#but that's like poking a fresh wound so. lol. some other day maybe. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anton-luvr · 7 months

Note

hiiiiii!! if you don’t mind could you write about ex boyfriend!anton who gets jealous of wonbin because he keeps making fem!reader laugh (they are having a staycation tgt after finishing finals). wonbin and her are currently cooking dinner at the kitchen while anton just sits on the sofa with the other friends (could be anyone tho). they look very close and comfortable with each other so anton chooses to go out to get some fresh air. he eventually decided to swim as it might help him to calm down a bit. not long after that, she comes to him to tell him that the dinner is ready but it turns out differently (anton drags her into pool with him lol and they have a long overdue convo there.)

thank youuuu no pressure tho ❤️❤️❤️

# ALWAYS WAIT FOR YOU.

𖦹 ex bf!anton x fem!reader | fluff & angst 𖦹 note ; im so sorry anon i felt like this could be better but my brain is just not.. braining. IM SORRY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT + reqs closing soon!!

"Here comes the choo choo train!" Wonbin coos, steering a spoon full of mashed potatoes towards you.

"Stop it!" you shriek, laughing as you whack his arm away from you. "I hate potatoes!"

Wonbin giggles, setting the spoon back into the pot.

"You didn't seem to hate potatoes when we were at the dining hall the other day," he jokes, poking you in the shoulder playfully.

You click your tongue, stepping away to look for parsley. "It was free food, 'Bin," you reason. "Who doesn't like free food?"

The glass jar of green herbs catches your attention, resting on the top shelf of the cupboard.

"Can you help me get the parsley? It's up there." you ask, tugging at his jacket.

"What would you do without me?" Wonbin laughs, ruffling your hair before easily reaching up for the jar.

Anton wonders the same thing as he watches the entire thing from the living room, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa.

The wound of your breakup from several weeks ago was still fresh, even though he was the one who called it quits.

Just because of one stupid misunderstanding over you coming home late, everything had blown out of proportion.

Amongst the tired shouting, confusing accusations, and tears shed, Anton had called it off in the heat of the moment.

He was really regretting it as he continued eyeing the both of you.

Did you really need to be so affectionate while making dinner?

Were mashed potatoes even that funny?

Why did you seem so much happier with Wonbin than you had been with him?

He feels his head spin from the jealousy and anger bubbling in his chest, and he stands up abruptly.

"I'm going out," the Boston-born boy mumbles. "Gonna get some fresh air."

Your other friends, Eunseok and Sohee, hum in response; they were too busy playing the PS4 to notice the discomfort in Anton's voice.

Frustrated, Anton ran his hands through his hair as he sat down by the pool.

How could he mess up so badly?

His mind mapped out a million different scenarios if he hadn't broken up with you, plagiarizing the poor boy's mind. If only he had just communicated with you.

"God, I hate this." he mumbles to himself.

Shaking his head, Anton yanks his tank top off and tosses it aside. Maybe a quick swim would help him clear his mind.

The serenity of the water calmed the thoughts in his head, and Anton tried to logically think of a way to solve the issue.

Maybe he could just talk to you? But if so, when and where? What was he even going to say?

Anton barely got to think of anything else when he heard someone calling for him.

"Hey, dinner's gonna be ready soon," you say, standing close by the pool. "Do you wanna go take a shower first?"

He grips on to the end of the pool, supporting his body as he caught his breath and stared at you.

"Are you okay?" you asked slowly, feeling flustered by his all-too-familiar stare.

Without another word, Anton pulls you right into the water with him.

"What are you doing?" you spluttered when you resurfaced, wiping the water off your face.

"I need to talk to you about something," Anton pleaded, his hands holding onto your waist.

"But here? Right before dinner?" you questioned, dumbfounded.

He nods, praying that you'd stay.

"Okay, fine. But make it quick." you mumble.

Anton feels his hands clam up as he clears his throat. He can't mess this up.

"Well, I'm... sorry." he mumbles, voice closing up.

A tense moment of silence passes by, only interrupted by the sound of water sloshing around as you treaded in the pool.

"That's all you have to say?" you ask. "Because if that's all, then I'm gonna head back inside."

"N-No, there's more." he hurriedly assures you.

Staring at him as if to say 'go on', Anton gulps.

"This is all my fault. I didn't mean to shout at you and accuse you of those things that night, I was just... I was worried. And jealous. And scared. I know it makes me sound like a shit person, and I kind of am a shit person, but I really didn't mean it." he starts.

"I didn't mean to break up with you, I was just so stupidly scared that you were out with someone else. I should've listened to you and given you a chance to explain your side of the story, and I'm just.. I'm just so sorry, Y/N. This is all my fault."

Tears start rolling down his cheeks, but he doesn't let that stop him.

"If you've already moved on and you're interested in... someone else, then I won't interfere," he sniffles. "But if you're not, then can we get back together?" he asks, so quiet that you can barely hear him.

Anton's hands slip into yours, and he holds on to them tightly. "I promise I'll change. I'll be the best boyfriend that you deserve."

His eyes gaze into yours sincerely, sparkly with tears and vulnerability.

"Anton, I don't know." you sigh.

"I'm not interested in anyone else right now, but you really hurt me that night." you whisper, voice laced with pain.

"Like, why would you even think I was out cheating on you? Don't you know that I love you too much to even think of doing that?"

Anton feels his heart shatter into a million pieces at your words, guilt crashing down even heavier on him.

"I know, I'm so sorry." he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. "But can you give me another chance?"

If this was with any of your other ex-boyfriends, you'd say no immediately and shove them away, but Anton was different.

He was the only one who actually treated you right; giving you his jacket when you're cold, trying his best to cook your favorite meals for you even if it's two in the morning, and helping you study when you couldn't understand a single question.

But of course, he wasn't perfect. He was still human after all.

And deep down, a part of you really wanted to stay and love him more, working together through his flaws to make the best out of your relationship.

So you sigh, gently cupping his face.

"Okay, I'll give you another chance." you whisper, smiling softly. Anton bursts into tears as he throws himself around you, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"Thank you," he repeats over and over again, pressing kisses all over your face.

You laugh at his sudden outburst of affection, gently pushing him away. "Okay, now let's go eat dinner first before we starve in this pool."

Anton nods, and with lightning speed, he's out of the pool and helping you out too. He grabs the tank top he had tossed aside earlier and drapes it around you as a towel. Then with one easy lift, he picks you up in bridal style.

"Thank you so much," he sighs, pressing another kiss to your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." you giggle.

With that, Anton carries the both of you inside, ignoring the surprised shouts coming from your friends as he rushes you into his room, both of you laughing and squealing.

You grunt when he drops you onto the bed, still laughing.

Anton beams, loving the sound of your laughter and swearing to himself to never make you unhappy again.

"Alright, I'll go shower and then you can shower, and we'll go eat dinner." you chirp, getting up.

A mischievous light sparks in Anton's eyes. "Why not we shower together? We can save time and water that way, you know." he suggests, smirking.

You scoff at the boy, chuckling. "Since when were you so concerned about the environment?" you teased, knowing what his true intentions were.

"You just stay out here and wait, I'll be done real quick." you scolded lightly.

Anton smiles, nodding readily.

He'll always wait for you.

#riize #riize anton #riize fics #riize fluff #riize icons #riize angst #kpop fics #kpop fluff #riize eunseok #riize seunghan #riize sohee #riize sungchan #riize shotaro #riize wonbin

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allthenamesithinkofaretaken · 1 year

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Hi. I don't usually do requests but I just can't help it. Okay so. Can you make a Immortal! Y/N x Death scenario where they spend their time on a flowery field and Muerte is helping Y/N make flower crowns for the both of them. OR! A scenario where they dance together (If you can add Team Friendship watching, that would be great lol).

There Was an Attempt:

Visit

[My stupid ass has been calling it a boat when there's a difference between it and a ship. Mothefucker. I also weaved some plot into this, but I tried to make it as quick as possible so it wouldn't get in the way of what anon wanted.]

"I can't believe we're heading to Far Far Away!" She squealed, jumping on the tips of her toes as she looked over the horizon of the already moving ship. The kingdom was already in sight from where they were, blurred from the slight fog that had settled. She turns to Muerte, who had chuckled at the excitement sparkling in her eyes, walking beside her and leaning against the railings of the ship and eyeing the waves that crashed against the side. The scent of the sea lingered in the air, and there were seagulls squawking overhead as they flew.

"Do you miss it?"

"Huh?" She turns to him, brow arched.

"Far Far Away. You were born there, right?"

"Yeah? …Did I tell you that?" She tilts her head to the side, also leaning on the railings beside him. He answered her question with a nod and she let out a breath of a laugh, clearly not remembering when that had happened at all.

"Well damn, I open up quick, don't I?"

"You do," he grinned. She pokes her tongue out at him, and he flicks her nose in response. "It's a surprise you don't have a therapist yet."

"It's not like I can just go in there and tell them I have a hundred years worth of pain and sadness I need to talk about," she grumbled, rubbing her nose with the flat of her fingers. "Also, you could have worn the suit? It would've helped in not creeping other people out." She eyed the rest of the passengers weirdly looking at them from the corners of their eyes, either with worry or a bit of concern as they passed.

"You just want to see me in it," he nudged her side.

"Maybe I do," she teased back, resting her arms against the railings.

"Well it's for special occasions only."

"Ah, so every day you have with me isn't considered a special occasion?" She places a hand on her chest, a faux look of hurt crossing her face. "You wound me, Muerte."

Rolling his eyes, he playfully shoved her sideways, a gasp escaping her before she shoved him back as hard as she could possibly do, only succeeding in swaying him from where he stood. He laughed, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to his side, feeling her melt into him in defeat.

---

"(Y/n)!" Perrito was the first to greet her, jumping from where he stood in excitement at the sight of them. They had agreed to meet somewhere in the woods (she thinks it was near some sort of swamp? She wasn’t sure, but she could smell the fresh mud from where they were.) But other than that, it was a beautiful place, the trees were tall and the leaves were thick, but not enough to cover the sunlight that made the place look even more alive. She could even see some sort of clearing near a river just behind the three.

"Perrito!" She ran past Muerte and towards the excited puppy awaiting her, letting him jump into her arms in a hug. She didn't stop there, however, also scooping the two cats up her arms, hearing let out groans of complaints as they were wrapped in a tight hug before finally succumbing to it.

"It's so nice to see you guys again," she grinned, carefully placing them down just as Muerte walked up to them.

Puss fixed his hat from his head, giving it a tilt as he grins up at her. "Well that's a welcome I could get used to,"

"Better than being scared the crap outta you, that's for sure." Kitty agreed, her gaze lifting up to Muerte who simply glared back at the cat.

(Y/n) looks up at Muerte with a curious brow arched, and he simply avoids her gaze as he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, a simple hint of a smile on his lips.

"Old habits die hard," Muerte shrugged, though (Y/n) could tell he was more than amused at the way he had probably scared the crap out of Team Friendship from the amount of times he's visited.

"Oh! I prepared some food for all of us so we don't get hungry while we talk!" Perrito chimed in, turning around and walking to the clearing behind them. Kitty and Puss looked at one another with a shrug, then followed the puppy towards a cute picnic that he had apparently set up.

"I have sandwiches! Tuna fish, chicken, egg— you name it!"

"Thank you! " (Y/n) sits down on the grass accepting one sandwich that Perrito had handed her as Muerte goes and sits right beside her, feeling his leg bumping against her own as he settles down beside her, also curiously looking down at the picnic basket that would've been impossible for the Chihuahua to have brought all by himself.

To his surprise, Perrito also hands him a sandwich, and he takes it into his hands, watching (Y/n) peel the paper wrapper off her own before taking a bite.

"So why are you here instead of the usual creepy visit from Death?" Puss starts, earning a glare from the wolf just as he was about to take a bite off his own sandwich. (Y/n) had to cover her mouth as she snickered.

"I just wanted to visit Far Far Away after such a long time, also, I wanted to be here when we tell you the news."

Perrito gasped, "You're getting married?!"

"What?!" The two cats looked up at them with widened eyes, and even Muerte began to choke on his food, thumping his chest with the side of his fist as he coughed.

"No!" She retorts, letting Muerte lean into her as he regains himself. Kitty and Puss looked at her for answers, while Perrito let out a small 'aw' at the side but paid attention nonetheless. "It's about the thing we hired you for in the first place." She let her voice fall to a hush, even if she was sure that there was no one around for miles and miles on end. This was Far Far Away, after all, and any animal around could easily be a spy from any princess or even the Pied Piper himself.

"Oh, you mean the Fountain of Youth?" Puss chimed in, looking up at her and seeing the look of bewilderment in her face. Puss turns to Muerte, who lets out a sigh as (Y/n) turns to him in a silent question.

"What Fountain of Youth?" She asked, a hard gaze settled on the wolf. Kitty could sense the tension even right before Puss had spoken, grabbing onto Puss and Perrito’s wrist and tugging them away.

"We'll give you some space to talk," Kitty said, leading her boys away from the scene and back somewhere into the forest, she glanced at their disappearing form, Perrito giving a wave that eased the tension away just the slightest before she turned back to Muerte.

"Why are they looking for the Fountain of Youth?"

"They're not looking for it," Muerte starts, "The Fountain of Youth has long disappeared."

She stays silent, letting him explain what he needed to.

"That's one of the Fountain's specialties. It's like a living thing. It knows its magic can do more harm than good so it tries to find a way where no one could try and take a part of it."

The riddle echoes in her head. 'What you seek has once been sought, and when it has, the lines get crossed. So it seeks to find where others could not, to keep it safe and it's magic unfraught.'

"What does that have to do with me?"

Muerte looked into her eyes, then took a hold of her hand, letting his thumb trace against the back of her palm, eyeing the mark of The Fates' embedded to her skin.

"When the Fountain is found, it does its best to make sure it never does so again. So the only way it does that is to… change its form whenever someone manages to use its magic."

"It was the Fountain of Youth for over a millenia, which is why most people know of it as such. But it's also been the tree of immortality, the river of life, the elixir of immortality and so on. Constantly changing it's form and where it's located so no one would be able to use it because when they do—"

" —the lines get crossed, " she cuts him off, and he gives her hand a squeeze as he nodded his head. "You think I'm the new form of the Fountain?"

"'No one makes an immortal also indestructible, unless their blood is more than valuable." Muerte recites the last thing the Fates had said.

"But that doesn't make any sense? It's always been a tree or a fountain or something with water in them, right? Why would it think of being an actual human?" She tugs her hand away from his own, and pushing herself to her feet to pace, hear head stirring from all the information that she was taking in. "Also, I was born into this world, how do you explain that? How does the Fountain of Youth turn into a human that's been born by a human woman?"

"I don't know, " Muerte stands to his feet, calming her down by placing both his hands onto her shoulders and letting her look up at him. "And we might never actually know, seeing that we can't ask your mother. But it's what makes sense right now. The Fountain has always tried to make sure that any human would have difficulty in getting to it. And what's more difficult than trying to cut indestructible skin? " His hands trail down to her arms, tracing patterns against the soft flesh. "What's more difficult than killing a life just so you could prolong your own?"

"Not a lot of people would find that difficult, honestly," she sighed, leaning forward to rest her aching head against his chest, shutting her eyes in hopes it would help ease the pain, Muerte placing gentle pats on her head. "So if I'm the new form of the Fountain. What are you getting Team Friendship to do?"

She could hear Muerte snickering at the name, "If that is true, the only way to find out is to see if they can find Excalibur again. Jack Horner had used it, but there’s no doubt someone already found it and sold it for some quick gold. And if it's the only sword that can cut you… well, then we'll know. "

"Why would it be able to cut me?" She pulls apart from him and he takes her by the hand, leading her into a spot in the clearing he had spotted earlier with more flowers than usual, getting her to sit beside him in the grass as he continues.

"It was made to kill anything, and if I'm not mistaken, the reason why the Fountain of Youth had changed form to the river of life was because they had used some of its water in making the sword itself. It's mostly the reason why anyone who wields it is safe from death."

She processes that information, her fingers weaving through the petals of the flowers beneath them. Muerte watches her take the flowers in her hand, lightly plucking them, careful as to not bring too much damage to the stem when she does, placing some of them in her lap before beginning to weave them together.

Without thinking too much of it, he plucks some flowers off the ground too, handing it to her when the supply in her lap had run out.

"Are you alright?" He asks after a prolonged silence, and she sighed, not taking her eyes off the flowers she was weaving.

"Yeah," she breathes out. "It's just a lot of information to take in." She holds up the one she's managed to weave so far, it wasn't big enough to wrap around someone's head, and she turns to him, asking him to lean downward which he does so hesitantly, letting her measure how long she needed to make to be able to wrap it around his head.

"Are you really making me another flower crown?" He asks, still plucking out flowers for her when she asks for it.

"I'm making flower crowns for everyone," she grinned, "Then we can continue the picnic and actually get along with one another. "

Muerte huffs, rolling his eyes. He could see Team Friendship in the background, leaning against a tree and seeming to be watching them from afar.

He glanced down at the crown she was currently weaving, a grin tugging up his face.

"Don't you think it would be better if all of us were here? I mean, Team Friendship is right there, they could make their own flower crowns."

