Tumgik
#because this makes it seem like she genuinely tried to scare him
kirain · 2 months
Note
Wall of the faithless isn't canon in bg3. They changed alot of things actually. So no Gale isn't "scared" he's just an obsessed asshole who doesn't learn from his mistakes.
Oof...
Tumblr media
There's really nothing I can say except: you're wrong. The City of Judgement and the Wall of the Faithless are canon to BG3. If you don't like Gale, that's fine, but you don't have to make things up or completely disregard the lore to do it. Larian Studios literally hired people from Wizards of the Coast—the company responsible for all the canon lore, characters, and campaigns in D&D—to help them with the story. It took them five years, I believe, to fully study and understand the lore. They constantly conferred with the team to double, triple, and quadruple check every slice of content they added to the game, and parts of the game are now considered canon to D&D 5E.
Tumblr media
As for Gale "not learning" from his mistakes ... when you first meet him, he literally admits he made a mistake with Mystra. Though personally I don't see it as the "power-hungry" move people seem to think it is. Gale simply wanted to be considered an equal to his partner (really his groomer), which is a perfectly healthy and normal desire for anyone in a relationship. Your partner should treat you like an equal, but Mystra very clearly saw Gale as a pet. A trophy. A worshipper. Subservient. Beneath her. A silly mortal with delusions of grandeur (which she cultivated), which is really rich when you learn she was once mortal herself. Mystra is a hypocrite.
Tumblr media
Gale tried to prove himself worthy of equality by trying to bring Mystra what he thought was a piece of her missing Weave. For anyone who doesn't know, the current Mystra was torn to pieces by Cyric and Shar, then put back together by her Chosen. Though back to full power by the events of BG3, she's still technically missing pieces of herself, and Gale mistook the Karsite Weave for one of those pieces. Instead of simply telling Gale it was corrupted Weave, she let him go on believing it was hers. Personally I think that's because she was tired of him (maybe he got too old for her 😒) and was hoping he would do something that, in her mind, would justify abandoning him—but I admit that's full conjecture on my part. What is true is that she knew the orb wasn't hers, but for some reason she let Gale think it was. Even after she abandoned him and left him to die, she never told him. Not until she realised she could use him.
Tumblr media
In Act 3, while the argument can certainty be made that he's thirsty for power, Gale ultimately becomes fed up with the gods because, as he knows better than anyone, they treat people like commodities. While I have no intention of ever ascending him myself, it looks like he actually makes good on his word. He doesn't threaten or toy with his followers, he inspires people to walk their own path, he only asks for prayers as payment (as without some form of devotion, gods in D&D cease to be), and if you romance him ... he ascends you into godhood as his equal. Mystra could have done this for him, she just didn't want to. And if you don't want him to ascend, it's genuinely so easy. I don't understand what people are complaining about. It takes one conversation with zero checks to convince him to completely abandon his ambitions. One. If he was truly "power hungry", it wouldn't be that easy.
Tumblr media
Again, I would argue that Gale's true goal isn't really power, it's freedom, and divinity gives him that freedom. He has many conversations where he makes it clear he doesn't want to live under the gods' thumbs anymore; which, in a world like Faerûn, is extremely understandable. As I said in my Wall of the Faithless post, he's scared. Eternal torment for a simple mistake, one of which could've been avoided if Mystra told him the truth or treated him like an equal? When your partner is a goddess, how can you not feel inadequate? And if you convince him to give up the crown, he's perfectly content with Mystra's forgiveness. Even in the Early Access, that's all he really wanted.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gale's far from perfect. He's arrogant and overconfident and insecure and he can be prone to emotional outbursts (most of which he apologises for, however), but he's nowhere near the heartless, power-hungry monster the haters seem to think he is. He is, in fact, one of the most compassionate companions in the entire camp, to the point that he accepts everyone, including Minthara. He votes for Astarion to stay when you find out he's a vampire. He gets mad at you if you surrender him to the Gur. He's one of the only companions who will openly marry/stay with you if you become a mindflayer. He's willing to sacrifice himself to save the world, and willing to damn himself to be with you. He loves every act of kindness, while hating every act of cruelty. I understand that the bugs from launch ruined a lot of people's perception of him ... and unfortunately some of those glitches are still present even now, but he is a good man.
2K notes · View notes
a-hazbin-reader · 1 month
Note
it's valentines day tommorrow- what's alastor gonna do for reader?
Tumblr media
I totally forgot about Valentine's Day-
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
Tumblr media
TW: Alastor being a cannibal, Alastor scaring people off
Description: 👆⬆️
Alastor 100% forgets that it's Valentine's Day no matter how hard everyone tries to remind him
He can remember everything else important like birthdays, anniversaries, and other key events in your lives
But somehow, he manages to always forget Valentine's Day
He is so fucking smart but somehow so dumb at the same time, Rosie is the one who saves his ass every year
She literally plans it now, inviting him over the day before Valentine's Day
"So Alastor~ How are you going to spend Valentine's Day with Y/N tomorrow~?"
"How kind of you to ask-What was that now?"
"You forgot again. Didn't you."
Long awkward sip of tea
"You hopeless man, here's what you need to do..."
If it were anyone else then Alastor would be fucked but luckily he's tHe RaDiO dEmOn so he's able to scramble together something impressive
You'll never know he forgot
You wake up to your favorite flowers in your bed and all over the hotel, Niffty having a breakdown because she can't clean them up
Not Alastor standing in the kitchen with an apron on, cooking breakfast for the two of you
Kiss the cook? Don't mind if I do~
He won't accept any gifts from you until he's finished giving you the Valentine's Day you deserve
Mostly out of guilt over forgetting tho
After the most delicious breakfast you've had in awhile, he invites you out for a walk
He's shamelessly checking you out the entire morning, visibly approving of your outfit for the day
He takes you to one of the most beautiful and lush places in the pride ring that he can find, adoring the amazed look on your face
You almost feel like the two of you are a normal couple enjoying the day together, not two sinners in hell who are walking through faux earth scenery
If there's anybody else around then he scares them away so that you two can be alone and unbothered
Keeps an arm wrapped around you the entire walk, resting his head on yours because if he looks at you then he'll lose his mind
You just look so fucking cute rn
While it might just seem like a romantic walk, it's all a ruse to get you to a planetarium
Again, there's nobody there because Alastor wants privacy with his S/O
Because there's nobody there, Alastor took the liberty of decorating it in romantic lighting and getting more comfortable seating for the two of you
Seating might be the wrong word
The two of you end up snuggled together in a hammock, gazing up at stars that used to be familiar to you both
If you can name the stars and constellations then Alastor will happily listen while pulling you to his chest
Maybe you two feed each other snacks
"No, I'm not feeding you a finger, I love you, but I'm not touching that."
"You love me? How embarrassing that must be for you~"
"Still not feeding you that."
"Maybe I should eat you instead~"
KEEP IT PG YOU TWO
If you fall asleep then maybe he'll smooch your face a little bit until you wake back up
Maybe you're only pretending to be asleep
But the gifts don't stop there!
When you two leave, he takes you to the radio tower for a romantic dinner, and that shit is CANDLELIT
🕯 🍝 🕯
It is legitimately a lady and the tramp style dinner date with him doting on you the entire time
He's been a suave gentleman the entire day so far, doing everything he can to make you blush and swoon
But when you finally get the chance to give him your Valentine's Day gift, no matter what it is, he's genuinely flustered
Stares at it while blushing in silence for what feels like the longest time
"You got me this..? For me?"
"Who else would it be for?"
Not his tail wagging
Once he composes himself then he invites you to slow dance with him, holding you inappropriately close to him
Good thing you two are alone
Alastor is a fantastic dancer and a handsome man so that alone is enough to make you flustered
But slow dancing with him while he stares at you with that rare soft expression, with love in his eyes???
You're just a blushing puddle in his arms which is totally what he's going for, cooing at you sweetly
And he only makes it worse once he starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear throughout the entire dance, confessing everything he loves about you
Alastor legitimately has his breath taken away when he looks at your face afterward
You look so grateful for all that he's done for you today, but he still feels guilty for forgetting in the first place
When he thinks of your gift then he only feels worse, cupping your cheek gently
"Y/N...I have something to confess to you..."
"This is all last minute because you forgot about Valentine's Day?"
*shocked Pikachu face*
"...how did you know? Did Rosie tell you?"
"Alastor...darling...baby..."
Not your hand pulling on his cheek before giving it a few condescending pats
"You forget every year~"
Oh yeah
"But you always make it the perfect day~"
Brags about what you said to him the next day with Rosie, not at all noticing how done she looks with him
Tumblr media
Hnnnng!! I love this man
1K notes · View notes
ohnoitstbskyen · 6 months
Text
youtube
... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?
Video transcription: I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified. She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith. And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you. None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."
To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.
Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.
Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.
None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.
Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.
Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.
2K notes · View notes
hoshifighting · 2 months
Note
Okay... But what if Y/n tells his best friend, Wonwoo, since highschool that she wants to join as a stripper as a joke. But then Wonwoo asks her to do a sexy dance in front of him, and Y/n played along, dancing, stripping naked in front of him and rode his lap with him still wearing shorts, until Wonwoo couldn’t hold back and fucked her hard.
Warnings: Smut, lap dance, reader jokes ab being a stripper (all respect to the profession), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, best friends, stripping.
Word Count: 2k
It was a typical Friday evening, and you found yourself lounging on the couch with your best friend, Wonwoo. The two of you had been inseparable since high school, forming an unlikely but unbreakable bond. Wonwoo, with his quiet demeanor, was the yin to your yang. While he navigated life with a calm and collected approach, you were the unabashed extrovert, always seeking excitement.
As the evening progressed, you couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot a bit. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Wonwoo and blurted out, "Hey, Wonwoo, you know what I've been thinking lately?"
"What's on your mind, Y/n?" Wonwoo replied, his eyes reflecting curiosity.
"I was thinking of becoming a stripper."
Wonwoo's face immediately furrowed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He blinked a few times, processing the unexpected revelation. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to comprehend your words.
"Wait, what? A stripper?" Wonwoo finally managed to articulate, his voice laced with bewilderment.
You chuckled at his reaction, fully aware of the stark contrast between your outgoing nature and Wonwoo's reserved personality. "Nah, Wonwoo, it's just a joke! Can you imagine me on a stage, dancing in front of strangers?"
His furrowed brow deepened as he tried to process the information. "You...want to be a stripper as a joke?"
"Yeah!"
Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, his furrowed brow relaxing. "You scared me there for a moment. I couldn't picture you doing something like that."
The truth is, Wonwoo was a fucking liar.
However, deep down, Wonwoo couldn't deny the vivid image that flashed in his mind at your mention of becoming a stripper. The mental image of you dancing around a pole in skimpy clothing lingered, creating an unexpected tension in the room. He quickly brushed aside the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on the conversation.
You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and couldn't help but tease him. "Oh, come on, Wonwoo. Are you sure you can't picture it? I bet I'd be the star of the show!"
Wonwoo's cheeks flushed slightly as he awkwardly coughed, attempting to dispel the lingering mental image. "No, Y/n. Let's not even entertain that idea. It's just not you."
