#FIRST REMNANT FIC WOO

[holly-fixation]

Three... Guards?

Summary: Tifa finds Cloud at the train station in Sector Seven. It’s the first time she’s seen him in seven years. But he’s not alone. Three silver haired boys protected him. Three silver haired boys that triggered memories of her hometown. Of steel through her chest. Of SOLDIER First Class.

Of Him.

Inspired by this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien .  

Please Enjoy!

…

Chapter 1: Punishment

This wasn’t part of the plan. This was one hundred thousand percent not part of the plan. They were supposed to use Mother’s cells and become Him. It was that simple. Basic. Elementary. And they almost had it. How did everything go wrong? Why was it so complicated? 

If that stupid president didn’t make that shot. If Mother's box stayed intact. If they took a different turn and avoided the decommissioned mako reactor. If they didn’t slip off the ledge. If that black sheep of a big brother didn't gain the upper hand. If he managed to save them from falling into the remaining Lifestream. If that brother was successful. 

If.

If.

If.

These scenarios wouldn’t help them now. They couldn’t waste time thinking about ‘possibilities’ when reality screamed in front of them. 

Big Brother needed help. After submersion in the Lifestream, the three of them found themselves spit out somewhere in the wasteland surrounding Midgar. The entire city stood proudly, Shinra Tower and the Sector Seven plate unified and composed and supported. Like the city itself was reborn along the horizon. Whatever it was, it would be a long walk back. And was it just them, or did everything seem… bigger? Even the few cliffs and rogue plants in the ruined land seemed larger than before. They turned to each other for explanation and…

…What?

What?! 

They looked like children, short and small! As old as the children they healed! What did the Lifestream do to them?! They understood some kind of retaliation was coming but why this. 

Great. The oldest was about to cry again, completely panicked and losing his very loose grip on his emotions. The middle was far too calm, but even that facade started to crack when he noticed none of them had any weapons. The youngest, in all honesty, was ready to strangle every living thing, but that would have to come later, when they eventually made their way into the city. Making it across this worthless plain would be a lot harder as pint sized packages with no vehicles, but they didn’t find any other options. Was the Planet trying to ‘walk’ them to death?

Well, no. They quickly stumbled across a body, skin a soft green and birds picking at the rotting flesh. It must’ve been dead for at least a day. The man had black hair, a SOLDIER uniform, dozens of dried bullet wounds that vultures took full advantage of, and a solid blade of the sword Big Brother fought with. The same one they found, and kicked to the ground, when pursuing him. The eldest grew curious. Approaching without hesitation, he broke the grip of the corpse and lifted the blade, though holding it to attention forced his body to shake in struggle. 

“Put it down,” The youngest spat. The older one dropped the sword immediately in surprise, the hunk of metal clattering and ringing as it fell. The birds scattered, flying nearby for the moment these children left. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” 

The youngest rolled his eyes and stayed silent, knowing that if he said a single word back, they'd all have to deal with his tears. They didn’t have time for that.

“Hey, Kadaj…?”

“What now?” The boy immediately turned to the other brother, annoyed and tired of all the weird stuff that kept happening today. A strong part increasingly frustrated at his failure to carry out Mother’s plan before suddenly appearing outside Midgar.

“Is that… Big Brother…?” 

Kadaj’s face soured with confusion and he moved to observe the being. But his breath hitched the moment blonde spikey hair came into view. At the silent response, the eldest followed, eyes wide and completely lost upon seeing the man.

It was. It was him, his body leaning against the rocks and his head low. Like them, he wasn’t the same either. He was younger and clearly weaker to start. His skin was dangerously dry, his lips peeling around rapid shallow breaths, his eyes sunken and darkened. The middle child moved his arm and lifted his head in analysis. 

“He seems dehydrated…” He stated simply, his voice naturally quiet and lulling as it had been before. “He might die out here…”

Kadaj stared at the unconscious body. All his questions about this punishment snapped into place, completing the puzzle with a single realization. Too much had already changed. They couldn’t risk any greater ‘butterfly effect’ without risking wherever Mother was. “Loz, pick him up. We’re taking him to Midgar.”

The eldest acted immediately. “I got it.”

“Do you think he knows where Mother is…?”

“No. But I think he’s our best chance at finding her. He always seems to be around- what are you doing?”

Loz managed to lift Big Brother’s arm over his shoulder, but the other half practically dragged through the dirt. 

Kadaj glanced at the middle sibling. “Yazoo.”

He nodded, already adjusting to help.

“No, I got it,” Loz grumbled, turning the body just out of reach.

“You do not got it. Everything’s a mess.” He countered with a snip in his voice, approaching the blade. “I’ll grab his sword. Let’s go.”

Yazoo aided as much as he could with his slightly shorter height than his brother, balancing the blonde between them. Kadaj picked up the hilt, dragging the tip on the ground, not wasting energy trying to lift it or prevent the horrid wear on the blade itself. They needed water, food, probably gil, and any weapons they could get their hands on, if they wanted a chance at saving Big Brother.

It was a long way to Midgar.

* * * 

The smell of garbage and rot under the plate always filled the air, smog skewing the natural light from the gaps within the structure. The dirt roads and barely functioning homes were just a part of life here. A roof was almost a luxury. Afterall, it wasn’t like they got any rain or snow here. Monsters within the dumps were usually problems, but communities set up watches and hunting sessions to protect the normal civilian life.Life was, to an extent, peaceful. 

Besides the resistance the black haired woman housed under her bar, a bar she currently needed to stock. 

Upper plate always had the best product anyway. This was routine by now. Every Monday and Thursday, she made her way to the train station, took it to Sector Zero, collected what she needed, and headed back. An ever mundane task compared to the actual looting of Shinra facilities her friends conducted at night, and housed spoils beneath her workplace. 

Today, this simple life flipped on its head. 

She dropped the empty box in her arms. There was no mistaking it. He changed. He grew, but he still kept his blonde hair spiky as a palm tree. He was taller, stronger by the shape of his muscles, clothed head to toe in SOLDIER fatigues, just as he promised all those years ago. His skin was pale, but he still had color in his face. His mako blue eyes were open but empty, lost, hollow. But it was still Cloud Strife in front of her, leaning against that platform.

But…who were the three boys with him? 

All of their hair shined with perfect mercury. They couldn’t be older than ten, shorter in stature, but stronger than they seemed at first glance. One had long hair, one only had it to his shoulders, but the last, and the bulkiest, had his cut short and pushed up. 

For a moment, she felt herself distracted from Cloud, when the smallest glared daggers directly into her eyes, mako blue inhuman needles staring straight into her soul.

He looked like Him. They all looked like Him.

They figured someone would come for Big Brother eventually, but he couldn’t be left alone. Nor would they let him be alone. Occasionally, he mumbled incomprehensibly, calling out to something or someone. They just ignored it. Yazoo acted caringly and offered bottled water directly to his chapped lips, but he always took too small a sip than he needed, if he drank any at all. Loz stayed close while surveying the people disembarking the trains, watching for someone to recognize their brother. Kadaj did the same with the crowd coming from the slums, which is how he alone found himself locked in a staring contest with one of their enemies. 

He tensed his hand, ready to whip out the pocket knife he found in the rubble and garbage. “What do you want?” 

The other two looked over immediately. 

His voice cut her like a knife, the anger, almost malice behind her catching her off guard. Dark. Cruel. Burning. “I- I…” Her heart suddenly pounded in her chest, reacting to her memories and leaking panic slowly into her mind. For now it was just anxiety, but she felt it growing. She needed to protect Cloud. She needed him before she let this show. “Is- Is that Cloud?”

They nodded, still skeptical, still defending. Loz approached as well, blocking part of her view but observing carefully. 

“H- How did you find him? Is he okay?”

“We found him unconscious in the planes beyond Midgar…” Yazoo explained, earning a soft glare from Kadaj. “It didn’t seem like he would make it, and well… we chose to bring him here…”

“I can help him,” She explained quickly as she took a step forward, but the two in front of her blocked her path. “I live nearby. I can take him from here and make him better.”

“You are not taking Big Brother!” Loz demanded, clenching his fists and standing at the ready. 

Big Brother? Bewilderment claimed her expression. Cloud didn’t have any siblings. That didn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about?”

“Ti…fa…?”

Her breath hitched, and all of them snapped their eyes to the stirring blonde. 

“T-Tifa…?” Cloud pushed himself to his feet too quickly, stumbling forward from the unbalanced blood rush. Yazoo grabbed his arm to stabilize him. Once on his feet, he didn't react to the boy at all. His blue eyes instantly glued to the black haired woman. 

The two guarding boys parted and let Tifa run to Cloud. 

“Cloud, it’s really you!” She was so happy she almost jumped into his arms, but he was a bit wobbly on his feet, his mind still partially dull with weak vertigo from his time in the wasteland. 

His body nearly collapsed on her, and she found her arms wrapped around him in support rather than a hug. “S-Sorry…” His eyes blurred as he tried to lift himself back to his feet. 

Did he really just apologize for fainting?

“I’m glad you’re okay…”

Tifa squeezed him softly before adjusting him over her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. Come on. We’re going to my place, okay? I’ll patch you up there…”

He gave a reluctant, embarrassed nod. But he lost consciousness immediately after, the moment Tifa took her first step away from the track.

Now, all three boys blocked her path in a single impenetrable wall. A shaky and unnerved sigh that left her breath. She didn’t like them. She didn’t like the feeling in her gut or the memories they brought. But, they did save Cloud, and they clearly protected him from anything they could. Maybe that ‘big brother’ statement was just a story they fabricated to stay with him, especially since they look nothing like him. Maybe, since they brought him all the way to Midgar, they wanted to confirm that he was okay. She hoped they’d leave after that. She prayed.

“You guys too. Come on.”

All three remnants surrounded her and Cloud, the smaller two in front and the largest behind. They still acted like guards. But at least the long haired one picked up the box she completely forgot about as they headed for the bar in the Sector Seven slums.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

Author's note: It's my first time writing the remnants! I've been wanting to for a while but I never knew how to apply their personalities to most situations. I also have a very nostalgic attachment to Advent Children (music, fight scenes, some of the voice acting) so I wanted to do this right, not just a joke and not where I need to fill in most of the world, at least to start. Thus: another adapted time travel AU. 

This won't be too many chapters (I think) but I hope it's a good time. Thanks for reading!

#FIRST REMNANT FIC WOO #final fantasy vii #ff7 #advent children #Cloud strife #tifa lockhart #ffvii remake #ffvii advent children #kadaj #kadaj ff7 #loz ff7 #yazoo #yazoo ff7 #time travel au #zack fair #ZACK IS ONLY IN THIS AS A DEAD BODY #I totally forgot to tag that on ao3 and made someone cry #Major character death #three guards #Three... Guards?

[cheollipop]

Time for me to be indulgent and malicious and target you specifically ehehheheheh

How about a wooyoung drabble with lots of impreg kink, breeding kink, like the whole nine yards. I want to see this man fill reader up all full iykwim

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

FINALLY- finally got to this *eye twitch* had a bit of a mind fart trying to figure out what to write at first but,, oh boy. I'm a little unsure about the dialogue tbh but my brain is not braining anymore and I kinda just wanna get this out already T-T... (pls consider this your birthday present if i don't get around to writing you a fic on time mwah) happy reading!!!~

pairing: jung wooyoung x afab!reader

w.c.: 1.3k

tags: smut, unprotected sex (👎), breeding/impreg kink, creampie kink, hints of cockwarming, use of nicknames/pet names, VERY possessive woo, he just wants you to be his forever ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

You knew something was off. The minute Wooyoung strolled into the kitchen with purposeful strides, bare feet padding across the floorboards and stopping behind you, veiny arms wrapping around your middle to inhale his own scent off the shirt draped over your figure. He peppered open-mouthed kisses along the side of your face, down to your neck and jaw, tucking himself close to your body until his chest was flush to your back. Nuzzling his nose into your shoulder, he brushed away the remnants of his dream, thoughts about waking up to an empty bed, a home barren of your presence, sending a shiver down his spine.

The silence was off-putting, clear droplets hanging on to Wooyoung’s eyelashes when you craned your neck to peek at him, “Woo? Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Mine,” he muttered, eyes fixed on yours, pupils quivering while he bent you over the counter, one hand turning the stove off while the other slid up your spine, bunching his shirt around your waist. “You're not leaving me... are you?”

Still looking back at him, your eyes softened at the vulnerability breaking his voice, “Never, my love. ”

You allowed him to manhandle you, biting down on your bottom lip in anticipation as he rid you of your panties, feeling him stand back to watch them fall to your feet, relief easing the crushing weight off his chest at your words. The tension in his stance gradually dissolving, he ran his fingertips through your folds, teasing one of his digits around your hole—still soft and stretched-out from last night, heaving chests and pretty whimpers still fresh in his mind.

You could see lingering traces of insecurity clouding his unfocused eyes while they took in the way your pussy swallowed his fingers with ease, relaxing your upper body onto the cold marble while he made sure your cunt was still moulded to his shape. “I promise, Woo. I’m all yours.”

He snapped his head up, reaching for your hand and plastering himself to your back in the process, tangling your fingers until the metal encircling them clacked against each other—wedding bands reflecting the morning light. You weren’t sure when he’d rid himself of his bottoms, or when he’d pulled his digits out of you, but his cock was now pushing past your entrance, and you couldn’t seem to care anymore.

“Mine,” his palm landed on your ass, grabbing a handful of the flesh as he bottomed out, “all mine.” One hand in yours, the other obsessing over your backside, Wooyoung drove his cock into you with desperation you’d rarely seen pour out of him. “’Gonna fuck you dumb.”

“Woo-”

“Gonna make sure everyone knows that too,” he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, “have your husband’s cum dripping out of your pretty pussy. Fuck, please, can I stuff my baby full?”

You shivered under him, reaching back to cup his hip, “Show them I’m yours, Woo, ‘wanna be so full of you.”

“Oh, darling, ‘gonna give you everything I have,” his fingers tightened around your skin, spitting out broken moans every time you squeezed around his base, your cunt begging him not to go, “until you’re all pretty and swollen with my babies.”

Growling into your clothed shoulder, he slid his hand over the slope of your ass and up your spine, pounding his cock into you with fervor, your balance wavering as he jerked your body forward with every forceful thrust. With your fingers still locked together, he brought them down to your other hip, holding you still while he used your cunt as a cocksleeve, but his lips remained gentle, peppering tender kisses over the exposed skin of your name, smiling against the goosebumps raised at the gesture.

“Close,” you mumbled, drool pooling over the countertop as Wooyoung’s cockhead continuously grazed over your g-spot, and you no longer had the energy to look back at him. “Please, ‘m so close.”

You missed the way his face contorted—eyes lidded and brimming with lust, skin tinted with a pretty shade of pink while he drew shallow breaths into his lungs. He throbbed within you at the way your cunt stretched open to allow him access, cock buried deep within your walls with beads of precum blended with your arousal seeping out of you every time he pushed back inside. You squirmed under him, and he could feel you pulsing around him with the dire need to be touched, your clit demanding attention while he split you open on his cock.

“You can do it, baby,” he clicked his tongue at the frantic shake of your head. “You know you can. You’ve done it before, remember? Youngie fucked you so good you squirted all over his cock.”

“Please, I-”

“Shhh,” he folded himself over you, pressing his lips to your nape, the hand on your back now clutching the edge of the counter. “You can do it.”

His hips picked up their pace, hammering into you in deep thrusts, as though he couldn’t bear not being sheathed within your tight heat. That, paired with the stunted moans flowing into your ears, had black dots dancing around in your blurred vision, thighs trembling as you attempted to hold yourself up while tumbling over the edge. Broken repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue, fingers tightening around his while he fucked you through it, a possessive arm now snug around your waist to take some of the weight off your legs.

“So fucking good for me,” he planted kisses over your sweat-covered skin, exhaling hot air from his nose while his chest heaved over your back, “here it comes, sweetheart.”

Standing still, his hips flush to yours as he fed you every last inch of his cock, Wooyoung painted your walls in burning ropes of white, languidly grinding his length impossibly deeper to fuck his seed into your womb. You spasmed with every brush against your g-spot, your cheek smushed onto the warmed marble while you took Wooyoung’s cum, leaving him to ride out his orgasm at his own pace, using your body yet treading his fingers over its slopes in awe. Soft grunts reverberated in his throat, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade as he milked out the last of his load, raising his head to hook his chin over your shoulder. His cock remained encased within your fluttering, drenched walls, a line of milky liquid seeping past the stretched rim and down your inner thighs.

He studied your face as though it was his first time laying eyes on you, eyes dancing over the tranquillity cast over your features, drool glimmering on the countertop, your tongue peeking out to moisten the cracks decorating the plush of your lips. He leaned forward—groaning when you squeezed around his softening length—to press a kiss to your jaw, nuzzling his nose into the warmed skin while he dug his fingers into your lower back, easing the tension he’d caused.

You stared back at him, hoping the insecurity and fear he’d woke up drowning in had been erased, gone with no trace. You hoped that your words, your presence, and a cunt full of his cum were enough reassurance that a long life with Wooyoung was all you wanted. Just as you were about to speak, the scorched odour of pancakes that’d been sitting on a hot pan for too long reached your nostrils, grimacing while slowly turning your head to face Wooyoung properly, narrowing your eyes at him while he looked to the side in faux innocence.

“You really couldn’t wait until I was done with breakfast?”

Glancing at the nearly-empty bowl of batter, followed by the charred bottom of the pancake peeking back at him from the pan, a coy smile curled the corners of his lips, moving his attention back at you as he tucked himself closer to your drained form.

“I figured those pancakes could use a little cream.”

#panda's 2k sleepover o(≧▽≦)o #cromernet #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #wooyoung scenarios

[c0s-lettuce]

could we get more Captain Carter please? I’m- in love

lovestruck dances - peggy carter x reader

set in earth-838, gender neutral

a/n: hi anon! i'm glad you enjoyed my first fic, and many apologies this took so long to write. i've been very busy lately. thanks for reading! love ya <3

word count: 1363

warnings: mentions of alcohol

You like working at the Illuminati Headquarters and exploring beyond the realms of possibility. But one thing you would've never anticipated is the loneliness that comes from studying the multiverse. One would assume knowing there are infinite worlds of people would be the least lonely thing. But it seems that it just emphasises your own loneliness.

