#i just hate the dying with my love trope | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

istillbelieveinmagic142 · 1 year ago

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Ughhhh, what if I threw myself into the sun? 😭😭❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Warnings — SEX POLLEN, dub-con, Master x Padawan, power imbalance, intoxication, abuse of authority, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of pain, brief nipple play, brief fingering, degrading if you squint, pet names, praise, swearing...

Word count — 3.3k

Notes — Thank you, Anon for the request! This is the first time I write a fic this length, I hope it's enjoyable! I truly hope I didn't miss any warnings; it's currently past 3am and my head is fried.

“You know this is completely unnecessary; you are overexaggerating…” Anakin complains as you wrap a thick linen rope around his wrists, securing your master in place. “I swear, I’m fine. Look,” He leans forward, putting his face on display. So close, you could feel his soft breath on the tip of your nose.

You inspect his eyes, deep blue eyes with slightly dilated pupils; if it were somebody else, they wouldn’t have seen a difference, but you… Oh, you were different. You knew his eyes a little bit too well for just a Padawan, and you were certain: something was wrong. You could sense his heart pumping blood through his veins a little bit too fast, his irregular breathing, you spotted things he failed to notice about himself. Maybe all those stolen glances at his undeniably gorgeous face and broad body will pay off, giving you something else than just fantasy material for all the lonely nights.

“No.” You reply bluntly. “I’m sorry, master.” You tie a last knot around his wrists. You wanted to explain; tell him all the things you sensed were different: the way his gaze twisted when landing on your body, the way he squirmed just slightly as you bind his limbs together, the way he… Smelled. It wasn’t just a regular Anakin scent, no. It was sweeter, almost milky, and it made you want to burry your face into his skin, so naturally, you could never reveal your reasoning.

Anakin sighed, leaning his back against the remains of your spaceship, his tied hands resting on top of his lap, hiding the slowly-forming tightness you both failed to notice. He could swear everything was perfect. Well, aside from the fact that you both were left stranded on an unknown planet and after hours of wandering in search of life and help, you ended up back at the crash site.

“You realize I would never hurt you, right?” He stares at you, visible annoyance present on his features. “There is nothing wrong with me, I didn’t even touch anything unknown.”

He was right; he touched nothing. He… Inhaled it. And (un)fortunately neither of you knew.

“I know….” You look into his eyes pleadingly, trying to convince him to stay put in case he goes on some kind of rampage that your whole body senses is coming. You wanted to deny your gut feeling, but the gleam in his eyes told you it was a bad idea.

Time passes slowly, and Anakin is growing more and more impatient as he watches your failing attempts to fix the transmitter and possibly reach someone.

“Give me that.”

You stare at him from a short distance, thinking whether it’s smart to approach him, but your doubts are quickly wiped away when that sweet scent reaches the inside of your lungs with the help of a soft breeze. You stand up and bring him the broken device.

Anakin grabs your hand instead and pulls you down to your knees in front of him. Your face meets his with a surprised stare, and before you can complain about the invasion of your space, he speaks.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Fast.” His stare is intense, and he holds your hand tightly in his restricted grip. “Got it?”

“Yes, M-master.” You stutter, stunned by his sudden change of demeanor; you can’t even move. And the worst part is that he smells even better this close.

“Good girl.” He keeps staring into your eyes, grasping your hand as if he doesn’t intend to let it go. “Maker, you are such a pretty thing, I could tear you apart…” He contemplates out loud, his words surprising the last part of his sane mind as he’s becoming more and more vulnerable to foreign planet’s drugs.

“What?”

He slowly frees your hand, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s starting to feel it — pants failing to hide a very prominent arousal, mouth watering at the sight of your cleavage, you look fucking scrumptious; and he needs to devour you. He snaps his head to the side.

“Sorry.” Anakin mutters, seemingly regaining some of his senses. He shifts on the ground as you stare at him dumbfounded, not only because of his sudden vulgarity but also because the outline of his dick was now very visible and your eyes couldn’t help but glance.

“Master?”

He groans. “Don’t say that.” He shamelessly palms himself in front of your eyes as if he were in pain from how tight his underwear was. “Don’t call me master. Not now, sweetheart.” His voice softens just for a moment.

“Master, are you okay?” You deny his request. Involuntary. Maybe because it was a habit, or maybe because some part of you really wanted him to get unbearably hard for you.

He yanks you towards himself with his sluggish grip. Tied hands wrap around your throat, and he hisses. “I fucking mean it. You call me that again. I’m going to bend you over this wreck of a spaceship and bruise your insides until someone finally comes and gets us off this forsaken planet.”

If you weren’t surprised before, you are now absolutely bewildered. You pushed him away, landing on your butt and quickly crawling reversely to create some space between yourself and the animal that possessed your master’s body.

Anakin stood up and leaned himself against the wreckage as if trying to fight something that’s been trying to claw its way out of his body. His back turned to you, shoulders rising up and down repeatedly as he struggled to speak.

“Go. Now.” He groans, trying to hold his panting in.

“Anakin?” You rise yourself from the ground and take a step towards him, hesitating to move or speak more.

“Fucking RUN.” A growl slips from his throat; you’ve never heard such an animalistic sound coming from him. It wasn’t an order; it was a warning, a head start for you. And if there was a perfect time to listen to his advice about doing everything he’s telling you — that was it.

So you do.

You feel the wind blowing through your ears and burning your throat as you try to get away as far from Anakin as possible. Your pulse is thudding rapidly, your limbs are shaking, and yet your insides are throbbing, aching to have relief from the extreme arousal created by your master’s primal behavior and the image of his hardening cock imprinted in your head.

You turn your head slightly, glancing behind you, expecting to see Anakin making his way towards you, but instead you are greeted with the sight of nobody. Anakin’s nowhere to be seen. You look around, panting heavily, trying to spot movement somewhere between the trees. You fear him and what he could do to you, but the fact that he’s gone frightens you even more. Your master could never hurt you, right?

“Master?!” Your voice echoes through what seems to be an empty grove of an unrecognized planet. The only sound you can hear is your own breathing, and you realize how loud it is, how easy it is for any predator to hear you. Anakin's hunt was simple when his prey served herself on the plate before him.

A gust of wind passed through your ears at the same moment as Anakin’s hands gripped you from behind and harshly pushed your quivering body against a tree nearby. His wrists bruised red from the rope, which he seems to have torn apart. Your vision blurs for a moment from the force he’s grabbed you with. His lips press on your ear.

“I told you not to call me that, you stupid girl. Now look what you’ve done.” He whispers into your ear as his bulge presses against your ass.

“A-Anakin-” You whimper, miserably trying to push him off you but instead just creating more friction on his already painful core.

His hand snakes into your robes, grasping your breast roughly, making your back arch. It’s hot and desperate to tear your flesh apart. And it feels so so good. So pathetically good that you almost feel like you’re the one taking advantage of him and not the other way around. He toys with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingers as his free hand grabs onto your thigh and presses your body onto his clothed cock.

“S’ alright, sweetheart… Your body’s so perfect…” He sinks his teeth into your neck and pulls on your delicate skin. “I’m so sorry—fuck—Sweetheart… I can’t stop-” His soft voice was a complete contrast to his forceful grip on your curves. His hands boldly groped you, kneading every bit of your body he could reach — all while grinding himself against you like an animal in heat.

“No- You can’t,” You whimper, trying to fight him and your own desire. “Anakin!” You gasp in pain when he presses your body into the tree, bruising your cheek.

“Shhhh… ‘s alright, just let me—” He pulls your robes, his hand making its way down your stomach, cupping your dripping heat. He inhales into your neck. “Don’t be scared.” He shushes your whines.

And it’s not like you’ve never imagined Anakin fucking you; you have. Way more than you should have, and yet you were shaking in fear, especially knowing that he was under the influence of something wicked.

“No, master-” You gasp as he inserts a finger inside you, wasting no time before fucking you with his hand. “S-stop-”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” He whimpers into your shoulder as your walls clenches around his digit. He slips another in. “What a perfect cunt… I’ll fucking ruin it." It was almost as if Anakin’s alter ego was overtaking his normal self — the one who would never dare to touch his Padawan like that, to taint her precious body with his pathetic touch.

“Ah!” Your back arched into him involuntarily. It was wrong. So so wrong and yet deep inside you never wanted him to stop, not when your walls spasmed around him for a sweet release.

“That’s it, good girl, come here.” He pulls his fingers out, making you pulse and whimper at the lack of pleasure. He quickly lands you both on the ground, spreading your thighs apart for himself. “Look at that,” He bites his lower lip. “And you say you don’t want it? You’re fucking soaked.”

“We can’t-” You whimper yet again. “You wouldn’t- Ah!”

He grins as he slaps his cock against your clit, rubbing it up and down your entrance as the wet, slippery sound reaches your ears.

“I’m going to fuck you one way or another, so you just might as well enjoy it, after all…” He leans on top of you, lining the crown of his cock with your hole. “…master knows best.”

He slides in with one swift movement, filling you to the brim as you claw his back with your nails. He’s big, way bigger than his fingers, forcing your walls to stretch wide open to welcome both his length and girth. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust much when he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, earning a loud whimper from you.

“Pretty girl…” He coos, stroking your cheek as he repeats the movement more urgently. “Master’s cock feels good, hm?”

It did, Maker; it felt amazing. Every vein bruised your gushing hole just right as he thrusted into you, long and powerful strokes, head hitting your cervix at the perfect angle to make your toes curl. Each time his sack slapped against your ass, an electric sting flashed through your cunt, forcing a pathetic moan out of your mouth. Your vision is so blurry from how hard you are rolling your eyes back, you don’t even see how Anakin comes forward and presses his lips onto yours.

His kiss is starving, depraved of you. He tries to say something, but it’s pretty incoherent, muffled by your saliva mixing with his. He tugs on your lips, sticking his tongue far up your mouth, smearing spit over your chin. His teeth clash against yours every time he attempts to reach into you deeper, as if trying to devour you from the inside out.

“Fuck,”—thrust—”So…”—thrust—”Fucking…”—thrust—-”Tight-” He moans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel his whimpers inside your body.

Anakin props himself up on his forearms — each on the other side of your face. He snakes his fingers into your hair, making you look at him.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me, and tell me you love it. Beg me to fuck you, come on, baby…”

He’s a mess, and he’s messing you up too; he wants you to plead, but there is no reason to; he’s already balls deep in you, abusing parts of your body nothing and nobody has ever reached before.