With a sly grin, you turned to him and asked, "Wait, are you saying I'm not hot enough for that kind of job, Wonwoo?"
Wonwoo's eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. "No, no! That's not what I meant at all!"
But his reddening cheeks and ears told a different story. You couldn't help but revel in the mischief, adopting a mischievous expression. "Oh, I see. So, you do think I'm hot?"
Wonwoo stammered, trying to backtrack, "I-I didn't say that. I just meant, um, it's not something I could imagine you doing. Not because of how you look!" His eyes darted away, and he mumbled, "Well, I mean, you're... You're pretty, very pretty."
He couldn't help but attribute his discomfort to more than just the thought of you pole dancing—it was the unspoken crush he harbored on you. Each playful comment seemed to amplify his self-consciousness, making him acutely aware of the feelings he kept under wraps.
Attempting to steer the conversation away from the provocative topic, you chimed in, "You know, it's not like I genuinely want to be a stripper. But I've always thought it would be fun to dance for someone, you know? Just to let loose and have a good time."
Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at your revelation. The notion of you wanting to dance for someone, while not necessarily in a provocative way, fueled his imagination, igniting a subtle curiosity.
"Oh, really?" he responded, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "Dance for someone, like, just casually?"
You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah! I mean, not in a professional setting, but just dancing for someone special. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun, don't you think?"
Wonwoo's mind raced, grappling with the newfound information. His gaze focused on you, and with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/n," he began, his voice softer than usual, "you mentioned wanting to dance for someone. Would you... uh, would you mind dancing for me?"
He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.
Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and a playful grin formed on your lips. "Oh, really? Wonwoo, are you asking me for a dance?"
"Well, you know, you mentioned it, and I thought it might be... nice. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."
You couldn't help but find his shy request endearing. "Sure, Wonwoo. But you have to promise not to laugh at my moves. I can't promise they'll be any good."
Wonwoo chuckled nervously, "I'm sure you'll be great."
Your hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a playful grin, you tossed your clothing aside, letting it land somewhere in the living room. Wonwoo's eyes widened behind his glasses, focusing on your exposed tits, his usually composed demeanor giving way to a hint of surprise and curiosity.
His voice came out as a soft whisper, "Does this... does this make part of the dance too?"
You simply nodded, your own confidence shining through. "Of course!"
The room was filled with the sultry beat of the music as you continued to move, your hands gracefully making contact with your body. Wonwoo couldn't tear his eyes away, the subtle allure of the moment captivating his senses. The dancing became a mesmerizing display, the connection between you and Wonwoo growing hotter with each passing moment.
As the music's tempo intensified, you decided to take it a step further. With a bold move, you gracefully moved to sit on Wonwoo's lap, your dance becoming more provocative. His breath caught in his throat as your movements became a sensuous exploration, his heart pounding in his chest.
Your hips moved up and down, back and forth, and of course the bulge inside of his pants grew harder. Wonwoo, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure, let his hands find your hips. He tried to disguise the effect your movements were having on him, not wanting to make it obvious how affected he was. Your hips moved in a tantalizing rhythm against his, and Wonwoo felt a surge of lust that he struggled to conceal.
Unexpectedly, a low, sensual moan escaped your lips, hanging in the air like a shared secret. Wonwoo's ears caught the sound, and a jolt of awareness ran through him. Did he hear that right?
His hands instinctively pushed your hips down, a silent plea for you to continue. The dance resumed, and your hips moved deliciously against his. Wonwoo bit his lip, desperately trying to contain the desire that surged through him.
"Hm… Wonwoo…"
Wonwoo swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n."
In the blink of an eye, the delicate balance of composure that Wonwoo had been struggling to maintain shattered. His hand found its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you into a hungry, passionate kiss. The air crackled as your lips met, the tension between you finally finding release.
Wonwoo's free hand moved with a sense of urgency, grabbing your ass through the material of your shorts that still clung to your body. The touch was both possessive and hungry, his tongue fought yours, and your hips continued to grind on his dick.
Your hardened nipples were pressed on his chest, and he felt that, also, he felt your wetness soaking his pants through your shorts. His mouth found its way to your neck, leaving a trail of eager kisses. The soft touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp as his kisses ventured down towards your bust. His hands, now firmly gripping your tits.
He slowly guided you to lie on the couch. The air was thick with anticipation as his hands skillfully worked on the buttons of your shorts, his touch sending a cascade of sensations through your body.
With a deliberate slowness, he slid the clothing down your legs along with your panties. In the charged atmosphere of the room, as Wonwoo lowered his head closer to your thighs, you felt a sudden surge of impatience and need. Your hands gently pressed against his shoulders, halting his descent, and you looked into his eyes with a sense of urgency.
"Please, Wonwoo," you pleaded, your voice a breathy whisper. "Hurry, I need you."
His dark eyes met yours, the intensity of the moment reflected in the depths of his gaze. Understanding the urgency in your plea, Wonwoo's movements became more purposeful. With a swift motion, he aligned himself with your pussy, his pants and underwear also thrown around. 
The hot head of his cock rubbed against your entrance. He entered slowly so he didn't hurt you, since you didn't even want to wait for him to prepare you.  "How did you get so wet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and desire.
Rolling your eyes in response, you could only manage a breathless murmur, "You," the single word encapsulating the effect he had on you. 
His cock stretched your walls perfectly, loving the fullness of Wonwoo, the initial discomfort giving way to a wave of pleasure. As Wonwoo's breath danced across your skin, his nose taking in the scent of your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. 
The throbbing length of his cock being squeezed by your wet walls, until his pelvis hits yours, a relief moan leaves your lips, as Wonwoo kisses your cheeks, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you. 
Your skin slapped together as he thrusted into you harder, making your body squirm under him. Meanwhile, Wonwoo admired the scene. How can a simple dance take him to paradise? He felt like he was seeing a work of art that some divine being had forbidden him from for so long.
Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your pussy making him wetter by the second, and your moans were driving him to the brink of an orgasm. "F-fuck Wonwoo yes! Right here!"
The explicit encouragement fueled a surge of energy within him, and Wonwoo, driven crazy by you, found the strength to respond. His movements became more purposeful, with a renewed vigor, he shifted your legs, pushing your knees toward your chest, deepening his cock inside of your pussy abusing the g'spot.
As you drooled from the corners of your mouth, the sheer pleasure and desire took over. In a breathless symphony, you cried out his name, as the climax overtook you, you felt yourself clenching uncontrollably around his cock, making him moan the loudest. 
Leaving an indelible mark on the couch beneath you, his cock throbbed inside of your pussy, the white hot spurts, being spilled inside of you, while you could only mumble his name softly enough to make him melt over you.
The air hung with a sense of ease and contentment as you found yourself still catching your breath, your voice reduced to a soft murmur of his name. Wonwoo, lying atop you, he couldn't help but savor the tender sound.
"Mmm, Wonwoo," you whispered, the quiet intimacy in your voice reflecting the connection between you two.
He stayed nestled on top of you, his weight providing a comforting support as you both recovered. Wonwoo looked into your eyes, a gentleness in his expression that hadn't surfaced before. "You know," he started, a playful glint in his eyes, "I think I want you to dance for me more often."
A genuine laugh escaped your lips, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected comment. "Oh, really? You enjoyed the show that much, Wonwoo?"
He nodded, his cheeks sporting a subtle blush. "Yeah, it was...unexpected, but I liked it. A lot."
Unable to resist a bit of teasing, you reveled in the sight of a more playful and confident Wonwoo. "So, you're saying you want a private dance performance on demand?"
Wonwoo's shy demeanor returned, but this time, accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe...just a little. It was...nice."
884 notes · View notes
natriae · 7 months
Text
ushijima was definitely a little innocent boy in highschool. and no this is not me tryna make him seem so babygirl cuz y'all he looks like he'd crush you, but you cannot tell me that that man was not so obsessed with playing volleyball for his parents approval to the point he missed out of basic puberty things.
Like homie probably woke up with his first boner and thought he needed to go to the doctors cause he was just that out of the loop.
So i one hundred percent believe that when Ushijima felt himself have feelings for the first time during his second year he would copy everything he saw in romance mangas. He would blush when he finally told tendou about his feelings for you.
He definitely made a lot of oopsies in front of you because he genuinely has no idea how to talk to girls.
He gets sad seeing how you get scared when he walks by. His first real feelings of insecurity about his body.
Every morning he would make sure his uniformed was ironed and neat for you.
When he woke up from a wet dream about you he immediately apologized when he got to school. Obviously he gave you no details about why he was apologizing. He just walked up to you and said "i'm so sorry 😐".
But finally the day he tried to copy a scene from a j-drama was when he thought he lost you. He told tendou to try and spill his drink on you but to purposefully miss. That way you would lose your balance and he would catch you. Safe to say that isn't what happened. Tendou's chocolate milk was dumped all over you, and everyone in the school witnessed the first time Ushijima Wakatoshi "yelled" at tendou. However, telling tendou "this isn't what we planned," in a stern voice led you to believe the two of them were purposefully trying to embarrass you.
When Ushijima saw the tears well up in your eyes he felt a kind of pain that he hasn't felt in years. His heart hurt seeing how scared you looked at him. That night he went home and attempted to write his feelings out into a letter. Did it make a whole lot of sense? no, but it got his point through.
The next day Ushijima hadn't seen you at school, and his mom went into his room to collect dirty clothes. When she saw an envelope addressed to you she assumed her son forgot to take it. It was your birthday today if she remembers correctly. So his mother walks through the neighborhood and drops the envelope into your mail box cursing out her "stupid" son.
On that fateful day it was revealed that Ushijima Wakatoshi was just a silly boy that was so deeply in love.
Btw the best part of the letter was:
"you're like a volleyball. I get happy when i see you,"
1K notes · View notes
captianbrnes · 2 months
Text
Pretty like the Sun
Tumblr media
Summary: When you start to doubt yourself, Bucky is here to pick up the pieces you left behind.
Warnings: Insecure reader, that's all i think
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader, friends to lovers
Word count: 1k
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆
You don't even remember how it started. It just switched one day and now all you could focus on was ur ‘faults’.
Were you even fit to be an avenger? How did people like you? Did your friends even truly like you? Weeks went by and you could feel yourself slipping more and more, you tried to act normal to your super friends hoping no one would notice. Bucky did.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ 
 “Have you noticed anything wrong with Y/n? She just seems off, im worried” Bucky expressed to Sam and Natasha in the kitchen while making a cup of coffee.
“ Idk man she's your girl shouldn't you know?” “She's not my girl Sam.” He rolls his eyes knowing Sam knows about his crush on you.
“Maybe go up to her, just go check on her.” Nat says as she pats the super soldiers’ back, leaving the kitchen.
He decides then that the only way he'll know is to ask so Bucky gets up to head to your room. 
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ You're laying in bed staring up at the ceiling when you hear 3 knocks from the door. Not feeling up to talk to anyone, you don't say anything hoping whoever’s there will just leave. “ Doll it's me Bucky, I want to talk, can you open the door for me?”