"That's a great idea!" She immediately hands him the unfinished flower crown, taking it into his hands carefully as she pushes herself up to her feet, brushing away the dirt on her legs before sprinting over to the three. He knew that Perrito would be the one to agree, and when that happens, Puss and Kitty wouldn't be able to say no to what the puppy wanted them to do.

And now he watches with amusement as (Y/n) drags the three towards where he sat.

She didn't even bother taking her previously started flower crown back, deciding on starting a new one so she could teach the three how to properly do it the way that Vida had taught her how to.

He followed in on her instructions sooner or later. It was better than doing nothing, after all. Besides, he wasn't just going to leave behind an unfinished flower crown.

It didn't take long before Puss and Kitty had finished making theirs, swapping with one another and even laughing as they realized that what they made were far too big and looped around their necks instead. Perrito had finished first and had his own sat directly at the top of his head, even faking an accent as he claimed to be the 'flower queen', Puss and Kitty curtseying before falling into fits of laughs and giggles.

(Y/n) turns away from the scene to Muerte, eyeing the still unfinished flower crown in his much too big hands.

"Here, let me help," she takes her hands into his own, helping him loop the stem around the other ones before plucking another flower up from the ground.

The sound of guitar strings being plucked made their heads turn to the right, seeing Puss sitting down from afar (Where he was sure Muerte couldn't grab him), playing a guitar in his arms, giving the both of them a knowing wink before continuing to play.

"Don't look at me like that," Puss huffed as Muerte glared daggers into him. "It was Perrito's idea!"

The wolf's glare only deepened, (Y/n) laughing in front of him as she continued to weave the flower crown he held.

"Ladies, please, let's just enjoy the music," Kitty shrugs, walking back to their group with the unfinished sandwiches in hand, handing them to (Y/n) and Muerte, leaning against (Y/n) before grinning up at her. "He knows how to hit someone in the head with that instrument as much as he knows how to play it."

The music abruptly stops, and the two laugh loudly at Puss' unamused glare. Muerte simply watches (Y/n) return to her focus on the crown, eventually taking it away from his own to securely tie it together. She lifts it up, and he lets out a slight huff, already knowing what she was going to do and ducking down to let her place it atop his head. It fit just enough for it not to squish his ears, and when he looked back down at her, she had placed her own on her head.

Puss was still playing the guitar in the background, sometimes humming out a melody as Perrito and Kitty swayed together, the puppy giggling whenever Kitty decided to playfully poke at his sides.

"They're a happy family, aren't they?" She mumbled under her breath, leaning her head against his shoulder as they watched the three from where they sat. "It's nice that they found each other, they're an unlikely bunch and yet here they are. Do you think they'll be sticking together until the end?"

Muerte chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. "They made it this far, I doubt they'd think of losing one another now."

She melts into his warmth, not caring how Kitty and Perrito hooted at them to join them on the dance and even letting out a laugh as Puss tried so hard to hush the two.

"We'll stay here, thank you!" She yells back at Kitty.

"Okay, lovebirds!" The cat teased back, and she promptly rolled her eyes with a grin.

She could get used to this.

(Again, I'm making a lot of this shit up, so don't mind the Fountain of Youth changing forms or Excalibur being made differently from how it was actually done.)

#puss in boots #puss in boots death #puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots the last wish #death the wolf #death x reader #muerte x reader #pib:tlw #puss in boots the last wish x reader #fanfic #puss in boots the last wish muerte x reader #puss in boots the last wish death #puss in boots the last wish death x reader

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ackermansupremacy · 3 years

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Porco, pieck, zeke, and reiner headcannon with a partner who’s a warrior? I love your work btw!

These compliments mean so much to me ;-;

Porco, Pieck, Zeke and Reiner with a warrior s/o

Splash of angst warning!

Porco

Lowkey a simp lol

You guys probably met while training

He had his eye on you a lil bit

But you were always so focused on your training that you never really noticed him

Until he really started putting himself out there for you 💀

Then he started catching your attention a bit

When you two actually started dating he tried his best to remind himself not to be overly protective

He knew that if you were able to get this far you didn’t constantly need him to protect you

This didn’t stop him from hovering around whatever area your in a bit though

And stepping in whenever things start to look bad, but that was a rare occasion

One time he straight up GRABBED you in his titan form when you were almost severely injured

You really chewed him out for that one...

He always comes out of battles way more roughed up than you

You like to tend to his wounds sometimes

He doesn’t need it obviously, but he thinks its really kind of you to do and it feels like an intimate moment between the two of you so he would never stop you

He sneaks extra food rations for you guys too sometimes

“Babe look what I found!” “Found or stole?” “...Yes.”

Most of the time you spend together is always under serious circumstances so the time you guys spend together out of that is COMPLETE tomfoolery (as Zeke calls it)

Nothing really stupid, little childish things.

Ways to relive the childhood you didn’t really have

Its not often that you get to spend time with each other without the heavy atmosphere of war

So he likes to take you to old empty kids playgrounds at night where you can play on the swingset and stargaze

Like its just you and him in the whole world ❤️

Pieck

My girl!!

You and Pieck have been friends for as long as you can remember

But it wasn’t until you guys got older that there started to be sparks

Training wasn’t as difficult when you had each other

You guys got scolded a lot for talking during training

Shes pretty distracting lol

You guys never really formally declared that you were together

But one day someone asked and the two of you were just like “....yeah, we are”

Pieck is exact opposite to Porco

Shes not protective at all

Not in a bad way or anything!

She knows you, and she knows what you’re capable of

So she knows better than to worry herself too much over it

But of course she does a little bit cuz she loves you

After any kind of fight goes down she always goes to find you first

She always dresses your wounds and pokes fun at you a bit to ease the tension

“You’re so clumsy!! Its cute.” “Pieck I got shot??”

Her lighthearted approach to it always makes you feel better

She swears up and down thats why you have such speedy recoveries

In reality, she just takes care of you really well

She feels like since she doesn’t protect you on the battlefield she’ll definitely protect you off of it

Shes so sweet, I think shes like a lil fairy

She finds little things and brings them to you all excited

“Look what i found!” “What is it..?” “I don’t know! :D”

It always sets you off on little adventures to find out what strange things shes found are

She once found a ring and makes you wear it whenever you guys go out to fight

She always kisses it and calls it your good luck charm

For just a little piece of metal, it makes the two of you feel calmer when marching to your potential death

Even though shes very confident in her and her titans ability, the real reason why she gives you all the little trinkets is so you have something to remember her by if something suddenly goes south....

So shes really really happy that you keep them, but she didn’t realize you kept them for the same reason she gave them to you

Zeke

Ahahaha you? The love of his life? On the BATTLEFIELD?

I think not

He knows you’re strong, he knows what you’re capable of and he knows you could hold your own out there

But hes also met Levi Ackerman

So he KNOWS whats out there

He trusts you, but not that much LMAO

And if you somehow are able to convince him to let you go out there you best believe you’ll have the safest job

Like being inside the carts artilery or a medic

He MUCH prefers when you don’t fight at all but do your part behind the scenes

Like organizing battle plans or preparing things for the mission itself rather than going on it yourself

He just doesn’t want to risk losing you

“Zeke you know i can handle myself out there” “You sure can” “You mean I can go?” “No.”

Would pull some serious strings to keep you off the battlefield

He thinks of you, his beloved lover like a breath of fresh air from all the war things that he deals with daily

He prefers to keep you out of things as much as he can for that reason

He doesn’t like being selfish about it

But he can’t help it, not when it comes to you

He values you too much

So whenever you guys aren’t in uniform he just,,,won’t discuss war things with you

He just wants to value the time he has with you outside of it because he already has so much time with you inside of it

Hes very different when his mind isn’t racing about it

Much less stiff and composed because he lets himself loose

Because he trusts himself to do that around you

After all, your the most secure thing in his crazy and twisted life

Reiner

SO PROTECTIVE

Dating or not dating this man loves you and thats that

He doesn’t have quite as much pull as Zeke does so hes unable to completely get you off the battlefield

But that doesn’t mean he won’t go to extreme lengths to protect you

If he hears you scream or cry out on thr battlefield...

Titan form, human form he doesn’t care

He will come RUNNING

He would carry you around on the armored titans shoulder if he could

His time with you off the battlefield is by far his favorite

He doesn’t even count the time you guys spend together in uniform

You guys are so used to the wages of war its almost robotic

But of course, its a different story when the two of you are alone

Typically at night

Its the one time the two of you can just pretend everything is okay

He likes to do peaceful things with you

Like read, or help you cook sometimes

He takes you out a lot too uwu

Sometimes a nice restaurant is just what you two need to unwind

Or maybe a visit to a play the two of you spent a lot of time as kids to bask in the nostalgia a bit

Hes still protective of you off the battlefield

After all hes been through hes scared you’ll slip through his fingers too

So he hides you away and protects you

Like a precious gem someone could try to steal away any moment

You really are the light of his life, he adores you

Just make sure to keep safe okay? :)

****

I am LIVING for these marley requests i will take any reason to write about them 💀 I kinda popped off with Pieck (-_-;)>

I really really hope you liked it! Thanks for requesting!

#aot #snk #attack on titan porco #porco galliard #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #aot pieck #pieck finger #snk pieck #pieck x reader #pieck finger x reader #aot zeke #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger #reiner braun #reiner x reader #snk reiner #aot reiner

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hottieivy · 3 years

Text

jjk boys + k-drama clichés (pt.2)

warnings: none

pairings: yuta, toji, choso, noritashi, geto x gn!reader genre: fluff. cringy kind obvs would you guys be so kind to let me know that if you’d like to read k-drama clichés with jjk women as well? 🙄

RANDOMLY FALLING ON TOP OF SOMEONE: yuta, although your destination was a familiar room, for some reason the corridor leading to the room was getting more and more elongated in your eyes because you were having trouble walking with a lot of boxes and files blocking your vision, praying not to fall. under normal circumstances, completing a task given by principal yaga wasn’t such a difficult task, but ever since maki left you all the work with a brief excuse, you’ve had more than you can carry in your arms. you’re out of balance and starting to wobble because of the cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other that just don’t hold steady. suddenly you hit something- or someone? in the hallway and stumble. before you knew it, the boxes and the files inside were thrown into the air as you dramatically fell forward. however, your body didn’t meet the hard ground you’d expect. instead of, you feel loose arms around your figure and when you open your eyes, you came across a familiar face that was a bit too close to your face. you both just stared at each other’s faces for a good 2 mins in a strange silence and could have sworn that you saw the red color creeping around his cheeks. lol you better run before rika shows up

BAD BOY TURNS GOOD: toji, it happened so slowly and insidiously that you don’t even remember when it really started. his little gestures and favors that you didn’t put too much meaning behind at first. but it’s like him memorizing your coffee order. it’s like the little grins he starts giving after his constant taunting and sarcastic comments. it’s like when you were lying sick on the couch and him throwing a bag full of medicine at you. like how he’s now the one who came into your arms after a long day, even though he used to be unresponsive to slightest show of compassion. it’s like him letting you trace your fingertips over the wounds on his body. like him constantly replacing your favorite flowers in your vase with fresh ones. just as the ‘’bad boy’’, who finds the lead annoying at first, certainly treats them and only them well at the end of the drama.

EXAGGERATED HEIGHT/SIZE DIFFERENCE: choso, no, it doesn’t matter what size you are, because no matter, choso’s tees with ridiculous phrases or odd social messages on them will always be big on you. you had to take a shower in his apartment and now you're standing in the kitchen in a giant t-shirt that says ‘’save the planet, eat less shit!’’ and as he puts a plate in front of you, he says ‘’here’s your shitless pasta’’ with a stupid expression of satisfaction on his face. you don't know how it works every time, like magic, how the t-shirts that are normal to him looks like a ridiculous dress on you. maybe it's because it's a kdrama one morning you wake up with the sound of his brothers laughters coming from the hall, and when you leave the room to greet them, you were like:

SKINCARE: noritoshi, with his head on your legs on the big red sofa, he looked fairly bothered. sometimes he dangled his legs off the seat, sometimes he threw them on the seat, but without an exception, every time you plucked a brow, he raised his legs up with a loud whimper as he jolted in pain. you pushed the hair that fell on his forehead so that you could have a better view of his trimmed brows, slightly getting annoyed with his whining and over-dramatic whimpering every time you plucked a brow. ‘’i didn’t know tht you hated me this much,’’ he said with a fake pout on his shiny lips. ‘’you, literally asked me to do this,’’ you said as you blew air on his face as an answer, which only made him leave the loudest whining of the night. rolling your eyes, you grabbed his face and said, ‘’just hang in there a little more baby and when i'm done, we can put massaging oil on your face. it’ll make you feel better, okay?’‘

SHARING ONE COAT IN THE COLD: geto, taking shelter at the bus stop, you were trying to protect yourself from the torrential rain that suddenly caught you. the seasonal jacket you brought with you before you left the house didn't work. you got caught in the rain. your clothes weren't too wet, but every time the wind blew, you almost shivered because of the cold he brought with you. ‘’ugh, they said it would rain later, like in the night or something,’’ you told yourself. you were about to turn to your boyfriend to continue complaining to him a little more, but you were stopped with the feeling of his arms around your figure and a big black coat that entered your point of view. he buttoned his coat over your chest and you immediately got lost in the warm coat. as you rested your back against the familiar chest, his hands were around your waist. he bent his chin over your head and spoke in a cocky manner, deliberately poking his chin in your head with every word of it, ‘’well, love, it is april after all,’’ and you buried your elbow in his stomach for a minor attack before receiving a laugh from him.

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aomine-ryo · 4 years

Note

You know in season 2 when we first meet Murasakibara, and he has a pink bandana/scarf tied on his wrist? Well, lemme ask this. Could you write a cute scenario about how a short female gave it to him one day and he's worn it ever since. Maybe she saw him hurt his wrist so she goes and ties it around him to help? Idk something like that lol .... i feel lame now xD

Don’t feel lame, I found this adorable!! I hope you like this xx

Scenario: Murasakibara always wearing the bandana he got from the cute girl who helped him

You weren’t one to visit parks quite often, but you found yourself taking a walk to get some fresh air at a nearby park after pulling an all-nighter studying. It was quite early in the morning so almost everyone around you were morning joggers, and just looking at them made you exhausted as you questioned how anyone could have that much energy at this time.

You didn’t realise how sleep-deprived you were until you bumped into one of the tallest people you’ve ever seen while walking past the basketball court. You had to rub your eyes to make sure you hadn’t just bumped into a giant purple tree with a bag of snacks. How you didn’t even notice him in front of you was beyond you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said to him quickly.

The boy immediately reached for his arm, and when you looked over, you noticed that he had gotten a scratch from a wire that stuck out from the rest of the fence. “Shit, that stings,” you heard him mutter to himself, before toughening up and looking at you, “It’s alright.”

“Well, it’s bleeding quite a lot for something that’s just alright,” you said eyeing the blood that was now dripping on the pavement.

The boy tutted at his failed attempt to look tough in front of someone he found quite cute. Most people were short compared to him, but he found your size especially adorable and he felt the urge to fit you in his pocket and take you everywhere, which was strange because he didn’t even know you.

You pulled off the pink bandana that you used to tie up your hair, not noticing the purple-haired boy gape at the way your hair fell down over your shoulders. “May I?” You asked him, nodding over to his injured arm.

He held his arm out towards you and you wrapped the bandana tightly around the wound. “You don’t have to do this, you know?” he said, though he did enjoy how close your body was to his.

“Yeah, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t,” you told him just as you finished up. You looked up at him with a smile, “There you go. You should probably get that checked when you get home.”

“Thanks, you gave me a reason to get out of playing basketball.”

“You’re welcome... I think,” you said to him, before the two of you walked off in your separate ways, without even knowing each other’s names.

About a month after your encounter with the boy, you found yourself being dragged to a basketball game by one of your friends. Neither of you were even remotely interested in basketball, but your school’s team was playing and your friend had a crush on one of the players on the team, so you had to be supportive. Your school was playing against Yosen High, who were apparently one of the best school teams in Japan, though you hadn’t heard of them before.

You and your friend were walking around the arena, trying to find your way to the seats. As you walked, she realised that she had to use the washroom so you agreed to wait outside, because you weren’t a fan of public bathrooms. You watched people walk up and down the halls, surprised that so many people had come to see a high school basketball game.

Whilst you were people-watching, you noticed a team of extremely tall boys that wore the same white and purple tracksuits, walking down the hall. It took you a moment, but you spotted the same purple hair you saw at the park, poking out from the group.

You hadn’t thought about him ever since that day, but you regretted not asking for a name. So the sight of the familiar hair sent you rushing towards the group of boys. He didn’t notice you at first, because he was busy chatting with a smaller raven-haired boy next to him, so you poked his arm.

The second the taller boy saw you, his face lit up and he stopped in his tracks. “Hey! It’s the tiny girl that helped me before!” He smiled at you, making you feel even smaller than you already felt, being surrounded by the other giants on his team. He quickly raised his hand that wasn’t holding a bag of snacks and wiggled his wrist, causing his sleeve to fall back slightly and reveal your pink bandana tied around his wrist.

“You kept the bandana!” you exclaimed, feeling rather heartwarmed that he kept it after all this time.

“He doesn’t go anywhere without it,” his raven-haired friend chimed in, causing the tall boy to shoot him a glare.

“Could you just go to the changing room? I’ll meet you there,” he muttered to him, the annoyance evident in his tone.