“M-master…” A feeble whimper is all your body can muster when your whole lower half twitches from pleasure. “…Stop...” You claw on his chest, trying to push him off, maybe because you know how sick it is to allow him to turn you into a drooling cockslut, or maybe because you don’t want to cum so fucking soon.

“What’s the matter, angel? You wanna cum, yeah?” A wicked smile spreads across his face, as if he were listening to all of your thoughts while you laid there spread open. “Yeah? Your little cunt can’t take master’s cock at all, hmmm?” He mocks you, and you know you deserve it, for one reason or another.

His filthy words and a couple of powerful strokes are enough to have your juices coating his whole shaft as your back arches and hardened nipples rub against his chest. The orgasm he’s giving you blinds your mind; it drowns out every other noise that’s not his moans of pleasure or your wetness spurting around him.

“Thought so.” He laughs in your face, gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up — his cock still inside you, soaking up all you had to give it. “That’s alright, angel, it’ll hurt less now that you’re all stretched out and drenched.”

“N-no…” You cry when he adjusts your position to reach deeper into you, seemingly not even caring that your soaked walls are still aching from him fucking you over the edge just moments ago. “A-Ani…” It’s a bittersweet pleasure — the way he keeps going through your body desperately, trying to push him out and stop the ache inside of you.

“Look,” He releases his grip on your thigh and grabs your chin. “Look how perfect your little cunt is…” He slides all the way out and slowly pushes back in, his pubic hair tickling your skin. “As if it’s made to take me.” He forces your head to look down between your bodies and admire the mess he’s creating.

The more he sees you struggle to look without squirming, the more precise his movements are. He angles his painfully thick cock to scratch your spongy insides, your throbbing cunt squeezing him enough to force delicious grunts out of his mouth.

Your eyes are blurry from the tears you didn’t know formed; you blink rapidly, attempting to catch a glimpse of Anakin’s face. You were self-evident about the desperate mess he’s turned you into, drenched in sweat and cum, your body sore and bruised, it was obvious, however, you didn’t expect Anakin to be as disheveled as well. His lips were apart, soaked in spit, the blue of his eyes barely visible from the expansion of the pupils, dirty locks sticking to his forehead, your master looked and, quite obviously, behaved like a brute beast devouring his prey. And yet, he was angelic.

Your idealization of Anakin was the root reason why you resisted digging his eyes out with your nails and putting up a violent fight against him for corrupting your body inside and out. Because, essentially, Anakin is still your master. The one who teaches you, the one who tends your wounds, the one who is now currently fucking you over your second orgasm with no mercy in his bloodshot orbs. And honestly, you are starting to genuinely enjoy it.

“Just like that, pretty girl, keep squeezing me…” Anakin presses his lips against yours, forcing his tongue in and making you answer his desperate kiss. One of your legs is stretched up painfully, foot dangling over his shoulder, while the other almost involuntary wraps around him and makes sure he’s plunging deep into you with no chance of escaping. “Good girl, that’s it,” He moans into your mouth, “I’m going to cum, yeah, s’ like that, let me fill that tight cunt.”

“P-please…” You reach for his head, grabbing him by the roots of his hair to lock your lips back together. “Master- fuuuuuck!” There it is again — you are cumming all over his cock, slurping onto his tongue while milking him to his own orgasm. You can barely see or make sense of your surroundings; all you know is that he’s pounding you into oblivion, and you love every second of being stretched out for your master to use.

Anakin is grabbing your body, toying with your flesh. Even when his dick starts to fuck long threads of his thick cum into you, he can’t stop frantically abusing your body in every way possible; grabbing, biting, kissing, and fucking all come at the same time, sending your body into a sensory overload, and you can swear you are about to lose your mind and die right there and then.

But there is no time for dying, not when you realize Anakin has emptied himself deep inside you and yet is nowhere close to stopping. His cock, still hard, surrounded by the mix of your and his cum, is slamming into you with sensual yet forcible strokes, making it seem like you can taste the sourness of his release in your mouth.

“So needy, going to make sure to fuck it deep in you, angel.” He whispers into your neck, you can’t help but whimper and dig your nails into his shoulder blades in hopes of him easing up on you, but he only pulls his face off your shoulder and greets you with a filthy grin. “If I knew how beautiful your fucked-out expressions and little whimpers were, I would have devoured this pretty pussy much earlier…”

“M-master…” You cry out for help, for pleasure, for him. Everything ceases to exist except Anakin. His expression softens just for a moment. He settles his cock inside of you and reaches out to wipe the mess of drool and tears from your cheek.

“It’s okay, my sweet Padawan." He whispers, his hands gently caresses your hipbones in a subconscious attempt to soothe your aching muscles. Anakin leans down to kiss your lips one more time. You can feel his whole length throbbing and begging for friction while the wetness of your releases seeps down your cunt. “I know you can take more, yeah? Just like when we train, alright? You want to stop…”—Thrust—”But I’m the Master…”

Your eyes roll back when your sex is rewarded with a glimpse of more pleasure, a little promise of what he can give you if you just enjoy it like he’s commanded you. So you buck your hips into him, seeking yet another release.

“There she is…” Anakin’s deranged expression makes its way back between his perfect features. To your surprise, he swiftly pulls himself out of you, which makes you whine from the lack of fullness and feeling of the mix of liquids trickling down your body. “Let’s see how useful your other holes are, mmm?”

And with that, you know — whatever he’s infested with still has yet to wear off.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #fuckkkkk I still love this one so much. 🫣🫣❤️‍🔥😩#ily so much dear author 😖💓#i’m back on my bullshit #❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥#this one is so fucking good. specifically BECAUSE you can see how much they both want it.#but not like this.#but it feels too good to stop.#and Anakin. at least this version of Anakin. would never touch his Padawan like that.#which makes it so deliciously torturous that he’s the one that’s infected with the pollen or whatever #I loved seeing him fight it and then give in.#‘deranged grin’ 🫣😭 What if I died? What then? 🥵#Anakin just completely losing it. only having the sliver of sanity left to verbally apologize. but cannot find the will to stop.#fuckkkk it’s so addicting. 😩🥵❤️‍🔥#noncon isn’t my jam. I hate it.#But THIS trope has always ended me. because it makes the person do something they wouldn’t usually do.#and it’s such a delicious trope.#still dying for a part twoooo! 🤞🤞😭🙏

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take-it-on-the-run · 6 months ago

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Not A Lot, Just Forever

Dean Winchester x Pregnant!Reader

After throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy, brief description of motel bathrooms, vomiting (repeated), self-blame, mention of reader's mother dying in childbirth, mention of childbirth related deaths, anxiety, brief loss of consciousness, Dean is a sweetheart and will make a great father.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Pregnant!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! I'm not sure if I already sent you this request, or if I sent it to someone else (oops🤭) but could I request a Sam Winchester and/or Dean Winchester x reader (your choice which one of them, if not both sepperately) where he helps reader deal with morning sickness, though he only finds out she's pregnant on the third day in a row that he's with her while she throws up. Ty!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Adrianne Lenker title. I really really loved this request! I feel like writing the pregnancy trope is a sort of hard task to do, so I hope I brought it justice. I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the request @ghostlyaccurate, and I promise I'm trying my damnedest to work through my inbox <3. Every mistake here is completely and 100% my own and of my own doing. (P.S. can you guess how hard it was to find "aesthetic" pictures of a bathroom and pregnancy tests for the pictures for this fic?? I think the ones I found actually work pretty well! Another thing, what happened to the yellow text color? I use it to tag fluff fics, and it's gone :( ).

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Your head hung over the foul toilet bowl of whatever motel you, Dean, and Sam were holed up in, and a rancid smell invaded your nose. In earnest, you didn’t have the slightest idea where you were. The past couple of hours had been filled with a slight fever and the constant need to use Dean as a pillow. Halfway through the drive between towns, you convinced him to switch out driving with Sam so he could join you in the back seat.

The worn tile of the bathroom floor offered you minimal comfort, and the fact you’re supposed to be up for a case in two hours made your stomach churn over again. Ditching your normal avoidance of motel bathrooms, you gripped the edge of the toilet and emptied your stomach again.

“Y/N?” Dean’s groggy voice called out from behind the door, “Are you okay in there sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes together, cursing yourself for being loud enough to wake him up. Sneaking out from his arms was a feat enough already, trying to suppress the sound of you losing your guts at four in the morning wasn’t going to happen; even in a perfect world.

“No,” you groaned as he softly opened the door, “I feel like shit De, and you know how much I hate throwing up. And how much I hate motel bathrooms.” You whined. Your hair was falling to the front of your face and you were cursing whoever decided a bathroom didn’t need a working air vent.

Dean hummed softly, pulling the hair back from your face and holding it with one hand as he sat behind you on the floor. He pressed his lips to the back of your head softly, and gently traced shapes on your collarbone as you laid back on him.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you if you need to go at it again.” He said softly, cradling you in his lap as you tried to breathe. He ran his hand through your hair as your breathing started to hiccup less, and eventually, he sat you on the closed toilet lid to get you water.

You felt ashamed to be keeping him up at this hour. Your phone clock read 5:13 AM, almost an hour past when you’d originally gotten up. He already doesn’t get enough sleep as is, and here you are sitting, waiting for him to get back like you aren’t able to take care of yourself.

“Here you go, drink slowly. Did you use the mouthwash I gave you?” He asked as he handed you his water bottle. He stood across from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. You nodded softly, gratefully gulping down the contents of the bottle.

The bags under his eyes were already enough to make you feel guilty. Hunters were used to running on minimal sleep, but with you around, he’d just gotten into the six-hour range. He rubbed his face, inhaling like he normally did when he was trying to make a decision. You didn’t want to go out for the case. You barely wanted to move your body to get back in bed and salvage what little sleep you could before life kicked you back into gear.

“Do you want to stay here while Sam and I talk to the family?” Dean asked as if he could read your mind.

I love you so damn much. You thought, bowing your head with a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to be the one to bring up staying in; neither of you ever wanted to admit you needed breaks, but if the other one was to bring it up, it made the process easier.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet as he opened the door for the two of you, “yeah, I think that’s best for all of us. Don’t need me puking in the victim’s bathroom as you guys ask your questions.” You tried to joke as you and Dean crawled back into bed, tucking yourself into his arms, and splaying your legs haphazardly on top of his.

The next morning wasn’t any better.

Sam and Dean had come home late from questioning the family, and you were barely aware of them unloading the Chinese food they brought for you. Dean sat with you against his chest, still half-dressed as an FBI agent, as you wolfed down the egg rolls he got. You found yourself starving when they offered you food, but now you regretted eating anything at all.