Oh Bucky… Your crush for the longest time, also one of your closest friends. Ever since you first joined the avengers you knew you were done for. His immediate smile threw you off your feet and it was then you knew.
You and Bucky started to become closer to each other over the months, spending most of your time together either watching movies or walking around New York. Bucky was one of the people who you cared about the most and that's why you felt so insecure. You wanted to be your best for him all the time, be perfect in hope that he’ll maybe fall for you just like how hard you fell for him.
What you didn’t know was that he already fell just as hard.
The first time Bucky spotted you he couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't understand how someone could be that beautiful, your eyes shined and your smile glowed, you look like the Sun. He cared so much for you and hasn't felt this much love for anyone ever and just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that's why he's here.
You decide to get up and open the door for him, checking the mirror beforehand making sure you look okay. “ Hey Buck, everything okay?”
You choke out looking up at him while trying toseem happy. “ Yeah everythings fine, just wanted to check on you, haven't seen you in a while… Can I come in?” Bucky says rubbing his hand on the back of his neck hoping that you'll let him in and open up to him. “ Uh sure-” You both opt to sit on your bed and it's then that Bucky takes your hand and decides to speak up.
“I'm here because I'm worried about you doll.. What's going on? You know you can talk to me right.” He says looking down to you with genuine worry in his eyes. He could get so scared sometimes worrying if he upset you in some way. “ No, I'm fine-” “Dont.” Bucky interrupts. He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.
“ Don't act like it's fine when it's not. Some Things upset you, I want to know what it is. Let me help you like you helped me” This was it. As he said that you felt yourself breaking and water managed to make it out of your eyes finally breaking down.
“Hey hey hey, i got you, you're okay breath baby, breath.” Bucky says holding you closer to him and accidentally letting a pet name slip out. After Bucky gets you to breathe and calm down he sits you on his lap and starts to speak.
“ You're okay Y/n, I'm here with you okay. Just talk to me whenever you're ready.”
It's then you finally speak up and voice all your insecurities about how you dislike how you look and feel as if youre useless and don't matter to the team. Bucky’s heart starts to break hearing these words come out of you feeling as if you're not good enough. He can't stand to see you like this anymore and put his forehead on yours making sure you're looking at him.
“ Look at me, doll, I have never thought about you in any of those ways. You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”
“I want you to know how incredible you are and that I understand how you're feeling but that none of it is true. I am so in love with you it's crazy.” Bucky spills out not caring about if you feel the same anymore, he just needs to get it out.
“ You light up a whole room with that smile of your doll. You're the funniest person I've met and bring me so much comfort… I've never cared about anyone like i've cared about you.``
“Bucky i-” Is this true? Does he really feel the same way? “ Bucky, are you serious?” you exclaim.
Realizing that you might not share the same feelings, buckys eyes go wide with worry looking like a kicked puppy, before saying “ I um- I know that you might not feel the same ways as me but i couldn't keep it in any longer. And I'm sorry if I ruined anything I didn't mean-”
You silenced him as you crashed your lips into his humming into the kiss. You guys finally pull away after a while and decide to cuddle up under the bed together, your eyes closing.
There's still much more you guys need to talk about in the morning but none of that comes to mind now that Bucky’s finally holding you in his arms.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/n : Hiii!!! Hope you liked the story. Im going to try to write more just and super busy.....
516 notes · View notes
sainamoonshine · 1 year
Text
So I know the entire narrative in The Locked Tomb is like « oh ahaha Babs, what a loser » but I genuinely think that there might be something really interesting about him. Babs was the only person in the whole galaxy to know about Ianthe and Corona’s secret. And I’m starting to think that as much of a natural asshole he is, at least 50% of what we see of him in GtN is acting.
Let me explain: he is obviously in puppy love with Corona, and dismissive of Ianthe when Corona is looking. But privately, he is terrified of her. He knows she’s his necromancer and NOT Corona; this is proven when the Second challenges the Sixth, and Corona wants to intervene but Ianthe says no. Ianthe is 100% certain that Babs will do as she says, but Corona is actually surprised. And when he finds Corona duelling Gideon, he is scared and tells her that he will not tell Ianthe. I think Ianthe probably threatened him behind Corona’s back one time or a dozen. And I think Babs isn’t just protecting their secret, he might be trying to protect Corona from Ianthe’s anger too. Being the annoying go-between, the butt of the joke, the meat shield. On purpose.
Pay close attention to when he’s being a contrary asshole for no reason. A lot of it seems to come naturally to him, sure. But also: when Jeannemary finds the human ash and asks for Corona of all people to help her identify the deceased: he immediately redirects attention by being a mega-asshole. Corona ends up not having to do any necromancy; her secret is still safe. Similarly, later on in Dulcinea’s sick room, when everyone is having a discussion about necromancy: he makes a tetchy comment, prompting Corona to whisk him away like ‘oh ahah he’s getting hangry’. How familiar is this routine for them?
I think deep down, while he’s an arrogant dickhead, Babs isn’t evil. He’s shocked and appalled that Silas went and took Dulcinea’s keys, and I don’t think it’s because he wishes he thought of it first, as Jeannemary accuses. I think he genuinely thinks that’s dishonourable. And when Corona tries to stand up for the Sixth and Ianthe says no, Babs follows her order, but is pissed about it.
But hold on, you might say to me, five minutes later HE is the one to issue a challenge to the Sixth!! Yeah, after a tense stare-off with his necromancer. After, perhaps, coming to some conclusions of his own about the Third house’s chances regarding the key situation. Ianthe herself says to Corona: you need a facility key. This is your only chance. Might be that Babs figured something similar!
When Harrow answers the call, his face is frozen in a look that’s both cautious but trying to look though. When Jeannemary jumps on the table, he immediately backs out. Without waiting for Ianthe to call him off. He tries to play it off, but Babs is pretty consistent on NOT wanting to fight the teenager.
In conclusion: the dude is a dick but I think he’s got honour and he is stuck between a rock and a very hard place. AND he fights Ianthe after the lyctoral process for a surprising and impressive long time!
Also: lmao when he jumps off the table he mutters ‘should have just stayed home and gotten married’. Okay??? Babs what’s that about? 👀
3K notes · View notes
stylesloveclub · 6 months
Text
Prose (part 2)
In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.
+++
“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.
She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.
“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”
“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.
She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.
Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.
“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”
“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.
“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.
Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.
It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?
She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”
He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”
Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.
+++
Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.
He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.
“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”
Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”
Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.
“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”
He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?
“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”
Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.
Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.
He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.
All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.
His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.
Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.
+++
“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.
Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”
“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”
“Are you mental?” he interrupts.
She blinks. “Huh?”
“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.
“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”
He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”
She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”
“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”
She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”
Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.
Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.
His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”
“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”
“Yeah. I overslept.”
He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”
She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”
It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.
“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.
“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”
“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”
Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.
Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.
She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”
He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”
+++
Y/n is exhausted.
Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.
With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.
Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.
She’s screwed.
It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.
But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.
She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!
Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.
Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.
She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”
Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.
She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?
She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”
“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”
She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”
“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.
“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.
Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.
“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.
“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”
“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”
She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.
“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”
“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”
“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”
She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.
“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”
He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”
His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”
She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”
A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.
“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”
He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”
+++
You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?
That’s how Harry feels right now.
Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.
His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.
He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”
Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”
Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”
Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”
She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.
“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.
She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.
When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.
“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”
She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.
He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.
+++
They stay in his office until nightfall.
Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.
Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!
Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).
They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.
Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.
He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”
“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”
“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”
“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”
“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”
She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.
“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.
They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.
He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.
“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”
+++
HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!
Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.
Prose Masterlist
663 notes · View notes
riaki · 3 months
Note
OKAY EVERYONE IS SAYING GOJO DOESN'T DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING YES
BuT what if we could make it a little ANGSTY instead?? 👀 He gets his happy ending. His. Happy ending. You? Well.. Old habits die hard. This is what you wanted after all no? So what if he breaks his promises? What if your smile begins to fade? What if
What you said about later on reader and freckles growing apart cause freckles seemed nice it'd be a shame for him to be an ass
But that it's silly cause the irony is what if that freckle boy.. was just like Gojo but in a different light.
Being as it wasn't him who hurt reader, it was easy to overlook the fact of how similar he was to the old Gojo she knew before it became a shit show
Maybe she realizes that
Maybe she starts thinking
Maybe she drifts apart
And maybe Gojo comforts her but he's the last person she wants to see
Because it's these stupid feelings for Gojo that led her to this hell
And Gojo goes again
And he reels her in
And once he has her
Only to see as her smile begins to fade
As all the effort he had put in when he didn't have her start going away once again
And he starts to fall into old habits becoming the same as he was before, but this time, with you at his hand
As he slowly takes away your smiles again.
But it's okay, he'll make it right. Just...later. and later. And later...
You hope.
sorry I'm not good with angst sorry for any cringe 🤣
this is!! such!!! a good!!!! take!!!!!! on hsbully!gojo!!!!!! tbh this ask speaks for itself lol n dw anon! i rlly love the way u brought it :3 this is highschoolbully!gojo part 592727465527 *suggestive!
yeah. freckles boy isn’t that great of a person. maybe he tried but it didn’t work out; u dunno why but u keep seeing gojo in him— hints of satoru in ur life. like that stinky cologne he thinks is kinda cool but rlly doesn’t smell too good on ur bfs drawer, or the way he takes his coffee. honestly, if u squint, it almost seems like freckle boy is tryna copy gojo in a way…? but u don’t like thinkin abt him so u don’t blink an eye.
fast forward u broke up with freckle boy because something or other; the point is, u really didn’t feel anything with him. there might’ve been a spark, but it was really only artificial and had no wind to fan the flames. and since u got together gojo’s been distant; his smile seems dimmer and there’s always this faraway; foggy look that makes the brilliant azure of his eyes seem cloudy gray. but then ur catching up with him again and at some random frat party you get drunk and ur sense is inhibited and— u end up kissing gojo… oops.
so then u kinda enter this fwb state with him. and.. he’s pretty cool, right? he’s kinda evrything u want in a guy— tall, pretty, cool, strong, handsome, charming— it’s a package deal. but there’s also this… rift, between the two of you. see, ever since gojo lost u the first time, he’s always been so scared of pushing u away. so u stay fwb because he doesn’t wanna lose u again in case he’s feelin more than you are. but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sleeps with other girls and his chest doesn’t tighten like it does with u when he gets mouthfuls of fruity gloss from kissing other girls. but he forces himself to keep this wall up between the two of u because he just can’t risk losing you a third time.
it sucks for u too, though! gojo’s just a bit too dense to see it. whether it’s in his own nature, or he’s faking it. it’s probably the latter, but that’d mean he’s not being genuine again, n you don’t wanna think about it. but you’re gettin comfy with him and so is he, and you really do whole heartedly believe he’s changed this time, and for good. and it’s true! he has. but not in the way you thought. apparently, he’s exchanged being an ass with an unreachable ego to a pinch more genuine, but still an ass. it’s proved when u get to his apartment one rainy day ready to spend the weekend w/ him for a study date, but there’s clothes on the floor. dresses n stockings and a frilly blouse that you definitely think (or hope) don’t belong to gojo. unfortunately, your suspicions are confirmed when you lay eyes on the tangle of people on his bedroom through the crack in the door— this time, it’s your turn to run in a hurry. turns out, he got comfortable with you— all in the wrong way, thinking it’d be okay to sleep around. except he gives chase— after pulling on a pair of pants, of course.
