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fanaticsnail · 7 months

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Remember Me

Hello Shanks fans!

This work was requested by @aishabbbb, which I linked back to here for the full description of the prompt. This is my third (technically fourth because my thoughts ran away with me!) requested work that I've completed.

I'm not currently taking requests, but if you do want to see my writing style depict a specific idea, I will honestly most likely hyper-fixate on it until the idea consumes me if you do ask me nice enough. I do appreciate a good prompt! And seriously, who doesn't love an amnesia trope!

Word Count: 6,636

My Masterlist is here!

Echoes of gruff laughter lingered in the air as tankards of ale clanged against one another. It had been a while since the Red-Hair Pirates had made port and as they viewed a rowdy port full of lively music, contagious laughter and bursting at the seams with a variety of pleasurable company; they could not resist.

This port had been known for some time to be a lawless town, accepting of any journeymen as they resupplied their vessels, sailors selling their wares and even the odd Marine here or there had graced the town with their presence. The World Government paid no mind to the comings or goings, knowing should the port be shut down; their supply of rum would slowly dwindle away.

The Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates sat upon a stool at the rear of the room as he stared into the bottom of his tankard, watching the amber liquid slosh from side to side. He withdrew into himself; his former joy and carefree attitude no longer present on his features this night.

A woman with a painted face sauntered over towards the captain, swaying her hips as she overemphasized her intentions.

“Care for some company, sweetheart?” she asked him in a sultry tone as she took his hand in hers that still clasped the tankard. He made eye contact and smiled from the corner of his mouth before withdrawing the hand from her grip and drew his drinking vessel to his mouth.

“Not today, love,” he said, taking a drink from his tankard, “but I can point you in the direction of someone who would be more than happy to share your time.”

She smiled as Shanks gestured to his senior officer, who had a black bandana featuring a white jolly roger insignia atop his lengthy blonde hair. His expression was one of a displeasing grimace, black glasses concealing more of his irritation behind them.

“See if you can bring a smile to his face, would you?” he laughed slightly as she nodded as she made her way to her next target.

Plonking two fresh pints down on the table before him, Benn Beckman sighed as he sat on a stool facing his Captain; taking one of the pints and gesturing for Shanks to do the same.

“You turned her away?” Beckman questioned his Captain, “I thought you’d enjoy a pretty blonde giving you attention this time.”

“I’m not as open today as I have been any other day to the company of a painted lady,” Shanks laughed in response raising his pint and clanging it against his First-Mate’s, “or any other man or woman you’ve since such sent my way. You know this.”

“Oh,” Beckman uttered, eyes widening before looking down at the table, “I didn’t realise it was today. Sorry Cap’n.”

“Don’t apologise, Beckman,” he smiled at him before drinking from the tankard. He moaned slightly as the cool, bubbling liquid hit his lips and he tasted the bitter flavour of the hoppy amber ale.

“How long has it been since-?” Beckman began, halting his words in search for the more appropriate way of phrasing it.

“How long has it been since my bride was claimed at sea?” Shanks offered to complete his First-Mate’s sentence. Beckman nodded in response, gesturing with his pint for Shanks to offer his answer.

Shanks sighed and leant back in his stool, his back thumping against the small railing at the back.

“This day marks ten years,” he added with a sad smile. A silence fell between them as they reminisced the day the Captain of the Red-Hair Pirate’s wife was lost to him.

After a brief pause, they commenced their drinking as they surveyed the movements of the patrons and crew interacting with one another.

Beckman raised his tankard to his lips and begin to gulp with gusto at the frothing liquid. He trailed his eyes throughout the bar as he did so; looking to Limejuice as he grit his teeth tightly at the blonde woman’s incessant and unrelenting flirtation was thrust upon him.

He continued his assessment of the room before his attention was caught by a group of sailors laughing amongst each other, a woman throwing her had back at the joke uttered by one among them. Benn Beckman spluttered into his tankard, coughing as the amber ale entered into his wind pipe and corrupted his lungs with it. He continued to draw in his breaths while maintaining visual contact on the situation unfolding before him.

“Benn,” Shanks addressed his choking crewman, “you alright?”

The First-Mate continued coughing and spluttering, managing to relieve his lungs of the bitter substance and gasping in a long breath. His pigment all but fled from his face as he continued staring blankly at the bar in horror.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Shanks laughed, placing his tankard down on the table before clapping a hand against the upper arm of Beckman’s shoulder.

“I-I think I have,” Beckman stuttered slightly before bringing his attention to his captain, “look to the bar and tell me if you can see her too, Captain.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, laughing lightly at the confession of his crewman before turning and immediately having the playful expression pulled from his lips.

“You see her?” Beckman asked him in a voice just above a whisper.

The Captain wordlessly rose to his feet, almost toppling the stool over in the process as he made his way to approach the woman. His bride, his queen. His whole world was carelessly and unaware of his presence as the melodical laugh fell from her lips; a sound Shanks never thought he would once again experience.

------------------

You tapped the chest of the older sailor in front of you as you continued to laugh at his joke.

“Harold,” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye, “and that’s the reason you only have three toes on your left foot?”

“Honest to goodness, lass,” he continued to rumble laughter, his eyes twinkling with utter mischievousness, “the bloody crab nearly carved the whole lot off, if not for my quick thinking!”

He imitated the pinching movements of a crab’s claw and crooked his head to make himself look as crab-like as he could, prompting another roar of laughter to erupt between the sailors and yourself.

“Alright, I’ll get you that drink then,” you teetered your laughter and turned to address the bartender you had come to know, “Mary, give us a couple schooners of ale- the pale stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right you are, my love,” she acknowledged your order and began pouring the foamed liquid into two smaller cups.

It had been ten years since you found yourself lying upon the shore with no recollection of who or what you were before your arrival. Thankfully enough, your body was strong. You knew how to hold your own when it came to unwarranted and unreciprocated attention, often brawling with men to assert yourself among them.

As you needed a job to afford food, you managed to bully Captain Harold of the Angelfish Shepherds Fishing Crew and would accompany them out to sea, bringing in several catches a day and selling their many items throughout town. It was only when the sun would disappear behind the horizon, you would come home to the tavern: "Mary’s Resting Track" and make yourself comfortable with your crew at the bar; drinking well into the night.

Just as Mary had finished pouring from the keg, you felt an arm placed upon your left shoulder, prompting you to turn to face it's source.

“My bride,” a tall, red-headed man gasped in a voice above a whisper as he drew you in to place his lips against yours. You squealed at the tender impact, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth at the sudden softness and passion you felt from the unknown man. You pushed on his chest slightly before creasing your brows in confusion.

“Steady on, Sailor. Save it for your wife,” you laughed at him, collecting the two schooners from the bar and placing one into the hands of Captain Harold, “or at least buy me a drink first!”

You laughed, prompting your crew to do the same as they raised their glasses and took a drink. You rose yours to your lips and drank from it, keeping playful eye contact with the sailor before you.

He was handsome, his red hair immediately drawing you in. He had a black cloak shrouding his left arm from view and a three-point claw mark over his left eye. His face held a shocked, sobering expression on it as if he was staring at something extra-terrestrial in make.

“Y-You,” he stuttered out, “Y-You’re.”

The words caught in his throat as he again reached his right hand up to attempt to secure a fallen strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You swatted his hand away from completing the action.

“No,” you said firmly, playfulness leaving your face as your eyebrows collected themselves with a frown, “no one touches my hair. It’s out of bounds to even those who know me, and know me; you do not.”

You swiped his arm away fully away from your face while keeping a warning, reprimanding look on your features. He continued to stare at you, his eyes swelling slightly as they fluttered between your own; pleading with you and searching within them for a small shroud of recognition.

“She’s saving it for her beloved,” your crewman mocked you in a high-pitched tone, bringing humour once again to the room. You laughed at his jest, prompting you to turn away from the red head to scold his imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” you laughed at him, prompting your crewman to again mock you by wobbling his head from side to side and scrunching up his face.

You turned back around to see the man again gazing with a fierce intensity born deeply into your eyes and managed this time to tuck a strand of your hair behind your left ear with his right hand. At this, you brought your own hand firmly up and struck the side of his face, all humour once again leaving you.

At the crisp strike, chaos erupted at the bar. A crew of pirates drew their pistols, pointing it towards you; while your crew of sailors pulled their own from their belt and aimed it at them in response. You kept your eyes completely fixed on the red-haired pirate as his face continued to hold a yearning expression.

“She gave you a warning, Sailor,” your Captain spat at him, “I don’t care how much ale you consumed, you respect the wishes of a lady.”

This seemed to shatter whatever illusion was held on the redhead in front of you as he looked to the assortment of pirates behind him. He held up his hands in defence of himself, taking a step back from his proximity near you and nodding his head in a deep bow.

“Easy, lads,” he smiled, “put them away. We don’t bring out our guns at one little slap.”

The crew focussed their attention on you as you shook your head and creased your brows at his address. He again turned to you, and bowed his head slightly deeper as an apology.

“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean to cross your boundary. It was reactionary, and for that I offer my most sincere apologies.”

Your gaze softened at his words as you gently used your pointer finger to raise his chin to look at you once more.

“Apology accepted on the condition of buying me and my friends a round of drinks,” you scrunched your nose with a small wink. He laughed at your remark, shaking his head and smiling once more.

“I would have to agree, miss. Definitely the next one on me,” he continued to gaze into your eyes as you withdrew your finger from his chin and tapped his nose with it playfully.

-----------------

You didn’t remember him. That must be the only reason you didn’t hoist yourself into his single arm and cling yourself against him. Why you didn’t lean into the kiss and allow him to lace his hand into your hair and relieve your face from it shrouding your vision. The act so intimately solidifying your relationship in the early days, holding onto it as you spoke your wedding vows.

No-one was to ever touch your hair apart from yourself and your beloved were the words you spoke while dressed in your white, lace dress aboard the Red Force; Beckman performing the ceremony all those years ago.

You were married in your youth, relationship blossoming from friendship to something more on the Oro Jackson under the watchful gaze of Gol D. Roger. The subtle glances turned into subtle touches, turning into kisses stolen from within the hidden halls of the Oro Jackson as you would press each other against the walls and roam your hands along your bodies.

He was obsessed with your hair, and with each caress, each embrace, he would find himself absent-mindedly playing with it. You vowed alongside your commitment in matrimony that only he and he alone would be allowed to tuck your hair behind your ear in adoration; and you be the only one permitted to place a kiss atop the crown of his head.

Shanks had to contain himself as his soul screamed within the chasms of his chest to embrace you, to hold you against him and cry out in joy at your return. He didn’t touch another woman in the ten long years it had been since your last departure; the notion turning to ash in his mouth at the mere suggestion. It had only been until recently that Beckman prompted him to seek out someone to relieve his tension, but he felt it would’ve been an insult to the beautiful memories you shared with one another.

You were even in the process of early conversations on what starting a family would look like aboard the Red Force with his assortment of rowdy crew.

You would bicker at having the ship make birth permanently at a port, returning every two weeks to the solid shore as Shanks refused to halt his travels. He wanted you and the children aboard, rearing them alongside his crew; an idea you immediately shot down as you understood infants waking and crying at every interval and the disruption would not be fair to bring to the crew.

Shanks remembered Beckman adding to that conversation with: “We’re already getting sleepless nights from the sounds echoing the halls originating at your quarters!”

He chuckled at the memory before he remembered the fear on your face as the storm threw you overboard in your attempt to raise the sheet from the topmast and secure it in place. The black sky and torrential winds making it impossible to see your form as you struggled against the waves. He didn’t see what happened, only noticing your departure once they successfully made it through the storm and into the central eye of it.

The roar-like scream rumbling throughout the chest of the Red-Haired Captain still reverberating within the ears and memories of the entire crew as they recollect it every year. The pain shared amongst them as their captain bore his grief openly; drowning in rum every night before Beckman pulled him out of his rut with the reprimand: “this is not what she would have wanted.”

It mattered not what happened to him from that point. The pain of loosing you was far greater than any earthly injury could bring forth. He didn’t even bat an eye as his arm was claimed by a great Sea-Beast; consuming his flesh within it’s belly. He was more upset by the fact his golden wedding band perished at its disappearance.

And here you were, not a scratch upon you; laughing as if you had not a care in the world.

You had no memory. That was the only explanation Shanks had as he gazed lovingly at you, drinking your free ale at his expense.

----------------

You shook your head at a comment made by one of your crewmen as they suggested to hold a drinking competition between the red-haired pirate’s crew and your own.

“I don’t think I have enough booze in the house for that,” Mary laughed from behind the bar.

You smiled at her comment, turning back around to see the far off look in the red-head’s eyes.

“You know,” you nudged him with your shoulder, bringing his attention back towards you, “for someone that leads in lips first, you’re awfully quiet.”

He chuckled at your comment, expression softening but with a hidden depth you couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m not usually like this,” he scrunched his nose up with a smile.

“Rough time at sea, then?” you asked him, gesturing to Mary with two fingers to indicate your intentions of purchasing the next round for you and the red-head.

“Not particularly, its just-,” his words trailed off, prompting you to gaze your eyes; flittering them between his own two deep brown orbs before he took a deep breath and looked forward at his crew interacting with your own.

“You gestured for the good stuff, right?” she asked, placing two short, round glasses down on the counter; spiced rum swishing in the base as she did so.

“That I did, love,” you replied, placing down your berry on the counter and taking the glasses from it. You went to place the glass into the red-head Captain’s hands, noticing it was already occupied with a half-drunk tankard of ale.

“You keen on a rum?” you asked him, bringing his gaze up. He gasped out a quick hum, raising the tankard and downing the remainder of his ale with haste and placing the empty vessel atop the bar. He rose his hand to accept your offer and his fingers brushed against your own as he claimed the drink from your hand.

He looked down to your collar bone and noticed a single gold ring hung from a piece of fine leather around it. He furrowed his brows at it as to inspect it from his great distance.

“The gold band around your neck,” he gestured down to your left hand, “are you married?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sailor,” you laughed at him, “I was found with it.”

You sipped at the rum and creased your brows as the heavy alcohol entered your system.

“I apologise for slapping you,” you uttered, “I, uh. I made a promise, you see. I don’t really know what about or to whom, truthfully.”

He hummed at your comment, fixing his eyes on your face as you spoke. He trailed his eyes over your body, looking at you with an expression completely unreadable. Somewhere between: bewildered, surprised, great sorrow, relief, curiosity and apprehension.

“I don’t actually have a lot of that – knowledge, I mean,” you reiterated with a smile, “For the better part of ten years, I’ve been building back what I think I used to be like. I have no idea, though. I could’ve been some prissy young lass with a string of twelve children; or some standoffish, uptight cow-.”

“-You were never like that,” the red-head interrupted you, prompting you to snap your gaze up to meet with his.

“Do you know me, Sailor?” you asked him, your brows creasing together.

“Shanks,” he corrected you, “my name is Shanks.”

“Alright, Shanks,” you corrected yourself, “Do you know me?”

He sighed, drinking a small amount of liquid from his glass and looking to the rowdy crowd as their boisterous laughter echoed throughout the walls.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m going to need two things,” he said, downing the remainder of alcohol from his glass in one quick swell, “another drink, preferably a bottle this time.”

You laughed at him, before asking; “and the other thing?”

“Privacy,” he uttered with a small hint of sadness. You expressed concern within your eyes before patting him on the back and rubbing small circles in comfort to him.

You weren’t sure why you brought your hand up to comfort him, it seemed almost reactionary. A natural instinct of familiarity; organic.

“Alright, Shanks,” you began, making eye contact with Mary once more, “I’ll buy you a bottle under one condition.”

“And what might that be?” he chuckled warmly.

“That you give me a small glint of information before we proceed to the beach,” Mary placed the bottle on the counter and you placed down more berry in response, “I need to know if you are threatening me with a good time, or if you plan on executing me to reclaim some debt.”

“Were we enemies?” you asked him, bearing your gaze at the wall behind the bar.

“Sometimes,” Shanks shrugged his shoulders, prompting you to snap your gaze back to his. He erupted a full belly laugh from his diaphragm at your reaction. He let out a deep sigh before he suggested; “let’s make to the beach and I’ll fill you in.”

Mary smiled, looking between the two of you before the beckoning of Captain Harold and several bottles of the cheapest rum called her from her place before you.

You nodded, neglecting to collect glassware while you grasped the neck of the bottle; not once removing your eyes from the red-head next to you.

You made your way down towards the beach, walking in step with Captain Shanks, as the crew bid him goodnight. You noticed several members of his crew gawked at you as if they had seen a phantom or something of the make.

Once gazing into the open sea, the Captain plonked himself unceremoniously on the sand, legs spread wide as he sat with his knees bent upwards. You smiled at him before crouching down to sit beside him, uncorking the fresh rum bottle in your hands and offering it to him. He smiled as he took it from your grasp and brought it to his lips.

You trailed your eyes over his form, trying to conjure a whisp of memory from the recesses of your mind. After having no image return to you, you rose up your voice.

“So-,” you began, only to be cut off my Shanks.

“You were – are,” he started to relay, laughing at the fact he spoke over you. You nodded to him to continue.

He paused, sighing before again voicing what he was attempting to confess to you.

“It’s been ten years to the day since I lost you,” he sighed, looking down to the sand near his knees, “and not a day went by that my thoughts were not drawn to you.”

You looked at him, puzzled at what he was telling you.

“Your gold band,” he gestured with his hand towards your neck grasping the bottle, keeping his eyes fixed on the sand below him, “was gifted to us by our former Captain we served under: Gol D. Roger. He had a lot of love for you and I.”

“The King of the Pirates?” you asked him, eyes wide before adding, “and us. What do you mean, us?”

He sighed again, this time bringing his head to slouch back as he gazed at the dark and cloudless sky above you.

“I can’t tell you what happened right now. It’s-,” he paused between the words, prompting you to inch forward and look at his face. He turned his face away from you as you attempted to gaze into his eyes; “-it’s too painful today.”