“I’ll be waiting for your call when you get lost,” the smaller boy shrugged as he walked away, causing the long-haired boy to roll his eyes before diverting his attention back to you.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you said, “I realised that I never got your name.”

“It’s Murasakibara Atsushi. You can call me Atsushi if you want, I know Murasakibara is a long name to say,” he blabbered, beginning to feel a little nervous now that you were actually in front of him. He hadn’t been able to get you off his mind ever since that day (not that there was much going on his mind to begin with), he just found you so sweet, and was smitten ever since he first bumped into you.

“Nice to see you again, Atsushi. I’m Y/N,” you smiled at him.

Murasakibara was nothing short of elated now that he could put a name to the face he’d been thinking of for so long. “Um, Y/N-chin, do you want your bandana back?”

“No, it’s alright. You can keep it if you want. I have plenty of other bandanas,” you refused.

“Thanks. I think it’s kind of a lucky charm for me now. You know, my friend brought me my favourite snack the day I got this. He doesn’t do that often, so that’s when I realised that this bandana has superpowers,” he claimed, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of your bandana possessing powers. The sound of your giggles was so mesmerising that Murasakibara swore to himself that he could listen to it all day like a song on repeat.

“I’m glad I could help, you go to Yosen right? you inquired and he nodded in response. “You should probably get going, your match is starting pretty soon.”

“Are you going to watch?”

“Yeah, you’re playing against my school,” you informed.

“Get ready to watch me crush your team,” Murasakibara said, suddenly gaining interest in the match that he previously didn’t care too much about.

“I don’t know much about basketball, but I’m looking forward to it,” you admitted, feeling eager to see this interesting boy in action.

“Would you maybe like to hang out or something after the match?” he asked you, praying that you’ll say yes.

“Um, I came here with a friend, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, so yeah, I’ll meet you at the entrance,” you smiled, unsure if you had just been asked out on a date by this boy. Nevertheless, you were still thrilled.

“Great, I’ll see you then,” he said as he straightened up to leave.

“Good luck for your game!”

“I already have good luck, remember?” He smiled back as he waved the wrist that wore your bandana at you.

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara atsushi x reader #murasakibara #knb murasakibara #kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basket x reader #kuroko no basket imagines #murasakibara x reader

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chironshorseass · 3 years

Note

idk if you’re still taking prompts but 7 angst for percabeth after BoTL but before tlo, thank you so much!!

idk what this is, but hopefully, it’s not too horrible bc I can’t bring myself to read it again lol.

“You should’ve said that yesterday.”

tw: blood

read on ao3

Plans don’t always go well. Annabeth should know; she’s a daughter of Athena. But one holds on to hope like it’s the last thing they have, even when accidents happen.

It was a frequent thing nowadays, for demigods to leave on missions as a desperate attempt to thwart off the titan forces. Annabeth understood the risks.

Percy did too, but he’d insisted that it was fine, that he needed to go.

He’d left with some Hephaestus and Hermes kids, intending to raid one of Kronos’ troops that had camped close to New York.

They hadn’t counted on the empousai, though. And because of this, most of the boys—including Percy—had nearly died.

But what else was new?

The thing was that...he didn't have to go. But he and Beckendorf had grown closer over the past year, so nothing could stop him from tagging along with the son of Hephaestus and the rest of the group. Maybe because he also felt bad that he’d missed out on most of the missions; he’d been absent for so long, lost in the streets of New York City.

Whatever the stupid reason was, he’d refused to listen to Annabeth, disappearing into the horizon with Blackjack and the rest of the pegasi.

He’ll survive, she’d told herself. If he really was the child of the prophecy, then…

This mission wouldn’t be the last thing he did. Or his last day on Earth. That title would likely belong to his birthday.

Gods, he’s going to die anyway.

But for now, he wouldn’t, at least not according to what she’d heard.

Thanatos would bide his time, hooded and standing at the doors between life and death, not yet ready to welcome Percy with his chilled breath.

Soon, but not today.

Still, it wasn’t like she’d been worried sick and then nearly threw up her lunch once the crew had arrived, a few yards away from the infirmary, bloodstained and battle-torn.

By all the extra load on the pegasi that she could make out from the distance, she supposed that at least they’d been successful.

Percy, however, was leaking blood down his neck, furtively trying to clamp it down with a bandana.

Soon, but not today.

He leaned against Beckendorf, his eyes baring clouds, fogged and lost. The son of Hephaestus helped him off of Blackjack, but still, he would’ve crumpled to the ground had it not been for Annabeth running to him like a madwoman. The grass crunched behind her; the others were right on her heels.

“What happened?” she cried, grabbing hold of Percy’s shoulders as his head slumped against her chest. She staggered back from his sudden weight, then righted herself.

“Hey, ‘Beth,” Percy said weakly, the words jumbling together against his lips and her shirt.

She looked at Beckendorf helplessly.

“Empousai,” he gasped, then made a hissing sound, pressing a hand to his back. It came back crimson red.

“You’re hurt!” she said as if it weren’t obvious.

Other demigods, Apollo kids mostly, rushed past her with medical supplies. But Will stopped next to them, breathing hard. He handed out ambrosia to Beckendorf and Annabeth’s waiting hands.

His eyes blazed, focused on something past her head. He waved frantically at someone, signaling them to come, and quickly. She whirled around and caught sight of Chiron trotting toward them.

“I’ll be back,” he breathed, giving them a nod as though they’d argued with him against it. He retreated a few steps, legs reacting to sudden howls of pain that echoed further back. “Just, just wait here. I’ll just…”

He dashed away, lost in the mass of pegasi and bodies that moved in all directions, shouting. In the chaos, Will was their only help at organizing it all—but she’d still tasted bile in her throat, not quite used to the way he ignored Percy and his mortal wound to the neck.

In a swift, mastered movement, Annabeth had made him chew on the Ambrosia. She’d been about to say something else—some words of encouragement—when a blur of curly brown hair nearly tripped her and Percy over. She readjusted him in her arms; Percy mumbled something incomprehensible, making her heart tighten.

“Charlie!” Silena called, flinging herself into Beckendorf’s arms.

He grunted in response but smiled through his obvious pain.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

She kissed him, but only for a second because Beckendorf had already pulled away faster than her sudden arrival.

Silena scrunched up her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

His concerned gaze leached into Percy, whom Annabeth could barely hold now.

Has he always been this heavy?

She followed her boyfriend’s line of vision and saw her friend standing in front of her for the first time. Her face morphed into shock, eyes widening. In a flash, Silena was there, hauling one of Percy’s arms over her shoulder. He was no longer conscious.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the words tumbling into the pool that was now Annabeth’s fevered heart. “I didn’t...”

Annabeth could only shake her head. She had to get Percy some actual help. She pressed the cloth harder into his neck. It had to be the fucking neck.

“Will!” she shouted, voice hoarse. “Chiron!”

Panting, Beckendorf closed the distance, limping over to Annabeth. “I’m going to help the others. We weren’t so lucky on our mission, and...” He glanced somewhere past them. “Chiron’s coming our way. We have to—”

Silena inhaled sharply. “You’re bleeding, too? Why didn’t—”

“No time, ‘Lena.”

In an instant, Chiron was there, extending his arms out.

“Give him to me.” His voice was firm and urgent.

After all, the neck was a highly vulnerable place. A slit to the throat could end someone’s life in a matter of seconds. Percy was a demigod, and likely the cut hadn’t been too deep, or else he’d be dead by now. But still, she didn't know how much longer he could hold up.

Already she’d felt the tell-tale warmth of blood trickling into her skin, already she’d envisioned the life draining out of him. The sand of an hourglass raining, spilling down to the bottom.

;

They’d told her that he’d lost too much blood, that the claw wound had just barely hit an artery. But above all else, he was lucky. He’d survive.

She’d been there, hands washed clean from the rusted blood, sitting on his bedside in the infirmary and watching him sleep while her mind was wide awake. Will came and went, wrapping bandages and giving him fresh doses of ambrosia; Chiron did, too—as if none of this was his fault and he could pretend to care for injured demigods.

But she stayed. Stayed and watched.

Annabeth had forgotten how long she’d been there, staring at the blank walls, eyes unfocused. Will had poked his head inside for the final time and insisted for her to get some sleep; it was late. She’d shaken her head and refused.

Her eyes closed for a second, though it must’ve been longer than that, because, when she opened them again, golden light had already streamed through the window. It cast delicate shadows across the room. In her daze, she hadn’t realized that someone was calling her name, light as a butterfly.

Percy.

“Annabeth,” he repeated.

She blinked the sleep away to find a pair of green eyes watching her.

Though his hair was twisted and knotted, and his complexion was a worrying shade lighter, Annabeth thought that she’d never seen a more inviting sight.

“You asshole!” she gasped, lunging forwards with desperate fingers, hugging Percy tighter than she’d ever had in her life.

After a while, his head dropped back to the pillow to get a better look at her.

“Hey.” He grinned lazily.

There was a sweet wonder to his face—like he couldn’t believe she was here, waiting for him to wake up.

But her mind flashed to when his heartbeat had weakened, when scarlet red covered her shaking hands and she’d seen him slump into Chiron as their teacher dropped him here, in the infirmary.

“D’you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

His brows knit in confusion. “What do you…” A hand flew to his neck, to his bandages. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah.” Her voice felt like rough sandpaper. “That.”

Percy winced. “Okay, okay. I can explain; that demon came out of nowhere, right? And I slashed and shit, but she still got me, and—”

“You could’ve died, Percy. You get that?”

“I know, I know! But I didn’t!”

She took a rattling breath and looked away. She suddenly felt faint; her lungs didn’t seem to gather enough oxygen. Everything was too overwhelming, too big and small all at the same time.

She was dimly aware of Percy saying something. Then, she felt the warmth of her hand in his. It helped bring her back, but barely.

“Hey. Hey, look at me, Annabeth. Look at me.” Reluctantly, she did as he said. “Breathe with me. C'mon—in two three four, out two three four...”

Annabeth didn’t know how long they stayed that way, anchored to the surety of Percy’s grip on her hand and breathing along to his rhythm, until she’d found a way back to her bearings.

“You’re okay. I’m okay,” he said, repeatedly.

She nodded.

“Talk to me.”

Here he was, the boy who had nearly died, consoling the girl who’d watched the whole thing.

She nodded again, and this time, she closed her eyes, taking in some of this new peace of mind Percy had offered.

He was safe, and they were alright.

Finally, she exhaled.

“How’re you feeling?” She bit her lip, remembering something, and then muttered, “Sorry. Didn’t really ask you that first.”

“S’okay.” Now that she noticed him, truly noticed him, she could tell how tired he was. “I’m fine. Just feel like mush.”

“Your neck doesn’t hurt? Will gave you some morphine.”

“Yeah, no. Everything’s kinda numb, I guess. Doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“You lost a lot of blood.”

“Hmm. Probably why I feel like mush.”

She felt a lump forming in her throat. Not for the first time that day.

“It wasn’t—Gods, Perce,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. “If you’d only seen it…”

“I know. I should’ve listened to you.”

“You should’ve said that yesterday.”

Annabeth didn’t realize that she was crying until Percy softly flicked his thumb across her cheek. He reluctantly moved it down to her lips, swiping at the tears that had already pooled there.

It wasn’t really something she planned to do, and in any other case would’ve embarrassed her, but she found herself resting her forehead against his. Maybe to steady herself. Maybe to feel his presence more, a spare hand combing through his locks.

She wasn’t so sure.

But still, she let herself close her eyes, enjoying this moment of quiet. Percy did too, sighing softly, rubbing her back idly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, when they separated. “M’here.”

Her breath caught in her throat, just by how tender his touch had been, taking care of her when he was the injured one. How close they were at that moment. How her tears tasted like that time she’d kissed him, all salt and sweat and fervor.

Now, she was able to see the little flecks of blue in his irises, drink in all of his details like she was dying of thirst. They were so close that she was able to feel exactly when his breath hitched like hers had done just milliseconds before, how it smelled like medicine and chocolate cookies all in one.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, not taking his gaze from her. “I didn’t listen to you.”

At least he acknowledged it. Again.

“No. You didn’t.”

His thumb still lingered on her face, a ray of sunlight that she greedily took only for herself, leaning into him. It ghosted around her skin, that trailing touch of his. And despite its warmth, it sent shivers down her spine.

His eyes never left hers. Roving, feeling down to her very soul.

He’d always been the one to break her walls, destroy the dam she’d carefully built for as long as she could remember. Poseidon wasn’t his father for nothing.

And as he grasped a stray curl that fell across her left eye, tucking it ever so gently behind her ear, she felt that water roaring all over her mind. The flood happened too fast, consuming every last restraint and denial that crossed its path.

Annabeth didn’t catch it until she risked a glance to his lips.

Gods, he’s so close. Too close.

In the blink of an eye, she was leaning in, intoxicated by everything about him. Percy caught the back of her jaw with his hand, guiding her closer.

Their breaths mingled together.

Her lips parted. Closer…

“Hey, how’s—oh shit, sorry!”

She repelled from him, electrified, and whipped her head to the screeching of the curtain rod.

Cheeks flushed, Will yanked at the curtains, closing them once again.

“Wait!” Annabeth glanced at Percy, whose eyes were wide. “Will, this isn’t—”

The latter hollered from the other side, “I can come later! To, um, change bandages! Be good!”

So close.

She wanted to slap herself.

No.

This wasn’t right. For a second, she’d forgotten what was at stake. Let herself be swept away.

Have you ever considered that he’s going to die?

He’ll leave you just like everyone else.

This was dangerous, letting herself taste what wasn’t meant to be.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped, standing up, an unknown force pushing her back.

Percy blinked, slower than usual. Probably from all the ambrosia and nectar and mortal medicine.

“Annabeth—”

He reached for her, but she was already backing away into the wall, stumbling over her wooden chair.

“No, I shouldn’t have…” She felt herself blush. “I don’t know, I...I should go.”

She scrambled towards the curtains, ignoring Percy’s expression awashed in hurt and shock.

Brushing past his bedside, he grabbed her arm.

“Please,” he begged, voice barely above a whisper. “Please stay.”

Blinking away her tears, Annabeth forced herself to look at him.

If I stay, you’ll leave me first.

But she didn’t say that, only shook her head and watched as those beautiful eyes of his creased around the corners with anguish. A part of her died a little at witnessing this. His was a heart worn on a sleeve that would soon fade away. She pulled her arm away, burned from his grip.

“‘Beth—”

“I’m sorry.” She swallowed, already tugging the curtain aside. “I’ll call Will.”

And she left him there in his injury, allowing it to be.

He didn’t deserve this, she knew. Not when she could enjoy the last moments with him, admitting what was in the open air between them. But they’d be one step into their ruined fate if that ever happened. If she didn’t stop.

Because she was like Tantalus, that lone fruit forever out of her reach.

He didn’t deserve this, but she didn’t deserve to have him, either.

#percabeth #percabeth fic #pjo fic #pjo #anon #pjo fanfiction #tw blood #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #ahhh idk do I like it #or do i not #angst #look mom i can write

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sleepdeprivedheretic · 4 years

Text

When I Find You

If somebody wants to adopt this fic, feel free. I love to see more of this trope and you all are amazing <3

Notes: :’) I needed a break from work so I wrote a little snippet that I may or may not finish later because I have other things to worry about and another fic that I wanted to really focus on. So, in the meantime, here’s some angst with fluffy ending because reasons :’)

Au Setting: Au of some sort I guess lol. I um...couldn’t help but make Tai-chan look like the hunter from Little Red Riding Hood, so he’s basically a lumberjack because I have needs.

Warnings: Angst because I love torturing our poor reader ig? Living in fear of the possibility of non-con, reader kinda being a stalker? Improper knowledge of wolf dynamics and other things because of plot, and Fatgum being too heckin’ sweet and understanding. Also, reader is too thirsty lol.

…………

The pack had adopted you when you were a lone pup, whose rogue mother hadn’t returned to her den with food for you. Your little howls of despair reached the alpha, who decided that it wouldn’t hurt to take you in. It was against the usual behavior and tradition of your wolf-blooded packs, and although the elderly alpha accepted you, your kin did not.

You thought for sure that over time, they would accept you and treat you as your own, but you were wrong. Your smell wasn’t close to theirs, and your furry ears and tail were a different color. An oddball is what you were. Sure you had the same behaviors and characteristics of your fellow wolves, but this was not your pack, and growing up with the obvious glares, odd stares, and blatant ignoring or snapping at you, you knew that you could never fit in.

You had always felt so alone, and when the alpha had passed away, a new one took his place, and all but chased you off. Being stubborn, you tried to talk your way into staying, because not only this had been your home, but you had nothing and nobody else.

It led to a fight, and you were badly wounded in the forest. With a few last harsh words, your new but former alpha had left you to die as the pack ignored your whimpers. Blacking out from the pain, you awoke, snow covered and cold in your human hybrid form with your own blood surrounding you. The wound must have dried over or froze, because now you had a permanent scar on your throat. Not near your scent gland, but close enough to your heart.

You were alone, scared, and scarred, and it confused and horrified you to no end. You needed a pack, you needed stability, and you vaguely thought that if you ran into humans, there might be a small chance that they’d take you in. Your kind was considered a monster in their folklore and myths, but what choices did you have? A lone wolf would surely be snatched up by either enemy packs, poachers, or whatever else. Not to mention, that you were a young and fertile omega who’s scent could lure unwanted attention. Even humans could smell the potent smells that your kind gave off during heats or ruts. You shuddered.