One thing that makes it all better is Peggy Carter. Your work rarely involved interactions with the Illuminati Council. But that didn't seem to prevent Peggy from catching sight of you.

Not before long, she would hang around your workplace quite often, exchanging flirty remarks. You had to come to terms with the fact that the Captain Carter was trying to woo you. You made a note to scream into your pillow that night.

After your shift today, Peggy asked you for a walk around the city. It's the early evening, and remnants of daylight are fading from the sky. The two of you walk side by side along the street, engaged in a casual conversation with the bustle of people and traffic as comfortable background noise.

This is not your first outing together. You and Peggy would dance around each other. Something further than a friendship was there, but neither of you would say or do anything about it. In your case, you were too scared to do it. You wonder if she was too, or if she just prefered this dance, with only the music of unspoken love.

Peggy was a lot of things. For one, she made you feel a lot less lonely. She also sparked thought and made you deep-dive into the ideas of multiversal constants, absolute points in time and eventually the concept of soulmates. Was Peggy your soulmate? You couldn't help but believe it so. But at that point, you had to stop thinking as to preserve your sanity.

On your walk, the two of you end up on Memory Lane. This place is a bit of an attraction. But not everywhere has a highly advanced device that can instantly replay your best memories. Most of the inventions that make the city what it is today are thanks to one of Peggy's co-workers. You don't question how he came up, let alone made all of his innovations.

"Hey, we should try these," Peggy says.

Before you have time to reply, she grabs your hand and walks towards the small platform on the ground.

"You want to let a machine read your mind?" you ask.

"This thing is perfectly safe," Peggy assures you.

"Yeah, I know. It's just a little weird," you say.

Peggy smiles coyly, "Well then, how about I go first?"

Peggy sends you a wink while stepping onto the platform. Before you can protest, the AI starts up.

"Memory Lane. Replay your significant memories. We remember so you don't forget." it says.

A scene materialises in front of you. You recognise it's the club downtown. Remembering from a while ago, Peggy loves dancing. So when her favourite band was going to perform there, she took that opportunity to ask you out.

The two of you are sitting at a table. You had just finished eating and were chatting about Peggy's childhood.

"And so," Peggy says in the memory, "My mother would get so sick of me playing outside and getting mud everywhere that she made me wash my own clothes one day."

"Wow," you respond, "Top tier parenting."

"I know. I was scared of mud for months after that," Peggy tells you.

"That's pretty funny," you say.

You're about to say something else before Peggy jumps up in excitement.

"Oh, this is my favourite song!" she exclaims.

Standing up and rushing over to your side of the table, she holds her hands out.

"Come dance with me," she says.

Hesitating a bit, you say, "What? Peggy, I don't know how-"

"Oh nonsense, come on," she says.

You don't think you've ever seen Peggy this excited before. Happy to indulge her, you let her usher you to the dance floor.

Once you arrive, you say, "This is nice, but I really don't know how to-"

Peggy hushes you, "It's ok, just follow my lead. Ok?"

You smile, "Ok."

She holds onto you throughout the night and makes sure you're always alright.

Peggy has an innate ability to make you feel like the most valuable thing in existence. She takes the time to care for and tend to you. It's one of the things you loved about her.

The memory fades away, revealing the familiar sight of the street.

"See? That wasn't so bad," Peggy says, stepping off.

"I suppose not," you say.

"Well, your turn," Peggy gestures to the platform.

"What? Why?" you reply, feeling unsure.

"What's wrong? Are you embarrassed?" she asks playfully.

"Pft, no. I just..." you begin to say.

"Just what?" she asks again.

You try to think of a response.

You take too long, and Peggy says, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I would love to see what memories are valuable to you."

You sigh, knowing it'll definitely show a memory of the two of you. Especially since it just did it with Peggy. Which means you'll probably end up embarrassed.

Hanging your head in defeat, you say, "Ok, fine."

"Hooray!" Peggy does a mini celebration as you walk towards the platform.

As you step on, the system boots up again, repeating the same procedure it did for Peggy.

Your memory shows a view from the top of a building. The city illuminates the landscape beautifully while stars shine in the clear night sky. You see yourself leaning on the railing alone, looking out. A speaker off to the side plays some soft music.

You remember this night. Peggy had just got back from an expedition. In hopes of helping her relax, you had invited her onto the top of the Baxter Building.

Not soon after, Peggy walks up from behind in the memory.

"Hey you," she greets.

You turn and smile, "Hey Peggy."

"You look stunning," she tells you.

"I look the way I normally do," you say.

"Exactly," she responds.

You're thankful the night hides your face.

"Well, you're not too bad yourself, Captain," you say.

"Aw, thank you," she holds out a bottle and two glasses, "I brought your favourite wine."

"Peggy, you shouldn't have," you say, walking towards her.

"The most wonderful person asks me out, and I'm not going to bring a gift?" Peggy asks, "That's absurd."

You laugh, "You're absurd, Pegs."

"Yeah, maybe," she sets the wine down, "But before we drink, may I have this dance."

Peggy holds out her hand.

"Why, of course," you reply, taking her hand.

Peggy smiles brilliantly, guiding you into a slow dance.

That's another thing you loved about her. Peggy could be so fierce in combat. But with you, she's gentle and patient, and she's always there for you for anything.

The memory ends.

You look back at Peggy. She's standing there with a smug smile and her arms crossed. She definitely enjoyed that.

"Happy?" you ask, walking back towards her.

"Oh yes, quite," she smiles.

"I can't believe I agreed to that," you say.

"I am truly honoured to be part of your best memories," she brings her hands to your cheeks.

You ignore the fact that, at this point, it feels entirely natural for her to do this.

"I'm just returning the favour," you say.

"Thank you for trusting me," Peggy says.

You say, "Yeah, well, there's no one I trust more than you-"

Peggy cuts you off with a kiss. It's soft and sweet, her hands still holding you gently. It's delicate, with just enough to keep you wanting more.

From the first day, you knew Peggy would be your reckoning. She levelled your world. And you felt it coming long before this moment. But it's something you wouldn't give up for anything.

You lose track of time. Peggy pulls away while still holding onto you. She smiles lovingly, and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

"Why don't we find someplace to have dinner?" Peggy asks.

And you reply, "That sounds perfect."

➸

#peggy carter #peggy carter x reader #peggy carter x you #dr strange #dr strange in the multiverse of madness #doctor strange #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #captain carter #what if #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #hayley atwell

[for-the-ninth]

HELLO I bring to you, for no reason other than my Very Good Writing Mood today, another excerpt from The Life That Left Me (which just got TWO new chapters added on ao3 for your enjoyment). If you're looking for some background on how my blorbos got to this point but don't have time to read the whole fic, check the "my writing" tag or read this post right here.

**

Beads of sweat formed on Cullen’s brow, and waves of conflicting emotions fought in the pit of his stomach, roiling up through his chest. He recalled the nervous excitement he’d felt when the Tranquil woman spoke of his new purpose weeks ago, how his mind ran wild with visions of a better future and all the ways he might redeem himself. She made him feel like his wretched life, with all its mistakes, might still be worth something. Yet, the same words from Shielan’s mouth made his muscles clench. Had she brought the idea to the war table some months ago, would he have said the same? And if he weren’t her unknowing test subject, would it still feel like a betrayal?

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Shielan rolled her eyes and fished around in her pockets again. “What else is new?” She plopped down on the stone floor by the fire and gestured for him to sit as she lit her cigarette. “Listen, if you want out, nobody’s stopping you. You could settle down in some sleepy town and woo the farmer’s daughter, join a pirate crew and sail the high seas, or hunker down in the Anderfels and become a crazy old mountain man for all I care. I’ve got what I need from you.”

Cullen thought. Sailing was out of the question—he swore the nauseating journey from Kirkwall to Skyhold would be the last time he ever set foot on a ship. A quiet town in the middle of nowhere seemed pleasant enough on the surface. Mia and Rosalie would be overjoyed at the mere possibility of his getting married. But if he walked away now, if he heard of Inquisitor Shielan Lavellan defeating Corypheus, standing strong against the Chantry and changing the world as he knew it, he’d spend the rest of his life wishing he’d seen it himself. 

He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I owe you my life. I plan to spend it serving the Inquisition, if you’ll have me.” 

Shielan shrugged. “Long as you don’t go on any killing sprees, your life is yours.” She met his eyes with a pointed stare. “And you owe me nothing.” 

It felt like more of a threat than absolution. He lowered his voice. “But why choose me for something like this? Surely there are other templars here who would’ve volunteered.”

“Maybe,” she said, exhaling rings of smoke into the air above them. “But you’d just suffered a loss, and loss makes people lonely and desperate. Given the choice between leaving what little remained and signing your own death warrant, I knew where you’d end up.” 

“You took advantage of me.” 

“I plucked a single brick from the Chantry’s foundation and used it to break their fucking windows.” She side-eyed him with a half-smile. “If you weren’t still sucking the toes of a dead Divine, you’d commend my strategy.” 

“That is a heinous analogy,” Cullen said, shuddering. “Though, for what it’s worth, I do commend your strategy. It’s a brilliant plan, and I hope you succeed.” 

Her brows shot up and she lurched toward him with the lit end of her cigarette pointed at his chest, so fast he shrank away from her. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Both hands moved to shield different parts of his body—who knew what she’d be gunning for this time. “What did I say?”

Shielan cackled maniacally. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford—who’s dreamt of being a templar since he was a pesky little brother, who’s massive hard-on for Andraste made him Knight-Captain of the fucking Gallows—hopes to see the Chantry fall?” 

“Perhaps not so literally as the first time,” he said, chuckling nervously. 

“Unfuckingbelievable.” She shook her head and snorted, puffing little clouds of smoke through her nose as her shoulders shook with the remnants of laughter. “Withdrawal really did a number on you, huh?”

“You could say that.” Cullen’s brow furrowed. “How do you know my middle name?”

“I know everything our spymaster knows.” She grinned. “And you write it inside the cover of all your books.” 

Cullen’s cheeks grew hot. “Not all of them.”

“Only seventeen out of the thirty-seven in your bookcase, all organized in alphabetical order by author and stored on the top shelf—high enough that anyone looking to play finders keepers would have to climb the slats and pray the case doesn’t come crashing down.” She reached over her shoulder to flick ash into the fire. “Which I did.” 

Her invasiveness annoyed him, but the thought of her lying dead beneath his fallen bookcase punched a hole through his gut. “I would have helped, had you asked.” 

“You were indisposed at the time.” 

His blush deepened. What else had she found snooping through his office? The only “dirt” she had on him was what everyone else already knew, and he could think of nothing in his past more humiliating than that. It struck him as unfair—what right did she have to go mucking through his personal life when he was hardly allowed to know her? 

“The other night,” he said, “in the dungeon—the magic you used, it felt…different.”

Shielan’s face went blank, save for the slightest twitch of one brow. “Don’t.” He opened his mouth to speak, and she shook her head. “You may think it unjust, this imbalance of power—me keeping secrets when I have your entire life’s history sitting in a desk drawer—and you wouldn’t be wrong. But my own safety will always take priority over your curiosity.” She tossed what remained of her cigarette into the fire and stood. “The surgeon said flashbacks are normal—incredibly shitty, but normal.” 

“Wait—”

She brushed past him, posture rigid and jaw stiff—all business, when mere moments ago she’d been chain smoking and laughing on the floor of his bedroom. “Take it easy, rebuild your strength, and for fuck’s sake, don’t touch the knives again. Ask Diedre if you can knead bread or something.” 

“Inquisitor, please.” Her back was already turned to him, her fingers curled around the doorknob. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It wasn’t right. But whatever magic you used on me—and whatever else went on in that dungeon—was unlike anything I’ve seen.” He lowered his voice. “I need to know what happened to me.”

“You are alive because I saved your ass—again,” she said. “That is what happened.” 

Cullen shook his head and stepped closer to her. “The Divine is dead. If you were practicing forbidden magic—”

“Forbidden to those with their heads up with their asses.” 

“—it’s not as if I could turn you in. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I swear, you can—”

“Trust you?” She laughed ruefully. “That’s just what men say when they want what they can’t have.” 

Cullen squeezed the sides of his head, fingers curled into overgrown locks. He was about three seconds from yanking them out of his scalp by the fistful. “I don’t understand why you came here, why you insist on looking after me when you could so easily delegate the responsibility to numerous others, if you’re only going to—”

Shielan whirled around on him. “I am here because you are a danger to yourself and others without my surveillance, and I’d advise you not to mistake my concern for camaraderie.” One foot out the door, she spoke to him over her shoulder. “We are not friends, Cullen. We never will be.” 

The door closed behind her. He sank to the floor in silence, the venomous sound of his name in her mouth a broken record in his brain.

tags for no reason other than bc I like y'all and hope you read about my silly blorbos and also post about yours: @a11sha11fade @oxygenforthewicked @roguelioness @noire-pandora @emerald-amidst-gold

#cullen the fool rutherford #enemies to friends to lovers #dragon age fanfiction #my writing #wip whenever #inquisitor shielan lavellan my ANGEL

[wordstro]

okay. okay. OKAY. Okay. this was. woah. i am......a little speechless right now. this is Fine. And So Am I.

i am definitely going to come back and write a whole novel but right now i am feeling a little too hollow and also i cried my eyes out during the last conversation between san and y/n so i am not really in the right mindset to reflect on my feelings. all i can really think of is how during that last talk all my brain was playing on loop was “the love was there. it didn't change anything. it didn't save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there." and i am hurting myself all over again with this but i kinda feel like this encapsulates y/n and san's relationship throughout the entire fic but ESPECIALLY this part and i refuse to go down with these brainworms alone.

now i will go stand under a hot shower for an hour or two and maybe bawl again but you WILL hear from me. this is a threat but also affectionate.

🍋 anon

omg PLEASE. “it still matters that the love was there.”

this is exactly it :( the love is there and it’s always been there but the love alone is never going to be enough. but still it MATTERS. it matters so much :((( i felt very overwhelmed while writing that last scene between san and y/n. honestly that’s the point where i made the decision to have them separate rather than reconcile, because it just… fit so much with the circumstances. they tried to fix things, but sometimes it’s not enough. and i think that’s okay you know? like it’s okay as long as you tried and as long as you loved each other as much as you could while you were together. they didn’t get to do that the first time around, but they got a second chance and they spent months doing exactly that you know?

this isn’t just for y/n either. it’s for everyone. it’s why san can stay with his friends and love them so much, yet never forgive them for the sanctuary. it’s why woo and yeosang and yunho and mingi are the way they are. why mrs. kim helped san and, later, y/n. why the remnants of chaeyoung kept hongjoong alive, and why the alien remnants of y/n’s mother saved them. even if you’re angry at each other or tired or you can’t forgive each other, the love that you have for each other was there, no matter how briefly. and that will always matter. 😭😭

THANK YOU for reading and i love u pls don’t cry 😭😭😭

#answered #itpfl #itpfl spoilers #🍋 anon

[petcr3]

Sanctuary | TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

summary: peter comes to your window after experiencing something triggering on patrol. you just want to make him feel as safe as you feel with him. 

word count: ~2.1k

warnings: peter has a panic attack, lots of rehashing the trauma of losing uncle ben, patrol-typical violence, brief mention of gun violence, discussions of guilt, loss, trauma, etc. lots of heavy emotions.

a/n: woo boy so i feel like the warnings make this sound like a huge bummer but it really is just a lot of emotional hurt/comfort bc i’m being self indulgent and my biggest desire is just to.... take care of tasm!peter lmao. any gender reader! also physical touch is the operative love language here, so be warned. pls enjoy! my first fic on this blog, jinkies! title inspired by joji’s song sanctuary.

At first, the tapping at your window isn’t loud enough to rouse you from sleep. Peter watches through the mask as you stir but don’t wake up and panic seizes his throat. This is stupid, he thinks, he should just go home and let you sleep. He knows he needs you, though, and the last remnants of logic in his brain tell him that he wouldn’t make it home if he tried swinging in this state. And besides, you’d be upset if you found out later that he’d needed you and not asked for your support.

The tapping grows louder, more insistent, and on the other side of the window you startle awake in your bed, casting a nervous gaze around your room until you see Peter outside. You offer him a sleepy, gentle smile as you go to let him in, too groggy to notice the way his chest heaves with each breath.

“Hi,” you murmur, sliding the window open, “what time is it?” 

“I, uh… I don’t know, I… Can I come in?” Peter’s voice shakes and worry shocks through you, waking you up. 

“Of course you can,” you say, reaching out to help him inside. Your eyes rove over him, looking for injuries, some evidence of whatever has him so rattled. Finding nothing, you pull him towards you, hands gliding up and down his forearms. “What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m––” he takes a deep, quavering breath, “I just…” His fingers grip into your forearms, tremors crawling through his body and sinking into your skin. Peter’s head is bowed and you reach up, searching for the seam of the cowl to lift the mask away from his face.

Bit by bit, he comes into view, cheeks streaked with tears, muscles in his jaw working as he tries to control his breathing. Worry pulls tight in your chest: you know that the mantle of Spider-Man weighs heavy on Peter sometimes, but this feels different. This is panic, pain, breathlessness. The kind of hurt that leaves scars you can’t see. 

“Hey,” you whisper, brow furrowed, hands lifting to his face, “hey. It’s okay. I’m here, you’re okay.” His skin is hot beneath your fingertips as your thumbs brush across his cheeks and his eyes flutter shut at the touch. Gloved hands come up to wrap around your wrists and you could swear you can feel the pain radiating out of him. 

He’s been through enough, you think, when will it ever stop?

“Come here,” you murmur, gently tugging him toward you. Peter lets you guide him for a moment but soon the dam breaks and an awful sob escapes him. He stifles another against the crook of your neck–– it’s a terrible sound; animal, broken. His hands bunch into the fabric of your shirt, and you find yourself sinking with him to the floor. 

Peter slumps against the side of your bed and you settle yourself into his lap, gathering him in your arms. He cries. Sobs wrack his body and you feel your heart break a little more with each jolt of his frame against yours. All you can think to do is run your fingers through his hair, hold him a little tighter.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper helplessly, face pressed against his hair, “I’m here. I’ve got you, angel.” There’s no real way to know if your murmured reassurances are helping, but you say them anyway, desperate to comfort the man who has made you feel so loved, so safe. You don’t know what could have shaken Peter so badly, but you want to destroy it. If you could take away all the hurt and sorrow he feels, you would do it in a heartbeat. But for now, all you can do is hold him as he weeps, wishing for all the world that you could make everything okay for him the same way he does for you, for the city. For people who don’t know him and don’t give a damn about all that he sacrifices.

