start. My work–my duty is important. Do I need to explain myself every single time?”

“Why are you so defensive? Is it wrong of me to at least know where you are? So I don't worry all the time? At least still show me that I matter to you. Right now, it feels like you and your missions are all that matter,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N. Clea and I are working to protect this world. It’s not like I’m off on a vacation. I’m trying to keep everyone safe, including you.”

It was impossible to overlook the single name that slipped from Stephen's lips. The air seemed to thicken even more with tension. Your face transformed dramatically; what had been a mask of frustration quickly crumbled, replaced by a deep, probing suspicion. Your eyes narrowed, searching Stephen's face for any hint of deceit, and your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the name that now hung heavily between you.

“Who’s Clea?” you asked, making sure to stress the name you didn't want to say, your voice tinged of disdain.

“Fuck,” Stephen muttered under his breath. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized he should have told you who he was teaming up with sooner. He wondered why he had left out such an important detail, knowing it would have made a difference in your reaction. . . or make it worse?

“Clea is from the dark dimension, I have caused an incursion in reality and I had to go with her and fix it, okay?” Stephen explained it for what it is. . . to him at least.

“So, you were with her every time you vanished without a trace?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm and a barely concealed resentment that felt like a knife twist in your chest.

“Like I said, I had to fix the incursion I caused,” he responded, his tone distant, as if the gravity of his words could shield him from the emotional storm brewing between you.

You stared at him, not caring what he even meant by 'incursion'. Your mind was a whirlwind, fixated on the crushing weight of this new revelation, which felt like an earthquake shattering the foundation of everything you thought you knew.

The man who once made you feel safe and cherished now stood before you, a stranger entwined in secrets and sacrifices you couldn't begin to fathom.

Stephen ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “I don’t have time for this. If you can’t understand that my work is important, then maybe we do need to rethink this relationship.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical blow. Your throat stings badly as you fight to prevent any tears from falling. “So, that’s it? You’re willing to throw everything away because I worry about you?”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Y/N. All I do is try to save the world. If you can’t see that, then maybe we need to reconsider,” Stephen replied coldly.

“Okay. . .so you find a new partner in crime and the first thing you could think of is to ‘reconsider’,” You nodded, a little laugh might've escaped from you and it triggered something in Stephen.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like I’m choosing Clea over you. This isn’t some petty love triangle, Y/N. This is about life and death, about the safety of the entire world!” Stephen’s voice was now raised.

“Oh my god! Enough about saving the world already! You belong to the world! Alright, I get it! But don't expect me to be nonchalant when you've spent your time ‘saving the world’ with her. Meanwhile I rot in my apartment worried sick if you're even still alive because I only want to belong to you.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air, firmly jabbing his chest with your finger

Stephen clenched his fist tightly, the knuckles turning white, as he took a deliberate step closer. His presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that seemed to amplify the tension in the air, “You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t miss you? I have responsibilities that go beyond us—"

“If you're thinking I am asking you to abandon your responsibilities, I am not. I didn’t think you’d understand me.” You replied, striving to maintain your composure under his unwavering presence and the intense gaze fixated on your face.

Stephen shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I never hid what my life was about, but you knew what signed up for when you said yes to me.”

“I did but I didn't sign up to be treated like an afterthought,” Y/N said, your voice softening slightly but still firm.

Stephen sighed and was silent for a moment, “So, what then? What do you want me to do? It is so hard to find balance with all this shit happening around us.”

“I don't know. . . whatever I may want, it'll be impossible for you to do,” You said, your voice resigned as you crossed your arms, a gesture of both self-protection and defiance.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s your solution? To just walk away?”

“That was your suggestion first, wasn't it?” You responded, a low, mirthless chuckle escaping your lips.

Stephen looked down, his silence speaking volumes. The decision crystallized in your mind. You turned away, grabbed your keys from the table, and headed toward the door, needing to cool off and get your head straight. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the Sanctum, a final punctuation to your heated exchange.

× × × × ×

You gripped the steering wheel tightly as you drove through the darkened streets of New York City. The familiar hum of the engine and the blur of passing lights did little to calm your racing heart. Your eyes were red from preventing a single tear to shed, but the tears came after being alone, blurring your vision and forcing you to blink them away repeatedly.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion, and a deep, aching sense of betrayal. The argument with Stephen played on a relentless loop in your head, each word echoing with painful clarity.

"Maybe we do need to rethink this relationship."

"Maybe we shouldn’t be together."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the hurtful words, but they clung to you like a stubborn shadow. How did it come to this? How did your love, once so vibrant and full of promise, deteriorated into something so cold and distant?

Your thoughts drifted to the early days of your relationship. The way Stephen's eyes would light up when he saw you, the warmth of his touch, the way both of you would laugh and talk for hours about everything and nothing. You remembered the adventures you shared, the quiet moments of intimacy, and the feeling of safety and love that enveloped you whenever you were with him.

But those memories felt like they belonged to another life, another couple. Now, Stephen was always preoccupied, always focused on his missions with Clea. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being an afterthought, a secondary priority in his life. The loneliness you felt was suffocating, and tonight’s argument had only confirmed your deepest fears.

You pulled over to a quiet spot by the Hudson River, the soft glow of the city lights reflecting off the water. You turned off the engine and sat there in silence, the sound of your own breathing loud in the stillness of the night.

You leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the sense of impending loss almost too much to bear. You loved Stephen with all your heart, but you couldn’t keep living like this—constantly feeling like you were competing for his attention, always coming second to his duties as a sorcerer.

A part of you understood the importance of Stephen's work. You admired his dedication, his unwavering commitment to protecting the world from mystical threats. But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore your own needs, your own desire for a partner who was present, who made you feel valued and loved.

The idea asking Wong to use the Runes of Kof-Kol had come to you in a moment of clarity during your drive. It was a drastic measure, but it felt like the only way to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak of this deteriorating relationship. If you both forgot each other, if you became strangers once more, maybe then you could find peace.

You opened your eyes and gazed out at the river, the dark waters flowing steadily under the moonlit sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you made your decision. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would hurt like hell, but it was the only way you could move forward without the constant pain of their fractured love.

As you started the car and drove back towards the Sanctum, you knew what you had to do, and you hoped that in forgetting, you could both find a way to heal. The city lights blurred once more as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of acceptance. You were ready to let go, ready to find yourself again, even if it meant losing the man you had loved with all your heart.

× × × ×

After driving aimlessly for hours, you finally pull up in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The building looms before you, its ancient architecture shrouded in an almost foreboding silence. You sit in the car for a few moments, gathering your strength, knowing the decision you have made is final. The city is quieter now, the hustle and bustle having died down to a gentle hum in the background.

You take a deep breath and step out of the car, your legs feeling like lead. You walk up to the front door and pause for a moment, your hand resting on the cold brass handle. Memories of happier times flash before your eyes—moments of laughter, love, and a bond that once felt unbreakable. But those memories are now overshadowed by the reality of your fractured relationship.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. The familiar scent of incense and ancient books fills your nostrils, but instead of comfort, it brings a pang of sadness. The Sanctum feels emptier than ever, a reflection of the void that has grown between you and Stephen.

As you walk into the living room, you see Stephen sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, his eyes filled with the weariness which mirrors your own.

“Y/N, you're back,” Stephen says softly, standing up. “I was worried about you.”

You nod, your face devoid of emotion. “I needed some time to think.”

Stephen takes a few careful steps, “I know I haven’t been around much. And I know tonight's argument was... I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry for that.”

You feel a flicker of acknowledgment at his words, you look into his eyes, the eyes you once found so much solace in, and feel a deep sense of finality, “I need to see Wong,” you say, your voice steady and cold, “Is he here?”

Stephen steps closer, his gaze searching your face for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Are you okay now? About earlier. . .”

“I'm fine, Stephen. Really,” you say with a forced smile. “I just need to speak to Wong.”

“Wong? Sure, I'll summon him for you.” Stephen's eyes narrow slightly, sensing something is off. He didn’t think he’d get out of trouble that easily.

A few moments later, Wong enters the room, his expression pondering about what you might need him for. “Y/N, Stephen said you wanted to speak with me. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and glanced at Stephen who remained curious about why you needed Wong.

“Are we able to chat somewhere private?” You asked, your eyes flickering towards Stephen which Wong took notice of.

Wong turned his head towards Stephen and then you, “Of course. Follow me.” He headed towards the door to Kamar-Taj.

He led you to the empty library, ensuring no one else was around, and gestured for you to sit across the table from him.

“How can I help?” He asked.

“I hope this isn't too much to ask. . . but can you please cast the Runes of Kof-Kol on me?”

Wong's expression shifts to one of alarm. “The Runes of Kof-Kol? Those spells are dangerous, Y/N. What could possibly make you consider using them?”

You explained the situation, trying your best to keep your voice from breaking, “Stephen and I... we’re not working anymore. It’s too painful. I need to forget him. I want to move on quickly. I don't want to spend months wallowing in heartbreak.”

Wong listens quietly, his expression softening with understanding. “I see. But you know the risks, don’t you? The Runes of Kof-Kol only erases memories, not feelings.”

“I know,” you say firmly.

Wong nods slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand your pain, Y/N. But this is a decision that cannot be undone. I urge you to think about it very carefully. Take some time to reflect on whether this is truly what you want.”

You shake your head, your decision unwavering. “I've already thought about it, Wong. I’ve thought about nothing else. This is what needs to be done.”

Wong sighs, his expression resigned yet compassionate. “Still, I urge you to give it a few more days. I suggest you stay here at Kamar-Taj. Meditate, reflect, and if you still feel the same, we will discuss it again.”

You nod slowly, appreciating his concern. “Alright. I’ll stay and think about it.”

× × × × ×

After you left the library, Wong stood silently, his thoughts troubled by your request. He knew the depth of the pain you were feeling, but the Runes of Kof-Kol were not to be taken lightly. As he pondered the situation, he sensed a presence lingering near the bookshelves. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Stephen, partially hidden in the shadows, clearly eavesdropping.

“Strange,” Wong called out, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can come out. I know you've been listening.”

Stephen stepped out, a mixture of guilt and concern etched on his face. “I didn't mean to intrude. I just… needed to know what she was thinking.”

Wong crossed his arms, looking at Stephen with a mixture of disappointment and empathy. “You heard what she said. She's feeling hurt. . . more than I think you realize.”

Stephen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know I've been neglecting her, but my responsibilities... the missions... They demand so much of me. I never wanted her to feel like this.”

Wong nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Your duties are important, Stephen. But so are your personal relationships. Y/N came to you because she believed in you, trusted you. But right now, she feels like she's lost in your shadow.”

Stephen's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a rare display of vulnerability. “I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose her, but I also can't abandon my duties.”

Wong walked over to Stephen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The balance between your responsibilities and personal life is delicate, but not impossible to achieve. You need to make her feel valued and prioritize your time better. She asked about the Runes of Kof-Kol, so she's considering erasing her memories of you. Right now, though, she needs space to think.”

Stephen's breath hitched, the gravity of Wong's words hitting him hard. “She wants to forget me completely.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “She believes it's the only way to move on from the pain. I advised her to stay here for a few days, to meditate and reflect before making such a drastic decision.”

“I can't let her do this. I need to talk to her, to make her understand that I can change, that I can be better.” Stephen closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He was about to walk away to find you but Wong stopped him.

“Right now, she needs time. Barging in and trying to convince her otherwise might only push her further away. Give her the space she asked for. If she decides to go through with it, we'll deal with it then. But for now, respect her wishes.” Wong shook his head gently.

Stephen glanced in your direction with a sigh, shrugged off Wong's hand, and returned to the New York Sanctum. That night, sleep eluded him despite his restless tossing and turning. No position felt comfortable, not when your scent lingered on his pillowcases.

Anxiety ate him up, twisting his stomach into knots as he replayed the argument repeatedly in his mind. Each harsh word and dismissive gesture haunted him, intensifying his regret.

He had always prided himself on his composure and control, but now he felt them slipping away. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“I should have been more understanding, I should have put myself in her shoes,” he thought, his mind consumed by remorse.

The thought of your hurt expression cut him deeply, more than any physical pain he had ever endured. He realized how much he valued your presence, your support, and the warmth you brought into his life. The fear of losing you was a constant ache, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

He was ashamed of how he had dismissed your feelings, how he had let his pride overshadow the love and respect he had for you.

Desperation clawed at him as he searched for a way to make things right, to prove that he could be the partner you deserved. In the silence of the night, he vowed to himself that he would do better, that he would learn from his mistakes and show you how much you meant to him. That is if it’s not too late.

× × × × ×

Two days later, the peaceful atmosphere of Kamar-Taj had failed to ease the unrest in your heart. Despite your attempts at meditation and introspection, the serenity of the surroundings could not calm the storm of emotions within you. Your resolve remains the same. You knew what needed to be done, and it was time to inform Wong of your decision.

You found Wong in the courtyard, meticulously tending to a small garden. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with the crisp mountain air, creating a serene environment that contrasted sharply with your inner conflict.