eventually he catches up to you; you hate those stupidly long legs. catches your wrist and forces you to face him. in front of a chick fil a, nonetheless. he gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu— but he’s forcibly snapped out of it when je realizes you’re crying. and damn, you look gorgeous, and he wishes it would rain because the sunlight falls around you like liquid gold, framing your pretty face and reflecting prisms of rainbow in your tears.
once again, he doesn’t get it. why are you crying? it’s not like you were really serious or labeled, right…? and the entire reason you’d stayed that way was to avoid somethin like this. but gojo slowly comes to the realization that he’s fucked up big time— he has been since day 1. really, he should’ve found somebody cheaper to chase— you stole his heart and his pride, making him awkwardly and stiffly apologize to you in front of a fast food restaurant on some random crossing next to a train station. it’s only tense because he doesn’t really know how to apologize— he doesn’t have much experience with it, and for that he blames his ego.
but even so, he’s not ready for those big, sappy love confessions yet. you always made him feel so weird— correction: you still do. so you walk away somewhere between fwb and strangers. it’s always one step forward and two steps back with gojo. but maybe, just maybe— he can slowly rebuild your trust with some patience, empathy, and a lot of genuine love that he’s yet to realize he’s been nursing in his heart for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.
paaaaaaart one
770 notes · View notes
death-by-sc0tland · 1 year
Text
even though hannibal is a terrifying person, i don’t think he ever tries to act intimidating. he’s always very well put together, he never yells, never tries to make himself scarier in any way cause i guess he knows he can be scary without all that. however, there was one scene that i genuinely felt terrified of him, and it was at the end of antipasto (s3 ep1) when he was killing anthony (will graham knockoff) in front of bedelia
hannibal is very reckless the entire episode. he is posing as dr. fell, but that cover is threatened when anthony enters the scene, cause he knew the real dr. fell. if this were hannibal from earlier seasons, he would dispose of him as soon as possible, cause he was always careful about his cover. however, hannibal just seems to not give a shit in this case.
bedelia sees this happening and you can see she is really distressed about it. she was probably expecting hannibal to kill him when he invited him over for dinner, but he let him go. this put both hannibal and bedelia at risk, but hannibal didn’t really seem to care. bedelia probably fully realizes what kind of shit she has gotten herself into - this is not the same hannibal it used to be. so bedelia decides to run away but unfortunately for her, she’s too slow and hannibal comes back before she can leave. this time he brought anthony over to finally kill him cause now he realized he’s only posing as dr. fell. honestly though, i’d go even as far as to say he deliberately brought him in to kill in front of bedelia as a punishment, cause he probably figured she’s trying to escape. and then the terrifying shit begins.
this man never yells, but i feel like in this scene, he came the closest to that through the entire show. bedelia is out of her mind and he’s just demanding “are you participating or observing?” after which he goes into straight up gaslighting mode and tells her she’s actually participating. like he’s literally actively killing the guy but he’s saying “what have you gotten yourself into, bedelia?”
and truly. she’s gotten herself into some utter shit and can’t take it. and hannibal is pissed about that. because it was supposed to be will with him. will that saw him and understood him and accepted him and wouldn’t be scared and wouldn’t try to run away. he brought bedelia as a weak replacement of will and he’s angry because she just cannot replace will. so he’s lashing out and acting all bitchy towards her here.
bedelia is later bragging about how she was with hannibal behind the veil. but she didn’t admit that it scared her and she tried to run. will has done all kinds of bad things to hannibal, but he was never scared of him and never wanted to run away from him.
1K notes · View notes
Note
hello! I would like a Dazai Osamu bsd headcanons, where he considers the reader his reason for living… if it's not too much trouble! ♡
A/N: Of course!! Thank you so much for this request, it’s so cute! I'm definately going to expand on this in the future.
Warnings: Dazai being Dazai, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of PTSD, implied smut but no detail, stalking tendencies
Navigation!! // Masterlist
Tumblr media
Dazai really never thought he would meet anyone that would make him want to live
he felt like his life was almost meaningless
like the world was too messed up for him to want to live in, to him there was no point
But then he meets you, it's at the train station and you're buying flowers for your mother
she's sick and you're seeing her while you can
you two make small talk and Dazai mentions where he works, it piques your interest
He doesn't talk much after that, and mainly because the train is close to leaving so Dazai needs to take his seat
But that doesn't stop him from thinking of you, and after days, almost a month, of not seeing you but not forgetting you, he caves and begins to search
He finds your name, address, place of work, where you were born, everything
He starts showing up at places you would be near, and he catches glimpses of you
it seems like you're genuinely a good person, like you radiate this warmth off you
he enjoys it, he craves it
fast forward a few months after Dazai's weird stalking, he unloads onto you while he's drunk
You're walking him back to his apartment
He starts breaking down in an alley way, his bandages coming undone and he's frantic, you've never seen him like this before
he's about to rip his hair out, he's struggling to breathe, he's panicking, PTSD has him in a choke hold as of right now
Some people also panic when things like this happen, other people just wait it out
You were a mix between the two; internally panicking but also waiting it out
You were unsure if you should touch him, so you settled for talking to him instead, with a slight hold on his arms
He had sat against a wall, quietly talking to himself with his head in his hands, his eyes were still frantic, so you tried your best to be careful
"Dazai?" You called, and he heard you, his shaking calmed after that
"relax, just breathe. Everything's okay."
He couldn't have done more. He wanted to talk, he really did, but there was a lot going through his mind.
The two of you sat in silence for a while, just with each other
Finally, he spoke up
"Y/n?"
"Yes Dazai?"
" I wanna go home."
The walk to his apartment was quieter, and a bit slower too, but when he opened the front door, you didn't expect for him to pull you inside too, let alone into a hug
"Thank you." He whispered, you almost didn't hear him
"Please don't. It was nothing Dazai, really." You whisper back, you can feel the anxiousness coming off of him
"Can you stay the night?" He asks, pulling back a bit to look you in the eyes. He's pleading with you, almost desperate, but also hopeful.
"Sure." You say back, a small smile on your face. You want him to know you're okay too.
He doesn't scare you. He realizes this now.
His lips find yours quickly, in a kiss that he didn't intend of leading to more, but he can't get enough of you and you don't want him to leave
That night, he goes to bed with a new reason, a reason to live
a reason to love you
425 notes · View notes
helluvapoison · 1 month
Note
hey there :3 it’s like 5 am here and I’m being plagued with ✨ideas✨
imagine if Adam had a thing for a demon! reader, like it doesn’t matter if they’re hellborn or a sinner or whatever, he can’t muster up any genuine disgust upon seeing them, and he fucking hates it. And the reader’s not too thrilled either because yeah sure he’s hot under the mask but they can’t really say the same for his personality (bonus if the reader has black feathered wings)
pleas and thank you
Hate Heart
Adam x Demon!Reader
He wouldn’t be opposed to a one night stand with someone from Hell (imho) Hit it and quit it, that’s his motto! Feelings though? Christ on a stick, demon or not, that’s something else entirely
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
• Adam can’t fucking stand this game of cat and mouse game that he never signed up to play
• It’s not subtle either because there’s no way for you to accidentally bump into him up in Heaven, he’s always coming to seek you out
• He always thought the itch to see you would subside, that eventually you’d leave his system and become nothing more than a faded memory
• Except he couldn’t seem to forget your face— and trust him, he’s tried just about everything you can think of to speed up that process
• Lute would turn on him in two seconds flat if she knew
• Sera would never let him lead exterminations again, she would scold him for not cutting off the infection before it could fester. Was Lucifer not example enough?
• Her threat to send him to you permanently should have scared him enough but it didn’t. Even though he knew she had a point, he already thought of that!
• You’re from Hell, your very existence is the epitome of everything he should hate and be disgusted by!
• And the sentiment was very much mutual
• Adam took extreme pleasure in killing Hell’s inhabitants (which, wildly, isn’t the biggest red flag about him!?)
• Somehow you were excluded from that category and placed in one all on your own. A tomorrow problem that was repeated daily
• “If you hate me so much maybe you should stop saving me, asshole.”
• “Keep bitching, maybe I will.” He growls back with as much venom as he could muster
• His actions scream the opposite. He’d never. The thought alone twists his heart awkwardly, filling him with urgency to make sure you’re safe rather than do what he came down to do
• Much to your dismay, Adam finds you every couple of months. “To make sure you’re still alive,” he claims, but proceeds to hang around for as long as he can
• It’s exhausting, he’s exhausting
• But then he leaves… and you miss him
271 notes · View notes
Text
Catching Up
Requested?: No/Yes by ppl in part 1
Notes: this sucks and also why not
Description: Bill meets his kids for the first time as dad.
Tumblr media
"...so you were pregnant?" Was the only thing Bill could say.
Or all he could muster up, sitting next to you in the empty stadium, sitting on instrument trunks as your children, Tom, Gustav and Georg all ran around to give you guys privacy.
You nodded, quiet as Bill sat riddled in guilt and questions. But all he could mutter was one thing for now.
"Do you…do you need anything?" Bill muttered, looking at you as your shoulders tense, and out of instinct and immediate offense, you furrowed your brows.
"If you're asking if I need money then stop. I don't fucking need it." You said, defensive out of instinct as you nodded to your kids.
"As you can tell, I've been good without it."
"No- no! Shit…I'm sorry. I just meant- like if they needed anything. Or if you're okay. I…I don't know what to do." Bill muttered, eyes widened as he shook his head, panicked in fear of offending you.
In truth he was nervous, scared and shocked and somewhat relieved.
You immediately felt guilty, shoulders softening as you sighed, rubbing your temple.
"Sorry, I…I didn't mean to be rude." You shook your head, giving an apologetic look as Bill somewhat relaxed, meeting your eye as he softly nodded.
"I just read all these shit articles about dads coming into kids' lives and taking them away. I didn't-" you shook your head before Bill interrupted you.
"It's understandable. It's fine." Bill added softly, agreeing as he held his hands in his lap.
You sighed a bit out of relief, both of you falling silent for a beat before you noticed the saddened look on Bill's face.
"...I know it's a shock. But if you don't want to you don't have to be around-" you tried quickly. "It's just they deserve a dad and-"
"No! No, I wanna be their dad. That's not a question." Bill cut you off quickly, putting a hand on your knees to stop you as he said so.
You looked at his hand for a moment then to him, looking over his face before you saw the genuine urge to be there in his eyes.
You softly nodded and only then did Bill realize where he put his hand, slowly retracting it as he cursed at himself.
"It's just…different. I didn't expect it. And- I don't want them to be mad at me for not being there." Bill sighed as he explained.
"It's not your fault..
"Yes, it is. You tried to get a hold of me and because of who I am, you couldn't. So yes, it is." Bill stated firmly, fully believing it to be true.