You couldn’t stay here. The blood had coated your human fur coat, making it sticky and smell awful, as well as it’ll leave more questions than answers that you weren’t emotionally ready to give. Chucking it off, you shivered but knew that you would survive if you stayed in your lycan form. Maybe you could scent out a human village and linger there.

A sigh escaped your lips, knowing that it wouldn’t be easy. Human villages and kingdoms were a rarity in this part of the country. It was nothing but snow and ice and certain death. South is where the old alpha mentioned that although it was productive and rich with food and trade, they were a little more strict around monsters such as the wolf kin. Your legs felt wobbly as you got up from the ground. Your neck was in constant pain and everything was so cold. Yet you started walking. It was an odd feeling, you didn’t really know where to go or what to do, but you felt a determination. You didn’t want to die here. You always wanted a mate with pups and a caring pack, and although your chances of survival was questionable, you wanted to try to live for yourself. The thought of love and acceptance burned hotter than any star that you wanted to chase.

Shifting into your wolf form, you went from prodding to full out running on all fours. The chilly wind hitting your face and the aurora borealis kissing the stars above you was your only company, for now.

You couldn’t be in your form, forever. You took breaks during your travel, letting your human self sleep in old dens, burrows, or short trees during the day time, and let your wolf form take over during night. Your scar healed over more nicely than you thought it did, but it still showed. You weren’t too weak to catch fish from the river, quickly snapping the lazy salmon in your jaws, but you had to be careful of bears and other predators.

It was as if shock never left you. You were in the twilight zone of being a lone wolf, and it scared you. You had nobody to protect your sleeping self from predators, to hunt with you, nor did you feel at least a little secure like you did in your old pack. You were very vulnerable, and couldn’t wait to see a human village, soon.

The thought of having your heat terrified you. Although it happened once every five months, it lasted two weeks, and even then your intoxicating scent lingered on you for three more days before fading. It was close to time for you to gather food for three weeks and try your best to keep safe held within a den. Although a monster to people, you weren’t the only one. Dragons, ogres, orcs, and even fellow hybrids had the capability of scenting you out and entering a rut because of your scent.

It was terrifying. You weren’t accustomed to such trivial, because although your old pack didn’t really care for you, your former father figure, the alpha, would always to make sure that you were protected and left alone. Wolf kin mated for life, but you didn’t know about other dynamics or beings, and the thought of being used and discarded with the possibility of pups from an unwanted encounter scared you.

Just like your mother, a dark thought cut to you. It made you try your best to push forward, and hopefully find safety, soon.

Six months had gone by, and it was late June, and the summer was more evident in the south than your cold northern home. You sweated easily and were huffy and upset. Time dragged on and you felt hopeless as you saw no signs of any human life so far. There were always more “monsters” such as yourself that you tried to avoid. Curious onlookers were the majority, thankfully.

At wits end, you were about to just sleep the rest of the day away. Let yourself worry about nighttime. A strange scent hit your nose. Curiosity getting to the better of you, you wanted to follow it, and so you did. It was the smell of smoke, but burning meat and vegetables were mixed into it. It was so weird and foreign to you, for you ate only fish or what the earth grew, and you knew that you wanted to check it out.

It had taken you a week to get to this forest. The surrounding area had mostly nothing but trees with beautifully dying leaves, those of which were unlike the evergreens you were familiar with. Your feet crunched against the multiple of colors of green, yellow, brown and red and although usually silent, you didn’t mind.

The smells here are mostly faded, and the only fresh scents were those of wild animals, not the fellow beasts or humans that run within your homeland, so you knew that it was a safe place. The smell of smoke, however, was new and farther in the distance in which you have yet to explore. You knew that you should rest, first, but you endured months of no pack had you aching for structure and security, and this very well could be it. It didn’t take you very long to reach your destination.

Awe didn’t began to cover on how you felt when the sight reached your eyes. Houses and other buildings were nestled within the center of the forest. Your heartbeat picked up when you noticed that there were small chickens running freely, a dog barking in the distance, and most importantly, people. Human people. It was as if a miracle happened, and although you wanted to step into the town, fear gripped you with bitter remembrance.

What if they feared you? Although in human form, you still had your physical wolf attributes such as your ears and tail, as well as you carried your own specific scent that didn’t scream human. You knew that all of that traveling wasn’t for nothing, but now faced with the real thing, you felt scared. You didn’t want to be ran off, again, or hated. Slipping further back into the woods, a sight caught your eye.

Soft and yellow hair poking out from a red cap, brilliant amber irises, a friendly wide grin, all belonged to a tall man walked out into the clearing. He wasn’t like anybody you’ve seen before. He was bulky, muscular, and had a roundness to his belly and face, he was unlike your lithe and limber brethren, and you found yourself appreciating the sight, if you were blunt with yourself. His attire was that of an odd shirt, it was orange and checkered, and he had leather boots with rabbit fur adorning them.

You noticed that he carried and ax, and was holding a bunch of split logs with just one arm. He was pretty strong for a human, and you liked that. Of all the humans, you couldn’t help but find this one the most attractive, and you hushed your omega instincts as they hummed with approval. You couldn’t find a mate, just yet.

However, you decided that if you were to be accepted within the village, he was the first on your list for courting. Just wanting to get it over with, you kept your human form as you took mental breaths on how to breach the humans. Timidly, you approached the handsome blond first when he reached the edge of the forest. It was probably stupid to creep up on somebody with an ax in their hands when your kin wasn’t very welcomed, but your desires were far more greater than fear.

Alright, you still were a little scared. Hiding some odd feet away in hiding, you let your presence known by stepping on twigs, making them crack. His head snapped up to your direction, eyes squinting in confusion as he readied himself for possible danger. What he didn’t expect was your voice murmuring through the trees.

“Hello.” Was the first thing that came to your mind.

“Who’s there?” A soft yet husky accented voice answered you and you liked it.

“A monster.” Came the reply without a filter. You could have said something better, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“A monster, eh? You gonna eat me, or hide all day?” He chuckled, and you liked the way it reverberated through the trees as it reached you.

“Aren’t you going to kill me if I show myself? My kin really isn’t welcomed with humans. No we don’t eat people.” You kept blurting out. Years of anxiety and being basically alone didn’t grant you favors with talking to people, but your friendly woodcutter didn’t seem to care.

“Hm? What terrible awful being you must be, hidin’ behind those trees and talkin’ so softly? Besides, how do you know that I’m fully human?” He teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but feel your muscles relax a bit as curiosity gripped you.

“I’m a wolf.” You admitted.

A moment of silence followed after that, and then a laugh. You tried to keep yourself from feeling funny in your chest.

“What’s so funny?” You all but demanded

“Nothin’. Just that, you’re suppose to be big and bad, but you’re bein’ so shy and timid, and honestly? It’s kinda cute. Come out, Sugar, I won’t hurt ya. Promise.” He finished laughing, and you kept yourself from humming with approval with the complement and name. Taking a breath, you stepped outside from your hiding place, and the both of you froze as he took you in.

To him you must be a small, feral thing. Your long tunic and pants looked as if they were about to tear with age, your hair was a mess, although you bathed, you still couldn’t get all the dirt off of you, and you were sure that your tail and ears were unkempt, as well. You expected him to change his mind and turn on you, or just run you off. What you didn’t expect, was that his cheeks turned into a shade of pink as his amber eyes softened to a more yellow tone, something that you were unaware of.

“You’re not a monster. No, you’re alright. Come on, let’s get you somewhere to stay.” He broke the silence as he gently held out his hand, and feeling an odd burst of warmth shoot through you, you took it gingerly as he led you to who knows where.

You were at a home where you can finally feel safe.

………….

I know, it’s short, but I’m focusing on another fic that took me many times to re-write because I wasn’t sure of it. For now, enjoy some stuff n’ thangs.

#Fatgum x Reader #I'm working #For my job and another fic #I promise #Although busy I have time?#Lol #This is so half-assed I'm sorry

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kellanswritingblog · 4 years

Text

Some zoscar hurt/comfort set after the end of episode 173. I figured I should post it now before we hit the next episode and it’s just all hurt lol

tw for blood, injury, broken bones, and mentions of death

The landing was a disaster. The ship itself wasn’t too badly damaged, besides the engine loss it experienced while in the Borealis.

The real harm was in the suffering of the crew. Zolf and Cel were strapped in and managed to hold on when they crashed into the ground, and Hamid was flying a safe distance away. But Azu, Wilde, Earhart, and all the others were either sent tumbling around the ship or thrown off of it entirely.

There wasn’t much any of them could do for some of them, no matter how hard they tried. Between the height of the fall and impact with the trees and frozen ground… no amount of healing would bring them back from that.

Those who survived were tended to by Zolf and Azu, distributing magical bouts of healing to keep them alive and in as little pain as possible. Azu had been smacked into the side of the ship during impact, but her guideline stayed intact, and she was in much better shape than some of the others. Meanwhile, Cel and Earhart looked over the ship, and Hamid huddled up with the less-injured kobolds, who all held each other tight.

Zolf counted the survivors and the bodies.

“Where’s Wilde?”

“I thought…” Azu looked around and counted for herself. “I don’t know. I didn’t see which way he went.”

Zolf gestured to the injured Meerk lying before them. “Do you got this? I’m going to go look for him.”

“Yeah. Don’t go too far, though.” Her brow was furrowed with concern.

He nodded, then trudged away from the ship. As he walked, he called out Wilde’s name – it wasn’t as if they had to worry about accidentally drawing unwanted attention, since the neon crashing ship took care of that already.

“Wilde! Oscar? Come on, where are you?”

The snow came up practically to Zolf’s waist, and he sunk even deeper in spots, but that didn’t slow him down when he finally saw Wilde’s body and the seeping red that surrounded it.

Zolf sprinted to him and knelt down at his side.

“Oscar? Oscar, hang on.” There was still a pulse, but only barely. He had lost a lot of blood, and what looked like bone poked out from his arm.

Healing flowed through Zolf and into Wilde, but he didn’t wake. Instead, he gave a shuddering breath, and remained still.

“Come on, Oscar. Come on, please. You stubborn ass, why weren’t you wearing your guideline?” Zolf cried as he pressed all of his healing into Wilde’s unmoving form. “Why weren’t you paying attention? Why did you have to get hurt?”

The tears that fell down Zolf’s face were half frozen. When magic failed, Zolf put bandages and tourniquets on Wilde’s wounds, then began to set the obviously broken bone with his mundane healing knowledge, for what little good that would do.

Once that was done, Zolf continued to kneel at Wilde’s side for a moment longer to beg any benevolent power to bring him back, to make it right. What good was hope if Wilde was gone?

Then, Zolf stood and tromped quickly back to the ship.

“Did you find him?” Azu asked.

“I did. He’s alive… but barely. I need help getting him back here. I tried to heal him, but…”

Azu reached out, put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I still have some healing left in me. Let’s see what we can do.”

Despite the optimism in her voice and gaze, it did little to soothe the terror raging inside of Zolf’s heart.

Zolf led Siggif and Barnes to where Wilde’s body lay, and they placed him on an impromptu stretcher to carry him back to the ship, then placed him before Azu.

“Oh.” She spoke quietly, her voice barely more than an uttered breath. But Zolf heard it, and whatever hope remained in him that Wilde would recover started to fade.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s not good.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Pink light flowed from Azu’s hands into Wilde’s form, then she slumped. “I need to save some healing for the others. But he’s still breathing, and you managed to stop most of the bleeding. He’s got a chance.”

Zolf nodded, though he felt despair take over. Azu put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder again, then left him at Wilde’s side to tend to the other wounded.

“You…” Zolf couldn’t even muster up the enjoyable annoyance he so often felt when dealing with Oscar. Instead, he began to cry again. “Please wake up. Please be okay. I mean, I know nothing is really okay right now, but… Wilde, I need you. I don’t know how to keep going without you. Please.”

Wilde didn’t respond, of course. Zolf picked up Wilde’s hand on his uninjured arm, lifted it to his lips, and pressed a slow kiss to the mitten that covered his skin. He didn’t know what else to do, how else to help, so he continued to stand and hold Wilde’s hand, as if that alone would bring him back.

It didn’t, though, and soon enough the cold was getting to everyone. Those who wound up relatively uninjured were tasked with moving the others inside, where they were at least sheltered from the elements and the flurry that fell around them. They also brought the bodies on board, with every intention of returning them home whenever they got back to safe civilization.

Zolf and Azu stayed up throughout the night to tend to the injured. Their own bodies were wracked with pain and exhaustion, but they had to keep going, and they were the best equipped to provide aid, even if they couldn’t muster anymore magic at the time. Regardless, sometimes a balm or a fresh bandage or even a cup of water made all the difference.

He didn’t plan to fall asleep. Zolf had sat at Wilde’s side during a quiet moment, half willing him to wake up and be alright. He could have slept all day, if given the chance; between sailing through the Borealis and landing the Vengeance as successfully as possible, he was beat. But there was still work to be done, and he didn’t plan to rest so soon.

However, the quiet croak of a familiar voice startled him awake, even from his darkest nightmares.

“Zolf?”

He practically fell out of his chair when he heard the noise and awoke with a start, then he righted himself and stood.

“Oscar? Oscar, it’s me. I’m here. You’re alright, you’re going to be alright.”

Wilde was white as a sheet and his eyes blinked rapidly with confusion, but he was awake, and he was alive.

“What happened?”

“The ship… crashed. And just about everybody got tossed over the side when we hit the trees. Why weren’t you wearing your bloody guideline, you insufferable…” Zolf’s relief poured out in more tears. “I’m just glad you’re…”

“Remind me to never let you drive an automobile if that’s how you park,” Wilde joked in a raspy voice, and Zolf let out a choked laugh.

“I should go get Azu. Together we’ll get you back up and running in no time.” His breath shuddering, Zolf wiped his tears.

Before he could move, however, Wilde’s good hand shot out and weakly held onto Zolf’s wrist. “First, I… Zolf… Thank you.”

“For what? I’m the one that crashed the damn ship.”

Wilde shook his head. “For putting up with me. For standing with me in all this chaos. I’ve never said how grateful I am to not be fighting this war alone, and if I’d… if I’d died, you would never know. So. Here I am.”

“I still would’ve known,” Zolf murmured. “And it’s not putting up with you. You’re stubborn and infuriating, sure, but… I can’t imagine being anywhere else than at your side.”

“Kiss me.”

“I’m sorry?” Zolf chuckled and hid his blushing face behind a hand. “I think the blood loss has got you a little loopy.”

“I’m tired of walking around it. We almost died, Zolf. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t love you anymore.”

For a moment, Zolf lost himself in the sincerity of Oscar’s gaze, then he stepped forward and slowly kissed him.

“We’ve got fine timing, haven’t we?” Zolf teased as he pulled away.

“If you hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe we would’ve gotten here before a near death experience in the unknown regions of Siberia.”

Zolf was relieved beyond measure that Wilde still had the health for snark.

“Yeah, because you definitely weren’t the one going all ‘oh, relationships are a danger right now, blah blah blah.’”

“They are a danger. But the greater danger is losing you.”

“You’re the one that almost died. I think it’s more about losing you right now.”

Wilde smiled. “Fair. Maybe just try not to lose any more engines, alright?”

“I’ll do my best. Now, I really am going to go get Azu. You’re in bad shape; it’ll take both of us to get you feeling better.”

He chuckled again, and replied, “Waking up to you? Kissing you? I already feel lifetimes better.”

“That’s all well and good, but your arm is still broken, and you’ve definitely got a concussion and a bunch of internal trauma. So, sit tight, and I’ll be right back.”

Before he left, Zolf pressed a quick kiss to Wilde’s forehead, and then darted off to find Azu, wherever she might be. Surely the others were working on some sort of plan, but Zolf had only one goal: to ensure Wilde survived and was restored to health. He didn’t plan on losing him now that they’d finally realized their feelings couldn’t be put off any longer.

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #rqg spoilers #Zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde #zoscar #tw blood #tw injury #tw death #tw broken bones #I meant to post this last week #but got distracted by all the good good Azu week content #so here we are

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

Her Monster (part one)

[Wing AU; Tour!verse]

A new and improved rewrite of a very old fic! Hopefully this one will be better than the past one! I’ve cleaned it up a lot because GOD there were so many tense shifts lol

EB belongs to @spooner7308!!

TW: Blood

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

Chapter One - Devils Don’t Fly

Sometimes bad things just happened to good people. Sometimes fate just has other plans for someone. In EB’s case, that was very much true.

Elizabeth Barton--or simply EB--had been missing for a year and two months. She was remembered for her biting wit, harsh retorts, and overabundance of sarcasm. It wasn’t easy to get along with her, but there were a select few who were close to her, and that’s why her disappearance hit as hard as it did.

By now, though, mostly everyone had moved on.

The funeral was an open casket with just photos and one of her beanies inside. It was hard to look at, painful even. The idea that she was still alive, since her body was never found, came about, but it had been dropped for awhile.

EB became a mere memory in the back of the cast’s mind.

But Joan was still hanging onto the memories that she was still there.