“Wong,” you called softly, approaching him.

Wong looked up from his work, his expression calm but observant. “Y/N, have you made your decision?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have. I still want to use the Runes of Kof-Kol.”

Wong sighed, setting aside his tools. “I was hoping you might reconsider, but I respect your decision. . .” he trailed off, noticing Stephen walk towards you, “Give me a moment? I'll back.”

As Wong turned to leave, Stephen entered the courtyard with his presence of authority. He had been waiting for this moment, fully aware that your decision was imminent.

With careful, deliberate steps, he approached you. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and each passing second felt like an eternity as he stood there gathering the right words to say.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice calm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, his eyes intensely scanning your face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Is this truly what you want?”

You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance behind you. “Stephen,” you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to—I just wanted to apologize... that it has led to this. I was wrong…” Stephen began, but his voice seemed to fade into the background as you stared at his face intently, trying to memorize every detail.

As Stephen spoke, the reality of the moment hit you hard. You felt an overwhelming need to imprint his features in your memory: the way his brow furrowed with concern, the earnestness in his eyes, and the subtle lines that hinted at the weight he carried.

Time seemed to slow down, and every second stretched into an eternity. You noticed the slight quiver of his lips, the way his hair framed his face, and even the small scar on his cheek that you had always found endearing.

Your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him like this, so close and vulnerable. Each detail became precious, a fragment of a moment you desperately wanted to hold onto.

The intensity of your emotions made it hard to breathe, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Even though Stephen's voice was a distant echo, the look in his eyes told you everything—you were both struggling with the same pain, the pain of letting this story die.

“. . . I love you, Y/N—but if this will save you from the hurt I’ve caused you then so be it. I will cast the spell on you.”

You were taken aback, surprise flickering across your face. “You would do that?”

Stephen stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Yes. If this is what it takes for you to find peace, then I’ll do it.”

Stephen leads you back in the New York Sanctum, heading towards the ritual chamber in the Undercroft. Each step you took echoed with the weight of what was about to happen. Stephen’s mind was a whirlwind of memories and emotions.

He glanced at you walking beside him, your face a mask of calm determination. Opposite to the storm he knew must be raging inside you. He wished he could reach out, take your hand, and pull you back from the edge of this irreversible decision. But he knew he had no right to, not after everything.

As you descended the final set of steps into the Undercroft, Stephen’s heart ached with regret. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions where others saw only obstacles. But here, in this most personal of battles, he had failed. He had failed to protect what mattered most.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Stephen’s mind raced with unspoken words, a torrent of emotions he struggled to contain.

He remembered the early days of your relationship, the way your laughter had filled the Sanctum with warmth, the quiet moments of understanding, and shared dreams. Those memories now felt like shards of glass, cutting into him with each step he took.

He glanced at you again, your determined stride a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was for every time he had put his duties before you, for every missed moment, every broken promise. But he knew that words would not change the course you had set for yourself. Actions had spoken louder, and they had driven you to this point.

You reached the entrance to the ritual chamber, Stephen paused, taking a deep breath. The room beyond was prepared, the symbols drawn, the components ready. It was a place of power, of ancient magic, but today it felt like a tomb for the love you had shared.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice soft but heavy with regret. “I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could turn back time and make different choices, I would. But I respect your decision. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

You looked at him with eyes glistening of unshed tears, “Thank you, Stephen. . . I hope you find happiness, I really do.”

With that, you stepped into the center of the circle, and Stephen moved to the edge, his heart pounding in his chest. He began to chant the incantation, his voice strong and unwavering despite the storm of emotions inside him. The symbols around you began to glow, the magic swirling in the air like a tangible presence. You felt a strange sensation, a mix of warmth and cold as the spell took hold.

As Stephen chanted, your mind drifted to the memories you were about to lose. The first time you met flashed vividly in your mind—the way Stephen had looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. You remembered feeling an instant connection, a spark that ignited something deep within you. You had been fascinated by his intellect, his confidence, and the way he carried himself with such purpose.

The mornings you woke up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies. The way he would brush a strand of hair from your face and kiss your forehead, making you feel like the most cherished person in the world. You remembered the laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the sound of his voice when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

As the incantation reached its peak, a bright light enveloped you, and you felt a sudden rush of memories and emotions being pulled away. The love, the pain, the shared moments—all of it faded into a distant, forgotten dream. Your vision blurred, the light intensifying until it was all-consuming.

Then, everything went dark. You felt your knees give way, the world tilting as you lost consciousness. The last thing you heard was Stephen’s voice, calling your name out of concern as you slipped into oblivion.

When you finally stirred, you found yourself lying on the familiar softness of your own bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar hum of the city outside your window grounded you, your arms reaching on the other side of the bed and it was empty. You shook it off, chuckling to yourself.

You sat up slowly, looking around your apartment. Everything was in its place—the books on the shelf, the photos on the wall—now mostly of you by yourself, the cozy blanket draped over the armchair. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet you feel disorientated.

You made yourself a cup of tea, the warm liquid offering a small comfort. As you sipped it, you stared out of the window at the bustling city below. The people, the cars, the rhythm of daily life—it all seemed so normal, so unremarkable. Yet, there was an inexplicable void within you, a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface but you try not to dwell on it.

Days turned into weeks, and while the feeling of emptiness persisted, you found ways to move on. You immersed yourself in work, reconnected with old friends, and took up new hobbies. Slowly, you began to carve out a new life for yourself, one that was no longer defined by the shadows of forgotten memories.

× × × × ×

Stephen sat alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum's library, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the walls. The room, once a place of solace and knowledge, now felt suffocatingly empty. He absentmindedly traced the spine of a book he had read countless times, but the words blurred together, unable to hold his attention. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of you.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness he felt inside. He remembered how you used to stand there with him, your hand in his, both of you silently watching the world below. Those moments had been a rare reprieve from his responsibilities, a time when he could just be Stephen, not the Master of the New York Sanctum.

The silence of the Sanctum was interrupted only by the distant hum of the city's nightlife, but it felt louder than ever. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with memories of you—the laughter you shared, the quiet conversations late into the night, the way you used to tease him about his incessant need to organize his magical artifacts. Now, those echoes were all he had left, but he guesses that he at least deserved to go through this heartbreak alone.

Wong quietly stood with him, the silence heavy between them. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “Keeping yourself busy?”

Stephen nodded, his response short and clipped. “Yep.”

“She did brighten up the place, didn't she?” Wong glanced around the room, taking in the emptiness that seemed more pronounced now.

Stephen's eyes followed Wong's gaze, a hint of a sad smile touching his lips. “Yep.”

Wong shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Stephen with curiosity and concern. "So, what's next for you?"

Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he contemplated the question. The thought of waiting was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and what he still yearned for.

“I don't know... Wait for her, I guess. Wait until our paths cross again, wait until she loves me again.”

TAGS: @goldencherriess @strangeions @sobeautifullyobsessed

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #benedict cumberbatch imagine #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange imagine #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x female reader

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

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Connected

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Joon loves the way you take care of him and wants to be as close to you as possible.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, not proofread

A/N: She finally wrote another drabble! It only took 84 years!🙃(I know it was only like a month, but it was pissing me off) A big thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get to, I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist

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The late evening light that filtered through the bedroom curtains was just bright enough for you to make out Namjoon’s features as you lay against his chest, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

Two weeks apart hadn’t really seemed that long of a time until you were back in his arms, and suddenly it was like he hadn’t felt you in months. The cozy dinner you had planned together had long been forgotten, finding a far more fulfilling reunion instead in feverish touches and strangled cries of each other's names.

It might not have been the exact way you planned for the night to go, but as you looked up at him in the cool glow of midnight, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.

“You okay?” You asked softly, noticing the still unsteady pace of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“Yeah, that was…” He let out a deep breath. “I needed that.”

You caught the thin strain in his voice, the tone you knew he used when he was stressed but trying to hide it.

“Rough week?” You asked, reaching up to comb your fingers through his messy hair.

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He laughed humorlessly. “Honestly, I’m so fucking tired, I don’t even wanna think right now,” He pulled you closer, letting his lips brush against yours as he spoke.”Just wanna be here with you.”

You connected your lips with his, parting them at the faintest probing of his tongue to grant him access to lazily explore your mouth.

As you rubbed his shoulders soothingly, he couldn’t help wincing into the kiss as you passed over a particularly sensitive spot.

Feeling him flinch, you pulled away, looking up at him with concern.

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

“I just twinged my shoulder earlier, it’s fine.” He said quickly, trying to brush it off.

“You want me to give you a massage? It might help?” You offered.

“I’ll be fine.” He tried again, leaning in to claim your lips once again, but you weren’t having it, dodging his lips and sitting up on your knees.

“Sit up.” You said, tugging his arm.

“Babe, I’m fine, really.” He argued, following your request anyway.

“Yes, but you could feel even better,” You said stubbornly. “Now let me take care of you.”

He sighed, caving easily to you. “Fine, but I want you here.” He patted his lap.

You straddled his lap without argument, letting him hold onto your hips out of habit, and giving him a quick peck on the lips before setting to work, trying to gently knead out the tension and soreness in his shoulder without causing him any more pain in the process.

You weren’t an expert by any means, but whatever you were doing seemed to feel good at least, earning soft, appreciative grunts from Joon as he let his head droop forward to rest against your chest.

You were always so good to him, so ready and willing to take care of him in any shape or form, whether that was making sure he slept and ate properly, or letting him use your body for his own pleasure. Even now, when normally he would be fussing over making sure you were okay, you managed to look after him as well.

He’d never felt so completely safe in someone’s arms before, so completely loved. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, but he was beyond thankful to whatever forces had led him to you.

Tilting his head up, he started peppering soft, lingering kisses across the expanse of your neck, sucking lightly at the still blooming marks left over from his earlier ministrations, making you squirm as his grip on your hips tightened.

“Joon.” You whined, feeling the growing weight of his hardening length against your core.

“Hmm?” He hummed, still focused on trailing kisses along your neck.

“I thought you were tired.” You said.

“Who said that?” He said, smirking against your neck.

“You did! Five minutes ago.” You giggled

“That was five minutes ago,” He said, coming back up to your lips. “You were right, I’m feeling much better now.”

He kissed you deeply, rolling you both over so that you were now caged in under him, your legs falling open naturally for him to settle between as his lips trailed down your front.

He loved you like this, all spread out and willing, any trace of shyness or hesitance completely absent from the way you whined out his name again as he latched onto one of your nipples, arching further up into his touch.

His fingers ghosted between your thighs, teasing your wet folds and making you shudder from sensitivity.

His gaze darted back up to your face, mirroring your earlier concern.

“Is this okay?” He asked, suddenly worried about pushing you too far.

“Joon,” You pulled him back down to you. “Stop thinking.”

You kissed him deeply, your hips up bucking against his hand all the encouragement he needed to continue.

He slipped his fingers between your folds again, his movements so soft and gentle as he spread your slick over your cunt, as if it was the first time he touched you.

“Fuck baby, how’re you always so wet?” He said, almost in disbelief. You were literally dripping, making a mess of the sheets beneath you as he toyed with your clit, pulling the sweetest little noises from your lips as he let two fingers sink into your wet heat, curling them inside of you to find the spot that made you see white.

He loved the way you fell apart for him, head thrown back as your eyes closed in bliss, clinging to him for stability as he pushed you towards your release.

He could feel his cock hanging heavy between his legs, twitching and begging for any sort of attention, but he chose to ignore it, focusing solely on the way you clenched around his fingers, your breath stuttering as your orgasm threatened to overtake you.

“Joon.” You tried to warn him.

“I know, Baby, it’s okay.” He breathed. “Let go.”

You let out a choked cry that faintly sounded like his name as you came, your back arching off the mattress and pressing you closer to him as your whole body shook from the intensity of your high.

"You did so good, baby.” He said softly, pressing a soothing kiss to your temple as you came down. “So fucking good."

“Joonie,” You whimpered in that soft tone that made him feel dizzy with need. “Want you inside, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asked gently. “It’s okay if you wanna tap out or take a break.”

You shook your head. “Need you, please.”

How could he deny you when you ask so sweetly?

He drew his fingers out slowly, letting out a deep groan as he wrapped the slick coated digits around his aching cock, jerking himself a few times to spread your wetness over the length as he stared down at the mess he’d made of you.

He guided the head of his cock between your puffy lips, tracing around the outside of your entrance teasingly, resisting the urge to slip in yet, loving the way he could feel you clenching around nothing.

“Joonie!” You whimpered, squirming impatiently.

He chuckled at your desperation, as if he wasn’t already nearly as gone as you were. “Alright, Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

He repositioned himself, hovering over you as he eased himself into your weeping cunt, eyes shut tight as he felt your fluttering walls stretch to accommodate him. He was amazed at how you still managed to feel this tight even after he fucked you less then a half an hour ago.

He forced his eyes back open as he bottomed out, staring down you with complete adoration.

“I love you so fucking much.” He sighed, kissing you softly, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, cradling him even closer to you.