"I don't think I can make that up to them. And you…"
You stared at Bill for a moment as he seemed to avoid your eyes. You sighed, frowning at his face.
"...I know it's not the same, can you be there now?" You asked softly, Bill looking back up at you confused as you chuckle at his expression, nodding over to your daughter.
"She's asked about you. Ever since she should talk. He is too."
You added once more, eyes softened and looking at Bill's face as you saw the expression he held as he stared at his kids playing with his twin brother.
"I want to…but they don't know me at all. And it's my fault." Bill sighed, looking down as he had his elbows in his knees, leaning forward as he sighed.
"It's not your fault." You added immediately, shaking your head. Bill scoffed sarcastically.
"Yeah. It is. They had first steps, first words, everything." Bill said, looking over at you for a moment before he went back to looking at the floor.
"And I wasn't there for any of it…"
"I can show you pictures, videos. Anything you want." You offered quickly, wanting nothing more than for him to just be there for them.
"It's not the same." Bill said quietly, playing with the rings on his fingers. You sighed, shoulders slumped.
"Come on, don't be like that."
"How can I not?" Bill asks, sitting back up as he turns over to you. "I mean- what if I'm not even a good dad? I may suck-" Bill went on, cut off by your chuckling.
"Hey! What?" Bill asked, slightly offended but more amused as you continued laughing, his own shoulders slumped as he tried to find the humor.
"You think I didn't have those same doubts?" You chuckled softly.
"I was seventeen and pregnant, and you're barely finding out now. Of course you're scared." You explained softly to Bill, smiling at him in amusement.
"I know but-"
"No buts. The thing is if you wanna be a part of their lives or not. So, do you?" You cut off Bill, leaving no room for discussion.
Bill fell silent at your words, studying your face for a moment as he took in everything.
He took in you, your son and your daughter.
Who were now his son, and his daughter.
And maybe, just maybe, he could actually have a shot at something real.
So with one final sigh and a deep breath, Bill nodded, turning to look at your kids as they played while tackling Georg to the ground as Tom cheered them on and as Gustav fought for his drum sticks back.
"(D/n)! (S/n)! Come here for a minute." Bill could barely breathe as you called out for your kids.
Their heads snapped to you, deciding to ultimately stop terrorizing Bill's friends and brother as their little feet ran over to you.
"Yes, mama?" Your son nodded, a complete mamas boy with admiration stemmed from his birth with wide eyes of love looking at you.
Your daughter however was sassy, always having something to say but loving and kind, and even if it was hidden, she still loved you and her brother.
And soon enough, her dad.
You took both your babies hands, pulling them softly towards you before you turned them to face Bill with a soft smile.
You nodded, encouraging them and Bill as you spoke.
"Baby…this is your dad."
Your daughter and son looked at you with a blank face for a moment. They then turned to each other quietly, having a silent discussion.
After what felt like a lifetime they finally looked at Bill. Their dad.
Bill finally took in how alike they looked. And how much they looked like him. He felt no out but he picked apart every feature of his and yours.
And he couldn't help but admit they were the most beautiful kids he had ever seen.
From their hair to their feet they were gorgeous, so small and beautiful they Bill couldn't believe he took part in bringing them to life.
"You're our dad?" Your son mumbled out, stepping closer to Bill with wide eyes of curiosity as he admired his look.
Bill nodded softly as he couldn't find the words as the mini him stepped closer.
"You look like me." Your son mumbled, in the same trance as Bill was as you watched with bated breath
Your daughter however, cut to the chase.
"Why do you look like that?"
Bill laughed, snapping out of his trance with his smile now wide and like before when it first captured your heart.
The words of his daughter, and the way his son held his hand could only make his smile bigger. Wiping away the tears that made his eyes glistened he chuckled.
"You look like me, schön." Bill stated, your daughter's face scrunched up as she turned to her brother, looking over her now uncles who gave you guys space now.
"If we do then how come we've never met you?" Your daughter innocently asked, your son nodding along as he always went along with his sister.
You almost frowned as Bill's eyes and smile dampened for a moment, about to step in and blame yourself before Bill glanced at you.
He sighed, giving a small smile to you as he tapped your thigh before turning to your guys' children.
"It's my fault. I haven't talked to mom in a while and…I didn't know you guys were here." Bill frowned as he explained, and even so did Tom, Gustav and Georg.
The guys all stood watching from afar, not wanting to interrupt but can't help but admire their niece and nephew.
"Why not?" Your son mumbled out, tilting his head up at his father as Bill once again sighed, holding your son's hand as he sat him down beside him on the trunk.
"Because I'm an idiot. I didn't know mom was trying to get to me. A lot of stuff happened." Bill frowned, running a hand through your son's hair.
"Is that gonna happen again? Are you gonna stay?" Your daughter asked, frowning as almost tears were in her eyes out of fear of losing her father after barely knowing him.
"No! No, it won't happen again. I'm not leaving you," Bill said quickly, grabbing your daughter's hand as she stood close.
It took a moment before your daughter nodded hesitantly, taking a second before she climbed up on Bill's legs, looking up at him while close to his chest.
"Good, because mamas lonely."
"What?! You little-" you said, laughing as you went in to tickle her stomach. Your daughter burst into giggles as you did, hiding into Bill's arms as she covered herself in his jacket.
"It's true, mama." Your son mumbled, smiling and laughing softly as he stood behind Bill's back, peeking out from his shoulder with an arm around his dad's neck.
You playfully rolled your eyes at your kids, but watched softly as Bill laughed along with his kids, happily wrapping his arms around them.
"Does this mean we're uncles now?!"
You guys looked up to see Tom, hands on his hips with Gustav and Georg recruited beside him.
"Tom-" Bill sighed, wanting space for a moment as his twin shushed him.
"I just met mini yous and that's weird enough we wanna at least know them better." Georg explained, hands in his pockets as your kids turned to you excitedly.
"So we do have uncles?" Your son asked, eyes beaming with hope as your daughter nodded along, looking for your answer.
"I guess so." You chuckled softly at your son, leaning over to kiss his cheek as he smiled, scrunching up his face before he hid his face in Bill's neck.
Your daughter did as well before she noticed Bill's tattoos, eyes beaming as she held his fingers and tracing every line while asking questions after question.
You then watched Bill smile as he held the hands of his kids as your daughter prodded his hair and your son went on about animals he learned about in school, you couldn't help but think things would be alright.
But something was different.
You couldn't help but notice the smile he gave you. It was one like the night you guys first met, beaming and happy like he just discovered something he would cherish forever.
Maybe because Bill's eyes held more love in them than ever before.
------------------------------------------------
@billybabeskaulitz @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @spectr3inl0ve @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan
573 notes · View notes
sebastianswallows · 1 year
Text
It's not like any other love | S.S. | Part 1
— PAIRING: dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!MC
— SYNOPSIS: In order to cast an unforgivable curse, you have to mean it. So how does Sebastian make himself want to hurt the girl he’s been harbouring a huge crush on?
— WARNINGS: angst, jealousy, unrequited love (or is it?), hurt/comfort, abstractly violent imagery, suggestive wand-work, and just an unfun time in the catacombs with Sebby and Omi and the MC that’s caught between them.
— WORDCOUNT: 1.3k
— A/N: Not beta read (except by remus-levioso 🙏 tysm) or existing with any sense or purpose. I just wanted to write something for this little troublemaker and I couldn’t stop thinking about how Sebby could hurt MC when he only seems to have positive feelings about her. I started to think about how he could hype himself up to wanting to hurt her, and just went down a rabbit hole of angst. Spoilers for the game, obvi. I hope you enjoy this, my lovelies 💞
Tumblr media
“It won’t work unless you really mean it,” said Ominis, or something along those lines… Sebastian was already a wreck of fidgeting and frets as he stood in front of that door of marbled horror, watching from the corner of his eye while his new friend tried to get Ominis to cast the unforgivable. He didn’t want to think that they were doomed to die here, even with Noctua Gaunt’s skeleton beside him — he couldn’t accept it. Sebastian would batter his head against this problem, like he had done with every other one before it, and prevail.
He tapped his foot on the floor and slid a glance to Ominis again. As expected, he was shaking his head “no” and physically distancing himself from the new fifth year. Coward, Sebastian thought before he could stop himself — because it wasn’t fair, he reasoned, to hold it against Ominis after what he’d been through with his family. He promised himself he’d understand his friend, would sympathise, would listen… But what a coward.
“Ominis won’t cast it,” said the girl once she was by his side again. “What do we do now?”
And that’s how it started.
Sebastian was soon placed in the uncomfortable position of having to give free rein to those parts of himself he had, especially as of late, try to restrain. He was striving to be softer, gentler, more understanding — for Anne’s sake if not his own, and Ominis seemed to appreciate it too, and it wouldn’t do to scare off their new friend either. How sad, then, that casting the curse meant that Sebastian had to dig up all those freshly buried feelings that caused him so much regret — and all of them about the girl before him.
He prepared to cast the curse. In his mind, with one quick force of will, memories of recent days were summoned to the surface.
First, he brought up that spark of envy from when she first defeated him, at the duel in Professor Hecat’s class — the twinge of shame as well, because he liked it, because he wasn’t even mad that she had bested him, because she was genuinely better. Better than him? Hatred, jealousy, resentment.
Second, their meeting in the Charms class — which didn’t happen because she sat next to a Gryffindor and why? Why? Did she think him not good enough to sit with?! He’d joked to Ominis about casting Accio on people, certain that his blind friend wouldn’t know who he was looking at, but from Ominis’ suggestive retort — “Well, you’d be using it on clothing to be precise, Sebastian.” — he couldn’t be too sure of that. And how cruel of Ominis, if he said it on purpose, to make him think of summoning the clothes off her, pulling her toward him, landing her naked and helpless, in his arms… Resentment, longing, complete and utter despair.
Third, the Library. After he offered to show her the forbidden section, after he waited for her by the stairs for hours like a lovestruck puppy, after he protected her and took detention for her… all she had to say was “thanks”? He’d never felt so stupid as when he realised he expected far too much for far too little — because the only thing he really had to offer to her was himself, his knowledge, his skills, his sacrifice. Was he just not chivalrous enough? Was he not impressive enough? Was he just not… enough, at all? Despair, shame, crippling self-pity.
But she was enough for him — or so it seemed to his stupid smitten head, his roiling heart, his swirling dreams at night like so many teasing mermaids tucked behind their algae in the lake, like her in her forbidden bedroom up the stairs that slid beneath his feet — after just a couple of duels and a nighttime escapade among his favourite books and a trip to Hogsmeade to the flutter of lacewing flies (and the thumping of trolls). Sebastian couldn’t remember the last time he was so smitten so quickly and he wasn’t even sorry, he gladly shared every secret with her one by one just to see the sparkle in her eyes and would go into the deepest dungeon with her just to show off and he caught himself saying the stupidest most barefaced lies just to see her smile.