You frowned and instead reached down to the hand placed upon his hand, and swiftly reclaimed the rum bottle from within his grip. He turned his head towards you at this and trailed his eyes up to yours as you placed the lip of the bottle and downed two large gulps of the liquid. You squeezed your eyes as the strong alcohol burned its way down your throat and into the pit of your belly.

He laughed at your actions, finally the forlorn expression eclipsed by glee.

“You haven’t changed,” he uttered, reaching his hand up to your hair before recoiling it back again. You watched him do this, as processing the boundary you expressed earlier still lingered within his thoughts. Instead of reaching your hair with his hand, he fell his grasp to your hands as they held the rum bottle.

“Is there truly nothing you remember of me?” He asked you, looking down to where his single hand rested upon your own. You furrow your brows and search your mind through closed eyes, willing yourself to remember any aspect about him. You hissed out a growl in frustration as you found no recollection.

“I want to,” you whispered to him, “you seem a decent kind of man, if not a little forward with the kiss and all.”

He chuckled at your comment, his laughter building to a rumble. His shoulders began to quake lightly as his laughter died and morphed into soft sobs. He attempted to conceal them from you by raising his hand up from where it rested atop his knee and turned to face away from you. You were overwhelmed slightly by this man becoming wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, bringing yourself to rest on your knees as you pulled yourself closer to him.

You opened your arms and shimmied your legs forward, hoisting them over his bent knees and found a comfortable spot on the sand to rest between them. Your arms circled his shoulders as you felt his right arm wrap beneath your waist and hook up your spine. He held his face flush with your stomach and squeezed his hand to grasp at your body as if you were to slip away at any moment. You felt his shoulders begin to relax into your embrace while inhaling your scent. You looked down the top of his head before absentmindedly bringing your lips down to place a chaste kiss against his hair. He flinched slightly at this impact, tension building in his shoulders before he slumped them forward.

You heard him sigh into your diaphragm as you did so, bringing his face away from its hidden position against you and resting his chin atop your chest to bring his sights to look up at you. For some reason, this man as he held you in an intimate proximity did not have you thrusting him away from your with excessive force as you did with so many others.

You unwrapped your left hand from around his shoulders and set it against his cheek. His youthful smile returning as you caressed him. You warmly smiled in response, feeling the gruff of his stubble against the palm of your hand before he turned his head and placed a brief kiss atop your inner hand.

“I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to getting you to fall in love with me once again,” he whispered against your hand before turning his head to meet your gaze, “this I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the comment with a small smile toying at your mouth.

“I gather my undying devotion is overwhelming for you,” he chuckled, prompting you to move your hand away from his face and place both hands atop his shoulders.

“It is, to be perfectly candid with you,” you giggled at him, smoothing your arms over his shoulders and tracing circles against them with your thumbs, “I have tried everything to bring a small fragment of the person I once was to the forefront of my being.”

He trailed his hand from its place at the small of your back and rested it atop your left hip, grasping it firmly within his palm and kneading the flesh beneath it.

You brought your attention to the gold ring on your leather necklace as you held onto his shoulder, narrowing your eyes at the metal slightly; pleading within your own mind to bring forth any memory of the man cradling himself against you.

“To put myself in your hideous sandals,” you uttered, prompting him to quirk his head slightly to the side, “you found me, and it’s almost as if you did so only to lose me again.”

“Aye, it is,” he nodded, looking down again and meeting his eyes with the flesh of your forearm. He ghosted his lips over your left arm, dragging it higher within the crook of your elbow. Your hair follicles stood on edge under his ministrations, as he continued to not kiss your skin; but rather feel the way your body tasted below his lips.

“And you looked lovely in my highly practical sandals, last time you wore them,” he smirked his lips against your flesh before placing a kiss against it. He trailed kisses varying in intensity back down your forearm and against your wrist, prompting your breath to hitch in your throat.

That comment was it. After a variety of interpersonal and intimate words shared regarding your prior relationship with the man beneath you; it was the ugly sandals that brought a flitter of memory to grace behind your eyes. Any other comment; the hand in your hair from earlier, the wedding ring gifted by Gol D. Roger before he was executed, anything else; it was the ugly sandals he found in the run of the mill town that he purchased and, much to your horror, wore in public.

You remember taking them from his room and fleeing above deck with them in an attempt to throw them overboard to rid yourself of their ugliness forever, only to have your waist caught by your husband as he twirled you around to face the deck again with playful reprimand in the process of doing so.

At the request of your husband, you placed them on your feet and experienced the absolute comfort they bore you; almost shrieking in disgust at yourself for relishing in the feeling; as he belly-laughed at you.

“We’ll get you some at the next port” you heard his voice within your mind, “then we can be matching.”

You remembered him wiggling his eyebrows, prompting you to place your closed fist against his chest and tap him slightly.

“We can even get tiny little ones for when you relent and let me put a child in you,” you remembered his tone, causing a blush to rise presently to your cheeks.

“Something the matter, love?” Shanks' voice brought you from your singular memory and back into the present moment you were sharing so intimately with your husband.

No other memory sprang forward, only a few whispers of certain smells: sea water, spiced rum and stagnant drinking water with the natural smell men aboard a boat. You circled your arms around his shoulders and again pressed him against yourself, smothering his face against your sternum between your breasts. Your mouth fell slack as you pressed your face into his hair and inhaled the aroma of the fragrance he favoured to utilise in his red locks: sandalwood and ginger prominent with his natural scent lingering beneath it.

You began to feel a rough flurry of taps from the man beneath you as he indicated for you to release him. His laughter was unrestrained as his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“As happy as I am to once again have my face pressed between your breasts,” he heaved his laughter, “I do require air to sustain me.”

He brought his eyes to meet yours as you stared your eyes on the crashing waves of the beach as the tide began to come in further. Your eyes remained wide as you continued to will a semblance of recollection to come to you.

Once you offered no rebuttal at his comment, he again reached his hand up towards your hair only to halt it once more.

“What is it?” he asked you, now placing his right hand atop your left arm, holding it lovingly.

“I-,” you began, the words now halting between your lips. You brought your eyes down to look down and you continued to flitter them between each of his own.

“I-,” you again said, leaning in closer to him; prompting him to have a sense of seriousness overcome his features, “-will never own a pair of those ugly sandals.”

Immediately his seriousness fell away and his face split into a wide grin as his laughter rumbled within his chest one more.

“Yes, you always hated them. I think they’re wonderful,” he gasped while stifling his laughter. You continued to hold his shoulders as his laughter teetered off into a dull rumble.

“I tried to throw them overboard,” you uttered almost inaudibly, “and you threatened me with buying more of them.”

“You remember,” he gasped out a breathy sigh, “you remember me.”

He brought his torso up further to bring your foreheads to rest against each other. He nuzzled your nose slightly at the impact and squeezed his eyes shut with delight. He began to lean in to graze your lips with his, only to be halted by your gentle touch to bring him back.

“I don’t remember anything else aside from your disgusting sandals,” you whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them again and looking at him half-lidded, “and the way you looked at me when you suggested we begin trying for a child.”

A small gasp left his lips as a single tear fell from his right eye. Immediately he pulled your head against his further, seeking out your lips with his own. He moved his hand from its place at your hip to snake around your waist and hold you firmly against his lap. You felt him moan against your lips as you reciprocated his enthusiasm by lacing your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly at the new growth at the back of his neck.

As your proximity was so flush against one another, you had no choice but to press your full weight against him as he laid with his back against the sand; his hair sprawling out atop the course surface. He expertly maneuvered his right leg beneath yours without breaking the kiss, gasping into it as he darted his tongue out to meet with your own.

A soft whimper flung itself from your lips as he relentlessly attacked your mouth with his own; flittering deep and hungry kisses while trying to taste as much of you as he could with his tongue. You unlaced your fingers from his hair and raked them down his shoulders to his chest, massaging the hard muscle beneath them as you continued in your exploration. He gently rose his hand from its place around your waist and drew itself beneath your shirt and groaned when he felt your tender flesh beneath the material.

Placing your right hand below his cloak, you raked your fingers further along his ribcage and drew them up towards his left arm – halting your movement as you found none residing there.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling him smirk against your lips. You attempted to break from the kiss, only to feel his hand climb higher beneath your blouse and lie flat against your spine between your shoulder blades and continue passionately exploring your lips.

“Shanks,” you murmured a warning reprimand against his lips. He smiled while maintaining his lips against your own, feeling the soft pearls of his teeth as they made contact with your mouth. He continued to chase your lips each time you attempted to flee from his embrace.

You brought your hands up to ball the material of his white shirt within your fists and held him further against yourself, prompting him to let down his guard as he whimpered into your lips at your sudden domination. As soon as you felt him relinquish a small spectrum of control, you pushed hard on his collar bones and pried him from your lips. He first groaned in frustration before his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. He collapsed against the ground, prompting you to roll your body from above him to onto your own back in the sand as his laughter became contagious.

And as earlier, the heaving of your shoulders in fits of laughter evolved into heavy sobs from the both of you as you mourned the time lost between you.

“My bride,” Shanks called from beside you as he placed his right hand upon his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions.

“Yes, my groom,” you said as more of a whimper than an address.

He rolled over onto his side and hovered his face above yours, as the tears freely fell down the faces of the two of you; the moonlight cascading over your lover’s hair. Hesitantly, he reached his right hand up to your hair and slowly brought some loose strands from your face and wove it behind your ear. He sighed in relief as he watched you close your eyes and lean into his touch, taking your quivering lip between your teeth as you did so.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he whispered with a slight hitch of his voice. You reopened your eyes to watch him smiling through his sorrow. You returned his expression and caressed his chest and ghosting your fingertips over his left shoulder.

“And you are one arm less than I remember,” you beamed a wide smile and giggled a little at your prod. He joined you in your laughter and pressed a chaste kiss against your hair before rising to his feet and offering you his right hand to hoist you up to meet him. You took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet, before he dipped his shoulder down to make contact with your waist and lifted you over his right shoulder. He secured you in place with a crisp slap upon your left ass-cheek as he effortlessly crouched down to retrieve the forgotten, half-drunk rum bottle. He rose again to his feet and began to walk with you over his shoulder, using his teeth to uncork the rum bottle and spitting it against the sand.

“Is this quite necessary?” you asked him, mock annoyance in your tone.

He laughed and took a long swig from the rum bottle and gasped in joy as the liquid burnt its way down his throat.

“Not only is it necessary,” he called to you over his left shoulder, “it is also compulsory.” You laughed at him as he almost jigged back towards the tavern, him joining you in your laughter upon arriving at its steps and flinging open the door with his feet.

The arrival of the two of you had cheers erupting and reverberating from every corner and crevasse of the wooden building. Tankards were thrust into the air, foam sloshing carelessly from the top and onto the floor; much to the many protestations of Mary.

Shanks placed you on the floor after setting aside the bottle of rum atop a cylindrical raised bar table.

“Alright lads,” he addressed the room, “let me reintroduce you to my wife!”

He extended his right hand out for you to place your left hand within. As soon as you did so, he effortlessly spun you into him, your left arm laced over your front as he cradled you against himself.

You looked up to his face, your neck laying against his shoulder as he brought his lips down to meet your own for the first time publicly in a decade. Applause, shouts of glee and delight, more sloshing of ale and verbal reprimands from the tavern keeper echoed the hall as you smiled against the lips of your beloved. Your husband, and his bride.

#one piece #opla #x reader #shanks opla #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #one piece live action #opla fic #amnesia trope #my playlist broke me #angst #angst with a happy ending

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farfromstrange · 7 months

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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then.

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow.

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this.

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare.

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much?

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back.

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now.

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day.

One day.

Three hundred days, all wasted in one.

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one.

And then it just… ended.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself.

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own.

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back.

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands.

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up.

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again.

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes.

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up.

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it.

But God, you were so in love.

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up.

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him.

You killed each other.

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it.

He was your first true love.

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once.

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter.

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget.

You need to forget Matt Murdock.

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #angst #no happy ending #songfic #is it over now by taylor swift #elektra natchios #frank castle #frank castle x reader #x gender neutral reader #elektra natchios x matt murdock #cheating trope #lizzi writes #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines

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destieltropecollection · 13 days

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 1: Angst with a happy ending

,,Me too." | @tami-ryver

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1,748

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Hunt Gone Wrong, Werewolves, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Major Character Injury, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace (Supernatural), AngstAngst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood, Fictober 2023

Summary: The silence is unbearable. Not even insects can be heard in the darkness, not even moon shines down on their path. The only source of light they have are the flashlights they took from the Impala. Armed with silver knives and the demon knife, they walk deep in the darkness of the forest, in search of the place where the massacre took place.

I Want You to Know That I'm Awake (I Hope That You're Asleep) | @starstiels

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2,192

Main Tags/Warnings: depressed!dean (heavily implied), post-canon, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, first kiss, selectively mute dean, mental health issues, panic attack

Summary: Dean Winchester wants to cry. He wants to scream and yell and sob until his lungs give out and his eyes sting like needles.

The Covert Identity (WIP) | @rowanspn

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,623 (22,561 updated)

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Florist Castiel (Supernatural), Crime Boss Lucifer (Supernatural), Kid Fic, Kid Jack Kline, Blood and Violence, Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Dean Winchester loves his job; working as a secret agent has its perks. There is nothing quite like the thrill of saving people and hunting down criminals. And with his baby brother Sammy at his side, it’s a family business. However, when he and Sam are assigned to the case of Lucien Shurley, a suspected crime lord with a rap sheet a mile long, Dean’s semi-predictable life takes a turn for the unprecedented and over complicated. He and Sam must go undercover to investigate Lucien’s own family, his brothers Gabriel and Castiel, and his young son, Jack, to find out just how involved they truly are. As the stakes rise and the body count follows, it is up to Sam and Dean to solve the greatest mystery of their careers; who is Castiel Novak and what does he know?

he's gonna take my files | @autisticandroids

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,191

Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Saves Cas from the Empty, Afterlife, Triangulation of Desire, Memories, Trauma, Hurt Cas, Canon Divergent, Canon Remix, Warnings in Author's Note

Summary: Dean goes to the Empty, where Cas is floating through his memories.

when doves cry | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6,821

Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel, Season/Series 09, Not Canon Compliant, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: When Dean asks Cas to leave the bunker, all he can do is hope that the fallen angel is safe and doing okay. But when he reaches out to Cas to check in, he's surprised by the anger he's met with. Forced to consider whether or not he made the right call, Dean must reckon with how to fix things between him and the man he worries he may have lost forever.

Forest Fever | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,586

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 12x10, Monster of the Week, Hallucinations, Injured Castiel, Protective Dean, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Praying, Angel Grace, Humor (mostly in the epilogue)

Summary: After the crushing events of episode 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", Castiel is low on grace and morale. In an attempt to restore at least one of these two, Sam and Dean take him on a hunt. Things start going wrong when Sam gets injured and Cas seemingly disappears. They get worse when Dean turns from hunter to prey for something feeling far more at home in this dark, rainy forest than he does.

Send Me a Postcard | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 10,387

Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel is Saved from the Empty, First Kiss, References to Depression, Bisexual Dean Winchester

Summary: Shortly after his rescue from the Empty, Cas hits the road late one night without telling anyone he's leaving. Two weeks later, a postcard arrives for Dean.

whisper your name without making a noise | @deancaskiss

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 12,577

Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Muteness, Mute Dean Winchester, traumatic mutism, Mutism, Major Character Undeath, Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel, Pining, POV Dean Winchester, Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Rough Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Drinking to Cope, Drinking Alcohol, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Getting Together, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 15, Fix-It, Character Death Fix, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, The Empty (Supernatural), the handprint, Dean Winchester's Jacket

Summary: Losing Cas to the Empty felt like Dean was losing a piece of himself. I love you, Cas had said; and then he was gone before Dean got the chance to tell Cas how he felt. But Cas might have taken more than just Dean’s heart when the Empty ripped him away. Cas is gone, and so is Dean’s voice. Traumatic mutism: according to Sam and Eileen, Dean had been through a traumatic experience losing Cas and now he was mute. So, Eileen taught Dean sign language, and Sam bought notebooks for Dean to write out his thoughts. But Dean never stopped aching for Cas; praying to him every day and searching for a way to bring Cas home. When Dean finds a way into Empty, it’s a fight like he’s never fought before. Scream, Dean, scream, the Empty taunts. But Dean can’t stop until he’s rescued Cas, kissed his angel breathless, and told Cas the truth about how he feels—voice or no voice.

Taking one for the team | @artichokegarden

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16,846

Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Stanford Era, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Kink Negotiation, Kink Discovery, Praise Kink, BDSM, Spanking, Whipping, Bath Sex, Hair Washing, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Abusive John Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Porn with Feelings

Summary: Cas blinked slowly. “Your father sent you to his friend’s sex club as bait for a sex monster. And you want me to find your lost memories of this for you?”

“Don’t you start, Cas. We need to find out what happened, or those women are as good as dead. If I wanted to listen to a load of crap about dad’s parenting choices, I’d have told all this to Sam in the first place, instead of biting his head off for asking. Let’s just agree he wasn’t winning father of the year for this one and let it go, okay?”

When women start going missing from sex clubs, Cas investigates Dean's memories of a Stanford-Era case and finds some secrets there that could help their relationship in the present.

this bitter nightcall | @abi-cosmos

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 32,514

Main Tags/Warnings: Djinn curse, Jealous Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, Unreliable narrator, Heavy angst, Implied Castiel/Mick Davies, Inappropriate smut, Dean doesn't know what's real, Love confessions, Post-season 12, Very brief almost major character death, Hurt/Comfort, Case fic, True love's kiss

Summary: Dean gets touched by a djinn, but it's all cool. Or, is it?

Forced to confront his desires, Dean's grip on reality slips. Leaving Castiel, Sam, and Mick Davies trying to find a way to save him before it’s too late.