If there was a way to preserve a singular moment to exist within for the rest of your life, this was where Namjoon would want to be; not a single thing in the world mattering other than you and him and the way you connected together so perfectly.

Eventually, he started to roll his hips into yours, earning a soft moan from you against his lips.

He kept his movements smooth and unrushed, not fully chasing his own high, just enjoying the feeling of you around him, the way you sucked him in with each thrust, the way you twitched in his arms when his cock brushed against that gummy spot inside of you just right.

Far sooner than he anticipated, he felt lower abdomen beginning to tense, his hips beginning to speed up as his release rapidly approached.

“Fuck, ‘m close.” He warned through clenched teeth.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” You whispered, clutching onto him even tighter.

Your words were the last thing he needed to push him over the edge, his hips slamming against yours with a sudden intensity as he thrusted as deep inside of you as he could manage before cumming, filling you to the brim and making you twitch with sensitivity.

He slowly fell down on top of you, his head coming to rest against your chest, your positions from earlier now switched, his eyes beginning to droop closed on their accord.

“Are you tired now?” You asked, grinning as you caught sight of his sleepy expression.

He chuckled drowsily. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” You kissed his forehead gently. “Go to sleep, Joonie-bear.”

“I love you.“ He mumbled, letting his eyes fully drift closed.

“I love you too.”

He slept better that night than he had in weeks, knowing he was back in the safety of your arms.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#namjoon drabble #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon scenarios #namjoon oneshot #namjoon one shot #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts smut #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

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yellowelectroslime · 4 months ago

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Tickletober 2024 Day 7: Fidget

Pairing: Lee!Reader, Ler!Sunday – Romantic

Word count: 789

[notes: ehehe I love Sunday sm eheheh im gonna pull for him when he’s playable. I think this is my favorite fic I wrote ehehhe. and if I did the calculations and if im right, then his drip marketing will perfectly align with the day i’m posting this ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ]

————

Fidget, fidget, fidget…

“[Y/N], are you alright?” Sunday’s voice was lanced with concern. His usual aloof appearance was replaced with a softer and gentler expression. One that only you get to witness.

You two were waiting outside the meeting hall where an important conference would be held in a few minutes. You being a close companion of Sunday and his significant other, allowed him the chance to invite you to experience (suffer) the meeting with him (he didn’t want to do it alone). There is currently no one else in the waiting room other than the two of you, the silence didn’t help with your growing nerves.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. I’m just not really used to getting ready for something so… important and fancy. Hehe…” You shuffle around and play with the hem of your shirt.

Fidget, fidget, fidget…

An idea popped up in Sunday’s head “Well dear, I do have a method that could help you calm down.” His tone was teasing, but you were too caught up in the idea to notice his the cheeky grin growing on his face. “Really? What is it? How does it work?”

Sunday merely chuckled at your actions and brought you into a tight hug. The action was warm and intimate, it brought you immediate comfort and reassurance, making you lean further into the Halovian’s embrace; it made you feel safe and protected. That was until you felt a ticklish feeling next to your ears. You peak your eyes open only to see that Sunday was using the wings behind his ears to tickle your ears. “eheehe- S-Suhuhnday-”

You try and wiggle out of his ticklish embrace but his grip is strong, but not uncomfortable. “Is my method helping you, angel?” Sunday teased, you would be lying if it wasn’t helping with your nervousness but it was just that you were too ticklish! You blush at his velvety smooth voice, you had always liked the way Sunday talks. Suddenly, your train of thought was cut off when you felt fingers gently probing and scribbling along your sides. “W-WahahaiehEHEHt SUhuhndahaAHy! ah-AHahahahah”

The charming man’s face was graced with a gentle smile, he always enjoyed listening to your laughter. He slowly climbed his fingers to your ribs, vibrating his fingers between each bone, all while tickling your ears with his wings. You buried your face into his neck in an attempt to muffle your laughter, scared that someone may overhear your playful banter. “EhehehHEHEh w-wahahait- I-ihiht tihihickles! G-gahAHaha”

The combination of his feathery soft tickles on your ears, along with the precise fingers prodding and scribbling your sides made your mind melt into a puddle. “I’m sure it does, my dear. I believe that was my intention from the start.” Sunday chuckled, oh how you wish you could hear more of his laughter.

You tried to retaliate by reaching towards his hips to try and tickle him back, knowing it was one of his worst spots. However, he was faster. “Ah ah ah, my love~. None of that, please. This is for you.” He caught you in the act and tickled you faster, making you slam your arms back down to your sides to try and block his tickling hands. But unfortunately, you had only trapped his hands against your armpits and ribs.

Sunday smiled in amusement “Love, be sure to keep quiet, I would hate it if someone else were able to hear your beautiful laughter.” Sunday’s teasing only made you blush harder, hiding your face deeper into the crook of his neck to try and muffle your giggles.

“WAH- AHahaAHA! *snort* SUHUhndahAHAY” You snorted. You could feel Sunday’s heartbeat getting faster as you squirmed in his grasp, he loved how adorable you were. But alas, you were too busy being tickled silly by man to realize fully. He leaned down a little, bringing his head close to yours and you felt a kiss land on your nose. He used this opportunity to remove his hands from your ribs and move his wings to tickle your neck.

The sound of your light-hearted giggles filled the empty waiting hall. The sight of you being flustered by just a few simple touches along with words from your lover made his heart flutter, encouraging him to continue using his ‘relaxation method’.

After a few more minutes, Sunday decided to have mercy on you, stopping his ticklish attack but still keeping you in his arms. You felt a gentle kiss placed on the top of your forehead, followed by Sunday’s soothing voice of reassurance and how you’ll be alright during the meeting. After all, you were going in with the head of the oak family’s support. Maybe you didn’t mind this calming method that much.

#slime-drabbles #tickletober #tickletober2024 #hsr tickles #tickle fic #sfw tickles #hsr tickling #Ler!Sunday #Lee!reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail tickling #tickles #ticklish!reader

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epinebleue · 1 year ago

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love me now (m) | 02

(Gif credit)

in which you have to babysit your niece.

pairing: johnny suh x reader (female)

genre: established relationship!au, mature.

warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (reader’s on the pill), mention of post-partum depression.

chapter index

Ever since your sister gave birth, she hasn’t known rest.

Witnessing her go through pregnancy, labor, and postpartum depression had been simply heartbreaking. She’s living proof that motherhood is indeed difficult: the bags under her eyes are very telling.

So, when her husband asks you to babysit your niece to take her on a trip for her birthday, you accept right away.

On a Friday at seven in the morning, your sister gets in the guest room. She wakes you up, telling you they’re already leaving. You get up slowly, trying not to wake Johnny up. Luckily for you, he’s a heavy sleeper.

Your brother-in-law leaves their suitcases by the door as your sister hands you the keys to their house, teary-eyed.

“I can’t believe I’m abandoning my baby.”

“You’re not abandoning her. It’s just four days, she’ll be okay. You’re the one who needs attention and love right now.”

Your sister ends up nodding because she really needs some time away from dirty diapers and baby talk. You tightly hug them both and watch them leave, wishing for a safe trip and closing the main door once they disappear in the elevator at the end of the hallway.

You tiptoe back to your room, noticing that Johnny changed his position while you were gone. He’s lying on his stomach, hugging the pillow. It gives you a great view of his muscular back.

The gym is surely paying off.

You slip back in bed, and upon sensing movement, Johnny rolls over. Something in your stomach turns when you hear his raspy voice, his breath fanning your neck, giving you goosebumps.

“They left?”

He holds your waist to pull you in, satisfied once your back touches his bare, warm chest. You hum and nod, finding comfort in his embrace. You close your eyes, ready to drift away for a few more hours, or until your niece decides it’s been enough.

Your boyfriend, however, has other plans.

You snap your eyes open when Johnny presses his boner against your ass.

“Oh my God, Johnny!” You chuckle, slapping the hand that is trying to sneak inside your pajama pants. “There’s a baby in the next room.”

“Then keep it low.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

Johnny successfully shoves his hand inside your pants on the second try.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He collects your arousal, clicking his tongue at the feeling. You squirm against his body, knowing that his morning voice has affected you more than you care to admit.

“And I haven’t even touched you.”

You can’t see him, but you know there’s a smile on his face as he teases your entrance with his fingers.

“You’re in no position to make fun of me.” You protest, pushing your hips back out of the blue.

“At least I’m not trying to hide it.”

“Shut up.”

Johnny pushes a finger into you, making you hold your breath and close your eyes. He doesn’t wait long before adding a second one, pulling them in and out slowly. It makes you move against them, craving more.

You try hard to be quiet, biting your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning too loudly, but your boyfriend’s fingers are so long and they stretch you so deliciously, reaching all the right places. He rubs himself against your ass again, as if fucking you from behind.

It’s no surprise that you moan louder than you should, forcing Johnny to put his free hand over your mouth.

He shushes you, his lips brushing your ear, voice so deep and low that he has you clenching around his fingers. “We don’t want to wake the baby.”

You’re a few pumps away from your orgasm, and judging by how Johnny moves his hips, he’s close as well. Something inside you tells you that you should be ashamed of coming so fast, but honestly, who cares? Finishing soon simply probes how skilled Johnny is, and how good he makes you feel.

But Johnny loves edging, so he pulls out his fingers last second. A protest dies in your throat the moment you feel him take off his clothes, ordering you to do the same. Of course, you comply immediately.

Your boyfriend gets on top of you, supporting his weight with his forearms to avoid crashing you. You kiss him desperately, lifting your hips, craving to be full again. And he seems to take the hint, grabbing his length and teasing your entrance before pushing into you.

Your arms find their way around his neck to bring him down and kiss him again as he moves, slowly. There’s something addictive in Johnny’s lips. They’re so soft, so warm. You could spend the rest of your lifetime kissing them.

You move your hips along the rhythm Johnny sets, feeling him go further. He muffles your moans with his mouth, swallowing each one of them.

Having been so close before, you know you won’t last long as your walls tighten around his length again. Hopefully, he won’t stop this time.

The pace quickens as Johnny fucks you into the mattress. You’re seconds away from your so-longed-for orgasm, the familiar knot in your stomach about to burst.

And then, you hear a cry in the distance.

Johnny pulls out in the blink of an eye, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind. Your high dissipates as you whine and lift the sheets, putting on your underwear and pants to run towards your niece’s bedroom.

Thick tears are falling down her chubby cheeks as she grips the edge of the cradle, her hair messy. Her hands go up the moment you appear, begging you to pick her up. You press her close to your chest, bouncing her little body and patting her back softly, comforting her.

You grab the plush red dragon that you bought when she was born from the toy trunk., shaking it in front of her face in hopes that it’ll make her stop crying. It works, so you give her the toy and walk back to the room, passing by the bathroom on the way, where Johnny’s washing his hands.

“She must be hungry.” You sit on the bed, sitting your niece in the center of the mattress. She plays with the toy, tears already gone, and makes a sound when Johnny enters the room. When he sits on the edge of the bed, she crawls on all fours in his direction. Johnny opens his arms and holds her when she gets to him.

Your niece loves Johnny, all children do; he’s like a kid magnet. You can’t help but think how an amazing father Johnny would be while you watch them play together. And how hot he looks when around kids.

Your maternal instinct has you drooling over him.

“Can you stop eating me with your eyes?” He says, a cocky smile on his face, holding the baby’s hands as she stands.

“I’m sorry.” There’s no sign of regret in your voice, though. “But you look really sexy right now.”

“Chill, woman. There’s a baby right here.”

“You didn’t care about that five minutes ago.”

Johnny’s too invested in playing with your niece to even think of a proper comeback, so you decide it’s time for breakfast. Johnny follows you to the kitchen, carrying your niece in his arms, giggling as he rubs his nose against hers.

Taking a look at the cabinets, you decide to make some coffee and toast. You set the coffee pot on the ceramic hob and wait for the water to boil.

In the meantime, you prepare some formula for your niece. You’ve seen your sister do it several times, so it comes out naturally. Johnny has sat your niece on her highchair, by his side. You give her the bottle, and she immediately shoves the nipple in her mouth, sucking.

Johnny looks at her in awe, caressing her soft hair.

“She’s so cute.” He says, speaking in a baby voice.

“I’m jealous.” You pout. “What about me?”

Johnny shrugs. “You’re okay, I guess.”

Johnny lets out a loud laugh at your open mouth. You turn around, deeply offended, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. You try to fight him, even though you know that Johnny is stronger than you are. Your niece observes everything from her seat, drinking her milk, unbothered.

You spend the rest of the morning watching TV, playing with the baby, and Facetiming your sister.

Johnny will prepare lunch as you feed the baby. Your sister has told you what she has to eat, so you pick up a jar of baby food from the cupboard beside the fridge. Johnny notices your face of utter disgust, and it makes him laugh.

“What?”

“This looks awful, what the fuck?” A wave of guilt washes over your body. “How can this mashed green thing possibly taste good?”

You open it to smell it for a second before pulling it away, faking a gag.