You found yourself hung over the toilet again, but thankfully only had to put up with one round of saying goodbye to your lunch. You were able to get yourself up and over to the sink, where you repeated Dean��s routine from the morning before.

You leaned against the counter in the small kitchen, Dean’s water bottle filled with tap water in your hand. You turned to dump the rest in the sink when the creak of a floorboard behind you had you spinning on your heel in record time.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Why are you up?” You asked in a hushed tone, placing your hand over your racing chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He crossed the small room and came over to embrace you in his arms, “did you get sick again?” He asked innocently, but the combination of those words, and the pitiful shift of his eyes was enough to make you feel like a child. You were a grown woman, you knew damn well how to take care of yourself much before the Winchesters were in your life.

You huffed in annoyance, pulling back from Dean’s chest. You felt your face begin to heat up, and it felt like anything Dean could say had the chance to send you over the edge.

“Yes, I did. Right now, I feel like my body is too hot and too tight for my bones, and I also feel like anything you say is going to make me hit the roof. Even if it’s nice, I just don’t think my brain can take in any more words without wanting to jump ship.” You said you rubbed your temples. Things like this had happened occasionally in the past, and before Dean, you figured it was just because you were a rigid person. One night a particularly bad migraine had led to you yelling at him because he offered to get you some medicine. Instead of just leaving you to stew, like every other partner did, he simply asked you to explain what you were feeling. No judgment, no interruptions, and he’d do whatever you said would make you feel better in that moment.

Now, whenever you felt overwhelmed, he did the same. He’d swallow any sarcastic comment or solution to your problem and listen to you. No matter what was bothering you, at whatever hour of the day, he was at your side, doing what you asked of him without hesitation.

He just nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead before he led you back to the bed you two were sharing for the case. His body threw off heat like a bonfire, and your normally freezing hands were appreciative of that. In this moment, however, it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

You adjusted yourself between the sheet and the comforter, so the two of you could still touch without pressing your skin together. Dean waited for you to still before he made himself comfy, and he gently ran his fingers through the ends of your hair.

“Is this okay right now? Do you want me to leave you be?” He asked, in as soft of a voice as he could. You hummed, smiling at the tingling sensation running through you. Comfort, and a warmth that wasn’t burning to the touch, crawled up your back, and into your head. You tried to focus your eyes for a couple of seconds more, but without your control, they forcefully fluttered shut.

“Y/N.”

Sheet tangled between your limbs, and you could see the light through your closed eyes. Opening them, you find an unexpected sight. Instead of Dean, or Sam, standing at your bedside, the trench coat-clad angel you’d met five years ago stood awkwardly, waiting for you to fully wake up.

“Cas,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, “what are you doing here? Where’s Sam and Dean?” You asked.

Cas sighed and sat at the end of your bed. He shot you a quick look, before focusing his eyes on the blank wall in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his legs, a habit he picked up from Sam.

“Dean called me and told me you were sick. I came in, and told him I’d try and cure whatever… ailment is afflicting you.”

You smiled at the way he spoke, and the fact Dean went out of his way to try and help you out, but there was something off about Castiel’s demeanor. You sat up and touched his arm to get his attention.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Did something happen that I should know about?” You asked softly.

“I think you’re pregnant, Y/N.” He looked at you, and there was a rift of guilt lingering in his eyes.

A course of confusion and shock coursed through your body before you felt a rotting pit settle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Why would you… think that, Cas?” You felt a tightness taking over your throat, rubbing your hand across your neck to try and loosen it.

“I can sense life forms. Human ones, at least. It was hard to tell with Sam and Dean here, but once they left I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

Your hand traveled to your lower abdomen before your mouth spat out a request without thinking.

“Pregnancy tests. Can you get me some, please? I just,” you ran your hand across your forehead quickly, “I want to confirm, using non-magical means.”

Cas nodded, “of course. I’m going to assume you don’t want me to let Dean know?”

You nodded your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Deep down, you knew Cas was right. You were late by a few days, but you’d chalked it up to the illness that’s kept you on the bench for this case. You didn’t usually react as poorly as you’ve been to an illness, even when you’d gotten a terrible case of Pneumonia.

Getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom as Castiel vanished to get you a couple tests. Looking to the mirror, you’re met with a form of you that was a little scary; purple, slightly-puffy eyes, smeared makeup that hadn’t been washed off from days before, and your skin was breaking out in places it hadn’t before.

Dean hadn’t said a word about it, but even someone as blissfully ignorant as him had to have noticed the way your face wasn’t looking like your own.

Dean.

You’d have to tell Dean you were pregnant, with his child. That you’re going to be parents.

What if he didn’t want to be a father at thirty-six?

Children weren’t one hundred percent out of the question, but they were longer down the line in hunters’ lives. If you were lucky enough to get out of the life unscathed and find someone who would want to settle down with, you’d likely be creeping into your mid-forties, at best. Mary had gotten lucky with John, but now they’d both been taken away by the thing they’d spent half of their marriage avoiding.

What if you weren’t ready to be a mother at thirty-five?

For you, it wasn’t the question of wanting to have kids, but you never saw you or your boyfriend backing out from hunting anytime soon. To add on, you’d heard of many nasty births that ended in fatality for the infant or the mother, including your own. Every time you and the boys were on a case involving a child, you’d be extra reckless. Dean picked this up within the first couple of times you’d almost gotten yourself killed to save a kid, and you explained your fear to him. The fear of a mother not being able to welcome her child home in her arms, or the child not seeing his mother again, and their fate lying in your hands. You’d already ripped apart your family, and you tried your damnedest to keep as many together as possible.

A ruffle of feathers and a sharp knock on the bathroom door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“You can come in, Cas.”

Wordlessly, the angel stepped into the small motel bathroom holding a plastic bag. He pulled out three different pregnancy tests and set them on the counter.

“The woman working there said I should get a couple just in case one doesn’t work like it should.” He said as you picked up the first test. “I’m telling the truth, but I understand you wanting to confirm this to yourself.”

I know Cas, you thought, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he had a blank look on his face and didn’t move a muscle.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to leave the bathroom for me to do this.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot how ‘hands-on’ human tests can be. I apologize.” He said blatantly before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck me.

That’s what got you into this in the first place, dumb ass.

After twenty disgustingly long minutes in the decrepit motel bathroom, you walked out holding four positive tests. Cas was sitting on Sam’s bed, staring out the window, but immediately stood up and crossed the room to you. You handed him the tests, and he placed them on the table between the two beds.

“How do you feel?” He asked. Another thing he picked up from his years on earth was the ability to know when to ask what questions.

You felt blank. Void of answers and solutions to the situation at hand. Whether or not to turn left, or right.

“I… don’t know what to do, Cas.” Your voice broke along with the tears you were holding back, and a sinking feeling of hopelessness began to dig its way through your head.

Neither you nor Dean are ready to be parents. What if Dean’s angry? He would never kick you out of the bunker. The bunker is the only real home any of you have had in a long time, but is it safe? Is the world safe enough to bring a baby into? A Winchester baby, who would no doubt be a target from birth. What if the baby doesn’t make it to full term? What if this baby kills you like you killed your own mother?

“Y/N,” Cas placed his hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath.” He drew his hand up and waited for you to inhale. Taking in a shuddered breath, you followed the flow of his hand, stopping your heart from running up your throat.

“Thank you.” You said, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the pregnancy tests off the nightstand. Two pluses, two double lines. You and Dean were careful and used a condom whenever you found extra time together, but somehow God decided that rubber wasn’t going to work as intended.

“I think I’m going to just lay here,” you tuck yourself under the bed sheets once more, the tests shoved into your pajama pants, “and wait for Dean and Sam to get home. I’ll get him out of this stuffy ass room and tell him in private. Sam shouldn’t have to witness if we- if we argue. I know it makes him feel awful.”

“That’s a smart plan. You need to take this one step at a time and do it carefully. I know Dean cares for you deeply, but if you need someone to support you, all you have to do is call for me.” Cas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you, Cas.” You yawned, pulling your body further under the covers of the bed. Castiel smiled slightly, before turning away and disappearing with a familiar rush of wings flapping.

Your body was covered head to toe in sweat, and the bed sheet you wrapped around yourself was thrown onto the floor. No light entered the room, and the time on the alarm clock read 1:43. Your stomach churned in a familiar way, and as you got to your feet you finally noticed neither of the boys were in the room.

You clambered to the bathroom, phone in hand, trying to call Dean. One hand braced on the toilet, and the other tried to thumb down to his contact. There wasn’t any time to think about the fact you were carrying a baby inside of you, the baby whose father is missing in the middle of the night with no calls or messages.

They always call. You thought before you set your ringing phone on the floor to throw up for the first time that morning. The phone rang, the sound slowly driving you insane each time you redialed Dean’s number between dry heaving into the bowl.

Your hair was sticking to your forehead, poorly swept away and held back by a rubber band you found on the sink. The heat, the pain, and the fear of losing contact with the Winchester brothers combined with the reality of you being pregnant was finally built up enough to break the swarm of emotions you barely choked down when Cas was in the room earlier.

Eyes burning, you slumped against the sink cabinet and brought your phone to your ear as you called Dean once again. You let out a sob, tears rushing down your face and neck, leaving behind a slightly burning trail. Your breathing became uneven, the sound of your own heart drumming through your ears drowning out the ring of your phone. Letting your phone slip to the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and folded your arms as a nest for your forehead.

Neither of the boys called within the twenty minutes you were in the bathroom, your phone was now close to being dead, and no muscle in your body wanted to obey your brain telling them to move and do something. You weren’t a weak woman, you took the cards you were dealt and tried your best to win, but sometimes all you could do was fold.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

A hand pulled your face from your knees, and you could barely see with the light of the bathroom now on and blinding you. A warm hand rested against your cheek while another briefly touched your forehead.

“Help me get her up, Sammy,” your eyes fluttered closed and you felt two arms hook under both your arms, laying them over shoulders as your feet lightly dragged across the floor.

“I’ve never seen her this bad, Dean.” The voice you now recognized as Sam said. Your legs were swept up from under you and you were laid on the bed you’d crawled out of.

You felt the tests still pressing in your pockets, and you thanked whatever greater being was willing to listen. There was no way you wanted to Dean to discover that information on accident.

Dean.

The other voice was Dean.

You moron, who else would it be?

The bed next to you dipped down, and you felt a gentle hand tuck a few stray hairs behind one of your ears. The sweat covering you was sucking every inch of clothing to your skin, and all you wanted to do was peel either of the pair off.

“I thought Cas was going to come here and help her out,” you heard his voice straining as he spoke, and you felt your heart snap in two.

