#turns out she really is exactly like his brother in the ‘worst’ ways in his mind

[bohemian-nights]

Daemon loved his brother but ultimately thought he was weak. In episode 10 when Rhaenyra is considering not going to war Daemon begins seeing that same weakness in her that he saw in Viserys (and the fact that despite being Viserys’s heir for so many years he never trusted him with the prophecy). That is of course in no way shape or form justification for choking her but that’s just how I interpreted that scene.

Yep. Daemon recognized he got a carbon copy of Viserys with the same weaknesses and obsession with his dreams instead of a new and improved version of his brother. The choking was definitely a reaction to this realization 👏🏽

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

[theemporium]

technically the first proper introduction into the charles and blitz world despite how much we talk about them!!

series masterlist

.

“If you die, can I get your Pista?”

Charles lifted his head, shooting you an unimpressed look. 

“What? I just thought we should cover all bases,” you defended, knocking your shoulder against his. 

You knew exactly what was going through his head. You knew he was overthinking the whole thing, making up the worst assumptions and how it could affect the time he would have to take off training. You knew he was working himself up like he tended to do, falling silent and allowing his only company to be himself.

It was the exact reason you insisted on coming with him.

“And out of everything I own, you want my car?” Charles questioned, his eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah well, you treat that thing like your baby—minus the parking skills,” you said with an innocent smile spread across your face. “Surely that makes me a step-mother or some sort of parental figure.”

“The way your brain works amazes me every day,” he murmured with a shake of his head.

“You love me,” you sang, nudging his shoulder once again and, this time, he lifted his arm to wrap it around your shoulder. 

“Unfortunately, I do. Even when you’ve started planning for my death before I go into surgery,” he mused, but you could hear the underlying hint of fear. The one he didn’t really want to admit, but the one that you saw as clear as day anyways.

“Everything is gonna be fine,” you reassured him and lightly squeezed his knee. “Who else am I gonna look down on the top step of the podium if not you?” 

He rolled his eyes. “It is truly a miracle I love you.”

“I’m the best thing in your life and you know it, Leclerc,” you countered, poking his side. 

Charles’ face softened. “Yeah, you are.” 

“Charles Leclerc!” 

He turned to look at the nurse who was waiting for him by the doors, a kind and welcoming smile on her face. You watched the way his face dropped a little, the way his body tensed against yours and you squeezed his knee again. 

“You’re coming back to me, Charlie. It’ll be fine.”

…

“Tu es si jolie, mon amour.”

*You are so pretty, my love.

“English, Charlie. My French is lacklustre at best.”

“Tu es l’amour de ma vie!” 

*You are the love of my life!

You sighed deeply, taking a glance at the boy in the passenger seat of the car. He had a lovesick smile on his face, his cheeks flushed pink and a little bit of drool on the edge of his mouth. He looked adorable—and fucking hilarious if the pictures you sent to his brothers were anything.

However, since the second he had woken up from the procedure, Charles seemed adamant on only rambling your ear off in French. No Italian or English to be heard. Just French. Just the one damn language that you were hopeless in, despite the many years you knew the Monegasque.

“J’ai hâte de t’épouser,” he sighed dreamily as he stared at you with an expression that made your chest tighten.

*I can’t wait to marry you

“I don’t know what you said but me too, buddy,” you said as you reached over to softly pat his thigh. 

However, the boy was one step ahead of you and quickly grabbed your hand to intertwine with his own.

“Regarder!” He giggled, holding your joined hands up proudly. “Nous sommes connectés pour toujours maintenant!” 

*Look! We are connected forever now!

“You’re so lucky you’re cute,” you commented, fighting the odd urge to bite back a smile even when you had no understanding of what he said. “I might need to call your mother if you keep up this whole French act.”

“Oui, appelle-la! C’est aussi ta famille, mon amour!” Charles nodded.

*Yes, call her! She is your family too, my love!

“You know, these embarrassing videos don’t work if even I don’t understand them,” you added, shooting him a look but he just smiled back at you, and you couldn’t really be mad at that.

.

[ellecdc]

okay then consider this a request!! for poly!marauders or just remus/james/sirius, whatever you prefer, for a reader with excruciating period cramps (self-indulgent because mine are horrible, but whatever!!) if you could do it that would be awesome ily!

ok I'm sorry I really made this very much self indulgent in maybe the worst way ever lol. I've been having a lot of fun with chef!Sirius lately, and had briefly discussed this idea with @maladaptiveescapism a while back so it felt fitting. I've also gotten a lot of period fic requests before and have never been all that interested in them which is so strange seeing as I'm a person who experiences period's and they're really popular? WOW sorry, what a tangent. TL;DR, thanks for your request, sorry if I ruined it a little, I probably won't ever write a period fic again lol

chef!sirius x mixologist!reader who calls in sick to work because of her period [2.9k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

CW: period fic, reader has PCOS, brief allusion to Sirius' shitty childhood, trans!Reggie agenda 'cause I can, Sirius worried reader won't be accepting of his trans brother (spoiler alert, we are because we love our trans homies), Sirius being the worst (positive & affectionate)

Sirius was on his best behaviour today.

Honest to god, hand to his heart, best behaviour.

But there was truly only so much one bloke could do when they had a Jeffery to deal with.

“I’m going to need one of your staff for the evening.” Jeffery said without preamble; standing half-in the kitchen with the swinging door to the floor propped open as if he wanted to ensure there were witnesses to this conversation should it go sideways.

“Jeffery, do you wake up every morning and smoke a bunch of crack before you come to work, or are you really just this dense?” Sirius spat as he dropped his pan in front of him and fought the urge to turn and give the floor manager a withering glare. 

Jeffery, well seasoned to Sirius’ theatrics, bit back an eye roll as he carried on. “We need someone to cover the bar.”

Sirius did turn at that, but his withering glare fell somewhere between aghast and bemused. “The bar?”

“The bar.”

“Why?”

“I need coverage for Y/N.” Jeffery explained with a sigh, clearly growing tired of Sirius’ line of questioning.

“Where is she?”

“She has called in sick, chef.”

“Sick with what?” Sirius continued, causing Jeffery’s brows to furrow as he stared at Sirius bemusedly. 

“I’m not exactly privy to those details, chef.” He explained slowly as if Sirius were some fussy toddler. 

“I just find it hard to believe that the same woman who left the hospital after getting her shoulder reset to come work a full eight hour shift would call in sick.”

Jeffery offered him a shoulder shrug (and a concerned look up and down that Sirius pretended he didn’t notice) before pilfering one of the kitchen staff for the evening. 

Sirius would worry about hating Jeffery later; he was more focused on figuring out what the hell was wrong with you and why you weren’t coming to see him to work. 

Sirius had his phone wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder whilst he juggled the many go-bags he had in his hands as he stood awkwardly outside of the door to your flat.

He admittedly knew where you lived only because he had driven you home after numerous closing shifts.

Fortunately, the intercom system in the anteroom of your building gave away your unit number.

Unfortunately, Sirius still had his hands full with the various go-bags.

Fortunately, an elderly lady was coming in at the same time and let Sirius into the building. 

Unfortunately, she insisted on chatting his ear off the whole lift ride up and actually held the door open to continue conversing even after they had arrived at her floor.

Sirius’ saving grace came in the form of the lift alarm buzzing for having kept the door ajar too long, and she was forced to bid him farewell. 

Which brought him here; standing outside of your flat like some kind of stalker as he waited for you to pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, open your door.”

“Well hello to you too, chef.” You snarked at him again. 

“Yes, yes. I said hey, didn’t I? Open your door.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing on the other side of it.” 

There was the sound of a quick exhale and rummaging. “Why?”

“Listen, I’d love to play 20 questions, but do you think you could let me in first?”

You muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a swear before the line ended.

He allowed his phone to slip out of its place and into his awaiting hand when you flung the door open unceremoniously.

Now, Sirius could tell you’d not been expecting any company today; you were in the same clothes you’d likely slept in, your hair was perfectly rumpled from whatever position Sirius had just disturbed you from, and you looked more than a tad embarrassed to see him standing here.

He had sort of hoped you would look like a troll; make this raging flame he carried for you burn a little softer.

But no.

You just had to look ethereal and perfect and lovely and kissable.

Damn woman. 

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, interrupting the both of you from staring at one another. 

“Helping?”

You made a breathy W sound - as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” but the words died on your lips as you took in Sirius’ many bags. 

“What did you bring?”

“I’ll show you everything if you just let me in.” He muttered as he motioned towards one of your nosey neighbours who had shoved her head out of her door when she first heard Sirius in the hall.

You peered around your doorframe and narrowed your eyes at her before allowing Sirius entry. 

“Finally.” Sirius teased as he moved to place his bags on your kitchen island. 

Sirius had never seen the inside of your flat, but if he had simply stumbled into your space by accident he would have known it was yours immediately. 

There was something so intrinsically you about your space that Sirius immediately felt at home too, even just for having stepped inside. 

“Sorry.” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly; bringing one of your hands to the back of your neck as you considered Sirius and all of his bags. “We’d just been watching some shows.”

Sirius immediately felt his heart fall out of his arse.

We? 

Had he read this completely wrong? Were you seeing someone? Was your home not simply yours, but one that you shared?

He found himself suddenly feeling quite defensive over your flat; it was too lovely, too wonderful, too comfortable for simply just anyone to enjoy.

“We?” He asked suddenly; tone taking on a bit of an edge he didn’t intend or consent to.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed behind you with your thumb; Sirius followed your gesture to a little tabby cat perched on the back of your sofa, tilting its head at the two of you as if it, too, was confused by Sirius’ sudden intonation. 

“You were watching shows with your cat?” He clarified; his voice now breathy in relief. 

“Birdie loves shows.” You countered defensively. 

“You named a cat bird?”

“No.” You argued. “I named my kitten Birdie. Do you not like cats?” You asked then, a teasing smirk growing on your face. 

“I like cats fine; where can I put this?” He asked instead; hoping to god you didn’t notice the blush heating up his face. 

He started unloading the many take-away boxes he’d prepared for you at the restaurant before skiving off the rest of his shift.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

“Sirius, why did you-”

“I asked what helped.” Sirius explained. “You said food; I brought food. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet dollface, but food is kind of my thing.”

“Smartass.”

“That too.” He replied with a wink, moving to put the desserts in your fridge. 

“Did you seriously come all the way over here just to bring me food?” You asked disbelievingly as you joined Sirius at the counter and peered into the bags.

Sirius had to tamp down the giddiness that threatened to consume him at how sweet and domestic this felt; you clad in your comfies as you helped him unload groceries. 

“I didn’t come all the way over here just to bring you food…I brought other stuff too.” 

“‘Course you did.” You muttered quietly, looking at Sirius with a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Go lay down.” He ordered instead as he went about plating your food - opening cabinets at random until he found what he was looking for. “I don’t hear laying down!” He sing-songed when he saw you still  standing in his periphery. 

You harrumphed before acquiescing; picking up your cat who made a little brrp sound as if to second Sirius’ directions. 

Finally content with his efforts, he moved to stand in front of you with a glass of water and some pasta he brought from work. 

You made an appreciative hum and sat up, which seemed to displease Birdie greatly. “God, maybe I need to find myself a personal chef.”

“Oi! Don’t go replacing me now.” Sirius scolded as he perched himself on your coffee table - perhaps a little casual for being a first time (uninvited) guest in someone’s home - but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh the job is so yours chef; you’re welcome here anytime.” You said around a mouthful of food. And even though Sirius knew you were joking, he couldn’t help the giddy fluttering of his heart at the sentiment. 

“This is really good, Sirius, and super thoughtful; thank you.” You offered earnestly. 

“So I guess you don’t have any room for dessert, then?” He asked teasingly; his taunting smirk melting away immediately at the excitement that took over your face before he ran to retrieve it for you. 

“Why is she doing that?” Sirius asked after a while, gesturing towards Birdie with his chin who was rubbing her head against the leg of his pants.

“Why’s she doing what?” You asked bemusedly as Sirius fought every urge to wipe the little bit of chocolate from your upper lip. Unfortunately thankfully for him, you licked it out of his sight. 