You can’t say how long you spend there in the dark, Peter cocooned in your arms, his tears seeping into the sleeve of your t-shirt, but after a while, his breathing slows and he lifts his head, eyes impossibly big when he looks up at you. 

“I love you,” he says, heart-rendingly earnest. You can’t help the fresh tears that spring to your eyes. You wipe them hastily away, not wanting him to feel like he has to take care of you.

“I love you too, Pete,” you say, “So much. So, so much.” He replies with a tired smile, fingers pressing gently into your sides. 

“Let’s get you out of this thing. C’mere.” You climb somewhat reluctantly out of his lap and hold your hands out to him to help him up. Peter starts to twist his arms behind him but you stop him with a gentle hand on his bicep. “Wait, let me. Let me take care of you.” He doesn’t say anything, but his arms drop to his sides and he lets you peel away the suit. You pad over to your dresser and open his drawer. His sleep shirts are all soft and worn but you pick out a favorite and tug it over his head, his hair bouncing as it frees itself from the crew neck. Peter smiles at you, something weary and warm before he pulls you into his arms. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “really.”

“Of course,” you say, giving him a little squeeze. “I’m always gonna be here. Always.” You feel him nod, the soft brush of his hair against your neck. “You want pajama pants?” He chuckles, the sound a low, beautiful rumble in his chest.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” You don’t want to let go of him, but eventually you pull away and grab a pair of flannel pajama pants. It doesn’t feel quite right to yank his underwear off him– not now, anyway– so you toss him the pants and climb back onto your bed, settling against the wall. Once he’s changed, Peter finally sits down heavily beside you. He touches his palm to your cheek and kisses you tenderly, chastely. The two of you linger there for a moment, foreheads close, breathing each other in. Peter’s hands find one of yours and you use the other one to brush through his hair.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” you ask, and Peter nods, the ghost of a bitter smile on his lips. It’s quiet for a few moments.

“There was this guy…” he starts, “I mean, I swear it was just like how Uncle Ben died. Like the universe was trying to tell me something, you know?” Your heart sinks. No wonder he’d been so rattled when he’d gotten to you. You can see the way he still blames himself. That quiet, gentle remorse that you know still needles his heart, no matter how many times the wounds scar over. But you don’t say anything, only nod as he speaks. 

“I mean, it felt…” he shakes his head, and you can see him looking through you, seeing it all unfold. “It was like it was happening all over again.” His voice breaks a little, but he breathes through it. “The same exact thing; some guy was holding up a little bodega and then this man– he had a little kid with him, probably his son, I don’t… But he tried to step in and I didn’t get there in time to stop him from… And he got shot.” Peter lets out a little incredulous laugh, devoid of humor. “The guy shot him and I webbed him up, the robber, but the man… he’s on the ground, bleeding, and this little boy is crying over him and I just felt like… That was me. You know? That was me all over again. Except this time I had a second chance and I… I didn’t stop it.” He shuts his mouth, lips quivering as his eyes brim over with tears, and you take his hands, still silent, thumbs skimming across his knuckles. He doesn’t look at you. 

“And the worst part is, I called an ambulance and they said he was gonna be okay. So he’s… he’s gonna get to be there for that kid and I just…” Peter swallows thickly, nose wrinkling with a kind of disgust that he only ever turns on himself. You would do anything to stop him from doing that. When he speaks again, he looks up at you, desperate to be rid of the weight of his guilt, unwilling to let go of it. 

“I felt so angry,” he confesses. “I was so angry that there was no one to do that for Uncle Ben. That no one did it for me. And that feeling really scared me. You know, I remember being angry when he died. But… when I felt myself resenting that kid, I…” He stops. Breathes. It rattles out of him and you can see the panic begin to set in again, his feelings crowding in on him as he starts to shrink back into himself, shoulders hunching forward. 

“Hey,” you coo, “hey hey. Don’t do that to yourself.” Peter puts his head in his hands but you guide them away from his face and tilt his chin up so he’s looking at you, your hands settling on his shoulders. “You have every right to be angry. You have every right to feel resentful of the people that you save when nobody has ever saved you. Because I know you, Pete, and you would never take away any of what you give to those people. You would never take that boy’s father away from him. Not even if it meant getting Uncle Ben back.” Peter looks away from you again.

“But what if I would?” he asks, voice small, desperate as he meets your eyes once more. “What if I would do that?”

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you say, your own voice thick with emotion, “I would keep loving you just as much as I do now.” His gaze flickers nervously away from yours, but you don’t take your eyes off him as you take his face in your hands. “Peter, you were a kid. You were only 17 and you’d already lost your father and then you held your uncle in your arms as he died. And instead of taking out that pain on the rest of the world you chose to dedicate yourself to making sure no one else would have to go through what you had to.”

“But people still do,” he murmurs, and you could cry.

“I know they do, baby. But you are one person. And you can’t save everyone. Nobody can. All any of us can do is our best, and you do that and then some. Please just forgive yourself for the bad feelings. Okay? Show yourself just an ounce of the kindness you show to everyone else.” It’s quiet for a moment as Peter takes in your words, eyes still a little far away. His stubble scratches gently against your palms as he nods.

“Okay,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, rough with emotion. 

“Okay,” you reply. It’s a small step, really, but you know asking Peter to be good to himself is asking a lot. All kinds of emotions begin to fly at you; relief, sadness, fondness and affection so intense it could knock the wind out of you. But mostly, you’re proud of him. 

A few errant tears slip down his cheeks and you lean in to kiss them away.

“I love you,” he breathes, lips ghosting against your skin.

“I love you too, Peter.” And it’s his turn, now, to guide you towards his lips. He kisses you once, softly, then again and again. He rests his forehead against yours and you trail a hand along the outside of his thigh, reaching up to kiss his temple. “Let’s get some sleep,” you murmur. He hums in agreement and lays down, clearly spent from all of the overwhelming emotions he’s had to deal with tonight. You lay down facing him, and Peter knows he doesn’t need to ask. He curls up against you, face nestled between your neck and your chest, legs tangling with yours as you wind your arms around him, fingers combing soothingly through his hair. He’s quiet for a while, and you’re beginning to wonder if he hasn’t drifted off to sleep.

“You were wrong before,” he mumbles into your chest, then. “About nobody ever saving me.” You lean away to look at him as he tilts his gaze up to you. “You save me,” he says, “you save me every damn day.” 

The words take your breath away and all you can do is bury your face in his hair, whispering how much you love him until you both drift off into a peaceful sleep, tangled together, protecting one another's hearts against anything that might come your way.

#OKAY #ITS DONE #my writing #petcr3 writes #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter 3 x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Ohh maybe 1, 2, 3, and 28? 👀

*takes a sip from my can of soda* Ahhh~! Caffeine for the soul~ >:3

But you know what's better for the soul? Questions! Curiosity! RAMBLING ABOUT CHILDREN! >:D Let's GOOOO!

1. What would your Warden generally think of your Hawke and your inquisitor?

Rylen: 

Now, I kind of see Elise eventually meeting or at least, reaching out to Rylen after the events in Kirkwall. After all, she’s an Amell, and so is Hawke. They’re literally the only family each other has (that’s not ‘found’ family, that is.). So, I think Elise would reach out through a letter or somehow manage a visit to her cousin and...connect. She would see him as inspiring; Rylen always manages a smile and a quip. However, if they were to spend more and more time interacting with each other, Elise would see that Hawke isn’t very well put together, especially after the Chantry explosion. She would question why Rylen chose the templars, why he executed Anders who was a like a brother to her, but eventually she would come to understand the whys. Elise would see it as no different as when she decided to spare Loghain at the Landsmeet; they did what they believed to be right and what would be best in that very moment. Both Rylen and Elise sacrificed their own happiness for the benefit of others, and were still blamed for future complications and there’s something comforting in a finding another who can relate. :3

Fane:

So, I actually have some later fic ideas for a confrontation between Elise and Fane (after Trespasser, kind of Pre-DA4 shenanas~), and suffice it to say, these two have similar ways of thinking, but their methods are entirely different. Fane is rash, prone to barreling head first into conflict without thinking about those around him. Elise is analytical, always assessing and placing the pieces in her head to make sure everyone comes out alive. This isn’t to say Fane doesn’t care about his comrades; he does. There’s countless, countless times he takes a blow for someone else without batting an eye or thinking that he could die. He just doesn’t plan; he acts. Fane can get lost in the moment of battle, in the heady scent of chaos and blood. Elise, at first meeting him, would see him as any typical warrior; eager for battle and a garden of death. But if they were to sit down and talk...I think she might find him endearing and fascinating. More or less she would think, ‘He’s so mature for someone so young. I mean, he’s twenty-four, but...he speaks as if he’s older. His speech is manicured, measured as if decided upon carefully. And his eyes...there’s pain, a deep, deep pain. Like some of the older Wardens, those just hearing the Calling. But also...hope? Conviction? Who are you, Inquisitor? What has the world done to you?’

2. What would your Hawke generally think of your warden and your Inquisitor?

Elise:

Rylen would probably have the same opinion of Elise as she does with him. They’re family, split apart due the misconceptions and fear, and my Hawke cherishes family. He lost everyone else he could rightly consider family. Fenris, Varric, Sebastian, Isabela, and Merrill are the only people he can call family now. (Anders and Aveline are complicated. I won’t go into that can of worms. For now~ >:3) He would definitely feel a level of guilt for what he had to do in Kirkwall with Anders, with the mages, with...everything, but Rylen just tries to make it through another day. If he and Elise started to interact I think it would be extremely beneficial to Rylen. Elise is patient, sometimes stern, and not afraid to lay all the facts out. Rylen would admire that since he’s had to go through life wearing a mask, a smile, a facade just to placate someone else. He would see Elise as another sister and his opinion of her would probably be along the lines of, ‘I won’t let another member of my family be torn from me. Father, Bethany, Carver...Mother.. I failed them. I won’t fail her. I won’t fail her. She’s bright and she keeps her head held high. Heh, now I see how she killed an Archdemon and lived to tell the tale. ...Bet the lightning has something to do with that, too.’

Fane: 

Rylen and Fane, in my head, actually hit it off from the get go. They’ve both had to take mantles of power, even though they never, never wanted to. Though, for different reasons, of course. But Rylen would find Fane inspiring and wholly capable of doing what must be done. He’d be kind of put off that most of his well thought out jokes and pokes would fall flat on Fane, but eventually, Rylen would see why that is. (Draconic nature withstanding.) Also, once my Hawke found out Fane is dragon?  OHHHH, BUDDY. There would be yelling and screeching and cries of, ‘WHY DO I KEEP MEETING DRAGONS, FENRIS?! FIRST THE WITCH, NOW THE INQUISITOR?! ..I’m done. I’m putting my daggers down and stealing away into the mountains. Varric, you wanna come with? I know you’re fed up with this shit, too! Don’t lie! DON’T. LIE.’

3. What would your Inquisitor generally think of your warden and your Hawke?

Elise:

Fane would probably think of Elise as...interesting. Not in a bad way. Just...interesting. Fane isn’t comfortable with Wardens after Adamant. He learns that he can hear the corruption inside of them and that terrifies him. And confuses him. And makes him go, ‘What the fuck am I? I don’t even know anymore. Why do I try?’ But, if he were to get over that and, like I said with Elise, talk? He would have another perspective of the men and women that had let fear take them by the throat. It wouldn’t change his feelings regarding the Wardens entirely, but one level mind, one open mind, is enough to make Fane tap into his nature and consider other sides of a very, very large cube.

‘She’s more...quiet than the others. Maybe because it’s just her? No...Loghain was still loud as fuck when it was just him, so why? Ugh, I’m so sick of these puzzles. At least she’s more stable, but I can see the pain in her eyes; green like mine, but missing the gold. Maybe the Taint is stronger than she thinks? Perhaps, but still she fights, still she claws her way towards something that may be impossible. ...Hmph. How typical. A similarity. This world continues to confound.’

Rylen:

Fane respects Rylen after spending some time to feel him out, know his cues, and piece together which is his actual face. Once that happens, Fane can move into respect with my Hawke. These two have a fairly similar moral compass; pragmatism regarding most decisions. Again, they both have been thrust into a position without asking for it, so that would be a stepping stone upon the bonding path. All in all, Fane’s general opinion of Rylen would be, ‘He’s worn that mask of smiles and bright, grey eyes for too long. It’s cracking at the edges, wearing down to mere mortar. Then again, I have my own mask. I’m in no position to judge and condemn, but...it’s worrying. Even the strongest wings can be torn and all that greets is the earth below. I hope your wings don’t falter, Champion. It would be disappointing for the world to lose someone who cares when those who should are content to point the finger towards anyone but themselves.’

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each others?

Fane: The Emprise du Lion! Snowwwww! Coooold! Ice dragooooon! >:3 ...minus the red lyrium. *snorts* 

Origins: Hmm, I think Fane would like the Brecilian Forest. He enjoys forests as much as he enjoys the cold, the ice, and the snow. He likes the animals, even though he tries not to interfere with them, and he likes the quiet. No chattering, no demands. Only trees, leaves, and the occasional whistle of wind. Also, Fane likes to investigate ancient ruins. He’s not interested in the history, really. He just wants to see if he can find any remnants about his kin that the elves may have left behind. :3

DA2: Probably Sundermount since again, wilderness. Fane doesn’t do too well in crowded areas and Kirkwall would make his heart rate sky rocket. Not just because of the people, but because of the size. Those cramped streets of Lowtown would just make him...eugh. *shivers*

Elise: She adores Orzammar! Especially the Shaperate! The dwarves fascinate Elise since not many tomes in the Circle went into depth about them! :D And if we want to with Awakening areas, I would saaaay...Amaranthine. She’s always like towns and cities due to not being able to experience them until the Blight! :3

Inquisition: Elise would adore the Frostback Basin. Like, really enjoy it! All that flora and Avaar culture and wilderness? MMMM!

DA2: Definitely the Wounded Coast. Hands down. My daughter enjoys the sea so much. The salt in the air, the feel of sand, and the pretty, pretty shells and rolling waves? Every Circle mages’ wet dream. *waggles eyebrows*

Rylen: So, if we’re not talking like open world areas in the game, I would definitely say Rylen’s favorite place is the Hanged Man. The man needs a drink to deal with Kirkwall. Just saying. It’s also where he can just...be himself with the people who know him. 

Inquisition: Hinterlands. He’s a FERELDAN. He wants his MABARI to RUN in native land! He wants to...go home. ;3;

Origins: I like to think the Hawke family went all over Ferelden before settling in Lothering. I mean, they kind of do, but maybe for more than a few months at a time? So, Rylen would enjoy Denerim. He likes to go where people are, where life is. He likes crowds because he can blend into them and not be tracked down until he wants to be tracked down. ...My Hawke just wants to live in peace with his glowy elf husband and run a mabari ranch. Is that too much to ask, Bioware?! Let Hawke REST!

Woo! That was FUN! It really got me thinking, too! X3 Thank you so much, friend! <3

#ask #asks #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #oc: elise amell #oc: rylen hawke #all my children need therapy *sighs* #i think rylen needs it more than fane #now THAT'S saying something #*snorts loudly* #...i wasn't kidding about the mabari ranch #rylen wants a FLEET of mabari #he just loves them so much #SO MUCH #elise is kind of a scrapbooker too! #she collects things and preserves them! X3 #...and fane likes to roll around in the snow like a polar bear #blank faced too XD #boy needs to CHILL #...in two ways >:3 #thank you again! <3

[razmahdaz-art]

One of Those Rare Nights

A Geraskier oneshot where Geralt is incredibly soft and Jaskier is incredibly tender. Enjoy this 1700 word comfort fic! That’s all it is! Woo!

Tonight was one of those rare nights. Once a year, maybe twice, Geralt was be blessed by some ancient being with nights like tonight.

A night where the hunt went easier so no potions were used. A night where his swords were sharpened and his armor was taken care of. A night where he had a room at an inn with a large bed, bath, and plenty of food.

It was a rare night where Geralt of Rivia, famous Witcher, had absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be.

After he had dinner and Jaskier was left to attend his audience, Geralt made his way up to their shared room, made his way under the warm water of a lovely bath, and then found his way into that oh-so large and comfy bed in the middle of the room, where he sits now In some loose pants, reading a book that was left on the nightstand.

It was none of Jaskier’s, no. Geralt had already thumbed through most of his collection. And to make it any more obvious, the tale that these adventurers go through were obviously not written anyone that had actually seen the monsters in real life. The way that sword duels were written, the way that wyverns were described, Geralt couldn't really help but knit pick his way through each chapter. Nonetheless, he was calm and refreshed and...Gods be damned, Geralt found himself maybe relaxing for the first evening in many many months.

Jaskier, sadly, didn’t seem to be having a similar night.

He walked through the door a few hours after Geralt had left him. And he looked like an absolute mess. His hair was disheveled, there were deep bags under his eyes, and he was practically dragging his lute across the floor as he made his way to the vanity. If Geralt wasn't worried before, then he certainly was when the bard haphazardly dropped his instrument and began shucking off his brand new and very expensive pastel pink doublet, letting it join his lute on the floor.

“Rough night?” Geralt asked, his eyes glued to the slumped over shadow of his bard.

“Rough Crowd,” the younger man replied as he gave himself a lookover in the mirror. He wasn’t covered in rotten food or someone else's drink, but he definitely hated how those frown lines were etching their way into his face. He let out a low and long sigh as he began to ramble.

“Couldn’t seem to please anyone,” he began as he started pacing across the room, his usual boisterous posture traded in for more of a slump. “Not a ballad, nor joke, nor poem. It seemed everything I did or said either went over their heads or was disregarded. I got heckled, Geralt! Heckled! The last time I got heckled was my first year at Oxenfurt!” Jaskiers arms waved around as he went on his rant, and his hands eventually did begin to unlace his breeches.