You moved your hand, as heavy as it felt, and squeezed the first part of him you touched.

“Sweetheart,” you could feel Dean’s breath as he hovered over you, “you’re scaring me here.”

“Cas…” you gave out a heavy cough, “he came. He helped me figure out what’s been happening.”

A glass of water was brought to your mouth, and you took every drop of it. After swallowing the cup, your eyes finally were able to open. You were greeted by a worried Dean hovering very close to you, and a worried Sam crossing back from the kitchen holding Dean’s water bottle.

Sam set the bottle on the bedside table and sat on his bed, facing you and Dean. Dean’s attention was solely on you. His hands grabbed both sides of your face and brought his lips to your forehead, before resting against it.

“Hey,” you said, chuckling slightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, De. You, or Sam.” You sat yourself up in bed.

“Did Cas tell you what’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking at you expectantly.

“He did, but… is it okay if I talk to Dean? Alone?” You asked softly.

Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean promptly returned with one that had Sam standing up, and walking into the hall.

Orange rays of light shone from the window of the room, and you could just barely see the sun climbing on the horizon. Dean moved to hold you in bed while you gained the composure to tell him you were both parents.

“Dean…” you breathed steadily, trying to even your heartbeat that was ramping up once more, “I have to tell you something-”

“I kinda gathered as much sweetheart,” he said lightly, lines forming around his forest-lorn eyes beautifully.

“- it’s important. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, for the rest of our lives.”

Dean’s face became more serious, pulling you to face him as he crossed his legs.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.”

Do it, now. Just say-

“I’m pregnant.”

The air hung heavy around the pair of you as you handed him the tests in your pocket, and you could see the clocks turn in Dean’s mind as he stared down at them.

“But we used a rubber?” He said, and you could guess where his thoughts were wandering.

“We did, but you’re the only person I’ve been with for years, Dean, I need you to believe me when I say that.” You said reassuringly as you could without sounding like you were lying.

His face broke into a small smile, and he brought his thumb to trace over your lower cheek, “I know, sweetheart. I trust you with my heart, I just know not to use that brand anymore, seems like their effectiveness is questionable.”

You laughed, tears drying in your eyes as you pushed at him playfully, “Dean! You gave me a heart attack, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He laughed, capturing you in a giant bear hug and rolling you on top of him. You looked down at him and brought your lips down to his.

“You’re going to be a father,” you said, beaming at him while smiling the hardest you’d ever in the longest time

“You’re going to be a mother,” he replied, smiling just as hard. Your face fell slightly, and the word mother finally kicked into your head. “Hey,” Dean said as he saw your face shift, somehow remembering the story you told him all those years ago, “Remember, we’ve got an angel on speed dial, and you know how hard it is to take out a Winchester.”

Your heart warmed at the statement, the baby inside of you was just as much L/N as it was Winchester. You loved Dean with your heart, as did he love you, and now the two of you were going to brace the dangerous world you’d spent years protecting with the amalgamation of that love.

You brought Dean’s hand to your stomach as he brought his other hand to your face. His calloused fingers were gentle on your skin, and small crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled, holding his hand at your stomach as you gazed back at him.

A knock sounded at the door, making you turn your head around before you and Dean burst into laughter, and told Sam he could come back in the room to tell him the news.

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x pregnant!reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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jaal-ama-daravv · 2 months ago

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dissecting the emmrich lich romance argument scene (all routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich) emmrich x rook cinematic (lich) emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

Dissection - Mortal Emmrich Argument Scene Version

Emmrich Romance - Argument Scene (Lich Path)

i love and hate this scene so let's get into it -

keep in mind that even though emmrich is now a lich, his fear of death is still very much alive. emmrich immediately expresses his feelings to rook stating that he hopes that they can stay back abit in the battle. for fear that they will be hurt, or killed.

the second 'No' escapes Rook's lips, Emmrich bows his head with sadness. He wishes that she would heed his words because he is afraid to lose her.

Rook's response infers that she is offended by the request to have her 'stay back aways' during the battle, keeping in mind that this battle is rook's and she has been fighting it this whole time. yet, rook still shows that she cares for emmrich, by asking what brought this on.

emmrich states that he can see the life course through us, but is aware that he will lose us to time. in this one sentence emmrich is telling us that he is afraid of rook dying, he is deathly afraid to lose rook, and thats not even overselling it. Emmrich is afraid he will miss Rook forever and will never get over it.

which quite frankly, he wouldn't.

Divergence - Option 1

Rook responds with 'Oh, Emmrich' - Rook is calm and considerate in this response, knowing his fears are real to him.

even as I am (a lich) the mind (rationality) is a victim of the heart (love for rook, fear of them dying). even as emmrich is a lich, his fear of death is rampart, now mostly transferred to rook. emmrich is calm when spaeaking, but fear can be heard in his voice.

im no fan of this line, but it's what im working with so - it feels, double barrelled. on one hand telling emmrich he is not great at keeping stuff in because he is emotional and has panic attacks, and in the same sentence telling the big softy to not mourn the love of his life forever.

this line is delivered with some condescension, and honestly, valid, as the previous line feels on par with Divergence Path 2, invalidating emmrichs fears/feeling for rook. in saying that, emmrich is trying to plead with rook to be careful.

valid all around - rook wake up and smell that the man loves you immensely please

he can, and will be, because he is in love with you

facts - once again, hello darkness my old friend, its fear of death calling

ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch

Divergence - Option 2

You ever been mid panic attack and someone cracks a joke? that is exactly emmrichs response and mindset going forward. now watch the anxiety and panic escalate

rook once again, missing the beat, emmrich escalates by reiterating that he is afraid to mourn rook forever. his voice is shaking. this man is breaking his own heart by imaging the death of his beloved. reiterating my point in earlier posts that emmrich, whilst experiencing relationships and love before, hasnt experienced rook and the connection they share. im reiterating my soulmate trope here - and as we continue

i cant defend rook on this point anymore, 3 strikes ur out

defeat slicks off of emmrichs voice as he speaks this line, inferring 'does rook not love me?' 'does she not feel this'

bottom line is rook is in love with emmrich, just as much as he is with her. rook is however pre-occupied with survivng and getting through the battle, whereas emmrich in this moment in knuckled down in black and white thinking - which has been unfortunately backed up by rooks lil jokes. his anger is valid, just as -

Rooks concern with no realsing that Emmrich is having a menty b, is also valid.

both have their defensives up now. rook for upsetting emmrich, and initially being upset at the notion of 'stay back aways in battle' and emmrich for being scared out of his skull that rook will not exist anymore and he has to spend enternity mourning her, also feeling rejected.

Divergence - Option 3

oh jesus -

on god im trying to be non-biased for this but cmon. the man has a gutteral fear of death, he became a lich he was so scared, you were there rook.

valid king

possible, but rook, sweetie, you're being invalidating.

I was gonna make a comment but then -

insert office stare meme

so here - emmrich is clearly tired of trying to explain himself to rook, and rook backfires with just wanting emmrich to be happy, and calling him an idiot. imo, this route is a straight up argument, whilst both path 1 and 2 have some depth to it. I believe it was done this was because when you choose the mortal path for emmrich, it focuses around supporting emmrich to be happy 'in the now', whereas in the lich path, there is no now for emmrich, it is forever, it will always be forever. I believe this path is to show the frustration between rook and emmrich, one being mortal and immortal, whereas the other two paths have a focus of acceptance. whilst not there yet, its apparent.

All routes lead to -

rook has now said something to akin of a personal insult to emmrich, which then leads rook to 'snapping out of it' as their face changes to disbelief 'oh my did I just say that' aka regret, with Emmrich bowing his head and saying "Rook, I..." in response. Rook states that they should pack as they have to leave soon.

if biowares goal was to have me fear for mine and emmrichs life in the upcoming mission, they succeeded.

All routes leave emmrich feeling scared and confused as he looks to the gorund, holding his hands together -

and rook mumbling under their breath, with confusing and 'ugh, i just wanna shake him and kiss him energy' - rook recognises that emmrich is afraid, and their faults in the conversation.

all in all, this is a touch scene, because it is evident how scared they both are and just want the other to survive so they can be safely back home together. the lich version is more centered around death and mourning as they have alreayd broached the l word, where in the mortal version, you can essentially call emmrich a coward. a very heart breaking scene, which adds numerous layers of depth to emmrich and rook as characters who have flaws but are still loved.

imo, i stand tall that emmrich and rook are in love with eachother and it becomes more evident in the next scene. they have this soulmate type of love, the kind where you would hang off the side of a cliff, hanging on by the strength of your index finger if it meant you could save them. the type of love where one look speaks a thousand words. the type of love that a lich lord would go rogue trying to bring their dead love back.

to add on to the soulmate lover trope this snippet from the Flame Eternal short story feat. Emmrich & Johanna where they are burying a deceased lover with another.

"Johanna snorted. “All that fury, ending in another grave.” “Oh, I don’t know.” Emmrich ran a hand along the coffin’s snowy marble. “It would be rather fine to possess such an enduring affection. Besides, you did see this through.”

Emmrich YEARNS for love. YEARNS. He has yearned for the type of love him and Rook have for over 20 years, at least. THE MAN IS RUNNING HIS FINGER ALONG A COFFIN AND ROMANTICING IT. Romanticising possibly, loving someone so much that he is buried with them (quote flashback to Hezenkoss in the final boss battle of "Ill make sure to bury you and your new lover together", now has more depth) or loving someone so much that love would be eternal together, that type of love where you want to be buried together. for over 20 years he has yearned for this love, and he has found it in the middle of the end of the world. please note that emmrich has a fear of abandonement as well like, huge. oh and add in the comment made by Harding in game about Rook and Emmrich moving too fast, please there is only one trope that goes from 0-100 real fucking fast.

Sending thanks to @galedekarios for sharing a conversation between Davrin and Emmrich, here. This post adds a tremendous amount of depth to this argument conversation. I 100% AGREE with Gale's depiction of 'Emmrich not being equipped for lichdom' because it makes sense. If you think back to the lichdom decision scene and dissection, we mentioned how Emmrich had everything he needs to do lichdom. No?? Clearly not. look at what we have just dissected. Then further on the man is practically on his knees begging rook to be careful, telling them that he will find them in another world. In the event of Rooks death, Emmrich would go rogue. He would lose it. Yes, he is a kind and gentle soul, but he has that fire in him. A protective, and obsessive power that he would do anything to bring back his love.