If only they knew that the cure is right in front of them.

Gracefully Yours, Always | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 39,815

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Episode: S09E10, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Temporary Blindness, Angelic Grace, Hurt Dean

Summary: As Dean hopelessly waits for Gadreel and Crowley to be expelled from Sam’s body, he and Castiel are unexpectedly ambushed by Malachi and the remainder of his soldiers, seeking retribution for what Castiel has done to his faction. Because Castiel gets gravely injured in the fight, Dean resists the urge to isolate himself, and instead returns to the bunker with his friend and Sam, determined to put an end to the fallen angel madness, and also, perhaps, try to understand why, after everything he’s done, Castiel still stands by his side.

Still Waters Run Deep | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 41,168

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent After s15e09 The Trap, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Castiel, Mark of Cain, Aquaphobia, Claustrophobia, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester

Summary: In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak.

It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood.

In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate.

Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

When I Knew You | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 54,272

Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Time Travel, Bartender Dean Winchester, Editor Castiel, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Incorrect Science, Social Anxiety, Sharing a Bed

Summary: Shortly after moving into his new house, Dean Winchester finds a strange, flickering light in the middle of his living room. When he touches it, he’s transported two years into the past, to the days when a man named Castiel Novak lived in the house.

Dean’s own time pulls him back eventually, but the gateway to the past keeps appearing, and Dean keeps visiting Cas — sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. They soon fall in love, but there is no possible future for them, for one simple reason: in a few weeks, Cas is supposed to die.

As the date of Cas’ death draws closer, will Dean be able to save his life? And if he does… will the two of them find a way to be together in the same time?

On the flip side | Joysprings (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 64,357

Main Tags/Warnings: Lgbtq, Polyamorous characters, Blood and Injury, Time Jumps, Neurodivergence, Autistic Castiel, Emotional Abuse, Pilot Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Grief and Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Domestic Destiel, Dean and Cas are dad's, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending I Promise,

Summary: A little over a year after airforce test pilot Dean Winchester's plane crashes and goes missing, its finally found. Castiel Winchester, Dean's widowed husband reflects on his grief and his memory re visits the most significant points of their relationship throughout their time together and how they shaped the present. The whole family is left to deal with the resurfaced trauma from the initial accident, and will finally learn about what truly happened, uncovering new and unexpected answers. This is their journey.

(Story will alternate chapters from the present to past time stamps)

the weight of your bones | Chi_Yagami (Ao3)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 66,780

Main Tags/Warnings: afterlife, soulmates (sort of), canon divergent, hunter Dean Winchester, human Castiel, kid Jack Kline, angst with a happy ending, touch-starved, flashbacks/discussions of death, panic attacks

Summary: After rescuing his brother's fiancée from a house fire he doesn't survive, Dean Winchester finds himself in Heaven. He's immediately suspicious—after all, with everything he's done during his time on Earth... there's no way he deserves to be here. He lives in a beautiful neighborhood right down the street from his parents, in an amazing house that he shares with his new soulmate, Cas—a man Dean's never even met. Despite Dean's best efforts to keep his distance, Cas seems determined to make their new relationship work in the afterlife.

However, Cas doesn't understand... he isn't aware of Dean's past. Cas doesn't know that all Dean's good for is destroying relationships and ganking monsters. Cas doesn't know that Dean once got an innocent civilian killed on a case, doesn't know of the cave that haunts Dean's dreams. People are made of memories they bury or live by, and Dean chose to bury his a long time ago.

But as Cas chips away at Dean's resistance... the once-forgotten bones begin to surface.

When Tomorow Comes | @teeparadigm67

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 78,994

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Lots of Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty (kind of), Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean Winchester is Saved, First Time, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, Dean Winchester in the Empty, First Kiss, The World is Saved, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester's Taste in Music, Sharing a Bed, Frottage, Men of Letters Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Happy Ending, Alternate Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15

Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they're already were too late.

Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark.

All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten.

The Unbroken | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 126,551

Main Tags/Warnings: zombie apocalypse, bed sharing, hurt and comfort, angel castiel, protective dean, soft dean, endverse, bamf castiel, bottom dean

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

Fortunate Son (WIP) | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 128,610

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Vietnam War, Character Death (but no MCD), Blood and Injury, Counterculture, Recreational Drug Use, Mutual Pining, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Coming Out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Getting Back Together, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary: The year is 1966, the place is Kansas, and Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are falling in love. But with Castiel under the thumb of his conservative parents and Dean set to ship out to Vietnam, there is no possible future for them.

As Castiel’s life turns upside down and the hell of Vietnam threatens to swallow Dean’s soul, it will take everything they have to find their way back to each other. But some things are worth waiting — and fighting — for.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #angst with a happy ending #destiel #fanfic #supernatural

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universallyenthusiastsage · 22 days

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P.O.V: Villain finds out Hero's burden.

————

"What are you doing here?" Villain asked, walking behind Hero. Villain held an umbrella over Hero to stop them from getting more wet then they were already.

"What do you mean? Why I'm in a graveyard?" Hero asked rhetorically with a slight scoff, kneeling beside a grave. "That's question seems more fitting for you."

"I asked first." Villain said with venom in their tone, glaring at Hero.

Hero went quiet. It wasn't every day that they got to open up to someone, let alone to their mortal enemy.

"Well? Cat got your tongue?" Villain raised an eyebrow.

"Shut it. I'm not opening up to you." Hero responded, only briefly turning away from the gravestone to glare at Villain.

"I didn't say you had to open up, I asked why you were here. Surely, you don't know 53 people personally." Hero's eyes widened as Villain pointed out how many graves Hero had visited and left flowers at.

"And you intend to visit about 20 more, based on the amount of flowers left in the bouquet." Villain smirked, knowing they had cornered Hero to make them speak.

Hero hesitated for a second before speaking, "No... You're right. I didn't know these people personally."

"Then why are you paying your respects?"

"Because I killed these people."

Villain froze, completely shocked by Hero's words. They had never seen Hero even raise a finger to the worst of the civilians, let alone end someone's life. Hero was an angel, at least, that's what Villain thought.

"Why? How?" Villain asked, watching Hero stand up.

"They got caught in the cross-fire of my fights." Villain's eyes softened. Hero was still an angel, but one ridden with guilt for something they couldn't control.

"It's not your fault, you know..." Villain's tone raised, and they spoke slower, as if talking to a scared child.

"...what?" Hero didn't understand. They had killed them. They had gotten to reckless when fighting villains, and killed these people.

"It's not your fault. You didn't kill these people. Why are you holding yourself responsible?" Villain placed a hand on Hero's shoulder, silence filling the air, interrupted by only the sound of rain hitting the ground and umbrella.

"Because I did. I was to reckless with my power, I should have been more careful, I could ha—"

"Hero." Villain cut them off. "You couldn't control it. It's not your fault. You were doing your job. Think about it. If you were more cautious, you couldn't have taken down some of the greatest villains, like Supervillain. These minor losses were simply the effects of saving many more people in the future. So please, calm down, and stop blaming yourself." Villain ended their speech with a sigh. "Please."

"...I can't promise anything." Hero responded, avoiding Villain's gaze.

"Then try."

Hero smiled softly, nodding as they took Villain's hand off their shoulder, interlocking their hands.

"Alright, thank you, Villain."

Then, a realization dawned on Hero.

"Why are you here?" Hero said with skepticism. "And how did you know how many graves I visited?"

"U-uhm... haha... so..." Villain tried to squirm out of Hero's hand, but god were they strong.

This time, it was Hero's turn to raise an eyebrow and smirk.

"Looks like I've got a little stalker on my hands."

#hero x villain #creative writing #hero x villain prompts #story prompt #fanfiction prompts #oc prompt #writing #writing trope #daily prompt #angst with a happy ending #light angst #angst #fluff

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 year

Note

hii could u do xavier x reader where they’re roommates but enemies yk and they have a heated fight and when theyre sleeping reader wakes up in the middle of the night and wakes up xavier to ask for hugs/cuddles cuz readers cold

yes!!

PLEASE

pairings: Xavier thorpe x reader summary: ^^^ warnings: Swearing

the only reason you were stuck with a boy for a roommate was because there was no space for more girls, and seen as though Xavier didn't have one, they put you with him.

you weren't thrilled at sharing with him. mostly because the first thing he said to you was that he could've had been put with a better looking girl.

as soon as Thornhill left the room that day, you started having a go at him, calling him an asshole and that he should grow up.

from then on you both would start fights at each other and could never get along.

and today wasn't any different

when you first got to the school, you two made rules.

Don't go on each other's side of the room.

Don't look through each other's things.

Don't have people around when the other is there

no bringing sexual partners and/or have sex in the room at all

they were simple, yet important rules.

yet he broke 2 of them.

you came into the room, finding him looking through your desk

"what the fuck are you doing?" you asked him

"looking for my notebook!" he replied annoyed

"why would I have your notebook?" you questioned, standing in front of him

"I don't know, so I can stop drawing spiders to crawl on you?" he rolled his eyes. he turned around and kept looking

"stop! you're messing up my desk. I don't have your fucking notebook" you pulled him away from your stuff with all your strength

"I know you have it!" he yelled at you

"oh wow. have you looked in your bag? on your desk? how about under your bed?"

"No, I haven't" he said sarcastically

"well maybe you left it in a classroom. because I don't have it"

"I know you do!" he shouted, going and ripping your blanket off your bed, he looked behind your pillows and in the draws of your nightstand

"Xavier! you have no right to look through my things like that! I don't have your fucking book!" you yelled

"where is it, where did you hide it?" he questioned accusingly

"I don't know, because I don't have it" you replied through gritted teeth

"I'll find it sooner or later, so tell me" he huffed

"have you tried looking up your ass? maybe it's up there" you tilted your head with a smug smile on your face

"you think you're so funny" he glared at you

"I think I'm hilarious" you grinned

"where is it?" he asked again

"where's what? you're humour? maybe it's up your ass too" you stated amusingly

you walked to his side of the room, looking through his desk like he did yours

"what are you doing?" he questioned you

"looking for my necklace" you stated simply

"why the fuck would I have your necklace?" he scoffed with a slight chuckle

"I don't know, why would I have your notebook?" you smirked

"cause you have a reason to take it. why would I ever take your necklace?" he reasoned

"what's my reason for taking your drawings?" you laughed

"so I'll stop scaring you with spiders and insects" he shrugged

"I'll admit it, It's annoying, but not enough to take them from you" you remarked

"I don't believe you" he spoke proudly, going back to search through your things

"Stop!" you boomed

"I won't stop until I find it!"

you started looking through his things again, copying him. you started throwing things on the floor as he did it to your things

"stop!" he shouted

"I won't stop until I find it!" you mocked him

"don't do that" he fought, stopping what he was doing and stood with you, towering over your body

"do what?" you said inncoently

"mock me!" he answered

"oh, I would never" you shook your head

"I don't need this. my notebook better be on my bed when I get back" he huffed, grabbing his phone and headphones

"unless you think it's going to appear out of thin air, I don't that's going to happen" you crossed your arms

"I don't care how it gets there, but it better get there when I'm back" he rolled his eyes, leaving the room.

you sighed and decided to clean your side of the room from the mess he made. you made your bed and looked out the window, seeing it start to snow.

----

"it's not here. why is it not here?" Xavier snapped

"I told you it won't appear out of nowhere" you sighed, lying on your bed, reading

"you really enjoy seeing me stressed, don't you" he questioned

"I don't really care, but yes, It is amusing to witness" you smiled, turning the page, not looking up at him.

there was a knock at the door

"someone's knocking on the door" you stated like it was the most obvious thing ever

"really" he spoke sarcastically

"I believe so, yes"

Xavier went to the door, seeing Ajax with a familiar looking book

"you left this in the quad" he handed the book and smiled at him

"huh" you scoffed "would you look at that"

"thanks, Ajax" Xavier said grumpily.

the two spoke for a few moments before Ajax left to go to sleep

"have anything to say to a specific somebody?" you quizzed, putting your book down and looking at the tall boy with a big smile on your face

"I'm sorry" he muttered

"sorry? what was that, I didn't hear you?" you teased

"I said I'm sorry, Now drop it" he announced anxiously.

"thank you, asshole. was that so hard?" you smirked

"unbearable" he whispered, going to have a shower.

-----

you twisted and turned in your sleep, tugging onto the 2 blankets that covered your shivering body.

your eyes fluttered open and you whined as you shivered

the heater in your room had been broken for weeks and no one had come in to fix it.

you looked over to Xavier's side, seeing him sleeping peacefully.

the only light was the moon shining in the night sky as is snowed heavily.

you groaned as you got up from your bed, you contemplated before walking over to his side

you took a deep breath as you looked down at Xaviers sleeping state, his blanket was up to his shoulders, he seemed to be shirtless.

you gulped as you bent down and slowly shook him, saying his name softly, trying to wake him up.

"Xavier" you whispered in his ear

he moved around and groaned in his sleep.

"Xavier"

"what" he said groggily, his eyes were still closed, and he still seemed half asleep

"can I sleep with you?" you asked nervously

"why?" he yawned confusingly

"it's cold" you told him

"then get another blanket" his voice was deep and raspy. he turned over, making his back face you.

"I only have two" you sighed quietly

"then turn the heater on" he suggested

"the heater's been broken for weeks. can I just please sleep in your bed with you" you pleaded

he was silent for a moment, you thought he was ignoring you until you heard a snore

"Xavier" you poked his back, making him slightly jump

"huh?" he mumbled

"Can I please just sleep with you, I'm freezing" you begged

"Fine" he shuffled over as he turned around, opening the blanket for you to climb in, revealing his shirtless body.

you climbed in, laying down next to him.

he wrapped the blanket around you, pulling you closer to him and it was only then that you noticed the thing dangling from his neck.

the sun shape with an opal in the middle shone in the moonlight.

"you're wearing my necklace" you whispered

"I know. I took it" he yawned. he looked too tired to think straight

"why?" you asked him

"are you warm yet?" he murmured, ignoring your question

"mh-hm" you hummed, leaning into him. his body warmth heated up your shaking body.

it was silent for a while before he spoke again

"you misunderstood me that day" he announced

"what?" you inquired

"the day we met. I said 'couldn't get a more beautiful roommate' you misunderstood what I meant" he repeated

"what do you mean?" you looked up at him confused

"I meant that I couldn't get someone more beautiful than you. you thought I meant I was wondering why I couldn't get a more beautiful one" he explained sleepily

"you're not making any sense" you shook your head with a small smile on your face

"you're the most beautiful roommate I could ever have. you thought I was hoping for a prettier one, but you're as good as it gets" he admitted

"oh" you whole body was hot, and you knew you started blushing

"yeah" he sighed. bringing you closer to his body

"I'm confused" you swallowed a lump in your throat

"I like you, Y/n. I have since you walked in here on your first day" he confessed

"alright, I get it now" you got nervous and dug your face in his neck

he put his other arm under you and brought his other up to your neck, running his hands through your hair as he held you carefully

he felt a bit rejected as you didn't respond. he cursed to himself, feeling like an idiot. but it was too late for him now.

you lifted your head after a while, looking at him, his eyes shut as he called himself an idiot in his head

you slowly leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

he felt you kiss him and he smiled.

"goodnight" you beamed

------------------------------------------------

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe headcannons #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #wednesday 2022 #ajax petropolus #enid sinclair #angst with a happy ending #enemies to lovers trope #angst #fluff #imagines #cute #winter #enemies to friends trope

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d3adlyromb3ar · 13 days

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ these roses have thorns

— pairing. megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

— synopsis. he hated you. you hated him. it was simple really, all those years of competing to be the best had only driven you two as each others biggest rivals. time passes as it’s been years since you’ve seen each other. suddenly, you both reconnect and wonder why you hated each other to begin with.

— word count. 3.2k

— contents. enemies to friends, (lovers implied), language, angst, fluff, minor injuries, minor family issues, indications of bullying, megumi is such a dork

— notes. credit to @saradika for the dividers 🤍

main masterlist

“You’re so incredibly irritating.”

Megumi rested his forehead against his palm, trying his hardest to block out your high pitched squealing voice.

“Do you think I wanted to be paired up with you? Nope. Not at all. If it were up to me, I’d drop out of this class altogether!”

Your voice strained his ears, his temples aching with the sensation of an oncoming headache.

“Can you just stop talking.” He mumbled.

“No actually. If me talking pains you so much, I’ll keep doing it.” You sassed, crossing your arms.

“God, I can’t stand you.”

He huffed and stood suddenly, not giving you another glance and marching his way towards the classroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To find our teacher. Gonna ask him if I can do this project on my own.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed silent. You could feel your cheeks red, you wondered if people could see smoke coming out of your ears from how infuriated you were.

Megumi stopped in his tracks, turning around when he didn’t hear your snarky reply. Truthfully, he was waiting for it and was shocked when it never came. He furrowed his brows at the sight of you pouting, rooted in your same spot.

“What? Don’t seem so upset, I’ll be doing you a favor.” He said, indicating that you’d appreciate his gesture. No longer cursed with his presence.

He never quite understood why you hated him so much. All he knew was that you were competitive, and so was he. At least when it came to you, he wanted to be better than you at all things. Your reactions becoming his favorite thing when he outsmarted you.

“Whatever.” You mumbled, turning away from him and stomping off the school grounds.

Megumi oddly decided not to meet with the teacher, choosing to tough it out— and do this project with you. It would be too much of a hassle to explain to the teacher why he wanted to work alone.

Days later, you and Megumi were sat underneath a tree within the schools courtyard. He was leaning back against the base of the bark, while you were focused on your notes in front of you.

Your harsh erasing on your notepad had Megumi glancing over to you. He had to bite his tongue when you swiped the shavings in his direction, some of which landed on his uniform pants.

“Okay lemme check this again…” You muttered quietly to yourself, flipping through a textbook in a haste.

He just watched, holding back a laugh at how ridiculous you looked. So panicked and stressed for absolutely no reason— he assumed you were working so hard only to prove you were doing more than him for the project.