“You’re so dramatic. I bet it’s not that bad.” Johnny takes the jar from you and copies your actions. He doesn’t gag, but by the way he frowns, you can tell that he thinks the same. “Right, I'll take it back.”

“I wonder what it tastes like.”

“Try it.” Johnny grabs a spoon and sinks the tip into the jar.

You shake your head, taking a step back when he approaches you, spoon up.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you eat this.”

You laugh, half in disbelief, half in distress. “Are you trying to blackmail me for real?”

“Thirty.”

“John!”

“Come on, don’t be a coward.”

Johnny insists, bringing the spoon closer to your face, which you try to block with your hands.

“I’ll fucking fight you, Johnny, I swear!”

“I’d love to see you try.”

You open your mouth, about to defend yourself, and Johnny takes advantage of it to shove the spoon in your mouth. He runs away, laughing at how your face twists in disgust.

How can your sister feed this to her daughter? How can your niece like it?

Johnny leaves the jar and the spoon on the kitchen countertop the moment you prepare to pounce on him.

“You’re a dead man.”

There’s a struggle as Johnny tries to stop you from twisting your nipples. The kitchen is filled with your niece’s giggles, who witnesses the scene from her highchair, shaking her baby teether.

In the afternoon, you go for a walk in the park. On your way, you stop to take pictures of every single tree you see, Johnny patiently waiting for you a few steps away, holding the handles of the baby’s cart.

Autumn has painted New York red, orange, and yellow; it has covered the streets with crunchy leaves, making it feel as if you were inside a rom-com.

Johnny has a blast playing with your niece, looking at her with adoring eyes. You lose count of how many pictures and videos you take of them.

Sitting on a park bench, observing them while you sip on your warm coffee, you realize that Johnny’s definitely the one. You’ve thought of it in the years you’ve been together, but you have never been so sure of it.

Better said, you’ve never been so sure of anything in your life.

The baby is in her crib now, sleeping soundly. With your fingers, you softly caress her cheek. Johnny joins you, hugging you from behind. He kisses the top of your head, and you melt in his arms, resting the back of your head against his chest.

“Look at her little hands.” You whisper, careful not to wake her up. “She’s adorable.”

“I know.”

“Have you ever thought about having kids?”

Johnny sighs deeply before answering, placing his chin on top of your head.

“The idea has crossed my mind, yeah.”

“With me, maybe?”

“You doubted it?” You don’t answer, knowing that Johnny has understood exactly what you meant with that question. Will you love me long enough to have my children? “I even have names in mind.”

His confession makes you turn around, the biggest smile on your face. You swallow the lump in your throat, aware that it would be weird if you started crying then and there.

“Really?” Johnny nods, his arms still around you, holding you close.

“Yeah.” He gives you a short, sweet kiss. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

You glance at your niece for the last time before leaving the room. You put your pajamas on and lie in bed. Your body, wasted from the tiring day, welcomes the warm feeling that being under the covers on a cold day gives.

You snuggle by Johnny’s side, his strong arm rounding you. His heartbeat sounds like a lullaby.

“Sleep well, love.”

Johnny kisses your forehead. In return, you smirk.

“Good night, daddy.”

“Don’t.”

No reposting or translations allowed.

#johnny smut #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #nct smut #nct fic #johnny suh smut #johnny suh fic #nct johnny fic #johnny imagine #johnny suh #nct fic smut

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universesweetheart · 1 year ago

Text

Your Umbrella (Dazai x Reader)

I love him. My baby, my love, my sunshine is safe and happy in my bed.

Wrote this before watching today's new episode! This feels rushed because I was too excited for the new episode to wait to write it out. Sorry babes, Dazai is my top priority.

Post episode Mars: I giggled and kicked my feet like a little girl! That was some gay shit, but HELLO DAZAI IS ALIVE! My babyboo ahh.

(Also did you guys see the chapter236 JJK leaks?! I shall write for Gojo...I'm coping)

Writing is how I cope.

In which we talk with Dazai while we both overlook the setting sun (see what I did there hehe)

Bye now - Mars ♡

Together on a bench, onlooking the sunset, you and Dazai sat in silent. The rays of the warm sunlight pleasant on your skin and face. The clouds, a pretty colour of orange and yellow. The blue contrast of the sky blended nicely.

“Why are you a detective?” you asked Dazai, you were in a sulky mood today, you felt… drifty, for lack of a better word. It was one of those days where you wake up and question your existence. Why were you you? Why did you want to do this job? Why did your life turn this way?

Dazai shifted his gaze to you, his eyes looking at yours. He let out a silent sigh before giving you a smug smile.

“Don’t I look like I belong here? Plus it’s quite interesting” He looked up at the pretty clouds and then muttered under his breath, “This job comes naturally to me”

“Brushing my teeth comes naturally to me but that’s because I’ve done it a million times” you stated, and you heard him chuckle.

“I suggest you don’t compare your little daily routine to my life darling” he snorted, eyes still on the sunset.

“Do you take pride in your job?”, you continued to probe. Your mind was curious, but your heart wasn’t. Your heart feared triggering him and making him angry, a product of your own troubled past. But you knew Dazai, you wanted to believe you did, and he wouldn’t snap like that. He was too much of an unserious person. But what if?

Dazai gave a small nod, confirming your assumption. He turns to look at you, “it’s because of my job that I’ve been able to accomplish many things” his smile smug, “Impressive, yes? Heh.”

“Many things like?” You seem to not take the hint to not go further but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Handling guns” he jokes and you chuckle, it wasn’t even funny. His voice just made everything sound giddy.

“Have you accomplished happiness?” you tilt your head and look back at him.

Dazai freezes up but quickly basks it with a little laugh and turns backed to face the sun. A desperate attempt to avoid your eyes. “Do I look unhappy?” he muses, his voice teasing.

“I’d rather not judge a book by its cover. You tell me.”

Dazai laughs, “What a curious thing you are, asking me such a thing” he smiles, it’s not pretty you think.

“Should I be irritated by your little question or find it funny how straightforward you are” He asks you with a little smirk. When you don’t answer and just stare at him, he adds “Happiness had abandoned me, I’ll say, a very long time ago.”

Abandonment? Was this the closest Dazai will ever allow you to be? Desperate and lovesick, you grabble at any piece of crumbs he gives. It’s pathetic. You attempt to keep your cool, but you’re sure he knows how you really feel. He seems to always know everything.

“Doesn’t that contradict the philosophy ‘Happiness is found inside of us’?”

Dazai glances at you for a moment, then back to the sun, he let out a small hum of interest. You really had a way of surprising him, not that he’d ever let you know that.

“I suppose so, however the happiness I’m searching for cannot be reached. I assure you that.”

You stole a glance at his face, he seems to be reminiscing on something. Or maybe that was just another façade to lead you astray from his true feelings.

“Why not?”

With a bit of hesitation, he smiles, eyes bright. A change that catches you off guard, Dazai shifts closer to you. The edge of his trench coat brushing up against your pants. He lowers his voice several octaves, almost in a forbidden whisper, “Because I am searching for one thing that cannot be obtained.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “And what’s that? Dinosaurs?”, a futile attempt to lighten up the conversation. You wanted so badly a shred of him, the real him, but now that you think you’re getting it, you’re not sure. You’re running away.

Dazai laughs amused by your response, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he closes them, letting the laughter overtake him. “Good observation, but no” he clicks his tongue playfully, “To put it simply. I am searching for one thing to fill…” he sighs out and shakes his head a little.

“Ah” he giggles, “I’m not sure what I’m searching for” he deflects. He doesn’t know if he should share, if he could bare to say it out loud. Because to say it out loud would mean to admit it. To acknowledge it.

Bullshit. You knew it was a lie. He was a liar. Damn your heart for falling for him.

Looks at him, “It’s okay” you said with a sigh, “I’m searching for myself in a way,” you decided to turn the conversation on you to avoid going to go down the road of awkwardness.

“The thing…I’m searching for doesn’t exist, love doesn’t exist.” He sounded like he was in pain. Like it pained him to say that. To tell you that. You find yourself feeling guilty, did you pressure him?

“Love isn’t limited, so again, why?” you continue.

Once again for the multiple time, Dazai laughs “Curious little thing indeed” he turns to look at you, “Think you have a chance, Bella?”

You find your face heating up and keeps your eye on the sun to avoid his gaze.

“Do you think you could meet my standards? They’re quite high” he teases and once again you think he’s deflecting. A big distraction to avert your eyes from peering at him.

He holds his head up high, his gaze on you unwavering. You aren’t looking at him, but the intensity of his eyes pins you to this old bench.

“Are they high to protect your heart?” you blurt you before you even knew what you were saying. “Sorry!” you instantly apologize.

Dazai was surprised by your statement, yes that was exactly what it was. He stayed silent for a moment, contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” he sighs, shall I take a chance? He questions himself, a battle between his brain. “I have set out expectations that I’m even unsure about myself.” He spoke and then stayed silent. He waited for your next words. His heart was pounding yet his face had a smug smile.

“Expectations are like umbrellas, they stop rain and sun from reaching us” you state, and then laughs.

“Indeed, but what’s your point?”

“Rain is like pain, yes your umbrella, your walls, protect you from it” you cross a leg over the next, eyes drinking in the sunlight. “But you miss out on the warm sun too.”

Dazai ponders to himself for a moment. It appears you’ve managed to grasp a greater sense of him. Did he underestimate you? No, he wouldn’t be so careless. “Quite the profound analogy you have there, it’s fascinating.” He smiles at you, “How did you come to this conclusion, might I ask?”

“You know, I like sun especially in the mornings and evenings, it’s like a warm hug” you fiddle with your shirt, “but I also like rain, though sometimes storms are too harsh for my umbrella.”

Dazai observed you for a while, the silence between you two comfortable. He noticed the light pink tinting your cheeks and the way you avoided his eyes. You had intrigued him, maybe he truly had a soft spot for you.

The silence was not comfortable for you, did you overstep? Did he find your analogy dumb? Your mouth acted on its own, “I always use my umbrella” you stated, “But one harsh storm broke it, and I was drenched with a skeleton of an umbrella” your eyes have this faraway look, he notes.

“And then the sun hit me and I wasn’t ready and I was scared” you breathe out, closing your eyes. Dazai thinks the sight is better than the setting sun, “But it dried up my wet clothes and wet skin and wet hair. It felt warm and…yellow” you laugh softly, “yellow is such a beautiful colour, yes?”

He hums, “Are you saying that you decided to get rid of your protection and walk and bask in the sunlight that you so adore” his voice is light and teasing. His eyes laser focused on you as if you’d burst open and come up with a new revelation.

“Yes, sun being metaphor for love. Rain for pain, umbrella for protective walls and wet for I guess, depression?” you break down your words, trying to make him understand. He already understands, he just loves your voice so much.

“To translate from my understanding, you’re saying you choose love regardless of the costs?” you nod.

“You fascinate me,” he admits boldly, “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Someone in mind?”

“For love, the person you choose will be a caliber of that, do you?” He shifts his eyes to the clouds. A blissful sight.

“When I say sun is love I don’t speak of lovers. I would say I’m my own sun. A lover would be a mirror, reflecting to me how bright my own sun shines.” Your lips presses together into a thin line.

“A mirror, I see” he chuckles. “Oh, you curious little thing” he smiles.

“Then can we test this?”

“Test what?”

“Let go of your umbrella and let me be your mirror,” he takes a hold of your hand, “Belladonna,”

“Osamu”

His heart stops when you whisper his given name. It sounded so beautiful falling from your lips. “Say it again” he leans in and connects your lips together.

#dazai osamu #marswrites #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #the setting sun #sunsets #bsd fluff #fluff #bsd x reader fluff #osamu fluff

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waxingrunes · 1 year ago

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I’m going to probe into your brain about something because I really enjoy your answers to things and because you seem willing to answer these type of questions I’m taking my shot! Do you think Remus enjoys being a werewolf? Do you think Sirius has ever been scared of him because of it? Do padfoot and moony fight? Slightly more not safe for work but what do you think things are like in bed between then before and after the full moon? You can skip that if you want but I see so many takes I’m curious about yours

I know that it takes a lot of steam to think about these answers so please take your time and feel free to just completely ignore if you don’t have the energy. Thank you for being the way you are and I can’t wait for your next art!!

The way you spelt out the acronym made me laugh. I see you trying to dip under the tumblr patrol. This will end up being a lengthy answer so to avoid taking up an obnoxious space on everyone’s feeds, read on if you’re interested:

To answer your questions in order, I don’t think Remus likes being a werewolf at all. His condition can be an isolating one for many reasons and has very little, if any, benefit. I think Remus has grown up learning to broadly keep himself to himself, keep his head down, and to not cause trouble so as to dissuade any extra attention being drawn to him. Remus is quite a shy, unassuming person by default, and due to the backlash of fear, abuse, and general distaste towards his lycanthropy, he’s built a defence mechanism to mask that shyness which can sometimes come across as standoffish. I think he’s scared of his abilities when the full moon draws in and used to try and compensate for that by making sure he pushed people away, which only leant to further isolation.