Additionally, Emmrich grew up poor. This would impact his view on society and love. But more impactfully, it would impact his view on himself. His self-worth. Emmrich likely thinks he doesnt deserve this type of love. Hence the attempt to push Rook away and act over-suave at times.

considering dragon age veilguard is centered around the theme of regret, it is no suprise that saying things you regret have showed up in this game, particularly before the eve of battle and impending doom.

ill have the romance scene dissection soon for you hungry necromancer lovers - ill likely do the mortal versions as well

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youronlydarlin · 11 months ago

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warning: this is jus' a short drabble, Simon being soft, but only for you

RAHHHHHH m' a sucker for those tropes where a character with a title uses their real name for their lover who's dying. Like imagine that with Simon.

You're shaking. There's blood on your hand from where you touched your abdomen. But this isn't right, you thought. You were fine just a moment ago. You blinked, and now you're in your lieutenants arms. He's barking orders at you to stay awake. Keep your eyes on him, and steady your breath.

Everything from your waist down hurts and you scream when Simon applies pressure to your wound. You've had close calls before, but never once had you actually been shot. This is your first time, and it's starting to feel like the last.

You don't even know when you've started crying, but you're scared. You didn't want to die. You were too young. You wanted to get to see more of the world that isn't just blood on the battlefield. You didn't want to die.

But that wasn't your choice to make.

Maybe it was your time. Maybe you knew. Because you're looking up at Simon with all the love you've yet to show him and for a second it makes him stop screaming for evac. His eyes are on you and he hated that almost peaceful look in your eyes. He's seen it alot on former colleagues. Acceptance.

"....Lieutenant..?.."

"..It's Simon, love. It's your Simon...."

a/n: Sorry that this is trashy 😕 Classes are fucking me up and this might be the only thing I can post for today. But I do have quite a lot of ideas in my drafts which I might finish on the weekends. I'll make it up to you guys I swear 🥲. I hope you're having a wonderful day/night, my darlings!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

#cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader #ghost x reader angst

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

Hi!! I would like to request somn! (Twst)

I've been thinking, since early in the story the ramshackle dorm is rundown and old and basically abandoned

so what if MC/Yuu tried to sleep on their bed but ofc since its old it just breaks and hurts their back

so may i request to see if Ruggie, Azul and Idia (separated) would let MC/Yuu sleep with them on their bed? (romantic btw)

(or they can let them sleep on the FLOOR-)

Sharing a bed with Ruggie, Azul, Idia

I wanted to make them sleep on the floor just for giggles but I love the single bed trope too much to let it go. thanks for the request <3

You’d think after everything that had happened to you—being thrown into some magic-filled hellscape, dealing with literal monsters and chaotic students—that the universe would cut you a little slack. But no, apparently, even when you’re just trying to go to bed, Ramshackle Dorm has other plans.

You had just flopped onto your ancient, creaky bed, exhausted from a day of not dying, when—CRACK.

The bedframe split right down the middle, sending you crashing to the floor with the most undignified yelp you’d ever made. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how the universe hated you this much.

“Well. That’s just great,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your sore back. You tried to push the mattress back into place, but it was hopeless. The bed was dead. There was no fixing it tonight.

Which left you with only one option: find someone to share a bed with.

Ruggie Bucchi

You trudged to Ruggie’s dorm room, knocking on the door with the energy of someone who had been emotionally crushed along with their bed. The door creaked open to reveal Ruggie’s grinning face.

“Eh? What’re you doin’ here at this hour, huh?”

“My bed broke,” you deadpanned. “I need somewhere to crash.”

Ruggie blinked, then snorted. “The ghost bed finally gave up, huh? Figures.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny he had a point. “Can I sleep here or not?”

Ruggie grinned wider, obviously enjoying your misery. “Yeah, sure, come on in. But don’t expect me to give up the whole bed. I ain’t got much space.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll take a corner. Just… let me sleep.”

You climbed into his surprisingly cozy bed, and he made a big show of sprawling out, starfish-style, as if trying to take up every inch of space. “Comfy, huh?”

“Very,” you muttered sarcastically, but as you shifted to find a spot, you felt the warmth of his body near yours.

Somehow, as you drifted off to sleep, you both ended up gravitating closer, until you woke up in the middle of the night, realizing your head was resting on his chest.

Your eyes flew open, and you froze, realizing that you were completely snuggled up against him. And worse? He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his arm was draped around you, holding you close.

You blinked, heart racing. This was... actually kind of nice?

Ruggie stirred, blinking down at you with a sleepy grin. “Well, well. Cuddle monster, are ya?”

You wanted to die of embarrassment. “I didn’t—You—The bed—”

He just laughed softly. “Relax. Not so bad, huh?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I guess not.”

“See? I’m always right.” He grinned, then gave you a gentle squeeze. “Now, go back to sleep, or I’m charging you rent for hoggin’ my warmth.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Azul, I need to sleep in your room,” you announced the second he opened the door to Octavinelle.

Azul blinked, adjusting his glasses. “Excuse me?”

“My bed broke,” you said with all the exhaustion of a person who had given up on life. “And I need a place to sleep.”

Azul stared at you, clearly processing. “And… you’ve come to me? Of all people?”

You sighed, too tired for this. “Floyd’s a maniac, Jade will probably cook something weird at 2 a.m., so yes. I came to you.”

Azul pushed up his glasses, clearly flustered but trying to act composed. “Very well. But I must inform you that my quarters don’t have a spare bed. You will have to share mine.”

You blinked. “Fine. I’m too tired to care.”

Azul looked mildly scandalized, but he stepped aside, letting you in. His room was surprisingly neat, but there was only one bed—one very large, comfortable-looking bed. Without another word, you climbed in.

Azul hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing the pros and cons of sharing a bed with you, but eventually he slid in beside you, keeping a respectable distance.

At least, that was the plan.

You both woke up in the morning tangled in the sheets, Azul’s arm slung over your waist, your head resting on his shoulder.

Azul’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, very slowly, he looked down at you, eyes wide with confusion and panic. “I—this wasn’t—”

You blinked up at him, realizing just how close you were. “Uh… morning?”

Azul turned an alarming shade of red but didn’t move. In fact, his arm tightened just slightly. “This is… highly unprofessional,” he muttered, though he made no effort to pull away.

You snorted. “Yeah, sure. But it’s not so bad.”

Azul blinked at you, his panic melting into a soft, almost shy smile. “No… I suppose not.”

Idia Shroud

When you knocked on the door to Ignihyde, you half expected Idia to ignore you. But to your surprise, the door cracked open, revealing his glowing yellow eyes.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, eyes darting around nervously.

“My bed broke,” you said bluntly. “I need a place to crash.”

Idia blinked. “Uh… okay? But I don’t have a guest bed.”

You sighed. “That’s fine. I’ll take the floor.”

Idia looked even more nervous, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, well… it’s just me in here, so I guess you can… share mine?”

You stared at him for a moment, realizing what he was offering. “Sure. Why not.”

Idia nearly short-circuited at your casual response, but he let you in anyway, leading you to his surprisingly large bed. You both climbed in, and Idia immediately plastered himself to the very edge, leaving a wide gap between you.

“Y-you can have more space,” he mumbled, staring intently at the ceiling.

“Thanks,” you said, too tired to worry about the awkwardness. But as you both drifted off, the cold air of the room seemed to pull you closer, until, somewhere in the night, you ended up pressed against Idia’s side.

When you woke up, your head was resting on his chest, his arm slung loosely around you.

Idia’s hair flickered wildly when he realized where he was, his entire face turning bright red. “Wha—how—uh—what are you doing?!”

You groggily blinked up at him. “Sleeping?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—this wasn’t—” Idia was flustered beyond belief, but he made no move to untangle himself from you.

You smirked. “You’re warm. This isn’t so bad, you know.”

Idia blinked at you, his panic fading just a little. “R-really?”

You nodded, settling back against him. “Yeah. Kinda nice, actually.”

Idia’s hair flared bright pink for a moment, but then he relaxed, his arm resting a little more confidently around you. “O-okay. Just… don’t tell anyone.”

You grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia #idia shroud #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie #ruggie bucchi

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writingsbytee · 25 days ago

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HIDDEN

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: NSFW; minors do not interact; mentions of domestic violence; self hate; angst; Terry is hard to read in the beginning.

SUMMARY: You’re running away from an abusive ex when you meet Terry working in one of his clubs.

TROPES: grumpy x sunshine ; “touch her and die”; slow burn;

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I took this idea and kind of ran with it. Let me know if you guys like it! I want this to be a series but only if you guys like it. I’m going to try switching POV’s; let me know if you guys like it or if it’s hard to follow.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper out. That fucking asshole shredded my passport. My expired ID will have to do for now. I’m running around the house trying to be as quiet as possible so I wouldn’t wake the sleeping monster who’s my soon to be ex. My phone vibrates in my back pocket,

LEXI: Parked a block down, lights off.

ME: Give me 3 minutes.

I liked the message and continued to pack, I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I’d been with Rafa (ex boyfriend) for about a year before the motherfucker put his hands on me. I believed him when he said it was an accident. I looked at his tear stained face and heard the crack in his voice and thought ‘he loves me he won’t hurt me again’. Here I am two weeks later with a black eye, split lip, and I’m pretty sure some broken ribs

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I peek behind me making sure Rafa is still asleep. When I saw that he was, I let out a breath I was holding. I may or may not have slipped some crushed sleeping pills into Rafa’s evening whiskey, ensuring I wouldn’t be interrupted fleeing from his ass. Reaching under the bed, I grab my suitcase that’s pre-packed with everything I need (besides my passport) and head towards the door.

Before my hand reaches the door handle, I look behind me at Rafa. His features relaxed in this state he doesn’t look nearly as menacing as he did two hours ago when he was beating the brakes off me. Freedom was right in front of me yet, here I was close to tears dying to crawl back in bed with him. I shook my head and took a deep breath. Turning away from Rafa, my trembling hand reached forward to grab the door.

“Just do it Daphne,” I whisper to myself. With another breath I pulled the door open to what used to be our bedroom and walked out. I’m doing this for me, saving my life. As dramatic as it sounds I have to get out of this relationship before it kills me.

“Girl, it’s about time you got in this car! I thought I was going to have to come in that bitch swinging,” my half-sister Lexi said. I threw my bags in the backseat before getting in the passenger side and buckling up. (Lexi's cast pic)

“I got stage fright all of sudden. I didn’t think I’d be able to go through with it, actually leaving him. I uprooted my whole life to be with him and here I am back where I started.” I said on the verge of tears.