Jane told her she needed to move on, and she knew she did, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t accept the fact that her friend was really gone, that there was no one around to affectionately call her a “weird little creature” or beat up the hybrid-hating racists that sometimes loudly complained at stagedoors. No more warm hugs from giant griffon vulture wings that seemed to envelope her entire body, no more late night flies because nobody else would humor her nocturnal nature, no more wordy retorts that always made her giggle no matter how awful she was feeling.

No more best friend.

It was November, now. Fall was coming into full bloom. It was Anne’s idea to go to the park on their day off, and everyone obliged, knowing that the trip would be a good chance to stretch their wings. Joan hadn’t wanted to go, but Kat had sternly said she needed some fresh air, as she became more and more reclusive ever since EB’s death (not death, not death, she’s not dead, she can’t be--) and rarely ever went out. But she branched off from the group to venture further into the forest, wanting to be alone.

It’s funny, she thought. She hated the fact that she was alone that EB was now gone, but she hated the company of other people. There was only one avian she wanted, and everyone was sure she wouldn’t ever be coming back.

Joan spread her wings to the slim slivers of sunlight leaking through the canopy of trees. She used to hate them, but EB said they made her interesting. But now she was back to hating them all over again.

Rustling snapped her out of her trance. Deer jumped out of the underbrush and rushed right past Joan, causing her to leap away and fall on her back. Her wings thrusted outwards in surprise, tail lashing. She rolled over, wincing slightly, then realized the odd behavior of the animals. Deer normally didn’t run towards an avian.

They ran away.

Joan stood up and brushed herself off, ruffling out her feathers to rid them of any dirt. She was still pondering why the deer were acting so weirdly when she heard it.

The squeaking.

Curious and concerned, she tiptoed forward and peeked through the brush. There, only a few feet away, was a doe lying in a pool of its own blood. Its stomach was ripped open, but it was still alive, like whatever had killed it wasn’t interested in eating at the moment. The sight made Joan’s veins turn icy in fear.

What did this?

When she found out, she wished she had just ran off with the rest of the herd.

Growling came to the left. A large, bulky creature emerged from its hiding spot in the trees, perching on a branch with long, curved talons. It had molted green skin and bug-like eyes. Multiple rows of teeth poked out of its maw, dripping with drool. The barb at the end of its tail was just as menacing as its seven-inch claws. When it noticed Joan, it exhaled a low hissing breath and buzzed its four insect wings.

A WingEater.

But that’s impossible! WingEaters shouldn’t exist anymore! Wasn’t the gene to activate the form dead or something?

Joan flung her wings open but it was too late; the monster was upon her. There was a terrible pain- everything went black when she hit that tree.

Joan woke up on the ground.

No-- Wait-- Waking up implied she was in a bed, at home, safe.

Joan came to.

She was lying face-down on the ground, mouth full of dirt. There was a metallic tang on her tongue- she was frothing red at the lips.

Joan lifted her head up and coughed out gritty clots of scarlet. She saw the WingEater hunched over a few feet away, distracted by something. This was her only chance to get away so she crawled. She crawled until she could finally force herself to stand up and run.

She staggered back towards the park. Someone screamed. Multiple people scream. Jane was covering her mouth in shock- but why? Maria was shielding Bessie’s eyes, Aragon had backed herself up into Kat’s arms, Anne looked like she was about to faint…

Joan’s knees were wobbling and her vision kept blurring with a blizzard of black. She couldn’t focus on anything. She attempted to speak, to ask what was wrong, but only blood flooded out. Deliriously, she dabbed her fingertips against her lips and stared in bewilderment when they came back red, like she was just now noticing her body violently ejecting its own fluids. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Cleves, maybe Maggie, sprint somewhere- where was she going?

Joan couldn’t follow, couldn’t ask what was going on. Her legs gave out. She dropped into a pool of her own blood.

It wasn’t the deer that WingEater was eating.

---

The Flightless. That was what people who have lost their ability to fly were called. Almost as disgraceful as hybrids. That was what Joan was now sorted into.

The doctors spent six hours trying to stabilize Joan. Eventually, they got the bleeding to stop--it was a lot of blood for one body--and stitched up the gash, but nothing could bring back the wing that was ripped off.

Joan would never fly again.

When she woke up, she cried. Joan shivered and sobbed and had bad panic attacks. The anguish was blinding- the pain was worse. Even with the antibiotics, she was overwhelmed by white hot agony that seared up through her back, ripping her apart from the inside out.

Her world was crashing down.

She hadn’t realized the damage at first, apparently. She was in a severe state of shock when she came hobbling into the park, clothing drenched in her own blood. People who had witnessed it said she looked extremely dazed and completely out-of-it, unaware of the gore she was soaked in, unaware that her back was spitting like a spigot. She just kept asking herself why. Why her? Why did this have to happen to her? What did she ever do?

When she was released from the hospital, Joan went home and lay in her bed for six days. For six days she suffered. She didn’t eat, barely drank anything, and just about everything had to be forced down her throat.

Eventually, she recovered, but she didn’t get better. Not psychologically. That was why her new psychiatrist prescribed her antidepressants. She didn’t think they worked.

Still, she eventually forced herself to get up. Even when it felt like someone had just ripped out her spine and proceeded to beat her into a pulp with it, she hauled her body off to work.

Without her other wing, though, her balance was completely thrown off. She stumbled around like a giraffe with broken legs, unable to stay upright. Not to mention all the stares she got.

The one-winged fledgling was a freak.

The others did their best to ward off gawkers, but they couldn’t always be there. Not when kids plucked out her feathers or tried to touch the spot where her other wing used to be when she was at stagedoor or out near fans. Not when adults made snide remarks when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Not when other avians posted on social media about the Flightless hybrid in SIX.

The anger and despair from it all simmered inside of Joan.

After work one day, Joan avoided the other ladies in waiting and the queens. She felt delirious and achy and just wanted to be alone.

Guided by the evening light, Joan stumbled right into predator territory.

The WingEater came out of nowhere, ramming into Joan with the force of a charging bull and sending her sprawling across the ground. She tried to scamper away, but a powerful beak clamped down on her remaining wing and threw her into a tree.

Joan was roughed up badly, so much so that she thought the WingEater that had taken her wing had come back for revenge. But that one had been a Cimex. This one was a very angry Avem.

It stood at a staggering eight feet tall, with choppy tail feathers and massive wings. Its plumage, sand-colored that faded to dark brown, was now smeared in her blood. Its narrow white head lacked feathers, rather having the fuzz that most vultures had, but that made its enraged expression even more clear to her.

The WingEater soon pinned her to the ground. A massive, bird-like foot that was tipped with razor sharp black talons pressed down on her chest with so much weight that she thought her ribs were cracking beneath the force. The beast opened its hooked beak around her neck, preparing to rip her throat out, and Joan sobbed, “Just do it.”

The beast’s jaws twitched, then it pulled back slightly. It looked down at Joan, bloody and sobbing beneath it.

“Just kill me already!” Joan cried, tears streaming down her face. “Do it! Please! I-- I don’t even care. I don’t wanna be alive anymore.”

That did it.

Some humanity returned to those pitch black eyes.

The WingEater dipped its head to Joan and gently began to lick one of her many wounds clean. Joan flinched, trying to squirm away, but the foot on top of her curled its claws around her and dragged her into the fluffy girth of the creature when it laid down. All she could do was look up at the sky and sob, letting the monster clean her of all the blood, though she was sure it was just trying to calm her down so she’ll be easier to eat.

Goddesses, she wished EB was there.

#wing au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #uk tour six #eb #elizabeth barton #tour joan on the keys #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #tour anne boleyn #tour catherine of aragon #tour jane seymour #her monster

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winchester-fantasies · 4 years

Text

Always and Forever

Summary: You’ve always been insecure, making you feel vulnerable especially when it came to your feelings for Dean Winchester. A particularly rough hunt leaves everyone shaken up and Dean reveals something you never thought you’d hear.

Word Count: 4028

Warnings: smut, fluff, light angst, insecure reader, shy reader, injury to reader, danger to reader, show level violence, death (not a main character), swearing

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader

A/N: This was written as a request from @rainbowunicorns92 ! Can I request a Dean x plus size reader where the reader is really sweet, insecure and extremely nerdy, when a hunt went really bad and she got hurt and dean goes to patch her up and then he confesses his love to her? Fluffy smut maybe? Sorry if this sounds awkward I’m new to this! Love you’re writing ✨❤✨❤ Thank you so much for your request!! I had a lot of fun writing this one, and my Dean girl really came out in this one. lol Hope you like it! ❤❤

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

Your stomach was in knots as you pulled your hair back into a ponytail at the nape of your neck. You smoothed the few flyaways at your temples, your hands trembling slightly.

A quick knock sounded at your door, and you turned away from the mirror to see who it was. “Almost ready?” Dean asked, poking his head around the door.

You nodded, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, good,” he said. “We’re headin’ out in ten.” He closed the door again, leaving you feeling even more nervous.

You went to your closet, taking your heavy Carhartt from its hanger. You slipped it on before taking up your duffle bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You gave your room a quick once-over to make sure you’d packed everything you needed. Once satisfied you had everything you walked down the hall to the garage where Sam and Dean were already sitting in the Impala.

“Took you long enough,” Dean grumbled, starting the Impala, the engine roaring to life.

You didn’t say anything as you threw your duffle bag into the back seat and climbed in, closing the door a little harder than you’d meant to. “You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

You sent him a half-smile and nodded. He seemed to accept your excuse as he backed out of the garage and sped out of the bunker’s driveway, tires kicking up dust in their wake.

You leaned back against the leather seat and stared out the window. Your fingers absentmindedly played with a string on your coat, the cold prick of uneasiness in your stomach only growing with each mile Dean drove.

Although the Winchesters had trained you thoroughly in both weapons and hunting, and you’d accompanied them on more than one case, your true skill lay in the lore and mythology part of hunting. You’d grown up in the life and while your parents were off on hunts, you’d bury yourself in the books they always kept with them. By the time you were thirteen, you knew more about monsters, gods, curses, and spells than many of the other hunters’ kids you knew.

When your parents had both died on a hunt, leaving you an orphan, John Winchester had taken you in, raising you alongside his boys as one of his own. He’d seen your passion for learning and your knack for research and had continued to foster it in you. And by the time your eighteenth birthday rolled around, your knowledge of lore and mythology was so broad, you were practically a walking encyclopedia.

You were always teased by the other kids for being a nerd, but you couldn’t help it. When you were buried in a lore book or researching something knew, you were in your element. Even now, more often than not, you could be found in the bunker’s library, pouring over the Men of Letters books and documents. And you couldn’t help but feel a little elated when those same kids who had endlessly teased you, were now some of the very hunters who called you when they weren’t sure what they were hunting. They knew you’d have an answer almost immediately, the information you’d studied extensively still fresh in your mind.

But here, out on the road with Sam and Dean, hunting, you were completely out of your comfort zone. Normally you’d stay back at the bunker while the boys worked on a case, calling you periodically if they needed information. But the boys had needed your help on this one. There was a large group of ghouls in Wyoming, and they didn’t think they could go up against them alone.

You’d tried to make an excuse to stay back, even going so far as calling some of the hunters you knew to go in your stead. But they’d all been busy with cases of their own. You’d finally resigned yourself to your fate, but it didn’t stop the fear roiling in your stomach.

Although you were usually somewhat nervous when you’d go on hunts with the boys, this one had hit particularly close to home. Your parents had died at the hands of two ghouls, and the closer you got to your destination, the more you worried you’d wind up facing the same demise.

**********

You swung your fist hard, slamming your knuckles into the jaw of the ghoul. It crumpled to the ground giving you just enough time to bury your machete into its neck, decapitating it. You leaned heavily on your thighs, your breathing labored. Sweat dribbled down your face and dripped from the tip of your nose and chin. You heard a heavy thud come from outside, and you straightened up quickly before sprinting up the stairs, taking two at a time.

You hurried through the crypt door and out into the open air. You stopped short when you rounded the corner to find the second ghoul towering over Dean, who lay sprawled on the ground. You scanned the ground around him, and your heart sank when you realized his machete had been flung a few feet away from his grasp. The ghoul raised a dagger, ready to plunge it deep into Dean’s chest. Sam was nowhere to be seen so you did the only thing you could think of.

“Hey!” you shouted. The ghoul veered around, its face twisting in disgust when it saw you. “Yeah, you! Come on over here!” you shouted, taking a defensive stance even though your legs trembled. The ghoul turned and stalked toward you, its focus no longer on its earlier victim.

You raised your machete, getting ready to swing, but the ghoul was faster. A searing pain shot through your abdomen as the ghoul slashed your skin with its dagger. You dropped to your knees, the machete clattering to the ground as your hands clutched at your middle. Blood oozed between your fingers and all you could do was watch as the ghoul picked up the discarded machete and raised it to your neck, the monster’s eyes dark with bloodlust.

You shut your eyes tight, waiting for the pain. You heard the swoosh of a blade in the air, but instead of the pain, there was...nothing. You gingerly opened your eyes to see the ghoul still standing in front of you, a shocked expression on its face. Tiny droplets of blood began to seep through a cut in its neck and then, without warning, it slumped to the ground with a heavy thud, its head rolling.

Your gaze found Dean, standing rigid. His face was hard and jaw set, machete still raised where he had just sliced through the monster. Tears abruptly started streaking down your cheeks as the gravity of the situation finally settled around you. In two strides, Dean was at your side, hoisting you up and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. “It’s okay. It’s over,” Dean soothed, rubbing small circles into your back as you sobbed.

Dean pulled away once your sobs turned to whimpers. He frowned and studied your face intently. “You’re as white as a sheet,” he muttered. He looked you over carefully, his green eyes widening in both shock and fear as they settled on your abdomen. Blood was still trickling, oozing through your clothes and dripping to the ground.

“Shit,” Dean breathed out. “Sam!” he bellowed, just as his brother rounded the side of the crypt, bloody machete in hand. “We have to get (Y/N) back to the bunker! Now!”

Without waiting for Sam to reply, he scooped you into his arms as if you weighed no more than a twig and practically ran to the Impala, placing you gently on the backseat. He motioned for Sam to sit with you, quickly shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to his brother. “Put pressure on her wound,” he commanded.

Sam did as instructed while Dean climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. He peeled out of the graveyard and onto the highway, pushing the speed limit as far as he could. Your eyes grew heavy, and you struggled to keep them open, but it was as if you had no control over anything. Your mind was numb with pain and your body lethargic from all the blood you’d already lost.

“Dean,” you murmured, your voice quivering. You turned your head towards the back of the front seat, the top of Dean’s head just peeking over the top. He turned, his face nothing more than a hazy image.

“Just hold on, sweetheart,” Dean said, his voice sounding far off and distant.

You tried nodding your head, but instead everything went black.

**********

You groaned as the haze of sleep slowly began to fade away. Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked around, feeling slightly disoriented. You started to sit up, but you gasped as pain shot across your abdomen. That’s when everything from the previous day came rushing back to you.

You jumped as the door to your room opened and Dean walked in. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Glad to see you’re up. I need to change your wound,” he said, holding up and shaking the first aid kit in his hand.

“What?” you asked, nervously licking your lips as he came closer.

“I have to change the bandage,” he said. “It was pretty bad,” he continued, coming to your bed and sitting down on the side of the mattress.

He took out fresh gauze and surgical tape from the kit before he moved his hands to the hem of your shirt. “No!” you barked, causing him to jump and pull away quickly.

Dean's eyes were wide with shock as he stared at you. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?” he snapped back. “What's wrong?”

You swallowed hard, not fully trusting yourself to speak. Dean had patched you up many times in the past, but this time was different. Before it was always a cut on your arm or a scratch on your cheek. But this time…. This time it was somewhere you didn't want him to see.

You weren't exactly what most would consider a small girl. You were on the thicker side. There was no gap between your thighs; your hips were wide; there was a roll on your lower back every time you wore your bra; and your muscles weren't as tight as you'd like them to be, especially in your abdomen. You'd harbored feelings for the eldest Winchester from the first time you'd come to live with them and the thought of him seeing all your imperfections paralyzed you with fear.

“I...I, um,” you stuttered, feeling flustered and a little bit vulnerable. “You don't have to do that, Dean. I'll do it,” you offered with a wide grin, praying that he'd accept.

But you had no such luck as he shook his head. “You're not gonna want to do it, sweetheart. Trust me,” he chuckled. “It's a gnarly wound. Plus, it'll just be easier if I do it.”

You were silent, trying to come up with some other excuse. Dean must have taken your silence as acceptance because he reached for the hem of your shirt again.

This time you shoved his hands away from you before you could stop yourself. Dean jerked back with an exasperated huff. “Seriously, (Y/N),” he said in irritation. “Why don't you want me to change your bandage?” he asked with a quick shrug and shake of his head.

You averted your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks. You didn't want to tell him how insecure you felt so you crossed your arms over your abdomen, being careful to avoid the wound that was now throbbing. You hoped he'd understand as you looked back up at him with pleading eyes.

He seemed to finally grasp what you were too nervous to say as his eyes softened. “Sweetheart,” he said, gently placing his hand on your arm. “You don't have to be afraid of me seeing you.”

You swallowed hard, darting your eyes back and forth between his green ones, gauging whether or not you could fully trust him. Finally you sighed in defeat. Removing your arms from around yourself, you gingerly lifted your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You dropped your gaze, too afraid of the disgust you knew you'd find in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” Dean breathed out. You jerked your gaze up to find him looking over your torso with something akin to reverence. He caught your gaze and you blushed before looking away again.