“Head butting me; seems quite rude.” Sirius murmured as he watched the cat in bemusement. 

“That’s basically a cat hug, Sirius; she’s hugging you, or saying hello.” You chuckled at him.

“Get out.” He scoffed in disbelief. 

“Cats have little scent markers in their cheeks; when they rub against something, they’re affectionately claiming it as their own.”

“So like a dog pissing on trees?” He deadpanned.

“Affectionately claiming you as their own; offer her your hand, Sirius.”

“But what if she-”

“Chef, offer her your hand.” You barked at him with no heat. 

Sirius narrowed his eyes challengingly at you but did as he was told; pleasantly surprised when the cat moved the rubbing from his trousers to his hand. 

“Have you never met a cat before?” You asked as you considered him.

“No…I have.” Sirius offered slowly, admittedly enjoying the velvety soft fur of your little companion. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” You teased as you placed your now empty dish on the side table. 

“My family had a cat growing up; a horrid thing. I swear to god my mum taught him how to attack me. Loved my brother though, but was nasty as all get out to anyone else.” 

“Really? Was he a stray before he lived with you?”

“Nope.” Sirius offered with a pop of the p. “Raised that fucker from kittenhood. Lived a god awful long time too, just to spite me; I wished every year on my birthday that it would die.”

“Sirius!”

“I’m not joking! My brother and I would sneak cupcakes up to my room and he’d light a candle for me and tell me to make a wish. One of them was always ‘please for the love of god let Kreacher die before me’.” He didn’t think now was the time to admit that his other wish was always ‘please for the love of god let us make it out of here alive’. 

“That’s awful; you’re awful.” You laughed. 

“No, Kreacher was awful; I was but a boy.”

“I can’t believe you got after me for naming my cat Birdie when you had a cat named Kreacher.” 

“I didn’t have a cat named Kreacher, my brother did.” He responded haughtily. 

“Who named him?”

“I did.”

“Why?” You laughed again. 

“‘Cause he was a tiny, awful, hateful little gremlin and needed a name that said as much!” 

The two of you laughed until your hands migrated to your abdomen and you began massaging into your skin; a small divot appearing between your brows.

“What is it?” Sirius asked quietly then.

You tried to shake your head and offered him a tight smile. “S’okay.”

“Is it cramps?”

“Yeah.”

“Lie back.” He instructed as he stood from his seat on the coffee table - his mother would be rolling in her grave if she’d seen him with such a lack of manners.

Good.  

“Sirius, really, you’ve-”

“Lie back.” He whispered again, one hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you so that you were lying along your sofa with your head propped up on the armrest.

Stealing himself for perhaps embarrassing himself completely and making this whole precarious situation between the two of you go tits up, he finally shucked off his jacket and boots before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and lowering himself onto the bottom half of your couch.

You watched silently as Sirius situated himself between your legs so that his shoulders and head rested on your abdomen as he weaselled his arms under your back, placing both of his palms up against your lower back.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You’re tense as shit, doll; relax.” He murmured as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

You let out a breath and sank further into the couch as the two of you fell into comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered after a few moments.

“You already thanked me.” He whispered back.

“No, I-” You cut yourself off as you gathered your thoughts; a tentative hand absentmindedly making itself at home in his hair as you found your words. “Thank you.” You settled on.

“You’re welcome.” Sirius offered.

“Where’d you learn this?”

Sirius propped his chin up so he could at you; your hand pausing as your eyes flit to it as if you were only now realising what you’d been doing. “Learn what?”

“The pressure? The body heat. The…helping, with cramps?” You asked tentatively, and if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think you perhaps looked a touch bashful at your questions - your eyes seemingly incapable of meeting his. 

And once again, Sirius found himself taking another jump, or rather, a complete leap of faith that could very well have this thing the two of you had been building crumble and fall before it even had a chance to start.

“Uhm, it was my brother, actually.” He admitted quietly.

Your eyes did finally meet his at that, where they narrowed a touch in confusion.

“You learned this….from your brother?” 

Sirius nodded as he swallowed nervously. “Right. He uhm, well, it often helped him with his cramps and such, so…yeah.” 

It was apparently his turn to be incapable of meeting your eyes as he moved his head so that it was resting against your stomach again.

“You’re a good brother.” You finally offered.

“Well of course I am.” Sirius offered through a breath of relief. “I’m good at everything I do.” 

“You’re a git.”

“I’m good at that too.”

You gave a disciplinary tug at Sirius’ hair which made him think of several sinful things he’d like to be doing with you whilst you did that next time, but he simply chuckled and sank further into you.

“I didn’t exactly sit like this with him, mind you.”

“No? What does that make me, then?”

“Special.” 

“I guess so.” You breathed out through a chuckle. “Coming over on your day off just to spoil me.”

“It wasn’t my day off.” He responded without thinking, tensing when he felt you suck in a breath.

“Sirius.”

“Mhm?” He offered in faux nonchalance.

“You left work for this!?”

“For you?” He asked as he considered you. “Absolutely.”

“For gods sake, Sirius. I bet Jeffery-” 

But he never got to hear what you thought of Jeffery as he let out a very petulant and dramatic groan and lowered his forehead to your stomach. 

“Babe, I know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but generally a man does not want to hear the name of another bloke when he’s in between your legs, yeah?”

You barked out a laugh and swatted at his shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

“Absolutely horrid.”

“Giving Kreacher a run for his money.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that as he levelled you with a warning glare. “Too far.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

“You better be.” Sirius grumbled as he lowered himself back down. “Now be a doll and play with my hair again; it’s nap time.”

And there was an equal chance that you were going to laugh, swat at him, or downright tell him to get his arse back to work.

But Sirius was admittedly overjoyed when you simply placed your fingers back into his hair and began to massage until you fell asleep; him not much longer after you.

[i-cant-sing]

Salauddin screaming and THROWING UP because Princess reader won't stop picking up stray animals from outside and bringing them into her bedroom because "it's too hot for them outside ;( " "you said my room was the coolest soo..."

on the contrary, Salauddin himself is an animal lover. They're Allah's creations that cannot speak, that cannot ask for help, they're just vulnerable. He cares for his horses very greatly, no expenses are spared for the their stables, their caretakers and the best medicine from around the world. The pain of thirst, its one of the worst ways to dies, so Salauddin makes sure no one in his kingdom ever goes to sleep hungry or thirsty, humans or animals. He's had special water systems and pots designed practically everywhere in Egypt so birds and dogs and other animals get to drink their fill.

BUT as much as Salauddin cares for animals, he doesnt... exactly appreciate his palace turning into a zoo because of all the animals you keep bringing in. Its kinda his fault really. All Salauddin did was get a pretty white kitten that had blue eyes- it was so cute, so he gifted it to you. When you asked him why, he couldnt say that its because the cute kitten reminded him of you. So he said that it was too hot outside for small animals like Fatima (as you had named her) and he saw the realisation dawn in your eyes as you looked out at the pyramids, nodding your head along.

Salauddin sighed in irritation as he felt something furry rubbing against his legs. He looked down under his desk to see a black kitten with green eyes- Bilal. You took him in and said "but Salauddin! Fatima is all alone and she needs a playmate! Besides, Bilal is bullied by the street kids cause he's black and they think that he was a jinn!" You used such excuses to adopt 3 more cats (Mustafa, Haider, Zahra) and now you spend dressing them in cute hijabs- yes even the males.

He picked up the black cat and tickled his chin as he began making his way towards your- or what used to be your room. On his way, he passed by servants chasing after your chickens- Emir, Ahmed and Riyaan.

The doors opened as he entered, the room was in complete chaos. Feathers were falling down as birds flew around the room with the maids hot on their tails. Your cats were resting in one corner with your dogs- Shams and Talia standing guard over them. And you? You were in the center of all this chaos, sitting on the ground with a pet sheep- Mihirmah in your arms as you sheared it carefully. You had found her last night on your way home, not even bothering to ask if you could keep her along with your rest of the petting zoo.

Then again, why would his wife need to ask him? Whats his, is yours.

He walked over and sat down beside you and you finally looked up.

"I found Bilal." He stated, petting the kitten that nuzzled his face against him. You smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you! I was so busy with Mihirmah, I didnt realise he had left. I think he escaped when they took the chicks out for a walk."

He hummed before nodding his head at the sheep. "And how many that makes it now?"

"One." "Y/n." He deadpanned. "Well, one sheep. In total, 52 animals."

"Y/n." He looked at you in disbelief. "How- what- it was 45 last week." You looked at him sheepishly. "Well... its not my fault, really. You see- um, well you know how we thought Shams and Talia were just siblings? I think they were confused and um, Talia just gave birth to 6 pups." You avoided his eyes as he stared at you.

"Y/n-"

"I am not getting rid of them, Salauddin." You warned him, petting the sheep in your arms. "They need us to care for their babies! They're new parents!"

"Y/n-"

"Yes, Yusuf?" You used his name, batting your lashes at him. You know how to get to him.

Ya hayati. (My life)

He sighed, petting Bilal in his hands. "I'm going to put Bilal down for a nap."

"Yeah! Just put him with his siblings-" "No. I'm going to separate him and his brothers. They will not be giving babies to their sisters." Salauddin grumbled as you pouted and muttered about how cute new kittens are.

Maybe he can give you a litter of your own to keep you preoccupied. (Not because he likes you or anything- he just doesnt want you to fill his palace with more animals.)

Despite what Salauddin says, he still remembers each name of all your pets. All of them. He also talks to the cats, especially to Bilal about how he needs to behave for him mama and protect her and stuff.

[tommystummy]

On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”

Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.

Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.

“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.

“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.

“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.

“How do you know that?” She asks.

“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”

“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?

“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.

“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.

“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.

“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.

“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.

“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.

“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.

“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”

“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”

A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.

“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”

“I didn’t know he got nervous.”

Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.

“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”

“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”

“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”

“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.

“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.

The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”

“Do him or do not, there is no try.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I dont know if you done this already, but what about you logan x fem reader fic, where reader is the little sister of Charles xavier or Eric, and they keep their relationship secret, but then everyone finds out and readers brother gets really protective of her and has a talk with logan trying to scare him off but it doesn't work

.⋆｡Worst Possible Decision｡⋆.

Logan x plus size reader

How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

Warnings: angst, gunshots, burns/fire, fluff, protective!erik, descriptions of pain, reader is german but there’s no further description than vague references WC: 2.7k

A/N: This went a little off of the request but I hope you still like it and I’m sorry for how long it took!

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

She was too much like her brother in a lot of ways, but at the same time, they couldn’t be more different. Where Erik could command any room he walked into, she blended, finding a home in the shadows where she could be hidden. He exuded confidence and a suave attitude that could charm anyone. She was meek, shy but with a power bubbling under the surface that felt like an even bigger threat than any her brother could come up with.

Erik shot first and asked questions later, Y/N wouldn’t ask, she would get all the answers she needed with a single look and then dispose of the trash without so much as a flick of her wrist. While Erik controlled metal, Y/N controlled pain.

Logan met the brother and sister duo long before the mutants were fractured. He noted how beautiful she was, even when he only glanced at her through his peripheral vision. She was curvy, with a belly and plump thighs. He told them to go fuck themselves.

The next time she saw him, she was alone. She seemed lopsided without her brother beside her, incomplete. Logan saw the way her hackles raised when Charles screamed at him to leave, calling him a liar. He saw how she flinched when Erik was mentioned. 

Wolverine knew what happened between them, the rift that hadn’t ever been healed, even after her death in the far future. He was stunned by her beauty then, finally seeing her in the flesh after so many years, alive and well. Logan pulled her to the side as soon as they were alone, embracing her. Y/N tried to push him off but when she felt his pain, the raw burning like his nerves were on fire, she wrapped her soft arms around him, easing him.

“Stay alive.” He told her. “Do whatever you have to, you have to live.” He pleaded before he was pulled back to the future but not without kissing her like it was the last time. He stole her breath away as he poured every ounce of love as he could into her lips. 

When Logan strolled into the Manor many years after that kiss, Y/N stayed away from him. He was so much younger, so much more whole. She could see now the pieces of him that would break away over the years and it hurt her. She knew what was going to happen to him, what had happened to him. But he cornered her eventually.