Lexi took a deep breath before turning to me, “ Look Daph, I know what it’s like to be so in love with the potential of a man you’re blinded by who he really is. Rafa didn’t give a fuck about you, he proved that when he put his hands on you. Look in the mirror Daph! I love you sis, and I’m going to support you no matter what, but believe me when I say this. You took your life back today.” My eyes blur with tears as I reach across the center console to pull my sister into a hug.

“Oh stop it before I start crying,” Lexi lets out a watery laugh before letting me go. We release our embrace and Lexi starts her SUV up, and we drive away. I don’t glance back, ready to leave this life behind me.

2 Hours Later…

“Welcome to your new home!” Lexi sings as we pull up to her apartment complex. I chuckle as we grab my things and head up to her place.

“The second bedroom has a bathroom right across the hall. I cleaned both of them out so you can make room for all your things. I got you a key fob from the front desk and I already added your name on the lease, but don’t worry about the rent,” Lexi says as she shows me around her spacious luxury apartment.

I spin, crushing my sister in a bear hug, “I can’t thank you enough for this Lex, I’ll start looking for a job first thing tomorrow. I have enough money saved up to get me through the next few months, so I can help with rent if you need me to.”

Lexi playfully rolls her eyes, “Daphne I love you but please shut up. You’d do this for me in a heartbeat. You’ve always taken care of me, now let me return the favor. Plus I already found you a job.” Lexi and I found each out about each other in middle school and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

I let out a deep sigh before nodding, “I love you too Lex. Now where’s this so-called job?” I ask, raising a brow.

Lexi makes her way towards my room, motioning for me to follow her, “You’ll work at the club with me. One of the servers got fired and we’re really short. I put in a good word with my boss Terry, he just wants to meet you first.”

Lexi works at a high end gentlemen's club named ‘Fuse’. When she told me about it I was a bit apprehensive but, beggars can’t be choosers. I figured I can work there, save up for my own place and then go from there.

“Lexi, how am I supposed to meet your boss looking like this? I’ll scare his ass off,” I say motioning to my face.

“Don’t you think I thought about that? He’s coming here, think of it as an impromptu interview. He’s discreet and won’t ask questions. Sis if you don’t want to do this…,” Lexi trails off.

I shake my head, “No, No, it’s fine I’m sorry. What time should I be ready?”

Lexi squeals before jumping into my arms, “I know you’re nervous but Terry’s assured me that we’re working the exact same schedule until you get your footing. If you decide at any time that the club isn’t for you, you can leave.”

I hug my sister back, enduring the sharp pain that comes from my rib cage. the weight of today is finally taking its toll on me, “I think I’m going to freshen up and lay down,” I say, detaching myself from our embrace. Lexi nods before showing me where the towels and things are, and then she leaves me to it. Taking a deep breath I cut the bathroom light on and looked in the mirror.

I gasp out a sob as I take in my features. My bright brown eyes look dull and lifeless, well the one that opens anyway. My lip looks worse than what it is. There’s a slight bruise on my right cheek. The worst is yet to come when I lift my shirt taking a look at my torso.

“Oh my god,” I sob. I’m a nurse by trade so bruises, cuts, and blood don’t really affect me. But, seeing them on me is doing something crazy to my mind. I deal with cases like this all the time, vowing I’ll never be that woman. And here I am, that woman. I get in the shower on auto pilot. Not enjoying the art of getting clean like I usually do but just trying to get everything done. Once clean I moisturize and make my way into my new room. I don’t know how long I lay there and wait for sleep to take me.

My alarm startles me awake, I groan and roll over reaching for my phone. Pressing the silence button, I begin to rub my eyes. I groan and roll into a sitting position, my face feeling even more sore than it did yesterday. Making my way to the bathroom, I flip the lights and turn the shower on. My mind reels as it tries to process the last 24 hours.

Rafa hasn’t tried to contact me, not that he could. I blocked him on everything but, still the silence is alarming. I never told him where Lexi lives, so there’s no way he could know that I’m here. Pushing all thoughts of Rafa out of my mind for now, I start getting ready for my day. After doing my extensive body and skincare routine I threw on a hoodie and leggings. I decided not to cover up my bruises for the moment. Now that it’s the next day everything just looks ugly and swollen anyway.

After finishing my morning routine I head out to the living room to find Lexi. I can hear her talking quietly to someone, I assume she’s just on the phone. When I round the corner at the end of the hallway I stop in my tracks. There’s a literal adonis manspreading on our sofa. Well over six feet this man is sitting on our sofa looking almost too big for it. God he was fine, I’m in no space to get involved right now but I can appreciate a fine ass man. Hearing my entrance, his eyes shot towards me stopping in my tracks.

“Oh! Daphne you’re awake! Perfect,” Lexi said from somewhere in the kitchen. Seconds go by and I see her appear with a tray with three cups of coffee on it.

“This is Terry, remember I told you about him yesterday?” Lexi says with a nervous smile on her face. I nod looking back and forth between the two. My gaze lingers a little longer than necessary on Terry. He’s looking up at me with a curious frown on his face like he’s trying to figure me out, and I’m doing the same thing.

I push my shoulders back and walk towards him outstretching my hand, “Hi Terry, I’m Daphne sorry, if I’d known you were here I would have made myself look a little more presentable.”

Terry’s shaking his head before I can finish my sentence, “It’s all good, I was in the area and figured I’d just pop by and meet my new bartender.

My eyes widen, “Just like that? I’ve got the job? What’s the catch?”

Terry chuckles before crossing one leg over the other, “Lexi’s right, nothing gets past you. She told me you used to be a flight nurse, so I was hoping you could help me out from time to time.”

My brow furrows, “I’m not going to have to do anything illegal am I?”

Terry takes a deep breath leaning back, his gorgeous eyes assessing me, “We’ll keep that need to know. I won’t knowingly compromise your position or have you do anything that will put your license in jeopardy.”

I go over the details in my head. Could I really do something like this? It was clear to me that Terry was some sort of crime boss. He’s sitting so comfortably in our home like he owns the place (I wouldn’t be surprised if he did). He’s got money but doesn’t want to show it, based on the Rolex and Prada shoes he’s sporting.

“What if I say no?” I say, crossing my arms.

Terry chuckles and leans forward, “Then I guess you’ll need to go job hunting sweetheart.”

I roll my eyes and look over to Lexi, she mouths ‘say yes’. I contemplate in my mind, I’ve always played it safe until now. I went to nursing school because my mom wanted me to have a “stable income”. I went out with Rafa because he was a “safe” choice yeah, that worked out real nice. I’ve always gone with the safest option, not wanting to disappoint anyone. With recent events plaguing my brain I nod my head.

“Sure, what the hell. I’ll do what I can within reason,” I say to Terry.

Terry nods before standing, “Great, I’ll see you both next week, and Daphne all my bartenders wear black. Cover up the bruises but keep the makeup to a minimum.” I nod mindlessly at the things he said. Standing at his full stature, Terry is muscular, a few tattoos here and there and a face to die for. I was getting starstruck by my damn boss, which cannot happen. He exudes power, commanding each room he walks into, his height and size have nothing to do with it. It’s his aura he just gives off the vibe that he doesn’t take any shit.

Terry nods to both of us, “Ladies,” he said, and then he was out the door.

I sigh deeply and lean against the doorway, “Jeez Lexi you didn’t tell me your boss was finer than baby hair.”

Lexi laughs heartily, “Girl, it wouldn’t have mattered. Terry’s like a forcefield, he lets no one in.” I chuckle lightly and roll my eyes, making my way towards the sofa. I plop down and grab the coffee Lexi made.

“So tell me about the club. What should I expect?” I ask while sipping my coffee.

Lexi settles in next to me, cutting on the TV, “It’s a high end strip club / gentlemen's lounge, so we have lots of politicians, upper level business men, basically anyone who can afford the fifteen hundred dollar membership fee. You and I will work the bar, as long as you show a little cleavage and laugh at their shitty jokes they’ll tip you well and leave you alone for the most part. You don’t have to worry about guys getting handsy, Terry used to be a Marine, so a few of his buddies from back in the day are working security.”

I nod following along, “Does Terry usually show up a lot?” I ask.

“Well, it is his club. So yeah he’s there most of the time in his office. He usually only comes out if there’s a problem,” Lexi said.

“Hmm,” I reply with a nod. This was definitely going to be an interesting experience.

A WEEK LATER

“Daph! Come on! We’re going to be late!” Lexi yells upstairs. I sighed looking over at myself in the mirror, a simple black activewear jacket and leggings (link). My eye is almost healed, nothing a little concealer can't fix. I’m still favoring my right side because my ribs are still pretty sore. I spray myself with my sparkling lychee perfume, grab my tote and head downstairs to meet my bratty ass sister.

“Keep your panties on Lex I’m coming!” I shout as I look for my asics. Once I finally find them I meet Lexi at the door plastering on a fake smile.

“I’m sorry. Are you ready to go now?”,I ask with fake enthusiasm. Lexi just rolls her eyes and opens the door to lead us out. We head to her SUV and make our way to Terry’s club.

“Okay, so what should I expect?” I ask Lexi.

“Well it’s a Thursday night so it won’t be too busy but it’s a good thing you wore those shoes. We’ll be paired together so I’ll make drinks and you’ll take them out. Table one starts to the right of the door, and then they’re numbered clockwise,” Lexi said, adjusting the heat settings in the car.

“I mean it sounds easy enough. I just haven’t worked in a club since nursing school. I might be a little rusty,” I say, getting self conscious. Lexi reassures me as we begin heading towards downtown.

TERRY

This can’t be the sister Lexi was talking about, this is going to be a problem. She’s beautiful, fucking astonishing. I can’t even see the bruises, probably makeup which she doesn’t need. She exudes a softness that has no business being involved with me and my business. I sweep my eyes over her before landing on hers. Lexi told me her piece of dickhead boyfriend beat the shit out of her. She doesn’t look bad, but her limp tells me otherwise. A part of me wants to find the sorry motherfucker and break his knees, but I’m acting too irrational over a woman I just met.

I’ve been watching Lexi show her the ropes from my loft office. She seems to know what she’s doing catching on pretty quickly. I adjust myself for the second time as she bends down to pick up something.