Geralt had closed his book and pushed it to his side, preparing to move to make room for his companion. He listened to the poor bard go on about his night, and the Witcher couldn’t help but feel a little bad he hadn’t stayed to at least support him through it. He recalled he did hear laughter here and there, but since he was lost in reading, Geralt assumed that it was because Jaskier had told a very good joke. But if there was anyway Geralt knew how to get through evenings like this, where Jaskier swore the whole world was against him, than he’d have to rant it out of his system before he went to bed. ‘Bad ends to the day make for bad dreams’ the bard always claimed. And Geralt listened to all of it without any reservation.

He sat up straighter as he watched Jaskier step closer to the bed, and as he got through the long rampant prows of his woes, Jaskier started to quiet a bit, his face falling farther than it had before. It made Geralt’s eyebrows knotch.

“Had the audacity to call me a waste of a man. Told me to find a ‘real’ profession,” Jaskier almost whispered as he stomped his way out of his boots and breeches. Those words made Geralt’s heart sink into his gut. To have your own life, your own hard work, be called a waste...Well, he could only be empathetic. And he knew especially how hard Jaskier let words hit him, especially when it came to anything he was passionate about. He’d seen the bard take criticism, but outright unshielded hatred always seemed to take that shine out of his eyes.

The Witcher pushed back the large and heavy blanket down, and started to shift to give Jaskier his corner of the bed beside him. But before Geralt could escape, one of the bard’s long and lazy, gangly legs swung over to the opposite side of his thigh, and in one solid swoop, Jaskier had planted himself in Geralt’s lap. This was hardly the first time his bard has done this, not even hiding the action in public, but every time the Witcher finds himself pinned, his breath can’t help but hitch. His hands did come up to massage the outside of his thighs trying to do his best to comfort the man.

“I’m sorry that I tried to bring a little light to this disgusting po-dunk town,” Jaskier mumbled as he began taking off the necklace he had decided to wear. “Sorry that I wanted to give the people something prettier to look at besides the Cows,” he continued as he plucked each finger clean of his rings.

Jaskier attempted to reach out to place the collection onto the little nightstand, but he found himself just falling short. As Jaskier leaned close, one hand came up to his back and pulled him close into the crook of the Witcher's neck, while the other collected the jewelry and gingerly placed it onto the wooden table. The bards arms came up to hook around the broad shoulders he was being pulled into, and his whole torso became flush with Geralt’s. Everywhere Jaskier’s skin connected felt absolutely searing against the Witcher’s naturally cold skin, and vice versa for his companion.

“Those people are a rarity,” Geralt almost purred, the rumble of his voice making Jaskier’s chest vibrate. “You are the only bard I've seen win over even the worst of crowds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an audience that you couldn't swoon.”

“Geralt, dear?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm?” He responded.

“You do remember that when we met, I was literally being pelted with bread by a crowd that hated me,” the bard reminded, but Geralt could feel the smile the other was muffling into his skin.

“Like I said,” The Witcher responded with a huff of a laugh. “A rarity.” Jaskier’s head turned harshly, and his forehead was burrowing into the line where his neck met his shoulders, his messy hair tickling him a bit. 

Geralt’s arms moved again, one holding him like he was not but a tired toddler, and his other coming up to run his calloused fingers through those soft brown locks. His thumb circled just near his temple, relieving the stress that was bundled there and the rest of his fingers just scratched and lightly tugged at Jaskier’s scalp. It’s what he did when Geralt got back from long hunts, his body thrumming with potions and his muscles being pulled taught like bowstrings. And everytime Jaskier’s lovely fingers tangled their way into his messy and gut slick hair, Geralt felt like he was melting under that warm touch. And from the way Jaskier’s breathing was slowing and his shoulder began to loosen, He knew he was doing the right thing.

He felt one of Jaskier’s eyes flutter open, before shutting again. “Were you reading?” the bard hummed lazily against his collar bone.

“I was,” Geralt replied simply.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier drawled, seemingly genuinely apologetic. “For Interrupting.”

Geralt’s head just sank onto the top of Jaskier’s, his white hair being brushed back a lazy hand that wasn’t his. “Don’t be. You’re far more interesting. Whoever wrote that is surely below you. They’ve probably never seen any of the beasts the book describes in their life, if how they describe their fights is anything to go by.”

While the Witcher spoke, he felt the bard sink deeper into him, like the warmest and thickest quilt on the continent had just been thrown on top of him. The tension in Jaskier’s face had completely scurried away, his once-knotting back gone slack under the strokes his hand had been repeating for minutes. Jaskier was close to sleep if his body language was anything to go by. But if he had learned anything from his bard’s doting, it’s that necessities should be met before bed.

“Need anything?” Geralt asked against the other's skull, his lips just grazing Jaskier’s head. “Water? Food?”

“This,” Jaskier stated, his arms giving a light squeeze around the Witcher’s shoulders. “You,” he meekly mumbled as he placed a lighter than breath kiss to Geralt’s throat. The Witcher couldn’t hear his stomach growling, and predicted that the bard would be getting up in the night to wet his worn throat with water. But right now, Jaskier seemed content as he was, and so did his body.

Geralt rolled over a bit to his side, keeping Jaskier’s head on his shoulder so as to not disturb the poor man. The hand that was tangled in the others hair was now reaching down to pull the heavy blanket over the both of them. Once it was in place, that same hand came up to brush lightly over the place on Jaskier’s chest where his heart was just beneath flesh, his fingers delicately brushing over the gentle beat that Geralt had started to associate with home. The calming scent of lavender filled his senses as he knew the bard was falling into unconsciousness.

“You’ve got me,” Geralt hums as he places a kiss on Jaskier’s forehead. The hand on his bard’s back does a gentle wave, and with a small use of Igni, all the lights were banished from the room. “You always will.” Geralt almost missed it, but his ear picked up the gentlest of ‘hmms’ from Jaskier’s tired throat.

And with that little response, Geralt could feel Jaskier slip into a comfortable unconsciousness. And if it dared to be disturbed by whatever remnants of this bad night that has permeated the bard’s gentle dreams, then Geralt would work him into this same state, over and over again.

This was certainly a rare night, for the better or the worse. But nonetheless, Geralt knew it’d be a night he’d hold close to his heart for decades to come.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #jaskier x geralt #oneshot fic #comfort #a little hurt/comfort #sometimes Jas has the bad night! #Geralt has big arms for one reason and that's for HUGGING

[ahh-fxck]

WIP guessing game: bedroll (geraskier-trashh)

@geraskier-trashh Woo, you actually managed to stumble on the one (1) WIP that I currently have using this word. It’s the first Witcher fic that I ever wrote and I haven’t ever published it.

The rest of the night passed slowly, hot and damp beneath the evening stars. Jaskier and Geralt finished their meal, packed away the remnants, and settled into their evening tasks. Geralt bent over his herbal preparations, face like a locked door. Jaskier settled onto his bedroll and gazed at the stars, humming broken little bars of melody as he processed the events of the day. Eventually, he fell into a deep sleep. Amber eyes watched him from across a crackling fire, contemplating the softness of his face, the gentle curve of his sleeping lips. If they lingered a little too long, well, who was awake to tell? 

#Anonymous

[laws-yellow-submarine]

Luffy’s Birthday (One-shot)

Hey, so, I remembered at the last minute that it’s Luffy’s birthday today, and considering my OC is related to him, I realized it’s a great opportunity to do a Hazel-centric one-shot! Woo! This isn’t canon to the fic, since technically Luffy’s birthday has already passed in canon, but if I had to place it on a timeline I’d say it takes place after Loguetown but before Reverse Mountain! This is mostly just me playing around with Eldest Daughter/Makeshift Mom feelings and how things might change when it’s no longer just them. Also it was a great opportunity to practice writing, both in general and more of the crew and Hazel’s interactions. Anyway, I’m rambling, so I’ll leave it at this: I hope you enjoy! And if you’re new and you want to see more of Hazel, check out my fic Together With Fruit on FF.Net and AO3!

Hazel snuck her way into the boys’ cabin, stepping carefully on her toes to avoid waking anyone. It was barely dawn, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, and she could only imagine the scolding she’d get if she was too loud. Though, of course, none of these guys were nearly as terrifying as her roommate.

She crept up to her brother’s hammock, narrowly avoiding being tripped by a sleeping body - seriously, did Zoro sleep so heavily he didn’t notice when he fell out of bed? The swordsman gave a snort as she stepped over him, causing the girl to roll her eyes fondly, and she stood on her tiptoes to peer over the edge of Luffy’s hammock. She supposed being made of rubber had its advantages, such as not being uncomfortable even when twisted like a pretzel in sleep. Hazel allowed herself a moment to marvel at just how big he’d gotten over the years; how despite being left to raise him herself, somehow she’d kept him alive for this long. She glanced at the crew behind her, sans navigator, and felt warmth fill her at the sight of Luffy’s dream being realized. 

They’d really made it.

“Happy birthday to you,” She sang softly, poking at her brother’s cheek in an effort to wake him up; just as she had every year before. The boy didn’t stir at first, so she continued, slightly louder and more forceful as she went. “Happy birthday, dear Luffy…” Finally, his nose twitched and his eyes scrunched before finally opening, peering blearily up at her as his brain caught up with his body. “Happy birthday to you…” Hazel finished, beaming at him as realization dawned on his face.

“IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!” Luffy shouted, throwing his hands in the air and grinning despite the subsequent thuds that followed. Hazel threw her head back and laughed as Luffy ignored the angry looks of his cabinmates, instead fixing his attention back on her. He leapt out of bed, grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her out the door onto the deck, leaving their grumbling crewmates behind them.

“What the hell are you guys being so loud for?!” Came Nami’s yell as she rubbed at her eyes, exiting the girls’ cabin fully dressed despite being so rudely awoken. “Do you have any idea what time it...is…?” She trailed off, gaping at the sight of the Going Merry’s top deck in the early morning light.

Hazel had made good use of her time on watch the night before. Strung along the railings was rope she’d found in storage, decorated with makeshift candles and homemade confetti. She’d painstakingly drawn, cut, and colored paper versions of their jolly roger to pin up around the deck, complete with paper party hat additions, and every barrel of booze the crew had was currently on display. What really caught everyone’s attention, however, was the rather large cake sitting directly in the middle of the table, the one she dragged out of the galley overnight. 

“Hazel...wha-? What is all this?” Nami asked, anger replaced with surprise, her expression mirrored on the others’ faces. 

“It’s Luffy’s birthday,” The woman answered simply, beaming as their captain bounced around to gaze at the decorations. “Don’t worry, everything was made with supplies we already owned, and other than the paper, we can still reuse everything; so no money was involved.”

“That’s not-!”

“And don’t worry about the kitchen, Sanji! I made sure to clean up when I was done, and there’s still plenty of ingredients left for meals! Sorry, I forgot to ask if it was ok before making the cake!”

“Oh!~ Hazel-chan has nothing to apologize for!~” Sanji cooed, smitten as always with the older woman. “But, darling, you didn’t need to make it yourself. I gladly would have-”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that! It’s ok!” She cut him off, confusion crossing his and everyone else’s faces.

“You did all of this yourself?” Usopp asked, inspecting the makeshift candles. They were really just piles of melted wax with bits of frayed rope in the middle for a wick, remnants of candles that’d been nearly used up already.

“Yup!” She answered, beginning to feel a bit self conscious, especially as the boy quickly grabbed his bag, producing a tool to catch the melting wax. “I probably should’ve found something to put the wax in, sorry about that! I’ll fix it!”

“Hazel,” Zoro finally spoke up, giving her a look that instantly made her shut up. “You didn’t have to do any of this yourself, we would’ve helped you if you’d asked.”

“But…” She began to protest, feeling small under the scrutiny of her crew. “It’s tradition…” 

Understanding dawned on their faces, and Nami threw her arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Well, you’re with us now! Time for some new traditions!” She gave Hazel a kind smile, and the violet-haired woman glanced around at the others’ faces. They were all giving her matching smiles, and deep down Hazel knew they were right.

She’d always just taken care of everything; whether it was food, decorations, or party games, it didn’t matter. No matter how it might fall short, her makeshift birthday parties were still better than not having one at all, and in all these years, Hazel had never once missed Luffy’s birthday.

But just because that’s what she was used to, didn’t mean it always had to be that way. She had people that could help now, with skills that far exceeded hers when it came to making things. Sanji could make a way nicer cake than her, and Usopp was always tinkering with things; maybe he would’ve had some cool ideas for how to decorate, not to mention his drawing skills far exceeded hers. Hell, she could’ve made Zoro do the heavy lifting, rather than nearly throwing out her back trying to heave that table out the door on her own. Maybe if she had asked, Nami would’ve even let her spend a little money on supplies.

“But…” But it was still hard to let go. 

“Hazel-chan,” Sanji started, lighting his cigarette as Luffy began to shout about the cake. “Just because you get some help doesn’t mean you’re being replaced.” He smiled at her, sweetly, until his eyes morphed into hearts. “I’ll gladly let you into my kitchen any day!~”

“Oi,” Zoro warned, drawing the cook’s ire, but before the two could get into a fight, Hazel spoke up.

“You guys are right, sorry I didn’t include you,” She felt Nami squeeze her shoulder in a quick comforting gesture.

“Next time, we’ll all stay up late and help out,” the navigator assured her, drawing nods from the others. 

“What are you guys still standing over there for?! Come on, there’s cake!!” Luffy shouted, annoyed and unaware of the heartfelt conversation that had just ensued. “Sanji! Birthday candles! Birthday candles!”

“Oi! I don’t care if it is your birthday; be patient, you animal!” The cook yelled, but retreated into the kitchen to look for some birthday candles anyway. The crew made their way over; most sat around the table, but Hazel and Zoro stayed behind to start serving booze to everyone.

“Really? It’s like 6 in the morning!” Nami protested, though there wasn’t much fire behind it.

“Who cares? We’re celebrating!” Zoro countered, chugging his glass while Hazel rolled her eyes, passing some around to the others. 

“Yeah! Birthday! Birthday!” Luffy chanted, bouncing in his seat as Sanji placed the candles carefully and lit them. “Sanji! You’re gonna love this, Hazel’s cakes are the best!” Hazel was glad no one noticed her blushing. Oh wait, Zoro was smirking at her. She pinched his ear, causing him to wince and drop the look, and with a grin she turned back to the ceremony. 

In the dawning light, the Straw Hat Pirates sang loud and boisterous, celebrating their captain’s birthday in a way that wouldn’t suggest they’d been rudely awoken not even an hour earlier. As the candles blew out and the cake was distributed, Luffy wrapped his rubbery limbs around his big sister, giving her a tight squeeze. 

“We have a good crew,” He told her, grinning ear to ear. As she gazed across the deck at the people they’d met so far, she couldn’t help the matching grin that grew on her face.

“Yeah, we really do.”

#hehe I still have an hour left of Luffy's birthday so this is techincally still on time #even though I didn't start until 9 pm lol #cause I didn't think of it until then whoops #one piece fan fiction #monkey d. luffy #monkey d. hazel #one piece oc #one piece original character #together with fruit #twf #not canon to the fic though cause it doesn't actually fit anywhere in the storyline it's just extra lol #straw hat pirates #this'll probably get buried under all the event stuff but oh well lol

[whirlybirbs]

me, reading miss turner fuck those people up: hell yeah, hell yeah, hELL YEAH

NIGHT RIDERS   //   ii.

summary: following this fic, you’re brought back to camp and cleaned up. in the wake of the destruction, you bathe and arthur makes some promises. rating: t, mention of violencepairing: arthur morgan x reader, turner as a surnamea/n: from my simpler said aloud series! yay! angsty-fluff!

“Yer gonna be alright.”

Promises.

It’s those words and the weathered, scared hands that coax you down from the dissociated disconnect. 

Arthur Morgan isn’t a gentle man by nature -- but, he can be. He’s re-learning, again after years of being on his own, how to love and to cherish and to have and to hold. With you, it’s easy.

He loves you.

(You are different from Mary. You don’t complain when he’s a little too rough with his hands, when he’s dirty from a job and he kisses you with mud along his cheeks. You don’t place his masculinity upon a pedestal to marvel at from afar. You take him as he is, as he always will be: rugged and rough and wanted by the law and the land.)

He holds you like you’re made of porcelain in this moment, fingers winding into your waist as he helps you down from his horse. Your knees shake when you meet the ground.

You’re... in a bad way. You’re rooted in your head and not so much the reality of the somber stillness that your appearance inflicts on the camp. Your lace chemise clings to you with the blood of someone else, nose split and right eye ringed with a gnarly purple bruise. The remnants of self-defense paint your face like macabre war paint. There’s blood stains up your wrists and spray patterns in your hair. Tangled tendrils hang, obscuring the raw burns from the rope that had been tied around your throat. 

Susan Grimshaw, mother hen, flocks to your side in an instant. She can see the palpable worry written all over Arthur’s face -- this is her job, it’s her job to keep the girls safe.

Her voice lacks it’s usual sternness. 

“Mary-Beth, Tilly,” she asks, “Why don’t you start a bath, please? Karen, help me get Miss Turner to her tent.”

A bath sounds nice.

The hot water washes away a multitude of the brutality and you sit in the metal basin, scrubbing at the lifelines in your palms. They’re stained with sin.

Mary-Beth works soap through your hair and Karen sings, softly, as she works your chemise in the laundry by your tent. Outside, you can see the shapes of figures against the canvas. One is Arthur, you know, by the tall and broad stance -- Hosea’s voice is heavy with concern and Dutch’s with anger. Charles lingers beside his best friend, hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Tilly says your name softly.

“You did th’ right thing, you know,” she says, “It ain’t easy, but stomachin’ it gets easier... You came back an’ you survived. That’s what matters.”

Tilly’s words have a hollowness to them.

You’re struck with the sound of that ax driving through a skull.

Hollow. 

You’re quiet for a long while, fingers dipping in and out of the water as Mary-Beth winds intricate braids in your wet hair. It’s a welcomed distraction; the sounds of voices continue as the water gets colder and finally you decide that you’re clean enough.

This feeling isn’t one you can wash away.

The flaps of your tent move.

It’s Arthur.

He’s wringing his hat, eyes pulled into a worried expression that has the girls rising and moving to give you both a moment alone. They’re nothing but a flurry of skirts in the wind, gone without a word.

The outlaw in the door-way, tall and broad and towering over you in the bath, clears his throat.