“You seem to already know who I am.” She shivered when she heard his voice call out to her from the infirmary door. 

“You made a very big impression on the school.” Her accent had long since disappeared, snuffed out by the need to be hidden, to be safe. She didn’t look at him, instead concentrating on cataloguing the new medical supplies that had been delivered the day before.

The mutant huffed, clearly not content with her answer. “You avoid me like the plague while everyone else is indifferent.” Her eyes flicked up to him briefly.

“Maybe I have decided that I already don’t like you. You did threaten to abandon a young mutant on the side of the road.” He scoffed at the mention of Rogue.

“She had it comin’.” He shrugged. “So what is it exactly that you do?” His large body lounged against the one hospital bed in the room. She couldn’t help but glance up at him. He was physically older, slight grey in his sideburns, more lines on his face but his eyes weren’t as sad, the deep brown swirling with emotions he was trying desperately to tamp down but hadn’t learned how yet. 

He was still incredibly handsome though. He walked with a confidence that came from youth, that blind faith in himself and his strength that made him cocky and untouchable. Y/N turned away. “I’m the school’s nurse, I thought that was pretty obvious, given I’m in the infirmary.”

Logan grunted, crossing his thick arms over his chest, holding a beer bottle between two of his fingers. “I was talkin about yer power, bub.” That made her smile, the corner of her lips turning up. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she missed his attitude. 

“I control pain. It’s useful.” She shrugs off the question with a half answer. She picked up the last of the supplies on the infirmary bed, making a note on her clipboard before putting them away. 

She heard him huff and a silence settled over the room but it was not awkward or uncomfortable, it was just… silence. The beer in his bottle swished as he gulped down the last of the brew. The supply closet’s door swung shut with a creak and she chanced another look at the man.

She couldn’t ignore the way his muscles bulged so she forced herself to turn away. It would do her no good to get involved with him in any capacity, even if her heart screamed for him. Logan took the hint, leaving the infirmary with a grumble and a glance back at her.

It was impossible to completely avoid someone like Logan, even in a school as large as the academy. He seemed to appear in moments when her guard was down, lurking in the corner of her vision like a ghost. His blue eyes locked onto her whenever they would be in the same room, both undressing her and observing her with some morbid fascination.

But no matter how hard she tried, her lips still ached from that kiss all those years ago and her heart burned to know what would become of them in the future.

——————

“You seem awfully close with the professor.” The manor was silent, a much needed reprieve after the long day of classes in Logan’s case and lots of skinned knees in Y/N’s. An ancient record player crooned in the corner of the huge sitting room, bathing its two occupants in pleasant song which was quickly becoming more of a lullaby. The older mutant sat on one end of the couch with his companion lying across the rest, a thick book propped up on her chest and her sock-clad feet dangerously close to his lap.

She let the statement sink in for a moment as Logan took another sip from his glass of bourbon he had pilfered from Charles’s not-so-well hidden stash. “Are you asking me something or just talking out loud?” He rolled his eyes.

“What do you think darlin’?” He snapped but his usual condescending tone was replaced with a sarcastic tilt to his voice. Her lips quirked up and she shut her book, letting it rest on her sternum as she met his gaze.

“Yes, Charles and I are very close. I’m the same way with Hank and Alex, we’ve all been here since the beginning.” She knew her answer was one that was far more simple than he would’ve liked but she wouldn’t give him the full story unless he asked. 

Logan dropped his left hand from where it had been resting upon his chest onto his meaty thigh, the edge of his palm now just grazing the tip of her fuzzy socks. “Are you fucking him?” The question was so unexpected that Y/N choked on her own spit. She shot up as she coughed, tucking her legs beneath her. Too caught up in catching her breath, she missed the way his eyes dulled at the loss of her closeness.

“Scheiße.” The German naturally slipped from her lips and she thumped her chest with a closed fist. “God no! Having a telepath as a friend is bad enough, I could never imagine dating one.” He smirked, letting out a pleased chuff. 

“So…” He prompted. Y/N leaned back into the couch. They now sat side-by-side and Logan was able to study her profile as she eased the drink from his hand, finishing it off in one gulp.

Her face was solemn, haunted by something he couldn’t quite place, even in his many decades of life. She looked as if she were in mourning. “I traded one overprotective brother for another.” 

——————

Logan’s legs ached as he ran, the smoke from the fires that raged around him singed his senses. Flames licked up the sides of the manor as gunshots still echoed across the fields, even if the fighting had already stopped. They had come in the dead of night, guns and torches lighting their way. 

The school had always been a risk, especially being so close to town. But young mutants needed a place to go. It was inevitable that those who hated them would try to run them out, they all thought they had more time.

It was her voice that pulled Logan from his retreat. Laced with tears, she was comforting one of the older students as he nursed a severe burn to his arm. They were laid out in the grass which was still damp from the early morning dew. Y/N cupped his face with glowing hands and Logan could clearly see the pain that rippled through her.

More students gathered around them, each with an injury of their own, each begging for some kind of relief. Exhaustion painted her face as her body wound tight with agony. The ground shook as Logan dropped to his knees next to her. 

“Give me their pain.” She was withering away right before his eyes, driven only by a need to protect, to give the children comfort in the only way she knew how. She shook her head and instead moved to a girl who was no older than 13. A flesh wound cut across her leg, the edges of the wound burned with residual gunpowder. 

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips as she took the girl’s pain and Logan watched as the woman began to wither away. She was killing herself. 

“Give me their fucking pain.” He yanked her hands away from the girl and laid them on his broad chest. She thrashed in his hold in an attempt to pull away but he wouldn’t budge.

Her eyes met his and she froze. This was the moment that he had warned her about so many years before, a premonition that he would never remember. But to give her pain, her gift, to someone else, she couldn’t even fathom it. “Please.” He begged, squeezing her hands in his own. She was weakening, she doubted she could stop him even if she tried.

Logan felt like he was burning alive as gunshots ripped through his arms and legs. And yet he smiled at her and in that moment, something shifted between them. “That’s it doll face.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and it wasn’t because of the fire that still blazed behind them. 

——————

The sounds of power tools and hammers were almost constant nowadays as the mutants worked together to rebuild the crumbling school. Y/N strolled happily through the halls, the walls still blackened from the fire. The students were gone, taken home by their families or sent to safe houses around the country, leaving only a few teachers who wanted to lend a hand. 

“They’re working quite quickly.” Charles noted from his place where the greenhouse used to sit. A handful of people, including Logan, Hank, Alex and Rogue among others were steadily building a large room across the way- a brand new library.

Y/N chuckled as she handed him a cup of lemonade. “They have a goal to achieve. This school is important to all of us.” He grinned slyly at his long time friend. 

“I’m sure one of them has another motivation for working so hard.” His blue eyes flicked to the love bite that peaked from her collar. 

“Shut up.” She muttered with a kick to his wheelchair, Charles laughed under his breath as she walked away to the man responsible for her tender steps and slight limp. As much as Charles loved to tease, he loved even more that she was smiling again and the pain that always seemed to radiate from her mind was now a dull ache that was easily chased away by the touch of her lover. 

As soon as she was near enough, Logan abandoned his work, his full attention turned to her. Her laugh carried through the summer breeze like a bird song as he wrapped her up in his arms, lathering her face in kisses. The others rolled their eyes and continued their work as the couple embraced.

“I see my absence was not missed.” Erik’s cool tone froze Charles’s blood. 

Rage rolled off the mutant in waves as he glared at the man who was all over his precious sister. His knuckles turned pale and Charles could almost hear the way his muscles tensed. “Erik, what a surprise. I thought you were still on the run.” He looked up at his old friend though he almost didn’t recognise him. His eyes were so much older, his soul so much darker but yet, it was still him. 

Y/N had yet to notice her brother, too wrapped up in the arms of her lover but as she pressed another kiss to his cheek, Erik’s anger mounted. He knew what Logan was, knew exactly what pain he was capable of inflicting. “How long?” He growled.

“A couple months though I suspect that Logan had been pining for her since the moment he met her.” Perhaps it was optimistic of Charles to divulge details of their relationship to Erik, but he was a romantic at heart. “Logan saved her life, Erik.” 

Her laughter did nothing to ease the furrow in his brow but the way that Logan grabbed at her ample backside absolutely did something. 

“Logan?” Y/N asked curiously as the man in her arms suddenly froze and his eyes widened almost comically. “Are you ok?” She cupped his cheek and pain unlike anything she had ever imagined rocketed through her veins. Her bones felt like they were twisting in upon themselves, severing nerves and destroying her body from the inside out. She could feel Logan’s flesh move unnaturally as she pulled him closer to her.

“Logan!” Her hands pressed harder into his jaw in an attempt to steal the violent sensation from him but still, his chest echoed with his suffering.

“Erik enough!” Her head whipped around, as did the attentions of all the other mutants gathered around. The fury in his eyes was like nothing she had seen before, as if he was looking at a roach he had crushed under his boot. His knuckles paled with the force of his power. 

A howl of pain escaped Logan’s lips, finally breaking Y/N from her trance. “Release him or I’ll fucking break you.” She snarled and for just a moment, Erik faltered. 

His hold wavered briefly but it was enough for Charles to grab his wrist and completely break his focus. “This is beyond childish.” He scolded as Y/N pulled her partner behind her but her deadly glare remained firmly on her brother. Erik didn’t bother to respond, instead his shoulders dropped in surrender and Logan collapsed, the pain finally dissipating.

There was a flurry of movement as she fell to her knees and the others rushed to make sure they were alright. “She’s happy, she’s safe. Leave it alone.” But Erik ignored his friend. His Y/N was gone and perhaps she had been for years. This woman that threatened him when he hurt a boy, as he had done dozens of times in the past with no fight from her, was not the girl he grew up with.

She stood up straight all on her own. She didn’t need Erik to balance her nor Logan to push her up, perhaps that’s why her brother slipped out in the dead of night, leaving behind the one thing that kept him tethered to his humanity. Y/N would awaken the next morning in the protective hold of the man she loved and find a single coin, rusted with age and stained with dried blood on her nightstand. She knew that she would not hear from him again, Erik was dead, only Magneto remained.

The worst decision indeed.

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv

Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017 @beautyb1ade @bitchy-bi-trash @mewlingoizys @queer_poncho @everything-is-awesomesauce @hc-geralt-23 @wisteriia222 @certifiedhunter @annhells @cruelladejill

[yovrnewromantic]

THE LINE—

pairings: steve harrington x henderson!reader

1 — part 2 coming soon…

words: 3.6k

Summary: You realize the line between love and hate is very thin as you babysit and monster hunt alongside Steve Harrington.

Leaning pathetically against your locker, you banged your head against the metal, tugging on the end of your cheerleading skirt that got caught in the door when you slammed it shut. It’s your fault really, you were so happy to get it open for once. Of course, it had to be too good to be true.

“Need some help with that?”

Your lips swerved into a smile at the familiar voice, leaning away from your locker to look at one of your favorite girls.

“Yes, Nancy. Please!” you pleaded, laughing as the girl stepped forward, easily opening your locker door, not even needing to ask the combination from the amount of times she’s had to open it.

Nancy Wheeler smiled smugly when your locker opened, releasing you and your skirt.

Nancy had been one of your best friends since you moved to Hawkins along with Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway. At twelve years old, you were anxious, but to your surprise, extremely charismatic. You found friends like wildflowers, something you loved, but Nancy was one of the best. She was like a rose, beautiful and smart, something that drew you to her in the first place.

“My savior! How could I ever repay you?” you joked, mocking a princess before laughing at your own joke, tugging your books tighter to your hip.

Nancy grimaced. “Well,” she started, and your brows furrowed, making you feel uneasy, “Firstly, by not being too mad…”

Nancy shoved a note in your face. You squinted reading the words that alert you that King fucking Steve was waiting for your best friend in the bathroom, wanting to make out. Gross.

“Ew,” you stated, playful smile turning into a pout. Your shoulders slumped, concern kicking in rather than disgust. “Harrington? Really, Nance? You could do so, so much better.”

To you, Steve Harrington was the worst person at Hawkins high. A real player who had absolutely no consideration for anyone’s feeling but his own and his stupid little posse. Generally a piece of shit.