Dean cleared his throat as he busied himself with taking a few more supplies from the first aid kit. Once he had everything laid out, he moved his attention to your wound. He carefully pulled back a corner of the gauze that was taped to your skin before removing it completely, his fingers gently gliding across your flesh, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You gasped as your focus was momentarily diverted when your eyes landed on the wound. It was about an inch and a half long and ran straight across your lower belly. The boys had stitched it up, but the edges were red and inflamed.

“Told you it was bad,” Dean said, taking note of your shocked expression.

He took the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured a bit onto a cotton ball. “This might sting a little,” he warned before dabbing along the wound. You hissed, but Dean was fast, making quick work of cleaning it.

Next he took some antibacterial cream and rubbed a few dabs of it across the irritated skin gently. You could feel your heartbeat pick up at his touch, and although it hurt, you didn't want him to stop caressing your skin.

Finally he unrolled a long strip of the gauze and cut it before placing it carefully over the wound. He cut some tape off as well, placing it along the sides of the gauze.

“You know,” Dean said quietly. You looked up, but his focus was still on the job at hand. “I really thought we were gonna lose you.”

He went silent as he continued to work, and you thought he was done when he suddenly spoke again. “I really did. But the thought of losing you, of not seeing your smile, not hearing your laugh, not coming home to homemade pies and all the other sweet things you do. Not finding you buried deep in a lore book,” he chuckled. “It was too much.”

Once again silence fell between you. Your head was spinning, and your heartbeat was beating wildly against your rib cage at his words. You never knew he noticed all those things about you or even cared about them.

“I'm not much of a praying man,” Dean said, his gruff voice breaking through your thoughts. “But I prayed. I prayed harder than I ever have in my whole fucking life. I begged God to save you; to just keep you alive, even if it was just a little while longer.”

Dean placed the remaining tape over the last piece of gauze, running his fingers along the edges to make sure it would stay secure. He finally sat back, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Just so I could look into your beautiful eyes one more time and tell you that I love you,” he whispered. Your eyes fluttered and butterflies filled your stomach at his admission.

He reached for your hand when you didn't say anything. He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles. “Say something,” he murmured.

You swallowed again, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “I...I love you, too,” you said, your voice tiny.

Dean's face broke into a wide grin and before you knew what was happening, he leaned forward, grabbed your face and planted his lips on yours. You felt yourself blushing again once he pulled away. “Sorry,” Dean said sheepishly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “I didn't mean to get so carried away. It's just that I've been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“How long?” you asked quietly.

“Since the first time we met,” Dean admitted, his cheeks growing a soft pink.

It your turn to grin, and with a surge of confidence you didn't know you had, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss. Dean's tongue slid over your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as his tongue found yours.

You were breathing hard once you finally broke the kiss, and you were startled to find that somewhere between the start of the kiss and now, Dean had settled between your thighs.

However all thoughts flew out the window when Dean started peppering your jawline with kisses. You moaned as he kissed down your neck and over your collarbone.

He reached for the hem of your shirt, and you sat up as he carefully removed it from your torso and pulled it over your head, tossing it over his shoulder before unclasping your bra and adding it to your discarded shirt. He leaned down, continuing his ministrations. He littered your breasts with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue gently caressing each nipple, causing you to moan and arch your back into him. He left your breasts once your nipples were taut, leaving a trail of soft kisses down your torso.

He paused for a moment when he reached the wound, glancing up at you with lust blown eyes. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss to the edge of the gauze, his eyes never leaving yours. “So,” he whispered before placing another kiss a few centimeters away. “Fucking,” he said with another kiss. “Beautiful,” he growled with one last kiss on the other side of the bandage.

By now a mixture of desire and love was coursing through your body, and you reached out for him, needing to have him close again. His lips met yours once more in a passionate kiss.

He settled between your thighs again, the pressure of his bulge settling perfectly against your clit, causing you to roll your hips. He groaned at the friction, and he pulled back, meeting your gaze and searching your face.

“I wanna continue this,” he finally said. “But I don't wanna push you into anything you're not comfortable doing especially with you being hurt. We can wait until you're better and….”

You cut him off with a crash of your lips against his. He was panting hard when you finally pulled away.

“I want to,” you said, rolling your hips again. Dean groaned and shuddered, his eyes closing tightly.

“Fuckin’ eh,” he growled. “You tryin’ kill me before we even get started?”

You giggled and Dean chuckled, leaning down to give your nose a quick peck. “Let me take care of you,” he implored, his earlier mirth now replaced by a hungry look of desire.

You nodded and gave him a shy smile. He leaned down again, giving you a soft kiss before leaning back onto his knees. His fingers slid into the waistband of your sweatpants, but he paused glancing up at you for permission. You nodded again, and he continued, sliding both them and your panties down your legs.

His eyes roamed over your naked body appreciatively and you blushed, fighting against the urge to cover yourself with the sheets. Dean seemed to sense your apprehension because he hummed, a smile on his plump lips. “I've said it twice, and I'll say it a thousand more…. So beautiful,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper.

You shivered and the backs of your eyes stung. You'd never had someone look at you the way Dean was. He was looking at you as if you were a precious jewel. Like a treasure he'd spent his whole life searching for.

Seconds later Dean had completely undressed and was crawling back up the bed towards you. He stopped once he was eye level with you, his forearms on either side of you, holding himself up. He stared into your eyes, a small smile on his mouth.

“You ready?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb gently over your cheekbone. You nodded slowly and bit your lower lip. Dean leaned down to peck your lips before lining himself up with you.

“Dean,” you moaned. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you shut your eyes as he slowly slid into you, giving you the time you needed to adjust. It felt so right, being with him. Here. Like this.

He groaned once he'd bottomed out, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and lightly nipping at the skin. When you were ready, you raised your legs around his waist. He took the hint and started moving.

You were sure he'd be rough and set a fast pace. But you were pleasantly surprised when his thrusts were slow and deep. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands gliding over his toned back, his muscles contracting with each rock of his hips. The realization of this strong man who could take down an entire nest of vamps alone or who could hit a man so hard his jaw would break was on top of you, dawned on you. But it didn't frighten you. He was being careful with you, showering you with love, and holding you like precious china.

“Dean,” you breathed out as the first wave of pleasure assaulted you.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear, his breaths hot and labored. “I've got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

He scattered kisses along your neck, one arm leaving you to run his hand down your side, over your hips and down to your thigh. He kneaded the flesh gently before bringing you leg over his waist, affording him a different angle.

You gasped, your hands running up his neck and curling into his hair as he hit your sweet spot. His kisses continued, but he stopped abruptly and groaned as your walls began to softly clench around him.

He snaked his hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit. You arched your back as he rubbed small circles over the bundle of nerves, bringing you nearer and nearer to your release. With two more thrusts from Dean, you came, his name tumbling from your mouth.

He wasn’t too far behind. His hips stuttered and with a deep grunt and breath of your own name on his lips he came, too, washing your walls with his seed.

He laid on top of you for a few moments, your sweaty bodies plastered together, trying to catch your breaths and come down from your highs. He pulled out gingerly and rolled to his side, pulling you with him. He wrapped his arm snuggly around you while you threw yours over his waist and rested your head on his broad chest.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, too,” you whispered shyly.

Dean’s grip on you tightened and he breathed in deeply. “Why did you never say anything?” he asked.

“Seriously, Dean?” you asked with a laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly the forward type. Plus...I never thought I’d be someone you’d want.”

It was Dean’s turn to laugh. “(Y/N), how could I not want you?” he asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, fuck! You’re the smartest hunter I know - you know your shit. You’re a badass hunter even though you don’t go on many cases. Not to mention you’re drop dead gorgeous.”

You giggled, feeling the heat return to your cheeks. “You’re not half bad yourself,” you said, too nervous to say much else. “I love you,” you murmured, nuzzling your face into his neck and kissing the underside of his jaw.

His hand ran up and down your side in rhythmic patterns. “I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice gruff and throaty. He smiled before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always and forever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If like what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Dean Girls:

@weepingwillowphoenix

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #supernatural #spn

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charrdricnet · 4 years

Text

separate but equally terrible nightmares (cedric/cho/harry)

a/n: i’m doing a monologue for my acting class (over zoom lol) and the title of this fic is a line from my monologue!! some angsty fluff, fluffy angst, whatever you wanna call it. i usually don’t write on here as i have my own fanfic accounts but this didn’t feel like something i wanted to post there, so i guess you guys can have it, lol. i hope you guys enjoy!! if you do, i’d love to know, maybe i’ll write more for this ship and post it here.

Even while dreaming, things manage to go wrong for Harry.

Suddenly, doused in sleep, he becomes fourteen again, terrified and stomach turning as the tournament should be ending, but instead, he stands in a graveyard, one hand still on the cup, the other interlocked with someone else’s fingers.

He hears the shrill, weak voice cry the three words that have haunted him for years: “Kill the spare!”

He dreams of cold, lifeless skin and ghostly apparitions begging him to bring the body back. Usually, the dreams are soaked with truth—Cedric's hazel eyes stare blankly, his deep voice rings out and chills him to the bone.

Sometimes, the spare is someone else. Long black hair and warm skin, her lips parted in a final cry. Harry has no idea why she’s even here, she wasn’t a part of this, why is Cho here? But he supposes that dreams rarely bother with logic.

The worst dreams are when it’s the two of them, not always in that graveyard, but on stretchers in the great hall among the other fallen soldiers of a war that they did not sign up to fight in.

Cedric and Cho lay between bodies of fellow students, all much too young to have died, let alone in such a horrible way. And Harry finds them, their fingers still entwined, but lifelessly stiff.

The nightmares are persistent, but his soft whimpers and movement does not go unnoticed.

A strong hand grips his shoulder, whispering soothing words, voice still thick with sleep, but comforting nevertheless. On his other side, a smaller body snuggles close, stroking his hair, almond eyes not even needing to open to find him in the sheets.

It’s then that memories comfort him. Cedric had lived that day, Pettigrew’s Killing Curse narrowly missing him, but the flash of green fooled them as the teenager played dead, fear coursing through him, and a surge of protectiveness over Harry, too.

The two had returned from the graveyard when Harry ran for the cup, grabbing Cedric too, refusing to leave his body there...only for a hand to grip him back, the two of them hugging and crying in the middle of the Quidditch field, back at Hogwarts, messengers of news no one wanted to hear.

Dumbledore’s Army brought Harry and Cho close. Her and Cedric were still dating at the time, although he’d graduated, but there was still a deep connection form between the three of them.

In her dreams, Cho sees the Battle.

She sees faces frozen, faces she’s passed in the hallways for years, suddenly gone. She remembers spells flying, the shouting, the blood. She remembers dust and dirt caked on her skin, tears tracked through the grime.

She remembers searching for Cedric when the dust had settled, calling his name in the swarms of students, fearing the worst. She had already almost lost him once.

Except in her dreams, she enters the Hall, expecting to see him getting a small wound patched, and instead finding him lying beside his fellow fallen students. All of the bodies are fresh, except Cedric has already begun to decay, his eyes sunken in and his bones poking through in places.

She mutters his name in her sleep, and feels the stirring beside her, but it’s not enough to wake her. Cedric’s body opens its eyes, and reaches for her hand. She jolts up, screaming his name once more.

The lights are flicked on, and Cedric’s arms wrap around her shoulders. Harry sits beside them both, green eyes soft and sleepy, and she motions for him to join the hug, because while she’d dreamt about Cedric that night, it had been him last week.

They switch positions in the bed, putting her between her two boys, who always give her space when she needs it, and always give her love when she needs that more.

It was Cho who kissed Harry first in the Room of Requirement, and when he pulled back, telling her they couldn’t do that to Cedric, she’d chuckled, and replied: “He encouraged me to give it a shot, actually.”

It hadn’t gone anywhere at the time. It was complicated enough for her and Cedric to be together, let alone adding a third person into the mix, especially on the brink of a war.

When Cedric has nightmares, he’s in the graveyard. He lies there, still, and listens to Harry’s screams, listens to him be cut, be taunted, be on the brink of his own death. He just listens, he doesn’t do anything. And when Harry dies there, terrified and utterly alone, Cedric stays still, and doesn’t do a thing to save the younger boy he’s grown so attached to.

He takes the Cup when he finds the chance, and he leaves Harry’s body there, because if he goes for it, he’ll most likely be killed. He returns to Hogwarts, a Triwizard champion, but also the reason that The Boy Who Lived is dead, and Voldemort is back.

If he had just gone for his wand, if he had just been brave enough to help—

His eyes flutter open as he feels Harry snuggle closer in his arms, feels the tickle of messy hair beneath his chin, the warmth of his chest pressed to his. Harry is right in his arms, and Cho is lying just a few inches away, too, and her face is illuminated by the moonlight through the window.

After the Battle, the three of them were reunited. Helping to rebuild Hogwarts, making sure all the dead were remembered, being active in the Ministry.

While Harry finished his seventh year, Cho went into Quidditch training for the Tutshell Tornados, and Cedric delved into the world of broom-making, and the three of them felt a shift in their relationship. They were treading the path of more than friends, evident in the way glances lingered on lips and fingers brushing made cheeks red.

Two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the three of them sleep side-by-side in a bed that’s definitely only meant for two people, but a bit of magic stretches it to the perfect size. They all have nightmares sometimes, more nights than not, but they also have each other, and it gets them through.

#charrdric #primary seekers #cho chang #cedric diggory #harry potter #harry x cho x cedric #cho x harry x cedric #cedric x cho x harry #harry x cedric x cho #hptriadsnet #polypotterpairs #hprarepairnet #hpshipsnet

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frehleys-baby · 4 years

Text

Resurrection Fic, Part 2!

The sun was shining, pigeons were outside scavenging for crumbs and the bustle of New York City kept on like it always had. The world had, as expected, not stopped for Gene’s death. But Frances had been changed, even if the Earth’s spin hadn’t.

She woke up in bed, still a wrinkled black pantsuit, shoes neatly placed beside the bed-placed by someone else. Someone who clearly didn’t know she put her shoes in her closet.

The blonde reached over to her nightstand, patting around until she felt the smooth edge of her phone.

Looking at the screen, Frances squinted through the sleep in her eyes until the large white numbers became clear.

1:15 PM.

Her eyebrows shot up- she never slept in that late, not even on weekends. “The only time I sleep in like that,” she mumbled to herself as she sat up, “is when I-“

Frances groaned at the migraine she suddenly felt at its full force, leaning back against the wall, back pressed to the headboard. She hadn’t had this strong of a hangover since before she had met Gene, who was never much of a drinker.

What had made her get so drunk the day before? What made her drink like she was 21 again? What had-

Frances groaned again as the memory waded through the migraine and made it to the front of her mind.

Yesterday had been Gene’s funeral, where she likely had made a goddamn fool of herself.

The service was as lovely as the funeral of a 20-something could be; at least as much as she could remember.

As she swung her legs over the bed and tried to start her day, she tried to remember more.

The scent of sympathetic flowers and the thick perfume of distraught great aunts came back to her as she brushed her teeth- the scents that had masked the alcohol on her breath.

If she tried harder, she could remember Paul and Eric dragging her outside- had she been screaming? Fumbling with her zipper clumsily, Frances eventually removed the romper leaving it haphazardly on the ground.

She might have remembered throwing up in the washroom of the funeral home, she decided as she turned the shower faucet.

Fuzzy memories of her best friend holding her hair back and berating her surfaced as she stepped under the hot water, memories pelting her like the droplets. She possibly recalled Kate calling her every name in the book until her voice choked, until they sat on the floor of the handicapped stall and cried until they couldn’t cry anymore.

She didn’t remember getting home. She didn’t remember who took her home. All she remembered was waking up.

As she left the shower, clean and out of her morning fog, the heavy weight of her hangover still pulled on her shoulders, weighing down her body as she put a fresh bandage around her leg. The wound had been stitched shut, and the deep purples and painful blues that bordered the gash had faded into sickly greens and irritated reds. Neat black stitches were wrapped under bandage, covering the evidence of the crash, the same way her desperate mind covered the full events of yesterday. Perhaps one day they’d show her the full story, the same way maybe she’d find the full story of what happened that night. The police had simply written off the crash as a hit-and-run accident, a tragedy but nothing purposeful. They took her statement, called the medical examiner to take Gene away, and that was that. It was a anxiety-caused hallucination, they said, temporary psychosis from seeing her boyfriend’s face hacked to hell and back.

Frances normally would’ve believed that, had she not felt that gun at the base of her neck, that voice telling her she had to die.

The phantom barrel chilled her spine as she shook her short hair dry, and put on fresh clothes.

She realized too late what clothes she’d grabbed- the size of her shirt drew her eye to what clothes she’d haphazardly grabbed.

The cover of Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite For Destruction was emblazoned across the t-shirt- and her heart broke at the realization. It was Gene’s shirt. Tears rolled down her cheeks as Frances tore the shirt off of her body and threw it at the bathroom tile.

It landed in a heap. So did Frances, collapsing in front of her sink. She swiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, hiccuping for air after each sob.

Frances sat there for a while, letting her heart fall apart all over again, the pieces falling where they may. By the end of her emotional shattering on that bathroom floor, she was calm again- and the phone in her bedroom was ringing.