You look like a nymph -- some pretty picturesque woman in a bath of opalescence. A braided crown sits high on your head and you pull your knees closer to your chest. The bath ripples around you and there’s shame in the way you sink into the water. The bruise around your eyes is ghastly.

It makes Arthur’s heart hurt.

“Wanted t’ check up on y’,” he says shakily, “Y’ had me worried sick.”

You nod, eyes hitting your knees as you fiddling with the water.

He moves to sit on the stool Mary-Beth had been settled on previously. 

You exhale. 

He drops his hat to your bedside table, leaning forward on his knees. You move in the water, turning to look up at him. 

A warm hand slips along the curve of your jaw. His thumb grazes the bruising along the orbital socket there, all purple and yellow and sore.

It’s grounding.

“M’ sorry.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t a’ let it happen,” he says, “I should be keepin’ y’ safe.”

“That ain’t yer job.”

You turn, raising two cold hands to cup his own. You turn, dotting a kiss to his palm. You eyes never leave his and Arthur has to swallow down the burn it creates in the pit of his heart. Silence fleets between you both. When you finally speak, your words are shameful and quiet. 

“I killed two men, Arthur,” you whisper, “I... I drove an ax -- I did a bad thing.”

Arthur knows the feeling. The first time is always the worst. It doesn’t get better -- but it’s easier to ignore. He remembers the first time he gunned a man down outside a saloon. It’s a horrible winding stab that sits like lead in your gut for weeks. 

But there’s something else in your eyes. A fire.

“Y’ did what y’ had to,” he says, brushing fingers to your temple, “Y’ got away.”

“He was th’ one who shot you.”

Blue eyes roam your face with a sense of surprise. 

“Revenge is a fool’s game, sweetheart,” he warns, shaking his head, “It’s bad business --”

“Don’t care,” you say, “I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over. He belongs in the ground, Arthur, he ain’t nothin’ but dead now. I don’t regret what I did.”

Arthur wonders if in any other life he’d be as touched as he is now. If, in a life where he was good and honest and law-abiding, the idea of murder as a gesture of love would be as wooing as it is in this moment. The outlaw can’t help but gawk for a moment as you take his hands again. 

He leans, lips finding the corner of your mouth.

He lingers.

You sigh.

“Y’ scared me half t’ death, y’know.”

“M’sorry.”

Another kiss. 

“I can’t lose you.”

It’s said like a prayer, followed by a kiss that’s gentle, achingly so. With each peck you can feel yourself being reeled back into reality and away from the pummeling beat of the night’s events. With him winding his hands in your hair and nosing at your cheek, you can forget about it all in favor for sweetness and kindness and him, so solidly real and solidly yours. 

“You won’t.”

“You promise that?”

He’s unabashed in his surrendering -- Arthur bears his soul in his words.

You nod, pulling from his lips. “I promise.”

He likes the idea of you and him making promises. It seems... natural. Like for once, he isn’t so sad and so lonely and so old -- there’s someone by his side, someone to appreciate and to support. Arthur finds himself, as he helps you from the bath and into a clean and dry chemise, wondering if you’d ever agree to a bigger promise.

You’d look lovely in white.

He winds himself into you like a vine seeking the sun as you make a disgusted face at the bruises and rope burn along your face and neck. He drops a kiss to the juncture of your neck and you squirm.

“Yer beautiful,” Arthur rumbles, “No matter what.”

Through exhaustion and the warm steep in your bones, you finally smile.

“I’m gonna put a bullet between Waylon Robbins eyes,” Arthur says at the sight of it. The fact it had almost been stolen from him is gut-wrenching. It pricks his face with anger. 

“An’ I’ll be by your side when y’ do.”

Promises. 

Promises, promises, promises.

#simpler said aloud #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 reader insert #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan angst #Anonymous

[writtingsofspn]

With Him By My Side

Request: Jensen reader where she is 22 and they fall in love he is her first everything and he is very protective of her on night there’s a thunder and she is scared and he takes care of her. People say that she is a gold digger but he is at a con and says the he never loved someone the way he loves the reader...(there’s some more but you get the gist)

Pairing: Jensen x reader (my first woo!)

A/N: This took me forever and I didn’t have the best week so just thank you to @webcraft4eveh for tagging me in things just to cheer me up it always makes me week @wonderfulworldofwinchester for putting some of my fics on her reading list it really got me a ton more notes and @thebooklover2020 for the gifs! You guys really reminded me that people do enjoy my writing and helped motivated me to finish this so thank you so much!!

Deep breath in, deep breath out. If Jensen could do it you could do it.

Sure Jensen had years of experience with these under his belt, this is his literal job, and he knew at least somewhat what they were going to ask him.

But yeah if Jensen could do it you could do it, sure.

Your stomach was in knots, you could feel your entire body not just shaking but vibrating. It was as if the nervousness from every speech you’ve ever had to give was hitting you at once. But at least all of those times you had something prepared, you already knew what you were going to say, you didn’t here. You had nothing here.

Familiar green eyes made contact with yours from across the stage, a wink and smile sent in your direction and despite everything you felt a genuine one grow on your own face.

Scratch that you had one thing, you had him, and you honestly felt like that was enough.

“It would seem she’s a little shy” The laugh in his voice caught your attention, pulled you from your own little bubble, made you aware of the microphone being shoved into your hand.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, one foot in front of the other, and you were met with a wall of sound.

Cheers, they were cheering for you, they actually wanted to see you, that was new.

Your thumb hovered over the button, hesitating just as it did every time you did this. With a small sigh you clicked back to the photo, your lips turning up just slightly at the sight of it. It was an objectively cute photo, Jensen leaning over to kiss your cheek well you laughed into the camera, a genuine laugh that made you grin at the thought of it.

You friend had taken the photo for you and from that moment was gushing about how you just had to post it. And she wasn’t wrong, you were excited to post it, to show off your boyfriend and gush about your relationship, but that damn comments section.

You had learned long ago that disabling it was safest, many people had not even waited until you and Jensen made you relationship public to attack you, instead going back onto old photos of you and leaving nasty comments. And at first it wasn’t a big deal, just disable their ability to leave comments and you wouldn’t have to read them anymore, not that you ever really paid attention to your comments section.

But as the saying goes you never know what you have until its gone.

As stupid as you felt admitting it you loved reading people’s comments, compliments, teasing from your friends, Jared always making note to make fun of Jensen, you missed it.

So before you could talk yourself out of it you posted the picture. Setting down the phone right away, almost scared something would pop up immediately.

But of course nothing did, they gave you a good five minutes to enjoy your day before tearing it to shreds.

You jumped at the notification sound in spite of yourself, immediately reaching for the phone and checking it, the first comment coming in.

GOLD DIGGER

You knew that was ridiculous, you were an independent woman, you could more than survive on your own salary alone, you definitely weren’t just dating him for his salary. But damn did the insinuation hurt.

Another one

She’s not even that pretty I don’t understand why he would choose her

Had you an optimistic bone in your body you would have fixated on the latter part of that sentence, the fact that yes he choose you, but of course you chose to focus on the former, even worse you agreed with it. There was no arguing it Jensen was way out of your league, in attractiveness, in social standing, hell economically speaking if we want to go there, and they for sure did, so why did he chose you?

Jensen deserves so much more than you

He did, didn’t he.

You could feel a lump grow in your throat at the memory, biting your lip before awkwardly taking the seat next to Jensen, waving to the crowd you couldn’t even see behind the bright lights.

“You’re doing great”

The words were comfortingly whispered into your ear, tips of hair from the scruff on his face tickling your neck, sending another smile across your face. Maybe you could do this afterall.

“Anyone have any questions for the beautiful Y/N?” Jared’s voice boomed over the speakers, pulling you back.

“How did you and Jensen meet?” The voice came from one area but the lights were much to bright to discern exactly who was talking.

“uh-“ You started to panic a bit, trying desperately to force yourself to calm down enough to speak.

“I’m just saying the blip is a stupid name that seeks to lessen the loss of five years for half of the population” You muttered, catching the amused smirk your friend had on her face.

“And I’m just saying its all fictional and you need to get over it” She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice, loving how defensive you got over the subject .

“well I-“ You started to counter, honestly not 100 percent sure where you were going to go with the sentence when you collided hard with another person’s shoulder, sending both of you spinning around, nearly falling to the ground.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry” You immediately started to apologize, reaching over ready to help the man up when you stopped dead in your tracks as familiar green eyes connected with yours. “You’re Jensen Ackles”

A small smirk flashed across his face as he stood up straighter, you immediately following suit, cursing yourself for those words. “Last time I checked yeah I am”

“Oh does it change often?” You didn’t even think before the words came spilling out of your mouth, your knee jerk reaction always to return sarcasm with sarcasm.

His eyebrows raised just slightly, his smile just getting a bit wider “As an actor actually yeah it does”

“touché” You chuckled, immediate rearing up ready to apologize again for knocking him over and taking up his time stating the obvious, when he got to filling the silence first.

“Well since you already know my name I think it’s only fair that I should know yours”

Alarms started going off in your head. Was that flirting, was he flirting with you? Jensen Ackles, an actual celebrity, an incredibly attractive one at that, there was just no way.

“I’m Y/N”

His hands dug deep in his pockets and his tongue darted out to graze his bottom lip, you could feel your whole body freeze at the simple action.

“You seem quite sure of that”

“As a non-actor I can afford to be” You quipped, relishing in the fact that he was actually laughing at your jokes.

“Jensen we gotta go man” It was the first time you realized there were other people watching you, looking away from his gorgeous eyes long enough to catch a glance from your friend sending a deep blush on your cheeks.

“Yeah yeah” He brushed off the people he was with, looking back at you “I’ll see you around Y/N”

You chuckled softly before giving him an awkward wave “probably not” His eyebrows drew together causing you to continue “Sorry I know you just meant it as a nice sentiment just ignore me” more silence, more waiting for you to continue “I mean it’s not like we run in the same circles”

“well then can I have your number to make sure I do see you around”

You could feel the wind being knocked out of your chest, he really was hitting on you. You couldn’t get your voice to work, only giving him a slight nod before reaching out to take his phone, putting your contact information in it, checking the number three times before handing it back to him, just to be safe.

“We just bumped into eachother one day” A pun…a stupid pun…a pun they wouldn’t even get…that’s the best you could come up with.

To your relief you heard Jensen laugh next to you, jumping in to fill in the gaps immediately saving you, “she means that literally. I basically tackled her in a mall”

You laughed back, forgetting for a moment there were god knows how many people watching you, letting yourself get caught up in him, it was a nice familiar feeling.

“Where was your first date?” A random voice shouted out another question.

“We just kept it low key” You answered, relived to find this answer rolled off your tongue much easier than the last one “pizza and movies at his place”

You woke up to a small tickle on your forehead, your hand immediately coming up trying to push away the hair when you realized it wouldn’t go away, cause it wasn’t yours.

You slowly picked your head up, coming face to face with gorgeous green eyes.

“Well good morning to you too”

You looked down to see your legs thrown over his lap, your arms hanging limply around his neck, your head pressed into the crook of it, you were basically clinging onto him.

“uh-sorry” You stuttered, a blush rising quickly up your cheeks as you started to untangle yourself from him, only to have him hold onto you tighter, keeping you in place.

“You definitely have nothing to be sorry for” He assured you with a soft smile.

“good cause I’m not” You shot back with a giggle, placing your head back onto his shoulder, looking back at the tv screen to see the credits rolling through, the last remnants of your movie date night.

“What time is it?”

“1am I think” He shrugged

You cursed under your breath, burying your head a little deeper “I don’t want to leave yet”

“then don’t” He answered quickly “It’s late and also pouring down rain”

“I wouldn’t want to impose-“

“You wouldn’t be” He interrupted you “You can have the guest bed if you want”

“Are you sure” You asked him, sitting up once again to look him in the eyes.

“Of course” He chuckled, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own.

“Then I’d like that”

“me too”

-

The rain hadn’t seemed so bad at first, just some light tapping on the window, but as the eye of the storm moved closer everything got worse. The rain itself wasn’t bad still, sounded like marbles falling onto the roof. but the thunder, that’s what scared you.

You had pulled the blankets up over your head, as if it could protect you from the deafening cracks that without fail made you jump. The lightning illuminating the room for a second giving you little warning before the sky split open.

You thought you could handle it, hands over your ears, hiding, telling yourself that it was going to be ok. But then it got to the point that the walls shook with the sound and before you knew it you were standing in front of Jensen’s door.

You decided to give it a short knock before walking right in, not entirely sure how best to handle the situation. Hesitantly you whispered his name, watching in relief as he slowly sat up, his hands going to his eyes rubbing the sleep from them.

“Y/N? what’s wrong”

You froze for a moment, unsure of what to say. You hadn’t thought any of this through and in that moment just telling him didn’t feel like the right answer. The room flooded with light for a brief moment and seconds after a loud crack, making you jump and tense up, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Come here” Was all he said, lifting up the blankets and you didn’t think twice before diving underneath them. He waisted no time in wrapping his arms around you, pulling you deep into his chest, your head resting comfortably on it.

“I’m sorry”

“You never need to be sorry” He assured you, hugging you tightly.

Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder, another jump.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, mumbling into your hair “you’re ok. I’ve got you”

And in all honesty you fully believed him

“Ah right then we slept together”

You hit him on the chest right away, your cheeks dusting red as you rolled your eyes “we did not sleep together on our first date…we just slept in eachothers arms”

A chorus of ‘awws’ erupted around the room including an overzealous one coming from Jared’s chair making you blush even harder, maybe you should have just gone with Jensen’s version of events.

“Since you’ve never had to deal with the paparazzi before what’s that like?”

“It can be hard” You answered honestly, not missing the way Jensen’s hand immediately sought yours out, rubbing soft circles on the skin “especially in the beginning”

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“No”

“how about now”

“Still no”

“now?”

“You really are a child aren’t you”

“Maybe but I’m you’re child”

“You know that was probably meant to be sweet but it just came across as kinda creepy” You laughed at him, finally pulling into a parking spot after much too long looking for one.

“Yeah not my best work” He admitted with a chuckle.

“Alright you can open your eyes”

He gasped loudly, grabbing your hand tightly, looking at you with wide eyes “how did you know I love parking lots?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to fight the smile off of your face “alright just get out of the car smartass”

He laughed in response, giving you a smirk before stepping out of the car, freezing once he finally did see where you were at “the carnival?”

“It’s its first day in town” You shrugged “thought it would be fun”

“I haven’t been in years” He laughed, staring up at it.

“I hope its ok”

“It’s perfect” He assured you, walking around the car to throw his arm over your shoulders, leading you to the ticket booth.

Despite protests that it was your date he still paid for the tickets, walking lazily around the carnival with his hand in yours, trying to decide what to do first when one of the workers jumped from his booth into your path.

“hey what do you say buddy win your lady a prize?” He gestured up at the giant stuffed teddy bears, a signature untrustworthy smirk playing on his face as he locked eyes with Jensen.

“That’s the whole reason you brought me here wasn’t it” He laughed looking down at you “You wanted a giant bear”

“well I’m not saying I’d be opposed to one” He chuckled at you, handing the man five dollars and listening as he explained the rules, you breaking off from him to watch.

Jensen picked up one of the baseballs, taking a moment to test it’s weight in his hands before cocking his arm and throwing it just to the left of the milk bottles.

“You know the point of the game is to hit those right?”

You watched as he mimicked you under his breath, picking up the next ball and letting it sail just to the right of the bottles.

“I’m just saying at this rate you’ll be broke before I get the bear”

He locked eyes with you, sending you a glare and picking up the ball before winking, quickly cocking his arm and knocking over all three bottles in one throw.

“We have a winner!” The man shouted, climbing up on the counter and pulling down one of the bears, lowering it into your arms

“And you doubted me” Jensen teased, walking back over to you with a smile on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond but was cut off by someone else calling his name. This was something that by this point you were used to, random people recognizing him in restaurants and such asking for an autograph. But you watched as this guy pulled out a notepad and asked if he could ask Jensen some questions.

Immediately Jensen stepped in front of you, blocking you from view.

“Look kid I know you’re just trying to do your job but I’m just here to have fun no questions please”

The reporter didn’t back off, ignoring him completely, continuing to barrage him with questions. Jensen tired to talk him down, tried to get him to leave, but nothing worked, so he finally just grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the guy, keeping his body between you and the reporter.

You didn’t question him just let him drag you away, watching the way his jaw set as he heard the guy calling after him but luckily didn’t follow you two.

“Jensen are you ok?” You asked him once you had finally gotten far enough away, pausing behind some random tent.

He squeezed your hand, sending you a soft but obviously painted on smile. “I’m fine, I’m just really sorry about that guy?”

“It’s not your fault” You shrugged, rubbing a thumb across his hand, trying to get him to calm down “and I’m fine it was just one guy he didn’t even care about me”

“It is my fault” he insisted with a sigh “it’s my fault he came up to me”

“It’s your fault that you were you?” You chuckled shaking your head at him “that’s ridiculous, it’s not your fault, and no harm was done, don’t even worry about it”

He looked at you, the corners of his mouth tipped up finally, “what did I do to deserve you?”

“Beats me” You chuckled earning yourself an eyeroll “but how bout I run this bear to the car, you buy me an elephant ear, and we’ll go on the Farris wheel in a bit”

“I’d like that” He nodded.

You grinned back at him, nodding back briefly before heading back to the car, Jensen heading over to one of the food trucks.

It took some effort but the bear eventually did fit in the back seat, you just couldn’t see out of the back window which sounded like a problem for the drive home not now.

Your phone beeped with a message from Jensen letting you know where to meet him. You started to make your way back into the carnival when you paused noticing the unusually long line to get into the park, each one of them wearing large cameras around their necks, reporters. That guy must have tipped them off and now they were all here for Jensen, shit.

You ran back through the grounds, trying to make sure you didn’t tip anyone off that you were heading where they needed to, when you finally spotted Jensen sitting at one of the picnic tables, a giant elephant ear on a plate in front of him, a grin appearing on his face as soon as he spotted you.

You ran up and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him to his feet “we need to go”

“What’s wrong” He furrowed his brow, slowly getting up but not moving from his seat.

“The reporter must have tipped off some of his buddies, there’s a whole bunch trying to get into the park right now” You rambled off quickly, glancing nervously around you.

Jensen immediately started to do the same, accidently making eye contact with more than a few in the process. Several of them started to sprint in your direction, calling his name, camera bulbs flashing harshly in the process. “shit” He swore under his breath and pulled you off in the other direction.