“You owe me,” she mutters, shrugging her shoulder to try to rid her mind of what you were implying, what she had already been anxious about.

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” you say softly, trying not to hurt the poor girls feelings, but really you were just trying to help.

“And why’s that?” she asks, on the defensive.

You shake your head, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “He’s a bad idea,” you state simply. “He treats girls like shit and you know better to accept that.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know that he dumped Charlotte after he had sex with her,” you offered, looking at her with a raised brow. Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Well, that’s Charlotte. And I’m going to see him,” she announces, a little like she’s singing.

Sighing disappointedly, the bell rings in your ears. Great, you’re late.

You give Nancy a look already walking backwards towards your first period. “Make good decisions. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“You wouldn’t go out with him the first place!” she calls back, looking at you with a playful expression.

“Exactly.” You smile, finally turning around and heading to your class. When you fully turn, your smile disappears.

Something about Steve makes you anxious, fills your body with unease whenever you two make eye contact when your both at your lockers. You hate the way he smiles smugly at you. And you hate that he’s going after another one of your friends, the fear of her getting hurt makes your stomach ache.

This time, if he hurts her, you hurt him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

You were on your evening walk, frowning at the missing poster you see of Will Byers, your little brother’s best friend and Johnathan Byers, one of your best friends, brother. It’s a saddening sight, especially since the young boy’s funeral. Absolutely heartbreaking.

Frustration is throbbing through your body. You feel helpless, unable to find the boy despite having helped put up posters and searched through the woods countlessly.

You were also angry with yourself for allowing your brother out of the house when you heard the news, letting him and his friends set out in search for him themselves because your heart ached looking into your brother’s teary eyes as he begged you not to tell mom that you caught him sneaking out.

It was stupid, that you told him to keep his walking on him, stay with his friends, and to stay safe or you’d fucking kill him. You’re a shitty sister.

You were an idiot. An idiot people pleaser who never knew when to say no to her friends and family. It was stupid that when your empathetic heart feels their pain you resort to the worse stress reliever, and contradictory to your guilty conscience, violence.

“Harrington, you better get your ass down from that ladder right now!”

You saw him from a mile away, the words spray painted on the movie theatre that you would always take your brother and his friends. The only thing you could make out of it was that Steve fucking Harrington was caught defaminating one of your best friend’s names while vandalizing the cinema.

Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of you, the beautiful girl who ignored and criticized his every move. His ex-girlfriends best friend. His heart raced at your angry expression. His cheeks probably got a little red too.

“Henderson, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, sponge pausing its movement to look down at you. Steve had completely forgotten what it looked like had happened, oblivious to everything else around him, his entire focus on you. His fake innocence only made you angrier.

Ignoring his question, you fumed, “Get your ass down or I’m pushing you off this damn ladder!”

Steve’s eyes widened as he muttered curses under his breath, quickly climbing down from the ladder. You pretended that seeing his face bloody and bruised didn’t make your stomach ache.

“Jesus, what your pro—,” You shoved him, and he stumbled back, arms stretched out as his back hits the ladder, “blem!”

“You wrote this? You called Nancy a slut?!”

You pushed him again, and he stumbled again, still looking at you like you’re crazy. He caught your wrists when you went to push him again.

Your hands were held at his chest, pulling you into his chest despite how you try to plant your feet, to stay away from him. Steve still has an bizzare look on his face as he looks down at you, cheeks pink and he’s slightly out of breathe from how he scrambled to grab your wrists.  Steve rapidly shakes his head, blurting, “What? No! No, I didn’t!”

You let out a scoff, nodding sarcastically as if you believed him. “So… you just cleaning it up? Bullshit,” you spit, and Steve looks almost hurt by your insinuation.

“Yes! “ He announced, running a hand through his hair when you tugged your wrists free. “I didn’t write this!”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him accusingly, like he was stupid. “Then who did, Harrington?”

“Tommy.”

“Oh, you’re best friend!” you exclaimed, “That totally makes so much of a difference.”

“No, Henderson, — I.” He groaned. He glanced around, breathing out of his mouth before he pinched his nose. “I should’ve stopped him, I know, but I’m cleaning this up now. I’m trying to fix it.”

“Because you got caught?”

“No! I just—,” he shook his head. “I’m not… friends with those assholes anymore. I just wanna help.”

Really? you thought to yourself. Your nose scrunched as you scanned him up and down for a second with repulsion. He’s not friends with Tommy and Carol anymore? That’s hard to believe.

Your interrogation seemed never ended, and you still had the urge to punch him in the face despite the cuts and bruises that stand prominent on his handsome face. You wet your lips, ignoring your natural concern and continuing. “Help? Help what?”

“I wanna apologize,” he said. “To Nance.”

“Really?” you deadpanned.  Steve arms waved wildly before he poked to fingers into his forehead, closing his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is, King Steve,” you scoffed, before you let your thoughts slip into your words. You switch your footing, voice quieting ever so slightly when you ask, “What happened to your face?”

He paused.

“Byers,” Steve replied embarrassed, not even looking at you as your eyes widen.

“Really?” You sound surprised, and you are. The boy who’s been the nicest to you, one of your best friends ever since you’d gotten to town. Your babysitting buddy. The boy who’s brother was missing.

“Johnathan did that?” You ask. When he nods, you hum. “You deserved it.”

“I know.”

Humming, you look at Steve for a second, checking out his bloodied face and red knuckles. Next to his foot is the sponge he was using, it’s turning red and it looks like it’s decomposing from overuse. It makes you clear your throat when you catch his eyes again.

Quietly, almost whispering, you ask, “Do you love her?” You gulp, specifying, “Nancy?”

He sighed, and he looked at you for a good minute, clearly contemplating. Truth be told, he didn’t know. She was… different from his other girlfriend.

Steve would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t like you. He knew he did, since last year and you walked in wearing a pretty little sundress and gave him attitude when he offered to be your prince charming and open your locker. Maybe he liked Nancy a lot, but he didn’t know if you could love someone and stare at their best friend when their back was turned.

He swallowed, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

You don’t like him. You don’t like him. You don’t like him.

Steve’s word make you nod to yourself, ignoring the relief you feel that he’s not in love with her for Nancy’s sake. Clearly, Steve was a shitty teenage boy, and even worse boyfriend, but you believed in change.

“You really want to make things right?” you question, still trying to keep your guard up despite how you feel them crashing down around you. Goddammit, you hate Steve Harrington.

“Yes,” he groaned, meaningfully.

In your head, you were screaming. Blood curdling, a homicide victim type of screaming, and it’s so loud, so so freaking loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. Maybe, that’s why you make a dumb decision.

You shrug, already turning around to start walking. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?”

“To go see Nancy,” you scoffed, as if it was common knowledge. Impatiently, you said, “Come on, I don’t want to be seen with you.”

You trudged forward, once white sneakers thumping against the sidewalk. Behind you, you can hear Steve jog forward, eager to catch up with you.

It doesn’t take long, but the moment he’s beside you, words spill from his lips, quickly. “I— I have my car.”

Pausing in your step, you begrudgingly looked at Steve, quite relieved that you don’t have to walk all the way to Jonathan’s house. “Okay. Where?”

“Over here,” Steve says, almost out of breath as he points to his car. You head towards it without a second thought, harshly pulling on his passenger car door and glaring at him when it doesn’t open.

Steve looks at you strangely, kinda of afraid of you, and he puts his key in before opening the door for you. You don’t look at him, not even when he gets inside the driver seat and starts the car, too busy staring out the window.

“Do you, um, want any music?” Steve stutters, looking at you hesitantly. You roll your eyes.

“You not talking is enough for me,” you smile, sarcastically.

“Oh,” Steve deadpans, biting his lips at he turns away from you, ready to drive.

Great, now you feel bad. You offer, “What do you have?”

“Yeah— yeah, I have Beat It, some AC/DC, Uptown Girl—

“Uptown Girl, please,” you cut him off.  Your casual manners make Steve blush. You don’t even notice that you said it, and it reminds Steve how good you are. You were solid good.

A good girl.

A nice girl.

And one who wants nothing to do with him.

Go figure.

Steve realizes how fucked up his mind is as his knuckles turn white on the stirring wheel. He starts to drive, listening to you hum while starring out the window, sometimes cutting yourself off to tell him directions to Jonathan’s house.

When he asked why there, you said that he had to apologize to Jonathan first. He listens to you for reasons he could not comprehend, because he found himself trusting you despite how much you must hate because he knows you.

In the hallways, he’d watched you tell freshmen directions, laugh on your way to class, help kids who would drop things. You’d barely notice the boys that trailed after you that you thought were only friends, and he’d watch you scold them whenever they were mean to some freak, or nerd, or geek, in the halls.

You were nice. The nicest girl at that damn school, and unbeknownst to you, The Queen Of Hawkins High.

He can’t keep his eyes off you, and he’s never felt guiltier. He let his friend call his girlfriend a slut while he was yearning to kiss her best friend on the way to apologize to her. There was something wrong with him. Steve shook his head, letting his eyes part from you and focus on the road.

The drive was slow, but the moment the car parked in the Byers’ driveway, you were quick to usher Steve out.

“Go,” you wave.

“What?” Steve’s heart races. “Right— right now?”

“When else?” you blink.

“Shouldn’t we rehearse something?”

You sigh, holding back a much needed eye roll. A fake smile props on your lips. “‘Jonathan, I’m sorry for fighting you in the middle of the street. That one’s on me,’” you say. “‘Oh, and I feel bad for smashing your camera to little bits. How about I buy you a new one with my daddy’s money?’” You drop your smile. “That good?”

“The camera wasn’t my fault,” he justified.

 “I know, I was there. Still, that doesn’t make what you did right, so get out of the car and apologize,” you punctuated.

Steve mouth gaped. Then, he begrudgingly unbuckles his seat belt and grumbles under his breath, stepping out the vehicle. He slams the car door shut.

You snorted a laugh, sinking into Steve’s comfy car seats.

From where your sat, you have a clear viewing of the show. You’re not sure whether or not Jonathan will forgive him. Apart of you hopes he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

What did surprise you was watching Steve, under the warm yellow glow from the Byers house lights, pound on the door and then eventually force his way in.

Hastily, you trailed after him, leaves crunching under your quick feet.

“Steve!” you called once in the door way. “This wasn’t what we talked about…”

The words died in your throat as your eyes scattered across the room, the sight of Jonathan, a shit ton of weapons his living room table and Nancy with a gun pointed at Steve’s face had you had you bewildered.

“You two need to leave now!” Jonathan said, but you were more focused on Nancy’s count down, gun still pointed at Steve.

Before you could think, you were shoving yourself in between Steve, Jonathan, and the gun, hand raised in defense. The mass of Christmas lights around you flickered briskly with your final shout, “What is going on?”

Few words between Nancy and Jonathan end with Steve Harrington, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall into a bedroom as a venus-flytrap looking bear rips apart the ceiling.

“What the hell was that,” Steve yelled along with a variety of curses.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan shouted, synchronized.

You and Steve shared a feared look.

Pounds and gurgles erupt from the other side of the door until they suddenly stopped. In the silence, Nancy and Jonathan exit the room, Steve and you right behind them.

“Are you going to tell us what that was?” you rasped desperately.

Nancy’s reply was short. “A demogorgon.”

You recognized that name. “Like—,” you brows pinched together. “From DnD?”

“That’s what the boys said.”

“The boys,” you repeated. “Like Dustin, Lucas, and Mike? They know about this?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry but we don’t have time for the questions. It’s going to come back, and you two,” she gestures to you and Steve, “need to leave. Right now.”

Breathing heavy, and with the shake of your head, you said, “No.”

“Yes, go,” Nancy said, stepping closer. You were the same height, she couldn’t intimidate you, not even with a gun in her hand. You weren’t going to leave, especially because of the newfound fear of that thing going after your brother.

“Y/N,” Steve tried, eager for the door.

“No, you go,” you said to Steve then turned to Nancy, “I’m staying so either let me help kill it or I’ll stand here and be bait.”

“Fine,” Nancy said.

Jonathan threw you a lighter. “Throw this into the carpet when it’s here.”