I saw this quote somewhere recently which I believe rings true with regard to Remus (and Sirius, but that’s another conversation) ‘to love and to be loved is to rest’. When Remus established himself as a Marauder and grew within the confines of those friendships, it taught him a lot about what it meant to be vulnerable. It taught him trust, and that there are people out there, even in the places he’d least expect it, that will see him for who he is and not what he turns into at the height of every moon.

So no, whilst I don’t think Remus would check the 10 box on a of ‘How Cool Is It To Be A Werewolf’ scale, I think as he made his way through adolescence into a grown man, he’s accepted himself with the aid of human connection; something he denied himself in its authenticity before. He’s learnt that he doesn’t need to do a balancing act of people pleasing and pushing them away in order to protect himself and others.

Is Sirius afraid of Moony? No. I think there’s a natural instinctual element of fear of the unknown in all of us, so when it was confirmed, there was undoubtedly a few ‘what-if’ moments going through his mind. But scared in the sense where he thought Remus would hurt him, no. Whenever Sirius thinks of the full moon, his predominant thoughts are of Remus’ health and the potential fallout after one. He doesn’t picture the creature, he thinks about what that creature is going to do to Remus. His lead emotions are concern and protection, coupled with a wild instinct to make it all go away as quickly as possible and if he can’t do that, then he’s going to make it as easy as possible.

As I say, I don’t think Sirius is scared but I do think he’s logical and he’s not going to show any outward fear when Remus or anyone else is around. Any doubts he’s ever experienced will be privately locked away and mulled over, because he knows how Remus views himself and would rather take the force of the full moon himself than ever add to those insecurities. But he isn’t stupid, and is human at the end of the day. He knows what Remus is capable of when he’s Moony and no matter how gentle a person Remus is, no matter how soft he is at the core, there will always be a very small private part of him that will be on extra alert during each transformation.

Padfoot and Moony always scrap. It’s my impression that Remus would’ve been frenzied at the first couple of meetings and, much like Remus, his wolf’s initial reaction to possible threat would be to either run or challenge. Constantly caught between fight or flight and fight— they did. Those first two or three tussles would’ve been genuine ones whilst the wolf and dog got used to each other. Sirius would be trying to disarm the fight mainly, but give the wolf as good as he got. Despite the size differences, Sirius is scrappy, fast and tactile; his dog is big, but not as big as Moony who is more brute strength over cunning attack. I could actually see Moony being a bit dopey when he’s relaxed.

Going forward from that, any fight between them would be pure puppy play, play fighting that sometimes looked a little too real to an innocent onlooker but was always just stupid scrapping for idle dominance.

I have a hc that Sirius had teased and teased Remus so much one time (because he knew he could, Remus is a soft melt and know it means no harm) about how he won the last ‘three fights Moony, three.’ Pokes him. ‘I know there’s not much muscle to match your size yet but aren’t you supposed to be stronger than me? Am I dealing with a wolf or a cub’. Sirius would make him roll his eyes so hard he nearly lost them, or blush, because he’d grab his thigh under the table and squeeze. Which was meant to be nothing more than a reassuring, I’m just playing Moons, but translated as something much more in Remus’ head.

The teasing continued until Sirius went to try and tackle Remus, not Moony, one night in the common room and because he’d made the mistake of doing it in the couple days before the moon, Remus was less inclined to be so soft and grew bored of the jibe. With a Sirius latched onto his back and a pale, determined forearm around his neck, Remus used his size to his advantage and flung him up and over, flipping him forward with a loud THWOP onto one of the couches. The common room would’ve been half shouts of support for Remus and cheers, etc, whilst Remus leant down close enough only Sirius would hear, and, ‘cub’s getting tired of playtime’. Remus returned the squeeze to his thigh, hard enough to elicit a squeak from an exacerbated Sirius and leave.

James, king of cool, ‘I think that was his equivalent to telling you to go fetch mate’.

A cushion would’ve landed on James’ head shortly thereafter.

As for the acronym :) I think Remus’ mood wouldn’t be fixed to one setting either side of the moon. The moon’s influence would have his senses heightened than normal people at all times, but the closer the full drew in, all of those would be amped up to something that was sometimes unbearable. Other times, it was manageable.

Sometimes he might have experienced a wave of depression and not know how to counteract it, sometimes he might have been more tearful, other times he might’ve been angrier. Overall, I think there’s always a general lack of patience with himself and others in the couple of days leading up. This doesn’t mean he turned into a rude arsehole, but someone who was just a little more worn than usual; I imagine a lot of leg jogging and restlessness, an appetite fit for three grown men, grogginess, inability to sleep or a tendency to oversleep.

Getting to the acronym— I got carried away, apologies. I think in general, there would be a period where it’d feel similar to a rush of hormones and Remus would want to annihilate Sirius. This elicits a behaviour that he’s not always been proud of and sometimes punishes himself for if it’s an aggressive moon, but Sirius is no feather, he is no daisy that feels like he’s been ravaged by a Big Bad Wolf and always reassures him that it’s absolutely fine. More than fine. I believe it took Sirius some time to admit that he actually really fucking loves that side of Remus and will allow himself and Remus, to cave to the animalistic vein that rears its head. There’s no chance of Sirius topping in those days and every chance he’s going to be limping.

Following the moon, I don’t think there would be much libido present on Remus’ side on the most part as his body’s energy is honed in on healing itself back to full strength, and those sorts of things are the last thing on his mind for the following 24-72 hours. Especially if the moon was difficult. However, if there is intimacy in this period it’ll be slow and handsy; lots of hand and mouth action, lots of kissing and touching but nothing too intruding. If penetration is wanted and they are particularly in the mood then Sirius is most likely to top here so he can let Remus relax for a bit while quelling the sexual urge. If Remus tops, it’ll be slow and Sirius would take the lead.

Some chocolate for you for making it to the end.

#ask #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus #sirius

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cringecannon · 1 year ago

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Hiyas, just wanted to let you know this is my first time sending something over anon in a VERY long time, your writing is just too good to keep up my 5 year lurking streak XD I love your darker Gale stuff sm, he’s so creepy and pathetic hdhhhrrhhhr. Honestly I think he’d pair well (by that I mean awful but in a sexy way) with a younger adult Tav, maybe 20 or so. As much as it’d make him blush or stammer if anyone ever brought up how his partner was literally half his age he’d get off on it for sure. Especially if they were inexperienced, sexually, romantically or otherwise. We all know this man is manipulative af so he’d for sure be pulling out the “Well, I thought you were mature enough to understand but I guess I was wrong…” card any and everytime Tav would try and set the tiniest of boundaries. He absolutely loves how easy their age difference makes it for him to convince them that he’s right, even against all better judgement. Just trust him to make the decisions, he’s been around long enough to know what’s best for you :))

God forbid this man gets the tiniest whiff of daddy issues, he’s going absolutely off the walls learning everything he can about how to set Tav off and feigning total ignorance afterwords. He’s just like what babe that’s crazy I had no idea I’m so sorry :(( but just so you know it would be totally fine if you wanted to call him daddy… haha jk jk.. unless…

Feel free to respond or add on if you feel like it, or don’t. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea so I 100% understand if this is one to stay hidden in the inbox ^^” but seriously thanks for all the awesome stuff and I hope you have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening!

age gap manipulation is so <3<3<3

I'm just. Imagining a Gale who constantly hovers over your shoulder, he genuinely thinks he's protecting you from everyone else in the group. You're easily the youngest person in camp, so he thinks of himself as your mentor, someone for you to look up to. He takes you under his wing, protecting you from everyone that he thinks has ill intentions.

The problem is he thinks that of everyone. Time spent with your other companions without his supervision is nearly impossible. When you do manage to steal yourself away for a significant amount of time, he's livid. What in the nine hells were you thinking? Do you have any idea what might have happened if he didn't find you when he did? They all just want to use you, they're all well aware of how trusting you are. Are you truly that daft to believe they're not trying to take advantage of you?

Oh, love. His warm palms cup each side of your jaw, and he tries to meet your eyes. Don't make that face. Come here. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. His breath is warm against the side of your face and you close your eyes as he speaks again. He's sorry. He didn't mean to upset you. He's just trying to keep you safe. One of his hands drifts down your side and you tense. His hand pauses, fingertips lightly skimming your hip. When you don't say anything the touch gets a little more insistent, probing. Like he's testing the water. He tells you he didn't mean to be so harsh. He gets a little bolder, the side of his face now pressed against yours so he can speak lowly into your ear. Let him make it up to you, hm? His hand drifts down to your thigh, tracing imaginary shapes against it. Such a good love. He can't wait to put all this nonsense behind him.

#gale continuing the cycle of abuse with younger tav is making me hgfdgggfhfs #.gale #.bg3

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somefishycat · 1 day ago

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WIP Wednesday 1/22/25

BIG thanks to everyone who encouraged me to do all of these this week, but particularly the Eddie lines! I made a deadline I definitely would have missed otherwise — I have to return the mic tomorrow!

marble wall 2 for @eriquin

Nobody else seems upset about it at all. Not even Hunter, or Luz. It's just… a shirt. Maybe he's overthinking this.

ones left behind for @rainy-weather-supremacy @stonemaskedtaliesin @catboy-jupiter

The kids definitely aren't here now. That's probably a good thing; they'd probably be dead if they were. Actually… something dead was here. Not a witch, and not the human. It smells like some sort of demon blood. Some unidentified demon? Eber checks that Eda is still preoccupied before digging into the pile of rubble. Darius notices and helps out, tossing stones aside until they uncover splintered wood. Bloodstained wood and shards of old bone (and the bone DOES smell a little more like the human, weirdly) but no dead kids, demon or otherwise.

5 Years for @tamsinswriting @wizisbored @inevitablyuncertain @anachronismstellar

ANTOINE: We do not expect you to land safely, no. CASS: Like we said, we're still working out the details. We have years until then, don't worry about it just yet. JUICE: i mean “don't worry about it you're prolly gonna die and here's why all our plans to try n save you are gonna fail” isn't super reassuring but sure … CASS: Sorry. We're trying, really. I don't know what else to tell you. ANTOINE: Are you still looking for other probes? We noticed you send signals out sometimes. JUICE: yeah i think i'm gonna check on em at least once a year more often for some of em. the ones i think have a good chance of living a long time like i’m tryin to be gentle with clipper cuz they're super doomed and it would suck for them to be scared like i am

Bead Flapjack for @whimsicalmeerkat @aparticularbandit

Actually did a few more rows so I could finish that first point, but they were really small rows by now anyway. Flapjack's head is almost done!

And finally, Eddie for @twyrewolf @auburnlaughter @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @meggiejolly @asha10100101010

@nonbinary-octopus @zyrafowe-sny

Transcript:

Before the fall when they wrote it on the wall, when there — shit. When there wasn't even any Hollywood Did you think you were going to hurt my feelings because you didn't like a nearby creek? You're an asshole! You have all the time in the world. Infinite time, and just a little bit of mystery. You'll have nothing left to explore in the world, so you'll look up at the stars, waiting for galaxies to collide. It's three million divided by infinity. Nothing is anything when you're dividing by infinity. A lot of good it does me. I wake up every morning on a rock. It's wet, smells like crap. Those were the times, but those times gave way to being afraid. Who wants to live forever? What am I gonna do with forever?

#wip wednesday #golden ghost au #juice fic #bead flapjack

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suicidalt33n · 20 days ago

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Sanctuary, part 2 | Chris sturniolo

Part 1:

Hope this doesn't disappoint loll, i tried.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The warmth of the blanket around my shoulders and the low hum of voices brought me back to reality. I was still sitting on their couch, my knees tucked under the soft fabric. My body ached, every muscle begging for rest, but my mind wouldn’t let me relax.

Chris sat across from me, his elbows on his knees as he watched me with a quiet intensity. His brothers, who I now knew were named Nick and Matt, lingered nearby, their presence oddly comforting. They hadn’t asked me too many questions, just offered me water and made sure I was okay while we waited for the police to arrive.

"You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready," Chris said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, grounding. "But if there’s anything we can do to help, just let us know."

I nodded, clutching the blanket tighter. "Thank you," I whispered. My voice felt small, fragile.

The sound of sirens in the distance made my heart jump. The police were close. Relief and dread warred within me—relief that he wouldn’t be able to drag me back into that nightmare, and dread at the thought of recounting everything to strangers in uniform.

Chris noticed the way I tensed up. "Hey," he said, his voice drawing my attention. "You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here for you."

His words settled something in my chest. I didn’t know these people, but the sincerity in their actions and words made me feel safer than I had in months.

The knock at the door came quickly, and Matt hurried to answer it. Two officers stepped inside, their expressions serious but kind. Chris introduced himself and his brothers, explaining how I had shown up on their doorstep, desperate for help.

One of the officers crouched down to my level, her gaze gentle but probing. "Hi, sweetheart. My name’s Officer Martinez. You’re safe now, okay? Can you tell us your name?"

I hesitated, my throat tight. "Y/N," I finally managed.