Which truthfully, you were. But he had an idea for later.

A frustrated sigh from you grabbed his attention, breaking him from his thoughts. His eyes suddenly focusing on your tongue wedged between your lips, the way it was poking out as you scribbled notes.

“Y’know, you can poke a hole through the paper if you write hard enough.”

“At least I’m working on the project.” You shot back.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and snatching the notepad out of your hands— causing you to gasp.

“Hey! Give it back!”

“What’s all this nonsense anyway— we won’t be needing any of this information. Wasting your tim—”

“I said give it!” You said through clenched teeth, reaching for the notepad, only for him to hold it farther out of your reach.

“I mean, are you even reading out of the right textbook?” He questioned, trying to make you feel incompetent.

You clenched your jaw, your cheeks rising in heat once again.

“If you don’t give it back, I’m going to—”

“Oh you’re threatening me now? How adorable.”

You pressed your lips together tight, the comment both annoying and flustering you. You decided to ignore him and the fluttering in your stomach— pulling out another notepad from your backpack and flipping to a fresh page.

Megumi watched in fascination as you started rewriting all your notes you had previously written. He chuckled, earning a shake of your head. Clearly over his antics.

“God, you’re so stubborn. Doesn’t it hurt your head?”

“Shut up. Let me work.” You snapped, not lifting your gaze from your notes.

He chuckled again, your reactions only spurring him on.

“Are you even a real person?”

This had you snapping your head up, giving him a bitchy look. Although, Megumi wasn’t phased— he held your glare with pleasure.

“Are you? I swear, sometimes it feels like you’ve been sent to this planet just to make my life a living hell.” You hissed.

“Yeah, you wish you were that special.” He mumbled.

You held his satisfied expression for a few more seconds before breaking the stare, focusing back on your work.

“Let me work, please.” Your voice was quieter than before.

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?”

“No, now please— let me fucking work!” You raised your voice, your grip on your pencil extremely tight.

He chuckled before letting himself go silent, oddly enough— he let you finish the days work in peace. He’d have to hold himself back from talking every time he caught you sticking your tongue out in concentration. He’d have to force himself to look away every time you brought the eraser end of the pencil up to your lips, letting the pink end rub over your mouth.

It was funny, he suddenly realized. Your presence was wasn’t totally awful when you were quiet.

Another day had passed, and the due date of the project was finally here. It was hilarious how he hadn’t done much of anything to the project— not that you’d let him. It wasn’t just the day of the project turn in date, it was also the day of his mischievous plan.

It was the end of class, Megumi sat silent in his spot as the teacher said his final words to his students. The bell rung and before you could level move an inch from your desk, the teacher was calling your name.

“(Y/n) (L/n), please see me after the room is cleared.” He told you.

You nodded but couldn’t help the confusion wash over your features. Immediately thinking of why he’d want to pull you to the side. Had you done something wrong? Certainly not.

Megumi met your gaze one last time, his eyes locking with yours. You glared at him, noticing the way he had a smug look on his face. Before you could change your expression, he had turned and left throughout the doorway.

Slowly, you made your way up to the teachers desk.

“You wanted to speak with me?” You asked politely, maybe a little nervously.

“Yes. It’s been brought to my attention that there were some issues with your project.” He informed you.

You wondered what possibly could’ve been wrong, the teacher had already told you and Megumi that it was the best of the grade.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“Miss (L/n), I’m very disappointed in you. You are one of my brightest students, and for you to deliberately make your classmate Megumi do the whole project himself— well it saddens me.”

Your teachers words had your eyes wide, your mouth hanging open in shock. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Megumi wouldn’t have gone this far, would he have?

“Mr… I… Listen there is a misunderstan—”

“I don’t need to hear your excuses. Just know that you will be taking a zero for this assignment.”

“But you don’t understand… I did the pro—”

“Lying to me isn’t helping your case Miss (L/n). I just want this to be a learning lesson for you. Megumi was quite upset about this whole ordeal, and I expect you to respect your classmates better from now on.” He finished, standing up and leaving the classroom.

You were left standing in front of his desk still, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Your chest ached at how hard you were breathing, the rage you felt threatening to burst.

You left the classroom, cheeks red and hot. If there was any moment in time where smoke would be bursting out your ears— it would be now.

Just as your foot passed the doorway, you heard an all too familiar laugh. One that had your breathing rising, fastening in pace.

You turn towards the dark haired boy, walking quickly up to his smug face.

“You’re such a dick! I can’t believe you would go this far!” You yelled.

He crossed his arms, his form calmly leaned back against the lockers.

“Just following through with my mission to make your life a living hell.” He repeated from a previous conversation.

You stared at him with disgust.

“Are you really that fucking upset over what I said?”

“I’m not upset about shit. You just need to know who’s always going to have the last laugh. Who’s always going to be on top— because it won’t be you.” He stated.

“I know you hate my guts, but making me take a zero for this project? That’s too far, you don’t get to interfere with my schoolwork. I work too damn hard for you to mess it up!” You defended.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but feel bad. He didn’t realize the teacher was going to give you a zero. He assumed a little scolding at least. He realized that maybe he’d taken it too far.

“Y’know what, you win.”

Megumi looked at you with confusion at your admittance.

“You’re better than me at everything. You’re the high and mighty one and I’m just a piece of shit. I get it, I do. Now please do me one fucking favor— and leave me alone.” You pleaded, your voice quiet at the end, thick with emotion.

Megumi couldn’t say anything in the moment, and instead watched you walk away— your head down. He did all this for a quick laugh, to see your reaction and all— so why did he feel terrible instead. It was never supposed to end up this way.

Perhaps he had taken it too far, and now he was afraid that there’d be no fixing this. That theory was confirmed the second he heard that you had transferred schools the next week.

God, he really fucked up. Now he had no way to resolve or fix anything. Now more than ever, he felt the extremely strong urge to tell you he was sorry. He realized all too quickly— he wouldn’t get the chance to.

A few years had passed, and a lot had changed.

Standing in front of the Jujutsu School now— it didn’t quite feel real. You had to force yourself to truly believe that this is where you ended up.

Remembering back, you recalled the exact moment where your life had shifted— from something so simple to chaos.

It happened days after the whole ordeal with Megumi and the project. The rage that had consumed you since that moment had been building. The last week at school was forgotten— you couldn’t recall a thing any of the teachers had said that day.

It was the saturday after your last week. You had been trying to relax at home, make yourself something to eat when you accidentally burned your finger on the stove. Almost like a trigger, the rage that had been built up inside of you tripled— your body not feeling like your own.

Before you fully feel the pain of the burn— your whole house was suddenly in flames. Within minutes your house was simply gone— vanishing from where it was previously rooted.

Your parents had been furious, but they weren’t surprised— not even a little. A long talk later, and you discovered that you were adopted, the two people you lived with forever not even your own Mom and Dad. They told you with heavy hearts that you were born from a clan— one from a history of sorcerers.

You didn’t believe them at first, but after what had just happened— what you had caused. You had no choice but accept the truth.

Your parents assured you not to be upset with yourself for destroying the house, informing you that this was just a placeholder while you were in school. It didn’t push the guilt away that you had done such destruction, and you felt out of control with these abilities you didn’t even know you possessed.

Your parents let you decide your path, and you chose to leave home. Leaving to somewhere that could help you with your abilities, one that would help you understand who you were.

So no, Megumi wasn’t the reason why you transferred. But of course, how would he ever know that fact.

With hesitant steps, you walked further into the school grounds— taking in the beauty of the buildings. The environment felt peaceful and inviting— and most importantly you felt like you finally belonged somewhere.

“(Y/n)?” A deep voice called from behind you.

You got lost in thought before you turned around, the voice sounding so familiar, yet so foreign.

“(Y/n) (L/n)?” The voice called out again, this time around sounding more unsure.

You turned around finally, your heart nearly stopping at the sight of him. There before you stood none other than Megumi Fushiguro.

You realized you hadn’t said anything since he got your attention. You snapped yourself out of your shock and sent him a warm smile, one that undoubtedly had a flash of nervousness in it.

“Megumi, hi. It’s been… It’s been awhile.” You greeted, scratching your arm anxiously.

It was Megumi’s turn to be shocked, he hadn’t seen you in years and yet the person standing in front of him was undoubtedly you, but not you at the same time.

Everything from your features and your height was different, but it’s not what had him so shocked. It was your voice that silenced him completely. It was so— gentle.

It was a miracle he even recognized you at all.

“I’m guessing from your silence that you still don’t like me.” You said in a small voice, laughing awkwardly at the end.

Megumi was snapped out of his shock instantly from the sound of your hurt voice.

“No, no I uh… I am just surprised to see you here.” He explained, “Um, why are you here?”

You didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that he was speaking to you much more softer than ever— it was odd.

You scratched your arm nervously, the same neutral smile on your face.

“I’m going to school here.” You revealed, feeling anxious about what his thoughts were on that. “That’s okay with you, right?”

He nodded. Otherwise his thoughts ran around with the possibility that you were a sorcerer too? How did he never recognize that. Were there signs? How did he miss them?

“Why would it matter what I think?”

You shrugged, the conversation feeling too awkward. There was so much unnecessary tension— you blamed it on the past.

Since you had thought about it, you found yourself walking a couple steps closer to him. It was then you could finally get a closer look at him. His hair had grown longer, more hectic. He’d certainly grown into his face, his jawline was sharp. It was his eyes that captured you— they were so mesmerizing. The way his eyelashes were so long and caged his eyes.

You cleared your throat, getting back on track.

“Listen, about what all happened in the past—”

But you couldn’t finish your sentence, as Megumi cut in.

“I don’t need you to do that, really. If anyone here should be apologizing— it should be me.”

His words shocked you, and you found yourself unable to respond right away. He sensed that and kept going.

“I know it might not make a difference after all these years but, I’m sorry I was such a dick. I’m sorry for always messing with you— and I’m sorry for the whole project thing.” He finished.

You couldn’t help but feel some sort of healing within you from those words. It wasn’t often you’d dwell on him, but you always wondered where his hate for you came from. Maybe it was just an odd occurrence.

“I accept your apology. Thank you.”

Megumi sent a weak smile then, feeling some weight lift off his shoulders. But not all of it.

“And don’t feel too bad about this whole thing, I wasn’t so innocent either. I shouldn’t have messed with you either— I know I was quite annoying. If anything, I probably deserved it.”

Megumi smirked, his shoulders jumping with a silent laugh. He didn’t want to seem rude but he also couldn’t help himself from asking.

“Sorry to change the subject but, how are you a sorcerer? I never got the idea that you were one.”

You ended up walking towards the school stairs, taking a seat and watching as Megumi followed and plopped down next to you— closer than you predicted.

“It’s a long story. Turns out I was adopted and my adoptive parents told me I was from a sorcerer clan.” You ran through the long story, “It’s a pretty boring story.”

He nodded, listening intently to your story. He was intrigued with you— and he wondered if that was the reason he always felt this pull around you.

“What about you? I didn’t know you were a sorcerer. You don’t seem the type.” You joked at the end.

He chuckled, and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’ve pretty much known my whole life. Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

You hummed, clearly he was right. You didn’t suspect a thing.

“Good to know.”

Despite apologies being traded, small talk being had— there was obvious tension still thick in the air. Neither of you could pinpoint why.

“Well I should um… I should probably get settled in and everything.” You suggested, standing up to head out.

Megumi surprised you yet again when his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist— halting you in your spot. But it was a gentle touch, one that didn’t seem like him.

“Uh (Y/n)?”

“Yes Megumi?”

He bit his lip, the back of his neck hot with what he wanted to say.

“Just wanted to say that you look good.”

He really couldn’t believe he just said that, after all those years are being a complete dickhead— and suddenly he thinks a couple words of sweet talk would bail him out of the mess. What was he thinking.

Except you were flattered and felt your cheeks heating up, but this time is was from nerves.

“Thank you Megumi, you look good too. Very handsome.”

Megumi’s cheeks suddenly became rosy, the back of his neck burning up. He wasn’t expecting you to say it back, but with how you were looking at him— he knew it was genuine.

“Thanks.”

You smiled at him, your chest warm with a foreign sensation— but you welcomed it.

“After I unpack my things, would you mind showing me around?”

Megumi sent a small smile back, scratching the back of his neck yet again. You never made him this nervous, but your voice also never sounded so smooth, so gentle before.

“Sure.”

With that, you walked away— feeling a little more chipper in your step.

The two of you were left alone in your thoughts as you both went your separate ways. Both of you were thinking of lots, but the one thought that ran through both of your minds was— why did we even hate each other to begin with?

— ending notes. thought of this randomly one night and started writing 😅 not proofread so ignore spelling mistakes 🤍

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

A Secret Kind of Pain (one-shot) FrankieMorales x f!Reader

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n) (No descriptions other than hair he can move behind your ear. She’s you, babe!)

Rating: 18+

Words: 7.0k

Summary: A poker night over at Benny’s tests the amazing burgeoning relationship you have been hiding with Frankie Morales.

Warnings: secret relationship, friends to lovers, angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, sweet Spanish nicknames, Frankie is a jealous lil’ thing, miscommunication trope.

a/n: I love Frankie Morales and realized I needed to write him up a honey. Y’all can blame my muses for this. I keep tryin’ to update my other stories and the damn muses keep starting new ones! At leas this is a one-shot!

Also if you like my stuff I'd really love a follow, a reblog, a comment (those especially make me smile!) would be real appreciated!

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"We're gonna be late," you whine, even as your back arches against the springy mattress. Your breathing is shallow, your forehead dotted with perspiration.

"I don't care," he replies breathlessly from between your thighs, dark eyes fixed on yours as his pouty mouth goes back to work.

You've been like this all afternoon, touching, kissing, fucking. You're both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the fan in the corner of the room no match for the balmy weather.

"Frankie," you whine, feeling his hands on the globes of your ass, pulling your dripping sex more fully against his mouth and tongue. He won't let up. He's eating you out like his life depends on it and has been for the last forty minutes.

Your legs are spread wide over his broad shoulders and his hands move over the crease of your thighs to hold you in place as he devours you. He feels so impossibly good, you can't help but succumb, your hands fisting in his curls, your body quaking with every swipe of his deft tongue.

His mouth begins giving your pussy sloppy kisses, groaning as he does. You don't know who loves this more - you or him. You whimper out his name again, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"C'mon cariño," he purrs, smiling up at you. "You can give me one more."

And you do. You come crying his name as he gently laves your clit. As you come down you reach blindly for him, sighing contentedly as he crawls up the length of your body, pressing glossy kisses up your naked flesh before he positions his cock at your entrance.

"Don't make me wait," you beg, urging your hips towards him. He smiles down at you before his mouth is on yours, his cock sliding into your slick cunt. It's not long before he's emptying himself into you and moaning into your neck.

You lay tangled in the sheets afterwards, your head on his arm, looking at his hawkish profile. He looks almost angelic with his hat off and his curls on display.

"We're gonna be late," you repeat giving his bristled cheek a swift kiss. You go to move off the mattress and to the shower but he holds tightly to you, his leg lacings between yours.

"Let's not go," he says, nuzzling against your neck. "Let's just stay in."

"How is that going to look?" you counter, not oblivious to his hand which ventures to brush over your chest. "We both don't show up to poker night? The week after we both mysteriously don't make it to the pub for drinks?"

Frankie sighs, knowing that you're right. You're always right. The second that the guys find out you're together it's going to be a nightmare.

They'll have opinions, so many fucking opinions on Frankie dating Tom's cousin. The one that Will had a crush on for years. The one Pope flirted with every time she came back for family visits. The one they all promised Tom they'd never fuck; a pact they reminded themselves of when she moved back to town a year ago for her job.

The one Frankie had fallen for the second he'd met her at one of Benny's shows. The one he'd sat next to, thighs touching as they laughed and talked between rounds as he stole bits of her popcorn. The one he'd told himself he couldn't want, but then found he couldn't stay away from.

So when he'd thrown a memorial party for Tom's birthday months ago and you'd stayed behind to help him clean and you confessed your burgeoning feelings for him it seemed it was inevitable he would take you in his arms telling you he felt the same. It felt fated that he would be kiss you before carrying you to his bedroom and making love to you until the sun came up.

You'd both known it had to remain a secret. Couldn't come out. Not when things were still so new, still so fresh. Not when Tom was gone, the promise his friends had made still very real.

Didn't matter that Frankie hadn't met you before he made that vow because he was always away flying or with his ex when you were visiting Tom. Didn't matter that he didn't just want to fuck you.

Pope hadn't been stupid. He'd known Frankie was seeing someone in the following months. In a panic Frankie had confessed over drinks one day that he was seeing some girl from the coffee shop near his place. This had placated Pope enough to drop it.

But he and the rest of the gang still teased Frankie about it for weeks, insisting he bring his "imaginary girlfriend" to poker night while you sat back in the booth, hiding your grin behind your beer bottle.

And so you snuck around, slipping into Frankie's bed and into his life without hesitation. Nights and weekends were spent making meals together, watching TV, going to try new coffee shops, kissing and fucking everywhere in his house.

He craved you when you weren't around, more than coke, more than flying, more than anything. He loved that his pillows smelled of you, that your variety of shampoos and conditioners lined his shower floor.

"I gotta shower and then we gotta go, Morales."

Frankie finally releases you, but not before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. You smile before rolling off his bed and towards the shower. Frankie watches your naked body sauntering away and he holds in a grateful sigh.

///

"I'll go in first," you tell him, grabbing the bag of pretzels from the back seat of the truck.

Frankie has parked around the corner from Benny's, knowing you both couldn't show up together at Benny's infamous poker night.

You'd made yourself part of the group soon after moving back. Part of you wonders if it's because you're filling a void left by Tom or if they really like your company. You decide you don't mind when it means more time with Frankie.

"See you in there."