Steve felt pathetic watching the three of you. He didn’t want to leave and be a coward, but he didn’t want to die either. One thought over powered the other and he sprinted to his car, but seeing rapid flickering lights, he forced himself back inside.

After swinging a crowbar at the demogorgon and watching it swallow it whole, you were sure you were going to die. You fell back, squeaking in despair as you did so. The demogorgon’s mouth widen, and you may have gotten a little teary eyed at the sight of Jonathan and Nancy on the floor, looking helpless as well.

But to your shock, Steve Harrington jumped in front of you, swinging a bat like he hadn’t quit baseball in seventh grade.

What happened next was blur, but you remember Steve Harrington forcing you to your feet and the sight of a demogorgon enveloped in flames.

—

With shallow breaths, you sat on the wooden porch in front of the Byers’ house, illuminated by a singular warm lantern, recollecting the previous events. Mind racing, you hardly notice the body next to yours.

Well, until, and hand landed on your shoulder. It’s large, much bigger than your own. Your eyes traced the arm up to its owner, seeing a bloody, concerned face staring back at you.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and your heart swelled the slightest bit at his worry. He had just almost killed himself and he was worried about you.

Your eyebrows twitched, the undying desire to hate him still present. “Yeah,” you choked, “I’m fine.”

Steve nodded. He retracted the hand off your shoulder slowly, which you were grateful for. Nancy and Johnathan’s dull chatter filled the void, the four of you too nerved to fully close the front door.

Clearing your throat, you said, not looking at him. “Thank you for — um — saving my life.”

When Steve spoke, you turned to him. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”

“No they wouldn’t have,” you said, entire body angling towards him. You kept your hands in your lap, tediously explaining, “They would’ve ran for the hills, like you should’ve, but you didn’t. So thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” he griped, but you shook your head with a scoff, readjusting yourself to look straight forward. You went silent again. Not far from you, you can hear the engine of a car, smell the toxic carbon monoxide polluting the air.

Steve Harrington saved your life. King Steve Harrington saved your life.

Laughing to yourself, you eyed Steve carefully. “I never would’ve taken you for a hero, Harrington.”

“Guess you were wrong,” Steve chuckled. His eyes shone particularly bright in the moonlight.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking to your lap, “maybe about a lot of things too.”

You hadn’t known why you said that. Steve’s lips parted at your words, a dumbfounded look forming on his face.

“Y/N!”

Immediately, your head whipped to the noise. Your eyes widened with recognition to the voice. “Dustin!” you shouted, voice echoing off the trees in question.

A car pulled up, and in the back windows you could see three smiling faces in the window.

Smiling. They’re okay, you told yourself. And free to yell.

“You boys are so lucky.” The words came out forced, a quiver in your voice at the pure relief you feel, rushing to the boys off the porch and watching the three of them exit the car safely. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed,” you snapped. “Why didn’t you told me?”

Only after you spoke did you notice their red rimmed eyes.

Your lips twitched into a frown. Swallowing back your own tears, you pulled Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into a hug. “I’m so glad you all are okay.”

Vaguely, blue and red flashing lights pull up onto the driveway of the Byers’ house. Police step out their car with questioning looks. It’s not long before one offers to take you and your brother home.

Glancing behind you, Steve Harrington’s eyes found yours swiftly, as if they had been trained to you this entire time. Hesitantly, you raised your hand, not very high, but just visibly for him to see. You gave Steve a small wave.

He smiled at you, and you were sure that it hurt.

been meaning to write a steve fic for a while. he’s so boyfriend and i’m a huge hopelessly pining/enemies to lovers girly

not my best, probably will rewrite in the future

[nyx-is-missing]

Could you write Clarisse La Rue x Fem Poseidon, where the reader is also a forbidden daughter like Percy?

Rises the moon

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader (posseidon's kid)

Summary: when your new sibling gets claimed, you cannot sleep, thank Gods Clarisse cares enough, or too much.

Warnings: none really, but fluff, comfort, clarisse being sweet, life crisis

(Again, i did not rewied it, and it is probably mediocre, but we love our girl clarisse)

That was a moment of rare peace.

It mas the middle of the night, everyone was sleeping, and i had escaped for a quick swim.

The truth is that i couldnt sleep, some days ago, a little boy arrived at camp, poor kid, his eyes had such sadness, lost the only family he had, and just as every newly found demigod, he was confused.

And then, he is my brother, his claim was fast, like a clean cut, but to me it felt like ages, i was watching the trident appear on his head in slow motion, and every tought came to me, specially because i knew, i knew the feeling, i knew the pain, i knew the revolt.

And oh how i felt it all again, not only my father was fucking my life, our life, he was making it 11 times worst, no gods would like the fact that there is now 2 forbidden children, it was unsafe, and now we were unsafe.

"Sneaking out are we?"

I turned around with such speed i almost got dizzy.

"Clarisse! You scared me"

I half whisper, she was standing on the pier next to me, with her hair in a low ponytail, some old soft shorts and a oversided worn of shirt, simple, but so beautiful in my eyes.

"Why are you whispering? We are alone"

"I was trying not to get caught"

"And how exactly is that going for you?- wait you're swimming in your underwear?

Clarisse squinted her eyes trying to see me inside the water.

"...I was going to wake percy up if i opened the drawers to search my bikinis and went changing, besides, Posseidon kid, i can get dry in a second."

And before she could do what i tought she would, insult percy, i said:

"...do you want to join me?"

"Can you dry me too?"

She smiles while taking her shoes off.

"I can try"

I say, turning my back to her while she took the rest of her clothes off.

Seconds later i feel her getting into the water, more seconds later, i feel her hands on my shoulders, compared to my own skin, her's was hot

"You can turn around now..."

She looked even more beautiful in the moonlight, smiling shyly, glowing togheter with the water.

I hold her hand, those hands who made many fall to the ground everyday, those hands made me calm, reminded me of myself, that i was alive, that i was okay.

The way she always pressed the middle of my palm whenever i was nervous made come back to reality everytime.

How could that she, so mean, with a heavy presence, always made me feel light?

Like i was eternally into water, letting the flow take me wherever, so so happy.

I layed my head on her shoulder, letting myself be hugged, be light again.

"Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it? Hm?"

"Tomorrow...for now, can you just hug me?"

She didnt answered, but i could feel, her arms tightening, and a quick kiss on my forehead.

I was all so beautiful.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Self-Destructive

Requested: Heeeeyyyyy can I request an angst but hurt/comfort request with a main lot from boys where r is like a younger sibling to them but struggles with self-worth and is self-destructive and it worries them? - anon

A/N: Thank you for requesting my love! I really hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated my loves!!!! 💜💜💜

Butcher wants to smack some sense into you. Literally. But he can't because that would be wrong and probably drive you away even more. Instead, he yells and screams and badgers the same old subjects because you don't change, you don't listen. You fight back. The screaming matches you two get into are legendary. You fight anywhere and everywhere. The drinking, the drugs, the hurting yourself and other people, it was all unacceptable. He saw you as a younger sibling, someone to protect. He wasn't going to be around forever and you needed to get your shit together before then. He had to know you'd be okay without him. This was your life. If you wanted to set it on fire, you had every right to. Butcher was a hypocrite and you both knew it.

Hughie worries about you constantly. Every time you miss a meeting or a mission, every time you disappear for days on end, it fills him with anxiety and dread. There's nothing he can do to stop you, you're an adult. And yet, he goes through every scenario possible, every worst case scenario. Everyone tells him to give up on you. You're trouble. But he can't help but feel responsible for you the way an older brother would. When you show up at his place in the middle of the night he drops everything. You're so unhappy, it hurts him to see. Drunk or high or just messed up, he always let's you in. He makes sure you're fed and safe even if it ends up hurting him in the end. He can't turn his back on you. And when you leave again, because you always do, he'll call and text and make sure you know you have someone in your corner.

Annie gives you your space at first. She thinks you need some time to deal with your shit just like everyone else. But when nothing seems to be getting better, when your tendencies become even more self-destructive, she can't sit by and watch. She hates to do this, especially when she sees you as a younger sibling, but she gives you an ultimatum: her and your friends or throwing your life and potential away. Blinded by your insecurity and shame and self-consciousness, you pick yourself. You havent spoken to her since, but she reaches out constantly. Texting and calling and showing up at your place, waiting for hours, hoping she'll run into you. You don't want to see her or any of them. If you wanted to hurt yourself then you would. You wouldn't let them control you. She doesn't regret what she's done, but she feels terrible about it. Everyone says she did the right thing.

M.M. can be cruel at times. He doesn't want you throwing your life away like this. The drinking, the drugs, hanging out with the wrong crowds, this isn't you. He takes more of a fatherly role than a brotherly one. He can't help himself. He sees the self-destruction and he wants to shake you, snap something in you until it makes sense. Until you see the value you have as a person. He's nit the only one who sees the decline, but he I'd the most vocal. Sometimes it's tough love, other times it's gentle parenting. He'll try anything and everything if it means going back to the person you were. Sure, the team needed you, but Marvin needed you more. He didn't care about the things you've done in that were done to you, it didn't matter to him. Just getting better was what he cared about. Getting better and finding your way back to yourself.

Frenchie knows exactly what you're feeling. You hate yourself and you hurt yourself and it's a vicious cycle of bandaging your wounds only to reopen them again. He tries to talk to you, to get through to you the best he can, but it's so hard to listen. You really don't believe you're worth an ounce of kindness or forgiveness. Your past haunts you. Your decisions, your experiences, what's been done to you. When you mess up, he's always there for you. He knows what it's like, he wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but especially not you. He doesn't believe in lost causes and he would never give up on you the way others have. You just need time and understanding and someone to tell you they care about you. That's all. It'll go a long way. He sees a future for you, one that is bright and happy, you just can't imagine it.

Kimiko hates that you're throwing your life away because you think you're not worth it. She tries tough love and talks to you and when that doesn't work, she gives you the silent treatment. It hurts both of you, but she can't let this happen. She can't let you drink or smoke or anything your problems away just because you think you're a bad person because of what you've done. You've all done things you aren't proud of, but you're trying to do better now. She can't help but take a sisterly role and that hurts her even more. You beg and plead for her to listen, to understand, but she can't. You're bright and funny and caring. You're a good person whose had some bad stuff happen. That doesn't make it okay to hurt yourself and everyone around you like this.

Bonus! Homelander hunts you down and talks to you. There are no threats, but you know he's angry. Furious, even. So you stay and you listen and you don't fight back. Getting into trouble, hurting yourself, that's wasn't you! You were part of The Seven, you were powerful and intelligent and, though he hated to admit it, like a little sibling to him. He wasn't going to watch you destroy everything you had ever worked for because you felt bad about yourself, because you didn't believe in yourself. It wasn't just that though. It was the things you'd done, they haunted you. The people you hurt. He didn't really care about that though. All he cared about was you. You getting better, you figuring it out, you going back to the person you were.

[xoxochb]

can i ask for a percy x daughter of zeus and it’s soulmate!au but only jason knows at first so he tries to get them together with the help of others and it’s really just cute and fluffy and reader and percy aren’t close at all

⋆·˚ ༘ * this love left a permanent mark

warnings: none

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of zeus

you spoke to percy jackson twice, both having awful timings. perhaps he could be considered a friend, you were unsure of the classification of your relationship with him

however when it came to you and a handful of other demigods practically living on a ship together you would speak to them more often, even if it was only something simple

when you met eyes with percy the first day on the ship you were unaware of another pair focused on the two of you- belonging to your roman brother. jason grace knew there was undeniable and insane tension between you and percy, and not the kind where you were aware of it, that was the worst part, you had been incredibly oblivious to notice the invisible string tying you to each other

and who better to get you and percy to speak other than the only daughter of aphrodite on the ship? jason went to piper the next morning and told her about the situation and a plan was made that day. from that day on they always made sure that percy would run into you or the other way around, always watching to see if you spoke. over time the more you began to see the son of poseidon the more you spoke to him. from then on you became friends, speaking as much as possible, sneaking in each others rooms (??) at night, sitting side by side at the table, normal friend things

today was a special day for you- except you were unaware of how special it would be. today a note would be slipped under your door signed by percy, asking you to meet him on the deck after everyone had gone to bed for the night. little did percy know, he would be receiving the same note, except signed by you

you invited annabeth to your room to help you get ready, she sits on your bed criticizing every piece of clothing you own

“how about this sweater and these jeans withhh…” you throw the clothing on your bed and reach underneath to grab your shoes “these docs?”