"Y/N, you’re incredibly brave," she said. "We’re going to make sure you’re okay and get you whatever help you need. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?"

I glanced at Chris, who nodded encouragingly. Something about his steady presence gave me the courage to speak.

"I… I was taken," I began, my voice trembling. "By my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. He—he wouldn’t let me leave."

Officer Martinez nodded, her expression never wavering. "You’re doing great, Y/N. Take your time."

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I told them everything—the threats, the violence, the endless days locked away. Chris never looked away, his gaze steady and reassuring, like he was silently reminding me I wasn’t alone.

When I finished, Officer Martinez stood and exchanged a look with her partner. "We’re going to make sure he can’t hurt you again," she said firmly. "We’ll also connect you with resources—counseling, a safe place to stay, whatever you need."

I nodded, too drained to say much more.

As the officers stepped aside to make calls, Chris sat down beside me. "I know this probably feels like a lot," he said, his voice low. "But you’re so strong for getting out of there."

Something about his words, about him, made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time. "I didn’t think anyone would help," I admitted.

He shook his head, his brows furrowing. "You deserve help. Everyone does."

The officers returned, letting me know I’d be taken to a safe house for the night. My stomach churned at the thought of leaving this place—this temporary sanctuary—but I knew it was the right step forward.

As I stood to leave, I turned to Chris. "Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t opened the door."

He smiled, small but genuine. "You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay."

I didn’t have the words to express what his kindness meant to me, so I just nodded. As I walked out the door, flanked by the officers, I glanced back one last time.

Chris was standing there, his hands in his pockets, watching me leave with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

I didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in months, I felt like I had one. And I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I saw Chris Sturniolo.

-----------

@amelia-sturniolo3 🎀

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo angst #angst with a happy ending #part 2 #<3 mwah

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waklman · 2 years ago

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Of Course He Loves Me

summary: your past comes back to haunt you, and your roomate jake is there to witness it.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: hurt/comfort. talks of past exploitive experiences, bad treatment of women, negative self talk, and allusions to sex. 18+ blog.

a/n: inspired by rhiannon mcgavin qoute shown above bc it reminds me of jake :)

word count: 3.6k.

“Do we want chocolate chips in our pancakes?” Jake asks, solemnly, waiting for you to make the executive decision.

“I think we do,” you confirm, matching his serious tone—twisting your middle to grab the said bag of sweets. The plastic crinkles when he takes it from you, with a pleased hum.

Jake sets it down, then quickly scans the spread in front of him. His eyebrows pinch together, realizing he’s missing just one item. “Pancake mix..” he lowly mutters to himself.

You scoot forward, aiming to hop off the counter to fetch it, but Jake stops you–pinning the hem of your sleep shirt down against the countertop with his hand, wordlessly telling you to stay put with a shake of his head. He doesn’t spare you a second to object–already guiding himself across the kitchen in search of the box of dry ingredients himself.

A defeated sigh slips your lips, looking ahead as he trudges off with heavy footsteps.

The towhead blond has yet to tame his bed head–there’s two pieces of hair sticking out each side of his head resembling ears, making him look like a newborn kitten.

While he slowly sifts through the cabinets, the sunlight filtering through the apartment reflects off something on his finger, drawing your attention away from the state of his hair. You softly smile to yourself, seeing the ring you had on last night, now sitting safely on his pinky finger. It was a drunken habit of yours—you somehow always lost track of your personal belongings on nights out. Knowing this, Jake made sure to keep your things under his care when you had too much to drink.

Your chest tightens in appreciation for him, there was no one who looked out for you the way he did.

“Whoever gets to marry you, has to be the luckiest girl in the world,” you announce quietly, looking down at your legs, bringing them to a slow stop–no longer unconsciously swinging them. You blink in recognition, seeing that at some point last night–he pulled a pair of fluffy socks onto your feet. You wiggle your toes, as all the events—previously muddled by alcohol, start to come back to you.

“Marriage? Darling, I thought we’d be roommates for life,” he quips with a light laugh, carrying the acquired box back over to join you and the rest of the ingredients.

“I’m serious, not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like you,” you try to laugh, but it falls short—now aware of the reason why you drank so much in the first place. Fuck.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you look past your own feet, searching for something to steady yourself on–and your eyes land right onto Jake’s feet. He has on a pair of your fluffy socks too, but they’re an older set, with matted tufts of cotton and elastic fibers scutching in on itself.

Jake sets down the box, putting a pause on breakfast for now, troubled by your abrupt silence. He can see from the corner of his eye that you’re just vacantly staring at the floor. Something about the shift in demeanor ticks off a warning signal in his head.

Then, it clicks. You got wasted last night, throwing back shots like it was nothing. When he tried to probe, you drunkenly told him you just wanted to try something new. And a part of Jake found it off-putting—you had an affinity for sweet drinks, so why the need for change?

A knowing concern coats his thoughts immediately.

“Did he text you again?” He asks, face unafraid. But deep in his gut, Jake feels the anxiety anchoring him down from where he stands, locking his knees in place. He wills himself to look away from the box mix in front of him, finally lifting his head up to look at you.

From your peripheral, you can see Jake’s eyes set on the side of your face, patiently waiting for a response. In no way does he rush you, but you feel hurried to give him an answer. Yet you can’t. The walls of your throat have already swelled thick, pressing together at the center, preventing you from speaking.

Jake swallows grimly, eyes dropping down to see you gripping onto the granite counter for dear life, knuckles tight and veins about to burst from excessive strain. After a beat of silence, he calmly moves around you, flipping on the sink beside you.

The panic that takes hold of you doesn’t allow you to see him test the temperature of the water, nor does it let you feel the way he carefully pries your hand from the counter, easing each finger off the cold ledge. You’re brought back once you feel a warm liquid run over your hand. It slips through your fingers and soothingly traces the skin of your wrist, that’s held by him–you can feel everything again.

Jake slowly takes in a breath, allowing you to mimic him. His eyes are still locked on you, and a brush of relief briefly sweeps his heart when he notices you taking languid breaths with him. Though, your gaze is still lowered, eyes focused on the lining of his socks.

After a few more steady exhales, you attempt to reply to Jake’s question again–but embarrassment enters your system, holding you back. You chose to slowly nod instead, knowing he’ll understand. “Okay, I see,” Jake answers cautiously, keeping his voice low.

He’s still holding your hand under the running water, with both of you acutely aware of the deja vu that washes over this familiar exchange of words. It’s almost a pitiful routine that you two fall into every year–all starting with a text from your ex-boyfriend each time.

It’s as though you could never get rid of him—the older guy you met working part time back in highschool always made yearly appearances in your life again, like it’s some twisted occasion he must attend to.

He’d tie you down, under the false promise that “he’s changed”—convincing you to meet up with him. And you’d go, fully expecting to receive an apology—chasing that closure you deserved. But everytime, without fail, your old wound would be mercissley torn right open by him, raw and bloody for the world to see—for him to see.

And it was ruthless, the way he’d ripped you apart, belittling you, reminding you how gullible and worthless you are—throwing it in your face for his own sadistic pleasure. No one will ever love you if you’re this pathetic, crawlin’ back to me like some fucking puppy. It made him satisfied with himself, knowing you’d always be there for him to gain a sense of control again. He chased that high each year, renewing himself with it—tossing you aside like garbage, after he got what he wanted, until he needed you again next time.

And everytime, Jake was there for you after shit hit the fan—holding back his anger, while he consoled you–trying his hardest to sweetly smile at you while you weakly combat your heartache. Jake hated how useless he felt—his efforts were always futile. Because, truly there was nothing he could do to stop the hurt that laid inside of you.

But there was one thing Jake could do, and that was making sure to never express his disdain for your decision to see your ex, because he knew how you felt when everyone else in your life did. It made you feel small and stupid—the two things Jake never wanted you to feel about yourself. To him, you were nothing but forgiving and sweet, just stuck in a harmful cycle. This was not your fault, it never was.

Back when you two were teenagers, Jake had been somewhat alarmed by your relationship with the guy, because what did a man of his age want with you? But Jake held his tongue and trusted you, holding back his concerns when you told him about your new boyfriend, because you glowed like you never had before. So, seventeen year old Jake did what he thought was best—he kept his mouth shut—because what kind of best friend would he be if he stood in the way of your happiness?

But, if he knew then, what he knew now, Jake would have done anything in his power to stop you from ever meeting him. Because that jerk shouldn’t have ever been interested in someone so much younger than he was, in the first place. It took Jake years of maturing, reaching his very age today to come to that realization because now you two are no longer kids.

“And he wants to see you again?” he asks, jaw clenched, already knowing the answer.

You swallow. “I’m seeing him next week.”

“Jake?”

“Yes?” Jake answers before he can even think, already peeking over the back of the couch in search of you.

He looks in the direction of the wall by the end of the hallway, patiently waiting for your footsteps to finally reach there.

You come out, holding up the front of your dress and Jake doesn’t know what to feel. “Can you help me zip this up?” you ask, embarrassed you couldn’t get your dress on fully. Your hands had been trembling all day, knowing who you’ll be seeing tonight.

Jake immediately rushes to get up at your request—not letting you take another step towards him. You lightly smile, not surprised by his behavior at all. He’d been like this since you met, programmed to never let you take the extra mile to reach him.

“I shared my location with you,” you whisper, back facing towards him now. You shiver, feeling his knuckle brush against the exposed skin there, gently holding the small zipper between his fingers.

“Why? I trust you.” He pretends to be unaware of the situation, trying to convince himself that his gut feeling isn’t true—that you’re not seeing him tonight.

“I’m seeing him in a bit, and I just—I want you to have my location.” Jake finally zips up your dress, feeling like he sealed your fate—you’re destined for a dreadful night, and he can’t do anything about it.

He reaches for your waist, but doesn’t have to do much to get you to turn around, because you’re already spinning around to face him.

Jake swallows hard. You look almost unreal under him—too pretty for his brain to even comprehend. And a part of Jake hates that he won’t be the only one who gets to see you like this, especially not tonight.

“Okay,” he stares down at you, expression unreadable.

You look up at him, wanting him to give you a reason to stay instead—but he doesn’t see the thought begging to be seen in your head, too distracted by the sick feeling pooling in his stomach.

“Be safe, and remember to text me, please,” he whispers, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead—as if he’s implanting his reminder there.

The light pressure of his lips makes your heart melt in your chest. With his hands still on your waist, Jake lightly pulls you into him, not sure if it’s to comfort you—or himself. He just knows that he needs to hold you. You instinctively lean into his touch as he begins to wrap his arms around you securely. “Will you come pick me up after?” you mumble, against his shirt.

“I’ll be there the moment you tell me to.” He assures you, meaning it fully.

Jake feels restless, swerving into the acceleration lane, slamming his foot on the gas. The rain harshly slamming down against his windows just spurs him on even further, bringing him past the speed limit.

It’s already well past midnight, and you called him not long ago, barely able to get out a word, too choked up even speak—having to hang up and text him instead.

Leading up to this, Jake had been shamelessly checking your location. With every second that passed with no update from you, his leg bounced harder against the wooden floor, prompting the downstairs neighbor to smack their ceiling, warning him to knock it off for the fifth time. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jake had practically lunged at his phone when you finally called, heart sinking when he painfully listened to you whimper–the only coherent word that left your mouth was his name.

He already knew your location, rushing to meet you there now. It’s a ten minute drive from here, Jake made sure to check—but he’s already nearing you in under three minutes.

It’s not long until he spots you in the empty parking lot. He practically throws himself out the car, ignoring the fact that his door is still slung open.

The sight of you sitting on the wet pavement, knees protectively pulled against your chest, and face buried into your hands makes him sick to his stomach. It takes everything in him to maintain his composure, finally reaching you as he lowers himself to your level.

All the weight of his worries pit against him now, making it hard to breathe—it’s suffocating almost.

With careful hands, he wraps his fingers around your cold ankles, attempting to regulate your body temperature, sweetly swiping the skin there. Jake swallows unsurely, feeling you shake like a leaf under him.

In the palms of your hands, you’re biting back the viscous cry threatening to spill over. Jake’s chest caves in, weak from seeing like this. “It’s okay, let it out.” he permits, leaning in to whisper the words against your ear–drowning out the sound of the rain completely.

It’s okay, let it out. Those five words mean more to you than you could take, especially coming from Jake.

Before you can even realize it, the honeyed reassurance opens the flood gates to everything you’ve been suppressing. The horrible insults you pathetically took in the past hour, the sickly feeling of his hands on you from earlier, and the stabbing memories from years ago all bubble to the surface. And you finally break.

You lamely fall forward, with Jake catching you immediately, in his arms–as the sound of your cry finally echoes into the air. It hurts–the way it thrashes against the walls of your throat, and mercilessly sears through your lungs. It hurts so much, but you can’t hold it in anymore–instead, you force yourself to take on the painful feeling as the cry empties out of you.

Jake screws his eyes shut at the withering sound, promising to himself that this is the last time he’ll have to hear you like this. He will never let you feel this way again.