“Ass fat as fuck,” I mumble watching it sway in her leggings. She drops off a tray of drinks at the police commissioner’s table and I watch as every set of eyes drop to her ass as she turns and walks away. She might be a problem

THE END

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ok I didn’t want to get too deep in this in case y’all don’t like it. So please please like and comment if you want more. I’m so grateful for you guys I hope you all have a happy holiday season! Stay safe bookies <3

Until next time,

TEE <3

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DIVIDER: @cxrrodedcoffin

#rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black reader

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

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hi it's me back again this time for the trope corner! my fave character atm is definitely remus and I'd love something with the trope roommates to lovers with him pls? maybe with a bookworm!reader if that's okay? love ya bunny 💕💕

roommate!remus lupin x bookworm!reader where he acts like he hates you but still there are new books lying on your desk every day

As a bookworm, your life has always been about books, shelves packed to the brim, and stacks overflowing onto every available surface in your room. And then there was your roommate, Remus Lupin. Tall, thoughtful, annoyingly observant Remus, who, despite his quiet nature and penchant for his own bookish pursuits, seemed to approach reading differently. He devoured classic literature and thick academic texts while your heart beat for modern fantasy and anything with a fairytale retelling. You’d always thought he found your taste… well, inferior. There were times you’d catch him glancing at your bookshelves with a slight furrow in his brow, and it made you think he didn’t really like you, or worse, that he found your tastes childish.

But then something strange started happening.

One morning, you’d found a new book on your desk with a small sticky note: "I thought you'd like it. - Remus." The title was something you’d had on your “to-read” list for months, a limited edition copy with a beautiful cover. You’d been bewildered, touched, but totally thrown off. How did he know? He barely even seemed to notice your genre.

From then on, more books started appearing, each one exactly something you’d wanted to read, always with a note in his scrawled handwriting: "Saw it and thought of you." or "Seems like your thing. - Remus." Each time, you’d been filled with a strange mix of happiness and confusion. Whenever you tried to bring it up, Remus would brush it off with a casual, “Oh, they were on sale.” Yet, none of the bookstores nearby had any sales at all—believe you, you’d checked.

Finally, you decided to return the favor. After sneaking glances at his desk and asking him (subtly, of course) about his favorite authors, you picked up a series you thought he’d like. You left it on his desk with a little note—but no signature. When you heard the familiar jingle of his keys in the lock, you dashed to your room, grabbed a random book, and opened it, pretending to read with intense concentration.

Only to hear footsteps pause in your doorway. You didn’t look up.

“Dove…” Remus’s voice had that exasperated yet amused tone you knew all too well. “Why are there new books on my desk?”

You looked up innocently, feigning ignorance. “What books?”

His hands went to his hips, and he gave you that intense stare he used whenever he was piecing something together. “Some new books that, interestingly enough, I mentioned to you in passing last week. Books I happened to say I’ve been dying to read.”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know anything about that. Besides, don’t flatter yourself, Lupin. I don’t hear half the things you’re saying most of the time.”

“Sure,” he said slowly, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. He turned, but as he reached the door, he paused, then poked his head back around the frame. “By the way, dove…”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Your book is upside down.” He smirked, taking in your mortified expression. “While I think you’re quite brilliant, I don’t think you’ve quite mastered the art of reading that way.”

You felt your cheeks burn as he left with a wink, and as soon as he was out of earshot, you grabbed your pillow, letting out a muffled scream into it.

The next day, a new book sat on your desk, along with a sticky note: “I’ll gladly accept more book recommendations if they come with you pretending you don’t like me. - Remus”

You bit back a smile, your heart hammering with a mix of frustration and excitement. Remus Lupin was infuriating. But maybe, just maybe, he was also a little bit wonderful.

guys i think i found my most favourite oneshot i've ever written

#remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ #roommate!remus #bookworm!reader

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onlyangel4 · 25 days ago

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onlyangel4 1k event - P5. KM20. SMAU.

trope: brother's teammate

pairing: kevin magnussen x hukenberg!reader

faceclaim: romee strijd

author's note: this is set in the 2023 season

1k event

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,209,384 others

f1: BREAKING: haas have announced their drivers for the 2023 as nico hulkenberg and kevin magnussen

view all 108,725 comments

user1: this is so funny, they fucking hate each other

user2: enemies to lovers

user3: i am convinced that nico decided he hated kevin when his sister went on record calling him the hottest driver in f1

user4: oh this season is going to be fun

user5: someone cooked with this line up

y/nhulkenberg posted a story

written: bahrain here we come

f1updates posted a story

written: y/n hulkenberg has arrived to the paddock with her brother and all eyes are on here

y/nhulkenberg posted a story

hassfan

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 56,291 others

haasfan: these two are already getting on each other's nerves

"so kevin are you planning on playing nice with nico this season"

"well only if he gives me his sister's number"

nico looked like he was going to hit him. oh god maybe 2023 is not a good time to be a haas fan

view all 2,344 comments

user4: bestie be fr there has never been a good time to be a haas fan

user5: i can't blame kmag y/n is fucking stunning

user6: kmag the flirt

f1fan posted a story

written: so i just met y/n hulkenberg and i totally get where kmag is coming from

y/nhulkenberg

liked by kevinmagnussen, nicohulkenberg, danielricciardo and 250,282 others

tagged: nicohulkenberg. kevinmagnussen.

y/nhulkenberg: bahrain you were beautiful

view all 23,438 comments

kevinmagnussen: pretty girl

y/nhulkenberg: you ain't too bad yourself mr magnussen

nicohulkenberg: i hate this

nicohulkenberg: you are going to shorten my lifespan

y/nhulkenberg: and driving f1 cars doesn't already do that?

user7: i think nico is just going to have to sit back and let it happen

user8: i love you nico but please let y/n and kevin hang out they are so fucking cute

y/nhulkenberg posted a story

written: amsterdam with lover boy

kevinmagnussen posted a story

y/nhulkenberg posted a story tagging nicohulkenberg and kevinmagnussen

written: see they don't hate each other. i promise.

kevinmagnussen posted a story

written: my girl

y/nhulkenberg posted a story

written: my boy

f1wags

liked by user9, user10, user11 and 34,112 others

f1wags: y/n hulkenberg has arrived in the paddock but not with her brother. she arrived accompanied by kevin magnussen, the pair have been pictured holding hands in the paddock and honestly i love them

view all 2,119 comments

user9: i wish i could have seen nico's face when they told him that they were together

user10: they are so fucking cute i love them

user11: the lore behind this couple make them the best couple on the grid

y/nhulkenberg

liked by kevinmagnussen, nicohulkenberg, alexandrasaintmleux and 432,223 others

tagged: kevinmagnussen

y/nhulkenberg: turns out i am playing favourites this season.

view all 40,091 comments

kevinmagnussen: your brother is going to kill me for that caption

y/nhulkenberg: it's worth it

nicohulkenberg: hmmm....

y/nhulkenberg: you love him really, stop being cryptic

alexandrasaintmleux: the cutest

y/nhulkenberg: love you alex

user12: so obsessed with them

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rootspiral · 25 days ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 6 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

ooh the "magick" mitzvah? I've been puzzling about the connection between william and billy, that's an interesting detail. I'll elaborate in a minute

I've seen a lot of irony about joe locke clearly not being 13 here, but the thing is, sometimes boys do suddenly hit puberty and have an insane growth spurt! and then you get the hilarious visuals of some guy sitting in a tiny desk in a classroom full of children.

my point being, they should have had joe dancing with a bunch of actual 13 year olds, it would have been so fucking funny

I love mama and papa kaplan, and it really gets to me that they lost their boy and don't even know it. I was worried about billy's episode because I thought it would be just a bunch of marvel tie-ins with no heart. glad to report I was wrong

lilia who hates witch stereotypes performing those very stereotypes in order to not fucking starve

william's reflection is billy reversed

lilia foresees william's death and billy's takeover, and she is SO sorry for him. patti as usual conveys so much, you can tell her heart is breaking but she's being kind and lying in order to not scare this poor kid. and this is exactly why being a Seer has always been a burden to lilia, how do you form any relationships, how do you love someone when you've already seen the day you're going to lose them?

“The Tower Reversed.” disaster, destruction, sudden upheaval. but reversed, it means miraculous transformation.

and there is something about lilia choosing this moment as the most representative for billy, a moment that symbolize both billy and william. this is future!lilia embracing her own strength and reclaiming the coven and the community she denied herself her whole life. and not only she includes billy in it, but also william as a fundamental part of billy, a kid that she protected and cherished despite meeting him only briefly.

not only lilia goes above and beyond for william, hiding the truth from him, inviting him to enjoy the party she knows will be his last. she hides the sigil on him so she can protect billy too, because she knows that another little boy is about to wake up in a strange reality and be so lost. she tells william he's a good egg, but she is the goodest egg.

I love the little choices here. wanda's voice on the radio, pretending she's in an idyllic sitcom marriage. and a real life marriage where wanda's 1950s tropes are reversed, rebecca is the one who drives and grabs her husband's hand to reassure him.

another great detail: the dissolving Hex reflected in the car window.

the parallels are taking my breath away. two moms, agatha and rebecca, fiercely loving and protective. both would blame themselves for their sons dying.

but sometimes, boys die. and to quote jac shaeffer, that is tragedy enough to fill the universe.

you can hear william's heart slow down and stop. then, when billy takes over, it starts beating like crazy.

and here's alice, who's also never met william (or billy) before, but she will unquestionably do her utmost to help.

I miss you so much, alice

he's so scared. the way he shakes his head and doesn't know where to look.

imagine being born yesterday, and suddenly you are in a different body and your head is cracked and you're surrounded by strangers. and your brother is nowhere.

that is the worst omelet I've ever seen in my life by the way

(also I know billy is used to instant growth, but imagine switching from child to teenager just like that, it's like going through puberty in two seconds. kafkaesque nightmare fuel)

and it's just so realistic and so moving that the kaplans are presenting a united front even though they are crumbling underneath. and they won't say any of it out loud because they are good fucking parents and it's their job to protect and worry without their kid ever feeling guilty about it. (billy does end up reading their minds because they're not equipped to parent a superhero yet. not that they wouldn't RAISE TO THE FUCKING CHALLENGE. I love you rebecca and jeff kaplan)

william liked classic movies, board games and magic tricks. there were budding hints at a goth vibe too, with dario argento quotes and creepy victorian posters. it doesn't seem at all incompatible with the person billy will eventually grow up to be, I know he had to settle into william's life, but he didn't revolutionize any of it, he kind of followed in william tracks. I think that yes, william died just as wanda dissolved the hex and it was a wrong place and wrong time kind of situation, but he also had to be a compatible donor - as similar as billy as possible, I don't know if genetically or soul-wise or what. they even look a bit similar, same ears, same nose, same eyes, same chin, same triangular face.

these guys really like doing mirror shots, don't they

by the way I will keep calling him Boyf because it's so damn funny, but I do know his name is eddie and I'm really really happy for the representation. there won't be any particularly deep meta about these two because gay boys are so, so far from my realm of interest or expertise, I'm sorry if you were looking forward to it. if you want to add context or ideas about them please do!

another possibility is that billy's soul, while not having any of wiliam's memories, was still shaped and conditioned by his dna and brain chemistry and past experiences, so in a sense william is still in there. you put software in a different hardware, it's gonna affect its performance.