“are you going to take a walk around stars hollow?” she remarks

“okay” you cross your arms “then you find something”

she gets up happily and walks to your dresser, searching through your tops until she pulls out a simple floral shirt

“wear this instead of the sweater” she throws it on your bed with the rest of the clothes

“it’s freezing outside”

“exactly! you’ll get cold and he’ll give you his sweatshirt, how romantic!”

she takes the previous clothes sitting on your bed and organizes them back in your drawers. once she finishes she gives you a pat on the shoulder with encouraging words of comfort

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I want details”

and with that she walks out and you begin to dress. once finished you take a deep breath and make your way to the deck where you find percy already waiting

“hey stranger”

he turns around with a wide smile “I thought you’d never come”

you shake your head before placing your arms on the cold railing, staring out at the midnight sea

“so why’d-” - “why did you-”

you both break into a fit of giggles

“you go first” percy says

“why’d you invite me out here? not that I mind it, it’s beautiful but it’s freezing”

“you’re cold?”

you nod and percy wastes no time taking his sweatshirt off, handing it to you

damn annabeth! why must she always be right?

you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ before sliding the clothing piece over your head. It smells just like percy- the ocean and a hint of his cologne- and you never want to take it off

“uhm, anyways, I thought you invited me?” percy speaks

“no, you invited me”

you both pull out the notes you and revived, similarly showing it to the other

“this is the same handwriting” percy points out

you laugh “we’re totally being set up right now”

percy takes both your notes, throwing them in the water “I would’ve loved to be here with you regardless if we were set up or not”

a blush makes its way to your cheeks and you’re thankful for the dark of the night. you take notice in percy’s shivering state and hesitantly take his hand in yours

unbeknownst to the both of you, a golden string wraps around your intertwined hands. a golden string symbolizing soulmates, entwined souls meant to be for eternity. the moment is quiet, serene, however percy was sure his heart would combust any second when you move closer. he runs his thumb over your knuckles, a comforting action in most situations, but it encourages the butterflies to use their wings and fly through his insides. would it be too soon to kiss you?

he leans in, just about, but before he takes another step he searches your eyes for any signs showing you don’t want this, but your encouraging gaze tells him otherwise, so he takes the chance to connect his lips with yours in a passion-filled kiss. he hopes this moment never ends

little did he know you thought the same, in the same way you didn’t expect to have many moments like these in the future, and for eternity

[morganwrites12672]

Abandon

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After the worst fight he's ever had with his father, Sam goes to the only person he can for comfort.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: ANGST. John is a piece of shit. Arguing. Crying. Daddy issues.

A/N: Have fun crying!

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

Whenever Sam had finally gotten back from visiting her, he hadn't expected Dean and John to be waiting up for him in the small living room of the motel. He awkwardly shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the back of the couch.

He could feel his father's eyes burning into his skin. John must be pissed off about something. It seemed like Sam couldn't do anything without upsetting the older man. His good mood vanished.

"You have something you want to tell me?" John asked, and Sam just knew. He knew exactly what John meant. There was nothing else that would have his father looking this pissed.

Sam swallowed thickly, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked between Dean and John. John looked pissed, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Dean looked different. He looked almost happy, he looked satisfied. A smug smirk tugged at Dean's lips.

Dean was convinced that John was going to fix everything. He thought that his father would be able to fix this. Once all of this was over, Sam would stay. Everything would work out. If only Dean didn't put so much blind trust into his father. Maybe then he would have realized what would actually happen.

"No sir."

Sam knew that his father wouldn't be satisfied with this response. No, the older man would be pissed off. Nothing Sam said would make it right. No matter what he did his father would still probably lose his shit. This was going to be an argument from Hell.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" John growled. He pulled something out of his pocket, a letter. Not just any letter though. The letter. Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford.

"How-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence.

"You applied for Stanford," John said. It was a statement, not a question. The evidence was quite literally being gripped in John's hand.

Sam's nerves coiled in his gut, ready to explode. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This argument was the very thing that Sam had wanted to avoid at all costs. He wasn't quite sure how he had planned to avoid it though. Telling John might have made it better rather than the older man figuring it out, or being told by someone else.

"I'm going," Sam blurted, standing up a little straighter. He wouldn't keep letting his father walk all over him. He would go to Stanford. After everything he had sacrificed for other people, he would do this for himself. Hunting could wait a few years.

"I just want to-" For the second time that night, John cut Sam off.

"Like hell you are! I won't let you abandon this family," John snapped as he stood. He slammed the letter down onto the table. He couldn't believe the way Sam was speaking. "Would you really do that? Would you really abandon your brother and I?"

"No. Dad listen, I am going to Stanford!" Sam shouted back at John. He wasn't abandoning Dean or his father. No, he was just trying to go to college.

"It's that damn whore," John sneered. It didn't matter that he was talking about his friends daughter, he was also talking about the girl who he thought had been a bad influence on Sam. "She's been putting all of these ideas into your head. She-"

It was Sam's turn to cut John off. Hearing his father talk about her that way made Sam's blood boil. He took a steadying breath. Just yelling at his father wouldn't do any good. He needed to be somewhat logical. Though, he struggled to think of anything decent to say after what he had heard his father call her.

Dean was watching everything go down. Now that he'd seen how this argument was going he might have a few regrets. He'd seen Sam and his father argue, a lot. It had never been this bad though. Hearing what his father had to say about her though, that made Dean regret everything. Being around her was the happiest Dean had ever seen his brother. He couldn't believe that his father would insult her like that. She wasn't a bad influence on Sam, not in the slightest.

"Don't call her that," Sam said through a clenched jaw. "She has done nothing wrong! It was my idea to apply for Stanford. I am not abandoning this family! I'm going to college!"

"Don't you fucking come back! If you aren't going to do the job, and be apart of this family, don't you ever come back," John snarled.

Sam's expression changed in an instant. He felt his chest tighten, panic spreading throughout his body. He knew by looking at johns face that his father wasn't kidding.

Sam grabbed his jacket, the letter from Stanford, and his laptop case before walking out the door. He had a lump in his throat as he walked down the row of motel room doors. Looking around the parking lot, he was thankful that it was empty.

"Sammy! Wait!" Dean yelled, running out of the motel room door after his younger brother. He was panicking at this point. Things weren't supposed to end like this. He couldn't believe that Sam would leave like this.

"Don't call me that," Sam snapped at his brother, not bothering to turn around. "Leave me the hell alone Dean."

The older Winchester brother stopped in his tracks. He had fucked up, everything had went wrong. It was too late now. Sam had clearly made up his mind. There was nothing Dean would be able to do to stop his brother.

Sam walked. And he just kept walking. His jacket protected him from the ice cold gushes of wind blowing. He walked towards the only place he had left to go; her house. She was his escape. He needed her, right now especially.

The disgusting words that John had spoke of her made Sam's blood boil. He walked faster. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding them away from the brisk cold.

She was the best part of his day. Hearing his father call her that, and the way the older man talked about her made him sick. She deserved so much better. She didn't do anything wrong. No, the opposite. She made everything better.

The thought of her smile was only able to hinder the tears building up for so long. Sam only walked faster. His long, gangly legs could only carry him so fast though.

The walk to her house didn't take long. Sam practically ran. His eyes had long ago welled up with tears, he sniffled as he finally spotted her house. He walked up to the front porch and hesitated. It was late. What if her parents answered instead of her?

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he sent her a quick text asking if she could open the front door for him. He prayed to anything out there that might listen to him that she was still awake. He wouldn't risk her parents coming to the door, even if he knew that they wouldn't be upset.

His tear stained cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. He wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to hide some of the tears from view. However, he knew that the second she opened the door that she would know. It would be impossible for her not too.

She could take one look at Sam and read him like a god-damn book. It was nice to be understood like that. Dean and his father had never actually listened to him about anything. He felt like an outsider. He don't feel anywhere near like that around her.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding open. The front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, there she was. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips, exposing a small section of her waist before her tank top covered the rest of her skin up. She looked tired as hell, yet she still gave Sam a gentle smile.

She stepped aside wordlessly, letting Sam into the house. Her eye brows drew together in concern as she noticed his tear stained cheeks. As Sam stepped inside, she quickly (and quietly) shut the door. The dead bolt snapped into place.

As she turned around she noticed that Sam had already began walking to her bedroom. Her house was more like a home to Sam than any other place. He did spend a lot of time here. Not that her parents minded.

Her parents loved Sam. They had always welcomed him in with open arms. And, they ignored all of the times they caught Sam sleeping over. They just appreciated that their daughter was spending time with someone her age. Having such a an odd lifestyle made it difficult to maintain friendships.

Whenever she walked into her bedroom, Sam was already sitting on her bed. His head was titled downwards, his eyes seemed to be locked on her rug. She noticed that he had discarded his shoes and jacket already. His jacket hung on the back of her desk chair, and his shoes sat in the corner of her room.

She sat next to Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch. More tears burned at his eyes and he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke

"H-he found out," Sam whispered in a fragile voice. With anyone else he would have cringed at how vulnerable he sounded. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the tears from pouring down his cheeks again.

Her heart dropped. She was suddenly wide awake. That was the worst possible thing that could happen. She still remembered how excited Sam had been to show her his acceptance letter. All of that excitement had been ruined by John.

"Oh my God. . . Sam-"

"I'm still going to S-Stanford," He looked up at her as a few tears finally escaped down his cheeks. "My dad. . . my dad told me not to come back."

She didn't hesitate before pulling him into a tight hug. It was awkward since they were both sitting down but she didn't care in the slightest. Sam broke down in her arms. Hot tears poured down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Her voice was gentle, the polar opposite to how his father had spoken to him earlier.

It was moments like this that made Sam realize how lucky he was to have her. He wouldn't know what to do without her. Especially tonight. His heart has been brutally ripped apart by his father, now she would work on helping him pick up the pieces.

They were always there for each other. It was something that could be so very simple that most people didn't notice it. The way that Sam would subconsciously reach for her anytime things went South, the way she always seemed to find her way into Sam's arm after a case or fight with her parents, the way she always made sure Sam had somewhere to go.

And yet, the two had stuck with the title of best friends. Neither one of them wanted to change it much, not yet anyway. There might have been occasional thoughts that definitely weren't the kind you thought about friends though.

Her warm touch brought Sam back to the present moment. It reminded him that things didn't have to be so bad. He might have lost his father, and maybe even Dean too, but he still had her.

"You can stay here until you leave for Stanford."

Sam' head jerked up. That was months away. He had planned to- he actually didn't know what he had planned to do. He would have figured something out though. No matter how hard it was.

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I can't ask your parents to do that."

"Too bad," She retorted. "You live with us until you leave for Stanford." Her voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Her parents would understand. They always did. Even if her father and John were friends, she knew that her mother would be able to persuade her father into letting Sam stay with them. Her mother was good at doing that. Nobody could say no to that woman.

"Thank you," Sam whispered. He then rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. It would never make sense to Sam. He couldn't believe that she cared about him this much. He was a black sheep with his family. He was the one who caused problems and didn't belong. He didn't feel that way here. He felt just as much apart of the family as she actually was.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. She kept her arms wrapped around Sam. He felt like her arms were the only thing holding him together. His own father had just kicked him out! Sam couldn't believe that Dean had shown the letter. It hurt.

None of that mattered right now. He couldn't go back in time to fix things. He had to live with everything that had just happened. He had to figure it out.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He could get through anything with her by his side.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N: The biggest thanks to @tranquilitybasegrunge and @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading parts of this for me!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @jaredpadonlyyyy @zeppette @moonl1ghtsworld @tranquilitybasegrunge

Join My Tag List Here: Tag List 

[jazzyoranges]

Nights - drabble

Jenna Ortega x gn!reader

Summary: you take a flight across the country for your girlfriend

Words: 0.6k

A/n: this is the closest thing you’ll get to a continuous series, i’m sorry 💀

Mornings | Afternoons | Nights

“You’re going to hop on a five hour flight to New York because you miss your girlfriend?”