Trying to keep his voice from trembling, Jake forces himself to smile, sweetly whispering to you, once again. “Let’s head home, Darling.”

You haven't said a word since you two got back, too ashamed to speak of tonight’s events.

But Jake doesn’t show you any sign of judgment, as he pulls out your skincare bottles from the drawer with pursed lips. He came into the bathroom, after waiting outside for you to finish your shower, helping you prep for bed now.

“Toner pads first,” he declares softly, screwing open the container.

You tiredly look through him, unable to tear the sad expression off your face. But he softly smiles at you anyway, carefully swiping the cotton pads against your skin.

It’s like this for the next few minutes—with you lost in your thoughts, sitting on the sink while Jake does his best to correctly go through each step of your routine.

“I’m so naive,” you weakly profess out of nowhere, starting to sniffle.

Jake stills, putting down your moisturizer, remaining quiet to let you continue.

“I was—I am, so stupid Jake,” you correct yourself. “I can’t even be mad that everyone looks at me like I’m—like I'm dumb,” you spit out. “I deserve to feel like an idiot, because I just am.” Your voice begins to tremble, but you keep going anyway. “Of course, I had to throw myself at the first person who gave me an ounce of attention, because I knew no one else would, but look where that got me.” You pause, harshly wiping away the rogue tear that slips down your cheek. “He’s right Jake, I’m damaged goods, no one can love me when I’m like this.” Jake breathes heavily, dissecting the way you talk about yourself. You couldn’t be more wrong.

“Stop it.” he says sternly, no longer smiling.

His tone catches you by surprise, and you’re scared to keep looking at him. He looks so tired of you—so done with you. Anyone else would’ve given up on you by now, it comes as no surprise that he’s taken the chance to do so.

You lock your eyes on the limp hands in your lap instead, ready for him to admit defeat, like he should. Instead, Jake catches your discernment and reaches out to grab your hands.

“Look at me,” he says more softly this time.

Tentatively, you lift your head to look at him again, ignoring the tears blurring your vision.

He takes a deep breath, before speaking again.

“You’re not naive. You're not stupid. You're not dumb. You’re not an idiot. You’re not damaged goods,” he says firmly, addressing all the hurtful terms you called yourself. “And you’re not incapable of being loved.” You feel your bottom lip quiver at the final statement.

“If any of that was true, I wouldn’t be able to care for you so much, but I do. I care about you so fucking much,” he says, face contorted in pain, seeing the disbelieving look on your face. “You’re everything he’s not. Every bad thing he says to you, is not about you at all. It’s about him. He’s naive, he’s stupid, he’s dumb, he’s the idiot, and he's the damaged one.” You finally allow the tears to drip down to your neck—completely soaking the neckline of your shirt.

Your eyes snap shut, shaking your head at him, denying what he says. “I mean everything I said.” Jake affirms again, gently swiping away your salty tears. You still don't believe him.

“How do—how do you not hate me, as much as I hate myself?” The choked out sentence punches him right in the heart. This hurts Jake most of all.

You turn your head away from him, eyes still screwed shut. But he’s already pulling his hands from your lap, to cradle your head in his hands instead.

“I can never hate you,” he says, voice strung in hurt. He doesn’t know what was the worst part of your question. How could you possibly hate yourself? How could he possibly hate you? And how can you possibly hate something, he loved so dearly.

You open your eyes, ready to spit out something—anything that’s hurtful enough to get rid of him. He doesn’t deserve to deal with you anymore. But the words die on your tongue, because he’s looking at you with so much concern, with so much love.

And it’s as if your body has a mind of its own, because now you lurch forward, capturing his lips in a kiss.

Your head spins when kisses you back in an instant, purposefully slotting his lips against yours, like he has the ability to suck out the hurt living inside you. But it feels like he does, because it's healing, the way he kisses you.

Your heart bursts under your ribs, feeling him slowly drop his hands to your waist, thumbs swiping over the fabric of your shirt, with no urge to take it off you. Yet he’s still able to pull a noise from you, swallowing it down his throat as it leaves you.

His tongue slips into your open mouth next, curling against your own wet muscle—its almost euphoric. The entire room blurs around you, your mind can’t process anything—but him.

Yet, you pull away first, shocked by the unfamiliar feeling that started brewing in your tummy. You blink shyly at him, he’s fully pressed against you now. “I can never hate you,” he whispers the affirmation again, planting a kiss on your forehead. He stamps the declaration there, hoping it never leaves your mind.

“I know,” you answer him, believing him this time. Jake swallows, seeing you stare up at him, trusting him fully.

Without a thought, Jake leans back down to peck your lips, drawn in by the way it’s wet with his saliva. It’s meant to be short, because his lips are already drifting from yours—but you chase after the feeling in your stomach again, feeling it growing stronger. Jake hands trail down to your hips, squeezing them in surprise, kissing you back.

He feels your hands already reaching for his pajama pants, fingers digging into the band, and he stops you, moving his hands to coax yours away from there.

You retract your mouth from his, feeling regretful. “Shit, I’m sorry Jake I—”

“It's not that.” He assures you. Your brows furrow at his reply, until you understand the apologetic look he’s now giving you—and you know exactly what it means. I love you, but not tonight.

You nod.

Jake kisses the corner of your mouth, withdrawing his hands to dig out something from his pocket. You smile at what he pulls out from there. It’s a pair of mismatched fluffy socks, one blue and one pink.

You both look down at his own feet, and he lets out an embarrassed laugh. He’s wearing the matching pair for each sock in his hand. His left foot has a blue sock on it while the other has the pink sock.

A warm feeling pins you down—Jake is wearing your socks.

note: this one is very special to me, so thank you for reading. as always, reblogs are very greatly appreciated!

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mariaofdoranelle · 2 years ago

Text

URDAD - part 1

Adenine: paired with U

Fic masterlist

I’M SO EXCITED

Warning: this is not a safe space for Chaol stans

Words: 2,4k

“How‘s the baby?” Dr. Moonbeam asked in the examination table as Aelin slid the ultrasound transducer over his abs. She was still figuring out if he was flexing them to look stronger, or to make her work harder by hardening the area she had to move the probe on.

Aelin was “examining” Dr. Moonbeam just to check if she’d fixed the glitch in his ultrasound machine, but of course he’d have a field day with it.

“Very funny,” she answered with the dullest face possible, and then gasped. “Is that a kidney stone?”

“WHAT?” He bolted upright and took the probe from Aelin’s hand, pressing it harder against him, but relaxed when he studied the monitor. “You’re evil.”

Aelin tilted her head back, cackling.

Being the engineer responsible for Mistward General’s very expensive machinery, Aelin was glad she was out of the hospital’s crazy hierarchy. She didn’t take orders from any doctors, which let her be more at ease around them, unlike most of the staff.

Even if some were shameless flirts.

“So…” Dr. Moonbeam called her attention, slowly sliding the paper towels against his abs that looked shinier because of the gel. But his eyes had this playful glint, because at this point, he knew she was immune to his moves. “When are you breaking up with that tool of yours?”

“In two weeks, actually.”

His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

Aelin looked away and checked the ultrasound just to have something to do with her hands. “I already paid this month’s rent, so I’m waiting a little before breaking things up and moving out.”

She wasn’t in a rush, but it was time. Chaol hasn’t been the same. Aelin hadn’t felt the same about him either. When she went to her best friend to talk about this, Imogen was very supportive and offered her spare room.

Imogen Whitethorn wasn’t Chaol’s biggest fan, to put it lightly.

Dr. Moonbeam had his arms crossed, head cocked with a shameless grin. “No need to go through that, Galathynius. You can stay with me those two weeks.”

Aelin snorted, slowly shaking her head. “You’d love that, huh?”

Before he could answer, she felt her phone vibrating against her pocket and took it to check.

Dr Whitethorn: Aelin

Dr Whitethorn: 911

Dr Whitethorn: Anne Jausten is acting out

And by that, he meant there was something wrong with his new digital slide scanner.

“Gotta go.” She gave Dr. Moonbeam a quick salute. “Good luck with the pregnant ladies.”

Aelin rushed to the Pathology lab, which was pretty much the standard. There was always someone running or yelling in these halls. As busy as she was today, she always made room so assisting Dr. Whitethorn was always on her top priorities. He was the one who got her this job, after all.

After Aelin accidentally met Imogen’s father while drunk after a college party, he disregarded her for years. She was convinced he hated her and thought she was a bad influence, but working here slowly changed her mind. Or his, she’d never know.

One night, Imogen commented to Dr. Whitethorn over the phone that Aelin’s boss was too handsy.

The next day, Mistward General’s HR called her offering an interview.

His shoulders dropped when she came in. “Oh, good. It’s not scanning.”

Oh boy, did her breathing just get a little faster? Aelin would not, under any circumstance, show how much the scrubs, reading glasses and frazzled gray hair combo did it for her.

She always had a thing for men in lab coats, but Dr. Whitethorn was on a whole new level.

When Aelin rushed inside the cold Pathology lab, he immediately got up to give her his chair and bring another one for himself.

She clamped her lips together after assessing what was going on, trying not to make him feel bad.

“You can laugh, you know.”

“I won’t.” Despite her words Aelin’s shoulders were quaking, a full laughter ready to burst. “But you’re too young to be this old.”

He sighed. “What did I do this time?”

Aelin tilted her head, biting her lip. “You forgot to adjust a few scan settings. It won’t start until you do.”

He groaned, resting his face on his hands. This time, she let out the tiniest giggle.

Dr. Whitethorn was so excited when he got his new, more modern equipment. Until he had to learn how to work with them, that is. Watching him get used to those was like watching elder millennials in the genesis of TikTok.

Resilient as he was, he got his chin up, squared his shoulders, and tapped the few buttons he missed out in the first place.

“Well, thanks for that. And sorry I wasted your time.”

Aelin waved him off and rested her head on a fist, not caring about the few strands of hair falling on her face. “Nonsense.”

He trained his eyes on the scan. “I can go on from here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do you remember how to use the new photo editor?”

He used his right to remain silent.

Aelin leaned back on her seat, getting comfortable with both hands behind her neck. “Then I guess I need to wait for these scans to be done.”

Dr. Whitethorn was like that. He'd listen to her talk about anything and everything, from tissue engineering to Taylor Swift tickets, then flip a switch and politely shut her off until she made her way back into his lab again. Rinse and repeat. Right now, he wasn’t too chit-chatty, but she’d crack him in no time.

Aelin stayed there, watching his Adam’s apple bob as they listened to the soothing hum of Anne Jausten, the scanner.

“Fleetfoot and I are moving in with Immie soon, but I’m sure you know that already.”

His gaze slid to hers. “I know where you’re going.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “My point is already proven, I’m just being annoying about it.”

“I’m not a gossip, I’m just a good listener.”

“Well, did you, or did you not know that already?”

He gave her a flat look. “Next time you’re looking for a boyfriend, at least get one who doesn’t forget his wallet on date night.”

“Ouch!” She clutched her chest, playing down the tightness in it. “Way to go, doc.”

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “That was insensitive of me.”

Aelin waved him off. “That breakup was overdue, anyway.”

“I think so, too.” His lab’s phone started ringing. Dr. Whitethorn got up to take it, but not before saying, “You deserve to raise your standards.”

Easier said than done. If she had a pass for every man in the world, Aelin would know exactly where to start.

People would think it was the sixteen-year age gap, but the only thing stopping her from taking a chance and trying to sit on Dr. Whitethorn's lap right now was her best friend, who happens to be his daughter. With him looking like that, Aelin wouldn't mind if he were 300 years old.

Every time she saw a legion of girls online losing their minds over some older actor who aged like fine wine, she felt a little relieved they didn’t know Dr. Whitethorn. She could appreciate the view alone.

He looked pale when the phone call ended. “It was Salvaterre. Imogen just got here in an ambulance.”

“What?” Aelin jerked upright, feeling her pulse stronger each beat. “What happened?”

”I don’t know, I-“ He pointed to the scanner. “Keep an eye on Anne. I’ll go to the ER and keep you posted.”

Aelin did as she was asked and stood there, feeling her throat get tighter as the AC’s dry gushes of air cut through her layers of clothing. She didn’t know for how long she did nothing but listen to Anne Jausten’s mechanical whirring, but she did notice she was quieter than Jane Austen, Dr. Whitethorn’s previous slide scanner. It was an obvious observation, since Anne was cutting-edge technology, but Aelin would rather think of the equipment than the fact that her best friend and soon-to-be roommate was in the emergency room right now.

Her heart almost leaped out of her throat when his text came.

Dr Whitethorn: I think you should come here.

The few minutes she sprinted there were a blur. The nurses’ carts were on her way, the elevator was too slow, there were confused people on her way. The only thing that felt fast was her pulse, thrumming blood through her tense muscles.

Aelin relaxed when she noticed Immie looked fine, despite her friend’s blotched face from crying. Dr. Whitethorn’s face was red as well, but he wasn’t crying like his daughter. He was fuming, to put it lightly. And in the hospital bed, she saw… Chaol?

“What’s going on?”