You go to leave, hand on the door before you shoot him a sweet smile. You lean over to give him a peck on the lips. You glance over the t-shirt that strains over his biceps, the jeans that mold over his long thighs and you give a crooked smile.

"Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight, Morales?"

Frankie blushes up his neck, his face growing red as he gives a bashful grin at you from under his baseball hat. The kind of smile that makes his dimple pop out. You give him a wink and then you're gone, heading into Benny's place, carrying a comically large bag of pretzels.

Frankie watches the clock, waiting a whole five minutes before grabbing the shopping bag from the back seat.

He ambles towards Benny's front door, noting the SUV with the space invaders bumper sticker. Will is here already, probably the first to arrive at his brother's event.

By the time Frankie arrives the group is loudly chatting, the kitchen full of food and noise. Benny and Pope are opening beers for their dates and you're nowhere to be seen.

"You didn't bring your girl?" Benny observes with a frown when Frankie enters the kitchen holding the shopping bag of chips and salsa.

"Uh we broke up," Frankie says with a shrug, accepting the coke can his friend passes him. Pope pulls out the chips and salsa, dark eyes trailing inside the bag before he's pouring the chips into a bowl.

"You don't seem too upset about it," Pope says with a quirked brow, his arm going to sling around the shoulders of his date. Frankie is about to reply when you both hear your laugh from the next room.

The two of you glance over to see you and Will on the couch, knees almost touching as Will says something else to make you laugh. You have a great laugh, the kind where you tilt your head back and you just let go. The kind that makes Frankie smile when he hears it.

But he doesn't smile now. In fact it's quite the opposite. He watches as Will's light eyes trace over your face warmly.

"Seems like Will is foregoing the pact," Pope says amused, his eyes on Frankie's face.

Frankie feels his hand curl into a fist. Who the fuck does Will think he is? Will could have any girl he wants; he's handsome and successful. He's not a recovering addict who can't legally fly anymore like Frankie.

Doubt, the ugly insidious snake creeps into his mind. Why are you with him? What could be possibly offer you?

"Hey Fish," Will calls out with a wave to Frankie when he notices the man in the kitchen. "No girl tonight?"

"They broke up," Pope says, coming to rest on the edge of the couch.

"Sorry to hear that," you say airily. Frankie can't look at you. He knows he'll see the amused glint there and he can't risk it.

"He doesn't seem too upset about it," Pope smiles.

Frankie focuses his attention on Benny who claps him on the back before announcing that it's time to start the poker game. Everyone moves to the table that Benny has set up with chips and cards.

Frankie's chest warms when you slide into the chair next to his at the table but he holds in a grimace when Will takes the seat next to yours, smiling at you.

You nudge his thigh under the table and he slips a hand under the table to give your knee a squeeze, watching your lips curl into a subtle smile at the contact.

Frankie feels idiotic for being jealous when you're obviously his girl. But the thing is he hasn't said you're his girl. It's just silently implied. He wonders if he needs to tell you, in words.

"Alright," Benny announces, breaking into Frankie's thoughts. "The game is Omaha and-"

You tune Benny out as he explains the rules for the large group around the table. You throw in your two ten dollar bills along with the rest of the group to the center of the table.

All you can focus on is Frankie's hand still resting on your knee, so wide and warm.

You're so into him it's ridiculous. You love the way he curls around you in bed, the way he makes you coffee to take to work, the way he looks at you when you talk because he's really** listening to what you have to say.

He removes his hand as the game starts and you immediately miss the contact. You look across the table at Pope and Benny and their girlfriends, jealous that they get to flaunt their relationships while you have to keep yours hidden.

But at the same time you don't want anything to spoil this beautiful thing you have with Frankie. It's too precious to you, too beloved. So you'll keep it a secret for as long as you need to.

The game is a long one and considering the entire group is ridiculously competitive the air is tense. Pope and Benny's dates are the first to be knocked out, both shrugging and leaning against their boyfriends, watching them play.

You stand after you fold your latest hand, stretching and announcing that you need a drink.

"Can you grab me a Coke, baby?" Frankie asks without thinking, his focus on his cards. It's an innocuous comment, one he's made to you at home dozens of times before.

Immediately he realizes the fuck up. Your eyes are blown wide, your features contorted into horror as you look down at him. He snaps his attention to the group abruptly, his face blanching and his shoulders rising. The men nearby give puzzled looks in your direction.

"The fuck did you just call her?" Pope laughs, amusement clear in his handsome features.

"He called her baby," Benny says with a grins, taking a swig of his beer.

"He didn't!"

"Asked her to get him a drink!"

"The fuck?" you say forcing a laugh and giving Frankie a look of disdain. "I know your girlfriend dumped you but I'm not throwing you a pity lay, Morales. I'm not really into guys who wear baseball caps past the age of twenty."

The group erupts into drunken laughter that you both join in on. But you don't see the hurt in Frankie's soulful eyes.

"I'm gonna grab that drink," you tell the group, needing some air and a chance to stop the pounding of your heart.

"Can you get me one, baby?" Will teases.

"Of course honey," you tease right back with a wink.

You don't even cast a look in Frankie's direction. His stomach twists when you return to the table with a bottle of beer for yourself and Will and no drink for him.

"When are you gonna bring a guy around for poker night?" Benny slurs from the other end of the table. "You been single too long."

"Maybe that's how I like it."

You swallow nervously, your cards growing slippery in your damp hands. They've never asked you things like this. Why now?

"C'mon," Pope urges, pressing a kiss to his girlfriends' shoulder. "I bet Yovanna can set you up with one of her friends, couldn't you, bonita?."

"Oh yes!" Yovanna nods, smiling.

"I dunno about that," you say, your face heating. You force your attention back to your cards. "I'm pretty busy with work."

"Too busy to date anyone?" Will says, trying to say it lightly but failing miserably. You can feel irritation radiating off of Frankie beside you. A quick glance out the corner of your eyes tells you he's clenching his jaw as he looks at his cards.

You want to squeeze against Frankie, bury your face in his neck and assure him that he's the only man for you. That you think about Frankie more than you think about yourself some days. That you've imagined an entire life with him, a future. That Will is perfectly nice but you're utterly besotted with Frankie.

"Not really into dating right now," you chirp, grin widening. "I'm more into winning all your money. That’s a full house, bitches!"

The group groans as you pull the money towards you, slipping the winnings from this round into your jeans pocket. The game continues on for several more rounds, until it's late and you feel yourself drifting.

"I should head out," Frankie says with a sigh, tossing his cards into the center of the table. "Don't have any more money left to lose tonight."

He stands, moving out the door without a backwards glance at you. You know the drill, you can’t leave at the same time. You stretch after the folding your cards.

"I should head out too," you say forcing a yawn. "Gotta be into work early tomorrow. Night guys."

The group bids you both drunken goodbyes, their focus on the remaining pot of cash in between them. You wave, heading out the door in search of Frankie around the corner. You see him leaning against his truck looking delicious. His broad arms are crossed in front of him, but his customary smile is replaced by a look of sullen displeasure.

When you're safely away from the house inside his truck your hand reaches for his across the bench seat. You're confused when he pulls out of reach, his hand going to the wheel. This confuses you because you’ve never taken a drive with Frankie where his hand wasn’t on your knee.

You pull on your seatbelt, convinced you must have mistaken him pulling away earlier as he starts the car. Maybe he just needs both hands to drive tonight. The weather has taken a turn, raining lightly in the darkness.

"Benny's new girl seems nice," you offer in the quiet of the drive. You glance over at Frankie when he doesn't reply. "You okay?"

"Hated how you looked at me tonight," Frankie finally gets out, his voice rasping. "Like I disgusted you."

Immediately you feel your heart sink.

"You know I didn't mean it," you say, reaching for him and again Frankie shrugs out of your grip, his dark eyes somber as he drives.

"Seemed real easy for you to say that shit," Frankie says tightly. "Pity lay?"

"Frankie we agreed we didn't want anyone to know," you reply, irritation rising in you that he seems to be blaming you. "That we didn't want our relationship under a microscope. I'm only doing what we both agreed was right."

"Yep," Frankie nods sharply, his dark eyes on the road. "Guess I didn't realize that meant flirting with Will all night."

Jealousy coils in him, twisting between his ribs and pulling angrily, causing his temper to flare, his body to tense up.

"I wasn't flirting, Frankie."

"Could've fooled me."

He's at your house now, pulled up to the curb with the engine still running. You swallow the frustration in your chest, turning to Frankie. You really like him and you don't want to fight. You can work this out; you just need to discuss it.

But Frankie still isn't looking at you. His hand is just curled around the steering wheel and his face is partially hidden in shadow. All you can make out is the sharp of his jaw under his scruff.

"You wanna come in so we can talk about this?"

"I'm tired," Frankie replies with a soft shake of his head. "Gonna head home."

"Tomorrow then?"

Frankie shrugs.

This was a fun dream. A sweet illusion. But there's no way it can continue. No way that you're gonna wanna stick with Frankie for the long haul. Not when men like Will want you.

"Right." You give a disgusted scoff, pulling the seatbelt off of you. "I think I'm gonna be tired for the next week or so, so I wouldn't bother calling."

"I won't."

"Good."

You jump out of the still running truck, slamming the door behind you and making your way to your house. You're thankful he can't see the tears that slip down your cheek as he drives off into the darkness.

///

Frankie has a brutal stubborn streak and a temper to match. The problem is so do you. No one is willing to be the first to wave the white flag. Instead you both give each other the silent treatment. It goes on for over a week, neither of you bending. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

But it's Frankie who breaks first when one evening he finds his pillow no longer smells of your shampoo. The panic of knowing that like the faded scent, you're disappearing from his life.

He throws himself into his truck and begun driving over to your place. He doesn't even want to waste time texting or calling. He just wants to see your face, to take it between his hands and kiss it. To apologize to you because he's been a fucking idiot.

How could he have been so pissed off at you for something you both agreed on? Something that he'd fucking suggested? So insecure when you've never given him reason to be?

He drives to your place and when he sees Will's car parked out front he feels like he's going to be sick. He thinks maybe he's made a mistake but then he sees that fucking space invaders bumper sticker.

Will is inside your house, in there with you.

Images of the two of you fucking immediately flood his mind. Will fucking you in the bed Frankie helped you to set up the bed frame for. You making the same noises for Will that you do for Frankie.

It takes all his willpower to keep driving, to swallow the lump that's formed in his throat at the thought you could move on so quickly.

But that dark part in the back of his head insists that this is for the best. That he was never worthy of you anyway. That he needs to let you move on with Will.

Frankie is friends with the group so he doesn't miss a poker night or drinks out or going to the batting cages. When your absence is commented on by the group he pretends to be equally perplexed until Will comments that he thinks you're busy with work. The same kind of shit Frankie used to say to cover up that you were together.

He doesn't let Will see his irritation. He doesn't ask Will about you. He wants you to be happy.

He doesn't let anyone see his heartbreak.

///

When the third week of silence from Frankie ends you feel your resolve dissolving. Yes, he'd been an asshole, but Frankie was also delicate at times. More delicate than you gave him credit for.

He'd been through a lot and perhaps this reaction was out of fear not anger. This is what you told yourself as you sent off the text to him.

Hey. Busy tonight?

Yep. Got a date.

You feel as if you've been punched in the gut. You're breathing sharply when his second text comes through seconds later.

Tell Will I say hi.

You frown at the message, confused. But you don't parse it. You're too upset. Too hurt. He just ... Moved on? One fight and he's fucking met someone else?

You were so fucking stupid to do this. To fall in with one of Tom's friends. He'd warned you off all of them and given you good reasons for why none of them were dating material.

But then you'd met Frankie Morales. The man with the shy smile and dark curls peeking out under a faded ball cap and all warnings had been forgotten.

You allowed yourself to fall head over heels, quickly and without protecting yourself. Like a skydiver jumping eagerly out of the plane without a parachute.

But now you wish you'd listened. Because the pain of losing Frankie is worse than anything you could have anticipated.

Your phone chirrups with a text from Pope.

Where the fuck have u been?

Work is busy.

Not too busy to come have drinks with us tomorrow night.

Sorry can't.

Either you come out or I'll send Will and Frankie in to drag you out of your office in front of everyone.

...

What pub?

///

Frankie watches you walk into the pub from under the brim of his hat. You've obviously just come from work; you have that serious look about you. It dissolves slightly when you see the group calling your name.

It's been weeks since he last saw you and it's like you've only gotten more beautiful. Your smile brighter, your eyes luminous. You give a wave to the group, eyes sweeping over Frankie as if he's just another one of the guys.

He's confused when Will greets you casually, no standing up and kissing when you waltz over.

"We've missed you," Benny says sliding you over a drink as you take the free spot next to Will in the booth.

You feel warmed by the realization that these men are your friends. That you're not just a placeholder for Tom.

"Works been so busy," you explain with a shy shrug. "Tell me what I missed."

"Hmmm well Benny and Carmella have started a couple's pottery class," Will tells you smiling as Benny rolls his eyes, his eyes on his phone as he texts his girlfriend. "Catfish here officially got his license back and Pope here is still annoyingly good looking."

"Obnoxiously so," Pope agrees, tapping his beer bottle against Will's in cheers.

You force a smile to your face as the group laughs but all you can hear is Catfish got his license back.

You'd talked about what you'd both do when that happened. That you'd bake him a cake and you'd go celebrate with the biggest steak at the nicest restaurant. That you'd ride him before he took you for a ride in his friend’s helicopter.

You'd made these plans giggling in bed, warmed by each other's bodies and smiles.

Now it seems like a lifetime ago.

"Congrats," you say to Frankie, looking at his ear and not his eyes. "I'm really happy for you."

He probably doesn't even remember what you'd planned. Or worse he's gonna do it with his new girl.

"Thanks," Frankie replies in a soft voice, no malice left in it. His eyes are on your face, the longing clear in them, not that you're looking at his eyes.

He misses you something terrible. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and cover your face with kisses. He's so fucking furious with himself for letting you get away.

Will leans back in the booth, arms sliding against the back of your seat as he stretches. Frankie's face immediately darkens and he's sullen as the rest of the group laughs and jokes.

A short while later someone suggests darts and you all agree, going to stand around the only free one left at the side of the pub.

You go first, you're usually very good. But you can feel Frankie's eyes on you, burning through your clothes. You falter, your darts barely making it into the circular cork.

"She's lost her edge," Will jokes, slinging an arm around your neck companionably. "Spending too much time at work, not enough time at the pub."

You laugh up at him, eyes disappearing into half moons. Frankie watches this and feels his stomach churn. Its one thing to move on with Will, but it’s quite another to rub it in Frankie’s fucking face.

"Move," he says gruffly to the two of you. You look at him shocked, hurt at how he's spoken to you both.

"Someone's got their panties in a twist," Will says smirking at the rest of the group. "I'm gonna get another round."

Frankie ignores him, tossing his own darts. They don't even hit the outer circle; they just careen off into the nearby wood. He grimaces and turns to see you watching, your face unreadable.

"What?" Frankie challenges, his neck going red. His dark eyes narrow on your face. "Like you did so much better?"

His voice is so dark and spiteful Pope and Benny turn from their conversation at the sound of it.

"Dude, calm down," Benny says looking from you to Frankie.

Pope says something as well but all Frankie can focus on is the way your eyes are filling up with tears. He feels all his frustration and anger leave him, replaced with icy shame as you murmur about going to the bathroom, shouldering past Will as he returns with the drinks.

He barely waits ten seconds before he's following you, not caring how it looks, not caring that you're with Will. He needs to talk to you, to touch you.

He gets to you just before you're heading into the women's bathroom. He grips your wrist.

"We need to talk."

You allow him to tug your limp arm as he pulls you outside the pub along with him. It's drizzling and cars are driving by but neither of you care. You pull back from his grip, eyes on the wet cement. Frankie gazes at you, wishing you would look at him.

"Why are you being so mean?" You suddenly ask in a quiet, hollow voice. "You're a lot of things, Frankie. But mean isn't one of them."

Frankie feels his heart sink at the accusation, mostly because it's true, and also because he never wanted you to think of him as anything less than.

Irritation and hurt flash on his features now, his arms crossing in front of his chest.

"Hard not to be upset when the girl you were seeing moves on with your friend."

Your head raises, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"You and Will," Frankie says, trying to act like it doesn't hurt him just to say the words. "I'm happy for you both but doesn't mean I wanna see it every time we all hang out.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

You're really going to act dumb? He sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck, smoothing the curls there.

"I drove by your house a couple weeks ago," Frankie finally says, mouth in a frown. "After the poker night. I was coming to apologize."

Hope blooms behind your rib cage, a bouquet of desire and genuine need for Frankie overtaking the weeds of your previous devastation. He came to see you? To apologize?

"You did?"

"Yeah." Frankie's normally sweet, soft eyes are hard. "Saw Will's car out front."

Your face is confused, your eyes scanning the air as if you're trying to recall. And then suddenly you do. Your hope crumbles to dust. You realize now what all of this was. Possessive male bullshit. The kind of thing you thought Frankie was above.

"He came to borrow my portable BBQ," you tell him flatly. "He mentioned that he needed it for camping and I offered mine since I never use it."

Frankie feels his face slackening in disbelief. He blinks rapidly a few times, his posture going from rigid to loose.

"He wasn't there to-"

"To fuck me?" You shake your head with a sneer. "No, Frankie. You see, I was really into this other guy at the time so fucking someone else never even crossed my mind. But thanks for assuming that I’ll just fall into bed with someone every time we have a fight."

Frankie's heart hammers and shame suffuses him. He feels like a fucking moron. How could he ever have thought you’d do it? How could he have thought so little of both you and Will? He takes a step towards you as you hold out a hand between your bodies, your gaze turned icy.

"Don't even think about it."

You slip past him, heading inside and grabbing your purse. You're flustered and give the group a sharp goodbye, ignoring their questions as you dash from the pub, your second beer untouched.

Frankie returns to the group moments later, his eyes red-rimmed. He's confused when the group just stares at him in disbelief.