I'll say this about boyf, he's very sweet. billy gives him this crazy story and he doesn't flinch, he just tries to understand and be supportive.

*cough cough* nerd

but look, he's pulling a detective agnes! he really is an agatha mini me.

ah yes, the future coven looking after billy even before meeting him. lilia giving him the sigil, alice being first responder on the site of the accident, jen saving his dating life by teaching him good skincare (he's a teenager! he's got pimples!)

you guys, I hope you don't mind me dedicating some time to billy alone, but I do like this episode a lot.

and tomorrow: it's the return of butch agatha!

go to episode 6 part 2

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #billy maximoff #joe locke #lilia calderu #character study

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crownofgildedlilies · 9 months ago

Text

my peaceful nights belong to you

in which: a son of poseidon has himself convinced a daughter of athena doesn’t want to listen to him complain.

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of athena!reader

warnings: angst, my poor percy has been through TOO MUCH

tropes: hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers

word count: 2.1k

a/n: friendly reminder that request r open (esp for headcanons) and bc I have a four hour layover tmrw I will be absolutely active on here. plz enjoy. also, this is inspired by a tiktok I saw that said Percy's trauma is so overlooked. so here's me not overlooking it.

All eyes were on the great Percy Jackson.

Yours were, too, don’t be fooled. You had always found him impossible to look away from. But it wasn’t admiration you were studying him with as tales of his quests were told and retold and embellished around the bonfire. Quests you had been on, each and every time.

No, you were watching him with concern.

Because the son of the sea was drowning in all the attention.

It was almost painful for you to watch, but you couldn't look away.

A beautiful train wreck, you supposed, studying Percy's uncomfortable but obliging conversation with one of the newer sons of Ares who hadn't been around for Kronos or Gaea and simply thought fighting in those wars had been fun.

But people had died. Your people, your friends. It was war, and it was painful, and even though you were the daughter of the war goddess, you hated it with every inch of your being.

No amount of planning on your behalf could have saved Beckendorf. There was no stopping Leo from sacrificing himself.

"That's called being a demigod," Percy had told you one day, offhanded, sometime between nearly dying in a volcanic explosion and being stolen from her by Hera.

"That doesn't mean we have to stand idly by and accept it," You had countered, frowning, and Percy must have realized he'd said something that had upset you, because he had pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology you still hadn't worked out was necessary or not.

But what you did know was that he was your best friend, that you had been in love with him since you were both fourteen, and he absolutely did not want to talk about all his past glories like a good little Greek hero.

Seated on a front-row bench with Grover on on side and an assortment of other campers you knew he wasn't close with surrounding him, you knew you had to run a rescue mission.

Especially since Grover was too distracted by eating his marshmallow roasting stick to realize how tense Percy was as the Ares kid went on and on.

"Perce, there you are." You wedged yourself into the not-entirely open spot next to your best friend, smile on your lips and a sly look in your eyes. Percy's own widened in sight relief, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders in a casual movement that was entirely too familiar. "Thought you ran off on me."

"Never," He sighed, some of his tension already dissipating. You grinned a little unevenly at him, not wanting to give the others watching any clues that the great Percy Jackson wasn't completely and utterly alright.

"Good," You bumped him with your shoulder, and he squeezed his arm around you for just a brief moment, tugging you close to his side. You had to turn and face the young Ares boy to keep yourself focused. "How are your archery lessons coming?"

The new camper looked slightly put out about the change in conversation, but you pinned your stare on him and didn't back down. For a moment, you thought he would continue to pester Percy with questions about fighting in two wars, even with you sending up very clear signals that neither of you were interested.

But the boy made the right choice, launching into a rant about how long range combat was not his strength.

Halfway through the story about almost shooting Connor Stoll's foot, you felt Percy lean towards you, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he dropped his voice to a whisper, meant only for you.

"Thank you,"

Since you had taken half a seat, your body was pressed firmly against his from your ankles to your shoulders. His touch warmed your skin like a sunny day on the beach, and you weren't sure if it was a son of Poseidon thing or a Percy Jackson thing.

So instead of answering him, you set one of your hands on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed.

The moon was shining over camp when you gave up on finding sleep and decided to sneak out.

You’d been around long enough to know just how to sweet talk Mr. D into letting you be out past curfew, and Chiron had a soft spot for you, since you helped save the world. Twice. It was the harpies catching you that you were afraid of.

Travis Stoll had almost learned the hard way that Mr. D was not kidding about them eating campers.

But children of Athena had passed on the secret to sneaking out through generations, and you were exploiting that very information for a midnight trip to the lake to stargaze there when you spotted movement on the roof of Cabin Three.

Really, you weren't in control of your own actions as you turned swiftly to change course. Maybe it was Tyche with her luck or Aphrodite with her meddling in the affairs of the heart that had you scaling the side of Poseidon's cabin, a path you had taken more than once.

Or maybe, for once, you couldn't blame the gods. Maybe you were the only one making the choices that had you settling on your back beside Percy on the slanted cabin roof.

He hadn't seemed all too surprised to see you, but all he offered in way of greeting was a nod before he returned to studying the sky above.

You only let the silence last for three minutes, a gnawing feeling in the pits of your stomach unable to let it be.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, voiced simultaneously quiet and startlingly loud in the otherwise silent night. With your head turned to watch his side profile, you watched him tumble from his thoughts and back onto that rooftop, with you.

"What?" He was playing coy, you knew him well enough. What you didn't understand was why he was holding back with you, of all people. You, who had been there with him from the night Grover dragged him over Half-Blood Hill. Who had followed him and Grover and Annabeth across the country to save his mom, who fought Luke and Kronos with him, and mourned the loss of so many friends.

You, who hadn't slept for six months when he disappeared, only to find him in New Rome with the claim that he had forgotten everyone and everything but you.

His tether to his life. His best friend. His something more.

"About whatever is bothering you so much tonight." You shot him a flat look, but his was still doing a good job at avoiding your eye. Frowning, you nudged him with your elbow. "I saw you at the bonfire, Perce. Something is eating at you."

For a moment, it was silent. And then Percy drew in a deep breath, like he was readying himself for something, but he still hadn't looked at you.

"I guess I’ve just been thinking about just… everything." He sighed, but you could hear the apprehension and exhaustion in his voice. He was still keeping things back, but you couldn't understand why. And that killed you, as a child of Athena. "I've been fighting since I—we—were twelve. It's too..."

"Too what?" You prompted when he trailed off, his voice dying in the warm night air. Your hand brushed against his on the rooftop between your bodies, and you considered the risks of just grabbing his hand and squeezing to offer comfort while he sorted through his thoughts.

"Forget it." He shook his head, and your heart sunk. "You don’t want to hear me complain."

You frowned, twisting to face the sky and wracking your Athena blessed mind for some way to prove to him that you did, in fact, want to hear it. You wanted to hear anything, ever, that he had to say.

But when words failed you, actions didn’t, and you finally stopped pretending to accidentally brush your pinky against his and just wrapped your hand around his.

You both stayed like that for a while, quiet and thinking, until you turned your head to face him, unsurprised to find a stormy look on his face while he still studied the stars. Maybe he was thinking of Zoë, of all the others the two of you had lost over the years.

But you were thinking about him, only.

"I’ve been fighting with you since you came to camp," Your words were quiet, little more than a summer’s breeze brushing across Percy’s skin, but you knew he heard you. "But maybe now we’re not fighting monsters anymore. Maybe we’re fighting the memories and scars they left behind. But I’m still fighting with you, Percy."

He turned his head, then, his eyes finding yours like they were always meant to. And, deep down, part of you knew they were.

Every shared glance during combat, or after a stupid joke, or when a battle ended and all either of you could do was search the carnage for a hint of the other—those eyes had found you.

"I’m just so scared I’ll never get to live my life.” Percy confessed, voice hauntingly hollow. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back like a lifeline. “I don’t know if I’m running away from what’s already happened or into the next big mess. And what if next time… what if…"

He trailed off, eyes wide in panic, a bit of desperation. You squeezed his hand again, because you couldn’t give him the words. He needed to find them himself.

Percy screwed his eyes shut and darted forward, slotting his mouth over yours in an unexpected, horribly angled kiss. Teeth clashed together, your bottom lip caught in the mayhem and you gasped at the slight bite of pain.

He jumped back like you had burned him, propped up on one arm as he leaned on his side next to you.

"I, shit, I shouldn’t have—" He fumbled for words, already trying to shuffle further away from you, but you held tight onto his hand to keep him close, sitting up to follow him. "Please, let’s just forget about this, okay? I just, I got caught up in everything and—"

"Tell me you didn’t want to kiss me, then." You promoted, brows knitted together as you studied his face, desperate for a glimpse of how he was feeling revealed to you in the moonlight. "Because if you can’t say it meant nothing to you, you need to tell me, right now."

"I… can’t say it."

And just like that, you were the one kissing him, one hand curving around the back of his neck to keep him close while the other remained threaded through his fingers. His free hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were real.

When you finally pulled apart to breathe, you didn’t go far. Not from him. Never from him.

"I was worried next time I wouldn’t get the chance to do that." Percy finished his thought from before, a little dazed from the kiss you both had been long awaiting, apparently. You smiled softly and closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.

"If you’re running towards the next prophecy, I’ll run with you." You promised, pausing only briefly to shift your position so you and Percy were laying on the roof again, only this time your head was propped on his chest and his arm was wrapped securely around you. "But if you want to sit up here and talk about the monsters you’re running from, I’ll do that, too."

"Thank you." He echoed his words from the earlier bonfire. And you could tell from his voice that he really was thankful. Because as tough as he was, Percy Jackson was still half mortal. "I…" He started, the air thick with tension about what he was going to confess. "I keep having dreams about Tartarus."

You let him talk, devoting your attention and mind to him, tracing shapes and stars and waves against his chest by your head while he spoke.

Time moved quickly that way, with talk of his fears and what weighed heavily on his mind broken up only when his throat would clog with emotion and you would tilt your head up to kiss away the memory long enough for him to regain his composure.

Because no one knew him better than you, and he didn't have to be the great Percy Jackson with you.

He could just be Percy, the boy who was haunted by his past and terrified of his future.

And you would give him all of your peaceful nights for him to have only one.

#percy jackson #pjo #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction #Percy x you #Percy Jackson x you #rays of sun

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