She headed out of the bathroom, not daring to think about the offending shirt as she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?!”The voice on the other end spat back.

Frances slapped a palm to her forehead, realizing who it was on the other end of the line. Her work partner, Danalia.

Frances said all she could think to say. “Fuck!”

“I’m at the airport and I’m supposed to be taking off on a flight of a lifetime, researching new hieroglyphs and a potential new Egyptian deity- I’m on the cusp of discovery, and my research assistant is nowhere to be found. And all you have to say is “fuck?!” Are you kidding?!”

To say Danalia was outraged was an understatement- Frances knew she was in for it when she saw her next. She worked with the Egyptian woman on a variety of under-researched topics, and while her and Dani usually got along quite well, right now wasn’t one of those times. Frances had totally forgotten about the work trip they were supposed to take for the museum they worked at.

“Look, I don’t wanna get into my personal life with you right now, but I don’t think I can make it right now- can you call Vinnie?”

“You seriously think he can pack for a month-long trip in 8 hours?”

“He’d jump over the moon for you, Dani. Packing for a month is cake. I’ll even feed his dogs if I have to.”

“I-“

“You know what, Danalia? I’m sure you’ll make the next great discovery about Egypt since King Tut’s tomb was found, and you two will be happily ever after, riding camels into the sunset.”

She heard Dani laugh on the other end of the line, and Frances allowed herself to have a small smile at her friend’s boisterous laugh.

“I have to go, Dani. Make sure you give Vinnie a call.”

And before Danalia could respond, Frances hung up the phone. She put on a t-shirt emblazoned with a foreign soda brand, and some worn-out socks- pink with holes in the top, one of her toes poking out to say hello. She walked out into the living room area of her apartment- a small space, as it’s about all she could afford in New York on the salary of a glorified secretary, to a pile of blankets on both her couch and the floor. She recognized one from the mess of blue hair on the pillow, as that was all she could see on the couch, and the other blanket pile was unrecognizable...mostly.

Frances kicked at Paul on the floor, before stepping over him and shaking Kate awake.

“Why are you two here?”

Kate groaned, rolling over in response, while Paul sat up. He rubbed at his kicked shoulder, still in his crumpled dress pants and shirt from the day before, his jacket and tie thrown on a chair in the dining room.

“You were drunk, wailing about Gene, and you live on a fifth floor building- I didn’t wanna take a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

Kate grumbled from the couch before hopping up with a start, in a black sweater and her underwear, not bothering to keep her clothes on out of politeness or self-decency. Kate had known Frances too long to worry about that kind of thing- avoiding showing your ass was something friends did, not best friends.

“He means he didn’t want you to take a swan dive onto a New York sidewalk. The homeless people would probably loot your corpse.”

Paul cut his eyes at the smaller girl as she used her hand to simulate someone falling and hitting the ground, making a whistling noise- complete with an explosion noise at the end.

“Kate.”

“I’m being honest, Paulie, you know I am. You about jumped out of your skin when you heard her get up to take a piss at 3 am.”

Paul sighed, and stretched his arms while Frances furrowed her eyebrows.

“And...you elected not to tell me this?”

“We did!”

“You were just...ya know. Drunk. Like we said. Drunk as a skunk, bawling your eyes out, I don’t think the snot stains will ever get out of Paul’s jacket-“

”I get it.” Frances shot back. She turned to Paul, who gave a visibly strained smile. He looked like he’d been crying- He and Gene had been best friends longer than she had even known Gene, and he’d never even got a chance to say goodbye. She stole a glance at Kate, who’s puffy red eyes gave away more than she’d say. It was like losing a part of your family, even if some of the people in this pseudo-family viewed Gene like the rabid family dog and treated him as such. Frances sighed and crossed her arms, directly avoiding Paul and Kate’s gaze. She looked at her floor, the threadbare carpeting in desperate need of a deep clean.

“Don’t smile if you don’t wanna, Paulie, we’re all hurting.”

“No, I do wanna smile, Gene would’ve made fun of all of us for crying about him, and you know it. He’s probably laughing at us all right now, wherever he’s at.”

“I’m not sure he’s laughing in Hell.” Kate retorted, and the three laughed- laughed despite how unfunny the joke was, laughing just to keep from crying, laughing to try and feel better. When the laughter stopped it was quiet, and someone began to sniffle- Kate and Frances let our disheartened sighs and gasps as Paul began to cry, despite the smile on his face, scrubbing at the tears on his face.

“Dammit, I-

I’m sorry, Fran, I didn’t wanna cry in front of you, because I know you’re havin’ it rough too, and I-“

Frances simply hugged him, and he stopped- the sniffles didn’t, but he didn’t bother trying to explain it away.

Kate sighed, her eyes watering.

“Now I bet he’s really laughing at us.”

A/N: Hey everyone! This second chapter has been a l o n g time coming, lol. Honestly, I haven’t had any inspiration for this fic until recently, and I figured since I can’t do much because of quarantine, I might as well write! I haven’t introduced all the characters yet, but will do so in the next chapter! Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Proofread by: @walkingmajority

Taglist!

@mephxles

@kissmyspaceace

@spacefoxy-jen

@cosmicrealmofkissteria

@ashestoashesvvi

@spacefoxy-irl

#kiss #kiss fanfiction #amateur author #fanfiction #frehley’s baby #resurrection fic

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thatonebirbnerd · 4 years

Text

all of this is loveliness

Word count: 1869

Trigger warnings: PTSD/flashbacks (of canon and canon-typical violence), nudity, discussion of sex, several types of intimacy (but not the big one)

My body falls off the side of her bed And now I know what love feels like Don't let me turn into pain All of this is loveliness (source: AURORA - Soft Universe)

Eirwen and Lyri spend an intimate afternoon together while preparing for their wedding. Because the Commander and her lover both need a break. And a hug.

First time writing this kind of stuff, with no relevant life experience... here goes! Yes, the word count is intentionally nice lol.

AO3 link

“Hey! Get back here!”

Lyri chases after me, following the light only she can see like a flitting moth, as we run giddily along the winding paths of the lower Grove. I can only hope that to everyone else around us, we look like an ordinary pair of saplings having fun, naked as the day we stepped out of our pods. I had to let my crystal wings shatter for a while to make the illusion complete… but considering I haven’t been swarmed by adoring fans, maybe that was what I needed.

At last Lyri catches up to me, nearly bowling me over with excitement even though she’s much smaller than me. I let her have what she wants, and fall onto my back as she tackles me and rolls us both over and over. We laugh until we’re out of breath. It’s hard to believe someone loves me this much, for the first time since the Dream… since the moment I thought I’d never see her again. I wish our tumble across the grass could last forever, but alas, we come to a stop. Lyri is on top of me, her arms now wrapped around my neck.

“You wanna go inside?” Lyri’s voice is suddenly quieter. She’s trying to be sultry. It’s adorable.

“Sure.” I respond in a whisper. She giggles as she realizes I’m making fun of her. “Uhh… get on my back!”

I’m not sure where I got that idea, but I guess I said it anyway. I stand up, and carry her into our cozy neighborhood of Dreamer’s Terrace as she whoops and hollers. “Oh, the pool!” she squeals. “Let’s do a double cannonball!”

There’s a pool of water just outside the spiraling, organic apartment complex we call home. It’s small but deep, and hidden quite well from the city around it. Just have to walk through the mercifully empty atrium, and to the left…

“You’re getting heavy,” I joke. “Careful!”

I let my wings reform over Lyri, for just a split second, and carry us up in the highest leap I can muster. We both scream with delight as we splash down from the height. The noise we’re making must be tremendous. As we swim to the surface, I’m distracted for a bit by the thought that some enterprising gossip might find us here. We can’t attract too much attention…

“What’s wrong, dearheart?” I don’t know how Lyri senses that I’m distracted. Can she see the distant look in my eyes, or can she just tell?

“Nothing. Just… we might need to keep it down while we're here. I’m worried someone might barge in, looking for either of us."

“Then let’s just be quiet, and we'll stay for as long as we want.”

You know how I said I wanted that moment, just minutes ago, where we were rolling on the ground in each other’s arms, to last forever?

Honestly, I’d rather have this. Just the two of us, treading water. No words in the stillness, and no worry in our minds: no Bangar, no Jormag.

It’s cool and humid here, on the shaded lower level of the Grove. There are thick, tangled trees around the pool we’re in, and I can see street lamps poking through the gaps. The pathway leading past us, on the other side of the makeshift wall, is rarely traveled - and if someone were to pass by, now that we’re not making a ruckus, all they’d be able to see would be our heads. There’s a bath house to my right, next to the entrance leading back into the atrium - a good place to wash off the debris of a hard day’s work.

Lyri puts her hand on my neck, slowly guiding it down my back. It’s not often that she can see every detail, so she relies on touch to truly know me. Her hand comes to a sudden halt at the base of my spine, and her mouth makes a surprised little O. There is a sprout there, on both of our growth sockets, ready to burst into branches and petals that will twist around our bodies and become our wedding gowns. And these buds are why we’ve come home, free of the burden of armor, to see each other as we are. For now they itch, the wonderful itch of growth, and of a beautiful thing to come. But in a few weeks, she’ll be as gorgeous as ever, and I’ll just be… me in a dress.

The sites of my old scars are a little rough on Lyri’s fingers, even compared to her woody green bark. In seven years, I’d taken hits from blades, blasts, Brand crystals… the list was endless. I can’t help but think that if I were human, made of fragile flesh rather than sturdy wood, I would be dead many times over. Even if I don’t count the time I actually died.

Speaking of which, Lyri ducks below the surface and plants a kiss between my breasts, a bit too close to the remnants of Balthazar’s killing blow. I grimace a bit and recoil with a splash, even though the wound is long-healed. “Ow… careful!” The pain is more mental than physical; I’m trying to push back the memories of two and a half years ago. Now is not the time.

As the waters calm, I swim back toward Lyri and press my palm to her stomach, on her own scar, a dimple in the bark. This one is fresh, barely a month old. From the arrow. I feel her breaths get quicker as she gazes at what little she can see of me, like a terrified puppy. She hugs me in a way she hasn’t before, holding on tight, begging for love and protection.

“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, Lyri. I’m so sorry.” She shouldn’t have had to suffer so much, shouldn’t have nearly died for me a second time. I don’t know how else to help, other than to return her embrace, tickling the buds in the small of her back. She ruffles my leafy hair, and her smile returns, a worried smile.

I stroke Lyri’s arm, and she giggles a little and relaxes again. Her limbs are just the slightest bit thinner than they should be, and she doesn’t have the endurance nor the strength of most sylvari. But there is no point in cursing a long-dead dragon for forcing her into the world early, too early to let her experience it with all five senses. I’d rather say the best words I can. “You’re still perfect, dearheart.”

Lyri lets out a contented sigh. “Eirwen?”

“Yeah?”

“What do humans call their loves?”

“Oh my goodness, you wouldn’t believe the names. “Cutie pie,” “sweetie pie.” Can’t blame them; pie is good. “Baby,” for another one, but what is a baby but a tiny helpless crying human? I heard something about “mommy” and “daddy” once, but that just sounded strange. Oh, and there was “honey.” I liked that one.”

“I like it too. Honey’s sweet. Fits you.”

“That’s funny; I was going to say the same thing about you.”

“Oh, and… what’s that other thing that humans do? The one in be-”

“Lyri!” My laughter is more of a cackle at that one. “I haven’t seen it! Wasp-stings if I know what it’s like! ”

“I’m pretty sure they use something down…” Lyri points between her legs. “…here?”

“Lyri, you’re killing me!” It’s a bit hard, I admit, to double over laughing while in the water.

“You know I ask stupid sapling questions sometimes. Learning more about the world makes me want to try new things, now that I have you.”

“What do you mean, “new things?””

“Maybe just… getting to know each other more, while we have peace and quiet. Would that be okay?”

“I suppose so. Just… don’t hurt us both, promise?”

“I promise.”

And then Lyri pulls me under.

But rather than take the lead, she lets herself sink into my arms. She caresses me, and I find myself exploring her in ways I couldn’t with my eyes alone, below the leaves that preserve some semblance of modesty to the folk around us. Hidden petals slip slowly through Lyri’s fingers. She offers less for my touch to savor, but there is enough; even nothing would be enough. We revel in each other, and it shows on our faces, in the gasps of pleasure and embarrassed laughs that come out only as bubbles.

Yet something nags at me. It’s not easy for a sylvari to drown. But… I’m thinking about everyone else. This time, I’m taken back to seven years ago, fighting in the foul waters of Orr. So many who shouldn’t have fallen. For a moment, Lyri’s face is the face of the only other woman I dared fall for, dragged into the deep by a Risen fiend -

No. Stop that. I sink to the bottom and open myself to Lyri’s kisses, or whatever she wants to do. But rather than oblige, she stops and leads me to the surface to breathe. She can tell I’m worried again. “Eirwen, what’s wrong?”

“I wish it were nothing. I was just… thinking about Orr. There was someone I… tried to move on with, after I lost you. I had to… leave her behind. But you’re here, so I shouldn’t be thinking about this -”

“You couldn’t save her. I can hear it in your voice. It’s okay, my light,” she tells me. “It took so long to find you but… now I’ll always be here. You’re safe.” I have to repeat those final words to myself before I can believe Lyri’s reassurance. “And I forgive you.”

---

The unbridled ecstasy and lingering fear gradually wear off, and I lead Lyri toward the water’s edge and into the bath house. I gently move her arm toward one of the streams tumbling from crevices in the walls, and the water dances over her palm. She jumps back a bit and turns to face me with a smile, before walking toward the waterfall again to rinse the muck out of the vines that adorn her head. I join her, and we frolic for just a bit longer, splashing each other playfully and slinging the silliest of flattery back and forth.

“Mordremoth must have been terrified of allowing you to see how beautiful you are.”

“Good thing that damned dragon couldn’t handle your biceps!”

At last, Lyri yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Me too.” For a moment I hear a whisper in the back of my mind: rest. No, it’s safe to do that here, so far away from Jormag. “Want to lie down on the shore?”

“With you, yeah.”

I hold Lyri’s hand and guide her over to the pool. It’s dusk now, and her faint golden bioluminescence is beginning to peek through as we watch fireflies dance across the pond. She curls up on the damp, mossy soil, her head on one dainty arm. “Love you, you big glowy thing,” she says sleepily.

“Love you too… honey.”

As she nods off and I lie awake next to her, my bark against hers, I realize that maybe this is the moment that I want to last forever.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #fanfic #sylvari #kestrel writes #valiant eirwen #lyri twiceborn #ptsd //#nudity //#romance #intimacy #not *quite* smut?#ask to tag

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eisforeidolon · 4 years

Text

Episode: Raising Hell

So, uh, basically I have no idea why anything in this episode happens or what its point is supposed to be. Having looked up who wrote it somewhere in the middle, I am completely lacking in surprise.

I mean, the first bit pretty much sets the tone. Chatty Corpsy spouts exposition a mile a minute, then gets killed, and the ghost stands over her and spells disembowel. Is that actually supposed to be scary? Funny? Anything but an absolutely bizarre waste of my time?

A bunch of dudes with basically nothing but FBI jackets and a bullshit story to back themselves up with convince an entire town to camp out in the local high school for two days without anybody figuring out they're full of shit. You know, what with smartphones existing and all. Plausible!

Furthermore, I have become convinced that everyone in this writer's room genuinely believes there is nothing scarier than a bunch of random antagonists standing around in a room pontificating at each other. It's all demons do anymore. It's all angels do anymore. Oh, fucking look, here's a bunch of goddamn ghosts doing it, too! A fucking thrill a minute, I tell you.

Also, you know how the episode with H.H. Holmes was actually scary? Whether or not you think it's in questionable taste for them to use real life serial killers at all, the reason they included him was because the whole murder castle deal and semi-mythical legends about him made for a scary premise they actually used in the episode. I ignored the thing with it being Gacy before in Lebanon because there was more important stuff going on, but contrast the current writers' choices with him and this Jack the Ripper guy with the use of Holmes. Here they're just throwing out the names of real life murderers to try and make their villains scary in the cheapest, fastest way possible. Just like bringing back “Bloody Mary” that just kills whoever, this loudmouthed windbag has nothing to do with the name they're stealing to try and make him scary.

Also, the spell demon guy did is keeping the ghosts in, right? Sure, it's going to fail, but at the moment, it's supposed to be an impassible barrier, yes? So why, exactly, is it necessary for Sam to call in his goon squad to join the four of them in wandering into the danger zone to shoot at 'em? Seriously, why? Shooting them dissipates them for a few seconds, maybe minutes. They’re not laying out additional salt or iron lines or doing anything that might genuinely help contain the ghosts, they’re just putting themselves in danger because ...? The mooks could also be better spent guarding the major entrance points to the town and/or the townies and/or doing research back at the bunker into what they're going to try next after the barrier fails. But those things would actually make sense and prevent the shambling zombie that is the writers’ pathetic attempt at a plot in this episode being pushed into something vaguely resembling action.