You tried to keep up with him, your much shorter legs struggling to do so, when he finally yanked you into a random tent, pulling the flaps closed and pulling you into a corner, his eyes telling you to be quiet just in case.

The two of you sat in the tent for a bit, perfectly silent, listening as footsteps passed in front of the tent and just as quickly faded.

You waited until it was silent for quite some time before Jensen smiled down at you, sending you a small wink to say you were in the clear.

“fuck Jens I’m so sorry”

His face immediately fell, his eyebrows drawing up “what are you sorry for”

“This date!” You exclaimed “it’s been an absolute mess”

“and that’s not your fault” He pressed

“it’s the first night its here I should have known there would be someone here to cover it”

He shook his head “there is no way that any of this is your fault”

“it is! I should have thought this through. I should have taken more precautions, I shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place” Words flowed from your mouth quickly as you started to spiral, Jensen trying desperately to get you to stop before he finally took matter into his own hands. He grabbed your face with two hands, not giving you a second to process what was happening before pressing his lips against yours.

You froze on the spot, total shock taking over you as you just stood there dumbly with wide eyes until he pulled back from you.

“this is not your fault” He assured you with a small chuckle, watching your cheeks heat up as you just stared at him with big eyes.

“you..you kissed me” You stuttered out, unable to think about anything else, your hands rising up to your lips, brushing over them.

“I did” He replied slowly “I’m sorry I should have asked if that was ok”

“no no” You shook your head, finally bringing your gaze up to meet his own “it’s not that it’s just…that was my first”

He drew his brows again “your first kiss?”

You just nodded sheepishly.

“oh shit” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair “If I had known that I would have made it much more romantic. Not just in a random tent in a carnival”

“No it was perfect” You giggled, biting your lip softly.

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you later” He chuckled “but first we should probably get out of here” He started shrugging off his coat, handing it to you along with his baseball cap “here put these on”

“but it’s something you get used to” You said with a small smile, looking down at the hands in your lap “and they did get me my first kiss so I guess it’s not all bad”

Jensen laughed again from his chair but didn’t say anything, giving you the floor, acknowledging that at this point you could handle yourself.

“Just in general what is dating Jensen like?”

“It’s a roller coaster” You answered honestly with a small laugh in your voice, giving his hand a small squeeze. “it can have its lows” the paparazzi, media attention, being hounded whenever you went outside, the mean comments, life wasn’t exactly a cakewalk with him “and it definitely has it’s highs”

Half an hour passed without you realizing it, just sitting on your bed, scrolling through comments, not even bothering to wipe the tears as they rolled down your face.

The front door sounded as someone walked through it, presumably Jensen back from work, and you jumped into action, wiping away at your cheeks, tossing your phone across the room with little care as to where it landed, hell better if it broke least then you wouldn’t be tempted to check Instagram again.

He came into the bedroom, a grin on his face and a bouquet of roses in his hands, held proudly in front of him.

“Jensen what’s all this for” You put on your best happy face, grabbing the roses and immediately trying to hide your face behind them.

“I was just thinking about you on the way home and all of a sudden I was in front of a flower shop” He chuckled, reaching out to brush some hair from your face, his brows immediately drawing in concern “Babe what’s wrong”

You never could hide anything from him, damn that acting career, nevertheless you tried “nothing Jens”

“As much as I like the idea of you being so overcome with emotion at the fact that your boyfriend spontaneously brought you flowers home I don’t think that’s what happened” He said was a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

And despite everything you did smile a bit, finally looking up to meet his gaze, finally letting him see the full extent of your puffy red eyes.

“I got a post notification from you a few minutes ago…did you-“ He didn’t even need to finish the sentence, understanding what was going on immediately, having been in this exact situation not too long ago.

You didn’t say anything, setting the roses down on the bed and hugging him tightly, trying to pull yourself as far into him as you could, letting him anchor you, letting him protect you.

“Why do they hate me” You had said it so softly you were unsure if he heard you, unsure if you wanted him to hear you.

“They don’t hate you Y/N” Jensen put his harms around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into him, resting his chin on top of your head.

“They do” You pressed “the awful things they say to me”

“They’re assholes” He shook his head “they don’t even know you”

“but they’re not wrong” You regretted the words as soon as you said them, you did not need to push your insecurities onto him he didn’t need your burden to carry.

“What?” He pulled back from you and you practically whimpered at the loss of contact, reluctantly looking up at him through your lashes, wishing you could take back the words.

“Nothing just please hold me”

“What do you mean they’re not wrong Y/N” He wasn’t letting this one go.

“You’re a big movie star Jensen” You couldn’t meet his eye contact, your eyes falling to the floor “your handsome and successful and famous and I’m…I’m just me…I’m nothing”

“You are not nothing” The words came out of his mouth quickly, so forceful it left a small part of you worried he was angry “You are so far out of my league its not even funny”

You pushed the corners of your mouth up, moving in to hug him again “thanks Jensen”

“I mean it” He hugged you back “they don’t know you, I’m the one who gets to see this amazing, sweet, caring, funny, intelligent person everyday. So I’m definitely the one you should trust in this situation”

You couldn’t help but laugh into his chest, letting a bit of the weight off your shoulders. “I trust you”

“Good” You could hear the smile in his voice “cause I’m always right”

You finally let a louder laugh escape your lips, pulling back from him but always keeping him at arms length “we’ll I don’t know about that”

He feigned hurt, pulling an arm up to his chest and scoffing “How dare you”

“mhm” you hummed with a smirk, going up onto your toes and pecking his lips, his offended attitude melting away immediately “I love you”

“I love you too”

There was silence for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of Jensen against you, before he broke it again “come take a shower with me”

You shook your head against his chest, pulling back again “I’m not really in the mood Jens”

“not in that way you perv” He joked with a soft chuckle, making a point to softly flick your nose “just help calm you down”

“I’m fine” You tried to shake it off, wanting to do nothing more than collapse in the bed and forget about this afternoon.

“We both know that’s not true” He sighed, taking your hand, softly pulling you to the bathroom.

You groaned but obliged, following him into the bathroom. He grinned at your compliance, turning on the water and stripping, making a show of keeping his boxers on before getting in the shower.

You eyed his suspiciously, not entirely sure what you had gotten yourself into but did the same, following behind him, only to be met with a bone crushing hug.

Immediately you took note of the feeling of his skin against yours, his arms, his chest, his stomach, his thighs. Every part of him was open to your touch, his fingers delicately tracing figures into your back as he hugged you. The water was nice and hot, making the entire room steam, his scent was everywhere around you, his skin was soft and wet to the touch. And before you knew it you were completely melting into him just enjoying the feeling of him.

“but the highs always outweigh the lows” you finished with a soft smile, looking back up at Jensen who wore a similar expression on his face.

“Jensen what do you think?”

He laughed softly, not taking an eye off of you for a second “This relationship is unlike anything I’ve ever been in before” He chuckled softly “but I can honestly say I’ve never loved anyone like I love you”

You. He said you. Not her not Y/N he said you. He wasn’t talking to the crowd or even for their benefit, he was talking to you.

“I love you too” You didn’t bother to lift the microphone to your lips when you said it. This was your moment, this was yours and Jensen’s moment.

“anyways” Jared’s voice broke through everything, drawing you back once again, your eyes flicking away from Jensen’s quickly as if you had been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to have been. “anymore questions before we let Y/N out of here?”

The room was silent and you took that as your que to leave, getting ready to push yourself up from the chair when a voice sounded from the crowd.

“How big is he?”

You bit your lip and grinned up at him, his face dropping slightly. You could hear Jared rearrange himself in his chair and looked over to see him leaning heavily over the armrest towards you, looking as interested in your answer as possible.

“Do you want like a metaphor or inches. Cause in terms of inches he’s about-“

Jensen grabbed your mic from your hand immediately “alright that’s enough of that”

You laughed at him, sending him a wink as he tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably.

The crowd erupted in boo’s making him shake his head “not my fault” he defended “they’re giving me the signal it’s time to wrap it up, no more questions, we’re done”

You and Jared laughed at him as he rambled, sharing a look before standing. With a quick kiss on the cheek you left the stage, leaving them to do whatever they needed to in order to wrap things up, feeling as though you were coming down from a high.

Never had you thought that would have gone that well.

#jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen x y/n #supernatural #supernatural oneshot #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #jensen one shot #jensen imagine #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles imagine

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 13

‘what, already?’ cry the people.  ‘yes, already,’ say kc and diesel. ‘but only for like a hot second.’

okay lets just jump right on in HOORAH

It was raining. The sky roiled saltpeter grey overhead. There were Grimm nearby. Glynda touched the cracked lens of her glasses and wiped away the fat drop of rain which had splattered against it. It was cool on her fingers. She stopped walking.

i love the transition from cinder’s POV which is all meaty slimy big wet slippery fancy words to glyndas ‘listen. words are. hard.’ look at this writing. look at it. lick it.

She stood very still, trying to remember where it was.

Her hand rose to her collar. It found waterproof fabric. She was wearing her poncho.

okay but drag me i do this all the time.

It might have bothered her, if she were the kind of Huntress to be bothered by discomfort.

this whole chapter/bit/arc/everything might have bothered her, if she were the kind of huntress, to have a braincell,

also gonna double back for JUST a moment since i’m on full 👈😎👈 neighbourhood watch and i think

The Manticore seared the sky beyond the clouds like a second sun.

I FEEL LIKE THATS A 👈😎👈. IN FACT I’M PRETTY CONVINCED OF IT, ACTUALLY. HM. HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM-- 

its hard to like. rly say how good this narration is in its own little way because its so. like that. you know. but its making such good use of the, like, negative space between sentences that everything feels so good and disjointed and did i mention the writing alone -- like even if we ignore literally Everything Else -- blows offal hunt v1 out of the water??? like who even is that bitch. idk her. but yeah like it feels both real fast and real slow, like yr skipping from one thought to another but yr not actually GETTING anywhere? it’s like that classic case of ‘talking a lot but not saying anything’. anyway i love this fic and u should too, is my point,

Cinder made a sound. It was the kind of sound people made when they weren’t having a good time.

you know what thats a LOADED sentence and also a MOOD. what sound is that? im not sure but i Feel It. In Fact Im Feeling It Right Now.

Cinder always seemed to be having a good time.

“I need to talk to you,” Glynda said.

Cinder said, “Read the note on your Scroll.”

i dont know WHY written instructions is SO funny to me but it IS and its probably because i. have also done this. look maybe. just maybe. we in the autistic community really DO toss the braincell around like a hot potato maybe we’re onto smthng here,

Your soul is fucking disgusting, so follow me at a distance.

wrow cinder u have SUCH  way w/ words. also have u considered that yr the gross one here,

dont trust ozpin

OUGH THAT HURTED. MX AUTHORS THAT ONE REALLY HURTED.

To be a Huntress just like her mothers.

hell yes

i am still laughing at them being like. separated like this. BECAUSE IN THE FIRST VERSION IT WAS ALL 👈😎👈 AND 👈😍👈 AND 👈😏👈 but now we gotta wait for it we gotta MUSCLE THRU this SHIT. im sorry that was all very vague but trust me i know exactly what this is running up to. the fabled 👈😳👈 bit U KNO THE ONE!!!!!!!!! anyway,

After a moment, she added her to her contacts.

is her contact name 👿😡😒💩cinder “ew” fall🤬😡🤮🙅‍♀️ or

this joke isnt even funny but finding those emojis took like five whole minutes so im sticking to it

The addition said: dont trust winter

do you ever just LAUGH because 👈😔👈 but also because 👈🤣👈 cause I SURE DO

im. I KNOW I SHOULDNT but the fact cinder has to rely on fucking phonecalls because she cant get close is just the funniest fucking thing. this is some peak humour here ngl. can you fucking imagine. ‘you stinky so im just gonna call u’. the audacity.

The Manticore felt close as flame.

👈😎👈

god do i have to do this for every reference to fire now. i mean yes. also but. why.

okays theres a bit here. theres a Bit. it ends like this

In every story, the witch and the dragon were enemies.

but this Bit is just fucking loaded to the gills with bloody 👈👈👈👈👈👈😎👈👈👈👈👈 so im just. ACKNOWLEDGING THE BIT AND MOVING ON. OKAY WE’RE MOVING ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her Scroll made a sound like fractured glass against the wall.

me: stop talking abt how much u like the narration also me: but do the people KNOW

The smooth metal was badly cracked. She tried to remember when that had happened.

did you know the concept of her having a cracked Scroll is giving me more anxiety than anything else in this fic. please can someone replace it cracked screens STRESS ME OUT--

this bit i have to depict as a screenshot but god. GOD. its SO GOOD:

u ever read a fic and be like ‘i wanna like. do smthng like that’ ME W/ THIS. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. ITS JUST THE LITTLE THINGS!!!!

“You have to stop... You’re going to kill me.”

everyone else reading this part, probably: oof ough me: SHES KILLING ME TOO BABE!!!!!!! WOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS INHUMAN SHIT HELL YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERYONE LOOK AT THESE TWO ASSHOLES WHO ARE LIKE THE POLAR OPPOSITE OF NORMAL PEOPLE IM THRILLED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

like srsly idk what it is. but getting into all this fuckin crazy shit has me AMPED AS FUCK... i love this weird shit,,,,,,,,, like when og offal hunt kinda touched it i was like ‘nice’ but this version is just. swan-diving into it butt-first and i’m THRIVING.

“We—We’ll talk. Just stop. Please.” 

see i was thinking this when she was ignoring her msgs like. cinder are you aware you are. how they say. actively making it worse? and now she reaps what shes sown and i dont feel bad for her AT ALL ~~~~~~~~~~~

“You can’t imagine what the last three weeks have been like. I can barely sleep when you’re in the same town, did you know that? It’s like swallowing salt… I feel pickled, and I didn’t even think your soul could affect me—"

theres smthng rly poetic abt their suffering being like. directly interlinked but having the total opposite effect to the other? so glynda suffers and basically caves in and feels nothing and cinder suffers and feels Every Bad Feeling Ever Felt and i just. hm. soulmates. JHGDSFJGHKDF

“Close to her, and now you,” Cinder insisted. “It’s too much of a coincidence. I’m just reading what’s there.”

“remnant is probably flat,” says cinder. “i’m just saying what my eyes see.”

She stowed it away next to Vivienne's, in a place where she would never lose them. In a million years, she would never lose them.

hey when does cinder’s name go there too asking for a friend the friend is me

i feel like bacia’s also been name dropped early!!! which is nice because y’all know im, how the kids say, a Slut for lore. anyway im liking the stronger implications of her ties to 👈😎👈 which im also thrilled abt so theres that too

“Maybe not." It was the tone of someone who didn't care. Who didn't love her.

THATS. HM. THATS AN INTERESTING ADDITION ON THE END OF THAT LINE. HM. HELLO? HM. HM. am i reading too much into it PROBABLY do i care NO

“Yes,” Glynda said. “Goodnight, Cinder.” Glynda heard Cinder’s hesitance. The line went dead.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM--

AND WE REACH THE END. boy was that a surprisingly action-packed chapter considering they dont. do anything. A HALLMARK OF GOOD WRITING. anyway this is probably? my fav chapter so far (WILD) and i am PUMPED to see how much Weirder this whole things gonna get so with that said, im gonna sit here and WAIT FOR IT.

#rwby #liveblog #offal hunt #i DEEPLY enjoyed this chapter i loved everything about it

[crisspezmemories]

ring on her finger

a/n: woo first fic in a long time! this is my third time trying to post this, so this better work. this is a four part fic, but I put it all in one post for convenience. you can also find it split into chapters on ao3 here.

this fic was based on a request including the song marry me by thomas rhett, requested by @crisspezorwtv! the fic goes along the course of the song, so i’d only listen to it after you’re done reading to avoid spoilers.

i’ve only had the time to skim through and make minor edits, but i hope you guys enjoy!

Night eased onto the city as the pair of lovers gazed on the decorated balcony. Few stars dotted the sky in the midst of the urban setting, but the ones that did burned bright.

Darren fumbled with the inside pocket of his coat for the umpteenth time- briefly securing a square object in his palm. He was certain that he’d brought his romantic scenario to life.

The light from the candles behind them illuminated Lauren’s figure in such a way that she appeared chiseled; a carved sculpture of a goddess standing before him. Darren couldn’t help but be proud of his successful setup, especially taking note of how Lauren’s favorite flowers in a vase by the dinner table was a nice touch.

The scene seemed as if it was ripped from a romance novel, but in Darren’s defense, it’s where he did a good amount of researching.

He inhaled, making sure to take a mental picture of the sight in front of him.

Breathe out.

“It’s pretty cool how much power the stars hold”, he started, locking eyes with Lauren to ensure her attention.

“There’s the sun, giving us light, giving us warmth, giving us life...In fact, one could say you do the same for me”.

Lauren chuckled nervously, flashing an uneasy smile. “Darren, what are you-”

Tension rose in the air, causing Lauren to worriedly glance around the balcony.

Darren grinned, getting on one knee and quickly retrieving the small box from his jacket and presenting it in front of her. Realization dawned on Lauren’s complexion, arms hugging her chest as the gears shifted in her head.

“Lauren, in more ways than one, you are the muse in my life...I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else, and that’s the only way it’ll ever be. Cheesy, I know…” he admitted, letting out a small laugh. He gradually opened the velvet box, his hands shaking, to reveal an artisan diamond ring embedded inside the cushions.

“Lauren Elizabeth Lopez, will you marry me?”

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

“Darren, I can’t do this.”, she quietly said, her voice broken.

He hears the words, but it doesn’t hit.

“I’m not ready- we’re not ready for this, Darren, I-”

“Lauren-”

“There’s too much pressure- too much stress, I just...when’s the next time I’ll even get to see you after this?”, she argued, breathing rapidly as she closed her eyes to think.

Darren stood up, reaching to cup her face in his hands.”We can make this work, I promise.”

An uncomfortable pause settles as they acknowledge it wasn’t a promise he knew he could keep, existing to be broken like the others.

She opened her eyes, avoiding his own. “I’m sorry Darren, I just- I can’t be with you anymore.”

She was gone in a minute, as if the wind swept her away.

And then there was only Darren, left in the remnants of the evening.

Alone.