Benny is twisting the dart in his fingers, Pope has his arms crossed and Will just looks abashed. They all shoot each other confused looks when Frankie reaches for his dart.

"Aren't you going after your girl, Fish?"

Frankie feels his stomach twisting at Pope's words. "Huh?"

"She just left here looking really upset," Will adds. "I think she was almost crying."

Frankie looks at the concerned faces of all his friends and he leans against the wall in disbelief. There’s a heavy silence there, pitying looks from all of them. No menace, no anger. Just overwhelming sadness for their friend.

"You ... You all knew?"

The men nod, smirks on all their faces.

"And you aren't pissed?"

"Jealous? Yes," Will laughs. "Not angry though. Why would we be?"

"The promise to Tom -"

"Tom isn't here and you're both adults. And I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time," Pope says, looking thoughtful. “Maybe ever.”

Frankie can barely believe what's happening. All the sneaking around, the stress of being caught, all for nothing. He could have been holding you, calling you his girl in public this whole time.

"How long did you know?"

"After the poker night," Pope says. Frankie feels his body deflating.

"How?"

"Saw the receipt for chips, salsa and pretzels. Saw how you were when Will was flirting with her." Pope shrugs. "Put two and two together."

"I never knew until later that night," Will says looking apologetic. "I never would have chatted her up if I knew you were with her, Fish."

"We felt like assholes after talking about setting her up on dates and all that shit," Benny adds.

"Yeah, well, we're not together anymore," Frankie mumbles, hating that he has to tell them this. Hating that he's fumbled the best thing that ever happened to him.

"But you were, right?"

"Yeah."

"How long was it going on?" Pope asks.

"Four months."

"But you and that coffee shop girl-"

"Wasn't real," Frankie sighs, putting his forehead in his hand. "Just didn't want you guys to catch onto us."

The men share an amused look.

"Well your girl sold it," Benny confirms. "You not so much."

His girl. His girl. Frankie is almost elated at the sound of it. Then devastated when he realizes that he’s fucked it all up.

"Every time she came into the damn room you'd stop talking," Pope points out. "You'd get all squirrelly."

"We thought you just didn't like her or something," Will shrugs. "Didn't realize you were in love with her."

"In love?" Frankie says, dark eyes fixed on Will's. He's never said those words aloud in regards to you. Thought them, whispered them at home alone as he thought of you, but never spoken them to you.

"Yeah," Will nods, brows furrowed. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

///

You decide to make pancakes that night, a comfort food because you are desperately in need of comfort. You've been trying not to cry since you drove home, trying to forget Frankie's face as you left him in the pub.

He thought you were with Will? He thought that your feelings could so easily be swayed?

All you can see is the Frankie’s beautiful eyes of his that you'd fallen in love with first, followed quickly by his laugh, his smile, the way he runs his fingers through his hair when he adjusts his cap. The way he loves fiercely and his first instinct is to protect.

You pull into your driveway with your grocery bag, confused when you see Frankie's truck already there. He's standing on your porch, face eager as he watches you park. Frowning you take your shopping bag from the car and stalk towards your front door, ignoring Frankie entirely.

"Go home Frankie."

He watches you approach, his heart hammering in his chest. You look so fierce, so strong, so fucking beautiful. He hates that he's wasted time not being with you.

"Can we talk?"

"Had three weeks to talk," you bite back as you look for your house key. He watches you search through your purse until you find it.

"I know," Frankie insists, voice low. "I'm so sorry."

The emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You don't glance at him when you unlock the door but you do wait for him when you push it open.

"You've got five minutes."

He walks in after you, watching you head to the kitchen. He closes the door, watching as you take down bowls and bring out the whisk. He can see that you're making pancakes, your comfort meal and this tugs at his heartstrings.

He normally makes you pancakes for dinner on the days you text you're having a tough day. When your boss is on your ass and you want to cry in the ladies room. On those nights Frankie would be there at your place with flowers on your kitchen table and pancakes flipping in the pan.

He watches you measure the dry mix into the bowl, followed by the egg and milk. He knows it's going to taste like shit because Frankie always makes his from scratch with vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon.

"Down to four minutes," you snap at him, breaking him from his trance of watching you mix everything in the bowl. He stands on the outside of the kitchen, framed by the arch leading into it.

He feels awkward, his broad shoulders too-wide for your small space, his body out of place here in the warmth of your home. A place he normally felt so at ease in, suddenly gloomy and foreign.

"The guys know about us."

You stop your mixing to look over at him, your face pinched. "Why would you tell them?"

"They already knew," Frankie says, stepping further into the kitchen, feet soundless against the tiles. "Turns out I'm not so great at being subtle."

You turn back to your batter, mixing with a soft hum.

"Can't say it's one of your strong points," you say with a small curl of your lip. A smirk. That small motion gives Frankie enough encouragement to keep walking towards you.

"Were they upset?"

"No."

"Really?" You've stopped mixing long enough to see Frankie is beside you now, leaning against the counter, his eyes tilted to your face. You don’t dare look at him when you shrug. "Well, guess that doesn't matter now anyway."

Your mixing resumes again as you glance to see that the butter is melted in the pan on the stove. You try to ignore the way Frankie is staring at you.

"They asked me if I was in love with you."

He sees your body tense at this proclamation. He sees the way your eyes dart to his face only to leave once more. Your breathing is increasing, your hands completely stilled over the bowl. From here he can see some of the mix that has dribbled onto your wrist.

"What did you tell them?"

"That I was," Frankie admits almost breathless. "That I'd been a fucking insecure idiot because I was so terrified at how much I loved you."

Your body starts to thrum. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

"Terrified?" you ask gently. You turn off the stove, pancakes forgotten for the moment. Frankie’s eyes, those beautiful eyes capture yours and you can’t look away this time. You can only stare up at him as he speaks in that shy, rasping way of his.

"Last woman I cared about got pregnant by another guy and tried to convince me it was mine," Frankie tells you. "Only then I had coke to keep me from falling apart."

You nod, knowing this story of Frankie's past. He knows that you know this, but he has to remind you. It explains the next part, even though he hates bringing it up in front of you. He doesn’t like you to see his weaknesses. But he needs you to and he knows that you’ll accept them.

"But now I'm sober, I don't have any way to escape when I feel... I've never...." Frankie looks concerted, taking off his cap to nervously run his fingers through his hair before replacing it. "I've never felt about someone the way I do about you. Never. It scares the fuck outta me."

You want to leap into his arms. You want to kiss him until you're both breathless. But the text, the girl, all of it flashes into your mind. The relieved smile that had started in your cheeks quickly dies, the light in your eyes dimming. Frankie sees all of this, confused at your sudden withdrawal.

"You liked me so much you decided to start dating someone new a week after we'd had a fight?"

Frankie's cheeks flame and he gives a nervous smirk. "That uh... was kinda because I thought you were with Will."

Your jaw clenches at how amused he seems. "Didn't stop you from going on a date."

"Cariño," Frankie says, his voice low. "She was as real as the coffee shop girl."

"What?"

"I thought you were with Will," Frankie shrugs, neck reddening. "I wanted to look like I'd moved on too."

You blink up at him and then you can't help it, you laugh. A loud, melodic thing that Frankie can't help but join in on.

"You fucking liar," you grin, both amused at the situation and so fucking relieved.

Frankie's eyes are damp, unsure if from laughter or what he's about to tell you. You let him cup your face in his wide hands, nuzzling against the warmth of them.

"I wasn't lying about what I said before," Frankie says, his thumb grazing your cheek. "I love you, querida."

You don't hesitate. You can't. Not when it's been bubbling up within you for weeks.

"I love you too, Morales."

Frankie hears those words and feels his entire body lightening. As if just your voice could soothe every ailment, your mere presence purge every bad feeling from his body. It also scares the shit out of him. To know that what you both have is real. To know that it isn't casual. That both of your hearts are on the line.

He knows he will have to be better for you. To learn to communicate, to bring you close when he's scared instead of trying to push you away. It starts tonight.

He lowers his mouth to yours, kissing softly. You melt into him, warmed by the strong arms that encircle you. By the only man you want warming your arms and your bed. The only man you want for the rest of your life even if its dizzying in its proportion.

"I'm scared."

"Me too."

Frankie is comforted by this. That is not just him that feels the enormity of the shift. He pushes your hair behind one ear, taken entirely by how beautiful you look in the low kitchen light.

"My pillow doesn't smell like you anymore," you tell him and his eyes blow wide.

"Mine doesn't smell like you either," he admits, a small crooked smirk on his face. "That's why I drove over that night."

You make a humming noise, stroking his face, fingernails rasping over his stubbled cheek. He watches your eyes crinkle in amusement.

"I can't believe you thought I'd go for Will."

"He's handsome, smart, has his life together," Frankie shrugs. "What can I offer you compared to him?"

Your face goes serious, your eyes searching his.

"You're everything I want, Frankie."

His mouth finds yours once more, his hands skating down your back until you're arched against him and it isn't long before the kisses turn heated, his hands coming to stroke you through your shirt.

When Frankie begins licking into your mouth you decide that the pancakes can be saved for later. You move your mouth to graze his earlobe.

"Do you remember what we said we'd do when you got your license back, Morales?"

Frankie smiles against your mouth, his voice dropping to a soft purr as his arms bring you tighter against him. "I do."

"Should we go to the bedroom then?" You arch a playful brow. "You get your ride and then I get mine?"

"Anything you want, cariño," Frankie says, kissing you deeply. "Anything you want."

#frankie morales #fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #francisco morales #romance #angsty #angst #miscommunication trope #happy ending #happily ever after

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mischiefmanagers · 6 months

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when the fic warnings are like *major character death* but then also *angst with a happy ending* sign me THE FUCK up

#they come back to life somehow and I don’t even care if it doesn’t logically make sense #angst with a happy ending #acotar #azriel #fourth wing #iron flame #liam mairi #rhysand #cassian #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #xaden riorson #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #xaden x reader #fic tropes

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moritashie · 3 months

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I choose to believe that once Tony Stark had Morgan, he was freaked out of his mind. Why? Well, his parental instincts were supposed to kick in once he laid eyes on her. Tony didn't identify anything like that appearing once he did exactly that. Neither did they start working after she fell asleep in his arms, or after they arrived home. They seemed to do their thing on Pepper, why didn't he feel something so very different and unfamiliar. Where is the thing that is supposed to ensure his child is safe and sound?

A few days later Morgan starts trying to take something dangerous and put it inside her mouth much like babies do. He instantly spots her doing that, and with a horrified expression in his face stops her. Pepper jokes "see? Your parent sense is working just fine."

That's when he realizes, he does have those. He simply didn't know that was what it was. The reason was pretty clear; he expected to feel something unknown to him before. Meanwhile Tony has already experienced that over the course of the previous 1.5 years.

He promptly loses his balance and breaks down in the middle of the kitchen.

#peter parker #iron dad #spider son #irondad and spiderson #marvel #angst #since as we all know tony survives endgame in canon. no idea where that my #morgan stark #the word parental instincts make me think of that scene in modern family where Hayley climbs the window to get to her babies #but remember guys. this prompt has a happy ending since as we all know tony survives endgame in canon #no idea where the trope with his death came from. or why it's so popular

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a-hidden-piece-of-happiness · 8 months

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-Angst with a happy ending

#comfort character #opla luffy #opla nami #comfort ship #lunami #luffy x nami #nami x luffy #comfort trope #angst #angst with a happy ending #one piece live action #opla

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not-poignant · 1 month

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Daily excerpt from chapter 8 of Underline the Gold:

Temsen made a sound between his teeth, and then he huffed. 'Goodness, how brutal, this is fully corrupt, isn't it? All right, there's nothing else for it. Both of you are coming to the medical suite and we'll allocate you one of the proper rooms. I'm not happy with it continuing here, at any rate. Not when you have an omega whose organs are still recovering from severe malnutrition. This could progress to organ failure, and I'd like to take some blood to make sure it hasn't.' 'You could take the blood here,' Anton said. 'I admire how protective you're being,' Temsen said, like someone who didn't admire it that much at all. 'But your job is to care for your omega's welfare, and right now you need to put the physical first. You can care about his mind as much as you want once I know he won't die on us. Get some blankets, I expect you'll be fine carrying him?' Anton didn't answer, but he must have done something, because Temsen left the room a moment later. 'I'm sorry,' Flitmouse managed. 'I'm so sorry.' 'This is so far from being your fault,' Anton said, ruffling Flitmouse's sweat-damp hair. 'Come on, I know this sucks, but Temsen's one of the best.'

#daily excerpt #underline the gold #underline the rainbow #alois flitmouse #anton valenosk #ohlo ohlo temsen #omegaverse #original writing #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #mm romance #queer romance #god i love the trope of 'heats gone wrong' SO fucking much #you can pry them from my dead hands #i'm gonna write 'em forever

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harry-styles-obsessed · 8 months

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Publicity stunt

This GIF IM SORRY WHAT?!!!! 😩😩😩😩 anyways moving on this story is based on the ‘one bed’ trope. Yes I’m obsessed. I hope you all enjoy!!

Synopsis: you and Harry are forced to be a publicity stunt. He is your boyfriend for one year. A signed contract. But one problem… you hate each other.

Harry styles x fem! reader

The lights of the paparazzis blinded you and Harry, Harry’s head bowed as his arm was wrapped tightly around you giving the impression of a protective boyfriend protecting his girlfriend his slender fingers wrapped around your hip as you both walked towards the doors of the five star hotel. Fans were screaming, shoving pictures and cd’s towards him attempting to get his attention but all he wanted to do was relax… what a day it had been. He was chewing a piece of gum, curly hair messy but driving the girls and guys wild as usual. His other hand was holding his water bottle, his sunglasses and his car keys… yes he did in fact have pretty big hands.

Once inside of the hotel, away from the eyes of the public you pulled away from Harry not saying anything to him as you walked to your guys’ hotel room. Eventually once at the right room you slid the card in before pulling it out abruptly the green light flickering slightly letting you know it had been unlocked before you pushed the door open, not holding it open for the man as instead it slammed into his arm “thanks.” He spoke sarcastically, you would’ve said something even more sarcastic if it wasn’t for the issue that had now made itself apparent to you… one fucking bed. Great! Just your luck, right? “Are you serious? Harry didn’t you say you got two separate beds?” You asked Harry dropping his stuff onto the desk

“Yes. I did. But clearly they didn’t listen… it isn’t my fault.” He spoke and you glared at him “not your fault? Pfft.” You scoffed, Harry’s cold green eyes boring into you as he stared an annoyed unimpressed look on his face “and earlier you called me childish. Grow the fuck up y/n.” He spat out, your attention now on him, a steamy angry emotion in both of you as you glared into each others eyes “it’s. a. bed. If you’re so unhappy with it sleep on the floor.” He muttered annoyed before sitting down on the bed, the outside world was already dark, and harry was just about ready for bed. You couldn’t believe what he was saying and hated the fact that he just didn’t seem to care… he was truly a fucking asshole. Gods could your life get any worse? “People describe you as a gentleman… apparently you’re not. Because if you were you would’ve offered to sleep on the floor… cliche but if you did I might actually like you.” You spoke, yet didn’t even get a response from him. He just ignored you. Blatantly ignoring you. It pissed you off. Yet you watched as he soon grabbed a hold of a pillow neither of you would use before he stuffed a pillow in between the already laid out pillows- the one pillow standing up right creating an invisible equal line down the middle of the bed, “there… better princess.” He spoke sarcastically and you glared at him annoyed “you stick to your side. I stick to mine.” He spoke and you just nodded your head, before hurrying into the bathroom with your pyjamas, Harry getting changed himself before the both of you decided to wind down for the night.

Harry’s back was facing you, your back facing him too, the pillow being a lot of help actually yet you couldn’t get comfortable whatsoever. It was as if something was bugging you… and you forced yourself to believe it was him that was bugging you. But in reality it was this whole entire situation… you liked harry… and hated the fact that you both had to go around hiding these stupid fucking lies. You had been fidgeting nonstop for a good hour and a half, Harry’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the wall blankly… he was really biting his tongue. But that’s when your cold foot touched the back of his leg his body jumping

“Jesus Christ y/n! You’re freezing… stop fidgeting and go to sleep” he spoke, voice laced with tiredness the deepness making his voice crackle slightly. “Okay. ‘m sorry.” You muttered before rolling onto your stomach before attempting to sleep again, Harry’s eyes fluttering shut as he sighed softly, relaxing all until a minute later you were moving again- bed creaking, foot colliding with Harry’s ass “ow!” He rolled onto his back neck craned to look at you “will you stop? You’re certainly doing that on purpose.” He spoke, your brows furrowed in discomfort “I’m sorry… I can’t sleep… can’t get comfortable. I miss my home… my own bed…” you murmured Harry’s eyes opening slightly wider as he listened to you “well… you’ll be able to go home sooner once you fall asleep.” He spoke before attempting to roll back over and sleep only to be grabbed by your gentle hand eyes full of sadness and worry

“Harry…” you whispered “y/n.” He spoke in the same tone “hold me.” Those words practically stumped Harry, as he froze, blinking- utterly baffled. Did he just hear you right. “What?” “Hold me Harry. Please… I- I can’t sleep unless close to someone… or something…” usually you had your back pressed against the wall but there was no wall either of the sides of the bed. All apart from Harry. Harry closed his eyes, exhaling quietly before shaking his head “fine.” He rolled over to face you, you rolling over again so your back was facing him before you backed up into his warm embrace- back pressing against his chest, his arms lightly wrapping around your waist hands closed into fists to make sure to not touch you without you wanting him to, your body soon relaxing as you closed your eyes, Harry relaxing too as slowly but surely the both of you fell into somewhat of a peaceful sleep.

Hours passed before eventually it was morning again, 6am to be precise. You would’ve slept in longer if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry’s fans were screaming his name… one side yelling ‘Harry’ another yelling ‘styles’ it was continuous. Annoying. Frustrating.