Dr. Whitethorn was the one to break the deafening silence. “We have a penile fracture here.”

No.

Aelin looked around, taking everyone in once again and processing this new information.

Her heart stopped in her chest as her senses seemed to betray her. There was no fucking way.

“YOU BROKE MY BOYFRIEND’S DICK?” Aelin’s voice boomed through the room.

Imogen’s lips wobbled. “Aelin, I’m so—“

"Sorry, yeah." She let out a bitter cackle and yanked off Chaol's blanket. His dick looked exactly like an eggplant.

"Babe," he slurred, grinning at her. He must be high on painkillers already to look clueless like that.

"You fucking slut!" She shouted and pinched Chaol's swollen penis, twisting the purple, hypersensitive skin between her fingers.

No amount of painkillers could stop the earth-shattering scream Chaol let out, loud enough to tear anyone's eardrums in half.

For the very first time, she saw Dr. Whitethorn flinch.

The curtain separating them from the rest of the ER was yanked open to reveal a very pissed Chief Salvaterre. And he caught her with a hand on the patient’s dick, in the worst way.

“Stop that right now!” He yelled and ran Chaol’s way, then pointed between Aelin and Dr. Whitethorn. “You two, out of my ER!”

The silver-haired doctor raised both hands in surrender. “What did I do?”

“I told you not to cause me any trouble.” Salvaterre pointed at Aelin. “Trouble.”

“But she needed to know!”

“Not to assault my patient!” He was looking at them with raging, bulging eyes. “You’re leaving this hospital right now, and when you come back tomorrow, you’re going to forget about Mr. Westfall’s penis and act normal like you always have. Are we understood?”

Dr. Whitethorn sighed and nodded. Aelin had her chin up, but didn’t argue.

Imogen turned to Aelin, but kept her gaze lowered. "I’m so sorry, Ace."

She wanted to yank those chestnut curls until the crack in Imogen’s voice became a scream.

Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut it. You can have his teeny weenie."

˜˜

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Whitethorn said the umpteenth time after they were kicked out of the hospital. He insisted on giving her a ride, since Aelin didn’t have a car.

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He groaned. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel responsible. Being my daughter and all.”

One corner of her mouth tugged up, but her smile had no brightness. “You really shouldn’t.”

They were in front of her apartment complex, where Dr. Whitethorn stayed the last twenty minutes waiting for her to pack up. She’d have to iron her clothes all over again, but the careless packing was better than spending more time at Chaol’s cursed home.

To be fair, she was mad at Chaol, but she wasn’t surprised he cheated on her.

But Imogen? She was the main source of the sharp pain in Aelin’s chest as she remembered how supportive she was of the breakup, and the last few Friday nights Aelin stayed alone at home because her boyfriend and her best friend were busy. Indeed, they were.

The doctor gave a pointed look to the Playstation under her arm. “What’s that?”

Aelin shrugged. “You know, if you wanna crush a man’s soul, you gotta start with his video game.”

“And his car.” Dr. Whitethorn looked up, something devious sparkling in his eyes. “Where do you keep the sugar?”

Five minutes later, they were standing next to Chaol’s car. She held the jar of sugar as he held Fleetfoot’s leash.

“So, what are we doing?”

“If we put sugar in here.” Dr. Whitethorn pointed at the fuel door, where the gasoline went. “The sugar will turn into caramel and break the car from the inside while he’s driving. The engine will melt like butter. It’s a mess to fix.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, and she felt that sparkle of joy a girl could only feel due to a good revenge. Grinning, she didn’t think twice before filling Chaol’s ugly ass car with sugar.

Dr. Whitethorn was leaning against the car, eyes sparkling as he watched her excitement. “Having fun?”

She let out an evil cackle, already picturing her ex’s face when his car stopped Mala knows where. When Fleetfoot barked, Aelin felt like her dog was telling her she’s a good girl, not the other way around.

”Alright,” Dr. Whitethorn said after they were finished. “Where am I dropping you off now?”

That question took the words out of Aelin’s mouth. She had absolutely nowhere to go.

She either said it out loud or Dr. Whitethorn read it in her face, because he asked, “What about your cousin?”

Aelin grimaced. “He’s allergic to Fleetfoot. But I could make him take some histamines until I find somewhere else.”

“None of that.” He took her bags and pulled her dog’s leash towards his car. “You can stay with me for a week or two. I don’t mind.”

“What?” Aelin asked as her heartbeat got a bit faster.

“I have a spare room for you and a lot of grass for Fleetfoot. It’s the least I can do.”

She took a step further, but eyed him up and down. If Dr. Whitethorn showed any sign that he didn’t want her there, she’d go straight to Aedion’s.

“Come on.” He nodded to his car, face open.

Well, there was no arguing with an invite like that.

˜˜

9 p.m. Aelin wanted to kill 6 p.m. Aelin for even thinking about refusing to stay here.

His spare room? Comfy.

His books on medical imaging? A treasure.

His food? As mouth watering as the chef.

Aelin could stay the rest of her days here if it wouldn’t make her look like a parasite.

Fleetfoot was staying in the bedroom with her tonight, but she’d leave her outside during the day. Mala forbid her clumsy dog breaks something expensive while she’s at work.

Aelin tilted her head at the mirror, examining her own image. It was a sight, the way Aelin looked with that tiny nightgown of lacy and silk.

Too bad Chaol liked his video game better. And traitorous brunettes, apparently.

Tonight wasn’t about him, though. Neither would it be about the cock-breaker bitch she once called a friend.

Maybe a little, actually. There was this one thing she never did just to protect her friend’s feelings, but there was no stopping her now.

Aelin put her tinted lip balm on. The no-makeup makeup look she did looked perfect. Her hair was carefully messed up, every strand in its perfect place for an effortless look. She put her robe on for modesty reasons, of course. Too bad it was a little see-through.

Her own footsteps were the only sound in that hall, and the yellow light slipping through his office’s door guided her.

She knocked on his door once, twice.

“Come in.”

He didn’t take his eyes off his desk the whole time, leaning over his medicine books and laptop. That casual white t-shirt and tousled hair combo was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Aelin leaned against the doorframe, letting that movement alone slip part of her robe open, showing off her curves. She tilted her head and assessed him like he was her prey.

“Hi, Dr. Whitethorn.” Her voice was a sultry caress, just enough to make him look up.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #URDAD

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ladylooch · 6 months ago

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Oh stop! How had I never come across the blurn where David and Mack made it official! She thanks him for coming over the night before, saying she was in a bad place.

How does that happen, did he find out from Connor that she was sick and just turn up? Were they talking on the phone and he insist on coming over??

Warning: descriptions of throwing up/ being sick.

David finds out Mack is sick from Connor, which truthfully is a bit of a relief for him because he hasn’t heard from Mack all day. He knows she is in New York. She just got back two days ago from a trip in the Pacific. He had been feeling uneasy before heading out for a beer with Connor when he had texted her a few different times and she didn’t respond.

So David did what he does best and he softly probed.

“Stell and Lucie have big plans tonight?”

“Ah, they were going to go to a movie, I think. Originally, Mack was going to come, but Luc said she was sick. Lucie wanted to stay home then, but Stella wasn’t gonna let her off the hook.” Conor chuckles.

David carefully keeps his face neutral, but pockets that information for after their drinks.

“That sucks.” He says to Connor, then focuses his attention back on his beer glass to lift it to his lips.

He hangs around with Connor as long as he can stand it which turns out to be two full beers. Connor wants to order a third, but David declines. He lifts his one hip off the chair, taking his wallet out and tossing a few bills onto he table to cover his part of the bill.

“I gotta head out. Still need to pack for heading back home.”

“No problem. Hey, I’ll see ya in the Fall.” Connor stands and they share a big hug. “Stay safe out there in that summer heat, man.”

“I’ll try to.” David smiles at his friend. He feels a slight itch in his throat as he always does saying goodbye to Connor. He is by far the best friend David has ever had, his Iowa boys included. It’s tough to go months without seeing each other, but he knows when they are reunited in the Fall, it will be like no time has passed. It’s what makes him feel so shitty lying to his friend about what he does with his friend’s sister-in-law in private.

Without putting much stock into that thought, David hustles out to his SUV and takes off in the direction of Mack’s place. He parks the car in a visitor spot on the side of her building, then contemplates how he is going to get Ron, her doorman, to let him up without calling for Mack.

Turns out, Ron is worried too.

“Boy, I’m glad to see you here, David.” He says as he opens the door for him. “I haven’t seen Ms. Hischier all day. She didn’t have her usual routine.”

“Yeah, she’s a little under the weather.” David fills in with a slight downwards tilt of his lips.

“Ah. Makes sense. Go take care of your girl.” He winks, then waves David inside and up to the elevator.

David practically stabs the button through the metal door with his antsy energy. He sighs heavily. Fuck, he hopes she is okay. He should have called her… Should have left drinks with Connor sooner too. But it’s not entirely unlike Mack to disappear for a bit. Not even because she is running from something, but she will get in a zone with writing and not be willing to interact until she gets her story right. He loves that tenaciousness and drive in her.

As he walks quick steps down the hall to her unit, his hands feel empty. Maybe he should have stopped at the store and grabbed her some items. But he has no idea what is making her sick.

He knocks on her door then waits. And waits. He knocks again. And waits.

“Mack.” He knocks a third time, louder, hard, so that if she is asleep, there is no way she doesn’t hear it. He listens, pursing his lips, then feels relief shoot through his body when the lock flips.

“Go away.” She moans.

“Whoa.” He murmurs, surprised at the look of her. She is paler than paper, hair falling out of her slacked pony tail. Her clothes are stretched and too worn, hanging off her body in awkward slumps. Mack sighs then falls forward into his chest completely unwillingly. He catches her, feeling how hot her body is. Her lips are chapped around her mouth, white flakes crusting off from them, likely from vomiting.

“Dizzy.” She cries to him, squeezing her eyes shut. He holds the door open with his foot, then curls down to lift her into his arms. She can’t even lift hers around his neck. Instead, she loosely grips his shirt in her fists.

“I’ve got you.” He assures her. He looks around her place, seeing the complete disarray of it, which is so unusual for her. Open drink bottles, electrolyte packs, and slices of toast litter the counter. The pieces are in various stages of eating, with crumbs littering the top.

“I’m gonna throw up.” She says then gags, slapping a hand over her mouth.

David moves her quickly to the bathroom, then settles her knees on the tile. He rubs her back as she heaves over the toilet, but nothing comes out. She spits then clenches up as she heaves again.

“Am I going to die?” She cries to him after she is done. “I have nothing left!” She starts to breathe heavily, tears falling from her eyes.

“No, honey.” He sighs empathetically. He kisses the top of her head, then helps her fall back into his body. Her head slumps against his shoulder, hot forehead on his throat. “You’re going to be okay.” He smoothes her hair back then kisses above her left eyebrow. “Have you taken anything?” She shakes her head no.

“Okay. Do you have anything?” Again her response is no. “I’m going to grab some stuff from CVS okay?”

“No, no, no.” She cries weakly. “Don’t leave.”

“You need medicine at this point, honey. We can’t fight this without it.” She is quiet, eyes closed, still breathing heavy. But then she nods in resolution. “Do you want to go to bed or stay here?”

“Stay. Not done.”

“Okay.” He reaches up for the towel from the rack above, folding it over to make her a pillow for her head. Then he eases out from behind her, letting her back rest on the cool tile. He looks down at her, frowning at how bad she looks. He mentally commits to taking her in if this medicine doesn’t help her within the hour. He has seen what dehydration can do growing up on a farm. He doesn’t want that to happen to her. Not on his watch.

David is gone for twenty minutes. This time he takes her apartment keys with him. He assures Ron both times in and out that Mack is going to be okay. He comes back with various medications, Pedialyte, and crackers. Mack is barely awake when he reaches the bathroom again. He strokes her cheek gently then works on cracking open the Tylenol bottle. First, they need to start with her fever.

He helps her sit up, using the cabinets in the bathroom of her to rest her back on. She swallows them, groaning at how her throat aches from everything. She blinks lazily as David pulls out the bottle of Pepto Bismal. He reads the back, then pours the thick pink liquid into the cup. Mack grimaces as he hands it to her.

“I know.” He nods. “But the liquid will help your throat and you’ll absorb it faster.” She whines but takes it without much more protest. She isn’t in a position to argue with him and he takes advantage of that. “Okay, let’s leave it at those two for now. See how you respond.” He says, putting the rest of the bag on the counter behind her. She reaches for his wrist as he sits back down in front of her.

“Thank you.” Her appreciation for him is quiet but strong. “I…” She pauses, pursing her lips. “Tried to text you back, but…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“It’s okay.” He assures her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here now.”

Despite her condition, a small smile stretches her pale, pink lips up.

“I knew you would come for me.”

David smiles back at her, but she can’t see because she’s lost the battle to keep her eyes open again. He reaches for her hand, rubbing his thumb across her warm skin comfortingly. He doesn’t say anything else to let her rest, but internally his answer back to her is:

Always.

#mackdavid au

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