I am shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, that Rowena is now suddenly unable to do something with her powers that she did before. Hey, remember when she stole that page out of the damned book to make herself more powerful to unseal her full powers (even though they touted her as the most powerful witch ever to begin with) and that was in season 13, well after the ghost-crystal-bomb thing? But LOL, now she's even weaker? This is exactly why nothing matters anymore. Things that worked previously (angel powers, witch powers, the Colt, whatever) suddenly and randomly don't work to do the exact same jobs for … reasons. The thing that makes it even dumber is they could have said that the ghost containing spell and crystal ghost sucking spell interfered with each other somehow. Still at a bullshit level of convenience, but it doesn't involve making everyone and everything's powers completely arbitrary just because fuck continuity, that’s why!

Then Ketch shows up to save the Winchesters from their sudden attack of brain damage. The show has provided an entire. fucking. town. full of angry ghosts straight from hell. But actually bother to write a scene of Sam and Dean legit getting over their heads in a believable way? Why fucking bother when you can just make them astoundingly incompetent. It is literally unbelievable that Sam and Dean would not recognize those people as possessed fucking immediately. Yet they stand there with rock salt filled shotguns doing sweet fuckall confronted by three fucking ghosts so Ketch can make a big entrance. Is there a rule on a board somewhere in the writer's room that Sam and Dean have to be made to look incompetent at least once an episode? Is this some kind of revenge for having to still write the main characters they're so clearly bored with? Are these idiots just so fucking stupid they don't realize how insulting this is? Did they run out of money for extras and the stunt coordinator?

Also, someone explain to me how tiny flakes of metal are going to be less harmful to a human body than rock salt. I'll wait. They just really really wanted Ketch as one of the BMoL guys to have some kind of specialized gadget but couldn’t give him something actually potentially useful for the situation at hand.

Again, these writers really want to be writing a bad soap opera with occasional supernatural elements. So despite that it's the final fucking season, we have time for Rowena and Ketch flirting. Not to mention that they also give the only major female character even more relationship drama with the Jack the Ripper guy later. If it's not questionably skeevy, it's not Bucklemming!

Also, Castiel is not good at inspirational speeches, just like he’s frustratingly almost never good at anything else these days (those healing powers that were working last week? ha! forget it!). Anyway, why do they keep having him make them? Are we as the audience supposed to find them convincing though they never work on the target? Are we supposed to feel bad for all the ~*feelings*~ Castiel supposedly has despite being an angel who isn’t supposed to have emotions the same way humans do? I guess this particular one is to further show that Dean’s still mad (which I am absolutely 100% behind) but eh, whatever. Though I guess that still ranks it above most of the episode sitting at a solid WTF, no really, WTF?!

Now we get to the part where they bring Kevin back for no fucking reason beyond that he's a “fan favorite”. None of it makes a single tiny speck of sense. Let's skip right past the fundamental absurdity of how Chuck apparently did this for literally no reason just to be a dick when he was actively trying to pretend not to be a dick. Kevin has a “bad boy” reputation (come the fuck on) because God Himself cast him down - so him being in hell would have to be fairly common knowledge, for it to result in him having a reputation. Except literally no demon Sam & Dean ran into between 11.21 and now taunted them with it? Crowley, who was still alive and fucking King of Hell through season 12 never noticed and either told the Winchesters or tried to trade on it? BULL and SHIT. This is pretty close to the same scale of insult to continuity and the audience’s intelligence as these two fuckwits suddenly writing Lucifer as the older brother.

Then in typical fashion, Sam & Dean discuss their plans to totes send Kevin to heaven in front of demon guy just so they can be told OH NOES! He totally can't go to heaven! So sad! The poor widdle woobie! Fuck off with this shit, show. Not even to mention that they take the word of a demon as gospel truth when there is no time crunch or clear lack of better options. It's all those many many hits to the head, I guess. That I do actually find quite sad. I mean, I don't actually want Kevin hanging around like a bad smell while they divert from actually important shit to try and get him to heaven where it makes no sense for him not to already be. But at the end they don't even arrange some way to keep in touch just in case the fucking demon might be (gasp) lying?

Hey, I did actually like the exchange between Dean and Sam over Chuck poking his corresponding wound. Oh, look, it's Sam's “I'm totally lying” face, followed by Dean's “I totally know you're lying but I'll let it go for now, Sam” face. It was a great moment that required very little dialogue to work quite well. It's such a shame nobody's making a show about these two characters! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The absurdity keeps on coming, too. In the whole two days they've been wasting time in Sunshine Daylightville they never discussed how long the spell would last? Oh, right, they were too busy wandering into the ghost zone to shoot at 'em for shits and giggles to care about that, I guess. Not to mention the whole “just cast it again!” is remarkably blasé about it requiring a 'fresher the better!' human heart.

More ghosts blathering at each other. Yay. This supposed Jack the Ripper guy is just always in the right place at the right time to hear all the gossip, knows every random thing he could possibly need to, and already has the power to intimidate and attack other ghosts. He's basically ghost!Asmodeus, who also steals AU!Michael's original idea of how to get through the barrier, because we really needed time spent discussing the world's most obvious plan. Also, we've seen ghosts able to attack and absorb the power of other ghosts, but it was because they had already been doing it for a while. This guy is just as fresh out of hell as everybody else, but he's more powerful and knowledgeable and totes threatening!!! Well, I'm convinced and not on the verge of napping from boredom.

Naturally for reasons, Rowena goes into town entirely by herself without protection with their only real hope of containing the ghosts before the barrier breaks down instead of anybody insisting on her going with backup. That's what anybody with a brain would do!

Of course no one asks where Ketch has been the whole time. Or even thinks of trying to test him after he was last seen literally knocked unconscious in the middle of ghost central where we know there are plenty of ghosts angry enough to be capable of possession. Nope, why would anyone even think to do that? Everything in this “plot” that happens requires all of the characters to be completely fucking stupid.

I'm going to assume by “you” Ketch meant “you Winchesters” because Mary wasn't there. It probably didn't, because Bucklemming, but fuck it. It's the least egregious stupidity in this episode that's a cornucopia of choices for the worst.

I … actually like the scenes with Chuck and Amara? So, you know, that's something!

Then the episode ends with the guys looking at all the ghosties still shooting up from hell and wring their hands about what they're going to do and maybe they should get on that! Again, if Sam's flunkies aren't all dead, why aren't their worthless asses already researching this shit over the past two days? It's not like it's new news that there was a big open hole to hell at the center of the problem and there was honestly nothing but wrangling some cranky civilians to interfere with trying to think ahead to that.

In summary, this episode is a constant showcase of the problems that result when you set incompetent morons who don't recognize their own inadequacy to write characters who are actually supposed to be intelligent experts at their work. It's a joke – except not at all funny.

#writer incompetence #anti bucklemming #negativity for ts #negativity all the way down #long post #spn 15x02 #spn season 15

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lashtoncurls · 5 years

Text

Never gonna be alone(AI)

Summary: Ashton angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: mention of death and curse words

A/N: I’m back after a month of no writing, not that anyone cares, lol. Anyway, I watched ghost the other day and this came to mind. I would love feedback from y’all as it would encourage me to write more. Thanks to Skyler because she’s an absolute babe and hypes me up everytime I have an idea, love you 😘

He stood in nothing but darkness, his brain demanding that he let out the screams that were being held in his chest. But nothing would come. His voice was lost in the panic of where he stood. He looked around and suddenly the darkness turned into the alley. She stood in front of him, begging to be saved. Her hands holding her stomach as the blood seeped through her dress.

“Ash, please make it stop. It hurts.” She fell to the ground with a tud, a puddle of blood underneath her. He ran towards her but her body disappeared, leaving him in the dark and lonely alley with his heart broken again.

He woke up covered in sweat, his chest heaving as he felt the tears run down his cheeks and into the pillow, her pillow. It was only 3AM when he looked at the clock on the wall, but he knew that sleep was out of the question for the rest of the night. Ashton turned and hugged his pillow as he couldn’t stop the tears that came, sobs and screams leaving his lips in desperate attempts to sooth the pain that was still haunting him.

‘Why didn’t I do more?’

‘I could’ve saved her’

Those were all things that crossed his mind on day to day basis. He would go about life as if he was a robot. Nothing made sense without her.

His house was now a constant reminder of the girl he loved dearly, the one he was going to start a family with. The living room still had her blanket and favorite throw pillow on the couch as she left them. The picture frames still adorned the fireplace and the sticky notes were still on the refrigerator.

Ashton moved from his bed to the couch, pulling her pillow with him. The gloomy day added to his sadness, the TV on low as he sunk down on the couch with her items. The smell of her perfume and shampoo was starting to wear off. I should wash them again, he thought. Maybe that would help him cope better.

“Maybe we should get an uber, doll. It’s kinda late.” Ashton suggested as he held her hand after putting his coat on her shoulders. They were walking back from a night at the bar.

“We can catch one when we’re closer. I need the fresh air.” She smiled at him and he nodded as they continued walking, her drunken giggle spilling out of her pink lips as Ashton smiled back. They talked about their future and what he wanted to do to her when they got home, their night going like every other one. But not before he caught up them.

It happened so fast, her being held by one of them as the other one punched him and took his wallet and his phone.

“You can have whatever you want, just fucking let her go!” Ashton screamed as he watched them take off the jacket she wore and pulled her chin to his lips.

“Get off me you filthy bastard!” She pulled her face away and kicked his groin, her arms struggling to get out of the hold they had her in.

Ashton watched as another man came out of the shadows, a gun in his pocket. There were now four men, too many for him to fight. His stuff was thrown over to the one with the gun, a smirk on his lips when he opened the wallet.

“Ashton Irwin, what a pleasant surprise.” His face was smacked a few times before he noticed who was standing before him.

“I thought you were in jail.”

“So it was you, you motherfucker!” Another punch was thrown in his direction, her screams muffled by a hand as she watched them hit Ashton.

“Let her go, please. This grudge you have is against me, not her. Please” Ashton pleaded, wanting nothing more than for her to be saved.

“It’s not just you. The whole band owes me. Calum and Luke, where are they at?”

“I’m not telling you anything James.”

“If you want your pretty girl to be safe, then I need you to spill.”

“I-it was all me. Luke and Cal had nothing to do with what happened.” Ashton looked down as she watched him confess, taking the blame for what he and his bandmates had done.

“Alright, let her go. We’ll deal with Irwin.” James nodded to the guys to let her go, but not before she ran towards Ashton. The gunshots echoed in the dark as her body fell to the ground, her hand clutching her side as the blood began to gather in her hands.

“No! Baby! Let me go! Let me go!” Frantic screams came from him as his chest hurt, running towards her body on the ground when they had released him.

“You couldn’t have been more stupid?! Run dipshit!” James screamed as he and his goons ran out of the alley, leaving Ashton as he held her close. Her whimpers mixed with his pained screams for help.

“Ash, open the goddamn door!”

“I’ll break in through the back, don’t tempt me.”

“Common mate, we’ve got pizza.”

“Alright, hold the bottle Lu.”

Ashton sighed as he got off the couch and opened the door to his three best friends before they broke in, the tousled hair and tired eyes gave away how much he hadn’t been sleeping.

“What are y’all doing here? Isn’t there some event or something?” He let them walk in, and avoided looking at him in the eyes, knowing that there was nothing they could do to fix the pain.

“It’s uh, it’s Tuesday Ash.” Cal scratched the back of his neck as they walked to the living room, but before they could take a seat, Ashton rushed to grab her items. Luke sighed as he took a seat in the recliner, his eyes drifting once again to the man he referred to as his big brother. Ashton had done so much for him before, even letting him stay with them for a few months after a hard break up. It was very difficult for him to see Ashton this way, not knowing how to help him.

“They still haven’t caught him. God knows where the fucking idiot escaped to.” Ashton mumbled as his eyes drifted back to the TV, chewing on the slice of pizza he was handed. He soon placed it back on the table, his stomach beginning to reject the only meal he’d had in the last couple days.

“They’ll find him soon mate. They have to.” Luke nodded, but kept his eyes straight.

“Ash, it’s been two months. You have to get out of this house. You need to get out, do something. Staying here is only hurting you more. Look at you, I can tell you haven’t been eating, or sleeping for that matter.” Calum spoke as he sat next Ashton, earning a kick on his thighs, but Calum only made more of an effort as he stubbornly moved closer.

“Are you really telling me that the way I’m coping is wrong?” Ashton sat up, hurt in his eyes as the tears threatened to spill again “You’ve got some nerve coming here and trying to act like nothing's wrong! James went after me because of you two fucking retards. And now I’m coping wrong? Get the fuck out! Get out! Being alone is better than being around you three right now.” His eyes rimmed red as Luke looked at him with guilt and sympathy.

“Don’t fucking look at me that way! I don’t need your goddamn pitty Luke. I don’t need you lot.” They nodded as he pushed them out, slamming the door behind them. He padded back to the couch, tears spilling again as he hugged her pillow and covered himself with the blanket, the remains of her scent filling his nostrils as he cried and screamed.

“Someone help! Help! Please!” Ashton cried as he watched her pant, her eyes bloodshot from her own tears.

“I love you, darling. Remember that.” She whispered as she took a troubled breath, sirens coming towards them.

“Stay with me, baby. Please. Focus on breathing okay? You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. It’s gonna be okay.” He mumbled those words to himself as the cops rushed towards them, the EMT quickly placing an oxygen mask on her and putting her in the ambulance.

“I’ll ride with her.” He began to get on the ambulance, a cop stopping him.

“You need to come down to the station.”

“I need to be with her! I’ll tell you whatever it is that you want to know, but let me be with her.” He pleaded with the cop, the pain in his chest only getting worse as the beeping on the machine increased with her labored breaths. The cop nodded as the ambulance took off, speeding through the morning LA traffic to get to the nearest hospital.

“Sir you need to be checked, your nose may be broken.” They began to poke and prod at his face, but he moved their hands away and focused on watching the rest of the team clean the gunshot wounds and help her with her breathing. Ashton held her hand in both of his, rubbing circles and shapes as he would lightly sing to her.

As they arrived at the hospital, they rushed her into surgery, leaving Ashton in the waiting room as he paced and pulled at his hair. He sent a message to the groupchat to let them know what was happening, the other three arriving as soon as they could.

After five hours, Ashton had been cleaned and talked to the cops, the doctor came out and looked at Ashton with pity and hurt in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” At first he shook his head, and ran his hands through his hair. The doctor spoke to Luke, Calum and Michael and explained what had happened. But Ashton was still in shock. He remained in shock for a few days, the day of the funeral being the first time that he had really been a little more alive. He stood by the casket and held her hand. He politely smiled at everyone who gave their condolences, her family wanting to help take care of him.

“I promise I’m okay.” He smiled at her mother, her own tears spilling out as they hugged.

“We don’t blame you sweetheart. I just need you to know that. She loved you so much, enough to give her life for yours as she did.” She kissed his cheek and walked away after, leaving Ashton alone. The burial had gone as expected, her body now in a casket under a pile of dirt. He placed the rose on the top and finally let the tears roll out, pained screams as he held his chest.

“Still having the nightmares?” Her sweet voice filled his ears and he woke up again, but this time a hand was soothing his hair, wiping the sweat away.

“I’m dreaming, I have to be dreaming.” He pulled her into his arms a sigh escaping his lips as she giggled lightly.

“You’re not dreaming, baby.” She placed a kiss on his cheek, his eyes closing as he sighed again.

“So you’re a g-ghost?” She laughed at his confusion but nodded.

“They found James. I couldn’t leave until they found him, I wasn't going to rest in peace knowing that you would worry about it.” They were now cuddled on the couch, her body on top of his as he held her tight, thinking that he was finally going crazy.

“And you came her now because...” He spoke as she rested her elbows on his chest, his hands moving her hair away and touching her face, reminiscing on what her skin felt like.

“Because I’ve been watching you. You need to let the guys back in, Ashton. They are your family. You can’t push them away. Yes, they messed up. I know they did, but please do it for me. Go out, live life. I want the best for you. Justice will be served and he’ll be behind bars for sure now, can’t hurt you or anyone else.” He pulled her chin to his face and kissed her lips, his eye closing as he moaned at the feel of her skin.

“I love you, I will always love you.” He mumbled as he cried, her hands on his face.

“As I love you.” She laid her head on his chest again, Ashton drifting into the most wonderful sleep he’d had in the last two months.

When he woke up, his hand was on his chest and the sun was out. Confused, he looked at his phone and noticed that he had been sleeping for almost two days, texts and missed calls from friends and management. The low volume of the television caught his eye as he grabbed the remote from the table and turned it up.

‘Drug dealer and murder convicted felon James Kells was arrested yesterday from his Orlando home. Police say that a neighbor called them after noticing suspicious activities. He’s being detained with no bond.’

Ashton sighed as his whole body filled with relief, his phone beeping and vibrating like crazy as the guys were texting him. He responded and for the first time in months, smiled as they told him they loved him. It wasn’t going to be easy, the mourning process for him wasn’t over yet, he knew it. But knowing that she would now rest in his peace and he got to hold her one last time was enough for him to be content.

Weeks went by and Ashton had begun moving things, giving some to her family and others away when he noticed all the sticky notes on the fridge door again. He smiled at all of them, the sweet notes she would leave him when she would leave to work before he woke up.

‘You’re never gonna be alone, I’ll always be in your heart my love xx’

He folded it and placed it inside his wallet, smiling widely as he remembered her sweet smile.

Tags: @myloverboyash @irwinkitten @ashtoniwir @asht0ns-world @slimthicccal @24kcalum @cashton-queen @ashtonsunshine @roselukes

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