Your eyes fluttered open confused, a soft groan leaving your lips, yet that soon became the least of your worries as you soon realised you were not facing a wall anymore… but rather Harry himself… your chest pressed against his, face inches from his, your eyes widening slightly in shock…. You must’ve really gotten comfortable last night… Jesus. You stared shocked but didn’t attempt to move as you soon instead found yourself admiring him… his lips… his nose…. The way his eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheeks… his hair sprawled out onto the pillow lips slightly pouted, arms still wrapped around you tightly and securely. His defined jawline and cheekbones making your stomach flutter. So much so you carefully reached your arm behind you grabbing your phone as you quickly but efficiently took a picture of him asleep, immediately posting it to Instagram keeping your eyes on him but also your phone to make sure he didn’t see you doing such a… romantic? Thing.

A sudden “you know it’s rude to stare,” making you jump a small lazy smirk on Harry’s lips as he stared at you. You quickly turned your phone off dropping it by your side as you stared at him “sorry..” you smiled softly staring at him the feeling you had towards him was now of fondness rather than resentment. “Want to hear a joke?” He asked softly voice lazy and amused and you hummed watching as he smirked “right… okay.. what do you call a dinosaur who constantly kicks you up the bum?” You shook your head not knowing “a megasoreass…” your lips immediately upturned into a smile as you laughed “that’s so fucking stupid Harry.” You giggled out “okay okay I’ve got one…. What do you call someone who crosses the road to find a chicken?” Harry stared confused “uh I don’t know.” “Harry styles.” You spoke, Harry’s eyes narrowing as he glared at you playfully “well who’s the one who likes chicken here? I only eat fish… soo… I guess it’s really y/n y/l/n hm” he smirked at you your smile remaining yet both your faces began to relax as he began leaning in, you moving closer to him as well before the inevitable happened…

Your lips met with his, the pillow that once kept you both from being close to each other now was a place for both your heads to rest, Harry’s hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your cheek bone as he kissed you deeply but passionately, eyes fluttered shut, growing more heated, his free hand sliding down your waist and your hands grasping onto his shoulders tightly hands soon curling into his hair, tugging slightly before eventually you were both forced to pull away…. Breathing heavily… looking into each others eyes as Harry stared at you

“Shit.” He murmured

“Shit.” You repeated after him studying his eyes silently… there’s no going back now, right? “Fuck it.” You whispered, lips colliding with his again as you kissed him passionately, the kisses messy and sloppy as his hands travelled down your waist, until eventually you were pulled on-top of him the filthy make out session continuing… and well….

The rest is history.

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nvvacanesworld · 3 months

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Last Spring

ᯓ★ Jean Kirstein x Fem Reader

Summary: You guys met in spring, All was forgotten by Fall.

You and Jean fall in love after you meet at your local Roller Rink, all is well until a accident causes you to lose your memory, forcing you guys to sever what you’ve could’ve been.

TW!-Angst/No comfort, Fluff in the beginning then it gets bad :) Car accident, Confessions, Crying (aww the three C’s) , Jean moves onto mikasa (let me know is i missed anything)

Winter was finally over and it was your favorite season.

Spring

The beautiful flowers blooming in the lush grass. The weather that feels just right, not to cold, not to hot. Even what some people would consider the bad parts like the weather that could just never seem to stay consistent, or the pollen that caused you to sneeze constantly.

You loved all of it

What you loved most about spring though? Is that you finally had time to yourself. You were done with your exams. So that meant no more late nights studying ruining your sleep schedule trying to cram as much information into your brain as possible. Also Basketball season was over, meaning you didn’t have to stay after school practicing for something you weren’t even passionate about anymore. You could Relax.

Well not really

You were poor. You grew up poor and for a long time you were sure you would die poor because you never saw yourself being able to pay for yourself to go to a good college.

Until your senior year of highschool came and you got a offer to play basketball at a D2 school.

But just because you got a scholarship doesn’t mean all expenses were paid for.

So that’s why you found yourself, every spring, working at your local roller rink until it was time to play again.

—

“Hey? Everything alright?”

A deep voice broke you out of your trance. Almost falling off of your stool you rushed to answer the man.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry” Mentally face planing yourself. Really day dreaming at work Y/n? Fuck if you’re manager hears about this your screwed. “I’m sorry- uhh how can i help you?” Putting on your best smile to cover up the fact you were bad at your job. The man only laughed and smiled back at you. He has a nice smile. You thought to yourself as you stared into his hazel eyes that were locked with your e/c ones.

He had a boy next door vibe, he looks sweet, you thought again. He looked to be standing at about 6’2 inches. You trailed your eyes down his body.

Fuck he looks like he works out too

You could practically tell he was fit just from how he looked in his outfit. How his shirt hugged his body, How his arms filled into it just right.

Realizing you were literally checking a customer out you shot your eyes back up to his to find them not staring at you but at your upper body. Particularly your chest and the way your top hugged your breasts. When he realized you were looking at him his body stiffed up and a pink hue took over his cheeks. Aw how cute

“How may i help you?” You said again only this time you said it more seductively while smiling at him. He coughed into his hand speaking up again “Ah yea- um i just need a size 12 skates” He said holding up his shoes so you guys could exchange “Please” he added with a smile.

After getting his skates you watched him walk back over to what seemed to be his friends. Looking at the group you could tell they were hyping him up in some way and he looked so nervous. It was so cute.

He was so cute.

—

Looking up from the tables you just finished cleaning the time was 9:56 p.m. Great we close in just four minutes. You were so tired and just wanted to go home so you could shower and catch up on Love is blind. You were walking back up to the front desk when you saw that same guy again standing there. His eyes lit up when he saw you. He looked like he was waiting for you to come back there.

“Sir can i help you?”

When you finally reached him his body stiffened. He looks so awkward.

“Uh-“ Looking behind him he locked eyes with his friends at the front door who seemed to have been waiting for him. “I- Um- Shit”

He looked like a nervous wreck . Wiping his palms on his pants. Biting his lip. You really wish he would hurry up. Your bed is screaming your name right now.

“Can i get your number?” He said it so fast while closing his eyes like he was bracing himself for some sort of impact. Really? That’s it? The way this guy was acting you would’ve thought he was going to say he rammed my car trying to get out of his parking space.

You looked at him contemplating if you should or not. Before you could decide you needed to ask him just one thing.

“How old are you?”

His eyes widened at your question but he still answered with haste. “I’m 23” Smirking while he answered. Looking to have slowly gained just some confidence.

“Oh cool, i’m 20” You smiled up at him. Walking over to the counter you reached for a pen and paper. “I’m pretty sure my phone is dead right now but just take my number on this and text me when you get home” Keeping your smile as you handed it to him.

Your smile made him smile too. He accepted the paper “Thank you pretty, i’ll do that” He turned to walk away leaving you to watch him walk back to his friends who seemed so proud of him, one of them who had a buzzcut even fake fainted with tears in his eyes. Damn he must get no play. Laughing out loud at your thoughts you went to grab your purse. Looking at the clock again it read 10:00 p.m.

You went to turn off the lights to the building walking to the front door where you were met with the night time security guard.

“See you Tomorrow Y/n, Get home safe” Waving you off

“Byeeee see you tomorrow” You chirped back walking out the doors.

—

“And i don’t know he just doesn’t seem serious about me”

“Girl what about the other guy that you talked to in the pods ? What was his name..um..OH Jake, Yeah what about him?”

You were now in your bed with your face mask on totally embraced into this show. It’s not when you hear your phone ding that you take your eyes off the screen. Ruffling your hands through the covers trying to feel for your phone you finally grab hold of it and look at this message from a random number.

513-***-****

Hey😗

It’s Jean from the Skating rink

Well i’m not sure if i told you my name

But it’s jean

if you were wondering

which I’m sure sounds stupid now bc why wouldn’t you want to know my name

Before he could send anymore anxious messages you replied but not before save his contact

You

lmfao calm down it’s okay

hi jean i’m y/n

He replied back almost immediately.

Cutie from ma job😏

That’s a pretty name🫠

So….

If you had a hour left to live what would you do?

You

aldhdkdhjd

what?

uhh probably want to spend it with the people i love the most…

or maybe have my fav meal one last time

look at you coming in with a bang💀

Cutie from ma job😏

I’m just trying to get to know you beautiful 😪

wanted to ask you something that would make me stand out

can you blame a guy for trying?

You giggled at his message. You guess you couldn’t blame him for trying, and yo be fair you’ve bever got asked a question like that from a guy in the first few messages you share. It’s usually “wyd” or just back and forth flirting. He seems so sweet. It made you forget about your show and continue to text him

You guys had been texting for about a hour before he asked you something that made you sit up from your bed.

Cutie from ma job😏

I really like talking to you y/n

Can i take you out? On a date i mean

You deserve to get taken somewhere nice

Ok, now you were full blown smiling and you could fry an egg on how hot your cheeks felt. You’ve never felt a connection like this with someone just from texting nor had you ever came into contact with someone who seemed so genuine. So you did the only reasonable thing you could think of

You

CODE RED OMG HELPP

AJDHSKSHDJDJ

HELP ME

WAKE UP

PLEASE HELPPPPPPPPP

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

DUMB 🍑

WHAT HAPPENED???

ARE YOU OKAY??

DO I NEED TO CALL THE COPS?

Y/N ANSWER ME

You

NO NO NO

I’m okay

I just

I just 😪 fuck idk how to say this

DUMB 🍑

So god help me

spit it tf out

You

I got asked on a date 😀

*attachment 1*

DUMB 🍑

Awwwww

so?

You

WHAT ??

WHAT DO I SAY IM SCARED

FUCK CALL ME

Long story short, Mya, Your sister said to just go with what your heart desires and then went on this long speech about how she was sooo worried something bad could’ve happened.

So you did just that

You

where ya taking me?😙

Cutie from ma job😏

Do you like surprises?

You

…

yes🫶

Cutie from ma job😏

Be ready saturday at 8:00 p.m.

Send your address

or you can wait

up to you

Whatever makes you comfortable so rush❤️

You sent him your address after contemplating if he was trust worthy or not. After you sent it you screamed into your pillow thrashing in your bed like maniac. This was overwhelming for you.

When’s the last time you had a date?

—

This was the 5th time you looked in the mirror.

It was Saturday the clock read 7:56 p.m. He would be here any minute now and you couldn’t calm down. You were so anxious

Hearing the sound of car horn outside you jumped at the sound.

Fuck

Taking one last look in the mirror you rushed outside seeing his car parked in across the street from your dorm building. He was already waiting outside the car door to greet you when you got in proximity with his car.

“Hi” He said nervously. “You look amazing, i mean when do you not look amazing” He rambled

“Hi jean” Standing in front of him you got a good look at him. Finally locking eyes with those hazel eyes that drew you into him when you first met. “Thank you, You look very handsome”

Your comment obviously had an effect on him based on his reaction. He took his hand to his face to cover his smile. God he really was so cute.

—

“Okay cover your eyes for me”

“Got it” You put your hands over your eyes awaiting to see this surprise he was raving about so much. After about 5 more minutes of driving the car came to a halt.

“Can i uncover-“

“NO”

You pressed your hands into your eyes harder at his reaction. So hard you felt they could’ve got stuck

“Shit- I’m sorry pretty, i just don’t wanna ruin it, here let me help you out” You heard him get out the car and his footsteps come over to your side of the car.

“I’m right here” He reached over to unbuckle your seat belt his hand brushing over your thighs as he did. His touches were so light and gentle. It was like he was dealing with a baby the way he was treating you. Something so precious and delicate.

“Okay i’m ‘gonna lead you out now”

“Okay” You said so softly you almost didn’t catch it yourself. You’ve never felt like this before. It felt nice, You felt like you could depend on him and you never felt like you could depend on anybody.

Not even your own parents

Leading you out the car Jean held your hand as he walked down a path. You could tell you were outside because you could here the leaves crushing beneath your feet and the twigs snapping as you walked with him. Along with the nice spring breeze on your skin.

“Okay open your eyes now” whispering close to your ear. You could feel his breathe against your skin warming it when he spoke.

Uncovering your eyes the scene before you. Lanterns lit the area added just the perfect amount of light to the romantic atmosphere. Blankets used as padded big enough so you guys could late down and cuddle. A projector that was projecting your favorite movie waiting to be started.

But your favorite thing

When you and Jean were getting to know each other he asked you what your favorite food was. You didn’t think to much of it but looking at some of your favorite foods laid out of trays in front of you, you think to yourself on how he must have been planning this before he even asked.

It was so perfect you could cry

“Jean oh my goodness” your voice cracking as you tried to put into words just how all of this made you feel

“This is- It’s so- Wow jean i don’t even know what to say right now” Turing around so you could stare into his eyes that you saw were already looking back at you.

“You don’t have to say anything, i understand pretty, you’re welcome”

It’s crazy how he understood you and you guys just met. It felt like he was your boyfriend already and you guys just met.

“Come, Come sit down” He takes your hand leading you to the blankets sitting down with you after you take your seat.

Such a gentleman too

“I’m happy you let me do this for you” He looked at you with what looked like admiration.

“Jean you went above and beyond you didn’t have to do this, this is so much i’m just so speechless”

“A beauty like you deserves it” Reaching for you hand to hold it you took his hand. He pulled you into his chest and went to start the movie.

I can already tell ill remember this night forever.

—

It’s been 3 months sense your date with Jean and things have only gotten better. You two started dating but you wanted to take things slow, being so used to rushing into things and it back firing on you, you didn’t want that to happen again.

You were sitting at the front desk at the Roller Rink. Bored out of your mind, missing Jean.

It’s like the clock was taunting you with how loud it was ticking.

To say the least you couldn’t wait to get out of here. Especially because jean said he wanted to take you to you guys spot.

The spot he took you to on your first date had a tree that you guys ended up visiting every now and then. Whether it was to do study and do work, Or just to get away. It was you guy’s thing to just visit the tree from time to time.

He expressed how he had something really important to tell you so you couldn’t wait to say the least. Just thinking about it was making your day better.

Just then it was like a miracle happened.

“Y/n your free to go we aren’t to busy today so i can take it from here”

Wow how lucky am i?

Before she could say another word you rushed to clock out.

After clocking out you shot Jean a text

You

I GOT OFF EARLYYYYYYY!!

WOOOOO

i cant wait to see you ;)

Jean❤️

That’s amazing love

I’ll see you soon i’m already here ;)

—

Running to the tree you saw jean sitting there. He was doodling in his notebook but put it down when he heard your footsteps

You ran into his arms letting his snaking around your waist, yours going to wrap around his neck

“I’ve missed you so much pretty, how was work?”

“i’ve missed you more and It was good but please i don’t wanna talk about work jean”

You both laughed and you get comfortable leaning your back against the bark

“What did you want to tell me?”

Jeans eyes light up and he starts to use his middle finger to starch his thumb. Something you learned he did when he was nervous.

“Okay i need you to look at me when i say this” He fixes he posture and takes your chin into his hands to turn your face towards him. Locking eyes with those hazel ones you’ve learned to love. You brace yourself for what he is about to say.

“Since the moment i laid eyes on you it felt like i’ve known you my whole life, like i was looking into the eyes of a lover from a past life time. Getting to know you has been a blessing, it’s been just what i needed, i couldn’t imagine myself being with any of girl y/n. You make me so happy, whenever i lock eyes with you i know that i wanna grow old with you, and i’m saying all this because-“ He sucks in a breath

“I love you”

You didn’t even know you had tears coming out your eyes until Jean takes his hand to your cheek to wipe them.

“Don’t cry love, it’s o-“

“I love you too Jean”

—

Walking back to you guys car you guys go to your designated vehicles, not after agreeing to follow eachother to Jeans apartment.

Your so caught up in your own world right now. Everything is going amazing for you. You’re doing good in school on the track to graduating. You have an amazing boyfriend who just confessed his love for you and you have a great job lined up for you after you graduate.

You’ve come so far from when you were a kid. Nothing could go-

BEEEPP!

The blaring horn of a truck takes you out of your dream like trance. You look to your left and see a Semi Truck speeding towards you and it shows no signs of stopping.

You can feel like life flash before your eyes. The truck crashing into the driver side of your car making it glide across the rode on impact, flipping over and all. A loud crash is heard. The glass from your windows flying across the pavement.

You don’t feel anything at first. Until you look downwards and see blood everywhere. You start to loose consciousness.

…

….

Ba-dump

“Y/n!”

Ba-dump

“Baby please wake up”

Ba-dump

Until everything goes blank.

—

“Like i was explaining before Mr.Kirstien we can’t disclose anything about the patient not unless you are married or family”

“You have to tell me please, That’s my girlfriend in there i can’t be in the dark about this”

Jean drops to his knees in front of the doctor catching the attention of no other than your parents

“Please anything just is she okay? Will she be okay?”

The doctor pitches the bridge of her nose looking up while sighing

“Sir please get up-“

“Excuse me”

They both turn there heads at the sound of a women. Jean looks at her.

“Are you looking for my daughter?”

He must look a mess right now he thinks to himself. Bloodshot eyes from non stop days crying about you, Snot coming out his nose from his current crying, Face red and puffy.

But how could he not look like this?

He couldn’t be okay if he doesn’t know if your okay or not.

The women looks to be in about her 50’s but that’s not the crazy part.

She looks just like you. This must be your mother.

The doctor taking this as her chance to escape walking away leaving your mom to take care of it.

“A-are you y/n’s mom?”

“Yes i am” The women answered in almost a whisper. At this news Jean gets off the ground standing up straight. “Hi i’m- Hello Ma’am i’m Jean, Y/n’s Boyfriend” The women smiles “Ah yes she did mention how she had a boyfriend” At this news Jean gains hope

Is she awake?

“Is she awake? Can i speak to her ? Did she tell you that now ?”He is fumbling over his words rushing all his thoughts out at once. But who could blame him ? He was a wreck right now he didn’t know if you were dead or alive.