“Precisely.”

“And they say chivalry is dead” Your brother sighs

“Well, chivalry obviously hasn’t met me”

“Right. And you said you were going to surprise her with what again?”

“Rose petals. Rose petals everywhere. Enough rose petals to kill a healthy adult”

“It sounds like you’re going to murder her with rose petals”

“Precisely.”

“…Alright. I’ll talk to you later?” Your brother sighs again, going to rub his temples like you’re causing him a headache. One of these days you’re going to give the man a heart attack

“Perfect timing! The jet just got here”

“Stop flexing your money on me, dumbass”

“You wish you were me. Love you!” Abruptly hanging up, you pocket your phone before boarding the private jet. Truly, who let you be so chivalrous? You were already having a great day just imagining being in Jenna’s embrace after what felt like decades

—

Jenna’s day has been pretty bad.

Her morning started off with bitter coffee, bitter breakfast, and nothing but sweet thoughts of you. Days in New York were cold this season, and without you to warm her up she only felt colder.

The rain didn’t seem to ease up, either. So now here she was, a soaking wet sad kitty as you’d probably say, walking down the streets of New York with a scowl on her face.

In Jenna’s mind, nothing could make her day better. Maybe if an angel descended from the heavens she’d be a little happier, but alas, no wings have made an appearance. All she wanted to do was get in bed, and hibernate for exactly one month so she could see you as soon as possible.

Nearing her hotel, she didn’t spare a glance at the man greeting her in the doorway. Sure she felt a little mean, but the only thing on her mind was a long shower and an uncomfortable white bed. Jenna misses what he says, but she decides it’s probably nothing important.

Jenna scans her card at her door, and is met with an… interesting sight to say the least

Rose petals make a path towards her room, and she immediately thinks of the worst.

What if someone broke in? Did they climb in through the balcony? Oh wait, she didn’t have a balcony…

Jenna silently puts her things down, and grabs the same pan she cooked her unsatisfactory breakfast in

The brunette, pan in hand, tip-toes her way towards her room.

There’s a faint humming sound when she nears the bedroom. There definitely isn’t a scarcity of rose petals, that’s for sure. Jenna takes a moment to listen. She recognizes the melody. Your melody. She remembers hearing it over call a few weeks ago

No way you were really here.

…right?

Jenna turns the door handle, and the humming abruptly stops

Opening the door, there’s a number of emotions running around her brain. Actually, it’s only two. Lots of confusion, but equal amounts of love

You’re sat criss-crossed on her bed in the middle of a giant heart made of rose petals. You adorned a wide grin on your face, and Jenna wanted nothing more than to pinch your dumb little cheeks and kiss your dimples until she ran out of breath.

Before you could say a word, there was a clank behind Jenna and then she was in your arms. You were trapped in a bear-tight hug, but you weren’t really complaining

“Surprise” You whisper in her ear, and your girlfriend only hugs you tighter. An angel really descended the heavens and made her day better

—

Bonus:

“Baby, why is there a pan on the floor?”

“Absolutely no reason, love. Just keep kissing me.”

[melanieph321]

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Claim Me Part 2/3

+18

Part 1

Summary - Reader is Dusan Vlahovic sister and is dating Kenan. However, Reader has yet told her brother of the relationship as he is very protective of her.

Enjoy!

For lunch with the team and their families, you chose to wear pants. Levi's jeans, to be specific. Somehow, Kenan had managed to arrange the seating at the restaurant so that the two of you would be seated right before each other. You were thankful that he had been eager to tell you about his achievements before your arrival at the restaurant. It allowed you to prepare for the worst, like your boyfriend attempting to play footsie while you tried to enjoy your food.

It was pretty funny. His reaction as his foot went up your legs, expecting to feel your bare thighs, only to be met with the rough fabric of your jeans.

"Whatta..."

You had to look away not to burst out in laughter.

"Behave."

Your behavior earned you an elbow from Dusan, who, God forbid, despised laughter around the table. Or laughter in general.

"Are you twelve, or what?" He hissed, to which you were quite offended by. Kenan must have noticed this because his face went from playful to leathal in just a matter of seconds.

"It's okay." You nodded assuringly. However, he was not happy with Dusan and had to excuse himself to go use the restroom.

"Hey?"

There wasn't much you could say to cheer him up. However, he seemed to appreciate the fact that you came looking for him after he had been gone for a while.

"Hey?" He said, meeting your reflection through the mirror. "You know this is the men's restroom, right?"

"Really, then why are you in here?"

He chuckled.

You came up behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. "It's getting kind of boring out there. What if we ditched this thing and went somewhere else?"

"Won't your brother notice?"

"Nina can cover for me. She always does."

Kenan turned around, forcing you to shift your arms to wrap around his neck, your forheads pressed together.

"I love you." He said.

"Love you too."

"I mean it Y/N. I've never felt this way about another person."

"Felt what?" You raised your head, your nose caressing his, only then did you notice that Kenan's eyes were closed.

"I guess I just don't want to lose you." He sighed.

"Baby." You shrugged his shoulders. His eyelids opened. "What makes you think you're gonna lose me? I'm not going anywhere."

Kenan shied away, the two of you letting go of each other. You kept an eye on the bathroom door as anyone could burst in at any moment.

"I know that." Kenan nodded. It was difficult for him to express his feelings at times. "Like I said before, I want to be able to hold your hand without looking over my shoulder for Dusan. I think it would be better if we just told him the truth. Rip off the bandaid, I mean."

"Kenan I don't..."

"I get it." He nodded. "It's not as easy as I believe. But what if it is?"

You felt for him. You really did. But more than anything, you admired Kenan for wanting to tell Dusan that the two of you were seeing each other. He wanted to do so despite the fact that it could jeopardize the teams dynamic. Not to mention the ridicule and cold shoulders he could face from his other teammates. Still, Kenan thought that you were worth the risk.

"Have I ever told you how good you look in a suit?"

Kenan looked up from where he had been standing by the sink. He saw you scowling him up and down, a devious smile on your lips. "No, but try me." He grinned.

"You look hot." You said, approaching him were he stood. "So fucking hot."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You can only imagine what it's doing to me right now, seeing you all dressed up."

Kenan's raised a curious brow. His hand went to wrap around your waist as you stood before him again. "Tell me." He whispered. "What exactly is it doing to you?"

Your lip was caught between your teeth. You bit down hard. Even more so, feeling Kenan's hand slip down the length of your back to the curve of your ass. He squeezed it, pressing you against his growing erection.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now."

"In here?" He frowned, questionably looking around the Men's restroom.

You nodded. "In here."

You grabbed his tie, pulling him towards one of the bathroom stalls. As the door trapped the two of you inside, the explicit kissing began.

It was filthy and primitive beyond measure. You had managed to cover up your last hickey with make up, but as Kenan got busy nipping at your cleavage, licking and sucking your breast, you feared that you had no way to cover up those future bruises.

"Fuck Y/N, you're unreal." He groand and slipped a hand down your jeans, feeling the heat from your damped panties. "I want to fuck you until you scream my name."

You smiled. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Kenan paused to look at you,  not sure if this was you giving him his full consent to fuck your brians out. Nevertheless he went for a more tender approach, wanting to please you all the way, without rushing.

You moaned as his fingertips slipped under the fabric of your panties, brushing the bed of you pubic hair, searching for your opening. Once he found it, he slipped two fingers inside, sensing that you were more than ready for it.

The back of your head hit the stall, with a hand covering your mouth to smother your gasping moan.

"Yes baby,  you like that?"

"Mhm." You nodded, fighting back tears in your eyes. He kept a steady paste, thrusting his fingers in and out of you in angles that hit every right spot.

"Don't be shy, baby." He talk you through it, the erruption of your orgasm. "You can come for me. Please, baby, come all over my fingers."

You stood on your tippy toes, climbing the steep hill of your rising orgasm. "Kenan,  I'm gonna..."

"Yes baby, let it go."

It was unbearable, your panties pushed to the side, Kenan's braud fingers deep inside of you, lubricated by the liquid that help spark the flame of the craziest orgasm that you ever experienced.

"Fuck."

You crumbled against the bathroom walls. With Kenan slipping out of you to reach for your jaw, pulling your face towards his, rewarding his good girl with a gentle kiss.

"You did good baby. So fucking good."

You smiled weakly and allowed his helping hand to get you back up on your feet.

"I want you to feel good to."

He smiled. "You already do."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Looking down the bulge in Kenan's pants gave him away. It was your turn to pleasure him.

"Y/N, you don't have to..." He protested, seeing you lower yourself to your knees. "The floor is dirty, baby. I don't want you to..."

"But Kenan..." You whimpered, your eyes big as you looked up at him. "I want to."

"Yes?"

You nodded, "Yes."

His hand went to the back of your head, gripping your hair. You were eager, licking your lips as you reached for his zipper, the bulge in his pants more than ready to be set free.

"Y/N, is that you?"

You froze.

Outside of the stall, the door to the restroom flung open, followed by heavy footsteps.

You looked up to see that Kenan shared the same look of panic in his eyes.

"Y/N!" Dusan hissed, your body trembling with the anger in his voice. "I can see your heels. I know you're in there. Who's in there with you?"

Your heart sank. Not like this, you thought. He will kill him. Your brother is gonna kill your boyfriend.

Part 1

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part seven

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

“When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.” 

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

"Rhaenyra, you are an angel." you chuckled settling into the passenger seat. Her car was luxurious on the inside, one of those minivans that could comfortably seat all her sons. "Oh, it's nothing, your apartment is on the way anyways." she replied with a smile.

You couldn't help but recognize the similarities between her and your boyfriend. They were half-siblings but judging from their faces, they could be mother and son. She glances at you, sensing your silence. "Are you alright?" she asked in a motherly tone.

"It's just - you look like Aemond." you blurted out, a thin-lipped smile ghosts her lips. It was a compliment, but she didn't appreciate it. "We both look like our grandmother, Alyssa." she shakes her head. You had no idea about the past.

She wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.

"So that's the name of his grandmother! He never told me. He never tells me about his family." you looked down, realizing that you've probably shared too much.

"There's a possibility that he didn't know - our father never shared about the family anyways. I learnt all of this from Daemon." Rhaenyra reluctantly defended her brother.

For a second you contemplated asking her about their father. Aemond has told you stories about the abuse that he befell, could Rhaenyra provide more insight on your boyfriend's past? You shake those thoughts away, he told you that Rhaenyra was their father's favorite. She wouldn't understand.

"You know - the family's glad that Aemond has you. He's been unsociable these past few years. He never gives us updates, never talks to us, we thought that he was dead - or worst, in prison." Rhaenyra breathed, there was still a part of her heart that loved her baby brother - though that love was buried deep now.

"Prison?" you raised an eyebrow, laughing at the notion. "He was in prison before Tirano. Two-years, and for a crime he didn't commit." she continued not fully sure if Aemond was all that innocent. "He's never told me 'bout that before." you mumbled.

Was there another side of your boyfriend that you didn't know about?

"Well, according to the court documents. He found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. He beat her up then the paramour went marching to our house. The paramour died. Alicent was strangely calm then," Rhaenyra narrated, as if it was something that the entire town already knew about.

"You told me that he was innocent. What really happened?" you inquired and she shrugs. "- I don't know what really happened, but he had the perfect alibi. He says that he already broke up with the girl and she came to him all bruised up. The paramour allegedly killed the girlfriend. Aegon was a witness. It all happened down at our old house." she informed.

You slumped on your seat.

You didn't know what to believe.

"- when my brother was younger, he used to be so kind. He'd make me cereal and prepare the uniform that I used for school. I don't know what happened to us, why we grew apart." she pondered with a bitter chuckle, reminiscing a past where you weren't present.

"I thought after that trip to Tirano, our family would grow closer, but we all grew estranged. I'm glad that you're here, that he's here too." she turned to look at you, speaking with the mind of a sister, one that grew up Aemond - not with the mind of a Queen whose son was slaughtered by the same man.

Aemond stared at the mirror, feeling the blood trickle down his nose. He got into a fight with some losers in some random alleyway.