---

Guests chattered and champagne glasses clinked.

The party had begun just moments ago, visitors pooling into the modest apartment. It was a smaller party, confined of people from local distances and a few close friends from afar. Excitement is present in the air for the new beginnings that were to come, the environment light and pleasant.

Several congratulations are echoed across the room by friends and family alike- only rejoice for the new engagement that had only occurred a few weeks prior.

It’s only when Lauren steps out that Darren does also, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” she says shyly, preferring to look at the ground or anywhere else.

“Hey,” he replies, planting his arms on the railing as he leans back.

“Congratulations”, he says, a crooked smile suited on his face.

“Thanks”, Lauren responds with a half-hearted smile.

Darren can’t help but notice the silver ring on her finger, frowning at the fact that it could’ve been his.

“Soon to be Mrs. Richter, huh? I wouldn’t have seen that coming if you asked me back in college.”

“It is what it is,” she jokes, attempting to filter the unsettling tension. “and are you Mr. Best man?”

Darren shook his head, crossing his arms. “Figured I shouldn’t take it since I’m lined up for Walker’s. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to...I think you know.”

Lauren nods, and it’s silent for a moment.

“Did you bring Mia with you?”

Darren sighs, turning to look at Lauren. “We broke up about a month ago. It didn’t feel right. Shitty or not, I can’t say I miss it”, he admits, a twinge of guilt his voice. “Two years running. It felt like a chore at this point.”

“I could tell she didn’t make you happy.”, she says, regretting them the words as they were delivered. It was testing the waters, if anyone were cross them.

The words wanting to be heard are left unsaid, if they were even worth saying at all. It’s quiet for a moment before Darren responds.

“About earlier...I always thought it would be Criss,” he says sheepishly, avoiding her gaze.

“God, I…Don’t take that the wrong way. I’m really happy for you, Lo. You found someone that makes you happier than I ever could, and that’s all that really matters to me.”

“I’m sorry for that night, Darren. If I could go back, make things different…” She blinks back the tears, looking in his eyes and finds them looking for answers.

“Don’t be.”

He gives her a sad smile, nodding a quick goodbye as he ducks back inside.

It’s when Lauren and Joey are herded back together for celebration when she realizes Darren wasn’t among the faces in the crowd.

---

Darren double-checked the address of the wedding, adjusting his tie as he stepped out of his car.

It’s a last-minute decision to go.

His excuse that work may prevent him had gone to waste, but it allowed him to dodge the role as a groomsman at the very least. He grabs his present his gift from the passenger seat, shutting the door and navigating his way towards the location.

Darren stops when he sees Lauren in her wedding dress, a bright smile on her face as she greets the guests.

It doesn’t hit him, and then it does.

It’s as if conscience takes over him as he realizes what’s taking place.

He wants to spit out every little feeling he’s had, every thought, every question.  Only moments left to tell her everything he never said, and everything he wishes he did. It’s now or never, and the I still love you at the tip of his tongue never felt so right.

It’s one of his best friend’s weddings.

Instead, he walks back towards his car.

---

The unease only strikes Lauren before it’s almost too late.

Lauren’s father flashes a worried smile, locking arms with her as they prepare for her entrance.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispers in her ear.

“It’s just cold feet,” she reassures.

“I don’t want you to regret this, or find out that you’d rather have someone else”, he warns, noticing something off in his daughter’s attitude.

“It might be more than cold feet”, she confesses, “but I’m already here.”

Before he can respond, the bride entrance song begins. Lauren fakes a smile, her mind set on a million things, but not the clean-cut groom ahead of her. She notices that Darren didn’t show up after all, and tries to dismiss the fact from her mind as she reaches the altar.

There’s a large momentum as Lauren finally turns to face Joey. She expected to feel excitement- happiness, as she prepared to marry the love of her life.

But it wasn’t him.

The smile melted off her face as reality sunk in. She was forcing herself to want this, or maybe anything that ever came with this relationship.

“I can’t do this.”

It seems as if the world pauses for a moment as Lauren realizes what she says, and she runs.

Lauren receives a single text from Joe Walker.

Darren’s at his house.

---

There isn’t anything left that he could say, or anything left he could do. It’s Darren versus a bottle of scotch tonight, and there was nowhere else he’d have to be.

He tries to convince himself that he feels okay, attempting to comb through the heartache and headache. It was all useless, feelings that no longer mattered.

He pours his glass, bringing it up to his lips.

There’s a knock on the door.

Darren tightly grips the glass in his hand, walking to open the door.

He cautiously opens the door, wary of who would visit.

He drops his glass.

“Lauren?” he stammers, eyes widening in shock at the sight in front of him.

She responds with a kiss, falling into his arms as she used to so long ago.

---

Stars ornamented the sky as Darren and Lauren sat perched on a blanket over the hill. She nestles his head in the crook of his neck, murmuring the different constellations

It was inside jokes and philosophies shared to the world and to themselves, nothing left unspoken.

A moment came in the night where Darren discreetly slid his hand into the depths of his backpack, securing a small object with it.

“I’ve got a fun fact about stars for you,” he begins. He grabs Lauren’s hand and leads her to stand. He motions toward the sky. “A lot of these stars- it’s possible they’re long gone. Yet, we see them, bright and burning, and so have the many people before us...I’m thinking it’s a pretty good analogy for what I’m about to say.”

It’s the second time in Darren’s life that he gets on one knee to propose.

“It doesn’t matter whether something happens to us, to me, to you, or anyone. I cross my heart, Lauren Lopez, because no matter what, my love for you will burn brighter than any star. No matter what happens, I swear on it... There’s no one else I’d rather commit my life, which is why I have to ask...” He takes a deep breath before the next words, slowly opening the small box and praying for the answer he wanted five years ago. He squeezes his eyes shut, allowing his other senses to interpret the answer.

“Will you marry me?”

There’s no wait before he hears a yes .

He stands up, tears of relief and happiness painting his face as he engulfs his fiancée in a hug. He fits the ring onto her finger, tilting up her chin before kissing her.

“I guess you were right.” Lauren teases, looking up at Darren.

“Mhm”, he hums, wrapping her in his arms. “I think Mrs. Criss has a nice ring to it.”

#crisspez #if this doesnt post right i will THROW HANDS #fic #my fic

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Who Names The Colors~

Chapter 9-This Is Not A Pipe (The Treachery of Images)

Hello my lovelies!!! Is everybody sending up good vibes that we get another amazing outfit and bounce in Hotlanta? I know I am! Give it to us Good Harry, we want it all night!

This fic has an age gap, she’s over 40, he’s just over 20. If you do not like this, I’m not offended. If you are intrigued, and like art, or UST, or juicy plotlines of deep POV-read on!

I could not do this, especially not as well(lmao), without my babes @nocontrolforlouis, @bleedinglove4h, and @dirtystyles-who is wonder at the banners that so beautifully adorn each chapter!

“Where are you?” Jo texted Ethan again.

“Mom, it’s handled, get ready.” She got an unreasonable 15 minutes later while she paced her bathroom and checked on what Zoe might be destroying several times. She had convinced herself that this was a very important situation and Ethan had said he was coming home. Audrey was busy and it’s not one of Colin’s appointed visitation times, so she knew not to ask him. Plus, after that comment about her ass in her yoga pants over two weeks ago, Jo had no interest in inviting him into her life, let alone her dating life.

Jo needed someone she could trust because Zoe was a threenager if she ever saw one.

 That little girl was full of opinions she couldn’t quite express and that huge influx of hormones she was getting about now, that Jo had heard was unmet in females again until puberty, made her full of feelings. Zoe insisted on expressing all of them loudly. She was a handful right now, even for Jo. Ethan may have had days like this, but the blur of parenting in her chaotic early 20’s had dulled the memory. Or, thankfully, her challenging child came when she was more prepared for her. In any case, her pint sized wonder had an attitude to outmatch a cast member on Made in Chelsea and was just as unreasonable.

Zoe also needed constant supervision at the moment. Jo was currently in the practice of knowing where she was in their house at all times and what weapons of minor destruction were at her disposal too. This had been brewing for some time, but it had become necessary for a normal sense of peace of mind starting about a week ago.

Jo had been working on grading her 2nd year technique submissions while watching her Sunday roast and decidedly not thinking about the shape of Harry’s lips or ass or how he had surpassed her in his technique and innovation as an artist and how she admired him, when she realized that she didn’t really know where her three year old was in the house at the moment. More worryingly, she had not heard a high pitched peep, let alone a squeal in too long. Jo dropped the iPad she had collected her submission’s on, including the piece Harry had sent after their frustrating meeting the other day, the one she mentally referred to as “Jo in the moon” and made her way to the play area. It was empty of life though the trail of destruction was clear. Jo cleared up five toys, as she tried to do in every room Zoe had wrecked, before checking her bedroom, again bereft, and the bathroom, also clear. 

She heard a chatter in her own bathroom then and wanted to freeze. The other day she had found that Zoe had billy goat-ed her way on to the counter from the toilet back and had crossed to the medicine cabinet where Jo safely kept her razor, or so She thought. This time the razor was not the problem. Instead, Zoe had found her way to the medicine cabinet and other trouble. In an effort to make herself feel better about being a woman in charge of her own destiny who made choices that were best for her, even if not what she wanted, Jo had recently sprung for the Ruby Woo Lippy instead of the Rimmel #1 she usually purchased.

So, of course, Zoe had found it and painted herself with it. The red stick had gone a long way, Jo imagined she could have had it for years, because there was enough of it to cover Zoe from her knees to her collarbones and beyond, including cold straight horizontal lines for eyebrows like she was Anger in Inside Out. Her daughter had taken one look from her place on the ruined bath mat, seen Jo’s incensed face, a less animated personification of anger and tried to run to hug off her mum’s rage. Jo, like any good mother in her best work clothes, stiff armed her like an American football player, and stripped herself before depositing a crying and sorry Zoe into a bath.

Jo had immediately called her friend Cidra with a glass of wine in hand. She could see her daughter was safe, but was far enough away to just watch. Jo needed to find the funny in the situation, as soon as possible, and Cidra would help. Because it was funny, Jo knew, even when it was your lipstick and your bath mat and your child. Cidra had laughed her ass off for minutes and convinced Jo to take pictures of the remnants of the waxy red dye all over Zoe. She had also declared that Jo desperately needed a night out, and “some dick to wind you down, god you are wound up tighter than my mother in law’s arsehole.” This and the 10 minutes since disaster had Jo laughing to.

It remained funny when Zoe’s chest and especially her eyebrows where red for better than a week.

For all these reasons, Jo wanted a trustworthy babysitter to watch her baby while she went on this blind date.

Jo had a date. She’d finally let Cidra do her work.

Her first since Colin had charmed his way into her diary, then heart, then bed. She was fairly certain that order was important. Had the sex come before the feelings, she may have taken a pass. And then it would only be awkward when they ran into each other at university functions, not Tuesdays and every other weekend.

So, this date. Jo was trying her best to be excited. But, her motives were totally suspect. She was going out with William, Or Wills, as Cidra called him, because she needed to meet a man more of an adequate age. Somebody that checked the same bracket as her on those bloody questionnaire’s one filled out too often. Not because she wanted to necessarily. The dinner would be fine, especially if he paid. But she might be at the age where the free-ish meal was not worth it.

To make any of this wishful dating work, she needed a trustworthy babysitter though. And luckily, her boy was supposed to be home. But he was very late. Jo was just about to go see what Zoe was into, when her toddler ran into her bathroom with her tiny collectibles in her right fist, and the bunny Harry had sent to her for Easter with Ethan in the other. Zoe’s name was embroidered on the ear. Jo smiled and then bit her lip. She would not be endeared by that man. That boy, she mentally reminded herself, because he was sooo young. And even though he acted like more of a man than the supposed one she had exchanged wedding vows with, especially the last time she had seen him, he was still too young. Point blank and period.

Well, not the last time she had seen him. Several days ago, a few hours before she had finally texted Cidra to take her up on the great guy she had for her, Jo had seen Harry on campus. And he had been a sight. His hair was a little ramshackle, could use a wash, as it was speckled with paint and not a little greasy, still she wanted to touch it. He was also wearing the craziest flower button down, it was a Hawaiian shirt, but more vivid, and his ripped knee skinny jeans and Chelsea boots. His outfit was eye catching, but the thing that Jo could not look away from was his company at the school coffee shop. He sat with a sweet faced blonde of his own age who looked quite smitten. Jo felt like an interloper when she found a small alcove to stand in to watch them. Harry had gotten up to grab their coffees and she got tender and catty when she saw the girl bite her lip and watch him walk to the counter. Then giggle.

Was he on a date? It looked like a date. The part that bothered her the most was that she was decidedly bothered. Harry should be on a date with a girl from school, he should be smiling like he was when he gently brought her coffee back to her, and of course the blonde was smiling and a little shy. Because this was still a new arena to both of them, unlike Jo, who had definitely dated, was now divorced and jaded.

Not so jaded that she stopped herself from calling Cidra. Or from wearing the daring trouser boot combination. The slim fitting trousers were new, but the over the knee boots were an impulse buy on the internet when she was sad about turning 41. It had been over a year and they had never made it onto her body. The blousy white wrap top felt silky against her skin and the bralette was her own sexy secret. Because she needed a confidence boost going into this thing. And, well, she frankly usually forewent underpants, so lingerie had to be special to be worn much at all. Though she did see the necessity of a bra. Especially when Ethan hit 12 and told her she was to wear one at all times. She did have a boy, it made sense. She made a face at that memory while she kept getting ready, the sound of her curling iron ticking on and on until it hit temperature ringing in her ear. Her hair felt smooth and wrapped around the barrel lightly while she prepared herself and tried to look at her progress across her head, not her bitten lip or furrowed brow. Jo put her hair up in to a full ponytail with swooping side pieces, smoked out her eye a little and threw on a nude Lippy.

It would do, she decided while looking in the mirror. Now she just needed her son, who had once again answered a text with his own version of chill mom. Zoe was playing at her feet now too, she’d snuck in silently and Jo almost stepped on her little hand. That child was way to stealthy. Either Jo was in her head worse that she thought, or she was going to be in even bigger trouble when that kid decided to be sneaky on purpose.

She made her way to the fridge to have some water to calm herself down and thought she heard a knock at the back door. That was curious, the only person who knocked was, “Harry?” She gaped at him when she got the door. He looked good, if out of place, with his hair down around his shoulders and an old Rolling Stones tee and his signature jeans. Dammit, this was gonna be awkward. Ethan had better be right behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

Harry looked her up and down and narrowed his brow. “Ethan got a date he’s been hoping for, said you needed a hand. And I said I’d lend it. I figured that Colin skipped out on you. Then thought maybe we could paint a little.” He looked her over and her skin heralded his eyes progress by getting all excited, the hair follicles standing at attention wherever his eyes landed. “But, you don’t look like you have university business.”

Jo felt miffed for a minute, there was nothing wrong with her outfit. She supposed it was inappropriate for school stuff, but it fit well and she liked it.

Harry smirked then, “oh! I know where you are off to-Girl’s night??” His smiled hopefully and she didn’t return it. His face fell a little then and his wide eyes looked so hopeful that she almost lied to him. Almost.

“Um, that sounds like more fun, but, no, I, well” spit it out she thought, he’s not your boyfriend, you only kissed the once, and he went out too. “I was set up by a friend.”

His face truly fell then, and his lips thinned into a line, like the one they had crossed. “Like a date.” It wasn’t a question.

Jo guiltily nodded and was ready to shove her fist in her mouth when Harry looked at his booted feet then gave her a false grin and changed the subject, “where’s my girl then?”

“Um, she was in my bathroom. Let me get her. I didn’t really write out any instructions, cuz I thought Ethan was watching her.” And he should know how to take care of her, he was a grown man.

“That’s alright, Miss Jo. I got her.” His back was to her, and he sounded tired, then he seemed to realize he shouldn’t be going into her bedroom and the doorbell rang. Did jo send Harry to the door, where her date he seemed to be bothered by was-or to her messy bathroom where she was sure there was a bra or two on the floor?

“Would you mind answering the door, and I’ll go make sure Zoe hasn’t painted herself with lipstick, again.” Oh that drew the dimples. “I’ll show you the picture I took so it could be funny, as opposed to rage inducing.”

“Please.” He nodded politely and Jo hated it.

Zoe was playing in her make up, but luckily it was the brushes, she looked a little messy, but cute.

“Guess who’s here bub?” She asked with extra enthusiasm.

“Tan!” Dammit-Jo had told her to soon. She’d have to ask Harry if her son was coming home after his hot date. She wanted to be pissed about him sending Harry and making it awkward, but she couldn’t. How was Ethan to know that she and his best mate were doing a tango around each other?

“Not Tan, bub! Hopefully soon, but today you get to hang out with Harry.” Jo sat her down before she fell from wiggling around so much.

And Zoe took a couple seconds to grieve the absence of her brother before launching herself like a disturbed bottle of coke at “Arry!”

Who stood with his arms crossed and his brow narrowed. The perfect shape and color of his lips was hidden by the straight line he had thinned them into. Beside him was who she had to assume was William.

He was about the same size as Harry, perhaps a little more robust in frame. He had a clean, classic haircut with a touch of curl in the dark blonde locks. His eyes were a milk chocolate brown and best of all, he had a full groomed beard. Had you asked Jo to describe her type of guy, and Cidra had, he would be it. No wonder Cidra was so keen to get them out together.

“Arry!” Zoe was happily at his feet and he thawed a touch to reach down and pick her up.

“Hey bug! What do you want to play tonight?” He tried for the level of enthusiasm he usually gave her. Jo could hear the false note in it, like she was a producer with headphones on and everybody else could be distracted by the backing vocals.

“Puppets!” Zoe raised her hands up and Harry looked bewildered for just second. He looked at Jo and she smiled at him. She wouldn’t have described Harry when asked her type then, but now she might, lanky and tall with long hair and beautiful olive skin and deep dimples and green, green eyes. Maybe she couldn’t even dream him up until she saw him grown into himself.

“She saw a puppet show at the library, so I got her a few and we’ve been using her kitchen set as a stage. Stuck a blanket over it.” Harry laughed at her description and he looked so beautiful.

A throat cleared and Jo remembered why Harry was here in the first place. She turned to her date. “Sorry, I’m unforgivably rude!! Jo Smith” she extended her hand. He took it and pulled her in a bit, keeping his arm across his stomach, so she had to enter his space bubble.