But no, she was impressed with Ominis, and his ability to talk to snakes, his sad past, his Undercrof… What a fool. Ominis wouldn’t be the least bit interested, he was too caught up in himself, too distant, too troubled — and in his more humane moments, Sebastian felt sorry for him, which perfectly counterbalanced the moments when he wished he’d been born in Ominis’ stead and had parents that taught him forbidden spells and told him all the time about his great lineage descending straight from Salazar himself. Oh. Of course she’d like Ominis better. Ominis, tragic and handsome and kind, who knew all the darkest curses and a catalogue of hexes and worse, who would rather die than hurt her. Well, Sebastian could do better than that, at least — he’d hurt her eagerly.
She wanted to learn the curse, she said. So he taught her. He showed her the motion, took her cold and clammy hand in his and guided her wand from behind, whispered the curse in her ear until he was satisfied she did it right —
“You need to say it as your wand descends.”
“Now?”
“No, start from higher. Like this, arm bent… Toward me. Closer.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Like cutting through flesh. Strong, forward motion.”
“Like this?”
“Just like that. Perfect, you’re perfect. I love teaching you curses, you’re so good… so good at it. Now, say it as I told you to.”
— and then, once she was ready, Sebastian took his place before her.
For once, Sebastian forgot how he felt about himself, and focused his emotions — mixed and myriad and primal — on her. It was, unsurprisingly, very easy. With the warm and soapy scent from behind her little ear and the tickle of her hair against his lips still fresh, he said it. The curse was tinged with his resentment for her, his jealousy of her, his yearning and hatred and want.
The flash of red moved in such a way as to cleave her open, as if he could, with a bolt of light, break her apart and peel her ribs away one at a time until he could get right to her heart, cup it in his hands, and steal it away.
What a piercing cry she gave, high and frail and consummately feminine. From the side of his senses, Sebastian could tell even Ominis was shaking, there in his corner where he cowered from the act. He could hardly blame his friend, it made his skin shiver too to get her to sound like that, to bring her to her knees, to make her moan and tremble with the aftershocks of pain. He’d admired her before, but now he just desired her — she’d never looked softer, more mortal, more fleeting, her skin drained of all colour as blood rushed away to escape the pain, her bones looking delightfully breakable, her chest heaving with sinking breaths that choked her and strangled her from within and left her dizzy. Sebastian was by her side as soon as the curse was over, equal parts fascinated and contrite, hands burning with the desire to just hold her.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Part of him hoped more than anything that she was, that she forgave him, that she understood he had to do it. But another part wanted to see her scarred and ruined and at his mercy, his to nurture back to health, his to sustain, his to hold.
She got up before he even got to touch her, his hand left hovering in the air just above where she shoulder had been, and beside them the door of muted screams melted away, revealing the Scriptorium.
1K notes · View notes
gnreadergames · 10 months
Text
Find Something to Wrap Your Noose Around (pt 1)
Tumblr media
Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader
Plot: Miguel gets tapped with a poison that makes him feral. His relationship with the reader is a stake…but neither want to give up that easily.
Cw: Angst! It gets better in later parts though…
WC: 2820
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
There was a harsh slam from the front of the apartment.
From your place in the back bedroom, folding fresh laundry, you jumped. Miguel must be home. He must’ve had a bad day.
Lyla confirms your suspicions when she pops up next to you, giving you half as large of a scare.
“Jesu-“ you clutch your heart, “Lyla you can’t ju- whatever- is he alright?” You ask, quietly as you can because you know Miguel will pick up anything he can focus on across this apartment and even through the walls with his heightened senses.
Lyla shakes her head, and your stomach drops. He’s either pissed or hurt. Or both.
You abandon the laundry to seek a more important goal.
You find Miguel clutching the kitchen island. His knuckles are torn through the suit, something hard to do with the nearly impenetrable fabric. You can see other tears littering the surface of his torso and powerful legs. You swallow.
It’s never usually this bad.
“Miggy…” you say, quietly. “What happened honey?”
He doesn’t respond so you decide to gently, slowly reach a hand out to touch his shoulder. But before you can even make contact he whips around towards you and leaps with a feral snarl.
“MIGUE-“ you can’t even get through the scream of his name before he’s on top of you, red eyes glowing and fangs popping out even longer than they usually seem. His talons sink into your thin flesh and for a minute you genuinely think you’re about to die, here on the floor of Miguel’s kitchen on some average Tuesday.
Lyla has thought ahead though, and at that moment a light flashes in your peripherals a swirling portal of blue and orange. Before you can turn to look, the weight of Miguel is thrown off you to the side and a loud crack echoes across the apartment as his back meets the side of the island with a harsh dent.
Three people hop out of, what you can only assume, is a portal.
A tall man with brown hair, a 5 o'clock shadow and a small red headed child strapped to his chest, a very pretty very pregnant taller woman, and a smaller girl with blonde choppy hair all fold out in a line.
You’re still not sure what’s happening, and your brain is on too much adrenaline to think of anything other than the immediate danger right now.
Somehow, your sweet, caring, and sometimes grumpy boyfriend has become some sort of…feral killing machine.
You realize suddenly that you’re practically hyperventilating as Lyla stands over you and snaps a few times, calling your name.
“Y/N…Y/N!” She says. Her glowing form is painful to look at right now but not as painful as the shallow cuts on your arms from Miguel’s claws. You belatedly realize you’re bleeding when the younger blonde woman comes over and crouches beside Lyla to inspect your arms.
“Peter, they’re bleeding.” She calls back to the man, Peter, you assume. You glance in that direction to see him and the other woman standing over Miguel.
“What's happen-“ you try to sit up but your head spins.
‘Minorly concussed’ Lyla explains. Which also explains why you’re pretty sure you’re seeing other Spider-people right now.
Unless everything has just suddenly gotten weird.
It seems it can only keep getting worse though, as it’s then you realize that Miguel could be getting back up any minute. You turn your head sharply with a twinge of hot pain up your neck as your heart rate spikes at the thought of the experience you just had happening again.
Your fears are quelled though once you see that Peter and the other woman, Jess, you learn from the blonde one talking to her too, have Miguel in some sort of cuff like contraption he struggles against.
He’s also muzzled. You’d almost laugh if he hadn’t tried to kill you a few minutes ago.
The baby on Peter’s chest babbles and yeah, you’re definitely seeing things now because this is just so bizzare you can’t imagine how you had gotten dragged into this.
Suddenly, a large and lanky man with a scary looking Mohawk of spikes steps through the still glowing circle in your wall.
Lovely. More of them.
Peter and the man talk for a second and then you see the scary man look towards you.
No. No.
Whatever is about to happen you’re not on board with it as this strange man hoists you bridal style like you weigh nothing. You’d attempt to fight back if you had any strength left in you, but the further you get towards the glowing portal the more your brain begs for sleep.
As the man steps through, you drift off into a dream.
-
You wake with a start.
The first thing you notice is that your headache is much, much, worse. The second thing is that you are pointedly not in your own apartment.
You were hoping the thing with Miguel was just some sort of fucked up bad dream but judging by your bandaged arms and throbbing temples, it was all real.
The blonde woman is sitting in the corner of the room, a white and sterile looking place that you’d assume to be a hospital room if you couldn’t see an absolute amalgamation of spidermen, just like Miguel, milling about outside the glass wall on your left.
Your jaw drops.
What is happening.
Are you suddenly crazy? Have you seriously gone mad? This has to be some sort of psych ward if this is what your brain is coming up with.
The blonde woman notices your consciousness. She has another young man with curly hair beside her, a similar age you guess from their similar build and height.
“Hi, how are you feeling?” She asks as she stands from a chair and walks to your bedside.
“Am I going insane?” You ask.
She blanches at that, obviously not expecting it.
“Um- no you’re not. This is all real. My name is Gwen and this is-“ she gestures to the boy, “Miles. We’re assigned to watch over you until you wake up and are feeling better.”
You swallow. That explains almost nothing.
“But- what is this place?” You look back out the window.
“Oh! This is HQ.” Gwen says, like that means anything to you.
“HQ for what?” You say.
That seems to make it click for Gwen. “You mean…Miguel didn’t tell you?” She quirks an eyebrow seemingly genuinely confused that Miguel wouldn’t share his involvement in…whatever this is.
“No- no he hasn’t mentioned anything. I mean, I know he’s Spider-Man but there’s like- a million of you…” you drift off, shifting to sit up in your bed.
Miles laughs from behind Gwen. She shoots him a look and he blushes looking down at his feet.
“Well not a million but- yeah there’s a lot.” She says. “This is HQ for the spider-multiverse.”
“The what?” You ask, still confused.
“You know what let me just-“ she sighs and pulls up a watch on her wrist. It’s identical to the one Miguel used to wear around his arm back home. He’d always been shady about it but now you know why.
“Lyla, help me out here will you?” She asks into the watch. The familiar glowing figure pops up and it sends such a pant for homesickness into your heart that you almost want to cry. She’s an island of normalcy in a horrible sea of crazy right now.
“Hi, Y/N!” She greets in her constantly chipper voice.
“Hi…” you repeat. Gwen slips the watch off her wrist and holds it out to you. Gently, you clutch it in your hands as Lyla explains the many, many, thousands of worlds and Spider people in them. The information is shocking enough but most jarring is the fact that Miguel has been running it all almost 24/7.
You knew nothing about this.
For a brief, fleeting moment you feel slightly betrayed. He didn’t trust you with this, so what else could he be lying about?
But then you remember where you left off with him. A spike of fear shoots up your aching spine.
“So where’s Miguel?” You ask frantically, looking between Gwen, Lyla, and Miles for an answer. None of them seem to have one for you.
“Let me get ahold of Peter…” Gwen says as she lifts the watch out of your hands. You twiddle your thumbs nervously, the movement of the muscles sending tiny waves of pain up your arms.
Gwen finishes whatever call she turned to make with this Peter guy and spins back around.
“So, this is going to sound weird.”
You laugh.
“This entire day has practically flipped my world upside down. Hit me.” You deadpan. Miles laughs again but Gwen huffs a snort with him this time.
“So, currently Miguel is being held in our prison sector.”
Your heart drops.
“Why? Is he okay?” You shoot off questions faster than she can answer as you sit further and further up in the bed.
Gwen holds her hand up to slow you down and you take the signal, snapping your mouth closed.
“Ok, well here’s what I know.” She starts. “Miguel got some sort of poison from his last battle. It reacted badly with his DNA that’s part Spider and he’s currently pretty feral. That’s why he attacked you. They have him in an impenetrable cell in the holding area and he’s been muzzled for his own safety.”
You cannot believe this.
Those scratches, they must’ve been really really bad to cut through his suit like that. That must’ve been why he had come home in such a foul mood, he wasn’t thinking straight.
He must’ve been out of his mind completely when he attacked you.
“They’re working on an antidote, hopefully it’ll be ready soon.” Gwen says with a small smile. It does little to cure your nerves but it’s still nice of her to try.
Miles pipes up finally from behind her. His voice is soothing.
“We can take you to see him.” Miles says.
Gwen really does shoot him a look then. You giggle to yourself. It reminds you so much of you and Miguel’s relationship. If these two aren’t together they probably will be soon, you think.
“I’d like that.” You say, standing from your bed.
-
They were right. Miguel isn’t himself.
He’s huddled up in the furthest corner of the red block. The cell borders are reinforced, so you don’t fear much when you walk up to crouch next to the front wall.