He scoffs, aware that he looked pathetic. How long has it been since adrenaline pumped through his veins?

It was tiring, constantly having to hide himself in a facade of self-righteousness. It was hard pretending to be perfect!

Perfection was different for every woman. To a Plath-Orwell loving maiden, the perfect man was a guy who read Nietzsche and occasionally watched the Godfather. He perfected himself for a woman like you to come by.

It wasn't difficult to have you, but it was difficult to maintain you.

He washes his face with water, observing the crimson fluid go down the drain. There was a time, he remembers, when you were happy with each other. You didn't mind doing the laundry while he played his video games. He was aware of your beauty, but he was at peace because he knew that your loyalty was his. That you were his.

But Daemon's arrival changed something in you.

He could see that.

He sees the way that your eyes fill with emptiness when you realize that he's done nothing the entire day. He sees the way that you shrug when he asks you a simple question, instead choosing to browse through social media instead of speaking to him.

Has he lost you to Daemon?

He takes a deep breath.

He knows the outcome of this battle. He knows that in due time, he'd lose you to his uncle. Who was he to stand against fate? The past was a mirror of the future. He was just a mere bridge.

He turns the faucet off.

He'd love you for as long as you'd stay.

He'd love you, even if you were slipping through the cracks.

Only a lampshade in the middle of the living room illuminated your humble apartment. Aemond was slumped on the Victorian sofa, unbothered by the blood that trickled down his chin and gathered on his chest. He felt numb.

"Jesus, you're bleeding." you say, concerned.

"I got into a fight with some randos back in town." he mumbled, disassociated from reality. Your eyebrows merged into each other. "What?" you paused, giving him time to repeat himself. This was the first time he's ever gotten into a fight - he'd usually take the higher ground and apologize even when it wasn't his mistake.

"- they made fun of my eye." he breathed.

He was thrown back into the past, when his nephews and the other kids made fun of him - for this disability that wasn't his fault.

"Oh, Aemond, I'm so sorry." you wrapped your arms around him. Allowing him to rest his head on your chest. There were tears falling down his eye, mixing with the blood. "If I was there, I would've beat them up with you." you humored, earning a chuckle.

He felt vulnerable.

"My father made fun of my eye too, when I was younger." he admitted, lifting his feet off the ground, placing it on the sofa until he was in a cross-legged position. "- he said that someone who looks this way would never be happy in life." he stared off to the horizon.

Your breath hitched, allowing him to speak about his past. Preventing yourself from interrupting, just in case the trance would break - and he'd return back to his hermit-like self.

"When we got together, I wanted to laugh at his face because someone like you chose to love me - despite the fact that I wasn't perfect. But my dad was right." he rose to his feet, ignoring your attempts to chase after him.

He locks himself in the bathroom.

Aemond opened his eyes again, transported back to the Summer of 2016. His arms were wrapped around his girlfriend, Margaux, he could feel the heat gathering in his back for laying down too long.

"Nick is just a friend. I don't know why you're jealous." she lied through gritted teeth. He wanted to choke her for making him seem like a goddamn idiot. He saw the hickeys on her neck, the smell of another man's perfume on her uniform. "I'm not fucking stupid." his grip on her neck tightened, his eyes turning crazy.

He rose to his feet, pushing her hands away when she tried to pull him back. "Ae, stop making a big deal out of this." she chuckled nervously, while he reached for the pistol hidden in his floorboard. An inheritance from his father.

"You cheated on me with that dirtbag loser." he yelled at her.

"I didn't please stop acting like a fucking asshole." she screamed.

He slaps her on the face. The sound echoing throughout the room. Leaving the both of them in shock. "What the fuck? So what if I did cheat on you with him? You're a loser. Do you have any idea what you look like?" she insulted him, but her words were not entering his brain

He placed the bullets inside of the pistol, aiming it at her. Margaux tries to run for the door, but he grabs her forearm - stopping her.

"Aemond!" your voice breaks him free from the trance.

A gasp escapes his mouth seeing the pistol on his hand. He remembers everything that happened with Margaux. He didn't kill her. Something snapped him out of it. He sees the fear behind your eyes. He drops the gun on the floor, and it goes off.

It hits your ankle.

Everything fades into black.

next chapter>>

[sturniolos-blog]

In trouble again? - Sturniolo little sister oneshot

warnings - swearing, fluff, arguing

—————————

Quick backstory behind this oneshot:

When Y/n was 14, her 19 year old older triplet brothers moved to LA. Upsetting her for a while, hard not seeing them around the house.

But after a lot of convincing, when Y/n turned 15, Marylou and Jimmy agreed to let her move in with them.

Obviously, nick, chris, and matt were okay with it.

You may wonder how a girl fit in with three boys, well it was easy for her.

Nick was the one she’d go too for boys, about her period (since he bought her pads and what she needed when she was on it), she'd go to Nick about a breakup, literally about anything that Matt and Chris would freak out about if she told them.

Then Chris was the one she’d go to if she needed too laugh, needed a hug, (chris gives really good ones), He always found a way too make her laugh, even when she was crying. Although when y/n was crying chris usually got emotional with her, so they cried and laughed together.

Now Matt, matt was the one she’d go too for a lot of things. Anxiety was a big one, she had a lot, so she usually asked for tips and stuff. Y/n also gets frustrated, annoyed, anything negative really easily, (like matt) so she usually went to Matt to calm down and take a breath. Y/n also usually slept with Matt, much like chris she hated sleeping alone, so she usually slept with, matt, but occasionally with math and chris because chris was usually found in matt’s bed.

Y/n also gets in trouble at school a lot! (Bad y/n)

—————————

2:03pm

I walked inside my house with yet another write up i got this week, it's only thursday and this is my third write up this week, (new record by the way) this time was for yelling at my math teacher how she didn't know how to teach. She seriously doesn't because if she did would not have a D- in her class right now.

"Is anyone home?" I yelled out, kicking my shoes off and throwing my bag down.

I see Nick walk downstairs, "Hey y/n!" He says cheerfully, "Matt and Chris went to return the jeans you didn't like and Chris wanted to go to get a new sweatshirt or something." Nick smiled before his eyes trail down to my hand. He let's out a sigh, "Y/n...Please tell me.." He trails off, his voice filled with disapointment.

I look down at the paper too, "Umm.." I clear my throat, "Sorry I thought they would've called or at least texted you guys already. My bad. Now can you please sign it before Matt gets home?" I pleaded, handing the paper to Nick for him to sign. Matt was the worst one for when i got in trouble, he changes a lot. He's like all sweet and then his face gets red with anger. It's scary.

Nick took the paper and grabbed a pen from the kitchen table, "I'll sign it, but they took Matt's number down. So there is no doubt he got that call or text." Nick says, signing the paper with his signature like it said too do. I let out a groan as nicks eyes glanced over the quick explanation of what happened.

"You went off on your math teacher?" Nick scoffed.

"I already told Ms.Reel I don't play! She kept testing me, literally and figuratively. She tried givin' me a pop quiz like I was 'bouta do all that. Yeah no thanks." I defended. Grabbing a water from the fridge and sitting down at the island.

"What exactly did you say, n/n?" Nick asked, giving me the now signed paper.

"All i said was, 'I'm not doing this.' and when she asked why I said 'because why would i take a pop quiz from a teacher that teaches like she graduated at the university of nowhere.' and when she told me to go to the office i said, 'gladly, i'd rather have 6 months of detention then ever come back too this bootlegged not teachin us nothin' classroom. And then i got kicked out." I explained.

Matt signed the one i got on monday for going off on a girl for making fun of my friend. He told me it was okay and that i was sticking up for somebody i cared about.

The one i got on tuesday was for walking out of the classroom when my science teacher didn’t let me go to the bathroom but let a boy out when he asked. Chris signed that one for me, Matt found out about it, i didn’t know they had his number, he was upset but he said as long as i didn’t get another one it’s fine.

So after this one i am definitely getting yelled at by Matt.

The front door opens and i hear muttering, sounding like bickering.

“Wait, i left my jacket in the car, can you go get it?” I hear Chris ask Matt.

I then hear Matt mutter something along the lines of, “You fucking idiot” before walking away.

Chris then speed walks into the kitchen, “Y/n, you seriously messed up. Matt was already in a bad mood since he woke up, and then at the mall workers were giving him shit for trying to return your jeans without the tags on them, and then he got a call about how you got in trouble. So you’re actually fucked.”

My eyes widened, “Um- yeah i’m just gonna go up-” I start to walk away but bump into Matt.

“Just the person i was looking for!” Matt says. sarcastically, his arms crossing as he stands in front of me.

“Go sit, now.” He demands. I rub my forehead and nod, sitting at the kitchen table.

Matt sits down next to me and grabs the write up slip, “Nick signed it already? That’s great.” Matt continues with the sarcasm.

“Don’t bring me into this!” Nick puts his hands up in defense as him and Chris are watching us.

Matt then gives nick and chris a look that makes them both go to their rooms.

Great.

I take a breath in before starting to talk as Matt reads the write up slip, “So on a scale of 1-10 how mad-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, y/n.” He grits out.

I nod and bite my lip, i’m really fucking scared.

“You can’t- why would you- who even- where- what- the fuck!?” Matt stutters.

“I don’t even know what to say, y/n! This is the third one this week! It’s thursday! There are only five days in a school week! It shouldn’t be this hard to stay out of trouble!” Matt yells.

“I’m sorry i just-” I get cut off.

“No! You don’t just do anything, you can’t just do something like this and keep getting away with it. You don’t need to be acting like this.” Matt says, putting his head in his hands.

“I also don’t need your opinion, i mean why are you even getting so mad? Nick and Chris don’t care this much.” I say, nice going y/n.

Matt scoffs. “Go to your room.”

“But-”

“Now!” He yells.

“Whatever!” I scoff and get up, literally stomping to my room.

—————————

10:16pm

It’s been 8 whole hours since i last talked to Matt.

Which was crazy, Nick and Chris came in to ask me how i was doing but i just shrugged, i got to keep my phone so i was doing alright.

I get another knock on my door, expecting it to be Matt, i quickly say, “Come in!” But it’s Chris. I love him but i lay back down, scrolling on my phone.

He walks up and sits on my bed, rubbing my shoulder.

“I think you should talk to Matt.” Chris says, his voice soft and welcoming.

“He doesn’t wanna talk to me. He’s made it clear, we haven’t talked since the argument.” I sniffle, i was so upset.

“He does wanna talk to you, but he’s stubborn also, so he is not gonna be the first one to say something. If you go and apologize, and really mean it, like not just go in there because i told you too, then he will appreciate it and say sorry too. I promise.” Chris says as i sit up.

I put my pinky out, “Pinky promise?” I whisper.

He interlocks our pinkies, “Pinky promise.” He confirms.

I nod as he leaves my room, about 5 minutes pass and i decide to get up too.

I knock on Matt’s door, I hear some shuffling before the door starts to open, “Nick how many times-” Matt starts but stops when he sees me.

“N/n.” He says, his voice was much softer.

“Matt- i’m so sorry for getting in trouble and i’m sorry for saying that you get too and and it’s just schools been really hard and i hate it and everyone’s annoying and i don’t know what to do and i-” I sob but get cut off when Matt pulls me in for a tight hug.

“Okay, calm down baby.” He whispers, his fingers going through my hair.

I sob into his chest, that’s all it was. Stress and being overwhelmed.

“Shh..” Matt hushed, bringing me into his room with his arms still wrapped around me, kicking the door shut with his foot and bringing me to sit down on his bed.

“Y/n, listen.” He pulls away from the hug.

“You’re right, i have been harsher than normal, but that’s only because i want you to succeed, you’re in highschool! You are growing up so fast and i want the best for you. And i’m sorry that i’m not the fun one all the time. I’ll try, but if i try you have to promise that you will too, and if you’re ever feeling upset or down that you’ll talk to me.” Matt comforts.

I nod and wipe my nose with my sleeve.

“Can i sleep in here tonight?” I ask.

Matt laughs, “Of course you can.”

—————————

why is this literally the most basic thing i’ve ever written oh lord goodbye idk what happened with me today but im just gonna start dad matt tmr and it will either be done tmr or thursday (i pinky promise) hope yall enjoy this one!