“She’s awake but-“ Her voice cracks “The doctor said she- Oh god i can’t do this” She breaks down into tears. Jean leads her to a seat taking a seat next to her as she sits down. Letting her hold his hand and cry on his shoulder.

After she calms down she starts to speak again.

“The doctor s-said she lost her memory and won’t be able to remember anything from before she woke u-up in the hospital. I-i- she doesn’t even remember h-er own mother” The women breaks down again not being able to hold in her emotions when she thinks about her daughter and what she went through.

Jean feels like the world stopped spinning. What? What did she mean you lost your memory? So you won’t be able to remember him? all the times you shared together?

He needed to see you

—

Looking out the window of your hospital room you felt numb. Not because of all the drugs in your body to make sure you were okay but because you it felt like you were rid of emotions. You felt bad for the women. You really did, but you just didn’t know her anymore.

The door to the hospital room opened revealing a man that stood at about 6’2

You could tell he worked out

But he looked so deflated.

Hm did she know him too?

“she” As in your past self. Because honestly that just wasn’t you anymore.

“Y/n”

“Hm”

You look at him with indifference as you watch his face fall. It was like someone pulled a plug on him. It’s like he knew this wasn’t the girl he knew

“You- You don’t remember me? At all”

You don’t say anything. Just because you think it’s obvious.He doesn’t take lightly to this though. Rushing to your side taking your hands into his. He’s squeezing the life out of you right now

“I need you to answer me y/n do you remember me ? at all?” His voice raises. He’s getting desperate. “Please it’s me, Jean” He says with a tearful smile.

He was oh so desperate.

“Look”

He felt his stomach drop

“I’m sure you and i guess- y/n, we’re very close but i don’t remember that anymore. I wish i did you seem so hurt right now but that just isn’t me” You sigh “I’m sorry, Jean”

—

It was Jeans Favorite season

Spring

But what he loved most about spring was his memory’s if you and what you once had.

“Jeannn come on, let’s go get our skates” His girlfriends mikasa drags him to the front desk. Jean winces at her touch not wanting step close to that desk. Let alone be in this place.

“Can i get two pairs of skates please? One size 7 one size 12..”

He stares at the desk and the new worker who is there.

Well not entirely new.

Because she may have your face, Your hair, even your scent

But that’s not you.

Jeans eyes met your e/c ones. He felt butterflies in his stomach. He wish something would snap in you and you would remember him, remember you and him and all the memories you shared.

But he knows that will never happen.

Jean loves spring he loved everything about spring.

But every spring he’s reminded of last spring.

and what you and him could’ve had.

An- Hey y’all okay so i’m not crying you are. But also more importantly this was not proof read at all so pls correct me if i have any mistakes and show me mercy as i am new to writing i’m trying my best so i may not be as good as these writers that get 1,000’s of notes but with time i will improve if you have any tips feel free to share with me in comments or dm’s i’m always down talk about writing ✍🏽, i’m very tired and have morning classes tomorrow. Thank you for reading 🩷🩷🩷🩷 mwah 💋

#angst #anime angst #x reader angst #jean kirschtein x reader #jean aot #attack on titan #jean kirschstein college au #jean kirstein x black reader #nvvacanesworld #jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot angst #angst no happy ending #memory loss trope #x black fem reader #fem reader #attack on titan angst

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destieltropecollection · 1 year

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 7 | Angst With A Happy Ending

falling must feel | @demonmary

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,188 Main Tags/Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Drinking, Comp-Het, Hopeful Ending, Confessions Summary: As soon as the text message was sent, he shoved his phone away, silently vowing to leave it there till morning. While his fingers closed around the second shot glass, he locked eyes with a pretty girl with dark hair. Now this, this was something Dean could do without fucking up.

The Gospel According To Sam Winchester's Wrath | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,725 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Dean Winchester's Season 13 Widower Arc, Post-Episode: s13e01 Lost and Found, Episode: s13e05 Advanced Thanatology, Angst, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms Summary: How do you grieve when, for the first time in a long time, it looks like the people you love might not come back? How do you find someone to blame when everyone involved is partially responsible for what went wrong? How do you cope when you have to take care of someone who's always looked after you in the past? How do you manage a massive disaster with no help? (Or: Sam Winchester remembers what it's like to be angry all the time with nothing to swing at, and can't stop thinking about some of Jimmy Novak's last words.)

reasons to leave | @sharkfish

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,381 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern SettingAngst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Vampires, Dean Winchester's Appallingly Low Self-Esteem Summary: Dean’s thinking of ending things. With Cas, that is. This isn’t like the book. It’s not a horror story, unless you know how easily a person can become a house haunted. Unless you know how, eventually, it becomes almost easy to choke down even the sharpest words. Unless you know how it feels for every escape attempt to fail. Unless you know a secret can be as heavy as dread and just as dark. That’s in the past, or maybe the point is that it never will be, not for Dean. He still answers his father’s calls and keeps an extra fridge in his unfinished basement, after all.

when doves cry | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6,821 Main Tags/Warnings: human castiel, canon divergent, season/series 9 Summary: When Dean asks Cas to leave the bunker, all he can do is hope that the fallen angel is safe and doing okay. But when he reaches out to Cas to check in, he's surprised by the anger he's met with. Forced to consider whether or not he made the right call, Dean must reckon with how to fix things between him and the man he worries he may have lost forever.

begin & end there | @sharkfish

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,677 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catfishing, Online Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Texting, Loss of Virginity, Fluff Summary: Dean: You’re not who you say you are Cas has always known it might come to this — Dean knowing the pathetic reality of him — and he always knew whatever they were doing couldn’t last. Eventually Dean would see through his excuses. Eventually he would meet someone like James: handsome, successful, confident. Someone that deserves Dean’s attention.

He Used to Be Mine | @kcprexhatespushups-blog

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 8,527 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Human Castiel, Post S15 e20" Carry On, Castiel is not Okay, Castiel Needs a Hug, Sad with a Happy Ending, Greif/Mourning, Orignal Female Character Summary: Castiel never expected to come back, he had resigned himself to staying in The Empty for the rest of time. He had spoken his truth, and those three words saved the world, but more importantly, those three words saved Dean Winchester. Castiel never expected to live in a world where Dean Winchester didn't exist, so when Jack pulled him out, the first words out of his mouth were: Where’s Dean?

Dead Letter Office | @f-able

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10,000 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Past sex worker dean, canon-compliant child abuse, grieving dean, Summary: Dean writes to Castiel in The Empty.

Raise Me From the Wreck of My Doubt | @aishitara

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,290 Main Tags/Warnings: canon-divergence: season 5, Dean Winchester has self-worth issues, internalized homophobia, brief suicidal ideation, masturbation, rimming, sounding, anal penetration, consentacles, Dean Winchester has nightmares about Hell. Summary: He’s giddy, intoxicated, flushed from head to toe. Soon enough, though, the endorphins fade, and despite the heat of the shower, Dean finds himself shivering. Shame floods him, icy and corrosive. Cas is an *angel.* And yeah, for the most part their methods and motives *suck* for Dean, and who knows what sorta shit Cas had gotten up to with the Host before he went all Fredo Corleone on their asses, but he’s still an angel, still *holy,* and loads better than Dean fucking Winchester, who has gone to actual Hell and unequivocally did not deserve Cas dragging his sorry ass out of it.

Ghost Whisperer | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,166 Main Tags/Warnings: Cas is not really dead, Ghost Cas, Medium Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Touch-Starved Cas, Fluff and Smut, Bottom Cas, Top Dean, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas Summary: Ever since Castiel fell into a coma for unknown reasons, he hasn’t been able to communicate with anyone. Some new tenants have moved into his apartment, his sister won’t let him move on, and all in all, it seems like the ‘Novak Curse’ has him in its grips. Until he meets a medium, who, as a hunter, is not too fond of ghosts. If Castiel wants his help, he’ll have some serious haunting to do. Falling in love with his hauntee wasn’t part of the plan, but it certainly complicates things.

You Can Start To Make It Better (Beautiful Beautiful Boy) | @heller-castiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 15,940 Main Tags/Warnings: Heaven, Post-Canon, Dean Winchester’s Mommy Issues, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Brief Allusions to Homophobia, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester Summary: Dean goes to bed with Cas on the night Jack's finally ready to reform heaven and give up his Godly powers; but before he does, he pulls Dean into heaven to bring someone back, one last time. Or: Dean Winchester works through his mommy issues with some heavenly therapy.

Hope is a living thing | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,547 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Canon divergence, Hopeful ending Summary: Castiel storms the sanitarium ready to die. The last thing he expects to find is hope for a better ending.

the long hill home | @angelcasendgame

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27,017 Main Tags/Warnings: trapped together, purgatory, seemingly unrequited love Summary: Finding themselves stranded in a world of abominations again, after twelve years of being on the precipice of something, Dean finally tells Castiel that he loves him. It should be simple. It isn’t. Castiel knew his deal with the Empty meant he would have to reject happiness. He just didn’t know he would even get the chance at it. ~ Or, under the threat of the Empty’s deal, Castiel is forced to reject Dean’s confession. It’s downhill from there.

The Black Series | @destiel-wings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 28,093 Main Tags/Warnings: angst and romance, post s15e19, fix it, Dean Winchester grieves Castiel, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, Castiel is saved from the Empty, bed sharing, human Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester need to use their words, intimacy Summary: This fic is a two-part series. Since the Empty took Cas, Dean can't sleep in the dark, can't even be in the dark, and he can't see black. That color is a trigger. When Castiel is back, saved from the Empty, he’s scared of the dark, too, and the nightmares won't leave him alone. Dean offers to sleep in the same room and has to deal with his feelings in the process.

Heaven/Hell | @lazarus-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 28,623 Main Tags/Warnings: Fallen Angel!Cas, Demon!Dean, alternate canon, fluff and smut, happy ending Summary: Castiel Milton is not well. He can’t be. He keeps hearing the voices of angels in his head and, for a time, they convinced him that Lucifer was about to rise up from Hell and bring about the apocalypse… After a brief stay at the Connor Beverly Behavioral Medical Centre, where he thankfully begins to sort out his delusions, Castiel is brought home by his beloved boyfriend Dean Winchester. He thought things would get better, but the voices won’t stop, and that’s to say nothing about the dreams, or how he occasionally looks at Dean and sees a monster staring back at him.

S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Trespasser | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 28,819 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blood and Gore, Violence, Brainwashing, Recreational Drug Use, Major Character Injury, Strangers to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Identity Issues, Whump, Implied Sexual Content Summary: After Sam Winchester disappears while working with the Peace Corps in Eastern Europe, Dean exhausts every conventional resource trying to figure out where his brother went until an underground online community points him in the direction of the Chernobyl disaster zone in Ukraine. Armed with a list of supplies he needs to pack, a wad of cash, and a weak grip of the Russian language (thanks Sammy), Dean follows the trail there to find his brother and get them both back home safe. When he arrives, his last-minute reading up on the area didn't prepare him for the war zone that he finds… or the terrifying phenomena going on within. A chat with a veteran “stalker” gives him his next clue: he needs to hire a mercenary named Seraph, who’s supposedly a real pro and one of the best at digging up lost things throughout the Zone. Everyone’s heard of this guy, he knows his shit and does a great job, but nobody knows anything about him either, what he’s like or how he came to be what he is. So now Dean has two things he’s looking for, a pile of useless evidence, and a ticking clock over his head: seeing what’s really going on in this nightmarish place, the longer it takes him to find Sam, the less likely he’ll be to find Sam alive.

But Water's Wider | @li-izumi

Rating: Mature Word Count: 29,622 Main Tags/Warnings: Depression, suicide ideation, Castiel Whump, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Post-Season 11 Summary: Without his wings to guide his descent after he was banished by the intruder in the Bunker, Castiel crashes into the ground, leaving his body nearly as broken and bruised as his heart. Only his promise to Dean to protect Sam compels Castiel to stand up again. After days of dragging himself back to the Bunker, Castiel discovers that Sam is all right and Dean is alive! What should be a joyous reunion is marred by Castiel’s self-doubts. If the Winchesters don’t need him, and Heaven doesn’t want him, where does Castiel belong?

The Last Great American Dynasty | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32,333 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Writer Castiel, Handyperson Dean WInchester, Haunted Houses, POV Castiel, Historical References, Unreliable Narrator, Curses and Superstitions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Based on a Taylor Swift Song. Summary: Cas Novak is a famous Sci-Fi and Fantasy writer. His Angelus Series is one of the best known book series in the world. However, he's stuck. His life is in a rut, he can't find the motivation to write, and he needs something different. Despite the reservations of his two closest friends, Cas buys a mansion on the sleepy Rhode Island coast known as Holiday House. Purchasing it sight unseen and with no research, it doesn't take long for Cas to find out that there would be consequences, and benefits, in making the purchase of a lifetime.

Do Unto Others | @envydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 52,025 Main Tags/Warnings: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, hurt!Dean, Hurt!Cas, Slave!Dean, Slave!Cas, Master!Alastair, Dean/Alastair, Cas/Alastair, Coerced Consent, Kidnapping, Attempted Mind Break, Collars, Branding, non consensual tattooing, slavery is illegal, Fucking Machines, breath play, Angst with a Happy Ending, sort of enemies to lovers Summary: Dean has been Alastair's slave—his sweetheart—for nearly five years. It's been a while since things have been bad, he's compliant and does everything that Master asks him to. That is until Master gifts Dean a friend—a pet, his pet—and it starts to go downhill when he learns things about how the world is.

"Heaven Is a Place on Earth" | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 64,722 Main Tags/Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Modern!AU, Sex Worker!Castiel, Client Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, BDSM, Sub Dean Winchester, Dom Alastair, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Non-sexual submission Summary: Dean Winchester is a lonely, repressed ad-man whose only vices are his 1967 Chevy Impala and the sex worker he sees every week. When Anael unexpectedly cancels Dean's appointment with her at the Heaven and Hell themed brothel, Dean agrees to make an appointment with another of Heaven's angels. A male angel, who goes by the name 'Castiel', and who unlocks desires in Dean that he thought he had buried deep, deep down. But there is a darker side to Dean: a side that Dean discovers when he ventures down to Hell and meets a demon named Alastair. Will Dean listen to the angel on his shoulder and follow his heart, or will he succumb to the temptation of the demon on his back?

Ignite Your Bones | @angelinthefire

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 67,177 Main Tags/Warnings: major character death, top castiel/bottom dean winchester, angel!Cas, canon-typical alcoholism, grief/mourning, depression, suicidal thoughts Summary: Chuck takes the Winchesters up on their offer in 15x19. Dean, Cas, and Jack deal with the fallout for their relationships. It gets worse before it gets better.

Don't Say Gay (in Russia) | @valandrawrites

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 78,567 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - High School, Russian Castiel, Foreign Exchange Student, Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Musician Castiel, Pierced Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Protective Bobby Singer, Homophobic Language, homophobic violence, Cultural Differences, Happy Ending Summary: Foreign exchange student Castiel Krushnic arrived in America looking for a clean slate for his senior year, but his host family didn’t even remember he was coming. He resigns himself to another year of isolation, but the green-eyed boy who finally arrives to take him home is as confusing as he is beautiful. Dean Winchester is less than impressed to discover his father had signed them up as a host family and never told him and Sam. Now he has to deal with a grumpy Russian who barely talks, a best friend who isn't speaking to him, a brother full of teenage hormones, and a whole litany of doubt about who he is and what he really wants. It’s going to be a fucking disaster of a senior year. Getting closer to Cas requires that Dean confront his own demons as well as try to heal the physical and invisible wounds the past has inflicted upon the tender heart beneath the hard shell who only ever learned the party line that you Don’t Say Gay in Russia.

The Leap | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 82,932 Main Tags/Warnings: Getting Together, Falling In Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester Summary: 1961: Sixteen years after the end of World War II, Berlin remains occupied by the Allied Forces — America, Britain, France and the Soviet Union. Castiel Krushnic is a police officer in Soviet-occupied East Berlin. He is also gay, in a city where that’s a dangerous thing to be. One night, he meets Dean Winchester, a mechanic from the American sector. Their mutual attraction is instant, and a convenient hookup quickly turns into a passionate love affair that defies all rules and expectations. But Cold War Berlin is a troubled place, and as more and more residents flee Soviet-occupied territory for the West, Castiel’s superiors begin to make plans to build a wall. The wall would cut off East Berlin from the rest of the city — and leave Dean and Castiel on opposite sides.

Any Other Day | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Mature Word Count: 124,676 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Slight Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Domestic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Hurt Castiel, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Wing Kink Summary: Victor just wants to finally enjoy his weekend. But when weird reports of a man in a trench coat having been arrested for murder in some small town in Colorado are coming in and the names of the Winchester brothers are all of a sudden mentioned for the very first time in almost a decade inside the FBI building, Victor needs to kiss his free time goodbye. So instead of spending his days on the couch, eating all the takeout he can find and watching crappy movies, he all at once sees himself confronted with an unstable angel, incapable of controlling his powers, a hunter missing from the scene, nowhere to be found, and the other one worried out of his mind about his family. Yeah, that's not the quiet weekend Victor had been hoping for. At all.

The Evil that Men do | @malicmalic

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 174,637 Main Tags/Warnings: Past Rape/non con, Non Con elements, Mistaken Identity, Torture, Kidnaping, Consent issues, Stockholm Syndrome, Fear, Guilt, Suicidal thoughts, Past Drug abuse, Homophobia, Unreliable Narrator, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Human AU. Summary: When Dean learns his girlfriend found the man that raped her all those years ago, he is ready to make him feel the exact formation of Dean's knuckles, but Bela had some other ideas in mind. Dean is not what you might call a good guy, but even some things are too much for him. And then the worst thing happens - Dean learns they made a mistake. The guilt will consume him, making him change his foul path, but nothing will ever seem enough, even when he gets a chance for redemption.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #Angst with a happy ending #day 7

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