“William Sullivan, people call me Will, or brave ones, Sully. I bet you are a brave one! Cidra has been talking about you for ages and she told not a lie!” And he smiled appreciatively and his accent, maybe Belfast, was lovely, and he was handsome and just a bit younger than her, maybe 3 years, and perfect.

But Jo found she was fighting with herself to keep her eyes on her date and not watch Harry to see how he was feeling.

This was a good idea. She needed to go on a date with somebody her own age, in the same life stage. Not someone so young. Harry may make a great babysitter, but it would be totally unfair to thrust him into any kind of parenting role. Jo had been a parent at Harry’s age, you missed out on a lot. She would not take that from him, especially for a child not his own.

She was also miles ahead of herself. Harry was seeing a sweet faced undergrad and she was going on a lovely date with a very handsome man.

They had only kissed once.

Her eyes cut to Harry. He was looking at Zoe, but his face was a little red. He returned her gaze then and Jo wanted to be 3 inches tall. Felt it. That was the least charitable look he had ever given her.

“Are you ready, then? Need to grab a bag or anything?”

“Oh, sorry,” Jo was still looking at Harry while she said it, but she was answering both of their questions. ‘Sorry’ she mouthed again at Harry and he bit his lip and nodded.

Jo turned with an excuse me and grabbed her bag.

Dinner was lovely, it was.

William was lovely, he was.

He was educated and cerebral, but in no way pretentious. He had a working knowledge of art and even had been to a Jenny Seville exhibition Jo wanted to see herself. But the minute she thought of Seville’s art she thought of the way the flesh of Harry’s women looked, how he created some kind of meld between landscape and flesh and all of it seemed to be in motion, alive.

He made her feel alive. Her bones sing and hair scream and skin dance.

William sat across from her and he was more adequate in every department. He was of a certain age, she wouldn’t feel like she was cheating him of some experiences and forcing others upon him. There was no ethical questions surrounding him. Jo would not get fired it she was caught with William. Not unless she fucked him in front of her classes. Also, she wasn’t his advisor. There were so many inequalities between them. Harry was her protege, for fuck’s sake. That made her chuckle, but it must have been well timed, because William smiled like he was encouraged and she felt guilty but continued to let her mind wander. She may have introduced Harry to his inner artist, but he was light years ahead of her now. He could make a career of his talent. And she believed he would.

Last but not least, in fact most, was Ethan. How does one tell your barely grown son you are dating his best mate?

You don’t.

And if it was just a sexual thing, not worth it. Sex was lovely, but most certainly not worth upsetting her son over. Certainly no sex she had ever had. She looked across the table to William’s wide eyes and raised brows and knew she had missed a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” She blushed.

“Would you like desert? We could share?"he raised one brow.

Her distraction was totally unacceptable and Jo should say yes and cozy up to the perfectly lovely man. "Actually, I’m really sorry to say this, but I’m feeling unwell. I’m gonna head out, call an Uber.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I’ll get the check and get you home.” He looked around for their server and Jo almost hurrahed aloud when the lady was nearby. Her heels were burning to go. She was already formulating her excuse for why this wasn’t going to work.

The drive home was silent, William put on a playlist from his phone and she really liked every song that came on. Even found herself singing along to the “The Freshman”. William joined her and she smiled, maybe they could try this again and she would feel something for him and her focus could come back to reality. Maybe?

Harry probably didn’t even know that song.

Once outside her home, she didn’t have the chance to get her door open, because Will moved like lightening to get it for her and he took her hand to walk her to the front of her house.

“Jo, can I call you in a couple months?” He asked when they got the the covered step at her door.

“Huh?” Jo thought for sure she would be turning down another date or basically shaking hands and parting ways. She was amazed that wasn’t the conclusion after her inattention.

“Cidra told me about your divorce. And, well I’ve been there myself, so I guessed we would see how it went before we tried to do it again. I’d like to take you out again. But only when you are ready.” His eyebrow on the left was raised.

He was lovely, dammit. Jo bit her lip and nodded. “Please call me in a few months, hopefully I’ll be in a place where I can appreciate how wonderful you are.”

Will smiled at that and she felt better about basically ignoring him their whole date. Jo let him assume it was her ex husband and not her babysitter causing the wandering mind.

He leaned in then and kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture and turned to open her door. She watched him get in his car and then closed the door, put on the latch and leaned against it with her eyes closed to gather herself before going to relieve Harry. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him. Or how awkward their exchange would be.

When her eyes opened and he was right in front of her with a hurricane face she clutched her chest. “Jesus, Harry, you scared me!” She whispered, because Zoe had better be asleep.

“Sorry,” he said with the cruelest smile Jo had ever seen on his face. It twisted and turned across his pretty mouth like churning clouds. “Did I interrupt your reverie?”

“My what?” Jo was lost.

“Looked like you were thinking on the kiss your suitable man gave you.” Suitable- that was a spot on word. Harry’s voice was a rumble of thunder when you didn’t see the lightening strike.

Jo pulled a face at him. “Not that it’s your business,” she moved around him to hang her purse and bag on the coat rack. And turned to stare at him with some weather of her own. Hands on hips, “but I didn’t kiss him.”

Harry scoffed then and walked back into the studio, throwing a “whatever Jo, I saw you.”

Jo went after him. No way was he getting away with being a little immature shit about this. “Listen, Harry, I get that this was awkward, I had no intention of you witnessing my date like I had to witness yours—”

“What date? I haven’t been on a date?”

“The one in the coffeehouse with the sweet blonde thing who looked right chuffed to be getting coffee with you.” He was facing her and she realized his shirt was half buttoned and he was holding his coat ready to go, and that he had been painting. His shirt had speckles of gold.

“Liz?” Harry looked puzzled.

“I don’t need to know her name!” Jo stamped her foot.

“Well I know his! And I watched him kiss you, since you lied about it.”

“Were you watching me?” Jo drew her chin back in question.

Harry looked heavenward. “Of fucking course I was watching you. I’m always bloody watching you! For any sign you want me! But I saw how you were with him! Could he have run to your door any faster?”

“Don’t mock him for being a gentleman!” Jo was livid.

“I’ll mock him if I want! And you don’t think I’d be a gentleman to you? I have been a gentlemen to you. Trying to let you call all the shots. I’d be whatever you wanted except what you think you need!” He was almost shouting and Jo shushed him.

“And what do I think I need?” Jo whisper yelled.

“Somebody older! Which I can’t be! But, Jo, you could be out with him still and instead you are hear yelling with m—”

“Well! That’s because I fucking want you instead, isn’t it!”

At that, the lightening struck right between them and the electricity closed the circuit and Harry had her face in his hands and her mouth on his and was picking her up to lay her on the canvas on her studio floor.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles alternate universe #harry styles au #who names the colors #wntc #one direction #one direction fanfiction #art fic #this is not a pipe #the treachery of images #chapter 10 #painter au

[bambyeol]

Noah Noah Noah

pairing/s:  Ong Seongwoo x OC  genre : angst, drama 

prompt : “I still can’t decide whether denim jackets make me nostalgic or depressed”  + “I found your box of letters underneath my bed and now I’m in front of your apartment wondering why we broke up”  credits to dailyauprompts

masterlist for other fanfics

a/n : When I don’t feel the Christmas vibes at all, so I continue to produce angst fics. Also, what happened when I got addicted to listening to Day6  ( ; ω ; )   (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡ The title is in reference to Letting Go by Day6 (Noh-a Noh-a Noh-a). LISTEN TO IT  (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ and BREAK YOUR HEART TOO

Advance Merry Christmas to all  (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

Song inspiration : Letting Go by Day6 and Congratulations by Day6

Habits – they’re very easy to form. They say 21 times makes it all. From a foreign concept, an action becomes embedded into one’s body.

Maybe that’s why she found herself drinking on what seemed to be the tenth bottle of soju, and she admitted to being inebriated but that didn’t stop her to order three more bottles.

Yeonrin felt the bile rising, and she gagged but resisted the urge to throw up in the table. She blinked and squeezed her eyes to find the signage for the nearby restroom before unsteadily rising. She kicked away the nearby empty stools being the only customer left in the shop. After all, it was a Tuesday night.

The waiter eyed her carefully, testing whether she needed his assistance or not, but he was used to seeing Yeonrin drunk and capable, so he remained seated

She swayed and entered the bathroom before slumping into the toilet – vomiting dinner beer. She wasn’t like that before. At least not until the man named Ong Seongwoo came into her life.

He took care of her until it became a habit to lean on him. It became a habit to be by his side, but maybe it didn’t become a habit for him.

Habits – they’re very hard to break. That even if you lasted 21 days of avoiding it, all it took was one trigger and you’re back. It was forever etched into one’s body.

Maybe that’s why she found herself sitting on the dingy bathroom floor with remnants of vomit on the corner of her mouth, fingers busy with typing Seongwoo’s erased but memorized phone number instead of wiping.

“Seongwoo-ssi” she slurred when the line connected. Seongwoo always answered her calls. “Please pick me up,” she sobbed on the phone like a child finally finding the time to wipe the vomit.  

“I can’t… You know I work the night shift.” She should have been used to his rejection ever since their break-up. He always answered her calls, but never beyond. Always - he placed a clean line on their relationship and it hurt her more every time.

“I’ll wait for you.” She never learns though, and she always try to nudge him. Always trying to catch a glimpse of the Seongwoo who was her boyfriend. The always present Seongwoo.  

“Don’t be like this, Yeonrin. Give the phone to Jinyoung-ssi. He should be able to escort you.” She shook her head, and Jinyoung knocked on the bathroom stall. “Yeonrin-ssi?” He must have thought that she passed out in the bathroom stall again.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry for calling you, Seongwoo…” she immediately cut the line before Seongwoo could reply. She unlocked the stall and saw Jinyoung’s towering height.  “I’m okay now.” she smiled at him and staggered a little. He managed to catch her through her arm but she immediately broke free.

“Jinyoung-ssi, don’t be too kind to girls. They’re weak to that.” As she scrummaged for paper bills from her wallet. “You forgot your jacket.” He reached for the denim jacket hung on his other arm and gave it to Yeonrin who paused for a few seconds before taking it.

She didn’t know how to feel whenever she saw that denim jacket, and whenever she found herself not forgetting to bring it with her. It was initially Seongwoo’s, but he caved in and gave it to her.  “You shouldn’t have given it to me,” she muttered under her breath before wearing it and leaving the pub.

“It’s been 7 months and you’re still not over him? He doesn’t deserve you. Don’t be stupid,” Seulla crossed her arms and stopped herself from taking a bite from her lunch. She nodded mutely, having heard the same words from Seulla for more than 10 times since they broke up.

“He won’t chase after you like he did before, you know. He’s bored already. I’m pretty sure he’s dating another person now.” She spat bitterly. All of which were valid arguments.

Ong Seongwoo was used to getting the attention of everyone.  Charming, funny, handsome – of course, all women and men alike would look his way. It was just a coincidence she was too busy with her own research when they first met. Too busy with her career to even notice. It ignited Seongwoo’s interest because honestly, could someone even resist him?  So he wooed her, and she fell for his charms just like the rest of them.

They dated for 2 and a half year before Seongwoo decided that it was enough and he moved out of their apartment. Just like that. No explanations left, just a little note on the dining table – I’m leaving now.

And she was stupid, much to the dismay of her profession. She was bright in logic, but feelings blurred it all away, so like a fool she chased after him. For a reason. Any possible reason that they could have broken up.

But she was always met with none.

“Why don’t you move out of your apartment?” Seulla suggested and she shook her head. “That’s too expensive, besides I still have a year left on the lease..”

“Then why don’t you finally let go of his things? You know, that denim jacket, his collection of cds, those sweaters, and many more.” She didn’t reply but for the whole day she thought about Seulla’s suggestion. 7 months was too long to cope with the breakup.

It was time to let go of them.

In the middle of her bedroom, Yeonrin opened a big box and immediately went to work. From the pictures of them together she kept neatly on her drawer, she looked at them for one last time before discarding them. She proceeded to the living room where he kept his prized cd possessions of girl groups. She remembered how Seongwoo gushed to her about them, and how he’d practice their dances to show it to her whenever she felt pissed of at him or whenever she felt down.

Then, opening her wardrobe, she segregated the clothes of Seongwoo that she loved to wear because of their comfort. She folded them and placed them inside the box. Lastly, she gathered his earrings and as she was about to place them inside, an earring rolled off beneath her bed.

She crouched and grabbed aimlessly only to feel a box beneath. She switches the flashlight on her phone and saw that there was indeed a box. Curious, she pulled it from the deepest reach of the bed and opened the lid.

Inside, the box was full of letters, and they were all addressed to her, and she recognized the handwriting. They belonged to Seongwoo. They had different dates, but she recognized them. From the day of their first date, to their 100 day anniversary to every monthsary. Halloween, Christmas, New Year, Valentines, White Day, and so on. He wrote a letter for her.

She sat on the edge of her bed and placed the box beside her where she opened the letters one by one. She wondered why he wrote her letters, but then she remembered that Seongwoo wasn’t a man of words. He expressed himself through his actions, but very rare were his ‘I love you’s’ , so he wrote them off instead. How he enjoyed the day with her, the memorable happenings to their little blunders even to the things that he should have done. He wrote them all.

She laughed at the letters and thought why didn’t he have the courage to give them all to her, but she knew Seongwoo was embarrassed to be the romantic even if he was one. Finally, she reached the final letter dated the day he moved out. The day he left without an explanation.

She opened the letter with trembling hands, and the paper felt heavier than the rest.

To Yeorinie

           I’m sorry. I’m sorry to leave. I’m sorry for not staying when all you have done is love me. But I love you, even by the time you read this letter, I assure you.

           But I’m scared. I’m scared of hurting you. I’m scared of hindering your future. I’m scared that there may come a time where you choose me over everything else, and I cannot return the same devotion. I’m afraid to leave you without a care, so while I still love you, I decided to leave, and hope that by the time you find this, you’ve already moved on and happy with another person.

Always. I’ll be Sincerely yours. Ong Seongwoo.

She blinked a couple of times. He was afraid to leave her so he left? What the fuck was with that? She didn’t know what to feel. Whether the emotions coursing inside her were of anger or of hurt or happiness or expectation, but her whole body moved swiftly. She grabbed the box of letters and the denim jacket hung on her chair as she left her apartment and travelled to his.

She stood outside his door panting and out of breath. She bit her lip as she decided to press the doorbell. She needed an explanation for that. She was still confused, but Seongwoo loves her.

Seongwoo loves her.

Seongwoo loves her.

That was enough.

The door opened to reveal a woman and Yeorin blanked out for a minute until she saw Seongwoo emerge from the hallway. “Seongwoo?” the woman turned around and he looked up from his cellphone. Immediately, his eyes landed on hers and he walked towards her. Yeorin didn’t know what sort of expression was on her face then, but she recognized the sweater the woman was wearing was Seongwoo’s because it was too large for her and she had seen Seongwoo wear that before.

“I think I interrupted something. I just came to return this,” and she pushed it quickly into Seongwoo’s hands and ran as fast as she could, tears blinding her eyes, sweat wetting her nape as she escaped from that place.

She stopped when her lungs felt like they were out of breath and her hands held tightly onto her thighs because she might suddenly pass out. It hurt.

It hurt so much.

And so frustrating

And so demeaning.

She laughed as tears continued running down her eyes. She wiped them using his denim jacket. Funny how another girl is now wearing something his. It made her cry more.

Always? Always her ass. Screw Ong Seongwoo and his always that lasted for 7 months.

Ong Seongwoo wasn’t a man of commitment. His past relationships functioned that way, and they were all aware of it. He was like a tornado – man of intensity but was quick to burn out and fade and what would be left off was just a disaster.

Yeorin was a woman of commitment – that he was aware of when his eyes first landed on her on the café he worked at. Round glasses, neat long-sleeved blouse beneath a white coat as she typed mercilessly on her research work.  She was like a drizzle – light, lengthy and whose effect was unnoticeable until she filled him up.

He was a man of experience. She wasn’t. But tornadoes and drizzle blend together until their 1 month turned to 6 months to 1 year to moving together and to 2 and a half years.  But tornadoes are frightening to stay for long, they were meant to stay for a few only. And he was well aware of how he was ruining Yeorin.

No. Those were just excuses. Truthfully, he was afraid. He loved her, but there was the uncertainty whether he could commit longer. He was used to leaving, but now he was afraid if one day he’d wake up and find no love for her and ultimately leave her like the rest of them.

He wasn’t a man of words, so he wrote them all away and kept them away from her. How he loved her dearly up to the day when his fear ate him up and like a coward he escaped before he could break her without a care. He kept them under her bed because he knew she wouldn’t check. Not that he didn’t hope that she would.

But he didn’t know how to explain himself, and he had too much pride to owe up to his mistakes - that he saw himself as the person who would cause their relationship to fail in the future. Ultimately, he was the person who left. He wasn’t ready to confess to her that maybe he still wasn’t ready for a long-term commitment.

And he liked it when she called him every time she was drunk. He liked the attention not the love?  It was such a dark feeling looming in him that he cannot help but hate himself in the process. How could he enjoy her tears?

He liked knowing that she cannot move on? Such a load of crap, honestly. Perhaps he liked the feeling of hindering her. Maybe that was it. Because she was bright. She had a successful career in front of her, and he knew that there were others who would be interested to date her because every time she dolled up during their dates, men can’t help but snatch a glance.

Still. He was unsettled with the thoughts inside his head. He still loved her, so he chased after her, but when he saw her standing in front of a park with the same jacket he gave her crying her eyes out, he got cold feet and returned to his apartment.

Maybe it was the last chance because even drizzles, they fade away.

Fin.

a/n : Happy angsty Christmas  (ಥ﹏ಥ) Hope you continue supporting my works, and hope you tell me what you thought about this ! Feel free to talk to me or send an ask.  

Will release an angst for Woojin next  (ಥ﹏ಥ)

masterlist for other fanfics

#wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #wanna one #wannable #wanna one fic #wanna one fanfic #Ong Seongwoo #Ong Seongwoo imagines #Ong Seongwoo scenarios #wanna one angst #wanna one drama #Seongwoo #Noah Noah Noah #Bae Jinyoung