Miguel smells you or senses you, something along those lines, because the minute you rest on the balls of your feet, his head swivels like a snake around to fix you in that terrible red gaze.
His eyes are practically glowing as he barrels towards the wall you’re at and slams his full body weight into it. His talons are out, clawing furiously and futilely at the screen. If this cage was even half as sturdy as it currently is Miguel would’ve killed you by now.
You can’t imagine what would make him act like this, even if his primal instincts are being tapped into. You’re his partner. Surely even in such a state Miguel would recognize you?
Apparently not, as Miguel also attempts to bite at you through both the muzzle and the wall. You sigh.
There’s something cold and unsettling about seeing him this way. He’s barely ever gotten angry at you, has never once blown up on you and it’s absolutely unfathomable that he would ever lay a hand on you. So now, seeing this side of him, it breaks your heart.
“He’s a little crazy right now.” A man’s voice says from behind you. You look up from where you’re sitting cross legged on the ground to see the same man from before, Peter, standing with his hands gently bouncing the smiling baby in front of him.
You can’t help but smile as the little girl lets out a joyous giggle, even as Miguel still tries to claw his way to you from inside the cage. You’re glad it’s soundproof, you’d probably have to leave if it wasn’t.
“You know him?” You ask. Peter takes his cue and sits next to you with a groan as he saddles his body down into the same position. You feel that same sensation, painful joints and now painful muscles with your injuries. You can’t imagine throwing the exhaustion of a kid into the mix.
You won’t lie though, you had thought about it. Miguel had mentioned a hypothetical child once or twice, but you could tell it was something he wanted more than anything. And before all of this, you would’ve given him what he asked for in a heartbeat. Seeing Miguel as a dad would’ve made you the happiest person in the world.
“Yeah I know him.” Peter finally answers your question. “I’m like his right hand man. Or I was at least. Maybe his left hand man now that I have this one,” he tickles the soft tummy of the girl and she cackles with glee. You smile at them.
“He never mentioned any of this.” You say.
“He never mentioned you.” Peter says.
That breaks your heart a little, but you don’t let it show.
On the other side of the screen Miguel has seemingly given up on trying to kill you, at least for now. Tiring himself out seems to have mellowed him slightly as he now sits eye level with you, panting and crouching in anticipation.
You sigh.
“How long will he be stuck like this?” You ask. You don’t expect an exact answer, not wanting to get your hopes up.
“I…I don’t know. We shouldn’t have let him go home like that. It was our fault you got hurt. Jess and I-“ he must mean the other woman you surmise “-we thought he lived alone, and even though he doesn’t get cut often we had no idea the anomaly could do that.”
“You couldn’t have known.” You say, trying to comfort him a little, even though you feel slightly hollow.
“We’re working on it though. We’re gonna fix this.” Peter says with a new determination. You smile half heartedly. He stands suddenly, renewed with more energy than he sat down with. “I’m going to go check on that antidote. You’re a little better right?” He gestures to your arms.
You nod. It’s the best you can give him in this situation.
He nods back and walks towards a large hallway opening.
You turn back to Miguel.
The area in which they have him housed is empty and large. His cage stands in the back part of the room. As far as you can tell, it’s just you two now.
Your arms still hurt, but your head has gotten better with some walking and Tylenol.
“Miggy…” you sigh. There’s so much built up stress just from the past few hours that it makes your entire body tense. You lean forward and place your hand on the glass-like substance.
Miguel’s eyes flick quickly to it and for a second you see a look on his face that seems almost like himself again.
It shocks you when he puts his hand back up to the glass mirroring yours.
You tear up.
“Miguel.” You beg. “Please, please come back.”
He doesn’t seem to understand, and the moment passes, as he licks his fangs through the muzzle. His talons pop out and he begins clawing where your hand just was again. You sigh.
It was worth a shot.
You stand, pushing yourself up of the ground. “Okay, we’ll- if you’re like this there’s no point in me being here.”
You turn to leave, maybe you can find Gwen and ask her to get you some food. You have a suspicion you’re going to need more Tylenol to-
“Y/N-“ a ragged voice says from behind you.
You whip around.
Miguel, your Miguel stares back at you. His eyes are wide and terrified but it’s definitely him even if it is for just a split second.
As quick as it’s there, it’s gone. Whatever is overriding his system comes back with vigor as you race towards the cage and press yourself desperately against the glass.
“Say it again- Miguel, please, say it again-“ You are breathy and panicked. He’s in there. Somewhere.
Miguel, the feral one, continues to paw at where you stand with his nails.
“I’m going to get you out.” You press your forehead up against the glass and look into his eyes.
There’s a sound from behind you and Gwen’s voice echoes from the doorway.
“Hungry?” She asks as you quickly pull away.
“Absolutely.” You say, following her.
As you leave you glance backward. Miguel stands, watching you leave.
You’re going to get him back, even if it kills you.
1K notes · View notes
octoberclidan · 8 months
Text
Can You Look at Me?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Request: She hunts with Sam and Dean for a long time, they are inseparable best friends. She has feelings for Dean, but doesn't have hope he feels the same (he feels the same) because he often has one night stands with blonde busty barbies. When this happens reader is super sad,because she's more the small and petite type and not the busty tall model. One night the three celebrate in a bar and Dean as always flirts with a bitch, to distract himself from his feelings for his best friend. Unfortunately there's a guy hitting on her and he's super intrusive and she tries to defend herself but the guy is three her size. He spiked her drink and she slowly begins to feel faint. He violates her. After some time dean notices that a creep violates her in a corner....
She's out of it and Dean brings her to the bunker. She has a worrying reaction to the drugs and he takes care of her. She has a respiratory depression and later she's suffering from being violently sick. I really like Dean and Sam to be protective and worried care taker =)
Note: this is 18+ and contains sexual harassment and assault.
Masterlist
Story:
"Hey, you up for a bit of a celebration tonight?" Sam found [Y/N] in her room, updating her journal with details from the witch hunt they'd just arrived back from that morning. She glanced up at him and smiled, nodding at him.
"Sure, just our local bar?" She asked and he nodded once.
"Yeah, and just the three of us, Cas has heaven business to attend to". He walked over and pulled a chair over to sit down beside her bed. She closed her journal and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly something was on his mind. "So, you uh, think you'll see someone you like there?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.
"Sam, come on".
"What?" He grinned at her.
"You are far more invested in this than I am".
"Why don't you make a move tonight? You're on a high from the hunt, he's on a high from the hunt...". She glared at him and he raised his hands in defense. "Look, all I'm saying is, you two stare at each other all the time. Cas has even pointed it out. You can deny it all you want, but I know you have feelings for him, and I know he has feelings for you. I say you take your shot tonight". He shrugged before he stood up and put the chair back. "We leave in ten". He smiled at her annoyed expression before leaving the room.
Sam had been nagging [Y/N] about her feelings for Dean for months. She hadn't admitted anything, but he knew her too well, seeing right through her. She always found Dean attractive, anyone would, but her feelings for him evolved into something more solid after she'd moved into the bunker a year previous. She'd spent a lot of time with both Sam and Dean, and Cas too, and she'd come to genuinely love all of them. Cas was someone she could talk to about anything without fear of judgement, Sam was someone who she trained with, researched with, worked well with, and cared very deeply for. Dean was someone who she got along with without having to put in any effort, they just clicked. They got each other, they knew how to read each other, they looked out for each other, they knew when something was wrong with the other, and they enjoyed each other's company, even in silence.
Sam seemed to think that she just didn't have the courage to tell Dean how she felt, but courage wasn't the issue, at least not entirely. She had never been too scared to tell a man how she felt about them. The main issue was that even on the off chance that he did like her too, it would never work. Their ability to hunt together would be affected if there was a relationship involved. They often argued after bad hunts, when they were tired, physically hurt, and emotionally drained. She knew that put a strain on their friendship sometimes, and even though they always got over it, she also knew that it would do even more damage to a romantic relationship. Besides all of that, she was also almost certain that he didn't feel the same about her anyway, since she simply wasn't his type. Although Dean looked short next to Sam, he was still a tall guy. She'd never seen him go for a shorter woman. She'd also never seem him go for a woman with her body type, he tended to go for women with curves in all the right places, curves that [Y/N] just never had. She tried not to dwell on it too much, but that wasn't something she succeeded with.
She picked out a simple black dress from her closet which hugged her thighs, decided to leave her hair down, added some simple pieces of jewellery, and put on a pair of plain black high heels; something to give her a little bit of height. She didn't dress up often, they didn't really go out much. A lot of the time they were on hunts a few days away from the bunker, and when they were over they'd usually celebrate in whatever bar was closest to the case before heading back, meaning they usually went out in whatever clothes they brought for the hunt. Their last hunt wasn't that far away though, so they'd driven through the night to get home instead of going out. It was a rare opportunity for [Y/N] to dress up and feel pretty for once, and who knows, maybe there'd be a new local or someone passing through who she could make a good first impression on.
Once she was happy with how she looked, or as happy as she could be with what she had to work with, she picked up her purse and walked out to the war room to meet the boys. Sam raised his eyebrows when he saw her, and even though she had no feelings other than platonic for him, she couldn't help the blush on her cheeks under his stare. "Wow, you clean up well". He said, and his remark pulled the attention of Dean, who'd been distracted looking under the table for something when [Y/N] had walked in. He looked her up and down before clearing his throat and looking to Sam. Although she'd been building a wall between herself and her feelings for Dean, she had to admit that his lack of acknowledgement of the effort she'd put into her appearance stung a little.
"You sure you haven't seen them?"
"I told you, you were wearing them when we got back and then you disappeared off into your room, so if they're not in there and they're not out here, then I've no idea where your boots are Dean".
"Well I can't go out in just my socks".
"You seriously only own one pair of boots?" Sam asked him, crossing his arms with an amused expression on his face.
"No, but my other pair are covered in ghoul".
"Dean, that ghoul hunt was two months ago. You're telling me you've had those shoes rotting in your room all that time and haven't cleaned them yet? No wonder every time you open your door it makes the entire corridor smell like something's just died".
Dean just waved him off, muttering to him to go ahead and he'd meet them there as he wandered off back to his room. Sam and [Y/N] decided to walk to the bar since they intended on drinking properly, and it wasn't very far from the bunker. Although, she knew her feet would probably be hurting before she even got there with her not being used to wearing heels that much anymore. She figured it was worth the pain for one night.
The bar was busy when they got there, and [Y/N] grabbed a table while Sam went off to order drinks. She used the opportunity to scan the room, trying to see if there was anyone there that looked interesting. She noticed a man leaning at the bar ordering a drink ahead of Sam. What drew her attention to him was how similar he looked to Dean; same sort of height, build, clothes. Even his stance and they way he was smirking at the bartender looked like Dean. She watched him until Sam made his way back to the table with their drinks, looking away before he got back to the table, but he'd already caught her staring at him.
"He's not the real thing, you know that, right?" He chuckled as he sat down opposite her. She blushed and brought her drink up to her lips.
"I'm just looking, there's nothing wrong with that". Sam leaned forwards on the table, ready to start nagging again but she cut him off before he could start. "I want to enjoy tonight Sam, maybe find a nice man who's interested. I'm an adult, and I don't think I look too bad tonight, so I can do that if I want to". She took another sip of her drink.
"Yeah but Dean-"
"Sam. I said I want to enjoy the night, so drop it, okay?" They sat in silence for a few minutes with their drink, until Sam started talking about the type of magic that the witch they'd just killed had been using. She was half listening to him, half keeping an eye on the Dean lookalike while they made their way through their drinks.
"[Y/N]?" Sam waved his hand in front of her as she watched the man continue to flirt with the bartender, even his mannerisms were the same.
"Hmm?" She took a final sip of her drink.
"Are you listening? I asked if you ever found out what language she was speaking when she started to cast that spell".
"Oh, yeah, it was Irish, she was saying something about setting fire to either a man, or to the grass, one or the other, I couldn't remember exactly what she said". She looked back over to see the man now turned away from the bar, catching her eyes and smiling at her. She smiled back at him and Sam cleared his throat in an attempt to win back her attention. "Hey, you think Dean found his boots yet?" She asked, still looking at the man. The more she looked at him, a feeling of uneasiness started to grow inside her. He looked like Dean but he was missing the kindness in Dean's eyes, the warmth of Dean's smile, the aura of safety that she felt around Dean.
"He uh, found them awhile ago". She looked back at Sam in confusion, to see him looking over her shoulder with a grimace on his face. She turned around to see what he was looking at, and there Dean was. He was sitting in a booth with his arm around a girl that fit his type exactly, a smirk on his face as she giggled to something he'd just said. A wave of pain and jealousy flowed through her, but she found it difficult to look away. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and stood up.
"I need another drink". She didn't meet Sam's eyes, not wanting to see his pity, and made her way over to the bar to order, deciding to go to the far end from where the Dean lookalike was, now avoiding his gaze. Once her drink was on the counter, she turned back around to where she had been sitting with Sam, but there was another girl sitting where she'd been, and Sam was already completely immersed in conversation with her. [Y/N] sighed and leaned back against the bar watching them, leaving her drink on the counter beside her. She knew it had been awhile for Sam, and she was happy to see him smile. She took a long gulp from her drink and couldn't help but let her eyes wander over to Dean's booth, where his tongue was now definitely inside the girl's mouth. She tried to ignore the nausea she felt and was about to throw down some cash and head home early when someone cleared their throat beside her. Looking up, she saw a pair of green eyes. Cold, not warm like Dean's. Now that he was right next to her, she could see that he was taller than Dean, closer to Sam's height, and very broad.
"Hey, what's your name?" He smiled at her.
"[Y/N], sorry, I was actually just about to leave". She pushed off the bar but he stepped in front of her.
"What's the hurry? Not gonna finish your drink at least? I'm David". He held his hand out to her, and she glanced around him to Sam, but he was now facing away from her, having pulled his chair around to be closer to the girl he was talking to. She sighed but smiled and him and shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you, but I really am just gonna head home". She went to move around him but stumbled a little bit, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. She'd only had one drink with Sam, and half of a second drink, not nearly enough for her to feel tipsy. David's large hand grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.
"Woah, you okay?" He scrunched his eyebrows together, and she was almost convinced, but his concern didn't seem genuine.
"Yeah..'m just tired. Gonna get my friend". She made another attempt to step around him, but she tripped, and this time David's arms were around her waist and pulling her closer to him.
"Looks like you need some support". He chuckled and she tried to push his arms off her, but she felt strangely weak. She was a hunter, she was small, but she was strong, she had been trained by the two best hunters in the world, and even though this guy was over a foot taller than her, she should've been able to manuever out of his hold with ease. Her body just wasn't cooperating, it wasn't doing what she wanted it to.
"Get off". She meant it as a demand, but her voice came out quiet. The room was now spinning, she couldn't really see anything properly, but she felt the edge of the counter of the bar against her back, and David pressing her into it.
"You seem tense, I can help you let off some steam". He murmured into her ear, now close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath. She brought her arms up to push his chest, but again she couldn't find any strength in them. He chuckled, gripping her waist hard with both hands and pushed his knee in between her legs, pushing his thigh up under her dress to grind against her underwear. She was confused as to why she couldn't think straight, why she couldn't see properly, why she couldn't get away, and she started to cry, continuously trying and failing to push him away without success. She didn't know how long she'd been there, it could've been less than a minute, or it could have been half an hour, but suddenly the pressure from David was gone, and she was falling to the floor on her hands and knees.
***
Dean had found his boots not long after he'd left Sam and [Y/N] to go to the bar. He'd arrived only ten minutes or so after they had, and he'd gone up to the bar to order himself a drink with the intention of joining Sam and [Y/N] at theirs. He'd been waiting for his drink when a pretty woman had said hello to him, had complimented his smile, and had asked to touch his muscles. Dean never had to try very hard to get attention, and he knew it. However, it wasn't the attention he really wanted. He glanced over to [Y/N], but she was staring at another man on the other end of the bar, not noticing Dean at all. So, he decided that the pretty girl touching his muscles would be a good distraction, and maybe if he got talking to her, she'd be half as interesting as [Y/N].
He hadn't bothered to make himself known to Sam and [Y/N], and pulled the girl over to a free booth and wrapped an arm around her, ready to try and get lost in her. He made eye contact with Sam, who nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to [Y/N], but Dean could see that she wasn't paying any attention to Sam, she was still looking over at the guy at the bar. Trying to keep the jealously at bay, Dean chuckled and nodded at whatever the girl had just said to him, and leaned in to kiss her. When he finally decided that he wasn't having fun and wasn't into it when he knew [Y/N] was right there and interested in someone else, he made an excuse and got up from the booth. He turned to go over to Sam and [Y/N]'s table to tell them he was going to go back to the bunker, but [Y/N] wasn't there, some other girl was talking to Sam. Dean scanned the room and when he found [Y/N], his heart sank. The man she'd been looking at earlier was caging her in against the bar, and she was clearly crying. Dean had never felt anger like he had in that moment, and without thinking he marched over to the man, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off [Y/N]. He shoved him, and David stumbled backwards.
"What's your problem?" David asked, squaring up against Dean.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Dean's face was red with anger.
"Fuck off, find your own slut". David shoved Dean and Dean punched him without hesitation, right in the jaw. He stumbled back again, this time falling down onto his back. Dean hadn't noticed, but the people around him had cleared away and everyone was watching. Sam had immediately run over to [Y/N] who was on the ground, but Dean's attention was on David. He crouched down and grabbed a fistful of his collar, pulling his head up and getting in his face.
"If I ever see you again, if you ever touch her again, I will kill you". He waited for David to submit and nod, then let go, letting him fall back down, and with the look that Dean was giving him, he stayed down.
"Dean". Sam's voice called to Dean and he stood back up, gave David one last warning glare, and turned around to see Sam and [Y/N] on the ground. She was sitting in Sam's lap, and he was cradling her in his arms, rocking slightly in an attempt to comfort her. "There's something wrong with her, she's not breathing properly". Dean knelt down beside them, his anger turning to panic as he watched [Y/N] struggling to catch her breath, the tears still streaming down her face. He pushed her hair back off her face and wiped her tears away.
"Hey Sweetheart, you're safe, Sammy and I have you. Can you look at me?" He cupped her cheek but her eyes weren't focusing on him, she was looking all over frantically. "Okay, okay, come here". He looked to Sam. "Give her to me, we need to get her out of here". Sam nodded and carefully pushed her into Dean's arms, before getting himself up and helping Dean up with her. Sam walked ahead of Dean, clearing a path through the crowd and opening the door as Dean carried [Y/N], his hand holding her head close to his chest, determined not to let anyone hurt her or even get close to her.
Dean kept his eyes on her the entire walk home, and Sam kept trying to talk to her but got no response other than confused expressions. "She's completely out of it, how much did she drink?" Dean asked as they walked down the steps inside the bunker.
"Not enough to affect her like that. He definitely spiked her drink Dean". Sam had suggested taking her to a hospital, but Dean knew she wouldn't want that. He'd prayed to Cas during the walk home, and hoped that he'd be finished in heaven soon. He walked to her bedroom, Sam following quickly behind him. He laid her down on her bed and pulled back, and she started to panic, grabbing at his arm trying to stop him from letting go.
"Hey, hey, [Y/N] look at me". He put his fingers under her chin and angled her face towards his, but she still wasn't focusing on him. "I'm not going anywhere, you're in the bunker, you're gonna have to breathe properly for me, okay?"
"Dean, her colour is off, I think she's gonna be sick". Sam said from behind Dean. He stood back just in time to avoid being thrown up on as [Y/N] leaned over the side of the bed. He held her hair away from her face and rubbed her back, looking up to Sam for help. "I'll get her some water, move her to another bed and I'll clean this up".
"Thanks Sammy". Dean looked down to [Y/N] once Sam left the room. "Hey, do you think you're done? Or do you think you're gonna be sick again? Hopefully you've thrown up whatever was in that drink". He rubbed circles on her back and watched as tears formed in her eyes again.
"I'm sorry". She whispered, avoiding looking at him.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. How do you feel?"
"I feel weird".
"You weren't really with us for awhile there, you had both of us worried". She apologised again and sniffed before wiping her eyes.
"I don't feel like throwing up again". She mumbled.
"That's good, you're doing good. You wanna sleep in my room tonight? I have the most comfortable bed in the bunker". He reached over to wipe away another tear that escaped her eye and she nodded shyly at him. She tried to push herself off the bed but she still felt like she had no strength. "Don't push yourself, I'll carry you".
Dean carried [Y/N] to his room, noticing how she clung to his shirt as he did, and gently laid her down just as Sam walked in with a glass of water. "Thanks Sam". She said quietly, and he smiled at her and turned to Dean.
"Cas called, he's just finished in heaven and is on his way, should be here in a few hours. It's a good sign that she's talking now". He turned back to [Y/N]. "How are you feeling?" She just shrugged and took a sip of the water before handing it to Dean, who put it on the bedside table for her.
"I'm gonna stay with her until Cas gets here". Dean said, and Sam let him know to just call him if he needed anything. "You wanna move over a bit and let me in beside you? Or if you want your space I can sit in my chair instead, but I do want to be close by just to keep an eye on you". Dean wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms and protect her from everything, but he was also mindful of the fact that she may not want to be touched by someone after what happened, especially by someone who looked like the guy who hurt her. He smiled when she moved over in the bed and made eye contact with him. "Thank you Sweetheart".
He kicked off his shoes and pulled off hers too before he helped her under the covers and slid in beside her. She immediately lay her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist, and he wrapped both of his arms around her. She felt safe in his strong hold, and her thoughts were starting to clear up a bit. The tiredness was also setting in though, and she just wanted to fall asleep and forget that evening. Dean pressed his lips to the top of her head and whispered reassurances to her until her breathing evened out and deepened. She was safe, she was going to be okay, he was going to tell her how he really felt about her when she was better, and both Sam and Dean would make sure they were there to protect her in future.
The end
642 notes · View notes